Chapter Text
You know what the issue is with this world? Everyone wants some magical solution to their problem and everyone refuses to believe in magic.
- The Mad Hatter
On the first of October, nineteen-eighty-nine, forty-three-women around the world gave birth. This was unusual, only in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.
Somewhere in Switzerland, a woman, only at the age of eighteen, unexpectedly gave birth to a baby girl. Her parents were horrified, as was she. The baby hadn't been planned, and, well, she hadn't even been pregnant before she gave birth!
She couldn't look after herself, let alone a child that she hadn't even planned to have. After all, she and her family were quite poor. Her parents seemed to agree with her sentiments despite how lovely it would have been to have to have a grandchild.
The next morning, as they were planning to give the babe up for adoption, there came a rapping on their front door. The woman's father got from his armchair and answered the door to be greeted with the sight of a wealthy-looking man. He entered their home and headed straight for the baby snoozing on the woman's chest.
"How much do you want for it?" The man demanded without so much as a greeting.
...
Billionaire Reginald Hargreeves had adopted (bought) eight of the miracle children born on the same day, hour, second. He'd travelled all over the world to different locations in order to adopt as maby of the forty three children as he could, but had only managed to convince eight women to give up their babies. Still, it was better than none, so he took the babies back to his large home in America and began the process of learning what powers they possessed.
It was a slow-going process for most of the children, but a few of them, such as Numbers One, Five, and Seven, managed to present their powers quite early on. From the early age of three months old, Number Five had managed to jump from place to place as easily as he breathed. Number One showed the promise of super strength, much to Reginald’s delight. Number Seven’s power was curious, as she seemed to be able to manipulate sound waves themselves. It was tricky because it meant she couldn’t be in loud environments until she learned control over her powers.
The other numbers didn’t show their powers until much later on, but by the age of four, all but one of the children had presented their powers.
Number Two could manipulate any projectiles, and he could hold his breath indefinitely. Number Three could manipulate other people with a simple phrase. Number Four could see the dead, levitate, and move objects with his mind. Reginald also believed him capable of manifesting the dead, and perhaps even immortality. Number Six’s power was perhaps the most volatile and dangerous. The boy seemed to have tentacles living inside of his stomach that he could call forth. They would be a useful asset during missions in later years, but until then, the less he used them, the better.
The only child to not show any powers thus far, was Number Eight. Reginald had been holding onto the hope that she wasn’t ordinary like the children seemed to believe, but it was getting very hard when, at the age of seven, she still hadn’t shown any signs of a power.
The child was a curious thing who loved to explore the house and poke her nose into places it didn’t belong, but Reginald let her do so, hoping that she might accidentally, hopefully soon, discover her power.
When the girl discovered her power, he hadn’t expected it to be what it was, nor for it to happen in such an… abrupt way.
…
Eight and her siblings had finished training twenty minutes ago, almost to the exact second, and had been allowed an hour break to do whatever they liked whilst their father returned to his office to work. Eight wasn’t sure exactly what her father did when he was in his office, but she knew he wrote a lot in his red notebooks. His wrists must hurt.
During her break, Eight decided she wanted to go into the garden to take a look at the flowers her mother had planted the day prior. Her mother always planted beautiful, colourful flowers and Eight loved to look at them whenever she was allowed outside.
As she was on her way to the garden with a smile on her face, she spotted Seven sitting alone in the kitchen, watching their mother wash the dishes. She looked lonely, Eight thought as she paused momentarily in the kitchen doorway and watched Seven sigh.
Shrugging, she approached her sister and tapped her on the shoulder. Seven startled slightly and turned around with surprise. Eight smiled brightly at her.
“Hey, Seven,” she greeted.
“Hi, Eight,” Seven replied quietly.
“I’m going to look at the flowers mom planted, do you want to come with me?” Eight invited eagerly.
Seven looked baffled at this, as if she couldn’t quite believe her ears. She stared openly at Eight for a second more before a shy smile made its way onto her face and she nodded, her bangs joining in the movement.
“Let’s go,” she took Seven’s hand in her own and began to lead her out of the house, mom’s humming becoming distant.
When the duo reached the back door, Eight opened it and stepped out into the fresh air, a smile quickly lighting up her face. Even Seven allowed a small smile to grace her lips before ducking her head to hide it.
