Chapter 4

The sketchy looking rat man led him to a strange storefront with a rolling marquee that read "Tea House".

Hatter sighed with relief. He could kill for a decent cuppa. He hoped that maybe whatever weird place (state? country?) was, they had some quality breakfast tea. He had had one hell of a night, and some tea would go a long way in bring back some normal to his day.

Suddenly, Ratty began rifling through Hatter's clothes.

"Whoa, what d'ya think-" Hatter started, then jumped as the other man ripped off his watch.

"Hey!"

"They see you's an Oyster, you dead." Ratty offered as a highly unsatisfactory explanation.

Still upset about his watch (not that he had paid for it, but he had borrowed it from a friend and had been meaning to return it, you know, eventually), Hatter finally sputtered,"What? Who's they?"

"First, I go. Count ten, then follow. Okay?" Ratty told him, then ran off before Hatter could respond.

"No! Not okay! What's in there?" He yelled after the running figure.

"The One Who Knows!" Ratty shouted back, then dived into the Tea House.

"Knows what?!" Hatter called, but he was too late.

Glancing around to see if there were any other, saner people (there weren't), Hatter rolled his eyes and waited about ten seconds (which he could have counted with his watch, if he still had it) before heading toward the establishment.

Walking in cautiously, Hatter was surprised to find not the common atmosphere of soothing music combined with grumbling machines and polite baristas, but something more like what he imagined Wall Street to be. There was incoherent shouting, seemingly for no reason, and everyone there looked at each other with the encompassing suspicion of attendees at a cannibal convention.

He tried to pick up what people were feeling, but the whole room seemed off. There was Happiness, but it wasn't because someone was pleased. There was Peace, but it felt jittery and stressed. As if these feelings were masks… imitations of the real thing. It made no sense at all.

There was another marquee in here, floating red and yellow words above a snoring man at a podium, but this one only evoked confusion. It showed things like, 'EXCITEMENT +7.3%', 'ECSTACY +0.9%' (was this a drug version of a stock market? Was that even a thing?), and 'HOPE -2.7%'. A man on the far wall was listening to the cacophonous mob and translating them into numbers on a blackboard.

On the other side of the room, a woman was jumping at what looked like rows of jars on shelves while talking to a man next to her, like she was shopping for jewelry or shoes.

Hatter squinted at the jars. Not one looked like any kind of decent tea to him (and yet, he half-remembered having a dream with brightly colored teas) and they were labeled things like 'Lust' and 'Passion'. Perhaps this was where perfume enthusiasts bargained with each other?

A desperate voice caught Hatter's ear. "What d'ya want? What d'ya want?"

Turning, he saw one jumpy-looking man bartering with the cool customer across from him. "I'll give you a half-measure of Hope for it."

"Hope is yesterday's Wonder." The calm man scoffed, tapping his bottle marked 'Desire'.

"C'mon. How about a little bit of Serenity, eh?" The fidgety man seemed to have the other one's attention now.

"How much is a little?"

With a strange combination of care and eagerness, the man pulled out a jar of amber liquid.

The second guy seemed to think that was a sufficient amount. "Okay," he agreed, then reached for it.

"Ah, ah, ah – switch."

The two men slid their bottles to the other with mutual distrust and speedily twisted off the caps to gulp down their prizes.

"Where the hell am-"

Hatter's thought was interrupted by the sharp crack of a gavel.

"I have an important announcement!" A nasally voice came from the mouse-like man (mustached woman?) on the podium. "A new tea has just come on the market! Ever get that guilty feeling? Maybe you abandoned the wife and kids and left them without a crumb to split between them? Or maybe you killed someone – a relative, or a neighbor."

Hatter surreptitiously started looking around at the other people, trying to tell who was a killer and hoping they weren't going to try for him next.

"And it's left that niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach, that's growing little by little into a dull, throbbing pain. Gnawing away at you, undermining your confidence, and making you feel sick, and worthless, and fearful."

Spotting a particularly shifty customer, Hatter took two small steps to the left to get out of his line of vision.

"Well, fear no more!" Mousey announced in a suddenly cheerful voice. "Because Clear Conscience has finally arrived! The latest wonder of wonders, from that remarkable wonder of all wonders, the Hearts Casino!" After giving one last smile, Mousey nodded, then dropped back off to sleep, snoring as the shouting crowd went wild.

Before Hatter could figure out how to escape this looney bin, Ratty reappeared next to him. "This way."

