A/N: Warning – much sadness ahead.

Here's the second half of the chapter. I'm not sorry to say it's all downhill from here. To be is to suffer. (Sorry, that bad pun is completely warranted in this case.) The final scene was incredibly difficult to write. By the time I was satisfied with it, I'd already gone through 3 different drafts, each more heartbreaking than the last.

In Memory Thorn, 9S observes that 2B attempts to deflect his attention from the Commander (lest he start the chain of events that leads to his termination). This is my interpretation on how such an attempt might have transpired.

Also, a shout-out to Aloice for letting me borrow and repurpose her idea about the origin of 'Nines'.


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7. The Executioner's Past

Part IV - Helplessness

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Coming up with a nickname for 9S is surprisingly difficult.

Not that 2B can claim the task is beyond her. While creative thought may not be a predisposition of hers – like it is for 9S – it does not lie outside the confines of her programming. Nevertheless, the fact remains that she is a combat android. Gauging physical threats, eliminating them, and maintaining her cool through it all are the things 2B does best. She has never had reason to deviate from the above and expand her mental horizons.

Until now.

It would be grossly incorrect to call herself 'philosophical', but the nature of names gets 2B thinking. What curious things they are. A handle by which a person identifies oneself and have others identify them. A defining yet involuntary characteristic. That's because names are often picked out by the owners' progenitors rather than the owners themselves.

2B and 9S are YoRHa models. Military units created with the express purpose of winning the overlong machine war. Their alphanumeric designation denotes this, distinguishing them from other androids. It strips away their human element – what crude mimicry there is – for they are merely weaponised commodities to be manufactured and replaced over and over.

Maybe that's why 9S wants a nickname: so he can regain the aforementioned human element. So he can be more than a weapon – at least, in 2B's eyes.

Alas, she is unfamiliar with the brainstorming process. Her untrained imagination proves more hindrance than aid, here. So she studies the naming conventions of earthbound androids and their communities, hoping to draw inspiration from them.

As established before, birds do not comprise a suitable nickname for 9S. But neither do flowers, or gemstones, or cloud formations. Try as 2B might, she cannot associate him with things so mundane, so pristine. For flowers and gemstones and cloud formations fail to capture the contradiction that is 9S: a too-cheerful scout with a bloodstained smile, vacillating between innocent optimism and bleak recklessness every time he enters and exits his life cycle.

So the days meander past, but 2B has yet to complete her task. And despite the gift exchange having brought the matter of his inconvenient feelings out into the open, 9S is no more demonstrative than usual. 2B's reprimand must have sunk in, forestalling any further (and inadvisable) action from him. But it doesn't appear to be far from his mind. Every so often, he would glance up at the headband – which has somehow evolved into a permanent fixture atop her crown – before looking away, an air of satisfaction about him.

In the midst of all this, another complication arises. Halfway through their assignment, 2B and 9S make a brief return to the Bunker to deliver a full status report. Ever since, 9S has become… moody, for the lack of a better term. He still plays the part of the energetic scanner, but 2B has observed above-normal levels of distraction and restlessness. This comes to a head on day fifty-eight, where things take a turn for the worse:


There is a tap on 2B's right shoulder, which interrupts her current conversation with the resident fisherman, aptly named Kingfisher. She turns around to find 9S hovering behind her, posture unusually stiff as his gloved fingers clench and unclench the fabric of his shorts.

"2B, can I talk to you for a bit?" he asks. His voice sounds brittle, as though one misplaced word would cause it to overstretch and shatter. "In private?" he adds, giving her conversant a pointed look.

Kingfisher glances at 9S, then back at her. He raises his eyebrows meaningfully. "Go hear him out, missy. We can continue this anytime."

Righting his slouch against the wall, the fisherman dips his head at 2B and saunters by 9S on the way out. He claps the scanner's shoulder, eliciting a startled jolt. "Good luck, kid."

The remark makes 9S stiffen further, and pink blossoms across his cheeks. There appears to be animosity in his gaze as he watches the other android's departing back – though for what reason, 2B has yet to figure out.

