David was used to spending time with sick people. Heâd done it for six years, hanging out with schizoâs and manic depressives and neurotics. And, on good days, when Farouk had left him alone, heâd actually been able to think. So, when Alice mentioned the Jabberwocky (whatever that was) he kept his expression politely interested, and nodded once. âThatâs very brave,â he said. âBut weâre not under threat here. No oneâs gonna find us.â He was protecting his family, always keeping an eye out for D3 and Syd (no matter what happened, he had to think of them as separate. Syd and D3.) They werenât going to catch up to him here.
Alice said sheâd been decapitated, and he remembered what Jervis had told him. She fell down, down, right? Sheâd been impaled. But her delusion, her sickness, protected her from remembering what had happened. He smiled a little when she said she believed in impossible things, because she obviously wanted him to. âThatâs awful,â he said, gently. âThank you for telling me, Alice.â He was used to hearing their stories â the girls who came here had done things that hurt them, or theyâd had things done to them. So much pain, so much sadness. But he took it away. He healed them. Just like he wanted to heal Alice and her brother.
Sheâd said her life had been perfect, but he sensed her flightiness, a kind of mental fragility. Like a butterfly. âIâm glad you found each other. He loves you very much.â He looked up at the stars, and was quiet for a few seconds, choosing his words carefully. âYou know, I want you and Jervis to come live with us, in Wonderland,â he said, still looking at the sky. âBut heâll only come if you will.â He turned to her, and smiled. âDâyou miss living in Wonderland?â
Alice wondered how David could be so sure that they were safe, but she trusted him. The Caterpillar was very wise whenever she visited Wonderland, so why would now be any different? She never wanted to get hurt again -- never wanted to feel that dark, depressing, emptiness that she felt when the Red Queen took her head. Nothing was exciting after death, just a feeling of being trapped. It was like she couldnât leave her body and go to that better place that everybody talked about. Something was anchoring her to this earth and didnât want to let her go. In a way, she was glad about that. If dying was as much of an adventure as she thought it was going to be, she wouldâve been angry about being brought back to life by the professor.Â
He said that what had happened to her was awful, and Alice smiled at him. It was kind of him to say so. âI can trust an old friend, canât I? It isnât really something that many people would believe, besides you and Hatter. If I told them a queen beheaded me, theyâd want to send me to one of those awful asylums.â She wouldnât be able to cope if she was locked up. Alice needed to be around people who understood her and be able to spread her wings whenever she needed to. Being forced to take meds she didnât need, and see therapists who just wanted to diagnose her, would surely be enough to actually drive her mad.Â
Hearing that Hatter loved her made her feel so special. âI appreciate his love more than heâll ever know, and I love him just as much.â Her gaze followed Davidâs, now looking up at the beautiful, twinkling stars above them. âDo you really?â she asked, with childlike curiosity. âI donât want to force Hatter to stay with me, if heâd rather be here with you, Absolem. That wouldnât be very fair of me, would it?â When asked if she missed living in Wonderland, she nodded. âWhy, of course. Nowhere else has ever accepted me the way Wonderland did. I miss everything about it. My friends, the colours, the smells... Nowhere else will ever measure up, or feel like home.â