A/N- So I bet a lot of you guys who have been following this thought this day would never come, eh? I know, I updated for the first time in months! Has hell frozen over? XD

I happened to find this file on my computer this morning while I was doing some 'summer cleaning' and, for the life me, I can't figure out why it never got uploaded. I must have finished it sometime last year, even. Perhaps I kept putting it off and then forgot altogether? Likely.

For all of you who have enjoyed this story and are still following it, I just wanted to give you all a big thanks, first and foremost. I'm so glad my work/hobby has entertained you all. Your support is encouraging and appreciated.

As far as the status of this story is concerned, I have to be honest and confess that it probably won't be updated again for a long time. I'm sort of ADD in my fandom interests and right now my focus just isn't geared on this project (I realize it hasn't been for a good while, and I apologize for that). I don't like saying 'never' when it comes to story updates because I really never know where my fascination is going to fixate from week-to-week. I may have a WCMI phase again and finish this, who knows? For what it matters, I do have a plot mapped out that should cover another chapter or two, so if my interest ever does come around again, I won't be suffering from writer's block (I hope).

For the time being, I hope you enjoy this latest installment. Thanks again for all of your support and kind words!

Esmeralda and Megara had always been teased by the other two women in their group for being the most neurotic and paranoid. Given that they were part of the most nonconformist, cynical group of females Disneyland had to offer, this wasn't saying much. Still, Esmeralda found it pivotal that every social group have at least one person of this persuasion to talk the others down from doing something completely stupid, not unlike a mother to her children. While Megara mostly kept these fears to herself, Esmeralda was not afraid of being more outspoken, and had repeatedly advised Kida and Helga not to involve villains, much less pirates, in their half-brained scheme to win back Reginald's full attention.

It was no surprise then that both the aforementioned women felt particularly uncomfortable celebrating the plan's victory with Helga and Kida in the Tom Sawyer Island Port Bar. They knew that at some point they had been coerced into going, but when they actually arrived and ordered their drinks, both had forgotten whatever was said that had the power to get them here in the first place, and immediately searched for convenient segues out of the situation.

Helga and Kida, however, were not bashful about indulging themselves with a bit of everything the Port Bar had to offer-mostly rum and brandy- and as their consumption of liquor increased, so did their felicity at the success of the plan. Or rather, the most imminent success, as it seemed highly likely that all would go smoothly even if it had yet to occur.

"Here's to us!" Helga exclaimed, raising a mug high into the smoke-filled air.

"And our brilliance!" Kida added, clanking Helga's tankard with her own. "Together, we can accomplish anything."

Megara rolled her eyes at Esmeralda as she hovered over the only mug of ale she had ordered since they'd gotten there, while Kida and Helga quickly downed their third and began signaling to Long John the cyborg for another round.

Esmeralda returned Megara's expression mutually, and after taking a draw of her cigarette said to her friends,

"Well, girls, I suppose that's enough for one night. Whadda ya' say we go back to my place and paint our nails, or something feminine like that?"

Helga laughed heartily and with an enthusiasm that was rather unwarranted for the situation. "Look who's the designated driver tonight, ladies!"

"Whatsa' matter Ezzie?" Kida slurred. "Finally takin' those AA meetings seriously?"

The ember of Esmeralda's cigarette glowed a threateningly burnt orange as she inhaled deeply, proceeding to release the smoke calmly, as if in attempt to maintain her temper. Megara, however, could still see the ferocity dancing in her tawny eyes and knew immediately that Kida and Helga's comment was not taken without offense.

"I think we should go," Esmeralda stated sharply, stubbing out the cigarette after taking a final puff.

Kida, looking a bit flabbergasted, slovenly put her arm around the gypsy's shoulders.

"Come on, Ezzie," she pleaded. "Stay and celebrate with us! Soon our favorite bachelor will be back on the market! If that's not reason enough to have a few drinks, I don't know what is…"

"What, exactly, is going to happen tonight at the theatre?" Megara interrupted, eyeing the two female cohorts with dread.

Kida and Helga exchanged knowing, mischievous glances from across the wooden table, and initially answered Megara's query with a subsequent giggle.

