tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He shook his head as he followed her into the room. "Nope, although I can't say I've done much cooking. I can make the tea though. I've watched Hatter a thousand times," he said, grinning and opening the cabinet where he knew the tea was kept. "What kind of tea do you like?" he asked her as he pulled out the earl grey. He set it on the counter and went about turning the heat on on the stove and filling up the kettle with water.

"They sound delicious, Lottie. I can't wait," he told her, moving out of her way, so she could start on the potatoes while he waited for the water to boil.  

"Why thank ya, darlin’; I quite like it myself if I dare say so!" She giggled, pushing open the doors to the cafeteria. "I take it your doctor hasn’t forbidden you from goin’ to the kitchen, have they sugar?" She may not have been the best at her job, or the smartest in general, but she wasn’t completelystupid –– she wasn’t about to stay in a room with pointy and scalding hot objects if there a mentally unstable person in the same room as her; not again, anyway. She still had a small scar on the top of her thigh from the last time…

As he told her his tea preferences, she tried to keep them in her head as she strolled right across the dining room, and towards the door-and-steps down to the kitchen. It wasn’t mealtime for another hour or so, which meant the cafeteria was pretty empty – probably better that way, less witnesses. As his stomach growled, Lottie gave another peal of giggles, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it Dee! Happens to me all the time: I should be able ta’ do buttery mashed potatoes, no problem.”

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He follows behind her to the sink and holds his hands under the scalding water. He grits his teeth; It burns as it rushes down the spaces between his fingers, droplets clinging to the torn skin and mingling with fresh blood as the once clear fountain begins to turn pink.  He should scrub them with soap, but he can't bring himself to, so he grabs a paper towel, letting it soak before he gingerly dabs at his cuts, gathering the little pools of red. When he's finished, he drys his hands, now puffy and swollen, the skin raw and damaged. 

It's not like Dee doesn't know how he sounds. He knows she doesn't believe a word he's saying, but that's okay. He's a Tweedle and he always has been for as long as he can remember. A few unbelievers aren't going to change that, but what might is being here alone. The longer he spends without Dum by his side, the more he panics and feels lost. He doesn't really know who he is without his brother and he knows his twin feels the same. They are each one half of the other, without each other, they do not make a whole. Without each other, they are not complete. 

"I don't have one," he mumbled. "This was it, this was my plan and i'm out of ideas. I know that what I told you isn't easy to believe and I know that I seem crazy and now, I've got scars to prove it, but when you've lived your whole life one way and suddenly, it's different and you've lost someone close to you...maybe you can understand." He stared down at his hands, the crisscrossed lines, raised and angry, seemed to form a cage. It seemed to be telling him he was trapped here. It really was hopeless. 

She rises to her feet, shards of glass crunching beneath her heels. She holds the blood stained paper towel with the tips of her fingers, trying to be discreet about her repulsion as to not to offend him. As soon as she’s disposed of it, her stomach slowly starts to settle. She makes a beeline for the sink and starts to wash her hands, scrubbing at her skin roughly, the scalding hot water making goosebumps rise on her skin. Curls of steam billow from the tap, she works her bottom lips to keep from hissing at the sting of it on her sensitive hands. “You should wash yours too.” She says, glancing at him from over one shoulder. “If you can manage it.” 

She’s far from satisfied when she turns off the faucet and turns toward him again, leaning against the porcelain counter top. She listens to him speak, still trying to keep her face from betraying how ridiculous she thinks he sounds. Her head tilts to one side, her dark hair falling away from her shoulders. It’s all so inconceivable, like something out of a storybook. A place called 'Wonderland' that you traveled to through a portal in the mirror? Someone named 'Mad Hatter'? And now he was trying to tell her that he has a twin brother? That alone wasn’t too odd, but tacking it on to the end of the story he was already telling…

“Tweedle Dum.” She whispers under her breath, lowering her eyes to the glass riddled tile floor. “So, what’s your plan?” She asks, meeting his gaze again, albeit reluctantly, afraid that all her skepticism will be written there in features from him to see. She doesn’t want to cause him anymore grief by being a non-believer. “Now that you know the mirror won’t get you back to…” She pauses, clearing her throat before she continues, “…Wonderland, what are you going to do?” She arches one of her thin brows and folds her thin arms over her chest. 

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

Dee had nightmares about what his brother was becoming without him there to remind him who he was. What was worse, he worried about what he was becoming. They already thought he was crazy here and if he kept this up, who knows...maybe he'd be exactly what they said. 

