So, here's the chapter, on time! (Encouraging for the future, isn't it?) I've figured out my new process, and it's working out fairly well- I even believe it may have made this my longest chapter yet. Notice I may have mispronounced the name of the Mad Hatter's signature dance move- since I didn't know how to spell it or say it, I decided to have one of the children be the one to actually say it so you could take the misspelling as the kid's mispronunciation. Otherwise- I hope this wasn't that bad. It felt, once I was done, like another filler chapter, but I promise you, this is my step towards chapters with progression- after this, things will get REAL…. And noting that, it may be a while before my next update. But I really feel like I'm doing good with this new method, we'll see. There may be typos, cause I have homework and studying to do that I'm putting off, but I wanted to go ahead and put this out there.

Disclaimer: I don't own any person, place, thing, or noun in this work. I do own Knife Tamer and Fourteen, but who cares about them? Just the poor writer at home who wants to eventually do her own original works…Whatever, no money is made from this anyways.

The Hatter thought for a few moments, but with a decided shrug, kicked the boy who had tackled him right in the stomach. There was not as much force as there looked, but he still floated upwards with a grunt. He needed a moment to regain his focus- didn't this ugly man understand that? It seemed everyone had bad form nowadays.

The man reached around in random directions until he'd regained possession of his hat. He straightened himself up and sat Indian style, replacing his head gear with the air of someone who'd gained incredible patience over his lifetime.

"I just try to make friends," he mumbled, staring straight in front of him. "Just wanted to get to know the locals, and little boys decide they want to hurt me. There are many things I could do, many things… but what I should do…"

"Hey, old man!" Pan growled. "Stop mumbling to yourself and fight."

The Hatter blinked, returning to reality, and leaned leisurely to the side to dodge a kick Peter aimed at his head.

"Oh!" he frowned, as if only just noticing Peter now spinning overhead from the force of his missed blow. "Let's move on, then. I am Tarrant Hightopp, usually known as the Hatter. People call me mad, but most of the time, I haven't the slightest idea why." The smile he gave on this point was not very reassuring. "I come from Underland, in search of new alliances for the White Queen."

"I don't care where you're from," Peter righted himself and glared down at the Hatter. Funny, as he usually wanted the information of his new foes. "We have to finish our fight!"

"Peter, wait!" Wendy jumped from the underbrush and darted between he and the foreign visitor. Peter backed off, but groaned at the sky, impatient.

"Wendy-" he whined, more of a disappointed son than Father.

"We can't just charge blindly," Wendy chided defensively. She held her hands up, hoping to steady the head of her adopted family. "He seems to be trying for peace here…"

The Hatter gave a self-important tug at his suit jacket, trying to refocus his straying thoughts. He blinked when a small hand tugged at his sleeve.

"Well, hello, my handsome, undersized person-figure," he gave a crooked smile and crouched to be on eye level with Michael. There was something ghostlike and steady in the way he held his stance. Though he'd made an effort to reduce his size, he looked the child as directly and somewhat coldly as he would have a peer or superior.

"You say you're from Wunderland…" Michael mumbled, uncomfortable on the receiving end of the Hatter's glowing stare.

"Underland," the Hatter corrected. "But that is a rather popular nickname from recent years…"

"Sister Alice is from there too, right?" he ventured, tentatively. "Are you from the same place as Sister Alice?"

The Hatter raised an eyebrow.

"Well… I don't quite know any Sisters, but I do hold dear to myself an Alice. A very nice Alice indeed- probably my favorite Alice of the Alices I've known. And my definite favorite tea guest."

Peter snorted. "Tea guest? She's barely a lady- fancies herself a warrior."

"A warrior? Ah! But that might be the very one!" he scrutinized his surroundings briefly, then decidedly gripped Wendy by the upper arm and pulled her towards him. She grimaced a bit- he wasn't being the gentlest about it. "About the size of this creature?" the Hatter wondered, shoving Wendy this way and that, as if she should cooperate like a rag doll or wax figurine. "An inch or two above or below this height? Head maybe a shade brighter yellow?"

Peter looked slightly confused- this man wasn't doing anything or threatening anything to Wendy, but she didn't look happy, either. He wasn't sure whether he should act the protective father anymore than he was sure what the unwelcome man was asking. Michael, too, looked a tad unsure, but Tink, trusted to show up and be insensitive when the need arose, tinkled a nod in the Hatter's direction. The Hatter tipped his hat politely in thanks, and ushered Wendy out of his bubble without sparing her a second glance.

"Then I shall join your makeshift crew of misfits! It would be a wonderful excuse to charm and bewilder my Alice once more- a privilege I'd never expected to have again. Hmm- must I refer to myself as a sibling now as well, then? Brother Hatter! Not as clean as Mad, but I like it all the same."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hightopp," Wendy tried, twining her fingers nervously. "Um…we have… lost track of Sister Alice. We are out her to find her, actually."

The Hatter's eyes fastened onto Wendy with surprise, as if he'd only just realized she had the ability to speak.

