Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Humans used to describe awareness as something that “washed over you,” like submerging your head in a warm bath. Humans, 9S was learning, were deluded in a multitude of ways.

For him, consciousness did not come slowly, like a trickle or a stream. He was conscious or he was not.

Awareness of his consciousness, though, did come slowly. His processors must be running slower than normal. What had happened to him this time?

“Where… am I?” he spoke into the surrounding blackness. “What… happened?

A familiar voice echoed through the darkness surrounding him. “Analysis: unit 9S confronted unit A2 in battle. As a result, both units 9S and A2 perished from their wounds. However, Pods 153 and 042 were able to restore functionality. Proposal: complete boot sequence.”

9S took a long, slow moment to process this new information. Or maybe it wasn’t long or slow at all. Time in his data made no sense. But eventually, whether it took seconds or minutes, 9S began to remember.

The room full of false idols. The pleasure he felt as he tore each of them into scrap, reveling in the sound of her screams and the screeching of metal joints even as the echoes threatened to tear his chest cavity in two.

The explosion, the arm he had taken because he was the only person left who deserved to possess any part of her.

Virus contamination as 17%.

29%.

46%.

72%.

Standing across from A2 as she tried to assuage the cold rage inside of him with empty words, with warnings that he couldn’t give a damn about even if he tried. What did it matter to him if the human server on the moon existed no more?

2B existed no more.

So what had he cared about the rest of the world?

The moment of triumph as he watched his black sword stained in red before the ripping tearing burning ache it hurts ithurtsithurts -- 

Hitting the ground. Desperation. 

The offer.

The refusal.

“Oh,” he said quietly, his words reverberating around his empty consciousness data. “That’s right.”

The space around him had brightened as the memories had overwhelmed him, and soon he found himself standing in his hackspace. 

“That's… statistically impossible,” he said, thinking again of the sword through his black box, connecting him to the dying android that had bled out beneath him. It had pierced his black box, torn it apart beyond any repair possible on the surface. “I should be dead.”

Pod 153’s voice echoed again throughout the space. “Pods 153 and 042 have accomplished what humans used to call a ‘miracle.’”

A miracle. What did his Pod know of miracles?

The old 9S would have laughed at his Pod attempting to use human slang to describe anything. 

But the old 9S was gone, dead at the bottom of a ravine along with all his hopes for a life after the machine war.

9S simply sighed. “A miracle, huh? Let’s see if this boot sequence is successful. Then we can call it a miracle.”

With that, he began the slow process of rebooting his functions, one at a time.

The first thing he rebooted was his memory storage. It was slow going as he inspected every precious memory for any sign of corruption, any remnants of virus that could pose a risk to the treasures he held most dear. Every memory file gets pulled, inspected, and refiled. 

9S was in no hurry.

He had nobody to rush waking up for, after all.

Auditory sensors next. There was a pop as the system reset, indicating a successful reboot. He could hear the soft sound of wind and the telltale whirr of a Pod nearby.

Rebooting his locomotive systems took a bit more time, but it was a more complicated system so it was to be expected. While he couldn’t feel it, he was aware that his fingers were moving as the reboot moved its way through his body.

From somewhere beyond his hackspace, he heard a sharp inhale. Who or what was waiting for him just beyond his scope? Maybe the Resistance picked me up...

Pod 153 spoke again, this time outside of his hackspace, somewhere in the world beyond 9S’s reach. “System restore in progress.”

“Requesting regular status updates on unit 9S’s reboot progress.”

It was Pod 042 speaking that surprised him. While Pod 153 had mentioned the other pod’s help in rebuilding him, 9S couldn’t quite grasp why it had stuck around. Last he had seen it, it had been floating along right behind…

He quickened his pace as he finished rebooting his locomotion. Her.

If Pod 042 was nearby, she wouldn’t be far behind. And if she was still alive, well…

9S would see that remedied as quickly as possible.

“Request accepted,” Pod 153 responded, and 9S only barely resisted the urge to yell at her, the desire to tell her to shut up and never speak to the other again. Regardless of who Pod 042… followed. He couldn’t bare to use “belonged to,” the taste of the words on his tongue too acrid for him to swallow, not when 2B had been the one before, not when Pod 042 had known what it felt like to be touched by her.

