Mable: I wrote this for a 9 contest on Deviant Art and, halfway through, learned that there was a word count limit. Unfortunately I had obliterated the 3,000 count by then and was unable to erase what I had done… Anyway, I don't own 9, Enjoy!

Another Chance for Life

The Rain.

It was a miracle, a cleansing of the world, a second chance. However, to Nine, there was no such thing as a second chance here, not after what had happened. As optimistic as it was seeing them again, them being taken was more heartbreaking than anything else possible. When it had finally sunk in that they were gone he had fallen into a pit of depression. As he listened to the rain on the windows of the Library he waited for something to happen, for anything to happen.

Seven was worried about Nine. It had not even been a full hour since the machine's defeat and already he had seemed to change. Though he was not the only one. She also noticed the twins were acting strange as well. They didn't understand it fully, why the others were released and simply ended up floating away instead of actually going back to their bodies. Looking over at them she knew that the book they were flipping through had to be somewhat on the subject as they were not ones to let questions go unanswered. Even if there was not an actual answer.

She decided to finally approach Nine outright from his position nearby. Sitting on a book and staring lifelessly at the marble floor beneath his feet, "Nine?" She asked and his head slowly raised to look at her. All of his motions seemed just as empty as his gaze was. He had lost his will to keep going; he had lost almost everyone he had ever known and was now in a state of morning. She wasn't sure whether to leave him be or whether leaving him be would only make him feel worse so she reached out by sitting beside him, "Are you okay?"

Nine smiled a little, a forced one, "No. Not really." At least he was being honest and Seven accepted this by resting a hand on his shoulder, "There was nothing else you could have done. They're in a better place." She insisted and Nine actually chuckled at this. It was dry and obviously not the highest indication of Nine's stability. "I guess so." Then he looked away once again to the floor. Seven's hand tightened into a worried fist as she stared at the burlap male beside her. Then tried again, this time trying to prod him by reminding him of his new leadership role.

"What should we do now?" She asked, "Should we… We probably need to work on beds for us. I'm sure the twins have some for themselves and…" She went quiet and he shrugged a bit, "I don't know, Seven. I just don't know. What can we do? There's no Machine, no Beasts, no nothing. Everything's gone." Seven didn't want to burst his bubble and remind him that there was a chance of Beasts still alive out in the Emptiness, but decided pointedly not to. Instead, she simply closed her optics and thought.

She tried to think of what Two would say, of what Five would say, but words never came. She eventually pulled her hand back and stood, "I'm sorry, Nine." She simply said before turning back to the twins. They were looking tired and she was certain that they needed to get some rest. "I'm going to put the twins to bed. I'll be back in a bit." She crossed the room to them and listened for an answer from Nine. It never came. She sighed to herself and wished that the others were here, that the others were able to help, but that was the sacrifice that was given for the Machine's destruction.

Three was leaning on Four's shoulder tiredly as the latter stared into the pages of the book. They were clearly sleep deprived and yet didn't seem to want to head to bed. "Come on," Seven spoke in a gentle, motherly voice to the younger Stitchpunks, "You two need some rest. I'll tuck you in." They were hesitant but obeyed as she pulled them to their feet. Even if Three stumbled a bit and Four stared at the book like it was the only important thing left. Again, neither pulled away as she put her arms around them both and led them towards the back of the Library.

A loud sound stopped her in her tracks. Almost like something had knocked over a stack of books near the front of the Library. Seven felt the smaller Stitchpunks jump in her grasp before looking around in confusion. She just stayed still for a second before releasing them, "Head to the back, I'll go check and see what that was." Then the Warrior turned around and started heading back to where Nine was, hoping it had just been him. The twins didn't obey her command to head into the back but didn't follow her either. They just stood there and watched with wide optics.

Seven still had her spear and her helmet on hand, having collected both after the Machine's defeat, and grabbed them from where she had set them down in the area they were all residing in. She could now see Nine standing and staring out towards the entrance, "Did you see anything?" Seven asked him and he shook his head, "I… I think some books fell over, but I didn't see what…" Without another word, Seven pulled her helmet down until it covered her face and lifted the spear in preparation for a battle.

"Wait here." She insisted, knowing that Nine didn't have a weapon. She moved slowly forward around the books as Nine watched from some ways away. Her pulse was racing at the prospect of something else having come to attack them and was more than willing to take out all the strain of the day on whatever Beast had the misfortune to enter the Library. Around a large stack of books Seven could hear heavy movement and hid out of view. She slowly slid around the stack, soon seeing the collapsed stack on the other side, and raising the spear.

That was when the creature that had knocked over the books suddenly came around the edge, coming face to face with Seven. She stared upwards and her breath caught in a hitched gasp as the spear came down, landing upon the marble floor. She stared in utter astonishment, "Dear Creator, Eight?!"

As though things had not already been confusing today, the biggest shock of all arrived as she stared at the Stitchpunk before her. There was Eight standing there looking somewhat dazed and a bit worse for wear. There was a large slice opened on his leg and she could see his inner metal through the gap, but everything else looking fine, which didn't make sense. "What's going on?" The Guard asked in a somewhat delusional sounding voice that went well with the dazed look in his optics. Seven ignored his question and asked her own.

"Eight, what are you doing here?! I thought you were dead!" she shoved her helmet up in disbelief and the Guard himself seemed confused at this, "I'm a little roughed up, yeah, but I'm not dead. How would that kill me?" He gestured to his leg and the female blinked, "No- Eight- I mean-." That was when Nine finally appeared as well after being drawn from the sound of voices, "Eight?!" He asked in disbelief before his tone suddenly changed to one of absolute joy, "You're alive! You're really alive!" He came forward and grasped on Eight's arm which somewhat disturbed the larger male who raised a brow and slowly pulled back.

"Yeah, I'm alive, we've proved it. Now what's going on? Where's One?" he was starting to get a little annoyed by the lack of answers and Nine paused briefly before Seven spoke, "Here, we need to fix that leg, then maybe we can figure this all out." She took command and managed to get Eight to the book Nine was sitting on. He was limping while stumbling as though he couldn't keep his balance so they started to understand how he crashed into a stack of books and knocked it over.

Eight wasn't fond of needles, but didn't argue when Seven sent the twins to get whatever supplies they had for stitching, and simply asked, "Why ain't Five doing it?" There was a few seconds of silence before he repeated in an annoyed tone, "Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?!" Finally Seven exhaled and turned to him, arms crossed in an almost worried fashion, "Do you remember anything? What was the last thing you remember?" the Guard decided to cooperate with the question.

"You mean before or after I woke up under a heap of junk?" he responded and she pushed, "The entire thing, everything, since we got back to the Library the first time." So he paused and recited, "Alright… We came over from the Cathedral and One sent me out to watch for Beasts, you were there for that. Something jumped me out there, looking like some sort of mutant doll, like those dolls that look like humans except creepier, looked a little like Two was there, but I don't know. I think I hit my head."

He rubbed a tender spot and struggled to continue, "There's something after that… Yeah. I was in some sort of building with this big monster of a thing, real big, red eye, and then," he snapped his fingers, "Nothing. I don't know what happened, but it's gone. Next thing I know I'm under all this junk, there's fire all over the place, and everyone's gone. I thought you all were still here so I came back. That's it. So where's the others?" The twins rushed up with a spool of tan thread and a needle that they approached Eight with. They weren't the best at sewing, but they were better than average.

"Eight…" Nine began slowly, "They're gone." Eight's brows both raised and Nine corrected, "But we thought you were gone. Your soul came out of your body and rose into the sky." Eight looked to Seven as though he clearly thought Nine was mistaken and didn't expect her to nod in agreement. "That thing, with the eye, that was the Machine." Nine explained, "And it took your soul and you died… But…" He stepped back as his mind reeled in realization, "But if you are here… Then that means…" Nine inhaled sharply, "The others could be alive too!"

He stumbled back, Seven's optics widened in realization, and Eight flinched as the needle entered his fabric to begin to sew. The twins both were smiling excitedly though as though they already knew. Almost as though they had never stopped believing that the others were going to return. Nine was the next Stitchpunk to begin beaming, "Maybe the others are alive too! We have to go get them, they're out there…" he trailed off before looking concerned, "They're out there alone, some of them might be injured. Six- Six was in that fall."

Eight glanced up, "What fall?" Eight was known to frequently bully Six, but that didn't mean that his clearly trying to hide concern wasn't somewhat visible, and Nine explained, "Six was dropped into some sort of trench outside the factory." Now the Guard looked somewhat concerned, "That deep one? Yeah, I passed it on the way back. There's a bridge, but it's way down the way." The fact that there was another bridge was good, though, as Nine realized he needed to pass it to find Five, and his pulse raced as he thought about his best friend.