"Let's head out for this," he says after a moment. The tension thrumming through him has relaxed a fraction, but its presence is no less distinct.

"Of course," 2B replies.

9S guides her outside the outpost's fenced boundaries, into the surrounding savannah. Bleached yellow by the sun, the knee-length grass rustles as they trudge through it. This discolouration extends through the better part of the plains, breaking out into the occasional wind-carved tree or rock formation. Above them, the sky is an expanse of brilliant, uninterrupted blue. To 2B's odd (and unvoiced) regret, its likeness can no longer be seen within 9S's eyes, for he had replaced his visor after their sojourn to the Bunker.

Short though it may be, their trek is rife with mounting anticipation. Not a single word has left 9S's mouth since departing camp, which now resides a good hundred metres away. It appears 2B would have to make the first move, break him out of his taciturn funk.

"What do you want to talk to me about, 9S?"

Her partner turns away from a nearby boulder to face her. "Well," he starts, grasping his hands in obvious apprehension, "there's something that's been bugging me for a while now. Truth is, I've already approached the relevant party about it, but that's done nothing but aggravate the problem. If only it weren't such a sensitive subject. I'd really like to get another opinion…"

"You want my opinion?" she prompts.

"Yeah, I guess?" he mumbles, his fingers tumbling over each other. "You're my partner, the only person I trust, so it'll be great if you could uh, hear me out…" he trails off and looks down at his hands, which he stills with visible effort.

Patience has never been 2B's virtue. "Just say it already, 9S," she sighs. "I'm listening."

Straightening, 9S sucks in a loud, preparatory breath. "Okay, here goes... I have reason to believe that Command's hiding something. Something important, something huge."

The mental equivalent of alarm bells goes off in 2B's head. She does not like the sound of this. "What makes you say that?"

"The Council of Humanity is the one supposedly giving us instructions, right?" 9S posits, launching into his explanation. "They represent what's left of mankind, sequestered on the moon. But what is mankind—" he throws out his right palm "—and what are humans?" then the other, before closing one fist and tapping it against his chest. "I know we've been created in their image. But not as their equals. Rather, we're their servants, their soldiers. Our entire purpose revolves around helping and protecting them.

"But they're no more than an abstract concept," he continues, his words and gesticulations becoming more emphatic the further he proceeds. "Mythical, even. Though the Bunker has been operating for a number of years, we've yet to see a single human set foot on it. The moon base isn't that far away. So why wouldn't they come to visit us? Wouldn't it make sense for them to interact with us directly at some point? If we can see and hear and touch them, wouldn't that give us a more tangible reason to keep on fighting? So why are the only things we've received from them those bland motivational broadcasts?

"When I raised these questions with the Commander a week or so ago, she wouldn't give me a straight answer." Here, 9S tucks his left arm under his right, which he elevates in order to grasp his chin. A grave expression comes over his face. "So I've come to the conclusion that there's a whole lot more to this. Something potentially nefarious."

"What do you think, 2B? Do you agree with me?"

There is something expectant behind 9S's visored gaze, as though he awaits none other than her confirmation. Unfortunately, he is mistaken in this regard.

Throughout his monologue, the lump of unease that had taken up residence in the pit of 2B's mechanical stomach grows until it becomes full-blown nausea. So the seeds of suspicion have already been sown. Lest 9S reap them and instigate his own demise, 2B must derail him from this train of thought immediately.

"9S, I'm sure there are reasons behind it all. Maybe the humans haven't visited us because they can't. There are many things beyond our comprehension. We're not meant to know everything. Only the Commander can see the whole picture, and that's why she's the ultimate authority."

It appears that her answer is not enough to convince him, for 9S tucks his arms more firmly together and flattens his lips. "That just seems like a convenient excuse."

"We're soldiers, 9S," 2B asserts, falling back on a default statement. "Our directive is to follow orders, not question them."

"And I'm a scanner," he argues, defiance creeping into his tone. "Finding out things is what I do."

"You're not planning to investigate this matter further, are you?"

Having framed the proposal as to highlight its absurdity, 2B only finds herself dismayed by 9S's reply. "Of course I am! You can't seriously expect me to leave this alone, can you?"

