Through a Looking Glass Darkly: Nine of Swords, Part One

[going_boldly]

When Alice was eighteen years old, she realized that she needed to start watching herself.

It had been one of those days that had started out bad, rapidly declined to wrongwards, and ended up plunging straight through rock bottom. Her hand had been in charge of the Queen’s protection detail as she visited the city for her unbirthday celebration. One of the Resistance, a woman in a veil who had given herself away by running out immediately, had managed to get in a lucky shot that had shattered the Queen’s crystal goblet. Jelly had run after her immediately, losing her when she took a flying leap off one of the plank bridges onto a ledgeway that she’d been loath to copy. Then she’d returned to the site of the shooting, absolutely frumious, and been informed by Uthar that Claude had not taken kindly to her disappearance; contrariwise, he thought it must be part of a larger pattern of insubordination. The upshot was that her Ten had given orders that she report to the Casino for a full debriefing.

“I was going after the shooter,” Jelly hissed.

“And I believe you,” Uthar placated over the top of his omnipresent clipboard. “But you don’t have to convince me, you have to convince the Tweedles.”

“But-”

“I already had to talk him out recommending you for execution,” Uthar told her. “Don’t make this worse on yourself. Report to the Casino.”

Jelly turned her gaze to where Othello was pretending to be engrossed with guarding a few terrified civilians. He turned so she couldn’t see his face; Jelly grimaced, not entirely sure why she expected any different. Othello had his own life to look after, and contradicting Claude in this situation wouldn’t do anything to extend it.

“Six,” Uthar said, a note of warning in his voice.

“I’m going, Eight,” Jelly replied, and left for the Scarab dock.

Okay, Jelly, she told herself later, as she watched the Casino loom ever closer. This isn’t going to be pleasant. But if you couldn’t handle not pleasant, you wouldn’t be alive right now. Just stick to what happened, and you’ll come out the other end.

Later still, things seemed a lot less simple.

“She should have jumped,” one brother observed, his tone calm and even. She shouldn’t have been able to hear it, as he was standing on one end of the plank bridge she was in the middle of, and the wind was howling, threatening to push her off into the lacuna below, but she did.

“Should have, could have,” the other brother replied from the opposite end of the bridge. “But why not would have?”

The wind howled, and Jelly crouched down, clutching onto either side of the board with white-knuckled hands. “Because I didn’t want to die!” she yelled.

The Doctors paid her no heed, but the wind picked up, and the plank bridge shook, and flipped over. Jelly screamed, and clung on tightly, trying to scramble back on top of board. Then one of the Tweedles kicked his side of the board off the ledgeway, and she fell, wind whistling through her ears and limbs flailing uselessly until-

She was standing still and upright, the walls of the Truth Room completely white and empty. She seemed to be alone, and for a moment the only sound was her heavy breathing.

“Do you know what you did wrong?” One of the Doctors was suddenly standing right in front of her. She leapt back, and he continued. “Are you wrinkle-free?”

“What?” she replied.

“That would take a very hot iron,” his brother answered for her, appearing at his side. There was a hiss and the smell of burning meat; Jelly flinched, but no pain came.

“But she’ll do,” the first Doctor concluded. The door to the Truth Room opened, and Jelly ran for it before he could give her permission to go. She slammed the door shut closed behind her, and leaned back against it, panting.

It’s over she thought. It’s over, it’s over, it’s over, it’s-

Snick.

Mad March was in the hallway with her, his switchblade open and glinted under the fluorescent light. His yellow hair was even more wild than usual, and his eyes were bloodshot.

There was an awful lot of speculation about why the assassins rarely associated with the other Suits. People would say that they were snobs who considered themselves above the rest of them, or that they suffered from crippling social anxiety, or were under orders to avoid interacting with Suits. These people were very rarely Spades. Once you had to work with assassins on a semi-regular basis, you quickly learned that the assassins the Queen hired need to kill the same way everyone else needed to sleep. Avoiding people meant not killing the ones they weren’t supposed to touch, and killing the ones they weren’t supposed to touch meant execution. Mad March was the Queen’s favorite because in all his years of service, he hadn’t slipped up once.

Jelly wondered if he would slip up today. Then her brain kicked itself back into gear, and she straightened. March would do whatever it was March planned on doing, but she shouldn’t be showing any vulnerability to a homicidally deprived maniac.

