(no subject)
Hatter revisits his tea shop only once--the place is dark and quiet and as grungy as he last left it, but now there are other things lying around, broken from the shop's recent ransacking when Mad March and the Suits came looking for him. Well, for Alice, but she'd been with him, hadn't she? Anyway, the place is empty now, and he feels only the tiniest twinge of remorse to see the once lively front room empty, the price board blank and still. All his stock is still in his office, he assumes, unless, in his absence, some looter or another has decided to raid it. That's fine by him, he's out of the tea business anyway-with the newly imposed royal ban on Emotion Tea, it would be a little hard to keep his modest little shop up and running, wouldn't it? Well, up and running legally. He's sure there's going to be quite a surge in the black market demand to Emotion Tea in the next few years, what with all the addicts and junkies the Queen worked so hard to hook with her drug all being cut off so abruptly.
He can't bring himself to really care though. All he can think about are frosty blue eyes and a challenging smile, and he knows that, even if he were so inclined to open his shop back up, just the chance to see her face again would make him forget it all in a heartbeat.
Which is exactly what he does.
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Jack is, technically, homeless. The Heart Casino is nothing more than a massive pile of rubble standing testimony to the end of his mother's tyrannical reign. All around him is chaos and noise as the people of Wonderland-his people now, his subjects- dance and weep. He knows not all of their tears are tears of joy.
A whiff of strawberries tickles his nose as his former bride-to-be stands beside him, a respectable arms length away. Neither of them look at each other, and neither of them say anything for a long moment.
"You'll have to keep a close eye on the mirror and the ring from now on." Dutches finally says. Jack nods, still watching the writhing mass of beings as they congregate around the remains of the once glorious tower. He has a sinking feeling that things in Wonderland are about to get much livelier.
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You're a hero.
Those were his last words to her. His dying breath, spent on a lie. She hadn't come there to help any of those people--she hadn't rushed in with noble intentions and shiny armor to the aid of the downtrodden and the helpless; She'd gone to save her boyfriend, had been willing to cut a deal that would have given the Queen back her power if things hadn't swerved so far out into the left field. She would have done it, and then where would Wonderland be? Right back to where it started.
Things hadn't gone her way, of course, but then, when she had learned her father was there, it just re-kindled her want. She'd been searching for so long she could almost taste it, and when it turned out he didn't remember her at all...well....
But no. He'd remembered in the end. And he'd called her a hero. And now, he wasn't the only one--Jack, Charlie, even Hatter had told her, in one way or another, how wonderful she was for saving Wonderland. How heroic. It made bile rise thick and acidic in the back of her throat, tinged with guilt and his echoing last words 'You're a hero...'
Last words spent on a lie.
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The whole 'hero' thing had never really been Hatter's style. It was hard to be a hero when you were playing both sides, feeding one group while spreading around the toxins that were destroying your world for the other. (Profitably, mind you. So that he could afford to feed the rebels. And what a thankless job that was!) He was more the 'behind the scenes' type anyway, always ready to lend a hand or a good right hook, but never one to take on a problem directly unless pressed.
So he was a little baffled when Alice kissed him softly and called him her hero. But he didn't argue, because for her, he'd be anything she wanted him to be, and more.
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Hatter, Alice soon found, was a very tactile person. He adored kisses, practically begged for hugs, and if you looked into his personal dictionary under the word 'Personal Space,' you'd probably find a picture of the Jaberwocky and not much else.
It had been a little disconcerting when they'd first met, and not just because he'd been nothing more to her than a rather scruffy looking stranger; Alice had never been around a person who was so willing to just reach out and touch her like that. Not since her father anyway--she'd never really let anyone get that close. But with Hatter, it was never really a matter of 'letting,' was it?
As she grew used to his presence, she also grew used to the way he'd just reach out and grab her arm or her hand when he wanted her to go in a certain direction, or how he'd randomly touch her shoulder with long, nimble fingers or just stand that little bit to close. She got used to the way he'd fidget with his sleeve or his hat or whatever else he happened to be holding at the time, or how he often used his hands while talking to make a point. And she found, quite suddenly one day, when he'd gone off to run some errands and she was alone in their home, that she quite missed his touches, and if she greeted him a little enthusiastically when he returned later that evening, he certainly wasn't going to complain.