"Come on," Eight said and let go of Seven's hand to skip down the garden to where the flowers had been planted.
At the bottom of the garden, along the fence that Eight couldn't see over and seperated their house from the rest of the world, a long line of flowers were growing, each a colour as bright as its neighbour. They were small and innocent looking, and they made Eight happy just looking at them.
She knelt down in front of them, joined by Seven a moment later, and leant down to inhale their aroma. They smelled just as beautiful as they looked, Eight decided.
"I love mother's flowers," Eight told Seven, looking up to see her sister with a flower pinched between her fingers as she smelled it.
"Me too," Seven said quietly, "they're very pretty."
Eight nodded her head in agreement and picked a single flower to smell it as she looked around the rest of the garden for more flowers. Not far away, at the base of a tree, there seemed to be some bigger flowers growing, though their colours were more pastel-looking than the ones she was currently examining.
With a smile, she let go of the current flower she'd picked and stood up.
"Look at those ones, Seven," she told her sister in wonder and skipped over to the tree where the bigger flower resided.
Seven hadn't followed her, still holding her own, smaller flower, but Eight paid her no mind as she knelt down and looked at the bigger flower with large patals that encased its pollen.
"I wonder what it'd be like if flowers could talk to us," she thougt aloud.
Seven giggled and then got up to join her.
"Flowers can't talk, silly," Seven pointed out.
"I know that," Eight nodded, "but what if they could."
And then, before Seven could even open her mouth, something unusual and frightening happened. The ground beneath Eight, right at the base of the tree, opened up and swallowed her whole. As she fell to the sound of Seven screaming her name in fear, she passed many floating objects such as pianos and books. She got hit by many different things, including tree roots as she fell, and she couldn't help by scream.
The further she fell, the less she could hear her sister calling her name, hoping she would come back out of the rabbit hole she'd fallen down. And, oh, yes, it was a rabbit hole. She'd fallen down an extremely large rabbit hole with seeminly no end.
Eventually, though, after what felt like hours, it did end and she came crashing to the hard ground, though it didn't hurt.
Slowly getting up, she looked around at her surroundings. She was in a circular room with cream walls and a single door ahead of her. The ceiling showed no evidence of the hole she'd just fallen through, and she frowned. How peculiar.
In the centre of the room was a wooden table with only a bottle on it and a key. The bottle was labelled 'drink me'. Eight knew not to trust such a drink, though, so she set to work on opening the door and trying to find an exit. Years of training with her father and siblings had tought her not to panic in strange and dire situations, so she opened the door only to find another door ahead of it.
"How peculiar," she voiced her earlier thought aloud, and opened the second door, except there was another door ahead of that one.
Frowning, she opened the third door.
The pattern repeated itself again and again, and again, until a minute later, she was crouched on the floor opening the smallest door she'd ever laid eyes on. She wouldn't be able to fit through it, but she tried to open it anyway.
Except, it didn't open.
The door was locked.
"Well, that was a waste of time," she huffed, crossing her arms.
Immediately, she uncrossed them. Her siblings had always said she was a cry baby, and she refused to give them the satisfaction of crying once again, even if they weren't there to see it. She missed her siblings. She wondered if she'd ever get back to them.
"Wait, the key," she realised and scrambled up from the cobble floor to grab the key from the table.
It was small and golden, intricately designed as if the maker had taken special care with it.
She returned to the door and slid it into the keyhole, then turned it. There was a click and the door unlocked, opening without Eight even needing to push it.
Through the door, she could see a bright, colourful place. There were several bushes with roses, some white, some red. The grass was perfectly cut, each blade looking to be completely even with the other. There were trees and the sky was blue. It was like something out of a movie; somewhere Eight had always dreamed of living.
"Oh, how wonderful," she breathed with amazement, her smile returning. "This must be the way back to the Academy, but how am I supposed to fit through here?"
The doorway was arched and almost big enough for her to fit through, but not enough. With a sigh, she sat up and leaned against the wall beside the door. The door closed again and she absently looked around the room.
Her eyes caught the bottle on the table and she pursed her lips. She was quite thirsty. It could just be water, she tried to reason. Quickly, she looked away. She wasn't supposed to drink unknown substances, even if they did look like water.
