All Alice wanted was her room and her bed. She wanted to lie down and never move, never have to remember or think about the man who’d stolen her heart. Again. She almost crawled up the last flight of stairs, shaking the knob with weary hands. It was locked.
She frowned and patted her body. She was wearing the cami and shorts she’d worn the first night. No purse, which meant no keys and no cell phone. And it was late.
She didn’t want anyone to see her like this, her face all puffy from crying. Tabby had told her once she was an ugly crier. It was true. Her nose always got cherry red at the tip, and her eyes would turn puffy and purple.
Exhausted, annoyed, she kicked the door and then headed back down. She’d walk to the shop. Maybe Tabby was still there.
She grabbed her head. It was throbbing again. Somehow, and she couldn’t even remember doing it, she walked the three blocks to her storefront. Waikiki was dark, with few stragglers around. It had to be well past midnight, but things didn’t slow down until at least two or three in the morning.
“Dammit!” She sobbed, the tears started back up again. Last thing she wanted was to be locked out all night. She wanted to sleep, to forget him, to forget that. To forget it all.
In frustration, she yanked on the door and yelped when it gave way, nearly causing her to fall down as she stumbled through.
“Alice!” Tabby’s cry was unmistakable and filled with panic.
“Tabby?” She looked around the dark room and finally saw a small movement slip away from shadow.
Then arms were crushing her and she was crying loud. “I knew it, I knew you’d come back here. Alice, where the hell have you been?”
Tabby clung to her so hard she could barely breathe. Wanting to kick herself all sorts of stupid, only just realizing she’d been gone three days. They’d all probably been sick with worry.
“I...” She pulled a blank, not knowing what to say. Who would believe this story? She wouldn’t believe this story if she hadn’t lived it. “I’m fine.” She laughed, trying to play it off, and disentangled Tabby’s arms from around her neck.
Tabby growled. She walked to the wall, flipped on the light switch, and pointed at her. “How dare you leave like that? How dare you.” Her brown eyes were thin slits, and Alice had never seen Tabby so angry. Vibrating with it. She looked like hell too.
Her eyes were puffy and dark, like she hadn’t slept in months.
“Do you know how hard it’s been running this place without you? Wondering if you were dead or alive? Your mom has been crazy with grief.”
She laughed. “Jeez, Tabs, I’ve only been gone three days. I’m sorry but...”
Her eyes widened. “Three days! Try three months, you asshole! Three months!”
“Shut up. Don’t be stupid.” She laughed, but Tabby didn’t crack a smile. In fact, she didn’t even blink. She walked up to Alice, grabbed her shoulders, and shook. Panic was so thick on her that Alice felt it choking the breath from her lungs like smoke from a fire. “Tabs?”
Her lips wobbled, and Alice could see she had a hard time swallowing. “Three months, Alice.”
Her knees suddenly gave out on her, but thankfully Tabby anticipated that reaction and pulled a chair out just in time. She plopped onto it, grabbing her head. It was splitting, and each time she swallowed, she tasted metal on her tongue.
Alice shook.
Tabby dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around her waist, and held her tight. Hot tears soaked the front of her shirt. But Alice was cold. Calm. She knew.
The pain in her head, the visions. She closed her eyes. The loss of time.
“It’s back, isn’t it, Tabby?”
“Oh Alice, Alice.” She repeated her name like a litany. “Best doctors. Best care. We’ll catch it in time.”
Empty words. Three months. That was a long time. The longest blackout ever. They both knew. The tumor was back.
She should be crying. But there was nothing there now. She was empty. Devoid. And a part of her had suspected when she’d told him her story. It was back. She closed her eyes, remembering dark brown eyes that made her want to melt at his feet. Made her want to forget this world.
Something wet slid from her nose, and when she brushed the back of her hand against it, a red streak smeared her hand and the strong scent of blood filled her head.
Had it only been a dream?
***
The doctors had done all they could. But the tumor was too large, too deep, and two weeks later, she battled for life. Wonderland was a fairy tale that no longer existed for her in the new reality of doctors and cancer. In a matter of days, she’d become an emaciated skeleton. Doctors had been shocked at her rapid decline. Even she’d been amazed, as if the three months she’d been missing and healthy suddenly spun time forward the moment she’d set foot back on Earth. She was skin and bones, with nothing but a few stray hairs on her head. She looked dead already.
