D/C BB: An Angel in Wonderland - Chapters Seven & Eight
Chapters Five and Six
Chapter Seven - The Naughty Knave
Castiel and the Hatter left the Duchess' house through the main entrance. They walked across the courtyard and into the forest that surrounded the house. Castiel did not think he would ever get used to the Wonderland forests, with their tall trees - tall in relation to Castiel's current height - and odd, bright flowers. The Hatter was mostly silent as they walked. He seemed lost in thought. With his face dark and serious, he did not look mad at all. Instead, he looked very much as Dean did whenever there was a problem that he could not solve.
As they walked through the darker part of the forest, Castiel felt a strange prickling sensation at the back of his neck. It was the same sensation he got whenever he was being watched. He turned around and tried to peer into the shadows, but he could not see anyone. Everything was still and quiet. Still, the prickling sensation did not go away. Curious and somewhat unsettled, Castiel stopped and listened intently to see if he could detect another creature's presence that way.
At first, the Hatter did not notice that Castiel had stopped. He kept walking along the path, now muttering to himself about “tarts” and “hearts”, and “the Queen” and “what does it mean”. When he finally noticed that Castiel was no longer beside him, he spun around quickly. He seemed almost relieved to discover that he had not gone too far.
“What is it?” he asked.
Castiel frowned. “I'm not sure,” he said. “I feel as though we are being watched, but I can see no one.”
The Hatter followed his gaze out into the shadows, but he did not seem very concerned. “I wouldn't worry too much about it,” he said. “There are all manners of creatures living in this forest. Many of them have eyes. Just stay on the path and we should be fine.”
Castiel nodded, but could not get rid of the uneasy feeling. He thought he recognized the weight of this particular stare and he felt sure that it ought to remind him of something. However, as he still could not see anything, he had no choice but to let it be and to follow the Hatter further along the path.
In order to take his mind off the mystery of their silent watcher, he attempted to begin a conversation with the Hatter. The first topic to cross his mind was obviously the case that they were trying to solve. “Do you think that the Knave is a likely suspect?” he asked.
“Hm?” the Hatter said, apparently startled out of his own deep thoughts. “Oh, the Knave. I don't know. It's possible, I guess. There isn't much I would put past him. He likes to sample the pleasures of life, if you know what I mean.” Castiel frowned. He did not know what the Hatter meant. Fortunately, the Hatter seemed to read his confusion, because he went on to explain, “For example, the Knave is sort of like the Duchess; they both like tarts. The difference is that they like different types of tart.” He gave Castiel a meaningful glance, but Castiel was still confused.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Different flavors?”
The Hatter let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah,” he said. “You could say that. Way different.” He looked over at Castiel and seemed to take pity on him, when he saw that Castiel still did not understand. “Women, man. The Knave likes women a lot. And men. And gambling and drinking and anything else that's generally frowned upon by so called polite society. Although most of the people he does it with, and especially the ones he does it with, are members of that polite society, so I’m not sure how polite they really are.”
“Oh,” Castiel said. He understood now. “So what you're saying is that the Knave of Hearts...”
“... is a real knave, yeah,” the Hatter said.
“So when the Duchess says that he's been getting around, I assume she wasn't referring to him going to different locations.”
“Oh, I'm sure he's been in different locations, all right,” the Hatter said. “And different positions. But mostly, different people, which was probably what the Duchess meant, yes. I'm guessing he's been spreading himself a bit thin - well, thinner - and that he'd like to keep that from the people involved. So if the Cat knew about it and threatened to tell, that gives him motive.”
Castiel nodded. It all made perfect sense. “I think the Knave seems like a likely suspect,” he said, “since he is already so given to vice. I feel certain that he is our killer.
“Maybe,” the Hatter said. “Just 'cause someone likes to enjoy themselves, it doesn't make them a killer. Besides, I kind of like the Knave, when he’s not being a douche. I'm actually hoping he isn’t the killer. We'll see what he has to say.”
As they had been talking, they had reached the edge of the forest. Castiel was surprised to see that they were standing just outside the Queen's garden. He was even more surprised when the Hatter began walking down one of the paths. “Aren't we avoiding the Queen anymore?” he asked.
The Hatter looked at him, seemingly confused. Castiel gestured at the garden and the Hatter immediately understood what he meant. “We are,” he said, “but the Queen won't be here. She'll be at court with the King.”
“And won't the Knave be there, as well?”
The Hatter scratched his chin. “I doubt it,” he said. “As far as I know, the only way you'll see him in court is in chains. I guess he's hoping that out sight means out of mind. It mostly seems to work, probably because half the court is out their minds anyway, so they're not likely to notice that something’s missing in there.”