But...
She looked at the bottle again and huffed.
Eight stood up, dusted off her pleated skirt and approached the table. She put the key in her blazer pocket and picked up the bottle. After scrutinising the label for a second, she shrugged and uncorked it. She then put the bottle to her lips and swallowed a few mouthfuls.
It didn't taste like water, it tasted like strawberries.
How odd.
A funny thing brewed in the tips of her fingers and toes and spread throughout her body. Her breath caught in her throat and she cradled her stomach, similar to the way Six would when his tentacles got rowdy.
"I feel funny," she announced to the empty room.
And then, all of a sudden, she started shrinking. She grew smaller and smaller, and smaller until she was shorter than the table, barely even coming a quarter of the way up. She looked down at herself in wonder, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Then she looked up at the table, towering above her intimidatingly.
"I'm tiny," she realised and then giggled at the absurdity of it all. "A drink that can make you small. Father would love to get his hands on that."
Still, at least she could fit through the door now.
She checked the key was still in her pocket and once she was reassured, she headed back over to the tiny door, careful not to trip on the cobble floor. Taking out the key, she put it in the lock and unlocked the door again.
Once the door was open again, she was met with the sight of... nothing.
Just a wall. No extra doors, no garden, nothing.
"But how?" She asked herself. "There was a garden here a moment ago."
She pulled the door closed and then opened it again, expecting to see a different sight, but the wall remained where it was.
"Curious and curiouser," Eight muttered to herself and pulled the door closed a final time.
With a heavy sigh, she leaned against the wall a second time as she thought of how to get out of her current predicament. It would be easier if she had one of her siblings with her- they could work together to escape. Five would be useful, or Number Six. They were very smart. Eight, though, she couldn't even open a door correctly.
Eight looked up and stubbornly wiped a tear away from her cheeks. There was no use crying, she decided. If she wanted to get out of there, she would have to get to work checking out the room for anything that could help her.
After pushing of the wall, she began her examination of the enormous room. Technically, it was enormous because she was so small, but either way, she walked around the outskirts, peering into every nook and cranny in hopes of finding a hidden exit.
Eventually, just as she was coming up to the third wall, her hope dwindling, she found something. There was a hole in the wall, not much bigger than Eight currently was. From the other side she coukd see daylight peeking in passed a wall of vines. If she had been her normal size, she might've missed it.
Fortunately, though, because she had shrunk, she pulled back the vines from the other side of the wall and stepped trough.
...
"What on Earth are you talking about, Number Seven?" Reginald Hargreeves demanded.
He'd been brought out of his office by the sound of shouting coming from the children. Not even Grace could get through to them, apparently, her gentle coaxing going unheard over Number Seven's panicked words.
"Number Eight, she- she-" Seven spluttered.
"She what? Speak up, girl. You know how much I hate stuttering," Reginald barked.
Hidden just behind Six, Number Two shrank slightly.
"She- I don't know," Seven shook her head, bangs flying about, "the ground just... opened up and swallowed her whole then closed again. She's gone, sir. I don't know where she is."
Reginald bit back a pleased grin as he adjusted his monocle.
"Interesting," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
"Interesting?" Five repeated. "Number Eight is gone, sir."
"What's interesting, sir?" Number One inquired.
"I believe Number Eight has just discovered her power. She'll be back," with that, Reginald turned on his heel and reentered his office, leaving the children and Grace standing puzzled.
...
Number Eight fell with a shriek and a splash, landing in freezing cold water. As quick as she could, she resurfaced from the water with a surprised gasp. Looking around, she found herself somewhere different to the garden she'd seen previously. She was in a river lined by rocks, plants, and trees.
The current was tugging her, trying to take her somewhere, and she let it until she came across a branch half in the water. She grabbed hold of the branch, rooting herself in place just so she could gather her bearings.
"That was a shock," she stated, looking around.
From behind her, she could hear talking. Hopefully, she turned around, only to be met with the sight of birds floating down the river. There was a swan with a brown and green duck on its back. They stared openly at Eight as they passed her by.
Following the two birds, came a turkey, talking itself like a human would. Eight's eyes widened in surprise and she gaped as the turkey floated passed her. Surely she was imagining things at this point. Rabbit holes that swallowed you hole right from your back garden, drinks that could make you small, tiny doors, and birds that could talk.
