Chapter 13: Reflections

She sat alone on a bench, which was painted a dark shade of green, waiting patiently for her train. She had travelled for what felt like hours from London on her way to her destination, only to be delayed when the locomotive, in no other better terms, broke down.

Luckily, it had retired in the station, allowing the passengers to disembark safely at the small, cramped, but pleasantly painted station of Beaumont, a small parish somewhere in the English countryside between London and Oxford. Most had left, departing to who knows where in carriages and stagecoaches, but a few lingered to wait, like the young woman sitting at the end of the station on her own, fiddling with something in her handbag.

Alice Liddell could easily have been mistaken for some sort of realistic sculpture, since she sat so upright and pristine on the bench. She wore a dark blue dress with a white pinafore, let her hair plummet down her back, and a pair of black boots which were wrapped tightly around her legs. A pair of dark gloves covered her hands, and her necklace, a metal, crafted Omega symbol hanging on the cord, dangled down the front of her dress. Beside her sat a chestnut-coloured suitcase, with flowers stitched into the fabric, and an umbrella, coloured a light blue.

The few people on the station paid little attention to her, beyond the occasional curious glance. But, they did note she just seemed to be staring into space, occasionally glancing around for any sign of the train, before returning to her unusual trance.

Alice was on her way home, back to Oxford. Back to the world she had left behind nearly a year ago, for the sake of her sister and her new family. A family she felt she could not be a part of. However, Lorina had made other plans.

It was only a matter of time before she had found out the truth about everything. From the fire to the orphanage, Lorina had been told all of it, mostly by Radcliffe, missing out some minor details. Of course, she knew that Alice had attacked and nearly killed Jack Splatter, and ended up back in Rutledge. Alice understood why her sister hadn't visited. She hadn't wanted her to come, and see her in such a horrible state of mind.

And she had her daughter to consider. If word spread that the little girl was a raving lunatic, her future might have been put in jeopardy. Lorina's daughter, Violet Helen Harcourt, was a thing of perfection, though most babies looked like that in the eyes of their families. She had inherited her mother's beauty. Alice had only seen her in photographs so far, but she saw her family in her. She swore that Violet had her grandfather's nose. Grandparents she would never meet. And the eyes. They were hers, and those of her sisters.

The memories came flooding back all at once, Alice clenching her fists on her lap, trying to suppress the thoughts and feelings of those events in Moorgate. Dr. Bumby's haggard breath on her skin, shackles crushing her throat whilst he spouted out venomous bile against her family. Trying to justify his sins. The image of him falling onto the tracks and then vanishing into oblivion. Hopefully dragged down to the depths of Hell and spend an eternity suffering, just as he had made countless others.

Alice's deep dive into her memories were scattered to the winds as the loud whistle of an approaching train filled her ears. She instinctively went to stand, but realised the train was on the other side of the station, heading back to London. Her eyes scanned the visible passengers in the carriages. She settled on a happy-looking family. A man who she assumed was the father, peacefully read a newspaper, while his wife spoke with two identical girls. The only difference was that their blonde hair was stylised differently from the other's. One of the girls glanced out the window, staring at Alice for a moment. Alice stared right back, but offered a gentle, sad smile.

She thought back to the past few months, which had felt like a weight upon her back. Like all things in life, her hopes did not go as well as had wanted. Word of Dr. Bumby's death soon spread across London, quickly followed by the charges filed against him as a pimp and rapist.

While it felt like there was a wildfire of outrage, at least on a street level, Alice did not believe people really cared. London was a pit festering with misery. Dr. Bumby was right. It was a city where all appetites had to be satisfied, no matter how vile they were, at least in his eyes. In truth, while some would likely rage and weep, most probably wouldn't care after a few months. It was rough all around the city, and few people would likely take in fifteen or so homeless children with dwindling memories. The upper class certainly wouldn't, and it would be a rarity to find someone like Mr. Brownlow from Oliver Twist.

While Dr. Wilson and Nanny seemed adamant in supporting the case, Radcliffe merely saw it as an opportunity to end his career on a substantial high note. Last Alice had heard from him, he had boarded a ship bound for Australia, and likely was never to return. Lorina and Raoul had their own attorney, a man of good taste and a big help who in the proceedings in court. That was a whole drama in itself, and equally difficult to sit through. Both trials.

Still, some good had come out of the commotion that followed the spread of Bumby's demise and criminal enterprise. The orphanage closed down shortly after. Those who financially supported the orphanage either deliberately ended support for the establishment, or were soon joining the growing line of men and women associated with the prostitution ring hidden behind its walls.

Dr. Wilson, who had briefly taken control of the home, made sure to get all of the children into various orphanages in the east end, none of which were as welcoming as Houndsditch had been, but at least their cruelties weren't hidden by saccharine lies. And the children had found new homes.

Alice watched with dull, tired eyes as the train slowly departed from the station, glimpsing the family as the carriage carrying them was led away down the tracks.

"Penny for your thoughts?" asked a gravelly voice.

Alice glanced about the station for a second, and then turned to the cat sitting beside her on the bench. She smiled quietly at him. The Cheshire Cat looked different, his bones and ribcage less visible, as a fresh coat of fur had grown across his skin. He no longer looked like a skinny Siamese, but more like a newborn kitten. His tattoos had faded, blending it with his dark grey fur. His moonlit eyes stills shone brightly, and his toothy grin remained as wide as ever.

"You look well," Alice whispered to him, hoping no one would see her talking to an imaginary cat.

"As do you," replied the Cheshire Cat. He cocked his head slightly, eyeing her up and down. "Well, mostly. You're still having the nightmares, and the bad memories."

"What's the difference?" asked Alice.

"Neither can hurt you," said the cat. "At least not in the real world. It is to be expected. It was never going to be easy. You have been suffering for so long now, Alice. It will be difficult not having any notions of mystery or murder anymore."

"The memories will never leave me, Cheshire," said Alice in admittance. "The fire, my mind, the train, even the children. I won't forget them. Yes, they'll fade in time, but I won't lose them. As much as I want to, I know I can't. They are a part of me now, just as you are."

"We may fade too," replied the Cheshire Cat, his grin shortening and his expression sagged.

Alice moved to stroke the cat, but stopped, glancing around again. No one was looking her way. She couldn't risk doing something abnormal. She instead offered a reassuring smile to her cat.

"Never," she said. "I'd rather die than forget you. I've lost enough as it is."

"That isn't how the world works, Alice," said the Cheshire Cat. "You know that. The trials proved that."

Alice turned away, bowing her head, as the cat faded from view. The loud bellowing of a whistle signalled the arrival of the replacement train. Alice watched as the large, navy blue-coloured locomotive slowly rolled past the platform. She stood, picking up her umbrella and suitcase in one hand. As she walked across the platform for the train, a conductor stepped out, carrying a small pet carrier. He set it down and took a step back as the creature inside hissed. Alice walked over to him.

"That feline has been a menace," he complained, revealing small scratches on his hands.

