Chapter Fifteen: A New Beginning (1)

[manniness]

[Because I almost killed LJ (AGAIN!) with the size of this chapter, I'm posting it in two parts.]
 

*~*~*~*

Several people had heard the gunshot. Alice is sure of it. However, as is often the case, they had convinced themselves that they could not have possibly heard what they’d thought they’d heard (A gunshot? Here? At an Ascot soiree? Not likely...!) and had gone back to their champagne and sherry and brandy and cognac.

No one had bothered Alice and Tarrant in the shadow of the terrace.

They’d sat in the darkness, leaning against the stone, their weapons cleaned and stowed safely away. They’d left Valereth’s cane sword right where it lay. A groundskeeper or a gardener would find it later. (And, perhaps, keep it for himself.) Alice hadn’t cared and Tarrant had refused to look in the thing’s direction.

“Was I... dying?” she’d asked softly, unable to not confirm her suspicions.

“... aye...”

“And I told you that the Jabberwocky blood could...”

“Ye tol’me teh Move through Time.” He’d sighed then. Heavily. “Were ye ne’er goin’ teh tell me tha’ th’ blood o’ th’ Jabberwock coul’do tha’?”

“I’m sorry. Mirana confided it in me. It’s a powerful secret.”

“An’ we’ll keep it,” he’d promised.

Alice had nodded and then huffed out a humorless laugh. “Yes. What’s one more?” She’d leaned away from him then and had declared, “I’m ready to go home now.”

He’d kissed her for that. And because their hearts had been entwined once more, the connection as strong as ever, he’d known she hadn’t been speaking of her mother’s house in London. No, the deep throb in her chest will only ever belong to Underland.

In the carriage ride home, Alice had asked, “What happened to our heart line earlier?”

And he’d explained this theory, his brogue thicker than ever and she’d taken his hand to ground him, to ground herself: “Aft’r I drank th’blood o’th’Jabberwock, I thought o’ye, dancin’ with Ascot an’ aft’r a spell, I found me-self there, watchin’ ye... again. O’ly, ‘twas nae right. This mind an’ tha’ body were nae meant fer each other... I s’ppose I had teh catch up teh Time again. Teh th’moment o’ my drinkin’ th’blood...”

“And Valereth? You were able to send him back... How did you know to do that?”

He’d clutched her to him with all his considerable strength. “B’cause I felt it, my Alice. Aft’r I drank it, I could feel Underland callin’ teh me. Callin’ me back. Withou’ye. It felt so... natural, easy teh say ‘aye’ an’ follow tha’ Call, an’ I had teh fight against it.” Her heart strains with the pulse of Tarrant’s remembered panic. She rubs his back and he calms. Continues: “Valereth, bein’ dead...”

“Wouldn’t be able to fight it.” She still wonders at that. Even though the man had been dead, the blood had worked. How is that possible? Doesn’t the drinker have to choose where or when to go...? Or... could it have been some other power at work? Had Krystoval commanded the man’s return somehow? But if so, why hadn’t Maevyn been able to do that before?

In the carriage, Tarrant had somehow managed a weary chuckle. “Ye’ll b’able teh ask yer questions soon, lass.”

“Yes. Soon.” Soon, the mirrors will be opened. Just as soon as Valereth’s body is found, Alice is sure Mirana will want to check on them and will open the small mirrors in order to do so.

Upon arriving home, Mr. Brown opens the door for them, collects the walking stick Tarrant had accepted from Townsend and then takes Charles Kingsleigh’s top hat from him. Alice keeps one arm wrapped – unseemly, her mother would say! – around her husband’s waist. They nearly make it to the stairs (and she can feel his body trembling with exhaustion and shock and what she suspects must be the endless loop of a memory so horrible she can’t even begin to fathom it) when Helen’s voice stops them.

“How was the gala?”

Alice stares at her, mind utterly blank. Images flash through her mind: unbridled dancing, the poking of appetizers, Hamish’s threat of awkward silence, Valereth’s blade, Tarrant’s body moving between hers and that villain’s, the gun, the Jabberwocky’s blood...

“I... It was...”

Very softly, Tarrant sobs out a shuddering sigh. She tightens her arm around him. It draws Helen’s disapproving gaze – Botheration! Now her mother will think Tarrant is sloshed! – but Alice soldiers on: “Fine. It was fine. A success.” The words are not only for her mother. “It feels as though we’ve done what we’ve come here to do. We hope we won’t be imposing on you for much longer, mother. Thank you for your hospitality.”