"I cannot recommend this course of action," she counters, planting her hands on her hips. "It goes well outside your work requirements."

"I'm not doing this for work!" he proclaims, unfurling his arms and holding them stiffly at his sides. His hands, she notes, have balled into fists. "I'm doing this because I wanna know what's really going on!"

2B's fingers twitch against her hip. It is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain her composure. "As I've already stated, some things are not meant for us to know."

9S pounds his fist against his chest. "Well, I'm making it my business to know!"

"That's—" 2B cuts herself off, clenching her jaw. Her processors whir furiously as she attempts to formulate a different angle of attack. "As your superior," she tries again after a moment, imbuing her words with all the authority she can muster, "I order you to stand down."

"Are you for real?" 9S cries, making an indignant swipe through the air. "Since when do you pull rank on me?"

"Sinceyou refuse to listen!"

In response, 9S steps forward, reducing the distance between them until they are barely inches away from one another. Then he angles his shoulders back and tilts his chin up at her challengingly. Though obscured by his visor, the heat of his glare is palpable.

"You realise you're only making me more determined to do this, right?"

Red flashes across her HUD, warning of elevated stress levels together with pulse and respiration rates above acceptable range. 2B ignores it. She will not be cowed by 9S's show of aggression – of outright disobedience.

"Even if it means infringing on unauthorised territory?"

"Especially because of that!" 9S affirms, practically vibrating with fury. "If this information is barricaded behind top access levels, that makes uncovering it all the more crucial!"

2B's arms jerk forward of their own accord before she forcibly aborts the motion. It overwhelms her, the urge to seize 9S by his narrow frame and shake some much-needed sense into him.

"9S, listen to me!" she demands in a near-shout, unable to restrain her escalating vocal output. "The consequences for this kind of infraction are extremely dire! You'd risk having your all permissions and privileges stripped away. You could be terminated. You could even have your memory fully wiped!"

"And what would you know about consequences?" 9S matches her raised voice with his own. "If anything, I'd say you're a little too well-acquainted with those!"

Her chest constricts; 9S had struck hard by volleying her argument back at her. Unbidden, images of his impaled, bloodied corpse fills 2B's mind, followed by the blissful, oblivious smile of his newborn self. She gives her head a vigorous shake to dispel them.

"9S, I am imploring you." Desperation turns her normally even voice into a ragged echo of itself. "Please, don't do it."

Instead of mollifying him, her plea only serves to fuel his suspicion, reinforce his stubbornness. "I've never seen you resort to pleading," he remarks, shaking his head in turn. "And you're pleading about this, of all things? Why are you so determined to turn me away? What are you trying so hard to hide? Don't tell me—" his voice takes on a breathless, accusatory quality "—you're actually in cahoots with Command? Are you part of this conspiracy too, 2B?"

Blindsided by the alarming change of direction – because it's true, all too true – 2B struggles to respond. "I…"

9S's mouth reforms into an 'o' shape; he is growing more horrified by the second. "Oh god, you're not even denying it."

This prompts 2B to reclaim her wits. "Now you're just jumping to the wrong conclu—"

"Am I, 2B?" he interjects, lips twisted in an ugly sneer. It seems like their quarrel has reached critical point and broken a dam inside him, causing hidden resentment to spill out in a torrential diatribe. "Looking back on things, it's clear you were always hiding something. Always keeping everyone at arm's length, as though you're afraid of getting too close, revealing too much. Always pushing me away, no matter how hard I tried to connect with you! This is why, isn't it? It's your deep, dark secret, whatever your role is in Command's nefarious plot."

"That—that's not true—"

"Don't lie to me!" he cuts her off once more, punctuating his statement with a furious smack of his fists against his thighs. "You think I can't tell whenever you're lying? All this time, I've only let it go because I've trusted you, because I thought we were friends." His voice quavers; she can hear the hurt amidst the anger. "But that was just a cover-up, wasn't it? To keep me quiet and complacent. Unquestioning."