"She doesn't like being caged," replied Alice, picking up the carrier. The white cat Snowdrop, now cleaner and pampered, looked up at Alice thrown the carrier's view holes. She meowed in a needy way.

"I know, I know. You'll be able to stretch your legs in a few hours," said Alice apologetically. "I promise."

Her mood swapped out like shuffling a deck of playing cards. The cat's insistent mewing made her smile, brightening her day. She had adopted Snowdrop on a whim, and it brought her a lot of comfort during nights where her memories decided to stir up. Alice had a hard time believing it, but she had moved back into her old room in the orphanage, despite the place becoming a hive of police activity during the investigation and subsequent trials. She eventually moved out, living with Nanny in her new home, making plans to move to Lorina's manorhouse with her old governess in tow. Nanny had to stay behind to sort out her affairs, and would hopefully join the family at a later date.

Alice boarded the train and found a quiet corner of a carriage to sit. Her mind decided to dawdle back to its darker side. She leaned on the window sill, watching the station vanish, transforming into rolling hills and the occasional town, village, farm, and river.

She felt herself slip away, plunging away into a dark, murky ocean. She didn't need to worry about drowning, or even breathing. She just let herself float down into the depths, watching small bubbles float by her. No sharks made of timber swam out to devour her. No sinister Snarks tried luring her into their maws with their glowing lights. No screams or cries came from the Ruin, who had since vanished from her mind. There was nothing but silence.

Alice let her body spin gently in the water, staring down at the darkness before her. The darkness seemed to lift, revealing the sandy sea floor. Scattered across the sea bed were the remains on the Infernal Train. The hellraiser that had destroyed her mind, reduced to buckled, rusting pieces and forgotten. Right where it deserved. Alice's feet hit the ground smoothly, and she surveyed the train wreckage around her. Whatever was left of the engine following its destruction were buried under sand, apart from a couple of arching girders poking out of the ground like the bones of a whale.

It was like walking through old ruins of a church, the enormous carriages crippled and broken, left to collect rust and become homes for whatever fish dwelled within Alice's imagination. Strange how something so evil and destructive was now powerless. An empty shell, devoid of any ill will. Like it had never been. The train had failed in its quest to purge Alice of her memories. She had let it start its work. Some part of her mind wanting her pain to end by any means necessary. Wanting a way out. And Dr. Bumby exposed that, letting himself move in and fashion Wonderland as he saw fit.

But, her senses, though at first ignored, were noticing what was happening to her mind and those of the children. It made subtle hints in her imagination. Or rather, it was screaming at Alice til it was blue in the face. Alice hated herself for letting her mind be used and abused. And, yet there had been subtle clues all around her.

The amount of suffering by the weak and powerless infested Wonderland. The dodos enslaved and tortured by the March Hare and the Dormouse to keep their industrial nightmare running. The flying pig snouts were mere prey for the Duchess and her psychotic cook, who was even more aware of what was happening than Alice was. The Deluded Depths could have been filled with fish holding up signs telling Alice what was happening, and she still wouldn't have noticed. The brutality and butchery of the Walrus and the Carpenter were obvious reflections of what was going on in the orphanage and in London. Even the ants in the Caterpillar's grove were being bullied and subjugated by the oppressive wasps.

She hid her secrets with those who could be trusted or were in positions to withstand the influence of the Dollmaker. Her faithful feline continued to push her to find the answers she needed. The Queen of Hearts, whom she despised, proved to be the best place to hide the truth of the matter, protected by a monster only Alice could have invented. Even the Carpenter held vital clues, putting Alice on the right path to realising something was wrong. The denizens of her Wonderland all helped to open her eyes to the bigger problems around her. Even the Jabberwock had…

Alice bit her lip, eyes widening.

"Oh, bollocks," she groaned, capable of speaking underwater too.

The quiet, calm sea bed exploded as a geyser of sand, sea life, and discarded train parts flew upwards. Alice spun around on one foot as the enormous form of the Jabberwock burrowed out of the ground, knocking away carriages. The great beast came whiffling out of the sand, crushing one carriage underfoot. His appearance was battered and bruised, with one of his augmented wings hanging off the marrow it had been surgically attached to. The Jabberwock stalked across the sea bed, roaring at Alice, making his intent perfectly clear.

On instinct, Alice closed her eyes, imagining the Vorpal Blade in her grasp. She felt the heavy, metal handle of her trusted weapon materialise in her hand, gripping it tightly. She swung the knife in an upward arc, testing her speed in the water. It didn't matter. It was her mind. She could do what she pleased with it. The Jabberwock barrelled towards her, jaws open to snap her in two.

Like a ballerina, Alice leapt up into the air, pirouetting above the Jabberwock as he went under her. The Jabberwock craned his head, his throat flaring up an uninviting orange glow. Alice had to manoeuvre herself out of the way as a boiling blast of fire burst from the Jabberwock's mouth, flying in her direction. Alice glared angrily at the approaching fireball. The red and orange glow symbolised the death and destruction wrought upon her and her family. She was sick of it.

She flipped the Vorpal Blade around in her hands, clutching the blade tightly. She felt it cut into her skin, seeing small traces of blood escape and float away like red mist. She swung the knife like a bat, and swung hard, smashing through the fireball. It petered out in the water. The Jabberwock slowly stalked towards her across the sea bed, using its wings like extra legs to propel himself through the heavy weight of the water.

Alice grunted as the pain in her palms stung. She didn't want to have to get into another battle. Why she did have to? Why did her mind continuously seek a need to be punished?

The reason was very, irritatingly simple.

"Because you still carry your guilt," snarled the Jabberwock as he reached her, looming over her. She looked up into his yellow eyes, which glowed in the dark water.

"It will never leave me," she replied openly. "I know that."

"Yet, you still blame yourself for the deaths of your family," said the Jabberwock in disgust. "How pathetic. Even after the true culprit was brought to justice, you still delude yourself into believing that you are responsible."

"Perhaps I could've prevented it," Alice whispered, the memories of the night of the fire surfacing once again.

The noises from Lizzie's room. Dr. Bumby's horrible shining glasses staring into Alice's room, perhaps wondering if he should add another victim to his perverted hands. The smell of burning wood. And jumping out of her bedroom window after Dinah, down into the freezing snow. Then, nothing but darkness.

Her immense guilt rose up in her chest again, tightening it like a noose around her lungs. It felt like someone was strangling her. The same feeling she had carried since waking up in the asylum. How she longed to be free of it, but Alice knew it would never leave her. Perhaps it would loosen over the years. Age can bring wisdom and change. Maybe even in time, she could forgive herself.

The only problem was that the Jabberwock was lying. The man responsible was only brought to justice for half of the crimes he committed. In the blink of an eye, the ocean vanished, and Alice found herself back in the courtroom where Dr. Bumby's trial occurred. Before her, she watched the events of the trial spill out before her.

