Explanations

Well hi there! As some may know, this is my first 9 fanfic, but I'm not going to complain or warn that it may suck. In the end, if it does suck, then STOP READING. There's no point rotting your brain if you don't have to. That said, I do not own 9 or any of its characters or concepts. I only own 10 and (most!) of her ideas that she writes in her journal.

For those who care, I haven't given up on In With the Pack. Assyria's tired of haulin' ass and kickin' ass and she needs a break. And Ryou can be stressful...

Onz Ward! To the fic!

I once heard that the world had ended.

Or so I thought I heard it. To be honest, I couldn't tell you who I heard it from, or when. All I know is that it had been said. So it must be cannon, right?

I wouldn't have doubted it for a second. The world I entered was of darkness.... It was cold and empty, safe for the voices, the voices that never stopped...

I once heard that the world had ended. And somehow, I think the horror is the truth.

The stone beneath her back was cold. It made her feel hollow inside; she sat up and slowly opened her eyes. The world was dark-- too dark to really see anything-- and empty, from what she could tell. She lifted a hand to her spinning head--

Wait a minute. A hand? She looked at it, at the blackened steel fingers. They were round phalanges that ended with dull points: Not sharp enough to scratch or to cause any real damage, but just enough to pull apart fine threads, if she had to. But when would she have to? Why would that thought even come to her mind?

You know why.

Startled, she twisted around quickly, searching for the source of the voice. The gloom was thick as wool. She saw no one.

A gust of wind caused her to shiver as it blew right through her. Why was she here? What sick mistake was she a part of, being dumped in hell like this?

"What the fuck." she said monotonously.

This surprised her. The sound was from her; she knew it to be true, she had consciously made it. But it sounded.....wrong. She glanced down, bringing a hand to her chin in contemplation.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!?!!?" She barked. That was better, but still not quite right. The pitch was alright, but the volume...not so much. She thought again.

Take the middle ground idiot.

Just do it. No questions. Is talking REALLY that hard for you?

Again, she spun around, not quite sure who was talking to her. Whoever it had been the first time, they had multiplied: there now three voices. But there were still no sources of them. Her brow furrowed in frustration.

"What the fuck?" she sighed.

That was it. The words sounded wrong and almost dirty, but she didn't understand why. They are words, no? Things that can be manipulated with no hard feelings in the end. Or at least that was what a fourth voice told her. She frowned. What were words? What did it mean for them to be dirty? Why was THAT the only thing she could think of? Sure, she had a million and one questions. She could have streamed out a string of them and circled the world twice. But somehow, "What the fuck" seemed to sum them up nicely. So she didn't argue.

She shoved herself up from the icy stone. Her knees, where ever they were in the darkness, wobbled weakly. She took a step...and almost collapsed. She stood again, and this time was able to walk around with no trouble...

...Until she fell.

It had been sudden. The stone ground beneath her feet was suddenly not there, and with her next step she plummeted into the night. She only had time to gasp before her fall made her guts (or the ones she didn't have) hit the floor. And she, too, landed harshly in a clump of dusty earth. She coughed, now certain that she was not likely to return to her previous cold post, and pushed herself to her feet with shaking arms. The spinning returned, and she held her hand to her head to steady it. She stumbled drunkenly through the gloom, colliding and tripping over various objects.

Watch where you're going!

Klutz. Why am I trapped here in YOU?

Hey, you two aren't the only ones here!

Get out. Quickly....

She liked this final voice. It was soft and kind, albeit a bit demanding, but much more understanding than the other three. But where was it coming from? And the other three? She shook herself free of these queries. Get out, the kind voice had said. She would-- Maybe freeing herself of...where ever she was would answer some question and shut the three malignant voices up.

Her stumbling sent her straight into the blinding light. Where it had come from, she wasn't sure. She held her arm up to shied her eyes. They adjusted slowly, but one they did, she could see odd patterned fabric in front of her. Was that...her arm? It had seemed blackish in the dark...She turned her head around to the place she had just come from...what was it?

A cave, dumbass, said voice one.

She blinked. "Shut up," she replied, and then looked a bit shocked that she had. But it didn't matter. The voice quieted itself. She returned her attention to her arm. It was a deep green color, with skinny stripes of blue. Or was it blue with thick bars of green? She wasn't sure, wasn't even sure she understood the concept of 'color'. Where had the word come from?

