After
the
F
A
L
L
She remembers falling, falling, falling and landing with a thud that belies the length of the fall. Lights in her face, a voice halfway familiar, a soft grunt of pain as hands touch her—touch her where her bruises are still healing. Then black night, darker than any she's ever known, as sleep claims her addled mind.
Dreams are fleeting and strange—a mash-up of times here and there, here and there being places that she doesn't quite remember, separate but similar, different and the same. She's there and it's strange and it's not and there are crippling heights and a man with kind eyes and she's always in danger, but she's not because he's there. And then she's here and here is different and she doesn't like here because it's flat and boring and same and there's a man who lies and has affection in his gaze, but it's muted and cold and she just doesn't like here. He isn't here and she's not in danger, but she is because there's something missing and where's the hat?
Where's the hat?
She's cold. She's very, very cold because her arms are bare and she gave the jacket back. Why did she give the jacket back? Without the jacket, they can see her mark. The glow, he'd called it. If they see the mark, the glow, she won't get home. But she is home, and she doesn't have the jacket and she's so very, very cold and she just wants to go back to when he looked at her with eyes that told her she wouldn't fall. But his eyes lied, because she did. She fell and fell and fell and now she's home where he isn't and it's so cold and he's not here to tell her that he'll make sure she's okay.
There's an insistent beeping sound, similar to her alarm, but not quite there because it doesn't shut off and it's too slow. She wants it to stop so she can retreat, back to the world where he was leaning toward her and her luck was finally changing and they were so, so, so close except this time they made it and it was beautiful and heartbreaking and happening. But the sound won't go away and she shakes her head, wanting the world to just stop moving so much and give her a chance to catch up. She's been gone and wants to stay gone and where is the hat?
Eyes flutter and open and the light hurts. It was always kind of dark there, except when it was light, and she preferred the dim to the bright. The bright of that place… with the people and the emotions and guns going off and someone dying. Someone she knows that isn't her or maybe it is her and she doesn't know it. A part of her? Someone dies and they take a part of her and that part is gone and she's so very, very cold. And the bright is too much and she doesn't like it. She blinks and blinks and it gets dimmer and she sees a face, but it isn't the face she wants.
"Alice?"
And she's awake and she's alive and it's her mother's face smiling down at her. But she can't smile, even as the older woman greets her and are those tears? She can't tell because it's dimmer, but it's too bright and still she wonders, where is the hat? Her mother doesn't wear a hat and neither does she and where did that question come from anyway? And faces flash before her eyes, faces that shouldn't be there and was it all a dream?
"He's gone," she says, because he is. There is no hat and there is no Dad and there's only Mom and her and too bright. She's not wearing the jacket because she gave it back and what's she wearing now, anyway? It isn't the blue dress. It's papery and scratchy and she doesn't like it. She doesn't like it. She liked the jacket, so why'd she give it back? Would she still have it if she'd kept it? That was the logic, right? If she'd kept it, she'd still have it. But she wouldn't, would she?
"Who's gone?" asks her mother.
She wants to answer, but she can't. Who's gone? Someone she knows. He was dead and then he wasn't and he saved her, and then what happened? His arms were around her and it was home. And there was another home, in another pair of arms, different, but the same. And he saved her, too, but then he died. And he's the one who's gone, isn't he? But aren't they all gone? Dad and the hat and the old man and Jack. Jack. What happened to Jack? More importantly, where is the hat?
Where's the hat and the face underneath it with the kind eyes that didn't mean to lie about not falling? She opens her mouth to say his name, but what comes out is, "Dad."
And she's crying and her mother is comforting her and she's wrapped up in a pair of arms that are almost home. But almost home isn't good enough and she wants to keep what she found, but it's all gone. It's all gone.
"You gave me such a fright," Mom tells her, smiling sadly down into her eyes. She still can't smile (why can't she smile?) and can't meet her eyes, either. Because it's all so surreal and she still can't believe she's home and he's gone and they're all gone and she wonders if she'll ever find the hat.
