Messed Up Wonderland, Ahoy!
And thus have I written fic. Like I needed a new fandom! *sigh*
I'm totally not pondering spending the evening making icons. Not at ALL.
Title: "Missing Scene: After the Fight"
Author: Me!
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Warnings: Torture & angst, my two favorite things
Spoilers: Through Part 2, between Hatter’s failure to save Alice and their reappearances at the Casino
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
Summary: My take on why Alice thought Hatter was dead.
Notes: I’m a sicko who enjoys torturing my favorite fictional characters, and once the image of an unconscious Hatter being woken up with a cattle prod made its way in to my brain, I couldn’t get it out.
Also, I nicknamed the tall dude all in black Club because it made sense, what with his silly hat & big pimpin’ necklace; later I realized he was Number 10. But Alice probably wouldn’t know that, either, so I have her referring to him as Club, too.
And I reiterate: Hatter is freakin' adorable.
* * *
“Charlie!” Hatter roared; he was no sword fighter, and he knew it. There was no way he could keep these suits busy much longer...
And he looked back to see Charlie galloping away as fast as his horse could take him. Hatter’s heart sank, and he heard Alice yelling for him as he was ripped off the horse, thrown to the ground with suits all over him. March-or what had been March-stood over them, and Hatter was sure that the rabbit-faced thing was smirking. He grit his teeth, still struggling, glaring up at March’s impassive face.
“You’re getting sloppy, Hatter,” March sneered, “Sentimental. It’s disgusting.”
He tried to reply, but the large suit leaning on his chest pressed an arm against his throat and he gagged. The suit turned back to March,
“What do we do with him, sir?”
March was silent for a long moment, letting him stew, and finally he shrugged,
“Eh, have a little fun, boys. You’ve earned it.”
Damn.
The suit on his chest seized his collar, pulling his head and shoulders off the ground, and punched him across the face. He was hit again and again, and was dazed by the time the suit got off him, motioning to the others to lift him to his feet. He shoved at them, catching one quite satisfactorily in the wind pipe with his elbow before a fist in the gut doubled him over. He could hear Alice, vaguely, and tried to raise his head; he wanted to tell her to be quiet, because she was just going to draw attention to herself and he could take this, really he could, but a sharp jab caught him in the nose as he straightened and the taste of blood rid him of all thoughts of talking. Another punch, another, until he sagged between the suits who held him on his feet as his tired muscles refused to work. He watched detachedly as his blood dripped in to the dirt at his feet.
“Let him go,” March said, “He won’t cause any more trouble for a while.”
As ordered, the suits dropped him. He fell in a heap, unable even to catch himself, and gasped in heavy breaths of dirt and blood.
“Hatter...” Alice’s voice, soft and sad, followed him in to darkness.
* * *
They were bundled in to the scarab ship, Alice and Jack being led down one hall while the suits dragged Hatter another.
“Where are they taking him?” Alice hissed at Jack. “What will they do?”
“They will torture him,” Jack murmured, “And if he survives they will execute him. That’s what passes for justice in Wonderland.”
They were shoved in to a room-not quite a cell-and the door locked behind them. Alice paced,
“We have to do stop them. We have to-“
Jack sat, looking elegant and unruffled in his finely tailored suit,
“And how do you propose we do that? We are prisoners, Alice. There’s nothing to be done for him-or for us.”
She clenched her fists at her sides, shook her head,
“There has to be something. You’re the Prince, right? You can-“
“I am the Prince in disgrace,” he said softly, “and still a prisoner.” He met her eye, expression wide open, “I know he’s your friend, and he’s been a great help to the resistance, but these are desperate times. You cannot understand.”
“So you’re just...just going to give up?”
“The lesser battle,” Jack nodded, glanced away, “Yes. There are larger matters than whether or not Hatter survives.”
“It’s my fault,” Alice said fiercely, “if not for me, he’d be safe.”
She’d told Hatter same thing about Jack, but that seemed like an eternity ago. She’d been wrong then, but this...the thought of leaving Hatter to die turned her stomach.
“Alice-“
And an agonized cry echoed down the hallway, making them both jump. Alice’s eyes filled with tears and she put a hand to her mouth in horror. Jack held her gaze, looking apologetic,
“I’m sorry.”
* * *
Hatter regained consciousness with a scream as an electric prod hit his ribs. His already abused body protested, trembling, and he forced his eyes open.