It was the strangest thing she'd ever seen, so it had to be a dream.
But then again, didn't she have siblings who could influence others with a simple phrase, who could see ghosts themselves, who could teleport through space, and who had tentacles living in their stomach? She supposed talkig birds weren't the stranges thing she'd ever seen.
Up ahead, a parrot was floating down the river and she swallowed, getting ready to make a fool out of herself.
As the parrot neared her, she spole up.
"Excuse me, sir, do you happen to know the way out of here?" She asked it.
"I'm a stranger here, myself," the parrot told her and Eight's eyes widened slightly as she nodded in response.
Coming down the river next was a mouse. It was a little bigger than she'd ever seen a mouse, but it looked to be struggling so she picked it up by the tail and placed it on the branch.
"Mouse, do you know the way out of here?" She questioned.
The mouse ignored her, looking around.
"Uh, mouse, don't you understand English? Are you French? Uh, ou est mon chat? That means, where's my cat?"
The mouse screamed, human-like, and Eight startled, almost letting go of the branch she was holding.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot you don't like cats."
"Our family have always hated cats," the mouse finally said, "don't ever let me hear that name again."
"I won't, I promise," Eight reassured the mouse.
"All right, come on, let's go to shore," the mouse said, jumping into the water again.
Eight nodded and let go of the branch, using her arms to keeo afloat as the mouse paddled up to her.
"I'll tell you why I hate cats," the mouse said as they swam.
...
As the mouse and Eight finally arrived at the shore, they were met with the sounds of multiple birds making noise. The sound of the turkey from before stood out the most, though.
Eight wrung her skirt and blazer out on the grass as the mouse led her through a few trees and they arrived at a small clearing where they came face to face with the birds. They were all running around in circles like headless chicken (excuse the expression) making loud noises.
As son as they spotted Eight, the birds began squawking and running and flying around her. The mouse joined them, circling Eight as he dodged everyone's feet. The noise was loud and Eight was tempted to cover her ears as the animals laughed and squawed.
"Hey, stop it!" Eight ordered, taking a step back only to almost collide with the swan. It only laughed and began rolling around on the floor. The others joined it and soon, all of the animals were laughing on the ground at seemingly nothing. "What it going on?"
Eight began backing up again, confusion and shock morphing into petty anger.
"Now I know what it means to act like animals," she barked at them, though none of them were listening, "somebody should teach you all some proper manners!"
The birds laughed even harder, not stopping for a second as Eight stormed off through the trees, intent on going home, no matter how long it took.
...
Five sighed as he paced the length of the lounge. It had been three hours now since Eight disappeared down what Seven described as a small wormhole. Reginald had something about Eight discovering her power before disappearing into his office to brew over his notebooks, but Five wasn't sure what her power was. It didn't even matter, anyway, because she was gone. Had been for three strenuous hours.
Five liked Eight. She was his sister so technically he had to like her, but even if she wasn't his sister, he thought he'd like her anyway. She was kind and innocent, always trying to see the best in things even when they got tough. And in the Hargreeves household, things always got tough. That didn't stop Eight from smiling her way through training and silent meals, and boring lessons on how to take down a man ten times her size.
If there was anyone in the Hargreeves house that didn't deserve to be there, who deserved a much better life, it would be Number Eight and Number Seven. Though Seven was always withdrawn and seemingly preferred to be by herself, Eight did her best to include Seven whenever she could. To Eight, it didn't matter that Seven didn't have any powers.
And that's why Five liked Eight. She was too kind.
Sighing, Five pulled the netting back on the window and peered out at the sun. It was beginning to set. They'd long since had dinner, their sister's absense like a hole in each of their chests. Reginald had said she'd be back, but as Five looked out at the setting sun, he had to wonder.
...
Somewhere along the way, Eight met a white rabbit in a waistcoat. He was looking for his fan and gloves, and, though Eight didn't know where they were, she offered to help him find them. He sounded very troubled and her father had always said that hers and her siblings' goal was to help the innocent. So, she offered to help.
Unfortunately, the rabbit mistook her for his housemaid named Mary-Anne and ordered her to go fetch him another fan and more gloves. Though offended at being mistaken for his housemaid, she set off anyway to get his fan.
