The private medical wing of the Tetra Line facility was designed to be soothing, with ambient lighting that shifted like the aurora borealis and air that smelled faintly of lavender and sterilized credits. However, at this moment, the serenity was being shattered by a voice loud enough to crack the reinforced glass.
"ENTERTAINMENT! Is this your idea of a grand finale, my dear Alice?"
Mustang, the CEO of Tetra, paced the room like a caged tiger wearing a bodysuit made of dark velvet and gold sequins. He spun on his heel, his sunglasses flashing under the overhead lights, and pointed a gloved finger at the small figure sitting in the center of the oversized hospital bed.
Alice shrank back against the pillows, her pink bunny-eared headset resting on the bedside table next to a vase of fluorescent lilies. She looked small without her combat suit, dressed in a standard-issue patient gown that seemed to swallow her petite frame. Bandages wrapped her temple and one shoulder, stark white against her pale skin.
"I am sorry, Boss," Alice mumbled, pulling the duvet up to her chin. "The Candyman said he had treats for Rabbity. I wanted to be nice."
"Nice?" Mustang threw his hands up, his cape billowing. "Alice! There is a fine line between 'nice' and 'negligent'! You are a Tetra Nikke! A primal force of nature! You do not follow strangers into dark alleys because they promise you sugar! You are the sugar! You are the spice! You are the firework!"
He stopped his pacing and leaned over the bed, his expression softening from theatrical outrage to genuine, piercing concern. He reached out, tucking a stray lock of pink hair behind her ear.
"Do you have any idea how terrified I was?" he asked, his voice dropping to a surprisingly human register. "When the sensors flagged your vitals dropping... when the signal vanished..."
Alice blinked, her golden eyes wide. "But Rabbity came. He always comes."
Mustang straightened up, adjusting his lapels with a sharp tug. "Yes. Commander Cousland performed adequately. But he cannot be everywhere, Alice. If you cannot discern a villain from a supporting actor, if you cannot protect the magnificent gift that is your life, then I will have no choice."
Alice tilted her head. "No choice?"
"I will forbid you from seeing him," Mustang declared, crossing his arms. "I will lock you in the Tetra tower, and your only visitors will be accounting drones and myself. No more Rabbity. No more adventures. Just safety. Boring, gray safety."
Alice gasped, clutching the blanket. "No! Please, Boss! Not the tower! I need to see Rabbity!"
"Then promise me!" Mustang leaned in again, his eyes burning behind the shades. "Promise me you will never, ever let your guard down again. You are Alice. You navigate Wonderland. You do not let the Jabberwocky lead you by the hand."
"I promise!" Alice nodded vigorously, wincing as the movement pulled at her bruised temple. "I'll be careful. I'll check for claws and teeth next time!"
Mustang held her gaze for a long moment before letting out a dramatic sigh. "Very well. I accept your vow." He patted her head, his touch lingering. "Rest now, my little star. Recover your shine."
With a final swirl of his cape, Mustang marched toward the door. He paused as it slid open, glancing at the man waiting in the corridor. The CEO's face hardened for a split second—a warning etched in silence—before he nodded and swept down the hallway, leaving a trail of expensive cologne in his wake.
Arthur Cousland stood by the doorframe, his shoulder leaning against the cool metal. He watched Mustang leave, then turned his attention to the woman standing further down the hall, staring out of the window at the artificial night of the Ark.
Ludmilla. The Snow Queen.
She wore her pristine white coat, her posture rigid, her hands clasped behind her back. She didn't turn as Arthur approached. The air around her seemed to drop ten degrees.
"I trusted you," she said, her voice quiet and sharp as an icicle.
Arthur stopped a few feet away. His goddesium arms hummed faintly, the servos still warm from the violence of the rescue. He didn't offer excuses. "I know."
"I left her in your care for less than three hours," Ludmilla continued, turning slowly to face him. Her red eyes were cold, but beneath the frost, Arthur saw the tremor of fear she refused to voice. "Alice is not like other Nikkes. You know this. Her mind... it is a fortress built on sand. One crack, one trauma too deep, and the ocean comes in."
"I took my eyes off her," Arthur admitted, his voice rough. "I was handling the theft near the park. I thought she was safe on the bench. I was wrong."
Ludmilla stepped closer, her gaze sweeping over him—the blood on his coat that wasn't his, the dents in his prosthetic plating, the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. She raised a hand, hovering it near his chest before letting it drop.
"You nearly dismantled a city block to get her back," she stated. It wasn't a question.
"I would have dismantled the whole Ark," Arthur replied evenly.
Ludmilla studied him, searching for deceit and finding none. The tension in her shoulders finally broke, and she let out a long, weary breath. "She speaks of you as if you are a legend. 'Rabbity'. The hero who fixes everything."
She looked past him, toward the open door of Alice's room. "I was angry, Arthur. When I heard she was taken... I wanted to freeze the world until it stopped spinning. But then I saw the security footage from the warehouse."
She met his eyes again. "You did not just rescue her. You shielded her. Not just her body, but her mind. You played along with her delusion even while you were surrounded by carnage."
"She doesn't need to see the world as it is," Arthur said. "It's ugly enough as it is."
Ludmilla nodded slowly. "Yes. It is." She stepped past him, pausing to place a hand on his human arm. Her grip was firm. "Thank you. For bringing my family home."
"Always, my Queen," Arthur murmured.
She offered him a rare, faint smile—barely a twitch of her lips, but warm enough to melt snow—before walking away to speak with the doctors.
Arthur took a breath, centering himself, and walked into the room.
