It's fluff folks, it's all fluff.
This chapter was actually one of the most difficult I've written yet, like, ever - and it's probably only gonna be matched by Zane's POV chapter. There's a reason I haven't written him as much as I should, and it's because Zane is hard to write, you guys. So is Pixal, at that. T-T But I love them both, and I wanted to see this, so here goes!
(Also...I watched s8 religiously, and there was no trace of Borg. And I'm pretty sure they don't reveal Samurai X to anyone in s7, so I think it's safe to assume there was no reunion? Fingers crossed I haven't gotten this terribly wrong.)
Again, thank you guys so much for your wonderful feedback! I swear I'm getting to replies, I'm just a little busier this week than I thought I'd be :'(
Pixal's hand is jittering.
It's starting to become annoying, the steady tapping as her fingers drum against her side. She's reminded herself to stop over eight times now, only to find a few seconds later that her hands have started to twitch again, without her consent. It's infuriatingly illogical — that her hands won't obey her, glitching oddly as they are. One might even be able to call it shaking, or trembling, if Pixal was capable of such a thing-
A hand gently closes over hers, pulling it from her side. Fingers slide hesitantly through hers, as if asking permission. Pixal finishes interlacing their fingers, squeezing firmly back - it helps, a little.
"Are you alright?"
Over the soft holiday music playing, Zane's voice is quiet in the elevator, easy and gentle as it always is with her. It's a question born of care, one she knows she is free not to answer, if she doesn't wish to. Zane would never press her to do something against her will, not in a way others might.
He would, however, keep insisting that she pull herself together and face this already, until her willpower crumbled under the force of his beseeching eyes.
Ridiculous, she thinks, fondly. That he can sway her that easily.
She couldn't say no, of course. Not only because Zane has…a few good points, but also because if he's willing to take time away from his family, when she knows how important being there is to him, then this must be of great importance to him as well.
And on another level, she'd gladly face a hundred frightening things for Zane, if it meant never having to relive the horror of losing him again. Twice is already two times too many, and Pixal has sworn to herself that if anyone even tries to make it three-
Pixal takes an unnecessary but steadying breath. The recent events have brought back memories of the past year she normally prefers not to think about.
Losing Zane the second time brought about a few revelations. It hadn't been as…confusing, as the first time had, but that didn't make it easier. She'd had a better understanding of her emotions, and thus felt the lancing pain of it a hundred times worse. She had coped, though - dragged herself from the pits of misery and focused her energy on fighting back. A vast improvement to her performance the first time she'd lost him.
But then, the others, to add to the pain. The combined sting of losing more than one person at once. She's come to care for all of them, more than she'd ever thought she could have. She'd felt the loss of every ninja - Jay's bright intelligence, Cole's easy kindness, Kai's snarking camaraderie. To such a point that she'd taken a completely irrational risk and smashed herself straight into Garmadon, if only for the sake of protecting Nya and Lloyd.
They've all undone her, haven't they. Once, she had feared she could never be capable of caring. Now, she cares too much.
Which is why it had scared her so badly, when they were all plunged into that danger again.
They all came out alright, though, some more so than others, so it's hardly of use for her to fret about it now. And that is not the problem she's currently facing, either. Maybe it's not correct to call it a problem, exactly, but she is…uneasy. The reminder of what it feels like, thinking that someone you care about is lost forever-
Well. This is, of course, assuming that he does care for her like Zane tells her he does.
"I am fine," she says, and she's pleased to find that her voice conveys none of the turmoil her insides are in. Really, it makes no sense. Pixal has no reason to be afraid. She's known him longer than she has anyone else, hasn't she? And he's never been unkind to her, much less given her reason to fear him.
Perhaps…he is not the reason she's afraid. Perhaps the reason is her.
"I am…a little unsettled, imagining how he will react, I suppose," she finally says. "It's been so long, and I never even…I ought to have contacted him a long time ago."
"You're seeing him now," Zane says, his voice encouraging. "That's all that matters."
Pixal looks at him dryly, though her stare falters at the look in his eyes. She's run hundreds of computations on how one can express differing levels of love in their eyes like that, and Zane keeps surpassing each last look with the next. Impossible.
"What if I'm a disappointment to him," she murmurs, with a brief flare of shock - she hadn't meant to say that out loud. Well, she's already done it, now. "What if…I was never built to be a warrior, much less a samurai. What I do, what I feel — I was never supposed to, Zane."
Zane's eyebrows furrow in concern, and he tugs gently on her hand, forcing her to face him. "Pixal, what you've done is incredible. He could never be disappointed in you." The corner of his mouth twitches. "And anyone who could possibly find reason to be disappointed in you is obviously an idiot."
"Obviously," Pixal says, with a breathless little laugh.
"Indisputably," Zane says, a full smile breaking out on his face as she takes his other hand, linking them together. "I've run the calculations."
Pixal rolls her eyes. "You're hopeless," she sighs. "But…thank you."