She came across a little cottage not far from where she'd met the rabbit, and after reading the plaque on the door, deduced it was his house. It was furnished very nicely inside, everything looking very homely.
On the wall near the stairs, three fans were hung. She stared at them as she headed up the stairs in search of the required items for the rabbit.
"Seems so silly to be running errands for a rabbit in a waistcoat," Eight spoke to herself as she searched one of the bedrooms. "I bet Three will be giving me orders next. Like, I heard a rumour you fetched me my pink feather boa so I can play dress up with Four."
Eight giggled to herself and looked around the room. On the wall above the fireplace was a portrait of the white rabbit in the waistcoat with a couple of other rabbits. They looked happy.
In the centre of the room was a table. There was a candle holder on top of it and a pair of white gloves beside a white fan.
"There they are," Eight smiled and picked them up.
After a fiasco that involved drinking another drink labelled 'drink me', growing to the size of rhe entire room, then getting rocks thrown at her by the white rabbit, only for them to turn into cakes that ended up shrinking her back to her usual size, Eight ended uo running away once again from the crazy animal.
She ran until she lost the white rabbit and his cat friend and she could no longer hear them calling her Mary-Anne.
In the end, she took a long walk through out the forest filled with plants that shouldn't be as big as they were. On her way through the forest, she became introduced to a caterpillar smoking a pipe and sang a poem called Old Father Williams with him. He was a surprisingly good tap dancer and problem the nicest person she'd been introduced to so far.
Somehow, she then ended up stealing a Duchess' baby. The baby then turned into a pig when she next looked at it, so she set it free.
Not even a minute after that, she came face to face with a cheshire cat. He seemed like a sane... cat, so she asked him if he knew the way home. The only thing he had to say, however, was some kind of riddle about time or something like that.
He did let her know, though, that the place she was in was called Wonderland. The cheshire cat then said something about Wonderland being of Eight's own creation, but there was no way home. According to him, anyway.
"I think you're just a mean, old cat," she told the cheshire cat, "there must be a way home and I'll find it!"
"Where are you going?" The cheshire cat asked, appearing in front of her before she could even put a foot down on her dramatic exit.
"That way," Eight pointed in the direction she'd been about to head. "Maybe someone there will actually be able to help me."
"Oh, well in that direction there's a Hatter," the cat said, then nodded in another direction, "and in that direction, there's a March Hare. Visit either you like. There both... mad!"
"But, I don't want to visit mad people," Eight huffed.
"Well, you can't help that," the cat said, "we're all mad here. I mean, I'm mad, you're mad, we're all mad!"
The cat smiled at that, as if what he'd just said was the best thing in the world and made all the sense.
"Meow," the cat grinned and in front of Eight's very eyes, his body disappeared until he was just a floating head.
"Woah," Eight breathed and stepped closer for inspection, "a head without a cat is just about the most curious thing I've ever seen. In my entire life."
The cat continued grinning, so Eight grinned back and headed down the path to meet the Hatter. A hatter didn't sound as bad as a March Hare. She'd rather meet a person than a talking hare, no offense.
The journey to the Hatter wasn’t as long as she expected it to be. At the end of a path stood another house, smaller than the White Rabbit’s, and with two things on top of the roof that looked like rabbit ears.
When she arrived outside of a fence surrounding the house, she spotted a man with a tall, black hat, brown hair, and spectacles, whom she presumed was the Hatter, and the March Hare sat at a long table in the garden with a brown mouse, having a tea party. It looked lively, which tea parties usually shouldn’t be, but she shrugged it off with a smile.
“I’m just in time for tea,” she said to herself and stepped through the gate.
She approached the table and its occupants and tried to look as nice as possible.
“May I introduce myself?” She asked.
The Hatter shared a look with the Hare.
“No, you may not,” he told her and smiled as he resumed his tea party.
“But aren’t introductions proper at a tea party?” Eight inquired as she rounded the table to stand beside the Hatter.
“My dear child, if you want a proper introduction, go and fetch yourself an orchestra. They’ll give you a good four bar introduction,” the Hatter said, causing the Hare to laugh.
“Or probably an eight bar,” the Hare added merrily.
“I just wanted to give you my name,” Eight sighed.
