Possible Side Effects, Ch. 16

[wanderamaranth]

AiW WiP.

Disclaimer: Do not own/am not affiliated with the official, paid version of this in any way.

"Alice! Your Majesty!"

Stayne gathered up great handfuls of dirt from where the girl had rested just moments before. He threw them aside, and grasped more, and kept repeating this, pawing at the ground as if it itself had swallowed her up whole. It wasn't as though they were in a Fire Swamp, however, where Snow Sand was commonly prevalent. No, Something Else had occurred, and Underland had allowed Alice to be taken from him.

He would have continued scooping up handfuls of dirt and tossing them about had it not been for the presence of Snellum. The Mouse bravely went to the Knave, crawled upon his back, and scurried up to his shoulder. Once there, he stood on his hind legs and shouted, "Stayne!" in his ear. When that failed to produce a response, he bit him, hard, just upon the earlobe.

The Knave let out a skelloch as would have been fit to raise the dead. Snellum jumped away before the Knave brought up one of his huge hands to smack him, causing Stayne to strike himself rather forcefully upon the ear, and thus, the fresh rodent bite, which made him howl out loud again. He looked about the clearing, murder in his eyes, and would have immediately set upon the Mouse had the clever beast not thought of just such a possibility, and hidden in nearby brush.

"Knave of….Queen Alice." Snellum had been going to call the man the Knave of Hearts, to call it true, but had changed his speech at just the last moment. "You will listen to me, and listen well!"

"I will be able to hear you much more clearly if you should exit from your hiding spot, Mouse." the Knave hissed.

"No, you'll be able to crush me much better, and make no mistake!" the Snellum retorted. "Now shut it and listen to me!"

The Knave said nothing, and Snellum took this as a positive sign. He would not have felt that way, though, if he had known the only reason why Stayne was quiet was so that he would be better able to hear from what direction the Mouse's voice issued from, all the better to find him and make him suffer for the bite.

"Queen Alice is clearly not here. Digging up handfuls of dirt is not going to change that. For one reason or another, she is gone, and we are still here. There is still the small matter of her quest being fulfilled, though." This did cause Stayne to stop his stalking about the campsite, as he really considered what the Mouse said.

"Our quest was to get Alice to Marmoreal to heal her. Without an Alice needing to be healed, there is no quest."

"Maybe that was your main goal, Knave, but Her Majesty told me that she wished to stop Iracebeth of Crims from slaying the White Queen as well. Remember that little side effort? Preventing the overthrow of a newly re-established Monarchy, hmmm?"

"Oh. Right. That." Stayne sat upon the ground, and Snellum cautiously exited from his hiding spot. The Knave watched him walk up to him, and said, without a trace of irony or disdain in his tone, "Then what is your suggestion, Mouse? For I know you would not have brought this to my attention had you not had one."

"I suggest we stop looking for someone who clearly isn't here and go straight on to Marmoreal." the Mouse asserted. "Once we stop Iracebeth of Crims from slaying her sister, we can then request Queen Mirana's assistance in locating our own lost Queen."

"There is one small little problem with your scenario." The Knave lifted a brow at the Mouse. "I have been formally Banished by Mirana. I doubt she is going to look upon anything I have to say with a favorable eye."

"Even if you save her life? Don't be ridiculous, Stayne. She is a good-hearted Queen. She will lift your Banishment, and then with the force of her entire Army we will find Queen Alice." Snellum looked at his paws, and flexed his small fingers briefly. "What other options do we have? It's either that or ride around the countryside, calling Our Majesty's name and looking for windmills to joust."

"Uncalled for." Stayne said mildly. "As it is a good suggestion, Mouse, we will do as you say, and go onward to Marmoreal. I do not hold out much hope that Iracebeth has not already slain Mirana, though. What should we do if that is the case?"

"You're a clever man." the Mouse said. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

---

The Hatter stirred, the hat that had been firmly upon his head shifting with the movement. (Not that the Hatter normally slept with his hat on, but in this instance he felt the need to make an exception, as he knew for a fact that the Cat was nearby, and might make a move for said hat. It was safest on top of his head.)

Nestling a bit further into the pillow, he felt that wondrous feeling one gets only when they have slept particularly well and are waking gently, as if their entire body is well pleased with the effects of slumber. The hat tilted forward a bit onto his forehead, causing further, yet still languid, waking.