She’d had a dream last night, one where she’d called his name and he’d screamed hers in return. It’d been wonderful, but too soon she’d woken up, and now the pleasure was pain.
Tabby grabbed her hand. “This room’s so much nicer than the last one,” she said with a weak grin. “Yellow too.” She pointed to the walls. “Your favorite color. Yup.” She nodded. “I like this one.”
“It’s okay, Tabs.” Her voice was weak. She was so tired, so very tired. It was time, and she was ready. But first she had to let them know it was okay. “I’m dying. And it’s okay.”
Tabby’s beautiful face twisted up into an ugly mask, and she pressed a white tissue to her face as the silent cry wracked her body. “I love you, Alice. You know that, right? Sisters?”
Alice smiled. “The best.”
Beany—a.k.a. Mr. HPD—grabbed Tabby’s shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. Alice closed her eyes. Tabby would be okay—she’d found her man. They were going to marry next year. For a second it hurt, hurt so bad Alice’s jaw trembled. They’d have beautiful kids, a beautiful life.
Tabby wiped her nose with a tissue. She glanced at Beany, then back down at Alice. “You should know we’ve renamed the shoppe. It’s now going to be called Alice and Hatter’s Cupcakery and Tea Shoppe.”
Tears lodged in her throat. She wouldn’t cry. It would kill Tabby to think she didn’t love it. She did—it was a comfort to know in a small way she’d always be a part of the place that’d brought her so much joy.
Alice had opened her mouth to say thanks when a stab of pain shot down her spine and broke her out in a clammy sweat. She hissed.
“Does it hurt, sweetie?” Her mother’s voice was soft as she gently pushed Tabby aside to grab Alice’s hand. Alice nodded, fighting the nausea, the need to puke up food she’d not eaten in days. Her mother’s hands were warm. Loving.
The machine beeped as her mother increased her dose of pain medicine. It wasn’t enough, never enough to fully blunt it. She trembled when the worst of it passed, opening weary eyes.
Her mother’s face, lined with wrinkles but so like her own, smiled down at her. Alice closed her eyes. Doctors said it would be any day now. They kept saying that. Kept whispering, thinking she couldn’t hear, but she heard.
A part of her wanted to go now. But something kept her hanging on. More than the dreams of him, more than the memory still as clear as a picture in her mind. She had to wait, and so she did, astonishing her doctors, family, and friends. But soon she wouldn’t be able to hang on.
Alice took a rattling breath. The cancer metastasized on a daily basis. It was in her lungs, blood, spleen, kidneys, you name it... it was there. At first doctors had suggested surgery, but she knew it would be like trying to put a Band-Aid on an arterial bleed. Useless. Eventually, the doctors had decided to “control the pain.” She’d known what that meant: it was over. No more hope.
“Alice.” Her mother rubbed her fingers over Alice’s bald brows. “Tutu is here. She wants to speak with you.”
Since returning, Alice had refused to meet with her great-grandmother. Not because she was still angry, but because seeing her would make her remember him.
“Please talk with her,” her mother pleaded. “She’s old and travels down here every day only for you to say no.”
Alice didn’t say anything but gave a gentle nod. Her mother gave a swift smile, glanced over her shoulder, and nodded.
“Love you, Alice,” Tabby whispered, leaned in, and gave her a kiss on the cheek as Alice’s father wheeled her great-grandmother into the room.
Her frail great-grandmother—covered in wrinkles and liver spots—looked the epitome of health compared to her. Filmy brown eyes studied her. Tutu let out a heavy sigh.
Alice looked up at the ceiling, unable to meet Tutu’s scrutiny.
“The fairy—” Tutu began.
Alice sucked in a breath.
“She came to you.” It wasn’t a question but a statement.
Alice’s heart bled anew. She bit her bottom lip as the tears she’d refused to cry in front of Tabby finally came. She nodded.
