Notes: Strong "T" rating on this part. Adult situations, vague sort-of sex, etc.
There will be one more part coming after this. Thanks for reading! :D
Vox Humana – Part 6
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Her weapon was right were she'd left it – right where she had heard it fall. She took it up and inspected it carefully, feeling its beautiful weight in her hands. All seemed to be in order. There was still plenty of time to return to the library and escort Two back under cover of dark, assuming she could find what she was looking for. Chances were slim that they would be seen, even during the day, but she would still rather not risk it.
A short distance away, she could see the windows of the cathedral reflecting the moonlight. Again she wondered about the beast. Where was it? Had it fully recovered? And should she tell Two what had happened?
Of course, if she did, he might not keep his promise to her. He might decide, perhaps rightly, that the others needed that information more than he needed to keep his word. But really, there was no telling what any of it meant. The thing was probably still alive and well. It had probably been planning to kill her, or worse. And clearly, whatever it may have wanted, it certainly wasn't above hurting them. What good would it really do to tell him?
The moon had traveled a bit before she found something she could use, a sort of wooden box with wheels attached, not quite as tall as she was. Some kind of handle had been attached to the front, mostly broken off; it took a little more time to find some rope and tie it to the hinge so she could pull it. By the time she got it back to the library, she estimated there were still a few good hours of moonlight left. She parked it outside and headed back to the globe.
As she approached the entrance, she heard Two talking to the twins. "Once you got a lift up and running, all that space up there would be usable. Think of the possibilities! All these sections... I can't imagine a more perfect place for you."
"That was my feeling," said Seven, as she crossed the threshold. "About the last part, anyway."
"Did you find something?" Two asked.
She nodded.
"I suppose it's time, then. Keep the supplies," he said to the twins. "I have a feeling you'll need them."
Seven looked over at the place where Two had worked on her. An assortment of tools and other items was laid out on a book, next to the one she herself had laid upon, in as neat and orderly an arrangement as he would have back in his own shop. She recognized the shears; they were his favorite ones. And suddenly she was back in the candlelit room, leaning against the bench, listening to the chattering of the twins as they circled the latest marvel, listening to Five's laughter. Listening to the voices.
"Are you all right?" Two asked her.
She shook herself and blinked. "Are you ready?"
"Whenever you are."
Working together, the four of them got the strings of bulbs hefted over the pile of books at the library's entrance and loaded into the cart. "I can't believe you finally did it," Seven said as they crammed the last of them in.
"I wish you all had been there," Two laughed. "Even Eight was excited."
"He went up there with you?"
"Of course. He helped us with the batteries. Six did as well."
"Really?" she said, laughing a bit herself. She would have liked to have seen that.
The twins were sorry to see him go. Two embraced them each in turn, saying something quietly to them which she could not hear. "This was an excellent idea," he said a moment later, gesturing to the bulbs. "Thank you for remembering."
The journey back to the cathedral was quiet, the only sounds being those of the wind and the trundling of metal wheels on stone. As they drew close, she thought again about telling him, but couldn't quite bring herself to do it.
When they came to the point of their parting, Two embraced her as well. She was surprised by it, and later, she would realize that it was the first time any of them had ever done so. "Take care of yourself," he smiled gently, "and the twins. And you should know that if you ever change your mind, we would welcome you. All of us."
She believed that he believed it, anyway. She handed him the rope. "Thank you," she said, and hoped he understood how sincerely she meant it. "For everything."
Seven watched him, gripping tightly to the handle of her weapon, until she was certain he was safe inside. Then she went back to the library – to the twins – and though the waxing moon still glowed through the broken glass, she lit a candle.
There, in its light, she finally stood between the mirror shards and examined his handiwork. Red was certainly a word for it. Though it wasn't entirely, she saw as she looked more closely; the lower part was white, though a different shade than her skin. The bigger shock by far was her numeral. Most of the top part remained, and the barest trace of the bottom edge, but over half of it was gone. She supposed it made sense, given the location of the wound – but still.
But it could have been worse. Though she didn't know much about sewing, even she could tell it was good work, and most importantly, it felt great. In the end, she decided she kind of liked it.
Leave it to Two.
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Nine's head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, in that same way they had done at the burning. "I wish I could have known him."
"You did know him."
"I wish I could have known him longer."
"You're a lot like him."
