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Chapter Text

When Alice opened her eyes and smelled the salty sea air she felt the stirrings of excitement. Her travel to China had gone well, as had her business prospects, after the old men (and one fairly young man) had realized she did know what she was talking about and wasn’t silly or ignorant about the world of business. She suspected they thought her a bit scatterbrained, for more than once she’d said something about the sky or a chair or . . . or someone’s hat, and turned to find herself the object of much amazed scrutiny.

 

But she was now at least somewhat trusted, and she was coming back home to rest and relax and see how her family was doing before heading back to China again. Her sister and mother said they were all doing well, but Alice wasn’t so sure. She knew they didn’t want to upset her, what with her having a job and being in business now, but she still worried. Her mother had mentioned something about her health once, and then waved off all of her consequent concerns. On the other hand her sister truly did seem happy, especially when talking about the baby, but Alice still did not trust her husband. Her sister was sweet, but not very knowledgeable about the bad things in life.

 

With this in mind Alice stretched in her small bed before flipping aside her covers and swinging her legs onto the floor. She glanced up at the porthole and noticed that it was still dark outside, and heard the watchman on deck ring in four in the morning. Sighing with the knowledge that she wouldn’t be able to sleep now and was going to be tired later she started pushing with her arms to stand up while simultaneously turning to the chair that held her clothes.

 

She froze and blinked.

 

Stared.

 

“Hello,” whispered the White Rabbit. “It’s nice to see you again. Ah, sorry for interrupting your sleep.”

 

Alice narrowed her eyes as she tried to think of why a talking rabbit wearing a waistcoat was so unsurprising to her, and relaxed as her adventures in Underland once again came rushing back to her. She wondered briefly what had happened to her memory—it was less than two years since she’d come back. Why was Underland so hard to remember? Events were rushing through her head at top speed, but things still seemed a bit fuzzy from both of her visits. She was sure she wasn’t remembering quite everything yet, but put that aside to think about later. Right now she had a rabbit in front of her who probably wanted something, and he’d get what she could give . . . after he answered some of her questions.

 

Alice crouched down. “It’s nice to see you, too,” she whispered back. “How’d you get here?”

 

“From under the bed.”

 

This didn’t make sense not only because they were on a ship in the ocean and far from land, but also because the bed in her cabin was simply a mattress and some sheets on a block of wood. Bemused, Alice turned to look behind her and stared at the black space under her bed where wood had once been. She hadn’t lit a candle yet, so her cabin was dark with only the starlight and moonlight coming through the small porthole to light the space, but the place under the bed was darker than any shadow she’d ever seen before. “But . . . how?”

 

“The Queen made it. I’m not quite sure how. And I don’t think I want to know,” he said with a shudder.

 

Alice made a slightly disgusted face of commiseration as she remembered some of the ingredients the White Queen used in her potions. “Well then, why did she make it?”

 

“She needs you,” said the rabbit.

 

Alice cocked her head to the side. “What does she need me for? . . . Do I need to slay something else?”

 

The white rabbit also cocked his head. “What?” After a moment’s thought he gave a light chuckle and shook his head. “Oh, no, no, nonono.” His face turned serious and he cleared his throat. “No. The Queen needs you because Mr. Hightopp is ill, and she believes your presence will make him better.”

 

Alice wasn’t sure what to ask first, but finally settled on the question of, “Who is Mr. Hightopp?” The name seemed familiar, like she should know it, but she couldn’t connect it to a face.

 

The rabbit’s nose twitched. “The Mad Hatter.”

 

“Oh.” Her mind said Of course as his smiling face appeared in her mind. Then her eyes widened as her mind began churning. “Ah.” She hesitated.

 

He gave her a pitying glance. “I don’t know why she thinks your presence will do him much good,” he started gently, “but the Queen in generally right about this sort of thing.”

 

“Actually, I was wondering what your name is.” Although wondering how her presence would help Tarrant Hightopp seemed like a good idea now that she realized what it meant. The Mad Hatter, her friend who was hopefully no longer quite so mad after helping to save the kingdom and being reunited with his Queen, was sick, and she was apparently needed. Just how sick was he? “It’s Mr. Nivens, isn’t it?” she asked, even as she let herself fall softly onto her hands and knees in front of the dark hole. She didn’t think the White Queen would bring her to Underland for a simple sickness. This must be serious. Was the hatter about to die?

 

“Nivens McTwisp,” said the rabbit with a bob of his head.

 

“Yes, of course. Nice to meet you again.” Alice bobbed her head in return before asking, “Shall we go?”

 

“Right.” Nivens hopped off the chair and disappeared into the darkness. “Follow me!” his whispered voice softly echoed back.

 

Alice crawled after the rabbit, finding that although the space under her bed was quite dark and smooth with odd little shapes that felt and sounded like clocks and bells appearing under her hands at inconvenient intervals, there was also a spot of white in the distance. Thinking it was the rabbit and wondering how he glowed so well in the darkness when she couldn’t even see her own hand, she continued forward until she noticed that the white shape was rectangular, like the entranceway under her bed. Of course it’s not the rabbit, she scolded herself. I’d have noticed if he glowed in the dark in my room!

 

She crawled through the rectangular bright light to find herself in a plain white room. Nivens stood a little off to the side next to the mouse. . . . The Dormouse. . . . Mallymkun! Yes, next to Mallymkun, who looked very severe and imposing at her few inches height with a sword at her side.

