Part One

9 was watching the world come alive again.

Well, maybe alive wasn't the operative word. It didn't look any greener than before, like the way it had in the painting. But he'd found a small, solitary cluster of flowers just outside the door and he'd spent five minutes straight staring at it. Then he'd realized the twins would want to see, and then he'd realized 7 would want to see it as well. So he'd gone to get all three of them, and afterwards he and 7 had watched the twins fluttering around it like excited moths around a flame.

But watching the world wasn't the only reason he was up here, staring out the broken window.

9 was thinking. For the past few weeks, he'd felt someone other than the four of them around the building they lived in. When they'd come back from the funeral, he'd noticed the rain looked peculiar - not all of it, just a few drops here and there. It had little bits of green in it, and he thought that it might be his friends' souls coloring the rain.

He hadn't said anything at the time, because he'd felt too drained. Watching the others, especially his first real friends, 2 and 5, disappear without any possibility of them coming back had left him weak in ways fighting the Machines had not. It was like watching them die all over again, but not quite as bad - the hand on his shoulder, the brief nod, the smile and happy goodbyes. Or as happy a goodbye can ever be.

7 finally came up to get him, saying the twins were getting worried and frankly, so was she. He smiled, a little of the heaviness lifting from his shoulders, and followed her back down to 3 and 4. Her bird mask was sitting on an unraveled spool of thread, and she thrust it back on with a sense of determination. She was going out scouting, to see if there was anything they could use, but 9 knew she was also going to look for any signs of the planet come back to life. Sometimes she found Machines, here and there, left over from before. He'd offered to go with her once, but she'd told him to stay with the twins in case something happened.

Taking a seat on the spool, he simply sat there and felt. There was the weight of eyes on his back, and it was not that of 3 or 4. He could hear them running around, flipping pages and skittering about, and it wasn't them who stared at him and made him wish, made his desperately hope.

9 wondered if this was anything like what 6 might have felt.

7 thought he was seeing things.

In truth, he wasn't. Not really. It wasn't like he was seeing his best friend, or their former leader wondering around the bell tower. He felt like if he tried hard enough, or simply not-tried, he could see them out of the corner of his eye. And it wasn't quick glimpses of them - if he didn't turn and look, he could see 2 sitting on the pile of encyclopedia volumes, watching him, for quite a while.

But he couldn't see 2's expression, because it was, like most things out the corner of his eyes, indistinct. So eventually he turned and looked, and nothing was there.

Once the twins had caught him at it, looking at things that weren't there, they'd grabbed his arms and dragged him over to a stack of old books. After pushing the top few off, they'd pulled a hardbacked blue one down and opened it, shoving large sections of pages over. 3 had held up his hand once they'd found the right pages, and 9 climbed on top to get a better view. Together, they pointed at four large words printed in thick black, then motioned at the definition below it. He'd stared, then laughed, a bit weakly.

"Guys, I don't have post…post tra…PTSD."

4 leaned down and pointed at the pronunciation tip at the bottom of the page, in tiny print.

"Alright, fine, but I still don't have it. I just-" he broke off there, not sure how to explain. I see our dead comrades sometimes, if I don't look directly at them? "I'm just missing them, is all." He rubbed the back of his head, a little lost.

Looking at each other, the two shot forward and wrapped themselves around him, hands on his chest and shoulders. He laughed, hugged them back, and stared over their heads at the flash of shadow he'd thought was 8.

7 came back to see them still curled around each other, propped up against the spine of the book.

9 had never seen 7 move faster than she had the time he broke the mirror.

Then again, it hadn't been his fault. At least he didn't think it was. 9 had been standing there, on a lower shelf, wondering where the twins had gone off to. Hands on his hips like an exasperated mother, he'd turned around and seen 6. He had seen 6, standing there, staring right back at him from the mirror, not a whole mirror but a broken off portion that had probably been here before the twins started collecting things.

Then 6 had gone, just like the snap of the fingers, and he's rushed forward and his hand had hit it, and it broke. He hadn't expected that. He ended up falling off the shelf, which was only a few feet up, and was incredibly lucky the shards missed him, because their medic and stand-in medic were both dead. Except maybe they weren't.

Or they were, and 9 really was suffering from PTSD.

Then 7 had come down from the bell tower as quickly the sand storm that had so suddenly engulfed him and 5 all those weeks ago, spear in hand. She'd been shocked when she saw it was only 9, and his clumsiness. Except then she'd tipped the bird skull up, and given him this look. It was not an angry look, or much of a look he'd seen before from her. She looked at him like she was afraid he might have been leaving, and she couldn't follow him, but he wasn't going anywhere and didn't get it. Afterwards, once the twins came down and he'd removed himself from the mess of broken mirror, covering his forearm which did have a rip in it, he did get it. She'd looked at him like she couldn't help him, because he might have been going crazy. He'd seen 6.

