Possible Side Effects, Ch. 9

[wanderamaranth]

Possible Side Effects, Ch. 9: Imprinting Memories

AiW WiP.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

"I'm inside. I'm you."

The Jabberwocky sounded just as delighted as it had on the Frabjous Day. It's long black tongue flicked out, snakelike, before he grinned. He ran that same horrid tongue over his brilliantly white teeth, making Alice wish he didn't resemble Cheshire Cat so much with the gesture.

"Try as you might, Bearer, you shall not expel me. We are joined as can be--brother and sister in arms! It is now as it always should have been."

Alice wanted nothing more than to tell the Jabber that she was not trying to rid herself of him, as she wasn't even aware that he was a part of her to begin with, and how could she get try to get rid of something she didn't even know about? (Although if she had, she certainly would have wanted to eliminate any bits of Jabberwocky from herself…what a terrible thought, that she was parading around with that creature inside of her, even in the smallest form!)

None of these words were possible for her, however, as she was suspended in mid-air, immobile. (She was getting very tired of dreaming dreams in which she was unable to be an active participant.)

"The Vorpal never understood, Bearer. So we were to always be enemies. Due to his own stubborn beliefs in 'Right' and 'Wrong'." The Jabberwocky's smile grew wider, if that were possible. "Proper and Improper."

The entire atmosphere around them started to shake, and the Jabberwocky whipped his head around, scanning the sky for what, Alice did not know. "Leave us!" he bellowed, purple energy bursting from his mouth in his rage. The already-crumbling castle Alice was suspended over lost more stones, as the sky rumbled more. "I am not finished here, Brother!" the Jabberwocky shrieked, and his wings began to unfurl, as his eyes turned the most virulent shade of turquoise--

"Stop making those noises! Alice!"

A final rough shake roused her, as Alice rolled over and started coughing. A sharp pain blossomed just behind her eyes, and she gave a great cough. A warm spray of blood burst from her nose and splattered the ground beneath her. (And what didn't hit the ground rolled down her chin.) She gave another hacking cough and expelled the largest bit of phlegm she had even had the misfortune to produce. Raising herself on one arm, Alice wiped her chin and nose with the back of her sleeve. It came away a rich plum-burgundy tone, showing vibrantly against the blue of her duster.

Re-adjusting herself so she was not splayed across the ground, but rather sitting as properly as she could manage, given she was atop of bed roll in the middle of a rolling field in the Outlands of Underland (which was really just a great big expanse of dirt, scrub bushes, and more dirt). When she was seated and breathing normally again, she turned and glared at her traveling companion.

"You were grunting. It was most disturbing." The Knave spoke with a harsh grumble, but Alice thought she detected a bit of concern in the back of his eyes. If she looked very, very closely. (And she did want to find at least something pleasant about the man--she was like to be stuck with him for at least a few more days.)

"And you did not think that perhaps I could not breathe?" Alice asked archly.

"No."

Huffing, Alice decided it was not worth her time to argue with the surly man. He'd been bear-like ever since they had left London, and she was in no mood to coddle the rake.

They had mutually decided it was better to leave for Underland sooner rather than later, as they could not be sure how much time had passed, or would pass, in that realm if they should delay. Indeed, they were not even sure of how much time had already passed in Underland.

"For all I know," the Knave had drawled, "Iracebeth has already moved on to the next stage of our plot without me. She never has been known for her patience."

While his words had been said in order to pressure Alice into deciding to travel with him whilst it was still a fresh concept in her mind (as he was sure she would decide against it, if given a bit more Time--or worse yet, someone else would come Above to fetch her, and then where would he be?) there was absolute truth in the statement.

Alice herself felt the need to leave keenly, as she was well aware that while her mother may seem to be accepting of the concept for now, once her rational side overtook her once more (as Alice knew it would--it was so strong in her mother, which was a pity, as she would have dearly loved having two irrational parents) she would once again be calling her daughter mad, and calling for a physician.

She needed to be gone before then. When (if, a small voice whispered) she returned, well, then she would just have to worry about that when it came, wouldn't she? (And why wouldn't she return? She huffed to herself. She had a very important journey to Jakarta ahead of her! Wouldn't that be thrilling, to see India in all of it's glory?)

