I do not know why I am able to write this entry. I know that I am alive – it just seems so unreal after I performed what I believed to be my last soul transfer, as I was certain that it would kill me. My head is still pounding, so reflecting about the situation is useless for the moment. Maybe later I can make sense of this after I have gathered my thoughts.
I wake up to a fluttering caress against my forehead. I cough, and the weight vanishes. The dull thud and the sound of fabric sliding across the floor assure me it isn't just a dream. Sensations are distant, as are my thoughts, but this? I know this. I heard it a many times with the others, especially with the more eager ones like the twins.
I remember what happened. I'm too tired to be stunned, but not enough to stop my elation at this unexpected meeting.
Unfortunately, my voice breaks even before I open my mouth. I cough again, pain bursting in my chest as if a giant claw is squeezing the rest of what I have left of my life out of me. Knowing what has become of the B.R.A.I.N., that thought isn't too far off.
The tiny hand returns, petting my head. I wasn't even aware my eyes were still closed until I open them to the blurry images of my workshop's floor and something- someone else. I don't need to move my eyes, for Nine is standing directly in front of me. He looks at me in deep concern, but once we make sight contact, he breaks into a wide, relieved smile.
Never has sitting up been such a monumental task.
The moment I lifted my head, lightning struck my skull. It must have been visible in my face or I have made a sound –when I can see again, Nine is reaching with his arm for me, mouth open and moving. He stops, gaze falling as his hand touches his open chest. I want to ask him what is wrong, but my lungs are obviously sending me signals with these coughs.
He's touching my chin, gently, but urgently tugging at my beard. I feel myself smile.
Maybe resting a bit longer is truly the best ideas. Slowly my breathing returns to normal, but now I'm growing tired. So tired. Nine seems to want to keep me company, so I'm not worried.
Once I am sitting - the headache dulled to a throb -, something tugs at my trousers at my ankle. Nine is climbing up my leg, fast but confident. My hand hovers under him before I know it but he seems to be fine. I think of the twins.
I hide my amusement when he sprawls over the tip of my knee, his legs kicking as he struggles to pull himself up. He is strangely silent, but I have now a guess to the reason of that. I do smile when he stands up on my knee with a proud smile on his ow. He gestures at his moving mouth, then down at his zipper, expectantly looking at me. I chuckle.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have my glasses on, Nine. I need them to get a good look at you." I gesture at my eyes.
His face falls but not for long. He slides down my leg and starts looking around, while he has likely no idea what he's looking for. I chuckle again. His energy is endearing.
"Please give an old man a bit more rest. I need my magnifying glass and my tools as well, then I can help you regain your voice."
He looks at me, eyes wide, studying me carefully. His expression darkens, and he grasps his arm, looking to the side for a moment. He walks up to me, stroking my hand. What he lacks in voice currently he shows with his actions instead – and it is an apology bound with compassion.
Seeing the broken transfer apparatus, I'm glad that Nine didn't receive any more injuries from the fall than his voice box being knocked out of place. Not that it impedes him in communicating.
He relaxes when I pick him up, not even flinching when I open his chest to see if I could spot what is wrong. Once done, he stays sitting in my hand, calmly waiting for me to settle him down. He is like Five in that regard – trusting me to do the right thing. It takes some time because of my headache, but I manage to reach up so that Nine can step onto the table. He hesitates before I urge him, telling him I would be fine, that he should wait there.
Now, the biggest hurdle. Standing up or trying to again, at least.
My headache refuses to leave but I'm sitting on my chair at last. Nine has been watching my every move like a hawk from the table. I expected him to search a way to jump down when I struggled to my knees, so intensely he stared.
Still, this has sapped any strength I gathered. I rub my temple and over my eyes, the exhaustion catching up to me. I wish nothing more than to lie on my bed and sleep. To stand up is a daunting task in my current state, so I'll leave it to later. It wouldn't be the first time I fell asleep on this very chair, although my back never forgives me for hours if I do. Oh, well.
A knocking sound draws my focus to my work bench. Oh dear, when was it last that I cleaned it?
Nine is carrying a little screw driver, hands grasping around the handle as he knocks the butt against the wood. He stops when he sees he has my attention. Laying the tool down, he points at it then at his eyes in a quizzical fashion.
"This is a screw driver, a tool. My glasses should be around somewhere. Just let me check."
I pray that they didn't fall off the bench when I dragged the apparatus down with me. Sheets of paper are covering the ground… they could be anywhere. While Nine can pick them up for me, I might not spot them so soon, and I don't know if I can adequately describe them with my head throbbing.
But as my luck is in good mood today – I mean, I survived! –, a search party isn't necessary. The light glints off the glasses as they lie at the edge of the table where I put them before.
It gives my head a small relief as I put them on, my vision clearing. Nine tilts his head as he watches me curiously. Smiling, I lift them off to hold them in front of him. He eagerly steps forward, peering through the panes. I have a droll moment of seeing his face, magnified, scrunch up, before he stumbles back, rubbing furiously over his lenses.
I laugh out loud this time.