“What a delightful and charming mortal,” Mad translated for the tiny queen. “She’s so nervous, she must not be used to being in front of royalty.”

The tension tightened all the way to Alice’s bones, with muscles rigid and stretched, The Queen crawled into her opened hand. She was a tiny queen, but for a bee, she was large and bulbous. With a thorax that twitched and wiggled, it caused a new wave of shivers to cross Alice’s back. She tried to compose herself; she was in front of royalty after all.

“Oh, now, what’s this?” Mad continued for the royal insect as The Queen waddled across Alice’s palm, tracing the lines with a microscopic hand. Royal bees are palm readers? Alice questioned. Not the weirdest reality in Wonderland, yet she still found it peculiar. 

“She says you’re something special,” beaming with secondhand pride over the complement, Mad glowed with flirtatious joy. The Queen followed the lines cut deep in her hand; heavy concentration etched into her small insect eyes. Her round, little body rested here and there to catch her breath. All the while, she spoke to Mad in a language only he could understand, “You’re just a bloom of a flower. Right now, you’re a bud, small and closed up, but you’re going to grow into something special and big things will happen for you.”

Alice leaned closer to her hand, lowering her head in a bow, “Thank you your majesty for saying such nice things, but I’m only after a quiet life. I’ll keep that in mind though.” A new group of bees flew from the hive. Small hands tugged in unison on the petals of a small white flower, keeping its yellow, cup-like center upright, preventing the liquid within from spilling over. Their small bodies weaved in and out of the breeze as they were greeted by its spontaneous push and pull against the weight of their deliverance. They flew with turbulence until they made it to their destination, delicately dropping the flower into Alice’s other hand. 

“The Queen wants to give this to you; she wants you to drink it.” Mad translated enthusiastically. He grabbed it gently and gave it a once over.

“You sure that’s a good idea, when I was given a mysterious drink yesterday, we had issues, remember?” A forced, broken laugh stumbled from her lips. That was not a sensation worth repeating. 

“It’s fine! It’s fine! Drink it.” Mad egged her on, handing it back to her with great enthusiasm. Alice thought he looked like a dog, shaking with excitement over a new toy. The Queen crawled, her body much too large and her wings far too small, from Alice’s hand back into her royal procession. “The Queen also says it will be fine. It’s a gift for you.” 

With quickness, like she was taking a shot of alcohol, Alice downed the cup in one gulp. She was surprised by its sweetness. Tastes of honey with underlying flavors she couldn’t quite explain, tantalized her taste buds, with an aroma that brushed against her sinuses. It was floral and fruity, with such sweetness, her teeth hurt afterwards. It was sumptuous and decadent and even better, there were no ill effects to her body or mind. “It’s so sweet.” She said, waiting for an experience that never came. She stood up feeling secure and content with the gift, “Thank you your majesty, for the gift. It was very delightful. But I must be going now. I only came to tell Mad that the food is ready.”

Mad looked up at her, his body ground into the earth, “I’ll be there shortly, but could you do something for me first?” He asked. Curious, Alice agreed. With a gentle wave of his hand, and a cheeky smile, he beckoned for her to come closer to him. Leaning down at her waist till she was face to face with him, he quickly pressed his lips against hers. The fleeting, quick kiss caught Alice off guard, turning her cheeks a luscious shade of pink.

“It is sweet,” Mad smiled, tasting the remnants of The Queen's gift on his lover's lips. “I’ll be in shortly; you go ahead first.” Alice’s face lit up with a bashful blush and sauntered away, leaving Mad behind with the hive.

With a small grunt, Mad pushed himself into a kneeling pose, extending a bow to The Queen. “Your majesty, it’s been a pleasure as always. I hope you like these flowers. I’ll be back to plant them shortly in the fields.”

“She is something special you know.” The Queen lounged in her flower procession, swaying slightly with the breeze as her workers struggled to hold her and her throne. “Please make sure to nurture her and help her grow. Keeping her hidden and sheltered will not allow her to blossom. A quiet life isn’t in line for her, Fate has other plans. She has the blood of a queen you know. I know you want to protect her, but you must let her grow to her full potential.”

