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Mad T Party Fic: Crossed Wires: B Sides 12/?

Author: Avarice.

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: This is based on characters, not actual people. Never actual people. Also… may not be 100% accurate on the geography of the GC, but please go with me on it.

Summary: Prophetic dreams and The Serenade. Awkward conversations, tactical retreats. Musing the changing of relationships, and stepping out of your comfort zone. Hope springs anew.

and GOOD GOD DOES THACKERY OVERANALYSE EVERYTHING.

Timeline: This chapter intersects with part 13 of Crossed Wires. To refamiliarise yourself with this, or with previous parts, please visit my fic list HERE.

Thank you: Thank you, thank you THANK YOU to Sarah for this one. The beautiful Elise was v. busy at this time, so we went it alone (thank you elise i love your face). But just so you know, Sarah is some kind of heretofore undiscovered superwoman.

Fyi, instead of the chapters getting shorter, they're getting longer. This one is 13k. Fuuuuuuuuuck.

Fandom: Hey, fandom. I love you. I know it's a bit of a long time between drinks, but rest assured I am pretty much ALWAYS plugging away at this. Sometimes it comes faster than other times. Also it goes through a very long proofing process to make sure I am delivering the best possible chapter I can to you.

With that in mind, if you were interested in telling me what you think of how the story is going, damn, that'd be freakin' sweet. Feedback has meant so much to me over the course of this series, because in some instances it has slightly redirected me on what to do. So if you had the time... well, golly, i'd just love the crap out of you for it. Without further ado...

I could not escape

A plea from the heart

You know what it means to me

You said, "Don't walk away

I'm down on my knees

Well, please don't be mean to me"

Mean to Me - Crowded House

The cottage's floor was thatched, and itchy to kneel on. It didn't seem to bother the woman next to him, however, her flowing gown cushioning her skin.

Thackery and Pandora faced an unassuming jar, the seal cracked and missing, but stoppered all the same. The swirling blackness of pain and fear and clawed misery had poured out in such a rush, and Pandora had been quick to replace the stopper.

Not quickly enough, however.

"That was a bad move," Thackery exhaled shakily, giving her a sidelong glance.

Pandora returned the look and tossed long curls over the other side of her shoulder. "It wasn't good," she agreed matter-of-factly.

A tiny tapping could be heard on clay glaze, but they both ignored it.

Thackery hugged his arms to his body. "What are you going to do?"

She sighed and looked back at him. "There's not a lot I can do. It's done now, all that's left is to rebuild, and move forward."

Pandora made it sound so easy, and she looked so calm about the entire situation. She had unleashed a kind of madness on the world, and now talked so casually of the very serious ramifications. Thackery didn't know Pandora could be so accepting of what had just transpired; he felt cold and frightened.

The tapping continued.

"Don't you feel guilty?" he asked, disregarding any other sounds on purpose.

Pandora's expression changed from one of grim determination to very real sorrow. "Of course I do. It was not my intent to cause suffering. But what is done is done. My guilt -- however large or small it may be -- will not put those demons back. It can't."

The hare's bottom lip jutted out as he thought. "I don't know of anything that can make it right."

"I do," Pandora said, gently touching Thackery's arm, before bestowing the same delicate touch to the jar. Thackery leant forward curiously; despite the feeling of anxiety even being near the jar gave him.

There was warmth radiating from the large container, and it didn't feel bad, which didn't make sense. Thackery pulled away from the jar, his brow furrowed deeply in confusion.

"Hope," Pandora explained softly. "Hope will heal."

The tapping grew more and more insistent.

She moved to open the stopper again, but Thackery pulled her hand away. The woman gave him a patient, querying look.

He had to give her an answer. "I... I don't know if you should," Thackery responded pensively.

"I understand your reticence, hare," she said kindly, not pulling away from his grip, "but it is the right thing to do."

"How are you even sure hope is in there? It could be something even worse!" Thackery insisted urgently.

"Listen," Pandora encouraged, "Listen." She gently disengaged her arm from Thackery's grip and placed both palms on the jar, ear close to the clay.

"I can't. I shouldn't," Thackery protested, but Pandora only closed her eyes and smiled beatifically. His ears, still sharp, could pick up something underneath the sound of tapping... A voice? Speaking softly, plaintively.

"Listen," she repeated one last time, and Thackery capitulated slowly. He shuffled closer to the jar and placed his hands on it. The beautiful warmth infused his fingertips as he pressed one ear to its shiny glazed surface.

And he heard it.

A voice like spiderweb and gossamer thread, light and beautiful, and so, so sad.

Let me free, it pleaded. For I can undo what has been done. Please, please.

He pulled away slightly from the jar, and Pandora opened her eyes. "It's a trick," he told her.

"That's what your mind thinks. What does your heart say?"

Thackery's eyes dropped for a moment. "The same thing."

Pandora shook her head. "No, it doesn't." She too withdrew from the jar, and faced Thackery properly. "Your mind is afraid. Afraid of its own weakness, of being deceived. But your heart..." Pandora placed one palm flat against Thackery's chest, "Your heart is stronger than that."

The hare felt the organ in question thump steadily beneath her hand, not too fast, not too slow. A constant beat that didn't betray any stress or indecision.

"I'm still not sure," he admitted, and that was something new. Ordinarily Thackery would rather say nothing at all than acknowledge his indecision. It felt too much like his madness, his weakness, to divulge that information. But he just... said it.

And it didn't feel bad.

"Again, your head. Listen, listen." Pandora pressed her fingers into his chest, nails jabbing into him.

Thackery took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and he listened.

Let me free.

I can help, just let me free.

That voice was so sweet, so pure. Full of sorrow, but containing the-- well, the hope, of tomorrow. Of better days. And as much as his head wanted to tell him those ideas were fantastical and unable to be achieved... something in him believed them, almost without question. As though the face value of that statement ran deep into the heart of the matter.

Save for the fact when he allowed himself to be deceived, Thackery was generally excellent at perceiving duplicity.

He could feel none, and that alone was as exhilarating as it was nerve-wracking.

The hare slowly opened his eyes, to find Pandora smiling mysteriously at him.

"Hope must be set free," Pandora said, "else we can never overcome the dark times."

Thackery nodded once. The porcelain-skinned beauty nodded back, and she pulled at the stopper on the jar.

A brilliant white light poured forth, and Thackery looked up in wonder. From the neck of the jar fluttered a little creature. He drew back at first, thinking it a moth.

But it was smaller, more delicate.

Hope was a beautiful butterfly, all green and blue. It flapped in erratic little circles above their heads, before slowly descending towards Thackery. He watched in fascination as the tiny insect landed so carefully on his forearm. At its touch, the hare's doubt and fear began to melt away. Thackery couldn't take his eyes off the little creature on his arm, flicking its wings in time with ever second beat of his heart.

***

Thackery puttered around his room, taking an agonisingly long time to pack. Mostly because as soon as he'd gotten part of the way through, he pulled everything out to rearrange it once again. Nothing was sitting right in the bag; if it wasn't his shirts getting crushed, it was the soles of his shoes leaving dirty marks on white singlets, which meant they had to get washed again before he repacked them--

The hare halted the train of thought with a yawn as he scratched his head. He'd spent more time last night than he would've liked just lying in bed, thinking about those voicemail messages until he'd finally fallen asleep.

That last message...

He hadn't played it again, but he didn't need to; every word, every pause and inflection were burnt into his brain. It pleased him to know that Mally didn't seem to hold any anger or disgust towards him. In fact:

Mally missed him.

Mally wanted to rectify things.

Mally was following his advice.

Thackery paused in re-ordering his socks for the seventh time.

Advice?

That had been the only really cryptic part of the otherwise very straightforward and honest message. It raised more questions than answers for the anxious hare, and he’d spent hours wracking his brain.

What was the dormouse planning, based on a recommendation from Thackery? Mally rarely listened to counsel, as if the last weekend hadn't proven that over and over again.