"Of course," Zane says, looking a little amused. "It's funny, though."
Pixal frowns at him. "What is?"
"Standard conventions suggest that I should be the nervous one, considering-"
The elevator dings, signaling they've reached their floor.
Both their heads turn, and Pixal's hands tighten around Zane's. He looks at her.
"Are you ready?"
Not entirely, she thinks. But Pixal is not a coward. She nods, though she lets him lead the way as the doors slide open. She blinks momentarily, taking in her surroundings. The top level of Borg Tower has long since been rebuilt, the traces of Garmadon's previous devastation wiped away. Instead of glowing purple rocks and black deformations, she now stands among sleek, silvery computers, humming sensors, and wall to wall windows that look out over Ninjago City.
Nothing can compete with having a view like this, he had told her once. That's why I built this thing so ridiculously high in the first place, you know.
Pixal resists the urge to take Zane's hand again. They step down the small flight of stairs, and she notes the smooth ramp that runs alongside them. As they pass a row of monitors, she hears the low murmur of voices grow louder, and the room's occupants finally come into view.
There's not many of them — just a handful of people scattered around a display table, talking in hushed but enthused voices. There's a woman she recognizes as his secretary, her hair pulled into the same severe bun it always is. There's also a tall man she recognizes as a prominent investor, and two people in lab coats she doesn't recognize, but suspects are some new bright-eyed interns.
And then, tapping the edge of his wheelchair excitedly, his other hand thumbing at his pad-
Zane clears his throat, and Pixal about murders him. The others turn, looks of half-recognition sparking in some expressions as their conversation quiets and dies. Cyrus Borg's sentence cuts off in a strangled gasp, his eyes going wide. The pad slips from his hands, clattering to the floor.
(It doesn't shatter, because he doesn't make things that break easily, some vague part of Pixal's mind reminds her.)
"Pixal?" he breathes, as if he can scarcely believe that she's in front of him. His companions at the table seem to take this as cue to leave, and Pixal almost wants to follow them.
She knows full well she doesn't possess a human heart, but it seizes nonetheless. She should have warned him, Pixal berates herself. She should have called first, should have given him the option to see her or not, instead of forcing herself in like this-
"Sir," she says, rallying herself, schooling her expression into the careful politeness she used to wear. "I…"
She's lost for words. Pixal doesn't understand. She isn't supposed to be lost for words, ever, this is unprecedented.
Zane saves her, speaking up quietly. "I don't know if you've heard, but she found her way out of my head," he says, with a hint of a smile. "It should have happened much sooner, and I apologize for that."
Cyrus Borg continues to stare with wide eyes, and then Zane — Zane backs away, leaving the two of them alone, how could he.
Borg finally shakes his head, as if clearing himself from a daydream. There's a light slide of wheels across the smooth floor as he rolls up toward her. Pixal stands frozen, at a loss. Borg finally stops just in front of her, and looks up. "Would you mind, terribly, bending down just a bit?"
Pixal frowns, confused. "Sir…?"
Borg gives a wet laugh. "I'm trying to hug you, Pixal. I can't quite throw myself into your arms like this, can I - oh!"
In the past, Pixal might have hesitated. She would have questioned the motives, maybe, that someone would want to embrace her. Would have argued the futility of such a gesture, simply throwing your arms around each other and hanging there uselessly.
But this Pixal has grown, has spent time among the people of Ninjago and taken the effort to learn their customs. She's watched the ninja, she's been included in their family, she's spent hours upon hours with Zane -
And she knows the value of love.
She throws herself into his arms, some of her hair falling loose as she buries her face in his shoulder. Borg gives a tiny hitch of breath. For a moment, she fears she's overstepped — but then Borg's arms wrap tightly around her, holding her close.
Borg laughs, his voice endlessly happy through the obvious tears.
"I've missed you so much, Pixal."
Pixal's eyes shutter closed. "I missed you too," she says, low enough for only him to hear. "I'm sorry I've been away so long."
Borg pulls back, looking at her incredulously. "For heaven's sake, Pixal, you don't need to apologize. I said you were free to do as you wished, didn't I? And I can't help but suspect you've been having a much more exciting time out there than holed up in here."
Pixal's mouth quirks up into a smile. "Exciting is…one way to put it."
Borg's eyes light up. "Oh, but I want to hear all about what you've been up to!" he says, eagerly. "And - Zane, my boy! Don't just stand there, I've missed you too, after everything with those awful Sons of Garmadon, I feared the worst for a long time, you know-"
Zane shakes his head, but he steps over to them, smiling at Pixal as he takes a seat by her side.
Pixal is the one to link their hands this time, lacing their fingers tightly together beneath the table as they talk animatedly with Borg, her face split with a smile so large she doesn't quite understand it.
Whoever claimed that she was the vastly superior nindroid was clearly out of their mind. It's the only way to explain why Zane continues to end up being the one who's right.