Shaking off a shudder, Hatter followed.

They walked into a strange office, where dirt and plants had replaced carpet, and a lush square of grass clearly marked the territory belonging to whoever was in that large chair that was currently facing away from them.

After a moment of silence, Hatter decided to start the conversation with the one thing he wanted the most.

"Would you 'appen to have a cuppa tea?" He asked, flashing one of his trusty smiles.

Without turning, the chair waited a few seconds, then issued a very firm, "No."

Well, no need to be rude about it, he thought, figured if he couldn't get tea, he might as well try to get information.

"So… who are you? A friend…?"

The chair hesitated, then spun around slowly to reveal a dark-haired girl with a stunning blue dress and blood-red tights paired with purple boots.

Hatter's tone suddenly changed. "I hope," he added, eying her appreciatively. See, this he could work with. Girls loved him.

She shot him a sobering look, then announced, "I'm Lyssa."

Ratty hissed, "She's the One Who Knows."

"Knows what?" He stage-whispered back.

"Everything!"

"Oooooooo." He grinned at her. "Isn't that just part of being a woman? Knowing everythin'?"

To his surprise, his grin had little to no effect. "I know what's worth knowing." She answered, looking at him critically. "Information is a lot more valuable here than money."

She stood suddenly. "For instance, how did you break out of the Scarab?"

"What, the beetle thing? I punched it and… fell."

Lyssa raised a dark eyebrow skeptically.

Hatter coughed. He wasn't getting anywhere with her. Perhaps something more… direct.

"As you can see, I'm drenched." He gestured to his clothes and offered an innuendo-laden smile.

It was met with a single nod of acknowledgement.

Damn, this bird was really making him doubt the legendary power of his charm. She wasn't like the rabbit man, who felt sort of like a slippery stone when Hatter tried to get a read on him, or the people out there with the counterfeit feelings. She had emotions, but they were clamped down so hard, they could have been behind a bank vault for all the good they were doing him.

"Look, this place, where… What is it?" He asked, still put off balance by her refusal to be buttered up. He took professional pride in his buttering skills, but she seemed to be completely unbutterable.

She offered a small, humorless smile. "Wonderland."

Now Hatter's eyebrows rose. "That's a story in a kid's book." Granted, it was his favorite kid's book, but still… Maybe she was messing with him.

He glanced up to see her blue eyes turn very hard. "Does this look like a kid's story to you?"

It was so faint, he might have imagined it, but he thought he detected a trace of Bitterness slip out into her voice.

Remembering the desolate land, the desperate people, and looking at this hardened woman before him, there was a very clear answer.

"No."

Lyssa swallowed and turned away, the Bitterness once again under control. "It's changed a lot since then."

Hatter blinked. "You're sayin' it was real?"

She walked toward him purposefully. "Oysters don't know how to find it, so they tell themselves that it doesn't exist, and everyone would like to keep it that way." Once she reached him, she started looking him over critically, clearly displeased at what she found.

"Hold on a mo', why'm I an Oyster?" He asked, still unsure how much of an insult that term was.

She ignored him. "Where is your mark?"

"Wot?"

"Your mark." She repeated in an irritated tone. "Oysters turn green when burnt by the light of the Scarab. It's how the Suits brand their catch." There was that hint of Bitterness, back again.

"I… look, there was a light, earlier, but as soon as I saw it, I ran off. No burns, no… green things."

Glaring at him as if he was at fault for not having whatever mark she was talking about, Lyssa was about to march back to her desk when Ratty interrupted.

"But, he's Hatter! Tell her who you are." He nudged Hatter in a way that was far too familiar for his tastes.

Lyssa froze.

"Really?" If it was possible, Hatter thought her voice was even more tightly controlled than before. She turned, then studied him intensely.

"The Harbinger?" She said, and was that a whiff of Fear he just got?

"Sorry, who?"

Both Ratty and Lyssa stared at him, then Lyssa explained, "Legend has it that the last Hatter was a… guardian, I suppose you could say, of…" Here she stopped, as if she couldn't quite say what came next.

"Of Alice!" Ratty interjected gleefully. "The Alice!"

"Alice?" Hatter repeated.

Ratty leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "The Alice of Legend! The one who brought down the whole House of Cards!"

Lyssa shot Ratty a pointed glare (glad to see he wasn't the only one getting those), then went on, "It's believed that the next Hatter signaled the return of Alice, and said she'd…" there was that hesitation again, "put Wonderland to rights."