Castiel followed the Hatter along the paths. The Hatter seemed to know where he was going, determinedly crossing some of the paths and turning to follow others. It did not take long for Castiel to realize that he had been wrong during his first visit here. The paths did not form a square grid, as he had guessed. Instead, they seemed to form some elaborate sort of maze. It was also bigger than he had realized and it would be very easy to get lost in it.
“Where, exactly, are we going?” he asked the Hatter.
The Hatter shrugged, unconcerned. “I don't know exactly,” he said, “but I think we should turn left here. It feels like it’s right.”
They made two more left turns, then a right turn, crossed two paths and then turned left again. There they found themselves standing in a large, open area. A number of people were there. They were playing a strange game that seemed to involve flamingos, hedgehogs and doubled-up card soldiers. Castiel tried to make out the purpose of the game, but it was difficult. The flamingos kept flapping their wings and bending their necks this way and that; the hedgehogs were crawling all over the place and the card soldiers were running around, apparently chasing them. It was not made easier by the fact that none of the players seemed to quite understand the purpose of the game either. They were mostly running around, stumbling over each other's hedgehogs and struggling with their flamingos. It was very amusing to watch, but Castiel wondered if it was as amusing to play.
Castiel was so caught up in watching the game that it took him a long while to realize that the Hatter had left his side. Looking around, he saw that the Hatter had found the Knave. They were standing near one of the hedges, far enough away from the players not to be overheard. Castiel walked over to join them. The moment the Knave noticed him, he stopped talking mid-sentence and turned to greet Castiel instead,
“Hello,” he said cheerfully. “You're new. I don't believe I've had the pleasure.” He held out his hand for Castiel to shake, which Castiel did. The Knave did not immediately let go of his hand, however, the way that most people did. Instead, he put his other hand over Castiel's as he leered at him. Castiel had never seen Balthazar leer at him before. It made him feel very uncomfortable, and that feeling was only intensified when he felt the Knave's finger stroke the inside of his wrist.
Just as with the Duchess, the Knave's attentions to Castiel seemed to irritate the Hatter, because he took a step forward to stand between them, forcing the Knave to release Castiel's hand. “Okay,” he said, “that's enough of that. The Angel is with me, so you can just forget about what you were just thinking.”
The Knave's eyebrows rose and his smirk only widened. At least he looked amused now, rather than whatever he had been before. It was an expression that Castiel was much more familiar with and his discomfort eased. “My dear Hatter,” the Knave said. “There's no need to be jealous. I would never be so rude as to exclude you. The more, the merrier, as they say.”
“Yes,” the Hatter said. “I hear that's your philosophy. I think we'll pass, though.”
The Knave blinked. He took a step back, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Very well,” he said. “It was merely a suggestion.” He hesitated for a moment, biting his lip, before adding, “Although, if I may make another one, I wouldn't even have to be involved. I'd be happy to just... watch?”
The Hatter looked almost scandalized. “Dude,” he said loudly. “No! Just no! I'm not going to... No!” He threw a glance at Castiel and hurried to add, “It isn't even like that.”
The Knave was chuckling now. “Of course it isn't it,” he said with false sincerity, “and more's the pity, eh, Hatter?”
“Look,” the Hatter said, clearly wanting to change the subject, “we're not here to talk about us. We're here to talk about you.”
This seemed to please the Knave.“Ah!” he said, rubbing his hands together. “My favorite subject. What exactly was it that you wanted to talk about?”
The Hatter narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest.“I think you know already.”
The Knave frowned for a moment, then he sighed. “Oh,” he said, “that. How disappointing! And here we were off to such a promising start, too.”
The Hatter said nothing. Silence might have seemed like a strange interrogation technique, but Castiel felt confident that in this case, it was the right choice. Speaking would only prove how little they actually knew. By remaining the silent, the Hatter was allowing the Knave to fill in their part of the conversation, which he seemed perfectly willing to do.
Castiel found it rather astonishing, how readily the inhabitants of Wonderland made assumptions about what others knew. He guessed that there was not much crime in Wonderland or if there was, that the criminals were quickly caught, since everyone in Wonderland seemed so eager to reveal their deepest secrets. It certainly made his and the Hatter's task easier.
“Look,” the Knave said. “Just tell the Gryphon that he'll have his treasure soon. Greedy bastard! It's not like he'll do anything with it. He just likes to hoard it. I just need a little more time to gather the last of it together.”
“His treasure?” the Hatter asked. His tone made it clear that this was not what he had been expecting.