Not since before the Horvendush Day had the Hatter slept so peacefully. He opened his eyes, a slow half-lifting of the lids. A feeling of peace nearly overwhelmed him, as if this one night had managed to, while not completely erase, soothe and begin to heal the Badness within. An empty white pillowcase greeted him, once his eyes were able to focus out of their contented haze.

Empty?

"Alice?" he whispered, his fingers acting of their own volition to glide over the crisp white fabric, feeling for an indentation or even a stray hair that would tell him that she had rested beside him. She had simply awoken before he, that must be it. Some lingering vestige of heat, a small crinkle in the perfection of the way the case had been ironed--any of these things he would have liked to have found.

No such clue met his fingers. "Alice?" he said again, sitting up. Where could the wee lass be? Had she fled the room in fear of their compromised situation? She had to have known that he would allow no harm to come to her--even a perceived harm, such as something as trivial as another's opinion.

Was Regret living within her once again--had she thought better of accepting the advances of a Hatter? He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing as he considered this rather disturbing scenario.

Scrambling out of the now-suffocating linens, the Hatter launched himself out of bed only to stumble upon a pile of miscellaneous junk on his floor. Bending over, he picked the first item up--a rather frumious blanket, well-covered in dirt and forest debris; it had covered a knapsack, which he, without any feelings of guilt for doing so, opened immediately.

Inside was a ladies long jacket, an extra trouser outfit (which was cut in an unimaginative way, and in such a dull color), what appeared to be the leftover scraps of nightwear (and just why Alice's nightwear, for he was sure this sack belonged to she, was ripped in half, he swore he would be finding out Very Soon) and what he realized were personal trinkets bundled together in a small pouch.

A handsome pocket knife, the handle smooth and obviously crafted for a ladies' hand was the first item he examined, followed by a crudely woven bracelet made of cheap, misshapen glass beads and embroidery thread, (that the Hatter could nonetheless tell had been made with love). Faded, painted on letters spelt out 'Alice + Meg'. Hatter wondered whom this Meg was that had made such a personal gift for Alice. He set it aside, and then pulled out the next piece.

What felt like thick paper revealed itself to be a photograph, and the Hatter studied it avidly. He'd not had opportunities to see photographs very often, and was fascinated by them on principal. (Photographs in Underland tended to turn out very blurry indeed, as most of those sitting for them could not be bothered to sit still long enough for them to develop. The Hatter himself was an amateur daguerreotyper, albeit a very frustrated one. Even landscape scenes appeared to be little more than ghostly, smeared messes, as the flowers wouldn't stop swaying or singing while the daguerreotype the Hatter tinkered with captured their image.)

A serious man with a kind mien to his face stared back at him, hand tucked into his trouser pocket to reveal what seemed to be, (if only the photograph had been in color, he would have been able to tell for sure…that would be very wonderful to see, wouldn't it, a colored photograph! He must remember to tell that Idea to Alice, just as soon as he found her; he was sure it would make her smile) a very handsome waistcoat. A pocket watch hung with deliberate care out of the pocket facing the photographer, and his cravat was extravagantly tied.

Turning the photograph over with care, he read upon the back, in what most surely had to have been Alice's handwriting, 'Father', followed by a series of numbers that made no sense to him whatsoever. Still, this man in the photograph must be her Father, the man whom she spoke of so highly, and the one against whom all other men in her life would be judged. Hatter's eyes noted the quality of his clothing, the confidence in his stance, and yes, the slightly mad gleam in his eyes, (apparent even in sepia tones) and felt unequal to his regard. He was not half the man this one was, and he wished to court his daughter. Had been courting, if he were honest with himself.

Hands now trembling, he put the items back together in their little pouch and went to return them where they were found. He stubbed the end of his fingernail on something very hard on the bottom of Alice's pack, and that digit immediately went into his mouth. He sucked on it to relieve the throbbing while his other hand ventured more cautiously inside the depths of the bag (which was very brave of that hand, having seen what had happened to its brethren) and brushed against something smooth and cool to the touch. He pulled it out in one movement and then froze, his hand holding the object in mid-air, as his mind at first refused to believe what was being presented to it.

