Mable: What started as a request for 'Whose-Responsible-This' and now is going to become a bit of a longer fic, a chaptered fic. I don't own 9 or Alice in Wonderland, Enjoy!

The Sanest in the Asylum

Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole

Sometimes it was hard to be considered completely insane by your friends and family. Six knew this and yet still had to brace himself sometimes for the harsh reality of being somewhat ignored. He drug himself out of the Library with a clear frown on his face on this newest occasion before staring back at the Library behind him. It was the looming shell outside the new Sanctuary built inside and looked quite unfriendly at the moment. Going back inside to face the others, the others who once again failed to make sense of his words, would be a true nightmare.

He then looked back at the newest drawing in his hands. It was based off of a nightmare than he had a few nights ago that he could barely remember and looked only like some sort of flower. He didn't remember the nightmare itself, but had hoped that, at least, discussing the drawing would jog his memory. Unfortunately, none of the others seemed very interested in wanting to guess what exactly Six's drawing was of. They just did what they usually did, tolerate Six's rambling and not understand that much.

The Artist sulked at the thought and headed towards the entrance of the Library's courtyard. Unlike usual when he was simply passively social, Six wanted to be alone, he didn't want to be disturbed either. He crossed to the gate and sat down on a metal rung of the lower portion. Staring at the paper in his hands he found himself even more discouraged. Nobody ever appreciated his work and never did he ever find proper inspiration. Without the nightmares, Six wouldn't be able to draw at all, and that made them a mixed blessing.

In the Library it wasn't as though there was much that they he could see for inspiration. Just books, shelves, and rubble, just a mess. Six rested his head against the cold metal of the gate and waited for something to come into his mind to draw next. That was when he suddenly heard shuffling nearby and his optics opened immediately in alarm. Shuffling noises in the Emptiness usually meant a Beast was nearby and Six was in no state to fight one. He didn't have a weapon and he didn't even know how to fight even if he did have one.

He looked through the Emptiness surrounding him as carefully as possible in the light of the cloudy day above. The sky was a blank white color with only a few patches of grey; not a great indicator of rain in the future. That was when his eyes caught something in the distance by a tipped over car. It was clearly a Stitchpunk, but he couldn't see it well, and the only thing he noticed outright was that it was wearing something white on its chest and an odd hat contraption. It was clearly a Stitchpunk, though, and Six felt interest overwhelm.

Even with him wanting to be alone, Six was friendly enough to go after the newcomer, wondering if he hadn't had noticed anyone else yet. The Artist dropped the drawing to the ground by the gate and put a small piece of broken cement on it to hold it down. Then he followed after the new Stitchpunk with a quick sprint, his fingers tightening around the key in a slight bit of shyness. Six would admit that when alone he was just as shy as Five was, if not more so. The Stitchpunk didn't seem to notice Six and was jogging in the opposite direction of him.

"Wait!" Six called after him, "Come back! We're here!" Almost as though the new Stitchpunk was searching for them and he followed him behind the overturned car. Six caught only a glance at the Stitchpunk before it lifted something wooden and slipped underneath it into the ground. It was some sort of trap door and by time Six arrived at it, it was closed tightly once again, and he stared downwards at it with curious, blinking optics. Then he slowly lifted the wood as the other Stitchpunk had and stared downwards. It was a short drop into some sort of tunnel.

"Someone living under the ground?" Six asked himself in confusion, his voice soft and barely audible, before crouching down on his knees and lowering his head down. His key hung heavily around his neck as he stared downwards into the length of the tunnel. It was lined with matches that were stuck into the wall and now merely sitting there burning. He didn't know why the Stitchpunk would have lined the wall with matches this quickly so he assumed that they had been put there beforehand, yet then they would have burned out by now; it was a very confusing situation.

Six stood and turned to head back to the Library to get the others when he stopped. "They won't believe me. They don't ever believe me." He managed to convince himself before turning back towards the hole, "But… But maybe if I bring him back myself… Maybe then they won't- they will- they won't look at me like that anymore." A wide smile took his face and he started to slowly approach the hole once again. He wanted to be like the others who were able to save the others and be helpful. This time he kneeled down before lowering himself into the hole.