"Alright." Nine announced, "Here's what we'll do. I'll go after Five and we'll go together and get Two. He only injured his patch. You guys, Eight and Seven, I think you should both go get Six since he's in the trench. Then we can go and get One since he's pretty close and uninjured, but Six and Two… They might not be as alright." Usually Eight would argue to go after his Leader, but he had a feeling that One would probably agree with Nine's plan, or at least try to claim it as his own so that he would not admit Nine was right.

The twins hurried enough that they were able to finish quickly. They then tied the thread off and broke it so that Eight was ready to go. Then they turned to Nine with slightly confused looks on their faces. Seven and Eight headed towards the front, Eight mentioning grabbing his knife from outside on the way before asking about Five, "Can you see the hole? Should I brace myself or something?" Seven promptly answered by giving him a playful punch to the arm.

Nine chuckled at the scene before turning to the twins and speaking to them, "Wait here. We'll be back soon." As he turned the two stopped him, grabbing his arms and showing projections of the number '2'. "We'll bring him back with us." Nine insisted before heading out after the other two. The twins didn't understand how Nine managed to forget where Two was, perhaps his mind was simply so tangled that he wasn't thinking straight, and naturally Eight and Seven weren't there to witness it so they both forgot that Two was in the Library.

Or was in the Library. Now the twins knew that they had work to do as well. Exhaustion went ignored as they ran off towards the Library's pool.

"The bridge is down there." Eight spoke upon arriving at the trench and pointed into the distance, "Not very far. Go about twenty feet and you'll start to see it." Nine nodded at the hint and smiled at the Guard, "Thanks, Eight. I'll go get Five and be back." With that he turned and began to run off. Seven watched him leave before looking back to the trench before her. It went down farther than she could even see as the thought of Six down at the bottom was disturbing. Still, she had no other choice, and she kneeled down before stabbing her spear into the edge.

"Just put you knife in deep enough to hold you, lower yourself down, grab onto the wall, and move the knife down further." She explained as she began to lower herself down into the trench. Eight responded as he approached the edge, "You act like what we're doing is dangerous." He somewhat teased and Seven shook her head at him; honestly, though, she was thrilled that Eight was alright. As strange as it seemed, Seven and Eight were quite close before she had left the Cathedral. They used to spar every morning and had been like siblings.

She would blame have blamed One, but didn't feel the need to do so. When One threw himself before Nine he had gained some of her respect back. She hoped that maybe he had learned his lesson and, maybe, she would admit that he could be a decent Leader. Maybe she'd even admit that she had missed him. They fought, they yelled, but he was like her father, Eight was like her brother, and she didn't realize it until they were gone. She found a smile form on her face as they continued to work their way down into the trench.

Eventually they managed to make it to the bottom. It was a disheartening sight; significantly colder that it had been above the trench and they were immediately knee deep in water. Seven started looking around in the vicinity that Six had fallen in. Bits of metal from the bridge jutted out through the dirt and Eight stared at them. Seven noticed his interest and spoke, "There was another bridge. We knocked it down trying to lose the Machine's pursuit and it got Six."

He just nodded, still somewhat confused about the entire event, and Seven turned back before her, "Let's hope Six can pull through. If you made it through the factory explosion, he might be able to take a fall like this… I hope." Of course Eight's response was, "What explosion?" the Warrior's answer was interrupted when her foot stepped on something metal under the water. She looked down before fishing it out with her spear, hooking onto the metal hoop and lifting it out of the water.

She was horrified to see Six's key dangling from the end of her spear and turned to Eight, "Six's key…" she pointed out, not that he didn't know, and even the bully who tormented Six looked grim seeing it. Seven grabbed the key and started looking around the somewhat dark area, "Six?" She called out, "Six, where are you?" She was becoming desperate and started to wade through the water searching for something, anything, any sign of the striped Artist.

Eight started scanning the area as well and drug his feet through the muck and liquid until he heard something, "E-ight…" The crackling voice actually disturbed the Guard and he was somewhat hesitant to look over. Slowly he did so and that's when he saw Six, only some ways away from the edge of the trench laying in the muck instead of the water, looking limp and worse for wear. Eight managed to wade over to him and stared down at the small Stitchpunk. As he looked him over he immediately counted the different injuries.

The crooked ankle and the cracked optic lens were both big indicators that he was injured, but nothing compared to how his arm was clearly laying awkwardly as though out of place. He stared at Eight with a clearly pained look and spoke, "Ei-ght…" His voice choked and Eight spoke, "Don't move." Then called back, "He's over here." Seven immediately rushed to Six's side and gasped in alarm at the sight, "Oh Six…" She murmured in sympathy and Six tried to move, but instead merely trembled a bit, and the Warrior stopped him. "Don't move, please, we'll get you out of here."

He gave in immediately and Seven turned to Eight, "Can you carry him?" The Guard raised his hands in defense, "I can't carry him. Do you see him?" Seven looked back to Six's pitiful condition before looking back to the larger male. "I could carry him if he wasn't this injured, but I'll just hurt him more like this. You can carry more weight. He's smaller to you than to me." He still clearly didn't want to and while he was pretending it was because he couldn't stand Six, Seven knew he was afraid of his strength, afraid if he would hurt him more.

"Even if all of the others were here you would be the best one of us to do this. Please Eight…" The Guard looked away and clenched his fists a little bit. Just standing there, contemplating, before finally caving in. "Only to the top of the trench, then we figure out something else." He insisted and Seven agreed with these terms. Eight forced himself to stay calm and still and he slid his arms into the muck under Six and lifted him, then looked upwards at the trench and remarked, "I'm gonna kill myself climbing up that."

Six suddenly felt the need to speak, "The other… The sixth… There were six." Eight raised a brow and passed Six off as delusional before approach the side of the trench and beginning to climb.

Meanwhile, outside of the trench, Nine was practically sprinting to the bridge Eight mentioned. It was flat and wooden which explained why he had failed to notice it before, creaking and protesting under Nine's weight as he dashed across to the other side, hoping that if Five had awoken that he had not wandered off far. The Phonograph soon came into view and Nine sprinted closer before scanning the area for his best friend. Five was one of the Stitchpunks he needed the most, if not the most, his best friend and the only one that was a constant at his side, and he was ready to find him.

He approached the Phonograph and began to look around, "Five?" He called out desperately before running down the slope towards the factory remains. It had been here that his friend had lost his soul and yet the body was missing. This meant that Five had to have awoken and moved; both a terrifying and wonderful conclusion. He turned back to the Phonograph and started to approach it once again to search it more thoroughly. That was when he noticed something nearby and his optics immediately went to it.

Behind the Phonograph was some sort of shed of some kind that barely stood on its own and, beside it, a propped up chair. It was the figure underneath the chair that caught Nine's attention. The limp body pulled into itself that sent Nine dashing towards it eagerly. He recognized the fabric; there was no doubt that it was Five. He rushed to his side and kneeled down before shaking him almost frantically, "Five? Five?! Come on, wake up." He practically begged to the other Stitchpunk.

Then, before Nine could become completely frantic, he noticed a twitch from the other's arm along with a soft groan. Five's optic blinked open and he released a brief cough before looking upwards to his friend, "Nine?" Nine was ecstatic and smiled to him, "It's me. Are you okay?" Five sort of shifted a bit, trying to do a quick assessment of himself, then answered, "I think so… My head hurts a little." His hand went up towards his torn patch and Nine decided that the other didn't to worry about something so cosmetic yet.

He took ahold of Five's hand in a comforting manner, "Do you remember what happened?" He questioned in an attempt to get more answers than he had gotten with Eight. The Healer tried to remember as he sat up, slouching a bit from obvious weakness and discomfort, "I… I remember… Did the Machine have me? I… I think I remember that the Machine had me and then it all stops." He clearly was growing more disturbed as he spoke and eventually looked over to the zippered male, "That didn't happen, did it? Th-That was just a dream, right?"

He was desperate and confused, and Nine didn't know whether to tell him the truth or whether to pass it off as a dream. He finally decided to meet him halfway, "Something did happen." He voiced, "But it's over now. You're alive, Eight's alive, and that might mean that Two's alive too." Immediately the patched one perked in hope, "Two's alive? How?..." Then he cut off, apparently piecing together his own realization when he noticed that Nine listed him as being in the same state as Two and Eight.

He simply stared at his friend quietly as his friend gave a slightly solemn smile, "We need to go find Two. Eight's alright, he's going after Six, but we need to get to Two." Five immediately snapped back to normal, "Yeah. He's probably still in the Library… I hope." Five didn't notice Nine's look of sudden horror as he now remembered that he had forgotten Two was at the Library. Now they really did have to hurry and he stood before offering Five his hand. The other looked up to him before reaching out and taking the offering, being slowly pulled to his feet.

