Chapter 9: Thirty Days

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The next day was the official start of our one whole month without 3. And, at first, none of us were sure what to do. But we quickly came to an agreement: that 0's idea, to go on adventures and tell stories every day was actually a really great plan. 0 would have a chance to explore the outside, which he hadn't seen much of yet—only the few blocks we had walked down on our way home from the first room. And, already, the library was getting a little too small for him. His energy was as boundless as his mother's and his curiosity as limitless as mine; we had hoped for as much.

And so, that's pretty much what we did, almost every day, for the entire month. We woke up in the morning, spent most of the day outside, and came home in the late afternoon. We worked together to teach 0 a lot of things in that time, as well. 4 taught him more about letters and numbers; by the end of that time, he could read and write small words and short phrases in three different languages, which she claimed was impressive—not that we needed it spelled out. He picked it up faster than she could teach it.

7 taught him to build weapons, and how to fight. Against what? It didn't matter. For sure, there was danger somewhere that would threaten him one day. And, anyway, he was a samurai warrior, and he wanted to fight evil. Better to prepare him, and make him strong, she decided. He showed him how to build a spear, and how to cut a basic knife out of a tin can, and how to sharpen the blades; his progress made her very proud. But he wasn't particularly good with either of them. For a samurai warrior, being so close to an enemy and landing a killing blow made him uncomfortable, even though all of his enemies so far had been completely imaginary.

So I suggested a compromise: a bow and arrows. She had made a set once upon a time, but hadn't been particularly fond of it—which was strange, because the slender, graceful bow she had constructed was a very feminine-looking weapon. But I had picked it up recently, and I had turned out to be pretty good with it, myself. So, we combined our efforts and helped him make a bow of his very own, and a set of arrows to practice with. As we had hoped, he excelled with it. For such a young child, him aim was very good.

Our practice together made me wish suddenly that there was really something to hunt with our bows. Instead, I preyed on findings to build with—no living thing could be more thrilling to hunt for than the elusive unbroken light bulb, and the apparently endangered flat-topped battery, both of which I desperately prowled after. It was like hunting down a fairytale monster, or some mythical being from folklore. They had been found once or twice before and recorded, but finding them again seemed impossible.

While I was at it, coming across other useful findings in the process, I taught 0 everything I knew about them. I taught him how gears worked together, how their jagged teeth were for more than just making a cool-looking crown for his costumes. I showed him the difference between screws and nails, and how they were best used, outside of swordplay. I taught him a few basic laws of physics—learned from books, and also from trial and error—and how to use them whenever he wanted to build something. He was eager to try to build something… Except he didn't know what to build.

"Pa, I have to build something," he insisted, burning with frustration. "You're always building stuff. Why can't I? Why am I not always building stuff?"

"Sometimes, you need a reason to build things," I answered. "Other times you need inspiration."

"What's that? Big sis talks about inspiration, but she never says what it is."

"It's when you suddenly get a really amazing idea for something wonderful," I explained. "But, usually when I build something, it's a little bit of having a need for a new tool, and a little bit of being inspired by that need… Does that make any sense to you, 0?"

"…Um, not really."

"Well, you see, I don't just sit around, coming up with great ideas and then making them happen."

"You don't? I thought that's where all your good ideas came from!"

"Not really, son. I build the things I build because we all need them. Like my light stick," I explained, trying to shorten and simplify the story. "I needed light, but I didn't have any matches to make a fire. And I needed to carry the light around with me. So, I had to improvise."

"Oh… And you were inspired by all the stuff around you?"

"Yeah! That's it, exactly! You catch on quick."

0 grinned proudly, but then he made a face. "So, I'm gonna have to wait until I'm stuck somewhere to get a good idea? That's no fun… What else do we need around here?"

"I'm never completely sure. We have to figure that out as we go along. Needs are hard to define, sometimes. Once again, like the light stick: it's not really a need. We have matches and candles—we can make fire and have light without it. But it's awfully useful, isn't it?"

"It sure is, pa. It's a great tool."

"Once we have the basic things we need, we can start thinking about ways to make those basic things better. Like using a light bulb for light, instead of fire that can burn, and leaves ash and smoke behind. Or like taking your sister's pallet on the floor, and putting it in a frame so that it's actually a bed."

0's whole face lit up. "Ooh, I can build that! I can make a frame for 4's pallet!"

"That's a big job for such a small boy."

You're right, pa," he agreed with a goofy shrug. "I don't really know what a frame is, yet… Will you help me, please?"

