In the Rough, chapter 14/40
Title: In the Rough (14/40)
Author: alittleoddish
Rating: Teen
Characters: Alice/Hatter, Jack/Duchess, Charlie
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Syfy's Alice.
Summary: "But this is starting to sound like a quest! Quests are such a pain, Alice, they really are. All horseback and food rations and traveling in groups and no truly hot tea, with significantly less sex against trees.”
Author's Notes: I find that I'm really starting to like Lory. ^_^ This chapter was a challenge to write, but I really like the outcome.
Thanks so much for all of you who have given me such lovely feedback! ^_^ Again, thanks so much to my GORGEOUS betas, zombres and randombattlecry! They are simply fantastic, they always keep me on my toes to provide the highest quality of writing I can. Also, thanks to my amazing Official Fandom Soundboard abscondinabox, with whom I have spent many-a-Skype session discussing the ins and outs of characters and plot, and without whom this story would undoubtedly be a disaster.
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five,
Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten,
Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen
***
The Tulgey Wood had been a staple of children’s nighttime stories for endless Wonderland generations. Every boy and girl had been warned, at some point in their rebellious toddlerhood, “Now you had better behave, or I’ll send you out into the Wood and goodness knows what’ll happen to you there!” Tulgey Wood, simply put, was the home of nightmares. Every time a child dreamed something strange or frightening, it found a home in the Wood… so you can believe that only the very brave or very stupid ventured into it voluntarily.
Yet it hid still more than just monsters and stories. For all the secrets that lay concealed within the Wood, one couldn’t step within its limits without feeling that it was somehow… watching them. Emerald green trees, taller than skyscrapers, filled mountainsides with fog trailing from their tips to join the low-hanging clouds that hovered above. Lakes and streams, dotted with slimy, moss-covered rocks perfect for jumping and sliding on, snaked through the landscape as though they themselves owned the place, covering and observing their domain with churning currents and water cold enough to feel like a slap to the face.
Lory had no fear of the things that lived and watched in the Wood - in fact, he ruled over them, could command with a nod of his head or a raise of his eyebrow. Lory was the thing that the nightmares feared. So he sat in the trees as though they were as open to him as a park bench, and he waited.
Before long, a small gray bird flew past - a pidgel. Pidgels were used by the Wonderland postal services as chosen mail carriers, being very strong for their size, very fast, and not nearly as talkative as some of the other birds in Wonderland, so therefore much less likely to be killed by their patrons on accounts of being “annoying as all hell”. This particular pidgel, by the name of Paul Pidgel, was a veteran. He particularly prided himself on his sense of direction. In fact, any other day he would have darted through the trees, safely hidden in the fog, until he reached his destination. But this, sadly, was not Paul Pidgel’s day.
Lory reached out a hand through the mist and crooked one long, pointed finger.
Paul Pidgel’s bright black eyes lost their shine and turned into dull, dark pits. The change was subtle, but immediate, and with one flap of his wings Paul Pidgel turned abruptly out of his previous trajectory and towards Lory’s perch. He settled himself calmly in Lory’s outstretched palm and waited. As protective as Pidgels were of their mail, he didn’t even twitch when Lory took a single letter from his pouch and opened it.
Lory read silently and quickly. Upon reaching the end, he folded it back up, placed it back into Paul’s pouch, and tossed him into the air like a juggling ball. Halfway up, Paul Pidgel blinked the dull pain out from behind his eyes, shook it off as the beginnings of a headache, and flew on toward his destination. Lory watched him go.
He was smiling.
***
The Duchess had had a long day. The morning’s crisis had been the female flamingos that lived in the gardens, all of whom had happened to reach their rather aggressively territorial nesting season at the same time. None of the Palace Spades could come within a hundred feet of the croquet grounds without getting quite viciously attacked, and after many failed attempts, the Duchess had been forced to simply send them all home until the nesting season ended. Later in the afternoon, she received news that the drought from three months ago had finally caught up with the farmers in Black Square Two - all of their tomato crops were ruined, and it was up to the Duchess to figure out a way to plan a new tomato distribution schedule accommodating for the shortage. Then, adding insult to injury, she had broken the heel of her shoe tripping ungracefully up a staircase.
She sat down for dinner that evening, tired and irritable, and as Seven ran up to her holding that day’s mail, she shot him a dirty look. “There had better be no bad news in that stack, Seven.”