Not when her Pod had watched her fall to her knees, blood dripping from her lips as she mouthed her final words to an android who couldn’t feel loss, who would never treasure her final words like he would have.

“Restoring memory region,” Pod 153 said, bringing 9S back. “Reboot at 34%.”

Ignoring the ache in his chest cavity, he moved on from his locomotion functions to his memory region. He had painstakingly checked every file earlier, but now he restored them to their rightful places in his memory. 

In the area around him, he could hear the soft shuffling of fabric. 

Touch sensors, online. He could feel the press of concrete beneath him, the weight of his heavy coat.

Nociceptors, online. The ache in his chest intensified to a throbbing heat. 

“Reboot at 47%.”

Smell, damp earth and dust and concrete. Online.

Sight, light bleeding through his closed eyelids. Online.

Taste.

Balance.

Temperature.

Online, online, online.

Finally, he turned his attention to his cognitive function.

“Proposal,” Pod 042 said, and it took everything in 9S not to tense, not to react. “Unit 2B should give unit 9S space to reboot and test his functionality upon possible success.”

Did… Had he said 2B?

No. No, of course he hadn’t. Wishful thinking. That’s all it was. He needed to focus on finishing his reboot and stop letting himself be distracted by old memories. He ignored the sound of movement, of heels on concrete and fabric in motion, and focused on patching what he could of his cognitive functions. 

The space was crumbling around him, with cracks and gashes dotting the landscape of his cognitive area, but 9S didn’t care. The amount of effort it would take to patch the holes was not worth it for him. The work needed to repair it was beyond his ability to care.

“Restoring cognitive functions,” Pod 153 announced. “Reboot at 84% completion.”

9S continued, patching what absolutely needed to be patched and ignoring everything else he could, until he came to his last functions.

He remained there a moment, contemplating.

Was it worth it? To return to an empty earth?

To walk alone?

He stopped, staring at the sequence of code that would reset his combat functionalities.

He could… choose not to. 

YoRHa wasn’t around anymore. He remembered that much, remembered watching the Bunker explode in a fireworks display over the daylight-soaked curve of Earth. There were no orders to take and no humans to serve. There was nobody left in the world who could tell 9S what to do.

9S could make his own choice. He could choose to live here, to spend the rest of his time here with the happy memories he had shared with his dearest person until his black box burned out and the sun consumed the earth.

For a moment, he imagined it. He imagined turning around, throwing himself into his memories and living in the past where he was happy and she offered him the rare, hard fought smile and they were together running errands for the Resistance, safe and sound and alive.

Then he sighed and entered the code, rebooting his NFCS.

His penance for not being able to save her was steep, but he would continue paying it until the day the earth crumbled beneath his feet.

“Reboot at 100%. Disconnecting from unit 9S.” Pod 153 blared.

“Okay,” 9S said. He didn’t need to address his pod, but the excuse gave him a moment to come to terms with what he was about to do. “Guess we can call it a miracle.”

And if he glanced back one more time, just for a moment, just to allow the faint view of his own memories to be the thing that carried him into a bleak new world, well… there was nobody left in the world to tell.

“Though I doubt I remember this part… See you on the other side.”

Chapter Text

Returning to his own body after hacking or maintenance would always be a strange experience,  no matter how many times 9S went through it. The first breath upon return to his body always felt like too much, like his chest would burst from being overfull. The sudden, overwhelming sensations of every sensor processing at once had sickened him once, when he was new and unused to his consciousness being yanked around from body to body. Now it was just a part of his life.

He flexed his fingers, confused when his left arm felt… normal. While he had done just fine with 2B’s arm, there had always been a pervasive sense of otherness in the way her delicate fingers bent. Now, though, his left arm felt exactly as his right.

His eyes remained closed to the brightness outside as he allowed his consciousness to sink into his body. From somewhere around him, he heard his name, whispered like the wind through the overgrown flora around them. 

It almost sounded like…

“2B…” he sighed, so quietly he barely heard it himself. 9S turned his head to the side, toward the voice, before coughing overwhelmed him and he was forced to sit up while his body expelled the garbage trapped against his particulate filter.

Sounds, someone shifting, and then movement to his left, something brushing against his arm through his glove. 

“Analysis: current action is not advised.”

Was that... 042?

