A/N: This is based off an OC of my 9 characters: it's the story of how 5 1/2 loses her left optic to the Machines.
5 1/2 ran for her life, clutching 6 1/2 by the hand as the two stitchpunks made their way to the tin can that was currently serving as their shelter. Narrowly dodging a stray bullet and giant clods of dirt, the pair dove inside the can, their metal hands and feet clanging against the flimsy tin can.
A gentle hand helped Five to her feet. "Thanks, Seven," Five thanked her, dusting herself off-for all of about .2 seconds. There was the impending whistle of another bullet, before the world exploded around Five.
Instantly, there was a searing pain that stabbed into her left optic before Five hit the ground. She was dazedly confused. Stitchpunks weren't supposed to feel pain; they weren't built to.
That wasn't the point at the moment. Right now, there was only concern for the others. Was Six all right?
The next comment that registered in her audio receptors answered her question. "Six, help me carry Five back to the nearest shelter." That was Two. What's wrong with me? I don't need carrying. She unsteadily rose to her feet, and staggered a few steps, before she tripped over an unknown object, and was caught by gentle hands. Her last thought before Five blacked out was, What happened...?
5 1/2 woke up disoriented and confused. Where was she? The last thing she remembered was being helped to her feet by 7 1/2... Then, darkness.
Five tried to blink, and instantly, a stabbing pain registered in her left optic. Her hand flew to the optic, and instead of a part, she found a gaping hole with several objects protruding from the gap in her "skin". Gears, her brain informed her. The stabbing pain was, in fact, the gears trying and failing to lock into place, jostling several other parts in the process. Five sucked in a breath.
Swinging her legs off the table, she staggered and tripped her way over to the lift, tugged on the rope. 8 1/2 showed no sign of distress of the gaping hole that was once her left optic, except to gesture to Two's workshop.
"So you're awake," Two said gently, easing her onto a table. "My eye...?" Five queried. "I'm sorry," Two said sadly. "No... It can't be replaced?"
"I'm afraid not, Five. It's too damaged, beyond repair." Two moved to a nearby table, and picked up a thick strip of black cloth, along with a needle and some thread. "This may hurt, and it will take a bit longer than expected." Two then started to sew on the strip.
After about ten minutes of Five wincing, and Two apologising, Five was equipped with a new patch, and all the offending gears were removed, "So that you won't suffer every time you blink," Two had said.
Five made her way back to her room, and stared at her reflection in the shard of mirror in the corner of the room. It was unfamiliar, seeing herself with that strange patch over the hole that was once her eye. Two had left the ends of the patch hanging in two long strips that descended nearly to her waist. Five didn't like it-those strands out there for the world to see. Reaching around, she grabbed the ends, and tied them into a bow at the back of the right side of her head, so that the ribbons blended with her hair.
Much better.
Five stared at her reflection once again. It was painful, staring at the new her.
She would have that patch for the rest of her life.
THE END