A Joker, An Ace and the Queen.

I've had this WIP in progress for ages based on the Cardtalia designs for Hetalia. I don't think I'll ever get to finishing it, so I thought I might as well post it somewhere at least as I put a lot of time into it. <3

---

He had a watch. The boy wasn’t old, nor was he practiced enough to read the hands as they traveled in lazy circles, never stopping. Young enough his parents still tucked him in and left wet impressions of kisses on his temple.

The city they lived in wasn’t big, a small farming village nestled amongst fields of crops and Mom ‘n’ Pop corner stores. He didn’t need to know the time – he came home for dinner when the man next door brought his sheep over the hill and slept until Father got up for work, awakening him with a stern but loving tussle of his hair.

Peter Väinämöinen had no need for that watch, really. But every night, it was tucked into bed alongside him beneath his pillow and held gingerly during the day for fear it would suddenly not be with him anymore. Pressed to his chest when he was running as not to be lost from bouncing pockets and carried by the chain from his dirty fingers when climbing up trees. The watch was a part of him as much as he was a part of it.

Little did the boy know that his favored time keeper was to bring him into an odyssey beyond him and then create a new completely around him.

-

He hastily ran up the incline, breathing hard as the sun pounded down on him as it set. His watch bounced faithfully along with him, ticking at the same pace it always did despite the growing rush to get home. The blond haired boy hopped the fence, stepping around Tino’s garden and bounding through the swinging back door on a single breath. Peter found both of his parents in their common room – Father reading, Papa tuned into fixing his other pants he’d tracked a hole in earlier that day. Exhaling, he smiled, proud of his feat as Tino chuckled.

“Cutting it close today?” he asked softly, not really minding the time of arrival – he was actually early today, but it eased his worry to have him in the house so not as if he was going to mention that. Peter smiled at him, kicking off his shoes and wandering over the arm rest of his Papa’s chair, watching as he sewed off the hem.

“Mr. Carriedo let me play with the new baby sheep!” he explained giddily, following his parent as he put away the sewing supplies and then trailed into his adoptive son’s room. Peter’s mouth ran as Tino folded the newly repaired pants, putting them away into their drawer before taking the child’s shirt off for him and then helping with the rest of his clothes. His feet were dirty and the blue eyed boy laughed as the large thumb ran over his heel.

“That was nice of him, did you remember say thank you?”

“Yup! He said to ask Father if he’d help repair his fence before the winter so they won’t stray out on him,” he continued, wiggling into his night shirt, watch balled into his right fist as he attempted to poke his arms through the tricky holes.

Tino tugged the garment down for him, smiling as Peter transitioned from active mode to night time mode and moved into bed without being asked. He pulled the covers back, a quilted cave just for him and then tucked them around his son. He made an extra effort to bundle him in tight, laughing as he squirmed in sudden panic. “I’ll make sure to tell Sve for you, I’m positive he’d love to see those new baby sheep with you too. Now, what story do you want to hear tonight, Peter?”

It was usually a moot question to ask, always so automatically responded to. The child smiled slyly from his place amongst the quilts as the other dragged over the chair from the corner, cradling one of the abandoned stuffed animals in his lap as he seated himself.

“Do you have it?” the man asked softly, stroking the horse’s mane even though he always knew the answer. Peter struggled against the blankets and finally emerged, the golden pocket watch in his possession. It glimmered by the light setting through the blinds, golden and polished no matter what hard ships it went through.

“There was a place,” Tino began smoothly, his eyes closed in concentration even though he knew every word he needed to say, “where a King and a Queen helped rule a kingdom. This Kingdom was special – built on magic and led by four sets of rulers.”

“Like a game of cards, right?” he interrupted, fixing the sheets around his shoulders so he could rest comfortably with the watch beneath his cheek.

“Yes, exactly like that. Their subjects obeyed all of them, but each King and Queen together ruled a fourth of the kingdom. The pairs are always at each other’s side, weak as another being when alone but strong enough to overtake the biggest beast when together.

In that world, one of the King and Queen sets ruled over time. They helped to suspend everyone into an everlasting sense of peace and youth. They were considered the top tier of the rulers, the most needed as they held the fabric of the world together. Like how that fence holds Mr. Carriedo’s sheep inside, Peter.”