She asks how long she was gone. Her mother tells her an hour. And she wishes she didn't believe it, she wishes she could prove that it was all real. But the mark, the glow, is gone and so is Dad and the hat and even Jack isn't around to help her remember. And she really shouldn't be so upset because she got the chance to say goodbye but she lies in the hospital bed that night and wonders why she had to wake up.
She doesn't need to track him anymore, she decides. She doesn't need to look for the father that died but didn't. The first thing she does after walking into the house is head to her room where everything is the same but different, because it's been so long even though it hasn't. She feels old and young as she carefully takes out the pins and tucks them away for the next adventure, smiles as she places a carefully sorted and banded deck of cards in the old hat box. There is no hat and it makes her sad, but she supposes that, after much chocolate and cream cake, she'll eventually move on.
Her mother is confused, but then she never remembers her dreams, anyway, not the way Alice does. And someday she'll be comfortable enough to explain what happened and why she insisted on rescuing the mirror from that old building. Because dreams may be dreams, but their effects are real and Alice will never forget the eyes under the hat, the eyes that didn't mean to lie and made her feel safe when she was constantly in danger.
She rolls up the map as carefully as she can, preparing herself to meet this man who saved her. She'll thank him politely and then lock herself in her room and cry some more, she thinks. It's as good a plan as any and maybe she'll be able to smile at her mother over dinner tonight if she gets the tears out first. And maybe, just maybe, she'll mean it when she says she's grateful that he brought her home safe.
She almost doesn't look at his face. Almost. She doesn't really want to meet him, doesn't really want to thank him for taking away everything she found, all the things she thought she wanted and didn't know she needed. But a doddering old man, not unlike the one that still sings songs in her ears, once said that it doesn't do to dwell on dreams. And so she looks up.
There is no hat. But there are the eyes that didn't know they were lying when they told her she wouldn't fall. The lips that formed the smile that told her that she would be okay, so long as she stuck close and hung on tight. She wishes she'd hung on tighter. But he's still here and she's still here and suddenly here isn't such a bad place to be anymore because it wasn't a dream.
"Hatter!" she cries and she doesn't remember racing across the floor, but she's here in his arms and it's home. She's safe, she's secure, she's home because this is where she belongs and she'll never, never let go because if she does, he'll disappear and it will truly be over. She grips him tight, as tight as she can, and his voice is the most glorious sound she's ever heard as it ghosts into her ear, because it means that it was all real.
"Finally," he says and she closes her eyes as she lets the word penetrate. Finally. Not who are you or um, hello, there or even Alice, that kind of hurts. Just… finally.
She smiles. She smiles, smiles, smiles, can't stop smiling, even as she speaks. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she tells him. And he doesn't, because however much time must have passed between the time she left and the time he came, he will never know how much it hurt to think that he was just a dream. He pulls back and she does, too, and she can see… something in his eyes.
And then he kisses her. There isn't an almost to wedge its way between them and there certainly isn't a Jack and it's just so… and he's just so… It's more than beautiful and it's more than heartbreaking and it's more than happening. It's so real and he's so real and she's so happy and he pulls away for the barest second to tell her that he missed her. And it doesn't occur to her to ask the question that's been haunting her since she first woke up until she's nearly out of breath.
"Where," she begins before he kisses the word away. "Is the hat?"
He smiles into her mouth and pulls away to show her the hat that's been in his hand this entire time. And she laughs, because she knew that if she found the hat, she'd find the man that it belonged to, and the arms that were home and the eyes that never really lied, because she fell and he caught her and he said he'd make sure that she was okay.
a/n: I couldn't help myself. After reading sooooo many Hatter fics about after Alice leaves, I felt the need to visit Alice after she fell. It's only natural, right? :) Please, tell me whether you enjoyed it or not.
Love,
Beth.