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Nine has questions.
A lot of questions, actually, all the time and about everything because the world is interesting and people are interesting and Nine wants to know. Knowing is important, because if he doesn’t know, if he doesn’t understand, how is he supposed to help?
More specifically, he has questions about his new friend. Atlas.
Because Atlas is his friend, yep yep yep. No getting out of that. It doesn’t matter if Atlas rarely speaks, keeps making excuses not to play with Nine, and keeps doing lotsa stuff that Nine doesn’t know about. Atlas is Nine’s friend, and Nine is Atlas’s friend.
Nine wants to help Atlas, and to do that, he needs answers.
Why does he have to go away all the time? Where does he go? Why does he look so sad? Why does he never want to play? And why does he always look so tired? Doesn’t he get breaks from all the important testing he does?
Atlas doesn’t really seem to like breaks. He looks at him funny every time Nine asks him to play. Or build a snowman. Or have hot chocolate. He even looks surprised when Nine talks to him, like that’s something that’s weird instead of completely normal and Atlas is the weird one but Nine would never say that because he doesn’t want to hurt Atlas’s feelings.
Because Atlas does have feelings, despite what the other kids speculate. Sure, Atlas always acts—has always acted—cool and distant, but Nine knows better. Atlas looks surprised when Nine talks to him, but he also looks happy. Something—like a tiny flame—sparks in his eyes, which are usually so flat and dull, every time Nine asks him to play. It’s alive and it’s warm, and Nine wants to prod it, like stirring the embers of a fire with a stick, until it flares brighter and brighter and brighter. To help Atlas not be so cold and dull and tired and alone.
Which brings him back to his problem. Nine can’t do that if he never gets to hang out with Atlas. But Atlas is very, very hard to hang out with. He seems to be allergic to the idea of relaxing or having fun or even just resting, and Nine is having a very hard time understanding this. Because, come on, who doesn’t like fun???
Atlas. Atlas, that’s who. Nine sighs. He also pinches his nose, and puts his hands on his hips like he’s seen the scientists do when they get frustrated. None of it seems to help him think better. Dangit.
Maybe he should try saying some of the words Hades uses when he gets frustrated? Only the last time Nine did that, Nora gasped and scolded both Hades and him for being pottymouths.
Maybe his other friends have some ideas that could help.
He asks the others for advice, but they all seem uneasy and skittish.
“He seems to want to keep his distance from us,” Viis says, thoughtfully patting a snowball into a smooth sphere. Snow drifts softly from the sky around him, and the other kids squeal and play in the wet, crunchy snow.
“Isn’t it weird to be around him?” Fyra asks.
Deus pokes his head out from behind Fyra, fidgeting timidly with his gloves. “Isn’t he kinda…I dunno…intimidating?”
Fyra scoffs, breath misting in the frosty air, and pelts Deus with a snowball. One thing leads to another, and the kids get pulled into a snowball fight that Nine, for once, doesn’t take part in.
Nine wanders away, footsteps smooshing the fluffy snow, and keeps thinking about it.
And then one day, he gets his chance!
Atlas comes home earlier than he usually does, and Nine rushes to tell him about scissors and running in the halls and the fun new word he learned. Nine learns so many fun new words from Hades. Im-pale. Pretty cool.
Atlas, it turns out, already knows what im-pale means. Atlas is awesome like that, he knows so much stuff. Even better, Atlas says he’s im-paled a snowman before. A snowman. Nine gets the best idea and he jumps up and down, because he and Atlas need to go build a snowman right now!
And joy of joys, Vesta says yes, and Nine drags his friend out of doors before Atlas can even finish protesting.
As Nine and Atlas build a snowman, as Nine im-pales its head with a carrot, as Atlas then fixes the head with his ability because Nine might have im-paled a bit too enthusiastically, Nine bubbles over with happiness.
He grins and thinks that he might finally have gotten through to his friend.
—
Nine has questions.
A lot of questions, actually.
And this time he is goshdarned set on getting answers.
Nine tears through the burning facility, every pounding step a declaration.
Atlas is very good at not giving answers, but Nine is going to out-stubborn Atlas if it kills him. So there.