So the Knave had gone back to his quarters to gather what possessions he had in the Above, and to purchase what supplies he felt they would need for traveling the Outlands. Alice had gone to her room, packing an extra traveling suit, a pocket knife that had been a gift from Lord Ascot, and a few other assorted trinkets she couldn't bear to part with for very long. (She steadfastly refused to acknowledge that she gathered these items on the chance that she would not be able to come Above again.)

A picture of her father, a bracelet Margaret had fashioned her when they were both young and silly (or as silly as Margaret had ever been), and a masculine brooch that she had received from her mother, on the eve of her almost-engagement to Hamish. Odd, but for all of her curiosity, she had never asked her mother what it was for, or why she was in possession of such a piece of jewelry. It was silver, and a general roundish shape; in the very center was a detailed boar's head. A Latin phrase scrolled across the top, but Alice couldn't translate it. (Latin having been so dull when she was a student that she never bothered to properly learn it.) She tucked it into her front duster pocket, intent on asking her its use before leaving. Leaving..

Oh, she wasn't prepared for this! It was one thing to dream of Underland, and to think wistfully for all of the grandly strange characters that she had met there, but this--there was every possibility that she would never be able to return to Above. Her mother had said so (and while her mother may have been misguided about many things, to Alice's knowledge, she'd never outright lied to her) and the Knave had agreed with her assessment. (She did believe the Knave would lie, if given the opportunity.) But if the Knave was able to travel willy-nilly through mirrors and such, why could she not? He was a creature of Underland, as her mother believed Alice herself was turning into (and what a queer feeling that gave her; the look her mother had given her, in the parlor, as if she was watching a dead person up and walking about!). If he could travel at will, there was no logical reason why she herself could not as well! (This was of course discounting the fact that things in Underland ever went apace with logic. Alice enjoyed thinking of herself as supremely logical, and so would just avoid any inconvenient truths that interfered with her rationale.)

Besides, it kept the panic at the idea of what she was about to do at bay.

She'd gone downstairs then, meeting her sister at the bottom landing. "Margaret!" she cried, surprised to her there. Last she'd known, she and Lowell had plans for the day; she hadn't thought she'd get a chance to say good-bye to her.

Tears pricked her sister's eyes. "So you were going to leave on another grand journey, without even letting me know you were off. And after I took you shopping for the very clothes you travel in, too!" she tried to say it in a stern, sisterly manner, but her voice betrayed her, and it came out trembling.

Alice could hardly deny that she was travel bound; she was wearing the suit, and she held her knapsack in her left hand. "Yes, I am to leave as soon as my travel companion is available."

It was impossible to know what their mother had told her. As soon as Alice thought that, she became quite vexed at herself, and set about proving her Errant Thought wrong. There was a simple remedy. "What has mother told you?" she asked. There, that showed that Errant Thought! Impossible, indeed.

"Just that you had urgent business that needed addressed, and were to leave immediately."

Alice looked down at her shoes, as if finding them suddenly very interesting. She hated upsetting her sister, more even than their mother. "I am sorry that I interrupted your plans for the day."

"I would have been much more upset if you had left and I had not had the chance to see you off. Are we to meet your companion at the docks, or are we all traveling together to there from here?"

Not knowing how to answer her sister's assumption, Alice was luckily saved from the necessity of forming a reply by Helen entering the room. "Alice!" she called, and gave a small start to see both of her girls upon the stair. She stared at them for a long moment, drinking in their features. She wished she had done that portrait commission she'd been intending to, of the three of them, but there had always been too many other things to do, too many other amusements to distract them--and now, she never would. So she must content herself with this, this small moment, forever in her memory. Her eyes traced over Alice's curls, down to Margaret's delicately gloved hands, back to Alice's eyes, and then to Margaret again.

"Alice, Mr. Masin--" she caught herself. She would not be fooled by that one's mind clouding tricks. She would remember, everything. The Wee Folk would sometimes remove all memory of the ones they stole from those that loved them in the Above; especially the ones they intended on keeping forever. Helen didn't know how or why Alice had been able to escape from Underland thrice already, but she had a strong sense of foreboding that it would not happen again.

