Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, language, plots, or locations from Alice in Wonderland. Lewis Carroll, Disney, and Tim Burton hold all rights to Alice in Wonderland and this story is only created for pleasure, not profit.

Author's Note: I hope to turn this into a series of one-shots but I'm afraid that I am an awful procrastinator. These stories will not necessarily be in order and will not necessarily relate to each other; meaning, that facts and/or situations may change to make each individual story complete. However, for now, I'm going to start with this one story and consider it complete unless/until the Muse strikes again.

First Sight

The sky in Underland was a midnight blue with a splash of purple: a wonderfully soothing color. Tarrant always felt that his mind was quieter when the sky was darker. Ever since Horunvendush Day—the Day he lost everything—he had never trusted the daytime, for the sunlight offered no protection from viciousness or cruelty. When it came to the Red Queen's reign, horrors took place during the working hours and the night took to holding all the Dreams in the hearts of Underlandians, leaving the Nightmares in the hands of the Bloody Big Head.

But tonight, as he stood with Alice out on the balcony, Tarrant felt like he was walking the edge between Nightmares and Dreams. He could see the Underland Champion at his side one moment and the next he only saw a familiar stranger. A stranger who looked like Alice, walked like Alice, talked like Alice… but, even though her Muchness was missing, she had something else that hadn't been there before. He saw Something there that made him certain that this one was the Right Alice, and no other had it. But this Alice didn't slay. Said she couldn't slay. This Alice said that she was dreaming.

And the Mad Hatter might just be a figment of this person's imagination.

Tarrant wiped the troubled frown off his face when he saw Alice turn and reach her hand toward his arm to gain his attention.

"It's getting late, Hatter. You had better get some sleep," Alice spoke quietly, with a face that puzzled Tarrant. He hoped that the Nightmares wouldn't trouble their Champion tonight. She needed the rest if she was going to battle the Jaberwocky on the morrow. Oh, If.

Her hand began to move away, but before Alice could leave, Tarrant (carefully!) placed his hat on his head and held out his arm. "Then we had better dilly dally our way."

A surprised, pleased smile was his answer. A spark of Muchness was in her eyes and Tarrant wished to see it grow, but it only smoldered as she took his arm and they walked toward her rooms. The White Queen had placed them in the best rooms of the Guest Wing; there were many things that could be said of Mirana's grace and serenity, but it was sometimes forgotten that she knew politics as well, and it was definitely good politics to provide the Underland Champion with every available comfort. Tarrant did wonder why Alice hadn't realized that yet. Muchness or no, she certainly wasn't stupid.

Possibly, she may not have realized the White Queen's generosity because Alice was already used to being treated well by Queens. The troubled frown returned to Tarrant's face as he thought of their time with the Red Queen. He had been terribly worried to see Alice at the Queen's side when they had finished his first interrogation. The position of the Queen's favorite had a long list of misfortunes along with the benefits; at best, favorites were dismissed and disfavored before long, and at worst, they lost their heads. Tarrant dreaded seeing Alice suffer either, for the Queen's court could be as vicious as the Bloody Big Head herself when their jealousies gave them a convenient target. He had been relieved that she had retrieved the Vorpal Sword before either sentence could be carried out.

They were approaching Alice's door when the Thought flickered through Tarrant's mind—like the single, fluttering, mocking breeze at the middle of an unbearably muggy day. Although Tarrant had dismissed it at first, he now recalled that Stayne had been accusing Alice of something when he came upon them in the Hatter's workshop. "Unlawful Seduction," the red knave had said.

"Hatter? Are you all right?" Alice's worried voice brought Tarrant back to reality—or, the present reality, at any rate. They were standing in front of the broad, white double doors of her bedroom and the Underland Champion looked as though she was trying to read the Mad Hatter's eyes to discover what strange path of Thoughts he was traveling. Tarrant could do nothing other than to oblige her.

"Alice," Tarrant's voice was high with confusion, "why ever did the Red Knave accuse you of Unlawful Seduction?" It was a puzzle indeed: Alice, with or without her proper Muchness or her proper size, was as pure and true as the White Queen herself. Besides, the Hatter had been watching and listening closely and there had certainly been no one in that court of liars and tricksters who had caught Alice's eye, never mind her affections.

The girl before him gave a thoughtful pause and a sigh. "I'm not entirely sure. After all, it was Stayne who tried to seduce me rather than the other way around. I don't know what lies he must have told the Red Queen."

"WHAT?" Tarrant hadn't heard anything beyond the fact that the Red Knave had tried to seduce their Underland Champion! "What did he do?"

"Hatter, it's over, we're safe," Alice assured him, a trifle nervously. His Outlandish accent must be rising. "Please calm down." She tried to reach out to touch his cheek, but Tarrant took a step back.

