Alright, just to sum up: What do you think would happen if Alice Kingsleigh, upon her return to London, found her old freind the Mad Hatter waiting for her? A slight shock, no doubt, but what if he came bearing evil news for her beloved Underland? Choosing to return to the place of childhood dreams, what might await her?

Alright, this is my first real attempt at publicly showing off what I write, so if it's absolutely awful, feel free to say so, in a nice way, maybe? Also, feel wecome to point out any spelling, punctuation, or grammar issues you may see, other than fragmented sentances, as I know those exist here.

I'm just saying here and now, I own nothing to do with either the book, or the movie Alice In Wonderland. All credit goes to those directly responsible for making the above media happen, save the words on the following pages.

I've written more on this particular work than you'll find below, so depending on the reviews I get, I may post more. Maybe, maybe not. We shall see.

Ok, so... that just about does it. Read, reaview if you see fit, all feedback is apreciated, good and bad!

Without further delay... Enjoy! (I hope! :D)

"John?" Alice asked in a small voice, motioning to her new fiancé, who promptly joined her at the railing of the ship.

"What is it, dear?" A sudden flash of recognition lit her mind at the word. Some inkling, perhaps, of an old friend? Someone who had called her 'dear'… not her mother or sister, or Hamish (thank the Lord), or maybe… maybe it was 'dear girl'? Why was this happening so often now? Half remembered moments, half seen visions…

"Take a look here, John." She pointed toward the fast approaching docks of London. "Tell me if you don't see, somewhere near the front of the crowd, someone with dreadfully red hair? I know it's none of my affair, but tell me if you don't."

He peered through the crowd for a few moments, before answering to the negative. "Don't fret though, love." He added at her distraught expression, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Those Scots are new to England, and they'll be marked from miles away."

He offered a laugh, but Alice didn't respond. Something about that rang true… An accent, maybe?

The memories began tumbling over eachother again, jostling for the spotlight: A voice, half heard… A face… A smile… Eyes, dancing with laughter. But, wait, what color eyes?! She searched her mind frantically, but the vision was lost.

In her head, she cursed fervently, and blushed lightly because of it. John noticed. "My dear, you're pink in the face. What ever is the matter with you lately?"

She turned her face away so he wouldn't see the lie in her eyes. "I'm just glad to be going home."

"Fair bet, love." She still cringed a little at the title. "I've some work to attend to before we dock. Are your bags quite packed?"

"Ready in my cabin."

"Excellent. Then I'll bring all our things up when I come. I'll see you ashore." He turned her face to him and kissed her gently on the forehead before turning and heading below.

Alice didn't waste a thought on what he was doing so near to home. She was too busy wondering if she really had gone mad this time. All the best people were that way, of course… there it was again! That flash… frightfully red hair… pale skin… nothing. She cursed again, and returned her gaze to the crowds as the ship bumped lightly against the dock, and she was home.

As John had promised to see to the bags, she sprinted quickly off the ship, blessing the English ground as her feet touched it for the first time in three years.

Mother and Margaret didn't miss a moment, and were there nearly as soon as she was, and she was swept into one embrace after another, until John joined them and she made the introductions, and then it was time for more greeting.

Just as Margaret began to question the couple on the wedding details, Alice caught sight, again, of the wild red that had grabbed her eye before.

There, peering at her between the happy families and people standing about with nothing better to do, was a man of a fairly average height, garbed simply enough in items which wouldn't have matched wherever in the English countryside he went (though the clothes struck a familiar chord within her chest). His skin was remarkably pale, in fact even in the winter here, when everyone was drawn and grey for the lack of sun, he stood out. His hair of course, brighter orange than she'd honestly thought possible, only served to accent the above trait.

Her mind exploded with the feeling of familiarity, though she still couldn't put a name to the face, or think where on earth she'd have met such a queer-looking fellow.

None the less, she knew she knew him from someplace, so when he turned and began to melt into the crowd, she didn't waste a thought before mumbling something to her mother and sprinting after the strange figure.

Despite his significant head-start, Alice knew London like the back of her own hand, even the docks, and within minutes they were well away from the crowd, on one of the old side-streets, the silence interrupted only by the occasional dogcart.

"Wait! Please, stop." She called out breathlessly, her lungs aching slightly.

He slowed, as if unsure, and then turned, a defeated expression on his ice-white face.

Then, she caught sight of his eyes for the first time: Impossibly, unnaturally, frighteningly green, locking with hers, burning emerald into her very soul. It came crashing back then, and she found it a wonder she didn't altogether collapse as the memories, one by one, pounded through her mind. One word screamed through her head, so loudly it was a miracle it didn't escape her lips: Hatter.

She was feeling a bit ill now, but her eyes were still locked with his, unable to tear herself free from those two burning jewels, afraid if she looked away, she'd forget again.

"Have you forgotten me again, Ms. Kingsleigh?" He asked cordially – if with an edge of sadness –, with a tip of his hat.

"No," She placed a hand over her hammering heart. "No, Hatter, not at all!" She paused, still trying to regain her breath. Then, "What on earth are you doing here?" She breathed, not moving from where she stood, covering her joy thoroughly.

"Well, I thought perhaps I might get a 'hello' before I had to talk business. Of course, I never have quite understood you, but by the same measure I suppose…"

He was rambling again. "Hatter!" She said firmly, with just an edge of laughter. The response was automatic, thoughtless.

"Right. Sorry. Quite sorry."

"You can't be here." She stated.

"Well, when you first showed to my tea-table three years ago you couldn't slay the Jabberwocky, either." He countered.

"You shouldn't be here." She continued.

He felt a distinct need to change the subject. "Anyway, my apologies for putting you to such a run. We madmen can be quite trying."

She laughed warmly then, her cold mask shattering, bouncing forward to throw her arms around his neck. The Hatter awkwardly returned the embrace, stumbling back a step or two, and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"I hope you know I'll have to push you back down the Rabbit Hole. Underlanders can't be here any more than Overlanders can be there." She noted, wondering if that was quite the right terminology, and taking a step back to asses her friend's appearance. He looked just the same as ever, if a bit more tea-stained, perhaps a shade paler.

"I've found you to be quite correct there, my dear girl." Ah, there it is, Alice thought. "Come to think of it, as I don't think of much these days," A soft smile touched her lips at that, "How came you to recognize me? After leaving Underland and so much time having elapsed, I'll confess I see no logical reason."

"Really, Hatter you give yourself no credit. You'll have to do one worse than saving one countless times despite the self-sacrifice if you don't want a person to know you when you meet again." She chided gently.

"You didn't remember to start." He countered.

"I remembered, I just didn't know where from."

"I'm glad you remember, of course." He added quickly.

"Besides," She added, taking his face gently in both her hands as she had in the Red Queen's castle once, seemingly long before, "I told you I'd remember this time." She tilted her head prettily to the side, and he caught one of her hands gently in his as she dropped them.

"I believe, dear girl, that you are quite as mad as myself."

She grinned earnestly, fixing a particularly wayward strand of his hair as she quoted, "But all the best people are."