Alice sees the mirror shimmer, sees the ripples from where Dinah fell through. She remembers, those hours spent poring over books, giggling at movies. She knows where Dinah has gone.
Still, she hesitates.
“Dinah?” she calls, knowing perfectly well that Dinah can't hear her. Dinah isn't here right now. But still, the sound of her voice hits the glass and it ripples even more, and perhaps the sound is traveling through – perhaps Dinah knows she is coming for her – perhaps –
She's waited too long and the ripples have stopped and she is scared, now, that she waited too long and perhaps Dinah is –
That way lay an impossible thought and although she loves impossible things (she loves Dinah, doesn't she?) this is one impossible thing even she refuses to believe.
She steps through.
And so she falls.
While she's falling, it feels like she's been falling forever, but once she hits the ground, she would swear it went quicker than a blink.
She remembers the books, and the movies, and she doesn't want to travel by bottle through a sea of tears, like book-Alice did, and she remembers what to do at EAT ME and DRINK ME and doesn't forget to take the key off the table before she shrinks and shrinks and shrinks. She carries both bottles in her bag as she goes through the door, grateful that she hadn't put it down before – before all this. Her wallet has a picture of Dinah in it.
“Where are you, my love?”
She wonders if she could find that damn Cheshire Cat Dinah was always so fascinated by.
What she doesn't know is this: the Cheshire Cat is following her. The question is not: where is the Cat, but rather, if the Cat will Appear.