"Maybe I'm not a Tweedle anymore. Maybe I'm just Dee and my brother's just Dum. We're not really Tweedles when we're not two as one," he said, speaking in rhyme, something he hadn't been doing before he saw his old friend again. Mad was right, there were always two Tweedles, which meant if there was only one then he wasn't one anymore. That was simple logic. Dee and Dum were only Tweedles together and at the moment, he thought that it might be imposslble.

Mad's magic hat. He believed in its power more than he believed anything, but Hatter just said he lost it.  He nodded though, the sad expression and glassy eyes still painted on his face. His brother was too far gone, a shell of himself, and Wonderland was probably burning. He was stuck here. 

Dee’s words surprised Mad. They were far too sad for the young boy, too serious and dark. It made him remember a conversation he had with another patient and how she mentioned broken spirits. What had this place done to his friend to make him sound so hopeless?

"You are mistaken." Mad said, conviction in his tone as his eyes searched for a spark of hope on Dee’s eyes. "You can’t be the only Tweedle left, you just can’t." Mad refused to believe that something had happened to Dum. The White Queen wouldn’t allow it, she wouldn’t let the Red one harm any wonderlander, specially someone as fantastic as Dum. "I juts have to find my hat, Dee. I have to find it and then I’ll show you. There have always been two Tweedles and there will always be."

The Red Queen had taken things from Mad that he would never get back, things that had left him stained with red and broken. But not his friends. She couldn’t take away his friends, she just couldn’t.

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He can feel her hands shake as they hold his and he wonders what she's thinking about. He doesn't dare ask though. It's not his place to butt into other people's horror stories. Here at the Grimm Institute, they all came from their own versions of hell or for some, this was the hell. If she wanted to talk, he'd listen, but he wouldn't bother her about it. He had his own problems to worry about. 

He pulled back his hands as she probed at a particularly deep and sensitive cut. Wincing, he apologized, "Sorry," he said and let his hands lay open in his lap, still throbbing slightly, blood gathering on the surface of his palms. "Thank you," he said again.

 She seems wary of him and what he's told her. It was only half the truth though. There was still Dum and Dum was the reason he had to go back. "If it was just me, I'd let myself go crazy here. I'd be exactly who they want me to be, but I have a twin. Tweedledum," he explained. "I need to get back to Wonderland for him."  

Her stomach churns, her hand growing more unsteady with each passing moment. She continues to breath through her mouth but swears she can taste a rusty salty tang in the air. She tries to keep her mind on the task at hand, but images of a much more gruesome scene flash before her as quick as her eyes blink. His blood, minimal in comparison to the pools she sees in her flashbacks, barely manages to dampen her trembling fingertips, but at one point both her hands had been soaked and dripping with her Grandmother’s blood. No matter how many times she’s washed her hands since, she feels as though they are permanently stained red.

The small mound of nearly invisible microscopic shards of glass continues to grow. She finishes the job with a great amount of effort. “There still might be a few bits left in there, ones that can’t be seen with the naked eye. Peroxide would be quite helpful right about now.” She pats his wounds with the wet paper towel again and gingerly sets his injured hand back onto his lap. “A trip to the nurses station might be inevitable.” She admits, deflating with a heavy sigh. 

She tries to keep her face clear of emotion as he speaks, but the slight lift of her thin brows probably gives her away. She presses her lips into a pencil thin line, not quite frowning. “Wonderland?” She echos, trying to disguise her incredulousness with curiosity, still there’s an accusatory edge to her voice. “Mad Hatter?” Her eyes search his face for any sign that he’s lying, but all she sees is anguish. “I’m sorry.” The words come out automatically, like a reflex, she doesn’t know what else to say. 

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He used to believe that, he really did. Alice made him want to believe it again, but he didn't know if he could. He stayed silent as she spoke, not wanting to destroy her hope and not wanting to pretend he was okay, but he nodded as he heard her next words.

He was reminded of their conversation before. She was with him, even now when his hands were bloody and raw, and his hope had died. That was the kind of commitment he always thought he and Dum had. They could do anything together, but it was different now. 

"Yeah, you could wrap them in one of my shirts or something. I might have to go to the nurse later," he told her.

Alice couldn’t help the frown forming on her face. If there was one thing she was known for, it was achieving the impossible. She knew that in this moment, Dee had lost the light he once had, so it would only make sense for him to think of the impossible. “Nothing is impossible. Yes, it may be difficult, but never impossible. You of all people should know that.” Her hand soon traveled from his hand to his neck, trying to give him at least some comfort. “You’ll never be alone.”