Take that, Atlas.
Alarms blare. Smoke rises. The clock ticks away. Nine is not deterred.
Atlas is always worrying. Atlas is always planning. Atlas is always thinking.
Atlas is always hiding things and keeping secrets, and Nine wishes Atlas would give it a goshdarned rest.
Atlas is slowly taking himself apart, piece by piece, trying to build a foundation to hold up their shattered world. He’s losing himself, getting mired deeper and deeper in the neverending exhaustion that comes from trying to carry burdens that are too big for one person.
But Atlas doesn’t have to do that. He doesn’t have to be that way, if he would just let Nine help him. But no, of course not, because Atlas is a stupid, lovable, stupid jerk like that.
Maybe Nine can knock a little sense into him.
When he sees his friend rounding the corner, terror for Nine in every line of his face, Nine immediately does what any sensible person would do.
He punches Atlas in the face. Hard. It’s very satisfying.
And then he yells at him about how much of an idiot he’s being.
And then Atlas, with the next words he says, somehow becomes even more of an idiot. Nine wouldn’t have thought it possible.
“It’s my fault,” Atlas says tonelessly. “It’s my responsibility to finish all of this. And only mine.” The horrible resignation in his voice makes Nine want to yell. Oh wait, he can. Yay.
“ARE YOU CRAZY?” Nine asks, surging forward. “You think this is all your fault? You ran off and fought all by yourself, but—you were never supposed to be alone! The labs, the horrors, the cure…it’s not for you to handle by yourself!”
Nine sticks out a hand to Atlas, who’s sprawled on the floor. A hand to help him up.
Nine and Atlas lock gazes. Let me help you, Nine’s eyes plead.
Atlas’ eyes widen, and for a moment there he trembles, lifting his hand. Then he looks down and drops his arm.
Fine. Then I’ll make you let me help you, Nine thinks, and grabs Atlas’s hand and hauls him forcibly to his feet.
“All of us will deal with it,” Nine pleads, promises, commands. “Together.”
Atlas’s eyes go unfocused, and Nine starts to worry that maybe he hit his friend a bit too hard. Then he refocuses on Nine with a gaze that is strangely raw. Especially for Atlas, who guards everything and locks away his emotions in a place almost no one can access, not even himself.
“Nine, I…” Atlas stops.
“Uh…what?” Nine asks.
Altas doesn’t answer, and Nine senses that his friend is spiraling inside his brain again.
Hmm. Maybe he hadn’t punched his friend hard enough, after all. Atlas is notoriously hardheaded.
Nine waits. Finally Atlas speaks, and Nine hopes that maybe Atlas is actually going to communicate—?
“Sorry. Nevermind it.” Atlas looks away.
Oh-oh. Nine sees what’s going on here. Not on his watch!
“Oh no. Are you thinking again?” Nine demands. “ENOUGH ALREADY!” he says, and slams his forehead right into Atlas’s face.
Atlas goes out like a light. Good. Now he can’t start overthinking and get any stupid ideas like leaving Nine behind again.
“I lit this place on fire so we don’t have time for this!” Nine snarls, grabbing Atlas by the ankle and making for the door.
“When we get back you have a ton of explaining to do! I know you’re knocked out but you better be listening.”
—
The long and short of it is, Nine knows Atlas won’t rest. Not until everyone else can rest too.
But Atlas doesn’t have to carry it all alone anymore. Doesn’t have to be the only one struggling in the dark. Nine will share that burden with him.
Together, Atlas and Nine will fix this. Will clean up the horrible mess that is them and their siblings’ lives. Will find a way to redeem the Originals, complete the cure, and give all the horrors—both Originals and T-2s—peace.
And that means that, in the meantime, Atlas and Nine can take shifts and Atlas can finally take a goshdarned break. And Atlas will, too, if he knows what’s good for him.
Nine’s not afraid to punch some sense into his brother again, if he has to. Sleep is basically unconsciousness, right? So getting knocked out is almost like taking a nap.
Goodness knows Atlas could use the rest.
Nine lectures Atlas about it all the way back to base, dragging his best friend and oldest brother’s inert form behind him.