Welcome to the mishmash of drabbles and odd moments collectively known as Stitches! I saw the movie last Saturday, and to put it plainly, I fell in love. And I've been working on a couple of these silly little things ever since. This is the first one I've actually finished, so this is the first one I'm putting up--more should be on the way soon. Until then, enjoy! And critiques are greatly appreciated. I like hearing people tell me what I did wrong in polite and intelligent ways so that I can fix it next time. :)

Disclaimer: 9 belongs to Shane Acker and Focus Features, not me. Though that would be pretty cool...

NOTES:

...Don't ask where Six/twins pairing came from, I honestly don't know. It has zero implication in the movie. I just thought it would be absolutely adorable and fun to write--and whaddaya know, it is! xD

Also, from everything I've heard/found, the twins really have no gender--they're sort of ambiguous on purpose. So I'm going to try to avoid the use of gender-related pronouns wherever those two are involved. But just so y'all know, in my personal canon for this particular drabble series thing, they're both girls. (...I think. xD)

Knowing

Six had loved the twins.

They were older than him in number, but it rarely seemed that way. They'd been innocent and curious beyond belief when they arrived, examining and cataloging everything in sight, while his introduction to the church had consisted of him running and hiding in the darkest corner he could find. The bright flashes of light from their optics as they committed everything that was to memory had intrigued him from the moment he first saw them—but he'd been too afraid to approach them. He was wary of others, especially after the reactions he'd received from his companions the first time they had found him in the midst of a vision.

"What is he doing?!"

"Look at him, he's shaking!"

"He's gone mad! Hold him back!"

"OWW! Hey, those things are sharp!!!"

He hadn't meant to slash those holes in Eight's side, but the burly stitchpunk had been trying to restrain his arms, and he had to finish the drawings. Had to. It was more than a mere compulsion—he couldn't control it, or block it. When the visions took over, he had no control, only the drive to draw. And the drawings were important. Nothing could get in their way.

Of course, he regretted it afterward. Eight had never really forgiven him, and One thought the young stitchpunk was completely insane. Even Two, Five, and Seven had avoided him for some time after the incident, giving him wide berth during his few excursions from his dark corner of the tower. It had taken quite a lot of time to prove to them all that he wasn't just a madman...time, and the intervention of Three and Four.

They had arrived at the edge of his safe, dark haven without a word (of course not, they never spoke to anyone), the faint clacking of their optic shutters startling him enough to make him knock over his bottle of ink. When he whirled to stare at them, their heads were tilted to the side in identical expressions of curiosity, optics still flashing rapidly as they took in every detail of the room and its sole inhabitant.

They'd wanted to know about his drawings. That much he had figured out quickly, as they spent almost five minutes examining those alone. But after that, they simply sat by the wall and looked at him for a few long minutes as he self-consciously fiddled with inks and drew his pictures. Not the pictures from his visions—he didn't like those much, they were always full of despair and darkness—but of other things that came to mind, the ones that would just bubble up from a feeling and spill out onto the paper.

And then without warning, the twins' strange, light-filled optics were projecting pictures of things they had seen from their books, truer representations of the things he'd been drawing before. It had surprised him at first that they could even decipher his clumsy sketches, but the surprise was quickly replaced by a strange, warm feeling he had never experienced before. The three of them sat there for hours and hours on end that first day, Six drawing pictures on every surface he could find, Three and Four delving into their extensive collection of memories and teaching him about the things he'd drawn.

One had immediately disapproved of the twins visiting him, of course, but there was really nothing the elder could do to stop them. Every moment they weren't poring over some new find or out looking for artifacts themselves (always under Seven's supervision, though this was yet another thing One greatly disapproved of), they were with Six. And Six had welcomed their company, despite being unable to understand a word they said most of the time. His poor, scrambled processor couldn't keep up with all the images they flickered through at once, and they often forgot to slow down for him. But he didn't mind—at least they were trying to talk to him at all. He appreciated that effort; even the Scientist had never actually tried to communicate with him, simply letting him do whatever he wanted before releasing him into the world.

It wasn't until a few weeks later that the twins began to bring others to visit him—first bold Seven, then inquisitive Two, then shy Five. Six had no idea how to talk to them at first, but none of them seemed to mind, and their repeated visits (with the twins always bouncing at their heels) slowly began to open him up to the miniature world outside of his dark corner. He was still afraid of Eight and wary of One, but the other three welcomed him, and he found himself happier than he had ever been. Even when he was alone and the darkest visions took him, he could never be depressed for long; by the time he woke, shaking from fear and exhaustion, there were others there to comfort him. The exact identity of those others varied depending on who was nearby at the time of his visions, but there was one thing that remained constant no matter what: The presence of Three and Four.

Six never could figure out how they knew when he was having a vision. Even if they were across the church when he was taken, they were always beside him when he was released, sometimes with one or more of the others and sometimes by themselves. They were the ones who caught him before he could collapse, and they simply held him until he could move again. And it was in those moments, when the two of them would sit huddled on either side of him, leaning so that each one's head rested lightly on his shoulders, that Six realized exactly how much they were coming to mean to him...and how much he would miss them when they were gone.

He'd already known they were going to leave. He'd seen it ages ago—they would go with Seven, and Seven would lead them to a place where they could find the answers they so desperately sought. She would protect them, and they would continue to learn and grow, away from Eight's intimidation and One's strangle-hold on them all. But that didn't make it ache any less in the days after, when he would have to remind himself they were gone and feel so crushingly alone. Two and Five were still kind to him (they even asked him to sketch blueprints for their inventions on occasion, and Six was honored to comply), but it simply wasn't the same. He missed the way the twins would barrel in, tumbling all over one another, when they had found something new and exciting to show him. He missed their steadying presence after his visions, when all he needed was something to keep him anchored to the world. And he just...missed them.

But they would return, all three of them. He had seen that, as well. It would only be for a short time—but when the Savior came, the one the Maker would call Nine, they would come back. And even though their "Savior" would do as much harm as he did help, Six didn't care. Nine's intentions were good...and he would bring the twins back.

Six would be able to see them one last time.

And that was all that really mattered.