Esmeralda, having begun to rapidly lose her composure, firmly snapped her fingers in the space between Kida and Helga's heads.

"Hey!" she spat. "What's happening tonight at the theater?"

Helga grinned, and before taking another sip from her tankard, said suggestively,

"Lets just say Alice Lidell is history."

The Atlantean and the blonde shared a high five before knocking back their fourth drink. The two other women, however, simply eyed them in horror, having realized that they may have underestimated the seriousness of the situation.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Esmeralda demanded to know, roughly yanking at Helga's shoulder to get her attention.

After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Helga proceeded to coarsely remove Esmeralda's grasp from her body.

"Don't touch me like that again, Esmeralda…". The possibility of a bar cat-fight flickered in her arctic-blue eyes.

"Or what, you'll snub me out like everyone else that slightly annoys you?" she countered, beginning to gather her things.

Helga and Kida gazed at their two friends in a drunken disbelief as they rose from their seats in a fury, furtively collecting their purses.

"You know, I'm not the biggest fan of people like Alice, or Aurora, or Prince Phillip either, but I'd never be so dense as to risk death row just to wipe the smug expressions of their blonde little heads." Esmeralda scolded.

"Especially for the sake of some guy," Megara added, resentment not any more absent from her voice.

After shifting her elaborately designed Hungarian shawl over her shoulders, Esmeralda shoved another cigarette in her mouth and held it securely between her already tightly clenched teeth as she searched her bag for a lighter.

"Lets get out of here, Meg," she suggested, after having accomplished the lighting.

As both brunettes headed for the exit, Helga swiveled around in her seat to get a better view, and Kida peered around determinedly, both anticipating a quick return.

"They're just going out for a smoke," Helga dismissed bitterly, turning back around to face Kida.

"I dunno," Kida replied, sounding uncertain. "I think they're mad at us."

Helga took a swig of whatever now inhabited the very bottom of her mug and slammed the item down on the mahogany table with a resounding clunk.

"Yeah, well, their loss…"

She then rose from the table and began to weave her way through the strategically placed tables and chairs, mostly all uninhabited as a majority of the pirates were out tonight, working on their behalf at the cinema.

"Where are you going?" Kida called after her, not noticing Long John Silver's wince as he polished mugs.

Both of the ladies' volume had been considerably louder than Silver would have preferred, and it was all the more aggravating that they were the only individuals in the bar causing it. When business was a constant roar, that was entirely tolerable for his extra-sensitive cyborg hearing. But when women who had been drinking more then they should began erratically shouting at one another in their feminine, screech-owl voices, it was all the man-bot could do to keep from blasting both of them.

"I gotta take a leak," Helga shouted back crudely, oblivious to Silver's groan and subsequent run of his hand over the gun-trigger in his wiring.

The gurgle of straw against the glass of an empty coke bottle resonated through the theatre, the only auditory sound accompanying the boom of the movie trailers. The space was dark, damp, and cold, lit only by the quickly changing frames of the elephantine screen before them. They were alone with the reflected images on the large canvas, no doubt due to the reported content of the movie that might detract those with weaker stomachs. It made no difference to him what horrors could be found in said film, as his main feature tonight would be the young blonde seated beside him.

She continued to nurse the red and white striped straw that protruded from her pop bottle long after all the liquid had been exhausted. Her remarkably indigo eyes glittered from the glow of the screen, hypnotized by the cinematic nature of the movie previews. It was then that he first realized how much her eyes reminded him of a swimming pool in the middle of hot July afternoon, the soaring temperature making the prospect of diving into the cool depths all the more inviting.

This was all very well, but he wished she would be paying the same amount of attention to him that he was to her. Anyway, wasn't there some sort of rule of etiquette that made it only proper for couples on a date in a movie theatre to make-out? And in an empty theatre no less, it had to be an expectation. Yes, tonight he would definitely find out what Alice's lips tasted like. But first, he had to broach the subject. Gently, of course, and respectfully. Despite what the Hare thought, he was a gentleman.