"Of course," I agreed with a smile. "I'll teach you to make blueprints, and then we can use some of the nails we've found, and we'll build it over the next few days, huh?"

"Yay! Big sis is gonna be so happy!" He jumped up and down, clapping his hands excitedly, and I couldn't help but laugh along with him. This would be the first thing we built together, where he would actually be working instead of watching over my shoulder.

In the midst of my excitement, the scar on my shoulder twinged again, and I sighed slowly.

"Oh, 0… 2 would have loved you so much…" I said absently as I ran my fingers over the red stitches. I almost didn't realize I was speaking out loud. 0 clearly didn't know what I was talking about; but it sounded like a compliment, so he smiled. I felt like I would cry, torn between grief that was still fresh, and joy over my marvelous creation.

"We're going to have a lot of fun building this, aren't we, 0?"

"Oh yeah, lotsa fun," he agreed earnestly. "When do we start?"

0 turned out to have a little artistic talent, as well. He took to designing and drawing blueprints as quickly as I had—a natural talent that I was thrilled to share with him. In a few hours, we had a thorough design, with calculated dimensions and a list of materials to find.

"We'll make one of these for big brover, when he gets out, right?" he asked.

"Yeah… I suppose we will," I agreed.

While all of this was going on during the day, I made it a point to check in on 3 every night before I went to sleep. Despite how mad I was with him, I still couldn't help but miss him very much. He was angry with all of us, as well, but part of me knew that he still missed us as much as we did him. And I hoped that his time in seclusion would lead him to reason.

As the month wore on, I watched the marked change in his attitude that I had hoped for. The first several nights, he wouldn't even look at me. The next week found him still angry, but contemplative and relaxed enough to speak a little.

"I still feel like it's 0's fault I'm stuck in here," was the sum of how he felt by the end of week two. I didn't bother to correct him on that. Instead, I let him chew on that a while longer.

Week three found him extremely lonely, and very sad. He missed us so much, 4 especially. The normal busy work he filled his time with was slow and tedious without her to help him; the absence of her serious, down-to-earth personality left him feeling a little top-heavy in his own goofy, dreamy nature. I, myself, had never noticed how very different they were until I had seen them apart for so long.

But he was thinking hard about his actions that week, and that partially made up for her being gone. The conclusions he was coming to were changing him, and that comforted me. It was exactly what I hoped for in this punishment.

At last, week four rolled around. On the last night, I sat down with him for a talk.

"So, you can come out of here, in the morning," I started. "How are you feeling?"

"Excited," he answered with a sheepish smile. "I've missed you all so much… Even 0, a little."

"Really? How do you feel about him, after all of this?"

He sighed. "It's not really his fault I've been stuck in here all month. It was mine," he admitted. "I don't know what got into me. I was just… I was so angry at everyone."

"Jealous? Betrayed, maybe?"

"Maybe, a little."

"And about him, being your little brother?"

"…I still don't know…"

"You know, your mother and I won't make you feel any one way about anything. But 0 is a part of this family now. He's not going anywhere, you know that, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you won't attack him again?"

"No, sir."

Now that was more like it.

"This seclusion seems to have worked well for you. You don't have to like everything that we do; but we will punish you again, if we have to. We don't want to—you're our son, and we hated having to do this. Please, don't make us lock you up like this again."

"I won't."

"3, I'm not kidding. If you make us do this again, it will be worse. Look me in the eye and tell me that you understand."

Looking me straight in the eye, he nodded slowly.

"I understand, papa," he said humbly.

"Okay, then," I said with a relieved sigh, and I gave him a warm hug—the first I had held him in thirty days.

"I'm really sorry, papa."

"I forgive you, son."

"…Really?"

"I'm your father—it's what I'm here for," I answered, kissing his forehead. "When we say that we love you unconditionally, we mean it. Nothing you say or do can ever change that, no matter how horrible it is. This is your home, and we are your family. We will always, always love you. And we'll always forgive you, if you ask us to."

"I do want them all to forgive me."

"And they will. All you have to do is ask them to."

"I will."

I smiled, unable to help feeling proud of him. "Good. We'll see you in the morning, then."

As I left the study, I picked up the magnet from the entrance and carried it away, feeling like I could finally trust him again.

Day thirty-one dawned like any other. But we all woke up, and 3 wasn't around. We carried on for an hour or two, and he still hadn't shown up.

"Where could he be?" 4 wondered fretfully. "I was so looking forward to seeing him, after all this time…"

"I'll go look for him," I decided, and went back to the study. When I walked in, I found him pacing the floor nervously.

