This chapter isn't really exciting, but the next one will be! So sorry for the wait, my faithful fans. You'll get the next chapter much sooner, I promise!

~Cel

Part Seven: The Lost

9 walked through the Emptiness, the eerie quiet surrounding him and pressing down upon him. The dark grey sky far above his head cast sinister shadows down upon the dead, dry wasteland. Buildings loomed over the small male ragdoll, their crumbling fortresses leaning desolately against one another. 9 could easily hear the angry howling of the winds as they ripped across the Barrens, and the deep, ominous rumble of thunder crashing in the distance. The sound seemed to be creeping closer and closer, the storm journeying across the atmosphere. However, in the calm between the claps of thunder, 9 could even hear his own breathing, which sounded as loud as a roaring Machine. It was that quiet, out here in the silence.

He climbed over mountains of rubble, leapt over long, deep crevices in the streets, and kept his eyes on the path ahead. He could still faintly remember the path to the horrific factory, where the Fabrication Machine and its minions had once resided…the place where this whole nightmare had begun. Even though his shoulder kept giving terrible jolts of excruciating pain that coursed all down his body, 9 never once stopped to rest. He kept walking, ignoring all of the pain within his body. He was no longer concerned on how this injury sapped him of strength He'd be able to rest after he found 5. Until then, he would keep walking and never cease his search.

9 paused at the base of a large pile of bricks, crumbling and sharp, fallen from a building they were up against. It appeared some sort of blast had made the yawning hole in the wall. 9 looked in all directions, closely surveying his surroundings. It seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't see if he was on the right path or not anymore. He'd need a view from higher up. Mentally cursing his small size, the young ragdoll climbed up the tall pile of bricks, wincing from the pain in his shoulder. It was getting progressively worse, and was getting much harder to move now. But 9 clenched his jaw and continued to climb until he reached the topmost point of the rubble hill. Straightening, 9 found that he actually had a good view from way up here. Peering around the building, he saw something vaguely familiar. It was no more than a pile of warped, twisted metal, walls that had caved in on one another, and smokestacks that lay, crumbled, on the ground, but he still recognized it. It once held the murderer that was called the Fabrication Machine. It was the factory. 9 had made it. 5 must be nearby!

9 clambered down from the mountain of crumbling bricks, and turned in the direction of the destroyed factory. He suddenly felt some sort of hope enter his heart, and he quickened his pace slightly. Oh, how he hoped that 5 was still there, and he could find him. He couldn't have moved too far! 9 hoped that he wasn't extremely ill or injured. However, no matter the circumstances, 9 would take care of 5, of his brother, until he was better. Then they'd be a family once more. And he and 7, the twins, and 6 would have their big brother back…

9 halted in his tracks, his poor heart falling. 7's beautiful, pale, heart-shaped face glimmered in his mind's eye, and he bit his lower lip. Grasping the tab to his zipper, he slowly pulled down and reached inside of his chest. His copper fingers closed around the tooth, and he pulled out 7's skullmet earring. Holding it tenderly in his palm, he raised his hand to look at the earring. Oh, 7, how he missed her.

He wished that he could run up to her, embrace her, and tell her all he felt for her. He didn't know quite when he admitted it to himself, but 9 had loved her, with all of his heart, ever since he first set eyes upon the fearsome warrior. She was beautiful, brave, fierce, and kind. She had been beside 9 through everything, and was his very dearest friend. He'd cried in front of her, and she had hugged him like she'd never let him go. He'd made her laugh when everybody felt down. She'd forgiven him, and told him that she'd always be his friend, no matter what. But he knew that he couldn't tell her that he loved her. He highly doubted that such a graceful warrior would be interested in an inept, idiotic dork such as himself. He wouldn't endanger their friendship to attempt to tell 7 how he felt. Sighing deeply, 9 closed his fingers around the tooth earring, bringing his fist up to his lips. He'd knew that, no matter what, he would protect and care for 7 with his life. He'd never let her go. He'd always be there for her.