Most people in the room looked like they were lost in a fog, their features blurred and cloudy. Only those at the front of the trial were truly visible. She watched herself, a lot more dishevelled and tired, sitting in the court, watching as Radcliffe verbally duelled with Bumby's own attorney, a gaunt man with a pointed nose and chin. Raoul's own attorney lent a hand in the trial, and there had been a sense of friendly rivalry between him and the retiring Radcliffe.

Alice, who had sat beside Lorina, Raoul, and Nanny Sharpe, had felt increasing despair as the trial went on. Bumby's attorney was both ruthless as he was efficient. He took apart each witness for the prosecution with effortless ease. Finding the slightest flaw in their statements, criticized their accountability, their backgrounds, even their demeanour. Anything to convince the jury, who were all men, that Dr. Bumby was an innocent man.

But, the huge number of witnesses testifying against the dead psychiatrist was overwhelming. The key witnesses were the children, but due to their conditions, none were able to attend. A couple wrote statements, but they didn't sound like they were written by a child, but like an adult's interpretation of their words.

Even Jack Splatter was wheeled out in a chair, looking like he was clinging to death. Alice felt a horrible twinge of guilt for the onslaught she had unleashed upon him. They had to pay him a large amount to convince him to testify, both for the children, and during the conviction of Bumby starting the fire in Alice's house.

While the evidence for the prostitute ring was high and looked promising, that of the house fire was not. Being the only major witness, Alice felt like a fool in front of the court. Mr. Prickley tore her words apart, repeatedly pointing out her history of mental instability, her time in Rutledge, and her violent outbursts, using Jack as a "noteworthy example" of her wrath, as he put it. Dr. Wilson was also asked to back up Alice's claims, and had to give a rundown of her health and time in the asylum on both occasions. It was like being in a hunt, and she was the fox. It had felt like she was the one on trial, and not the man who had destroyed her life.

The other witnesses did little to convince the jury or the judge. No one else had seen the start of the fire, or even saw Dr. Bumby in the area. Nanny was briefly on the stand, describing the relationship between Lizzie and Bumby. Alice was eager to vault over the benches and strangle Prickley when he questioned the character of Lizzie's chastity. The judge even gave him a brief lecture on his descriptive words.

Something told Alice that Prickley's love life was a disappointment, or perhaps he was even in on Bumby's crimes. He seemed the type. It wouldn't have surprised Alice. The way he endlessly rubbed his bony hands together, and made delicate gestures with his fingers. It had made her sick to his stomach.

The coroners who had studied the bodies of Alice's parents and sister were called in, pointing out the bruises they had found around Lizzie's privates, making it clear that if she did have sex, it was non-consensual. This made Prickley wriggle in his suit like the worm that he was.

It took days for the verdicts to be decided upon. For the children, Bumby was found to be guilty. Needless to say, the reaction was full of clapping on the prosecution's side. Alice had felt a great weight lift off her shoulders. In the corner of her eye, she had seen the smiles of the insane children vanishing from view. Perhaps there to see justice was done. At least for themselves anyway. Personally, Alice would have preferred Dr. Bumby to be alive, so she could see hang, but life wasn't fair. As it would soon remind her.

But, the other verdict was thrown at Alice like a bucket of ice cold water. And yet, it wasn't unexpected. The words "not-guilty" seared themselves into Alice's mind as Dr. Bumby was cleared of burning the house down and murdering her family.

The evidence was insufficient, and Alice's own state of mind had been a deciding factor to the verdict. Alice had felt her heart sink into the blackest pit, and her skin both burn and freeze at the same time. She wanted to scream til her throat became sore. Use the Vorpal Blade to spill the jury's blood for denying her family the justice they deserved for so long. Remove Prickley's head and deliver it to the judge on a platter.

But, she knew there was nothing that could be done. The law was the law. The verdict could be contested, but Raoul's attorney made it clear that it would be a pointless endeavour. The evidence was not strong enough. Alice's words and views were tainted by her own mind. She had damned her own family's vindication.

Alice let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes. She found herself back on the train. The scenery had changed. They were heading into the familiar sights of Oxford. She was nearly home. Well, not the same one she escaped years ago. The one she had watched burn to the ground, taking her family, and her childhood with it. She still remembered how the flames made the light snow glow orange. Then, all she after that was orange and red, then black.

That was another blow the late Dr. Bumby had delivered to Alice. While her parents and sister had lost their lives, Alice herself lived, but was still robbed ten years of it. Ten years lost in darkness and madness.

She gazed out the window, seeing the cloudy sky was being penetrated by rays of sunshine. The dim rays of golden light struck a cord in Alice. She gazed out the window, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Almost with childlike wonder.

To anyone passing by, they pondered on why the strange, lonely girl was acting in such a way. Like she had never seen sunlight before.

But, for Alice, it felt like a lifetime since she had looked at the world in anything but misery and anger. To her, it was a cruel world, where the powerful preyed on the weak, regardless of how much pain was caused. She had learnt humans could be insatiably evil and deplorable. The lowest basis of sin and depravity. But, she could easily be seen as no different. While Dr. Bumby was driven by lust and a need to control others, Alice had been nearly driven to the brink of madness by her rage. She had blood on her hands, especially from those she had ignored to focus on her own problems.

The sunshine was something different though. The sun had been out plenty of times over the past year, but never had it looked so inviting. So welcoming. Alice realised why. It had eluded her for some time, but it had always been there. It was the last thing that was left in Pandora's Box after it had been emptied of its evils.

Hope. It sprang eternal. Or possibly in handfuls. It hadn't granted Alice everything she had wanted. Bumby's conviction had kicked off as a chain reaction, with numerous respectful figures in London and elsewhere being arrested for molestation, prostitution, and child abuse. It was strangely beautiful. Like watching a house of cards collapse.

It left her with a sense of empty satisfaction. The children would be vindicated. Even if meant her family wasn't. She had a new one waiting for her only a few minutes away.

She grabbed her suitcase and opened it. There wasn't much inside it, just some clothes, both new and second hand. The framed photograph of her family. A sketchbook with a set of pastels. Her toy rabbit. And, hidden from view, was a butcher's knife, stolen from the orphanage. Alice wasn't entirely certain why she had smuggled it away, but something told her she needed to. Perhaps just in case one of Bumby's friends had snuck on the train to get payback.

Nothing like that had happened since the trial, and it probably wouldn't. The sound of someone rhythmically tapping a cane into their palm drew her attention away from the window. The glimpse of her Hatter vanished before eyes even focused on the empty seat in front of her. Then, she noticed a rather dapper-looking man walking by, flicking his cane up into his hand every now and again.

She found it harder to dream about Wonderland now. Despite repeated therapy sessions with Dr. Wilson, Alice's mind was still a jumble mess. Oh, her memories of her past still burnt brightly. She had had a lot of time to focus on them. But, she knew they would fade away eventually. She had to let them. But, Dr. Bumby had done his work. His mission to erase Wonderland had more-or-less succeeded.