 

“You’ve got the right Alice this time, then?” asked Mallymkun with clear disapproval in her eyes.

 

“Of course I’m the right Alice,” said Alice. “I don’t look any different from the last time you saw me!” Her hair was a mite longer and darker from spending more time indoors talking to people and less time enjoying the outdoors, but otherwise she looked exactly the same. Her nose wasn’t broken, she hadn’t developed a case of acne—her hair wasn’t even styled differently!

 

The dormouse sniffed. “It’s hard to tell humans apart,” she admitted. “You all look the same! And you’re not wearing the same clothes as last time, either.”

 

Alice looked down and realized she was still wearing her nightgown. Oh well. If her slip from her last visit didn’t offend anyone when it was practically falling off of her she doubted anyone would mind her wearing this much less revealing clothing.

 

“She still smells a little like Underland,” Nivens said crossly, “and she remembers us!”

 

Mallymkun sniffed the air and said, “Hm.”

 

Nivens crouched to all fours before frowning. “Will you at least guard—?”

 

“I’ll do my job,” Mallymkun interrupted in an offended voice. “Now go and do yours.” Seeing the mouse looking ready to pull out her sword and swing at him the rabbit hopped towards the doorway. Alice skirted a long white couch and followed Nivens through the door.

 

Alice didn’t recognize the part of the castle they were in from her previous stay. She frowned around the white hallway with its large windows and occasional portraits as if she could force herself to remember someplace she’d never actually been. She was sure, as she glanced down at the white rabbit in front of her, that if he hadn’t been wearing his waistcoat she would have lost him amongst the absolute lack of color on the floor. Checkered tiles of alternating shades of white didn’t make it easy to see another splotch of white.

 

Nivens eventually stopped in front of a door much like any other except for the plaque shaped like a hat, and fidgeted for a moment with the watch at his waistcoat. He flipped it open, checked the time, and flipped it back closed. “Here’s Mr. Hightopp’s room.” He gestured in front of him before hopping forward and pulling open the door for Alice, who wrinkled her nose at the hint of a distasteful odor. “The Queen will be done with her duties in another hour.” He turned and hesitated before hopping away. “Please help him,” he whispered, giving her a soulful stare with big eyes. Then he loped off back the way they’d come.

 

Alice stared after the white rabbit as he disappeared around the corner before slowly stepping into the room. The scent she’d smelled outside was now identifiable as a mixture of dust and rot, and grew evermore unpleasant the closer she walked to the lump under the covers on the bed with a familiar top hat resting next to it. The room was large with a subsequently large window and large table. There were hats on every available surface, including candlesticks, the chandelier, and the floor. A half-made hat was beside the head of the bed on a small stool, and as she stopped beside it she could see the stitches that attached the lace to the brim growing progressively bigger and sloppier the closer they came to the end of the thread.

 

She frowned in thought before letting her gaze rest on the most interesting object in the room—which was a person.

 

The Mad Hatter—Tarrant Hightopp, she reminder herself—looked sick. His lax face, now nearly translucent instead of white, had one big crack down the middle with smaller cracks leading off of that, like an oddly shaped leaf. The covers on the bed were thick and pulled up to his neck, so Alice couldn’t see more than his head. She frowned and wondered if she should pull down the covers, but saw the tiny tremors making his hair shake and decided against it.

 

Now that she was looking at it she could see that his hair, once a nice orange color, was only orange in the front and otherwise mostly gray. The curls were also not as curly as they used to be. In fact, his hair looked limp and dead.

 

Alice couldn’t help but think that the Mad Hatter used to be much more mucher.

 

“You’ve lost your muchness,” she murmured to the prone form quietly, sure that she was paraphrasing something he’d once said to her.

 

The hatter’s eyes snapped open and Alice jumped. The golden stare swept from gazing straight up in front of him to her face, where his eyes proceeded to rake over her form with such a hungry and angry stare that it made her uncomfortable. The cracks on his face lengthened and deepened, and that made her alarmed.

 

“Mr. Hightopp,” she started, but didn’t get any farther because his eyes suddenly lost their glow and returned to normal.

 

“Please,” he said with a pleasant smile, “call me Tarrant.”

 

“Tarrant, then. What happened to you?” Even as she stared the cracks were sealing up as if they’d never been, and his hair was growing more orange and wavy by the second.

 

“I’m not quite sure.” He sat up in bed, plucked his hat from beside him, and started to push back the covers. Alice noticed a distinct lack of clothing and turned around to give Tarrant some privacy. “I haven’t felt good since the Frabjous day, actually. I woke up the next morning quite tired and slow, even though I’d only done the Futterwacken for an hour at the party and got a good four hours of rest. It took me all day to make twenty-two hats,” he said, sounding depressed for an instant before forcing cheer. She could hear the rustling of cloth and assumed he was getting dressed. “And that was only the first day. I kept getting slower and slower, and my hands started aching, and then my feet. And before you know it my head was a-whirling whenever I moved and I didn’t want to eat, even when the Queen came into my room with a special soup made just for me by her hands. You can turn around now.” Alice turned as Tarrant popped his hat on his head. “And then yesterday I started cracking. And not the mad kind of cracking, but the ‘pieces falling off of you’ kind of cracking.”