Swinging around to look at Ratty, she argued, "He can't be the Hatter," She met Hatter's eyes briefly, then turned away. "The Queen had the whole family killed. There's no Hatters left in Wonderland, everyone knows that."

Hatter's heart clenched. The Queen of this place killed an entire family? What kind of country was this?

"I still want a good price." Ratty insisted.

"Whoa, I am not for sale!" (Despite that one time in Queens where a rather aggressive cougar offered him a very nice sum to be her date to her ex-husband's wedding, he did not appreciate being bargained for.)

"Information?" Lyssa asked, completely ignoring Hatter (which was beginning to feel quite hurtful, if he was honest).

Ratty shook his head. "Tea." His eyes lit up feverishly.

Lyssa let out a quiet breath of disapproval, then walked to her desk, warning, "Not on the grass," in a commanding tone when Ratty tried to follow her. She began writing on a pad of paper. "Tell Dormie I said you can have one bottle of Exhilaration."

"What's that do?" Ratty asked in anticipation.

Putting on a smile that Hatter could see was forced, Lyssa walked forward. "That, Ratty, makes you feel the excitement of fifty Oysters, all drained just so you can taste what it feels like to win, just once." There was a sense of mockery to her words, but Ratty grabbed the paper in her outstretched hand and ran like he had won the lottery.

"Oysters were drained?" Hatter repeated. "What d'you mean 'drained'?"

Lyssa started, as though she had forgotten he was there, then offered him another humorless smile. "That's why they call you Oysters, because of all the shiny little pearls you carry inside."

"Pearls?"

Lyssa returned to her carpet of grass and started sorting through papers. "Ratty tells me you're looking for someone." He started, guiltily, as he realized he hadn't even thought of Charlotte since he'd entered the Tea Shop.

"Her name is Charlotte Chase." At least, he thought it was Chase, but he didn't want to give Lyssa a reason for another shriveling glare. "She was taken by a man in a gray suit with a white rabbit on his lapel."

The papers stilled, and Hatter saw her jaw clench for an instant as the unmistakable scent of Hate filled the air.

"I see." And as quickly as it had appeared, the Hate was gone. Hatter had to admit, he was impressed at how well she could control her emotions. Usually he had a whole slew of feelings to sort through, and the more he focused on someone, the easier it was to sense what they felt. But with her, he got the slightest hints, the barest whiffs, and then, poof, they were gone.

"The White Rabbit is an organization controlled by the Suits. They travel back and forth through the Looking Glass and vanish people from your world to this one."

That at least explained the mirror in the construction site. But the thing that he still couldn't figure out was…"Why?"

"To use. In the casino." She answered distractedly.

"Use?" Why did he feel like all he could do was repeat things he was an echo? (Least he wasn't the Echo… would that make her Narcissus?)

"Oh don't worry. They're fine. They keep them alive and…" The corner of her eye twitched, "moderately happy."

There was something going on under that tight lid, but Hatter couldn't quite get a handle on it, which was starting to feel like a direct challenge to his acclaimed powers of persuasion.

"Well, how do I get there?" He asked, relieved to have at least one clear goal.

Lyssa looked up. "You don't." Her tone brooked no argument. "Too dangerous."

But Hatter was nothing if not contrary.

"Look, I have to, alright? I need to get her out of whatever…" He looked around for an appropriate description, "loony bin this is!"

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you." She turned away and went back to her papers while standing in front of her desk.

"C'mon!" Sighing, Hatter paused. Perhaps this wasn't the best method.

Changing his voice, he started sauntering over to where Lyssa was leaning against her table. "I'm sure a… talented girl like yourself must have resources at your disposal."

She whirled around, brow furrowed.

Hatter smiled his crooked grin, taking a moment to appreciate how close he was to her. "You know, one of the privileges of being the One Who Knows. I'm sure you have ways to get people to… help." He popped the 'p', just to see how tightly she was wound.

The wave of Distrust and Suspicion that rolled off her nearly drowned him.

Yikes. Very tightly wound. Like a Hare-In-The-Box that's one turn away from exploding.

"Lighten up." He muttered, stepping back.

"Look, even if I could get you to the casino – and I'm not saying I can – I don't know you. Maybe you're telling the truth, and maybe you aren't. But I can't be sure, so I'm sorry, but I can't help you."

Clearly meaning that last phrase as a dismissal, Lyssa walked back to her chair and sat down, pointedly focused on the items on her desk.