“I know,” he said tiredly, bright cherub eyes not quite as focused as before. “They needed that King and Queen because everything would get old and crumbly, right?”

“Correct. It is said each and every watch on this world is connected to the power of that King and Queen, for when time stops one of them has perished and needs to be replaced. If you watch the time, you can see whenever a new person is appointed in the other world.”

Peter smiled, grinning from ear to ear as Tino tucked him back in again. “So, when my big brother gave me this watch, he wanted me to watch the other world, right Papa? And what about the other ones?”

The older blond laughed, kissing the boy on the temple as he smoothed down his hair. “That would be correct – like you are their little hero from another place. And don’t worry about them, I need to save more stories to tell you tomorrow night.”

He sighed contently, cozy and warmed. They exchanged soft spoken good nights, the room finally dark as the sun disappeared over the other side of the earth. The door closed with a soft click and with his watch close to mind, pressed against his cheek, Peter fell asleep to the same dreams he always had of a world based on cards and the Kings and Queens who ruled there.

A brother that he hoped to someday see again.

-

Stomach full on lunch, Peter wandered contently through the grass. He was in no hurry, trying to keep his tummy calm as Papa warned. The insects were out, creating a lively sound around him. He followed the edge of the neighbor’s white picket fence, wrapping and unwrapping the watch’s linked chain around his wrist.

Tuned mostly into his own imagination, he was startled when the white creature darted in front of him, it’s hoofed feet trampling through the grass. Peter blinked, clutching his watch quickly to his chest as he watched the lamb trot off in the other direction. Catching his bearings, he screamed.

“Mr. Carriedo!” Moving quickly up the fence line panicked, he couldn’t find the friendly farmer anywhere. Swallowing hard, he turned on his heels and dashed, chasing down the frail creature himself.

Branches snapped under his feet as he ran blindly, pumping his arms as fast as he could. The ferns were parted where the creature had burst through the line dividing the fields from forest and without of thought of the warnings he always heard, he followed it in.

The sun spotted the earth through the canopy of trees, and Peter was so focused on keeping his feet moving he wasn’t quite sure where he was taking himself anymore. The lamb was nowhere in sight and everything had stopped looking familiar. Catching his breath he slowed, staring shakily down at the moving hands of his watch. It took a bit for his nauseous feeling to clear and on hesitant legs he pushed a little deeper into the forest.

“Baby sheep!” he called, hopping on top of a fallen trunk and sliding over the other side. It wasn’t as loud here, the insects distant the leaves nearly perfectly still. Swallowing with difficulty again, he ran a thumb over the lens of his watch.

His finger struck the inside of his palm instead.

The blond’s eyes darted down, patting his pants rapidly as he checked the ground around him. The ground was only of greens and browns , the golden pocket watch nowhere in his proximity. Panic causing tears to sting at his eyes, he dropped onto all fours to pat at the ground. He didn’t mind being alone, never truly alone as the clock ticked away but now, he was utterly lost.

He wasn’t sure how long he remained like that, broken and withered despite being an upbeat and strong child. The tears had stopped coming, their rivers still left over his cheeks as they cleared the grime. Peter walked, pushing aside the low hanging hands of trees. The ground was dull and earthen – there was no prizes for a boy who misplaced a cherished toy. Occasionally, he called for the lost lamb that led him out here in the first place, but heartbroken, he kept on moving hoping that eventually he would come out where he was needed and loved.

Wandering, a sound through the forest caught his attention, breaking a smile on his face as his Father’s voice broke though. Berwald was strong and silent but loving – he never missed a chance to say hello when he got home from work.

“Sve!” he screamed, using his Papa’s favorite pet name for his other father. He ran towards his voice the best he could, the tears starting fresh as the branches caught onto his legs and left spider web lines of cuts.

The golden light from the fields was starting to come into focus, breaking the dim collection of sun from the dark forest’s hues.

Tock.

It was louder than he ever remembered it - the hollow sound as the clock whirled drawing all of the boy’s attention in one swoop. His eyes widened, mouth parting to stay slightly slack.

