Archive of Our Own ^beta

1’s last moments were a mix of resignation, guilt, fear, and determination, followed by the gradual loss of feeling altogether, as his soul left his body and became one with the Machine.

And just a few moments later, just as every bit of feeling finally slipped away from him, the numbness pulled back. He was no longer with the Machine, he knew, but he was still stuck somewhere, somewhere dark and dense, as if his surroundings were packed tight with something he could not see or touch, but knew was there. And he knew he was not alone.

At once, as if watching from above, he witnessed the Machine crumble above 9 after finally being deactivated once and for all. He watched as 7 and the twins rushed forward to find him, desperate to find him alive, which 1 knew he must be. He realized that this was it, that he had finally done some good, and he finally felt, for the first time since his creation, what he assumed peace felt like.

He waited for his soul to be released, to finally close his eyes and be met with nonexistence, but it didn’t seem to happen. Not yet.

Somehow, 9 knew what needed to be done, and 1 observed patiently as the remaining stitchpunks put together a small funeral for them. He watched as 7 and 9 painstakingly searched for each lifeless body and dragged them all to the same place, as 3 and 4 put together the grave markers, as they all dug the holes together and buried each of them with equal care. 1 knew he did not deserve it, did not deserve the way 9 looked guiltily upon his corpse. What he deserved was the way 7 refused to look at him, the way the twins stood eerily back with discomfort until his body was no longer visible beneath the dirt. He closed his eyes and waited to disappear. But not yet.

9 pressed each of the three shapes on the device containing their souls, in the order he’d memorized from their creator, the one he’d never known. 1 could remember being held in the creator’s hand. 9 would never get to feel that. He wished he could pass the feeling, the memories, onto him instead, but some sacrifices were simply impossible, and it wasn’t worth wasting time musing over such pointless thoughts. Then again, all he had now were his thoughts.

The device began to shake violently, enough so that 9 lost his grip and it fell to the ground. At that moment, 1 felt himself being drawn inwards, and suddenly he wasn’t looking down, but rather, up , as his ghostlike figure rose from the device. He looked to 9, saw the conflicted emotions playing out on his face. 1 stepped forward and patted his shoulder, wondering if 9 could feel it. He seemed to understand, at the very least, and the guilt washed away from his face. Good. There was no reason for it.

Now everything was fixed, taken care of, finished. 1 strolled to his assigned grave, ready to reunite with the earth, the sky, wherever it was that souls went once their time was up. He noticed 2 looking at him from afar, his usual wistful smile on his face. 1 didn’t have to guess whether he’d been forgiven for his past actions. 2 never held a grudge – something 1 used to berate him for constantly. Now, he was just thankful he didn’t have any other unfinished business tying him to this rotten world. He hoped they were going to see the Scientist again. He had some words to share with their creator.

He allowed himself to float when each of the stitchpunks felt something calling to them from up above. (The sky, then. How odd that they put bodies in the earth if their souls were meant for the skies.) He saw the relaxed, accepting looks on the faces of 2, 6, and even 8, as they heeded the call. But there was one he did not see mirroring their expressions.

When he looked down, he noticed 5 had a curious look on his face, as he stared at his own grave. Something drew him closer to it, rather than away like the others, and everyone watched, puzzled, as his ghostly figure sank down into the dirt and disappeared.

A few moments later, the ground began to shift, and then a hand poked out from below the dirt. 7 gasped as she realized what was going on first, and she rushed forward to help 5 dig himself free. 3 and 4 crowded him in a flash, wildly dancing around him with their eyes flickering joyfully, as he rose unsteadily to his own two feet, no more ghostly glow to his figure, and tried to shake the dirt off of himself.

9 gaped at the sight of his friend, back in control of his body, alive. “You… you came back?”

“I didn’t know I could. But something was pulling me back here, and I had to try,” 5 explained gently. He pulled 9 into a big hug.

“I missed you,” 9 admitted. 5 smiled sheepishly, then turned his gaze to the other stitchpunks, who were observing him with wide optics. The mournful ceremony suddenly became hopeful, and 2 and 6 grinned at one another as they switched gears and slowly began to descend.

8 floated to the ground first, then hesitated and looked toward 1, silently asking for permission. 1 encouraged him with a nod, and a look that suggested, ‘I’ll be right behind you.’ 8 dropped into his grave, and this time 5 and 7 worked together to free him. 3 and 4 started working on 6’s in the meantime. 9 headed over to 2’s, trying to scrape the dirt newly packed dirt away with his hands.

