A/N: This one shot goes along with my story Through the Looking Glass Once More. It is from the point of view of Margaret Kingsleigh and it occurs a bit after Alice has left. If you have read my story, great! If you haven't, you might be a little lost. You can read this one shot if you like, but it will make a lot more sense if you've read the story, so please do!

Either way, I hope you like it and I hope you review!


Margaret stood in the middle of her sister's room. She'd come into this room every day since her sister's disappearance. The bed was made, but she still straightened the corners to make it look perfect. It was a strange habit that she couldn't even help. She always thought maybe, just maybe, Alice would be home that night. Then she would sleep in the pristine bed. That was probably why she wanted it so neat. It had to be neat to bring back her baby sister.

Margaret sat down on the edge of Alice's bed and buried her head in her hands.

The worst part of it was that no one knew how it had happened. Margaret had unlocked the door the morning after the Ascot's dinner to find an empty bed. The door had been locked, the windows were shut tight and all locked. Everything was perfectly normal except for one thing.

No Alice.

Now, three weeks later, she still hadn't shown up. She was gone and no matter how Margaret wished it wasn't true, the search was ending soon. It would be given up as a lost cause. There was no Alice. She was gone for good.

And yet, Margaret felt like she wasn't gone. What was it Alice had said? She was going back to Wonderland? Margaret couldn't help but hope… but no. Wonderland wasn't real, and Margaret would not give into those crazy delusions. She was not mad.

The room spun around her as she thought of the fight she'd had with her sister. She had called her mad. Alice would never come back.

On top of it all, Margaret had been fighting with her husband. Lowell seemed to not care about Alice being gone. In fact, he almost seemed relieved. The more intense Margaret became about the search, the more distant Lowell seemed. It had caused plenty of fights between them.

Margaret stood and walked to Alice's dresser, once more pulling out the journal that she'd found in the top drawer. She had been fighting with herself for a while now whether or not to pass it on to Lewis Carroll. As far as she was concerned, that first book had been the cause of it all. However, it was obvious that this had been important to Alice. She just couldn't decide.

Gently, she once more sat down on the bed. She flipped through the pages, reading different passages. It all was so mad, but Alice had been so sure that it was real…

Margaret slammed the journal shut. She couldn't waste her time on these fantasies. It wasn't real, and she couldn't start believing it was. It was a waste of her time, and it was driving her insane.

Margaret stood and once more straightened the sheets. Then, she calmly looked in the mirror to make sure she didn't look as though she had been crying. Although, it really didn't matter. She spent all her time crying these days.

She turned away and went to the door, then turned back quite suddenly to look at the mirror.

She wasn't going mad, at least she hoped not, but for a moment she'd thought she'd saw something in the looking glass. Tall grasses, bright flowers, and running through it all, a pale blonde in a blue dress.

She had just imagined it, she decided. She must have.

Or had she?