Gradually, so as not to abruptly disturb Alice's movie-watching-reverie, he slid his hand towards the nearly microscopic button that would relieve the only barrier standing between she and him- the armrest. He felt the metallic bump underneath his index finger, and nonchalantly stared at the cinema screen, hoping to give the impression that his attention was focused there. Biting his lower lip, squeezing his eyelids shut, and buckling his toes beneath the upper padding of his feet, he pressed down, prepared for whatever mayhem might ensue as a result.

The satisfying click of the armrest hoisting itself upwards caused him to reopen his eyes. Alice, seemingly, had taken no notice of the change, and continued to suck mindlessly on the plastic straw, observing the screen with the same relish. Grinning mischievously, he pivoted his body slightly, so as to face more towards her. He had just begun the typical stretch-and-yawn tactic, when he noticed the pale, dainty hand of his date upon the armrest, preventing it from continuing its path out-of-the-way.

He eyed her in a suspicious disbelief, wondering if she had perceived his movement and consequently prevented him from accomplishing his goal.

The hand that remained on the unattached rest locked it back into place, firmly and purposefully, eyes never wavering from the screen before her.

"I would love to see that movie," she commented on the latest trailer, as if nothing had just occurred. "Kevin Bacon is one of my favorite actors."

He could only stare at her, dumbfounded. Had she known of his intents, or had she simply thought the rest had come loose on its own?

"He's alright…" The Hatter added halfheartedly, eyeing her with skepticism.

Now he was in a pickle. His attempts had been foiled, which would have been fine had Alice made it blatantly clear that she wanted the protection of the barrier to remain, which he suspected was the case. But as was typical of Reginald, he never did or didn't do something unless he knew for a fact that it was something he should or shouldn't do. In this case, whether or not he should try to remove the armrest was rather ambiguous. So should he attempt it once more? Well, she hadn't told him explicitly not to…

Once more, his hand made a stealthy slither for the familiar, indented button. All it would take was one push when Alice was caught unawares, and the walls between them would be gone. Well, the literal walls, anyway.

This time, however, that same delicate, porcelain hand fell upon his with a surprising amount of strength. The tiny fingers clutched his knuckles, adamantly tugging it away from the small device.

At first, he attempted to fight it, pulling in the opposite direction, determined to press the button. If there was any doubt of Alice's attitude towards the situation, it had now been confirmed. Even if she was still looking emotionlessly at the movie screen, her iron grip spoke volumes. But this didn't matter to the Hatter- it was war.

This back-and-forth struggle ensued for a minute or two, before Reginald happened upon an ingenious plan. He abruptly halted his defiance of her efforts and graciously embraced his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together like a woven basket. This succeeded in winning Alice's attention, the glittering blue eyes darting over to him in shock.

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously, amazingly making no effort to rip her hand away from his.

"I'm holding hands with you," he replied. "…duh."

Initially, the expression on Alice's face told him that she'd not be caught dead doing what she was currently doing, and if he valued the use of his fingers, had best remove them immediately. This attitude quickly, and noticeably softened, causing a sigh of defeat to escape her lips as she fell back in the cushion of her seat.

"Touche," she said simply, reluctantly cracking a grin.

Reginald eased back in his chair, gently squeezing her hand in his, smiling in satisfaction.

"That's what I thought."

Before the fisted knuckles had even made contact, the Hare could already feel the crushing collision of solid bone and muscle to his soft, whiskery mass of a face. His beloved two front teeth, vital to all self-respecting rabbits, would be knocked clear out of his head in a shower of blood and tears. His once charming, handsome visage would be instantly transformed into a unrecognizable conglomeration of bruises and welts.

And frankly, there was nothing he could do but squeeze his eyes shut and wrap his tiny paws around his head futilely.

"Belay the taunting of that furry swab, gents," a familiar voice intervened. "We've got bigger fish to fry."

The tone was coarse and strained, haggard from years of shouting commands to a milieu of pirates in the midst of roaring hurricanes, not to mention the gallons of rum and pounds of smoked pipe tobacco that had undoubtedly assisted in the degeneration.