“... What’s he doing?” 7 asked, her voice tight, and 9 looked up from his task. 2 and 6 were both low to the ground, looking as though they were about to follow in 5 and 8’s footsteps, but their gazes were pointed upward, where 1 was floating in place with his eyes fixed on the skies above.

1 felt no pull to the ground, only toward the sky. He gazed up longingly as it called to him, the chance to free himself from this body and this world forever. He knew the others didn’t care for him. He’d lived long enough to become the villain of this story. They would be fine without him, now with all the threats to their existence deactivated and their lesson about the machine learned. He could just… float away, and then… then there would be peace.

He glanced down, meeting 9’s eyes, and then 7’s, as they watched him mull over his decision. They looked worried. But that was foolish. There was nothing to worry about anymore.

It was then that 6 floated up to him, and took him by the hand. He was surprised that they could do that, that he could feel 6’s hand grasping his, even in this ghostly form. Gently but with a firm grip, 6 dragged him down to his grave, making his decision for him. 1 decided not to fight him, too tired to even imagine trying, instead allowing himself to be pushed under the ground, until his soul made contact with his body, and suddenly he could feel the heavy pounds of dirt on top of him.

8 was the one to dig him out fully, which didn’t surprise him in the least. There was a confused terror in 8’s optics that made him want to look away, to not admit that he had been seriously considering death until the option was taken away from him. But not long after that, 2 and 6 emerged from the soil as well, and then there were hugs and laughter all around, and even 8 was distracted by 6 coming up to shake his hands.

Having 8 by his side again should have been enough to make 1 feel back to normal, but he didn’t. He felt like he’d lost a core part of himself in the last few hours, in their struggle against the machine, and he didn’t feel there was any cause to celebrate – not for him, at least.

1 noticed a blur coming toward him out of the right edge of his vision, and turned just in time to face 7 as she leapt into him and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He didn’t know how to react, unsure what was happening, as the seconds dragged on, her forehead gently resting on his shoulder, in contrast to the tightness of the rest of her body. Eventually he sort of gently patted her shoulders, and then she quickly pulled away and moved on to give 6 a warm welcome-back embrace – but with significantly less desperation. 1 found himself staring after her, confusion making it hard to think.

A few minutes later, 9 finally approached him with a sheepish smile. “1… thank you for what you’ve done. Without you, we…”

1 raised a hand to silence him, and surprisingly, 9 obeyed. “Without me, you still would have saved us all, no doubt. I can only imagine the twins would have discovered how to free our souls. The only words I want to hear from you right now are your plans to get me a new cape.”

9 chuckled. “I’ll get right on that.”

“You’d better. And a new hat, too.”

The chuckles faded into silence, and 1 assumed the other stitchpunk was about to move on to someone else, but was surprised by a sudden question when he least expected the conversation to go on.

“Why did you hesitate?” 9 asked. “To come back. I don’t understand.”

It was the question he’d been dreading, but that he knew he had to prepare an answer for. He was sure he’d be asked later on, when the happy mood passed over and 2 caught him alone for a serious discussion about his mental health. Or by 8 in the most awkward and side-stepping way possible, since even he seemed to notice his dilemma.

1 stared at 9 for a moment as he contemplated whether to even attempt to explain himself. He reminded himself that, for all the good that he’d done them, 9 had practically just been born today. He was a curious young stitchpunk, but perhaps some things were still too much to burden him with so early. Besides, today was a day of resolution and celebration – it wasn’t his place to ruin this, too.

1 placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed. “That’s a story for another day.”

9 made a frown that made him look utterly childish, but he was prevented from questioning him further when 5 called them over to try and position an old but functional camera for a group commemorative photo. 1 scoffed when he was pulled along, muttering about the ridiculousness as he was made to stand on the far left of the frame, next to 2, with 6 behind him in the second row. He refused to smile for the pictures, knowing the result would make him a laughingstock if he tried.

They needed someone to take the photo, so they took multiple pictures – first with 5 absent, then 9 – so that everyone got to be in at least one photo. 9 wanted one with both him and 5 in it, though, so 1 volunteered to take it, glad for the excuse to leave the camera’s focus.

As he stared into the camera from the other end, witnessing the tired smiles of all eight other stitchpunks, all of them alive and well and fitting so perfectly into frame without him, he wondered if he’d ever find his place in this world, or if he would simply have to wait for the next chance to drift away like a leaf in the wind.