Mad blinked in the bright sunlight of the Queen's main garden, nose wrinkling as he was assaulted by the overly sweet scent of too many roses.

They were everywhere. Bushes, hedges, trimming the winding paths that were made of crushed, white quartz. Every last one of them blood red.

Mavros didn't like any other type of flower. Just red roses. Mad looked around at the smooth green lawns, interrupted by rose bushes and white tea tables all around him and frowned.

This couldn't be right. Mad wasn't supposed to be in the garden. He wasn't supposed to be anywhere near Heart Castle.

Was he?

Mad jumped when someone tapped his shoulder. "Aren't you paying attention Maddy?"

Tamsus was there, scowling at him, then raised an eyebrow at Mad's look of confusion. "Well?"

Mad's frown deepened. "Well what?"

Tamsus threw his hands up, sitting cross-legged on one of the pristine tea tables, plates and cups scattered in broken pieces on the grass around it. "Hopeless. You're completely hopeless. We'll never be able to have you out in public."

"What in the hell are you taking about?" Mad asked, his frown turning into a scowl.

"Ah-hah," Tamsus laughed, the sound just a tad condescending. "I get it. Now you're just messing with me."

Mad shook his head. "You're crazy."

Tamsus grinned, delight sparking in his eyes. "Well Madison, truth be told, we're all mad here."

The Ace watched Mad, a challenge on his face. Something clicked into place then and he remembered.

Mad kept running into people who seemingly enjoyed driving him insane with their nonsensical speech and wanted to learn how to do it himself.Tamsus had spent the past hour trying to teach Mad how the people in Wonderland sometimes spoke when they wanted to confuse someone. That's what they'd been doing.

Mad tilted his head. "You couldn't be."

"Oh? How's that?" Tamsus quirked a red eyebrow, apparently intrigued with where Mad had taken the conversation.

"Because... I'm Mad. And, if we're all mad, then... who would I be?" Mad said this, feeling rather foolish.

But Tamsus laughed, his sharp, white teeth glittering in the sunshine. "Perfect Maddy. You keep saying things like that and people will start to mistake you for a real Wonderlander."

Then Tamsus stopped and frowned, narrowing his eyes at Mad. Almost thoughtfully he said, "Except for your eyes. That's all that would give you away."

Mad rubbed at said eyes then and stretched. He still couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't supposed to be here.

Tamsus stood on the table before flipping off of it to land neatly in front of Mad and said, "Can we pretty please do something else now? Say... something that involves a little gunpowder?"

Mad laughed. "Thought you would never ask."

He turned to go, but his attention was arrested by something on one of the far walls.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing.

Tamsus looked over and said, "What? The head?"

Mad just nodded, his stomach plummeting as he saw blonde hair float gently on a summer breeze.

Tamsus shrugged. "Just some Real Worlder who wasn't supposed to be here."

Mad exhaled shakily. "Why isn't my head up there too?"

Tamsus frowned, confused. "Why would your head be up there? You're the reason we found her Maddy."

Mad whirled around then froze when he saw Tamsus had a gun on him.

Tamsus smiled serenely and pulled the trigger.

                                      ~     ~    ~

Mad rolled over and jerked upright, gasping, hands pawing at his chest. He was surprised when there was no blood. It had just been a dream.

He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He seemed to be in a tent of some sort, the cloth of the walls a dark blue color. The room was dim and warm, but not unpleasantly so.

He was lying on a low cot, blankets creating a comfortable pad under him. Looking around, Mad found a small table to his left, covered in silver medical instruments, strips of gauze and pots of various salves that filled the tent with a sharp, antiseptic smell.

Mad lay back down, breathing hard, touching the strips of cloth wrapping around his chest and stomach. His fingers felt clumsy and he raised them to find that they had been bandaged as well.

He looked around again, still trying to figure out where he was and how he'd gotten there. He didn't get up though. His muscles had all screamed at him when he'd moved and Mad knew they didn't want to move anymore.