The Knave narrowed his eyes at him. “Yes,” he said. “The diamonds. You are here to collect the gambling debt, aren't you?”
“No,” the Hatter said. “No, we're not.”
“Oh.” The Knave rubbed the back of his neck. “I see. How awkward!” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Never mind, then!”
The Hatter was not prepared to let this information go, however. “What gambling debt?”
“It's nothing you need to worry your pretty little heads with,” the Knave said dismissively. “So what was it really that you wanted to talk about?”
“No,” the Hatter said. “No, I really do think we need to worry our pretty little heads with it. In fact, worrying about it may be what our heads are for, other than looking pretty, of course. So, what gambling debt?”
The Knave heaved a deep sighed, looking very put-upon. “Fine,” he said, pronouncing the word sharply, “if you must know. Not too long ago, we had an outing. An excursion sort of outing, not like what's happening with you and your friend. Almost everybody was there: the kings and the queens, the knaves, the Duchess and the Gryphon, the White Rabbit, the Duck and the Dodo - and who they think they're fooling, I honestly have no idea...”
“The Duck and the Dodo?” the Hatter asked.
“Yes,” the Knave replied. “You do know what they say?”
“What do they say?”
“If it walks like a duck, looks like a duck, quacks like a duck...”
“Yes?” the Hatter prompted.
“... then the Dodo is doing it. The Duck, that is, not the quacking. Unless, of course, they're into role-play.”
The Hatter's face was screwed up in something that looked like pain. “Ew, gross!” he exclaimed. “Dude, mental images!”
The Knave rolled his eyes at him. “Oh, please. Don't be such a prude!” Castiel blinked at this. Of all the things that Dean had been called, he did not think that prude had ever been one of them. “Anyway,” the Knave continued, “back to the outing. The excursion outing, not the Duck and Dodo outing. As I was saying, we were all there, and so was the Lory, and you know what he's like. He talked the others into something he called a Caucus Race.”
“A Caucus Race?”
“Yes. Don't ask,” he added, when the Hatter opened his mouth to do just that, “because I've no bloody clue. I wasn't involved. I was talking to the Gryphon and we both agreed that there can only be one purpose for a race.”
“Which is?”
“Why, my dear Hatter,” the Knave said, “to bet on it, of course! Which we did. And I lost. I'm still not quite clear on how that happened, since I don't think a winner of the race was ever declared. How can one lose when no one wins? Still, there you are. And here I am, up to my ears in debt. Not literally, of course; that would be highly impractical. Not that my current situation is very practical, but you know what I mean. I'm working on clearing the debt, of course. That's actually why I'm here. I've got a nice bet going with the Ten of Diamonds. Diamonds are treasure, you know, and he's practically covered in them. It's looking good, too. He bet on the Queen of Hearts, you see, since she's usually such a sure winner. I mean, when she's around, everyone's so worried about losing their heads that they completely lose their heads. Might as well use them as croquet balls, for all the use they have of them. They'd probably work better than the hedgehogs, too, and less painful to get hit by. Have you ever got a face full of rolled up hedgehog?” He gave the Hatter a considering look. “Maybe you have. That would explain all those dots on your face. Anyway, the Ten of Diamonds bet on the Queen of Hearts and I bet on everyone else. And now that the Queen is away at court, it does look like everyone else has a chance to win, so I may actually be able to pay off my debt to the Gryphon.”
“Right,” the Hatter said. “Good for you.”
There was a long silence, during which the Hatter kept rubbing his nose. It looked like he was trying to rub his freckles off. Castiel hoped that he would not be successful. Normally, he would not have felt any concern that it might happen, but this was Wonderland. Normal did not apply here. Castiel rather liked Dean's freckles, and the Hatter's, too, for that matter. Several times, he had even tried to count them, but every time he had come up with a different number. He was not sure if it was because Dean's freckles were playing some odd game of hide-and-seek with him, or if it was because he kept being distracted by other things, such as Dean's eyes, his mouth and his... well, his everything. Dean was a very distracting person. Fortunately for Castiel, the Hatter's freckles remained firmly in place.
“So,” said the Knave eventually, “if you're not here about the gambling, why are you here?”
The Hatter stopped rubbing his nose and put his hands in his pockets instead. “We're here about your affairs,” he said, “but not the financial ones.”
The Knave's eyebrows rose in surprise. “I see. What about them?”
“Well,” the Hatter said, “as you said, the more, the merrier. I'm just wondering how many there are, exactly.”
The Knave's eyebrows rose even higher. They looked like they were trying to hide in his hair. “That's a bit of an impertinent question, isn't it?”
