Possible Side Effects, Ch. 11

[wanderamaranth]

Possible Side Effects, Ch. 11: White Lies

AiW Fic. WiP.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

"Now that she is in your grasp, you allow her injury?"

Sometimes, Stayne really didn't like being an Underlandian. At least, from his very brief time in the land above, he could see that things were expected to run with a certain amount of order. London itself wouldn't cause events to occur for its own benefit; what a refreshing change from a land that many said had a mind of its own. People generally were not mad (and Stayne found mad people very annoying indeed), and he had never once had the urge to talk to the sky whilst there. All in all, a grand place.

Alice had never been injured there, either. Not like this.

She was unconscious when he reached her side. He'd run across the field, barreling past the confused tornados and launching himself through the now-shattered door. Face waxy and pale, her left arm was hanging at an odd angle, a bit of bone protruding from where it was broken uncleanly. Burgundy pulsed lazily from somewhere underneath of her, and for one long, stuttering heartbeat, the Knave thought it leaked from her head, as it was forming a pool by her neck. He let his breath out, though, when he saw that it appeared to be coming from the break, and not her head at all.

Stayne looked around this newest clearing, looking for anything he could use to make a stretcher or a flattish stick to brace her arm with. Instead all he found was a Dodo bird standing in the very middle of the clearing, acting as though for all the world that a young woman, potentially his future Queen, did not lay bleeding not far from him. He kept speaking Outlandish at a vastly accelerated rate, and shaking his head back and forth. A directional sign post stood in front of him.

Five strides was all it took the Knave to reach the bird's side. "Why do you stand there? Why do you not assist her?" he hissed, his frustrated feelings of uselessness being directed at the hapless creature. The bird simply continued to read the sign post and shake his head in a negative manner. With a cry of fury, Stayne pulled his short sword out once more, and lopped the unhelpful creature's head clean of its body. The head rolled several feet away from the force of his swing, beak still forming the litany of Outlandish the Dodo had been muttering to itself. He then proceeded to hack at the bird's body, pummeling it until nothing was left save a lumpy pile of blood-soaked feathers and a few shards of bone.

A small moan from the woman behind him brought Stayne back to himself. He looked dispassionately down at the mess he had made, and reached into his inner pocket and extracted a handkerchief. Wiping down his face and neck to remove any stray bits of Dodo that might have made their way there, he paused for just one moment longer to look at the embroidery on the kerchief's edging. There were no initials, just an extremely delicate looking strawberry vine tracing the border. Occasionally a strawberry blossom or the actual fruit was stitched in, but the majority of the decoration was the vine itself. This was a little dainty he'd picked up during one of his many scouting trips to Alice's London home, and he was sorry for the necessity of putting it to such ill use.

Tucking the kerchief back away, Stayne sheathed his short sword and turned back to Alice, a new determination in his frame. "Splint the arm, wrap it against her body, and carry her through the Nowhere door to what's left of Hightopp Hill." he said to himself, (despite the fact that he had no desire to encourage any of Alice's considerable curiosity to be engaged by anything relating to the Hightopps, he knew it would be the best place to camp for the evening, as hardly anyone went there anymore, and he was still Banished) and then set about to do just that.

***

"Yes, of course, Hatta." Mirana gestured gracefully to the chair opposite hers at the table. The Hatter gratefully sat down, horribly aware that he was in a Conservatory, of all places, and would therefore be expected to be on his best behavior. "What was it you wished to speak of?"

The man fidgeted for a moment, twirling a loose thread spool between his fingers. Mirana noted it was light blue, and knew the direction in which this conversation would be going, if not at first, then at the last.

"How was it that you were aware that I would play acceptably enough to please your sister?" his voice lisped a bit heavier than usual, exasperated by his uneasy state. "McTwisp told me after I was done that you mentioned it had to do with the Alice, but then refused to tell him any more. I know that I am neither as wise nor as benevolent as your Majesty, and that is perhaps why I am failing at this, but I do not See what she could do with what happened at all."

Mirana briefly considered telling him another White Lie, but the conversation she'd just had with Chessur had left her unsettled and a bit vengeful. (And how many White Lies did it take before they turned into one Red Lie? She did not wish to risk ever telling one of those.) Tarrant deserved to know the truth, even if that Cat didn't believe he did.

"I am afraid, my Hatta, that I may have previously told you a few White Lies."