In the first few seconds Five was a bit unsteady and then began to look around for where he had left his things. "It's starting to come back to me now. I think I was awake earlier, it was raining so I moved over here… I wasn't thinking straight." Nine blinked at this before speaking, "Eight was acting a little confused when he awoke too." He pointed out as Five finally found his bag and lifted it onto his back before turning back to Nine. With a nod to show he was ready, the two set off together, steadily heading back to the Library.

Nine doubted Seven and Eight were out of the trench yet, but couldn't waste any more time than he had. Because of this he just decided to lead his friend back to the Library to find Two. Eventually they managed to make it back and rushed inside towards the pool in the back of the building. To both of their surprise they found that their budding task to go retrieve Two's body had already been settled by a different party. Two's body was laid out on a pallet of cloth made by the twins who were now trying to figure out how to fix him.

Both of the males approached and Nine looked to Five to see what they needed to do. The Healer not only looked out of ideas, but looked mortified. It was one thing to see Two's destroyed body, but now he was alive, and now he was going to have to live with such damage. He slowly kneeled down next to his mentor and rested his hand on his chest, feeling carefully. "He's… He's breathing. He has a pulse… Okay."

He looked back to Nine, "Okay, when Seven and Eight get back we're going to have to go get parts. Maybe check the Factory remains, I guess we should have done that already, but I know there's a building nearby with a lot of equipment for fixing clocks that may help us… Then we might need to head to the First Room to search." He mentally went back over the list before speaking again, "I… I don't know if I can do this." Nine kneeled beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder, "Five, I know you can do this." That was all he said, there was nothing more he could say, and Five nodded unsurely.

Then exhaled and looked away; Nine knew how to boost his confidence enough to make him do it but never enough to make him sure of himself. "Okay… For now let's just make him comfortable." Then he touched his patch and sighed, "And I should probably fix this…" Three gave Five a small pat on the shoulder and he gave the twin a small smile. Nine also decided to stand, "I'll find something to make another bed. We don't know how Six will be after his fall." Five inhaled sharply and Nine decided that there was no need to inform further.

The one eyed one probably already came to his own conclusions anyway. Four led Nine into the back as though to assist him and eventually Three followed as well. They apparently knew what they were doing as Nine suddenly had his arms filled with random bits of fabric from here and there. They weren't big enough to exactly be blankets, but they would be able to work if used together, and it wasn't as though they had much else of a choice. Eventually Three and Four also brought a piece of leather and Nine immediately knew what it was for.

Since the others were not back yet and Five probably would be busy afterwards, it would be best if they fixed the patch now, and he nodded to the twins in understanding. Then he headed back to where Five was with Two. He kept the leather somewhat out of sight as he didn't want to immediately jump Five with the prospect of getting his patch worked on. Not until he was sure Five could handle it. Instead he busied himself with making another bed in case Six was injured. He didn't think he would need one for One as he only had something wrong with his hand.

"I didn't really get to see," Nine warned, "But there was something wrong with One's hand. I think it's going to have to be fixed too." Five nodded slowly and Nine paused before speaking, "You know, we should probably fix your patch before the others get back." He tried to sound casual and Five seemed to flinch a bit, "Well… It's alright for now- wait…" He turned to Five, "What did you mean 'we'?" Nine smiled reassuringly, "You can't really stitch your head up on your own, can you? Let me help."

The healer looked close to fleeing and put his hands up in protest, "N-No, it's okay, I think I can do it." There was no possible way he could do it, they both knew it, and yet he seemed certain that he wanted to do it alone. Nine showed him the leather, "Look, I already got the replacement patch, I can cut it to size and stitch it in. I'll try not to let it hurt." The buttoned one pulled into himself, "I know it won't hurt, but… I don't think we should…" Nine came closer, smiling assuring and confidently, "You'll have to guide me, so I'll just be your hands. I think we can do it."

Five looked at him, contemplating it, and exhaled, "Nine…" He said in exasperation, not understanding how Nine kept coaxing him into these types of uncomfortable situations, "Alright. We can try." Not much later Five was threading a needle, he had chosen a smaller one, while received a pair of scissors from the twins. "I'll cut the patch size once I have the other for measurement." Five's head dropped to face his work and he nodded, "That… That would be best… Here, while I do this could you cut the stitches?"

Nine blinked a bit, "I just… Cut the stitches? Won't it hurt?" Five shook his head, "Not that much. Not enough for numbing." He put the needle and showed Nine, "Here, you just…" he took the scissors, which Nine's hands still on them, and led them to his face where he carefully slipped them under a stitch. "Then you just…" He then snipped the thread and the stitch was undone. "Now you just keep doing it all the way around, then the patch will come off." Nine nodded and slowly took the scissors fully in his grasp, "Alright. Sounds easy."

He hid any nervousness and began to slowly repeat the process, clipping every stitch from the patch. Once he was finished, Five took over, removing the patch only to plant his palm over the socket underneath, and then slowly plucking the lose thread out of his burlap. Nine went to work cutting the leather to resemble the old patch as he noticed Five's continued hesitance, keeping his hand tight against his head, keeping the hole covered and hidden from view. "Could I see it?" Nine's voice suddenly betrayed him. He hadn't meant to voice his interest, but there it had come, and he had ended in opening his mouth.

Five sputtered a bit, "I-oh no- I don't think that would be a good idea." He suddenly protested and Nine shrugged, "Well, I'm probably going to see it anyway when I put the patch on." This seemed to suddenly terrify Five and he squeezed his free hand nervously. A few minutes passed of silence before Nine spoke again, "Alright, I have this cut so we should-." He looked to Five before falling silent. The Healer was looking at him, both of his hand in his lap wringing each other, worry stretched across his face.

"Is it that bad?" He asked the other male quietly. Nine was merely shocked that Five actually showed him the injury. It was somewhat jarring to look at Five so differently, but at the same time was not nearly as drastic as he had anticipated it to be. "No, it's not bad at all." Nine insisted with a smile and the Healer slowly smiled back, a bit unsurely still. Nine himself didn't exactly want to stare, but was a bit curious, and wanted to study the injury further. After all, he wouldn't very well have a chance once Five covered it up again.

"We're back." Seven's voice suddenly resonated out and Five immediately covered his empty socket as Nine looked to her. She was leading the way with Eight tailed behind carrying a limp Six. Eight decided to make the situation even more awkward than it had been, "You should've heard what it sounded like you were doing." Taking into the account that Nine had been begging to see something of Five's that was concealed, he didn't even want to think about it, and Five stood to address Six.

"Is he conscious?" Seven answered, "He was, but I think he's resting now." With this, Five gestured to the bedding and Eight carried Six over to put him down. Five had uncovered the socket again without realizing it, focusing on Six's wounds instead. None of the others were willing to point it out. The Guard managed to be gentle as he laid the Artist down and pointed out all of the injuries that he had noticed on Six. Five did his own assessment as well and seemed optimistic, "It looks a lot worse than it is. The arm and ankle need to be shifted into place, but they'll work fine after that."

"You're going to need me to do it." Eight pointed out and Nine raised a stitched brow in questioning. Five seemed to agree with Eight, "Yeah. I'm going to need your strength, but... Please try to be a little easy on him." The Guard huffed in annoyance, "I carried him all the way here. Why's everyone acting like I'm going to beat him over the head or something?" By now the Artist had awoken and was beginning to mutter a bit in a delusional fashion, "He told me it all… He was there the whole time, we didn't know, we never did anything."

His mismatched optics suddenly locked to Nine and stared him down, a flash of recognition, and Nine wondered if Six wanted to tell him something. He wouldn't doubt it and certainly wanted to hear it considering the fact that Six had already proven that his visions were quite accurate. That he knew more than the others had known. Firstly Five needed to work and Nine felt Seven's hand on his arm. The Warrior looked at him with a grim look and the male didn't have time to ask before she explained.

"One's outside." Nine blinked a bit in confusion, "He's… What?" Seven explained further, "While we were walking to the Library we saw One outside. He looks alright, but he didn't notice us, and instead was going in the direction of the… ashes. I don't think he went far, but I didn't think me approaching him would help. We're not exactly close." Apparently Eight and Five were listening in as well as the Healer looked to the Guard, "You didn't go?" He asked and Eight gruffly responded, "Can't. Was carrying Six all over the place."

"Well… I can try to go." Five responded softly, "After I finish with Six. Though we weren't exactly social the last time we spoke…" Then came a new voice, "Well, I would go if I could, but I am a bit tied at the moment." Five jumped immediately and cried out in surprise before looking back, "Two?!" Just as the voice suggested, Two was awake, and in a considerably good mood. The Healer dropped everything with Six, to which Eight made an annoyed comment that he, again, was the only one doing anything.

"How… How are you feeling?" Five asked hesitantly and Two gave him a small smile, "Alive. That's all I can really ask for." The Healer smiled as well and gently embraced his mentor who managed to work his arms around the burlap body of his apprentice. The one eyed one held the smaller tightly before his body began to lightly shake. He knew he was crying in front of the others, but he didn't care. Two merely stroked over his back and held him close like his child. While he probably didn't remember much, Two managed to secure enough from the surroundings that he knew something awful had occurred.

