Brother, Pt. 2

[wanderamaranth]

Summary: Alice has her own realization about her relationship with the Hatter, and how a brother would truly act.

Pt 2/2

Thank you to manniness  for the title suggestion. I'm taking it! (and will be using your idea for the next story in the series, too. ;D Or a variation thereof!)

As I was writing this, I wrote a large chunk of yet another part of this continuing storyline. It is mostly smutty details the next phase of their relationship. Once that's done, I'll be posting it as well.

During the carriage ride back to Kingsleigh Manor, Alice stared at the thimble, placing it upon her left hand thumb and twirling it slowly. This, she decided, was madness indeed. For one reason or another, though, Alice couldn't seem to bring herself to care.

The carriage's cessation of motion did not rouse her from her inspection of the piece, and she floated, half-aware, through the house, ignoring her mother's questioning wonderment of her being present (as Helen was quite sure that Alice was to be at the bridal shower for at least another hour) and the small gaggle of servants that followed in their wake.

Helen was speaking to Alice, but she was deaf and dumb to her, and this caused the Kingsleigh matriarch much concern indeed, so she took to following her daughter as she stumbled through the house, transfixed by what appeared to be a thimble, of all things. (The servants simply followed this duo out of the burning curiosity as to whether this was the day that the youngest Miss Kingsleigh finally went completely mad.)

Reaching the door of her bedroom, Alice finally turned to her mother, a strange glitter in her eyes; it almost appeared as if she were holding back tears. In the next moment, however (aided by a very deep breath from Alice) the glimmer was gone, and there was the sort of hardened resolve Helen had last seen on her face when she'd informed her that she would not be following the path that was set before her, but making her own.

Helen had learned to fear that look, as it meant that her child was going to do something potentially foolish, or dangerous, or both.

"I'm sorry, Mother." Alice said. "I was quite lost in thought." She placed the silver thimble in a hidden pocket on the side of her dress. She then grasped her mother's hands with her own, countenance very serious. "I need to go now, Mother. There is someone whom I am going to see." Pausing, her head tilted to one side, Helen just knew that whatever was going to come out of her child's mouth next, she would not like in the extreme, for one reason or another. "I may be gone for a few days, or I may be back later this evening. I simply can not say either way."

"How can you not know how long you'll be gone?" Helen asked. She'd meant the tone to be demanding, but it came out in a gentle half-whisper.

"I'm not sure what he's going to say." had been the reply, and then Alice removed her hands and stepped into her bedchamber. "Oh, and mother?" she said, turning around just enough to see the elder woman over her shoulder. "Please do not remove the Looking Glass from my bedchambers while I'm gone? I should like to know exactly where I'm going to end up when I return."

"Why would I move your mirror?" was Helen's first confused answer, until the preposterousness of the request fully came to her. "Alice!" she called sharply. Her daughter answered her with a small, sad, wry twist of the lips, and the shutting of the bedroom door in her face.

"Alice, open this door this instant! Whatever can you mean, don't move the mirror? Of all the nonsensical-! Alice!"

Helen rattled the doorknob, intent on stepping into the room and stopping Alice from whatever-it-was that she seemed to think she was going to do (And did she mention something about the timetable of her return being dependent on a he? Helen's mind gibbered) but the handle stuck fast. Sometimes, the woman thought, it seemed that Alice's door handle had a mind of it's own, as it would allow the girl easy passage to her room, but always gave Helen difficulty. (Which was ridiculous in the extreme!) Helen spared a thought that Alice's fanciful way of thinking was beginning to influence her own mind, when the handle suddenly gave under her, and she stumbled into the room.

The completely, silently empty room.

"Alice?" Helen called, thinking that perhaps her daughter was just hiding from her somewhere. (Although where she would hide, Helen couldn't begin to imagine, but it seemed the only explanation!) The girl was no where to be found.

Knowing she would not find her there, but checking anyways, Helen strode to the wardrobe, opened it, and glanced behind the dresses hanging there. No Alice. She then went to the bed, lifted its skirt, and peered underneath. Still no Alice. The only rational option left to her was to try the windows (but Helen sincerely hoped that Alice had not climbed out of those, as her bedchamber was on the third story of the Manor, and it would be quite a fall indeed to the ground below!).

The windows, though, were still fastened tight.

How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?

