A/N: So I saw Alice in Wonderland last Sunday and kinda fell in love with the Alice/Stayne crack-pairing (How DO you spell his name?). :P This is my first attempt at writing them, so I'm sorry for any OOC-ness and stuff. Feel free to point them out if you notice them.

I do have half a mind to continue this, but... yeah. I don't think it'd be very long. XD Plus I don't know if anyone would read it, hahahaha...

Alice and the Knave of Hearts belong to Lewis Carroll/Tim Burton (These versions, at least!)

Ilosovic Stayne stopped and listened. He could hear bare feet shuffling along the cold marble floor some ways off. Whoever it was would have to be either crazy or an intruder, as it was past three in the morning and the only creatures out at the moment were guards, and there were only a few of those around. Nobody ever tried to break into the White Queen's castle except amateur thieves who couldn't even make it past the outside patrol, so there seemed little need for very many guards. Still, any disturbance was a bad disturbance in Stayne's opinion, and even if it was just a maid or an advisor, they had no right going around and interrupting other people's dreams.

He followed the steps. They weren't too far away, and soon enough he had gained on them. Peering around the nearest wall, he caught sight of a long night-shirt hurrying down the next hall, and without hesitation he took off after it, reaching and rounding the corner in a matter of seconds. He grasped the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it should the need arise, but instead of a bandit he spotted Alice, evidently surprised that she'd been caught. She had managed to make it some thirty feet, and despite the distance it was obvious there was something wrong. There was a look of slight annoyance on her face, as if this was the absolute worst time he could have interfered, and he could have sworn he could see her trying to discreetly wipe her cheeks as he approached.

"Alice? What are you doing out so late?"

She glared up at him, the glisten in her eyes unmistakable, and in this light he could just make out the extra flush on her skin, securing his suspicions. "I would ask the same about you, except I know that you like to be out late in case I'm out late," she said. She was half-right. Technically speaking, he could have finished his shift an hour ago, but he had had the luck to catch her alone every now and again, plus he was rarely tired until the extra ill hours of the night, so he had decided he would spend his restless hours on patrol instead of tossing and turning in bed. She turned and began walking away.

"Halt," he commanded. She slowed to a stop, but did not turn around. As he was in fact a guard, she was required to stop whenever ordered, but that did not mean she would cooperate. He knew she would rather stand in silence for an hour than just explain herself and move on, and even with his authority he couldn't force her to confide in him something she didn't want to, so standing here until his legs gave way was a very realistic possibility. Her head and shoulders drooped, trying to remain as silent as possible until he let her go. He walked over, the repetitive clack of his shoes against the floor breaking up the silence, and stopped in front of her, staring down at her bowed head expectantly. She shuddered as repressed sobs passed through her. He knew he was just making it worse by standing there, but he was going to try for just a few more minutes before he gave up. He didn't know where she was headed this early in the morning, but he suspected that she would be alone. He knew she didn't like to burden others with her sadness, but the only way he was going to let her go off and cry herself to sleep in a bathroom was if she fought him bare-knuckled.

Finally she spoke, wiping her cheeks with her shaking hands. "I've not a sane friend in the whole Underland to turn to," she mumbled, shaking her head and refusing to look up at him. She wrapped her arms around herself, her nightgown settling attractively over her small frame, and bit her lip. "My closest friend is completely mad. The White Queen is so preoccupied right now that I… I…" She looked up at him from under her lashes, tears pooling under her eyes. "Why am I telling you this?" she asked.

He was a bit taken by surprise, not expecting her to ask him anything and just continue talking. He shrugged, trying to act unaffected. "Because I am a good listener," he suggested, the last bit of his sentence sounding not unlike like a question. They stared at each other, and then Alice let out a small groan, hiding her face in her hands again. He sighed, setting his hand experimentally on her back. She flinched at his touch, but didn't pull away. With some amount of satisfaction, he led her a few steps over to a bench and sat her down, then took a seat next to her.

She just sat there and cried, her hands clasped over face in an effort to mute her sobs and appear more ladylike or something. He watched her, aching to wrap her up in his arms and stroke his hands through her hair. Of course, she would not like that at all, and he would probably end up with a serious injury to one or more important body-parts. On the other hand, he had already lost an eye, and in the back of his mind he wondered if she could do any worse. She leaned back, wiping her already tear-stained sleeves across her face.

"You know," he told her, "I am a very secure confidant."

She turned and looked at him, her brow furrowed. He pinched his lips together, unsure of what her expression meant. It was the truth. He had kept a lot of secrets for the Red Queen, some he would take to his grave (And some he just preferred to forget). He would do the same for Alice if only she asked.