Tock.

Peter turned, heart lurching as he approached the grand tree, it’s trunk wide and sturdy. He didn’t remember passing it. He didn’t remembering climbing it either, but his watch dangled on it’s golden chain, not even moving as the wind picked up.

Anxious, he swallowed and approached, hopping over the fallen branches that seemed to halo around the grandfather sapling. Inclining on his tiptoes as his father shouted for him one more, the tip of his index finger touched the smooth edge of the round face.

Story begin.

-

The room was cold, the tile beneath his bare feet causing his toes to curl in search of warmth. Peter felt raw - open and frozen. His clothes felt like feathers drifting around his body. Left in shock and wondrous awe, he couldn’t move as the gates opened before him and illuminated the pitch dark room. Life returning to his fingers, he shifted them and was surprised to feel the weight of his watch, dangling as the hands continued to whirl. The blond boy didn’t glance down, just moved forward as the voices spoke to him.

You do not fit here - mischief maker.

He wasn’t sure what that meant, for when one didn’t know where they were it was hard to tell the wrong doings from the right. When up to mischief, Father spoke to you. Moving carefully, he went under the golden arch, craning his head to look for faces as the speaker continued.

We have a name for you mischief makers. A Joker in every sense.

Peter scowled, stopping in his place. He adjusted his grip on his beloved friend, glancing to challenger the falling pieces of dust that were keeping his company.

“I’m s’not a Joker!” he demanded angrily, but the breath was taken from his lungs and he deflated. He didn’t want this anymore, he wanted home to where his bed time stories and warm kisses were. It had to be supper time with the sheep coming home and Papa would be looking for him soon.

We do not listen to the likes of you, for you bring no good and cannot achieve. Even if you hold the mark of the Spades, you have no spot, not even in the Clubs.

He was trying hard to defend himself, his neck stiff again as his body failed to respond any longer. He could feel the tears returning again and felt weak - he was young but he’d been taught a scratch wouldn’t kill and not all dogs bit - but all in all, he was only a boy with a watch.

Possibly something more, but nothing less.

-

The forest hadn’t changed and he knew that for he was back in the spot he began, the hull of the large tree before him, mighty and aged. It had taken a moment for his eyes to flush out the dim light that remained and allow in the setting sun through the canopy. He relaxed, maybe it was all a bad dream and he clutched his watch tighter in his hand, failing to notice as the second’s stroke began to quiver.

A branch snapped behind him and giddily he shouted “Father!” as he turned around on his heel.
Berwald had always been tall, but even the shyest acquaintance would know this man was not him.

“Hey, what ya doing carrying around the Spade’s watch, baby face?” the odd man asked, walking in a way where his weight sat almost fully on his heels. He was dressed mostly in black - his smile almost as devilish as the insignia on his breast. “Everyone has been lookin’ for you, like, man. You should be happy I found you first before someone else did, kiddo.”

Peter couldn’t breathe again, panicking as he got closer, circling him in lazy steps. His innocent eyes darted about, trying to follow his movements as he paid attention to his watch. Ace’s watch? Like Papa always told him? “... W-Who’s looking for me?”

The tall devil man snorted, twirling a finger in his silver hair for a moment, twisting a lock around into a crude horn. The boy cringed, tucking his time keeper under the hem of his shirt. He was trying to will himself to be a hero, shout and scream and kick as Papa always said but thin felt curiosity kept him in place.

“Everyone in the kingdom, you’re a fuckin’ gem right now. The last one to make news like this was me, King o’ Clubs going insane aside,” he continued to coo, his odd spaded tail bouncing behind him. “An’ trust me, News is slow around here. Your jus’ lucky us Jokers don’t have any suit magic, otherwise they’d be able to track us like hawks.”

He squinted, lost. Taking a step backwards, the tree trunk brushed his behind. His watch slipped, dangling and exposed. “Why is everyone callin’ me a Joker? I’m not a Joker, I’m just Peter. Peter Väinämöinen. Stop calling me that!”

