For the past several months, I have been working on this lovely little project titled "White Rabbit". I have chosen to release the first chapter today, on Lewis Carroll's 178th birthday. So, happy birthday Lewis! Maybe one day I'll be a real writer, just like you.

***

Updates shall me on a Monday, Wednesday, Friday schedule.

…for now.

***

I do not own or claim to own CSI: Miami characters. I do not own or claim to own "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" or anything like that. This is fanmade and I make absolutely no profit off of this. I do this for my own amusement.

***

My apologies to librarians.

…except those of you who deserve it.

…you know who you are.

***

Chapter One: Down the Rabbit Hole

Rick Stetler was one of the first officers to arrive on the scene, pulling his red Mercury Milan up in front of the Miami's main library. It broke his heart every time he drove past it. Other cities get beautiful pieces of architecture with enormous Greek columns and stone lions to guard all the wonderful books inside. Miami got a big slab of white concrete with arches and three pretty windows; and this was their best library. The other ones were about the size of large-ish gas stations, and looked like large-ish gas stations. In fact, the only difference between those libraries and large-ish gas stations was that the large-ish gas stations had more people in it.

Rick couldn't understand how anyone could have died in the library, especially by means of homicide. That would require at least two people to be in there, and that alone seemed kind of suspicious. He sighed as he walked under an archway and pushed open the glass door.

Officer Brawn lay there in front of the check-out desk, dead. Not quite as dead as the library itself. But he was pretty damn close.

"Sergeant Stetler," a young officer called to him, "we estimate that it happened three hours ago, but we can't be certain until the coroner arrives with the CSIs".

"Thank you," Rick nodded politely. He wasn't really paying attention; he was too busy mourning the culture that Miami was depriving itself of. He tried to make himself feel better by thinking 'maybe they're all just actually buying the books'. That thought was short lived as he remembered that Miami only had one Barnes&Noble. Sure, Miami was already a melting pot of ideas and culture from the North and South Americas… but they still needed books, damnit.

"Who's in charge here?" A mousy looking middle-aged woman with curly brown hair asked as she approached the scene.

"As of right now, me," Rick answered, approaching her, "please stay behind the tape until we get the scene processed.

"Why do I have to stay behind the tape? It's my library!" she snapped, "How long is this going to take? What gives you the right to just march in here like you own the place? Honestly! What has happened to things like manners and class?"

Rick took a deep breath and sighed before saying very calmly, "a man died here today, m'am".

"He sure did! And he's getting in the way. I'm expecting a new shipment of books today about Franz Anton Mesmer and James Braid. Now, you probably don't even know who those people are," she sneered with a slight chuckle.

Rick bit his tongue to keep from saying "Mesmer founded animal magnetism and Braid developed hypnosis! Don't fuck with me! I majored in Psychology before I entered the police academy. Christ! It's people like you who made me stop going to libraries. Librarians spend their lives around books, they should be the most omniscient and benevolent people on the planet. But no! Every single one I ever met has been a territorial little bitch who doesn't like other people touching the books. All the brilliant minds are at the bookstore, that's why I buy, not borrow, all my books. You have no reason to act all high and mighty and you never did!" But he kept calm and quiet, like he usually does, and got right to the task at hand.

"I'm sorry about the inconvenience to you, but for the sake of this man's family, it is my duty to find who is responsible for taking his life".

"Well, do it quickly!" she snapped before stalking off.

"You handled that pretty well," a low and quiet voice behind Rick said, "still hate librarians?"

"How long have you been standing there, Horatio?" Rick groaned, turning to face the redheaded lieutenant.

"A while," Horatio smirked, "I didn't want to interrupt, you seemed to have a pretty good handle on things. I will grant you one thing, Stetler; you have the patience of a saint".

"Thank you. But I'll have you know, I don't hate librarians, they hate me. I don't know why, they just do. It all started back when I was in the third grade and-"

"-hold it right there," Horatio ordered, holding up his hand, "I've heard this rant before, Rick. So I know that this will keep you distracted for a good half-hour. How about this: you go upstairs and walk through the books until you're calm enough to come back down here".

Sighing, Rick half-heartedly agreed. He couldn't focus when he was so irritated. He ducked under the tape and scaled the grand stairs up to the second floor, where most of the books were kept.