Perhaps more puzzling was that Thackery couldn't actually recall any advice he'd given Mally recently, so it had to have been something older.

But that could've been anything from 'never go to bed with wet hair' to 'if you touch a bandersnatch pup the mother will still scent you and track you for miles'.

Thackery sighed. Those two pieces of advice were unlikely to be the ones Mally was following, however.

And then there'd been the dream.

The hare grumbled and gave up on trying to pack his shoes, moving over to the desk to reorder the sheet music he'd already arranged four times.

Revisiting the story that had affected him so much in the immediate days following his episode had left Thackery feeling remarkably subdued. In all honesty, he could've been packed and gone a dozen times over in the time that it had taken to just figure out how to organise his socks in his bag.

Perhaps it was a sign that he didn't really want to go...

Thackery gave a short, sharp exhale. Of course he didn't want to go, but he should go. It was the only option left to him. It was the only way he could be guaranteed success.

It was the only way to--

The hare made to put the papers back down on his desk but instead, missed it completely. Sheet music fluttered to the ground, and he let out a sharp curse word. Stupid, stupid.

Thackery was on his hands and knees on the carpet, picking up papers and idly trying to arrange them once again when a phone's tone pierced the silence right above his head. To be so close, he quickly realise it was his cell, not the room phone.

Pushing himself up onto his feet with a groan, Thackery stacked the music on the desk, fingers brushing the cell before picking it up. He put his glasses on to read the caller ID, not willing to risk speaking to someone he didn't want to.

The phone displayed Alice's name, and Thackery let a little sigh of air escape his lips. Her name was a welcome relief, but it was marginally disappointing.

Still... he wouldn't have answered the phone if Mally had called anyway.

Would he?

The hare connected the call and answered the phone instead of his question.

"Hey Alice," he greeted tentatively.

"Hi," Alice answered in her sweet voice. "Look, there's something happening downstairs you need to see..."

One of Thackery's brows arched at the strangely vague comment. "What are you talking about?"

But Alice didn't answer. There was some strange background noise and then--

A guitar began playing -- far too loud for the speakers to accurately give the music the detail it deserved -- and it was loud. Thackery pulled the phone away from his ear quickly, surprised to find he could still hear the music quite clearly.

The hare stared at the phone with a bewildered expression. What was happening? It was useless to call out to Alice on the phone, that music was far too loud for her to be heard.

There's something happening downstairs you need to see...

Quite inexplicably, the hare's heart began to beat more rapidly in his chest.

Thackery flicked a glance over to his window, with its filmy curtains swaying in a slight breeze. He briskly walked in that direction and stepped onto the couch to peer out of it, unmindful of shoes on the upholstery.

There was some sort of activity downstairs in the courtyard; Thackery took his glasses off and peeked out, trying to figure out what was going on. It was definitely the source of the music...

Small, dancing figures sharpened into focus, and Thackery's breath caught in his throat, nearly choking him.

It was impossible not to recognise his friends performing; Chess and Absolem were there, Alice and Tarrant could be made out dancing around, and there was someone he couldn't identify at all on bass guitar.

But if Thackery were blind, he would still recognise who was behind the microphone singing.

Thackery's hands gripped the backrest of the sofa fiercely.

Mally took a central position in relation to the band, as opposed to his regular haunt of stage right, head angled up towards Thackery's floor and room, and he sang.

The hare's heart had begun beating so loud he could barely hear what was being sung, but he forced himself to breathe. Breathe, and listen.

"...I always seem to come back again

When you're in that room, oh what do you do?

I know that I will have you in the end..."

It struck him like a bolt of lightning: Mally was singing to him.

There had been so few times in his life that had happened... more often than not Mally sang with him, not to him. Now the difference was starkly obvious; Mally-face ever hopeful and angled up, the dormouse was singing directly into his window on the fourth floor.

The hare's gulping swallow was audible.

Thackery's decision-making of late could've been described in many ways, and none would've used the word 'decisive' to do so. But in that moment, the hare knew he wanted to see what was going on in the courtyard closer.

More than that, it felt like he needed to.

With an abrupt movement, Thackery pushed himself off the sofa roughly. Heart hammering in his chest, and with his fingers still curled in a claw-like grip around his phone, the hare ran to the centre of his room. It was just fortunate that his spare key card happened to be blatantly sitting out in the open and catch his eye, or he might not have had the presence of mind to grab it.

Thackery snatched up the card and proceeded directly to his door. Reefing it open, he jogged down the corridor and, after doing a quick calculation, decided to risk the elevator as opposed to the time it would take him to dash down four flights of stairs.

As luck would have it, a press of the elevator button opened its doors immediately. Thackery entered and pressed the lobby button vehemently.

The doors just seemed like they were taking forever to close, and Thackery shifted his weight from foot to foot impatiently. "Come on, come on, come on," he chanted under his breath.

Music could still be heard through his phone, and Thackery tentatively brought it closer to his ear. The quality was not great, but he could still hear Mally's voice.

"...The twin valley shines in the morning sun

I send the message out to my only one..."

Mally's voice was throaty, honeyed. Even through the terrible speakers of the phone, he sounded wonderful. Surely then, everything would be better in person.

And Thackery didn't know much, but he knew he wanted to hear Mally in person.

His eyes flicked to the illuminated panel at the side of the elevator, watching the numbers light up in descending order.

If... if he could there in time.

His sweaty fingers gripped his phone tighter, nearly trembling around the small device. For the longest time, Thackery's only thought to the direction he wanted to move quickly was backwards -- to flee, to escape -- but for the first time in a while, the hare was running towards something.

Thackery glanced at the elevator panel again, and jiggled his right foot anxiously.

Please, please hurry.

In answer to his silent plea, the doors opened with a cheerful 'ding'. Thackery spilled out into the lobby, pausing for a moment to figure out the best way out to the courtyard. The well-lit corridor to the left took him directly past it, but also past huge glass windows where there was a chance he'd be seen. If he went through the lobby doors on the right, he could circle around by the overhang and the gardens and not be quite so visible. Thackery wanted to see what was going on, but not necessarily be seen himself. At least, not straight away.

Heart pounding in his chest, the hare swivelled on his heels and broke into a run, waving aside the concern of a bellboy asking if anything was the matter. As soon as he made it through the set of automatic doors, music became eminently louder. It created a wall of sound that momentarily discombobulated him, and he had to stop.

Guitars and bass and Mally's voice infiltrated his senses, and it sent a nervously excited chill down his spine. Thackery flicked his head around, getting his bearings to head in the direction of the courtyard, though his sprint had now slowed to a jog.

The thought that he was running out to suddenly reveal himself to the entire band occurred just as he got to the edge of the courtyard -- which was a belatedly terrifying thought in itself -- but a few people had gathered to watch, and they thankfully provided Thackery adequate cover.

His heart clenched with a sweet kind of ache when he saw the band -- his band -- playing.

They were entirely in their element, even out in the middle of nowhere. No elaborate sets or strange costumes, just their casual street clothes; everything had a beautifully raw feeling to it.

Despite feeling a pang that he wasn't out there playing with them, he felt a surge of pride watching his family -- his strange, mismatched, oddball, wonderful family -- perform their hearts out. The happiest times of his life were associated with that band of misfits, and for a few moments, Thackery felt like all the pieces of the puzzle had been found.

Thackery gave the bass player a cursory glance before his gaze was inexorably drawn to Mally. Being a front man suited him. Thackery's mouth twitched in a reluctant smile -- as if the dormouse needed any more reason to be centre of attention.

Mally sang a few repetitious lines before annihilating his guitar solo, fingers working as fast as Thackery remembered seeing in some time. It was passionate and fiery and everything Thackery had ever come to expect of his friend.

Those stirring feelings of pride surged when he looked at Mally. His friend didn't know how to do things by half-measures; it was usually all or nothing. It was something that Thackery often found frustrating, but usually very inspiring.

And he was giving his all now.