“Naughty Hatter,” a voice behind him giggled, and he recognized it as one of the Tweedles, “has to be taught a lesson.”
“Lesson, lesson,” another voice sing-songed, “Prying open the oysters is so easy; Hatter will be a challenge!”
The Doctors Dum and Dee were even more well known than Mad March. March, at least, only killed people. The Doctors, however, took delight in their ability to cause pain without quite killing the subject. Rumors of prisoners lingering in agony for months had come through his tea shop on more than one occasion.
There was another shock, and this time Hatter restrained himself to a growl that burst through his gritted teeth; he’d be damned if he gave the Queen’s pet psychopaths the satisfaction of screaming. As Dodo had pointed out, he was no freedom fighter, he wasn’t a man of principle. But he’d die for this.
For her.
“Sweet little girlie...the Queen’s promised her to us next,” one of the Doctors giggled, twirling a pirouette around the chair he was tied to and sticking his ugly face in to Hatter’s. “Scream, or she will.”
So he did.
* * *
When the door opened, Alice couldn’t help but rush it, yelling Hatter’s name. The suits caught her of course, and one of them closed a hand over her mouth. She bit it, and felt a jolt of vicious pleasure at his yelp of pain and surprise.
“Calm yourself, or we will be forced to take rash action,” Club glowered.
“Where’s Hatter? What’ve you done with him?”
Club looked mildly uncomfortable, but raised his chin,
“Hatter has been dealt with according to Her Majesty’s wishes.”
Jack’s voice echoed in her head: “They will torture him. And if he survives they will execute him. That’s what passes for justice in Wonderland.”
Alice bit her lip, looking away, and caught Jack’s sympathetic look; double-crossing, double-talking, always there Hatter was dead, and it was all her fault.
“Where are you taking me?” her voice was a whisper.
“You are to spend the rest of the journey elsewhere,” Club said, and she noted that he was glaring at Jack. Were they going to torture him, too? Would the Queen of Hearts murder her own son?
“Jack-“
“It’s all right, Alice,” he smiled reassuringly, lounging as though he were still the King-to-Be, “I shall see you at the Casino.” He turned and gave Club a rather mocking look, “Now then, Number 10, I believe you had a word for me from my mother?”
Surrounded by suits, the door closed behind her. Alice had never felt so alone.
I'm totally not pondering spending the evening making icons. Not at ALL.
Title: "Missing Scene: After the Fight"
Author: Me!
Rating: PG-13 for violence
Warnings: Torture & angst, my two favorite things
Spoilers: Through Part 2, between Hatter’s failure to save Alice and their reappearances at the Casino
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters
Summary: My take on why Alice thought Hatter was dead.
Notes: I’m a sicko who enjoys torturing my favorite fictional characters, and once the image of an unconscious Hatter being woken up with a cattle prod made its way in to my brain, I couldn’t get it out.
Also, I nicknamed the tall dude all in black Club because it made sense, what with his silly hat & big pimpin’ necklace; later I realized he was Number 10. But Alice probably wouldn’t know that, either, so I have her referring to him as Club, too.
And I reiterate: Hatter is freakin' adorable.
* * *
“Charlie!” Hatter roared; he was no sword fighter, and he knew it. There was no way he could keep these suits busy much longer...
And he looked back to see Charlie galloping away as fast as his horse could take him. Hatter’s heart sank, and he heard Alice yelling for him as he was ripped off the horse, thrown to the ground with suits all over him. March-or what had been March-stood over them, and Hatter was sure that the rabbit-faced thing was smirking. He grit his teeth, still struggling, glaring up at March’s impassive face.
“You’re getting sloppy, Hatter,” March sneered, “Sentimental. It’s disgusting.”
He tried to reply, but the large suit leaning on his chest pressed an arm against his throat and he gagged. The suit turned back to March,
“What do we do with him, sir?”
March was silent for a long moment, letting him stew, and finally he shrugged,
“Eh, have a little fun, boys. You’ve earned it.”
Damn.
The suit on his chest seized his collar, pulling his head and shoulders off the ground, and punched him across the face. He was hit again and again, and was dazed by the time the suit got off him, motioning to the others to lift him to his feet. He shoved at them, catching one quite satisfactorily in the wind pipe with his elbow before a fist in the gut doubled him over. He could hear Alice, vaguely, and tried to raise his head; he wanted to tell her to be quiet, because she was just going to draw attention to herself and he could take this, really he could, but a sharp jab caught him in the nose as he straightened and the taste of blood rid him of all thoughts of talking. Another punch, another, until he sagged between the suits who held him on his feet as his tired muscles refused to work. He watched detachedly as his blood dripped in to the dirt at his feet.