Alice remembered her friends and the nonsensical world of her dreams, but not in their entirety. She recalled the White Rabbit's pocketwatch and twitchy movements. She knew the Carpenter had wild, red hair. The horrible smell of the Caterpillar's billowing smoke rings. Even the Queen's temper echoed in her mind.

But, it was only echoes. Vestiges of her old mind. Scars healed over time, but she was uncertain if her Wonderland would. It had already been decimated twice over. Once by her own madness, and again by her ignorance, and forces beyond her control. The only two creatures of her mind she could clearly remember, warts and all, were the Cheshire Cat and the Jabberwock.

And yet, when she looked out the window, the landscape had changed again. Huge colourful mushrooms had sprouted up in place of trees, and amongst the buildings. Bizarre railway lines on bridges circled their way through the buildings like they had always been there. Life-sized toys lost along with her childhood. Then, as soon as a large railway-related building passed by, the landscape was back to normal.

Alice caught herself smiling. Perhaps Wonderland was as faded as she thought it was. The sketchbook she brought with her might help come up with new ideas.

Soon, the view of green painted fences, and rows of luggage piled up along the back wall of the Oxford rail station rolled into view. Alice silently rose once the train halted. She picked up her suitcase in one hand. She took a deep breath.

"Onward to new horizons," she whispered to herself, and exited the compartment.

…

She had dreaded this moment for so long. But, she had to do it. Alice had heard both her sister and Radcliffe talk about how comfortable and grand the family crypt was. She had never been down there before, not even when her grandparents passed away. Her mother thought it would scare her. What she didn't know was that Alice always had a fondness for dark, dank places. Why else would she have chased a rabbit down a hole so fearlessly?

Burying people in churchyards had become a lot harder since that silly law was introduced in 1855. Apparently, every single cemetery in the city was full. How can the earth be full? Luckily, the crypt had stood outside the church for two generations. Age had done its work to it, but it still looked quite grand. Alice admired it a little. A stone veil hung over the roof and the door. The family coat of arms had been chiselled into the doorframe. Alice smiled a little at it. A regal-looking gryphon with its wings spread out behind it.

Still, it was a little foreboding.

Alice had met her sister at the train station, and for the first time, had set her eyes on her niece. Her own emerald green eyes had stared up at her in curiosity. But, as if they had met before, the little baby in the pram lit up like a Christmas tree as soon as Alice knelt before her and gave her a small, somewhat cautious and timid smile. Violet was just bliss. Alice gently took her niece's hand in her own, her tiny fingers latching around her own.

All of her long-withheld anger, frustration, and grief, was just washed away. Replaced by a loving warmth towards her new family member. Once she was able to sort out her affairs, and earn some money, she was going to spoil Violet rotten. She remembered barely, a couple of hours ago, that she had turned to Lorina and a very proud-looking Raoul, and gave her a wonderful smile.

"Oh, Lorina," she had said. "She's perfect."

Alice had held Violet in her arms like a precious doll all the way from the train station, to a small café in Oxford where they had a quick lunch. But, upon anticipating that they were going to the cemetery, Alice reluctantly handed over her niece to her patient mother.

"Don't get clingy, Alice," scolded Alice playfully. "You'll smother her."

"Try and stop me from smothering her with love, Lorina," replied Alice with a squeal. "I'm not going to miss a single birthday with her!"

The two sisters had broken out into a fit of giggles, which little Violet took as a cue to guffaw excitedly as well. Not much was said as they travelled via horse and cart to the cemetery. Alice remembered a few sights along the way, from vague memories long since forgotten. The thin road with the high green hedges on both sides looked like they hid secrets from view. Alice half-expected to see a trio of playing cards painting white roses red.

Lorina asked a couple of times about Alice's health and condition. Asked if she wanted to go through with the visit, or if they should put it off.

Alice shook her head in response, then looked directly at her sister.

"I think I have to do this," she said softly, but with conviction. "I owe them it."

"We tried Alice," replied Lorina, clutching her hand. "We tried so hard, and it wasn't enough. There wasn't enough to prove the truth."

"I know," said Alice admittedly, gripping Lorina's hand hard. "And it hurts so much. What that bastard did to Lizzie, I'll never forgive him."

"Men like him don't get forgiveness," muttered Raoul. This was the only time he spoke during the journey.

He was stone-faced, clearly bothered by something. Perhaps his womanising days were over, considering what he had discovered over the past few months. Alice was glad. He had changed his ways since Violet had come into his life. He was devoted to his daughter.

It didn't take to long for the carriage to arrive in the churchyard, and Alice soon found herself standing before the family mausoleum. Lorina, Raoul, the sleeping Violet, Nanny, and even Dr. Wilson were there. Alice smiled gratefully to Dr. Wilson. It had been his journey as much as hers.

Still, she gazed up at the details of the stone building before her, which led down into a small crypt below. She felt a growing, heavy sense of anxiety bubbling in her chest and stomach. She didn't expect much to happen down in the mausoleum. It was just the idea of having to go down there, and see them.

She felt someone step up behind her. The large shadow hinted it was Dr. Wilson. He wasn't much of a psychiatrist now, more like a friend of the family.

"Are you alright, Alice?" he asked in concern. She hesitated, and then gave him a reassuring glance, nodding to him.

"I will be," she replied in a hushed tone. Barely a whisper.

Alice put on a brave face and slowly approached the narrow, stone doors of the mausoleum. The handles curved like bronze snakes. She wrapped her hands around them, glanced back up at the gryphon watching over her, and opened the doors. Light swept into the dark mausoleum. It was smaller than she thought.

A small pedestal was built into the right-hand side of the cramped tomb. Three flower pots lined its foot, each with flowers of various colours. The one in the middle contained blue anemones. Alice recognised them as Lizzie's favourite flowers. The one on the right was more colourful, full of white and pink ones. Definitely her mother's. Her father's was simple. Just red and white roses. He did have a fondness for the War of the Roses.

The cross had been nailed to the wall, overlooking a small trapdoor. Alice approached it, flipping it open. It creaked briefly as she opened it. Lorina stepped into the room, letting out a long, drawn out sigh. It wasn't that cold in there, but to her, it must have felt it was freezing. She had told Alice that she had visited the mausoleum several times already. Alice hoped she wouldn't take offence to what she said next.

Alice took a deep breath of her own, staring down into the dark space before her. A staircase led down into the black uninvitingly.

"Would you mind if I go alone?" she asked her sister. "Just for a minute or two."

She waited with baited breath for the reply. The objection. Some sense of anger or sorrow.

"As you wish," replied Lorina with little emotion in her voice. Maybe she was just containing how she really felt. Or she just understood Alice all too well. She had probably felt the same way. "Take your time, Alice."

Alice didn't look her sister's way, but simply gave a thankful half-smile. Rubbing her fingers against her thumbs, Alice placed them in front of her, and slowly descended down into darkness. Dim, flickering oil lamps illuminated the larger room below. It was cold in the crypt. Made from hard stone and marble, but still had a sense of dignity about it. On the far wall, illuminated by the lamplight, were the names of the family members interred there. She recognised those of her grandparents, and her great-grandparents. A distant cousin who lived across the country and had died from some exotic fever. Others she didn't know.