"I'll go." Nine suddenly volunteered and Seven looked to him, "What?" She asked in surprise, "Nine, are you sure?" Nine nodded, "I'm positive. Five's busy, Eight's busy, and I'm not doing anything anyway." Then he added in, "What happened between us before is over. I need to make the first step towards fixing this." Seven still seemed a bit unsure, but nodded in agreement, and Nine smiled before heading towards the entrance. He soon was outside and heading towards where the Cathedral was once located.

It didn't take too long to find One. Nine soon stumbled across him as soon as he was in sight of the remains of the Cathedral. The Leader was simply standing there, injured hand tucked under his arm, and staring at the remains with an empty look. The burlap male was somewhat confused at why the older male was just standing there in this trance. He approached slowly until he spoke, "One?" The Leader slowly looked over at the male before his gaze narrowed considerably; not exactly the reaction that Nine was hoping for.

"What are you doing here?" One asked with a cracking voice. Nine wondered if it was an injured voice box, but decided not to ask outright until once he managed to get on stable ground with One himself. "I came to find you." Nine insisted, "The others are back with Two and Six. They couldn't come." The Leader didn't respond to this and instead stared at the charred remains before him. Nine exhaled and approached the male, "We should head back to the Library. The others-."

"You can go alone." One stubbornly responded and Nine exhaled, "One, let's not do this." The Leader looked over with a relatively passive look, almost looking somewhat forlorn, "I will not be heading back with you." There was silence that overtook the two of them before the younger spoke, "Then where areyou going to go?" The other didn't answer, he didn't know, and Nine doubted that he had any plans. One seemed more traumatized than anything, even with his faux voice of normality.

Finally, Nine decided to reach out and grasp One's arm, "Let's go home." He murmured before tugging the older male. Surprisingly, One seemed to cave and followed along, though clearly stated, "Leave me be. I want to be alone." The zippered male didn't obey this command and instead lead him along. If One wasn't going to be reasonable, then Nine would have to make him be reasonable, because he had no other choice. He did notice One's injured hand, though, and inhaled sharply at the sight of it.

"You need to get this fixed." He pointed out; but he was skeptic if they actually could fix such damage. One finger was completely missing, the index only had half, and the third looked broken out of place. The third looked like it could be fixed easily enough, maybe being popped back into place, but the other two would have to be replaced or something. Nine guessed that it happened in the explosion during the Machine's chase, as there was no other time that it could have happened.

"I can… I can fix this one, but it might hurt. It still looks damaged, but it may… It won't be pointing backwards anymore." One glanced down at his hand, pulling it back and staring at it as though it was foreign to him. This was when Nine fully grasped the problem; that confusion on One's face was genuine, he was still in a half confused state marred with guilty. That's when he suddenly swung the hand over against Nine's chest, "Just get on with it." Nine nodded and took the hand, quickly popping the finger back in the normal direction.

The former Leader winced a bit, but said nothing, and afterwards began to cradle his hand against his body as Nine rested a hand on his back and guided him. Nine didn't exactly know what to say in this situation and only found the words that seemed most likely to set One off, "It's over. The Machine's gone. We're all okay. We can move past this." One didn't speak, just stared ahead in a daze. Nine added in, "Eight's inside, he's alright. So is Five, and Six, and… and Two. They're all awake in there and it's… It's going to get better now."

One now looked over to Nine, but didn't speak for a short amount of time, then finally spoke, "You certainly have become a fine leader, Nine." Nine couldn't believe that One had just said that, especially with the lifeless tone in his voice, as though he was a mere puppet saying what someone else was forcing him to say. Nine blurted out quickly, "I'm not the Leader, One. You're the Leader." Actually, he hadn't intended to say that either, as he wasn't completely sure whether or not One needed to be Leader again.

On the other hand, Nine did realize that the Incident clearly opened One's optics and affected him, so he was wondering if he needed another chance to prove himself. One didn't know how to be anything other than a Leader, Nine didn't exactly want to be the new Leader, and either way the Stitchpunks did need a Leader. One solemnly answered, "I was never your ruler. You never followed my command, they never followed my command, I never gave a proper command; it is time I stepped down from my throne and you are the one who will have to take up the mantle."

Nine choked at the mere thought and insisted, "One, let's just calm down and get inside. We're both shaken and…" He trailed off and the other male scoffed before speaking, "Of course, now you refuse what you wanted from the very beginning. You wanted to make your own decisions, to rule your own life, and now I am giving you the opportunity. We have lost everything and it was from my decisions that it happened, so I am wiping my hands clean once and for all." There was a quiet moment before Nine retorted, deciding that he wanted to make his peace before they got inside.

"What you did was wrong. I'm not going to tell you that sending Two out, that ignoring us was right, but I don't blame you for it because what I did was much worse. I didn't know what I was risking while you were doing what you thought you needed to do and I was trying to get control, but not like this! Your actions were flawed, but you were doing it as a Leader! Meanwhile my actions were unforgivable and I did them because I wanted to see what would happen! Not for the others! Not to keep anyone safe! I took them out of the Sanctuary, out into this, and then I didn't know what to do afterwards!"

He stopped long enough to take a couple of breaths, "I can't be leader, One. I wasn't made to be leader. I don't know what I was made for, but it isn't to lead like this, it isn't to hold the others' lives in my hands. The Machine is dead now and we have to try to get past that. We've got to move on." The look on One's face was unreadable at first. It eventually molded into a look that Nine did not expect; a look of being impressed. One actually took in what Nine said and was impressed with him. It gave a feeling of accomplishment in Nine's insides.

"Perhaps you are correct." One admitted before looking in the direction of the Library, "We have lost everything and now we must try to pull together again…" He looked down to his damaged hand before releasing a soft sigh, "We will never get it back. You are two young to understand exactly how much we have lost, how much we cannot get back." Nine nodded a bit, "Yeah… But, we can try?" The older looked to him, gave a small ghost of a smile, and gave a nod. With that, it was secured, any lingering pain between Nine and One was finished.

It was then, as they were walking back, that Nine realized he could forgive. Not just One, but himself as well. They all made mistakes and they had all redeemed themselves so he knew that they could pull together stronger than before. He smiled to himself at the thought; they were almost like a family. As they entered the back of the Library, One had straightened again to a somewhat normal gait that was only hitched by obvious pain resonating through his hand and arm. He immediately scanned for the others.

Seven was tucking one of the spare blankets around the twins who had finally relaxed enough to fall asleep beside Two who was presently propped and stitching Five's new patch to his burlap. Nine was glad to see him this active. Eight was sitting some ways away scanning the entrance for anything coming in and had clearly perked when he saw his Leader enter. He stood and grabbed one of the extra blankets before approaching him, "Boss?" One looked to him and Nine could see clear relief, "Eight, I am relieved to see that you were not injured."

"Sliced open my leg pretty bad, but I lived." He pulled the blanket around One's shoulders before noticing the hand and releasing a low swear. One lightly scolded him with, "Language." But was clearly much more lenient. His slanted optics then went to Two and Nine was surprised to see actual concern. "Five's going to go out to get the parts in a bit." Nine pointed out before looking at Eight, "You're going too, right?" Eight seemed to consider this before looking to his Leader, "Need me to stay?"

"No. I will be fine. Go with Five and find whatever you need." Then looked to his own hand, "Indeed, I would consider myself in dire need of assistance as well. Perhaps after Five returns." That's when Two suddenly spoke, "Dear Creator, One." He was staring over in clear surprise, in the middle of tying off the last stitch on Five's patch, "What happened to your hand?" One seemed uncomfortable for some reason that Nine noted, but socially spoke, "I was in an explosion."

"Hold on." Two finished the knot and quickly cut the thread with the small scissors, patting Five's shoulder to show he was finished, and then turned to the Leader, "Here, let me take a look at it." One paused at the offer, but eventually caved and approached. Nine knew little about One and Two's relationship except that One had sent him out into the Emptiness, but, oddly enough, they were acting fine with one another. Two touched One's hand gently as he looked it over.

"I'm surprised this one survived at all." He mentioned as he touched the finger that Nine had fixed. One flinched at that, "Is it salvageable?" The Inventor looked up and smiled at the other's question, "Of course it is. Five and Seven may have to gather a few more pieces from the Emptiness, but I assure you that it can all be saved. You are very lucky. You could have lost your entire hand." He pulled it down and wrapped it in the corner of the blanket over him, "We will need to keep it warm until then." He cupped his hands around it in a gentle motion.