 

“I’d noticed.” Alice watched as Tarrant picked up the unfinished hat on the stool and brought it over to the big table. “But you’re all better now. How?”

 

“I don’t know.” The Mad Hatter shrugged as he sat down and started unthreading his too-loose stitches. “When I saw you, everything just felt better.” He smiled his guileless half-smile at her before waving his hands at the couch. “Sit, sit!”

 

Alice brushed two hats onto the floor and obligingly sat.

 

Tarrant finished with the stitches and gently set the hat aside for later. Then he came over to join her on the couch and started smiling at her. It was very odd—first the smile was joyous, then uncertain, then he’d look away while losing the smile altogether, then he’d glance back and she’d raise her eyebrow in a silent question and it would start all over again.

 

This happened three times before Alice decided enough was enough. “How has everyone else been while I was away?” she asked.

 

Tarrant grinned a madly delighted grin at having something to say and started rattling on about how everyone was doing. Alice was surprised to learn that Mallymkun was seeing someone—a rather timid frog, if she understood correctly—and that the card soldiers were now dyed white of their own volition in order to be better sentries by blending in with the walls. She was also happy, but not entirely surprised, to learn that the Bandersnatch was as content in peace as he was in war, and that he’d joined the family of bloodhounds in farming truffles, of all things! Alice expressed her shock that the same kind of food existed in both worlds after seeing all the plants that looked nothing like what she was used to or looked much, much bigger. After Tarrant said, “Oh, of course! The seeds of the truffle plant are a delicacy on any table, especially considering all the teeth one must avoid to reach them,” Alice was again reminded that this world was very different than her own and she should stop thinking it had that many similarities. Roses and grass were the only plants she’d seen that were exactly the same in both worlds.

 

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Tarrant frowned, said, “Excuse me a moment,” and got up to answer it. When he saw the White Queen he froze for a moment before ushering her in. He offered her tea that he didn’t actually have but which she waved off graciously. She looked around for a moment for a place to sit and ended up perched on the end of the bed. Tarrant looked ready to upend a chair and offer her that before she started speaking. “I’m glad to see that you’re better,” she started warmly.

 

Tarrant started smiling again. “It’s good to be better.”

 

The White Queen turned to Alice. “And how are you doing?”

 

“Better,” Alice admitted. “I’ve got some new business partners, and even more potential business partners. I’m just coming back home now to visit my family and talk to Lord Ascot about how things are going.”

 

“Excellent.” The Queen beamed. “It’s so nice to hear you’re doing well.”

 

Alice couldn’t help but smile back. “It’s nice to hear everyone here is doing well, too.”

 

The Queen’s smile became less than it was, although it was still warm. “Almost everyone,” she kindly reminded.

 

Alice glanced at the hatter to find him looking down in something close to shame. She turned back to the Queen and frowned at her for making Tarrant depressed.

 

The Queen’s smile grew again before she asked, “Would you mind it terribly if Mr. Hightopp went with you when you returned to Overland?”

 

Alice wondered briefly what Overland was before realizing that the Queen was referring to her world. “Not at all,” she said into the oppressive silence of the room.

 

Tarrant began a sputtering protest. “But-but my Queen! It’s not right! I-no offense is meant, Alice,” he told her with a glance, “but I must stay here!”

 

One of the Queen’s black eyebrows rose. “And why must you stay here?”

 

The Mad Hatter straightened up tall and proud. His eyes spat deferential golden acid as his voice changed to a Scottish brogue. “I am the last of the Hightopp Clan, and it is my duty and honor to make hats and protect the Queen.”

 

“All good reasons for you to go.” Sanity came back to the hatter’s eyes as he stared stupidly at his Queen. Even his twisted mind couldn’t understand that logic. The Queen looked unbothered by this as she swung her gaze to Alice and politely requested, “Would you mind waiting outside for a minute, please?”

 

“Not at all.” Alice stood up and exited the room, closing the door behind her. She noticed a spot of blue and turned to find Nivens waiting patiently. She slid down the wall and joined him on the floor.

 

Meanwhile, Mirana of Marmoreal had turned to Tarrant and was staring at him expectantly. “Will you tell me what’s truly troubling you now?”

 

Tarrant insisted, “I already have! I’m the last Hightopp, I am a hatter, and I will protect you!”

 

The Queen shook her head in a disappointed fashion. “No, that’s not it. I’m not saying that that’s not some of it, but it’s certainly not all of it.” She stared into his eyes, and Tarrant had the uncomfortable feeling that she could see his cracked soul and understood all of it, even the parts that made him mad. “You can make hats anywhere, and I have many people to guard me from attacks. No—what you fear is not wanting to come back.”

 

Tarrant was gob smacked. “Not-not come back?”

 

She nodded. “It’s happened before, you know, when people were in love.”

 

“In love?” squeaked out Tarrant, sounding like a boy going through puberty. The Queen barely held in a laugh, knowing it would only hurt Tarrant to think she was making fun of him.

 

“Of course,” she said gravely. “You didn’t think you’d start falling apart for just anyone, did you?”