“Well, Peter, I got a little somethin’ to learn you then. But we’ll start with the basics,” the lanky man greeted, finally stopping his pacing to jut out a hand, balancing his elbow on his hip. “I am the awesome, and the one and only awesome. But ya can call me Gilbert, ‘ight?”

He stared at the strange man - Gilbert, he guessed he might as well think of him as, wide eyed for a moment. Carefully with his free hand, he shook the other’s. It was gentler than he imagined and it made him homesick almost instantly. He held on tight, holding for all that he could now that he had the silver haired Joker’s hand. He slowly slid to the leaf littered floor, stranger’s fingers stilled locked around his small ones.

With a long sigh through his nose, Gilbert bent over, scarlet eyes laced with a paternal sort of pain as he lifted the blond boy and carried him in his arms. As much as he knew the boy was capable of moving on his own, they didn’t have all this time to waste. “Hey, c’mon now cry baby. You’re on national news headlines, you don’t weep when you’re famous.”

“Not crying,” he affirmed softly, eye lids sinking with sadness. His blond lashes pressed to his cheeks as he shuddered once as he carefully he decided he would allow to give all the trust his naive young heart had. Peter was lost, and his touch was gentle. “I wanna go home, Gilbert.”

“Yeah, well bud, don’t we all.”

-

When he awoke, the setting had changed. Instead of dull and green, it was of blues and violets. Peter blinked away the sand from his eyes, parting his lips in a small yawn. He moved to pull his knees to his chest and noticed something different. He wasn’t in his same clothes anymore, the color different but the texture almost exactly the same. He wouldn’t of noticed if he hadn’t looked down. It was very similar to what the other Joker wore, the thin spaded tail twisting beside him.

Frowning, he pulled his watch in his lap, tracing the rim with his finger. The home felt tight and claustrophobic, a single person bed across the room across from the kitchen chair he had been seated on. It was solid wood, the features chiseled away by hand it appeared and the cushion was non-existent. A fire was burning but to the lost boy’s amazement, it was of a soft blue hue. Before he could touch it to test it, a door opened out of nowhere from the hull of the small fort and Gilbert entered.

“Ah, you hungry pip squeak?” He crossed the room in long strides, almost floating on his steps. Peter shook his head, pulling his feet up onto the chair. The Elder Joker didn’t seem to care, instead choosing to pull up a seat in front of the azure fire. The silence engulfed for a moment, the flames making no sound.

“Gilbert, why are we called Jokers?” the small boy asked after a bit, staring at the dial of his watch. He didn’t understand how they could be so different in a world that made so little sense.

The albino lifted his head, pausing his chewing for a moment to think. “You know the four card suits, right kiddo?” He nodded, showing his understanding as Tino always retold that story. “Around here, you’re born to a suit. They aren’t like playing games, each un is a magic.”

“Spades is time, right?” he cooed softly, scooting from the hand carved chair and allowing his short legs to carry him to the man’s side. “M’ Papa told me that.”

“Ah, yeah, see you know something.” Gilbert extended his arms, opening up as if for a hug. Peter hesitated, fingers moving in motions across the clear cap of his charm. He flicked his wrists again, coaxing him forward and the blond boy laughed as he was suddenly squeezed and held tight, his sides attacked with wandering, tickling fingers. The man seemed proud of himself, a cock eye grin on his face. “But yeah, the Spades can manipulate time, they pretty much run the show around ‘ere. You’re pretty fucked if you ever get caught alone with one.”

Peter frowned at his language, staring up at him with large eyes but he continued to pay no heed.

“Clubs are a bit more nasty though, they are sort of a buff class. They are the Manipulative magics, mainly in strengthening and weakening. It’s messy crap, the easiest way to think of it is one second they can’t lift a bag of feather and the next, you’re getting a whole damned tank chucked at your head. Make sense?”

He nodded, pushing away his hands as the wandered to tickle again.

“Diamonds are the pansies I like to think, they are all frilly outfits and perfect long hair and shit. Mother Nature is what I call ‘em, they can talk to any living thing and like, convince plants to grow. A forest is a trap when Diamonds are ‘round, remember that, ‘ight?” Gilbert poked Peter in the stomach, smiling softly as the fire continued to be the only light in the room. It’s soft glow reflecting on the surface brought his attention to the watch in his small companion’s lap. “But Jokers, right. We’re here ‘cause we entered without being born into a suit. You said you entered on accident, but I got ‘ere on purpose. Basically, when we enter, we sort of grab all the magic we can.”