She gave up looking and nodded towards him. “Well, we should at least try to bandage it up, yeah?”

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He had always thought that not being alone meant being with his brother and it did mean that, but it meant something else too. Dum wasn't here; the person he'd spent his life right next to wasn't standing beside him anymore and that tore him apart, but there was Alice. This girl who found him in Wonderland once and they played games and had tea parties, someone he never thought he'd ever see again... she was here. She could put him back together.

He blinked; Dum's face clouded his mind, angry and rabid. Dee was scared, but he wasn't alone. He knew that and he held on to it, pulling Alice against him and kissing her hard to clear his mind.  

"Not anymore," he replied, his brown eyes finding hers, holding her gaze. "Not with you." He rested his forehead against hers gently, smiling.

Alice smiled as their lips met, relaxing as she felt the warmness of his tongue. Refusing to pull away, she mumbled against his lips. “You’re never alone.” Only then did she pull away, just slightly, so that they made eye contact.

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

"Hey," he replied, offering her a small smile. He followed her eyes to his wrapped up hands. "I... broke a mirror. My hands got all cut up," he explained, putting his hands behind him. "They're fine though. They don't even hurt. How've you been?" He asked, hoping she wouldn't ask more about the broken mirror. 

Her snarl had apparently been entirely too early, since Dee stood before her, backing away from her aggressive stance and holding his hands up. The flash of red and panic that she’d felt quelled somewhat, although she still felt that gnawing in the pit of her stomach. One hand went to her hair, twirling a little harder than was necessary. “Dee… Fuck, sorry, I just… Nevermind. Hey-” It was only now that she spotted his hands, bandaged. “What’s up with your hands?”

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

"Nothing," Dee said quickly, taking a step back from her. He wasn't entirely sure what he had done, but Eilonwy seemed upset. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." he told her, holding his bandaged up hands in front of him protectively. 

"What the fuck do you want?" The other person had only brushed past her lightly as they passed, but the contact was enough to make her recoil, her brain whirring into overdrive. 

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

I could drag you from the ocean, I could pull you from the fire And when you’re standing in the shadows I could open up the sky And I could give you my devotion Until the end of time And you will never be forgotten With me by your side And I don’t need this life I just need… I’ve got nothing left to live for Got no reason yet to die But when I’m standing in the gallows I’ll be staring at the sky Because no matter where they take me Death I will survive And I will never be forgotten With you by my side Cause I don’t need this life I just need… Somebody to die for Somebody to cry for When I’m lonely

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He winces as her nails dig into the sensitive, open wound, picking out the tiny glass crystals like she was mining for diamonds. Dee tried not to let his hand shake, but she was right, it did hurt. At least, it helped keep him distracted from the mess he couldn't fix. He kept his eyes down, focused on the way she was cleaning out his hand. He didn't care if it hurt or if it got infected, but someone else did. It was a small comfort, which seemed like all he had left. 

"Thanks, Scarlett" he said, repeating her named, when she stopped for a moment. Dee didn't know if she'd believe his story, but she was here and she was helping him, so the least he could do was be honest with her. He met her gaze, biting down on his lip before he he spoke. "I was trying to go back home," he started to explain. "I know it sounds ridiculous to most people, but I'm from a place called Wonderland. There are others here from there too, like Mad Hatter and Alice. Well, Alice isn't actually from there, but she visited once or twice. She came through a looking glass... and I thought maybe," he sighed and lowered his eyes back down to to his hands. They were still stained with blood, the jagged cuts still oozing specks of red. 

"I was wrong." 

With his permission, she cradles his injured hand in her palm, examining it as closely as she dares. “These are going to need to be cleaned with rubbing alcohol or you risk getting them infected.” She sighs, setting his hand into his lap so that she collect what little supplies she can acquire, which isn’t anything but a damp paper towel and her own long nails. She scrubs her hands in scalding hot water, hoping to make them as sterile as she possibly can, her skin turns a bright, angry, red but she ignores this and returns to her knees beside the boy.

"I’m not going to lie, this is probably going to hurt.” She says, taking his hand again and patting it with the dampened paper towel. Her stomach feels as though it might bottom out just thinking about touching the blood and gore with her own hands, but she swallows once and begins. “I once had a person who was willing to clean up my messes. I think it’s about time I payed it forward.” She says, using her long rounded nails like tweezers, picking the bits of glass out of his skin, all while internally cringing. 