Before another voice could assault her, she busied herself with studying the rest of her body. A similar fabric composed most of her body, except for a square shaped patch sewn on her side and jutting across her stomach like a shark bite to the side. What was a shark? Why had she thought of that?

You're doing it again. Being stupid. Stop that, voice 2 took its opportunity at attacking her.

Where are they coming from? she wondered.

Inside, said a soft voice.

She blinked. It made sense. Voices, but no bodies. So they must be inside of her, for she could hear them clear as day but they had no external stimuli.

Well, Sherlock, one mystery down.

Who's Sherlock?

* * *

She had begun her journey, unsure of where she was to go. She scanned the world she was now in: There didn't seem to be any where to go. From rock to cinder block, she leapt around, traveling downward. She had been at the top of a hill, and looking back, the cave she had immerged from actually a tent-like structure. The gusty wind rippled its vibrant red sheet. She wasn't sure of why she had woken there. Had she always been there? Where had she come from? She hadn't paid much mind to where she was going, and when she landed from a particularly long jump down, her foot caught something and she slipped.

"What the?" she said. She saw something about the size of a postage stamp, black and leather bound, and thick. Curious, she crawled over and picked it up. It was filled with yellowish lined paper, but there was no story. It was empty... just like her, and the world she was in. Empty and blank. The only difference between her and the book was that the book probably had a better idea of its location than she did of hers. But she liked the book. It was smooth under her fingers, and it smelled nice. She sat nostalgically, not sure what she was being nostalgic about, but all the same thinking and remembering that that did not happen. She wanted to take the book with her; what she would do with it, she didn't know, but she wanted to keep it. It made her happy, and silenced the babbling voices. She searched her person for a way to carry it. She didn't want to walk around with it in her hand. What if she dropped it? Or placed it down somewhere and forgot it?

On her left side was the patch of red. Across her stomach was a zipper, its handle dangling from the right side of her waist. She took hold of it, frightened of what might happen if she unzipped it. She would be opening herself up, no? Would all her insides fall out? She inhaled deeply, and counted three beats before yanking the zipper open with such a violence that the handle popped off. She flinched, terrified. It had hurt slightly when the handle had come off, but other than that...nothing happened. She reached her black fingers underneath the teeth and pulled the lip of her abdomen up, peering inside curiously. It was mostly dark, but from what she could see, she was pretty empty inside. She reached in, and felt that it wasn't nearly as deep as she had thought.

She held her newly prized possession in one hand, and her broken appendage in the other. She shrugged, and shoved the two items into her stomach. They both fit well, with room for more treasures, but she would leave treasure hunting for another day. She fumbled with the tiny loop on her zipper with her fingers. They were just pointed enough to grip it, and she pulled her abdomen shut. There, she thought, no biggie. She let go.

Or tried to, anyway.

She pulled and pulled with all her might. Her fingers were stuck! She tried to unclench them, but they were lodged beneath the rectangular shaped hole where the zipper used to attach to. Her right hand was now connected to her stomach. Great, she thought. She was a bit nervous. One less hand in this world seemed dangerous, and she had only been in it for about an hour! Who knew what she might encounter?

As if on cue, she heard the sound of footsteps nearby. She gasped in fear; if she had a heart, then it had stopped. She trembled. Panicking, she ran behind a large (well, for her) boulder, back pressed against it. Her breaths came in heavy gasps as she struggled to free her right hand from the zipper, but she couldn't; her fingers were well lodged. She listened intently: the footsteps were coming closer, but they didn't sound like they were coming from anything particularly heavy or large. Perhaps she could fight it?

No, run, said the fourth voice. It's safer that way.

She looked up at the looming cliffside and then around the canyon she was trapped in. I can't, she acknowledged dreadfully.

Then do the logical thing, said voice number one as she leaned over to pick up a thick club-like splinter of wood, and kick its ass.

The steps were loud now. Their creator would be passing by any moment...

She sucked in a breath and rounded the corner, flailing her twig. Her eyes were shut tight, and she felt her victim's body squirm as she pummeled it with her weapon. She yelled, hoping that if the abuse failed to scare it, her "big noise" would instead.