"Box." he stuttered, half-expecting the inanimate object to respond to him. He tried to open it immediately, and felt something very much like despair when he realized he couldn't. It was locked up tight; he would need the key to ever think of opening it. Still, having it here, with him, was more than he had ever expected.

"Box." he repeated, a soft smile on his face. Where was his Alice? He wanted to thank her personally for delivering such a miracle to him. The semi-precious stones winked at him from where they were inlaid into the Box's lid, and the Hatter winked back. "Let's see about getting you open, hmm?" He tried the lid, but it was stuck fast. Frowning, just the slightest bit, Hatter realized he would need the key in order to open the it.

"No matter!" he cheerfully said. If need be, Alice and he would go together to that Forsaken place to retrieve the key. And then they could open this Box that she had brought him, also together. It was tradition that a Hightopp's Box be opened in the presence of a loved one, and he could think of no one he would rather share that with than she.

Had that been something that his mother had Known? Would one of his father's paintings depict such a scene, perhaps in miniature within this very Box? Or perhaps a happier scene altogether, of 'he' and 'she' becoming a 'they' and a 'we'? For the contents of every Hightopp's Box were different, specially assembled by his mother, Marta the Knowing, a present for when they came of age and she Knew what they had in their future. (His mother had always held off on giving Tarrant his Box; when he would ask her about it, she'd simply tap him on the end of the nose, and say, 'Not yet, not yet! Why are you in such a hurry, my boy? You are not quite ready, and I most certainly am not.')

Lassies commonly had Boxes that contained household items; bed linens, wedding hair combs, journals and well-sharpened quills. Men had Boxes holding fishing line and tackle, hand tools, and in one instance, lipstick and rouge. (Not that anyone on the Hill had been surprised when Paoul had something to that effect in his Box. Most had just shrugged their shoulders and attached extra lace to his Of Age clothing.)

Hightopps of both genders would have items pertaining to their trade in their Boxes; when his father had opened his, and Gelnda had been the Knowing (his grandmother, Marta's mother) it had contained a very fine brush set, various dried herbs well known for making vibrant pigments, and the deed to the house where had been born. (As Gelnda had Known that her Marta and Gambriel would wed, and she didn't want her daughter to be living in any old house on the Hill!)

Hatter, very suddenly and very desperately, hoped that the Box contained Items indicating clearly a future for he and Alice. He did not know if he would be able to bear it if that were not the case.

"Morning, Hatta!" Mallymkun said cheerily, entering the room. "Good to see you up and about. When I returned from supper last night you were already asleep, and thought it best to just let you rest. You're probably devilishly hungry by now, though. Want me to have Thackery send something up from the kitchen?"

"Have you seen Alice this morning?" Hatter asked, and Mally really looked at him for the first time since entering the space.

"Hatter?" Mally asked, wondering what new type of madness this was.

"All of her things are present." he said, waving to the pile of smelly travel gear. "I only require the woman. Has she gone down to break her fast?" A horrid feeling began rising in the pit of his stomach as Mally continued to look at him in that concerned manner.

"I wondered about those things. They were here when I came back to your room this morning. Figured Chess was having a bit of a joke on us, or that you'd taken to collecting unwanted bits again. I was going to ask the maid to clear it out of here." A new wariness entered her body. "What are you meaning, about these being Alice's things?"

The Hatter's eyes became huge in his head. His mouth opened and closed several times, sound unsuccessful in coming out. Mally trotted up to him. "Hatter, are you--" she stopped just short of the Box, and stared. "That is your Box." she said, voice hoarse. "The very one you need to--"

"I am well aware of the use of the Box, Mally." Hatter said, voice coming from very far away, it seemed. "All I require is the one to assist me in opening it. Yet she seems to be not present." This last was whispered, and then he surged forward, his voice a shout. "CHESSUR!"

"Hatter, what is the meaning of--"

"Mally, are you most positively assuredly definitely sure that you have not seen Alice this morn?" His hat sat askew atop his head, and the hair underneath it seemed to crackle in his agitation.

"I am very sure, Hatter. The whole castle would be in an uproar if Alice were here."

To this answer, the Hatter began shouting again, "Chessur! Ye STANG SCRUM! Where ye be hidin'?"

"Hatter, Hatter please!" Mally tried unsuccessfully to distract the man from his ravings. Just as she was pulling her stickpin to jab the Hatter in the foot (and she desperately did not want to) Chessur appeared near the ceiling, a most foul expression on his face.