 

“Well, I—you never mentioned—”

 

“I did. But you must have been too out of it to understand what I was saying at the time.” She gave him a mildly severe look as he collapsed onto the couch. “I didn’t know you felt quite so much for our dear Alice until you started falling apart, and by then it was too late to do anything. I might have created a potion so that you could forget her—,” Tarrant looked horrified, “—or a cookie to simply take away all your feelings—,” his eyes squinted nearly shut before looking considering, “—but I’m afraid those would simply make you more mad than ever, eventually, and then you’d fall apart all over again.” The Queen picked up a few beads and let them fall through her lax fingers as she said, “Piece by piece.”

 

Tarrant opened his mouth to say something, then closed it when he couldn’t find the words.

 

“Love is a different kind of madness than you’re used to,” the Queen went on, understanding her hatter’s confusion. “It is more subtle, less understandable, but it is madness all the same. And all madness leads to cracking when it is severe enough.”

 

The poor man looked more confused than ever, and the Queen readied herself to pound her knowledge into his thick skull until he couldn’t fight back against his own needs anymore. “But then how can anyone ever fall in love?” he asked desperately, most likely thinking of all the happy couples claiming to be in love and how they were definitely not cracking despite apparently being mad.

 

“Because love is also a healer.”

 

His brows knit, his teeth nibbled his lip, his eyes fogged over as he searched for any loophole in his Queen’s reasoning. He did not want to leave his home, his life, and his Queen simply because he supposedly had some kind of rare falling-apart disease (that he was already better from, thank you). The hatter would like to go with Alice to Overland, he really would. Nivens told stories about his adventures up there—mostly stuff about being chased by naked owls and dogs, but also descriptions of the plants and the buildings. It sounded like such an interesting place! But he also wanted to properly represent his dead clan and loyally serve his Queen. . . . His clan! His eyes cleared as he explained, “But I loved my family. I loved my whole clan! Everyone, from my mother and father to my fifth-cousin three times removed Jermomery. . . .” His voice trailed off as he neared the end of his justification that love couldn’t be his reason for cracking. He wasn’t even looking at her any more, instead focusing down on his twisting hands.

 

Mirana stood up from the bed and floated elegantly across the piles of hats on the floor to reach out and gently lift up Tarrant’s chin. The eyes meeting hers were a swirling storm of gold and green that calmed under her tranquil brown stare. “Do not think for a moment you did not love your family. I know your heart, and it is strong and able. Certainly strong enough to keep you from cracking under the weight of so many lost loves.” She stroked his hair tenderly, careful not to disturb his hat. “But there comes a time when there is simply too much, and your heart couldn’t take another person you loved being away from you.”

 

Tarrant stared.

 

“You thought she wasn’t coming back, didn’t you?”

 

Tarrant nodded shyly even as a glimmer of hope entered his eyes. Hope for a future with Alice, one of the people he’d loved in his lifetime.

 

The Queen smiled benevolently even as she sweetened the deal. “Do you not think, Mr. Hightopp, that the people of Overland would benefit from such a great hatter as you? Your hats bring joy to everyone who wears them. You always know the right cut, color, size, shape, and ornamentation for any and all occasions.”

 

The hatter straightened up under his Queen’s praise before he became hesitant again. “I would like to . . . share my hats with the people in Overland, but . . . I—I also love you, My Queen, and Thackery and Mallymkun!” He added in a mumble, “And . . . Chessy.”

 

“But not the way you love Alice.” Ah, more confusion. Sometimes it was hard to explain her reasonings to others when understanding came to her so easily. “You met her when she was but a girl, then again when she was older, our only hope and jaded to her own world and its wonders. You watched her defeat the Jabberwocky, who killed your clan. You helped her get there; you made her brave. She was your little sister Tateenya, and then she was your friend and your hero, and you feel more for her than you do for anyone in Underland. Yes,” she said, seeing Tarrant about to deny it, “even more than you feel for me. To you she’s already family, while I am merely someone to serve. You can still see that little girl confused about how the adult world works and you want to help, even as you see the adult that she is and respect her for her drive and ability.”

 

The Mad Hatter stared at Mirana of Marmoreal, at once flummoxed and hopeful. “How . . . how do you know all this?”

 

The White Queen smiled. “Because you fell apart for her, and also because everyone wants to be needed. We all love you and want you to be around, but we do not need you.” Seeing his crestfallen look she wrapped a loose arm around his shoulders. “Alice, on the other hand, does. She may not know it yet, but you help her to face things that need to be faced.”

 

He perked up. “I do?”

 

Mirana nodded gravely. “Absolem did as well,” she admitted, “but butterflies do not last long in Overland, and he cannot help her there.” She looked him solemnly in the eyes and said, “Only you can.”

 

Tarrant looked at his Queen for a long moment and remembered how she’d stressed the word “need” before taking a deep breath. “I’ll join Alice in Overland.”

Chapter Text

Alice scrambled to her feet when the Mad Hatter’s door opened. She’d been thinking about Tarrant in-between distracting herself by talking to Nivens. In Underland, only a little over three months had passed.

 

Alice had been shocked when Nivens told her. “For me it’s been two years!”

 

“Time passes differently here,” Nivens had replied, scribbling something down on a notepad before ripping it off and crumpling it into a ball. “Generally more time passes in Underland than Overland, but it switches. Sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for decades. But we’re almost never the same”

 

Alice had nodded as though this was the most natural thing in the world. There was a pause before she’d asked, “What are you writing?”

 

“I’m trying to figure out why a raven is like a writing desk. Do you know?”