And there they were. The names of her parents immortalised in golden letters. Behind the black, marble plaques were their bodies. Sleeping for eternity until the earth consumed them. Alice tenderly ran her fingers over the words.

Below them, she found Lizzie's name. Even though justice was not delivered, perhaps somewhere, she had earned some peace at last.

Alice let out a haggard, tired gasp, almost as if she had been submerged for the longest time. She was trying to hold back her tears, but it was proving to be just as fruitless when it was back in Wonderland. An entirely new pool of tears could flood the mausoleum, and deliver Alice right out of the trapdoor. She had cried many times over the past year, but there and now, she was finally letting all of her tears flow.

She couldn't let herself collapse to the floor. It would have been undignified in front of her family. Her mother taught her to be a lady, even if it hadn't worked out exactly as planned. Instead, she covered her face with one arm, letting it get soaked with her sorrow. She let out a mournful, pained wail, which would have made any lingering ghosts retreat to their urns.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered to her parents. "I'm sorry that I couldn't save you!"

No one replied of course. She didn't expect them too. The dead didn't talk. They did leave wills, final testaments, and maybe a farewell letter if they knew their death was inevitable.

Lorina didn't venture downstairs to comfort her sister. She knew Alice needed her space, even if it meant leaving her to fall apart in their family crypt. Alice's knees ached, yearning to give way and let her crawl under the earth and bury herself alongside her family. Let the flames that killed them do the same to her. Some wretched part of her mind had even contemplated the idea that Lizzie had been lucky. She wanted to rip that foolish thought ride out of her head.

Alice looked down from her parents' plaques to that of her sister. It read: "Here lies Elizabeth Carol Liddell, Beloved Daughter and Sister."

It didn't do her justice. There was so much more to Lizzie than just being a sister and a daughter. So much more. And she had been violated and left to die. Maybe Bumby had done the job beforehand. He is own sick twisted sense of granting her a peaceful end, rather than burn like the rest of them. Alice had to bury her rage once again. She couldn't let it come out.

But, she wanted to. She wanted to explode. To scream at the sky, the stars, and the heavens, and set them all on fire. Bring the whole forsaken world down around her, and dance in the ashes. That's all her life felt like sometimes. The flames never went away, even if they had been put out long ago. They burnt away at her mind, charring the memories of her family, and replacing them with agony and their screams of pain. Turning Wonderland into something ugly. They burnt away at her body, filling her with such rage, regret, and sorrow. They burnt her soul and her heart, putrefying her very existence. And she knew they would never leave. Not a year from then, not in twenty. Not even when she was some silly old woman, surrounded by children whispering tales about the mad aunt whose house burnt down, believed in grinning cats, and nearly stabbed a man to death.

Alice read her sister's small farewell epithet again and again.

"What would you have done?" she asked quietly. "Why did you have to die? It should have been me. I could've tried harder, and better to save you. All of you. But, I couldn't. I could have done so much more. So much more!"

She angrily beat her fists against the brickwork around the plaques, careful not to damage them. She turned away, casting her tears away with the backs of her hands, and then returned to face the wall.

Out of the corner of her eyes, a long shadow was cast across the floor by the light streaming down the stairs. Alice thought it was Lorina at first, but turning her head slightly revealed who it really was. Alice tried to put on a dignified face as her visitor stepped across the stone floor on heeled shoes which echoed with each step. She didn't look at the person, but saw the shadows of the high collar and the small crown perched on her head.

"Under normal circumstances, I would say you look pathetic the way you do now," snorted the Queen of Hearts, her face hidden in gloom of the mausoleum. Her tone softened slightly. "But, this does make me pity you."

"Is that your way of expressing condolences?" replied Alice. "Are you my sister right now, or are you the Queen?"

"A mixture of both at the moment," said the Queen. "However, I change like the tide. I soon suspect my visage will be different the next time we speak, Alice."

"I shan't miss your tentacles," said Alice, with a little hint of sarcasm.

"But, you will miss me," replied the Queen. Going for the jugular as usual. "This version of me anyway. What better place to hide your deepest secrets and memories than with me? That was quite clever of you."

"I am familiar with the art of subtlety," said Alice. "You, not so much."

"And yet here you are blubbering in front of your family," snapped the Queen, gesturing to the walls around them. "Not very subtle."

"Need I remind you that the first time we met, you went quite mad over some white roses," said Alice, casting a brief, judgemental look at the Queen, who huffed in response.

"They planted the wrong colour," she replied without a sense of regret in her voice. "I hate white roses. They are so ugly. Red is a much more deeper, extravagant colour."

"Why are you here?" asked Alice, getting to the point. "To gloat?"

"No, not in the slightest," replied the Queen. Their green eyes found each other. The Queen's expression softened. She resembled Lizzie more than ever. "I just wanted to let you know that you did your best. Things may have not turned out how you had hoped, but things did happen as they did. Nothing can change that."

"But, how do you know that?" asked Alice sadly, feeling herself welling up again.

"Because, I do," she said. "I am just a memory of your sister, but I am also you. The part of you which must remain in here. You've allowed your rage to blind you enough already. Don't make that mistake again. The important thing is that you tried to make amends. You tried so hard."

"It was all for nothing," said Alice. "He got away with it. I failed."

"You kept on pushing though," replied the Queen. "The only true failure is if you had stopped trying. Alice, you never gave up, even in your darkest moments. That's what makes you special. That, and your ridiculously nonsensical imagination."

For the first time, Alice uttered a small chuckle. It lessened the anchor-sized weight she felt crushing her mind. She knew she wasn't talking to her sister. Just a memory wrapped around a character in her mind, and not a very pleasant one at that. And, worst of all, Alice knew it was time to let her go.

Alice turned to look Lizzie in the eyes. She wiped her eyes, and reached into a pocket on her dress. Out of it, she pulled a familiar key. The one to her sister's bedroom, which had sealed her doom to begin with. Once a harmless, innocent tool turned into a device of pure evil. Now, it was simply a momentum for Alice to carry around in her pocket.

"What are you doing with that?" asked the Queen through controlled anger.

"I kept it as a reminder," said Alice. "So I wouldn't fail again. To be less blind to the sufferings of others."

"Well, now you are just punishing yourself," snapped the Queen. "Who do you think you are?"

Alice looked up at her sister in astonishment.

"You have suffered long enough, Alice. Some things may never fade away, and what you have been through won't for a long time," she said, losing any trace of the Queen's upper class voice, replaced with the softer vocals of Lizzie. "Throw it away. You can't chain yourself to it. There's something else you must do instead."

"What?" asked Alice desperately, eager to find a way out, even if she thought she didn't deserve it.

"Be happy," Lizzie said. It was the only thing she said. The only thing that needed to be said.

