Butterflies - Ch 8 (Finale) - Lies of P/Alice Madness
Relationship: P/Alice Liddell
Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53898544/chapters/137944243
Previous | First
Summary: “But why go looking for other realities, when there’s no guarantee you’ll pass through to them?”
“Because it’s an experiment, and I jolly well won’t learn anything more about all this unless I try,” Alice replied.
Having figured out how to slip in and out of Wonderland entirely, Alice Liddell sets off on a journey to find more realities around her own. When she follows a blue butterfly to Hotel Krat, she meets P. The more time they spend together, the more they feel as though there’s someone else out there, just like them.
Chapter Eight: In Which Alice Returns to Krat Once More
Alice was alone.
Once more, she stood on an unfamiliar beach; it really was becoming a habit. Only this time, she was returning to the real world. Reality. It was brighter than Krat had been. The sky was a deep blue, and a soft afternoon sun shone down, warming her back.
There were buildings on this island. The island on this side of reality was built into a village, with a great bridge linking it to the mainland. The border between Italy and France, Alice assumed.
The bridge would certainly easier than coming by submarine, a dim part of Alice thought.
Then the truth of the situation hit her, as thoroughly as a thump in the chest. She was no longer in Krat. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to get back to Krat. Back to P.
P was gone. He was a whole world away. She could still feel the press of his hands on her own; the cold metal of his legion hand. Her heart still raced. Still pounded. As she’d felt herself begin to slip away, she had realised it; she wanted to kiss him. Even if it was just the once, before she slipped away.
But they hadn't managed it. She hadn't kissed P, in the end.
Would she ever see him again?
Yes, she thought, balling her hands into fists. Yes, she would. She would find a way back to Krat. They would meet again. Alice would make sure of it. Still, she did not have an immediate plan. She was in a strange place, and the couple who passed her spoke in Italian. Everyone was speaking Italian, she realised. The only Italian she knew was from the opera, and even then, she didn't know what it meant. It would be no help, here.
They were noticing her. Noticing the strange girl, stood alone, who was nearly crying. Alice took a breath, and brushed the hair from her face. There was nothing for it. She started to head back across the bridge, to the mainland. She needed a plan. Getting to the docks was as good as any. Hopefully Captain Nemo's ship would be there.
It was always strange, to go back to reality. There were no puppets. No monsters. No blue butterflies. Alice felt more alone than ever.
She drifted, and worried about P. He had lost his father, now he had lost her. He was facing the head of the alchemists, alone, and who knew what else. He would be searching for Sophia.
Alice couldn't find Sophia here, and she also couldn't get back without her.
She wandered through unfamiliar streets. The shops were beautiful. They stocked an array of bizarre and beautiful items, and the food from the restaurants smelt wonderful. Her stomach growled. But she didn't have any money. A few pennies in her apron pocket, but those were English pennies; no good here.
She attracted stares. She kept her head down, and kept walking. But by the time she reached the docks, in the late afternoon, she had to stop. She was exhausted, hungry and tired. Worst of all, her chest still hurt from being separated from Krat. Not just P, but all of the inhabitants of the hotel.
Alice sat on a crate, and buried her face in her palms. She didn’t even know how she was going to get back to London.
"Alice!"
She looked up so suddenly her neck cricked. And then stared. Pushing his way through the crowd toward her was a familiar face. She knew that curly hair and those bright eyes.
Peter.
Alice blinked.
Peter ran forward, grinning. "Gee, am I glad to see you!"
Alice tried to smile, but it didn't quite work. She stayed sat, as Peter came to a stop just before her.
"The Captain was sure you were dead, but I knew you weren't! I knew you'd slipped off somewhere to have an adventure! And you did, didn't you?" Peter paused. He peered at her, closely. "Alice?"
"I did slip away," Alice said. It hurt to speak. "I went...somewhere else."
"What's wrong?" Peter knelt down, so she had to meet his eyes. The sun caught the freckles across his nose. "Was it awful?"
Alice shook her head. Then she stopped, and shrugged.
"I suppose most people would think it awful," she said. "It was. But it was beautiful too."
"Sounds like your Wonderland."
Alice raised her eyebrow. "And like your Neverland?"
