Rabbit Hunt Part Four
Part Four -- Bonus fic time! This one wasn't actually part of the original set I came up with for Forgotten Vows's tumblr -- I skipped straight from Victor getting the rabbit to him preparing to present it to Alice. Once I finished that one, however, I got inspired to go back and do a little "prequel" piece, exploring Radcliffe's mindset and answering Victor's question about why he finally gave the rabbit up. I somehow never got around to posting it, though. Probably distracted by other stuff. . .well, here it is, finally seeing the light of day.
Wilton watched as the door slammed behind Alice Liddell. He sighed in annoyance. Foolish, mad girl. Didn’t she know he was doing her a favor? She wasn’t doing herself any good by dwelling on the past. She needed to make a clean start in her life. Not to mention that now she was a young lady, and expected to act as such. And young ladies didn’t bother with ratty old toys from their childhoods.
He looked at the rabbit sitting on the corner of his desk. It really was a nasty old thing, with multiple patches and one eye missing. He would have thrown it in the bin immediately if that hadn’t felt a bit like dishonoring the memory of a good client. But he was going to have to do something –
The rabbit’s head turned. Wilton froze, mouth falling open as the toy looked at him with its one remaining eye. Somehow, the simple button seemed to shine with malevolence. Then suddenly its mouth opened impossibly wide, revealing row upon row of sharp teeth that seemed to go on and on forever –
Wilton woke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He sat up and rubbed his brow, endeavoring to wipe the terrifying images from his mind. Particularly the image of that – that –
“That damnable rabbit!” he burst out, turning his head sharply to glare at the toy sitting on his shelf. The rabbit sat there quietly, seemingly innocent. But Wilton could swear he felt judgment in its one-eyed stare. You stole me, it seemed to say. You stole some child’s toy right after she managed to get out of an asylum –
“I didn’t steal you! She left you behind, and I merely kept you as a keepsake of–” Wilton snapped his mouth shut, quietly horrified with himself. Was he really arguing with an inanimate object? Soon enough, he’d be in Rutledge himself, trapped in a padded cell with only the screams of his fellow inmates and the voices in his head for company. . . .
No! He would not allow that! He’d had enough of troubled nights and horrible dreams! That awful rabbit was going to go! He was – he was –
What was he going to do with it?
To anyone else, the obvious answer was “send it back to its rightful owner.” But Wilton was, if he was honest with himself, absolutely terrified of Alice. Her last psychotic fit in his office – “Let’s pretend that I’m a hyena, and you’re a bone!” – had left him quietly quaking in his shoes, with a distinct need to flee his old Threadneedle Street office. He didn’t want to give that madwoman any inkling of his new lodgings, much less go confront her in person. But if he wasn’t going to give it back to her, what was he going to do with it?
It’s the Christmas season, he thought to himself. Surely there must be someone around collecting toys for the unfortunate. They wouldn’t say no to a donation, now would they? Even if the donation is such a ratty old thing. He glared up at the rabbit. Soon you’ll be someone else’s problem. And hopefully then I’ll finally get a decent night’s sleep! With that settled, he turned over and closed his eyes, hoping for quieter dreams.
And, of course, never suspecting Alice might get her hands back on her rabbit anyway.
He looked at the rabbit sitting on the corner of his desk. It really was a nasty old thing, with multiple patches and one eye missing. He would have thrown it in the bin immediately if that hadn’t felt a bit like dishonoring the memory of a good client. But he was going to have to do something –
The rabbit’s head turned. Wilton froze, mouth falling open as the toy looked at him with its one remaining eye. Somehow, the simple button seemed to shine with malevolence. Then suddenly its mouth opened impossibly wide, revealing row upon row of sharp teeth that seemed to go on and on forever –
Wilton woke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He sat up and rubbed his brow, endeavoring to wipe the terrifying images from his mind. Particularly the image of that – that –
“That damnable rabbit!” he burst out, turning his head sharply to glare at the toy sitting on his shelf. The rabbit sat there quietly, seemingly innocent. But Wilton could swear he felt judgment in its one-eyed stare. You stole me, it seemed to say. You stole some child’s toy right after she managed to get out of an asylum –
“I didn’t steal you! She left you behind, and I merely kept you as a keepsake of–” Wilton snapped his mouth shut, quietly horrified with himself. Was he really arguing with an inanimate object? Soon enough, he’d be in Rutledge himself, trapped in a padded cell with only the screams of his fellow inmates and the voices in his head for company. . . .
No! He would not allow that! He’d had enough of troubled nights and horrible dreams! That awful rabbit was going to go! He was – he was –
What was he going to do with it?
To anyone else, the obvious answer was “send it back to its rightful owner.” But Wilton was, if he was honest with himself, absolutely terrified of Alice. Her last psychotic fit in his office – “Let’s pretend that I’m a hyena, and you’re a bone!” – had left him quietly quaking in his shoes, with a distinct need to flee his old Threadneedle Street office. He didn’t want to give that madwoman any inkling of his new lodgings, much less go confront her in person. But if he wasn’t going to give it back to her, what was he going to do with it?
It’s the Christmas season, he thought to himself. Surely there must be someone around collecting toys for the unfortunate. They wouldn’t say no to a donation, now would they? Even if the donation is such a ratty old thing. He glared up at the rabbit. Soon you’ll be someone else’s problem. And hopefully then I’ll finally get a decent night’s sleep! With that settled, he turned over and closed his eyes, hoping for quieter dreams.
And, of course, never suspecting Alice might get her hands back on her rabbit anyway.