Emboldened by his rage, he leans in close enough that she can feel his hot breath ghost across her cheek. "What sort of friend hides such secrets from another? What sort of friendkeeps lying to the one they profess to care about?"

"9S, please—"

He pulls away, restoring the gap between them with a horrible, icy sort of finality. Though less than a metre now separates them, he has somehow become as unreachable as the humans on the moon themselves. "I'm gonna find out the truth. And no one's gonna stop me. Least of all, you."

"9S!"

He turns on his heel, making to leave the scene. Before he can so much as take a step, 2B reaches out and seizes his forearm. But her frantic effort proves futile, for he removes her hand with such violence as though that fleeting bit of contact had burned him.

"Don't touch me!"

At his vehement hiss, 2B rears back, clutching her breast. It is astounding how three simple words can devastate her so, as if they have formed a figurative spear by which to lance through her black box.

9S pays her reaction no heed. A tense, protracted second later, he storms off, leaving overloud rustles and strewn plant matter in his wake.

As his departing figure shrinks further and further into the distance, 2B's still outstretched hand falls to her side. Tremors wrack her whole body, and a suffocating heat engulfs her throat and face, pressing with especial insistence on her eyelids.

One thing is clear to her: she has lost 9S once again. In a single fell swoop, everything that 2B has worked to hard to rebuild is decimated, crumbling into ashes around her.

How many times will she and 9S be forced to repeat this soul-destroying cycle until her dreamed-up future – in all of its beautiful, picturesque whimsicality – arrives to whisk them away? Does this future even exist anymore? Is there truly any salvation awaiting her at the end of this misery-paved road?

Unanswered, her questions scatter into the wind like dust, wanderers without a destination.

Alone in a field of desiccated grass, 2B collapses onto her knees. She buries her face into her palms, fighting the urge to weep.


9S is nowhere to be found when 2B returns to the Resistance outpost. In all likelihood, he has departed for the nearest information storage facility to conduct his illicit data-mining activities. Tempting though it may be to chase him down, his earlier rage is evidence enough to indicate that further intervention will be fruitless.

So 2B dutifully remains at her station, deflecting with curt replies any questions about her partner's sudden absence. Four days later, she is called back to the Bunker and redeployed via flight unit to a small, uninhabited island in the mid-Pacific. Upon disembarkment, Pod 042 notifies her of an direct text transmission from Command.

It is 9S's termination order.

Of course it is. Of course this decision comes to pass as per the predetermined cosmic script. Of course time will push 2B and 9S towards the same bitter ending, whatever illusion of a divergent path they may have tread.

It is utter foolishness to hope otherwise.

2B is a fool.

Fifty-nine hours ago, YoRHa unit 9S made four unauthorised hacking attempts into the Bunker's main server, whereby he accessed a minimum of eighteen files containing S-level confidential information. Furthermore, he has misappropriated a flight unit and descended to Earth in an attempt to escape, landing at various locations. This constitutes a fourth-degree security breach. Therefore, your instructions are to find and eliminate him ASAP. His last activity has been traced to your current whereabouts.

This message appears directly on her HUD, its condemnatory black text flashing right before her very eyes. No wonder it upends her, leaving 2B floundering in the sea of her own helplessness. Having failed to prevent the chain of events that culminated in this order, she has no choice but to follow it through.

As 2B finds herself spiralling down into the depths of despair, inspiration suddenly strikes.

YoRHa unit No. 9 type S. That is his name, the official model title of her permanent monitoring assignment-turned-cherished partner-turned-assassination target. For brevity's sake, he is referred to as 9S. 9-S rolls off the tongue easily enough, what with it containing only two syllables. However, if the alphanumeric symbols are converted into spelt text, Nine-S, it becomes clear that his name can be shortened further, by conjoining the 's' and pluralising 'Nine'.

Nines. There is no nickname more simple, more perfect. It does not makes any false pretenses. However earnestly 9S may aspire towards something more – something other than the adept soldier who he is – he cannot escape the fact that YoRHa will always be part of him. Yet Nines separates him from the uniformity of production line identifiers, marking him as his own person.