“You’ve come a bit too late to join in,” she told him.

Snack. His switchblade went back into its sheath.

“Eh, I’ll catch the next one,” he said.

“I thought they would have sent you after the Queen’s almost-killer,” Jelly said, moving past him.

His switchblade went snicker-snack as he just barely managed to restrain himself. “They did. She pitched herself off a bridge before I could reach her.”

“Shame,” Jelly replied with mock sympathy, while a petty, vindictive part of her cheered Good.

“You’re boyfriend’s looking for you, by the way,” March said.

Jelly rolled her eyes. March had a habit of referring to every man she regularly associated with as her boyfriend. It was one of those things about being the highest-ranking woman in the Spades that was more irritating than terrifying. “And which boyfriend would that be?”

“The prince,” March said. “Though I can’t see why he’s not enjoying the first party he’s gotten the Head Bitch to sign off on instead of looking for you.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along your concerns,” Jelly said dryly. She turned the corner and broke into a sprint, not stopping until she’d reached the Royal Wing.

She could hear the music thumping loudly now, played on full blast since no one was trying to keep up the pretense that there was no party. As she stood there in the corridor, a couple of partygoers spilled out of the ballroom, limbs entangled, drunk, steeped, and completely oblivious to anything that wasn’t them.

This must be for Grace, she realized suddenly. She was due to finish being ennobled tomorrow. Or was it today? Yesterday?

How long had she been in the Truth Room anyway?

“Jelly!” Jack called, the fakest smile she’d seen on him to date plastered on his face. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“So I heard,” Jelly replied, stepping carefully over the undulating couple. “What’s the problem?”

“Problem?” Jack repeated, nodding his head towards a niche in the wall where a statue of Vilnius stood. Someone had gone through the trouble of lacing it up in a corset, Jelly noticed. She’d thought Jack’s parties had a tendency to get out of hand before, but this was something else entirely.

Jack ducked his head beneath Vilnius’ sword arm, and leaned against the wall, as Jelly settled herself opposite him. “Have you seen Duchess yet?”

“Have I?” Jelly asked, confused.

“Grace,” Jack corrected himself. “They made her into a Duchess. Have you seen it yet?”

“I just got here,” Jelly admitted. There was an obscene moan from one of the couple on the floor. “Though if she’s in the same state as the rest of the party I’m pretty sure that-”

“Jack!”

Jack blinked and craned his head around the edge of the niche. A fine-boned arm curved around his shoulder and dragged him all the way out. Jelly followed, to find that the arm was attached to a curvy sort of woman in a slinky golden gown, her blonde curls piled high on her head. It took her a moment to realize that it was Grace; she supposed that was because she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her without her Club’s uniform on.

As she watched, Grace all but plastered herself over Jack. “The two of you are going to be even worse now, aren’t you?” Jelly realized.

Jack coughed, placed his hands on her hips, forcing her off him.  Grace molded herself to his side instead, which Jelly took to mean yes.

“Grace,” she greeted. “You look fantastic.”

Grace smiled, as fake as Jack’s had been and twice as sharp. “Oh, it’s Duchess now.”

“Well, you look fantastic, Duchess.”

“Thank you, Six,” she said. It sounded like a dismissal. Grace turned back to Jack, cupping his face in her hands. “Your parents are worried about you, Jack. Why did you leave the party?”

There was something off here. Jack went through most of his life looking like he had a stick up his ass, true, but he was never this tense with Grace. And as for Grace, she normally tried her hardest to put some distance between Jack and his parents, if only metaphorically. She was certainly never this… clingy.

Maybe by ‘worried about you’ she meant ‘murderous and about to send the guards after you’? Or maybe Jelly hadn’t actually left the Truth Room. That would explain why everything seemed distorted.

“Well, let’s not keep them waiting,” Jack said, not really answering her question. He took a hold of Jelly and dragged her with them back into the ballroom. No sooner had she entered, though, then Othello threw himself more or less on top of her, laughing uproariously.

“Jelly! Jellybean!” he said. “The Tweedles didn’t turn you to mush! I was worried!”

“Oh for crying out loud,” Jelly said, pulling herself free of Jack so she could try and stand Othello upright. Jack disappeared into the crowd, pulled along by the Duchess. “How much Mirth did you have?” she demanded.