This was when Seven wandered back to the group. She and One locked optics with somewhat unreadable expressions. Seven didn't know whether One remembered what had happened with his soul, she doubted it, and she didn't know if he was still holding a grudge towards her. "One." She greeted, trying to be courtly while unsureness showed through. One's own voice held nearly the same, "Seven." Then there was silence for a few seconds before Two spoke, "I wonder if it would be appropriate to say that we are acting as though we are at a funeral, considering the circumstances."

"It would certainly not be." One pointedly stated to Two in an almost scolding fashion. However, something inside it sounded more relaxed; One was actually relieved to have Two there to ease the tension. "Well, we'll be back as soon as we can." Seven pointed out, "With the three of us we should be able to be quick." Nine almost offered to go with them before he noticed something. The only reason he noticed Six was because the Artist was suddenly staring at him from his position on the bedding and had been doing so since Seven mentioned that they were leaving.

He allowed the three to leave and they soon did so. The twins were still sound asleep while One and Two were speaking about the Incident with the Leader informing the Inventor of everything that occurred. Nine, meanwhile, addressed Six, "Is something wrong, Six?" The Artist had a clear frown on his face and looked worried before speaking, "He told me. I saw everything. I saw the source." Nine looked sympathetic, "I know Six… We all saw what happened." The striped one shook his head immediately, "No. No. Not that source, not our source, the Machine's source. I saw what he did."

Nine grew more interested and listened closer with furrowed brows. Six slid closer and whispered, most of his injuries healed save for the cracked optic lens, underneath being wide pupils that were clearly disturbed by whatever he had seen. "There was a sixth one." He pointed out and Nine thought he meant himself before Six counted, "Two… Eight… Five… Me… One…" He counted down on both hands until a single finger remained, "And him. The last one. He showed me everything… You have to know, because I can't, I can't do it…"

"Before we were created, before any of us were created, he was born."

Before that first second there was nothing, no existence, no sentient, and then suddenly the second passed. The first second of life occurred and everything bloomed at once. Blurry scenery swirling around optics that had never seen light before this moment, a soothing voice trilling above him with a warm and safe tone, and the overload of outside phenomenon that would frighten anything that had just been born. Immediately his body reacted and managed to move a bit, but no more than a twitch against whatever strung him up by the arm. Not that he was in any state to figure this out on his own.

First, something moved against his chest and pulled him closed. Something moved below him, warm and soft against his new legs, and the thing that bound his hand was tampered with until he was released. He collapsed into the palm beneath him and stared upwards. His optics blinked and struggled to adjust to this new action in an attempt to see. He knew something was occurring and could fathom that something was amiss even though he remembered nothing before this second. He tried to move again and lifted his arm for the first time, staring at the hand on the end, the silvery metal before him perplexing his senses.

That was when the voice spoke again but now in words that he could understand, "Welcome to the world, young one." The soothing voice somewhat scared the newborn who winced at the sudden booming volume of it being so close. He weakly turned on his side before exhaustedly collapsing. His interest returned to his hand resting on the palm beneath him; it was almost claw-like, dark metal, and looking at his arm he could see white fabric, burlap. His optics lowered to scan his chest and could see something was closed by metal hooks and loops/

The voice spoke again, "Does anything hurt? Do you feel alright?" The small one looked towards the face he could now see clearly and slowly nodded as an answer. He didn't know why, but when he saw this taller being he was in complete awe and he felt strangely safe in its grasp. "That's good. That's very good." A soft chuckle; the male seemed ecstatic at the little one's reaction.

Maybe it was his creator.

"I…" He couldn't form words yet, he was too shaky, "I… I…" While his voice continued to fail, his creator held him gently, being steady and careful as he explained, "I am your father," The fingers of the hand began to stroke the younger one's back, causing him to release his first smile, and it returned his Father's own. "and you are my son, Child."

"I think it was nice in the beginning. It was nice. Father treated him well and he loved Father."

Only days after his birth and Child had excelled past his father's expectations. He had begun to speak fluidly, his reflexes were improving drastically, and his intellect began to rise with every lesson he was given. His father was a Scientist who, even in the middle of something important, found time to take care of his son. They frequently spoke and most of Child's learning came straight from his parents. From what the Scientist had told his son he had been working on something amazing, something that would change the world.

In the middle of his research he miraculously decided that he wanted to create life before he got too old. Perhaps it involved the project in some way even though the young male didn't know. In the short amount of time of being alive Child had realized quickly that he was different from his father and from his father's kind, and while he didn't scorn his father for these differences he did feel a bit of longing at times. It was days like this, quiet and alone, that he would push the window open and stare down at the street far below.

The humans never saw him and he was glad for this as he suspected they wouldn't take to him like his father did. It made Child feel strange, an unidentifiable sadness, and he soon decided not to look anymore as he frequently did when staring at the happy, social creatures down on the street below. Instead he climbed down from the window to circle the room that was his home. Father would be back soon and Child wanted to do something with him. The logical thing would be chess which was their favorite game to play together.

They were quite evenly matched with Child being younger which he didn't really understand. He guessed that perhaps the Scientist was letting him win, but that did not make much sense either. The doll didn't understand a lot of things about this world. Even when he stared at the globe in the back of the room, spinning it around, the sphere map didn't seem to help make anything easier to grasp. Just as he was heading to his own little area in the room he heard familiar footsteps and froze his own to listen. As soon as he recognized the gait he found himself forgetting all about his confusions and rushed to the door.

His father entered with a smile and a box that most likely contained more things for Child to examine and play with. "Good afternoon, Child." The Stitchpunk eagerly smiled back, "Good afternoon, Father, I missed you." The box was promptly placed on the workbench and the Scientist kneeled to lift his son off of the ground. Child felt bad, his father always struggled a little when standing back up from kneeling, probably from his age. However once he saw into the box of many various things he began to again forget his troubles.

So many unique things; watches and trinkets, books and toys, everything Child would need to be happy and entertained. He immediately went through to look at everything in sight when his Father asked a bizarre question, "Perhaps tomorrow you could come with me to the lab?" Child was taken aback; he didn't expect his father to take him around humans. He soon realized that his father probably intended to keep him hidden and decided to give his parent the opportunity without feeling poorly, "I would… But I don't want to see the humans."

His father looked mixed in emotions, but Child surely saw relief somewhere. "I could take you there after the others have left. I have something I would like to show you." Child vigorously nodded; as though the three quarters of the day he spent with his father wasn't enough. Then he went to look at the new box of supplies with his father, happy and content.

"But things weren't good forever… Everything was going to change, he just didn't know it yet."

Never did Child expect his father to work in such a large building with walls so thick that noise couldn't be heard through them. He was in awe and watched as he was carried deeper and deeper into the facility. Once down yet another flight of stairs, he was taken to a thick door which the Scientist paused outside of, "What I am to show you, Child, might surprise you." Child waved it off quickly, "Father, I am sure I can handle any sort of experiment." He had said that confidently, wanting to show his father that he was as reasonable as any human, but it changed as the door was open into a pitch dark room.

The lights soon flickered to life and Child saw it for the first time. It was like the globe, a perfect sphere, but he knew it was some sort of creature instead. Two small arms protruded out as the only limbs and right at the second the lights came on, a large red circle in the center alit with a red glow. He knew it was an eye staring back at him as he stared into its core. He only half recognized being set down on the floor as his Father touched the larger creature, it looked at him in turn, "Child, this is my creation the- We just refer to it as 'Brain' for now." He explained and stroked its head like it was precious to him.

The machine actually reached out for the Scientist's hand and attempted to shake it, as it had apparently learned that this was normal custom. "It- He is learning very fast. He's to change the world as we know it, forever." The older male then noticed something off and was working on the Machine briefly, on its arm, and Child just stood there. He stared at the machine and watched as it eventually looked back at him, studying him as he studied it. There was silence and absolutely no emotions exchanged between the two of them.

Then it suddenly made a noise and its optic flickered. The Scientist abruptly stood and looked over the creature before exhaling, "How did this get unplugged again?" He asked himself before addressing Child, "The only problem that we have supporting Brain is that none of the self-sustainable energy forms we have tried work with him." He directed Child's attention to an outlet nearby, a normal outlet, "For now we must keep him connected to an electrical source most of the time he is awake. He only has a few minutes without it before he falls into rest."

He entered a cord from the machine's back into the outlet and it began to stir yet again. Its red optic began to glow and its pupil flickered towards its creator. "Child," The scientist smiled as he addressed the Stitchpunk, "What do you think of him?" Child couldn't express exactly what he felt; it was such an unusual emotion.

That's when he knew exactly what it was; hate.

"That was what started it. That was what was going to cause it. He hated the Machine for everything and…"

It took all of Father's attention, it took away all his energy, and Child now knew that the hate he felt at first glance hadn't been anything compared to this.