"Wha' did that guddler's scut do to yeh?" Tarrant demanded, making Alice's eyes widen at his harsh voice.

"H-he pushed me to the wall," her quiet voice admitted and the Hateful, Harmful, Horrible Words burned across the Hatter's mind. "He told me that he liked me…. He liked my largeness."

The Hatter felt dazed and then he felt a Deep and Bitter Anger clearing his mind and putting the golden yellow burn into his irises. That accursed knave had tried to seduce their Champion! Their Alice! His greatest hope for the future of Underland – his Alice! Tarrant's Thoughts trekked through the Hate and he paced as words poured out of his mouth.

"Tha nogood piece of shukrn, when ah get my hands on that slurking urpal slackush scrum, ah'll, ah'll – AH!" The Hatter's hand encountered a wall with serious intent. "Ah'll go back and wring the neck o' tha frumious…"

"HATTER!"

Tarrant's sight came back into focus to find himself very close to trampling directly over Alice—which was no small matter now that she was her proper size again. When she could not stop his anger and his words, she had tried to stop his pacing by moving directly in front of him. Tarrant had to try hard to breathe through his chest, much as though his feet had been doing that work for him before.

"Ah'm so sorry, Alice," he gasped, his voice and tone almost back to normal as Guilt waylaid the Hate. "Ah should ha' prevented him…. Ah should ha' stopped him before he ever got near…mph." Tarrant couldn't finish his Thoughts, for a dainty finger had suddenly introduced itself to his lips. His eyes, still bright and amber and roaming in their agitation, turned down to see that finger (soft, silky!) attached to a lovely wrist, attached to a beautiful arm, attached to a most gorgeous… Alice. Oh, dear.

"Hatter," her sweet voice repeated at a much more soothing volume. "It wasn't your fault. It was his fault and no other's. And now we are safe from him, here." The Champion paused. "Are you all right now, Hatter?"

"Ah'm, I, um…" Tarrant gulped as his lips brushed over Alice's finger, even as she lightly pulled it away. With a short breath, he managed, "Aye, I'm fine."

"Good, I wouldn't…" she stopped and shook her head a little. The Hatter watched her golden curls bounce and realized that he was really looking at Alice for the first time. Or maybe not the first time but certainly the first where he found it difficult to remember to breathe. He should probably be saying something, but Alice recovered herself.

"Goodnight, Hatter. Sweet dreams." And the Champion stepped close, leaning in on tiptoe, and pressed the softest of kisses on Tarrant's cheek before turning into her room, leaving Tarrant standing in front of the white doors alone with an awestruck expression. His wide eyes, now a dark emerald green, stared at the doors as his own rough and bandaged fingers traced the cheek on which Alice had bestowed her kiss. Fingers were just beginning to drift towards his chin before he gave himself a violent shake and strode down the hall, just barely keeping from running as his Thoughts raced.

Who was he to be accepting kisses from the Underland Champion? Simply a Mad Hatter! A Mad Hatter who should know better than to be drifting toward Thoughts that he Should Not Think about their sweet Alice. She had been so brave at the Red Queen's Court, and didn't deserve to have some lowly Hatter harassing her at the White Queen's Court in addition to everything else. Tarrant felt his insides give an unpleasant lurch and he collapsed against a wall. He was no better than Stayne for thinking such Thoughts when his Champion—their Champion—had only been trying to help him. And yet his head betrayed him: it remembered the soft texture of her finger and compared the sweet sensation to the warmth of her palms when she had held his face in his Madness. He remembered how her curls framed her face and the gentle expression she had when reassuring him.

Tarrant buried his head in his mangled hands. Alice deserved so much better than a madman's lust. At a time like this! His whole body gave an awful shake; he had been hoping for so long for their Champion to return, but thinking of Alice facing the Jaberwocky now… hurt. It hurt so much to consider asking her to face that monster—the jaws that bite, the claws that catch. How he hated those words now! Almost as much as he hated himself for the Thoughts that flew as soon as Alice looked at him with kindness.

"Tarrant! What are you doing on the floor?"

Looking up, Tarrant saw the White Queen coming down the corridor in his direction. Mirana glided down the hall with a lightness of foot that bespoke of her high position at Court. Her beautiful face, however, was marred by a concerned frown for the Hatter on her royal floor. Tarrant fairly blubbered out his confused Thoughts.

"My Queen! Yeh must send me away, far away! For ah'm naught but trouble here and yeh must protect my… our lovely Champion. Ah'm a blasted, frumious, blackguard and yeh must get rid a' me before… Before ah'm Mad!"

"Oh, dear Tarrant," Mirana knelt down next to the distressed man. "I know you are no blackguard. What has happened?"