Tutu was near blind, but even so, Alice felt that heavy gaze to the depths of her soul. “Go back. Call her to you and go back, Kuuipo. Wonderland will heal you. Will save you.”
Alice let the tears fall, uncaring who saw them. “I... I can’t. Wonderland said no.” She sucked in a hard breath, trying in vain to fill lungs that refused to fully inflate.
Tutu patted her hand. Her skin was so soft. “They did this to you. They owe you.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Hatter didn’t do this. Neither did Danika. My. Time.” She huffed, no energy left in her body to feel anger, spite, or jealousy toward the woman who’d ruined Hatter for so long.
Tutu’s lips pressed into a thin slash, and for a moment Alice saw the stubborn jaw, the legendary angry glint in her eyes.
“I... I loved him. Won’t go back.” She sucked air, needing to get this out, working harder than she’d worked in days but knowing she had to tell someone the truth. “Not for healing. Never want him to think it wasn’t for... love.”
It was out, and maybe that’s what she’d been holding out for, because now Alice was tired—dead tired, ready to let go.
“Love him... so much.” The last words ended on a ragged whisper.
***
Danika had to find her. Alice had to know the truth. Why Hatter hadn’t followed. How it’d been the Hatter and not her that’d needed to confess his love.
Her wings fluttered. Maybe there was still hope. Danika waved her wand with a jerk, transporting herself back to Earth. She would fix this.
The briny smell of ocean water greeted Danika as she stepped through dimensions. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze. People shuffled about and kids squealed, running through Waikiki’s waves. Earth wasn’t all bad.
But when she walked past the bakery, she frowned. The lights were off and the store empty. It was only midday.
Danika knocked on the door. No one came. She wiggled the lock. It didn’t budge.
A friendly face poked out of the neighboring building. A petite Asian woman with kind brown eyes smiled at her. “Girl not here,” she said in a gentle lilt.
Shocked, she pointed. “But they just opened.”
The old woman nodded. “Yes. Very sad. Girl sick. Very bad sick. She go hospital. No long time left.” She shook her head; a tiny frown tipped her mouth.
Her heart clenched. “Which one?”
She scratched her head. “Queens. She no long left.” She tsked. “Good girl, good cake. Too bad.” With one final shake of her head, she walked back into her shop.
Finding Queen’s Center was easy—finding Alice’s room was not. She walked down hallway after hallway, asking if anyone knew of Alice Hu. Finally a kindly nurse pointed her to the front desk. But Danika wasn’t family and wasn’t allowed access.
She frowned, knowing there had to be a way. The very rude young man turned his back, and she smiled. Danika turned invisible, glanced at the computer screen, and finally located Alice’s room. Room 5A, ICU.
The moment she walked through the halls and heard the quiet hush of death, she knew it was very, very bad.
Each room held a sad scene. People around a bed, machines beeping and whirring, sustaining a life that would end in days or weeks.
The sterile hallways made her want to run away. Her skin prickled with cold, the sounds of wheezing and sometimes... no sounds at all. It was almost too much. She stopped walking, clung to the wall, and took a deep breath.
“Hatter needs her.” Steeling her resolve, she moved again. Three more rooms and then she saw her. She was alone.
Alice seemed dwarfed by the bed she lay on. The once vibrant honey hue of her skin was now ashen and gray. She looked like a skeleton; there wasn’t even any hair on her head, just thin wisps.
Her hands shook.
Clear plastic tubes ran up her nose.
“Oh, Alice girl, I’m so, so sorry.”
Alice’s lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes, her breath coming short and choppy. “Danika? You’re here?”
She walked up to her, grabbed her hand, afraid to hurt her, afraid to let go. The vibrant beauty of before was gone; all that remained was a shell. Her eyes were bloodshot, wide and shining.
“I... Oh, dearie, I never knew.” Words spilled from Danika’s lips, mingled with the tears from her eyes.
Alice smiled; her lashes fluttered as if the effort to hold her eyes open cost her everything. “It was nice. I was”—she breathed, a shallow sucking in of oxygen—“happy.”
“Who is she talking to?”