Peter nodded. For a moment, he looked different; wild. He said there were wild beasts in Neverland, that fairies were not all as good as the stories, and that pirates were not to be trifled with.
"Sure." Peter stood and held out a hand to Alice. "Come on. Tell me all about it back on the ship."
"You're not setting sail again, are you?"
"Not for another week, no."
So she took Peter's hand, and let herself be led back to the ship. What else could she do?
*
Alice ate a hot meal, at least; a stew aboard the ship. She missed her room at hotel Krat. Missed the warm bath and the big bed and thought it was strange she'd gotten used to it all so quickly.
Strange, perhaps, that she was so attached to P, after only knowing him a couple of days. It felt like much longer.
She told Peter about Krat. He was immensely interested about the puppets. Already, it seemed just as distant as Wonderland. He convinced her to sit on the deck with the crew that evening, and she did. They all thought her a miracle – thought she'd died. But she stayed on the edge of things, and looked over the harbour. There were lights on, in the town. The town full of people. So different from Krat.
P would love this. Would love to see all this life.
She couldn't stop thinking about him.
And she couldn’t stop searching for a blue butterfly in the darkness.
The night passed. So did the day. She didn't find her way back to Krat. Her skin itched with it. Her mind whirled with the effort of trying to slip realities. She only managed to make Wonderland overlap with the little Italian town. It had become full of marble statues and wolf-like creatures. Wonderful.
But not Krat.
She stayed, a while, before falling back into reality.
And then it happened. Alice woke in the middle of the night, and felt a pull, in her stomach, like an anchor being pulled in. She slipped out of her bed, and padded through the ship. It was a familiar pull. The wood felt like it was far away.
Alice reached the deck. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the pull of her anchor. It was easier, in the night. Everything felt more surreal; magical.
Then she opened her eyes. And saw a trail of blue dust, in the air. She stepped forward. Then it appeared, all at once.
A blue butterfly.
Alice rushed forward. She didn't care she was only in her nightgown, or barefoot, she was going to follow that butterfly.
It went down the plank of the ship, down to the cobblestone street.
Alice followed.
The butterfly hovered.
And Alice reached forward to touch it.
In the next instant, she was somewhere else. Somewhere she knew. This was the streets of Krat. Dawn was just starting to break on the horizon. She stood at the docks, staring at the now familiar, empty houses. Puppet parts still littered the streets.
She was back. And the butterfly meant Sophia must be safe.
Alice was more sensible than to start shouting out. That would attract attention, and attention was dangerous.
Especially because she could hear footsteps. Distant footsteps, but footsteps all the same. It could be a puppet, or a monster, or something else entirely. She pressed herself against the closest building, taking a breath. The footsteps came closer. Towards her.
She slipped her vorpal blade from her waistband; it had appeared with her, and gripped it tightly.
"I don't know what you're expecting, pal." A voice came, from down the street. A familiar voice. "There's never any boats at the harbour."
There was a pause. More footsteps. Then, "You don’t know that. You can only remember as much as me."
She knew that voice too. Both of those voices. Alice's heart leapt into her throat. She almost dropped the knife. She fumbled to slide it back into place, as she stepped away from the wall, turning into the street.
There he was. Striding over the cobblestones. But when he took her in, he stopped.
Alice did too. It was P. She recognised his gait; his legion arm; his face, with its constellations of freckles and bright blue eyes. And yet, his hair was different. It shone like starlight – white, and flowing down to his shoulders. It caught in the light wind.
"P." Alice stayed still, for a moment longer, before she started forward. Her shoes slipped on the stones.
He didn't step towards her, but he did open his arms. Did smile that soft smile as she came forward.
She slammed into him, her arms looping around his neck. She held him tightly, and he held her back. His palms pressed into her back. One was very warm, the other cold.
"Alice," he murmured into her hair. He practically lifted her from her ground; she balanced on her tiptoes. "You're back."
"I promised." Her face was pressed against his greatcoat. He still smelt of oil, but mostly of the sea. They stayed close, for another long moment. Alice took a deep breath, and she felt P do the same. Her heart fluttered, like those blue butterflies.
Then she managed to pull away. Just a couple of inches, so she could see P's face, framed with silver hair. She brushed it back, behind his ear.
"What happened?"
