They ended up, by mere luck, alive to another one of Alice’s sections one level above the shifting walls. The cat and the cyborg, exhausted from their previous evasion of slicing boards, took rest on the checkered, tile floor of wherever they wounded up in.

It was dim but not totally dark and with just enough focus, images of objects inside the room could be made up. It was dead quiet as well which Cheshire decided was a good thing because it meant that no danger like the Bandersnatch prowled nearby. Once caught up with his breath, Cheshire walked to the edge of the room and cupped for the light switch that lit up the entire room.

The section seemed to be an office previously occupied by one of Alice’s many compatriots. By the edge of the room was a working-desk—a light tan of brown with pewter lining the edges. There was a swivel chair before it, the backrest extending high like that of a throne’s. The walls behind the table mounted a bulletin of gruesome imagery. Distorted anatomies of animals and humanoids were tacked in the bulletin. Regions of the bodies were encircled with a red marker as if whoever was the scientist behind that horror had an unfinished plan. Thank goodness, he wasn’t able to finish it.

Moreover, across the working area by the edge of the room was another door with a wide viewing glass beside it. The other room could be an operating section, Cheshire thought. Though he wasn’t familiar with the entire Crims laboratory, other than his cellar and operating room, it was a common requirement for offices to have surgical rooms. Behind that door, Cheshire was sure of it, lie the vengeful souls of the unlucky ones that didn’t survive the tortures. One… ten… twenty… the number just goes on.

“This isn’t a very pleasant room,” Tarrant said.

Cheshire was reminded that he wasn’t alone. He was too focused that he forgot the mad Hatter was with him. He replied. “This whole laboratory isn’t very pleasant…not many good memories. Actually, not even one good memory of this place. I remember roaming the halls strapped in a gurney, if not, a wheelchair going from one room to another.”

Tarrant chuckled wryly. He stood up and walked behind the table. Pulling the swivel chair, he took a seat and tampered with the folders, pretending to work.

Cheshire watched him and never had he seen someone, especially his friend, look so taunting. It could be that Tarrant was humanoid and any being of humanoid figure could impersonate a cruel scientist working for Alice like the one that died in the genetics section.

“Tarrant…” Cheshire realized that his hands closed to knuckles. “Would you be so kind as to get yourself away from that desk?”

Tarrant’s eyes only looked up to Cheshire nevertheless he kept on flipping the folders. “I guess you got my message.” He closed the folder and set it aside.

“Message?” Cheshire repeated.

“Implication.”

“I don’t quite understand…”

Tarrant frowned. “I thought I could just bury all this but… it turns out, if a memory is still alive, it could dig its way back to the surface.”

Cheshire had an idea but he denied it. He couldn’t and he wouldn’t accept that absurd idea coming inside his head. It’s impossible. He found himself nodding unconsciously to his denial of a gruesome speculation.

Tarrant nodded up and down, contradicting Cheshire’s action. “This used to be my office…” Tarrant stood up and looked at the entirety of the room—from the cream ceiling, to the metallic walls and down the checkered tile floors. He planted his hands on top of his desk and leaned forward, matching his gaze with Cheshire’s. “I used to be one of who we all hate.”

“You’re jesting, Tarrant, are you not?” Cheshire’s laughed the words out. “It’s hardly amusing.”

Tarrant nodded sadly—a disagreeing gesture. “I wish I was.” He swallowed.

Cheshire, still, denied. “You and I were cellmates. How could you have been working for Alice if we were both her guinea pigs?”

“It was when Alice found out I’ve been helping my subjects flee,” Tarrant said. “A few days before you were taken in, she took away my arm and replaced it with this,” he held up his creaking misery of a technology. “And quickly I became one of her lab rats.”

Cheshire chortled and pressed his hand against his forehead. Quickly thereafter he broke into frivolous laughter. “What a way to quickly become a prisoner.”

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Tarrant sighed. “If only I had been more convincing in my paperwork, she wouldn’t have noticed my subjects were still alive even after expiration. Then again if my record reaches a percentage of above fifty percent death rate, she would have experimented on me anyways.”

Cheshire was laughing. “I thought you were just really good at cybernetics and surgery.”

“There’s no doubt with that,” Tarrant retorted.

“And that also explains how you knew about that secret passage,” Cheshire added. “But… why did you keep it until now? That’s what Rocket exactly wanted to get from you.”

Tarrant shrugged. “I sensed that your fellow has a low sense of reason. If he knew, I would no longer be breathing.” He inhaled then let it all out. “Speaking relatively…” he placed the sling-bag on top of the desk. Although it was impossible, Tarrant knew Cheshire was frowning. He added, “The decision is yours and I apologize for provoking a lovers’ quarrel between you two.”

Cheshire quickly flushed and hid it away by turning his back on the mad Hatter. There was a long pause before he finally replied. “Do you think I’m selfish?”