At long last, 2B can bestow upon 9S a gift, that which he so desires. If only events hadn't already progressed this far. If only she hadn't already run out of time.

A flicker of movement re-engages her visual feed. 2B watches as Command's message scours itself from her HUD, receding into the blank space whence it came. Commanding her Pod, she switches to anti-unit mode with fluid ease, not unlike a chameleon reverting to its default colours.

It is time to do this – again.

As it transpires, 2B does not need to trek very far to find 9S. He stands in the middle of a forest clearing, a dash of sombre black amidst lush sunlit greenery. There is an anticipatory tension to his stance; he has detected her presence. In her heightened state of emotion – which not even well-honed discipline can override – she had not bothered with stealth.

2B draws Virtuous Contract as she steps into attacking range, causing 9S to turn towards her. Stripped from his face, his visor hangs loosely from his right hand, set aflutter by the mild breeze. Red paints unsightly blotches across his cheeks, mars the delicate skin around his too-moist eyes. With a sharp pang in her chest – never had she known herself capable of sympathy – 2B realises that he has been crying.

9S gives her a cursory once-over, his gaze lingering on the reflective sheen of her blade. "Hey, 2B." His voice is subdued, hollowed out of its usual exuberance. "The time has come, hasn't it?"

Although she knows full well the awfulness of their plight, it is so much worse to hear him – the hapless victim – say it aloud. Throat too clogged up to speak, 2B simply nods.

"I should've known it would end like this. Serves me right, I guess. Why didn't I listen to you?" He tosses his hands in a self-recriminating shrug. Then he breaks out into a laugh, a broken, horrible-sounding wheeze of irony and regret. "You tried so hard to stop me. To spare me. Because you really do care for me, don't you, 2B? You really are my friend, after all.

"I don't want to die." Coolant mists over the blue windows of his eyes, gathering at and seeping out from the corners. He blinks in a vain attempt to stifle the flow. "I don't want to forget you. All those memories of us, together – they're my most precious treasure.

"But I have to pay the price for my stupidity. My excessive curiosity. It's just so unfair, you know? If only it were as simple as flipping a switch to stop myself…"

He shakes his head before wiping his face on his sleeve. "What's done is done. I can't run; sooner or later I'll have to face the consequences. In the end, I'm glad it's you who's doing it."

From the way 9S had phrased his last statement, he hadn't intended to come across as accusatory. Nevertheless, guilt bubbles within 2B's gut, hot and unpleasant. "9S, I'm sor—"

"Don't be," he cuts off her apology, white brows pinching together. His tone takes on a darker cast as he continues. "It's not like you have a say in the matter. You're just following orders. That's what you're designed to do. Just like I'm designed to find out things I'm not meant to know. It's our own fucked up destiny."

He lets out a heavy breath. "Despite everything – and all that shit about prohibited emotions can go to hell since I won't be alive at the end of this anyway – I still like you, 2B." The air of resentment that had surrounded him for the past minute dissipates, replaced by something gentler, something sincere. "I still think you're really pretty."

Seemingly of its own volition, 2B's unoccupied hand drifts up to her crown, splaying gloved fingers across the headband.

A satisfied gleam enters 9S's eyes as he notes the unconscious motion. "I hope you'll continue to wear that. It really does look good on you."

With what feels suspiciously like mortification, 2B snatches her wayward hand back to her side. "9S, I've finally found you a nickname." The words tumble out of her in a rush; she must present her gift to him before it is too late. "It's—" she falters, hesitation overcoming her for a brief second – what if he doesn't like what she'd come up with? – before she powers onwards "—it's Nines."

At this, 9S's gaze softens, and his corners of his mouth curl upwards. It is an unmistakeable smile, though watery and filled with more sorrow than any kind of happy sentiment. "Nines, huh?" His voice lilts with wonder. "Nines," he repeats, testing out the sound of the monosyllabic moniker. "I like it. I really do. Say it again for me, please."

She obliges. "Nines."

He takes a step towards her, unclenching the hand still closed around his visor and allowing the scrap of black fabric to drift down to the ground. "Again."

"Nines," 2B says once more.

Another step forward, then another. "Again."

