..
The next morning, they had breakfast at a table that was far too long to be possibly useful, and were served something such an electric shade of purple that Alice originally thought to just stick with toast and jam.
"Oh no, Alice," Hatter said, stopping her and handing her a piece of toast already smeared with the purple glop. "You've got to try this, you'll love it."
She looked at him skeptically, but he nodded encouragingly and started heaping the stuff onto a slice of his own. Alice shrugged and took a bite. It was sweet and almost overwhelmingly tangy, flavor bursting on her tongue like Pop-Rocks and rocketing around inside her head. She followed it with a swallow of her tea, calming her taste buds so they might not explode from the unexpected onslaught.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Treacle," Hatter explained. Alice scoffed.
"This is not treacle."
"Well, not Oyster treacle," he sniffed. "This is proper treacle, the way it's supposed to be. I've known people to live off this stuff."
"Really?"
"Well…not directly." He took another large bite. His eyes rolled back into his head and he gave a small moan. "Outstanding. We should take some home, if we can."
"I'll mention it to my chef," Jack's voice said from behind them. Alice and Hatter turned towards the large door to see him and the Duchess stride in, sitting beside them at the table easily and preparing their own plates of toast and treacle. "I trust you both slept well?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks," Alice said, brushing crumbs off her upper lip and speaking past her fingers. "Any news from Charlie?"
"He's putting his horse in our stables as we speak," Jack told her. "I told my Suits to bring him here; he should arrive shortly."
Alice had just begun pouring her second cup of tea when a club behind her announced, "I present to your Majesties, Sir Charles Eustice Fotheringay LeMalfoy the Third," and it was the befuddled tone to his voice that Alice recognized more than the name itself, having spoken about Charlie in much the same way herself. She stood and turned toward the door. "Charlie!"
There he stood, as cheerful as you please, looking every inch the car crash he had been ten months ago. Except, Alice noticed, perhaps his beard had a little more lift to its curl now than it had before.
"My lady Alice!" he trumpeted, striding forward and hugging her tightly. "Ah, my dear, the heavens have seen fit to reunite us! But of course," he said, drawing back and tapping his forehead. "I did foresee it, you know."
"Of course you did, Charlie."
"Good to see you, mate," Hatter said warmly, stepping in to shake Charlie's hand.
"Sir Hatter!" Charlie greeted, leaning in just a little too close and asking, pointedly and in a low voice, "You are keeping Alice safe in my absence, I trust?"
"Of course."
"Excellent!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping Hatter on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward slightly. "Ooh, treacle!"
"Yes, please sit down," the Duchess told him, indicating a seat next to them. "You've been traveling, you must be hungry. We can debrief you here."
"Indeed," Jack said, as Charlie began to heap mounds of treacle on his plate, eating it in forkfuls large enough to make Alice's stomach turn just watching him. "We're hoping your expertise as a Knight will be of some use to us."
"I am at your command," Charlie said, looking as regal as he could manage with bright purple lips. Alice bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, and one glance at Hatter told her he was doing the same.
"The Looking Glass has inexplicably shut down," Jack told him. "It appears as though the Stone of Wonderland has died, and we were hoping you, representing the last of Wonderland's Knights, could shed some light on the situation."
Charlie preened, shoveling another forkful of treacle into his mouth. "Oh yes, my lad. That's quite simple; every hundred years or so, the Stone dies, and the Ring needs to be recast."
"Exactly, that's exactly what my researchers found while looking through some of the Knights' old documents. But can you do that for us?"
"Oh no, of course not!" Charlie waved his hand. "I'm old, sir, but I'm still quite aways from a hundred! The last Ring was made years before I was born. I'm afraid I've no idea. But it was written down - the nobles in charge were meticulous about that sort of thing. If your researchers have got all the documents, it should be there."
Alice brightened, but Hatter didn't miss the look between Jack and the Duchess, nor the way Jack leaned back in his seat the tiniest bit. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Excavating the Great Library has been… a challenge, to say the least," Jack said, rubbing his forehead. "I'm afraid only a portion of it has been removed and organized by my researchers. The journal we need must still be in the unexcavated Library kept by the Resistance."