He bowed quickly, looking nervous, and scurried away. The Duchess sighed and reached for the letter sitting on the top of the stack. Glancing at the return sender, she smiled.
Halfway through reading the letter, Jack walked in to join her at dinner. “Jack,” she said, “We got a letter from Hatter. They’ve made it out of the library, and they’re all fine.”
“Excellent,” he said, sounding strained as he sat down across from her. The Duchess looked up at him, concerned as always by his haggard appearance - she had noticed this morning the few shining gray hairs on his temples - but declined saying anything. “What did they find?”
The Duchess turned her attention back to the letter and read on. “One of the journals mentions a…” she paused. “Hmm. A meteor? How odd. It’s fallen into the Tulgey Wood, apparently. They’re going to go find it, and we can make a new Stone out of that. Hatter is requesting more supplies sent to his teashop by tomorrow morning for the journey.” She folded up the letter and put it back in its envelope for safekeeping. “Well, that’s simple enough. The City isn’t far from here. I’ll mention it to Five after dinner, we’ll send someone tonight.” She smiled. “Sounds like they’ve got the situation well in hand.”
Jack hadn’t touched his food, hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even straightened the wrinkle out of his tie. He just sat there, still as stone. The Duchess’ smile faltered. “…Jack?”
“Fantastic,” he snapped at last, pouring water out of a carafe and into his glass. “Sounds like quite an adventure, soon they’ll all be home. Wonderful.”
“Jack?” The Duchess frowned. “Jack, are you alright?”
The agitated creases on his forehead smoothed themselves away. “Sorry,” he said curtly, taking a careful sip of his water.
The Duchess waved to the Clubs at the door, dismissing them. Although at least a few of them were clearly hesitant, eager for gossip to trade in the kitchens, they all obeyed and exited the room. Once she was sure they were alone, the Duchess moved out of her seat and crossed to sit next to Jack.
“Jack,” she started, reaching to smooth away his hair but stopping when he flinched at her touch. “Jack, you haven’t been yourself lately, and it’s gone on long enough. You need to tell me what’s wrong.” Her eyes were pleading, one hand resting on the table gripping a stray napkin rather harder than strictly necessary. “Jack, the two of us can make whatever is bothering you go away, I promise, but I can’t do anything if you don’t confide in me.”
“You can’t help me.”
“For heavens’ sake, Jack,” she snapped. “You had better stop acting like a baby and start acting like a husband or so help me-“
He looked at her, his facial expression carefully guarded but his eyes apologetic. “I’m worried about Alice’s safety. She’s out there, in danger, and I’m worried about her, alright?”
The Duchess let her hands fall into her lap, her words dying on her lips. “Well, of course you are,” she said carefully, calmly, deliberately neutral. “Aren’t we both worried about her? About all of them? But that doesn’t explain--”
“Don’t start thinking you can rationalize away my emotions, Duchess!” he scowled. She frowned.
“Jack, I wasn’t-“
“We don’t live that way any more! I have my free will you know, I can worry about Alice!”
“That’s why you’re like this? Irritable, half-dead, nearly falling over with exhaustion?” the Duchess said, rising from her seat. Her gaze moved to his silvery-blonde hairs and baggy eyes. “You expect me to believe that all this is out of platonic worry? Jack, do I really seem that gullible to you?”
“Yes! I mean -“ He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t like this.”
Slowly, she turned and walked away from the table, taking a moment to compose herself. Her head felt like it was spinning, trying to follow his moods, his train of thought. “I don’t suppose you’d be this worried if I just up and wandered off, Jack?” she asked, her tone cutting, all softness gone.
He stood and, in one stride, crossed the distance between them, turning the Duchess gently until she faced him. “Of course I would,” he said with absolute certainty. He looked at her with those big blue eyes, tired and somehow… trapped. He leaned closer, whispering urgently. “Please trust me.” He was practically begging. “Duchess, please.”
Duchess shook her head, confused, worried, and at a loss for words, before slowly turning around and exiting the room.
Jack waited until he heard the door shut with a final click before giving in to the confusion and frustration pounding in his head, in his blood. He roared in anger, a harsh, bestial sound that ripped from his throat and made his lungs ache, slamming both his fists on the table hard enough to hurt. The glassware rattled dangerously, and one precarious glass fell off the table and shattered on the marble floor. Jack sank to his knees, nearly in a fetal position, cradling his head in his hands.