The dormouse was a force of pure energy, eclipsing the other members of the band, no matter how they acted. It was a sight so familiar and yet so different; to be seeing this from the audience instead of being beside it. The desire to be up there was strong, and confusing, because the desire to sink back into the shadows was equally as powerful. Thackery's insides flopped about at the contradiction.

As perplexing as those warring emotions were, being within spitting distance of the people he cared about so much drove away a little of that hollowness he sometimes carried when alone.

The song began to wind down, but Mally kept up his playing. At the end of music, some of the gathered crowd began to disperse. He watched as the dormouse's eyes roved desperately over the assembled people. There was a moment where Alice looked in his direction, and her mouth opened a tiny bit. Thackery's mouth went dry and he drew back slightly, seeking some shelter.

Maybe... maybe he could just go back up to his room without being seen at all. Somehow when the music was playing, he could forget the fact he'd run out into the middle of nowhere to see his friends on a spurious whim. Now it was over, he was starting to regret the impulse. The sound of his heart beating in his ears picked up in volume as Mally's eyes presumably sought him out in the crowd. It felt too close to being hunted.

Fingers flexed anxiously. He didn't exactly feel ready to talk to Mally just yet. And anyway, Mally probably wouldn't have pinned everything on this stupid grandiose gesture--

He watched as Mally's head drooped, shoulders slumping. He'd seen that before -- not many times, but before -- when Mally had lost faith. Been disappointed.

Given up.

Thackery's heart plummeted to the soles of his feet, but not before it travelled north for just a moment and squarely kicked his brain.

Of course he'd pinned everything on one stupid, grandiose, wonderful gesture. He was Mally.

Tarrant made an announcement, but Thackery was barely listening. Instead of moving off, camouflaged within the departing audience, the hare stood his ground. With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and did his best not to panic.

Alice looked out, somehow magically finding him first try. Thackery's teeth clenched in his jaw, but he stayed, meeting her eyes sombrely. He watched Alice move to apparently comfort the despondent Mally. Thackery shoved the phone and keycard into his pockets, fingers aching for something to do. What would happen now?

Alice touched Mally's hand and inclined her head towards where Thackery stood.

"Oh, crud," Thackery exhaled, crossing his arms over his chest, gripping each bicep incredibly hard.

He could still always run...

But the slump of Mally's shoulders convinced him otherwise. Thackery just didn't have it in him to be so cruel as to run away now. Mally might not want to speak straight away, and if he did...

Maybe he could weather some kind of small meeting.

In public.

Surrounded by strangers and friends alike.

If anything, Thackery reasoned with himself, perhaps this would be the perfect time to see Mally before he went home. Because performance or not, the hare still intended to do that.

So Thackery did the bravest thing he could think of; he took an infinitesimally small step forward. It pulled him out of the shadows just enough to be a tiny bit more visible.

Mally had been looking in his vicinity, but suddenly, it seemed he had been spotted. The dormouse's large, blue eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He turned to look at Alice, who took his guitar, and came running for Thackery's position.

Thackery barely had enough time to completely second-guess his decision to stay before Mally was standing right in front of him.

Well, not right in front. There was enough distance that Thackery -- while still in essence, feeling trapped -- didn't feel too trapped.

Thank heavens for small mercies.

After what seemed to be the longest week of his life, Mally was standing in front of him.

Stupid Mally, Obstinate Mally, Ridiculously-timed-endearing Mally.

Thackery was rooted to the spot, those previous notions of physically shifting his body and running away rendered moot. While a large portion of his brain was still inclined to flee, he was able to stamp it down.

Because the other, larger part needed to be with his friend.

Mally looked at him like he wasn't even real. Thackery had questioned that himself at times, but a subtle pinch to his inner bicep proved he was real, it wasn't a dream, and that he was finally visible to the world at large again.

The dormouse opened his mouth, and Thackery stiffened at the anticipation of what he might say. Abdomen clenched, ears burning, Thackery's breath caught.

"Hey, Thack," Mally greeted in a soft voice he so rarely used.

Thackery's stomach flipped at the salutation. Such an unpretentious greeting from the normally bombastic mouse had him immediately on the other foot. No questions, snide comments, or attempts at wit.

Say something back, his mind told him, and Thackery blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Hey," he responded, hands squeezing his arms reflexively.

"You look... good. Better, than last time, that is," Mally said, before wincing at his choice of words. Thackery would've baulked at the blatant reminder of his condition if the statement hadn't prodded him to look -- really look -- over Mally.

The rings around his eyes were black smudges, and that was without the benefit of eyeliner. His cheekbones were a tiny bit more pronounced, there was a chalky, unhealthy pallor to his skin that was most definitely not normal. This was not the Mally he was used to.

Thackery wondered if the dormouse was sick, because to his memory, only illness had ever correlated with Mally looking that god-awful. A pebble of concern settled in his stomach.

"You look terrible," he replied quite bluntly. The time for vagueness and niceties was gone. It was truth time, even if that truth was a big, stonking mallet.

Mally instantly looked chagrined, running his hands through his hair in an attempt to artfully tousle it. "It's the hair, right? I haven't been able to get it to do the right thing for days."

"No," Thackery refuted. "Not the hair."

Thackery had nothing more to say, and Mally seemed uncharacteristically stumped for words. The hare's fingers twitched against his biceps. Mally looked about as nervous as Thackery felt, and that was a very strange development to notice.

That concern grew to a lump, cold and hard. It made Thackery feel heavy.

And curious.

And worried.

Don't stare. Look somewhere else, Thackery berated himself. His eyes slipped past the dormouse to the courtyard, where the rest of his friends plus the unfamiliar bassist were packing up the equipment.

"How'd you do this?" he asked, becoming weary of the awkward silence.

Mally gave a tired half-smile. "I believe the words 'minor miracle' are involved, somehow."

It wasn't a far stretch to figure out who could have pulled together the resources on the Resort end of the spectrum. "Eve?" he queried.

"Yep." Mally's voice took on a faint humorous tone. " I think I've bypassed the standard flowers or chocolates as a 'thank you'. I think I might owe her a car or something, now."

The hare had no doubt that Mally'd had to jump through some pretty difficult hoops to accomplish his feat. Also that he probably owed Eve big time.

"Women like jewellery," he offered as a solution.

His heart seemingly forgot to beat a few times when Mally responded with a smile -- not nearly as dazzling as it was ordinarily -- but it was what came after it that really socked him in the gut.

"See? This is the wisdom I've been missing all week," Mally said, his voice hitching strangely at the end of the sentence. Thackery's eyes widened imperceptibly, and Mally seemed self-conscious at the slip.

Thackery didn't know if he'd ever seen Mally so blatantly vulnerable when out in public.

There was more to ponder on, but his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the hatter. Tarrant's eyes met his and his smile was comforting. As usual, it put Thackery at ease. Turning his attention to Mally, Tarrant placed a hand on the dormouse's back. "We've started packing up as per your instructions."

Mally looked chagrined. "Ah, shit. I should be helping."

The hatter shook his head emphatically. "No. We've got this." The hand on Mally's back pushed -- just enough to send the unprepared dormouse stumbling a step towards Thackery. With a great amount of effort, Thackery didn't take a requisite step backwards, though he did try and give Tarrant a disapproving look.

It was impossible, however. Tarrant gave him that beatific, earnest smile, and Thackery couldn't help but return it just a little.

"Thanks, Tarrant," Mally said, receiving a clap on the back instead of another push.

Mally's thanks brought Thackery back to his current predicament, and the smile vanished as quickly as it had come.

And they stood. And stared at one another.

Thackery's fingers twitched erratically on his bicep. What the ever-loving hell were they going to do now?

The dormouse seemed to overcome his silence, but it turned out that the former audience for his song seemed determined to lavish him with attention, and interrupt their dialogue at any given opportunity. It wasn't done with malicious intent, but it was still irritating.