He smiled. "That's what Five said. When we were on our way to save him."
Five. She had always known he had it in him. "He would know."
Nine picked his head back up. "Didn't you miss them?" he asked. "Their voices?"
"Sometimes."
"But it was so long," he said. "When you – when you were out – you were gone for five-and-a-half days. I counted them. And it was just, so... "
"Quiet."
"Yes. I mean, the twins – they talk. They do. But it's not the same. And most of the time, you weren't even with them. How did you stand it?"
What was he asking her? "I don't know," she said. "It wasn't really something I had to stand."
"So you were fine with it. Being alone."
She shrugged.
He looked away, his face suddenly stricken.
"What?" she said. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. He stood up. "Maybe we should find out what the twins are doing. Or at least how much longer it's going to take."
What just happened? "All right," she said, standing as well.
He walked past her, over to the edge of the dais, looking out over the pools of water and sodden books. "We do understand, you know. That it won't be much better out there. In fact, it'll be worse. Especially once we're really out there, where it's flat."
Did they, really? It was one thing to say it.
"But we can't just hide. You know that better than anyone. We have to take risks. There's no point in living otherwise. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."
And there it was.
For so long, she had been the only one. What would it have been like, if he had been there from the start? If he had been there, ages ago, aeons ago, at the end of the world, at the start of theirs? If there had been just one other, one other who could not only say those words, but far more importantly, act on them?
What would she have been like?
She did not say any of this. Not even when she walked over and took his hand. Not even when he still refused to look at her.
"We'll leave these lit," she said instead. "It'll be easier to find our way back."
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The twins, unsurprisingly, were right where they had left them earlier, sitting cross-legged on top of a book, still working on their drawing. They looked up as they heard her and Nine approach. "So what have you been up to?" she said, smiling at them. "I hear you've been pretty secretive."
They looked incredibly pleased with themselves.
"Is this what you've been working on?" She looked at the sheet of paper on which they sat; it was larger than both of them together, nearly as large as the cover of the book. On it were a number of geometric shapes drawn precisely in graphite, all rather large themselves, none of which overlapped. Her numeral was written in black ink in one of the corners. Did this have something to do with her? A second, much smaller sheet, covered with calculations, was in Four's hands. None of it looked terribly impressive – or helpful. "What is it?"
The pair locked eyes with one another, flashing them, apparently consulting. Then, as one, they hopped down from their book and took hold of her, took hold of Nine, and steered them toward the lift.
Together, they rode up to the deep darkness of one of the higher levels; she could barely see her own feet as they stepped off the lift into the section. A moment later, a flame jumped to life, and was quickly joined by several more as one of the twins lit a row of low candles in glass containers. She had never seen them use that many at once before, and she imagined that, like herself, they no longer felt it necessary to conserve them. Again she was struck with the enormity of what they were about to undertake. Of what had changed.
Now she looked around in the light, and saw what to her seemed to be the usual collection of papers and books, along with some bundles and heaps of fabric, and a few spools and jars. Nine went over to an open book, soft-covered, secured so it stayed upright against the wall; the page it was open to contained several diagrams. "I don't understand," he said, peering closely at it. "You're making... clothes?"
The twins scurried over to the mounds of fabric and in an instant had two rolled bundles unfurled. Seven watched as they each wrapped their sheet of fabric around themselves and fastened it down the front. They then stood, with their arms held out, looking expectantly at her and Nine in turn.
She saw now that it was indeed clothes they had made; long garments, reaching down past their knees, with sleeves and hoods. It did look like nice work, though the fabric they had chosen was a bit strange. Of course, not nearly as strange as the fact that they had made them at all.
"Seven..." Nine said, approaching the twins, with that tone his voice got when he was on to something big. He patted one of their sleeves, felt the fabric between his fingers. "Do you know what these are?"
She did, but couldn't think of the exact word. "Clothes?"
"Yes, but..." he said, with barely contained excitement, "do you know what kind of clothes? Here. Here, take a look at this." He gestured for her to come over.
The twins' doubly-hooded faces were heavily shadowed, but she could see them clearly enough as they nodded eagerly at her. She managed a small smile as she walked over and felt the fabric of one of their sleeves. It felt odd. Like fabric, but not. Sort of – slippery, maybe? She didn't get it. Why were they wasting their time with this?