“Lots,” Othello said cheerfully, before picking her up and beginning to swing her around, ignoring her squawk of indignation. “Lots and lots and lots and lo-”

He crashed down onto the floor, bringing her with him.

“Okay big guy, let’s find a place for you to sleep this off,” Jelly groaned, helping him to his feet. They staggered into the corridor, passed the frotting couple and the statue of Vilnius (which was now sporting a pair of men’s underpants on his sword) and stumbled into the elevator. Jelly pushed the button for the level of her quarters, and leaned Othello against the wall. He giggled, swaying with the motion of the elevator until the doors dinged open, and then they were off to her room.

“Sit,” Jelly said, pushing him inside. Othello sat, if only from a lack of other options. “I’m going to get you some water. Stay here.”

When she returned, glass in hand, Othello was drooling into her pillow. She rolled her eyes, left the water on her chest, and locked the door behind her.

She should have checked in with her father ages ago anyway.

The apartment was dark, and far away enough from the party to be silent as well. The door clicked loudly shut, followed shortly by the sound of crinkling bed sheets. Dad appeared in his bedroom doorway.

“Hey,” she said.

“Oh thank God,” Dad said, hurriedly crossing the room and pulling her into his arms. “You’re alive. Thank God.”

Jelly stood there for a moment, clutching him tightly and letting herself relax. Then she asked “How long was I in there?”

It had been just over two days since she’d been ordered to debrief, apparently. Dad gave her all the details as he made them hot chocolate; Uthar had informed him after his shift had ended, as per protocol, and he’d gone to the King immediately to try and get her released. He’d promised to look into it, but when Dad came back the next day she’d still been with the Tweedles, and he’d refused to do anymore work until she was released.

“They let me out of the cell not too long after dinner was packed away,” Dad concluded. “Cricket walked me back here, and said that you’d be along shortly.”

“I got a little caught up in Jack’s party,” Jelly explained, “For Grace. It seems to be a lot louder than usual.”

“Ah?” Dad said, suddenly absorbed in watching his drink.

Jelly thought, staring absently down into her mug, watching the little marshmallows dissolve with unfocused eyes. They’d put Dad in a cell for refusing to make Tea. It wasn’t surprising, really, but I did drive home certain facts.

Firstly, the Crown still needed her Dad to be their Carpenter. Secondly, Dad was no more willing to be their Carpenter now then he was when they first kidnapped him. And lastly, with her mother dead she was their only source of control over him.

It should have been a comforting thought, at least somewhat. They were necessary, and that would protect them. But, somehow, it wasn’t very comforting at all.

What it boiled down to, she supposed, was that needed was not the same thing as invulnerable. There had been other Carpenters before her father, she knew. They’d mostly died of old age, lab accidents, or suicide, but at least one of them had been executed when he’d proven to be too much trouble. There was no reason to expect that her father was in a much safer position, especially if her actions were being counted as a part of the trouble he caused.

Jelly didn’t think that she had ‘a pattern of insubordination’; she rather thought she had a tendency to follow orders even when she really wanted to just go home already. Then again, it didn’t really matter what she thought, it mattered what others thought of her. If she appeared to be too much trouble, on top of the fact that her father was barely forcing himself to work as it was, then they would both be on the executioner’s docket before too long.

She couldn’t let that happen.

The Queen hated her, of course. The Queen hated everyone, women doubly so. Claude didn’t like her, but he recognized her competence enough to give the nod to her promotions even after she and Othello were no longer formally partnered. Mercutio approved of her methods as long as they had the desired results, which was a lot more often than not these days. Harlan hated her, for the way she disrupted normal proceedings and for the fact that she’d nearly gotten him executed when she reported that he was drinking Calm while on duty. One out of four superiors was… kind of bad. She hadn’t even gotten to her immediate superiors yet.

That needed to change.

“Are you going to be okay, Jellybean?” Dad asked.

Jelly started, and looked up. Dad sent her a concerned look.

“I’m fine,” Jelly told him, and then took an overly-large gulp of hot chocolate as though to prove it. “I’ll be fine,” she confirmed, after she managed to swallow.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dad asked.

“No,” Jelly replied reflexively. “Absolutely not, no.”

“Okay,” Dad replied, spreading his hands out in a calming gesture. “But maybe you should think about taking tomorrow off.”

“No,” Jelly said again. “No, I need to be at work tomorrow. I’ve been gone long enough; if I wait rumors will only start spreading that I’ve been damaged.”