Yet still, if she wished her daughter healthy, she needed to let her go. But she would remember her daughter, fierce and strong and so independent--she would not allow those Under to steal that. It hurt badly enough they were taking her physical presence; if they were to steal her completely, it would kill her.

Helen would fade, just as those that lived Under faded if they stayed too long Above. Oh, she understood Alice's situation--much better than she feared Alice herself understood it. Her daughter expected that this would be a swift journey in order to free herself of a malady, as if she were just going to Bath to take in the waters. Helen knew better. (A year and a day, her mind whispered. And then the leaving will come only if she is exceptionally clever, or extremely lucky.)

"Mr. Stayne is waiting for you in the front hall."

Had she herself gone mad?

She wondered briefly if some tragedy had already occurred; if Alice had succumbed to illness, or was lost at sea on route back from China, or even just run over by a hackney in the street--and this was a product of her own imagination, giving her a way of believing her child was still alive, somewhere…even if it meant she was trapped down Under. Anything but cold and dead, like her beloved Charles. She decided, just as quickly as the idea came, that it was no such thing; she'd feel it, deep in her bones, if death ever came for one of her daughters. This was really happening, whether she wanted it to or not.

Alice came down the last step, and the moment was gone. Silver flashed in her right hand; she was holding a bit of metal there. "Mother, you gave this to me right before Hamish proposed to me." Her clenched hand loosed to reveal a brooch. "I never did find out what it was for."

"It's a plaid pin." Smiling softly, Helen picked it up and held it to the light. "When a Scotsman wears his plaid, this pin is what holds it in place. I had hoped you could give it to Hamish, for your marriage."

Imagining Hamish in a kilt led Alice to inelegantly snort, and even Margaret smiled. "I know it seems ridiculous now," Helen conceded, "but Lord Ascot did say as to how he would like his young man married in full regalia, despite whatever Hamish himself thought." She went to pocket the pin. "Forgive an old woman her sentimentality, darling. I suppose you have no use for it now."

"No!" The word gushed out of Alice's mouth. Both Margaret and Helen stared at her, wondering what caused that outburst.

"That is to say…" An image of the Hatter as he had dressed on the Frabjous Day came to her; kilt swinging as he walked, head held as high and as proud as any Laird's. "I should like to keep it, if I may?"

Helen tilted her head to one side, considering her younger daughter. "Do you know, my mother gave this to me, and it was given to her by her father?" she asked, and this time it was her daughters who looked to Helen in amazement. "Robert Campbell--named after 'the Bruce' himself." Pulling it out of her pocket, Helen's thumb traced across the lettering at the top. Ne Obliviscaris, it read. She whispered the translation with a breath. Yes, Alice should have this.

The now-warmed metal she then held out to Alice, who took it much more gingerly than she had the first time she had given it to her. "Do you remember enough of your Latin to translate that, my dear?"

A faint flush burned high on her cheeks. "Our Latin texts never had any pictures or conversations in them."

"Ne Obliviscaris." Margaret said, voice as haughty as it ever was when she was giving Alice her lessons. "It translates to: Do Not Forget."

A silence fell over the trio then, as the impact of the words came to mother and daughters.

You won't remember me, he had said, plaintively.

And she'd just smiled. How can I forget?

Was everything she'd experienced thus far leading up to this moment? The air about her felt heavy with the hand of Fate. She could practically taste it thick on the back of her throat. (Well, not that she'd gone around tasting Fate's hand, or anything. If Fate had a hand. Something to ask, if she had the opportunity, when in Underland once again.) This was the path she was always meant to take. Did this moment appear in the Oraculum? If there was an Oraculum solely for tracking her life's course, she knew this moment would appear there.

Margaret had taken the ribbon wound through her hair out, and handed it to Alice without a word. The brooch slid easily onto the black bit of fabric. Holding up her hair with one hand, Alice handed the now-necklace to her mother with the other. She tied it so it rested just below her collarbone; loose enough to not choke her, tight enough that she would not easily lose it.

"Thank you." Alice said, voice tight.

"Are you ready?" They'd all looked up then to see Stayne standing just a few feet away. How long he'd been there was any guess; he looked prodigiously unhappy. Alice could not guess at what he could be thinking of that made him frown so, unless it was the prospect of the trip itself. (Which would have been reason enough to frown.)

