Alice thinks everyone has a Wonderland (offinherhead) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-06-13 21:42:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, alice liddell, spock |
And everyone's a bit strange. It isn't limited just to one sex."
Who: Alice and Spock
What: Meeting for lunch
When: Sunday (pre plot)
Where: A cafe
Status: Complete
Rating: PG-13ish for Spock dressed up for Wonderland(In Alice's mind)
Triggers: blippy mentions of abuse, murder and asylums.
Alice was sitting alone at a cafe. Well not entirely alone. Dinah was curled up in the chair next to her and she had a drink for herself and one for the ghost she’d met along the way. She wasn’t sure if she really saw ghosts or not. Certainly spirit mediums existed, or she was just nutters.
With everyone having dreams it wasn’t entirely impossible that that was a thing, and Alice was by her nature open enough to such things.
She checked her watch, and then checked the knife in her trousers. Because when meeting men from the internet, it always served to come prepared in case she needed to stab them in the testicles.
Spock had gone to meet someone he'd found interesting. The fact that she might have been a little (more than a little, if he were honest) mad didn't entirely drive him away. But it did make him cautious. Spock was by no means a weak man or on the small side. But he couldn't put it past Alice that she might be carrying a weapon. And she always had been fond of talking about stabbing people.
He'd found the coffee shop easily enough and entered with the look of someone who was searching. The thought that things might be awkward almost hadn't really occurred to Spock; he'd figured that Alice had dealt with his mild rejection well enough or she wouldn't have agreed to meet.
When he spotted her, he gave her a stiff smile and approached,taking a seat across from her. "Alice?"
Oh. Not that she usually noticed these things, but he was..what was the word? Proper. No, not proper. Cute. He was cute. Not that Alice often noticed such things, her libido was nearly as dead as her sister, but some small part of her wished he wasn't with someone, if only to see if she'd be more or less inclined to have a break down.
"Spock." She smiled at him, "This is Dinah." She gestured to the cat, and then to the empty seat, "And that is Tricia. She tagged along."
Dinah looked up at him and mewled.
"Shush, Dinah! You're embarrassing me."
Spock turned from the cat to the empty chair. So this was going to be a different sort of experience than what Spock was used to. He did his best to not make a face, keeping himself neutral. Quietly, he reminded himself that he liked Alice well enough and that her oddness wasn't exactly news.
"No need to be concerned," Spock said kindly. Or, as kindly as he could muster. "I cannot speak feline."
"Of course." Alice nodded her head, like she had expected that, "Feline is a difficult language to learn."
The girl sipped at her drink, seeming to both look at Spock and through him, "Are you alright? You look a little green."
Spock only raised a brow a moment, wondering if perhaps she had a certain power of perception that he wasn’t privy to. But that’d have been crazy, of course; Alice hadn’t shared dreams with the Starfleet crew. Wondering if he was perhaps being too sensitive, he dismissed what might have been cryptic. “I’m fine,” Spock said after a moment. “How are you?”
"Less green than you are," She commented, taking another sip from her straw. "I had a lobotomy last night."
She meant dream, of course, but for her everything had bled together, "Or maybe it was a trepanning. It seemed too soon for lobotomies."
"Where's the scar?" Spock asked politely.
"It should be right here," Alice pointed at the side of her head, then felt around. She looked relieved, and her voice remained calm, though tinged by an ever present curious perception, "That one was a dream then. I'm still on the fence about the rest of it. They're dead either way, it's just a matter of suffering."
Spock watched Alice with a reserved sort of curiosity. He wondered what was wrong with her beyond the dreams, if she needed to be on some sort of prescription medication. They'd talked once before about doctors and he had the distinct feeling she wouldn't be going to one of her own free will.
"What do you mean? What happens in the rest of your dreams?"
"My family dies. There's a fire. It's set by a family friend, because he killed my sister. I think he's a Paedo. I think I spend time in an asylum but it's different. Older. Primitive. The nurses there get touchy."
Alice twirls the straw in her drink, watching the ice spin around with rapt fascination, "They get stranger from there. Sometimes I'm Alice, real Alice. From the books. Other times Wonderland is corrupted. Dying. I'm fighting to save it."
She took a long, noisy sip. All of this had terrified her upon waking, sent her into fits of hysterics and worse, but in the light of day with a calm man in front of her it was a lot like with Aveline. She could deal, by detaching herself.
"I see," Spock said with a frown on his face. He didn't, not really. Mostly because he wasn't sure what she'd made up and what was real. He suspected she didn't lie about her family being dead, mostly because he thought her rational enough a person to not do such a thing. But he realized it was just as possible that she made everything up and couldn't tell the difference between reality and fantasy.