She collects a little pile of barely visible shards of glass on the paper towel and his blood has now gotten beneath her fingernails. She chokes down the ball of nerves that has formed at the very base of her throat in order to respond to his question, “I’m Scarlett.” She pauses her task to look him in the eye. “Do you mind if I ask why you broke the mirror, Dee?” 

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

It was always hard for Dee to think of himself as separate from his brother. They were always together. To say they were close almost felt like an understatement. Where one Tweedle ended, the other began. Sometimes, he didn't know who he was supposed to be--his head filled up with two pasts, two personalities, two people. He was as much his twin as he was himself. He couldn't help but smile just a little at his friend's words. Hatter was always seeing more than there was.

As the man wrapped his arms around the ginger boy, his eyes filled up with tears. This was familiar. It was safe. He knew that his friend would try everything to help him, but there wasn't anything to try.

There was no magic here.

"You can't fix it," he mumbled into Mad's shoulder. He didn't believe anymore. There wasn't anything to believe in. "I'm the only Tweedle left," he said solemnly, pulling out of the hug.  

"No, darling. You have it all wrong. You and Dum are like drops of water, everyone thinks you are the same but you’re must definitely not." The twins, of course, were very alike but to the ones looking closely, the differences were obvious. "And I’m afraid you couldn’t be a shadow even if you tried. You have too much sunshine in you." He added, taking a sip of his tea.

He looked at Dee’s hands as he spoke, watching them shake, hoping that the tea wouldn’t spill and burn the younger boy. Then he mentioned her and Mad’s hands clenched around the teacup, his shoulders tensing and something, someone deep in his mind awoke, listening. He felt dizzy and the sounds came as if he was underwater, until the cup broke and brought him back, giving him something to focus on.

"Breathe, dearest Tweedle." Mad said, setting his cup down, unclenching his hands, leaning down to pick up the pieces of broken porcelain. Mad never minded when cups got broken, making new ones always made him happy, after all. "Through your nose. Deep breaths." He placed the broken pieces on the counted and grabbed a cloth to clean his good hand before placing both on Dee’s shoulders. "We will figure it out, darling. We always have, haven’t we? Back at home, when things got messy…We always fixed it. This won’t be the exception, darling." He said before pulling the other into a hug.

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He took the teacup from Hatter, nodding his thanks. The smell was nothing short of divine. Nothing could relax him like a cup of Mad's tea. "Is it? I don't think I ever noticed. He's always been my mirror image and I, his shadow," he admitted, sipping the tea slowly. It was still piping hot, but he closed his eyes as he swallowed, letting the magic of it soothe him, but his friends words and accompanying frown made him tense again. 

He mirrored the Hatter's expression. "Dum's gone," Dee explained, the teacup shaking slightly in his hands. "She captured him and took him to her dungeons. I haven't seen him since that day... Mad, you remember: Dum wanted to go after the Jabberwocky, but you thought it was too dangerous. Turns out that you were both right and wrong. It just wasn't the jabberwocky we needed to be afraid of." Right then, he dropped the cup and it shattered on the ground, but Dee didn't move to clean it. 

"I don't know if my brother's still alive. I hear him sometimes in my head and I see him in dreams. It's like he's not himself anymore. He's changed and I can't help him. I don't know what to do, Mad," he cried, staring down at the mess of ceramic and tea. "He needs help. He needs me." 

"Tweedledee, yes. I can see that." Mad said, taking out another cup, serving the younger boy some tea. "It’s all in the nose. And of course, your voice is very different from Tweedledum." He explained, handing Dee the cup. "You look awfully sad, though." He frowned. Usually the twins were always cheerful but Dee didn’t seemed as happy as usual. "I’m glad to see you too, my friend. I thought I wouldn’t find any familiar faces in this odd place but here you are!"

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He kissed her, his eyes closing as his lips navigated the way. She tasted like sunshine. Her mouth was warm and inviting, and he let his tongue trace over the curve of her lip, sighing softly against her. "I'm glad," he whispered, his hands now cupping her face and stroking her hair. "I'm glad I'm not alone."

Alice gave him a small nod; a silent yes. Dee made her feel closer to home, and she thought that he was the only one who could really understand her, unlike any other person she had ever met.

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

He didn't want to, but he released the tension in his hands after a moment. Honestly, he didn't want to make anything worse by upsetting Alice more than he already had. "We can't," he told her, resolutely, as he struggled to sit up. "It's not going to happen, but thanks for trying." He buried his face in her neck, trying to find comfort in the only thing he had left. "I am really glad I have you, you know. I probably shouldn't be alone," he admitted. 