Alice looked back down at the key lying in her hand. It was strange how such a tiny thing had caused such great pain. The smallest things always did. A soft wind swept through the mausoleum, blowing the key right out of Alice's hand. It hit the stone floor with a loud clatter. Alice glanced to the stairs, and scrambled after the key. She reached out to grab it, but paused. She wondered why she hesitated. Then, wondered why she actually wanted to keep.

It wasn't a keepsake. There was certainly not anything of value to it. Nothing that brought back good feelings anyway. If she held on to it, she wouldn't ever let it go. What it represented would poison her heart, and eat away at what was left. She would forever burden herself with ideas of what ifs. The monster was dead. The children were free from harm, or at least from his. Her family weren't coming back. She knew that all too well.

But, what if something bad happened to Lorina? Or Violet? Or Raoul? What if some sewer rat associated with Dr. Bumby came for them? Setting the house on fire, and this time, there was no way out. It would destroy her. What if Violet grew up like her? A lost, deranged, confused girl, stuck in some asylum raving about fires and centaurs. Madness would be considered a trait in the Liddell family.

Alice couldn't stand the thought of that happening. But, what were the odds of such a thing happening? Unlikely? More like impossible. Just as impossible as it was for her to let her life be dictated by a ruddy key. It would be like Dr. Bumby had won. Controlling her every action and thought from beyond the grave. Drowning her fond memories of Lizzie and her family with his toxic presence. Ruining her mind and Wonderland over and over again with the guilt he makes her feel.

Alice stared down at the key. She closed her hand and slowly stood. She took a deep, calming breath. She glanced about, searching the shadows for Lizzie. She had gone.

"This is for you, Lizzie," Alice whispered.

She noticed a small crack in between the tiles that made up the floor. With a swift sweep of her foot, Alice drove the key towards it. It vanished through the crack. She waited a moment, expecting there to be a quiet clatter or something. There was nothing. Maybe there was a deep hole under the floor. Not that it mattered. The key was gone. The nightmares and the guilt would go away in time. No one would likely find it, unless centuries from now, men of the future dug up the remains of Oxford and found this forgotten crypt, and a peculiar key beneath it. It could haunt the men's dreams for a lifetime, wondering why a key would have been cast away into darkness.

Alice stood there for a while, thinking of what good memories she had left of her family. Happier times as a child. Playing in the garden with Lizzie and Lorina. Going for a boat ride down the river, and watching a group of rowers hit a bank and tumble into the water. Trying to learn a piano with her mother. Watching her father write some sort of paper on a subject she failed to remember. Trying on her sister's dresses and getting caught by Lizzie. Stealing cookies from the parlour and getting scolded by the cook. Hiding in the garden with Lizzie from their frantic mother.

She found herself smiling. Not one of sadness, but one of pleasant calm. For the first time in quite a while, Alice felt peaceful. The Queen was right. She had a right to happiness. And she had a new branch of the family to find it in.

Lorina finally appeared on the stairs, looking concerned.

"Alice, is everything alright?" she asked. "I thought I heard you talking to someone."

Alice turned around to address her sister as she joined her in the crypt. She looked uncomfortable in such a place.

"Oh, I was just talking to myself," Alice said innocently. "Reminding myself of what Lizzie once told me."

"What was that?" asked Lorina, approaching the wall of the dead. She ran a slender hand across her parents' names. She took a controlled breath. She had always been better at keeping her emotions in check.

"Happiness is what you make of it," said Alice off the top of her head. She didn't actually recall Lizzie saying such a phrase to her. But, it felt like she might have said it.

"Our sister was very wise for her age," said Lorina with a proud smile.

"A lot of people underestimated her," said Alice.

"And you," replied Lorina. Alice cocked her head in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she asked, wanting to know more.

"When you were a little girl, everyone thought you were peculiar. Especially after you starting talking about Wonderland," explained Lorina. "They thought you were, well…"

"Mad?" asked Alice in an anticipation.

"In a manner," said Lorina. "In a way, I thought you were too." That hurt Alice a little, but she knew her sister didn't mean anything bad by it.

"Well, I can't say I did act odd at times," said Alice.

"But, you've proven yourself to be very brave and resilient," said Lorina affectionately. "You have a very big heart, Alice. And almost absurdly determined to never give up, even if things look impossible."

Alice looked to the floor, trying to restrain the burning sensation in her cheeks.

"I never liked that word. Impossible is just a way to not try things, or believe that they are possible to achieve or imagine," said Alice.

"Is that why you always came up with six impossible things before breakfast?" asked Lorina in curiosity. Alice gaped at her sister.

"You remember that?" she asked, completely gobsmacked that Lorina recalled that little game.

"Of course, though I don't really remember what you said," said Lorina. "You changed them so often."

Alice couldn't help but let out a giggle. She put her arms behind her back, locking her fingers together. She swayed back and forth on her toes, thinking to herself.

"I suppose I'll have to come up with some new ones," she said with a smile.

…

The Arthur Liddell Park had opened its gates to the public barely a few weeks ago. Through some persuasion, heavy payments, and construction work, the former estate of the Liddell family was repurposed into a public park and nature reserve. There was some reluctance on part of the family, since it was a place of tragedy, but it had been Alice's idea in the first place. She proposed that the estate was now less valuable following the fire, and no one lived on site anyway. Some suggested simply building a memorial for Arthur and Helen, and let nature take its course. However, the gardens were still in pretty good condition despite being unattended to for ten years. It took the work of the family, Arthur's colleagues, and a little prodding to the Oxford city council to approve the plans.

Naturally, the neighbouring lords and ladies turned their noses up at the idea of the lower class "trampling" around a former estate. Alice rather verbally told them where they could stick their noses. Three marble columns were built where the house once stood, each lit with large flames for each member of the Liddell family. It may have seemed ironic to light permanent fires, but Alice liked it.

A small teahouse had been set up on the grounds too. The rest was for people to wander around and enjoy. All except a small corner of the estate by the river. Alice had her family would visit this small picnic area for the occasional party, kept away from prying eyes. Though they had sold off the estate, they kept this small spot as a reminder.

Alice sat on a picnic blanket by the riverbank, cradling little Violet in her arms. She watched her sister and Raoul chat with friends a little way across the garden. They sat at a table, sharing tea, Lorina lost under a white parasol. They shared a brief smile, before Alice turned her attention because to Violet, who let out adorable little gurgles and noises. Alice had come to cherish her niece above all else. Whenever she was with her, the grey world around was struck by a rainbow of bright colours. It reminded her of Wonderland.

Beautiful flowers of various colours dotted the mostly green garden like parts of a knitted quilt. Birds tweeted and twittered as they flew about. A blue-winged monarch butterfly, briefly landed on Violet's nose. She froze in place, stunned at the creature perched on her face. It flew off a moment later. Violet watched it go, and didn't burst into tears as expected. Instead, her eyes bulged in sheer wonder. She burst into a fit of delighted giggles. Alice found herself beaming.

"That's right, Violet. Butterflies are harmless," she said gently, rocking her niece in her arms.