 

Alice did not, but she’d said she’d help him, and they’d spent quite a while throwing ideas back and forth. Then the door opened and the Queen came out, followed by Tarrant, who was holding a small battered suitcase. The hatter stepped up to Alice and stared at her nose. “I will come with you to Overland,” he said softly. His eyes flickered up to hers and his crooked smile appeared. Alice smiled back.

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

As Nivens led them all back to the room he and Alice had returned to Underland through, the Queen explained that Alice would go back the way she’d come.

 

Alice stared. “But last time I had to drink the blood of the Jabberwocky to get back. Could I have gone back through the tree?” Because if she could have gone back up through the tree, she would have preferred that. Climbing up a ninety degree angle rife with floating objects was one thing, but drinking some creature’s blood raw was simply vile, no matter that the aftertaste was of raspberries.

 

The Queen shook her head with a smile. “No. That opening had long since closed. It stayed open just long enough for you to follow Mr. McTwist through.”

 

Alice frowned. “So why is this one staying open?”

 

The Queen’s eyes glimmered proudly. “I artificially enhanced it using a spray. I found the recipe in an old book years ago, but never had cause to use it until now. I wasn’t entirely certain it would work, since it uses both a child’s first giggle and fairy dust, but they work quite well together when boiled for five minutes in skunk urine.”

 

Alice, Tarrant, and Nivens looked suitably disgusted.

 

Nivens perked up. “Ah, here we are.” He opened the door and they found Mallymkun still standing guard. She gravely curtsied and paid homage to the Queen with a few short statements. The Queen nodded her head.

 

“Now it is time to leave.” The Queen waved at the space in the wall. “I’m afraid that, since this opening remained open, the same amount of time has passed in both our lands.”

 

Alice felt her eyes widen as she thought of how long she’d spent talking to Tarrant and then waiting outside for him and the Queen to be done talking.

 

“Do not worry,” continued the Queen. “Mallymkun stayed not only to guard the passage, but to make sure that no one came to wake you.”

 

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. No one knocked on the door,” the mouse assured the blond human. “Although someone yelled something about land.”

 

This comforted Alice greatly. She thanked Mallymkun, who said, “No problem,” but looked nonetheless very smug.

 

Everyone said their goodbyes. “I’ll come back someday,” promised both Alice and Tarrant. The Queen said, “I’m sure you will.”

 

Mallymkun seemed a little down. She glared at Alice and, to a lesser extent, Tarrant as they both crouched down to squeeze under the low top of the opening. “Be safe up there,” she told Tarrant severely. Her lower lip trembled just a little, along with her voice.

 

“I will.” Tarrant smiled at the small mouse and reached out a hand to shake her paw (which covered the tip of his index finger) before crawling into the pitch blackness.

 

“Good luck,” the Queen told Alice as she followed the Hatter. Alice turned back to reply, but saw only darkness. She swallowed and faced forward again, listening to the sounds ahead of her as Tarrant caused bells to ring when he brushed against them. It seemed to take longer to come to Overland than to go to Underland, but she thought that may have only been because there was no light at the end to shoot for. Just a little lighter piece of blackness.

 

Alice crawled out from under the bed to find Tarrant looking around him in fascination as he set his suitcase beside her bed. “My my—is this your room?” He smiled as he pulled a piece of loose string from her dress on the chair and snipped it off with a pair of scissors. “It’s very cozy.”

 

“This is my cabin,” Alice informed him as she stood up. “It’s on a ship.”

 

“A ship?” Tarrant’s eyes widened as he looked around before finding the porthole and staring out at the piece of gray sky he could see. “I’ve never been on a ship before. I suppose that explains the rocking.”

 

“Yes.” Alice squinted outside too, trying to tell what time it was. It was morning, certainly. Should she even be up yet? Deciding it didn’t matter (since she’d planned not two hours ago to wake up, anyway) she lit a candle before saying, “Turn around. I’m going to get dressed.”

 

The Mad Hatter stopped his mumblings about strange rocking houses and obligingly turned and looked at the small bookshelf full of books and maps. He plucked a book from the shelf and opened it to the first page before beginning to rapidly flip through it, never letting his eyes rest for more than a second on any one page. Alice slipped on her dress and buttoned it up before sitting on her bed and starting on her shoes.

 

“Alright. I’m dressed now.”

 

Tarrant finished the book, set it reverently back on the shelf, before turning and smiling at her. “Well, that was fun! What are we going to do today?” He looked around the small room again before his eyes focused on the door leading outside.

 

Alice said, “If land was sighted we’ll be coming into port soon. You just have to stay here for a few more hours.”

 

“Stay here?” The hatter looked around the small room. “For hours?” He turned a pleading look to her.

 

“Then I’ll sneak you off the ship. And then bring you back on as a friend of mine, a pen pal, who wants to return to England with me.”

 

Tarrant quirked an eyebrow. “What’s a pen pal?”

 

Alice finished lacing up her boots and stood. “It’s a friend you talk to through letters. You don’t have pen pals in Underland?”

 

Tarrant shook his head. “We only use letters for urgent or official messages.” He stroked the spine of a book. “Most messages are simply sent by pigeons, sparrows, or fish.”

