Okay, so here's the first chapter. I'm not sure if I'm officially done with it and may be adding on to the end the next time I have time. Thanks to Darken-che-chan and Nova Bucker for favoriting this story, Dictionary-0 and 15animefreak15 for putting it on alert, and luv2muchanime for doing both of the above.

There is some stuff you should know about 11. She is not slow or any other thing, it's just that music is her language. She isn't very good at taking song lyrics out of something and arranging them so that she can actually have a conversation. Since she was not around the other stitchpunks she hasn't really had the chance to practice this. Also, since this is pre-movie, the stitchpunks are not yet in the cathedral.

Disclaimer- I own nothing you recognize.

The earth was a wasteland. It was littered with rusting metal and decaying corpses and it was making 13 sick. She looked away, a sudden wind making the remains of the playground merry-go-round spin. She closed her eyes, feeling the same wave of nausea wash over her as she'd felt in the basement. The annoying squeal of the metal halted in a jam, jostling 13 and sending her against one of the handles. She stood shakily and tried to reorient herself, but found herself too dizzy and pain to do so properly and ended up doing a face plant in what was left of the sand.

Plunk. Plunk. Plunk.

13 lifted herself up just enough to look around, using one hand to wipe sand off her face. The monotoned sound continued, making noises like a rubberband being plucked. Her eyes followed up the old slide and notice another stitchpunk. No, 13 thought, still groggy from the blow to her head. I'm hallucinating. There's no one else around here but me. She laid back down in the sand, trying to recover.

"Hello? Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone home?" a voice sang, presumably belonging to the "imaginary" stitchpunk.

Great. Pink Floyd. I'm definitely hallucinating. 13 propped her head up on her hand. "What do you want?"

"Come on, now. I hear your feeling down. I can ease your pain, get you on your feet again." 13 watched the stitchpunk come at her from the bottom of the slide, holding a rough cardboard cutout of a guitar with a single rubberband string attached. "Relax. I need some information first. Just the basic facts. Can you show me where it hurts?"

"I'm 13 and I'm okay. It wasn't all that bad. You're 11, right?" 13 asked, noticing the number on the pale blue denim, right on her forehead. She had tied a metal bottle cap on her head. The other stitchpunk nodded.

"Okay. Just a little pin prick. There'll be no more 'ahh', but you may feel a little sick. Now can you stand up?" 13 stood, taking the offered hand. "I do believe it's working. Good. That'll keep you going through the show. Come on, it's time to go.

The strumming of the guitar sopped and 13 found her opportunity to speak. "Go? Go where?" 11 paused, thinking.

"Others. More." She gestured between 13 and herself, trying to get the point across without quoting another song. "You, me." 13 took a moment to process the broken speech.

"You...want to find the others?" 11 nodded vigorously, bottlecap hat slipping. "Do you know where they are?" She shook her head.

"Not far. Saw many. Don't like many."

So 11 didn't like crowds. Said stitchpunk suddenly pointed in one direction. "They went that was? How long ago?"

"Day. More, less. No sky." 13 looked up at the gray expanse above them. "Catch up?"

13 nodded momentarily. "We should be able to. They couldn't have gone far in a day." 11 slung the guitar over her shoulder using the same frayed ribbon that held her hat on.

"Go now. Move quick," 11 said simply, grabbing 13's hand and helping her out of the sand ditch around the merry-go-round. The pair set off in the afore mentioned direction, carefully maneuvering the demolished world.

-x-

11 was the first one to pick up on the voices, her musically attuned ears detecting the low conversation between two stitchpunks. "Hear that?" she asked her traveling companion, stepping up onto the remains of a tire and looking around. 13 followed, standing on her toes to make up for the height difference. She noticed the two others scouring around in the debris and gripped 11's arm in joy.

"So, there really are others up and about," she murmured to herself. "Close, too." She threw her hands in the air and began to wave frantically. "Hey! Hey, you!" The other stitchpunks looked up, exchanged a delighted look, and hurried over, tripping over rubble in their hast. Unable to contain her excitement, 13 gripped the two in an impossibly tight hug. "I'm so happy I could combust!" she exclaimed with a wide smile.

"Oh, please don't," one of them chuckled and 13 released them. He then pointed to himself. "I'm 2 and this is 5," he explained, the two turning around to prove it. 13 clapped her hands together.

"I'm 13 and she's 11!" she informed despite the fact that their letters were in plain view. "And we're both really happy to see you, aren't we?" 11, a little dazed about suddenly being brought into the conversation, nodded and messed with her guitar strap. "11 said there were more of you around. Are there?"

5 nodded as 2 spoke. "There are. Would you like to meet them? I'm sure some would be happy to get such a greeting."

13 embraced him once more. "Oh, yes, of course! You have no idea how...worried...I've been...." About you guys? What? she wondered, confused about what the thought meant. "Um, let's go!"

Now that you've read, please review!