When the Hare had acquired the necessary amount of gumption to open his eyes and release his grip on his head, he was not at all surprised to observe the one-and-only Captain Barbossa standing before them, complete with his leather-skinned face and ridiculously extravagant new hat.

"But Cap'n," Pintel protested. "The lil' bugger was sneakin' about!"

"Up to no good, he was," Ragetti added assuredly.

"I said put him down!" The captain barked. "Or it'll be the keelhaul for both of yeh'"

Pintel released his death-grip on the nape of the Hare's neck, causing him to hit the floor like a ten-pound sack of potatoes. The rabbit winced after impact, carefully rubbing the area of his backside that had taken the brunt of the force.

"Yeh' couple of bilge-suckin' dogs," Barbossa scolded. "What could bloody well be accomplished from playin' with rabbits when we've got a theatre to commandeer?"

The Hare had just begun to gather the remnants of his walkie-talkie and hasten away to his endangered friends, when his fine-tuned hearing caught interest at the end of Barbossa's sentence.

"He was up to sumfin' Cap'n," Pintel insisted.

Ragetti nodded emphatically.

"Yeah, yeah, he didn't pay for his ticket!"

Barbossa raised a jewel-encrusted, bony, weather-worn hand as if to back-hand his crew members for their idiocy. Ragetti issued a falsetto squeal before jumping directly behind Pintel's much larger, and assumingly, protective form.

"A couple of addle plated fools, yeh are! So help me, I use yeh' both for shark bait!"

The Hare assumed as respectable a pose as possible, considering his backend was smarting beyond reason, and politely coughed to re-earn the pirates' attention.

"Pardon me, gentlemen…?"

Barbossa's head slowly swiveled around and peered at the animal below him through the opening between his raised arm and shoulder, frozen in his potential-striking stance. Pintel gave the rabbit a quizzical look, while Ragetti cautiously peered over his mate's shoulder, only his eyes and nose visible.

Having gotten no audible response from his audience, the Hare continued his train of thought.

"Yes, well…I couldn't help but overhear your…conversation…and it seems you are planning to commandeer this theatre? Is that correct?"

In flurry of movement, Barbossa spun around completely and seized the Hare by his maroon collar, bringing him level with his face and allowing him to smell breath far worse than Pintel's.

"And whats it to yeh', long ears?" he growled threateningly.

"Well, sir," the Hare began uneasily, trying his best to hold his breath and speak simultaneously. "It appears this theatre has already been commandeered by a pirate crew, and what I was curious to know is-"

Once more, the unfortunate Hare was tossed roughly to the floor, landing ungracefully on his tender behind.

"Are yeh suggestin' I don't know that already?" Barbossa challenged. "Do yeh' think I was just a lil' late? That another band of blaggards beat me to it? Are yeh' sayin' I'm a second rate Cap'n?"

"Not at all, sir," the Rabbit assured with a grimace, flinching as he attempted to stand. "I was merely curious as to what your intentions were. Clearly you are not in cahoots in with Captain Hook…"

The three gentleman of fortune elicited a huge, unrelenting laugh at this statement, Barbossa throwing his head back dangerously in the midst of his felicity. Pintel slapped his knees and doubled over slightly. Ragetti assumed his familiar feminine chuckle, as if he was an eight year old girl allowed the privilege to hang out with the exceedingly more popular girls, and vowed to laugh at whatever they deemed to be funny, even if the reason for doing so was not completely understood.

"Hector Barbossa? In cahoots with…Captain…James…Hook?" Pintel repeated hilariously, finding it hard to finish his sentence in between guffaws.

"Perhaps yeh' think I was joinin' him for tea?" Barbossa added incredulously.

The Hare's indignation had been building ever since Barbossa's referral to him as a fuzzy swab. Due to unavoidable intimidation, however, the rabbit had managed to keep a fairly solid lid on any retaliatory comments. But Captain Barbossa's mocking of tea had taken things too far. He'd have been a cowardly fool to let a comment like that slip.