Stunned, Hatter could only stare. For the first time in his entire life, his charm had no effect whatsoever, and he wasn't sure what to do next. The fact that she didn't trust him even the tiniest bit rather wounded him, if he was honest.

Wait, that was it! Honesty! He'd always said, the best lies are the truth.

"Oh. I see. You don't trust me. Fine! I am genuinely hurt." He pouted loudly. Lyssa slowly glanced up, clearly unconvinced.

"D'you know why they call me Hatter?"

Her eyes flicked up to his straw porkpie. "Because you wear a hat?"

Hatter opened his mouth to argue, then realized that was true. He did wear a hat. Clever bird. But that wasn't the point he was trying to make.

"No." He lied, making a mental note to work that pithy comeback into a pickup line at a later date. "It's because I'm always there when they pass the hat. So to speak. Philanthropy. Generosity. I mean, call it what you will, it's who I am and right now, there's nothing I want more than to find…" he was so focused on using every ounce of charisma he had that he nearly forgot the blonde who had started all this' name, "Charlotte," he emphasized once he had remembered, in case Lyssa somehow knew why he paused. "And get us both back to the world where this is just a charming children's story." He finished with his arms outstretched in a silent plea in order to complete the performance.

She gave him a measuring look that he was really starting to dislike, then seemed to make her decision.

"Okay, look, I know some people who… know some other people, who like to help Oysters. But let me warn you – if you think this is a frying pan, then out there is the fire."

Relieved that she had finally given in (good thing too – he was starting to think she could actually see through him, and wasn't that a chilling thought!), he nodded emphatically with the biggest grin he could manage. "Got it. You scratch their backs, they scratch yours…" Even her furrowed brows couldn't dampen his mood. "Lots o' scratchin'!" He beamed.

Rolling her eyes, she motioned at a side door. "There are clothes in there. No use sneaking around if the Suits can track you by following the sewer smell."

He frowned at her, then gave his shirt a secretive whiff. Okay, maybe she had a point.

Resolved not to give up his hat, no matter how it reeked, he wandered around the storage closet, which also had a grass floor. A cheerful maroon shirt with paisleys caught his eye, and he soon found some corduroy pants that matched well. He nabbed a leather jacket that fit him like an old friend, and once he discovered some shoes that fit, he started for the door, hand brushing along the line of hanging clothes beside him. Suddenly, he stopped, then slowly backtracked until his hand met the fabric that had called to him before.

It was a soft, feminine jacket in a fetching shade of purple that complimented his new duds, as well as a tie that had gone hitherto unnoticed on a lonely hanger. He couldn't help but imagine what it would look like on Lyssa. It felt like it suited her, somehow.

As he adjusted the tie, he stared at the jacket some more, until he shrugged and decided to risk it. He draped it gently over his arm, then went out to the main grassy room.

Lyssa glanced up when he entered, then looked back at her papers before realizing what she had seen. She brought her head up, blinked at him a few times, then asked, "What the hell are you wearing?"

Stung, he looked down at himself. There wasn't a mirror in the closet, but he'd always had a knack for choosing the right clothes for the occasion, and he was offended Lyssa seemed to think otherwise.

"New clothes. Like you said."

She opened her mouth to speak, then clearly thought the better of it. Shaking her head, she stood up and moved toward the door that Hatter had come through with Ratty. Catching glimpse of the jacket, Lyssa stopped and asked, "What is that?"

Hatter smiled. Time to add a few more points in his favor. "This is for you." He offered her the jacket rather gallantly, if he did say so himself.

"Are you trying to give me something from my own closet?" The raised eyebrow of skepticism was back.

Now, she made it sound like he had nicked it from a starving orphan!

"Just thought you might be cold is all," he tried to say nonchalantly while still studying her reaction.

Her bright blue eyes darted from him to the jacket, then she reached toward it slowly. When he made no movement at all, for all the world like she was a stray cat who'd scratch him so much as look at him, she shrugged it on and flipped her hair out from under it.

Count that as a victory for Hatter! He thought proudly to himself.

Resuming her path towards the door, Lyssa suddenly stopped as the roar of the crowd drifted through the frame.

"Suits will be watching the front," she muttered, then looked hesitantly at the door to the right of her desk. Hatter caught a strong sense of Fear before she straightened her shoulders and marched toward the back door.

He was still trying to figure out why it was only the back door that made her afraid when he heard Lyssa order him in clipped tones, "Try and keep up."

Here goes nothin', he thought, and down the ladder he went.