Mable: Whoa, this is WAY overdue. I actually think it was the chapter's content itself that had me stuck. It's very seldom that the transition between the first and second act is actually mid-way through a chapter. Still, I hope that everything will even out for now on, I have a few requests waiting that I'm eager to get finished! I don't own 9, simply Moss himself, Enjoy!

Without A Sound

Chapter Six: Cold Front

It wasn't easy to explain to the twins that the gardening book they were propping open was nearly worthless to him because he couldn't read a line of it. It was at this point that he had an idea why Eight hadn't responded when he actually spoke to him so Moss was a little bit unsure what to do. He could grasp some of the words well enough through the tide of letters, but it wasn't enough, and so eventually he had retorted to other things. Soon Eight and he found themselves tasked by the twins to stack books.

"Yeah, because this is what I like to do with my afternoon." Eight bitterly muttered to himself as he dropped a 'Through the Looking Glass' book down to create another stack. He was clearly not as eager with the work, which amused Moss quite a bit. He himself moved onto the next book to be moved as Eight sat down for a moment. He wasn't exactly tired but more wanting to stop for a second. It was tedious work in a way. It was at this time that some of the others seemed to appear. Two being one of them who made his way over to the taller male.

"We made you a cot upstairs." The Inventor stated, trying to use hand gestures to signal his words. "I'm afraid that I haven't been a good enough host. Come with me, I'll show you around." For a second Moss was uncertain and looked to the twins to make sure that they wouldn't mind not finishing the task. They didn't seem to care so he decided to follow, giving Eight a wave to signal his leaving. Surprisingly to anyone other than Moss, who didn't know Eight that well, Eight did give a bit of a wave back, though did it casually enough that it didn't seem like a big deal.

What was more important at the moment was the tour itself where Moss was taken around and showed the Library. Five and Nine popped up at one point and joined them along the way. Most of the Sanctuary was yet to be finished but Moss could get the gest well enough. It was towards the end of the tour when they were over by the pool that Moss noticed the time. It wasn't hard to look up and realize that the sky outside of the partially broken windows was turning a reddish orange that signaled sunset. It was now that he lifted his scythe, tapped Two on the shoulder, and prepared to leave.

Nine and Five were nearby watching the twins in amusement as they tried to bathe Six who, honestly, looked like he could use a bath. Two was stopped from joining by the tap and looked back to the taller male, "What is it, friend?" He asked affectionately with a smile and Moss smiled sadly before pointing to the window. The male wasn't sure what he meant until Moss followed by gesturing back towards the front of the Library. "You're leaving?" He asked in surprise before gesturing as well. The taller gave a slow nod before adjusting his hat and turning to head towards the front.

Two stopped him, "Wait, but you've only here for a short while. Can't you at least spend the night with us?" He coaxed, forgetting the other was deaf, and having to struggle to explain with hand gestures. Moss was insistent though, pointing towards the door and moving his scythe around as though cutting; he needed to return home to finish tending his garden. By now Nine heard and looked to Five, "Wait, he's leaving?" He asked as though having to get Five to assure him that he had heard correctly. The one eyed male shrugged a back, "That's what it sounds like."

Now Nine started forward as quick as possible to attempt to stop the taller male. Moss seemed determined and even when Nine stopped beside him he simply reached into his bag. He briefly went through it as Nine tried to convince him, "You can stay here with us! I mean, there's dirt outside, you could always make a garden here!" The zippered male didn't like the thought of a Stitchpunk being out there alone; whether it be Seven or Moss. Though Two's sympathetic murmur of his name reminded him that, again, Moss couldn't hear him, and wasn't looking at him so he couldn't read his gestures.

Suddenly Moss pulled a packet from his bag and handed it over to the zippered male in a friendly fashion. Nine immediately opened it and stared inside only to realize that they were the seeds that he had helped pluck from the plant before. He stared at them briefly before looking to Moss, "Thanks…" He had a feeling that there was nothing he could do and Two reached out to pat him on the back before speaking to Moss. "Feel free to come back whenever you wish." He insisted, trying to make hand gestures to explain it to the other male.