Hatter forced himself to sit very still at his Queen's words. The Idea that his Queen had ever lied to him, at all, even a White one, threatened to call the Badness from its rest. Mirana was supposed to be above such behavior--she was supposed to be better than the rest of them. To discover that she was just as anyone else was unsettling indeed.

When she did not appear to be forthcoming with any more information, the Hatter prompted her, with just a trace of a brogue, "Aye?"

"I have been aware of what has been occurring. I presented to you in such a way that I was not, and for that, I do apologize. I knew you would be able to play and sing, because I knew Alice was able to. I…arranged…that you should trade a few talents with one another."

"My eyes in her face."

She gave the Hatter a nod of acknowledgment. "And her musical talent at your fingers."

"To what end?" he asked, brogue thickening. "To what purpose could you possibly have, to cause each of us to steal from the other?" (He knew not what else to call it; she had his eyes without his permission, and he certainly had never asked her to allow him use of her piano playing and singing. He hadn't even been aware that she could play the piano or sing; if he had been, he would have requested that she do so for him! He imagined her singing voice would be lovely, and the pleasure of seeing her hands dance across the piano keys would be great indeed.)

"It's not a theft!" Mirana hastily assured him. "It was a trade, your gift for Alice's."

"Taking without her express permission." the Hatter growled. "sounds as like Theft to me. I don't want to steal from her. Put us to rights, now." He knew it was Foolishness itself to make a demand of a Queen (they being such touchy creatures, and not liking anyone ordering them about, even though they themselves could order others, which was really rather selfish, when one thought about it) but he didn't care. Alice deserved the Queen's respect as her Champion, if nothing else, and her current behavior and attitude was anything but respectful.

Tilting her chin upwards a tick, Mirana had to remind herself that the Hatter was her friend, her fists clenching and unclenching briefly into her skirts. Her palms were beginning to sweat, and she felt the skin around her eyes tightening. She knew, if she'd looked into a mirror just then, that instead of having a vaguely pink ring around them, as they usually did, they'd be darker--maybe even as deep as a fuschia tone, which was not acceptable at all. Fuschia was much too close to Red.

"It is not a theft." she said, when she believed she had control once again. "You still have your Eyes, do you not? You are still able to Perceive. Just as you still have that, Alice still retains the ability to sing and keep Time. Consider it rather a form of sharing, rather than a Theft."

The Hatter silently took this in. Mirana was amazed indeed to see him being so contemplative. Finally he said, "To what end was this done? I hate to think ill of you, my Queen (and Mirana glowed a bit at that. One of her Important People hated to think ill of her, and called her Theirs!) but I See no reason for you to interfere in her life in such a manner." (Mirana's glowing subsided a bit at the tone he used, but she reminded herself he and her other Important Person had every right to be a bit vexed with her.)

"Well, Hatta…it has to do with--"

Mirana was interrupted by Chess, forming rapidly between them on the table, tail lashing furiously. "You'll say nothing, Mirana!" he hissed, and both she and the Hatter jumped away from their seats in surprise. "My duties have not yet been fulfilled. You will not like what I shall have to do if you interfere! And you!" he turned to the Hatter, eyes slit in annoyance. "You will stop asking such questions. It wasn't Curiosity that killed the Cat, hmm? It's the other way around, and you will do well to remember that."

The Hatter's face contorted in a mutinous expression, and he was about to tell the Cat what for, when Chessur sighed and pouted out his lower lip. "You're not going to just let this be, are you?" he sighed. "Very well then." The Cat blinked out of sight, a puff of smoke the only mark that he'd been there. Each of the room's occupants quickly scanned the area, but did not See Chessur. That is, until he reappeared directly above the Hatter's head. He snatched the top-hat off the Hatter's curls (so as to not further damage such a fantastic piece of haberdashery) and, without further warning, dropped a heavy rock on the top of the man's head.

He crumpled, unconscious, as people are wont to do when rocks are dropped on top of their heads, and Mirana fluttered over to his side, hands checking his pulse, and lifting his eyelids. When she was satisfied that no permanenet damage had been wrought, she turned her attention back to the Cat, who still floated above her, just now with the Hat upon his own head.

"What is the meaning of this?" she fairly seethed, and the Cat shrugged.

"He can't ask inconvenient questions if he's not awake to do so, hmm? Drag him off to a bed, and we can just pretend this entire episode was a bout of his Madness, yes?"

"No, Chess, that we cannot." Mirana was resolute. The Cat had gone too far.