“Why, have you finished with it?” The Hatter asked with a grin, then turned to the Hare. “Did you hear that, Mr. Hare? She wants to give us her name.”
“That is ridiculous,” the Hare said, “I mean, we already have names. We don’t need hers.”
The Hatter barely stifled a laugh.
Eight rolled her eyes and tried to change her tactic.
“May I sit down?” She asked.
“No room! No room!” The Hatter and the March Hare exclaimed in unison, the Hare standing up and pointing at her with his silver spoon for emphasis.
“But there’s plenty of room!” Eight informed them, gesturing to the many empty chairs. Then, she sat down at the head of the table. “There are at least nine empty chairs.”
“Of course, there are,” the Hatter agreed, “we didn’t say there aren’t any chairs, we said there wasn’t any room.”
The Hatter turned his nose up and stirred his tea.
“And there certainly isn’t, you know,” the Hare added, “we are here in the great outdoors, and there are certainly no rooms here.”
“Right,” Hatter nodded.
Eight bit back a grin as she realised what they’d meant.
“There are a few in the house.”
“Would you like some wine?” The Hatter inquired with a grin.
Eight considered it. Her father never let her or her siblings anywhere near the bar, let alone allowed them to drink the alcohol. But… her father wasn’t here, nor were her siblings. She supposed she could have a sip, just to see what it tasted like.
“Yes, please,” she decided.
“We haven’t any,” the Hatter said, causing Eight to glare lightly at him, “and you’re too young.”
He and the March Hare laughed.
“Then it wasn’t very nice of you to offer it,” Eight told them.
The March Hare stood quickly and hit his spoon on the table, “and it wasn’t very nice of you to sit down without being invited!”
“I didn’t know it was your table,” Eight rose from her own seat then gestured to the bunches of cups and plates, “it’s set for more than three!”
“You know,” the Hatter cut in, “your hair wants cutting.”
Eight leaned towards the Hatter with a glare, pointing her finger at him, “you should know not to make personal remarks; it’s very rude.”
Both the Hatter and the Hare, who had sat back down, made ‘oo’-ing noises in response, and Eight felt herself blushing slightly in embarrassment at getting so worked up. She always let her emotions rule over her, which is why her siblings called her a crybaby. Her father had once told her if she didn’t get them under control, she’d be giving her enemies the advantage.
The Hatter turned back to her, leaning his chin on his palm.
“Why is a raven like a writing desk?” He asked.
Eight frowned, stumped. Why would she know such a thing? How could a bird be like a writing desk?
“I give up,” she shrugged, “why is a raven like a writing desk?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” the man laughed.
“Then why did you ask me?”
“Because I was hoping for an intelligent answer!” The Hatter rose his voice. “If I’d known the answer, I wouldn’t have asked the question, would I?”
“Oh, you’re hopeless,” Eight rolled her eyes and sat back down. “Incidentally, how did you become a March Hare?”
The March Hare leaned on the table, in front of the mouse who hadn’t been paying the slightest bit of attention the entire time. She came to the conclusion that it must be just a stuffed animal as it had been awfully still thus far.
“Well, actually, I started out as a January Hare,” he told her, “and I worked my way up. Hmph.”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Eight shook her head. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she thought Four would quite enjoy spending time with these mad people and animals, what with their constant puns and jokes, and their aversions to real, helpful answers.
“Well then you should say what you mean,” the Hare exclaimed, “what!”
“I do!” Eight cried. “At least, I mean what I say, and that’s the same thing.”
“It isn’t the same thing at all!” The Hatter retorted, looking offended.
“I mean, you might just as well say, ‘I see what I eat’ is just the same as, ‘I eat what I see’.”
“I give up,” Eight sighed.
“Fresh cup! Move down,” the Hatter shouted.
He and the Hare grabbed the mouse and moved down one seat each, setting the mouse onto the Hare’s previous chair as they all moved down one seat and began making new drinks.
“What’s the stuffed animal?” Eight asked, gesturing to the mouse.
“I am not a stuffed animal!” The mouse came to attention and stared at her, wide eyed. “Not since dinner last night; I am a dormouse.”
“What do you mean, ‘dormouse’? You look like a plain mouse to me.”