The blond’s eyes widened and he poked to his chest, holding his heart. “What does that mean?”

“That we can do things that none of the suits can,” the male explained softly, proping his chin up on a hand. “They call me the Cheshire Joker, I’m pretty good with ducking through walls and creating doors where they shouldn’t be, heh. Escape artist 101, the best and awesomest is me. Maybe you’ll have something else, pip. They seem to think you do.”

Peter watched up into his scarlet eyes as the Joker was watching him so intently. Carefully, new found tail bouncing and winding around him, he climbed from his lap and sat on the animal skin rug beside him. He ran his fingers through the fibers, watching them bend. “... Gilbert, isn’t there still one more? The Hearts? Papa always told me about the Hearts.”

His question met an odd silence, nothing comfortable like the rest of the time he spent with the strange but smart man. Gilbert licked his lips, fending away a dryness that had seemed to set in suddenly. Without answering, he went back to his meal, tearing the meat with his fingers into thin strips as he ate them. Discouraged, Peter reached over to finally eat as well, nibbling on the messy chunks.

“... I came here lookin’ for my lil bro, you know. That’s how I became a Joker,” he practically whispered and the boy only knew those tones from when Papa would cry and Father would be there, holding him tight. “But the Hearts are good with mind reading and that stuff, they can put words into your head that you don’t want if they really try.”

“Oh,” he chirped, eating his meat slowly, unsure of what to do. “My brother gave me my watch,” Peter explained after a moment, gesturing to it with a greasy finger, “when I was really little. He’s my older one. Papa never told me where to find him, so I just take it where ever I go because he’ll know me with it.”

Gilbert chuckled suddenly, wiping his hands down the front of his dark pants. “Yeah, well, my brother is the freakin’ King of Hearts.”

-

While I dance around the idea of sharing my FF account, please accept this as the reason why I haven't posted lately. <3

---

The hall was never silent, the drone of the clocks occupying all space in the room. They ticked in time, each second a sounding echo as they moved in heart beat with their master. The Queen shifted in his throne, crossing his legs in the opposite direction. His guards stood at the door, motionless as the world continued around them.

A voice spoke over the sounding ticks, a mantra of the rules of time and space but Arthur had heard the words enough times they were only a faint buzzing to him, rivaled only by the sounds of his own faithful time keepers.

Everything in the Hall of Spades worked on the power of the King and Queen, stopping and pausing as they pleased. He had always found it amusing somewhere in his mind that he moved it forward and his partner backward, only in complete still and harmony when paced equally by the pair.

Arthur had grown used to this game, the one Alfred always played when times and dates were arranged. He did not even tilt his head - emerald orbs unfocused as his King appeared from the thin air, seating himself upon his throne at his Queen’s side. The tension in the room grew thick for a moment as their powers met and slowly began to mingled in peace, then the room was still again, not a guard flinching.

“You’re late,” the elder blond stated, head still rested on his hand. The clock at his side slowed to a stop, the hands freezing with a loud tock.

“Am not,” the other replied childishly, flashing the gold, spade shaped time keeper that stood in his lap. “Exactly on time, not a second late.”

They sat in silence for a moment, accustomed to the little game they always played. The King and Queen of Spades could only be late if they intended to be - they were always on time. It was the nature of things.

“What did you find out?” The Queen asked simply, straightening to give his partner a long, cold look. The younger male shrugged, a child almost to his father beside him. The knowledged one and the fool.

“No one knows where he went. They said the other Joker got to him first, he’s a loose canon now.”

Arthur sighed, his breath whistling over his teeth.

“He will find way here eventually.”

x

“It isn’t like a fairy tale, buddy,” the elder joker sighed, running a spindly hand through his thin hair. “King and Queen are just titles. They can both be girls or both be guys or a bunch of he-she no bit dicks. Got it?”