Alice had been busy as of late, specifically telling her niece about her adventures in Wonderland. The more pleasant ones anyway. There was no way she was going to divulge the darker, gorier tales of Wonderland. She would find out when she was older, but for now, Violet was an innocent. She wouldn't understand anyway.

"Now, Violet, pay attention," said Alice, instructing her niece playfully. "In order to do the Lobster Quadrille, you should clear away all of the jellyfish in the area. You don't want to trying dance amongst jellyfish."

She slowly stood, Violet laughing as she was hoisted into the air in her aunt's arms.

"You wrangle together a line of dances. Cod, salmon, trout, whoever is available. No walruses though. And each of them is partnered with a lobster," continued Alice, bobbing Violet up and down in her arms, then making her dance onto her lap. "You advance twice, change partners, have a good time, and then retire in the same order."

She then gently launched Violet up into the air without releasing her.

"Then, you throw the lobsters into the air," she cried happily. Violet let out another exhilarated squeal. "And that, Violet, is the first part of the dance."

"Alice, be careful with her," called Lorina from across the grass.

"I am," replied Alice. She adjusted Violet in her arms, and glanced across the river, which quite shallow passing through the garden. She turned back to Lorina. "I am just going to take her across the river. She really wants to find a butterfly."

Lorina lowered her parasol, looking a little concerned.

"Alright, but please look after her," she said cautiously. "And don't go too far."

"You worry too much," said Alice, almost gobsmacked she actually said that, when she had been obsessively worrying about an attack on her family.

Nothing happened of course. No pimp or disgraced client of Dr. Bumby broke into the house. There were no threats against her life. No trace of a firestarter. Things had been quiet since the trial ended. The official word is that Alice's family died tragically in a housefire, though the details have remained deliberately vague. The trial brought a lot of attention at first, but Alice wisely stayed out of the spotlight. Still, while her family did not get justice, the children certainly did. Dr. Bumby's circle of clients was extensive, revealing many influential members of London's infrastructure were on his list. There was some mass shifting in numerous banks and businesses as of late.

Alice delicately wrapped Violet in her blanket, supporting her with her arms. With a quick hop, skip, and a jump, they were on the other side of the shallow river. Alice glanced back, seeing Lorina watching, before she went back to her conversation.

Alice took Violet for a brisk walk through the uncut meadow beyond, passing through tall grass and endless dandelions. Not too far away was a tall, twisting oak tree. Not an uncommon sight, but to Alice it was special. It was where everything started. She had first found the tree at the age of seven, only by chance, whilst exploring the gardens. For a seven year old, the world was a lot bigger. More things to be curious about.

It was under the roots of the tree that she found the rabbit hole. Days later, she had chased the White Rabbit through the undergrowth, to the hole, and fallen into it straight into Wonderland. The rest, as they say, is history.

However, time changes everything. The tree looked withered and lacked any leaves. Worst of all, the ground had swallowed up the rabbit hole. Alice hovered before the spot it had once been, clutching Violet tightly in her arms. Alice looked down sadly at her niece, who merely looked back up with a harmless look of confusion. Alice broke into a sad smile, kissing Violet on the forehead.

"This was where everything began," she explained to Violet. "You won't understand, but that's alright. Things were always simpler back then. They were clearer. Brighter. My world consisted of mad tea parties, croquet games with hedgehogs, playing cards, and grinning cats. My dream world where nothing made sense. But, then my life starting make no sense."

Alice felt her happiness quickly sour, she cradled Violet in her arms, looking about the scenery aimlessly.

"My sister, your aunt, was in trouble, and I didn't understand why until it was too late," she whispered. "Then she was gone. They all were. I spent ten years trapped in a bad place. I woke up, but things didn't get better for a while. I'd prefer to forget everything, but I know I can't. The fire, the asylum, the train, the children. None of it. I have to remember what happened to me, and everyone else, but I cannot let those memories define me."

She looked down at Violet, who was busy chewing on her blanket. Alice removed it, booping Violet on the nose. That was her way of telling Violet it was a bad thing to do. The baby didn't care, and just returned to chewing.

Alice looked up at the cloudy blue sky, through the branches of the tree. The small portion of the clouds seemed to swirl in on themselves. Alice blinked, wondering if it was a trick of the light. But, she formed a smile as a very wide, toothy grin appeared out of thin air. It was quickly followed by a pair of yellow cat's eyes. Their master perched on the tree branch, materialising like he came from an unseen mist.

"Don't you look healthy," the Cheshire Cat commented, letting out an approving purr, his tail swishing back and forth.

"I could say the same of you, Cheshire-puss," replied Alice. It was true. The cat looked actually like a well-fed feline. His fur was a mix of various shades of blue and grey, causing his tattoos to blur together. His claws had receded, his tail was not so bony, and even his grin was less intimidating.

"Well, the benefit of having nine lives," said the Cheshire Cat. He paused. "Or seven now, I suppose. Do you feel lighter?"

"What do you mean?" asked Alice, ignoring a small gurgle from Violet.

"You have let yourself be free from your guilt," explained the Cheshire Cat. "Or at least some of it. I believe you have come to terms with what has happened, and that the world isn't as fair as you want it to be. It is often unkind to those who want something so desperately. As you did."

Alice closed her eyes for a moment. It still felt like a bitter pill to swallow. Regardless, it was one she had to take. She had come a long way since the day she had chased a rabbit in a waistcoat. She had experienced more pain and a sense of loss than most people probably could imagine. Seen monsters from the pits of Hell. Some of them were imaginary, but others were very real. She had overcome her madness and slain her guilt, only for it to find new ways to resurface in equally punishing forms. This had nearly been her undoing, leading her into rivers, over rooftops, into madhouses, a breeding ground for prostitutes, into the heart of darkness, and the all-consuming void disguised as a train.

Alice had been helped along the way, by both friends and foes alike. Her rabbit guided her to where she needed to go, keeping her innocence in a safe place.

Her caterpillar, though unpleasant and smelly, gave her good advise and council. Telling her what she needed to hear, rather than what she wanted to.

The mighty gryphon defended her from annihilation, and his ever tearful friend opened her eyes to the sufferings of others. The world was a lot bigger than she was.

Her hatter and his companions lost their way, overcome by fear, ambition, or a desire of destruction. And yet, they still had enough sense to point her in the right direction.

The gluttonous walrus and his charismatic carpenter, ignorant and disgusting as they were, had good intentions in mind. Alice had been blind to the misfortune of others, and their words and actions reminded her not to be so uncaring.

Even those she despised the most helped her. The Jabberwock proved to be her champion during her hour of need. The normally, bloodthirsty queen acted as a vessel for her deepest secrets and desires. Even if now the image of her sister had faded.

And her faithful cat, who comforted her with his eternal grin. Her guiding light in her dark world. It made sense considering he was her conscience. Dr. Wilson may have mentioned that once or twice. That part of her mind that used trickery and thought to open her mind to what was around her.