The tunnel looked safe enough as it was, so he didn't feel as though he was readily risking his life or anything of the sort. Once standing securely inside he started down the match lined way after the other Stitchpunk. Even with the matches, it seemed like the tunnel was unbelievably dark, and a wall of darkness loomed head even when more matches began to appear one after another. He continued along the tunnel that smelled strongly of earth and carried a cold breeze through it.

Then something changed and Six started to notice that he was soon heading in a downwards slope instead of straight. The steepness continued as the tunnel continued drop into the earth. Six was soon struggling to keep himself from tripping and tumbling down. Unfortunately, he was a bit clumsy, and all it took was a little loose dirt and his feet slipped out from underneath him. The next thing he knew he was rolling down the hill. This went on for a while until he smashed into another trap door on the ground.

He laid on the wood for a second before slowly pushing himself upwards onto his knees. That's when he actually took a good look at the wooden door beneath him. It wasn't like the trap door from before either. It was a Stitchpunk sized door of dark mahogany with an actual doorknob of brass. The fact that the Stitchpunk had made a door that looked exactly like a human sized one and made it in pristine condition. That was when the knob suddenly turned on its own and Six only had a second to wonder which way the door went.

The door dropped open and Six was falling once again; but instead of rolling down a slope he was falling straight downwards. The surrounding world had changed massively as well and his optics scanned the surrounding in desperation as he cried out in horror. The tunnel he was falling through wasn't made of dirt, but walls lines with mirrors. Some were closer than others and distorted the Artist's reflection. Random other bits of furniture occasionally jutted out of the walls in certain intervals; such as shelves and lamps.

His audio receptors were throbbing with the sound of repeatedly clicking that Six soon assumed was the pounding of a clock. All he could see was a mirror reflecting beneath him before he suddenly fell into it. Only then did he realize that it was not a mirror, but a pool of water, and he was sinking into it quickly. His mouth shut tight to keep any air in as he struggled to swim. Ink stained the water around him as he managed to start rising at a slow pace. Then he finally reached the surface and his head burst through with a cough and a sputter.

Before he could focus on the world around him he forced himself to get to the edge of the pool and climb out. All he noticed was the marble floor beneath him, black and white checkerboard, and collapsed against it. A soggy ragdoll laying limp against the marble floor beneath him. Eventually his pen tipped hands went underneath him to push him off of the marble floor beneath him. It took a few tries as his hands wet with dried ink that had been soaked by the water slid around the floor.

Soon he pulled onto his knees and looked upwards at his surroundings. What Six saw was the last thing he had expected to see at the bottom of this pit. It was another hall; this one made of white wallpaper with high ceilings and lined with curtains over certain areas as though covering windows. He was in awe to see something like this underground and slowly rose to his feet, "How… How did he make this?" He looked at the hall in complete awe, only partially noticing that the loud ticking had started to dull until he could barely hear it.

He approached the nearest curtain and opened it to see outside. However, there was no window before him, and instead was another door. He blinked at the sight and tried the doorknob. It didn't turn at all and Six was surprised at such. "Huh…" He spoke softly before going to look at the next door in line. It was a bit smaller in height, but the first door had been a good bit taller than Six so he didn't notice. The knob barely turned as well and now Six noticed the keyhole underneath the knob. The doors had to be locked, which was somehow keeping the knobs secure.

That wasn't the strangest thing as the doors continued to get smaller and smaller until the last door at the end of the hall. This one was just as well made as the others, but only went to Six's knees, and right beside it was a small table that looked to be made out of glass. He kneeled down and tried the tiny door, only to be surprised when it opened, and he stared through. Through the door was the world outside. It was a lovely meadow filled with lovely flowers that were colored in striking blues and reds. He hadn't seen flowers before, especially ones that were such vibrant colors.