Suddenly, something that sounded like two planets crashing together shook the earth beneath 9, and he gave a startled, loud cry. His nerves felt like they were set on fire, his heart skipping a beat at the sound. Immediate images of the Fabrication Machine, chasing him and roaring, about to grab him in those unforgiving iron claws appeared in his mind, and he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. His feet pounded the still, dry dirt below him, gasping for breath. He didn't care if he was heading in the right direction or not anymore – a full-blown panic had taken over his mind. He suddenly spotted a small overhang of metal. He dove into the small cave, backing as far up into the cavern as possible. His chest heaved with fast, shallow breaths, his heart beating furiously, and his body shaking with fright. The terrible rumble slowly faded away, leaving 9 to catch his breath and calm down.

Peering out from the cave, 9 realized that it hadn't been an immense, terrible Machine, but merely an enormous crash of thunder. Little drops of rain began to fall around the dead land, just a small light drizzle. 9 crawled out of the cave, feeling a little foolish. Thunder couldn't hurt him, and there were no Machines stalking the land any longer. Shaking his head, he looked around, blinking as small raindrops dripped onto his optics. He felt like an absolute fool now. He'd have to retrace his steps and find the path once more to the place where 5 had fallen. How much time he'd wasted already!

Mentally cursing himself, 9 placed the tooth earring back inside of his chest and zipped himself up. He walked around the pile of scrap metal he had hidden under, and attempted to gain his bearings so he could find the right path again. What he found next made him blink in wonder. He had run straight towards the destroyed factory, and the pile of scrap metal was actually warped and twisted rubbish fallen from the factory itself. An enormous, crumbling smokestack towered over the small ragdoll. He actually found himself grinning in great relief and happiness. 5 must be close by, he must!

"5!" 9's voice rang out through the silent Emptiness like the triumphant call of a victorious soldier. Darting out into the open, 9 scrambled up the hill, tripping over himself in his happiness (as well as various scraps of debris). He didn't even consider the fact that had been troubling him for the past few days – 5 might not even be there, he might have moved on, even out into the Barrens, out into the empty world, left to wander out his life, alone…

"5, 5! 5, it's me, it's 9! I'm here, 5!" 9 kept crying out as he clambered up the hill, his feet sending pebbles and bits of dirt flying. Hope coursed through him, enveloped his heart, as he finally reached the flat plate of ground atop the small hill. He straightened immediately, his cheeks hurting from his wide grin.

"5, 5, I –" 9's relieved, panting call stopped short as his eyes were finally lain upon the desolate scene before him. The smile immediately slid from his face as he took in his surroundings. His heart seemed to break all over again as his eyes fell upon the charred ground, the burned Victrola, the immense record player's bell lying in the dust, the base and all of the records nothing but charred, useless ash. Bits of plastic, glass, and white embers floated across the ground. There had been a fire here. There had been a massive fire where 5 had fallen. It must have been sparked from the lightning storm that had caused the flood, washing 9 away into the forest and starting this whole escapade.

"No…" 9 whispered, his voice caught on the silent wind and carried away forever. Walking forward, a sort of numbness took over his body. He could only stare at the charred remains of the record player, of the empty whiskey bottle, of the record disks. 9 felt like he was screaming, like something was dying inside of his very soul, but he couldn't make a single sound. He could only stare at the ashes and embers and cinders that spelled death. He walked through them, tiny little swirls of grey ash swirling around his legs and sticking to his burlap skin. It felt like he couldn't breathe, and his heart had stopped beating. The fire was so large, so immense…if 5 had really woken the same time as the others, then he wouldn't have had nearly enough time to escape from the ravenous flames that destroyed every single thing in its path.

9 suddenly stopped short, his eyes falling upon something familiar. He bent down, lifting a scrap of wood from the shred of cloth he had spotted. He tenderly lifted it out of the ash and into his hands, which were shaking horribly. Blinking, his lower lip trembling, 9 held the cloth up to his eyes. It was a shred of rough burlap, and was tan, just a shade darker than his own skin. 9 sank to his knees in the ash, staring at the shred of burlap he held in his hands.