Moss seemed to get the gesture and nodded before starting out towards the front. "I'll tell One later," Two spoke to Nine and the others, who were further behind the three. "He may very well refuse to let Moss go elsewise, and we can't very well force him to stay here." Maybe everyone was weary because of Seven leaving so long ago, except for Nine who wasn't fully certain of the events. Passing Eight on the way out Moss waved to him again, though this time in goodbye. The Guard didn't seem to notice that meeting.

Once outside there were the final goodbyes. Six gave Moss another hug, though wasn't very shy with this one and Moss returned it eagerly. When he was done he pulled back and clutched his key, to which Five then put an arm around him, knowing he didn't like separations. The healer smiled at Moss and gave a small wave, "Take care." Now Two moved in to give a hug, not hesitant at all and smiling to the taller, "Again, come visit us, we're not going anywhere." Finally Moss turned to Nine, resting his scythe on his chest as he shook Nine's hand with both hands.

The zippered male smiled, "If you need us we're here, Moss... Hope you find Babylon." Moss raised a brow as though catching part of it before letting out a bit of a chuckle. He then pulled back, tipped his hat, and turned before wandering off into the Emptiness.

Two weeks passed and Moss stared at the tomato plant beginning to bud. It was no more than a sprout, but it wasn't fairing too well. He knelt down and lifted the limp bit of green with a look of distress etched across his face. Part of him wondered if it somehow knew that he hadn't been the one to plant it and it lashed out by refusing to grow. Or maybe that was just his obvious missing of the other Stitchpunks causing this suspicion. He certainly did miss the company, but with the sudden change in environment it wasn't like he could suddenly rush back and leave his garden to fend for itself.

Yet he was starting to become concerned for this little plant. It was clearly not going to survive at this rate and while Moss had an idea what could help he was hesitant to go through with it. He knew so much about plants and fertilizer and knew some of the best sources. Ash was one of them and he still had some left, but he had already tried putting some on it when he had first planted the sprout. Needless to say it helped little as the plant was suffering now. There was also manure, but the chances of finding living livestock to harvest from was slim to none.

There was one option that would be plentiful but that he hadn't stooped to collect before; bone meal. There were the bodies of deceased humans and animals everywhere so it wouldn't be difficult to find. Making the powder could have been tedious, but didn't seem fully impossible, and instead it was more of getting the substance that would actually be a real problem. Especially now, but Moss wasn't about to let the plant die, especially when it had been planted by one of the others. If anything he wanted it strong for when the others returned to visit.

That meant he was going to have to go out and find some suitable bones. With a stubborn resolve he stood and headed back to his home once again to get ready. Wrapped in his scarf, his jacket closed tightly, and with a pair of thick, work gloves on he was as ready as he would ever be. Scythe in hand and bag on back he wandered to the exit to the greenhouse and stared out through the transparent glass.

Out into the dense blanket of white.

The wind was harsher than Moss expected and as he continued on it nearly blew his thin frame over. His feet sunk into the icy slush that coated the ground as well with dull crunches that he couldn't hear. Though he doubted that Beasts would be a problem out here, he was more troubled by how quickly the snow had started to come down. It had been so sunny and warm, and then in an instant the weather had moved in, overtaking the Emptiness in a wide sweep. It was nearly impossible to decode which street was which out in this.

He started to walk through some of the dilapidated houses to seek out any signs of bones. One house in particular was burnt to a crisp and all the remained was a creaking floorboard below. Though he couldn't hear it; if he had he would have most likely second guessed walking on it. Halfway across and Moss was finally signaled by the board beneath him vibrating. He stopped in his tracks, feeling carefully, and suddenly the board fell. He only had a second to throw his scythe forward, lodging it into the wood as he fell, managing to stop himself from plummeting into the darkness below.