His head… why did his head hurt so much?...
“LORY,” he bellowed, his voice rough. The continued silence of the dining room was his only response, but by the time he had regained his composure and raised himself to a standing position, Lory was sitting in one of the seats at the table, sipping a cup of tea calmly as though he had always been there.
Lory raised an eyebrow at Jack’s disheveled appearance and reached to a nearby place setting, picking up a stray cup and holding it out to him. “Clean cup?” he asked with a smirk.
Jack grabbed the cup out of his hand, setting it back in its place and shooting Lory his best look of complete derision. “You’ve got a lot of cheek for hired help,” he spat.
Lory schooled his expression into one of quietly mocking servitude that clashed oddly with his low, rumbling voice. “Indeed. What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”
“They’re going into the Tulgey Wood.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“They know about the meteor.”
“I’ve heard out about that, too.”
“So listen to me, Lory, and listen well,” Jack said, his voice low and urgent. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the tabletop. “They must not find that meteor. Do you understand me?”
Lory blinked his pupil-less eyes at Jack dispassionately, reaching a hand reflexively back to brush at his red-feathered hair. “I find your lack of faith in my skills extremely insulting, Your Majesty.”
“You’ve failed me before.”
“But this is a different situation,” Lory said wryly. “The Tulgey Wood is my home, and as such I can command every rock and breathing being in it. I assure you,” he said, standing to his full height and brushing invisible dust off his business jacket, “Hatter will not leave that forest alive.”
“And Alice will be safe.”
In the interest of maintaining professional appearances, Lory fought hard to suppress an eye-roll. “Yes, the lady Alice will remain unharmed. The other companion, however, I make no promises toward - he seems the type to interfere in a battle, very unpredictable. I only say this to give you fair warning--”
Jack waved him off. “He’s an old man -- I don’t care. Do whatever you need to do. Just be sure that the job gets done. They cannot be allowed to find that meteor.”
Lory nodded curtly. “Understood.” Then Jack blinked, and Lory was gone, leaving only a red feather in his teacup.
Jack sighed and sat back down at the table, feeling sick to his stomach and thinking that sleep, tonight, would be a long way off.
***
Next Chapter
Leave a Comment
Author: alittleoddish
Rating: Teen
Characters: Alice/Hatter, Jack/Duchess, Charlie
Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Syfy's Alice.
Summary: "But this is starting to sound like a quest! Quests are such a pain, Alice, they really are. All horseback and food rations and traveling in groups and no truly hot tea, with significantly less sex against trees.”
Author's Notes: I find that I'm really starting to like Lory. ^_^ This chapter was a challenge to write, but I really like the outcome.
Thanks so much for all of you who have given me such lovely feedback! ^_^ Again, thanks so much to my GORGEOUS betas, zombres and randombattlecry! They are simply fantastic, they always keep me on my toes to provide the highest quality of writing I can. Also, thanks to my amazing Official Fandom Soundboard abscondinabox, with whom I have spent many-a-Skype session discussing the ins and outs of characters and plot, and without whom this story would undoubtedly be a disaster.
Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five,
Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten,
Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen
***
The Tulgey Wood had been a staple of children’s nighttime stories for endless Wonderland generations. Every boy and girl had been warned, at some point in their rebellious toddlerhood, “Now you had better behave, or I’ll send you out into the Wood and goodness knows what’ll happen to you there!” Tulgey Wood, simply put, was the home of nightmares. Every time a child dreamed something strange or frightening, it found a home in the Wood… so you can believe that only the very brave or very stupid ventured into it voluntarily.
Yet it hid still more than just monsters and stories. For all the secrets that lay concealed within the Wood, one couldn’t step within its limits without feeling that it was somehow… watching them. Emerald green trees, taller than skyscrapers, filled mountainsides with fog trailing from their tips to join the low-hanging clouds that hovered above. Lakes and streams, dotted with slimy, moss-covered rocks perfect for jumping and sliding on, snaked through the landscape as though they themselves owned the place, covering and observing their domain with churning currents and water cold enough to feel like a slap to the face.
Lory had no fear of the things that lived and watched in the Wood - in fact, he ruled over them, could command with a nod of his head or a raise of his eyebrow. Lory was the thing that the nightmares feared. So he sat in the trees as though they were as open to him as a park bench, and he waited.
