Nine was like an outsider. Now that he knew he didn't have to be perfect, he was back to his old cheerful self, but he didn't know where he fit in. Two and Five spent time in their workshop. Three and Four would catalogue whatever Seven and Eight brought back from the Emptiness and would occasionally go to the library. Six spent time drawing and muttering to himself about his visions; Nine would sometimes sit outside his room, pretending to be dozing, when he was really listening to Six's mutterings. Seven and Eight would go out every day to the Emptiness to face the dreaded machines and have adventures. One was content to stroll around and check on everybody.

With all that, Nine didn't know what to do with himself. Most days found him in the Watchtower, looking out over the world and wondering what was out there. As he observed his companions, he found no clear cut niche where he belonged. He seemed to be similar to all of them in one way or another.

As with One, he was stubborn and somewhat of a natural leader. He was comparable to Two and Five by his creativity and resourcefulness, friendliness and caring. Like the twins, he catalogued and retained knowledge easily. Six's relation to him was obvious: visions and soul energy, the former of which nobody knew about, and the latter of which they still hadn't tested him on. He had Seven's speed and agility, which he knew from the three sparring matches he'd done with her. As for Eight? Not his strength, but his love for music and his composition.

With all these similarities, he had all the options in the world. But where to go? He was afraid that once he picked one, he would be stuck there forever. He didn't like that. So yet again, Nine was in the Watchtower, sitting on the cot, head back and optics shut.

He had taken to exploring his vision powers. He could now search any time in history's past. His favorite time to search was his Maker's past, except for his sister's rape and death, and the past of the Stitchpunks. He saw plenty of the rest of the past in nightmares.

There was this one vision that he could place, though. It came to him in the night but wasn't a nightmare. At least, not to him. He saw a machine, a large one. Electricity snapped around it's casing. It had one large, very red optic. It was shuddering, sinking down to the floor. There was the feeling of infinite loneliness, a sadness so deep that it seemed like the poor thing had never tasted happiness. Nine would watch helplessly as it reached the ground and powered down. The Cat Beast and Winged Beast each let out a moaning whine, then turned and raced out into the Emptiness.

That was it. Nine wanted to help that machine. While there was violence written into its past, as Nine knew very well, he just knew he could ease the being's pain.

Once the vision had played out for the fourth time that day, Nine unshuttered his optics and made his decision. He would go to the Factory, that forbidden place that the Stitchpunks spoke of in a whisper. He knew One would never, ever agree to it, so Nine stole down to the secret passageway and slipped out. He knew the path well by then, having traced it in his visions repeatedly.

He entered and looked around. It was dim inside. Creepy, too. Nine walked over to the great machine, lightly skimming it. The poor thing looked dead. He trailed down the machine's hull until he reached a place with three prongs. Looking over his shoulder nervously, he took out the Talisman. He swallowed as he stared at it and played back the words, just to be sure.

Six handed Nine the Talisman, smiling like the others.

"What is this for?" Nine asked, tapping its face.

"You got it down, so we think it's only right that you get to keep it. We're all done studying it, so here it is. Keep it safe."

"But what is it for?" Nine repeated. "What does it do?"

"We don't know," Two admitted. "But Maker made it, so we want to keep it."

Nine smiled. "I'm honored. I'll find out what it does."

They laughed and One snorted. "You use it however you see fit. But be careful."

Nine pulled out of the memory/vision and steeled himself. One had said to use the Talisman how he saw fit. And he was going to use it to fix this being. He latched it onto the thing and pressed the pattern in.

"Sulphur," Nine wrote to nobody in particular. "Spirit of life." The loop symbol lit up. "Life. Physical life to the body." The arch with lines glowed. He paused for the briefest of moments then moved to the cross on top of the arch. "Mercury, core metal and lifeblood."

The machine suddenly shook violently and the Talisman flew open. Nine took one step back and was hit viciously by three electrical-looking beams. He didn't have the chance to even open his mouth to scream, though it would have been silent. Suddenly he wasn't in his body, but he knew he wasn't dead. There was this force that focused on his chest. His soul! That machine was trying to steal his soul! He shrieked, and jumped when he heard himself.