Except 6 was dead, body lost, way down at the bottom of the canyon. He'd felt horrible for that, because they'd been unable to find his body for the burial. Even if 2's body was lost to them, it had received a proper send off. And then there was 8…

He rubbed at his eyes, feeling tired, watching the twins stare at the pile of shards before running over to him, inspecting his arm.

"I'll go get the thread," 7 told them. But their chief medic and his replacement were dead, and 7 couldn't sew and he'd tried and failed miserably. In the end the twins found a book on sewing, spent several minutes poring over it, and gave it their best shot. It was a lot better than previous attempts.

9 had been sleeping, the twins at his side and 7 perched above them, their guard that had dozed off. The day had left him anxious, worn out, and he slept fitfully.

For the past week, he hadn't seen any of them. Not straight on, or out of the corner of his eyes, nor had he felt their gazes on him. While before they had simply been there, not often together but still there, now their presence had shifted. Not gone, but moved as one large group. 9 felt that he had something to do, because they had to be there for a reason, unless they were just haunting him for the hell of it. Haunting. That was a word the twins had taught him. He hadn't laughed it off, but instead spent several hours reading, staring at the pictures of old houses. 3 and 4 seemed pleased with this and went to go do something else.

They were somewhere together, and he did not know where and he did not know why, and it was smothering him. The depressing idea that they needed him to do something and he couldn't figure out what it was.

He awoke with a start, pinned under the bodies of 3 and 4, staring out at the entrance to the main room. It was raining out, he could just barely hear it from the enclosed room of where they were sleeping. 9 squirmed out of their grips, watching the two immediately gravitate towards each other for comfort. 7 twitched, foot jerking up as she yawned and curled in on herself.

9 was out of it; he knew that in his groggy state, but he still left them and walked out into the cool air of the main area. Rain was coming in through the broken windows, and he woke up just a bit more when the cold water hit his shoulders and head once he was outside.

He shielded his eyes with a copper hand, heading determinedly out to the grave site. The downpour was effecting his vision, but he still made it to 5's gave first, staring down at it with assurance. The rain was no longer green. It hadn't been green for a week.

9 fell to his knees, dragging his hands through the wet dirt, shoving as much of it aside as he could. He had to hurry before it all turned to mud, before it got heavier and harder to move. Thrusting his hands into the ground again, ignoring the particles that got into his joints and the rain that was going to soak through him, he didn't hear 7 come up until she was nearly on top of him.

"9," she said, sounding frantic. "9, what are you doing, what-"

A hand shot out of the ground, and she screamed, a high pitched sound he'd never heard from her before. Then her legs folded under herself, and she was there, trying to displace as much soil as possible, and 9 grabbed onto the hand and pulled. 5 was there, bottom half still covered in dirt, rubbing futilely at his one eye. 9 sat up and looked around, made sure 5 was okay, and scrambled over to 1's grave. The rain was coming down harder, and he was grateful the twins came out then, a magazine held over their heads as he dug and dug and dug.

"What took you so long?" 1 demanded, coughing as he was pulled from the ground. He staggered out, and sat down underneath the twin's makeshift covering.

9 nearly ran over to 8's grave, where 7 and 5 already were, before stopping. When they'd made the graves, they'd gone back and looked for 8's body. They'd found it, and it had been badly burned and covered in the Seamstress's restrictive stitching. While they'd managed to remove the red thread, they hadn't thought to do anything about the burns, and-

1 was standing next to him, lips pursed. "You found him too?"

"Yeah," 9 replied, quietly. "He was…in bad shape. The fire-"

"I know." Silence overtook them, and then 9 leaned forward to help 8 onto his feet. His back was scorched black, sections of it missing, his right arm was nothing but the metal skeleton underneath, and there was an assortment of burns on him, but he could walk okay. 5 could probably stitch him another arm, and make a patch for his back too, once his own eye was taken care of. 9 had forgotten, for a moment, about the black hole in the side of his face.

3 tugged on his hand, and 4 pointed to the edges of the magazine, which were dripping water. "We need to get inside," 9 announced to them, and lifted his hands to help carry the wet load of paper.

Once they were inside, however, they needed to be taken to the drier room rather than the main, which was slick with water and the air damp and freezing.

They all needed to dry off quick, before they accumulated enough to affect their inner workings. 9 was surprised their newly living friends could walk at all. 1's hand needed to be fixed, he noticed, as the once-was leader kept it covered with the other.

3 and 4 set about getting blankets and 9 rigged up a fan to help them dry quicker. They were all muddy and wet, and 7 set her things aside before getting to work on getting everyone organized and comfortable. 8 seemed unsure what to do with himself, used to either fighting or guarding 1, who went over to sit by him, fussing over his wounds by ordering him to sit straighter and not move what was left of his arm around. 9 went over to 5, who was curled up in a dark brown swath of cloth, shivering.