P's eyes were soft. He closed his eyes, for a moment, his lashes twitching; they were still dark. "A lot."
"Your hair." Her fingers still lingered at the ends of it.
"It happened when Sophia..." P paused. "When I freed Sophia."
"What do you mean?" Alice asked, feeling a surge of panic.
"And then, I changed again, when my father..." Again, P stopped himself, his breath hitching. "When Geppetto was killed."
"I'm so sorry." Alice smoothed P's greatcoat, still pressed against him. She didn't think she could pull away, not now; she couldn’t bring herself to.
P shook his head, just slightly. "He only wanted my heart. He wanted Carlo. Not me."
So he had been right, then, about his assumptions. That he was only a copy. And whatever had happened, Geppetto had only wanted to take P’s heart to use again. Alice's own heart ached for him. She opened her mouth to say she was sorry, all over again, but P caught her hand. He brought it down, to his chest, pressing her palm there.
There was a beat. Not the beat of his p-organ. This was different. This was the beat of a heart.
P watched her. Waited.
Alice looked up, and examined him more closely. She noticed the changes.
"You've changed," she repeated. She knew what the difference was, but she wanted him to say it.
"I can cry, now. I cried when Geppetto died," P said. " I cried, when I became human."
"You're human." She looked at her hand, over his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. His real heart.
P was a real boy.
Alice couldn't help smiling. Grinning. P was human. She took his face in her hands; his skin was soft, and warm, and undeniably human. He wasn’t the solid, steady puppet that he was.
P nodded. Still the same nod as before. And his eyes were still the same too; gentle and that too-blue of the ocean after a storm. His white hair made them seem even more vivid.
P's hands moved, from her waist, to take her cheeks. His hands were warm, and soft – human.
"May I?" he asked.
His eyes were on her mouth. He was asking to kiss her. And her lips were already parted, her heart racing, at the thought. It wasn’t a thought she’d ever entertained before, but now it seemed – right. She nodded, sliding her hands over his.
And yet, despite that fact that she was smiling up at him, pressing his hands to her face, he still hesitated a moment. He tilted his head forward, and examined her again, before he closed the gap between them. Very slowly.
P kissed Alice.
She had to balance on her tip toes, her eyes fluttering closed. This was a kiss. Her first kiss. It didn't bring any of that grand, swoopy, floating feeling that Lizzie's books described. But it did feel warm, and wonderful. It did make her feel giddy.
P pulled away first. He looked at her, as though he was gauging her reaction. The same way he had when they were fencing, when they were dancing.
She could have laughed at his nervousness; if only because she was more nervous than she ever thought she would be. Instead, she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him again. She felt, rather than heard, the sound from the back of his throat. His palms pressed against her back, holding her close.
Gemini chirped. She heard it, distantly, but she was too focused on kissing P. Focused on the warmth of his breath; the warmth of him.
It was certainly not the fairy tale romance from her sister's books.
But it felt fitting for Alice Liddell.
*
The streets of Krat were still not entirely safe.
There were still a few lingering puppets, though they did very little without the king of puppets, or Geppetto, to control them. There were more of the monsters from the alchemists experiments with the petrification disease. They were still dangerous.
He took Alice back to the hotel. She walked with her arm linked in his, her skirts fluttering like petals. Her weight was steady against his, and he liked that. It made him feel safe. It sent the butterflies in his chest into a frenzy.
She was greeted warmly. Eugenie pulled her into a tight hug, and Venigni kissed her hand several times. She laughed, and it lit her face. That laughter disappeared when she heard the news about Lady Antonia's death.
P squeezed her hand, tightly, and she squeezed back.
Eventually, he managed to whisk her away to the gold coin fruit tree courtyard, for them to be alone again. Giangio was nowhere to be found, but he felt relieved by that. His curiosity about Alice, his pressing, earnest questions, had unsettled P. He hadn’t told him anything, and he had the even more unsettling feeling that it wasn’t the last he’d seen of the ‘alchemist.’
P wouldn’t think about it. Instead, he sat next to Alice, with the tree’s branches overhead. It's fruit glistened gold in the sunlight. He couldn't bring himself to let go of her hand.