Something grabbed hold of her arm, and she instinctively turned on her new offender. Her eyes flung open to see that her "offender" was no monster, but a being much like herself, only...older. His face was flooded with concern, as were his words. "It's alright, calm down! Dear child, you are fine!"

She dropped her bludger quickly, shaking all over. She had almost beaten the living daylights out of a poor old man! She quickly turned to the one she had beaten, and was slightly relieved to see that he was much younger than his partner. His hands were held over his head, warding off any additional attacks he might receive. He peeked up at her to see she was disarmed, and slowly lowered his arms with a look of caution and fear etched into his face. "What was that for?" he asked, bewildered.

She couldn't speak. It was as if she had forgotten what words were and how to use them-- although, this was quite possible, sinse she still wasn't sure how speaking worked yet. She was mortified, and she tried to run away but the shorter being grasped her arm that was immobilized and began examining her. "What happened here, dear?" he said, his tone that of a sincerely intrigued physicist. She tugged a bit, trying to recoil away, but let him study her. His friend sighed and rubbed his head. "No, that's ok, Too, I'm fine."

"Oh, don't be so silly. She hit you with a flimsy sliver of wood."

"It still hurt!"

The older one, Too, chuckled in good humor. "I've had much worse pain inflicted on me, m'boy." He took the chance to look up at his comrade, and his expression changed to worry. "Oh, you are hurt." He released his captive and hobbled over to his burlap friend. A thick leather patch that was sewn over where his left eye was supposed to be was lesion and peeling open. On Too's back was a large number 2 drawn in ink...

Oooooh, she thought, his name is 2.

Duh, replied voice 1 irritatedly.

2 swung his friend around, causing him to stumble. On the burlap being's back, much like his elder, was an upside down 2, or maybe it wasn't. She counted in her head, trying to remember things she had never learned. 2 was busy rummaging through a quiver that was strapped to his friend's back, and soon produced a sewing needle equipped with thread. He half pushed his friend down, who rolled his one optic as he plopped on his rear. His...mentor, maybe? She wasn't sure of their relationship. Were they brothers? Father and son? Cousins?

Gay lovers? suggested voice 1.

What are those?

* * *

When 2 had finally completed mending his accompanist, the green being was still there. She had stood by and watched in avid fascination as the thread pulled the hole in 'Upside-down 2's' head shut. And with a gentle knot, it was complete. Some loose string hung from the patients head, making him look ridiculous.

He stood up and brushed himself off, then smiled sweetly to 2. "Thanks."

"Anytime, m'boy," was his reply.

Both boys looked up at the now awkward looking green stitchpunk, who was, once again, attempting to free her right hand. The younger one chuckled as he approached her. "Need a hand?"he offered. But she didn't reply, only swiftly recoiled backwards until her back bumped the rocky wall. He gave her a puzzled look. "Hey, take it easy. I just want to help." Again, he approached her, this time much more slowly, and gingerly helped her unlodge her index finger and thumb from the tiny loop of the broken zipper. His eye held hers the whole time. She stretched and flexed her now free hand, looking down at it in slight surprise. "Better?" her new friend asked.

She looked up at him. "Y-ya. Thank you."

His face lit up a bit as he smiled. "So you can talk!"

She frowned, feeling a bit offended. "Course I can. I'm not stupid." She quickly covered her mouth and hastily apologized. The other laughed. "It's alright. I was only joking anyway."

2 came up to his friend, smiling kindly. "We didn't mean to startle you. My name is 2. This is my apprentice, Feyev."

Feyev…Wait, thought the green girl, 1, 2….Feyev…5? A 5 is an upside-down 2, no?

"5…" she pondered, and the burlap being gave her a funny look. She looked up, still puzzled. "5 is a number?"

"….ya…"

She smiled, embarrassed at her ignorance. "I….thought so."

"So, what is your name?"

She froze. What WAS her name? She had been alive for maybe an hour and a half. There had been no one to stand up and say, "I dub thee –". So how would she know? The other two had their name inked into their backs. Did she? She strained her body to see if she could possibly snag a glimpse at her number, assuming she HAD a number. 2 hobbled over to her and chuckled light heartedly. He looked at her back. "There is nothing…Oh, here," he lifted up her hood, one she didn't even know she had. "What is it?" she asked timidly. If she could have blushed with shame, she would have done so.

"Tehn."