Mad stood up, his back turned to The Queen. Words of recognition weren’t offered. The Queen’s monologue had all but come and went, her words rubbed raw his pleasant mood away. The wind picked up; the hidden forest was blanketed in an overcast. “Your majesty, I appreciate everything you do, but please don’t lecture me on what’s best for her.” Mad said sternly, his eyes piercing as he looked back at that small insect that hovered in the air.

“You can’t stop Fate; you should know that more than any one of us.” The Queen paused briefly as the turbulence took a bit of a dip. She steadied herself, not a bit of fuzz out of place. “Besides, if it wasn’t meant to be, that Royal Jelly would have instantly killed her.”

The words eviscerated Mad’s body, like he had been stabbed by one hundred knives, gutted, and torn out. His stomach dropped, flipped mid-way and a dark chill ran through each disembodied part of his whole. He felt a sickening vertigo pierce his mind as the impact of The Queen’s words crushed his skull. He suddenly felt weightless and out of body, his ears rang, and his stomach churned. Blood rushed to his face as his blood boiled from a pounding heart. Collectively he ushered in a menacing whisper, “Stay. Out. Of. It.” Each word was defined by a distinct pause, before he stormed off through the thicket and back to his home.

Alice and CC were sitting, waiting at the table, gossipy banter naturally ran back and forth between them when a slam at the door shattered their attention. Alice and CC rushed to discover, during their brief investigation, that Mad had come back home. He threw his garden hat onto the post and stormed into the dining room; his mood obviously soured. CC looked to Alice for guidance, and without knowledge, she had nothing to offer. Alice shrugged in indignation.

“You, okay?” CC, the brave one, was the first to break the tension between Mad and his drastic mood change. He looked at CC, then at Alice. A heavy, breathy groan left the back of his throat, one that lifted his shoulders with the deep inhale. He cusped the back of his head in exhaustion, he sighed and allowed it to run away with his feelings.

“Yeah, I’m starving. What did you make?” He was smiling and with quick ease, he changed the topic, avoiding the question. His eyes were tired, hazy, and heavily lidded and were the only hint that anything had affected his mood. Alice couldn’t help but wonder if this sudden shift was the real Mad, since the one that stood before her lacked those familiar, glassy eyes. The three of them ate together, talked, and teased; a sense of family and familiarity warmed Alice’s heart as they all enjoyed their reunion. It continued like that until they finished their meal. Mad grabbed his plate and readied to leave, and within the throngs of conversation, an idea crossed Alice’s mind.

“I just had a thought,” she began, pushing around the burnt items of her meal, far too charred to have been edible. “Everyone knows that I’m staying right? But is anyone else curious about the rabbit hole—the door? Why did it close like that? Is that something we should look into?”

Uninterested, Mad retorted, “Let sleeping dogs lie, we don’t need it, so we don’t need to worry about it.”

“It’s Wonderland, weird shit happens constantly, and for no reason.” CC continued.

Just like that, her curiosity was smashed like a bug. Alice tried to further defend her interest; a nagging curiosity pulled at her stomach. “Yeah, but it’s never done that before, right?” Alice turned slightly in her chair, trying to catch Mad’s attention before he walked away. Unable to resist, he dropped a hand on Alice’s head, ruffling her hair. Usually, an endearing act, it made her feel small and childish in this moment.

“You don’t need to worry about it.” He said with a smile. “It’s not important. Thanks for the meal CC.” He said before walking away. Frustration had her leg bouncing, the non-response tightened her chest. Alice looked to CC for solace, some sort of piqued interest to affirm her curiosity.

“Don’t ask me, I have no ideas either. Don’t worry about it.”

Sitting forlorn and disheartened, Alice was the last at the table to leave, unaware that a pattern just set a precedent for other pursuits of curiosity. One where she would ask questions and inevitably, wouldn’t receive a response. An objection would get her a change of topic, an excuse, blatant flirtation, or the temptation of a new adventure would emerge, dangling in front of her. A trap too tantalizing to ever ignore. The sun set and rose in cycles, the only indicator that time was indeed passing for Alice, as her life fully intertwined within Wonderland. Passing quickly and effectively, quashing any of her inquiries with each fading moment.