Then the voice he thought he had heard…

“2B…” he groaned, his vocal processor raspy and electronic from lack of use. Every part of him felt as though it had been crushed beneath one of those heavy metal presses in the abandoned factory, then beaten back into shape. He squeezes his eyes shut against the pain, against the brightness behind his visor. 

“9S…” the voice whispered. “I’m… I’m glad you’re okay.”

He sighed, allowing himself to relax. 2B would protect him. It would all be alright.

“2B,” he whispered back, a smile almost creeping across his face for the first time in months.

Wait.

2B?

But she was-

He sat up suddenly, panic lacing his wires and servos with adrenaline. It hurt, but he managed to push himself away from the figure next to his side. “2B?!”

Pod 153 floated down from the air between them, the sunlight on its metal hull nearly blinding 9S for a moment before his visor adjusts the light for him. “Good morning, unit 9S.”

His eyes dart between his pod and 2B, trying desperately to figure out what was going on. 

She was… so alive . The wind blowing through her hair, starlight trapped in a world of eternal day. It reminded him of the view from the Bunker, when he would look down on Earth and imagine what it might have felt to be human, the stars shining against eternal, empty blackness.

As if sensing his thoughts, she smiled, the barest upturn at the corner of her mouth. It was such a small thing, such an intimate gesture. So her .

“9S,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

He tilted his head to the side, his processors working overtime. 

9S had never considered what happened to androids after their death, not really. Sure, he had thought of it in passing. They spent most of their lives surrounded by death. Failed backups and YoRHa betrayers and Resistance members seeking revenge only to fall woefully short in the end.

Was this what awaited those androids?

If it was… well, he could think of worse ways to spend eternity than on an empty roof with 2B at his side.

Yet there was still tension in the air. 9S kept his guard up. 

Pod 153 floated closer.

“Analysis: after the collapse of the tower, myself and Pod 042 agreed to attempt repair on units 2B and 9S. Unit 2B initiated a forced reboot on unit 9S, as he could not boot on his own.”

The tower.

After the collapse of the tower.

Repairs.

Repairs.

Then… he wasn’t dead. And if he wasn’t dead....

“You…?” he whispered, trying to comprehend what his Pod was saying. “But…”

Without thinking, his hand moved to the spot on his chest. He vividly remembered the agony of 2B’s sword through his chest, held in the clutches of the person who deserved to carry it least.

Across from him, 2B did the same, her hand moving to the spot where A2 had…

Where A2 had…

2B shouldn’t be alive right now. If the Pods could have fixed her, then they should have from the start. No amount of technology could bring back the dead. No miracle.

“The eradication… of YoRHa… Repairs… shouldn’t be possible! There’s… no backup!”

No backup...

“Pod 042 and myself decided that the end result was unacceptable,”

No record of the 2B he had known, the 2B that had fought alongside him, who had smiled and frowned and helped and hurt and died.

“We have made the necessary repairs.”

There was no way.

“Warning: black box temperature rising.”

But there was, wasn’t there? 

“Proposal: unit 9S should cease strenuous activity so soon after completion of repairs.”

He was shaking, he realized. He lowered his hands from his chest, from the spot where the last piece of 2B left in the world had been inside him for a brief moment, leaving no scar, no mark to prove that she had ever existed there.

And he laughed.

The android across from him shuddered. Good. 9S hoped that it knew that its time wearing that face was limited. He hoped that it could feel its inevitable end racing toward it. The very notion that he would ever let a monster roam the earth wearing 2B’s face…

“Pod, do a scan on my cognitive functions and report any system failures or abnormalities.”

“9S…?” the liar asked, tilting its head to the side. It was so familiar, so very 2B that it made his chest ache. How dare it look like her, sound like her, act like her when she was gone, when she would never look at him...

“Scanning cognitive functions. No abnormalities or failures detected.”

“No?” He frowned. Regardless of repairs, no Pod could have fixed the damage of a logic virus as advanced as his had been. “Pod, you’re still following my orders, correct?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the pod bob up and down as though it was nodding. He refused to take his eyes off of the 2B model in front of him.

“Affirmative. This tactical support pod is assigned to unit 9S.”

“Okay.” He had expected that answer. He turned fully toward the other android model now. His shaking had worsened. He could feel the ache in his joints, the grinding of metal. “Last question. What is the current status of unit A2?”

