A/N: This chapter is a bit shorter than average... sorry about that. But not all ithat/i sorry, since I just finished a super-long one that'll be posted sometime next week. ^_^;; Enjoy!

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That same night, albeit far away and in an entirely different setting – rough forest ground traded for polished marble, dirty, scratchy clothes traded for lustrous silks and satins, and chewy borogrove traded for soft, succulent Hopplehond – a very similar fight was happening.

Except, the Duchess thought sourly, that it wasn't really at all.

They were doing that thing couples do when they want to fight, they want to yell and scream and throw things at each other, but they know that if one person says a single word it'll shatter the tenuous peace and all hell will break loose. So they just sit there, at the dinner table, eating their Hopplehond and not saying a word. Fighting silently. All the serving Clubs had felt the tension in the room, moving to the outskirts of the dining hall and hovering near the doors in case immediate exit was necessary.

The Duchess hated it, hated the whole situation. Jack looked like he'd aged thirty years in a week—his blonde hair now had clear streaks of gray in it, passing the stage of looking "stylish" and now looking like he could have been the Duchess' older brother. Wrinkles had deepened around his eyes and mouth, and his blue eyes never ever sparkled anymore. The Duchess had it on good authority from the Spades that he hadn't even touched his favorite black flamingo-bike in weeks… and that almost as much as his appearance convinced the Duchess that something was really and truly wrong. Even when they had been teenagers she'd had it in her mind that he loved that flamingo even more than he'd loved her.

And this not-fighting, something that had been so familiar during the Queen's reign when one wasn't allowed to say anything incendiary, now seemed childish and stupid – two things that the Duchess was proud to not count as her primary characteristics anymore.

So she said "What the hell is wrong with you, Jack?" in the middle of their nice, quiet dinner, and decided to let the chips fall where they may.

Peace was overrated, anyway.

He looked up at her sharply, his mouth twisting into an ugly expression. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied. The Duchess set her fork down on the table with a loud clatter and leaned forward over her half-eaten Hopplehond.

"I mean, look at yourself!" she hissed. "You look older than your father ever did, your attitude lately has been horrible, and…" she pointed, "you've had a wrinkle in your tie all day, and not once have I seen you try to straighten it out. So spill!"

"Shut up, Duchess!" he yelled, throwing his fork across the room and nearly hitting Seven. She bristled and squared her shoulders, waving the staff out of the dining room – an order they eagerly followed.

"Jack," she started, her mouth drawn into a tight line, "is this about Alice?"

He didn't say anything, just looked at her murderously.

"It is, isn't it? You are still in love with her!" She rose from her seat and started to pace. "You've been looking worse and worse ever since she arrived. You're still in love with her and don't want her to leave, is that it?"

"No," Jack bit out through clenched teeth, both of his hands fisted tight on the tabletop. "I love you, Duchess."

"Don't say that," she said seriously. "Don't say that, don't you dare say that unless you mean it. I'm done with empty declarations, Jack! I might have been willing to let them slide when I was still just a mistress, but dammit!" She straightened up to her full height and flipped her hair expertly behind her shoulder. "I'm the Queen of Hearts now, and I won't be treated that way any more!"

"You weren't supposed to be," he muttered under his breath. The Duchess heard it anyway, her ears catching the admission as though he had shouted.

A long, quiet moment stretched across the dining hall.

"So it's true," she whispered. She closed her eyes and tried to remember how to breathe. "You did ask her first. I heard whispers, rumors, but…I just…" She shook her head, trying to regain her composure at the sound of Jack's footsteps coming around to face her.

"You need to leave." His voice was low, dangerous, his drooping eyes and pallid skin making him look, if for only an instant, almost…predatory. The Duchess took an involuntary step back and said nothing.

"You are a colossal disappointment as Queen," he continued, advancing slowly. "I should have forced Alice to stay from the start. You are weak, pathetic, stupid, and too emotional for the job. I never wanted you as my partner, I never wanted you as my wife, I certainly never wanted you as my Queen, and you should just GO!"

That last part was accompanied by a forceful shove toward the door that left her near-sprawling across the slippery marbled floor. In the back of her mind, the Duchess was almost glad for the shove—she felt like she had frozen solid in her shock, immovable, unthinking.

"You never loved me." It didn't feel so much like realization as it did acceptance, the acknowledgment of the monster she'd always feared actually lived in that closet.