"Nines…" the nickname leaves 2B's lips with more uncertainty when she registers the pace at which 9S is approaching her. Cruel Oath hovers behind him, a silent golden sentinel – but if his expression is any indication, he has no intention of drawing it. Of arming himself against the threat that she presents. Indeed, trust features all too prominently across the planes of his boyish face.

"2B."

9S has reduced the distance between them to a mere foot, close enough for him to reach out and touch her. Close enough for her to raise her sword and cleave him in half with a single swipe. But as he tilts his head up to meet her gaze, what 2B sees renders her shock-still. At her right side, Virtuous Contract rattles uselessly, caught in her over-tight grip.

There is a veritable wealth of emotion within 9S's blue eyes. Every feeling that he'd suppressed, sealed behind the gate of his visor and YoRHa's prohibitions, now spills out of him unrestrained. That miraculous, ill-placed trust aside, 2B detects his ever-present sadness as well as vestiges of the burning want he'd directed at her three weeks ago. Encompassing them all is something gentle yet powerful, something she'd witnessed in exchanges between individuals held together by an unbreakable bond:

Affection.

"Thank you," 9S says, his words a rich susurration of warmth. "For going to the trouble of picking out a nickname for me. We both know it won't… get any further use. But I have no doubt that the next 9S would appreciate you calling him 'Nines' just as much."

Slowly, he extends his hand towards her, and 2B's breath hitches as it makes contact with her cheek. Though obscured by his thick gloves – which she all of a sudden wishes were not present – his touch burns her.

"Goodbye, 2B." His voice cracks upon her name. Tears spill from him in earnest, cascading down his face. "I hope you'll remember me."

It takes an inordinate amount of willpower to hold back from leaning into his hand. Were that she could brand the imprint of his fingers into her skin, sear his too-insufficient caress into eternal memory. "I will never forget you, Nines," she vows with hitherto-unknown ferocity.

Giving her a brief, tear-stained smile, 9S pulls away. The accompanying sense of loss is so profound that it leaves her feeling cold and empty, as though every ounce of vitality had been sucked out of her body. Thus disorientated, it takes her a moment to realise that 9S has turned his back towards her.

"Please, 2B, m-make it quick," he implores of her, audibly sobbing now. "Before I—before I c-chicken out."

How can she refuse so heartfelt and devastating a request? 2B complies, muscle memory repositioning her into the correct stance as she raises Virtuous Contract to the appropriate height. But the pain – the raw, undiluted grief – that surges through her every circuit causes her arms to shake so much that she cannot hold the sword steady.

2B clamps her jaw together. She will do this.

Lips pulled back in an agonised snarl, she lunges blade-first. Her aim is true, and 9S emits a gasp of pain as Virtuous Contract enters his back and exits through his chest, accompanied by a small spray of blood.

"T-thank y-you… 2B."

She switches to a one-handed grip as she withdraws her blade, hooking her free arm around 9S's midsection to catch him before he falls.

Tossing Virtuous Contract aside – it makes a muffled thud against the grass that cushions its landing – she gathers 9S fully into her arms. Then she tucks in her knees, bringing them both to the ground. 9S's head comes to rest on her lap, a too-intimate liberty that she had never permitted him in life.

There is no trace of horror or fear on his youthful face. Instead, he wears an oddly serene expression. It is as though he had made his peace upon the moment of death, accepted the excruciating cruelty of his fate.

Somehow, this makes it so much worse than if he had fought back instead.

Numbly, 2B hears Pod 042 provide its clinical confirmation of 9S's offline black box signal.

Something takes root inside her, growing and twisting and worming itself into every internal nook and cranny until she feels fit to burst. Yet all that escapes her are tears, streaming from her eyes to soak into her visor. Discomfited, she tries to blinks them away. But they keep falling. Eventually, the fabric becomes so saturated that it can no longer contain them, allowing moisture to trickle down her cheeks.

Locked into motionlessness by the Earth's unnatural orbit, the sun continues its hot, relentless outpour. It is an indeterminable amount of time later that 2B sets down 9S's body and leaves the scene.