A beat of silence. Two.

“Unit A2 was also repaired. Current status is unknown.”

Tension ripped through his body, every muscle tightening in response.

A2 was also repaired.

No.

“Can you or can you not confirm that unit A2 is dead?”

“Current status of unit A2 is unknown.”

Somewhere out there in the world, the android responsible for 2B no longer being part of his world was walking the earth once more.

His head fell, looking down at the ground as his jaw slowly tightened.

2B’s murderer was still around, still able to see and breathe and feel , while the purpose for his existence slowly rotted at the bottom of a ravine, in a machine graveyard.

Laughter bubbled up unbidden, but 9S felt no joy. There was no joy left in the world, not in a world where 2B no longer existed.

Everything he had been through, for nothing. The tower. The battles.

Devola. Popola.

The room full of her, and yet empty all the same.

The sword through his chest, cold as ice but dampened with the knowledge that at least he had managed to avenge 2B, at least she could finally rest in peace.

Gone.

“I knew it,” he whispered. He heard the monster across from him move, his head snapping up to glare at her with all the fury filling the empty cavity of his chest. It reached out to him, its hand so delicate, covered in an elegant white glove. 

He should be the only one allowed to know her hands so intimately. It belonged to him, not to the machines.

Give it back.

“So after all of this,” he said, his lips curled into a cruel mockery of a grin, “you’re still going to come after me. Torture me?” 9S laughed again. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, seeing her face again was a torture all its own. His punishment for not being faster, stronger, better. His penance for not being able to avenge her. His retribution for letting her down at the very end.

It was cold.

“Kill me?”

He pushed himself back on shaky arms, dragging his aching body across the concrete. Pebbles and stones dug into his skin, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to him at all. Nothing mattered.

“I don’t know what I expected,” he said, watching the thing pull 2B’s hand back, tuck it into her lap. 

No. No, no, no, no.

That’s mine. You can’t have it.

She’s mine.

Minemineminemine-

“9S,” it whispered. “I never wanted to… I didn’t have a choice.”

Liar.

He tried to force himself to his feet. His whole body shook with the effort, the expended energy it took to even make it to one knee, but he refused to look away from the monster wearing his partner’s skin like it belonged there, like it had any right to the body it was inhabiting.

I will kill you.

“Shut up! I’m not… I’m not listening to anything else you have to say! It’s a lie… all of it!”

The thing reached out to him, arms out as if to offer its support to him, but he flinched away. 

Don’t touch me.

I don’t want to be touched by anybody but 2B.

The air between them crackled with tension, with his desperation to not be touched.

His last memory of her touch should be clean.

“Please,” it whispered. “Just listen to me. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Cruel Oath sparked into being against his back, the weight familiar and comforting. He was armed. He could tear this monster into scrap metal so small, nobody would ever recognize it as the B model it had once been.

Nobody would ever be able to look at her again.

“I’m not playing games anymore! We both have unfinished business to take care of, and this time… I will destroy all of you!”

It withdrew, the downturned curve of its mouth- her mouth- showing that it was hurt by what he had said. Her hands shook.

9S hated it. He hated it for pretending, for giving him the false hope that 2B had returned to him before ripping it away from him again. 

Some things, 9S knew, would never happen.

“Please,” it begged, “just let me explain. You can… kill me after. I deserve it. Just let me-” It meets her eyes through their visors. Something in his chest seethes, curling and uncurling.

Just kill it, something whispers in his head. She belongs to you, you need to be the one to kill her. You need to-

Pod 042 interrupted them both. “Proposal: retreat is strongly advised. Unit 9S is exhibiting unpredictable, dangerous behaviors.

9S barely heard the drone of the Pod over the roar in his own ears. 

“And let you put words in her mouth?”

Shut up.

You don’t deserve to use her voice.

You don’t deserve to feel her lips.

Shut up. ShutupshutupSHUTUP-!

He got to his feet, his legs shaking from supporting his own weight. He felt as though his legs might give way at any moment, sending him tumbling down to lay at her feet. 9S wished he could just lay down before her, beg her forgiveness for something he never meant to do.

“Shut up… just shut up!”

But this isn't her. And he won’t let it walk away from this alive.

He pulled Cruel Oath from his back, his fingers wrapping around the pommel and feeling its weight. His whole body was shaking, unsteady and swaying, but he would do what he had to do anyway. 