"Tell me everything," Alice said. She brushed a lock of P's silver hair behind his ear, her fingers lingering over the shape of it. He could really feel it, now. Before, it felt as though everything was smothered. Muffled. He hadn’t even known. Now, it was all amplified, sending shivers down his spine. "Everything that happened, whilst I was gone."
He did. He spoke about finding Sophia, and how he’d released her. Spoke about Simon Manus’ plan to become God. He spoke about finding his father, and his father only wanting to use his heart for Carlo, regardless of what happened to P. His father, pierced through the heart, by P's replacement. Of how P held him in his arms, and cried to lose him, despite everything.
It sent another tear sliding down his cheek. Alice brushed it away. Her green eyes were soft as jade in the sunlight.
"It's strange," P said. Crying still felt strange; made his chest feel tight and his cheeks feel hot. He didn’t like it, it was painful, and that made him like it all the time. "I should hate him. I want to hate him, for what he did."
Alice's knees pressed against his. Her finger fell to the lapel of his coat. She tugged it closed, and placed her palm there.
"Love is complicated," she said.
He put his hand over hers. His flesh hand. Truly flesh now, all the way through. P leant closer, meeting her eyes, and asked, "Do you have any family?"
Alice did not reply immediately. She smoothed P's lapel, again, her hair falling forward. He tucked it back behind her ear, revelling in how it felt like touching silk.
"I did, once." Alice took a deep breath.
P shifted closer. It was instinctual, he felt, to put his arm around her shoulders. Was the right thing to do, because she leant into him, and that silky hair was pressed against his cheek. "There was a fire. I was the only survivor. It was - I thought for ten years it was my fault. But…it wasn't. It was deliberate. A man. A monster."
P's other arm held her, and Alice gripped it like a lifeline. He couldn't understand it; the grief and the pain that she would feel from that. He knew his own was terrible; was all-consuming; it was a wonder that she was still so strong.
"I'm sorry," P murmured.
Alice didn't answer. She stayed pressed against him, a warm weight, and held him back as tightly as he held her. They stayed, twisting into each other like tree branches, for an indeterminable time, to P.
Eventually, though, and slowly, Alice lifted her head. She caught his cheek, and turned his face.
"I've come to terms with it," she said, with the hint of a smile. There was still more to her story, P recognised, but there was also time. They had time, and he could wait to hear more of Alice's story. He would have time to tell her more of his own. He would tell her that he’d managed to channel Sophia’s ergo again, into a puppet.
Still, Alice hesitated, a moment, before she kissed him. He kissed her back.
And despite all of the grief and confusion swirling within him, he felt a surge of warmth in his chest.
Alice had said love was complicated.
But this didn't seem complicated.
It seemed very simple.
*
Alice reunited with Sophia. This new Sophia. She still wasn't sure how she felt about that - about Sophia being a puppet, but her soul remaining inside.
It was certainly a philosophical question.
And yet, this was her Sophia. This Sophia still had the same soft, blue gaze. The same sweet smile. The same way of taking her hands and squeezing them tightly.
"It's so wonderful that you found your way back," she said.
"Thanks to you," Alice replied. "It was your butterfly that led me here."
Sophia tilted her head to one side, examining Alice. There it was - that same glint of mischief that she'd noticed on their first meeting. It really was Sophia, inside that puppet. Though this Sophia's hands were stiffer; this Sophia's hands were cold; this Sophia had clockwork mechanisms inside her. But one day, as she remembered, she might be like P; she may find her way to becoming human, again.
"I wouldn't be so sure."
Which was interesting. Very interesting. It made Alice feel capable. As if the secret to reality-hopping was not too far away from her. She might just be able to figure it out, one day.
"Thank you." She smiled.
The hotel was - quieter, now. Without Geppetto, without the alchemists in the city, there was an emptiness. A hotel with no purpose in an empty city.
She began to spend time in P's room. She didn't stay the night – Alice may not be a proper lady, but she still had an idea of what was proper, and what was not – but she did stay late. She spent evenings reading through the posters and papers P had collected on his travels. It was a glimpse of the Krat that was there before. It filled her with the same deep melancholy, deep calmness, that came from visiting a graveyard.