The memory of Alice quoting a new detective novel rang in Helen's ears, (Helen didn't really care for the sensationalism of that sort of material, but she conceded it was entertaining, in it's own manner) as well as her daughter's strange request before seemingly disappearing.

I should like to know exactly where I'm going to end up when I return.

Helen turned and looked at the large mirror. She walked up to it, touched the surface, and felt nothing but cool glass under her fingers. "Preposterous!" she said under her breath. She couldn't, however, get rid of that little niggle in the back of her mind that said she knew exactly where her daughter had gone.

---

Alice walked up to the Tea table in the Queen's garden quietly. The Hatter was the only one currently present, and he was muttering to himself things such as "Tennyson? No, no, last time I spoke to her of he she said he was the most dreadful, pompous bore. Browning, then. Yes, Browning." and "Perhaps she would like a pair of boots that lace in the front. Just laced with ribbons, like a dancer's shoe, yes! With a more solid heel, mayhap…"

"Hatter?" Alice said, and though she spoke softly, the man jumped as though she'd stuck him with a pin.

"Alice!" he cried, turning around. His eyes swirled from a considering green to the yellow-green of slight distress. "I was not expecting you to-day! You said you already had a party to attend, and therefore would have to decline the invitation to mine."

He didn't need to say how such a refusal had injured him; it was plain to see in his bearing, easily heard in the tone of his voice.

Smiling softly, Alice said, "I changed my mind."

Smiling in return, Tarrant replied, "Grand! Then if you'd like to have a seat, milady!"

He prepared a seat for her by fluffing her chair cushion, filling a cup of Tea (with two sugars and a dash of cream, just as she liked it) and piled her plate with delicacies almost in the blink of an eye. The action spoke of long practice, and Alice wondered if he'd always prepared everything in such an efficient manner, or if it was the result of long practice?

If it was practice, exactly how long had he been so efficiently preparing things to her liking (did he practice in that time before, when she didn't know she was expected in Underland; in that time before the Gribling Day, that she was expected to Tea at all!) that he could do so now with barely a thought?

As he passed, his hand very briefly and softly brushed her curls. Just the tip of his fingers, and if Alice hadn't been extremely aware of him, then she wouldn't have noticed it at all. Perhaps she was simply looking of encouragement where there was none to be had, but the motion made her think she was not insane for her supposition that maybe, perhaps, quite possibly, there was more than brotherly affection in Tarrant's eyes when he regarded her.

A proper lady was bred to notice when things of this nature happened, such as an eligible gentleman taking interest in their persons. Unfortunately for Alice, she had never really learned how to be a proper lady. (It was too boring by half; she'd rather consider breathing underwater or walking on her hands instead of her feet than what a differentiated between a suitor and a friend.) She'd had to work from her instincts. Instincts which seemed to have been failing her rather spectacularly, if she had not even noticed before earlier that day that the Hatter was a man, of all things, and she a woman!

"Alice?" the Hatter recalled her from her musings, a worried tilt to his brow. One eyebrow was actually up higher than the other, and they both resembled nothing so much as shaggy caterpillars crawling across his forehead. Smiling at the slightly uncharitable thought, she sat down. She stood back up almost immediately. "Let's forget the Tea today, Hatter. Why don't we go out to the Flower Fields, instead?"

The Hatter was torn. On one hand, Alice had indicated that she would like to spend more time with him in a non-Tea location-and she did not even mention inviting along the others of their small family. Tarrant was always pleased to spend time alone with his-no, the, he forcibly reminded himself-the Alice, even if it was for different reasons than he believed the young woman supposed. On the other hand, she wanted to leave the Tea Table! Everything was already set out-treats, drinks, and dishes!

Cushions had been fluffed, Safe Topics of Conversation had already been selected (for it wouldn't do at all to hold a Conversation where the Topics were not carefully considered! Underland only knew what he might say)…everything would be out of sorts if they were to leave the table now! Perhaps she didn't care for the way her seat cushion had been prepared, and that was why she wished to adjourn to another location?

She'd never said that she disliked his particular way of preparation, but perhaps she had simply been too polite to mention it before? Or maybe she just didn't care for Tea today, but that was impossible, for who could not care for Tea on any day, let alone this day, one seemingly perfect for partaking of that beverage?

"Well?" Alice asked, smiling softly at him. Her lashes looked very long, framing her eyes as they were, and he fought the urge to touch them with his fingertips. "What say you we break with tradition today, skip Tea, and find some other sort of amusement?"