After the fourth time, Mally was visibly peeved. He suggested the Café as a new location for their discussion, and Thackery agreed to it. While he didn't necessarily feel up to spending a great deal of time in Mally's company -- the pumping adrenalin was wearing off, leaving exhaustion in its wake -- he figured the interruptions were only prolonging their conversation.

The walk to Storyteller's was interesting to say the least. He could feel Mally's eyes on him every step of the way, although Mally did the best job he could to not look like he was watching. There was a silently agreed-upon distance of a few feet between them, but Thackery did notice that Mally shadowed just a step behind him.

Almost as though he were letting Thackery take the lead, to keep an eye on him; marching a prisoner to a cell, making sure they both reached their destination, and that Thackery didn't pull a fast one and slip out from beneath the warden's watchful gaze.

Thackery continued to walk, but that initial kneejerk response to flee returned, anxious feelings twitching muscles all up and down his spine. The hare hugged himself, rubbing thumbs in circular patterns on his biceps. Somehow that steady pressure -- combined with deep, even breathing -- kept the crippling uneasiness at bay.

For the time being.

***

"I need to go," Thackery announced wearily.

He watched as Mally's ears took a moment to register his statement. The blue eyes widened comically, his mouth dangling open for a moment. "What? But-- but you only just got here! And we're not finished talking! Are we?"

Mally's panic was as surprising as it was exhausting. He needed energy and fortitude to be able to deal with the current brand of manic dormouse.

And Thackery was just about running on emotional 'empty'.

"Yes. And no. And--" The words stopped abruptly as Thackery found himself unable to multitask. Rubbing his eyes and answering Mally's questions would require two separate acts.

"What's the matter?" Mally asked, thankfully able to dial down some of his hysteria.

"Tired," Thackery answered, pinning both hands between his thighs. He paused for the dormouse to continue, but in an uncharacteristic display of restraint, Mally waited.

It didn't happen often, so Thackery took the chance to speak. "I need to think," he told Mally. The ambient noise in the café, the threat of overly large characters possibly coming over to the table at any given moment, wasn't exactly conducive to logical thought. And he had a lot to think about. "Can't do it here."

He slid out of the booth, only to have Mally immediately mirror the action. Thackery drew back, startled.

"Oh," Mally said.

Thackery's jaw ground. Now was not the time to feel sorry for him. Now was the time to leave and regroup.

Leave now, his brain politely instructed him, and Thackery took a step towards the door.

Mally matched the movement again, and the hare stopped. He gave Mally a very wary look. The dormouse was mirroring his stance, down to the fisted hands at his sides. It was disconcerting.

"Can I walk you back, at least?" Mally offered. "It's only polite."

Thackery considered the prospect. Without even his stupid hat for cover, the hare felt remarkably exposed. It wouldn't hurt to have some company for part of the journey, even if it was the dormouse.

At least he trusted Mally.

He realised he hadn't said anything and his friend was still standing there anxiously looking into his face. Thackery nodded once, and Mally's shoulders slumped in released tension.

Thackery started walking. He needed to find somewhere quiet where he could hear himself think. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mally throw down some money and run to catch up with him.

This time, Mally walked beside instead of behind him, and that was a marginal improvement.

Outside the café, they turned right to head towards the lobby. Thackery didn't speak as they walked. He said Mally could accompany him; he never promised conversation.

He was too busy avoiding running into mingling guests, and watching Mally's skittish movements. It felt like the dormouse wanted to start a hundred conversations a hundred different ways, and ultimately couldn't find the words for one.

Why? What had him so tongue-tied? He hadn't been that way at the café, or ever before in his life. Thackery couldn't make sense of it out in the open.

A few steps took them both up to the bustling lobby, and Thackery had had enough company. He ceased walking, which also caused Mally to stop immediately. Wrapping arms around his body made him feel safe, and reminded him he was real. Thackery turned to Mally, gaze falling to somewhere around Mally's left ear. "I can go the rest of the way from here."

"Ah, okay." Mally looked young and very, very old at the same time. It was confusing. "I'm assuming you're not going to play tonight?"

That was a 'hell' followed very profusely by a 'no'. He wasn't sure what he was going to be doing in ten minutes, let alone later in the evening.

"Right," Thackery answered instead, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes slipped to the elevator, wanting to escape: To think, to regroup, to make sense of everything. And even though it felt good to confirm he wasn't playing, the small sigh that escaped Mally's lips in response stung nonetheless. Thackery's shoulders dropped.

His eyes dared flick back to Mally when the dormouse took a tiny step forward. "Maybe you might like to come watch? You know, if you feel up to it."

"I'm not sure." Thackery's arms reflexively tightened around his body, reassuring him that he was safe.

It was funny how when Mally put the offer forward, it didn't seem like such a bad move. But then again, he'd already seen them perform once -- maybe for the last time -- so why did he need to see them agai--

"Just think about it," Mally entreated. His earnest, hangdog face silenced the hare's thoughts midstream. Inexplicably, Thackery found himself nodding.

Promised to think about it, not promised to go. Yet. Maybe.

Once again, Mally's mere presence made Thackery consider changing his mind, even after he'd been so set on his course of action.

Damn it.

They stood and stared at each other then; well, Mally looked directly at Thackery, but the hare's gaze was levelled somewhere off to the side.

Thackery wasn't sure what was supposed to happen, but he felt unsettled and exhausted, and needed some space to breathe.

As if in complete contradiction to his thoughts, Mally stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Thackery. Thackery was so stunned he couldn't even move.

Not because he was horrified, or outraged, but...

... because it felt so good.

A prickle of warmth flared in his stomach and slowly spread up through his torso, and down his arms to make his fingers tingle. There was Mally-smell, and Mally-warmth, and fuck having any kind of feelings for him because he just missed being around him.

And all of those doubts about whether Mally had felt his absence came crashing down when the dormouse muttered against his shoulder: "I missed ya, Thack."

His slowly healing heart thumped painfully in his chest, and Thackery flicked his eyes to the ceiling in the vain hope some deity would tell him what to do.

The hare's hands took over, and moved of their own volition from where they were pinned between their bodies. They reached around and gave Mally's back a few tremulous pats. The action made Mally's body seemingly increase in warmth.

"Nobody's hairy ears get up my nose like yours do," he commented, and it was so stupid that Thackery couldn't help a laugh, because it was just like Mally to comment about his ears.

It was just like Mally to make him laugh when he was so upside-down and contrariwise.

He needed that thinking time... now.

Thackery brought his hands up between their bodies and pushed Mally away from him, backing up a few steps.

"Seeya," he said gently, before making straight for the elevator.

It took fortitude Thackery didn't think he even possessed to walk away, knowing Mally was left standing there in the middle of the foyer. A shaking hand pressed the elevator button, silver doors opened to engulf him. He made sure to keep his head down until the moment the doors were just about to close.

In that slice of a second, just before they shut, Thackery caught a glimpse of Mally watching him go.

Thackery sighed and sank against the side of the elevator, feeling both elated and woebegone at once.

***

His room was just how he'd left it in his rush. Thackery dumped his swipe card and glasses on the table and rubbed his eyes.

There was so much to consider now, so much to contemplate. He tried to sift through the information he'd learnt from Mally at their brief encounter in the café and make some sense out of it.

Mally called Thackery his best friend.

Best friend.

That idea made a bubble of laughter escape Thackery's throat. As loyal and as caring as Mally was with his friends, 'best friend' implied a connection that went beyond that.

The hare's fingers twitched fitfully. Not... not as far as he might've wished it would go, but still a very important connection.

Thackery paced the length of his room, periodically running an anxious hand through his hair. The things he'd just learnt proved that statement, at least: Mally missed him, felt bad for unintentionally making him feel bad, took responsibility for his own actions, and made a larger-than-life grandiose gesture just to get the hare's attention.

Mally's words drifted back to him, and Thackery chewed on the inside of his bottom lip.

"...I always thought that you and Tarrant were my closest friends, but... this is a little different."