The sky was a beautiful blue as well and the grass was bright green. It was lovely, beautiful, nothing like the Emptiness that Six knew. Suddenly the thought of heading home was gone for the present and was replaced with wondering how to get into the meadow beyond the door. As he stood upwards he noticed something on the table beside him. It hadn't been there before, but now here it was, a bottle sitting there. He stared at it, crouched at eye level with it, before straightening himself, "That… Was that there before?... I don't think so."

He clenched his hand a bit and rubbed the fingers together before reaching forward and touching the glass bottle. It was small and filled with a golden liquid that was rather bubbly, as he could see the small bubbles raising to the surface as he lifted it. On the neck was a small tag with the words 'Drink me' clearly printed. There was a cork closing the bottle's end that he dug his sharp fingers into and pulled. There was a soft 'pop' and a light spray of liquid went across his optics, which he wiped away with the canvas on his arm.

Stitchpunks were able to smell well, an odd trait considering their lack of outer scent receptor, and Six tried to trace any odd smell. Not much would actually poison Stitchpunks, but some liquids would emit vapors that made Stitchpunks either confused or completely unconscious, usually accompanying certain beasts. The liquid in the bottle didn't smell like chemicals though. It smelled sweet and the Artist was tempted to try it in his mouth. Flavor receptors were also common in Stitchpunks, but were not frequently used and mostly just an assistant to the scent receptors.

This smelled like it would taste nicely though and Six wanted to try it. He tilted back the bottle and let the cold, sweet liquid soak into the fabric in his mouth, continuing to let it pour in until the small bottle was completely empty. Only then did he pull the bottle away and close his mouth to savor the flavor left in his mouth. That was, until his body twitched, and his optics blinked in confusion. That had been strange; as though his entire body has a spasm. Then it happened, a warmth spreading across his fabric, and the world moved.

He dropped the bottle and it shattered against the marble floor as the room shifted around him. He fell back onto the marble floor and shielded his eyes as everything moved and changed around him. His body was trembling and continued to do so even once the world had stabilized. He only then peeked out through his fingers and immediately gasped at the sight. The surroundings had expanded, had grown, and now stood taller than ever before. It didn't take him too long to realize that this was an inaccurate guess; the world hadn't grown, he had shrunk.

This meant that he was now small enough to go through the door, though, so he soon managed to get over his surprise at being small and rushed over to the door to try and get through. Unfortunately, now this door considered itself locked, and Six couldn't understand until he saw a small gold key on the glass table. With him this size the key was about as big as the one around his neck and the keyhole for the door was big enough to fit it. There was also a small wooden box tucked behind a table leg that the Artist pushed open and stared inside of.

They looked like small crackers and Six picked one up, breaking it in half and watching it crumble before him. If the drink made him small then this could maybe make him larger. Then, suddenly, he had an idea. "Wait!" He spoke to himself, "Maybe I could… I know!" Then he crossed back over to the small door and smiled hopefully as he shoved his own key inside. With most keys, this wouldn't work, but somehow this door unlocked quickly with the substitute key. Six was then able to open the door and step out into the meadow.

The feeling of soft grass underneath his feet was a comfort he seldom was accustomed to and he scanned the area around him. It was absolutely amazing; the large, lush field, dotted with flowers that now stood to his waist, and beyond what he could see were tall mountains which disappeared into the clouds above, which only collected around the mountains and elsewise opened to reveal blue skies. It was amazing, but he was soon stopped by the sound of a voice nearby. He blinked a bit as he scanned the surroundings, trying to figure out who was talking.

"Of all times to be late. Really." The voice scolded, perhaps to itself, and Six soon noticed the figure down the path. He was both surprised and thrilled to see the Stitchpunk from before. However, in this new light he noticed something very peculiar about this Stitchpunk, and as he crept forward it stood out like a beacon. The whiteness from the Stitchpunk's body was from a stark white vest and the hat he wore was strange; like a top hat with looping wires that connected two long and narrow bulbs to the base, they almost resembled ears.