“Since when do you mind impertinence?” the Hatter asked.
“I don't,” the Knave replied. “I was merely making a reflection. Now, I can't give you the exact numbers. They tend to vary, depending on the time of the day and your definition of an affair. Let's just say that they involve all the queens, most of the kings, a couple of the knaves and a few others.”
The Hatter gave a low whistle. He actually looked impressed. “All the queens?” he asked. “Even the Queen of Hearts?”
“Of course,” the Knave said. “She was my first and she's likely to be my last. She's insatiable, that one, and absolutely uninhibited. The stories I could tell you.”
“Huh,” the Hatter said. He gave the Knave a curious look. “What stories?” Castiel felt that this would be a good time to clear his throat, which he did. The Hatter started slightly, then cleared his own throat. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper and more matter-of-fact. “So what you're saying is that the Queen of Hearts is, in fact, something of a tart?”
The Knave snorted. “The queen of them,” he said. “She makes the others look positively virtuous.”
“Huh,” the Hatter said again. “What do you know?” He seemed distracted again and had got a distant, dreamy sort of look in his eyes. Castiel, feeling rather annoyed at the Hatter's tendency to forget the real purpose of the interrogation, elbowed him in his side. This brought the Hatter back from whatever thoughts he had lost himself in. “With that many affairs to keep in order,” he said, “I'm guessing you have a pretty hectic schedule.”
“You're not wrong,” the Knave said. “The men are easy enough to please; they're usually quite keen. All you have to do is name a time and a place and they'll be there. The women, though.” He shook his head. “They want bloody wooing with flowers and such. It's a nightmare, it is.”
The Hatter was nodding along sympathetically, but Castiel was looking at the Knave with narrowed eyes. What he had said had stirred some recollection in Castiel. “Flowers?” he asked.
Both the Hatter and the Knave turned to stare at him. “Yeah,” the Knave said. “Flowers. Women like flowers.”
“What type of flowers?” Castiel asked.
The Knave blinked. “Uh,” he said, thinking about it. “Usually roses, I suppose. Unless it's the Queen of Hearts, of course, since it's her roses, so there wouldn't be much point in giving them to her, would there?”
“I see,” Castiel said. That solved one mystery, at least. Now he knew what had happened to the asymmetrical rose bushes. The Hatter was looking at him questioningly, but Castiel merely shook his head at him. It did not seem very important. He doubted that the Knave had killed the Cat over some roses. He could not help but feel disappointed at this answer to the mystery. It seemed so mundane in comparison to everything else that he had seen and heard.
“Okay,” the Hatter said, cutting into Castiel's thoughts. “What I was trying to get at was that with all these different affairs, it must be difficult to keep them separate. To keep them secret. Especially from each other.”
The Knave looked confused. “I'm sure it would be, if I'd bothered to try.”
“You haven't?” the Hatter asked.
The Knave shrugged. “Nah,” he said. “Why would I? Besides, it's not as if I always meet them alone, is it? I told you: the more, the merrier.”
“Oh,” the Hatter said. He clearly did not know what else to say.
The Knave was frowning. “What's with all these questions anyway?” he asked.
The Hatter blinked and gave himself a bit of a shake. “It's a murder inquiry,” he said. “We're trying to find out who killed the Cheshire Cat.”
The Knave laughed. Then he noticed that neither the Hatter, nor Castiel were laughing, so he stopped and gave them a strange look instead. “What are you on about?” he asked. “The Cheshire Cat isn't dead.”
“Of course he is,” the Hatter said. “He was killed this morning.”
The Knave shook his head, laughing again. “I'm sorry to break this to you, darling, but it seems you've lost the few marbles that you had left. If I were you, I'd go look for them, rather than waste my time trying to catch some red herring.”
With those words and shaking his head in amusement, he left Castiel and the Hatter standing by the hedge and walked over to watch the game more closely.
Chapter Eight - Awaiting Answers
Castiel and the Hatter stared after the Knave for a long while. Then they turned to each other. The Hatter looked as confused as Castiel felt. He opened his mouth to speak, but changed his mind and closed it. Then he opened it and closed it again. Finally, he scratched his head, setting his hat askew, and sighed.
“Right, then,” he said. “Come on!”
He strode off between the hedges and Castiel hurried to follow him. They walked through the maze until they found themselves in another open area. In the middle of it, there was a large fountain. Rather unsurprisingly, it was shaped like a rose, carved out of coral red marble. The fountain was surrounded by white marble benches and bright green grass. The Hatter and Castiel walked over to the benches to sit down. Castiel felt rather confused as to what they were doing there and he told the Hatter so.