Thackery's breath quickened a little. The idea that he could've climbed so high in the dormouse's esteem without properly realising was strange. Mally admitting this fundamental change in the structure of his friendship so plainly also seemed peculiar, but that was more because it was such a Mally thing to do, and not at all a Thackery one.

Thackery couldn't just up and decide he was choosing a new important person in his life, seemingly just like that. There was his family

(mostly moved on now)

and Tarrant

(mostly moved on now, too)

and--

Thackery stopped pacing, drawing in a short, sharp breath.

He thought to his oldest friend. Dear, sweet, wonderful Tarrant.

Who'd been the first person in Underland to befriend him, the first one outside of his immediate family to not shy away from his rages and erratic behaviour, who loved him for who he was...

Who... wasn't really his best friend anymore.

Not because either of them had done anything wrong at all, but because... they'd drifted slightly, as a natural progression of their friendship.

In the old days, it was just Tarrant and Thackery against the world. A heavy-eyed dormouse joined them not long afterwards, but in those days of perennial tea parties and rambling forest adventures, the lethargic rodent missed so much with his narcoleptic tendencies. It took a few years before Mally stopped having quite so much of the jam that had the penchant to exacerbate his sleepy qualities, and began participating more. Chessur and Absolem were occasionally around at that time, but for the most part it was the three tea party companions.

Then, they found Alice, and the dynamic shifted once again. Tarrant had more to occupy himself with, finding common ground with the lovely blonde. Their talent for music was already being explored, courtesy of Mally's natural curiosity, and so it just seemed that they naturally paired off in a certain fashion: the singers and the musicians. Up until the week just gone he'd clocked more time one-on-one with Mally in the last few years than he had with Tarrant.

When Thackery started to come to grips with his life, his sanity, Mally's company seemed to make more sense. Tarrant served as a reminder of how he used to be, Mally who he might become, and Thackery's mindset was duly influenced by who he spent time with. The more time with Mally, the clearer things became.

And somehow, his (new) best friend made him...

Better.

Until stupid, traitorous feelings reared their inconvenient heads.

Thackery put his hand out to steady himself, falling in a seated position heavily on his mattress. Resting elbows on his knees and placing his head in his hands, Thackery's fingers pressed into his temples in an attempt to release the pressure of the thoughts ricocheting around the inside of his skull.

However brief their talk had been, it had been incredibly informative save for one rather important omission.

Thackery knew that his feelings had been made clear to the dormouse... the only thing was, Thackery didn't exactly know what Mally thought about that situation.

For everything that had been said, the dormouse hadn't really acknowledged or addressed that particular nugget of information. To be honest, Thackery wouldn't have known what to do if he had. Perhaps he just would've expired with embarrassment on the spot.

But to have it still looming, like the proverbial elephant in the room, was enough to make Thackery chew rather roughly on his bottom lip.

A gentle knock at his door made Thackery sit up and groan immediately. He shuffled to his door and peered through the peephole.

The figures were a little blurry without his glasses, but neither of them was blond, so Thackery felt reasonably comfortable in opening the door.

"Thackery," Tarrant greeted with a smile simultaneously in his voice as well as on his face. "May Absolem and I enter?"

"Yeah," Thackery said, fingers scratching at the juncture where his ear met his head. He opened the door wider to invite them in.

His friends entered the room. Absolem moved to lean against the desk and cross his arms and ankles, while Tarrant wandered about, glancing over the neatly piled or packed belongings.

"The room's looking a little empty," Absolem remarked, studying his fingernails.

Thackery still had his back pressed against the door where he'd shut it. "I was packing," he muttered.

"Was?" Tarrant picked up, a hopeful note of query in his voice.

A flare of irritation sparked in Thackery's blood, heating the skin of his cheeks. "Well, I don't know now!" he snapped back, right hand balled in an impotent fist.

As soon as the angry words had left his mouth, Thackery shut his eyes and gave a few deep breaths. Yelling would get him nowhere. Bitterness would get him nowhere. The only thing that could possibly work in his favour would be the truth.

Thackery opened his eyes and was chagrined to see Tarrant's grave face. "Why are you here?" he asked quietly, changing the subject like the coward he was.

"We wanted to see how you were after our little performance," Tarrant said.

"And make sure the idiot hadn't scared you off completely," Absolem added.

Thackery unwillingly snorted out a laugh, which turned into a weary sigh. He pushed himself off the door and shuffled back into the heart of his room, walking between his friends to get to the other side of his bed. The hare looked down at his half-packed bag and sighed again, picking up one of those ubiquitous balled-up pairs of socks. It gave him something he could touch and occupy himself with.

"Not quite," he admitted softly.

Tarrant nodded once. "We thought that perhaps you had questions about what happened that require answers. We can provide them, should you wish."

Thackery nodded, squishing the socks in his fists. As it happened, he did have a few questions, the first being about his friends' involvement.

"How long were you in on it?" He asked vulnerably, eyes going from singer to keyboardist. Tarrant had always been terrible at keeping things from Thackery, guilt often leading him to blurt them out unexpectedly to ease his burden. It was a wonder the hatter had been able to keep Mally's scheme under wraps. He wondered if having him watch Mally's performance had anything to do with their desire to get him to stay.

"Only since yesterday morning," Tarrant replied promptly, and Thackery arched an eyebrow. It made sense. It was such a short period of time, otherwise there was no way Thackery wouldn't have picked up on the deception by his friend.

The answer did make him feel a little guilty at speculating at an ulterior motive to his friends' opinions about him leaving, but feeling a slight stain of guilt was better than a huge, honking stab of betrayal.

But...

"Yesterday?" Thackery murmured. "How did he organise all of this in one day?" the hare asked himself, mystified.

Tarrant took the opportunity to answer anyway. "It's Mally," he replied with an open shrug.

Mally, indeed. Thackery ran a palm over his arm, rubbing it awkwardly. He studied the flowers inked over his arm, native to Tulgey. A strange, hollow ache formed in the pit of his stomach, and a thought occurred about the reasoning behind such an extravagant gesture.

"Does he know I plan to go home?"

Probably. Maybe.

The hare's breath stilled in his lungs as he waited on an answer he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to hear.

Absolem shook his head. "Not to my knowledge."

"I didn't tell him," Tarrant added.

"Huh," Thackery said, kneading the balled socks once again, exhaling slowly.

The hare's fingers tingled. There was something important in that revelation. Something that Thackery needed to grab on to. Thackery frowned, and squeezed at the socks. Thinking on the spot wasn't one of his greatest strengths, he always felt under pressure to say the right thing.

Silence lingered as he tried to arrange his musings into some sort of logical order.

When it stretched out a bit longer, Absolem moved from the desk to stand by Tarrant. "If Thackery doesn't have anymore questions, we should leave him be. Undoubtedly he has a lot to process."

Tarrant looked to Thackery earnestly. "Do you have any further queries?"

"Not right now," Thackery admitted. He'd heard all he needed to. True to form, Absolem was right; there was much that needed processing, and it was best accomplished on his own.

Absolem inclined his head towards the door. "We'll let ourselves out." The caterpillar turned immediately, but Tarrant stayed for a moment, giving Thackery a bolstering smile.

"I'll stop by after our performances tonight, if you would like some company," he offered.

"Okay," Thackery agreed, mustering up a small smile. Tarrant seemed pleased by the response, and beamed in return. He joined Absolem at the door, giving a little wave before the caterpillar pulled it closed with a quiet 'click'.

Thackery flopped down heavily on his bed. His gaze flicked around the room before coming to rest on the half-packed bag sitting next to him.

For all the good reasons he'd put forward to convince his friends -- and himself -- that he needed to leave...

Maybe he'd finally been presented with a good reason to stay.

Thackery sighed and dropped the ball of socks. It bounced off the mattress and fell to the carpet, rolling away. He had a lot to consider.