The male was also staring at a map pulled open in his hands and hummed to himself, "I am most definitely lost. This cannot be the right way. Perhaps if I pass the Duchess'…" Then he perked and straightened himself before looking back in horror. It was almost as though he expected some sort of monster behind him and quickly exhaled in relief before smiling in a friendly way. "Oh, good morning there! I am glad to meet someone else on such a fine day. Tell me, do you know how to get to Morrow's Pass?" Six stared at the Stitchpunk in alarm without an answer.

There was no doubt; this Stitchpunk was Two.

He blinked a bit before asking, "Two?" The white vested male blinked in confusion, "Have we met?" The Artist was beyond perplexed, "Yes! I'm Six!" 'Two' blinked a bit before growing apologetic, "I am sorry, but my mind is elsewhere at the moment. I cannot remember meeting a Six- Oh! Was that you who I met last month who was painting the garden of roses?" The striped one shook his head slowly. "Ah. Well, whoever that was he did a wonderful job. You could barely tell that they were ever white to begin with."

Then he folded his map and gave a brief bow, "I am Blanco Rabbet, but most just address me by 'Two'. What's your name?" Six was still confused, but suppressed it well enough. "This isn't real." He thought to himself, but wasn't exactly unfamiliar with dreams that seemed real. Considering that this one was so pleasant and lovely, Six decided to play along, "Six." He answered while clutching his key again. "Six," Two repeated with the same smile, "A very good name indeed!" That's when he suddenly stopped.

As he straightened, the bulbs moved almost like ears sensing for sound, even though they were clearly attached to the hat. His optics scanned the surrounding area in a fearful fashion and Six began to feel uneasy, "Two?" The older male finally looked back with a smile, abruptly shifting, "How would you like to accompany me to a tea party?" He suddenly suggested and Six immediately perked. He wasn't sure what a tea party was, but it certainly sounded fun enough, being a party which was supposed to be some sort of celebration. "I can come?"

Two nodded, "Of course, of course! I am heading to the Hatter's right now for such. But we have to hurry or we'll be late." He linked an arm around Six pleasantly and Six only partially noticed that he kept looking around as though he was paranoid of something occurring. Almost as though he was keeping watch for something. Six tried not to worry about it as Two led him down the road, occasionally addressing his map, while the Artist stared at the surroundings.

As they approached a small grove of trees, full of orange leaves and topped with rounded purple fruits, Six thought to himself, "If I drew this, the others would have to pay attention." Then his mind changed, "I never said I was leaving… They won't notice. They won't notice until hours from now. I can stay here for a while, then I can take them something home and show that I was here the entire time… but how do I go back up the tunnel? Does Two know?"

Before he could ask, Two abruptly stopped, "There should be a river beyond here some ways. We'll have to prepare a boat and cross it; it's in the direction of the Hatter's… Here." He smiled and folded the map before putting it in a small bag on his pack, "Why don't you explore and I'll begin to work?" Six felt a pang of distress; as usual, the others, or Two, didn't want his assistance because they knew that he would fail at anything they asked him for. He tried to pry, "But… But I could help."

He pointed out and Two waved it off, "Ah, there's no reason for both of us to tire ourselves. Why don't you just keep a lookout for anything nearby? We should… We should hurry or we'll be late." His voice seemed to diminish and Six knew something was clearly wrong. He decided not to press, though, as he was afraid he would aggravate the older male. Instead he looked around for something to do. The white rabbit began to address some short, wide trees while Six focused on the tree from before that he spotted nearby.

His optics focused on the fruit high in the orange tree. He decided that he could take one back to the others to prove that he had been here. As such, he approached the base of the tree and stared upwards at the hanging fruit at the top. To get to it he would have to climb and considering that the branches were some ways up he doubted that this would be an easy feat. He jumped upwards a few times struggling to reach. It reminded him of those days in which Eight would decide to bully him and would hold one of his drawings out of reach.

He, in retort, would bounce up and down trying to get the picture back, though he seldom did. It certainly upset him and his mood plummeted once again before he actually managed to get his grasp on the lowest branches. He dangled there for a second before struggling to pull himself upwards, his feet scrambling at the flaky bark of the trunk to get him to the branch. Now closer to the higher branches, it was a little easier to climb upwards. Once he got to the top he was finally able to reach the fruit and grabbed at it.