It wasn't all reading. There was a lot of sitting close to P. Closer than close. Of figuring out how kisses worked; what teenagers did, when they were unchaperoned. It was surprisingly awkward work. She felt ridiculously self-conscious of herself, even though she appeared how she did in Wonderland - the way she wanted to look.
As if it mattered, anyway, when P looked at her like that. Like she was beautiful. When he looked at her like that, she could believe it. He’d seen her kill, and he still thought she was beautiful.
She sat on his bed, half on his chest, their legs tangled together. He was warm, and the sun caught his white hair, so it shone.
"Do you remember anything more?" she asked.
P held her as gently as he always held her. He turned his head to one side, and his lips grazed her forehead.
"Only what I remembered on the beach," he replied. His voice was as soft as piano music. "They don't feel like my memories. I still don't feel like Carlo."
"You're P." Alice looked up at him; at those sapphire blue eyes, that seemed to shine. "And you're – you're mine."
She hesitated to say it, and when she did, she flushed with heat and ducked her head to her chest. But P only pulled her closer. Her hand landed over his heart, and she felt it race under her palm like a butterfly's wings.
"And you're mine."
It felt right. It felt like they fit each other. Two puzzle pieces that fit. Two children who'd been thrown into nightmares and betrayed inside them. Time didn’t matter.
Alice smiled. She let P tilt her chin upwards, and saw he was too. It melted her. He kissed her, deeply.
"Do you plan to stay?" P asked.
"I think so." As much as Alice could, anyway, when she still didn’t know how to slide back or forth. It still didn't feel like she was here to stay. "What are you going to do now?"
"I suppose I want to complete my purpose," P murmured. His thumb rubbed circles into Alice's waist; that movement would make her purr, if she was a cat. "I want to save Krat. I will have to travel outside the city - find people who can help."
"The petrification disease?"
"It stems from Ergo. Now it is not being used, the infection rate should slow." P paused. "I knew a man – an alchemist – who supplied a kind of cure. Perhaps it could be treatable, one day."
Alice shifted, so she was sat in front of him. She took his hands, watching her fingers link with his. They fitted perfectly, even the metal ones.
"That sounds like a lot of work."
"It will be." P squeezed her hand. "I will have help."
Alice kissed the back of his hand. "What else do you have planned?"
"I would like to go to London. With you." P tugged their hands to him, and kissed the back of hers. First one, then the other. Alice let her hair swing forward, her chest swarming with warmth. No matter how many times he did that, it had the same effect on her. It made her feel like she was melting.
"I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you." Then P sat properly too. Pressed a kiss against her temple and cheek. She caught his shoulders, and tried not to giggle like a little girl. "I would like to help the remaining puppets - to remember, or for their ergo to be released."
"That's very noble." Alice pressed her own kiss against P's cheek. His warm, human cheek. "You're much more noble than me."
He made Alice seem brutal and vicious. Made her feel ashamed for her actions in Wonderland.
"I think you are more noble than you realise,” P pressed their foreheads together. “And I have done many things that are not noble. I always did what my father asked. Until the end."
He killed whatever Geppetto had asked him to. And that still hurt him. Alice kissed him, as though that could help heal the wound.
She would stay here, she resolved. She would stay, and she would try and do some good in Krat. She would stay with P, and learn more about romance. One day, she would figure out the key to this world-hopping once and for all. She would show P London. She might even show him Wonderland. He would, she thought, understand Wonderland; he'd find it as beautiful as he seemed to find her.
Alice was practically in his lap, and couldn’t be fussed about the impropriety any longer. She looked at P, their hands still linked; her other on his shoulder. She looked at his Ergo-blue eyes. Traced constellations in the freckles across his cheeks – those hadn't changed – looked at his bow-shaped lips.
"You know," Alice said. Her voice was unusually soft, and she hated saying it. Hated being vulnerable like this, but it was hard not to be, around P. "It's the strangest thing, and I never thought it would happen to me, but I believe I—"
Her voice got stuck. The two final words were so small; should be easy to say; she was too out of practice. The words were too important.
P shook his head, and his hair moved with him.
"You do not have to say it," he said. Kissed her, again, and did not pull away. His lips grazed against hers, as he said, "I think I feel the same way."
Because neither of them really knew what love was. But one day, they would.
One day, Alice thought, they'd be able to say they loved each other.
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