Row after row of books lined dusty old wooden shelves. Stetler reached out and ran his fingertips over the spines as he walked down the rows, like he used to do when he was a little kid. All the hardcover books were covered in some strange clear plastic that made ugly crinkly noises when the books were opened. He hated that plastic. It made the books look like prisoners, and the little Dewy decimal sticker on the binding didn't help.

"Poor things," Rick sighed, looking at the books like they were caged birds he longed to free, "you deserve better than this".

He brushed his way past thin cobwebs that hung between a few aisles. Who is supposed to be maintaining in this place? Maybe there were budget cuts. He couldn't really explain it.

"Oh no", Rick sighed sadly, pulling an old looking book of the shelf, "this one has dust on it. You can't even see the title of i- Oh my God! This is 'Inherit The Wind'! This a good play! A damn good play!"

He lovingly brushed the dust off the binding as he ran toward the balcony.

"YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARDS!" Rick shouted at the scene below, "You ignorant cowards are afraid of the mind's beauty! How DARE you neglect-"

"-Rick!" Horatio snapped "I thought I told you to calm down".

"But... the book..."

"Just keep walking, Rick. I'll call you when I need you"

"...okay," Rick quietly agreed as he cradled the book in his arms.

"What's up with him?" Eric smirked as he took a photo of the scene.

"He's sulking," Horatio sighed, "He should be fine in about a half hour"

***

Rick was sitting in the middle of an aisle, reading the play he rescued from dust. He grinned at its perfection as he jumped from one of his favorite monologues to the next. However, the subject of the novel was just riling him up more so. He could have ranted about the Scopes monkey trials for the rest of the day.

He lovingly placed the book back in its place. He smiled at it and waved goodbye as he went on to the next section. Some may think that he was kinder to books than he was to people. Rick doesn't mind; he knows it's true. He wandered from aisle to aisle, closing his eyes and taking in the scent of yellowed pages.

"Rick!" Horatio's voice came drifting.

Stetler checked his watch, they processed that scene fast. He looked around and realized that he hadn't been paying attention to where he was wandering for the past several minutes. He was lost.

"Don't panic, Rick," He breathed deeply, "you just need to go back up the aisles... whatever direction up is. It's not like you went through any doors... did you? I can't remember. I should probably pay more attention to my surroundings. I've always told myself that".

"Rick!" Horatio called again.

Stetler tried to follow the sound of the other man's voice, turning into a large, grand room with dusty old books stacked up the ceiling. Rick looked around; he was positive that he heard Horatio's voice coming from that room.

"Rick!" He heard again.

The voice was coming from a large gap between two of the shelves. There was a six foot tall painting, wrapped in brown paper and twine. Rick timidly approached the package, pushing it aside and seeing a three foot square hole in the wall.

"Rick!" Horatio's voice came from the hole.

"Horatio?" Rick called into the hole, crouching down in front of it.

The hole opened up into pitch blackness and with the exception of his own voice echoing, there was eerie silence. Rick pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it up, illuminating a small patch of floor in front of him.

"Horatio? Where are you?" Rick called out into the room.

He crawled into the room, discovering that the room opens up into a normal size after about a foot. He stood up and looked around, not able to see much of anything.

"Horatio?"

Suddenly he remembered that there was a dead body downstairs. Why couldn't there be one in this hidden little space up here? There could be a skeleton lying around somewhere in the dark, that's why he didn't smell any decomp. Or there could be a fresh body lying around. He didn't smell any blood though either. So there could be a hanging man dangling somewhere from the ceiling. Or even worse, the other body in the room could be very much alive. It could be Officer Braun's killer.

There was a crash, which made Rick yelp and jump about three feet into the air, nearly giving him a heart attack. He spun around to see that the hole he climbed through was gone. His pulse racing, Rick backed up against the wall, his eyes darting around into the darkness. He strained to see more than what the light from his cell phone could possibly illuminate.

"Horatio?" Rick squeaked, hoping that if this was an elaborate prank that the lieutenant would have some mercy on him.

Calm down, Rick, He thought at himself, just calm down. You need to think clearly. You are alone in this room. I know you thought you heard Horatio coming from in here, but you must have been mistaken. He wouldn't just stand around in here with the lights off. Now all you need to do is take a deep breath and try to figure out how to get out of here.

