A/N: Just a quick little thing I wrote on a whim. Short and sweet. And hopefully in character. I am afraid I haven't seen the Tim Burton movie in years, so I hope I pegged his character well enough. The Mad Hatter has always been my favourite character from the story, since I was a little girl, and I was very happy to see him portrayed to his eccentric justice. Anyway, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

The smoke trailed lazily from the chimney, twisting and turning as it did so. The day was quaint, almost like a picture. The sun was shining, the tea was warm, and Hatter was quite sure that he couldn't be happier.

"Except..." he wrinkled his nose. "Yes, I am sure I could."

"What's that, Hatter?" Alice looked up from the book she was reading. They were both lounging in the garden, in the grass under the large oak. Alice was the picture of grace and beauty and all things good, in her Hatter's humble opinion. She wore a white dress, soft as clouds, with a deep red bow cinched around her waist.

"Alice," he mused aloud. "Alice, something is missing."

"Missing?" She had returned to her book. "That is unfortunate, to be sure." Her attention was drifting, her mind becoming more focused in the story she was reading. Annoyance pricked at Hatter's brain.

"Don't you feel it, too?" he demanded, his hat tipping forward into his eyes as he leaned closer to her. Catching the sharp edge to his words, Alice looked up.

"Oh, dear." She stood, setting her book down. She smiled as she looked into his blazing green eyes, and he felt himself relax. "You're losing your hat again." She reached up and pushed it back to its rightful place on his head.

"Alice," he says urgently. She hums in reply, still fixing his hat. "Surely you can feel it, too. Something's slipping, slipping, slipping..." He trailed off, but started again as she pulled back. "Something is slipping. It's dipping away, it's bouncing, it's flying, it's missing. It is not here, it is there, elsewhere, and I need it here." He looked into her eyes earnestly. "I need it here."

Alice, who had been nodding along with him as he spoke, agreed. "Yes, my dear Tarrant, I do believe you're right. Something is missing." She stood and held her hand out to him. "Perhaps we should go look for it?"

He looked to her hand. "Yes," he said softly. "We should go and find it." He giggled. "After all, it cannot find itself, and it must be found by somebody. Otherwise, it would always be lost, and that's no way to get things done." He gripped her hand and she pulled him to his feet.

"Where shall we start to look for it?" Alice inquired, slipping her arm through his. They began to walk. The Hatter paused for a moment, thinking.

"Of course!" He exclaimed. "We should start looking in the kitchen. That's where the lost things usually happen to be, don't you know? Lost books, lost socks, lost marbles." He looked to his companion gravely. "Though. Should you lose your marbles, let me know immediately. It is a danger and a hazard to have them about without your knowledge. You could slip on them and fall at any moment."

"Do not fear," she replied. "I keep very good track of my marbles."

They reached the house and Tarrant shoved the door open, holding it for her. "Perhaps it is in the cupboard?" He walked past her and pulled open the cabinet door. "Nothing," he sighed. He tipped over all the teacups, peering inside each one. "Nothing at all in the cupboards."

"What about the sink?" Alice suggested, striding over to the sink. She looked around for a second, and her friend watched her closely as she did, waiting eagerly for her report. She turned around to speak, but he cut her off.

"Anything?" he asked. She shook her head, and he scowled.

"Hatter, don't worry. I am positive that we shall find it by the time the sun sets. It is only hardly noon now. That gives us...six hours."

"Only if Time behaves." He lowered his voice and came close to her. "You know that we have a history. He doesn't like me very much."

"Well, I like you very much, which should count for something." Alice said, reaching out and taking his hand. His face lit up in a gap-toothed smile.

"It counts for everything," he said warmly, and squeezed her hand tighter. The gazed into each other's eyes for a few moments before he spoke again. "Cheshire."

"Cheshire?" Alice repeated, shocked.

He was glowering again. "That useless toadstool of a creature probably took it."

"Oh, no, I am sure he didn't," the blond girl objected.

"How can you be sure of anything?" A smooth voice said just behind her ear, and she jumped.

"You!" Tarrant accused.

"Very well," admitted the half-present feline.

"There is nae use in denyin' it," growled the hatter, his voice turning rough and his eyes melting into a startling orange shade. Alice became alarmed. The accent was never a good sign.

"I deny nothing, but instead allow everything. Especially allowance," replied Cheshire. "It is the fruit of a good life. But not of a good pie."

"Very well," allowed the Hatter, satisfied. His eyes softened back to the green they were usually, and his accent thinned away.

"Thank you," purred the cat flippantly, and was gone. Alice was very confused, and said as much.

"What just happened?" she asked, bewildered.

"He didn't have it," he explained patiently. "But I think I know where to look." He grabbed her hand again and led her out of the house.

"Where are we going?"

"That is a very good question," allowed the Hatter. He gave no answer, but put a hand on the small of her back and pushed her on eagerly. They walked quickly back to the garden.

"Hatter, we were just here," said Alice, agitated. "Why did you drag me around if you knew it was here the whole time?" She pulled her hand from his and spun to face him, her hands fitting to her hips in a defiant pose.

The Hatter smiled at her, his face soft and happy. "My dear Alice, I didn't know it was here. I didn't know it was in the kitchen, either." He stepped closer. "But I have found it!"

"I am afraid I don't follow," she dead-panned.

"It was you. It was you the whole time," he whispered. "I must have forgotten, but I remember now. You were missing- or rather, I was. But then you- I- came back, and I remembered."

At some point during his explanation, Alice had found herself in a fond embrace, his arms around her. "It was me?" She repeated, a smile growing on her face.

"Yes," he replied reverently, and reached up to push a curl out of her face. "It has always been you."

"Oh, you silly man!" Alice laughed, and kissed him.

It was a perfect day, almost out a storybook, and Hatter was sure- he was quite sure- that he could not be happier if he tried.