"You bellowed?" he drawled slowly, as though he couldn't care less that the Hatter had been screaming for him. His tail lashed angrily behind him, though, and gave away the unspoken lie.

"Ye told me that I would be able to bring Alice to me! Yet here be her things--" he picked up the stinking blanket and shook it vigorously in the Cat's direction, "her useless, piteous, her-less things…and no Alice."

"Do put that thing down, Tarrant. It is making my eyes water." Of course, the Cat appeared as he always did, no evidence of eye-watering apparent. "What is this about Alice's items, and no Alice?"

"It is just that, Cat." the Hatter said, through clenched teeth. "All of her belongings are here, and Alice is not."

One second of silence passed, and then two. "Have you checked the lavatory?" Chessur finally asked.

"Of course I've check the lavatory! What sort of person just goes off about how someone is missing, without checking the most basic of places for them! Why, the lavatory is…" the Hatter trailed off in mid-rant. "I'll be right back." He turned and fled the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

"While he's doing that, perhaps I should do some checking of my own."

"Oh no you don't!" Mally huffed. "Alice is not here. As I told the Hatter, the whole castle would be in an uproar if she was. Why do the pair of you seem to think she should be, anyways?"

For the first time Mallymkun could remember, the Cat actually looked a bit worried. "Because she should be. The Hatter was to fetch her himself."

The door slammed inward again as the Hatter burst back into the room. "She is not in the lavatory." he said, face a bit whiter than usual. "It is currently…occupied, but not by she."

"Which leads me the same question, Chess." The Hatter stalked towards the Cheshire Cat, who was very much wishing he had faded away when he had the chance. "Where…is…Alice?" Black was beginning to ring Tarrant's eyes, and he could tell a bout of Scottishness would not be far behind.

"I did tell you that I didn't think it was the best Idea to pull her through, Tarrant, I said it would be best to just wait--"

"Where is she?" the Hatter screamed, fear making his voice deep and rough, the Scotsman surfacing fully.

"I hope you are satisfied with your impetuousness, Tarrant. She must be Somewhere Else Altogether, with my brother, the Jabberwocky, Underland preserve her." Chessur's ears had flattened on top his head, and the grin curling his mouth was one of nerves rather than mischievous joy.

Three solid, stalking steps were all it took for the Hatter to reach Chessur. Snake-strike quick, he had grasped the Cat around the neck and held him like a recalcitrant kitten being brought back home by its mother. Shaking him a bit as he spoke, the Hatter demanded, "How?"

"It would have been very difficult for him to do so, but not impossible." the Cheshire Cat replied, his words thick. "It must be another side effect of your having partook of old blood. Blood calls to blood, you see, and the Jabber blood in her would have responded to the Jabber blood in you. Once I connected the two of you, all it should have taken was you holding her hand, and her willingness, for her to materialize here with you."

The Hatter released the Cat suddenly, the memory of the previous night rattling his skull.

Lost in the moment, Hatter released Alice's hand and grasped her hips with both hands, pulling her even closer still to himself. He kissed her deeply…

"Err…how necessary is the hand-holding to the Travel?" he asked, a bit sheepishly. The hand that had been grasping Chessur about his neck now rubbed the back of his own in a unconscious gesture.

"You let go of her hand?" Chessur growled. "What was the one thing I told you, Tarrant, the one thing I said to not do? What could have possibly distracted you to the point--" Suddenly smirking, Chessur said, "Never mind. I can guess. But this does mean something I feared would happen has now occurred. If the blood you ingested had been fresher, the hand-holding wouldn't have mattered as much, but it wasn't, and it did."

Shaking his head, he said, "Well, there's no help for it. She's in Jabber's hands now, and there's only two things left that we can do."

"What are they?" Mally asked, as the Hatter was silent.

"The first: Tell Mirana everything that has occurred this past night, and see if she has any suggestions for us on how to help the Champion."

"And the second?" Hatter burred.

"We pray that Alice has as much muchness as we believe she does. Otherwise, she will not stand a chance against the Jabber on this field of battle. She has no Vorpal Sword, no friends with her. Only herself, and her wit, against a creature that is…considerably older and much more ruthless than herself. He has determined he wants to possess Alice. He will not stop until either he succeeds, or he is twice dead."