 

Alice reminded herself that the animals in Underland could talk, and Tarrant didn’t mean that they tied mail to the birds’ legs and the fishs’ tail fins. She finished lacing up her boots and stood. “Actually, now that I think about it, a pen pal might not work.” She gave Tarrant a considering look. He cocked his head and made a funny face. She smiled. “At least, not for long. My mother will know it’s not true since I never had any pen pals.” She shrugged. “We can say you’re a pen pal, at least until England. Then the men on this ship can vouch for your character if mother asks, and it won’t matter.”

 

“Do we actually need to say I’m your pen pal?” Tarrant found the small mirror and plucked at a strand of his own hair, wrinkling his nose.

 

“Yes.” Alice brushed her own hair without the use of said mirror, deciding to let Tarrant primp himself as long as he wanted. “Otherwise the captain wouldn’t let you on. He’d think you were trying to weasel a free passage to England and appealing to my sympathies, or something, I’m sure.” As it was, it still might not work, and if it didn’t she’d have to sneak Tarrant on somehow and make sure no one ever saw him—probably confining him to her quarters, since no one ever came there but her. It would be far easier, however, if Tarrant were allowed some freedom on the ship so that he didn’t feel so confined and perhaps become madder than he already was.

 

She handed Tarrant the brush when she was done with it and Tarrant said, “Thanks.” Alice pulled out a string from the small desk that doubled as a dresser to tie back her hair.

 

“But if we say I already know you, and that you’re of good character, but you’re in a spot of trouble or something, he should let you on. Even if you have to pay, you’ll still at least be able to come with me to England.” It was only then that Alice realized there might be some problems with the monetary situation. “Do you even have money?”

 

Tarrant’s eyes brightened at once. “Oh, yes!” He set down the hand mirror and picked up his suitcase to place it on her bed. He undid the latches, then unbuckled it, and finally flipped it open. Alice saw clothes folded so small and neat that she was sure he fit in twice the amount any person she knew possibly could. He lifted up a shirt and removed a small bag, letting her see the edge of a painting before he replaced the shirt. He opened the bag to let coins fall into his hand and Alice inspected the money, her brows furrowing.

 

“. . . This doesn’t look anything like our money.”

 

“Really?” Tarrant furrowed his own brows and asked, “What does your money look like?”

 

“This.” Alice plucked a few shillings from inside a drawer to show Tarrant.

 

Tarrant looked positively delighted at the strange coin. “Why, your money is silver!”

 

“And yours is pink!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

 

As Alice predicted, it took a few hours to get Tarrant off the ship. First the ship was parked, the fees paid, and people let off to buy supplies before most were allowed to take the night off (there were still a few more things to pick up, and then the crates and barrels had to be put away, which the captain and his second in command were doing before taking a break themselves). They were staying for less than a day, and in the morning they would leave again, so Alice would need to act fast. She was hoping to talk to the captain tonight for permission for Tarrant to come with them to England.

 

When only the watchman was still on board and everyone else was off on their break or buying things Alice went back down in her cabin to presumably retrieve the money she’d forgotten before wandering the port herself. She was indeed going back for her money, but she’d left it there on purpose so that she’d have an excuse to return (although she’d left the money specifically because Tarrant seemed unusually fascinated by the differences in their currency).

 

When she stepped into the room Tarrant was juggling four coins in one hand while flipping through a book with the other. He paused in his actions and looked up as she closed the door behind her, catching the coins neatly. “Are you ready?” she asked.

 

“Yes.” Tarrant’s smile sprang to life and became wobbly very quickly. “Is it . . . very different from Underland?”

 

Alice blinked. “Yes.” She stared at the man she’d known for so long as he tried to hide his fear and thought she understood. He was brave, and quite willing to face her world, but . . . well, she didn’t know what Nivens had said, or if anyone else had visited her world and shared their stories of time spent here, but she knew their worlds were vastly different. If she had simply heard about Underland before going there she’d have been much more frightened at first than she had been. Underland had been scary, truly, what with all the changing of sizes and talking animals and the “Off with her head” part, but it wasn’t all that bad, and now she didn’t find it a scary place at all. (Well, the Jabberwocky and Jubjub bird would always be scary, and she still hadn’t seen all that Underland had to offer, but considering all the scary creatures and things she didn’t know about Overland she thought that Underland was no more or less scary the Overland.)

 

Overland didn’t have any such fantastical thing as talking animals and etcetera. But she was looking at the world as someone who had grown up here, and Tarrant most certainly was not from here. How must he be feeling? Would he feel like her, when she first went to Underland at age 11 and thought it so odd as to be a dream, or would he feel worse, because although he was older than when she’d first gone to Underland he had secondhand stories to help his worries along and knew it was real?

 

Alice wondered what she could say to make Tarrant less afraid. “Yes,” she repeated, “it is much different. But . . .” she trailed off as she thought about it, “. . . I suppose it’s not very different at all.”

 

Tarrant stared at her and Alice pressed on determinedly, using all the skills she’d gained talking business over the past year to bring the right words to her lips.