She turns back toward the stairs and urges Tarrant to step up.

“Alice...?” Helen asks, her tone hurt and confused.

Alice sighs. “May we discuss this tomorrow?”

“Oh... yes... of course... Good night, dear. Tarrant.”

And, bless him, Tarrant manages a perfectly enunciated and clear reply: “Thank you, madam. And a pleasant night to you as well. We apologize for keeping you up so very late.”

Alice glances over her shoulder, notices her mother’s surprised and speculative look, and gives her a tired smile. That’s right, mother, he’s not drunk.

“Something at the party must have disagreed with him,” Alice murmurs and Tarrant shivers.

Her mother nods, her gaze softening. “Shall I put some tea on?”

Alice smiles, beams! “That’s very...” Generous, forgiving, understanding... “... kind of you...”

Tarrant takes a deep breath and turns toward Helen. “Yes, very kind, madam. Thank you, but I’ll be... that is, I’m sure this will... Tea would only... Pass,” he decides, “it will pass... when it’s ready to do so. And I’m afraid tea won’t hurry it along.”

Helen nods in reply. “In that case, rest well... and as long as you like. I’d like you to consider this your home as well.”

Alice fidgets at the reminder of her hasty promise to vacate the premises. She doesn’t doubt that the subject will be brought up again on the morrow. Alice hopes that, by then, both she and Tarrant will have gotten a good night’s sleep.

They don’t.

Once in bed, in the darkness and relative silence of mid night, Tarrant clings to her, shudders. He tries to control the sobbing breaths his recollections force out of him, but can’t.

“Tell me?” she requests more than once.

“I cannae. Please, Alice. I cannae” is all he says in reply.

Time passes, exhaustion takes her away into sleep. Tarrant follows her and she knows this because his nightmare wakes her before it does him. Terror and desolation and pure denial pull her into wakefulness and her hands are pressed against his cheeks before she knows it.

“Tarrant! Wake up! Wake up!”

And when he does – gasping, shivering, sobbing – he clutches her to him. He checks her hands, kisses her fingertips, massages her stomach... She suspects he would have moved down in bed and nuzzled it if not for the fact that he’d have to release her to do so.

“I wish I could share that memory with you,” she whispers into his hair, hating that he’s so alone in that moment that had happened-and-then-had-been-undone.

“No, Alice,” he croaks into her shoulder. “No, I couldn’t bear it if you Knew what I’ve seen... I wouldn’t...!”

“Shush...” she croons, rubbing his back, his sides, his shoulders, and hates that he’s forced to bear yet another Tragedy. Even if it’s only permitted an existence within the realm of his mind. “Shush. I’m here. We’re fine. We’re both fine. You saved us, my Champion... my Champion...”

And the night wears on. He urges her to sleep yet refuses to release her. Sometimes she manages to drift off in his warm, sometimes-shifting embrace. And she’s awakened by his panic, both when he’s awake and asleep.

It’s one of the longest nights of Alice’s life.

And the next day isn’t much better.

They spend the morning in bed.

“Help me think of names,” she asks at one point, eager to distract him from the memories. “What do you think of Freya or Persephone if it’s a girl? Orion or Gabriel if it’s a boy?”

Tarrant places a hand over her belly. “Alice, ye ken ‘tis impossible fer me teh help ye think.”

“I believe in impossible things,” she reminds him and earns a weak giggle.

Alice manages to coax him into the bath and he looks better for it after the lingering scents of the party and... other events washed away.

“Sometimes I still see it,” he whispers when it’s her turn to bathe and he’s helping her rinse her hair – a much less arduous task than it is in his case. “When the light falls just so or your hands move and tilt just like...” He shivers. “I’m mad, Alice.”

She catches his hand in hers. “Maybe we both are. What do you see?”

“Yer blood, Alice. Red...”

“There’s no blood now.”

“I know... but...”

Alice sighs.

She’s brushing Tarrant’s mostly-dry tangled hair – after he’d admitted to being far too tired to bother with it himself – when the small looking glass on the table, the one Mirana had given them, shimmers and a small scroll rises up through it then flops over and rolls across the vanity. Neither of them are at their best so it takes a moment for Alice to really understand what had just happened.

She reaches over his shoulder and picks up the note. Opens it.