Alice smiled gratefully up at the cat sitting on the tree branch. He returned the favour.

She had endured the hardest of trials, even if they were only in her mind. But, sometimes the hardest ones were within. She had wielded toys as weapons, carving a bloody path through her Wonderland. At times it was pure malice and rage than drove her, but most of the times, it was to be free. To find that lost hope. To find some meaning to what she was meant to do with her life.

Now, she had a good reason.

"This may sound peculiar coming from me, but I still have a lot of growing up to do," she said. "My life fell apart and I had to pick up all the jagged parts. Those memories may fade, but they'll never leave. I don't think I could make them, even if I wanted to."

"It isn't wise to linger on them," replied the Cheshire Cat. "Pain lasts only as long as you let it."

"I know," said Alice. "But, I've found something better than pain."

"And what is that?" asked the Cheshire Cat, likely knowing the answer anyway.

"My family," said Alice, looking down at Violet. She noticed the baby was smiling, her tiny finger pointing at something.

Alice followed its trajectory, and finding it aimed at the Cheshire Cat. She looked back and forth between her niece and the cat, who didn't react in the slightest. Could she see him? Or was she just pointing up at the pretty clouds?

"Do you remember Wonderland?" asked the Cheshire Cat.

"Yes, and no," said Alice sadly. "I remember what it used to be like, but not now. I suppose it doesn't exist anymore. The train succeeded."

"Not entirely," said the Cheshire Cat. "It was supposed to erase your entire mind, and the very idea of Wonderland. Make you forget who you are. If you still remember what it once was, then maybe you can imagine it anew?"

"I'm not sure I can," Alice said doubtfully. "My mind has been a bit hazy of late."

"It must be the medicine," said the Cheshire Cat, poking his tongue out in disgust.

"Don't speak such nonsense," replied Alice.

That struck her like a lightning bolt. She felt a warm fuzzy sensation within the pit of her stomach flare up. She found herself smiling imaginatively.

"Nonsense. My world was nonsense."

A world of colour burst out from everywhere around her, splashing out across the garden like a multi-coloured wave. The Cheshire Cat grinned as the familiar, bizarre fauna and flora of Wonderland sprouted out of the ground like the pictures in a pop-up book. Alice watched with wondrous eyes as enormous mushrooms and toadstools rose up, each with spotted domes of various reds, yellows, blues, and purples. Trees with stripped branches grew up, tall and elegant in their own strange way. The leaves were those of willow trees, but purple, and seemed to sound like wooden whistle as the wind blew through them. An endless variety of weird plants and flowers appeared all around, some with faces and starting chatting amongst themselves.

The sky turned a baked orange like in a permanent sunset, and the clouds took on familiar shapes of giant rabbits, birds, cats, oysters, and hedgehogs. Huge floating landmasses and mechanical teapots floated across the sky, puffing out smoke rings which gained a life of their own and flew away. Amongst the shrubbery, a fat, pig covered in green moss went about its way. A ridiculously tall bird with skinny legs stepped out amongst the trees, tipping its bowler hat to Alice as it went by. She offered a polite curtsy in return.

A huge water tower lurched up amongst the trees, with the words "Looking Glass Railway" hand painted on it. Moments later, a silver-coloured railway on a high metal bridge formed. Alice froze for a brief second, hearing the sound of an approaching train whistle. She watched wide-eyed as a train rolled by on the tracks. She breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the train was not an enormous monstrosity from hell, but a harmless locomotive, puffing out a gentle trail of smoke as it went by.

Alice couldn't tell if Violet could see what was around her, but she was squealing in delight. Still, Alice couldn't help but smile.

Things were never going to be the same again. The past was the past, and it was important to not run from it, but to rather learn from it. The future and what lied beyond the horizon looked promising. Alice knew all too well that it wouldn't be that easy or generous. Life wasn't.

She knew that the nightmares would be around like unwanted bedfellows. Her memories and the scars left by them would both fade. The anger and guilt she carries would remain, but would perhaps leave her alone within time. Her family were dead. Her childhood stolen from her. They had in a way, been avenged. The monster who took them from her was dead, and not a tear had rightfully been shed. With some hope, she prayed the children who were victims of the Dollmaker would start their lives anew. She had heard the news that a couple of her fellow orphans had been adopted. Those who had lost their memories and been left on the streets, would hopefully find some happiness.

And her Wonderland was safe. Perhaps it wouldn't be the same as she remembered, and she suspected it would change still. But, as long as she could visit it, then she would be happy.

"Now he's a prickly looking fellow," said the Cheshire Cat, looking across the garden.

Alice turned her head, looking towards a cluster of trees with twirling branches, making a small thicket. A very large shaggy-haired wolf was walking through the tree line, possessing striking red eyes. Its body was pitch black, and small trails of what looked like black smoke rose from its back, like it had just walked out of a burning building. The wolf paused for a moment, watching Alice from afar. It then vanished as quickly as it went.

Alice blinked. She had never imagined such a creature before. A wolf in Wonderland.

"Curioser and curioser."

…

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It is finally finished! It is the end of an era. My fanfiction of Alice: Madness Returns has finally been completed. And it only took...nearly eight years. I admit this was a challenge to write, and even harder to wrap up. I have enjoyed writing this story so much, and now the journey is complete. That doesn't necessarily mean I am done writing stories for Alice. As the ending hints, you may guess what may come next. A lot has happened since I started writing this fanfic, particularly in life experiences.

American McGee's Alice has returned a couple of times since. Mr. McGee first tried to Kickstart a fantastic idea for an Oz game called "OZombie", but sadly that project didn't succeed. He then greenlit "Alice: Otherlands", an exciting new third game concept where Alice ventured into the minds of famous 19th century historical figures like Jules Verne, discovering their own imaginations. While the project succeeded, it underwent a transformation, becoming a series of animated shorts. Now, Mr. McGee has announced "Alice Asylum", another proposal for a third game, which apparently will be a prequel. Not entirely sure how that would work, but if it is created, guess who will likely be writing a story on it!

My writing skills have vastly improved whilst plodding out this story, and I apology for the increasing delays, but I maybe committed to getting this story finished. This is one of the most favourite stories I have written and I hope you enjoyed it too. I took some small liberties with the game's plot, but wanted to keep to the spirit of the game, even including in some lost content and nods to other incarnations of Alice too. I reached a lot of problems, and writer's block was a real pain in the neck. Still, I am very glad those of you who have stuck with the fanfic for so long. Please feel free to leave reviews.

I had planned to get this story finished before the 10 year anniversary of writing my first Alice fanfic (in May), and succeeded. Who knows what I'll write in the future, but I am not quite done with Alice and her Wonderland yet.

Many thanks to Lewis Carroll for creating the nonsensical world of Wonderland, and to American McGee for creating these delightfully twisted games and moving story. American McGee's Alice is copyright to American McGee, Spicy Horse Games, and EA Games, 2000-present. All characters are within the public domain.

Thanks for reading my tale.