His fingers dug into the purple flesh and sent dark liquid down his fingers that looked somewhat useable as ink. This interested him and he pulled his hand down before tasting some of the liquid. It was strangely sharper than the liquid before and not very appealing, perhaps the exact opposite to sweet. Still, he needed to bring something home, and he reached to pluck another fruit. That was when he noticed the new view he had sustained and stared outwards through the trees to see the river ahead. It was quite wide and filled with crystal clear, sparkling water.

That wasn't the only odd thing, though. On the opposite bank, standing in the tree line, were two short beings that looked remarkably like the twins. Six blinked at the sight of them and they somehow noticed and waved in sync. They looked a little different than they did back home. They now had lavender fabric with one soft blue hood and one reddish pink, instead of the normal blue kind. They were some ways away, though, so he couldn't notice anything else. That was, until he heard a cry coming from Two, and the surprise sent Six back, off the branch, spiraling to the ground.

He smacked some branches on the way down and landed on a bed of orange leaves, the fruit landing upon him and splitting open, spilling the dark liquid all over his fabric. He quickly scrambled to his feet and ran in the direction of Two's voice. "No- please- you're making a terrible mistake!" The white Rabbit begged in horror as Six pushed through the bushes. He was more than disturbed at what he was witnessing. There stood a group of what he assumed were other Stitchpunks, at least one was, and the other three were flat mechanical things, like Beasts.

They were square shaped and had long claws for hands with wind-up keys upon their backs. The oddest thing was the numbers and symbols on their fronts that resembled playing cards, like the one Five had used to make his bag. There was one that was clearly a Stitchpunk though, the one holding Two up by the back of his vest. A tall Stitchpunk clad in thick crimson armor only held together by brown leather, a helmet blocking his face covered in small holes that looked like rustic hearts.

The shoulder guards and the size were a dead giveaway to Six; this was Eight, or the 'other' Eight, holding Two off the ground. It only occurred to Six then that Two must have known that he was being followed. "Eight-!" His voice broke out before he could control it and he desperately covered his mouth trying to take back what he had revealed. The Guard had already heard him and turned towards the small Artist threateningly. Two seemed to perk at Six and, ignoring Eight, reached upwards for his hat. He yanked it down until it was in his arms.

He unscrewed the bulb from the left 'ear' before calling out, "Take this!" He threw the bulb over and it hit the ground, gaining a small crack on it, "Get it to the tea party! To him! Hurry!" Six now suddenly realized that the innocent tea party was some sort of guise, this entire thing was, and he stumbled back. Two was tossed to one of the card guards and Eight turned on him, but Six already made him mind up and grabbed the bulb before spinning around and beginning to run towards the water. He was almost immediately panting in exhaustion and dread as he heard the voice bellow behind him, "Get back here, Freak!"

It certainly sounded like Eight and he decided that he had to get away. He didn't know where the tea party was, but remembered that Two had said past the river, and the next thing Six knew he was throwing himself into the river. If he could keep his head above water in the pool then he could keep his head above water here, and started paddling as desperately as possible. Most of the time he was halfway under the water and had it leaking into his mouth and obstructing his air. He couldn't stop; he had to keep going, and it seemed like forever before he was dragging himself onto the bank on the other side.

Immediately he looked back towards his followers. He had made a great call as because of their heavy armor the guards clearly couldn't follow behind him as they were sure to sink. Now Six addressed the bulb in his hands and noticed something strange. It almost looked like there was something inside. As cautiously as possible, he broke the bulb open in his hands and let what was inside drop out. It was a small piece of soggy paper that Six was careful not to tear of he opened.

There, inside, Two had written a single message that he needed to be taken to the Hatter, Six understood this now, but felt dread as he read the words inside.

"The King of Hearts has lost his head."

Mable: It may be starting a bit slow, but, well… please keep reading and if you enjoyed then please review. There may be a few inconsistencies with the Alice in Wonderland original story, but that's on purpose as I was trying to make it somewhat original… The next chapter will be posted in a few days! I hope everyone enjoyed!