"Don't you see?" Nine took her arm now, took her hand, placed it again on the fabric. "They're waterproof. This is waterproof fabric. These are waterproof clothes. They'll protect us from the rain."
Waterproof.
Seven gazed at the twins in wonder. Speechless. They looked up at her, faces shining beneath the shadows; something filled her then, something bright and buoyant, and before she could even stop to think about it, she pulled the two into a rough and joyous embrace. Laughter filled the room: hers, Nine's, the silent laughter of the twins shaking against her.
Waterproof.
There were leg-coverings, too, the twins showed them next, stepping into them and securing them around the waist and ankles with drawstrings. Pieces of rubber had been attached to the bottoms of the feet – for traction, Nine explained. They looked a bit awkward to walk in, but she suspected that if they found themselves in a situation dire enough to need them, that would be the least of their problems.
"I can't believe it," she said, over and over again. Something so simple, so ingenious. Suddenly things seemed possible. A future seemed possible, that she now realized never truly had before, at least not to her. She suspected, however, looking at the three of them, that she had been the only one who had felt that way.
As she stood there, admiring, unable to keep the smile from her face, something caught her eye in the far corner. A shine, a shape she recognized. She went over to it. There, laid out on the floor, on top of a folded white cloth, was a pair of shears. Small – one of the smallest she had ever seen – maybe half her height in length. Sharp.
His.
An assortment of other tools and needles lay on the cloth as well. She had known the twins had kept them, but had never really thought about it after that night. Had never seen them since.
And she was there. Listening again.
He was here. Right here, in the room. They were all here.
Footsteps behind her. A hand on her arm. "What are you looking at?"
All this time, as she had spoken of them, they had been speaking to her. And for the first time since the burning – since the release – she realized something that she had known all along:
They were everywhere. He was everywhere.
"Are you all right?" Nine's voice.
Nine. Like him, but not. Like them, but more. Like him, like all of them, like the next step, like the final flourish. Like an end to waiting. Like a beginning.
In one motion, she turned and threw her arms around him. Heard him blink, no doubt in surprise. Felt him tense. A moment passed, then two, in which she doubted herself, in which she thought she may have made a big mistake.
But then he pulled her in, pulled her close, clasped her as firmly as she clasped him. Held to her. And there, in the candlelight, in the circle of his arms, something connected. Something closed. Something with neither a beginning nor an end.
Suddenly things seemed possible that never had before, and in this fold, in this circle, she found herself almost, finally, believing. In another way to live, another way to be. Was it real? Would it vanish when they parted, like disappearing green?
Did he believe it?
Too soon to tell. Just a moment longer.
Was it too long? Was this untoward? Was he waiting for her to release him? She didn't think so, but she wasn't the best judge of these things. A test, maybe. She slipped from him, just a little, and was gratified when he tightened his hold. She tightened hers. Pressed herself to him, not letting go, not even when her breath sped up, not even when his hand, moving down her back, sent a jolt into her every limb.
They gasped in unison. His hand froze.
He had felt it, too.
Which of them was trembling?
Slowly, tentatively, he moved his hand again, and she cried out softly, her head falling back, her eyes closing. Tremors were going through him; she could feel them. She could feel his breath. Again he stroked her, and it was as if he was reaching inside her, lighting her up, sparking a current through something coiled and incandescent – something that had long lain dormant, but was now brightly burning, now alive.
He cried out. Both hands now, and she was racing, gasping, striving in his arms. Striving against his shoulders, clinging to him, as her body arched. He seemed to be everywhere; there was no part of him she could not feel, no part of her he could not reach –
A bolt of panic went through her. Too much. It was too much. She took hold of his shoulders and pushed, pushed him back, pushed him to arm's length. He frowned at her, blinking. Dazed. Panting.
She was panting.
His hands were still on her, at her waist. His hands. Hers were on his shoulders. Still a fold, still a circle. Another step, and it would break.
Come back, his face said, his hands said. Come back. Hands at her waist, gathering.
She went.
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Some time later, they lay – having collapsed where they stood – on the floor, next to the white cloth. Gradually their breathing was quieting. He still held to her, one arm draped loosely around her waist, and she to him, her arm sprawled across him, exactly where it had ended up when she had fallen.
Where were the twins? She remembered hearing the lift at some point. Vaguely, it occurred to her that she should probably feel bad about that. Had she the capacity to feel bad about anything at that particular moment, she might have.