He swung there for a few seconds, optics wide and peering down into what was practically an abyss of nothingness, and then began to pull himself upwards. He climbed up easily but felt strange as he made it to his feet again. Moss was somewhat agile and usually able to pull himself together well after little incidents. Yet he was feeling a little worn down. His chest was aching and before he knew it he broke down into a coughing spell. He quickly pulled himself together the rest of the way and continued to trudge onwards.

Eventually Moss did find a deceased animal laying on the side of the road. He wasn't sure what kind it was under the snow, but it had been dead long enough that it was mere bones and perhaps was dead even before all of the humans were. Just thinking about humans triggered his already trembling body to shiver as a blip of a memory tried to gnaw through into his conscious mind. He pulled a small bone away, it looked to have once been a rib, and stuck it into his bag before realizing that he had to head back. His health was diminishing.

Now Moss actually regretted coming out as he started trying to make it back. Dark started to creep quickly and it was already hard to see through the increasing snowfall that hung in the air. Another puff of smoke came from his mouth as he let out another rattle of coughs. There was a sudden smothering feeling that seemed overtake his mouth. Almost as though the cold had stopped allowing oxygen into his body. So as he continued to press onwards he was slowly becoming more tired and even more lightheaded with every small step.

He knew he couldn't keep going on. Even though his plants needed him he needed to stop and yet even that seemed impossible. He was starting to forget exactly what was to go to head home and was even having problems figuring out where the Library could be. Eventually the cold weather was overtaking and he found himself beginning to falter more and more. The final straw was a gust of wind that blew off his hat and threw it against a low wall of broken stones. Moss stumbled over to it, now partially protected from the wind because of the wall, and leaned over to grab it.

What was supposed to be a brief respite soon changed as his hand slipped and his body finally gave and collapsed into the snow. When his will pushed him to move he only found that he could sit up and lean against the rocky wall behind him. He couldn't find the strength to stand again and as he rested there he actually considered that maybe he wouldn't stand again. A somber thought that should have brought up resistance, but he was so cold and so tired that he couldn't do anything more.

The deafening silence was a constant in his life, but when his vision started to go as well, pulled up with his back against the wall, he felt a terror that he hadn't felt since the last, deafening noise that had echoed through his audio receptors. The tall Stitchpunk suddenly felt everything slip away as he fell into a deep faint.

The blizzard had moved in over only a couple of days. While most of the Sanctuary was getting worked on daily to become a good home it wasn't yet enough. Two's legs' recovery had been going well, but there was a constant ache when he was cold, and he was certainly feeling cold tonight. Earlier the twins had been chilled and sluggish so Nine and Five had decided to bed with them. Unfortunately this meant that Five wasn't clinging to Two's back and the Inventor was cold and uncomfortable. His mind had a possible solution in sight, but he knew it was somewhat foolish of one.

Eventually he realized that he couldn't sleep like this and sat upwards before standing. His legs ached in protest as he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and exited the room and headed towards the next room over. As he brushed open the curtain and peered in he could see that both of the occupants were already asleep. Eight was reclined on his bed near the door while the far bed, the clearly more luxurious bed that was surrounded by a privacy curtain, clearly held the Leader.

Two felt the blush grow warmer as he crept closer to the bed. For some reason this room felt much warmer than his own and as he approached the bed he knew he couldn't go back. He pushed open the curtain and peered down into the bed where the taller male was asleep, curled under his blankets. Two nibbled at his bottom lip as he imagined the possible consequences. Either he would get caught and things would become even more awkward or he could sneak away before One actually awoke. The latter seemed like a better option.

Slowly he crept closer and tugged the thick blanket down before slowly starting to climb into the bed. He slipped into the bed before relaxing on the bedding. Only a few seconds passed before he scooted closer to the taller male and cuddled into his back. He assumed that One just probably wouldn't awaken and instead put an arm around his midsection while tucking his head into the crook of the other male's neck. Warmth spread through his body quickly and filled ever single inch of his frame as a tingly blush settled on his cheeks.