Cursing himself even as the words came, Hatter asked, "What of the others? Surely we should wait and invite them along as well."

Alice's smile slipped a bit at the edges, and she fumbled for something in her dress pocket. Whatever-it-was seemed to elevate her distress (and the terribly slurvish part of Hatter was pleased that she was distressed at the Idea that he had suggested inviting others, instead of having it be just he and she; he would have scolded himself for such Behavior, but he tried to make a habit out of not reprimanding himself in front of the Alice. That sort of activity was best carried out when Alices were not present, as she always stopped him before he was able to properly scold himself, with a smile or by calling his name, and he'd quite forget what he was so vexed with himself about, and that wouldn't do at all! Improper behavior deserved punishment, and as no other Hightopps were about to keep him in line, it fell to himself to do so) and she took his arm, gently, and laced it with her own.

"Just you and me, Hatter. Hmm?"

Just he and-!

"Of course, Alice." he said, and briefly wondered if his smile was Embarrassingly wide, before recalling that he'd of course told Embarrassment to bugger itself quite some time ago, and it'd been so offended it hadn't bothered him since. So his smile grew wider, and with his free hand, adjusted his hat to a rakish angle.

"Lead the way, my lady."

They lay on their backs in the Flower Field some time later, staring up at the sky. Alice had just finished explaining the game of seeing different shapes in the clouds ("But it's not a rabbit, Alice! It looks nothing like Thack or McTwisp!" Hatter had insisted at one point. "I wasn't speaking of a rabbit of our acquaintance, Hatter, but merely that it's vaguely rabbit-shaped." Alice had defended herself. "Look there, that one is like a locomotive!" "This is a very silly game, Alice." had been his reply.) and they were lazily choosing random clouds and having the other decide what it resembled when the Hatter suddenly rolled over, propping himself on one elbow.

He stared at Alice until she noticed his gaze. When her eyes met his, he widened his gap-toothed smile and said, "I think I should like to make you something." Alice was about to tell him that while it was a lovely sentiment, but completely unnecessary, he scrambled to his feet and rushed over to the nearest clump of daises. Whispering and gesticulation followed, and Alice was astonished when a great number of faceless flowers sprouted from the ground.

Within moments, blooming daisies were swaying where there were none before. The Hatter plucked these carefully, and came back over to where Alice was still sprawled upon the ground. Unceremoniously dumping the flowers beside her head, he flopped down once more. Alice blinked, and his fingers were furiously moving, weaving a simple yet sturdy-looking daisy chain out of the blooms. Done quickly, he held the creation out to her.

Sitting up, Alice bowed her head, and looked up at him through her lashes. The Hatter swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing briefly, but he complied with her silent request, and placed the daises upon her curls himself. She caught his hand in her own before he could fully pull away, and, not stopping to think of what it was she'd be doing, kissed his open palm.

"Thank you, Hatter."

"Tis nothing, laddie." he denied, but his pleased flush was readily apparent.

In that moment, Alice could always see them sitting as such: her hands holding his, silently enjoying their warmth and undeniable strength; his fingers sticky and faintly green from the flower chains he would make her, and his eyes unable to even pretend solemnity as they fairly twinkled in joy.

"I have something to give to you, as well."

"Och, Alice, 'twas only a chain! Ye dinna need…to…" His voice (which had been unavoidably thickened with the brogue due to how his emotions) trailed off when as Alice placed her gift in his hand. The metal was warm from being so close to her body, and for a Bad Moment, the Hatter was afraid he'd swooned. Yet as his vision cleared, he found he was still sitting upright, and Alice was still sitting before him, with that expression on her face, and most perhaps most importantly of all (although it was a very close second behind that look his wee boy's face!) the wonderfully detailed silver thimble still sat in the very center of his hand.

"Alice?" he asked, and he knew his voice sounded as bewildered as he felt. "This is not the sort of gift one gives a brother."

"I know." she replied. "Try it on."

Unable to deny her this, Tarrant went to slip it on his left index finger, when Alice stopped him.

"No. Not there."

She took the thimble from him, and the Hatter had a few seconds of thinking Oh, it was a lovely dream for all the longer it lasted before she took his right hand and, very gently, capped his ring finger. "It fits." she said, sounding happy and somehow as confused as he was feeling all at the same time.