"Ah, I see." The Cheshire Cat was silent for several moments, and then said, resignedly, "It seems we are at an impasse then, my dear."

***

"Time can be funny in dreams. But you know what's funnier?"

Alice hardly had time to think of an answer, when Chessur removed his head and stood on it with his front paws.

"You, thinking that there's any proper path at all." He then proceeded to walk on his own head, it turning under his paws like a wheel, his tail sticking nearly straight up in the air. "You're walking a path, to be certain. Yet your steps are slower than they should be due to your constant fretting about whichever fork you take being the correct one." Abruptly he stopped walking, jumped up and flipped in mid-air, and landed so that his hind legs were now the ones on top of his head. He contorted so that his back claws lifted the orb and placed it back upon his shoulders. However, his body was backways, and his head front ways, so he had to twist in order to have his belly be centered under his chin again.

"That's the big secret, you know, dearie." he drawled, fixing Alice with a stare that she'd never seen on his face before. With a small start, she realized it was serious compassion. "It matters not which way you go, if you've no idea where you're headed to. But have you never stopped to wonder--" and then that grin that she was so familiar with, the one that made the little hairs on her arms stand on end, stretched from ear to ear-- "why the path I lead you on always seems to end with the Hatter?"

"Hatter."

Alice said his name, at first shocked that she had control over her own body, as it had seemed like one of those dreams where she couldn't do a thing, but that changed to muted acceptance when she saw the reason she was able to do so was that she was no longer in that dream, but instead Somewhere Else.

But the Hatter was not to be found.

Never having been in that place before without the Hatter there before her, Alice had never noticed how unpleasant the environs really were. Yes, she'd noticed the fog, and the seemingly lack of a solid surface for her feet and bottom to rest upon (as it was rather difficult to not notice that!) but with his presence, she'd not noted how entirely blank it seemed. Her eyes fairly ached for color, for a break from the blackness and swirling, grey-purple mist.

Seeing no real alternative, Alice carefully sat down upon the not-there ground, and determined she would wait for him. Hopefully it would not be too long, surely?

It wasn't. Within a few moments, the Hatter himself stood near her, and Alice scrabbled to her feet to greet him.

"Alice!" he nearly shouted, rushing to her side. "What has happened to you?" He hugged her fiercely to himself, and Alice caught a whiff of his pleasant scent--that tea and ink smell--before he released her suddenly. "Oh, but I shouldn't be holding you as such! I may very well exasperate that which ails you! Forgive me, Alice?"

"There's nothing to forgive, Hatter." she said, confusion clear.

"You aren't aware?" he asked. When her brow simply furrowed deeper, he gently touched her left arm. "This appears to be broken." Tears glimmered in the corners of his eyes as his other hand reached for her face. A finger traced across her bottom lip, very carefully. "Split." he said, voice thick with a almost indefinable emotion. That same hand gently traced upwards, towards her brow. "Torn. And bruised."

Every injury that the Hatter brought to Alice's attention suddenly throbbed, and a small gasp of pain escaped her. Dizzy, she flailed for a moment, and the Hatter caught her under her unbroken arm, and gently lowered her to the invisible ground.

"Alice, what…"

"I am in the Outlands." she said, and this time it was the Hatter's turn to be confused.

"No, Alice, you are Somewhere Else, with me." Had her head suffered more injury than it seemed?

"I don't mean right now. I guess I mean…my body? Or before I came here…" she trailed off, unsure of how what they were experiencing actually worked. She looked up into the Hatter's eyes, hoping he would understand what she spoke of without her having to struggle for an explanation.

It seemed he did, for his eyes spiraled into yellow-orange, and his brogue thickened. "They did this? Those that live in the Outlands?" He gestured to her injuries, and Alice shook her head, a quick denial on her lips.

"No!…no." she soothed. "Isn't it strange, that I did not even feel this, until you reminded me of it?" A wry smile twisted her lips, until she saw a look of horror and self-loathing cross the Hatter's face. "Oh, that's not what I--" she cut herself off, deciding that perhaps just distracting him would be better. "A tornado picked me up and tossed me through a door."

She scooted over to him from where she sat on the ground and hugged him, careful of her left arm. "I am glad I am here with you now." She waited for his body to release the tension that held it taut before she went to let go, but he tightened his grip on her, not allowing her to move away. "When you did not come to me last night, as you said you would, I feared for you. I tried not to, I didn't even tell the White Queen, but I was so frightened. Please, may I just…" he paused, and Alice was so close to him she could hear his nervous gulp, "may we just sit in this attitude, for a little while?"