***

Thackery anxiously glanced at his phone to check the time again. It had only been a few minutes since he last looked, but the fourth set of T was creeping ever closer, and the anticipation was sending butterflies fluttering amongst the hare's insides.

Crowds milled around, waiting for the band, but the push seemed to be more towards the stage. Thackery had found a spot at the back. He felt safer pressed against the planter's large topiary, but the spot did have the one flaw of being close to the bar.

Music from the pretty red-haired DJ -- Wendy, he thought her name was -- reverberated in his head, and Thackery wished he'd thought to bring a set of ear buds. He forgot how invasive the bass could be on the audience side of the stage.

With a dainty side-step, Thackery narrowly avoided being splashed with alcohol by a slightly inebriated guest. He checked the time again and willed it to hit double-zeroes.

Thackery had spent much of the rest of his day in his room. He'd had so much to think about it was too hard to know where to start. What he did know was that it was too hard to think and pack at the same time, and so packing was put temporarily on hold. Instead, he spent much of his time on the sofa, Tulgey bass a familiar and stabilising weight across his thighs.

By nature, Thackery wasn't ordinarily stimulated visually; maybe it was a by-product of his poor vision, but he tended to rely more on his auditory and olfactory senses.

But all afternoon, and into the evening, Thackery had been plagued by images. Snapshots, really.

And they were all pictures of Mally's face.

Mally's wide eyes when he'd seen Thackery in the courtyard.

His jaw-clenched anxiety when he admitted hurting Thackery.

That stricken look when Thackery had announced he was leaving.

The earnest hope when he'd invited Thackery to watch the show.

Those pictures kept flipping through his mind. It was as though each instance was embossed on the face of a playing card, and his brain kept shuffling through them. And whenever Thackery entertained the prospect that seeing the band would be too uncomfortable for him, he drew the card with Mally's perfectly hopeful face on it.

Thackery sighed. On occasion, his brain could be a remarkably treacherous place.

Treacherous or not, ultimately Thackery didn't have much else to do on the Sunday night, save sit around and stress; so with a long-sleeved shirt and his deerstalker firmly in place as his shields, the hare set out once night had fallen.

Thackery's route to Hollywood Studios was a longer one; he walked through Grizzly Peak and past Pacific Wharf to be able to completely avoid Buena Vista Street in its entirety, at least until he was ready.

Long before he'd reached the back entrance, his ears had started to pick up the familiar thumping bassline. Fingers twitching, and throat suddenly thick, Thackery wrung his hands together as he entered Hollywood Studios through the back entrance, right near the House of Cards stage. It felt sneaky, but entering through the rabbit hole on Mally's side of the stage held the very real possibility that he would be spotted immediately, and just wasn't quite ready for that.

Dodging dancing and partying patrons, Thackery found a spot where he wasn't too jostled, and watched.

Although he'd gotten a taste of it that morning, it was a completely bizarre experience standing out in the crowd and watching his friends perform without him. Weirder still, to have an unknown man -- wearing fake ears, no less -- bound about in his stage outfit with his red bass. The guy was good, and Thackery felt a twinge of envy for being up there and doing what the hare loved so much, only without the personal issues and awkwardness.

It didn't take him long to lose interest in watching his doppelganger to become interested by a new and strange animal; Mally the Faker.

The dormouse strutted around, playing wonderfully as always, but--

--but his muchness was gone. He didn't even play with half the energy he'd devoted to his morning courtyard serenade. The movements were there, but they were hollow, insincere. Mally seemed far more interested in scanning the audience every minute or so; eyes roving over the crowd almost desperately. Thackery took a subtle step behind a tall man, and watched with pensive interest.

This inattention to his stagecraft and bandmates really undercut the dormouse's larger than life stage presence. It's like he didn't want to be there at all.

Thackery's teeth made a rather savage row of indentations in his bottom lip; he wasn't sure whether he should be pleased at this turn of events or not.

When the set finished, Mally lingered on stage and gave the crowd another scan before jumping down. Thackery drew back, heart thumping noisily in his ears as he beat a hasty retreat before the Hottest Deck in Town's audience could block him in.

Thackery burst out onto Buena Vista Street like he was coming out of a room with no oxygen. He sucked in deep lungfuls of air, bracing one arm on his knee to steady himself.

What had he just witnessed?

Thackery pressed his fingers to his temple as he exited Hollywood Studios. His hands were clammy, mouth dry and bitter. He remembered the beverage outlet right near the rabbit hole entrance, and made his way there with shuffling steps. Thackery got a cup of cold water, and then looked for somewhere he could sit and regroup for a bit. The street felt too exposed; he needed somewhere a little more private.

The hare ended up in the foyer of the Animation Academy building; it was close by, but he felt safer in the darkness. Most of the seats were taken, so he found an expanse of wall and sat down on the carpet. Prying off the plastic lid of his cup, Thackery dipped his fingers into his water and swiped them across the back of his neck. The drips began soaking into the collar of his t-shirt, and the cool began to calm his jackhammering heart.

Mally's words about their performances being lacklustre drifted back to him. Thackery hadn't quite believed it at the time, wondering how his amazing friends could give anything but one hundred percent of their time and effort on stage. But it was clear that as good as they were, the rest of the band couldn't quite compensate enough for Mally's lack of enthusiasm. It was something of a concerning turn of events.

Mally lived to perform, to entertain, to be the centre of attention. On stage -- and in life -- he was like a tiny sun that pulled people into orbit around him. He always joked about being the centre of the universe, but when it was put into those terms... it tended to make sense.

But Thackery was no longer in orbit, and Mally had dimmed considerably.

And the hare couldn't help but feel bad. A twinging pang of responsibility settled in his stomach.

Thackery shook his head, like he was trying to shake something off. That thinking wouldn't do. One of the main reasons he'd come off the rails was because time and again, he kept putting others -- putting Mally -- ahead of his own basic needs and wants.

He couldn't feel guilty for wanting to leave, to get better, just because Mally was pouting and having an off performance. Maybe the guitarist was just going to have to suck it up and deal like the rest of his friends, and acquiesce to what Thackery wanted for a change.

Thackery sighed and slumped, arms drooping between his bent knees.

It didn't feel right saying those things about his friends, about Mally. More than anything else, he wanted them all to understand and support his decision, not just grudgingly accept it, or worse, try and talk him out of it.

Besides, if Thackery lost that innate empathy for his band family, he wouldn't feel like Thackery anymore.

He sat there for a while longer, before it began creeping closer to T's last set. Pushing himself to his feet with a muffled groan, Thackery steeled himself for the short walk back to Hollywood Studios.

Thackery did his best to avoid the people walking down Buena Vista Street in his effort to cross the bitumen and make it to Hollywood Studios. He spent a few moments in front of the misting archway and huge band logo. The stage was visible, lights strobing and changing with the beat of music.

"Why am I here...?" he murmured to himself.

There were things that needed to be said between them that Thackery wasn't sure he was prepared to discuss just yet. It was difficult to offer any kind of explanation upon what had transpired, but perhaps he could offer something else in its stead for the time being. Something that Thackery had only as recently as this morning started to come to grips with himself.

The hare entered through the rabbit hole, pulling his hat down a little further over his eyes and ears, not wanting a regular to recognise him. A few people gave a second glance at his ears, but he wasn't the only one with green fuzzy appendages sticking out from beneath hats or bandanas. For the most part, he was casually dismissed as a fan and left alone.

And that was where he currently found himself; at the spot at the back by the topiary, anxiously waiting for the last set to start.

Thackery had chosen his spot carefully. While it wasn't overtly advertising his presence, he wasn't hiding in amongst the crowd like a wraith anymore.

If Mally was looking for him, Thackery would be seen.

In some far-off part of Thackery's mind, he idly wondered if Mally seeing him would alter the performance in any way.

