A Different Point of View
Not since Hatter had entered had Alice been able to pull up the memories of Wonderland. Every memory of the place brought back memories of every story she had confided in William. When everyone else had laughed or remonstrated her, Alice could only tell him. And even after admitting that Hatter was there, once again alive and before her, she tried to keep the memories of him back. But the touch of Hatter's finger against her cheek opened a floodgate. Suddenly she could cry. Suddenly she knew she wouldn't be able to stop.
Jumping away from Hatter, she tripped and stumbled up the stairs to her room. She didn't even shut the door. Her chest felt like it was going to pull itself apart as the first wail of remorse hit her.
"Alice, what's this in your pocket?" William asked.
"It's the thimble that the dodo bird gave to me. Gave back to me, I suppose..." Alice responded.
"Then this proves it! We can tell them it was all real! They'll have to believe you about Wonderland, now!" William was so ecstatic he looked as though he could bounce, if only his legs worked well enough. But they'd never worked, and never would.
"It doesn't prove anything, William. I had it in my pocket before I left."
"But your currants are all gone, and you gave them to the other birds in the caucus race, when all of you won!"
Alice ruffled her little brother's hair, not bothering to stop him as he continued to search her apron pockets. He stopped suddenly, and pulled out two morsels, one from each pocket.
"Alice...didn't
you put the pieces of the caterpillar's mushroom in your pockets?
One to make you bigger, one to make you smaller..."
"Why,
I did, didn't I!? Did you find them?"
William held out the two small morsels, his hands shaking in delight. The mushroom pieces were iridescent purple and orange, unlike anything in this world either of the small children had seen. They gasped in wonder, eager to show their proof to Mother and Father.
Downstairs Patrick saw Alice run up the stairs and knew he had to act quickly. He reached towards the phone, just inside the kitchen. Before Clarice could reach it he ripped the cord and box from the wall, then bodily moved his wife out of his way as he made to run after Alice.
Hatter, meanwhile, adjusted his sleeves nonchalantly and went to the base of the steps. When Patrick reached him, the lank man suddenly thrust his arm in Patrick's way. Hatter's arm hit Patrick forcefully in the chest. As Patrick gasped for breath, Hatter made an about-face towards the older man.
"You had many, many years to comfort her: to talk to her." A grin broke Hatter's face. "My turn!" He waved jauntily to Alice's father, then made his way up the stairs.
Hatter let the door click quietly shut behind him, then surveyed the situation before him. He had seen this room so many times before. But from quite a different angle. From this angle, it looked bigger. Hmmm. Very interesting.
Far more interesting was the young woman, looking little more than a child now, curled on her bed with a small, framed painting clutched in her lap. He'd seen it many times. It was the one hung above her mantle. But the batty child was holding it face-side-down.
He crossed to her bed, making to turn it around for the poor creature, when he noticed that there was something on the back of it that she was actually facing. Not that she was looking at it. Her tear-stained face was resting against the top edge, her tears trickling down onto the hidden picture. Hatter moved to sit behind her to see the picture. She didn't seem to notice.
It was made with some kind of finger paint, obviously by a very young child.
It was him, Hatter. Well, him and March Hare and Door Mouse. And Alice. He smiled. If anyone had seen the painting, they would never have recognized him as the Hatter. He was positively sane-looking.
Awkwardly, he tried to lay his hand on her back. Automatically Alice turned into the touch and made to nestle into the crook of what she thought was her father's arm. Hatter was a bit taken-aback, but didn't want to startle her away. Damn it, he'd waited long enough just to get here, he couldn't go frightening her off.
She seemed to realize it wasn't her father, but she didn't pull away. It was Hatter! He was here! And she wasn't a nut, she wasn't a difficult child. New tears wet her cheek, but these were quieter.
"Er, you were quite an artist once, weren't you, Alice?"
Alice pulled away just a bit, looking up at him with sapphire eyes so full of old pain that Hatter cringed, then just tried to stay still. "Not me. Mine is on the front. This one was William's."
Hatter took in the rumpled corners and the ruled lines that you could just make out on the edges. He smiled softly, but on his face it looked like a slow and wicked grin. He spoke quietly, "This was the day he found your homework, and decided to make it 'prettier'."
Alice's head shot up from his shoulder, grazing his chin. Her eyes were wide, disbelief warring with the grief.
"I wondered what you'd done with it after you tickled the boy half out of his senses for ruining your arithmetic. I guess I just didn't see you put it in here." Hatter turned his sharp-focused eyes on her, idly scratching the tip of his nose. Seeing her reaction, he tocked his head to the side, "Well, you can't expect me to wile all my hours away looking through your Mirror, can you?" He jerked a thumb at her full-sized mirror, the one she's been standing at not so long ago. Tapping his nose thoughtfully, and gazing at her incredulous eyes and reconsidered, "I suppose you can, if you wish. Hm."
Then, as though the inactivity was too much, he hopped off the bed and strode to her closet. "You know, I've always wondered!" he announced, proceeding to open the door and fling things about in there. "I just can't see it from my usual point of view..."
Boots and ribbons came flying out, along with a pretty pink and white gown. Before the gown could reach the ground, Hatters long fingers came flying out behind him, and he snatched the light material back close to his face, examining it. He pulled it up by the shoulders to himself, as if to see how it would fit him. He glowered at it, then held it up in front of Alice, who was still too dumbstruck to speak. The frills and lace seemed to try to swallow her head whole.
The madman shook his head, and wagged the dress under Alice's nose. "Dont. Ever. Let. Me. Catch. You. Wearing. This. Filth," he gritted out, then flung it back at the closet.
Suddenly there was a rattling of the doorknob, and then a loud banging, "Alice! Alice are you all right? Here, now, open this door!"
"Father..." Alice whispered, seeming to come out of her daze. "You locked the door?" she asked the wiry man in front of her. He only shrugged, rolling his eyes in great exaggeration.
She went to unlock it, but Hatter held her back a moment. "You know he can't help you, Alice. He's not mad. Not like you and I are. Not like William was. Not like your mother was."
A.N. - I'm sorry for such a short chapter. It seems exposition is a bit difficult for me to get through... I began this story a few years ago, forgot I started it, then picked it up recently. I'm just trying to make sure the facts stay straight. I'm off to work on Chapter 4, but wanted to put something up tonight.
A thousand thanks to Vinders, my first reviewer. You made this hurdle far more kind than I'd hoped the occasion to be! Your wish is my command, I'm updating soon for you!
More hi jinx to come, stay tuned, review to your heart's content!