"5…oh, 5, no…NOOO!" 9 cried out, anguish bursting from his very soul. His cries filled the silent, still air around him as he bent over the only remains of 5 and sobbed. He held the cloth to his heart, closing his eyes and rocking in an unfathomable grief. He had been too late. 5 was dead once more, and this time, it was for good. He had no body to return to. He had been reduced to nothing more than ashes and cinders. His metallic body parts had all melted away. It was all 9's fault, once more. He hadn't gotten there in time, and 5 was lost forever. Their family would never be complete.

When 9 had first woken, when he had first met 5, they had instantly bonded. Although 9 was far too young at first to understand such a strong bond, he slowly began to comprehend what 5 meant to him. He felt safe around the elder burlap stitchpunk, because he always knew that 5 would look out for him – no matter how meek he seemed, how frightened, he'd always be there for him. The chains that held their bond together were unbreakable, and it seemed like they'd strengthened their very souls, and 9 knew that he would always love his brother very much.

But now, those chains had disintegrated in the fire. The love of two brothers had burned into embers. It was his fault. It was all 9's fault. 5 had a second chance at the life he was supposed to live, free and safe, and 9 had crushed that chance. 5 was never going to forgive him now, after all he'd done to him. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn't let anyone else die, and would never let the Fabrication Machine even get close to 5. He broke his promise. He had let 5 go…

Oh, what was 2 going to think? 5 was his son, one of the people on this Earth that the old inventor had loved the most. He had said that he knew 9 was going to bring 5 home, safe and sound, but he was so wrong. The elder brother to 3 and 4, and to 6…the one whom they cared about so, and were so eager and anxious to see the one-eyed Healer part of their family once more, and they were going to be devastated. And 7…he knew that 7 loved 5 with all of her heart. Now, the stitchpunk coven had lost a member of their family, and yet again, it was his fault. He wasn't meant to be part of a family. All he did was cause pain and strife. He wasn't meant for anything. He didn't have a purpose. The Scientist should have never created him…

His head suddenly snapped up, his hearing sensors just barely catching the whisper carried on the wind. Mist and drizzle condensed on his burlap skin and ran down his arms, back, and cheeks. Straightening, still holding the last piece of 5 to his heart, 9 strained his hearing sensors for another murmur on the wind. Oh, he was just fooling himself. There was no murmur. He was lost, and alone, in the world now. There was no one around him. It was a mere trick of the wind.

"…oooo…heelll…ooo…?"

There! There it was again, the murmur that was carried across the land on the wind, lifted gently through the world like the grey ashes 9 was still sitting in. He blinked as he heard the faint, but sure, call once again. He couldn't make out the voice, couldn't tell if it was from a male or female being, but it was a voice, nonetheless.

"5?" 9 whispered to himself, slowly rising from the cinders, still holding the shred of burlap in his fist. His eyes scanned the landscape, looking for the familiar form of the other burlap ragdoll. But he was still the only one here. 9's dark brown brow furrowed in confusion as he turned this way and that, trying to find the direction in which the voice was coming from.

"…iiinne…Nii….nnne…" When 9 heard his name imprinted upon the wind, it was unmistakable. He knew that he wasn't fooling himself – there was somebody else out there. Could it possibly be…?

Before 9 could even open his mouth to call back out to the being, a searing, burning pain enveloped his left hand. White hot flashing filled his mind. The pain streaked up his arm, and even more fire seemed to explode in his shoulder as he yanked his hand backwards. He cried out in pain as he was thrown backwards from the force of the blast. Panic enveloped his mind as he scrambled backwards, the pain pushed back for the moment. Scrambling to his feet, 9 rushed away from whatever had hit him and ran underneath the protective canopy of the ruined record bell. He stumbled under the bell, pressing his numbered back into the hood behind him.

9's heart was beating so fast, it felt like it would soon burst through his chest. He desperately pulled in the cool, damp air, trying to catch his breath. He sank down, sighing deeply and willing himself to calm down. He then lifted the hand that felt like had caught fire. His poor fingers were smoldering, but not burned. His wooden palm was slightly blackened, but not too badly injured. 9 stared at his hand, wondering what could possibly have burned him so. Slowly, he crawled to the side of the hood, peering out.

