Chapter Text
The watchtower in their new sanctuary (which One still adamantly insists it must be called) is meager in comparison to Two’s tireless efforts on the one he and Five had built together so many years ago. It arches somewhat precariously off of the building's only buttress free of decay, and boasts a spyglass with about half the visual range. Still, Five finds it a comforting place to be, if not only because he can often find solitude here. Six is afraid of heights (especially since his death), and the twins are petulant that he won't allow them to haul large historical volumes up the already unsteady series of ladders. Seven prefers to do her scouting on foot, and One has taken to haunting the area around what he calls his “throne room.” The only others who find the time to scale the precarious pathway are Nine, who is, again, unlikely to chase after him currently, and Zero, who is bedridden. Thusly, peace and quiet.
Five sighs heavily and flings himself on the ground, paying no mind to the threatening wobble the unsound structure makes. At this point, he probably deserves to come crashing down with his pitiful engineering anyways. He wishes he understood his emotions. He wishes his creator had seen the faults in his overbearing heart and simply rid him of it. He thinks about the ache in his chest when he sees evidence of Seven and Nine becoming closer, about the endless wandering of the afterlife- not quite running away from something but not running towards it, either. He thinks about his death, and the terrifying moment when he realized that there was truly, really, no escape, and that it was all over. He wishes more than anything, that he could talk to Two. You can't cry . He thinks, wishing more than anything that he could. You can't cry, because you're not human.
There is a noise at the tower’s threshold. Five, instinctually, looks up and expects to see his deceased mentor’s hunched posture and kind smile. Instead it’s Nine, who wrings his hands together. He makes a weird aborted jerking motion, like he’s considering retreating, and thinks better of it. He then sighs, and carefully arranges himself, cross- legged, on the ground next to Five. There is a long moment before he says anything, during which Five is formulating an apology in his head.
“I never… apologized to you.”
Nine says quietly, taking him by surprise. He takes a deep, unnecessary breath.
“I’m sorry, Five.”
Five stares at him.
“I made the stupidest mistake I could have possibly made in my very short life, and I’m paying for it every single day. But… that doesn't compare even a little to how much you had to pay for it. I’m sorry I couldn't protect you, I’m sorry I didn’t protect you, and everyone, and Two , I’m-”
Five hurls himself into Nine’s arms before he has the chance to say anything else that will break both of their hearts. Nine chokes against his shoulder and hugs him back with a crushing strength, and Five shuts his optic tight and berrates himself for wanting Nine to even say any of this in the first place. It's exactly what he’s needed to hear since he died, but hearing Nine admit fully to his mistakes, for Five to understand even a tiny sliver of the guilt he’s been carrying, hurts far more than he could have ever anticipated. He shakes his head.
“Don’t… I know. I know you didn't want this.”
Five whispers, and feels Nine sob against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry for what I said. I know you just want to keep everyone safe.”
“It’s… It’s not just that.”
Nine mumbles, hoarsely.
“It’s… I can't go back, you know? I can’t fix it. I can just… I don't know. Keep trying to make up for it. But-”
He laughs, short and hysterical.
“How do you make up for killing half your species?”
Five finds he doesn't have an answer. He just holds Nine, and they stay there until the sun comes up, and the storm evaporates around them.
—
The twins have taken, lately, to scooping and bottling whatever water they can find around them. They are especially ecstatic after a good rainfall, clicking about and passing whatever vessels they can get their hands on between the two of them. Five has seen them later carefully place small amounts of such water onto thin planes of glass, and excitedly fit them into a large contraption that may as well have resided inside the library since its creation. Zero says it’s called a “microscope”, and that humans would use it to look at “very small things”. Five secretly finds himself more concerned with things larger than himself, but would never scoff at the Twin’s fascinations with their surroundings. There is a reason, after all, that they are considered the most knowledgeable among them. Today, Five and Zero accompany them on a water collecting escapade. He makes sure to keep both of them in his sight- despite them outnumbering his own quantity of eyes. He's not desperate to repeat what happened the other day. Eventually, though, he finds himself and Zero settled on some remnant of human civilization, watching the twins collect stagnant water like they’re preparing for a baptism.
Eventually his gaze wanders to Zero. He’s looking much better after one less debilitating injury and one more day of rest, although Five wonders if his posture is less pained due to his surreptitious additional repairs of whatever damaged wires he had encountered. The thought leads him to a question he’s been turning over in his mind since he first took all the feeling in Zero’s body in his hands, which in and of itself is a concept that makes him feel… weird. He looks at the ground, and then at Three and Four holding their vessels of murky water up to the light, and then back at Zero, who, probably by strict coincidence, is looking back at him.
“So…”
Five begins, and realizes that he has no idea if he can follow through with his line of questioning.
“...Yes?”
Zero asks, sounding slightly perturbed, and Five finds the courage to blurt out;
“If unplugging your nervous system makes you pass out, how did you plug it back in? I mean- If- if you were unconscious and by yourself, How-”
He stammers, feeling embarrassed, especially when Zero’s intense and serious stare breaks when he bursts out laughing. It’s far from his usual dry, monosyllabic “ Ha ,” in response to his own morbid or wry statements. This laughter is surprisingly high-pitched, rusty from disuse, and potentially the most engaging and fascinating sound Five has ever heard.
“Christ, Freefall, That's it? You looked like you were about to confess to murder!”
If Five’s inhuman body would allow it, his face would be burning. It doesn't help matters that Zero’s affectionate nickname makes his mechanical insides twist in a way that surely isn't healthy.
“No It’s just- Ugh, never mind.”
He says, glowering despondently in the face of Zero’s amusement. Zero waves a slender hand in front of him as if he's trying to banish the humor from their conversation like a tendril of smoke.
“No, no- Sorry- Haha. No, okay. That's a valid question.”
He acquiesces, and unexpectedly pats Five on the arm for the second time, ever. The circumstances now are more favorable, despite Five’s lingering embarrassment. Zero shrugs in his odd, lopsided way.
“It’s not the -er- unplugging that makes me pass out. Usually I just do it so I can ignore the pain long enough to focus on fixing myself. In this case, though-”
He taps on his newly mended leg and fixes Five with a wry look.
“The pain outran me, so to speak. Honestly, I’m not sure why I asked you to. Force of habit, maybe. You were right though, you know. I… needed help.”
He says it like it’s the grand secret of the universe. Like no wisdom the prior inhabitants of their planet ever discovered could possibly come close to this conclusion. Five finds himself smiling stupidly, and doesn’t stop even when Zero raises an eyebrow at him.
“What's that look for, Freefall? You’re gonna get sick of patching me up soon, I promise you that.”
Five just tilts his head to the side, letting himself enjoy the secret victory of finally winning Zero’s trust enough to hear confirmation that he will not, in fact, continue his renegade medical malpractice whenever he gets injured. It’s probably a small victory, sure, but somewhere between Zero’s playful nickname for him and the blatant display of trust, Five finds the nervous twist of his insides unknot into something softer. He shrugs, and playfully pats Zero on the arm in retaliation.
“Good thing it’s my job.”