At least, not yet.

Honestly, Mad didn't want to move anyway. His body felt heavy and everything seemed pleasantly fuzzy. As long as he didn't move, he wasn't in pain, though he was starting to understand why he had woken up on his stomach.

Mad lay there a while, dozing, feeling every time his heart beat. His back was starting to burn, so he rolled to his side, groaning when the movement sent pain fizzing through his body.

He looked over when the tent flap opened, then watched as Killian walked in. Mad tried to sit up again, everything flooding back. The Jabberwock. The cliff. The desert. Gene. And...

Mad stared at Killian, then said, voice raspy, "Should I call you 'Your Highness'? Or can I just stick with Killian?"

Killian grimaced, then sat lightly in a nearby chair, leaning forward to watch Mad, who stared back, waiting.

"How did you find out?" Killian finally asked, rubbing at his neck where his mark was now hidden by a dark scarf made of a light linen.

Mad shook his head. "Saw your rank when I was dragging your ass through the desert."

Killian nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. Our healer told me I'd suffered from a mix of extreme dehydration and sun sickness." He laughed in a self-mocking sort of way. "They tell me I came very close to not waking up. I know that I have you to thank for that. That they found me in time."

Killian looked down. "I owe you my life."

Mad let that sink in. All he said was, "Where are Alice and the others?"

Killian wouldn't look at Mad now. "Nearby. They want to see you, but I needed to speak with you first."

"About what?" Mad asked. He had a pretty good idea what it was Killian wanted to talk about. He just wanted to make the kid spell it out.

Instead of answering and already looking uncomfortable, Killian walked over to a pitcher on a small table near the entrance and poured a glass of water. He handed it to Mad, who took it, then asked again, "About what?"

Killian sat back down, watching as Mad took a sip. Finally, he sighed, "I'm here to ask that you keep your knowledge of who I am to yourself. The others can't know."

Mad frowned, but he didn't say anything, waiting for Killian to continue. Killian's eyes flicked back and forth between Mad and the ground. "I know what they want. My lieutenant said Maris is searching for me. Apparently you were looking for more than a safe place for your companions." 

Killian sighed and rubbed at his forehead, reminding Mad of what he had told the Viso when he had first found them. "Your people seem to be under the impression that I'm going to do something about Mavros."

Mad raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you?"

Killian looked down again, jaw setting angrily. "No."

Mad took a moment to process that. Finally, he took another drink and said, "Well. Isn't that interesting?"

Killian looked up in surprise. "Aren't you going to ask me why?"

Mad snorted, then winced when the movement cracked the dry skin in his nose. It started to bleed and Killian handed him a cloth from the table. Thickly, around the cloth, Mad said, "Kid, I've been in war. I would never ask why someone didn't want to start one."

Killian huffed out a laugh, sagging back into his chair. "Now that is refreshing."

Mad drained his glass. "Your people want to fight?"

Killian was silent for a very long time. Then he asked, "Do you feel well enough to walk with me? There is something I want to show you."

Mad nodded even though he knew he was going to regret moving. His curiosity had been suddenly piqued by the Spade King though. Killian crossed the room to a chest on the floor, then returned, placing a stack of clothes at the foot of the cot. "Get dressed and meet me outside."

Killian left and Mad swore as he put the clothes on. The pants were of a tough black material that was similar to jeans but lighter and the shirt was a dark grey, made of a material similar to silk but more breathable and not quite as soft. Mad looked around then and was pleased to see that his boots had survived the trip through the desert.

Mad put them on, then looked around for his hat and guns. They were no where to be found and he sighed, gritting his teeth. If something had happened to his hat, someone was going to get hurt. If anything had happened to his guns, someone was going to get dead.

Mad stormed from the tent as best he could manage with his sore muscles and bandages and almost ran right into Killian, who was waiting for him just outside.

At the look on Mad's face, Killian raised his hands and said, "Cheshire has your hat and your guns. He wouldn't let us touch them."