"9," 5 said, smiling and then laughing when 9 hugged him. "Happy to see you again," he told him, before sliding under the blanket. The twins, after inspecting 8's back and arm, and 1's hand (who unsuccessfully tried to shoo them away) went over to sit by 7.

"Sorry about before," 5 mumbled.

"About what?"

"Before. You know, showing up all the time and not saying anything." 5 shrugged, rubbing shoulders with him, and slumped against his friend.

"You were trying to drive me crazy on purpose?"

"No! No, we just couldn't make ourselves there enough for you to see. 6 could, I guess, but then that didn't seem to do anything good."

"Speaking of that, when we're dry and you've got yourself and everyone fixed up, I need you to take a look at my arm for me."

"My…ah," he paused, as if unsure what to label the gaping socket. "I'll be fine, it's just a small patch. I saw you all trying to fix it." He changed the subject swiftly, letting the unspoken 'you can't sew to save your life' sink in. Then 5 gave him a closer look, head pillowed on 9's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Better. But…" 9 lowered his head, voice quiet. "I think…when we're all better, a few of us need to go find 2 and 6." He rushed on, trying to alleviate 5's stress, evident in the tense silence. "We can find them, 5, it'll just take time. We can probably find 6 first…he's probably alive now, trying to get back to us."

"We left 2-"

"We let him go." His sharp response earned a few stares, and ducked his head even lower to 5's. "We can find him again, and fix him. But we can get to 6 first, and you know 2 can take care of himself until then." 9 knew 5 wanted to go after the older doll first, and he himself didn't like the idea of either of them being left alone. "Or maybe…"

"…what?"

"We could split up. There are only a few Machines running around now, and we might not even run into them. If I take one group and you take another…" 9 crawled off the pile of old clothes they'd been sitting on and wandered over to the candlelight, thinking. How could they divide their forces equally enough so that they'd all be safe in case of an attack?

"9?" He turned to 7, who had the twins wrapped around her. "What are you thinking?"

"I know what he's thinking," 1 snapped. "He's thinking we need to go get the others."

"We do!" 9 replied, a bit loudly. "We do. They're alive too, and-"

"And now he's trying to figure out how to do it." 5 stood, dragging the blanket with him, and placed himself next to 9.

"Well, we can't do it now," 1 insisted, not really trying to stop them. "We're all wet and dirty, and it's raining." He lifted his bad hand to make a point before quickly lowering it again.

"And some of us are hurt," 9 acknowledged. "I know. I'm just making plans."

The twins stood, ran out the door, and came back again with ink and some paper. 4 handed him a pen nib, and he thought of 6 at the bottom of the canyon and started writing. "Alright. I think it's best if we take two groups once we're strong enough and go searching separately for 2 and 6." He marked Group One and Group Two on the paper. "I'll take the first group, with…" he paused. 7 and 8 would have to go in different groups, so he put down 8 in the first group and 7 in the second. 1 would probably want to go with 8, so he put him down as well. Then the twins could go with 7, and 2 could be in charge of that group.

He stood up and took a step back to look over the paper. Group One had himself, 8, and 1. Group Two had 5, 7, 3, and 4. As evenly matched as he could make it, he crouched down and tapped the pen nib on the edge. "Feel free to say anything," he offered, a little sheepishly.

"Who's going after who?" 7 demanded, propping her elbow on her knee as she leaned forward for a better look.

"My group will go 6, and you all can go after 2." He kind of really wanted to stay with 5, and meet up with 2 again, but he was more than a little anxious of 6 alone, after that huge fall. 6 wasn't like the others; he'd been so withdrawn, and not much of a fighter. If he was caught by a stray Machine, 9 wasn't sure he could defend himself.

"And then what?" 1 interrupted. "What say we find 6, since he probably hasn't gone too far." As opposed to 2, who might be who knows where, which in a rare moment of tact, he did not say. "Do we come back here and wait?" "No." 9 stood, wincing at the cracked mud along his legs. "If 6 isn't too badly hurt, we can go after the others and help them find 2."

"And if he is?" 8 asked, surprising several of them.

"Then…we'll…" 2 would probably take more effort to track down. Everyone knew that, it was obvious, but if 6 couldn't make the journey… "We can take 6 back here. 1 and 8, you can stay with him, and I'll go after the others."

There was the general shifting that came after a group decision, then silence.

"…everyone okay with that?" The ragdoll asked, setting the pen nib down to scratch dried mud off his arms.

1 sighed, resigned. "When are we going?"

"I can patch everyone up in the morning." Behind him, he could hear 5 sitting back down, sounding tired.

"We need to rest before that," 7 pointed out.