Before long, a small gray bird flew past - a pidgel. Pidgels were used by the Wonderland postal services as chosen mail carriers, being very strong for their size, very fast, and not nearly as talkative as some of the other birds in Wonderland, so therefore much less likely to be killed by their patrons on accounts of being “annoying as all hell”. This particular pidgel, by the name of Paul Pidgel, was a veteran. He particularly prided himself on his sense of direction. In fact, any other day he would have darted through the trees, safely hidden in the fog, until he reached his destination. But this, sadly, was not Paul Pidgel’s day.
Lory reached out a hand through the mist and crooked one long, pointed finger.
Paul Pidgel’s bright black eyes lost their shine and turned into dull, dark pits. The change was subtle, but immediate, and with one flap of his wings Paul Pidgel turned abruptly out of his previous trajectory and towards Lory’s perch. He settled himself calmly in Lory’s outstretched palm and waited. As protective as Pidgels were of their mail, he didn’t even twitch when Lory took a single letter from his pouch and opened it.
Lory read silently and quickly. Upon reaching the end, he folded it back up, placed it back into Paul’s pouch, and tossed him into the air like a juggling ball. Halfway up, Paul Pidgel blinked the dull pain out from behind his eyes, shook it off as the beginnings of a headache, and flew on toward his destination. Lory watched him go.
He was smiling.
***
The Duchess had had a long day. The morning’s crisis had been the female flamingos that lived in the gardens, all of whom had happened to reach their rather aggressively territorial nesting season at the same time. None of the Palace Spades could come within a hundred feet of the croquet grounds without getting quite viciously attacked, and after many failed attempts, the Duchess had been forced to simply send them all home until the nesting season ended. Later in the afternoon, she received news that the drought from three months ago had finally caught up with the farmers in Black Square Two - all of their tomato crops were ruined, and it was up to the Duchess to figure out a way to plan a new tomato distribution schedule accommodating for the shortage. Then, adding insult to injury, she had broken the heel of her shoe tripping ungracefully up a staircase.
She sat down for dinner that evening, tired and irritable, and as Seven ran up to her holding that day’s mail, she shot him a dirty look. “There had better be no bad news in that stack, Seven.”
He bowed quickly, looking nervous, and scurried away. The Duchess sighed and reached for the letter sitting on the top of the stack. Glancing at the return sender, she smiled.
Halfway through reading the letter, Jack walked in to join her at dinner. “Jack,” she said, “We got a letter from Hatter. They’ve made it out of the library, and they’re all fine.”
“Excellent,” he said, sounding strained as he sat down across from her. The Duchess looked up at him, concerned as always by his haggard appearance - she had noticed this morning the few shining gray hairs on his temples - but declined saying anything. “What did they find?”
The Duchess turned her attention back to the letter and read on. “One of the journals mentions a…” she paused. “Hmm. A meteor? How odd. It’s fallen into the Tulgey Wood, apparently. They’re going to go find it, and we can make a new Stone out of that. Hatter is requesting more supplies sent to his teashop by tomorrow morning for the journey.” She folded up the letter and put it back in its envelope for safekeeping. “Well, that’s simple enough. The City isn’t far from here. I’ll mention it to Five after dinner, we’ll send someone tonight.” She smiled. “Sounds like they’ve got the situation well in hand.”
Jack hadn’t touched his food, hadn’t said a word, hadn’t even straightened the wrinkle out of his tie. He just sat there, still as stone. The Duchess’ smile faltered. “…Jack?”
“Fantastic,” he snapped at last, pouring water out of a carafe and into his glass. “Sounds like quite an adventure, soon they’ll all be home. Wonderful.”
“Jack?” The Duchess frowned. “Jack, are you alright?”
The agitated creases on his forehead smoothed themselves away. “Sorry,” he said curtly, taking a careful sip of his water.
The Duchess waved to the Clubs at the door, dismissing them. Although at least a few of them were clearly hesitant, eager for gossip to trade in the kitchens, they all obeyed and exited the room. Once she was sure they were alone, the Duchess moved out of her seat and crossed to sit next to Jack.
“Jack,” she started, reaching to smooth away his hair but stopping when he flinched at her touch. “Jack, you haven’t been yourself lately, and it’s gone on long enough. You need to tell me what’s wrong.” Her eyes were pleading, one hand resting on the table gripping a stray napkin rather harder than strictly necessary. “Jack, the two of us can make whatever is bothering you go away, I promise, but I can’t do anything if you don’t confide in me.”