And reads.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Tarrant Hightopp knows his limits. He’d found them once – Horvendush Day! – and again – Frabjous Day and Alice fading into nothing before his very eyes! – and again – the duel against that slithy Oshtyer! – and again – the Trial of Threes and seeing her there, at the mercy of the Jabberwock – and again...

There are too many to count. Too many times he’s lost or nearly lost the only people – no, the only person – he loves. Tarrant Hightopp knows his limits.

And he’s reached them yet again.

All night, his mind had been pushed and pulled between the memory that hadn’t come to pass and the sight and feel and scent of his wife in his arms, safe! And he’d realized that he would do – will do! – anything to keep his Alice.  Keep her alive, safe...

Even...

He sighs.

“Tarrant?” He doesn’t look up as the bed dips – when had he moved here from the dressing table bench? He can’t recall... – and a warm, Alice-weight leans against his arm. “Did you hear what I said?” she asks with a worried frown.

Worried. His Alice is worried! About him!

Ge’yerself tehgether, lad!

He shakes his head smartly. “I’m so sorry, Alice. No, I didn’t. And I’m afraid we’re all out of Jabberwock blood so I can’t go back through Time to listen to what you’d said the first time.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind saying it again: they found Valereth; Maevyn is already feeling better; and we can go home anytime we want.”

He considers that information and, looking up at Alice again when he believes he’s assimilated and stowed it all properly in his mind, asks, “Has the Oraculum unrolled, then?”

“Not yet. Mirana says that’s because they’re not deep enough yet. Whatever that means.”

“Ah... Ingenious. The Masters are moving Underland.”

“Moving it where?”

“More under.”

“Oh... But that’s fine, isn’t it? We can go back now. Mirana will reopen the mirror in my old room and then...!” She beams at him and despite the heaviness in his chest, Tarrant feels his own lips twitch helplessly in response. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I... yes, yes, it is.”

She leans back a bit and frowns worriedly again. He looks away, glances around as if seeking something that might whisk those worrisome worries away.

“But you’re not pleased,” she informs him.

His fingers curl until his hands are fisted on his thighs. He knows if he allows them to remain open one moment longer, he’ll be reaching for her and with the intensity of his emotions right now, he fears leaving bruises in his wake.

“Talk to me. Please,” she begs. Begs!!

Jus’ look a’wha’ye’re doin’ teh yer Alice, lad!

She gently cups his jaw in her hands and turns his face toward her. He’s scaring her. He can Feel it. “I’m so sorry, Alice. I don’t mean to... I don’t wish to... I’m so sorry.”

“What?” she prompts.

He hesitates. Wonders if Now is the time to speak of the Thoughts he’s been considering during his waking moments, ever since... in the shadow of the terrace... when she’d... and he’d... and they’d felt their littlin’s Futterwhacken and then...

“Alice?”

“Yes?”

He winces at her over-eager tone. He feels truly Guilty for worrying her, waking her at all hours – all his fault! – but this is not the Time for berating himself! (That will come Later!) Right Now, there is something... something more important than even that!

He clears his throat, stares at his still-fisted hands, and says, “Alice... how far would you go for...”

“For what?” she urges when his voice mysteriously fails him.

Tarrant turns, looks her in the eyes. “For me.”

She rubs her thumbs against his skin and then pushes her hands gently into his hair, bracing his neck between her palms. “I would do anything for you.”

“An’,” his voice warps around the knot in his throat. “If’n ‘twas sommat ye di’nae wan’tae do yerself?”

“Tell what you need.”

Need... He closes his eyes, swallows. Once again, his Alice’s choice of words is uncannily accurate. “I need ye teh be all righ’, Alice. E’en if it means...” Tentatively, he lifts his hands to hers and holds her touch against his skin, begs her not to let go of him, pleads with her not to stop holding onto him. He repeats, “E’en if it means stayin’ere. Wi’yer Mam an’ sister. ‘Til our littlin’s born.”

“I... what?” She had not expected That. He can see it in her expression, Feel it in his skin.

Tarrant looks away, clears his throat, lisps, “I know you want to go home, Alice.” So do I! he doesn’t say. “But, I can’t lose you... again. And this birthing business,” he briefly struggles against the Burning he’s been trying so desperately to hold back ever since the Thought of this monumental Risk had occurred to him. He struggles... and he loses: “Our littlin’s birthing could be dangerous! And what if you need a doctor or you start bleeding and what would I be able to do to save you and what does the queen know about Uplanders and what if I lose you both, Alice, and I can’t lose you both! Not again!”