After a moment, he added, "I'm sorry." Because it seemed the thing to do.
"They didn't die in a fire. That's in the dream. I can still smell the flesh burning when I wake up." She put the drink aside, voice growing more passionate, "That's why it doesn't make sense. We were assaulted, beaten, not burnt. Lizzie even stayed around to haunt me, the bloody bint. But she moved on eventually too. But it wasn't fire."
Did she want them to have had a less violent death? Maybe, but why would that equate to burning?
"It's not your fault. You're not one of those kind of men, are you?"
Spock listened, trying to piece together the history from the dreams. "It depends," he said, "what sort of men are you talking about?"
“Violent sorts,” She replied.
"No," Spock said with certainty. "I'm not that kind of person."
Alice peered at him closely, then nodded her head, "Good. I believe you. It's so easy for someone to take advantage of another."
Her drink was empty and she pouted at it, "What could cause a place like Wonderland to turn into a dying, corrupted land?"
"I am not here to take advantage of you," Spock reassured her. At her question he raised a brow and thought for a moment, "I don't think there's any paradise that cannot be lost under the correct circumstances. Though, in all honesty, I couldn't really say much about your Wonderland. I know nothing about it."
"It was beautiful and wonderful and strange and odd."
She smiled at him, then tilted her head, "The curious thing is what the circumstances could be. Perhaps it's a measure of my state of mind. It doesn't say much, does it."
"No, I suppose it doesn't." A pause. "But," he looked at her, "all might not be lost. If it's your mission to save a world that's falling apart and the world is your mind, then things can be fixed." Logic puzzles. Spock just loved them.
"How can they be fixed? Do you have some special sort of glue?" The girl peered at him intensely. Perhaps Wonderland was simply the way her mind handled it's shattered state. It had been the book she'd read the most when she was a child in Rutledge and that was only natural.
If only it all didn't feel so real. More real. Realer than real.
"I... don't know," Spock shrugged. "If it's your mind, I suspect you have a much better knowledge of how to go about fixing it. Even if you perhaps do not realize it."
"Does it involve shooting things with a modified pepper grinder? Because that seems really effective, especially against the flying snouts."
"Perhaps," Spock said with a slight confused nod.
Really, he couldn't blame Alice for being the way she was. He'd mostly expected this. It just... didn't keep from making it weird.
Alice nodded thoughtfully, pulled out the straw and started tying it in a knot.
"I feel alone," She said, conversationally. "But that's not something unusual. Other people talk about their dreams, and sharing them, but I don't dream about people. Unless you know Hatter? Or Cheshire? I'd rather not meet that doctor." She would stab him. Then push him in front of a moving car.
"I don't know them," Spock shook his head. "And I'm sorry you haven't found someone from your dreams. But not everyone has. I'm certain you aren't alone." He tried to look sympathetic, but wasn't quite sure whether it came across that way.
"It's all right if I'm not. But it isn't all right. If that makes sense." Alice squinted up one eye as she inspected her straw knot and then started to untie it, "I wonder if anyone has found someone who is supposed to be dead."
What she wouldn't give to see her sister again. Even a dream sister.
"I don't know," Spock answered honestly. "I've met a few people who share similar dreams to mine, but it's been difficult painting a complete picture of events." He thought, very briefly, of his mother.
"It's like everyone gets one half of a painting and that's broken up into parts. Like a puzzle?" Alice put the straw back down and peered at him, "It's hard enough when the puzzle is all in my head."
"It is like a puzzle," Spock agreed. "Typically I like solving problems, but these dreams are a little more... complicated." He hesitated before speaking again, "Is there something I could do to help you, Alice?" He meant it, of course, in the most innocent way possible. But Alice, he got the feeling, was lonely.
"You do help me. Somehow." She twirled her fingers at her head, "When you talk or I read what you type, you're very logical and precise and it helps me. Not with knowing what's real and what's dream and which belongs where but I don't panic about it."
She was lonely. She just didn’t know how to express it.
"We're friends," he clarified, giving her a small smile.
"Friends. I like that." She tried to picture him in her world. He'd have to have a hat. A large hat, like a top hat. And a monocle. It would be attached to a watch. And he'd carry a big stick. She pictured him as the speak softly with a big stick kind of man.
Oh he'd need a nice overcoat. In the London of her mind he'd been a professor. A teacher perhaps. Without the stick, because the stick was reserved for Wonderland. The rest of it would fit both, though more subdued in London than in Wonderland.