He grinned, his heart warmed by this. Killian rolled his eyes, then motioned for Mad to follow him.

Mad was aghast at his first glimpse of the camp though it was about what he had expected. The people here were mostly Spades, though he spotted a smattering of Clubs and even a few Diamonds.

They looked to Mad like the quintessential refugee. Hungry, thin, with threadbare clothes and worn shoes. Seeing them, Mad became suddenly very conscious of the new clothes he was wearing.

 Killian seemed to notice this and said, "Don't worry. They were my father's. It was the only thing we could find that we thought would fit you. They weren't taken from someone who couldn't spare them."

Mad wasn't sure that helped with his feeling of self consciousness any, but he just nodded, then went back to looking around.

Eventually, Mad started to choke on the despair around him. He turned to Killian and asked, "What did you need to show me?"

Killian gestured around. "This. Us." Killian pointed to an old man cooking over a campfire. Mad's eyes widened when he realized that the man was missing an arm. "We're dying Mad."

"The Spades?" Mad inquired as they continued walking.

Killian nodded but paused, smiling when a woman offered him an apple. He tried to decline, but the woman insisted.

Killian finally nodded graciously, accepting the fruit. His lips pressed into a thin, pained line as soon as the woman left them, before giving the apple to a skinny child running by in the opposite direction of the woman.

"There are a handful of us left. Some are living with the Club settlements, but most are here since it's against Mavros' law to hide your mark. There are four hundred at most." Killian's voice was melancholy as he said this.

Mad blinked in surprise. "I didn't realize there were so few."

Killian shrugged. "There used to be more."

He waited for Killian to elaborate. When he didn't, Mad said, "So you don't want to go to war." Mad considered this. "Is it because they won't fight for you?"

Killian laughed, the sound bitter. "Oh, they would fight for me. They would die for me. Down to the last man, woman and child. That's what it is to be a King or Queen in Wonderland."

"So if it's not the lack of a willing army, then what is it?" Mad asked, though army was a generous term for the small number of Spades.

Killian sighed heavily. "I am their King, Mad. And as such, how can I ask them to die for me?"

Before Mad could answer, Killian growled, "I am not like Mavros. I refuse to be. I don't think that just because these people happen to wear the same brand as I, that they owe me anything, least of all their lives."

Mad looked over at Killian as they wove between the tents, a little taken aback at his words. Even as a Real Worlder, Mad knew that referring to the rank mark as a brand was considered vulgar by the Cerdyn. It was like they knew it made them sound like cattle though there were no cows in Wonderland.

Killian stopped just at the edge of the camp and said, "All I want is for my people to be safe. Even happy, if we can manage it. I do not want them to go and die for me."

Mad didn't point out that they were dying here. Instead he mused, "Would it be for you?" 

He paused at Killian's look of confusion. Mad continued quietly, not wanting to be overheard lest his words start something he wasn't prepared to stop. "Not living under the control of the Hearts might be a worthy enough cause. Would you deny them the chance to take back their lives or fight for their freedom?"

Mad grimaced a little at his own words. They sounded like what Maris had said in the garden, the night he had found Alice. It seemed like very long ago.

He meant what he said but if he was being completely honest, he didn't particularly care about these people.

But he couldn't stop tasting the fear his dream had brought him, when he'd seen Alice's head on the wall of Heart Castle.

Mad would never admit it out loud, but he had somehow come to truly care for Alice, the way he would care for a younger sister, and wanted to keep her safe. Killing the Queen seemed like a sure fire way to do that.

Then after listening to Killian Mad had realized that, aside from being a means to that end, the kid would also legitimately be a better ruler.

Mad was snapped from his thoughts when Killian snorted and said, "I have no delusions of a grand rebellion Mad. I've seen how that ends."

Mad paused at Killian's grim tone. "There used to be more of you?"

Killian bowed his head before saying, "When I was fourteen, I was foolhardy and proud. I attacked the Heart regiment at Club Castle at the northern edge of the desert, thinking that if I could just gain a foothold there, I'd be able to rally all of the Clubs and maybe some of the Aunimalis and Diamonds to my cause."