"What are you doing, still in here?" I asked. "You can finally come out. I thought you, of all people, would wake us all up."

"I did, too," he answered. "But… I thought about it some more last night… I don't deserve to get off so easy, do I?"

That was a rather hard question.

"You did some pretty mean things to them."

"Exactly! What if they don't want to talk to me? What if they're still mad at me?"

"Are you serious?" I asked with a laugh. "They're all dying to see you again. You can't imagine how much they want to see you."

"I'm scared… I don't know if I can face them."

"You have to."

"…"

"Come on," I said gently, taking him by the hand. "I'll go with you."

He took a deep breath. "…Okay."

I led him back into the library, to where the others were waiting. While I had been gone, 4 and 0 had picked up another math lesson; 7 sat quietly watching them, enchanted by their every move. But when we walked into the space, they all looked up at once. They all seemed stunned to see 3 in the flesh again, as if they had given up hope that he was real anymore. And he looked to feel the same.

"Everyone, 3 has something to say to you," I announced, nudging him forward a bit. In a rare gesture that I had never seen before, he pushed his hood off his head so that his whole face was visible.

"…I… I'm sorry," he flickered timidly, hanging his head. "I'm so sorry for what I did. I want to ask for forgiveness, but…"

He didn't get a chance to continue. When he hesitated, 4 jumped up and ran to embrace him, her own hood falling back in the process. As she threw her arms around his neck, she began to cry. He could only stand there, stunned.

"Dumb! Don't ever do that to me again! It felt like I would never see you again!"

Amazed that she would accept his apology so quickly, he recovered and hugged her back. "I am sorry, 4. I'll never leave you again, I promise," he insisted, dissolving into tears of his own. "It was wrong of me, and I'm so sorry, sis! Can you please forgive me?"

"Of course I can. You're my brother," she answered.

I smiled to myself. I told him they'd be happy to see him.

7 came forward next, with 0 hiding understandably behind her. She was grinning so brightly, overjoyed to see him again. He looked up and just stared at her shyly, as if he had thought she was a dream.

"Don't I get a hug?" She asked, holding out her hand to him.

He all but flew into her waiting arms. As she caght him, she picked him up and spun him around, laughing merrly the whole way.

"I've missed you so much," she said as she set him back on his feet, and hugging him as tight as she could. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I'm great," he answered, snuggling comfortably against her.

She cupped his face in her hand and took a moment to just look at him. He looked exactly like his sister in every way, but there was simply something about him being him that made his face entirely different. She hadn't seen her son's face in a month... I had seen him every night; I couldn't imagine how happy 7 was to see him again.

She laughed softly, running her thumb along his cheek. "I forgive you, too."

Though his lip trembled, he beamed back at her. "Thank you, mama," he said with a sniffle.

"...This next apology, you should make face-to-face," she said, reaching behind her and pulling 0 front and center. The green-eyed little monster stood bravelt before his brother, but clung to his mother—just in case.

The green-eyed monster, huh? When we had decided to give 0 green eyes, we had thought it was perfect. It made him completely different from the rest of us, a sign thay we were responsible for him and his creation. Green was always the color of rebirth and life, like the grass. What an ironic twist it had to it...

3 sighed heavily and stared down at 0. He slowly reached out and patted him on the head.

"0... I'm sorry. What I did and said to you, it was all wrong of me. Nothing that's happened has been your fault. None of it. It was all me. I was angry and... well, jealous, I guess. Can you please forgive me... little brother?"

0 paused and processed this for a moment... And then broke into a grin.

"Yeah! I'll forgive you, big brover," he exclaimed, launching himself into 3's unprepared arms. He nearly fell over from the force. But, once he regained his balance and put his arms around his brother, hugging him back.

"Wow... You really are snuggly and warm," he said quietly.

Atast, we were a family again.

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Author's Notes...

Don't let this warm, fuzzy ending fool you. If you know this parable, you know that its not over by a long shot! 8D

This is kind of meaningless, but... Has anyone else noticed how they always say "as well", instead of "too"? We have entirely too many uses and spellings for this word! Between to, too, two and tu-tu, what are we supposed to do? I've worked hard to avoid using "too" to mean "also". When that happens in the dialogue, given that 2 was the first of them to get whacked, it seems insensitive and sad, to me.

Its like the Knights Who Say Ni, and how the word "it" hurts their brains. The English language is such a pain! I hate it! DX

These next three chapters really belong together in another mass-update, so I've done that. :P