“Are you sure?” Dad pressed. “I can talk to the King. I’m probably not his favorite person right now, but he’ll still hear me out.”

“No, I’m sure,” Jelly replied. Though, talking to the King didn’t seem like such a bad idea. Dad would go to him when he needed something done swiftly; Claude did much the same. She’d never have the Queen on her side, but maybe, if she went and apologized on behalf of her father, and kept him in the loop as far as things in the City went, she could have the King. That would certainly be a start.

Dad stood up and squeezed her shoulder. “Are you going to finish that?” he asked, pointing with his free hand at her neglected mug.

“Yeah,” Jelly replied, wrapping her hand around it. Dad leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry about me, Dad. I’m fine, really.”

~*~

Five years later, Jelly shifted the logs in the fire with the end of her stick. The fire crackled and spat out a shower of sparks in response; next to her, Hatter made an abortive move towards taking her stick away. Across the fire sat Jack, picking bits of meat off his borogrove bone, and just beyond that was Charlie, moving around in the half-dark that wasn’t quite beyond the fire’s glow.”

“Anyone care for some more borogrove?” the Knight offered.

“No thanks,” Jelly replied.

“I’ll have some,” Jack said, at the same time. Charlie handed over another rib, and Jack began to tear into it as the elderly man sent both her and Hatter disapproving looks.

“It’s delicious,” Jelly explained. “But I’m really full.”

Hatter nodded along with her, looking innocent enough to conjure a halo around his hat until Charlie moved away, muttering about finding more wood for the fire. Then the smile slid from his face. Jelly poked the fire again.

What it all came down to was that she was pretty sure her father hadn’t been moved from the Casino before she rescued Jack. And, as she’d been stupid enough to leave White alive, the Crown would know that she’d rescued him. There were quite a lot of things she could get away with in her allotted week; she doubted attacking the White Rabbit and then absconding with the prodigal heir and a double agent was one of them.

She poked the fire again. Hatter sent her a warning look.

Well, she might be able to get away with it if she went back to the Casino with said double agent and prodigal heir in tow. But neither of them would come willingly, she knew, and she’d be left in an even worse situation than she started out in. Her father would still need to get out of Wonderland. The Crown might be willing to not disbelieve her, but they would be suspicious of her actions for some time. The Resistance would be closed to her forever.

She used the end of her stick to roll one log off another, sending little glowing embers afloat in the air as she did.

Jack would never forgive her either, most likely, assuming they still had a relationship where forgiveness might be warranted. And Hatter would be humiliated, tortured, and executed. She didn’t like that idea. She didn’t like that idea at all.

She made to jab the fire again, when Hatter reached out and held the stick still. “If you keep doing that you’re going to light my hat on fire,” he said sternly.

“Sorry,” Jelly apologized, more for her thoughts of turning him in than anything else.

It was strange. She felt more badly about the thought of betraying Hatter than she did about betraying Othello, who was probably having a time of it now that it turned out he was the second of a Resistance sympathizer. Then again, she needed Hatter more than she’d ever needed Othello. The fact that he was pitched in with the side she agreed with more than not might have something to do with it too.

She almost poked the fire again, before she caught herself, and snapped her stick in half. She threw both halves into the fire, and then cast about for a more constructive train of thought to board.

“So, New York?” she asked.

Jack finished picking his borogrove rib clean before tossing it in the dinner scrap pile and replying “Yes. The city New York, I mean, not just the state.”

“The Oysters really named two different things the same name?” Hatter asked.

The city so nice they named it twice, Jelly nearly recited. Instead, Jack answered “Yeah, there’s city of New York, and then the state of New York that the New York city is in.”

“So did they name the country after the capital or did they-”

“Oh no, New York’s not the capital,” Jack told him. “And ‘state’ is how they subdivide their country.”

Hatter looked confused for a minute. “Are you sure you don’t mean ‘county’?”

“No, I’m sure,” Jack said. “Actually, if I recall correctly, New York the city has more than one county in it.”

“What?” Hatter asked.

“Did you do the tourist thing?” Jelly asked, amused, and very certain that there was no way to explain New York to anyone who hadn’t been there.

“Not really,” Jack said, indicating his hair. “I was trying to blend in more than anything else.”

“Is the jean and dress shirt combination really in style?” Jelly asked.