"I remember," Mad said softly. "I didn't know you had led the attack though."

Killian nodded. When he looked up, his eyes were full of sorrow. "Almost three hundred people were killed or wounded in the siege and when it was over..."

Mad paled. He knew what happened next. He'd been there.

Killian took a deep breath. "When it was over, the Queen lashed out. The attack was at Club Castle, so she blamed the Clubs. She sent Tamsus and the Ace of Diamonds to a Club village and,"

"It was a massacre," Mad whispered. "No one was spared. Men, women. Young, old. Tamsus spared no one."

Killian looked at Mad, confused.

Mad could taste blood and bile in his throat as he thought back to that day. It didn't help that Tamsus was already on his mind anyway. 

"I was there," he said, his voice a low rasp. "Tamsus had asked me along. I didn't know where we were going. I didn't know what he planned to do. I," Mad swallowed, trying not to be sick. "I tried to stop him."

Mad was sucked back to that day. It was what had caused his falling out with Tamsus. That tended to happen when the person you thought was your friend shot you and left you for dead before murdering an entire village.

He could hear the screams, the cries for mercy, for help. But there was no help. Mad could smell the smoke, the sweet burn of gunpowder, the tang of blood.

He had tried to stop Tamsus and Tamsus had turned on him as quickly as a snake, sending a bullet through his chest.

Mad never could quite figure out if Tamsus had meant to spare him that day or not.

He'd been forced to lie there, spitting and choking on his own blood, listening to the terror that raged around him, unable to do anything.

When it was over, Tamsus had left him to die and that was where Cheshire had found him. He'd saved Mad, bringing him to Maris.

Mad had been bloody and unconscious only to wake up screaming as Maris dug around for the bullet that had been lodged near a rib, next to his shoulder blade.

Mad had kept the round, stringing it onto the chain that hung around his neck, still holding his dog tags.

The tags and his hat were all Mad had left as a reminder of his Real World life.

He'd kept the bullet as a reminder to be wary of snakes in people's clothing.

He was wrenched from the memory when Killian suddenly pointed to a tent at the very edge of the camp. Mad looked and was surprised and relieved to find Alice sitting with a small, dark haired girl in her lap.

"Do you see the child there?" Killian asked. When Mad nodded, Killian said, "I would fight for her. I would die for her. In an instant."

Killian rubbed at his neck. "She owns all of what is left of my heart. I would die to give her the life of freedom and happiness that she deserves. But what guarantees are there that I would not just fail and that my failure would not bring death and destruction to her as it did to the Clubs five years ago?"

Mad frowned. "She's your daughter?"

Killian's smile was sad, his eyes soft as he watched the girl tug with fascination at Alice's blonde hair. "She's as good as. Adira is all that is left of a dear friend of my father's, and the only remaining Jack. Eleven years ago, when Mavros killed my family and took over Wonderland, I took Adira and ran. She was just a baby. Not even a year old and I was barely eight. Somehow, we managed to survive and I would not squander that gift."

A thought struck Mad then, something he had never cared to think of before, and couldn't stop himself from asking, "How old is Mavros?"

Killian laughed, though there was no humor in the sound. "She took over when she was forty-six. She looks much younger than fifty-seven, doesn't she?"

Mad shook his head in astonishment. She had always looked to him to be about his age. Somewhere around twenty-seven. Maybe even younger.

"How does she do it?" Mad asked, distracted from the gravity of their discussion momentarily.

Killian just rolled his eyes in disgust. "There are concoctions made from certain plants. Some make you taller, some make you smaller and some make you look quite young." Killian shook his head. "But that hardly matters."

He leveled a hard, desperate look at Mad and said, "Will you do as I ask? Please?"

Mad looked again at Adira as she said something to make Alice laugh. Slowly, he nodded. "I won't say a word."

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Adira is a Hebrew word for Noble