Rick slowly began to make his way around the perimeter of the room. It looked pretty barren from the small patch of what he could see, but he couldn't determine the room's actual size. He reached the first corner, about fifteen feet away, before a nagging question popped into his brain. What happened to the hole in the wall?

I don't know what happened to the hole in the wall. But right now you need to get out, or at least find a light switch or something.

Rick looked around nervously, suddenly remembering a legend he once read. There was a certain breed of mythical wolf that could imitate any sound it heard perfectly, from animals to specific human voices. It would lure the victim away from their group and then open its jaws and-

-Rick! Stopit! You're going to scare yourself to death. I'm ordering you to think of something else.

At that moment, Rick's phone dimmed; the words "Low Batt" flashed across the screen before the darkness swallowed the IAB sergeant.

DON'T PANIC! I'm telling you that before you get the chance to think of anything else: don't panic. Calm down. I'm going to tell you a story. Just focus on the story as you keep feeling the walls for a door. Okay… picture it: you get out of here and tell Horatio about how scared you were. He pities you and takes you back home, because he's a little worried about you and how you're holding up. He takes a look around and finds interest in your movie collection. The two of you decide to sit down and -

"-Rick," Horatio's firm voice said suddenly.

It was close, too close. Rick would be screaming if he could remember how to breathe. The calming voice of reason in his head was silenced. He could hear his heart pound in his ears.

"Is it too dark in here for you, Rick?" Horatio asked.

"Uh-huh," Rick whimpered, backing up against the wall.

A low orange point of light glowed dimly, the contours of Horatio's pale hand suddenly becoming clear to Rick. The light was from a lantern, Horatio was slowly turning the knob on the side, making the little flame grow.

Rick cocked his head to the side as Horatio's features became clearer. His height, build, and face were the same as he saw earlier. But his hair was different. Instead of red it was white, and out of the top of his head came two long white ears, like those of a rabbit.

"What did you do to your hair?" Rick wondered aloud, deciding to dismiss the ears as an illusion.

"What?"

"Your hair, I personally liked it red".

"You must be mistaken, Rick. My hair has never been red".

"But-"

"-If you don't mind, Rick," Horatio sighed, "I've been calling you for the past ten minutes, I really have no patience for you to stall any longer. Follow me".

Rick quietly obeyed, not quite sure if he really had any other option as he stepped over to Horatio's side. The light from the white haired man's lantern didn't reveal much about the room. The echo that Rick remembered initially hearing was gone, the floor in this part of the room felt carpeted. The path that Horatio lead him in was a curved one, although Rick couldn't see the ground or any walls.

"Where are you leading me?"

"To a friend," Horatio answered calmly, "I'm putting you there until I can figure out what to do with you".

"Why is it so dark?"

"Nothing personal, Rick, but I think it best if you stop asking so many questions. They irritate me. That and your silly notion that my hair was ever red".

Rick was about to point out that he had never before known Horatio to be without red hair, but he decided to let it go. It was an argument he was pretty sure that he couldn't win.

Stetler jumped slightly as he felt something brush against his arm. The sensation was familiar, it was a tree branch. Why were there tree branches in the middle of the library? Where was he, anyways?

"Up ahead," Horatio said pointing to a faint glimmer of light, "I'll drop you off there, then I gotta get going".

The light appeared to be coming out from behind… trees? Entire trees? Where was he? This was no library. Rick was pretty sure that this wasn't even Miami.

"Where are we?" He asked Horatio.

"I thought I told you to stop with your incessant questions".

Apparently they were outside in some forest at night. But Rick couldn't figure out why or how or anything like that. He could feel a night breeze ruffle his hair and lightly tug at his clothes. The light in front of them danced off the grass, moist with dew.

The light was a porch light, attached to a little two story house. There was a white picket fence surrounding it, and a little path surrounded by flowers that lead up to the front step. Horatio opened the gate in the fence.

"Just follow their instructions," Horatio ordered, motioning Rick towards the house.

"I… I just go in?" Rick stammered, "They'll let me stay?"

"You ask too many questions," Horatio grumbled, turning to go and revealing a white cotton tail coming from his lower back.

"Will I see you again?"

"Stop that!"

Rick backed away under Horatio's glare. Timidly, he stepped onto the path and closed the gate behind him.

"And don't step on the flowers!" Horatio called over his shoulder as he disappeared into the darkness, "If you do, they'll never shutup".