He would kill her, for the sake of 2B.

It scrambled to its own feet, unsteady and clumsy just like him, before taking a step back. Now that 9S knew the truth, knew what was standing across from him, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that he had believed this ungainly, graceless thing could ever have been 2B. What a mistake on his part. Beneath the humorless laughter, though, his fury writhed.

“Put words in her mouth…?” it asked, pretending to be confused. He tightened his grip on his sword, readying himself for his first strike, anger building in his core. How dare this copy put on her face, her mannerisms, and pretend to be her. How dare it say his name in her voice, ruin his last happy memories of his name on her lips. “9S, what are you-?”

“Stop messing with me!” 9S screamed, his patience finally snapping. In one quick movement, he leaped across the space between them, Cruel Oath held so tightly in his grasp that his metal joints creaked, aiming for her neck- he refused to run her through the chest, refused to disgrace 2B by giving her copy the same sort of death- only to be thrown backwards when his sword hit something hard with a loud clang. 

He forced himself to focus, looking for the source of what he had hit. 

Pod 042 was floating between him and the copy. M Shield was active, projecting a barrier.

He growled, his vocal processor rasping, and gripped his sword tighter.

He could get through this. He was a Scanner, the best Scanner YoRHa had ever created. No Pod program could stop him.

Pod 153 floated over his shoulder. “Analysis: black box temperature of unit 9S is rising above dangerous levels. Proposal: unit 9S should disengage from combat until temperatures return to safe levels.”

9S ignored his pod, instead leveling his sword and staring directly at the imitation. He couldn’t see its eyes, but he knew where they must be, knew that if he removed the visor he would be met with 2B’s icy grey eyes.

He was relieved the visor was still on.

“Report: retreat is advised,” said Pod 042. The shield between them flickered.

The copy shivered for a moment, seeming indecisive as their eyes met through the shield. He thought he detected something in the shape of its lips, the tilt of its head, before it went completely blank, just like the copies he’d faced in the tower. “Affirmative,” it replied. 

9S watched as Virtuous Contract and Virtuous Treaty sparked into existence at her back, and the fury in his chest threatened to shatter at the sight, his teeth grinding hard enough that he could hear them creak and groan. 

Those belong to 2B.

They belong to me.

They’re mine!

You can’t have them !

You CAN’T HAVE HER!

9S swung his sword again and again, only able to feel the rattle through his arms and chest as his sword sparked off of the shield between them. 

No.

NO!

Can’t let it get away!

Helpless, overwhelmed with fury, he could only watch as the copy vanished out of the open hole in the building’s side. His hands were shaking again.

Pod 153 dropped down into his line of sight, though his eyes never left the back of the retreating copy as it flew across the destroyed terrain. The sight was so familiar it made his chest ache. “Proposal: unit 9S should discontinue his act of attacking allied units.”

9S released Cruel Oath to return to his back as the black and silver figure vanished around a corner. Inhale. Exhale. 

“Pod, mark the tower ruins on my map.”

Its time would come. 9S would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

“Pod. Mark the tower ruins on my map.”

“Inadvisable,” Pod 153 responded. 9S paused for a moment, his eyes still focused on the ground floors below them, on the place over the horizon where the fake had vanished from his sight. “The tower has collapsed. Unit 9S should attempt to reconcile with his allies.”

9S dismissed his sword with a thought and turned toward his Pod “Mark. The tower. On my map.”

Pod 153 hesitated for a moment. “...Affirmative. Marking location on map.” 9S heard the telltale sound of a new objective being added to his mini-map. He turned from his pod without another word, leaping from the open side of the wall. Pod 153 glided down alongside him, helping 9S slow his descent until he touched down in the grassy field outside. He turned for a moment, looking back up at the building where he and 2B had landed a lifetime ago. Then, with an aching sigh, he turned his back on the ruins and started walking toward the place where his life should have ended.

He walked in quiet for a while, his boots crunching dead leaves and loose stone beneath his weight, before Pod 153 spoke.

“Proposal: Unit 9S should state his intentions.”

9S didn’t have to think for long. “I’m going to make sure every trace of the machines in that tower is completely eradicated. Then, I’m going to locate the machine network server and destroy it.”