She tried to picture it in her mind, but nothing came. "Is it…a number?"

5's face lit up in understanding. "You can't read, can you?"

She wiped around to face him. "What is reading?"

"When did you wake, m'girl?" 2 asked, placing his hand on her shoulder.

She blinked in response, thinking. "This…this morning, I think."

"No, no," interjected 5, "What he means is, when did you wake for the first time? When were you born?"

"That was this morning, too, I think."

The two older stitchpunks exchanged glances. "Why, you're just a baby!" 2 said in utter surprise. "So you can't count?" 5 asked.

"I'm not a baby!" The youngest cried. She pulled free of 2's gentle grasp. "I'm just…new at this. This life." She reached back and pulled her hood over her head in hopes of hiding her shame. She was shrouded in a pinkish red shadow.

"Tehn."

She wouldn't look up; she was too embarrassed.

"Look, Tehn."

She saw 5 kneel from the corner of her eye, smoothing the dirt. She turned her head slightly, peering down at what he was doing. Into the Earth, he etched a line and a circle. Curious, she slowly approached him, leaning over to see the drawing. That was it—just a line and a circle. "W…What is it?"

5 looked up and smiled softly at her. "Your name." He pointed to the line. "One"—and then he pointed to the circle—"Zero. Together, they make Tehn."

"T…Tehn?" She thought hard about it, trying to make the connection.

OOOH Come ON! cried voice 2. It's painfully obvious. Your name is 10.

"10?"

"That's right," 5 answered. "10."

"Oooooh, I see now," she said. His smile widened.

A sound like metal claws scratching on a chalkboard rang in the distance. Her head popped up immediately, as did, 5's. There was silence for a while, followed by the hasty scuffing of 2's tired feet. "We should go," he said, pulling the younger beings to their feet. 5 pulled out a sharp looking object from the quiver on his back. He nodded to 10, who held a confused and frightened look on her face. "What was that?"

"Some thing bad," he replied as he took off after 2.

10 stood alone, unsure what to do. Where was she going to go? She had no home. She couldn't go back to where she had come from—that was where the roar had come. She pulled her arms to her and shrank down. She was terrified.

Run, idiot.

Why are you just standing there? You want it to eat you?

Typical. Scared stiff.

Don't be afraid, said gentle voice number four, Look.

She raised her head to see 5 running back to her with 2 a slight ways off. The burlap being grabbed her arm carefully. "Come on, 10. What are you waiting for? We have to go." He pulled her after him as he took off.

* * *

The building they had eventually stopped in was enormous to 10. She looked up from her position out in front of it, and she couldn't see the top. The door itself was at least a hundred times taller than her. She stood, gaping up at the colossal stone church, feeling rather small and insignificant in comparison.

2 walked by, pausing to admire the massiveness of his home with her for a moment, and then with a wheezy chuckle continued up the stairs. This pulled 10 out of her own daze, and she scrambled to catch up with him and 5. The buttoned stitchpunk waited patiently by the door, a look of worry displayed on his face as he scanned the horizon. Seeing 2 and 10 climb over the final step safely, he sighed heavily and entered the cathedral.

The inside, to 10, seemed even bigger than the outside. She froze when she heard tapping of feet, but giggled to herself when she found that they belonged to her. She leapt from foot to foot, enjoying the click sound her metal feet made on the stone.

They walked to a bucket that rested on the ground and the new stitchpunk was hesitant to enter it. She looked up; it was attached to a rope that seemed to have been dropped from miles above. She wasn't sure she wanted to climb that high. She was startled when 2 patted her back and smiled reassuringly before climbing into the lift, 5 on his tail. The younger brown being turned to see his new friend curling her arms to herself nervously. "What's wrong?"

"I…"she started, ducking her head shyly. She wasn't sure why the height frightened her. She had managed to climb down the side of a mountain only minutes after she awoke—surely she wasn't frightened of the height itself? But the bucket looked old and rusted, and she was not excited about being carried up a great distance in something that looked like it was about to break.

"Come on."

She looked up. 5 was holding his hand out to her. "It'll be alright," he said. "This isn't the scariest thing you'll see, trust me."

Trust me.

10 blinked, then carefully took his hand and climbed in the lift. It jolted to life and began its slow assent. 10 refused to relinquish the older stitchpunks hand the whole ride up.