---

All of the etiquette guides Alice's mother had pressed upon her had warned her that slatternly behavior would lead to dire consequences.

She had just never thought those consequences would be quite so instantaneous.

One moment she was quite inappropriately pressed against the Hatter, ignoring the prim voice in her head telling her that she Should Not Do These Things--or at the very least, not allow these things to be done or said to herself (the voice sounded remarkably like Margaret). Why, he'd not even approached her mother, not that he would really be able, Alice supposed what with being from Underland and her mother Above. Yet she encouraged him! Why, she must have, what with the sighing, and the moaning, and the complete lack of shoving him away!

Alice knew she should be ashamed of herself, but all she could really find in her previous behavior to make herself sorry for was that it had led to her current situation. She held the back of her head, where an aching throb pounded in time with her heartbeat. She must have struck it when she fell here, wherever here was. She wasn't sure where she was, but she certainly recognized with whom.

"Hello, Alice."

Jabber stood just over her head, smiling genially.

"Jabber." Alice replied, and even her voice sounded exhausted. At least she was still dressed in her travel suit, she reasoned, right down to the pin around her neck. She would have disliked having to meet the Jabberwocky once again while wearing anything else. It was dirty and stained in more places than she cared to think about, but she felt more confident in dirty travel clothes than dirty party clothes, as she'd appeared in the last time she was pulled to the Jabberwocky. Where was the Hatter? She glanced about for him, yet did not see he nor his hat anywhere.

"Sugared raisins!" he said enthusiastically. "Oh, most excellent. I feared, dearest, that my little interference wouldn't work, and then, when you did tumble through, and cracked your head…well, truthfully, it would have made things a bit easier for me, but much duller for the next several years. I like to have conversation, you know, and you are a most pleasant conversational companion. I would have been upset indeed if your mind had fled! One of my hosts had such a problem, and you know, I had to talk to myself during that time? Horrid, simply horrid!"

Smiling so that every tooth showed, Jabber burbled on, "But that will not be the case now! I am most gratified. You talking has already been advantageous to us, cloud wisp, as I wouldn't have ever known what my brother and that infernal Hightopp were attempting at all had you not so courteously informed me of their behavior towards yourself in our prior conversation. Do you know, when I spoke to Chessur about it, the infuriatingly smug creature didn't even attempt to deny it? Simply curled his tail up in the air and smiled at me as though our creators were particularly demented dentists."

There were so many questions Alice wanted to ask, could have asked Jabber about what he was saying. Her mind had a hard time focusing on just one, so the very last to cross it was the one that crossed her lips, when the Jabberwocky paused for air. "Whatever have dentists to do with anything?"

"Nothing whatsoever! Dentists, indeed." Jabber paused, and looked at Alice as if perhaps the knock to the head really did affect her. "What a particularly pointless question. Why would you ask such a thing?"

Alice opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, and snapped it shut again as she debated the wisdom of reminding Jabber that he had been the one to mention dentistry in the first place.

Her unflattering floundering simply amused the beast.

"You are undoubtedly wondering why I interrupted your…hmm…shall I be polite and call it a rendevous? No, better yet to name it for what it was. You already think me rude." Stopping to clear his throat (which sounded terrifying indeed) Jabber rephrased his statement. "You are wondering why I interrupted your tryst with the Hightopp, just when you were beginning to find it…interesting."

Telling herself not to blush didn't work. Alice felt the heat of her embarrasment clear down to her toes.

Snickering, Jabber nodded. "You see, my dear, it is for the very reason you flush so becomingly. I simply can not allow you to become any more attached than what you already are. It would just be harder on both of us. You see, your body is mine."

A rushing sound filled Alice's ears. "Excuse me?" she asked, faintly. Being propositioned by Stayne was one thing--at least they resembled the same species! Jabber couldn't possibly mean what she feared he did. It was beyond the pale. She would sooner perish, and make no mistake.

A wicked laugh came out of the Jabberwocky's throat. "Oh, I phrased that very poorly. I do apologize!" Here Jabber wheezed, and Alice fumed a bit when she saw he was still laughing at her. "You should see your face, Bearer! I am not after your virtue! How would that even work? No, no. I am desirous of gaining physical control of our body."

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