“You can’t help me.”
“For heavens’ sake, Jack,” she snapped. “You had better stop acting like a baby and start acting like a husband or so help me-“
He looked at her, his facial expression carefully guarded but his eyes apologetic. “I’m worried about Alice’s safety. She’s out there, in danger, and I’m worried about her, alright?”
The Duchess let her hands fall into her lap, her words dying on her lips. “Well, of course you are,” she said carefully, calmly, deliberately neutral. “Aren’t we both worried about her? About all of them? But that doesn’t explain--”
“Don’t start thinking you can rationalize away my emotions, Duchess!” he scowled. She frowned.
“Jack, I wasn’t-“
“We don’t live that way any more! I have my free will you know, I can worry about Alice!”
“That’s why you’re like this? Irritable, half-dead, nearly falling over with exhaustion?” the Duchess said, rising from her seat. Her gaze moved to his silvery-blonde hairs and baggy eyes. “You expect me to believe that all this is out of platonic worry? Jack, do I really seem that gullible to you?”
“Yes! I mean -“ He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands. “I knew you wouldn’t like this.”
Slowly, she turned and walked away from the table, taking a moment to compose herself. Her head felt like it was spinning, trying to follow his moods, his train of thought. “I don’t suppose you’d be this worried if I just up and wandered off, Jack?” she asked, her tone cutting, all softness gone.
He stood and, in one stride, crossed the distance between them, turning the Duchess gently until she faced him. “Of course I would,” he said with absolute certainty. He looked at her with those big blue eyes, tired and somehow… trapped. He leaned closer, whispering urgently. “Please trust me.” He was practically begging. “Duchess, please.”
Duchess shook her head, confused, worried, and at a loss for words, before slowly turning around and exiting the room.
Jack waited until he heard the door shut with a final click before giving in to the confusion and frustration pounding in his head, in his blood. He roared in anger, a harsh, bestial sound that ripped from his throat and made his lungs ache, slamming both his fists on the table hard enough to hurt. The glassware rattled dangerously, and one precarious glass fell off the table and shattered on the marble floor. Jack sank to his knees, nearly in a fetal position, cradling his head in his hands.
His head… why did his head hurt so much?...
“LORY,” he bellowed, his voice rough. The continued silence of the dining room was his only response, but by the time he had regained his composure and raised himself to a standing position, Lory was sitting in one of the seats at the table, sipping a cup of tea calmly as though he had always been there.
Lory raised an eyebrow at Jack’s disheveled appearance and reached to a nearby place setting, picking up a stray cup and holding it out to him. “Clean cup?” he asked with a smirk.
Jack grabbed the cup out of his hand, setting it back in its place and shooting Lory his best look of complete derision. “You’ve got a lot of cheek for hired help,” he spat.
Lory schooled his expression into one of quietly mocking servitude that clashed oddly with his low, rumbling voice. “Indeed. What can I do for you, Your Majesty?”
“They’re going into the Tulgey Wood.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“They know about the meteor.”
“I’ve heard out about that, too.”
“So listen to me, Lory, and listen well,” Jack said, his voice low and urgent. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the tabletop. “They must not find that meteor. Do you understand me?”
Lory blinked his pupil-less eyes at Jack dispassionately, reaching a hand reflexively back to brush at his red-feathered hair. “I find your lack of faith in my skills extremely insulting, Your Majesty.”
“You’ve failed me before.”
“But this is a different situation,” Lory said wryly. “The Tulgey Wood is my home, and as such I can command every rock and breathing being in it. I assure you,” he said, standing to his full height and brushing invisible dust off his business jacket, “Hatter will not leave that forest alive.”
“And Alice will be safe.”
In the interest of maintaining professional appearances, Lory fought hard to suppress an eye-roll. “Yes, the lady Alice will remain unharmed. The other companion, however, I make no promises toward - he seems the type to interfere in a battle, very unpredictable. I only say this to give you fair warning--”
Jack waved him off. “He’s an old man -- I don’t care. Do whatever you need to do. Just be sure that the job gets done. They cannot be allowed to find that meteor.”
Lory nodded curtly. “Understood.” Then Jack blinked, and Lory was gone, leaving only a red feather in his teacup.
Jack sighed and sat back down at the table, feeling sick to his stomach and thinking that sleep, tonight, would be a long way off.
***
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