He grits his teeth, struggles against the returning tide of memory, of Alice’s blood and her weakening breaths and evidence of their child’s life and her dying in his arms and he couldn’t stop it AND...!

“...please.” That’s all he trusts himself to say.

Her fingertips stir, massaging the corded muscles beneath the taut skin at the base of his skull. “All right,” she says.

For a moment, he can’t believe it had been that easy. He looks into her eyes. “All right?” he confirms.

She nods. “Yes, but... where will you be?”

The hesitance in her voice pulls a pang of panic from him. “With you!” he fairly shouts back, startled and upset.

She relaxes, releases a long-held breath.

“Alice...” A dry sob escapes his lips before he even feels it coming. “Ye think I’d let ye... stay Here wi’out me?”

“Think? No,” she answers, leaning into him. “Fear? Maybe a little.”

He hauls her onto his lap and shakes his head against her shoulder. Her arms wrap around his neck. Her palms draw circles against his back. “I cannae be wi’out ye, Alice. Ne’er ask it o’me. If’n ye do, I’ll no’be able teh do it.”

“Nor could I.”

Her voice, so soft yet full of Everything, shores him up. He’s not fool enough to believe that he’s healed – that he’ll ever be healed completely – but his Alice sustains him, gives him the will to do what must be done, gifts him with the sanity necessary for doing it.

“So we’ll stay,” he decides. “Until the littlin’s born.”

“I want Mirana to come through the looking glass for that,” she bargains. “Just in case.”

“Aye. Agreed. An’ we’ll have an Upland doctor here ‘swell.”

“Ugh. I hate physicians.”

“Alice...” he says warningly.

She sighs. “All right. A physician and Mirana.”

He presses his lips to the fabric covering her heart. “Thank you.”

She combs her fingers through his hair for several long moments. “Of course, this means we’re going to have to tell Mirana about the baby...”

“Aye,” he agrees and then hears himself giggle. “I’ll leave that teh ye – ye can explain why ye waited so long teh tell her.”

Alice huffs. “I suppose I deserve that. Are you sure you don’t want to be there? Just to watch?”

“Mayhap I will, seein’ as how ye’ve just invited me teh.”

She snorts and pinches him under the arm.

He yelps.

And then, “Tarrant... could I ask a favor of you?”

He leans back and waits.

She draws in a deep breath. “You realize we’ll be here for... months. Waiting?”

Tarrant nods.

“So, in that case, I think you’ll need something to occupy your time. During the day.”

“What do you have in mind?” he asks slowly, the brogue disappears right long with his playfulness.

She smiles. “Well, after the baby’s born, it’s going to be a while yet before I can resume my post as Queen’s Champion. I’ll need a temporary replacement.”

“Will you?”

“Um hm. And he’ll need to be in fit condition.”

“Is that so?”

“And it might be nice if he spent his time learning a new skill to teach me when I’m ready to start training again.”

“Like what?”

Alice smiles. “I’m sure Hamish will have a suggestion. When he makes it, say ‘yes’, all right? For me?”

Tarrant grins. “I suppose I can do that. But... Alice?”

She answers his suddenly somber expression with a worried frown. “Yes?”

“You would... trust me to look after the queen for you?”

Alice blinks at him and he feels a twinge of surprise deep within his chest. “Tarrant, I’ve been meaning to ask you to for... a while now,” she replies. “But, if I understand events correctly, I have already trusted you with the life and wellbeing of our child.” She regards him very seriously. “Name one person who is more important than that.”

“I can’t,” he admits, smiling again.

“Then there’s your answer,” she concludes and he accepts her brief kiss as a reward.

And when she leans back, he sees her eyes are sparkling with mischief and her lips are stretched into one of his favorite smiles: the smugly victorious one.

She informs him: “You’re going to be a father. It’s high time I started letting you enjoy that, don’t you think?”

He feels his eyebrows twitch upward and can only imagine the hopeful look on his face. It must be rather Something because Alice laughs, kisses him again, and declares in capital letters he can Hear quite clearly:

“Starting Right Now.”

 

*~*~*~*
 

Follow this link to read the less-explicit (M) version of Chapter Fifteen: A New Beginning, Part 2. 

To read the latter half of this chapter in its original (M+) version, please use the Next link at the bottom of this entry.  Thank you!