The cat hopped into the table and sniffed at him.
Cautious around animals, Spock let the cat sniff at him before raising a hand and holding it out to her. When she sniffed again and didn't seem to want to take a bite out of him, he very gently brushed a few fingers against her neck.
Dinah purred, and promptly made herself at home in Spock's lap, and kneeded at his leg. Alice looked pleased, "You passed muster. She's very picky about other humans."
Spock seemed awkward as Dinah got comfortable on him. He wondered idly why cats always went to the people who didn't want them so near. Clearing his throat, he awkwardly patted the cat on the head and then let his hands fall to the side. "That's nice."
Because cats are nature's trolls, that's why. Dinah continued to kneed, in that way that cats did when they were content, but usually led to puncture marks. Lots of puncture marks.
"Tell me about her? This woman you're seeing. I have to make sure it's allowed."
Spock shifted when he felt claws dig in, but Diah wasn't as cruel as she might have been. Thankfully. Spock felt a little odd talking about Uhura, but felt that it probably wouldn't hurt to give a few details. "She works with the FBI. Speaks a number of languages. Is a good person." He hesitated, not wanting to give too much away. "I'm certain it's... allowed."
Alice nodded her head, "I have to protect you, you know. Men don't know what they get into with woman." She leaned in, like it was a big secret, "We're all nutters."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I am alright." Spock trusted Uhura, probably a little more than he'd admit to. "And everyone's a bit strange. It isn't limited just to one sex."
“I’m mad, you’re mad, we’re all mad here,” Alice quoted, with a toothy smile. She rather looked like one of those cats that was about to start playing with that poor mouse instead of getting it over with and just eating the thing.
"Yes," Spock responded in a tone that didn't exactly exude confidence. He stroked Dinah once and then let his hand fall. This probably was the strangest meeting and conversation he'd ever had.
"Well if you really think about it," Alice reasoned. "The whole world is a madhouse. Just look at what goes on among otherwise sane people, when some new toy or another comes out? So if we're all insane...who are the sane ones?"
Spock seemed more comfortable lost in philosophy. "Sanity is relative." A pause. "Perhaps we're all mad, but not all of the time."
"Or the only sane man is the one that's truly nutters," Alice countered. This was enjoyable, and she was having genuine fun. "At least he'd be the only one actually loving life."
"I don't know if I agree with that. I don't think myself sane and yet enjoy life." Spock shifted in his seat and the cat on his lap meowed in an irritated sort of way. He glanced down at it in surprise.
"Dinah's comfortable, you probably shouldn't move much, she does have her claws close to your jewels." Alice's tone was teasing and light, "So you enjoy life?"
"Dinah's a bit imposing," Spock said, peering down at the cat and frowning at her in the most disapproving sort of way. "I do my best." It wasn't really that difficult a thing. Spock liked his job, actually had friends. What else was there to things? "Do you enjoy life?"
"That's a trick question. I enjoy parts of it. I don't really know what I'm missing in some ways. You know how they say ignorance is bliss? It really is, sometimes." The girl studied the cat in Spock's lap, "When I'm lucid, and the ghosts aren't so loud and the screams are a distant memory. I enjoy that."
"I see." Spock considered telling her about various options she could have to get help, but decided against it. He could maybe bring that up another time. Perhaps when she trusted him a bit more. "I think it's the same for everyone, just not quite so... vivid."
Alice smiled fondly, "Yes. Not so vivid." There were happy dreams, and happy memories. The dreams more than the memories, or perhaps the memories more than the dreams. It was difficult to tell. She liked when things were colorful, and there was no fear, or anger. Those were the best dreams, before Wonderland became a terror.
Dinah stretched out on Spock's lap, dug her claws into a spot above his knee, and then hopped off him. Spock winced and rubbed the spot on his leg, but felt rather grateful to have his lap back. Dinah sauntered across the table and returned to her master.
"Would you perhaps like to take a walk?"
Alice coo'd at Dinah until the cat hopped onto the table then to her shoulder, wrapping her tail around Alice's neck. She smiled at Spock, seeing him again in the waistcoat, monocle and top hat, "I'd love that."
Spock rose and waited patiently for Alice to rise, impressed at the fact that she let the cat on her shoulder and even more so that the cat didn't fall off or claw her when they moved.
He held the door open for her when they exited the little shop and let her pick a direction, figuring that she'd find the most interesting place to end up in.
Alice picked east. Because east is the direction that the sun rose in, and she was feeling optimistic.