"Let go of me! I'm trying to help you!"

"No living thing wishes to help me!" the machine spat. "Now, die like all the others!"

"Never!"

They fought, locked in a stalemate until, at the exact same moment, they grew weak and pulled away. They hovered there in that not-there world, staring at each other.

"I guess we're spirits," Nine said after a moment. "Wherever we are."

"What?" the machine demanded harshly.

"Just making an observation," Nine said with a shrug.

The optic was tiny, staring at him curiously. "You are not like the other life forms. You do not seem to be condescending because of what I am, nor do you seem to hate me for what I've done. I suppose you do not know better."

"I see no reason to condescend you," Nine replied. "My internals are mechanical as much as you are. And I do know what you've done. You destroyed the world. I must know your reason before I decide to hate you."

The machine's gaze was steady. "The humans forced me to make things to kill people. They electrocuted me whenever I did something of my own volition. I heard of the numbers of dead, and could not stand it. They want death, I finally thought, so I will kill them all."

Nine hummed. "I don't blame you," he finally said. "You're hurting badly because of it. You were wrong to seek so much death, but I understand that there was nothing else to do."

"You are a very interesting creature. Too bad you must die."

"Why?"

"Because I want that green thing in your chest. It will make me better, I think. I have craved one ever since Maker made me. I believe he called it a soul."

Nine paused. "Do you really think that will make you better?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. I well and truly do."

Nine reached up to his chest and pulled his soul out. He caressed it. "I don't really belong with the others, you know. I'm too different in their settled-in world. You can have my soul. Here."

The machine blinked at him. "You would do that?"

"Yes. You are, in an odd way, my brother. Our maker was the same man."

"Really?" it gasped, optic brightening. "You knew Maker?"

"I didn't say that," Nine said sadly, looking away. "I woke up ten years after he disappeared. I can't find him in the world. I don't think he's dead, but…but he is not with us."

The machine seemed to deflate a little then glanced at the soul. "I cannot take it," he sighed. "Not from such a kind creature as you. Keep it."

Nine frowned. "But then you won't be whole and complete."

The optic looked away. "I do not want to kill you. I am so tired of death. So very, very tired…"

Nine thought for a few moments then put one hand on either side of the soul. With the mechanical creature watching curiously, he began to pull it in two directions at once. There was such a huge sense of wrongness, like his soul wasn't meant to bend that way. It stretched and stretched until with a BOOM! the soul became two souls. One was automatically sucked toward the machine's consciousness, while the other snapped back into Nine's chest.

There was a swooping sensation and Nine found himself in his body again, facedown in the dirt that caked the floor of the Factory. He attempted to shove himself up, but fell back down almost immediately. He felt sick and weak. He began to cry. A soft, compassionate feeling eased through his, very tender and aching, soul. He felt a metal hand curl around him and he was lifted up and held in front of the red optic.

~Nine.~

Nine could do nothing more than send back a question mark.

~Is that your name?~

Nine was limp in the large hand, but he nodded a couple times.

~You have solved my pain, but now you are in pain. How can I help?~

~I don't know.~ Nine muttered weakly over the curious new connection that seemed to be between them. ~Sleep?~

~Sleep? That is the process of shutting down your body and mind for rest, yes?~

Nine nodded again and BRAIN rose up as high as he could before setting Nine lightly on the top of his casing. Nine cuddled down and yawned, tired beyond belief. A metal hand began stroking him lightly, easing him to sleep. Just before dreams began, he was brought briefly back to consciousness by an explosive BOOM and a bright flash of light.

~What was that?~ Nine asked softly, looking over at the windows.

~Relax, Nine. It is simply raining. The light is lightning, the noise is thunder. Be quiet and you will soon hear the pitter-patter of rain dancing on the roof.~

~Oh…Okay.~

The sound of the rain soon lulled him to sleep, and he felt wonderfully safe with this machine. He would worry about what One and the others thought the next day.