Alice did know, though, that he'd been in a foul mood since that moment, and did not seem intent on improving his disposition in the least.

Even Margaret's reaction to them disappearing through the Looking Glass in the drawing room had not been enough to cheer him, and Alice had thought that comical enough.

Even if part of her felt terrible for laughing at her sister's faint.

"Give me but a moment, Stayne, and we shall be on our way again." Alice stomped off as best she could with a woozy head, scanning the area for any place that would provide her with the barest modicum of privacy, but of course, there were none, which did nothing at all for her own mood. "This is going to feel like a long trip indeed." she grumbled.

***

She was getting worse, not better.

Stayne watched as the blonde woman struggled to her feet, wavering a bit before she steadied and solidified her stance. The fact that she was coughing up the blood now instead of spewing it would have been considered a good sign, if it had not been preceded by a violent nosebleed.

The noises she'd been making in her slumber had not been promising, either.

Despite what he'd told Alice, it had been perfectly obvious to him that she'd been unable to breathe; otherwise, he'd have just left her to sleep, grunting and all, as he'd desperately needed the time to think.

Originally, he'd had no real plans to take her to Marmoreal. He'd told her he would, certainly--but never with the belief he would actually do so. For if he took her to Marmoreal, where Iracebeth currently was, than the former Red Queen would see very easily that she was not dead, and Stanye's deflection would be obvious. He'd thought to perhaps sneak her back to Salazum Grum, or perhaps to Snud, in the furthest corner from the Tulgey Wood he could place her. Just until he'd convinced her of the wisdom of re-accepting her Crown from Underland. Then, oh then…they'd return to Marmoreal.

But now, with her so ill…he'd hoped simply returning to Underland was going to be enough to heal her from her affliction, to stop the Jabber blood from its exodus--but it had not been. Circumstances were fighting against him. If he wanted her whole, it now seemed he had no choice but to actually take her to Marmoreal as he said he would. But what of Iracebeth? His thoughts kept swirling one around the other, and he cursed his inability to focus.

His focus would have been helped considerably if Alice were not wearing that awful brooch about her throat.

He'd happened upon the Kingsley women (and what a fine group of women they were!) just after Helen told Alice that he was waiting for her in the hall. (He'd followed her instead of waiting, as he enjoyed watching the way the older woman's skirts had swayed as she walked.) Stayne had only seen Margaret in passing before, and he had never seen the three of them together. The sight quite distracted him for several moments, and he only picked up their narrative again when Alice had sharply cried, "No!"

Then he'd looked at the object of contention. It was a plaid pin. A plaid pin, as in a pin wore by those who wore plaids and kilts. Kilts such as the one the Hatter wore, on that day he'd held his claymore over Stayne's head, and--

He'd looked up at Alice, then, as she told her mother she'd like to have it, and he knew she was not aware of it, but her heart had been in her eyes.

Or rather, her heart had been in his eyes. His eyes were her heart? Either way, he and she and her heart were connected in a way that made Stayne want to break every bone in his body.

He being, of course, that thrice damned Mad Hatter.

What was he to do? If he led her away from Marmoreal, she would die from whatever was causing the Jabber blood to leave. If he took her to Marmoreal, and Iracebeth didn't manage her death, if she happened to be so fortunate as to survive--he would still lose his Queen, lose his Kingship--to Tarrant Hightopp.

To that…jumped…up…milliner!

He wanted to kick something, but there was nothing around but low shrubs (which would have been unsatisfying), their supplies (which he couldn't afford to ruin), Alice (and as tempting as that was, he'd better not, he decided) and the ground itself.

So he stopped his foot. Hard.

He felt better for doing it once, so he did it again. And again.

Soon he was pounding the ground with his feet, over and over, and shout-screaming nonsense mixed with the occasional foul word. A dust plum rose up about him where he stomped, and he only stopped when it became difficult to breathe.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, and he panted slightly from exertion as he waited for the air to clear, hands upon his knees. When he was able to see again, Alice was before him, a slightly bemused expression upon her face. She'd managed to clean the blood off, he noted.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"For now."