She seemed to be considering it for a moment, nodding her head in thought, and then she shrugged. "But you're also a liar, and a backstabber," she said, scowling.

He frowned. That had hit somewhat below the belt, even if it was the truth. She'd seen it, the Red Queen had seen it, the White Queen had seen it… Everyone had, and he did not regret lying to save his own hide. In his mind it had all been necessary, and he would do it again if his life or sanity depended on it, but not to Alice.

He grinned and leaned back, crossing his arms and his legs. He would not try to convince her. She stared at him, a puzzled expression creeping onto her face, and then she turned away and stared at the opposite wall, acting like she wanted to get up but not doing so. He could almost hear the gears in her mind whirring as her thoughts roiled about. He felt a bit smug for a moment, but then she slipped back into depression, slumping to the side with her head hung low. She leaned forward, almost standing up, and then relaxed yet again, hiding her face under her mass of blonde hair.

"Sometimes it gets quite lonely here in the Underland," she said, her voice quavering.

He understood completely, but to say so would only get him more trouble, so he remained silent.

"There's not anyone to talk to. No one like me," she said. "Nobody at all." She leaned back, drew her legs up to her chest, and rested her chin on her knees, revealing that she was wearing thick, flowery trousers underneath her nightgown. She pulled it down over her ankles, anyway.

"Nobody at all? What about the Queen?" he asked.

"She's… She not… normal."

Well, she definitely had a point there. The White Queen was not normal, even by Underland's standards. She had proven herself to be a formidable enough ruler, but between her unconventional treatment of wrongdoers and her odd, sometimes snap decisions regarding problems both large and small (Not to mention a rumored relationship with a certain hatter that had little to no basis in reality), she was definitely the subject of some speculation. Still, he would have expected Alice to find some kind of companion in her.

He wanted to suggest himself, and he was so close to doing so, but he held back. If Alice wanted to confide in him she would have to do so on her own terms, whatever her personal decision on his secret-keeping credibility.

"One cannot have just a normal conversation over tea… It's always got to be politics, riddles, or nonsense. Sometimes all I crave is a smart talk, even if it just about the weather!" she cried, becoming quite animated, and turned her face around to look at him, as if expecting his opinion. Caught unawares, all he said was,

"Yes."

Her eyes instantly watered up again, her nose and eyes overcome with a fresh red flush, although instead of looking sad she looked more afraid. "You're not listening, either," she whispered. She whipped her head the other way, her thick blonde braid flipping across her shoulders, and gave into another fit of tears. He did not see why his apparent 'not listening' upset her so much, but he supposed she was so starved for intelligent discussion that she had reached a breaking point. Whatever the reason, whether it was what she had already expressed or something entirely different, he did not like to see her cry.

He leaned forward and set his hand on her back, rubbing back and forth. Her crying ceased and was replaced with a soft, startled gasp. She looked back at him with those sweet, sad eyes of hers and he looked straight back, knitting his brow. "It's been getting rather chilly these days," he said. "Have you noticed… or is it just me?"

There was silence. A small, timid smile slowly spread across Alice's lips before she sat up straight, leaning back. "I've noticed that, as well," she whispered, sniffling. "I suppose winter must be just around the corner… Uh, that is, assuming Underland has winter…?"

He scoffed. "Of course. Winter in Underland can be grueling if you don't have proper lodgings."

She laughed, just a little, but didn't say anything. He smiled, letting his hand slide off her back and return to his chest, a little reluctantly. She had felt so warm and pleasant, even through his leather gloves, but he'd have been a fool to linger any longer. He knew Alice enough to know that she was not going to give him her full trust for one kind deed. He would have to work a little harder for it.

She sighed, looking a little awkward, and then stood up and stretched her legs. She faced him, full of a small, weak, but existent assurance. She wrapped her arms around herself again and bit her lip for a moment, searching for something to say. He pulled himself to the edge of the bench, waiting.

"Thank you," she said, her voice quiet. He gave a little bow, then stood up. She kept her gaze firmly locked on him. "I suppose I should go to bed. And so should you," she told him.

"I will."

She nodded in approval. "Good… Well, good night," she said. He took a chance (Because, really, it was there, right in the open) and slid his hand into hers, leaned down, and pressed his lips against it for a brief moment before letting it go and drawing himself up to his full height.

"Good night," he replied. There was a bigger, enigmatic, somewhat amused smile on her face now. She bowed her head to him, then turned and walked off without looking back. He smiled, feeling quite satisfied with himself as he watched her leave, then turned and walked the other way.

It seemed all his patience was finally starting to pay off.