"Oh, ah'm a blackguard, a good fer nothin' scuttish cur! Yeh must get me out, yer Highness, before ah hurt her, just like that cursed Knave!" Tarrant moaned and hid his face in his hands (his lowly, mangled, bandaged hands! Not fit for their Champion!).

Mirana allowed this outburst to settle for a moment before gently speaking. "Look at me, Tarrant." She waited until he lifted his soul-struck eyes to hers. "You are nothing like Stayne and never will be. I am, and always have been, proud to have you by my side. Do you believe me?" Again, she waited, until he muttered a troubled yes. "Good. Now, please tell me what it is you believe endangers our Champion?"

Tarrant tried to gather his Thoughts. "Th—that…. Stayne had tried to… seduce Alice at the Red Queen's Court. And ah was so… so angry ah could'na see, and she tried to help and then ah saw her. Ah saw her lovely arm and her lovely face and her lovely hair and… Ah'm no better than him. Please, Highness—don' let me hurt her!"

The White Queen absorbed his speech with a calm face. She looked at Tarrant deeply and he felt ashamed at the Thoughts he Should Not Have Thought and he prayed that she would dismiss him swiftly. Finally, she spoke to him, "Did you force yourself on her?"

Tarrant's whole body started in revulsion. "No! I can'na!"

"Did you touch her without her permission?"

"No!"

"Then," Mirana said, "as soon as you saw her beauty, you neither forced her nor took advantage of her, but immediately sought her safety and protection?"

Flabbergasted and a bit nervous, Tarrant squirmed against the wall. "Well…"

The Queen's voice was soft but demanded the direct truth, "Answer, Tarrant."

"Aye, I want her safe," he whispered.

Mirana's serious face broke into a gentle, happy smile. "Then you have not Seduced our Champion, or compromised her in any way. On the contrary, I am pleased that she has such a Protector who would secure her even from himself." Stunned, the Hatter took this in without a word, but his eyes were spinning new Thoughts. The White Queen looked on fondly as Tarrant struggled with this new information. "Tarrant, these are not the actions of a lustful man, but an entirely different sort of man… a different sort of feeling. Do you understand?"

Tarrant blinked slowly, "I'm not sure."

"Do think on it, Tarrant," the White Queen regally stood up, still wearing her tender smile. "It is a feeling that also begins with L, but is far beyond simple Lust. Be at peace: you are no danger to our Alice, and I am, in fact, counting on you for her safety. Our Champion will face grave danger and all we can give her is our support. She will need you, come tomorrow. And perhaps…" Mirana's face took on a far-off look, and Tarrant wondered where her Thoughts were taking her. "Yes, perhaps after, you may find something you did not expect."

"After…?" Tarrant began.

Mirana gestured back down the corridor where Tarrant's quarters were located. "To your chamber, Tarrant. Do get some rest before tomorrow." And she walked away, as lightly as she had come, leaving behind a very different Hatter on the floor.

Tarrant's insides had stopped churning so unpleasantly but his head felt oddly light and a bit dizzy. Mirana had faith that he could protect Alice; he would have to believe so himself to make it True. Yet he worried, even with the Queen's clear perception, that Lust was still strong in him and that it would injure their dear Alice….

The Hatter stood up against the wall and felt a new strength in his body. Perhaps, it was not him that posed a threat to the Underland champion, but rather the simple emotion of Lust that was the enemy! Tarrant had had the control and the patience (if not the sanity) to survive years waiting for their champion to return. Tarrant had the strength to fight and confound the truly lustful knave and help their champion escape. He, surely, had the wits and the power to withhold his own emotions! He had the confidence, now, to turn and walk to his room for the night, knowing that his Lust would not be haunting the champion on the eve of the Frabjous Day.

As he walked, Tarrant sorted and strengthened the cage that he was building around his Lustful Thoughts. No influence could possibly force such a fortress; if it tried, he would oppose it with all of his considerable Will, made more potent by every Other Thought in his head. The benefits of having many Thoughts, Mad or not, was that there was always something to back up his purpose. There was very little that could force the Hatter in his own mind.

With all of his efforts, Tarrant became aware of a small, niggling Thought, tucked right behind the bars of his imposed cage. Half-Thought-Half-Emotion, Tarrant wasn't entirely sure what it was saying, but it contained what appeared to be… hope. A tiny, wistful Hope that this prison in his mind was unnecessary, that there was one key out there that would melt the bars entirely and at the same time transform the Lust into something better, something safe. This Thought danced with Hope and sang one tune… Alice.

As Tarrant prepared himself for bed, calmly and with a smile, he wondered what the White Queen had meant by "After"? He tucked his protection and devotion to their champion around him and went to sleep.

fin