It was called snow and, in theory, It was cold and wet.1 only knew about snow's tendency to be cold in wet in theory because there was no way in hell he was going out there to find out first hand. Not only was he not very keen on getting soaked, but he was cold enough without romping around in the open, thank you very much. Instead he huddled inside the crate they were currently sheltering in, wrapped in a tattered greenish piece of flannel, watching 2 prance around in the snow like an idiot, getting wet and dirty and just asking to catch rust or mildew. As far as 1 knew, he and 2 were, if not the only ones of their kind, certainly the oldest. 1 knew in an abstract way that he was an old man, despite having been made only a few weeks before. He knew that 2 was also possessed of a sense of elderhood, but he refused to act accordingly. 1 tried to be firm and responsible, finding them shelter, keeping them out of danger… Meanwhile, 2 gleefully shirked such trappings of age and insisted on exploring and experiencing. He was the one who decided it was a smashing idea to try and climb all the way to the top of one of the bombed-out buildings (he made it to the top, but slipped on the way down and dislocated his leg), he decided to go on this useless search for others like them (they had found none as of yet), and he decided to run around in the cold and damp (he was going to get mildew and it was going to smell and slow them down just as much as the leg injury had, 1 just knew it).

Yes, 2 made the rash choices, the madcap notions… but 1 was the one who followed him.

The eldest doll scowled and burrowed deeper into the flannel. He had been totally alone before he found 2, and he didn't plan on being alone again. It was too awful, too dangerous, too frightening, too… soul-crushing. He would never admit it, but he had hated the loneliness. When he found 2, he latched on and refused to let go. 2 may have been completely insane and may have had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, but he was all 1 had. 1 acknowledged and accepted his own possessive nature and had long since moved on to more productive pursuits, such as making sure 2 didn't get killed.

He watched his companion frolic about, making piles of snow and admiring the ice crystals forming on his aluminum fingers. He even made a bloody snow angel, the childish fool.

"Are you finished, yet?" snapped 1, he voiced cutting the cold air. 2 smiled indulgently at him, making 1 bristle and sneer. "For God's sake, will you come inside already?" 2 laughed and threw up his hands.

"All right, all right, I'm finished." He hop-skipped though the snow and leapt a short distance into the crate, landing with a 'thunk!'

"You mind your leg, you reckless lunatic. We can't have it breaking again." 1 chastised, scowling fiercely. 2 only laughed again.

"You old worrywart, my leg's fine. Perfectly mended, see?" he joked, sticking out his left leg and flexing the knee. 1 slapped the appendage away, quickly becoming frustrated with 2's complete disregard for his own safety.

"Fine nothing, you still limp." he said crossly. 2 sniffed dramatically in mock offence.

"I do not, sir. Why the very notion-" 1 glared at him and he relented. "Alright, perhaps a little. But I'm fine, 1, really. I'm looking after it. I'm not climbing any more buildings, am I?"

"Oh, and leaping about like a flea is much better for you?" 1 retorted.

"A flea? Why a flea? Surely I'm worthy of something a little more stately? Like a toad?" 2 demanded, ginning like a loon. 1 grumbled lowly and ignored him. He was being silly and 1 didn't care for such things. 2 only laughed at his sour expression.

Still chortling, 2 plunked down next to 1 and started pulling on a corner of the flannel.

"Budge up, will you? I'm freezing."

"And whose fault is that?" scolded 1, but he let 2 pull the blanket open and shuffle in next to him, tucking the flannel tightly back around the both of them when he had settled. For a while they simply looked at the snow and then watched, 2 with delight and 1 with dismay, as more snow began to fall, first in small fluffy flakes and then in heavy, fat chunks. It was mid-afternoon, but the sky was overcast and the light had a grayish quality, making it seem much later in the day. It was apparently too wet for the machines and too cold for the humans, for the world around their little hideaway was quiet as the grave.

It was cozy under the flannel, the cloth and their own bodies warmed by the heat their whirring inner mechanisms created. Too much heat would make them ill, but too much cold could get very uncomfortable for their metallic limbs and innards. But the temperature was just right with the two of them wrapped up together. 1 almost felt… contented. He was comfortable, the snow was at least very pretty to look at, and he had 2, who wasn't even doing anything crazy or dangerous for once, by his side.

"It'll be a mess when it melts, won't it?" said 2 contemplatively.