Alice perked up immediately, her golden eyes lighting up despite the fatigue dragging at her eyelids. "Rabbity! Did you see the Boss? He was very loud. Like a trumpet!"
"I heard him," Arthur said, a gentle smile breaking through his exhaustion. He pulled a chair close to the bedside, his movements careful and slow. "He cares about you, Alice. He just has a loud way of showing it."
"He said I can't see you if I'm not careful," Alice whispered, clutching a thick, hardcover book to her chest. It was the copy of *Alice's Adventures in Wonderland* he had bought her—battered now, the dust jacket torn from where it had been thrown in the park, but safe.
"Then we'll just have to be careful," Arthur assured her. "No more Candymen."
Alice looked down at the book, tracing the embossed title with her finger. "It was a weird day, Rabbity. That man... he wasn't a very good actor. He hit too hard. And the tea tasted like batteries."
"Critics gave his performance zero stars," Arthur said softly.
Alice giggled, though the sound was weak. "But the ending was good. The Knight smashed the walls and carried the Princess away. That's the best part."
She shifted, wincing as the hospital gown rubbed against her bruised shoulder. Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the monitors, the IV drip, the pristine white walls. Her smile faded, replaced by a tremor of unease.
"Rabbity?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't like this castle," she confessed, her voice shrinking. "It's too white. It smells... it smells like before."
Arthur stiffened. He knew enough of Alice's file to understand what 'before' meant. Before she was Alice. Before she was a Nikke. When she was just a human girl dying in a sterile room, surrounded by doctors who saw her as raw material rather than a child.
"It's just for tonight," Arthur promised, leaning forward. "Just to make sure your suit is fixed up. Tomorrow, you go back to Ludmilla."
Alice nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. "It's cold here. Not the good cold. The empty cold."
She reached out from under the blanket. Her hand, small and pale, hovered in the air between them.
"Can you hold my hand?" she asked. "Just until I fall asleep? If you hold it... the bad dreams can't get in. They're scared of you."
Arthur felt a lump form in his throat. He looked at his own hands. Goddesium, a masterpiece of engineering that could crush steel but had been calibrated to hold something as fragile as a bird.
He reached out, wrapping his fingers around hers. Her skin was cool, her grip surprisingly strong.
"I've got you," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."
Alice let out a long sigh, the tension draining from her body as if a plug had been pulled. She shuffled deeper into the pillows, pulling the book under her arm like a teddy bear.
"Tell me a story?" she mumbled, her eyes fluttering shut.
"Once upon a time," Arthur began, his voice a low rumble in the quiet room, "there was a girl who found a world of snow..."
He spoke quietly, weaving a tale of winter and warmth, until Alice's breathing evened out into the rhythm of deep sleep. He didn't let go of her hand. He sat there in the silence, watching the monitor trace the steady beat of her heart, an anchor in the white void.
***
The dream began as it always did.
Alice was standing in the center of a white room. There were no doors. No windows. Just walls that stretched up forever, vanishing into a blinding haze.
*Beep. Beep. Beep.*
The sound of the machine was the only music here. It counted the seconds of her life, ticking them away like coins dropping into a well.
People in white coats moved around her. They didn't have faces. They were just blurry shapes with clipboards and needles. They spoke in static.
*Subject condition critical. Initiate transfer. Hardware ready.*
Alice tried to speak, but her mouth was gone. She tried to move, but her limbs were heavy, made of lead and sorrow. She was cold. So cold. The cold here didn't bite; it ate. It devoured her warmth until there was nothing left but a hollow ache in her chest.
*Is this it?* she thought. *Am I just spare parts?*
The walls began to close in. The white light intensified, burning her eyes. She curled into a ball, waiting for the end. Waiting to be unmade.
Then, she felt it.
Warmth.
It started at her fingertips. A gentle, rough heat that defied the sterility of the room. It traveled up her arm, chasing away the numbness. It wasn't the burning heat of fever, nor the artificial heat of a heater. It was the heat of life. Of a pulse.
She looked up.
The wall in front of her cracked. A spiderweb fracture that glowed with golden light. The crack spread, shattering the endless white.
Through the breach stepped a figure. He didn't wear a white coat. He wore a dark uniform, worn and dusted with snow. He had metal arms that shone like a mirror, and kind, tired eyes.
Rabbity.
He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He just held out his hand.
The faceless doctors recoiled, dissolving into mist as he approached. The beeping of the machine slowed, changing from a countdown into a melody—the beat of a drum, steady and strong.
Alice stood up. The lead in her limbs vanished. She looked down and saw she wasn't wearing a hospital gown anymore. She was wearing her pink suit. She had her boots. She had her book.
She reached out and took his hand.
The walls of the white prison fell away completely, shattering like glass.
Before them lay a field of snow, glittering like diamonds under a sky full of auroras. In the distance, she saw a castle made of ice, where the Queen waited with hot tea. She saw a cottage where the Cheshire Cat smiled.
"Where are we going?" Alice asked in the dream, her voice clear and strong.
Rabbity squeezed her hand. "Home."
Alice smiled. She looked at the horizon, where the sun was rising—not the harsh light of the operating table, but the gentle, golden light of morning.
"Is this Elysium?" she asked.
Rabbity looked down at her. "Do you like it?"
"Yes," Alice decided, swinging their joined hands as they walked into the snow. "Because you're here."
Elysium wasn't a place on a map. It wasn't a coordinate Mustang could find, or a destination on the *Admire*'s navigation computer.
Elysium was the space between his hand and hers.
And for the first time in a long time, Alice didn't dream of the white room. She dreamed of footprints in the snow, two sets, walking side by side toward the sunrise.