“And you look like a plain little girl to me,” the dormouse retorted, “and if you think that there’s only one kind of mouse, you have another think coming. Do you want to take a break now?”
“Take what break?”
“Your other think, you have one coming, you know!”
Eight frowned in confusion.
“No, I am not a church mouse-“
“No,” the Hatter shook his head in agreement.
“I am not a field mouse, and I am not a… a…”
Before he could finish his sentence, the dormouse slumped forward and hit the table with a thump. Eight sighed and put her chin on her palm.
“By the way, what time is it?” She questioned.
“Time? Time?” The Hatter repeated and stood up, pulling a pocket watch from his checkered vest. “The time now is, let’s see…” he dipped his pocket watch in his cup of tea a couple of times then brought it up to look at it, “the time is precisely, eleven-fifteen.”
“That can’t possibly be right,” Eight denied, “it seems to me that it was eleven-fifteen about two hours ago!”
“Young lady, are you contradicting me!” The Hatter demanded. “I am known as a stickler for accuracy!”
“A stickler?” Eight smirked. “You are?”
“Yes, a stickler. When people around here want accuracy, they call me in, and I stickle. That’s what sticklers are supposed to do.”
“But are you sure your watch is running?” Eight inquired, watching as the man span the hands.
“Well, of course it isn’t running, it’s sitting here quite quietly in my hand,” he held the watch on the palm of his hand for emphasis, “besides, it can hardly run, it has no moving parts.”
Eight smiled in amusement, then frowned.
“No moving parts?” She repeated.
“Correct,” the Hatter sat back down, “but it’s absolutely correct at least twice a day.”
…
It had now been six hours since Eight had disappeared. Six was worried. They’d just gotten out of more training and had been ordered to take a shower and go to bed so they would get enough sleep for tomorrow’s training.
Six couldn’t sleep, though, knowing that his sister was out there somewhere, quite possibly in trouble and unable to get back. She could be hurt, the way Seven had described her fall through the small wormhole. She could be injured. Dead, even, though Six didn’t want to believe that. Besides, if she were dead, surely Four would have mentioned seeing her.
So, he knew she wasn’t dead, but she could still be hurt. The Horrors didn’t like that though, as they made it known with the way they twisted and tangled themselves in his stomach. They wanted to be let out so they could look for little Number Eight who didn’t deserve what had happened to her- whatever that was.
Turning over in bed, Six switched on his bedside light to illuminate his room. If Eight came home and it was dark, she would see his bedroom light on through the window and would know he was awake, and that he would open the door for her. Six then sat up and opened his curtains to the sight of the back garden. Down at the bottom, he saw the tree Seven had said Eight had disappeared from.
The tulips were uprooted.
...
The next morning, Six and the others sat at the table in the kitchen. Their father never joined them for breakfast, which meant the had the freedom to talk as much as they liked, but none of them could find the effort that particular morning. Eight’s chair was still empty, her lack of presence unavoidable.
They’d all stayed up that night, waiting for her to return, she hadn’t. She’d disappeared at eleven am yesterday morning and still hadn’t come home.
Six moved his oatmeal around in his bowl with his spoon, not feeling particularly hungry. A look around the table showed the others felt the same, too, except for One, who was shoveling the food into his mouth. Six shook his head and looked down into the depths of his bowl.
A shriek sounded from somewhere outside and Six straightened up in alarm. Was he hearing things? Looking around at the others, they were on high alert, too. He hadn’t imagined it.
Scrambling up, Six ran straight for the back door, the others hot on his tail except Five who had already jumped ahead of them straight into the courtyard. The shriek had sounded exactly like Eight, and Six wasn’t going to waist anymore time reaching her.
When he ran out into the courtyard, the cold air bit into his cheeks. It was covered in shadows, the result of the size of the Academy, but he was able to see, clear as day, Number Five crouched down with Number Eight. Her hair was as perfect as it had been the day she disappeared, her black headband still perfectly in place, and her uniform lacked any sign of the fall she’d taken. She didn’t look injured in the slightest, as Six had imagined she would.
She had a wide smile on her face as she babbled to Five. The latter looked bewildered and mildly concerned.
“Eight!” Three exclaimed and threw herself down beside their sister.
The pair hugged tightly and when Three pulled away, the others took their turns welcoming her back.