"Indeed." Agreed 1 offhandedly. Yes, it would be very messy. There would be mud and rust and … human stuff… to contend with. 1 sneered at the thought of getting dirty and for a moment longed for the cathedral again. He and 2 had hidden there for two weeks, safe and sound within the sturdy stone walls and ancient wooden beams. Machines and inclement weather alike couldn't touch them there… But 2 had wanted to look for others…

What if there really were no others? 1 grumbled a little about the 'useless' search, but the more he thought about it, the more horrible it seemed… What if he and 2 were truly the only ones in the world of their kind? What if something were to happen to one of them? The other would be totally alone in a hostile world. It was a staggering, sobering thought. He glanced over at 2, who's usually cheery face was now set with lines of anxiety. 1 wondered if his companion was thinking the same thing as him.

"Poor things." Said 2 under his breath, not to anyone in particular. "Poor little things."

"Hmm?" 1 turned to the other doll and cocked a brow inquisitively.

"I was just thinking about the others out there. I hope they have shelter as good as ours. Mud and so much snow wouldn't be good for them…"

"We're safe, that's what important." Said 1 automatically. 2 frowned briefly, but his expression soon became thoughtful and slightly dreamy.

"I saw them, you know. Before they came a live like us." He said softly.

"What do you mean you saw them? Who's them?" sighed 1 irritably. He was getting tired and wasn't in the mood for 2's habit of speaking in riddles.

"Remember the old human? The scientist?" asked 2, fixing 1 with a strangely mesmerizing stare. 1 grimaced and nodded silently. The Scientist was not something they usually talked about. Their early memories of him were dim and confused, and the fact that he had apparently made them from scraps made 1 feel very uncomfortable. 1 and 2 were both born with an innate sense of God and science, just as they were both born with the ability to speak and read and invent ideas of their own. God or science (both, perhaps?) made the humans, but a frail old human made 1 and 2. It made 1 feel achingly vulnerable.

"When I was there… before he turned me loose, I remember… two little skeletons like ours." 2 continued, oblivious to 1's unease. "Smaller than me, which is saying something. So I think they must be out there. They were so small, 1."

1 frowned deeply at the sorrowful look on 2's face. 2 drove him up the wall, but he didn't like the way that expression looked on him. It looked like it didn't fit him. It did strange things to him mouth and his optics and… he just didn't like it. It was incongruous and 1 sis not like this that were incongruous.

"Oh, cheer up." 1 huffed, uncomfortable with cheery, playful 2's sudden sobriety. "You and I have survived, haven't we? You've got a trick knee and my back is not so strong, but we're still here, yes? Small or not, the new ones will be alright. We're made of tougher stuff than all that."

2 turned to look at him. At first he seemed… confused- no, surprised. Then he smiled: a slightly rakish but still warm and friendly grin that re-settled his featured back to their proper places. 1 felt satisfied that 2 looked right again. He locked eyes with 2 for a few seconds, feeling strangely off-kilter and shy as their gaze remained unbroken. He nodded briskly after a few seconds and turned back to look at the snow. The sky outside was getting very dark, but the snow glowed silver-white in the gloom. Even 1 had to admit: It was very, very beautiful.

When he felt 2 scoot closer and wrap an arm around his shoulders, he felt a sudden, strong urge to pull away… but he didn't. That would hurt 2 and he… didn't really… want to hurt 2. He was a stubborn creature and he sat still under 2's embrace until his misgivings faded away. 2 was warm, if still a bit damp from the snow, and his hands were kind and gentle. He gave 1's shoulders an affectionate squeeze. Unwillingly to remain passive (passiveness was equivalent to submission and that just wouldn't do) 1 abruptly wrapped an arm around 2's middle and pulled him close, secretly glorying in the warmth and sheer goodness of someone being close to him. He could feel 2's smile and heard his soft laugh and he almost pulled away… but 2 went quiet and leaned his head on 1's shoulder, snuggling in close to him. His laces were tickling 1 a little bit, but it wasn't unpleasant.

"The others…" he started, his voice gentle and smiling "They'd be younger than you and I." he laughed softly again. "Unless the Scientist had made a little army of old men like us, we'd be like parents to them. Fathers… or grandfathers." His voice was tinged with self-deprecation but there was the tiniest hint of wistfulness behind it. "Feel up to dealing with a bunch of rebellious youngsters, 1?"

"Don't be ridiculous." 1 grumbled, stifling the small thrill that skipped around in his chest.

Fathers…