“We're waiting,” the Hatter told him. It was a good reason, but Castiel still felt that some of the explanation was missing.
“For what?” he asked.
“An answer,” the Hatter replied.
Castiel tilted his head. “To what?”
“To the mystery,” the Hatter said. “The mystery of the Cat that was murdered, but isn't dead.”
“Oh,” Castiel said. “But if the Cat isn't dead, he can't have been murdered. Can he?”
“I didn't think so,” the Hatter said, “but it would seem that I was wrong. That's why it's a mystery.”
“And you think the answer will come to us if we wait?” Castiel said doubtfully.
The Hatter shrugged. “If it's a good answer,” he said. “Good things come to those who wait.” He frowned and scratched his jaw. “I've always wondered about that. Why are good things so slow that you have to wait for them? And does that mean that the bad things are much quicker? Or don't they come at all? Maybe they're so bad because they keep getting lost and then they go to the wrong person. Maybe the bad things would really be good things, if only they could find the right person.”
Castiel thought about this. Surely, the Apocalypse would not have been a good thing, whoever it had found. Although, he supposed that it did depend on who you talked to. If you talked to Raphael, then he would be sure to tell you that the Apocalypse was truly excellent. But Castiel thought that that said more about Raphael than about the Apocalypse. He decided against telling the Hatter this, however, since he had a feeling that it would require quite a lot of explaining.
While they waited, the Hatter asked Castiel many questions, the answers to which he did not have to wait for. The questions were about the world outside of Wonderland, what Castiel did there and about his friends. The Hatter seemed especially curious about Dean and about Castiel's relationship with Dean. Castiel tried to answer his questions, but it was difficult to find the words to explain their relationship. He wondered if there even were any words to describe it. His and Dean's relationship had always seemed to defy both expectations and definition. What he did say, however, was enough for the Hatter to reach his own conclusions.
“You love him,” he said. It was not a question, nor did it need to be.
“Of course,” Castiel said. There had been a time when he had been less certain. Angels had always believed that they were incapable of what they considered human emotions, but Castiel now knew it not to be so. “He is my friend.”
The Hatter smiled. It was a strange smile, small and soft, and a little bit sad. “I didn't mean it like that,” he said. “I meant that you're in love with him.”
Castiel did not know what to say to that. He had never considered the idea. His love for Dean was beyond question. The nature of that love, however, was something that he had never chosen to examine. It was part of that thing that always made him feel so odd around Dean, but which he had chosen not to think about for fear that it would only make him unhappy. Trust Dean, regardless of incarnation, to be the one to force him to confront his fears.
He supposed that it was no great surprise. After all, he was not a fool. Some part of him had known what it all meant that Dean's mere presence felt as a warm cloak; that his smile was more blinding than the sun; that Castiel would happily spend his days counting Dean's freckles. He had known why he was so eager to grasp any excuse to see Dean and why, every time he left him, he felt as though he left a piece of his grace behind. He had known, but he had forced himself to forget, because Dean did not love him. Dean did not want or need his love, and Castiel wanted to be what Dean needed. Because he loved him. No wonder that humans always said that feelings were complicated. Castiel almost felt dizzy just thinking about it.
The Hatter was watching him, still with that strange smile on his face. When Castiel met his eyes, the Hatter merely shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, “that happens.”
“Dean is my friend,” Castiel said. He thought that maybe he was trying to remind himself of that fact.
“So you said,” the Hatter said. “If that’s the case, you don’t need to worry. He won't stop being your friend, just because you love him. But you should be honest with him.”
“I don't wish to make him uncomfortable,” Castiel said.
The Hatter laughed. “I don't think you can avoid it,” he said. Castiel did not find that very reassuring. “Look,” the Hatter said, looking more serious than Castiel had ever seen him, “if Dean is anything like me, then he hates lies more than anything. And if you keep your feelings from him, then you're as good as lying. Which would you rather do, make him uncomfortable or make him upset?”
Castiel could not answer or even meet his gaze. He knew that the Hatter was right, but the Hatter did not know everything. Because they were so similar, the Hatter probably knew Dean, even though they had never met. However, he did not know Castiel. He did not know how many things Castiel was keeping from Dean, how many lies there already were between them. Everything that Castiel had done, he had done for Dean, but he felt sure that Dean would not see it that way. And when Dean found out, as he probably would, it would all be over. Then a tiny lie, such as Castiel pretending that he did not love Dean the way he did, would hardly matter.
The Hatter sighed. “Just think it over,” he said.
Chapter Nine