Curiosity naturally bloomed and blossomed within, igniting questions she couldn’t garner answers for. Asked, and off he went, whisking her away on exotic, life-altering, magnificent adventures. Ones that took them to the edges of Wonderland, where the moon and the stars met the sky. Adventures at sea, romps that involved games, exploration, and expeditions of the world. They would sleep together under the stars. Dance on the beach with beasts, enjoying the bonfire and the flick of its flame lapping at the shores. Sometimes, to Alice’s dismay, they would shrink down, becoming friends with ants and other various small insects. They would fly with the birds, sleep in the clouds, and fall with the rain. On and on, over and over. So many grandiose adventures. One question and off he took her away once more; blatant distractions.

Despite her grievances, Alice cherished every new moment together, they were nostalgic and reminded her of what life in Wonderland was like before. Grand adventures where there were no worries, no concerns, no questions that hung over her head that gnawed away at her intestines. Alice would reminisce now and then, re-discovering old memories. Ones that she had all but repressed. She realized the same thing happening now, had happened once before. With new insight, she recognized this strong curious pull had always existed. Alice had been a child who asked far too many questions, a child who grew enamored with the magic of the world.

Back then though, his tactics worked. Looking back, Alice was agreeable. She went along with the distractions, and never pressed the matter more. As a child, she was enchanted and distractable, agreeable, and pliant. How very naive and childish. Back then, she had taken everything Mad, and the others told her as truth. She trusted them. Grew looking up at them with admiration. She had no reason to doubt their intention. They were the people who took her in, rescued her from an awfully grim mortal world, accepted her and showed her the world of Wonderland. It only now dawned on her that they had made their little found family her entire world, and she blindly accepted it. They were her everything and nothing else mattered.

Back then, Alice was more than willing to go along with it all. She was different now, as they all were finding out. Mad, much more intimately. Alice was now much more persistent. Much less lissome than she used to be. These grand adventures didn’t quite work the way they used to. The difference, Alice had grown up. Her mortal life had hardened her. She was forced to think of ways out of certain predicaments and found that people weren’t as trustworthy as she had believed humanity to be. Even those closest to herself. Life was hard, and staying alive was harder.

So, she had questions. Questions that Mad and the others had avoided answering.

What was going on with Mad? Why was he taking those drugs? What’s up with his past?  What happened to the rabbit hole? Why is she back in Wonderland now? What even is Wonderland?

What’s the world like? Who are the people? Why can’t she ask these things? Why can’t she get answers? What was the history, politics, who else existed in Wonderland besides the small group of people she called family?

She recognized quickly that she really knew nothing of the man she loved, and he knew nothing of her—the new her—the her that grew up a second time. He knew of the Alice that had been raised in Wonderland. The girl who knew of magic and happiness. Knew that she had friends and family. The Alice who grew to love the world of dreams, knew how to use her imagination. The Alice that was just happy to love and be loved in return. Back then that was enough.

Alice tried to re-connect with him, she wanted him to get to know the new version of her. More often than not, Mad would pull the same avoidance tactics whenever she tried to talk about her life in the mortal world. Discussions of her past, her upbringing, the things she did, how she grew up, were all topics that were off limits. Mad made that clear with his actions.

She caught on quickly that he didn’t want to know.

It hurt.

With pain, the reluctance only flamed the ember of curiosity that burned, growing, devouring with ferocity. If Mad wouldn’t give her the answers she needed, she was determined to figure it out on her own.   

Day and night cycles continued to go by with no answers budding in her wake. After some frustration and moments alone, Alice found comfort in connecting with March and CC; venting her frustrations to them. They would often offer her a bit more, a bit of history, a bit of Wonderland that she didn’t know. Yet, they absolutely would not answer any of those burning questions about Mad. They were much less inclined to remark on those smoldering perplexities, offering only a bout of politeness in turn. It was rude to talk about someone else’s past, if the person in question didn’t want it to be known. Alice couldn’t argue with that, so relented.

Much to March’s dismay, he relented as well, his own persuasion in convincing Alice to leave had fallen on deaf ears. She had stubbornly decided to stay and so they stopped their pursuit of locating a new door altogether. Alice was still curious of course, but she feared reigniting this burning curiosity, would only fuel his desire to convince her to leave once and for all.