"Yes. That would be…nice."

They sat that way for a little while, neither saying a word. Eventually the Hatter let her go, and Alice believed he was done holding her; she felt decidedly ambivalent about that, until he gently and wordlessly directed her body so that she back leaned against his chest, nestled between his legs. He stretched them out, and Alice couldn't help but smile as she saw his too-short pants, mismatched socks, and his battered, oft-patched shoes. He then wrapped his arms around her once again, and Alice could not recall ever feeling safer or more cared for. (At least, not since her dear father had died; but it didn't feel like the same quality of safeness. Hatter in no way made her feel like a little girl. This was familiar and yet brand new at the same time.)

"I do not wish to alarm you…" he said, (and how wonderful was it to feel the rumble of his words come up through his chest as he spoke?) "but there are things you need to know. Beginning with: the Red Queen is residing in Marmoreal."

Alice nearly launched herself from his arms at such an improbable statement delivered so calmly, to denounce what he said as the strangest of lies. But this man was her Hatter (and when had she started to think of him as hers? That must be set aside to study on later, she decided.) and he would not lie to her. If he said Iracebeth of Crims was in Marmoreal, it must be so.

Instead what she did was press herself closer still to him, and said, in as calm of a voice as she could muster, "She plans to kill the White Queen. I Saw it." A sharp intake of breath told her that the Hatter had heard her, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue. She pulled away from him then, finally, and sat across, ready to have a Serious Discussion. They had spoken of her dreams before, but never explicitly. "Please tell me everything that you know, and I will do the same."

So began a long discussion. The topics ranged in concerns from the two Queens (and Mirana's strange behavior with the Paper he had found), to Stayne (of which the Hatter very voraciously protested against her traveling with; her response was that it was too late for him to fuss himself about it now, as she was currently unconscious in his presence. She'd tilted her head up to say such to him, had seen his eyes begin to swirl with their violent tones, and tapped his knee with her right hand, gently, and said, "I can handle the Knave." He'd settled, but still had a mulish tenseness to his frame for several minutes after.), her injuries (and how specifically she'd obtained them--which nearly set off another bout of the Badness, but he was able to contain it, barely), his strange conversation with Mirana before being knocked unconscious ("Which I would be more concerned for our Queen's safety, were it not Chess who made me so." he said, and Alice had said, faintly, "The Cheshire Cat?" before dropping the subject, her own mind spinning furiously at the obvious connection between her last dream featuring the Cat and what Mirana had been saying Tarrant before he was assaulted by said Cat.) to finally, where they themselves were: Somewhere Else.

"I have been selfish." he began. "But I can not in good Conscious allow this to continue. Alice, this must be your last journey to Somewhere Else."

A protest automatically sprang to her lips, for while the trips to this purple fogged realm were disorienting and a bit frightening, they were also, in their own way, pleasant--mostly because of the one holding her. She turned to him, and he shushed her with a finger to her lips. "Please allow me to tell you now, before I decide I would rather be slurvish than noble. The White Queen has told me that, if you are to continue on in the manner you are, you will…perish." Of course, the Hatter considered that this may have been one of the White Lies the Queen informed him she'd told him, but he wasn't willing to take the risk by not telling Alice now. What if that was a bit of Truth she'd imparted, and Alice came here again, and that last trip was the one that ripped her in two? He'd never forgive himself, never.

"It will kill me?" she said, a bit horrified.

His voice caught, but he answered her anyways. "Yes. I know not how many journeys it would take, but I would rather continue with the not knowing, if the only way to gain that knowledge is through your experiencing it firsthand."

"B-but Hatter…" Alice's voice stuttered, "I'm n-not controlling this! I don't know why t-this is happening at all!" She took a great gasp of air, and said, fighting the panic (which felt amazingly like the panic she'd felt at Hamish's proposal--and her mother thought she was being histrionic when she'd said she imagined marrying him would be like dying!) that rose, "How can I stop doing something when I don't know how it's being done to begin with!"

"I don't know, Alice." Hatter replied, tears shimmering in his eyes. "But please, try. Promise me you'll try!"

"I'll try." she swore, as a few tears slowly rolled down her own face. "And I will see you soon, yes?"

"Yes." he said, and it sounded to both of them as if he were trying to be convincing, rather than actually convinced it to be so. "Very soon."

"Before you know it." she pressed, and he shook his head.

