The ax missed Mad's face by barely an inch. He stayed stock still, just staring at the edge of what should have been his death.

Then, his eyes traveled down to the broken shaft, the report of a bullet ringing through the air.

There was another crack of gunfire and Mad lurched to his feet as he watched the body of the executioner fall with a heavy thud to the ground. Someone screamed and suddenly the garden was flooded by people in black clothes throwing everything into turmoil.

Mad's head jerked up to the balcony to find Tamsus getting Mavros into the safety of the castle.

"No!" Mad roared, leaping over the body of his would be executioner. He wasn't going to let either of them get away. This would end. Today.

He skidded to a halt when a hooded figure popped up in front of him. Mad's eyes narrowed, then widened when they took off the hood and shouting over the tumult said, "There was a change of plan. It would seem the Spade King is rather fond of you Hatter."

Mad was met with the bizarre sight of Rakta Diamond dressed completely in black. He produced a key and unlocked the shackles around Mad's wrists, the metal falling away to clank discordantly against the ground at his feet.

Mad looked around though he knew he'd never find Killian in this mess, then his attention was distracted by Rakta. The Ace of Diamonds grinned, offering Mad a revolver. Mad took it.

It wasn't one of his, but just the weight of a gun in his hand again made Mad feel invincible.

He had six rounds. It wasn't much, but it would suffice.

"Come on," Rakta said, spinning the cylinder of his own revolver. With a flick of his wrist he snapped the cylinder back into place and said, "I know where they'll go. The throne room."

Mad went with the Ace, doing his best to keep up, battling his way through the melee. He watched, impressed, when Rakta somehow managed to line up three of the Queen's guards, gun them down, then take a knife from one of the dead to throw it, sinking it hilt deep into the chest of another guard running toward them.

Mad was suddenly more thrilled than ever that Rakta was on their side. He was certainly a formidable opponent, scything his way through the sea of red easily, a sudden master of any weapon that found itself in his hand.

Mad even winced when Rakta threw a spear hard enough that it carried its target backwards into another of the Queen's guards, skewering that man as well, pinning the two together.

It was something beautiful if ghastly to watch and greatly appreciated by Mad who only had to engage with maybe three or four other guards, which took a greater toll on his battered body than he'd ever admit.

They wove through the other fighters, dodging swords, arrows and the occasional bullet, the sound and movement of the rather medieval battle interspersed by the random thunder of gunfire.

But the weeks of abuse had left Mad weak and he lost Rakta when a guard swiped a sword at him. Mad caught the blade on the barrel of the gun, his left hand coming around in a hooking punch that caught his assailant right on the jaw, knocking him to the ground.

Mad grunted in disgust. A hit like that should have dropped the man out cold and would have if Mad had been in fighting form. Mad snatched the guard's sword up before the man could recover and brought the blade down, the point stabbing into his chest.

He ducked a random fist swung his way and burst from the edge of the skirmish just to watch Rakta disappear into the castle doors, running hard. Mad ran, his body arguing with him about every step and reached the doors, charging inside.

More red clad guards rounded a sudden corner and shouted, pointing swords at him and Mad didn't even think. He just shot, the lead ripping through his assailants, splattering a shiny red over the dull red of the walls.

Mad inhaled deeply, the gunpowder a sweet, missed burn in the back of his throat, then he looked down. He looked at the gun, then at the bodies on the floor, trying to count bullet holes. His hand seemed to have a distant memory of pulling the trigger four times.

His eyes told him his fingers were right and that he only had two rounds left.

It would be enough.

He started running again, skirting the steadily widening pool of scarlet since his feet were bare and ran through the curving hallways, evidence of Rakta's own passing painted and splashed and smeared and pooled on the walls and floors.

Mad kept running until he thought he heard a familiar shout. He slowed, looking warily into each room as he passed. Then, again, the shout and a sense of knowing.

Mad ran again, his feet sliding in a pool he couldn't avoid next to a rather shocked looking body and slammed his way through a half closed door leading into what looked like a spare dining room, a long table in the middle and the walls lined by soldier rows of china cabinets filled to bursting with delicate glass and porcelain.

Mad had to stop in astonishment, struck dumb by what he was seeing.

Alice was there fighting with a guard easily three times her size, her blonde braid whipping through the air as she swung a sword of all things. Blood spotted the floor in an abstract pattern at the two combatants' feet and Mad felt an overwhelming sense of pride when he realized it was the guard's blood. Alice didn't have a scratch on her.

She slashed the blade across the guard's chest again, then howled angrily, the sound reminiscent of a wildcat, when the guard grabbed her wrist with crushing force.

Mad saw her blue eyes fly wide in pain before he heard the snap of her wrist breaking. She cried out and Mad was suddenly across the room, plowing into the guard, his shoulder digging into the man's back.

