Change of Plans--A Heart no Kuni no Alice FanFiction

Part 01: Gone

Donovan had been missing for two months when Alice was kidnapped.  No one on Scotland Yard's investigative team could explain his disappearance (not that they could solve any sort of criminal case, the numbskulls), or give any clues as to who might have taken him.  But then, my family couldn't shed any light on it either.  My brother had no enemies--he didn't bet on the turf, play high-stakes card games, or take opium.  My family was fairly well-to-do with no stain on our family name or old debts to repay.  I didn't really have any enemies either--I didn't talk to people much to begin with.

Alice was my only true friend besides Don.  As he once said, she was the sweet to my sour.  I had laughingly agreed with him--I'm not the most pleasant of young women (I refuse to call myself a lady), even I'll admit that.  I've often heard of a 'good cop, bad cop' routine down at the Yard and it describes our friendship perfectly.  I'm the rough, tough cop that isn't afraid to get in your face to get the information I want.  Alice tends to be more gentle about that kind of thing and beats around the bush a tiny bit.  But when she gets straight to the point, she can be just as blunt as I am.

The day she was taken, I was sitting with her and her older sister in their family's garden.  Alice had dropped off to sleep under the tree we were sitting by--well, I was sitting in the tree, leaning against the trunk with my hat over my eyes.  I could feel the pins in my hair coming loose, but I didn't bother to fix them.  I was feeling too lazy to do anything about it and, besides, I was getting a rare headache from all the pins I needed to give my long red hair the appearance of being cut like a boy's.

Glancing back down, I saw Alice's sister stand up.  Alice, who had woken up, was protesting loudly to her as she walked away, but was being waved into silence as she disappeared in the direction of the house.  "Where's Lorina going?" I called down to her as I began carefully making my descent from my perch.  I was wearing Don's old clothing (again), which were much too big for me, and I didn't want to tear them up.

"She's getting a card game," Alice responded, rubbing her eyes tiredly.  "I told her about an odd dream I had about some sort of game," she went on, "And she thought it meant that I wanted to play one."  She sighed and hugged her knees into her chest as she gazed off in the direction her sister had gone.  "I wish I was as pretty as her," she mumbled to herself.  It had nothing to do with what she had just said to me, but I could tell that it had been on her mind as she talked with her sister.

"But you are pretty, Al," I protested, using the boy nickname I had given her.  "You just can't see it because you have no one but your sister to compare with."

"And you," she said.  "You're pretty as well--I'm sure you'd be drop-dead gorgeous if you dressed like a girl more often.  I've only seen you dress like that a couple times."  She had met with me when I was 12, which was about the time I realized that I could pull off looking like a boy pretty well.  Seven years have passed since then, and she really had only seen me dress like my gender a few times.

"Four, actually," I said, releasing more pins with a shake of my head.  "And you know that I hate wearing the stupid dresses women my age wear."  I took out the rest of the pins and began restarting the process of hiding my hair.  "I can hardly breathe in those stupid corsets, and I can barely move in the blasted skirts!" I complained.

Alice giggled at my vehement expression of disgust.  "I don't think you're supposed to move, Ron."  The nickname was a super-shortened version of Veronica, which I had shortened to Ronnie when I was about eight and then to Ron when I was 12.  She went quiet for a moment, settling down to take another nap.  I followed suit--I hadn't been sleeping well at all for the past few weeks, and a nap sounded perfect right now.

I didn't get the rest I wanted, however.  As soon as I closed my eyes I dreamt about Donovan, kneeling in front of a cot with his hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer.  His back was to me, but I could practically see the anguish and worry in his face just by the way his body was trembling.  I tried to reach out to him to comfort him, but found that I had no arms to touch him with.  I heard him choking back sobs as he screamed for me to wake up.  He screamed his plea to me, not knowing that I was there.  "Please, God," he cried, "awaken her from her slumber!  Alice is--"