The LEGO Movie belongs to Warner Brothers Entertainment.
It's an odd feeling, having your body disintegrate and destabilize, floating away in zero gravity. Your shoulders lose their lock and your hip sockets are practically nonexistent, leaving arms and legs tingling. Feeling them two yards away and yet able to wiggle when you wish. Seeing, nothing, yet taking in the shadows and shapes. Black on black. Rex could've been in this void of senselessness for eons, lost in thought as mere milliseconds pass.
Then he opened his eyes. It was bright, much brighter than the void before. He blinks away the deep purples and shades his face from the blue, blue sky. Or tried to anyway, his arms were at his side, stiff as a corpse and unresponsive. His body lied there on the hard ground, nerves cut. A familiar feeling.
Rex couldn't feel the earth, though his shoulder and hip lie in a distinctly uncomfortable fashion. He couldn't feel the heat, even when spotting droplets of sweat bead down his bangs due to Undar's humidity. He couldn't feel his own breath, never knowing how much he took in was dirt or air. The winds picked up and the horrid storms crackled and clashed above in the dense clouds above.
Welcome back to Undar.
Rex wishes he could smile, wishes he could blink. There shouldn't be any humor in this at all, but he wants to chuckle and laugh and scream until he vomits.
Smiling till the end.
He's surprised that he isn't gone. He thought for sure he had spoken his last words, done his last deed, and accepted his fate. So why was he here? Is it hell? He'd believe it if it was, the last place he ever wanted to be was back here again. Detached from his own body, lost in thought, completely isolated from anyone he's ever known…
Out of sight, out of mind.
Stupid time travel and it's convoluted concepts of perplexing paradoxes. He honestly was lucky enough that simply seeing his past self wasn't enough to warrant a collapse in the time stream. Maybe it had something to do with the time gap between him and himself to prevent it, or his own works in completely changing him/himself/themselves (pronouns) that halted the action.
Did so much "growing up" that I was practically a different person.
He didn't know how to feel about that. He didn't want to dwell on the thought. Unfortunately without any other stimuli to distract him, it wasn't long before the hurricane of his mind festered. Rex thought about Emmet, his past, his childhood, his memories, his adventures…
It's my past too.
His friends, his family… All he wanted to do was save them.
Don't lie to yourself.
But it wasn't an excuse! They were captured and sweep away to some unknown part of the universe. The aliens had attacked time and time again, relentlessly for five years. They were the bad guys! He even gave them the chance to be friends at the beginning! No, they did something to change them! Made them forget everything about him!
She came back to him.
That was proof. Proof that everything he did wasn't wasted. If the monster hadn't ruined everything, if the beast hadn't took them away, if that annoying brat hadn't brainwashed them-!
They weren't brainwashed though.
He always turned to music to help him cope, and no matter how loud he blasted his tunes he's not hard of hearing yet. He heard her through the com, Emmet's com. The one that was designed to remain active, always.
They weren't brainwashed.
Rex wishes he could blink, the sweat that started forming is now pooling in his sockets. Rex wishes he could laugh, none of this was funny but he wishes all the same. He wishes he could breathe normally, just so his chest and throat would stop pushing against his esophagus. He wishes he could just punch something!
Why am I not surprised?
The storms were endless here, but they did tend to migrate, leaving the sky bare and open for him to see from time to time. The entire Systar System could be seen. The planets light's out-shining the stars themselves in their endless parties. It could have been the sky housing some crystalline element, or him having visions while awake, but he could swear he can see his friends even from this distance. Dancing, singing, not one asking "where's Emmet?"
Nothing was worse than losing something you didn't know you had.
Rex/Emmet had been alone for the majority of his life, then just under three days he gained his first friends, five years later and he's alone again. It hurt the first time, learning how exactly he impacted those around him, knowing how much others think of him, confirming how much of a nobody he was. It stung twice as much the second time around.
It's killing him now.