Peter nodded, a bit wide eyed as Gilbert spoke to him. They had been talking for what seemed ages as they moved through the molted forest built upon greens and browns. He held the man’s other hand tight, swaying it above him as he jumped over downed logs and scared strange, multi-colored birds. He seemed to know what he was saying and it fascinated him - like a story without a hole in it, no matter what you asked.

“Like my Papa and my Father,” he stated, watching his feet as he walked. “They love each other very much and they are both boys.”

The albino frowned only the slightest, eyebrows arching in subtle confusion and amusement. “Ah, yeah. Cool for ya, dude.”

Somehow the silence remained comfortable, the two Jokers walking in parallel to each other. The young boy was thinking, sky orbs conveying his concentration upon his thoughts.

“Do they all love each other, Gilbert?” he asked finally, releasing his bony hand in order to scale a rock carefully, ending at the same eye level as his new caregiver. “The Kings and Queens.”

“No,” he responded almost instantly, tucking both of his hands into the pockets of his rag tag jeans. “I told you how they all come together because of their powers, ‘ight?”

The young Joker nodded, following along on the bolder ledge. He had repeated a lot of what he already known from his Papa - the King and Queen of each suit where chosen because their powers completed each other. When together, they were stronger than anyone else in their suit and Kingdom. Gilbert had explained it a bit different, but it was mostly the same.

“Well, then no. They’re pretty much stuck to each other ‘cause they are powerless without the other. It’s totally up to them weather they like each other or not, too. Clubs, for example,” the silver haired man rambled, tuned into the shifting colours in the sky, “cannot stand one another. Little Elizabeta sleeps on one side of the castle and the bastard old King Ivan on the other.”

Peter had grown used to the other’s constant language that he’d stopped looking surprised by it.

“But then you got like the Spades,” he continued, grabbing the boy by the armpits to hoist him down and onto the earth. “Who are totally smitten or whatever with each other. It’s just a bunch of titles, the rest is up to them.”

He laughed, taking up Gilbert’s hand again. “That’s good. That means that they only have to love each other if they want to, then they are always happy. Right?”

“... right.”

x

His small feet hurt in the soles of his new, dark shoes. At his side his pocket watch swung, bumping between their legs as in turn his small fingers began to ache as well. Peter was ready to inform Gilbert of his ill standing when the loud shot broke the silence, disturbing the trees and the calm.

He turned and Gilbert was no longer there.

You’re kind of a pussy, dickwad!

What? The boy froze, clutching his watch to his chest. Why would he be saying that now and where did he go? A loud shot ran out again and he brought his hands to his ears, squinting as it echoed inside his skull, pounding loud.

Jesus, ya kinda suck too. Get better aim next time.

He was occupied scanning the trees, anywhere, for the dark outfit and flashy expression of the elder Joker. Almost overly occupied - unnoticing of the blond who entering through a break in the trunks. Dressed in gold and bronze, he stood out vividly against the earth. Scowling, the mystery man pointed the barrel of his gun in Peter’s direction.

The boy screamed as the next shot clearly missed him, whistling the air and shattering the very noise once more.

Ya would be a bit more threatening if you could actually do some magic, prissy face. What kind of Jack are you? You’re makin’ the kid cry, too.

Hiccuping, the young blond realized the elder companion wasn’t even talking to him, rather to the gun wielding man that had emerged completely now from the thick, alive forest. It seemed to bow and dance around him, the branches leaning and touching as if apart of the new blond Jack.

“You’re sort of useless,” the mystery gunner stated flatly, gun still pitched in hand, waiting. “I have no use shooting you today, just go away.”

The newly named Joker listened as the two argued, the occasional gun fire shaking his ear drums, the vibrations stunning his watch for the smallest millisecond. Feeling unharmed now that he realized he wasn’t apart of the conflict, he watched in dumbfound as the other blond seemed to dance around and shout at nothing.

“Kind of funny isn’t it?”

The voice was so soft and pure it caught Peter off guard, his voice stuck as if someone had wrapped him in a warm blanket. He turned slowly to the young girl, her hair similarly bronze but her expression lighter and certainly not weapon toting. The trees had seemed to still, the branches arching back for the sky.