"Nay, 'tis one thing that is truly impossible. Every small moment in which you are gone, I know it."

How was Alice to reply to such a declaration? She blushed, and demurely looked down at her lap, afraid to meet his gaze then. He said, delicately, "You're not in an awful hurry to galumph away presently, are you?" Gentle fingers traced over her face, and she gave a small, shuddering sigh. "I should be." she murmured, "but no, I am not."

She felt rather than saw him lean towards her, half hesitating in the motion. A tilt of her head upwards was the only motivation he needed to continue it, though, and he closed the distance between them. It was a careful, deliberate kiss, unlike the two they'd previously shared. (Which had been much too hurried and not thought out as much as they should have been, despite how much they had been thought on.)

A lick to her lower lip caused Alice to open her mouth with a small gasp, and he deepened the kiss, humming contently in the back of his throat as he did so. Alice began giggling, right there in the midst of the kiss, as she recognized the song as the one sung at the Caucus race, meant to speed along the drying of the runners. Tarrant pulled away, more than prepared to be insulted and hurt at her laughing at the way he kissed her, until he saw the wide smile on her face. "Why that song, Hatter?" she asked.

An answering smile leapt to his own features. "Why not that song, dear Alice? Is there another that you would be more to your liking?"

Tapping her chin, she seemed to consider his request. "No, I suppose not. It's a perfectly lovely song, as songs go. Not Scarborough Fair." she teased, and the Hatter obligingly flushed, "But a lovely song nonetheless. Do you know, my sister Margaret always loved when I played that song. She'd ask to play it for her, over and over and over again." Then she began to sing, selecting the second verse as her starting point.

Tell him to find an acre of land

Parsley sage rosemary and thyme

Between the salt water and the sea strand

Then he'll be a true love of mine

It was then, as Alice sang those words, that Tarrant knew, completely, unequivocally, and totally, what he had been refusing to acknowledge to himself. He was absolutely in love with Alice.

She stopped after that one stanza. The Hatter's throat was dry, but somehow he still managed to find his voice. "We seem to be in such an acre now." He smiled, but silently begged her to understand. He wanted her to hear what he was saying, when he didn't say anything at all. I'm not brave enough to form the words, he acknowledged to her, still silently. I'm not like you. If she said it, she could say it for the both of them.

"So it is." Alice grinned back, but said no more. His stomach plummeted in disappointment (and just whose Idea was it to raise Hope to begin with? One knew that Hope and Disappointment were childhood friends, and if you dealt with one, you had to be prepared for the other.)

Still, he reached for the hand on her unbroken arm, and threaded it with his own. He held her hand and spoke nonsense for quite some time; riddles and snatches of poetry, odd little Underlandian sayings that he thought would make her smile.

"I need to wake soon." she finally said, and the Hatter knew it was true, but still found himself begging. "No, don't go, not just yet."

But her feet were already beginning to fade away into the mist. "I think Stayne is getting impatient with me." she mused. "I'm beginning to feel him jostle me about."

The Hatter had many things he would have liked to have said about such behavior, but Alice had timed her statement well; she was nearly gone when the last word left her lips, and completely just after that. And sitting on the ground, barely visible in the mist of what had-been Alice, sat a letter.

***

A stinging slap across the face roused Alice to sudden, blinding pain. Her first coherent thought was one of dismay, as her injuries had not felt quite so flamingly miserable whilst she was Somewhere Else. She went to sit up, but the barest movement of her arm sent blinding agony through her. Stars floated across her vision as she considered slipping back into unconsciousness, but another sharp slap to the face disabused her of that.

Blinking fiercely, Alice came to see she was propped against a small scrub tree, with Stayne kneeling on the ground directly opposite her. He was very white, his scars standing out lividly against his skin, his thin lips pressed into an even thinner line.

"Wherever did you get that sword?" tumbled out of Alice's mouth. Out of all the questions she had for the man, she was amused with herself that that particular one was the first one asked.

He rolled his eye, relief and disgust mingling equally in the gesture. "I know that you shall be fine," he grumbled, "if you're asking questions." He filled her in briefly on her injuries, and informed her of their current location.

"So we are in the Hightopp village?" she asked, a queer feeling under her breastbone. Absently she fingered the pin around her neck. Dearly she wished to get up and explore.