"N-Now see here," The Hare began, voice slowly raising in volume. "I don't see how you can expect anyone to tell one of your kind from the other. As far as I'm concerned you all swagger around in a state of constant intoxication, singing about wine and women, neglecting proper showers and dental care, helping yourself to the riches of someone far more defenseless than you…!"

This outburst of little-thought-out bravery had put a temporary vale of silence over the trio. They had never expected the cotton-tailed fellow to talk back to them, much less put them in their place, as he seemed to be accomplishing.

"F-Further more," he continued, unabated. "I simply wanted to know because it appears we're on the same-side of the coin. Whether you were aware of it or not, not that it probably matters to you in the slightest, Captain Hook's crew were hired tonight to take-out two of my friends-who are on a date- on behalf of two jealous women."

"Hmmm," Barbossa smirked, crossing his arms over his chest victoriously. "Then perhaps we should do the deed ourselves and collect the pay. Whadda yeh' say, boys?"

The two behind him grinned and cackled devilishly, revealing rows of rotted, missing, and gold-capped teeth.

This clearly didn't phase the Hare, as his composure of confidence remained.

"Do you happen to know the name of the gentleman targeted?" he queried, examining his paws casually.

Barbossa hid his intimidation of the rabbit's unexplained aura of confidence, replying mockingly,

"A friend of yours, yeh' said? Wouldn't be Roger Rabbit, by any chance?"

Another bout of laughter spewed from the band of corsairs.

"Oh contraire," he responded over the roar. "His name happens Reginald Theophilus The Third."

The expression on Barbossa's face immediately froze into rock-hard seriousness. He gazed at the small creature before him with undeniable terror, as if the Hare had suddenly sprouted six-foot long tentacles. Hastily, he threw a hand behind him, abruptly silencing his crew.

"Theophilus, yeh' said?" he whispered, the fear radiating from his pupils.

The Hare simply nodded, knowing all too-well why Reginald would be safe from any piratical attack on account of his name.

Reginald's grandfather, Reginald Theophilus the first, had always had an unwavering, selfless love for hat making, and unlike the many boutiques who carried hats as a mere inventory item, he had always desired to own a store dedicated solely to the head accessories. Knowing full well that such a business would be nigh impossible to maintain in downtown Disneyland, Mr. Theophilus sought a higher-volume, yet usually avoided market. Before Mr. Theophilus, no one other than out-of-work villains trying to pay the bills and retired buccaneers would have dared set up shop on Tom Sawyer island, much less near the docks. Even then, the businesses were never clothing retail, always bars, general stores where tobacco could be purchased, bordellos and general ship supply.

Everyone had warned him that he would be eaten alive, keelhauled, made to walk the plank, and such other atrocities associated with privateers. However, thanks to Mr. Theophilus' confidence in his business abilities, and perhaps a bit of necessary insanity that seemed hereditary in his family, he cashed in immediately on pirate Captains' love of gaudy, humongous headwear. His hat-shop was as welcome at the port as rum or buxom wenches, and pioneered the way to future clothing stores where said Captains could buy custom clothing, a vast improvement over having to steal the used threads of well-to-dos on ship raids.

Mr. Theophilus' ability to create unparalleled feathered hats earned him quite a respectable reputation around the port. There was not one self-respecting pirate that would have taken advantage of dear, Mr. T, let alone a family member. The Hare, aware of Captain Barbossa's position as Mr. Theophilus' biggest fan, knew this would be enough to stop him. He suspected that had Captain Hook known of Reginald's true identity-rather than the taller, older, white-haired Peter Pan- he would have refused to assist Helga and Kida, being just as much enamored with the Theophilus' handiwork and loath to risk losing the privilege of doing business with him.

"May I be forced to kiss the gunner's daughter before I harm a Theophilus," Barbossa vowed sincerely, respectfully removing his colossal hat and placing it over his heart. He seemingly ignored one pluming, bright blue feather that protruded upwards, obscuring his face.

"So, are we in accord?" The Hare asked, smugly.

The Pirate Captain stared down at the Hare with utter contempt, clearly repressing it as best he could on account of the rabbit's social circle.

"For the Theophiluses," Barbossa answered. Then leaning down and seething through gritted teeth he said,

"And no one else."