Sometimes he found himself pacing hotly and just thinking about that horrible machine that was supposedly his equal. However, he insisted it wasn't, because it wasn't anything but a cold, emotionless monster. Child's hands clenched and he struck out at the closest thing in sight. Quickly after he saw the pooling ink on the ground and scolded himself for knocking over the inkwell. Then he began to clean it with some paper when he heard his father's footsteps again.

It caused him to smile; Father came home earlier today than usual. He was so busy sorting himself that he didn't immediately catch the look that was plastered on the scientist's face. He had to hide the anger, the distress, and pretend that he was the innocent child once again. "Good afternoon, Father! How was-...?" He cut off as he saw it; horror, perhaps sadness, and a small bit of panic that concerned Child. "Father? Did something happen?" The Scientist seemed to be in shock, but managed to speak, "Nothing, Child. I just had an eventful day."

This was a blunt lie, but Child wasn't about to scorn his father for trying to protect him. The man sat at the workbench on his chair, not speaking, and he then tried to attempt the lie again. "I… I am fine, my son… I'm just tired…" Child then realized the truth, "It was that thing wasn't it? What did it do to you?" He demanded and the human stared at the desk. Then he put his head in his hands and ended up muttering the story of how the machine had been taken from him

In that second, Child felt something new; hate. This time, however, the hate was directed at the humans.

"… that wasn't the only thing he hated…. He didn't know it only took an idea. It just needed a single idea."

Child was too small and too different to be accepted by the narrow minded race anyhow, so the growing hate wasn't a bother to him in the slightest. Nobody could see him looming up on the roof of his father's home and staring out across what he could see of Luxembourg. The city that once seemed amazing and curious was now just filled with those foolish creatures who wanted nothing but war. The news of working with machines spurned many to fight, feeling nearly invincible, but Child knew better, especially when they were created by the machine that was stolen from his Creator.

Even now Child saw something that destroyed the image of the peaceful day; The dark smoke pouring into the sky and filling it with pollution. That couldn't be safe and yet the main problem was from inside, where the monster was at working, repairing and creating other machines. He lets out a string of words that are hissed like swears, "Mechanical, wasteful, disgusting, soulless monster." He furrowed his stitched eyebrows, "Why am I the only one who can see this Beast as what it is? A scar, a wound, and a parasite!"

He let out a huff and whispered again cynically, "Or perhaps the parasites are the ones who are living off of it." Then Child growled a bit to himself as he continued his voicing to nothing in particular, "Humans are so predictable, bloodthirsty, they smile and laugh even hundreds of others are killed by the machines every day. I must be a saint to not be of their kind." He stared out at the smoke a bit longer before deciding to retreat inside his Father's home again.

Right now Father was out, perhaps he was desperately trying to get the machine back, and Child was given some time to think, not that he particularly wanted time to think about what that thing in the factory was building next. Instead he went into his father's workshop and tried to find something to take his attention away. Of course, there was something new that recently ate at him, and was the only thing he wanted. He didn't want to ask his father for anything now, what with the older being in so much distress at the time. Still the need lingered; he wanted a sibling.

The machine didn't count to what another Stitchpunk would be. Someone pure, like him, who could spend all of their time with him, and it was all he wanted. Though he knew better, Child knew that this event had shattered his plans to stunt his lonely days glaring at the race that considered itself higher than him. While he still blamed the machine, hated the machine, the hate for the humans was growing.

Crossing to the radio, he turned it on, and immediately growled as he took in words he didn't want to hear. Praising for the monster, lies that 'Julius' had given it to the public, and even praising of that Chancellor. The Chancellor, Child saw him at the labs once, was a tall man who shouldn't have had power over a pack of wild dogs, let alone the city of Luxembourg. The way he hissed Father's name, pronouncing it either different or completely incorrect, was a terrible reminder of exactly what the humans thought of the man who created life on his own.

Child couldn't understand why they didn't see him like a king, a ruler, instead of a thrown away Scientist. The most irritating part, though, was that they still worshiped the bringer of death, Brain. It was absolutely infuriating. That monster was no miracle as the human on the radio said so he considered the man a fool and shut it back off. Then he sunk to the ground and just sat there, staring at the floor, and realized that nothing was going to change unless something was done.

But there wasn't a thing that he could do. He couldn't even leave this house without being hidden by his father, so he was quite worthless. There was a malicious and hateful wish that the machine would turn against the humans that lingered in the back of Child's mind, but it couldn't without sentience, and it had no emotions. It had no soul. As for the humans there was only thing he could say on their case.

"Perhaps it would have been better if they would have never existed at all."

"It got worse and he learned more. He learned how to put more things together. To make things that were thoughts become real."

Sometimes Child was willing to throw caution to the wind and venture out into the world. As he now held a makeshift weapon, he looked at his prey, and prepared himself to strike. It was a small, arachnid, repair beast that had strayed a good few feet from the factory and practically defenseless. So Child struck, rushing forward and bringing his spear down upon its head. The blade was long and pierced far enough down that the creature shrieked, stumbled a bit, and Child stabbed it again, and again, and again, until finally the light in its optic faded away to nothing.

It felt good like he was hurting the machine itself and Child felt a small smile, or perhaps a smirk, tug at his lips. Then he continued with the original plan and entered the factory to study the creature that ruined his life. Instead there were also hundreds of the larger beasts, still in the process of being created, hanging inside of the entranceway. A few looked at Child as he passed without thoughts or emotions. He felt superior to them as he strode into the main room; the superior feeling turned to anger as soon as he saw it.

He saw in the newspaper that it didn't look like an orb anymore, but he didn't expect this many arms, all of them working. "You." He hissed, and it didn't look over. Of course it wouldn't acknowledge him so he approached further. He climbed up to nearly beside it, he glared, at its optic only past him once to look for a part. When he went ignored, Child turned away, angrier than before, and made sure to drag his kill home as well. Perhaps he knew what he would do before he did it. He needed to release the anger and the only thing that looked good to attack was the corpse.

Soon he was uncontrollably impaling it like before, but he didn't stop. He smashed its parts, removed its limbs, made it nothing but rubble, and then suddenly began to work. He didn't know what exactly he was doing as he reset the wires into new positions, using its own parts as tools as he began to feel growing warmth in his insides. Still, he had no idea what he was doing until he was finally done at the end. Then he stood, silently, and watched as the other stood as well.

It looked like a half-made spider beast, much smaller, stumbling around in confusion, but it was clearly alive, and Child stepped back. He couldn't believe that he had done something so shocking and undeniably wrong at the same time. As he watched the beast move to life, he knew he had past any line that lingered between right and wrong; he had actually created a life. Instead of hating it, like the other beasts, he found himself kneeling down and reaching out to it. It didn't scurry away, it came right to his arms, and he embraced it close. Finally, he wasn't alone.

He had taken something the beast made and destroyed it before recreating it in his own image.

"He was like you, Nine. You didn't know what you were doing, but you both started it all…"

Pet was all that Child had ever needed in a companion. It ran around playfully and fetched things when Child asked it to, in return he had managed to repair it and make its body easier to move. It became the only thing he respected and loved, other than Father, and yet Child was beginning to feel empty.

He had been sitting on the window seal for about an hour now, leaning against the side as he stared out at the city of Luxembourg. His expression, and feelings, were empty of emotion as he just lay limp like a doll. That was all he was in this world anyway so he saw no point in fighting it. The same black smoke could still be seen through the moonlight that had once seemed radiant. Now the skies seemed to always be polluted with clouds; Child wondered if it was caused by the smoke somehow. "Am I…?" His voice was flat, "I'm alone." Then he accepted it. He was alone, in every conceivable way that was possible.

The only Stitchpunk, the only non-human, and the only one not blind to the creature that stole his father away from him, and then was stolen away by foolish humans. The anger was always there, it made Child feel wrong and out of place. He didn't like always being angry and wished he could feel something else, anything else. As he stared out he could feel something begin to crawl on the leg he had propped up on the window and looked down to see Pet there. The little Beast was perhaps numb to the things Child wasn't, but it made him still feel a bit better.

He grasped the smaller and pulled it into his lap before stroking it lovingly. Small, strange purring noises appeared to show that Pet was enjoying the treatment, causing Child to smile. For the first time in a long while he happy. With that happiness, though, came inspiration, and suddenly a foolish idea entered his head. He knew it was foolish, but couldn't suppress it as he looked out towards the factory.

"I could destroy it."

It would hurt the humans in the way that Child himself had been hurt, while destroying and getting rid of the pest known as 'Brain'. It would fix everything, and even with previous doubts Child wanted to attempt it. Beforehand, though, he made up his mind that he wanted to do something else first and sent Pet to his small nest before climbing down off of the workbench. He headed into the other room that he knew well, Father's bedroom, and could see his parent asleep in bed. Father probably assumed Child was asleep too and it made the doll feel guilty.