"What is left of it." Stayne confirmed. "There are still some of the houses left half-standing, such as the one we are currently just outside. I am preparing our camp for the night there." He gestured behind him, and Alice could see a rough outline of what must have at one time been a pleasant little house. Now it was just one whole wall, very burnt and crumbling, and one half wall attached to that. Scattered bits of domesticity could be seen as well; a broken Clock here, smashed china there. All in all, it was an extremely depressing sight.

"I'm going to clear out the rubbish from the house, and build a fire in what's left of that fireplace." he said, nodding to the pile of bricks leaning against the house's one full wall. Alice hadn't been aware it was a fireplace until he said such to her.

She was going to ask why he had awoken her, then, if he was just going to leave her leaning against a tree while he did manual labor, but he answered her question before she could form the words. "It seemed…unwise…to leave you as you were for any longer of a period of time. Sometimes, with head injuries, when the victim is left to sleep, they do not wake again."

A sharp retort wanted to come from her, on how if he was concerned about her head injury, then perhaps he shouldn't have slapped her, when she realized his actions were caused by just that. He was concerned about her. It was such a strange idea that she held her tongue and just nodded her understanding at him. He grunted once and then turned towards the house, to begin the process of making it livable, at least for that night.

***

Later that night they sat around the small fire Stayne had built, Alice with both of their blankets around her shoulders, Stayne in just his coat. Alice wondered how it was possible he was back in the leather, complete with his armaments, but thought that perhaps now would not be the best time to ask. A small bowl of soup sat before her, but Alice only picked at it, frankly concerned about the source of its ingredients.

The Knave watched Alice push her food around, and felt a wave of exhaustion pull at him. She simply looked so young sitting there, not eating, her blonde hair pulled loosely away from her face and illness lingering in the shadows under her eyes. This was the woman he was placing so much faith in, to be able to rule Underland as a Queen? At that moment, it seemed nearly inconceivable. But she looked up at him then, and smiled faintly, and he felt something squeeze painfully in his chest, not unlike when he was very young and first entering into Iracebeth's service. He'd been in awe of her, with her ability to command all those around her, her stately manner of holding herself, her lusciously large mouth…

"It is times like this I dearly miss Rodrigo."

He hadn't realized he spoke aloud until Alice's voice said, questioningly, "Rodrigo?" Green eyes ablaze with curiosity regarded him.

"My horse." he said, a bit dryly. "He is a friend as well as a beast of burden. Usually, he gives me his honest opinion on matters, whither he believes I would like to hear it or not."

"I can not pretend to know what it is that you wish to speak of…" Alice started slowly, as if carefully choosing her words, "However, we have each saved the other from unfortunate situations here in the Outlands. Does that not make us friends of a sort as well?" The last was said tentatively, as if she were almost afraid of his answer.

Stayne had honestly never thought of Alice as someone he could talk to. She was pleasant to look at, and a tool to be used. Now that the idea of actually conversing with her beyond necessity was presented to him, now that she had named him a friend, it took swift root. A strange wiggle curled through his stomach. A woman, a Queen with whom one conversed, who considered you a friend? The suggestion seemed very odd to him--but in a most agreeable way. None of this, however, could he tell her; nor could he confide in her the way she seemed to wish him to, as most of his ruminations were on what to do with her, and his plans for her.

"Won't be the same." he finally said.

"Why not?" she asked, offense clear in her voice.

"Well, I suppose…" he said, as if thinking it over carefully. Then he said, in the same pondering manner, "Will you let me ride you wherever I wish to go?" He smirked evilly at her, certain this would forestall any of her off-putting 'friends' talk.

He was disappointed, however, as she didn't fly into a righteous rage at his insinuation. "You hide yourself behind lechery very well." Alice said, after regarding him for a quiet moment. "I think there's more to you, however. When you are ready for that Perception to be lifted, I'll See it." She set down the bowl and lay down then, her back to him. "Good night."

When had he ever been told there was more to his person than theft, lechery, or death? Never, that's when. Until Alice had just said differently to him, he'd never have said any one would ever say such a thing, even when pressed. It was just another impossibility being destroyed under the weight of her will for her, but for Stayne, it was nearly life-altering.

Just another reason he wished for a friend to confide in. The only one available to him at the moment, however, was the very one to cause his confusion, and could therefore hardly assist him in clearing the muddle his mind had become. His eye flicked over to her, and he briefly considered going to her, and accepting her offer of talking (of all things!), but he saw her easy, measured breathing, and knew she was already asleep. And she dearly needed her sleep. He'd not wake her, then.

*

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