As she tumbled through the air Alice became very aware of the fact she had not considered what to do after the initial leap. Oh sure, throwing yourself over the cliff seemed like an excellent idea at the time, she chided herself, you'll certainly be able to help Hatter when you're a flattened smear on the ground below. However, as soon as she realized the flaw in her plan the air around her began to condense; where she had at first been falling through clear sky she was now moving through a murky fog that grew thicker as she continued through it. The dark mist had clearly missed a physics lecture or three and so was able to slow her fall down enough that when she finally hit bottom it was only with a "splat" instead of the much more painful "ker-SPLAT!" she had been expecting. Not that it still did not hurt, mind you.

I have really, Alice grimaced, got to stop traveling this way.

A twinge of pain from her chest ever so kindly suggested Alice remove herself from her rather undignified landing-sprawl. Once she was upright, Alice reached for the drawstring pouch, which was thankfully still tied to her sash. As she was drinking one of Mirana's poitions (as she had been falling for some time, and that plus the journey to LandEnd had to equal about a day. Maybe. Roughly.) a low sound tumbled into her ears. Of course the fog was mixing everything up so she had to take a minute to un-jumble everything before hearing:

"The borogoves are not so mimsy now, no they have lost their mimsy. Gone gone gone."

What on Earth is a borogrove, Alice thought, and why should it's natural state be mimsy? Mimsy. Rolls right off the tongue doesn't it. Has a good, skipping like quality to it. Unlike some adjectives which are just so weighty that they took away from their own meaning. Though now that I think about it I can find any weighty examples. Ecstatic has an excellent snap to it, and even exultant, though rather pompous, holds through the "xul" so well you can't help but smile when you use it.

The low voice rang out again, lightly capturing Alice's focus, which was fully ensnared when she saw the silhouette of a hat outlined against the fog. Standing she inched closer towards the figure, "Hatter? Hatter it's me Alice."

He kept his back to her. "Aye, that's what ye always say."

"What I always say?"

His head snapped round, orange eyes flaring with pained rage and a Scottish lilt coating his words, "Donna play coy wi'h me snip of a hallucination."

"Excuse me?"

"Ye do her face well, much better than the last memory. I suppose this means ye'll hurt more than the last one too."

So now I'm a figment of his imagination? The irony almost made Alice giggle. Almost. But now was a time to be serious, they could laugh about this later. "Hatter – I'm the real Alice."

"Of course ye are. So was the one before ye. And the one before that one that was before ye. And the one before that one that was the one before that one that was the one before ye. And so on and so forth." He gave her a long look, "only one way ta get rid of ye, aye?" Without waiting for an answer he continued on, "Aye. Might as well start this 'ere butchery: why 'aven't ye come back?"

In hindsight, Alice realized, she should have patiently stuck to convincing him she was real. At the time though, she was just miffed enough to respond, "You do not think I did not TRY?"

Hatter harrumphed, " an' what is trying? She could DO."

"I tried after a year, the rabbit hole had moved!"

"The REAL Alice wouldn't 'ave let that get in 'er way," the Hatter growled.

"I AM THE REAL ALICE!" Alice proclaimed, cheeks flushed with effort. Hatter had paused, taken aback by her outburst and for a moment his eyes begin to clear. The fog , however, curled closer round his feet and the madness crept back in.

"Oh an' this time I'm 'ta believe ya? No this is the last time I let ye yearnings of me mind tempt me inta believin' anything let alone into believin' she's finally come back for me. There some kina sign floatin' 'round me 'ead? Mad Hatter here, haunt as ye please. Thinkin' I needed more hautin'. I was managing to plague meself just dandily before ye came along. Some might even say swimmingly. Why I oughta know the ins and outs of me own 'eart. The sideways and backwards too. For that matter the upside downs and the loop-de-loops. All the which ways and thataways that 'ave been TORN OUT AND STRUNG UP SO THAT I CANNA DO NAUGHT BUT– "

"Hatter." Alice's voice was quiet.

" – FOUR YEARS OF THIS RIDICULOUS WAITING AND WAITING RIDICULOUSLY UNTIL – "

"Hatter."

" – MYNE HART SYUNDHERENG KAHTFAHLS O' FIOTLH – "

She pinched him. Hard.

"– Fez – " The orange rims faded from his iris and the Hatter blinked, looking with bewilderment down at the young woman before him.

Alice? – I – you – oh gods – it is actually you." He brightened immediately and reached for her then flinched back, "by a dodo bird's left – I – you heard all that." His eyes immediately lost their glow, posture giving way to misery.

Sadness, Alice was beginning to realize, could consume the Hatter just as much as rage.

She cupped her hands under his chin and slowly tilted his head so his eyes were forced to meet hers. He refused to meet her gaze, looking hurriedly side to side, anywhere but at her, making the green in his eyes dance so quickly that Alice felt a bit dizzy watching them.

"Did you know that in China they do not add milk and sugar to their tea?"

Silence, though he finally looked at her, eyebrow quirking slightly.

"They say it pollutes the character of the tea. The character. Can you imagine what they thought of us, drowning our tea in milk and sugar?"

"Perhaps teas' characters needs a bit of sweetening," interjected the Hatter, unable to remain silent despite his best intentions to mope most heartily.

"Exactly what I thought – I mean who wants to meet with a plain earl grey? He's most unpalatable without at least two sugars."

"Morning tea without cream, why it isn't morning tea at all. Not even a half-morning."

"Quarter-morning perhaps?" Alice offered.

"Perhaps. But what use is that? Why you'd barely have time to put on your socks when brunch arrives, which simply won't do. Socks are a most serious business and absolutely require more than a quarter-morning to deal with otherwise you run the risk of hastily putting on a matching pair and there is nothing quite so boring as wearing a matching pair, as we all know. It is only when you wear separate ones can your feet think for themselves properly –" He trailed off, suddenly aware of the bemused smile creeping across Alice's face. He had been, he realized, tricked – completely diverted and – oh – her palms were still pressed against his face. He delicately laid his hands over hers and lowered them. With a half-hearted smile, gaining an eighth of a heart every second he looked at her, Hatter asked, "Shall we then?"

"Iracebeth said no one has ever come up from the Deep End."

"Ah but we're not no one. You are an Alice," he stood up and she slipper her arm into his, "and I'm a Hatter."

Alice grinned up at him, "well then I suppose we'll be just fine."


So you ever have a story all planned out in your head, except for one chapter, and you keep telling yourself you'll work on that chapter eventually, it's halfway through the story, no need to worry about it now. Then out of the blue that chapter is the next one and you're staring at a blank word document while your equally blank mind laughs at you?

Yaaaaaa.

Cheers,

- Savi

P.S. As always many a heart to the readers + reviewers both!