 

“There are still good people, and bad people. And everyone has their reasons for doing whatever it is they’re doing, whether you agree with their actions or not. There are still plants that poison and plants that heal, and animals that are loyal and animals that will eat you.” Alice thought she was doing quite well with her impromptu speech and felt emboldened, saying in a clearer voice (though still low enough that the watchman wouldn’t hear her unless his ear were pressed to the door), “There is such a thing as magic here, although I think it works much differently than what The White Queen does, and there are such things as miracles. We do not have an Addendum, which tells of all days, but we do have records of the past, and diaries of the present, and books on possible futures.” Alice looked Tarrant in the eyes and couldn’t read his face, although he did not seem as afraid. “The small things about our worlds are different, but many of the rules are the same.” Here her lips quirked as she remembered some of the things that her friends in Underland could do that she found very odd. “Animals don’t talk . . . at least not human talk. And cats do not slowly fade away—they simply disappear. And people cannot twist their heads around. Only owls can do that.”

 

Tarrant drooped. “I can’t Futterwacken?”

 

“You can,” Alice corrected, “but not as . . .” she searched for the right word, the word Tarrant had once used, “’vigorously’ as you’re used to. I’ve done it before. It was exhilarating and liberating all at once.”

 

Tarrant’s eyes shone. “Why was it liberating?”

 

“It offended a lot of people.”

 

“Oh.” Tarrant frowned and Alice felt the need to defend herself.

 

“They were kind of people who needed offending.”

 

Tarrant’s frown melted away. “Oh. That sounds wonderful!”

 

And soon after that Alice stuck her head out the door to look around for the watchman. As she saw him (off to the right and squinting into the wind to look at something on the dock) she realized something and turned back to Tarrant. “Can you fade out of sight, like the Cheshire Cat?”

 

Tarrant looked at Alice as though he thought she were mad. “Like Chessy? No.”

 

Alice sighed and looked at the man on watch again. “You might need to wait until tonight. The shadows could hide you better.”

 

“I can hide quite well,” Tarrant said earnestly.

 

Alice stared at him again and nodded. She trusted the hatter. “Alright. I’ll walk out first. You follow.”

 

She stared at him just long enough to see his nod before actually leaving her room. She didn’t shut her door behind her all the way. The watchman, a nice man named John, turned to look at her and she waved at him. He waved back with a smile.

 

She was halfway across the deck when she heard her door quietly click shut, but John didn’t turn around and continued looking the other way. She didn’t hear Tarrant’s footsteps behind her, and wondered how he was doing and if he was just slithering behind her or if he was hiding behind the crates and barrels stacked across the deck. Even so, she worried, for the containers were not particularly plentiful and there was a great deal more open space to cross than covered since most of them were already placed in the hold.

 

Alice walked down the gangplank, cursing the fact that turning her head to watch John would be too odd for her to do safely, and alighted dockside with tense shoulders. She walked a little ways into the crowd on the docks before chancing a glance backwards.

 

She jumped when green eyes met hers from just beyond the edge of her nose. “You scared me,” she said with a hand over her heart.

 

“Sorry,” he replied with a concerned look.

 

Alice turned back around. “It’s fine.” Tarrant stepped up next to her and they walked together down the street. Tarrant was twisting his head this was and that, looking at all the people, clothes, animals, and buildings. Sometimes he turned his head a little too far around, but Alice didn’t mention it since only those really paying attention would be able to tell, and she started thinking that maybe she should make up a story about Tarrant being a contortionist.

 

And then she noticed that people were staring at him—she wondered why until she realized his manner of dress was just a little eccentric and his skin was white so of course he drew attention. But just as many people that looked at him looked decisively away, and not many outright stared. Tarrant stared back at a few curiously, as though trying to figure out whether the person drank tea or coffee.

 

Tarrant turned to her with bright eyes. “So, what are we going to do now?”

 

Alice had thought of this while window shopping earlier before “realizing” she had “forgotten” her money. “We’re going to do some shopping for a gift for my nephew, and then in a little while we’ll go back aboard to meet the captain and request that you join our voyage.”

 

Tarrant smiled. “That sounds wonderful! How old is your nephew?”

 

“six months.” Alice smiled too, thinking of the new baby in the family and how he was undoubtedly being spoiled right at this very instant. “I already bought some presents for my family, but I’m sure Timothy—that’s his name—could always use one more.”

 

Tarrant agreed with bright eyes and they searched around the various shops for at least one trinket appropriate for a baby. Eventually Tarrant spotted a small darkly-wooden lady in a frilly blue dress and the matching wooden man in redish-brown military formal wear with small medals made of tin attached to his chest.

 

“They look alright,” Alice said, rubbing her fingers all along the wood of first one doll, then the other. “I don’t feel any rough patches. . . .”

 

“I was thinking I could make us.” Tarrant smiled at the girl-doll in his hand.

 

“’Make us?’”

 

“Yes!” Tarrant took the boy-doll gently from Alice’s hands and pointed. Alice looked at the blue of the dress and the brown of the coat and compared it to what they were wearing. She agreed that the shades were, while not exact, similar. “This way he’ll always have his Aunt Alice and Uncle Tarrant on hand!”

 

“But you’re not his uncle.”

 

“Of course I am! I am a close friend from another world who helped you win a war. That makes me his uncle!”

 

Alice didn’t understand. “I’m not following you.”

 

Tarrant said, “We are close,” and twined his fingers together in front of his heart. After a few seconds of silence where Tarrant stared at her expectantly Alice realized that was all he was going to say on the subject.

 

“I see,” she said, as a vague understanding blossomed. They were close, the closeness from having adventures and almost dying together, which Tarrant related to familial bonds. That was a little strange, but not completely unfathomable.