He climbed up onto the bed and shook his father a bit, "Father?" He was a light sleeper and so he awoke quickly, "Child? What are you doing up so late?" Child felt a little better when hearing his father's gentle tone. "I… I can't sleep." Child lied, "Can I sleep with you?" Of course his father agreed and allowed the small doll to crawl under the blankets. This had happened a few times before and Father hadn't really expected anything too different, but Child knew different, he had a foreboding feeling in his insides as he curled against his parent.

That warm hand that created him, covering him again, and loving him. Father really was the only one to love him and he knew he was risking losing that love forever. Still, he fell asleep. He hoped that the plan would fail by him sleeping through the night, but he unfortunately awoke in the early morning, and it was still pitch dark outside. Child slid out of his father's grasp and headed into the workshop. There was something he needed to do before he left, and it was nearly a horrific thought. He called Pet to him, tool in hand, and explained the situation even if the other didn't understand.

"I am leaving for a bit… And I think it would be best if I shut you down until I return." He flipped Pet onto his back gently, "I will be back soon, don't worry." He worked quick enough that Pet didn't know what happened before he was shut down. Staring at his now unresponsive creation his a chord in Child that nothing else yet had. He held the small one tight to his chest for a good while, feeling the soft trembles of suppressed sobs in his chest, and continued to feel them even after he hid Pet away under a loose floorboard beneath the workbench.

With him he hid a note to his father that he knew would never get read, and then fixed himself to grab his weapon. "To my father, who I love dearly," Child headed downstairs and managed to slip out through the backdoor before heading through the empty streets. "I don't wish to leave you, but I must. I cannot let this atrocity continue between humans, murder, and the machine." No one was out this late to his relief and he crossed to the protected factory, passing every gate, crossing the bridge, and heading closer to the production of smoke.

"I didn't wish to hurt you, so I'm leaving quickly. I love you, I thank you for giving me life, and I will make you proud." The factory wasn't guarded and as Child entered, he felt the boil of anger overtake his insides. It was awake, as always, and he thought of how to destroy it. The anger overtook, he tried to lunge at it, but it paid no mind to him and passed him by unthreatened. It was only then that Child had noticed the thick cord on the ground, tracing it with his optics and realizing that it went into Brain's back, and then tracing it to the wall where it was connected to what looked like some sort of generator.

Of course, it needed the electricity to live, and Child felt proud to be the one to figure out such a weakness. The cords were thick and he sawed through them, taking his time, relishing every second of it. Once the cords were severed he knew that it would soon be over and he strode over before the machine with a wide smirk, "Monster!" He yelled, and was pleasantly surprised when it glanced over, "Yes, you know your origin I see. Either way; your end is neigh, and your kingdom has fallen. No longer shall you make machines for those disgusting humans, no longer shall you live without a soul, and the world will fall as you do. Any second now."

He waited, it watched him, and then the optic flickered. It started to fall, trying to pull itself back up, but failed and faltered again. Finally it fell to the ground and its arms grasped around before going still. Child felt a euphoric feeling envelope him and he turned around to leave into the night. It was done, it was over, the machine was no more. He hadn't been able to get full revenge on the humans, but this was good enough, and he felt a soft chuckle rise in his inside frame. He was a bit unstable off of the high from killing something that plagued him for so long.

Though, he did feel a bit bad for it, the pathetic thing hadn't been given a chance to be a living creature, to feel, to think with its own priorities in mind, and Child, for the first time in his life, felt equal to the Beast. He found a smile being tugged across his pale burlap as he crossed the chamber to the exit of the factory that filled the sky with the thick smoke. That was, until he heard a noise, and then paused to listen. It was a squeak like something metal was beginning to open. As he turned back he was confused to see that the optic lens on the monster had opened and allowed him to see into the dark optic.

The pupil was dilated as though it really was deceased and so he hoped it was only from faulty building on the beast. He couldn't see the mechanics inside, though, and decided he wasn't willing to go look closer. There was a metal upon metal noise from inside the beast and suddenly Child wondered if this creature was still alive, still attempting to survive. It was proven when long strand of cords, tipped with sharp claws, burst from inside and went straight for the first thing that could give life.

The Stitchpunk himself.

"It needed everything and he had everything to lose."

They grabbed into his fabric and dragged him in quickly, trying to shut the lens on him. Child panicked and attempted to struggle, fearful, and felt a sharp pain as something entered his back. Burning pain filled every inch of him and he managed to pull enough strength together to pull himself out of the optic. He burst into the light and began trying to drag himself away before looking at himself. Something black and wet covered him, burned him, and even his fabric began to melt away. Being pumped inside from the cord that he could see latched into his back, he could feel it trying to fuse with his interior.

It pulled him back and he tried to tightly hold onto the ground. His breath was obscured and he coughed, the same black liquid came from his mouth, and Child knew it was some sort of oil. The pain was so intense that he began to scream, "Father!" He desperately called as he was drug back, "Father! Father!" His voice cracked oddly and started to melt away, literally, as his voice box was damaged beyond repair. His voice could only try the lowest frequency, "Fath…. Fath…." Back he was drug, into the machine, and the lens shut. Then, suddenly, everything seemed to disappear, and everything went dark.

A bit later and the eye alit again; the Machine awoke again and went back to its work. No longer did it need to be plugged in as there was now something inside that gave it more than it would ever need. It turned to its newest creation that it had previously been working on and began to address the wires that would give it the ability to move. The second it touched the machine, began to work, it faltered. Its grasp shifted onto its creation as it temporarily lost control of its functions.

The control came back, though, and it now turned to work again, but this time something was different. There was something else there.

The multiple copies of the Machine blueprints saved inside, the Rational behavior indicator that implied what one could do to not injure itself, the ability to recognize the humans as the superior being, and something new that began to override all of the others, coming from its new power source.

Anger. Disgust. Hate.

Then the Machine attacked, savagely assaulting what was to be his new creation and now deemed unfit. Hate; hot threads enwrapping and pulsing through a metal being that previously felt nothing. Electricity crackled across its frame as the Beast was now mere pieces of unused metal upon the floor. It wasn't worth anything; it was one of the humans' weapons. The Machine now managed to pull together a rational thought; it wasn't their weapon, it wasn't the humans' slave, and it wanted nothing more than to completely obliterate the worthless parasites that it previously obeyed.

It now turned to the remnants of the Beast that it had destroyed,

And rebuilt it in its own image.

Nine stared at the Artist as though he had been speaking in tongues the entire time. Six seemed to know exactly what he was saying and looked towards the zippered one, "It had the idea, it had the feeling, it had everything after that. That's what changed. That's what made it hurt them, the humans, and now us." The Artist stared across the Library with empty optics, "But now it's gone, and now the rain brought us back, and now the rain will bring him back to. He'll see what he's done. He'll see what has happened while he slept."

The burlap one was beginning to understand what Six was trying to say, "The other Stitchpunk is going to wake up? Like you and the others?" Six nodded solemnly with a sympathetic look on his face. This changed everything. Nine now knew why Six wanted him to stay behind; he needed to tell somebody that there was someone else out there. Even if they had this connection with the Machine, they couldn't leave it out there alone, Nine couldn't leave it alone out there. "I'm going to go find him."

Six looked to him and slowly nodded before speaking, "Hurry. He's waking up and he… He won't stay." Immediately Nine stumbled to his feet, "Is he at the Machine?" He knew Six had said he was in the Machine, but he wasn't sure if the male would have left or not. The Artist seemed a little lost and merely stared into nothingness as he tried to focus. Almost as though he was trying to remember something. Either way, Nine decided that he had to set out immediately, "I'm going alone. If the others get back, just tell them what you told me." He insisted before turning on his heel and heading out of the Library.

Six called after him with, "Only you, Nine!" Nine didn't know what that meant, but guessed that the Artist was trying to tell him that only he was able to do this. Nine didn't know why Six would entrust this with him after all of the trouble he had ended up causing in his short time of being alive. But as he rushed outside he realized how shocking this all was. Another Stitchpunk that was inside the Machine, that had given the Machine the idea to kill the humans, yet was apparently an innocent like them. It was unbelievable and yet Nine knew that he could not risk ignoring Six's plea.

At the same time Nine started to slowly realize why Six chose him. Not because he listened, but because this other Stitchpunk had basically did the same thing that he himself had did; they both awakened the Machine unintentionally. Perhaps Nine's reasons were more innocent, but he was not about to blame this other Stitchpunk. In fact, he already was feeling sympathetic. He had to see it. He had to save it. He sprinted along weaponless towards the hulking mass that remained of the machine and eventually arrived.

He was panting after the long run and came upon the Machine stumbling in tiredness. However, that didn't change what he soon witness, and stared at the Machine's frame. Cords hung out of the damaged lens of the optic and dripped oil onto the ground below. On closer inspection he could see that there were scratch marks underneath the optics where something had clawed at the dirt and crawled some ways away. Nine followed the oil drips and marks until he soon found actual footsteps. He realized that the Stitchpunk was not only real, but had left.