“Vash always does that, he’s my bruder, so it’s sort of his thing,” she explained further with a laugh, sitting upon a stump that seemed to almost grow for just her. The blond girl patted the area beside her, beckoning Peter’s small presence. “He takes his title as Jack to the Diamonds a little too far.”

The young Joker hesitated, clutching his watch to a chest for a moment as she spoke, the plants and the trees bending again almost at each breath she took. She was pretty but as aged as him almost - only a few years older, maybe. As Gilbert and the supposed Vash began their cat calls again, Peter took the seat beside her.

“I’m so happy I found you, because I want to help you, Peter Väinämöinen, the little Joker with the watch of Spades.”

He stared blankly at her, freezing up as if all the heat in the world had escaped him again, the blanket more like a noose. It was eerie hearing her speak his name as if she knew him, and he shook his head ‘no’ in the slightest in reaction.

“A lot of us are looking for you, my bruder is good with these things so I’m happy to have had the honor to met you first.”

“I have Gilbert,” he said in defense, the clearing empty now with only him and the blond girl who knew his name. It was her turn to smile thinly as the sun rained through the toned canopy and she grasped his free hand. His other traced the lens of his watch in desperation.

“Can I only help you once and I want to help you get home before anyone else can take you. Any wish, and I can only do it once. No strings attached. You don’t belong here. You need to go home.”

He swallowed hard, pulling his fingers away from hers. The tree stump had grown into almost a lounge, enclosing them slowly from the world with the tree tops the only sky above them. The smile was still on her face, and how he wanted to go home. Papa and Father where there.

“My King and I really would love to help you, but I cannot without your permission,” she edged, tilting her head the slightest, the flower in her hair dropping a single petal down into his lap. The girl reached for his hand again and the small blond shied away, wielding his watch as his only defense.

“No,” he informed her in his soft voice, “no, I don’t want to talk to anymore of you people. G-Gilbert’s helping me and that’s that, please, no.” His sky blue eyes were dropped, covered in overcast clouds as he thought out his words. Peter didn’t know who to trust anymore - he wanted to stay where he was, not be taken somewhere else on his own that may or may not be his home. Nothing had exactly been making sense to him and he had thought the other Joker was helping him at least.

To his surprise, she only smiled larger and nodded her head with a single articulation. She stood and the limbs slowly crawled away, retreating to their places as Oaks and Firs. Kneeling, she took up his free hand once more, and almost stunned, the smallest Joker watched as she kissed the top of it ever so gently. “If you find me and my King again, I would be happy to grant your wish, any wish. It’s a favor from the Diamonds. Please, think about it.”

Lili stood, lifting the hem of her golden weave dress as she stepped out into the clearing. Not a thing was out of place, the dirt firm and dappled as before. From the forest came the Jack from earlier, and Peter couldn’t hear their words as they conversed ever so softly. Together they turned to him but only she waved, leading the way through the trees in the same silent fashion as they had arrived.

Peter screamed as Gilbert’s hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

“Settle down kiddo, seesh. You just had audience with the Queen of Diamonds and her prissy little Jack, I’d be a little more than solemn if I were you,” he said on a breath, twirling almost on a heel, dark spaded tail bouncing behind him.

“They’re the only ones that don’t want to kill you right now.”

x

Everything had suddenly seemed to creak and growl at him, and with the others words at mind, nothing was at peace for him. Peter watched the hands of his clock, legs folded beneath him as he sat on the ground. Everything felt better when he was focused on only one thing, and right now that simple thing was home to him. Gilbert was in the tree above him, a leaf dislodging occasionally and fluttering to the earth beside him.

For once, he thought the silence between them was going to choke him.

Standing, the small Joker came to the base of the tree and traced his nail into the bark, staring up at his care taker. The stared down childishly before leaping down and occupying the space beside him. Gilbert ruffled his hair and took up his hand, holding it as they began to walk again.

Walking was all they ever seemed to do since they departed from the hole-in-a-tree house.

“So, what the long face for, baby cheeks?” he asked, glancing here, there and everywhere.