"Well, we'll just go there," Alice said, but Hatter seemed to slump next to her. "What?" she asked, suddenly wary at the depressed mood of the table around her. "What's wrong with the Great Library?"
"Nothing's wrong with it, I mean it's not dangerous or anything," Hatter said. "But it's not exactly organized. The Resistance sort of rescued anything they could get their hands on and jammed it all together. Plus, it's sort of a pain to get around. It could take weeks to find one particular book in that riot."
"Well then, I guess it's a good thing you have me." Charlie wiped his mouth clean, plate now devoid of any leftover treacle, and stood at salute. "My lady Alice," he said grandly, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat, "All of my skills in the black arts I lay at your feet, at your disposal for use of book location, retrieval, and et cetera, until such time that I can ensure the safe journey of you and your harbinger back to your world."
"Thanks, Charlie," she said. She turned to Hatter, who was balancing on the back two legs of his chair with casual ease. "I think we can do it."
She watched patiently as Hatter continued to balance, still in thought, one hand coming up to ruffle at his hair. "Well," he said eventually, half-shrugging, "It's worth a try. I mean, he's still mad as a box of frogs, that hasn't changed, but the old man does have a few tricks." He brought the front end of his chair back down with a thud, as though to emphasize the finality of the matter.
Alice raised an eyebrow. "Really, Hatter? I never thought I'd hear you sticking up for Charlie's usefulness in a scrape. Here I was, thinking I'd have to convince you."
"I mean, his black arts are, y'know, spotty at best, but… well, he did help me find you."
They smiled at each other.
"Jack," she said, turning back toward the table at large. "Charlie may be good to go, but Hatter and I will need horses. When can we leave?"
..
"I'll admit, when I said, 'Let's go have an adventure', I wasn't exactly thinking of a library visit."
An hour and a half later, newly armed with food, water, basic travel supplies, and the bags they'd brought with them containing their clothes, Alice, Hatter, and Charlie said their goodbyes to Jack and the Duchess and followed a helpful Eight to the royal stables. Charlie wandered off almost immediately to find Guinevere for himself and Eight went to fetch the horses Alice and Hatter would be taking, leaving them alone to talk for the first time since breakfast.
Hatter turned to Alice, looking stern. "Now look, Alice, I know it's just a library to you, but people have gotten lost in there and never resurfaced. Promise me that you'll keep yourself safe, and you won't do anything reckless."
"I will if you will."
"Alice—"
"No, I mean it," she said seriously. "I'm not going to make that kind of promise, because if something happens, I'm coming after you, and that's that." She grabbed the lapels of his jacket tightly. "I know you'd do the same for me."
His face softened ever so slightly. "Of course I would."
"Well, then," she said, standing on her tiptoes and kissing him softly. "We'll watch each other's back, and there won't be any problems."
"Yeah," he muttered, turning back to Eight, who had just arrived leading two horses. "Because we never have any problems."
Alice ignored him, stepping forward to admire the brown and white stallions that Eight had brought out. "The white one is Pat, and the brown one is Bill," Eight told her proudly.
Alice pursed her lips, looking at the two horses. She hadn't anticipated this little dilemma. She looked back to see Hatter giving them the same conflicted look that she felt—they locked eyes, knew they were thinking the same thing, and smiled.
"Oh, no… Miss, you've misunderstood," the clearly flustered Eight said after they had finished loading up the white stallion with all of their gear. "There's a horse for each of you to ride if you just distribute the gear evenly—"
"We know," Alice and Hatter said in unison as Alice mounted the brown horse to sit behind Hatter. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder. He craned his neck to kiss her temple.
"Just like old times," she said.
"You ready to go, Charlie?" Hatter called. Charlie appeared from around the corner, riding Guinevere serenely.
"Of course," he scoffed.
And they were off.
..