They crashed into a china cabinet, the sound of breaking glass catastrophic and delicate. The guard turned and Mad found himself sailing through the air to smash into another cabinet before dropping to the brutal marble. The gun was knocked from his grasp and broken china fell in a cutting rain around him as glass sliced into every exposed piece of skin it could find.

Mad pulled himself to his feet, cutting the palm of his left hand on a broken plate and the guard charged at him like a bull. Mad turned to the side, pushing the man's shoulder and used his own momentum against him, making him run into another cabinet full of crystal glasses.

The guard somehow managed to grab Mad's wrist and pulled Mad with him into the glass where they scrambled together for a moment, but only a moment, before the man knocked Mad to the ground, pinning him there.

Mad recognized him. It was the guard who had hit him that first day. The one with soft hands.

The guard's orangey eyes lit up with recognition of his own and he grabbed the collar of Mad's shirt, using it to slam Mad repeatedly into the ground. Mad's hands scrabbled uselessly against the guard's thick fingers and he started to see stars, his shocked lungs unable to draw in air.

The guard slammed him once more into the stone and grinned, gloating.

His face froze that way when a sword ran him through.

He looked down, then slumped over, pinning Mad. What little air he had managed to intake rushed from his lungs as the guard's weight crushed him.

"Mad!" Alice screeched, throwing her slight body against the guard's, trying to push him off of Mad. She got him off with Mad's help and he sat up trying to breath again.

Alice threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder. Mad hugged her back tightly, burying his face in her hair, afraid that she would disappear if he let her go. She was shaking and he held her even tighter, not letting her be afraid.

They stayed like that for a long moment until Alice pulled back. She gently touched his bruised, cut face and whispered, "I thought we were too late. I saw you up there and the ax. I saw it fall and knew we were too late."

More tears pooled in her summer sky eyes and slid down her cheeks. Mad brushed them away as quickly as they could fall and she cradled her wrist to her chest. Anger rose up, choking him when he saw the ring of bruises there on her arm and pulled her into his chest again.

She wiped her face on his shirt and said, "Killian wasn't supposed to shoot. But I made him."

Mad laughed, picturing that in his head and she helped him stand up. He grinned down at her and said, "I guess it's a good thing you're so bossy then, huh?"

Alice wrinkled her nose at him but didn't say anything. He took her hand then gently, lightening his touch when she gasped, examining the bruises, trying to determine how badly her wrist was broken.

They were still looking at her wrist when there was a tremendous crash behind him. Alice's eyes went wide as she looked over his shoulder, lips forming a warning and Mad whirled to find three guards charging at them.

He dived, sliding across the marble and through the glass before his hands touched the smooth wood of the gun's grip. He rolled onto his back, shooting as much by instinct as by sight and two of the guards dropped to the ground, dead.

The third guard ran at Mad who threw the gun at him, hard. The guard ducked, barely avoiding it, then looked at Mad in an incredulous sort of way, like he couldn't believe Mad had just done that.

Mad used the guard's hesitation to gain his feet and looked around wildly for anything he could use before the guard recovered enough to thrust the spear he held at Mad's belly. Mad jumped back, avoiding it by a hair.

He looked at the guard, then down at himself as a shot echoed through the room. The guard looked down, then at Mad, puzzled, before crumpling to the ground.

Mad looked up and was amazed, almost dumbstruck when he saw Alice standing there, holding one of his guns, the black metal lovely in the sunlight.

Alice blinked and took in a shaky breath, lowering the gun slowly. It slipped from her fingers and clattered to the ground. Mad crossed the distance between them in three long strides, ignoring the glass and took her into his arms again.

Alice smiled unsteadily at him and said, "I've never shot a person before."

Mad opened his mouth, then shut it, not really sure about what to say. Alice shrugged, her arms around his waist. With a small laugh, she said, "Rakta stole them back for you. Right out from under Tamsus. Killian and I each took one, in case we got separated. That way, if one of us found you, we could at least return one of them."

Shaking his head, he asked, "So why were you using a damn sword?!"

His cheeks heated a little when he swore in front of Alice but she didn't seem to mind. She laughed again, sounding genuinely entertained. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world she said, "Because these are yours Mad!"

Mad kissed her cheek and overwhelmed with gratitude, said, "Thank you, Alice."

"I'm so glad you're not dead," she said, tearing up again. She wiped angrily at the tears and, putting her uninjured hand on her hip, glared up at him and said, "But you're still in trouble for taking off on your own. Do you understand me Mad?"

"Yes Alice," Mad said and grinned at her. She tried to hold on to her glare but couldn't and ended up smiling at him in an exasperated sort of way that felt about right to Mad.

She walked over to the first guard she had killed and yanked her sword free. Alice turned to him then and said, "Let's go find the Queen."

Mad laughed and they continued on through the corridors, going deeper and deeper into the castle.