Rex could leave if he wanted, walk right up and start again. Force past his rigor mortis through sheer will and hate. En masse his trusty army of raptors and shuttle back into the time pool to wreck havoc again.
I just, don't have the energy.
He's tired. He knows that it's impossible to sleep here, the act of closing his eyes troublesome and overly taxing for what it was. He didn't need sleep here, something in the atmosphere allowing him to thrive without it. If only the gravity here wasn't so swelling.
Whatever. Not like it matters.
I didn't matter in the end, did it? All he managed to do was come back to square one. Less that alone actually, he abandoned himself too.
By the Drayar System he's tired…
When in the time-lapse was he? Is he back, a few weeks foreword to match the time he's been away? Or was he flung back, way a ways back? Was he stuck in between?
…I can't go another five years like this…
He wants to sleep. He wants to laugh. He wants to get up and get away from here. He wants to gather his raptors, the only beings that stayed with him. All who agreed that no member of one's pack would simply abandon another! (Never mind the fact that he trained them that way, never mind that he as alpha had undisputed control in what they did.) He wants to travel far away, outside the realms, outside the Systar System and far past the Stairgate. He wants to find the traitors who used him, who threw him away, who abandoned him. He wants to yell and roar and break every one of them down to basic bricks-!
No, down to dust and throw them out in the vacuum of space. Go toss them into the sun, serve them as treats to his loyal crew, cage them here in Undar and see their spirits shatter into smithereens! He wants to demolish the entire galaxy in a black hole, watch as every pastel, glitter brick vanish into nothing! He wishes- He wants-!
I wish I can breathe!
Gravity here was crushing. Rex can feel his throat swell at the base of his tongue, well, "feel" what little is allowed here. He doesn't need to blink. The moister in the air was enough to keep him hydrated. Still, he wishes he could feel his chest expand and compress like he should. He swears he's getting lightheaded, his vision is fuzzy.
Breathe.
The sun is so far away, so dark yet it's never cold. Or maybe it is and he just can't feel it. Rex can't move his neck. Maybe his fingers are blue right now. Maybe his whole body is simply asleep, and if he wakes them up he could sense those tingles creep along his entire body. He might get a chance to laugh then.
He attempts to wiggle his toe.
Good morning foot.
He tried to twitch his thumb.
Good morning hand.
He fails at smiling/smirking, but he still continues like he succeeded.
Breathe.
Good morning Undar.
It's sad and he knows it. Here he is following the instructions, the very thing that helped control his life and standard of living. Listing off the rules that everyone else had gladly abandoned, and for what, just so he could take some sort of comfort in a hopeless scenario? So he could feel less useless? So he could pretend he has a purpose? A familiar feeling.
Hell, why not? There's really not much else to do here.
I can't move.
Don't need to kid. We're not going anywhere.
I'm covered in sweat, the dust is everywhere.
It storms plenty here. We won't get rainfall but the fog should rise and wash over us, thick enough to go blind and dense enough to leave our hair dripping. Course, it could very much be steam… Dry cleaning, heh…
No soap to get in the eye!
He doesn't need to eat, nothing much to consume here other than dust, dirt, and the occasional creature with too many legs. He doesn't really know how he could live without basic necessities like food or drink, figured he'd be eaten at this point. Those things were awful neighbors, but they at least dropped by to check up on him.
Hello neighbors.
Optimistic aren't you kid? How's this, you're stuck here. You have nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no one else to talk to but yourself. Visions that phase in and out forcing you to see the people you considered family grow farther and farther away. Not ignoring, not "giving space," just forgetting all about you!
…
You're depressing.
He hasn't heard of many songs, he wished he did, not like he never got the chance. He wishes for a lot of things. He wishes he never wished on that "shooting star." He wishes he didn't have so many wishes. He wishes that so many of his wishes weren't wasted.
…but wishing is so much easier than hoping…
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~Everything's not awesome~