Tarrant’s eyes darted to the ceiling and then to the cat whose back was turned on him. “At first I thought you were,” he answered frankly, “Always disappearing…saving your own skin but after what you pulled above there…not so much.”

The corner of Cheshire’s mouth lifted slightly higher. “Not with that…” he whispered but still loud enough for both of them to hear. “Rocket…” he bit his lip, “Before I even knew, I was already aiming for him.”

Tarrant’s brows centered to his face. “Knew what?” he asked.

“That he’s a broken spirit,” Cheshire turned to Tarrant, his eyes of twinkling plea. “He’s a gentle soul hiding away in this calloused mask you all know him of. When I first saw him, I only had one thing in mind—that he will be my last pleasure before I vanish completely but…” Cheshire laughed and refused to continue.

“But what?” Tarrant was keen and pushed the shying cat to proceed.

Sheepishly, Cheshire continued. “It’s pathetic…” he said, “But I love him?” it came out more of a question than a statement. He added instantly, “I felt like I know him but I don’t know him…”

Tarrant raised a brow, indicating that Cheshire elaborate.

“The first time I touched him felt so familiar,” the cat was lighting up, “His rude behavior toward me is less offensive and more playful in perception,” Cheshire lifted a finger to hush the about-to-protest mad hatter. “And when I realized that he fell for me, not because of my pathetic attempts but because he longed for something he lost, I’ve already fallen deeper into him.”

“You asked me if you were selfish why?”

“Because I took advantage of his damage and used it to get him…”

Silence ensued for a moment—nothing but the clogs of Tarrant’s clockwork arm ticking by the seconds. The mad hatter retreated on his swivel chair and crossed his leg on top of the other. “Is that how you perceive your relationship with him—nothing but a reenactment of a past that broke him?”

“It’s as plain as that,” Cheshire said, “No more and no less.”

“Then tell that to Rocket’s face,” Tarrant swiveled left and right. “You truly loving him, there is no doubt about that. Him truly loving you, he could only tell himself. Now why don’t you and I go ask him that?”

Cheshire took a moment of silence before walking up the table. His attention was on the sling-bag. Funny—how he never questioned Rocket about the content of the bag when they were with each other. And now, he’s taking one piece of the perfect technology he refused to put inside him.

“I wanna ask him.” Cheshire took out the new radiators from the knapsack.

Tarrant stood up and walked to the other end of the room. Pressing a button beside the door, the other room was lit up. It was the first time Cheshire saw an operating bed without having the slightest fear. He followed the mad hatter inside taking slow steps on the cold floor. He always thought it was a stupid design to color the walls and floors white. After every operation, it would always be streaked with blood. Sometimes, if the subjects were calm or dead, the floor would have a pool of blood. If the subjects struggled, the walls would be streaked with it—disturbing prints of hands sliding on the glass and floor leaving a crimson trail. Most of the time, it would be splashes tainting most areas. The painting of blood always depended on the obedience of the subjects.

Tarrant placed the knapsack on one of the tables and searched the room, recalling where he’s put what which he doubted was still in its exact location having years out of Alice’s service. The room was left as it was, however.

“You don’t have to put me to sleep, do you?” Cheshire asked.

“I believe I have to,” Tarrant said, “Unless you want to savor the pain.”

Cheshire sighed. “I don’t want to sleep…”

Tarrant looked over his shoulder to Cheshire and then he got back under the table and pulled out an unlocked crate. “It’ll be tremendously painful and I can’t have you struggling all the while I tamper with your insides,” he said as he laid out various surgical materials from the box.

Cheshire chuckled. “I’m just afraid I won’t wake up.” He hopped on the operating bed and caressed the cold armrests.

“You will,” Tarrant said, “You’re in the hands of the greatest surgeon there ever will be.” He walked behind Cheshire.

“Knowing we’re in a loop,” Cheshire said, “Makes me want to defeat Alice even more so that I may be able to meet him without consequences…be with him without a limit. I don’t care wherever in the galaxy the time gem would spit us.”

Tarrant went back to the table. “I don’t think that’s how it works.” He carried a sling-bag with him and some intravenous with various surgical materials. He laid it all by a wheeled table beside the operating bed. He unzipped Cheshire’s suit and was slightly taken aback to the horrendous sight of wounds healing wrongly and damaged radiators which wires were cut and metals were coated with dried blood. He ran his fingers on the metals.

Cheshire grimaced. “Well, however it works, I want to be with him.”

“This is the second time you’re undergoing your greatest fear for that fellow,” Tarrant remarked, not taking his eyes off the messy back.

“As I had said before, I’m doing this for all of us,” Cheshire’s smile was real. “And I think we should join the war as soon as possible.”

Tarrant laid Cheshire flat on the operating bed. “Aye.”