“Let him go,” March said, “He won’t cause any more trouble for a while.”
As ordered, the suits dropped him. He fell in a heap, unable even to catch himself, and gasped in heavy breaths of dirt and blood.
“Hatter...” Alice’s voice, soft and sad, followed him in to darkness.
* * *
They were bundled in to the scarab ship, Alice and Jack being led down one hall while the suits dragged Hatter another.
“Where are they taking him?” Alice hissed at Jack. “What will they do?”
“They will torture him,” Jack murmured, “And if he survives they will execute him. That’s what passes for justice in Wonderland.”
They were shoved in to a room-not quite a cell-and the door locked behind them. Alice paced,
“We have to do stop them. We have to-“
Jack sat, looking elegant and unruffled in his finely tailored suit,
“And how do you propose we do that? We are prisoners, Alice. There’s nothing to be done for him-or for us.”
She clenched her fists at her sides, shook her head,
“There has to be something. You’re the Prince, right? You can-“
“I am the Prince in disgrace,” he said softly, “and still a prisoner.” He met her eye, expression wide open, “I know he’s your friend, and he’s been a great help to the resistance, but these are desperate times. You cannot understand.”
“So you’re just...just going to give up?”
“The lesser battle,” Jack nodded, glanced away, “Yes. There are larger matters than whether or not Hatter survives.”
“It’s my fault,” Alice said fiercely, “if not for me, he’d be safe.”
She’d told Hatter same thing about Jack, but that seemed like an eternity ago. She’d been wrong then, but this...the thought of leaving Hatter to die turned her stomach.
“Alice-“
And an agonized cry echoed down the hallway, making them both jump. Alice’s eyes filled with tears and she put a hand to her mouth in horror. Jack held her gaze, looking apologetic,
“I’m sorry.”
* * *
Hatter regained consciousness with a scream as an electric prod hit his ribs. His already abused body protested, trembling, and he forced his eyes open.
“Naughty Hatter,” a voice behind him giggled, and he recognized it as one of the Tweedles, “has to be taught a lesson.”
“Lesson, lesson,” another voice sing-songed, “Prying open the oysters is so easy; Hatter will be a challenge!”
The Doctors Dum and Dee were even more well known than Mad March. March, at least, only killed people. The Doctors, however, took delight in their ability to cause pain without quite killing the subject. Rumors of prisoners lingering in agony for months had come through his tea shop on more than one occasion.
There was another shock, and this time Hatter restrained himself to a growl that burst through his gritted teeth; he’d be damned if he gave the Queen’s pet psychopaths the satisfaction of screaming. As Dodo had pointed out, he was no freedom fighter, he wasn’t a man of principle. But he’d die for this.
For her.
“Sweet little girlie...the Queen’s promised her to us next,” one of the Doctors giggled, twirling a pirouette around the chair he was tied to and sticking his ugly face in to Hatter’s. “Scream, or she will.”
So he did.
* * *
When the door opened, Alice couldn’t help but rush it, yelling Hatter’s name. The suits caught her of course, and one of them closed a hand over her mouth. She bit it, and felt a jolt of vicious pleasure at his yelp of pain and surprise.
“Calm yourself, or we will be forced to take rash action,” Club glowered.
“Where’s Hatter? What’ve you done with him?”
Club looked mildly uncomfortable, but raised his chin,
“Hatter has been dealt with according to Her Majesty’s wishes.”
Jack’s voice echoed in her head: “They will torture him. And if he survives they will execute him. That’s what passes for justice in Wonderland.”
Alice bit her lip, looking away, and caught Jack’s sympathetic look; double-crossing, double-talking, always there Hatter was dead, and it was all her fault.
“Where are you taking me?” her voice was a whisper.
“You are to spend the rest of the journey elsewhere,” Club said, and she noted that he was glaring at Jack. Were they going to torture him, too? Would the Queen of Hearts murder her own son?
“Jack-“
“It’s all right, Alice,” he smiled reassuringly, lounging as though he were still the King-to-Be, “I shall see you at the Casino.” He turned and gave Club a rather mocking look, “Now then, Number 10, I believe you had a word for me from my mother?”
Surrounded by suits, the door closed behind her. Alice had never felt so alone.