"Noooo…" Jack mumbled behind her, his voice muffled. The Duchess turned around to find him on his knees, trembling fingers covering his face. "No, Duchess, I love you." He looked up, his eyes wide and haunted. "Leave," he begged. "Leave, go, don't look at me like that!"

The Duchess took a step backward and a single, deep breath. "What is wrong with you?" Her whispered plea cracked and trembled, looking down at this crumpled, ashen figure, clutching his head and whimpering in pain…

He's like a beast, she thought guiltily. He's like a… a… he doesn't even look human…

"Jack," she said, gaining strength from her own resolve. "I am going to figure out what's wrong with you. I am going to leave, and I'll come back with help, and… just… just hold on in there, darling," she pleaded, "just… I'm going to fix this."

And with that, she turned her back on him and fled, the door shutting behind her with an echoing clatter of tumblers.

She'd even locked him in, he realized.

Somewhere, a voice laughed. Confining him… she didn't even realize yet how impossible that was, how little it mattered. His spine straightened imperceptibly as he knelt there on the floor. "LORY!"

"Good lord, there's no need to shout like that," said a voice from off to his left. Jack turned around to find Lory already standing by the far entrance, hands folded behind his back and lips pursed in displeasure.

Jack stood and made his way across the dining hall to stand in front of him, the two of them mirror images of disdain. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long."

"What did you do with the body?"

Lory hesitated, just a moment—something he didn't ever recall doing before in his life, especially when talking to his superiors—and settled on, "I haven't finished with him, yet."

Jack stilled. "You mean he's alive?"

"Unfortunately so, sir. I was just about to—"

CRACK!

Lory's head snapped to the side, his ice-blue eyes wide in surprise, frozen – and Jack just stood there with his hand outstretched, still stinging from the impact.

"Well." Lory's eyes narrowed into slits, sending a shiver of fear down Jack's spine. "That makes things simpler."

Before Jack could even think to run, Lory had grabbed him by the throat and slammed him against the wall with enough force to rip hairline cracks through the marble. "I'm afraid you've lost my services, sir."

"You're not going to kill me," Jack said confidently, apparently not even caring about the blood his back was smearing across the wall as Lory dragged him, still pinned by the throat, to the nearest window. "Cover-ups aren't your thing, Lory – that's why you prefer to control things and kill from a distance—"

"This a special circumstance," Lory said. "After all, you are the King. You deserve special treatment." He flicked open the window latch with a long, pointed finger and pushed it open calmly. He looked for all the world like he was just enjoying the view—40 decks up, the dining hall had a perfect panoramic view of the Tulgey Wood, a dark green blob in the distance that lined the horizon. Lory casually looked down at the gardens below, partially covered by fog coming in from the Lake. "My," he said dryly. "That's a long way down."

"I have a job for you," Jack said. Lory rolled his eyes.

"I'm afraid it doesn't really work that way anymore. You see, this is the part where I just kill you and go on with my life. I like this part."

"I'm done with trying to knock off Hatter," Jack continued as though he had never been interrupted. "That ship has sailed. Thanks to your incompetence—" he coughed as Lory tightened the fingers around his throat, a little dribble of blood oozing out the side of his mouth, "—I'm running out of options. I don't have time anymore to try and lead Alice here of her own volition, I need her now."

"Kidnapping?" Lory raised an eyebrow. "What in the world would make you think that a kidnapping would be enough to entice me not to throw you out this window? Throwing people off of tall things is the best, there's such a scream as they go down-"

"I'll release your pet."

Lory's eyes widened abruptly, his grip loosening. "You'd… you'd release Scree?" he sounded childish, giddy even, stoic composure for once totally forgotten. Jack spoke quickly.

"Leave me alive – no coming back to kill me later on in my reign. Bring Alice here, and injure Hatter enough so that he won't be able to follow. That's all I ask… and you can see her at first light tomorrow."

Lory's eyes narrowed. "I get Scree first," he warned. "At first light. Then I go. Also, I get to kill the old man." His eyes narrowed. "He's bested me too many times in my own forest. I don't like him."

"Deal." Jack coughed, a bit more blood splattering on his chin. Lory smirked and let him go, letting him fall to the floor in a jumbled heap.

"I do so enjoy our little talks, Jack." He stepped carefully over him and walked over to the dinner table, helping himself to a roll and buttering it generously. Jack gave him the dirtiest look he could manage from where he was gathering his strength on the floor, but Lory seemed nonplussed.

"What?" he asked casually. "It's the best butter."

In a blink he was gone, taking the roll with him and leaving the single red feather as the only audience to Jack's curses.

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