Danika turned at the sound of another voice. A woman—bearing an uncanny resemblance to Alice, but older—asked a man in a white coat. He put an arm around her shoulder.
“It’s part of the process. The drugs have dulled the pain.” His voice broke, and he looked at Alice with love shining in his eyes.
Alice’s laugh was weak. Danika looked back at her. “They don’t see you. Think. I’m. Crazy.” Her lips trembled. “As a Hatter.”
The woman behind them sobbed. Heels clicked loudly on linoleum as she ran from the room.
“He misses you desperately,” Danika whispered.
She coughed and then gasped. A sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. “Wonderland. No.”
Danika shook her head. “No, Alice. Wonderland said yes. It wasn’t you, see.” She rubbed her knuckle. “It was him. He had to declare himself, had to truly fall in love. He loves you, Alice.”
For a moment, Alice’s face crumpled, then she grew calm, unnaturally still. “All that we see... or seem / is but a dream... within a dream.”
It was hard to listen to Alice speak, each word forced out between labored pants for breaths.
“Alice, look at me.” Danika patted her hand, forcing the girl to work through the lethargy and open her eyes. They glimmered with tears. She licked her lips. “You can still come back.”
Alice snorted. “Dying.”
“I can take you. Wonderland will heal you. You’ll never die. Never. You’ll be perfect and healthy, with your Hatter. Always.”
The tears started to fall, each one like a blade to Danika’s heart. Alice had to come back. Not just for Hatter’s sanity, but also because the thought of such a young life being extinguished was a tragedy Danika couldn’t endure.
“Didn’t want me. He wouldn’t come...” Alice coughed, the booming sound painful to Danika’s ears. She winced in sympathy, waiting for it to pass. After a minute, Alice lay back down, her lips tinted blue.
The girl had minutes. A shadow of death hovered above her, reaching out its cold skeletal fingers, ready to claim her any moment now.
“Here? He wouldn’t come here, is that what you’re trying to tell me, Alice?”
Alice nodded weakly.
“Oh, Alice. He wants you beyond endurance. He’s locked himself up in his house; the land rages beyond his door. Wonderland is in chaos. Creatures die and kill each other. The violence of his mind has exploded upon the land.” She shuddered. “Alice, he couldn’t come. Do you hear me?”
The girl was unnaturally quiet. Danika patted her cheek, and Alice stirred and mumbled.
“Listen to me.” Danika pried Alice’s eyes open, forcing Alice to see her. “He couldn’t come because, outside of Wonderland, he’s not immortal. He was like you. A human who stumbled in.” She rushed through the explanation, hoping the girl would hang on long enough to listen. “Time would catch up with him. Why do you think he’s surrounded by clocks? Each Wonderland day is a month here.”
Alice’s eyes widened, trying to focus. “A month?”
Danika nodded. “A month. He’s so old now, time would catch up with him in seconds. He cannot exist beyond Wonderland.”
Alice’s nostrils flared; she was trying so hard to think it through. Danika could see her struggle, see her fight to hang on to reality. “Want me?”
“Yes.” Hope leaped into Danika’s throat. “The land accepts you. Wants you. So does he. Return to him, save him, save yourself. Oh Alice, come home with me.”
Alice frowned, her eyes looking out at the door. “How will... you. Take. Me?”
Danika touched the tip of her wand to Alice’s stomach. “With magic.”
Alice shook her head. “Body? Or”—she inhaled—“just soul?”
Danika’s eyes widened. “This is not heaven, child. I cannot divide your soul from your body. All of you. I would take all of you.”
Alice closed her eyes.
Danika’s heart stuttered as she waited for the girl to take a breath. She shook her hand. Not yet, please not yet.
Alice’s family would surely worry when they came back to find an empty bed, to always wonder. But it was the only way. Alice was dead to them anyway. It was over for them. But not for Alice.
Alice’s lashes fluttered.
Good enough. Danika tapped her with the wand, shrinking them both. With a final flick of her wand, she pointed to the bed. A white letter appeared on the empty pillows, the words I’m happy written on it.
That was the best she could do.
She gripped Alice’s hand and wouldn’t let go as they barreled through dimensions.