Pod 153 hesitated again. 9S wondered when his pod had started doing this. Perhaps… was this a result of his order?

Pod 153, I order you to cease all logical thought and speech. This order is to remain in effect until you confirm the death of either myself or A2.

If A2 was still alive somewhere… and 9S was still here…

Then he couldn’t trust anything his Pod said.

“Acknowledged,” Pod 153 said, shaking 9S out of his thoughts. “Proposal: allied units would provide a positive benefit toward completing established goals.”

9S laughed, bitterness welling up in his chest. Now that he understood what was going on with his Pod, he couldn’t help but feel a tiny well of pity for the poor thing. It was doing its best. “Yeah. That would be a nice benefit.”

They walked in silence for a while before his pod spoke again.

“Query: why did Unit 9S choose to attack Unit 2B?”

9S shook his head, trying to push down the immediate urge to snap at the pod. It didn’t- couldn’t - know any better. His order had seen to that. But still…

“I know I told you to stop logical thought and reasoning until myself or A2 were dead, but you don’t need to rub in the obvious.”

Pod 153 bobbed in place. “Logical thought and reasoning resumed upon confirmation of death of Unit 9S. Order no longer in place.”

9S shook his head, reaching out to rub gently along the cool metal hull of his pod. “I’m not dead,” he said, “and you can’t confirm A2’s condition. Just because you’re not following logic doesn’t mean I’m not… I get it.” He laughed then, soft and low, though he found nothing funny. He’d heard of humans who used to laugh in the face of insurmountable odds, who laughed because there was nothing left they could do besides laugh. 9S had found it strange at the time, the idea of laughing in the face of misery. Now, he supposed, he understood.

“I’m glad…” he sighed, “that I can still count on you, Pod.”

Pod 153 spun, the only way it knew to show gratefulness for the affection. “Affirmative. This Pod is assigned to Unit 9S.”

9S smiled sadly before turning away and continuing his trek across the deserted landscape. 

Once, the area has been full of machine lifeforms. They had teemed in all the nooks and crannies of the world, infesting the area like a virus. Now, though, the landscape was devoid of movement. Corpses of machines and YoRHa alike dotted the landscape, but not a single one showed any signs of life. The world around him was empty and still except for the wind in the trees overhead.

All this time, 9S had worked toward a world without machines, where he could live in peace alongside… but there was no sense in lingering on fantasies anymore. There would be no peace for him, no future where they could find peace. There was nothing left before him but the endless stretch of machines, their oil staining his sword and hands black.

9S slowed to a stop at the edge of the crater, looking out over the field of white rubble. The crater was nearly unrecognizable, the remains of the machine network’s final plan crumbled to dust and ruin. 

“This place is nearly filled in from the wreckage…” 9S observed out loud. “Pod, scan for any trace of the machines or the machine network.”

“Scanning… Results: signs of machine and android parts buried beneath the ruins of the tower. No signs of active machines or network.”

“Good,” 9S said. His eyes scanned the rubble again. I’m sure it’s impossible, but... “What about android signals?”

“Scanning,” Pod 153 said, “No black box signals detected. Android parts found beneath rubble.”

9S sighed. He’d expected that response, but still… “I… figured. Not that they’d have black box signals, but…” He shook his head, trying to focus his thoughts, before starting his descent into the crater. “Might as well check.”

He moved slowly and methodically across the ruined field. The structural integrity of the rubble beneath his feet was questionable at best, forcing him to move slowly. He picked his way across the open space until he stood in the area where he remembered the Tower’s opening being. Slowly, he kneels and presses the flat of his palm against the metal and carbon.

“Pod, use scanning to detect the remaining pieces of the Devola and Popola model parts here.”

“Affirmative. Scanning.”

9S watched as Pod 153 slowly circled the area around him, pinging rhythmically as it scanned deep into the earth beneath them. He followed the pod as it moved closer to the center of the crater. After a few moments of searching, it used its spotlight to highlight a section of the rubble. It looked no different from any other part of the crater, but as 9S knelt, he imagined the two androids buried under tons of carbon and silicone, their frames twisted, red hair spilling across shards of shrapnel like blood.

He hoped they’d met their ends together. The idea of the twins having been separated at the very end tore at 9S’s chest. They had died giving him his last chance at redemption. 

9S… Do me a favor. Don’t die alone. 