The man’s palms didn’t feel comfortable anymore, not in the way they used to reassure him that he had someone there beside him. It wasn’t like walking hand in hand with his Papa or when Father would carry him. Peter let his hand slip away, cradling instead his watch. The elder Joker eyed him carefully, but shrugged.

“Alright,” he stated sourly, rubbing his palms against the front of his dark shirt. Gilbert sighed through his nose as he picked a string on the outside of his pocket, tilting his head as he examined the orange hues filtering through the clouds.

“Aren’t hurting my feelings here.”

x

It was hard for him to tell the time here in a world that never seemed to follow the same agenda, the sky more of a rainbow during the day then a spectrum of blue to yellow and into the dark starry cover. There wasn’t a farmer on the hill to bring in the sheep for supper, nor a cattle in the field that only mooed in the morning right when Papa was finishing with breakfast. The blond little boy was lost, and his only companion was a watch.

It dangled below him, a pendulum from the over hang he was seated on. There wasn’t a light in the sky, the moon only reflecting the dark instead of the rays of the sun. Peter sighed in the chill, crossing his arms as he smacked his heel back against the rock face. Everything inside of him felt so wrong, like a clock wound out of tune.

Gilbert’s thick and similar hoodie slipped over his shoulders, but the little Joker gave no recognition to the movement. In actuality, his body hunched the slightest backwards and it fell onto the cold earth behind him.


“So, what did I do this time that caused ya to run away and not look back?” He snorted, dangling his legs over the edge, so spindly and long they almost grazed the water only a short bolt below them. “If you didn’t want ta sleep over there, ya should of jus’ told me that.”

Peter shrugged, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm, dirt still caressing the creases of his skin from his mad dash through the trees.

“Ludwig was always good with that, pretending to like things I did that he really didn’t,” the elder Joker informed sadly, gathering his discarded clothing and bunching it in his lap. Fumbling with the zipper, he played with it in the darkness. “I know ya got no reason to trust me kid, but right now, that’s all I’m lookin’ for.”

The blond boy glanced up, still wordless for everything the older man was saying. It was a nagging feeling to hear Gilbert say such things, Papa and Father had always mad sure he was nice to everyone. He poked his finger into the chain of his watch, jumping it through the air as it swung.

“I got here because my own little brother didn’t trust me, an’ if it can get you out of here, I really wanna show you to give me a lil bit of faith.”

Testing his grounds, he used the sleeve of his clothing to brush the stray tear before it fell from Peter’s cheek.

“I want to go home,” he responded hoarsely, wrapping his free hand into the thick fabric. It felt horrible, and for how often he had been shedding tears as of late, he felt as if he held no ground anymore. Maybe if he cried enough, pity would send him home without another thought. The forest seemed to mock his thought, a lone bird laughing at him in the night fall.

Slowly Gilbert’s arm wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him close, shushing him over the top of his head with the gentlest of breaths.

“It’s alright. We all do. You’re going to run the well dry soon, y’ know.”

x

He followed in the silver haired’s steps, clinging loosely onto his tail as they walked as if in a makeshift leash purely of his choice. Gilbert was uncaring, a small smile pressing to his lips that was apart from the usual smirk he carried.

Curious long before when the forest turned from earth to chromatics, a field of coordinating flowers in each direction around them, Peter picked up speed to bounce closer behind as he spoke. “Gilbert, where are we going?”

The taller Joker shook his head sideways as if ridding an annoying sound from his ears, but his distaste wasn’t in the question. “I have someone who owes me a favor. She’s jus’ a big enough bitch we have to do some walking to find her.”

“Oh,” he stated casually, switching his hold as he latched onto Gilbert’s offering hand. The flowers danced, the violet petals brushing against his bare ankles.

“She’ll... be able to help you, she’s kinda old around here and can pull some strings.

The blond boy had already grown used to the notion no one really aged around here unless intentional, but he couldn’t help but still picture this nameless woman full of wrinkles and smelling like Mr. Carriedo’s Grandmother. The flowers in the air reminded him of her stale perfume.

“It’ll be kind of hard to get to her, but, after that,” the scarlet eyed man continued, giving the smaller hand a little squeeze, “I really can’t promise you anything, pudge butt. One step at a time.”

“That’s alright, I trust you.”