“I got the warning that I’d been found after I’d gone to bed. I just went with whatever was closest,” Jack protested.

“Including the necktie?” Hatter observed.

Jack sent them a withering look, and moved the topic of conversation back off of himself. “I did get a chance to see the Empire State Building. Jenny took me out one afternoon.”

“…Jenny?” Jelly asked.

“Yes, Jenny,” Jack confirmed. “She’s a martial arts instructor, very pretty.”

Jelly stared at him, wondering if that was what it sounded like as anger began to run through her.

“You’d probably hate her,” Jack added.

Yeah, probably. “Jack,” Jelly said, keeping her voice very even. “You’re engaged, remember?”

“It’s an arrangement,” Jack said. “Simply because it would be impolitic to-”

“Arrangement?” Jelly demanded, standing up suddenly enough to startle Hatter into getting up as well. “Do you have any idea what she went through in order to be able to marry you?”

“No,” Jack bit out, rising to his feet as well, “Do you?”

“I don’t need to,” Jelly shot back. “I see how she reacts when the Tweedles are in the room with her. Jack, you humungous prick!”

Jack clasped his hands behind his back and met her glare evenly over the fire. Jelly suppressed the urge to leap over it and wring his neck.

“I’m surprised you care that much,” Jack retorted icily, “Given the number of times I asked for your help and you refused.”

“Don’t you dare try to pin this on me,” Jelly hissed. “There is nothing I can do. You- all you have to do is not cheat on her-”

“What exactly do you think I’ve been doing these past five years?” Jack asked tartly.

“Having parties and stealing flamingos for illicit flights into the city,” Jelly answered.

“I’ve been looking for a way to undo whatever it is they did to her!” Jack yelled. “How do you think I became this deeply involved with the Resistance?”

“I think you’d do anything to piss your parents off,” Jelly snapped back. “I think, for all that they wouldn’t give two shits about you otherwise, as long as you’re their only heir you’re untouchable and you want to push that as far as it will go!”

“What’s all this now?” Charlie asked, clanking back into the circle of light. For a moment, no one said anything.

“You’re vastly overestimating my parent’s tolerance,” Jack said at last. “For all that it reluctantly extends to a few ruined flamingos and rowdy partygoers, it doesn’t stretch nearly far enough to cover this. If my parents knew that I worked for the Resistance- that I was actively trying to overthrow them- their preference for a blood heir would evaporate. They’d kill me, and adopt someone more suitable for their needs.”

“Uh,” Charlie said, looking between her and Jack with wary eyes, unprepared for how wrongward the conversation had gone. Jelly did feel a little bad, on his behalf and Hatter’s, but her anger at Jack far outweighed her guilt.

“Yeah, and that sucks,” Jelly shot back. “What makes you think that gives you free reign to cheat on Grace?”

“The fact that I haven’t so much as seen Grace in five years!” Jack protested.

“What?” Jelly cried incredulously.

“Whatever they did to her made her into an entirely different person!” Jack yelled. “Duchess doesn’t talk like Grace, or act like her or believe the things she did. She doesn’t even like the same food! Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed!” Jack’s hand flew out, nearly into the fire. He snatched it back before any damage could be done, and repeated. “I’ve been looking for a way to undo the damage for five years. At this point, it looks like there isn’t one. I’m not convinced she’s even in there anymore. There’s just something my parents created prowling around in her skin, and I do not owe any loyalty to it.”

They stared at each other over the fire for a moment, before Charlie interrupted again with “I’m going to go on patrol. It’s a very dark night and there may be beasts who-”

“I’ll go,” Jelly said, turning away from the fire and heading for the forest. If she didn’t get out of here now, she would do something she would regret later.

“But you don’t know the paths,” Charlie protested. “Or the dangers. I’ve lived in these woods for-”

Jelly unholstered her gun and held it up so the men could see. “I’m armed, I’m angry, and I’m a Spade. I’ll be fine.”

Strangely enough, Charlie had nothing to say to that. But before she could safely leave the clearing that had once been the throne room, Jack’s voice rang out “Fine. Walk away. But before you go, answer me this: have you seen Grace recently?”

“As a matter of fact I have.” Jelly turned around just enough so that she could see Jack’s face, and told him “She came to see me just before I left the Casino and asked me to look after you.”

She stomped into the Wabe before he could collect himself enough to respond.