"And after all that, we can go." Since standing up, he's dried off quicker and now the realization that the mud was stuck in his hands was bothering him. 9 more of less got all the dirt off before dragging 5 over to the fan, who complained that he was tired and just wanted to go to sleep. That set off 7, who was annoyed that they were just sitting around letting the dirt cake their bodies, and she managed to bully 1 into getting up and in front of the fan as well. 8 followed, and since 3 and 4 were already cleaned off, they started cataloguing everything, prodding the flaking mud, then scraping it off.

9 smiled as he helped 5 brush himself off. They would find the others, and everything would be okay.

"Need some help?" 9 asked 5, who had finished patching up 8's back. He was now working on cutting out the material to make a new arm.

"Yeah, please," 5 motioned at the needle. "Could you thread that for me?" 9 set about uncoiling the thread. There was a clatter, and he and 5 looked up when a pack of marbles rolled past them. "What are they doing?" 5 asked.

"I think 3 and 4 are looking for something to make a new hand with." 1 was so touchy about it. His snappishness would almost have been funny if 9 hadn't caught him gazing at it, quiet and obviously miserable. "I could probably figure out a way to do it, if they find something I can use," 9 added. He handed 5 the needle and thread, who began sewing up the side.

"9?" He queried, trying to sound casual.

"Yeah?" 9 replied, curiously.

"What if," he yanked the new arm closer, "what if we can't find 2?"

"We can," 9 replied timidly, before putting more surety in his voice. "We will. The water has to lead somewhere, right? So your group can just follow it, and - oh, we'll have to make something you can maneuver in the water-"

5 laughed. "I like how you automatically assigned me to finding 2."

9 cringed, but the other didn't sound annoyed. "I know how much you want to find him."

5 stilled, staring down at the arm, slumped over himself. High above, there was a clinking noise.

"I just…I care about 6 as well, but I-"

"I know." 9 got down on his knees next to him, voice earnest. 5 dropped the needle, turned, and threw his arms around 9, who squeezed him back. His face was buried in 9's chest, and he was breathing hard. He smoothed his hand down his friend's back, over and over again, and hoped that it helped.

"Is this it?" 7 prodded the would-be raft with her toe.

"It's not finished yet," 9 insisted, who was currently working on rebuilding 1's hand. Or at least something he could use as a hand. He'd simply dropped what he was doing, which had been roping the wood together, when the twins had shoved a pile of workable parts into his arms.

"How's 5 doing?" She asked, voice a bit funny.

"How's 1 doing?" He shot back, picking up a tiny screw with dismay. Great. Now he'd need to find a screwdriver. A tiny screwdriver. Maybe the Scientist would have one in his house somewhere.

"Fine. He's just grouchy because of his hand." She was staring at the raft, as if trying to figure out what it did.

"I would be too, if mine got mangled like his did." He dropped the screw and studied his own hand, then gave up because his hand looked nothing like 1's. Or the parts that the twins had found, for that matter.

"At least he's got 8," she said, earning a blank look from him. "What? 1 always liked 8. And 8 was always loyal to him."

"So I noticed. And he's doing alright?"

"Him, too. He's just annoyed that he lost his knife." She tapped her spear, smirking.

9 rolled his eyes. "We'll have to find him anther weapon before we leave." He studied the gray metal, assembling it in his mind. That could work as a thumb-

"So what about 5?"

He glanced up, frowning. "Why?" He sat up, looking around as if 5 would be outside, waiting for examination. "Did he look sad or something?"

"No." 7 was looking at him a bit oddly again. "Last I recall, he was working on a patch for your arm."

"Oh," 9 said, pleased. 7 stared at him a minute before sighing, as if he was beyond all hope, and tipped her mask forward.

"I'm going to go make sure nothing's lurking around," she told him, and then 7 was gone.

Puzzled, 9 looked at the parts before him before giving up and deciding he was better off searching for a screwdriver.

Back inside, 5 was getting annoyed. "Well you can't go alone; what if there's a Machine out there?"

"Then I'll hide," 9 insisted. He wasn't sure whether he should find it funny or rude that the twins were cataloguing their argument. Since he had enough stress for the moment, he opted for 'funny'.

That's really stupid, 5 didn't say, because he was too nice and polite to do so, but instead just looked at him. And yes, hiding might not really work out all that well, especially if there was more than one Machine walking about, but that wasn't even likely. "There weren't even any Machines anywhere near there when I went last time," he added.

"Then take the twins with you so it'll take less time."

The twins stopped, looked at each other, and nodded. 9 assumed it was an agreement to go.

"Why don't you shut up and go with him?" 1 snapped as he passed them by, carrying the top of a holed spoon. He'd apparently decided to go get 8 a new face guard.

5 opened his mouth to respond before shutting it and looking questioningly at 9. "Fine by me," 9 said, and patted 5 on the shoulder.