Constant Craving
Fandom: 9
Ship: 6x7
Word Count: 1,629
Warnings: None
Be it thick or thin
Always someone marches brave
Here beneath my skin
Has always been."
- K.D. Lang, Constant Craving
Constant Craving
6 sat down in front of his paper and took a look around at the empty throne room from his little nook. 1 and 8 were down in the lower parts of the cathedral, bullying someone else for once, so he decided to draw something a bit more pleasing today. He took his fingers and stroked them over the paper slowly. He didn't really think about anything in particular. He wanted to find out what his mind was most preoccupied with beyond the visions, beyond the obsessive image of the source, and this was usually the only way to get it off his mind. As the figure became slowly more recognizable on the paper, 6's mind cleared so that he could see her there as well. He felt a sense of wanting – a needing, longing, craving feeling – building in the center of his chest as his mind reveled in the sight of her. He missed her so. She had only been gone…. How long had it been, now? 6 couldn't remember. Days, weeks, months, years? He didn't know. He was saddened by this, but his mind was weak. He had very little sense of time. He only knew it was so easy to go back to the day they met and pretend it was only yesterday. Yes. He remembered now. It was only yesterday.
The craving subsided as he saw her, lifting the trashcan he had been cowering beneath for days. Dust rose from around her, bullets rained behind her, and their glow lit her like an angel. She was there to save him. He knew this from the moment he laid his mismatched eyes on her. Her pale skin, her beautiful smile, her strong arms, they all came back to him. He smiled, but he couldn't smile. He was terrified right now. Yes, he remembered. Terrified. The humans were making such loud noises, such loud noises. But her voice was soft. Her voice was gentle. And she reached her hand out to him.
"It's alright," she was saying. "I'm here to help you. Come on."
He didn't need very much urging. He clambered up from his huddled position and grasped her hand in his firmly. She recoiled. She made a sound of pain. 6 knew that sound. Ow. Ow. He'd heard it before. He gave her a frantic look as she shook her hand a little. He saw ink on her wrist. Had he cut her? He'd done the same to himself before; it hurt. He didn't want her to hurt!
"S-s-sorry. Sorry," he whispered, torn between stepping back and rushing forward. "I-I didn't…I didn't mean to."
"It's alright," she'd repeated, taking his wrist instead. "Come on! We have to hurry!"
6 let her pull him along through the darkness, the explosions of light and dust, the falling humans. She never let go of his hand, not even when he stumbled over his large, clumsy feet, not even when he pulled her down with him. She just stood, pulling him back to his feet, and continued on as though nothing had happened. She never let go of his arm, always shouting back at him,
"Keep up! Come on! Keep up! We're almost there!"
6 wasn't sure where "there" was exactly, but he somehow felt he never wanted to reach it. He could run through fire with her this way forever. He was so frightened, eyes searching for the "there" she kept shouting about. Where was it? Where was it? They were going to die if they didn't reach it! She pulled him along, pulled him and pulled him and pulled him. The fear made it seem an eternity. He was happy with eternity. He was so afraid…
Eventually, they stopped.
Stopped…
Stopped?
It was silent. He had his eyes closed, he remembered, eyes closed. He was too afraid to open them. Didn't know what had happened, didn't know what had happened to her. His face hurt. He lifted his head and turned it to look beside him. She had fallen this time. He crawled over to her, stared at her pain-ridden face. What had happened? He shook her shoulders, her eyes snapped open, and she pushed him to the ground. She cried out in pain as something exploded behind them. The loud sounds were close again. She stood abruptly, but 6 laid as still as possible, shocked at the quickness of her movements. She was so fast. He stared up at her from the ground, eyes searching for that kind face again. But her face was hard, angry, enraged….pained.
"Dammit!"
He sat up as she threw her spear to the ground and scooted away from her. She was beautiful in her anger. She was so beautiful. He was so scared of her. He curled into himself, leaning against a broken board. There were plenty around this place. They splayed out from a hole were smoke rose in a steady stream. She paced before that center, anger refusing to die.
"Dammit!" she kept shouting. "Damn it all!"
6 didn't know this word, but it sounded so harsh coming from the lips of his angel. He whimpered as his fingers dug into his legs, holding himself once again. She noticed his fear, her beautiful face turning on him, softening. She hadn't realized she was scaring him. She hadn't realized. She took a step towards him, hand reaching out again.
"No, no, Six," she whispered. "No. I'm not angry at you."
Six, that's what she called him, back then, before he even knew what it meant. His frantic eyes searched her face, unsure of what to do. She winced as she was speaking, face contorting in pain. A hand went to her shoulder, reaching over it, towards her back. Something was wrong! Something was wrong with her back! 6 stood and ran to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He was in such a hurry to try to help that he didn't even think to run around her. She stood very still suddenly as his sharp fingers scratched at her back, feeling around for the offending object that was creating pain for his angel. He felt it. Something hard, metal; it was stuck in her back, but it wasn't coming out. His fingers grew harsher as panic overtook him. He had to get it out! He peeled her skin away in strips and chunks as he tried to dig it out. She wasn't screaming or shouting or trying to get away from him. She let him scratch at her back for ….ever. It felt forever before she put her arms around him in return.
"Stop, please?" she whispered, clutching him to her chest. "Stop."
"Sorry!" he exclaimed, trying to pull away. He was hurting her. He was hurting her! "Trying to help….trying to…..trying to…."
She wouldn't let him leave her arms. She kept him held closely to her, leaning on him now. Her face was buried in his messy yarn-hair, her arms were growing weak. She needed him, now. She stayed that way for a moment. It was too brief, 6's fingers stroking her wound as gently as he could, holding her close, wanting nothing bad to ever happen to her. It was too brief.
"We have to get back to the sanctuary," she whispered, pushing back from him.
She turned to continue, and that was when he saw it. He didn't like to think about that. No, no, no. The worry, the fear, the pain. He shook his head. He didn't like to think of it, but the image was burned into his mind. Her skin had been ripped from his fingers, exposing the wound at its core. The piece of metal was jammed between the small metal plates that made up her spine, and sparks shot from the base of the shard, spitting at him angrily. It was horrifying! He grabbed her wrist, pulled her back. She gave him a curious, if not impatient, look.
"Your…back," 6 replied, fingers clutching her arm without puncturing it. "Your back is hurt."
"It'll be okay, Six," she promised, trying to turn again. He wouldn't let her.
"No! No, I hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Six," she whispered. "It's okay. Two would have had to cut me open anyways."
"Two?"
"He fixes us," she explained, gently. "Come on, now. We have to get back to the sanctuary."
"Then you'll be better?"
"I promise."
6 nodded softly. He nodded softly, fingers trailed lines down the side of his portrait. 7 smiled out at him as he opened his eyes. He didn't want to remember the rest. He didn't like the pain, the repairs that had to be made, the sight of his angel opened wide. Once the shard had been pulled from her back….7 hadn't been able to do much for a while. She mostly slept and scowled at 1 when he mentioned 8 having to pick up her slack. The leader hadn't thought her decision to save 6 was the right one, but 6 never left her side, the way she had not left his. He held her when the pain became too much. She held him when his visions took him away from the world to toss him about a chaotic darkness filled with monsters and death. Yes, he remembered those days. He remembered, and – if only for a moment – it satisfied that craving that lived deep in his chest. He placed his pen-knib fingers there, scratching a line over the right side, marking an "x" where he didn't even know his heart should be.
"Seven…"