"Where did it go?" He asked himself as he followed the tracks as well as he could. Unfortunately, they started to become less visible on the dryer ground, and worse still the oil seemed to only drip occasionally, "It's not going to work. I have to…" He cut off and began to think a bit deeper before perking, "That's it. That's the only place he could have gone! Creator, don't let me miss him again…"

The slow burning of oil melting away fabric.

The soft sizzle as the inner metals revealed and were scraped as they were drug along the floor.

Towards the Machine, achingly slow, torturously tearing him apart from the inside out.

It was almost like birth. The second he awoke was the only second he could remember in the immediate time period beforehand. He had a foggy memory from before the period of emptiness, though. A torturous memory of pain that only drew attention to something being wrong with his body. He didn't want to look at it yet, he averted his optics and kept his eyes to the scenery, but even that was marred. It was as though he fell into a terrible alternate universe where everything had died away.

He had passed the body of a dead soldier lying limp across the rubble and had a feeling that more humans were in this state. Even though he didn't know what happened, something in the back of his mind told him that it was the Machines, especially with the deceased Machines laying around in the streets. He felt his pace only quicken as he realized he had been inside the thing that had done this to the world. That had done exactly what he predicted; spread the war into a genocide. Now it was over, everything was over, and he needed to see his father.

Child needed to get to his father and tell him exactly what had happened. Maybe there was still a chance, but in the back of his head he knew this wasn't the case, "I knew this was coming. I knew they wouldn't stop until something, until this happened, and now… This can't be real. This is, Creator, this couldn't have happened." He was finally coming upon his father's home when he saw the disarray it was in. He didn't allow his thoughts to appear and instead simply started to climb the stairs that now sat open in the middle of nowhere instead of inside a house.

It didn't take long before the male arrived at the top where his parent's workshop resided. He stood outside and simply stared as he waited for his body to work. He wouldn't look at it, but he knew it had to still work well enough to get him here, so it would eventually take him inside to see his father. His father was in his workshop and he knew it. However, Child was not ignorant, he knew that there was a chance that he was laying in there in the same state as the other humans were. The wait was killing whatever part of him still was alive.

Eventually he forced his weak legs to make him trudge inside. As expected, his father was there, and now he knew that this could not be reality. His father couldn't be that withered and exhausted corpse laying across the Workshop floor before him. Laying with a bed of papers covered in random drawings that he wasn't paying attention to. Instead he simply stared at the human body. He slowly dragged himself over to it, to its hand, and collapsed upon it. He was begging for it to move or respond, his voice only reacting with crackling from his damaged voice box.

But his father never moved and he couldn't awaken from this horrific nightmare. He was gone. Child had lost the last thing that he had in the world. It took a while before he was able to calm down once again. Even then he was merely sitting beside the limp hand, clutching his head with his hands as he tried to figure out what was going on. Obviously the Machine had killed him, killed everyone, but he had been inside it. Somehow he knew that he played a role in this. If he wouldn't have entered the factory this wouldn't have happened.

When he noticed the broken mirror leaning against the wall he knew that he had to see himself. He considered himself a glutton for punishment at this point, but he had to see what it had done to him, and he slowly stood. He had to see, he had to know what he had become. It wasn't until he was in sight of the mirror did he feel dread. Because in the mirror he did not see any kind of Stitchpunk. Instead, he saw a Machine, staring back at him with a tainted, black metal body and glowing red optics.

The empty port on his chest was the only thing that remained of what he used to be. The port had used to be under his fabric, but now was no longer hidden, and unfortunately while being the only thing left it also resembled the same thing on the Machine. They both had the ports and now even shared the eyes. Dead, red eyes that Child had glared at when he saw the one belonging to the Machine. The humans were dead, the world was destroyed, and now Child had become the one thing he hated. There was no denying it, he was in purgatory, being punished for his anger and hatred.

Child didn't know how long he stood there and merely stared at what he had become. However, he eventually realized that he had to move, and he soon realized what he had to do. He could hear the creaking of wood beneath the Workshop and guessed that it was eventually going to fall apart into nothingness. That would be the last thing, his home, and he suddenly had an epiphany. He could never live with what he had done. He stood tall and walked with a sense of dignity that he did not actually have. He had to be strong for this.

After a few tries he managed to climb onto the Workbench and stared over at the half opened windows nearby. The windows he used to stare out of at the humans below. Now they were gone and only now did he know that it was from his actions that they fell. They lost children, mothers, fathers, everything he had wanted he had stolen from them just because he couldn't have it himself. He could not live in this empty world with that knowledge. As he crossed to the window he reveled in the fact that perhaps this would cleanse his sins. Maybe this option would make what he did right again.

As he stood on the window edge, pushing the shutters open, he felt fear. There was no doubt that he did not want to do this, but he could not live in this world, and he could not live with what he had become. Maybe if Father had been alive it could have been different. A gust of wind from outside blew against him as he heard the protests of wood, the chattering of voices that no longer existed, the pounding footsteps, and the repetition of a single phrase that he was never going to forget. "Perhaps it would have been better if they would have never existed at all."

Then he realized perhaps it would have been better if he never existed at all. Either way, he thought cynically, he was fixing that now, and he slowly lifted his leg and moved it out to test the empty air. Nothingness met him and he took a breath before returning it and lifting his arms a bit. He was about to plummet and he knew that this is what he had to do. Then his legs gave.

Not because he had fell forward, but because a weight latched onto him and pulled him back. He was taken aback enough that he couldn't stop himself from falling back and landing on whatever had grabbed him. Child only somewhat recognized the burlap limbs wrapped on him before shoving them away. The mass that had pulled him down was immediately shoved off of and he crawled back away on all fours like some sort of Machine. Though he assumed that he was a Machine now with what he looked like.

Child scuttled back until he struck a beaker behind him. All this time he stared at the creature before him and felt nothing but confusion. After everything he had seen coming from the Machine here, this was the last thing he expected. It was another one of his own kind. Another doll, another Stitchpunk, now sitting on his backside and staring at Child with wide optics. It could clearly see the branding on him. Child felt electricity crackle over his optics as he realized that it had stopped his only attempt of freedom.

Nine, meanwhile, was feeling very mixed emotions while staring at the creature in front of him. This was the Stitchpunk Six had told him about and yet never warned him he would be something like this. This creature, Six only once referred to him as 'the Child', looked like the Machine. It had the striking red optics and the crackling over them of electricity. However, he trusted Six, and Six had been right so far. Considering the fact that this Stitchpunk was here and that he had just stopped it from what he believed was it jumping out of confusion; he hoped.

"It's okay." Nine spoke, "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you." His hands went up defense and other just stared at him with an unreadable expression. Finally Nine decided to pry a bit deeper, "Child? Is that your name? Is it Child?" The other reacted with red optics widening and sliding down against the beaker behind him. In his mind, this unknown Stitchpunk knew his name, and wondered what else it knew. Nine saw the reaction and decided to come forward, slowly moving until he was able to kneel before the other male.

He reached out and touched his shoulders, holding him firmly so he couldn't leave. "Everything's going to be okay. I know what happened, but it's over, the Machine's gone." Child suspected that it had to mean the Brain itself if he was speaking bluntly about one machine in particular and stared at it. His body was giving out as the hands moved on him. He wanted to push this other doll, but he couldn't, he was too tired and too unwilling.

Nine managed to feel comfortable enough that he pulled the other closer until he was holding him, "It's alright. Nobody can hurt you anymore. I'm taking you back home with me." For the first time since he left his Father's side on that final night, Child actually felt safe, and let himself go limp. Nine, meanwhile, exhaled calmly and accepted his fate. The Stitchpunk in his hands was just like him; they had both made a terrible mistake for foolish reasons. Save that Nine was now the one holding an oil dripping creature known merely as Child.

But that was alright, eventually he managed to get the other to his feet, pulling one of the other's arms around his shoulders, "It's time to go." Child looked to the one assisting him, knowing that he himself had given up, he didn't think he could keep going even if he wanted to. Maybe there was a chance that he needed to keep going though, maybe for the one beside him, for the other doll he had wanted his father to make for so long who was now standing beside him.

He knew little about this Stitchpunk, yet here he was being sympathetic towards him. He could hear his father in his voice and at least knew that part of him remained. If that was the case then Child was going to live, if just to live for this. Nine added in with a final smile, "We're going home." They were heading home as well. As he took the other back down the steps he only paused to stare upwards at the cloudy sky. The others would be confused, but it was just going to have to be another adjustment in their new world, and Nine was confident that this time he wasn't making a mistake.

After all, if Nine could forgive him then why couldn't the others? They all deserved a second chance.

And they all had gotten one

With the rain.

FIN

For Now

Mable: It got a bit rushed at the end… Ah well. I hope everyone enjoyed this fic!