One still smelled strongly of the same cologne from before and Two found that he was becoming more interested in the other male. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this; it had to be back before he met the others when he was living alone with One and trying to survive. Only then did it occur to him that he had truly felt these feelings for the Leader before. It was jarring to remember something that he had smothered so long ago. Still he found that he was too comfortable to argue and started to relax further.

Nearly the second that Two was asleep another form popped into the bedroom, peeking its head in before creeping over to where the large Guard was sleeping. He leaned over the male before prodding at him. The guard woke relatively quickly, "Huh? What?" He blinked before looking over, only to be taken aback, "What are you doing in here?" There stood none other than Six; mismatched optics wide in the dark room as he clutched his key tightly in his sharp fingers. "I need you." He murmured quietly. Eight's optics widened and he stared at the smaller, "…What?"

"I need your help." Six corrected, but was still looking shaky. His pupils were dilated and twitching oddly which indicated that he had probably had a nightmare. Six always got twitchy after a nightmare and Eight huffed, "Why don't you go get Nine? Since you're best friends now." He replied sourly and promptly rolled over to face the wall. Yet Six didn't leave and murmured, "It's Moss." Eight paused before rolling over and facing the small male, "What about him?" The striped male suddenly looked fearful and looked downwards before answering. "He's out there. We need to get him, but I can't…"

He paused before looking straight at Eight, the worry clearly sketched across his face. "I can't carry him by myself." Now Eight allowed worry to pass his face as well.

Soon Eight found himself out in the freezing cold of the blizzard as well. Trudging through the thick bed of snow he followed the small Artist who was being thrown about by the harsh wind. He walked in strange zig-zag patterns along the route and the Guard was actually starting to question his judgment as they wandered out into the middle of white nothingness. Six stepped carefully in little patterns as Eight merely walked straight through, sinking into the snow as he did so. "You sure about this?" He called forward towards Six who turned back, still clutching his key.

"I'm sure." He responded, blocked by the sound of the wind. "What?" Eight called louder and now Six cried back, "I'm sure!" The striped one looked ahead before the larger called again, "Then where is he?" Six called back again, "Out there!" Eight called again, "Out there where?" Six called back once more, "Out there somewhere!" Eight gave him about ten more feet benefit of a doubt before he started to slow down, lagging back as Six darted around the area. It was then when skidding past an icy patch that he noticed something past a car.

It was so dark and so hard to see that the only reason Six could see was because of his 'feeling' that was leading him along. He hurried over, "He's here! He's over here!" To his horror his suspicion was correct; Moss was unconscious. "Eight!" He cried again as though to speed Eight before looking down at Moss and kneeling in the snow. Reaching out with a pen tipped hand he shook the taller male's limp frame and watched as there was no response. Becoming more panicked he began to shake harder, "Moss! Moss, wake up!"

"He's not going to hear you." Eight announced as he finally made it to the Stitchpunk's side, crouching down as well and shaking the Stitchpunk roughly. His optics flickered open briefly, but their gaze was unclear and dazed, as though he was still unconscious mentally. "What are we…?" Six started, his hand clutching onto Eight's arm and leaving an inkblot in its wake. "We're going to do what you asked me to do when you woke me up. We're going to carry him back to the others." He then reached down and scooped the thin male into his grasp. He was almost shocked how light he was.

Though he was also awkward to carry and even unconscious his limbs splayed out everywhere. Eight immediately turned and started back towards the Library while Six kneeled to grab Moss' hat and scythe off of the ground. He stared at the items for a few seconds, pondering to himself, "Was I too late?" He mentally asked himself. He was interrupted by Eight calling back, "Come on! I'm not having you pass out too!" The Artist straightened and hurried after him.

It was going to be a long night.

Mable: I'm going to start working on the next chapter as soon as possible! I hope everyone enjoyed!