The thunder rumbled across the sky now, the rain turning into a torrent, threatening to drown the dead city. Huge, stinging raindrops pattered on the metal overhang, soaking into the earth below. 9 peered out of his shelter hesitantly, glancing up towards the sky. The clouds seemed to glow white as a rumble of thunder shook the skies above. 9 blinked, and realized that he'd nearly been hit by lightning. It had been the plasmatic, searing force from the sky that had burned his hand. Sighing, 9 knew he had to stay as far away from other metals as possible. Copper, the very metal his fingers were made from, was an excellent conductor for electricity. On his own, he would be fine, but touching another metal, he would be burned to death before he could even blink. Crawling out of the cave slightly, 9 held his hands out, under the rain. He sighed in relief as the blessed cool soothed his hand. He pulled back his hands, making sure that they were now soaking wet. That way, they would be less of a threat to him.

Sighing again, 9 sat back against the wall, picking up the shred of burlap and turning it over and over in his wet fingers. 9 then held his fist up to his cheek, fighting the urge to cry again. How was he ever going to return home, to his coven? What were they going to think of him, now that he'd failed yet another mission, that 5 was dead once more? Perhaps he just shouldn't return…he had brought more than enough pain and strife to those he loved. Yet…it would be unfair to 7, to 2, and the others, to let them believe that he'd died on his mission. He knew that they would worry about him, and he didn't want that. Oh, what was he to do! He wanted to just scream, scream until his voice box exploded and he lost his voice forever. 9 pressed his fists into his eyes, wishing that this was just a nightmare, that when he would finally wake up, 5 would be alive, and happy to see him…and forgive him…

Suddenly, as 9 sighed again, taking a deep breath, his lungs burned. Coughing, 9 shook his head, confused. Experimentally, he tried to take a deep inhale again, but the breath he took was sharp and heavy. 9 began to become rather frightened. Looking out of his shelter once more, he realized that he could barely see the outside. Everything was blocked with dark, thick smoke. Gasping, he scrambled out of his shelter, his eyes wide as he looked up to the sky. An enormous pillar of dark, black smoke swirled gracefully in the whistling wind, the rain pounding the earth below.

Every single survival instinct took over 9's mind as he dashed out from the shelter. He knew he had to get out of the field as soon as possible, get as far away from this place as he could, before he was overcome with the deadly smoke and asphyxiated. Squinting, trying his best to see through the smoke and avoid breathing it in, 9 struggled through the field, trying to estimate which way was out. He stumbled over debris he couldn't see, bumped into large laths of wood and the immense telephone poles. 9 knew he wasn't moving near fast enough to escape.

The smoke began to envelope him, shutting him in a dark world where you could barely see, barely breathe. 9 looked around desperately, trying to find the way out of the choking, burning cloud of black smoke. He coughed, his chest seizing up from the blatant lack of oxygen. 9 struggled to keep himself calm, and not to panic. For once, he was thankful that he was so small in stature – smoke rises. He was close enough to the ground where he could at least breathe. Suddenly, he could hear a sort of low rumbling, cracking noise. Whirling around, his eyes fell upon the blaze itself – orange, yellow and white, licking its way across the land, eating up whatever was left of the dried and dead grass, and was now slowly snaking its way up the telephone poles that lined the small clearing. 9 could hear the snapping crackle and popping of the wood as the columns were devoured by the ever-ravenous inferno.

9 suddenly stopped dead in his tracks as he saw that the pole towering above him was groaning. Its base was already burned through, blackened and glowing with gleaming crimson embers. The fire was eating through it, weakening the pole. The groaning increased in pitch, and then there was the crack of burnt, weakened wood as the telephone pole leaned forward. Metallic snapping sounds echoed through the clearing as the wires snapped and whipped around through the air. The enormous pole toppled to the ground. 9 turned on his heel and ran as fast as his legs could possibly carry him. His feet pounded furiously against the ground as he scrambled to get out of the way. The pillar of charred and blackened lumber collapsed to the ground with an enormous crash, 9 still barely underneath the immense post…