Then her hands were on his waist, coming to rest there very carefully, as though afraid it would burn her. Which was not an unreasonable Idea, Hatter thought, as he felt flames of desire licking him quite badly in that vicinity. The only cure to be had, though, was her small, cool hands, and he wished (not for the first time, but this was certainly the first time he'd had the burning when there was even the barest glimmer of a possibility of being relieved, and oh, he didn't want to wake and have this all have been a horrid dream, a trick of the Badness inside of him making not-Real Alices appear to him while he slept, those Not-Real Alices that were willing and even eager to do what the Alice was not) that she would continue to Touch him. More than casually, more than hands brushing over the passing of a teapot or the semi-affectionate straightening of his tie, or his hat. He wanted this; he wanted touching with Intent.

Her hand splayed out across his stomach, right over the buttons of his waistcoat, and she tilted her face up towards his.

"I wouldn't…I couldn't!" he said, but his actions belied his words, as he was already leaning towards her. He'd never even been able to hope the dreams about she allowing he to Touch her in such a manner being true, and now…Hatter hesitated above her lips, searching her eyes. If anything resembling sibling-like affection, or (somehow worse) Settling for one whom she was sure would not refuse her lived in her gaze, then…he would pull away, and attempt to Forget that this was even ever a possibility; that her lips had ever been this close to his in a willing kiss, that she'd ever placed such a Gift literally in the palm of his hands.

Alice stared right back at him; affection was there, yes, but was he fooling himself into believing it was not merely of a familial variety? There was something else shining in their depths besides affection: Curiosity. It wasn't love, and it wasn't passion, but in that moment, it was enough for the Hatter. He would make do with this, if nothing else was available to him. He'd already decided long ago that he would take whatever she was willing to give him.

If she wanted a friend, he would be that; he had been that. If a brother was what she desired, (and she'd very clearly and unmistakably called him as such at one time, during a moment that Hatter counted amongst the most painful of his life, and he had experienced more than his fair share of Pain) than he would Settle for being her brother. But if she was even beginning to think on him in a different way,(as the thimble seemed to Very Clearly indicate) if she was Curious as to whether or not she could ever someday feel the barest crumb of (dare he even think it? No, better to not Name those Emotions which were not felt yet, so as to not Scare them away!) that which he was beginning to dare to hope Alice was thinking she could feel perhaps someday for him, then he was more than ready to allow her experimentation. For her, he had no Pride.

Very carefully, very tentatively, he leaned in, his lips trembling. So nervous was he that at first he missed her mouth almost entirely, and ended up kissing just the outside corner. He giggled at himself, a bit higher in pitch than what a relaxed and happy giggle would be, and corrected the course, so that finally-finally!-that which was made of Dreams occurred, and he was kissing her properly, right on her perfectly-proportioned-for-his-mouth Alice lips.

It was a slow, gentle kiss, one more of discovery than passion. Hatter pulled away first, and leaned away from Alice enough to clearly see her face. Grasping one of her hands (which seemed to have made the fire in his stomach grow rather than bank it-tricksy, seemingly cool hands that were actually hotter than burning coals!) he lifted it to his mouth and placed an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of her wrist, nipping softly before standing. He held out a hand to help her to her feet, which Alice accepted.

Her eyes were wider and softer than the Hatter had ever seen.

"Does this mean you like the thimble?" she asked him.

"Aye. I l-love…it." he said, despising himself for changing that last all important word at the very last moment.

"Good. I'm glad you do." Alice said. She very softly, almost shyly (and didn't that seem like the wrong sort of word to be using when describing the Alice!) kissed the side of his cheek. She turned as if beginning to walk away, but the Hatter held fast to her, and she was forced to turn back to him.

"Does this mean-?"

"Yes." she interrupted him. A bright flush dominated her cheeks as she added, "That is, if you'd like it to."

"I…most assuredly would! But I thought…"

She was quiet for so long the Hatter was afraid that his half-spoken reminder of how she'd felt for him previously had forced her to reconsider, until she said, very softly, "I did." Then her bright brown eyes met his, and she added, "Now I do not."

"For that." Tarrant whispered, "I am very glad, indeed."

---

A/N: The quote "How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?" is from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes novel "The Sign of Four", which was published in 1890. It may be a bit too modern for Alice to have realistically read it (and still fit in with my guestimated timeline for the movie), but I'm taking creative license here and saying that she has, as it seems the sort of book/saying that Alice would take a liking to. Thanks!

To read the previous installments in this series:

Brother, Pt. 1

Family (the original one-shot)