***

An envelope was suspended in mid-air, its cream tones contrasting starkly with the purple fog that surrounded it. The Hatter saw it, and nothing but it, yet continued to look around, hoping that perhaps Alice (he was at this point comfortable enough with having her constantly on his Mind that she was relinquished from her status as only-a-pronoun) was somehow behind it or underneath it. He did not like the nights that he had to wait for her for any length of time. (Funny, he thought, how that could be, when their nights as such only numbered three, and out of those, two of them were waiting nights!)

Perhaps she was too small once more, and was clinging to the back of the envelope? (He didn't like the idea of her being Small once again, nor of her needing to cling to the envelope.) Although, if she were small, she needn't necessarily have anything to do with the envelope--she could be upon the ground, and simply too slight for him to see, what with it being so thick with the misty fog. And Alice quite disliked the idea of being lost in that fog, he knew, from her reaction to when he merely pretended to be lost in it, and he should really look for her…

Unless, perhaps…? Could the envelope be from her? An…invitation, perhaps?

Such an idea made him giddily clumsy--he stumbled twice over his own feet as he raced towards the missive.

If Tarrant had not been so keen on simply getting to the envelope, and perhaps had paid a bit more attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed that the envelope was not suspended in mid-air at all; rather, it was held by two furry clawed paws, one on either side, each the color of an overcast sunset.

But he was in a hurry, and he didn't notice that at all, nor the brief glimmer of white teeth that winked in the air after the envelope was snatched up. Teeth that followed the paws in evaporating out, and becoming just that much more purple mist against the darkness.

The Hatter grasped the envelope, sniffing it deeply before anything else. Fresh ink, nothing more, came to his nose. Disappointed, he looked again, and now there were words upon the surface of it, in a very short sort of rhyme. It looked as though it had been written carefully by an unpracticed hand.

Hold Tightly to This!

Don't Dare Let Go!

Keep It Clenched in Your Fist!

For to You It Has Much to Show!

A few small ink splatters followed, and then, at the very bottom, scrawled hastily, it read,

Now Wake Up!

Tarrant did, with a sudden gasp, green eyes blinking in disorientation. Alice had said she'd see him tomorrow night, and today was yesterday's tomorrow, and he seen nothing of her.

It was surely out of regret, he decided. She'd told him to stop, and he did stop, even though stopping was the furthest thing from what he wanted to do that could have been imagined, but--perhaps she'd thought she was being rude? Alice was terribly concerned with polite behavior, and neither one of them had issued the other an invitation. He'd like to think that two individuals whom had banded together to help overthrow a tyrannical monarch would be beyond such pleasantries--but if that were the case, then she could feel just as familiar with Thackery or Chess (and he didn't like that Idea at all!).

Still, if she was waiting on formality, then he supposed he could pen her a note letting her know when she visited again (preferably in person, as he did not want to cause her injury by having her humanness travel to Somewhere Else again) that she would be more than welcome to engage his person in any such activities she should choose--but how would one phrase such a thing? And where would he deliver said card to?

Card…invitation…envelope!

With a wordless cry, he remembered the envelope he'd just received in Somewhere Else with its (rather dull) little rhyme on the front (honestly, if you were going to go to the trouble to write something in verse, he thought, it might as well be a colorful one.).

Ripping the cream colored paper open, he let the uninspiring verse fall to the floor, as his eyes hungrily attacked the page. There were no words upon it; rather, just a slowly swirling spot of ink in the very center, much like the Oraculum right before it began to draw futures…

Just like that, a picture did indeed begin to form. It was Alice! Oh, she looked positively precious, wearing trousers and a long duster coat--he knew just the hat that would match such an outfit, and…

The picture was not done. A knapsack formed in her fist, a Looking Glass before her…and the Knave of Hearts stood beside her.

The Knave of Hearts stood beside her.

He didn't know for how long the Badness had hold of him, nor exactly what he did during that time. (To this day, all in his acquaintance that were present in the castle that day refuse to tell him.) He did know that he seized right before it took him, and even in the midst of the shuddering, he was able to fling the paper away from himself, before he was able to cause harm to it. For one does not destroy a paper such as the one he had been gifted with, even if it was the bearer of only bad tidings.