He noticed her looking around for something. "I don't know if there's anything to clean this with, but if we get most of the glass out, I can rinse it with water," he tried. 

At this point, Alice had no idea how to comfort him besides saying it would all be okay; but she wasn’t entirely sure that that was true. “We’ll figure out how to find him… I promise.”

Slowly, Alice put her fragile hand over his; silently telling him to release his fists. “We’ve got to get you cleaned up then.” She paused, eyes scanning the room for anything that could possibly be of help. 

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

"Not as much as you'd think," Dee admits. His own emotional pain is much worse and to be honest, the sharp glass and stinging sensation is a welcome distraction. He tries to push himself to a sitting position with his elbows. It's not graceful, but he manages and he lets her look at his hands. He doesn't speak to her, but instead he looks at the damage around him. It looked like a car crash or a crime scene.

He'd been so upset, so blinded by his desperation that he hadn't really known what he was doing. Now that the adrenaline had passed, he sighed quietly. "You shouldn't have to clean this," he told her. "It was my fault." There was broken glass everywhere and smears of Dee's blood. He looked down at his hands, crisscrossed slashes with tiny crumbs of mirror embedded in them. It was worse than he thought, but he didn't really want to think about it too much.

He stands up slowly, trying to find his balance without the use of his hands isn't easy, but it isn't impossible. He follows her instructions, on a sort of autopilot, but he has one question for her. "Who are you?" he asks the dark-haired girl. "What's your name?" Making conversation is easier than whatever this is. "I'm Dee."

There is a rather long bout of silence in which Scarlett is unsure what to do with herself, she makes several false starts for his injured hand but ends up cringing away. Someone must tend to his wounds and she’d prefer not to get an orderly or nurse involved if at all possible. “Does it hurt?” She asks, trying gauging the situation, though she mentally roll her eyes at the question. Of course it hurts. “May I…?” She motions to his hand, her eyes dangling with question marks. “I’m not a trained medic or anything, but I could clean out the bits of glass.” Her eyes trail to his lacerations and she grimaces.

"I’ll help you with your hand and then you’ll go to your room, like nothing happened.” She allows her eyes to take in the scene around her and sighs, “I’ll do my best in here. I mean, the mirror is obviously a goner, but the blood and the glass on the floor…” It would take a good amount of time to clean up and she risks being discovered and blamed for the whole thing. She isn’t the self-sacrificing type, never has been, but she knows pain, and she can see it written all over the boys face, the least she can do is help him avoid isolation. Wallowing in whatever it is will only make matters worse, it will only drive the pain deeper. “You need to get up.” She urges again, “Now.” 

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]

Dee didn't recognize the voice of the girl in the room with him. He senses her beside him, but he doesn't want to look at her. He tries to pull himself together, forcing himself to take deep breaths. What was he supposed to do? His brother had forgotten who he was... he had become a monster. Dum was gone and he was the only one who could bring him back to himself, but he was stuck here. What would happen to his brother if he didn't fix him? He already didn't recognize his mirror image. He already felt alone. 

He eventually cracks open his eyes to see the girl with long brown hair. He's seen her before. She looked dangerous and he didn't know what to say to her.  He sighed. "Where am I supposed to go? Iso can't be worse than how I already feel," he mumbled. He shook his head vigorously. "No, I don't want to see anyone. It's only blood and glass."  

Shards of glass crunch beneath the heel of her boot as she approaches the patient blubbering on the floor. She ignores his incoherent mumbles, partly because she can not understand them but mostly because she never listens to anyone anyway. Her pale blue eyes widen in horror as she takes in the scene. She tries not to breath through her nose, sure that the sickeningly sweet and metallic scent of blood will make her stomach heave, as it is seeing the stuff splattered over the broken mirror and the boy’s injured hand is enough to make her feel lightheaded.

Scarlett has to bite her tongue to keep from saying something stupid. She knows herself well, when things get uncomfortable for her she tends to use sarcasm to try and ease the tension, but this situation is not an instance in which a venomous joke at the boy’s expense is entirely appropriate. “You need to get out of here.” She urges, crouching beside him. “You’ll end up in isolation and my bet is that’ll only make things worse.” Now that she’s closer, she can see the deep lacerations on the boy’s knuckles, there are still bits of glass clinging to his wounds, she can see them reflecting in the florescent lights, she winces. “You should probably get that checked out too.” She adds, motioning toward his hand with her chin. “Is there someone here you trust? Someone that I can get to help you?” 

[tweedledeeisnotinwonderlan-blog1]