Shaking the sound byte out of his head, 9S dug his fingers into cracks between piles of rubble and began digging in silence.

I don’t think 2B would want that either.

9S grit his teeth and pulled roughly at a hunk of carbon, ignoring the lacerations on his fingers from sharpened edges of shrapnel as he dug downward. 

Nobody knew what 2B would have wanted, in the end. Not Devola, not A2, not even 9S. Sometimes he wondered if even 2B knew what she had really wanted. Not that it mattered. 2B wasn’t around to want. He was on his own.

Pod 153 turned off its spotlight and hovered close over his right shoulder, occasionally providing guidance as 9S burrowed deeper and deeper. The light from the sun overhead glimmered off the white and grey surfaces as 9S moved sheets of metal and bubbled hunks of plastic and steel, ignoring the ache in his limbs, until finally, when he moved aside a slab of carbon and caught sight of a streak of red.

“Pod. Scan these androids for any sign of personality data that can be salvaged.”

Pod 153 hovered low as 9S moved more rubble, revealing the shattered remains of two androids in white tunics. Their limbs had been twisted and deformed by the heat and weight of the tower collapsing around them, but to 9S it almost appeared as if they had been embracing just before the world had come crashing down around them.

He turned away while his pod worked.

“Analysis: small remnants of personality data remain. Probability of extraction and complete reboot approximately 11%.”

“Okay,” 9S said, turning back around to face the androids. “Do you have enough storage room to hold their parts? Dump whatever you need to in order to make room.”

“Acknowledged. Multiple trips to nearby Resistance Camp will be necessary, but 87% of parts are salvageable. All primary function parts appear intact.”

9S shook his head. The Resistance had been more than happy to house him while he was a member of YoRHa, but 9S had seen enough of following other people’s orders without understanding why. He would do what he wanted now.

“I don’t think we should use the Resistance Camp. We need somewhere more private.”

A private place was what 9S needed. Somewhere others wouldn’t be able to reach him without him knowing they were coming.

There were a few places he could use, but he threw them out as soon as they came to him. The abandoned library in the forest was plenty private, but 4S resided there and 9S quite frankly didn’t want his company right now. The flower field Emil had given him the key to would be plenty private, but the idea of bringing any other androids there felt wrong somehow.

Which left…

“Pod, store as much as you can and set a course to Pascal’s village.”

As his pod worked, 9S swiped down his interface and started working on a defensive matrix for what would be left behind of Devola and Popola. 

“Acknowledged. Analysis: utilization of maximum storage potential will limit Pod’s battle capabilities. Proposal: Unit 9S should use caution while moving between objectives to avoid combat.”

9S nodded, only half listening to his pod as he put the finishing touches on the defensive matrix. A quick command and it sparked to life, surrounding the remains of Devola and Popola. “Let’s go.”

“Affirmative.” Pod 153 floated back to 9S’s side, moving slower than normal. 9S bit back a flare of irritation at the pod’s speed, knowing that he had ordered it to take as much as it could. Still, based on its speed, he wouldn’t be able to move much faster than a walk. 

“Marking location of village on map,” Pod 153 said as 9S climbed out of the hole and back into the neverending sunlight. “Proposal: avoid open areas where machines are known to congregate.”

“Yeah, yeah,” 9S replied. For a moment, he almost smiled at the routine, almost expected 21O to crackle to life over the comms system and remind him that she only needed the one affirmation. For a moment, he could almost convince himself that this was a normal retrieval mission.

Almost.

9S hardened his expression and began walking. They followed the path along the left side of the crater, Pod 153’s engines whirring loudly as it struggled against the weight of the androids. The crunch of gravel beneath one pair of boots echoed in 9S’s ears.

Pod 042 to Pod 153: This unit has been reassigned to YoRHa unit 2B.

Pod 153 to Pod 042: This unit is assigned to YoRHa unit 9S.

Pod 042 to Pod 153: Status update for unit 9S requested.

Pod 153 to Pod 042: Unit 9S remains in an unstable mental state. Proposal: intervene to keep distance between units 9S and 2B until a solution can be found.

Pod 042 to Pod 153: Understood. Contact between units 2B and 9S will be prevented until otherwise noted. Regular status updates requested periodically.

Pod 153 to Pod 042: Request acknowledged. Closing communication channel.