The lights changed, and the DJ made an announcement over her mic. Thackery was barely listening, but then all of a sudden Chessur was walking up the stairs to the stage. He was followed by the March Hare stand-in, then Absolem. Mally trudged up the stares with an expression that was far closer to a grimace than an actual smile. He barely looked in the direction of the audience, choosing to go straight to his stand. Mally fiddled with his transmitter, picked up his guitar, and nodded stiffly to the bassist. A large, goofy smile was returned, and Thackery wondered if that was what being punched in the stomach felt like.

All those thoughts and justifications to go home to get better were wilting, and suddenly, it didn't seem so much like healing as it did running away.

From his responsibilities, and from the people who loved him, and people who needed him just as much as he needed them.

Thackery folded his arms across his chest and willed himself to calm the rising hysteria as Mally turned towards the audience.

The dormouse began a casual scan of the audience, and Thackery's breathing quickened when it seemed he looked in the hare's direction. But Mally's eyes slid over his spot, and Thackery exhaled slowly.

It was... nearly disappointing that Mally hadn't seen him, after making such a huge and conscious effort to allow it to happen. Maybe there wasn't enough light, or he'd picked a spot too far away, or his clothes were too dark, or--

Thackery's mind-wandering came to a halt when he looked back to Mally.

Who was looking directly at him. Or seemed to be, at least.

Thackery watched as Mally moved his head from side to side, presumably trying to identify him; almost in the way owls did when they were trying to pinpoint sound. He saw Mally's eyebrows go up and furrow his forehead... the mouse's long vision was never quite as good as his, maybe he just wasn't sure...

The hare's mouth went dry as those blue eyes narrowed, trying to confirm his presence. He was once again presented with the opportunity to be bolder than he felt. Thackery could confirm his presence and still be off the hook with talking to Mally immediately. After all, it wasn't like the dormouse was going to leap offstage in the middle of the set and demand they continue their conversation...

He could let Mally know he was there, as he was reasonably sure Mally had more or less realised his presence anyway.

However, in doing so, he'd almost assuredly be committing himself to seeing Mally again before he left for home.

Decisions, decisions...

Unfolding one arm from around his torso, Thackery tilted the brim of his hat up just a little, enough so that the spotlights could hit his features. The same hand's fingers flicked up for a brief moment in salute. Thackery wasn't willing to make his gestures any clearer than that. He squinted briefly as the light hit his face and he was momentarily blinded. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, to re-take the scene before him and wonder if Mally had seen him.

But there was no need to wonder; Mally seemed to have gotten the message.

And the change it made was near instantaneous.

Mally's face split into a huge genuine grin, eyes crinkling at the corners, lips pulling all the way back from his teeth to show two rows of pearly whites.

Thackery stopped breathing for the span of three heartbeats before he remembered he needed to keep doing that to live.

The girls down the front noticed the dormouse's change immediately and screamed. Mally broke his eye contact with Thackery for just a few moments to play to them; something he hadn't really done all night.

His body language changed too; the smooth roll of his shoulders, the confident strut was back. Okay, maybe he still wasn't at his best, but it was a damn sight better than he'd been last set. Thackery shook his head, completely unable to help the smile that gently curved his mouth.

The gift of Thackery's presence had been accepted, and he unexpectedly reaped a reward as well, if the vaulting flip-flop of his stomach was anything to go by.

Mally's hope.

By this time, Tarrant had joined the band on stage. "Does anyone know what time it is?" he asked his customary question.

Mally's spine arched, throwing his head right back. "T time!" he hollered, standing close enough to his microphone that it picked up a bit of his voice. Thackery saw the rest of the band in his peripheral vision give Mally a strange look, but Mally never saw it. The dormouse just locked eyes on Thackery and began the opening riff to the first song, grinning maniacally.

It was the sun coming back from certain death in a supernova, reigniting to live once more, and Thackery found himself being pulled into orbit all over again.

For the first time since he made the decision to return to Underland, Thackery truly questioned it.

The ripple of excitement that ran through the audience at the sudden change in energy onstage was a palpable thing. Thackery could feel the electricity arcing through, connecting with the band on stage; it was like they were completing a circuit fuelled by music and adrenalin.

Thackery sighed softly. He missed the feelings of release and adulation. It was what made being onstage worthwhile to him; the chance to connect with a bunch of strangers that didn't mind him letting out a bit of crazy, that didn't judge him because it was all part of the performance. He missed playing music with his strange and wonderful friends, who were really more like family. He missed the safety he felt within their unified group of six.

Mally dipped into his vision again, and he held Thackery fast with his gaze. It was the strangest feeling of intimacy in a crowded place. It brought to mind the one-on-one jam sessions they had from time to time, because although there were dozens of people around, the dormouse's attention made it feel like he was the only one there.

Thackery's feet shifted fitfully at the attention, unsure of whether he liked the development or not. Then Mally's gaze of intensity melted into a silly grin, and a prickle of warmth sparked in the hare's chest.

Okay, so it wasn't wholly unpleasant.

The fourth set just exuded energy. With Mally's renewed enthusiasm, the band scorched their way through their setlist. It didn't escape Thackery's notice that Mally's glance continually strayed to him, making sure he hadn't moved from his spot. Each time he was found, that damn ecstatic grin made another appearance. The constant attention felt less like he was being checked up on, and more like Mally was playing to him specifically.

On occasion, Thackery felt like Mally had forgotten the rest of the audience was even there, his attention was so tied to the hare's presence.

The more Thackery watched, the more he wondered at what had happened over the course of the week he'd been avoiding the dormouse. He'd heard a little from Mally himself... he supposed he could've asked Tarrant or Absolem for confirmation in his room earlier, but the whole performance and talk with Mally had been far too overwhelming for those questions to have occurred.

Recalling Mally from the previous week, in his 'Ready to Woo Alice' glory, comparing it to the fatigued, worn mouse who sat across from him at the Storytellers Cafe, and who played that third set was somewhat startling. Thackery never would've considered he'd had enough influence over the dormouse's life to affect that kind of change.

And yet... he saw abject proof.

Thackery never wanted to command that kind of influence over another creature, either willingly or unwillingly. To know his absence -- however much he'd needed the break -- had affected Mally to such a degree was startling. To see his return light up the dormouse's face, was equally so. For a creature who usually felt powerless to the capricious winds of the world, having that kind of power over someone else's state was a huge and frightening burden.

But that big, white smile that kept getting flashed in his direction drove away those heavy feelings and gave Thackery hope; hope that everything could return to the way it was.

But could that really happen if he went away?

Home was starting to seem like a cold place without Mally's smile to warm it.

As the set progressed, Thackery realised more of his friends had spotted him. Tarrant pointed to him during a song with a big grin, while Alice blew him a kiss. Thankfully, their attention was never overt to make anyone in the crowd suspect there was an incognito hare in the audience. Then again, he supposed that might undermine the integrity of having one 'march hare' on stage already.

The music came roaring to the climax of their night with Let's Go Crazy. With Mally stepping up onto the slightly raised drum platform, all eyes on stage -- as well as the audience -- went to the dormouse.

Mally shredded his guitar masterfully, nodding towards Alice before giving a pretty decent jump into the air. It was an energetic and good way to finish the set. The air whooshed out of Thackery's lungs in sympathetic relief like it usually did when they finished a set, despite the fact he was only in the audience.

Thackery pushed himself up off the planter, kneading his hands anxiously in front of him. All of his friends assembled down stage in a line, receiving the applause for a job well done. With arms linked, the six musicians gave a deep bow.

Unlike the rest of his friends, however, Mally didn't look at the floor. He bowed deeply at the waist, but kept his head up, and looked Thackery directly in the eyes, panting slightly in exertion.

The hare was transfixed by Mally's eyes, and his mouth went dry. Somehow, being caught in Mally's gaze like that made the yahooing of the crowd around him fade a little.

Thackery was pinned by the dormouse's icy blue stare. The rest of him may have been smiling cockily, but Mally's eyes told a different story. And Thackery suddenly realised then that, going home or not, Mally had waited long enough for the truth. Not just over the last couple of weeks, but for the last few years.

