A.N: Only my second attempt at Alice fan-fic. I really wanted to try and get more into Tarrant's head, as I have a feeling he's going to be more troublesome to write. It's now nearly 3am, so I apologise for any mistakes made. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Alice in Wonderland, that belongs to Lewis Carroll, and the adaptation to Tim Burton.

The first time he enters the 'up-there' world, Tarrant Hightopp is in quite a bemused state of mind. So much so that he has to list all things beginning with the letter 'B' just to keep his head together – bemused, bewildered, bamboozled, befuddled – but then Alice places a small, dainty hand in his and looks at him with those eyes of hers – bewitching, beautiful, beloved – and he feels the madness edging away again, although it is almost always constantly pressing upon his consciousness, like a pent-up Bandersnatch waiting to be released – another 'B' word, he realises with a grin.

Perhaps the madness is more upon him than he thinks, because it seems Alice has been trying to get his attention. She's on her fourth exclamation of "Tarrant!" before he focuses his eyes on her, and she in turn shakes her head gently.

"I was trying to see if you were alright. I know these kinds of occasions aren't to my liking at the best of times, but it can't be helped, considering the situation." Her brow furrows concernedly, turning to press a cool palm to his face, "You are going to be alright, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, of course I am." the Hatter answers back with an easy smile, for he is, in fact fine. He has never felt more ecstatic , were it not for the fact he is in a foreign place and going to visit Alice's home, which brings to mind 'M' words such as muchness, marriage, and mother-in-laws, which make him feel nervous. But that doesn't begin with 'M' so he tries to put it out of his mind. Which is quite an easy thing to do as he is, in fact, out of his mind.

Alice seems satisfied with this short answer, but Tarrant can see that she is nervous herself, wringing her hands together so that the sapphire ring on her left hand keeps disappearing from his view. She paces a few times before deciding upon a course of action, pulling the bell that would let whoever was inside the grand establishment in front of them know that they had arrived. Not that Alice's mother really knows she is going to be put upon by her daughter and her new fiancée; she merely thinks she is welcoming her daughter home from her travels – in truly appropriate fashion – by holding a garden party in her honour. No doubt filled with dozens of men who would wish to take his Alice's hand, Tarrant muses darkly. Well, he is here to stop that from happening. Besides, her hand has already been taken, and it only takes the smallest inkling of common sense to know a lady's hand cannot be taken twice, or at least, occurrences of that nature do not happen in Underland. He is not quite sure of the protocol within this world, but he sincerely hopes it is not much different.

"Now, remember, when talking to my mother you must not mention anything about Underland, or of Thackery or Mallymkun, or of the Red Queen – oh! And most definitely do try not to slip into Outlandish, although I know it can be quite hard. And perhaps – "

"Perhaps it would be best for me to stay silent until the appropriate moment?"

"Yes, actually I think that would be best." Alice agrees, just as a young woman who must be a maid opens the door and gives a little curtsey to them both.

"Miss!" She exclaims, "The Mistress will be so glad to know you have arrived. I'll go and inform her, shall I?"

Tarrant does what he suggested only moments before and stays silent. Alice is best handling these sorts of things anyway. He is just trying to concentrate on what he is going to say to her mother, or how he is going to stop himself from talking about the many joys of Underland. Perhaps he should make lists. Yes, that sounds appropriate. He should begin with 'T', as most things begin with that and twinkle afterwards: twinkling, tea, Earl Grey, camomile, jasmine, peppermint, Oolong, tea cups, tea trays, twinkle, twinkle, little bat...

Oh dear, it seems Alice is calling his name again and the maid is looking at him in the most perplexed manner. She quickly departs, and the Hatter gazes apologetically into his fiancée's eyes, clearing his throat.

"I was trying to keep my mind focused on the task at hand." He tells her rather sheepishly.

The woman beside him simply rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Mother is entertaining guests," she informs him, "I shall go and speak to her first, and you can...well, make yourself known. It shouldn't be too painful, and I shall be back beside you before you know it."

Tarrant is about to protest because, really, any amount of time apart from Alice is painful to say the least, but she is already stepping over the threshold of her childhood home, skirts swishing as she walks. He knows for a certain fact that she is not wearing a corset underneath her dress, but then remembers that such thoughts really aren't permissible in the place he is standing in, and certainly not permissible when he is about to have an audience with his mother-in-law about marrying her daughter.

And so he follows the direction Alice has taken, having to ask various people for directions to the garden and completely oblivious of the odd looks his appearance brings on the faces of the distinguished guests present.

Upon waiting for Alice's return – really, hasn't he already done his fair share of waiting? Three years, six months and fifteen days of waiting between her second and third visit to Underland, to be precise – he manages to strike up conversation with the Chatterway sisters, who remind him so much of the Tweedles he wonders if they are some sort of distant relation. He also meets Hamish, the young dolt he remembers once asked for Alice's hand. When the man realises the reason Tarrant is there, he scoffs haughtily.

"You do realise that girl is completely bonkers." There is something in the affliction of 'that girl' that Tarrant does not like, and he can feel his fists clench and the Outlandish anger inside of him rising. "She once told me she believed in at least six impossible things a day, for heaven's sake. Quite delusional."

"Actually, Hamish, it is six impossible things before breakfast." And that is all the Hatter needs to calm down, comforted almost automatically by her voice as Alice falls into step beside him, smiling and lacing a hand through his. "And I still do, very much so."

The young Lord Ascot merely huffs and turns away, before the young woman turns to Tarrant with an apologetic expression on her face.

"Mother was quite a bit more difficult than I expected, I'm afraid. She's calmed down now." She tells him conversationally. "Between her excitement that I'd finally found someone I wished to marry and her agitation once I began describing you to her, she has quite worn herself out. She's in the drawing room waiting for us."

Alice takes a deep breath in, as though she is preparing to slay yet another Jabberwock, and Tarrant tightens his grip on her hand. She smiles up at him. "How have you found it? It is quite different, is it not?""

"Time seems to be a very funny thing up here." He muses, looking thoughtful. "For one thing, one cannot look at the time, for he simply never shows his face for any occasion, even the very important ones. And for another, no-one can spare time for anything, for that implies he is an object to be borrowed or lent, which he, quite clearly, is not."

The young woman tries her best to hold back a laugh as she leads him towards the direction of the drawing room, but Tarrant does not seem to notice as he continues to ramble on.

"And the thing that vexes me the most about this place, Alice, my dear, is that they seem to have no taste in tea or in hats. Two things, I think, one should always have impeccable taste in. It is such a good thing we are not staying here, or I would go quite mad."

They come to a stop outside the door that would lead them to their destiny – quite like the door, he believes, Alice first went through upon arriving in Underland, except they did not have to fall down a rabbit hole, or drink Pishsalver, or eat Upelkuchen to get inside. Alice turns to face him, an amused expression on her pretty face.

"Tarrant? You are already mad."

"Quite right." He agrees with her, and manages to steal a quick kiss – he swears he can hear the Chatterway sisters squeal in delight from a short distance away at such a display of affection – before Alice knocks on the door lightly.

In that small space of time between opening the door and sitting down in front of Helen Kingsleigh herself, Tarrant confuses everything he's supposed to say and not say together in his mind until he cannot quite pick the right facts out. All that remains constant in his half-addled mind is that he is marrying the beautiful woman beside him, and all he has to do is prove to her mother than he is the ideal husband.

After all, who else would be right for her, if not a madman?