When he came to, he was in the throne room. Queen Mirana, Mallymkun, Thackery, McTwisp, and, incongruously enough, Iracebeth-- all stood around him, with varying degrees of worry or anger upon their faces. (Well, only Thackery and Iracebeth looked angry; the rest bore the worried visage.)

"It is most fortunate I insisted you abide in Marmoreal for a time, Hatta." Mirana said. "If this had occurred outside of the White Castle, I do not know what the consequences would have been." Seemingly from thin air, she pulled out the very paper which caused his reaction in the first place. "Where did you get this?" she asked, studying it once more.

"May I stand?" he wheezed. (It was uncomfortable indeed to lay flat out on a marble floor with a ring of faces surrounding you, and one of those faces being of an individual who had ordered your execution on more than one occasion, besides. Mirana nodded, and the Hatter stood, shoving aside Thackery and Mally in his bid for room.

"Twas in Somewhere Else." he responded then, nodding at the paper. "Waiting instead of she." (This time he used she instead of Alice's name for fear of what Iracebeth's reaction would be to hearing her name more than anything else.)

"I suspected as such." she murmured, eyes not leaving the ink drawings. It was only after a moment that she noticed her sister's very determined gaze just under her shoulder, as if she would be able to see through the paper from the underside and read what was upon its top. (Iracebeth, for her part, was wishing she was not so short.) Snapping the paper suddenly shut, she shoved it inside her bodice (much to the Hatter's chagrin--he was mad, but not so mad as he'd be going fishing for his wee paper there, her being a Queen and all) and said, a brilliant smile upon her face, "Hatta, are you amiable to the Idea of playing a small tune for us? I do know how my sister once doted upon your talents."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned upon her heel and floated out of the room. The rest of the room's occupants had little choice but to follow in her wake. Her twinkling skirts soon led them to the music room, and Mirana went expectantly to the small piano that sat in the very center. "Come, Hatta, and play for us."

The one time the Hatter had actually played for the Red Queen before, it had been well before she had taken over all of Underland, when both Queens ruled jointly. To say she was displeased with his performance would be an understatement; she'd called for his head, and his only reprieve had been a distraction provided by the Red King. (Who was, rather incontinently for the Hatter at this moment, very dead.)

But the Hatter was a loyal subject of his White Queen; and so, without complaint (though with much dread) he sat upon the piano bench. He understood she was distracting her sister from the paper, and news of Alice reaching her, even if no one else knew her motivation.

"With all respect, your Majesty…" Mallymkun spoke up, not wanting her friend to have to relive his humiliation in front of not one but two Queens. "The Hatter's just had a very trying experience. Perhaps Bayard or…" she trailed off when she saw Mirana's finger waving at her. Just her pointer finger, shaken back and forth, very slowly, but it was enough to let Mally know her comments were unwanted just then.

"W-what shall I p-play, your Majesty?" the Hatter asked.

Mirana waved her hand. "Whatever you like." she said, "As long as there is singing, as well."

Now the poor Hatter was very nervous indeed; he risked a glance at Iracebeth, and saw her murderous rage. She had not forgotten his past performance, then. Gulping slightly, he set his fingers to the keys just as all the room's other occupants (that he was trying very hard not to notice, as they'd make him nervous-er still) settled into the chairs and cushions that were scattered about. He knew not what he should play--he just started tinkling out the first thing that came to his head.

"Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Remember me to the one who lives there

She was once a true love of mine…"

The words, when they left his mouth, came truly toned, clear, and beautiful. His fingers hit just the right keys at the right moment. He played it perfectly in Time. Every creature in the room sat still, stunned (most especially Iracebeth, as she'd heard him play before, and he was awful) as he continued to play. Every creature, that is, save the White Queen.

"Tell her to make me a cambric shirt

Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme

Without no seam or needlework

Then she'll be a true love of mine."

McTwisp looked about him, to see if the others were seeing and hearing what he was as well. Every other face appeared at least as stunned as he felt, except for, as said before, Queen Mirana.

"You knew?" the rabbit hissed at her. She smiled enigmatically at him, and he continued with, "How?"

The Queen answered with 'how is this possible' as opposed to 'how could you know'. Her smile grew wider, until it almost stretched off her face. Leaning down close, she whispered, for his ears alone:

"Alice."

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