 

“Good!”

 

Alice bought the two dolls a few minutes later and she and Tarrant walked slowly back to the ship to allow time for the captain to be mostly done with his paperwork by the time they arrived. On the way she explained where they were, how long it would take to reach England, and telegraphs. Then she had to explain electricity, which was difficult considering she didn’t know much about it other than, “it’s like lightning.” Tarrant kept asking difficult questions like, “How do you contain it?” and she would reply with something similar to, “I think with rubber, but I’m not quite sure.”

 

They came upon the ship and some other man (Alice was fairly certain his name was Brian) was on watch now. He frowned down at Tarrant as he followed Alice on board and stepped down from the quarterdeck to meet them.

 

“Good evening, ma’am,” said Brian, still carefully watching Tarrant.

 

“Evening,” Alice replied. “This is Mr. Hightopp,” she motioned to Tarrant, “a friend of mine from childhood. We would like an audience with the captain.”

 

Brian agreed and led them most of the way to the captain’s cabin, even though it was only a few meters away. The second in command walked out just as they reached the door and said, “Good evening, Miss Kingsleigh,” with a bob of his head

 

“Good evening, Mr. Hancock,” Alice said with a bob of her own head. Douglas Hancock twisted his head to watch them as he left. Alice knocked soundly on the doorframe of the still open door and the captain said, “Enter,” while looking up.

 

Captain Elliot Snape was an old captain, weathered and beaten wrinkled by the sea. His hair was mostly brown, but gray along his temples and a few strands interspersed in his hair. His eyes were a cloudy blue, and they shone brightly as he stood and nodded to Alice, then narrowed as he nodded in a slower fashion at Tarrant. She knew what he was seeing—a man with crazy-looking eyes, white skin and purplish bruises around his eyes, wild hair and a tall hat. She hoped that she had made enough of an impression on the captain that he felt he could trust her a bit, and Tarrant would not be denied based on his looks. “Miss Kingsleigh. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

 

“Captain Snape.” Alice bowed, remembered that this was an Englishman and not a Chinaman and she should have curtsied, and decided it didn’t matter. “This is Tarrant Hightopp, a good friend of mine.” Elliot’s left eyebrow cocked and his eyes darted between them. “We’ve been penpals for years, and have written to each other since I was a child.” And that’s all she would say about that, unless someone asked her and she had to make up a more detailed story. “Sadly, he wishes to go to London, but has been stuck at this port due to lack of funds. He makes hats, you see, but cannot even get the money to buy the material to make more hats to sell. Luckily I saw him a few minutes ago, and offered this ship for his use if you will allow it, Sir.”

 

Elliot stared at Tarrant, who was staring curiously at a picture on the desk of Elliot’s sister and her family before snapping his head back up and smiling with his lips closed. After long seconds of perusal he ponderously asked, “You can vouch for him?”

 

“Yes,” said Alice firmly. “Tarrant is an odd man, but a good one. And if he does need to pay for passage I will pay for him.”

 

The captain looked at her hard. “It’s not just about money, but about space. Another person means more food and drink, and we already take up all the space we have for such.”

 

“Tarrant can help you with that,” Alice said quickly. Tarrant looked at her askance, and she made a small, vague gesture by bringing her hands together, which Tarrant somehow understood.

 

“Uh—yes! Yes indeed.” Tarrant smiled winningly, showing off the gap between his front teeth. “I am very good at fitting things into tight spaces. Let me work on your,” here Tarrant hesitated, “. . . on your food and I’ll come up with more room!”

 

The captain looked from Tarrant, to Alice, to Tarrant again, then rested on Alice. “And you say you’ll pay for him?”

 

“Yes,” said Alice firmly.

 

The captain looked down at his paperwork, at the picture of his sister, at Alice and Tarrant. He walked around his desk at last to lean against it with his arms crossed in front of him. “I have worked for Lord Ascot for many years. I know him personally, and we have an understanding. Since you are also working for Lord Ascot—“ Alice absolutely did not mutter, “With Lord Ascot,” she did not, because this was occurring a lot easier than she thought it would and she would not be the one to mess it up for petty reasons, “—and chosen for this job, he must trust you to make your own choices and judge others’ characters adequately. Mr. Hightopp may come with us if he can create space for what he will consume, and you’ll be charged for the passage, food, and drink once we reach England.” Alice nodded jerkily as the captain’s hard eyes landed on Tarrant. “I am captain of this ship, which means that I am in charge. I am judge, jury, and if need be, executioner. If you do something to harm anyone on this ship or the ship itself, I will know about it and I will take action. Is this clear?”

 

“Oh, yes, definitely!” said Tarrant fervently, with an understanding voice devoid of fear. The captain eyed him warily, and Alice wondered if he had ever met someone who cared so little about his own safety and so much about other’s.

 

“Mr. Hancock with lead you to your lodgings.” And with that the captain bellowed for his second in command.

 

Alice winced. She knew it would come to this—Tarrant sleeping with the other men. She worried about what he would do, or what they would do to him. It’s not that she did not trust the men—she had spent some time with all of them, since they were all together for quite a while on a very small ship, but they still considered her strange, and she was much less strange than Tarrant.

 

At least, Alice consoled herself, Tarrant will likely like the hammocks.