Chocolate and Cream Cake - Hatter from SyFy's "Alice"

How was I to know?

Sure, he'd made that random comment when we were on the way back to his tea shoppe, before we'd begun to be chased by the suits and that weird psycho-killer-rabbit thing, but I didn't think he meant it.

After all, half the things Hatter said, he didn't mean. Or didn't make sense.

But I should have known that things in Wonderland worked differently than in my world. The real world.

It was just a cake. I'd brought it home because I realized I didn't know when Hatter's birthday was, so I thought I'd try something out of his world. An Unbirthday Cake. I'd gotten the candles and everything, the sparkler kind because those were brighter, more fun. And his eyes... those soulful brown eyes that were so expressive... had lit up like a kid's at Christmas.

"What's all this?" he'd asked, stopping just inside the front door and unwittingly a little tense. Smiling, but instinctively wary. As usual. I don't even think he knows he does it when faced with something unexpected. But his life had prepared him for little else.

"A Very Merry Unbirthday," I'd not sung. Believe me, nobody wants me singing. It wasn't until he'd started talking too loudly and laughing at nearly everything mid-way into his second piece that his words had suddenly come back to me:

"Trust me, I- I know a thing or two about liking people. Anytime - after much chocolate and cream cake - 'like' turns into 'what was his name again?'..."

How was I to know he meant chocolate could get him drunk?

"Heyy Alisss," he slurred, reaching for his third piece. "Thiss iz some prime kit, luv. Never 'ad 'shocolate this good b'fore."

"OH no, Hatter," I swatted his hand back, taking the plate off the coffee table and setting it to the side. "I think you've had enough."

"Aww," he whined, flopping back against the couch and knocking his hat to the ground. "Ss'too good." His hand came to rest on his stomach, which was still lean and a little on the thin side. He'd hardly ever had enough to eat in Wonderland, something I'd discovered the first two or days he was here. Pizza was his new favorite food, Sprite his favorite drink, and - as I could plainly see - chocolate his drug of choice.

"Hatter have you... ever had this much chocolate before?"

"Uh, uh," he shook his head repeatedly, his eyes not quite tracking. "S'not... readily avvailable... in my world..." Something about the way he said that last phrase made me pause: something low and a just little mournful.

"Hatter..." I slid next to him, propping his sagging body with my shoulder. "Tell me the truth. Do you... miss it?"

He lolled his head to look at me, eyes glassy and unfocused. "M'ss whah?"

"Wonderland."

God help me, his eyes bored into mine, and after a few seconds began to shine wetly, even if he stubbornly resisted letting it get out of hand. Even drunk, emotions and Hatter didn't go together without a fight. Instantly, I regretted asking. I regretted this whole damned idea; it wasn't fair to take advantage of his vulnerability right now, when his defenses were shot to hell by German chocolate cake.

Even if I'd been dying to know how he really felt about leaving the only home he'd ever known. For me.

"Yes," he whispered, blinking slowly. He must have seen the hurt on my face, because he shifted and began speaking in a rush. "Bu' no' in th'way y'think. I m'ss whah it was once like, whah it was in my dreams... An'... I m'ss bein' able t'..." he stopped, swallowed, raised a numb hand to swipe clumsily down his face. "T' jus' be with you. No job, or paper money, or things dis-... d'stractin' you from bein' with me." His thick tongue made this confession even more difficult. "And... In th' forest, or - hell... even talking you down from thah high ledge..." His head dropped, staring at the hands in his lap. "I miss bein' th' one ta take care uv ya."

He was right. In his world, I needed help. Care. I didn't understand how things worked, who people were, or what to do. Here, he was the same. I had to show him how to use a phone, a microwave, the T.V. That thing about him being a construction worker? Bogus. He'd only said that so people wouldn't question him, always thinking quickly on his feet. Now that we were living together (and wow, did that take a lot for me to say, let alone think) he was floundering, unable to get a job because he kept saying things that people just didn't understand.

In his world, he was someone important. In mine?... Only to me.

"I have an idea," I said, slipping my hands over his chest and smiling. He loved for me to touch him, something else he'd never gotten enough of. "Let's go take a nice, long bath."

He regarded me for a moment, almost sober. Then, a mischievous, downright lecherous smile curved his lips, his head dipping down. "I like tha' idea..."

And he kissed me.

-Fin