"Missing?" he finally processed, after quite the awkward pause. "Nonsense! I couldn't misplace my Alice, even if she were hidden from me!" With that, the Hatter reached for his belt and unsheathed a long, slender sword from a heretofore unseen belt loop. Wendy pulled Michael behind her and Peter's eyebrows rose. He floated down in the Hatter's face, glaring.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I think I'm being accused of something," the Hatter mumbled, twirling the sword with a practiced hand. "But I also think you should gather your charges because I'm about to be cleaning our way."

"Cleaning what way?" Peter asked, bluntly. "We're following a clear enough trail."

"No, you're not," he smiled, though it grew less friendly and more blank by the moment. "Because Alice is this way, sir!" He pointed his sword towards some thick underbrush nearby and promptly began to slash his way through it. Thoug hhe was starting to mumble in darker, quieter tones, he remained effective at creating a sizable path for his child-counterparts to follow.

Peter exchanged a look with Wendy- neither Father nor Mother was sure about this. So when Tinker jingled a bit irritably, motioning for them to follow, it was the only opinion that had been established and the only one that could be followed.

Knife Tamer and the Trackers (as Alice grew to know they called themselves) proved more comprehensive than Alice had counted on. Though the trip to the camp had been less than hospitable, Alice had been treated pretty well since arriving. It wasn't her bed back home in England, but there was plenty of meat, plenty of space, and a surprising amount of tolerance once they had found the dagger on her person.

They were so comprehensive, in fact, that Alice found herself a little embarrassed.

"You were lost in the forest," the girl whose living quarters she'd been thrown into's tone was very blunt. The living arrangement almost had enough size for the feel of a house, but from the papery structure of the walls and rather bare, simple insides, it was impossible to forget it was a tent.

"You speak English?" had been Alice's genius reply.

"How would we deal with neighboring peoples if we could not converse with them?" she asked reasonably. "Knife Tamer was amused by your messages in the trees- 'A spirited way to ask for help,' he said. It's not easy to get a laugh out of him- that's probably why he's keeping you."

Now completely humbled, Alice wandered the small living space, taking care not to make eye contact with her host. There were a few muted possessions scattered across the thickly grass floor, hidden like she was trying to downplay the fact she had them.

Alice crouched before one particular patch and touched one simple, shining piece of metal.

"You."

The call to attention was so sharp, Alice sat straight up, hands in the air, certain she'd offended someone or something.

The girl was ignoring this, strolling up to her as briskly as was polite.

"Knife Tamer wished for this to be returned to you," she said. She held a nice cloth pouch. The familiar handle of Peter's dagger poked from the fabric.

Alice noticed, as she reached for it, that her host wasn't offering her the handle. In fact, the Indian girl had a fairly firm grip on it, so if the blade hadn't been covered, Alice would have figured she was looking for a fight.

Not to be handled, Alice curled her fingers around the blade, a tad relieved to find the fabric was thicker than it looked, difficult to cut. The girl released it automatically, without a struggle. Alice stared into the girl's blank, apathetic features, processing the lack of feeling. Realizing it was probably fake.

"What's your name?" Alice asked.

"I don't have one yet."

Alice blinked. She'd heard of this rule before, but this girl was living alone-how young was she?

"I am fourteen," she said, cleaning up the remainder of some crafts in a corner.

"Um…your name is Fourteen?" Alice hoped, not quite comfortable with the idea that her face could be read so easily.

"I am fourteen years old," she said, never missing a beat. "But you may call me Fourteen if you wish."

"You should teach me how to Fatterwagon, Hatter!" John said, stumbling along right behind the man.

The Hatter slashed blindly through the trees, never looking back at the child or lowering his sword, but his tone was decently pleasant and consistent, now.

"Maybe on a better occasion," he considered. "Once you've developed you're abilities as a half-owl whodjamawhatsit."

"As a what?"

"Don't listen to him," Peter hovered above the two, glowering bitterly at the Hatter's glinting weapon. "He's nothing but a nasty old man. Once he leads us to Al, he's out."

"I was always sure her name was Alice," was the multihued man's only reply.

"Her name is Alice," Michael muttered indignantly, a few steps back.

"If she wants to be a boy, then she should have a boy's name," Peter shrugged.

"What an odd want to want for such a charming girl,"the Hatter commented, blinking up at the boy. "But I suppose nothing's impossible. In any case, we're here."

Peter glanced haughtily over his head.

"No, we're not."

"I think I know where I'm going," said the foreign hatter.

"This is Knife Tamer's place," Peter explained, voice unwontedly practical and sobered. "We're not welcome on this land."

"Well, then, it's certainly not the best place for our Alice to be stranded, now is it?"

"What makes you so sure she's there, anyway?" Peter countered, rather then thinking through the question. He wasn't in the mood to be guilted into caring for this girl at the moment.

"I'd know the right Alice anywhere," the Mad Hatter grinned. It was the fullest smile he'd given them since appearing. "You can smell her muchness miles away."

Hope you liked it, lovelies. I think I've gotten my writing habits back on track, crossed fingers everyone! Review, please. *Dives reluctantly into piles of homework*