“Where were you?” Seven asked quietly, then shrank under everyone else’s gaze. Six thought she should be more confident in herself, but he supposed it was hard when you were now the only ordinary one.
“I fell down a rabbit hole to a place called Wonderland,” Eight told them brightly, her eyes lighting up with wonder.
“’Rabbit hole’?” Four asked.
“’Wonderland’?” Five repeated.
“Seven described a small wormhole,” One stated, falling into his role of leader. Six refrained from rolling his eyes.
“No, it was a giant rabbit hole,” Eight told them as she stood up and dusted off her skirt, “I’m not entirely sure how I came to be in courtyard, though, as I fell down in the back garden.”
There was silence as everyone looked at each other, all of them trying to make sense of the situation.
“You’ve been gone since yesterday,” Five informed her a moment later, arms crossed.
“But I was only gone a few hours,” Eight said.
“Number Eight,” their father’s voice cut in through the tense silence that had settled across the courtyard, even the birds having gone quiet in her revelation.
…
Eight sighed as she walked through the trees. The Hatter, March Hare, and dormouse were okay people/ animals, but they hadn’t been very helpful. They wouldn’t give her a straight answer when she’d asked about the way home. They’d instead sung a song that went something like ‘twinkle, twinkle, little bat’, which was wrong. It was supposed to be ‘star’, not ‘bat’. The Hatter had sung another song, though, which was quite lovely. He’d written it himself, apparently.
Before leaving, Eight had been sure to give them her name in case they ran into each other again, but they’d only laughed, and told her Eight wasn’t a name; it was a number. Eight had found that quite mean, as it was a name- it was hers.
She’d left after that, leaving behind the mad people.
That’s how she found herself wandering through the lovely forest once again, until she stumbled across a baby deer. It was beautiful with all its white spots, its hind legs barely holding it up.
Eight smiled gently and began to approach the baby deer, all the while talking to it so it knew she was there and meant no harm.
“It’s okay, baby deer,” she cooed gently to it as she approached, footsteps light.
The deer continued eating the flowers, but she knew it was aware of her presence.
And then, with a startled scream, Eight fell through the ground for the second time that day. Instead of falling, though, like she had before, she found herself going upwards even though she’d fallen down.
She went back up the rabbit hole she’d fallen down that morning, everything she’d passed by the first time (such as the grand piano) floating by as she ascended.
…
Eight peered around Five to spot Reginald stood in the doorway, his cane in front of him and his hands resting on top.
“Father, I’m so sorry,” Eight apologised quickly and hurried to stand in front of him. The height difference was intimidating, and the other children each held their breath in anticipation for what Reginald would say or what punishment Eight would be given. “I-I don’t know what happened. One minute I was looking at the flowers with Seven, the next I was falling down the rabbit hole.”
“Where did you find yourself, Number Eight?” Reginald asked calmly.
“Wonderland, sir,” Eight smiled happily, “it’s a lovely place. There’s talking animals, drinks that make you grow and shrink, tea parties, and Cheshire cats-“
“That’s enough, now, Eight,” Reginald cut in.
The others winced. Their father didn’t sound angry, though. In fact, he seemed quite pleased.
“Sorry, sir,” Eight mumbled.
“It seems, Number Eight, that you have found your power,” Reginald told her.
Eight looked up, wide eyed and mouth agape.
“Really? B- what is it? What’s my power?” She questioned excitedly.
“Calm yourself, Number Eight,” Reginald ordered.
“Sorry, sir."
“Good. Now, your power seems to be the ability to travel to other dimensions. Specifically, this one called Wonderland, though I suspect you may be able to go to others, if you try.”
“W- other dimensions?” Eight repeated, stunned.
“Indeed,” Reginald nodded.
The others were just as shocked as Eight, probably more so, as they hadn’t been there when she’d gone.
“Now, of course, we’ll need to train this so you can come and go as easily as your brother teleports,” Reginald stated, “I believe we can begin now. You don’t have training for another few hours yet.”
“Really? I get special training?”
Six wanted to tell her that special training was nothing to be excited about- at least, in his experience- but he couldn’t. Not with his father standing right there, or with the way she looked so happy. Instead, he pursed his lips and watched as Reginald nodded and led Eight back into the house.