He deserved the explanation that could only come from Thackery.

The realisation shocked his body into movement. As the band jumped off the stage, and before he could get completely swallowed by the audience, Thackery weaved his way to the front entrance. Ducking through the archway with its misting water, he hooked a right behind the stage. It was darker there, and the lack of people instantly made him feel like he could breathe a little easier.

Thackery looked up into the night sky and took a few deep breaths. After a few moments, the hare moved behind the stage, towards the entrance of the green room. Many audience members had stayed behind to greet the band, who were mingling and taking photos on the way out.

Thackery could only really see the top of Tarrant's hat and a few spikes of Chessur's hair in amongst the people.

He couldn't see Mally, but then again, wasn't about to stroll out into the middle of the crowd and start their conversation then and there.

With a fleeting glance to the buildings on his left, he realised past the little gate was the private path towards the backstage area. The hare made a beeline for his destination, until someone called out to him.

"Excuse me, sir. You're not able to enter this--" The stage manager's voice abruptly stopped when she realised who she was talking to. "Thackery!" she exclaimed in surprise, though she still managed to keep her voice in a professionally low register so as not to attract any undue attention.

"Hi, Kristina," he greeted with a pained smile. "Can I go to the green room?"

"Of course," she responded, opening the gate for him. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No. Thank you. Just waiting for the guys," he added awkwardly and chucked his thumb behind him, taking small backward steps up the path.

Kristina smiled and touched a finger to the earpiece of her headset. Thackery could hear the faint, tinny buzz from a voice answering her. After a moment's pause, she nodded. "No problem. They should be along very soon."

She looked as though she'd say something else, but the buzz came back, and Kristina was distracted once again. Thackery exhaled in relief. He wasn't sure if he was going to get in trouble for being in the area because he wasn't performing... but clearly everything was fine.

Thackery turned to walk the correct way, and made his way a little further down the path. Lamps lit the way, and he was suddenly taken with the recent memory of waiting for Mally here, and feeling a keen sense of loneliness and heartbreak as he watched the dormouse and Alice together.

Slipping into those uncomfortable memories, he didn't notice someone approaching until they were almost next to him. Thackery jumped, only to relax when he realised it was Absolem.

"Thackery," he greeted, an uncharacteristic smile curving his mouth slightly.

"Hey," Thackery answered, a hand going to the back of his neck to massage the corded muscles.

The caterpillar stopped to light a cigarette, taking a lazy puff. "I imagine your presence was the reason for the mouse's change of heart?"

That the change in Mally was so noticeable made Thackery feel strange. "I guess? I don't know," he replied non-commitally, shifting from foot to foot.

Absolem snorted. "I do."

Thackery suddenly felt flushed. Safely backstage as he was, the hare took off his deerstalker, ruffling his hair and ears slightly to allow the night air to cool him down.

Some movement down the path caught his eye and Thackery's gaze snapped to it. Over Absolem's shoulder, he could see three figures approach. Chessur's silhouette was distinctive, as was his own; or what amounted to 'his own' with the replacement bassist wearing a replica of his costume as well as faux ears. The third figure was, Kristina. They all seemed deep in conversation as they passed, so much so that the only one who seemed to notice Thackery was Chess. The cat gave him a friendly wink, but didn't stop, and Thackery was glad the drummer didn't draw the attention of the others toward Thackery.

Thackery let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding in, and looked down at his hands. They'd twisted the deerstalker in a death grip. The hare loosened his white-knuckled grip on the hat with some degree of effort, folded it in half and shoved it in his back pocket.

He looked back to Absolem, who had been watching him impassively.

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this," Thackery admitted, surprising himself at the honesty of the statement.

Absolem's eyes crinkled at the corners slightly, and without his expression changing too much, the caterpillar managed to project a feeling of approval.

"That you can state that so plainly now would prove otherwise to me."

Thackery gave a faltering smile at the encouragement, but it slipped away as quickly as it had come. "It's true, though," Thackery said as he looked down at his palms. They were cold and clammy.

Absolem nodded. "I understand, but if you fully intend to continue with your plans to return home, you must ask yourself: If not now, when?"

Thackery opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and the caterpillar didn't wait around for anything to be said. He just gave Thackery a little nod and continued off down the path.

The hare was still thinking on Absolem's words when Tarrant and Alice made their way along the path, arms linked together. Alice beamed to see him. The singer got closer, tentatively holding her arms out. It seemed as though she were waiting for Thackery to give an indication he didn't wish the contact. But if anything, Thackery felt like he could use the propping up. He opened his arms a little, and Alice took the invitation, giving him a gentle-yet-all-encompassing hug.

"I'm so happy to see you came," she murmured.

Thackery sank down a little to place his chin on her shoulder. "I'm... glad I did," he said softly.

"You're not the only one," Tarrant commented, nodding sagely.

Thackery's eyes flicked to Tarrant's, brows drawing together in a frown. The constant inference that his appearance was what had sparked Mally up so much made him anxious.

Alice flicked Tarrant a look that apparently told him to hush. She rubbed Thackery's back a few times before pulling away a little. "We're going to get changed and then have a late supper. You're welcome to join us...?"

Thackery pursed his lips. "That sounds nice... but--" The hare chewed on his bottom lip. "I need to catch up with--" he swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, "--with Mally."

Alice's eyes practically glowed, but she reigned in any comments, and for that Thackery was grateful. "He's still out with the audience, but I saw him slowly making his way back here."

Tarrant put his hand lightly on Alice's back. "We should allow Thackery some privacy."

Alice looked like she wanted to protest, but again, held her tongue. "Of course." She slid her hands down Thackery's arms to hold his, giving them a squeeze. "If you change your mind, give us a call?"

"Of course," Thackery responded automatically.

Tarrant moved to give his old friend a reassuring hug. "Speak your mind, he'll hear your heart. Good luck," he murmured next to Thackery's ear.

Thackery managed an apprehensive smile. With a nod of his head, Tarrant gracefully took Alice's arm in his own, continuing along the path.

Thackery exhaled gustily and continued to wait. Melting into the shadows a little allowed him to regain some composure. Music from the House of Cards stage thumped in the distance, the spotlights still cut arcs through the night sky, and Thackery closed his eyes, imagining himself calmly just below the surface of a body of water.

Soon enough, he heard heavy, booted footsteps on concrete. Thackery opened his eyes, instantly seeing a familiar silhouette slowly making its way towards him. Mally stopped walking under a yellow circle of light. The dramatic lighting shadowed half his face as he peered forward, trying to see ahead.

"Thackery?" Mally asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard -- curious and hopeful all at once. The tone of the dormouse's words made his stomach flutter for a few moments.

For the second time that evening, Thackery felt what it was like to be sought out by Mally's eyes. And for the third time that day, he did the most terrifying thing he could think of to do -- he made himself known.

The hare edged into the light, wondering what the hell he was meant to do with his hands. They flexed tentatively, and Thackery desperately wished he had something to hold.

Mally began walking towards him almost immediately -- faster this time. Thackery's breath caught in his throat as Mally powered towards him; not stopping until he reached the opposite end of the lamp's influence.

All that separated them was the perfect circle of light that illuminated the concrete. It seemed somehow poetic that they stood separated by something that didn't really have any substance at all.

Thackery watched as Mally's brow furrowed briefly. The lights made the creases in his forehead look that much more pronounced. "This is the lamp I asked you to wait for me under last week, isn't it?"

The hare chewed on his bottom lip. The dormouse's memory was one usually replete with broad strokes, rarely remembering minute details. That was different, a good different. A sign that maybe Mally was not quite the same Mally of a week ago.

Which was fine, as Thackery wasn't exactly the same Thackery.

That feeling of crossing a threshold he couldn't retreat from was imminent, but somehow, wheels had turned and Thackery had picked up a momentum he could no longer slow down from.

Might as well roll with it.

He rubbed at the tattoos on his arm. "Yeah. Better late than never, right?"

~to be continued

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