Hello, readers, after a bit of an absence I return! Please do excuse me, I had a bout of writer's block that was followed by a stressful college roadtrip... but no matter! My problems are none of your concern.

I'm not a very big fan of reviewer shout-outs in the beginning author's notes, but special mention does go out to Jade (Guest) and depressedchibi! You guys rock my socks, honestly.

Beta'd by my beta-chan, the lovely swimmy anime paradorx~


Garmadon was standing before the helmet that had been delivered to him by the Stone Army, by a warrior named Kozu. High and crowned with what could only be dragon's horns, the helmet sang with darkness, something old and ancient and terrifying, nameless. He did not scare easily; it was no longer in his nature to be frightened of darkness, since he himself was something to be inherently feared, but this helmet stilled him for a moment. He stretched out a hand to take it, but did not move to touch it.

There was a soft sound behind him, and he turned sharply, heartbeat accelerating.

Misako's hand flew to her mouth and she froze where she stood, green eyes wide and shocked. Garmadon himself felt his mouth open, and his lower two hands sought the support of the table behind him.

Misako—gentle, beautiful, clever Misako—she hadn't changed much since he had last seen her… her hair was combed with grey and her face was showing soft lines, but he could still see the clever twist of her mouth, the proud line of her nose… and then he became sharply aware of what he looked like to her…

He struggled to say her name before turning his back on her. His back, bent over the table where he braced all four of his hands, was black as pitch, the white glint of his spine rising from the darkness like a serpent at sea. As he breathed, it moved, rising and falling, and the stretch of muscles was so clear, making the motion almost unnatural. Misako swallowed heavily and walked towards him, hesitating to reach out a hand to touch his shoulder.

She couldn't do it.

She withdrew her hand, and seemed aware of it, and he chuckled harshly in his throat. "I'm quite the sight now, aren't I?" He turned around to face her fully, let her see the planes of his skull with the black flesh clinging to it, the sharpened points of his teeth, the rising hills of his ribs protruding from his bare chest. He rolled his shoulders back, and his lower set of arms moved thoughtlessly. Misako looked at him endlessly.

"Garmadon," she said his name like it was years ago, lifetimes ago, when he still deserved to have her say his name without contempt.

"Misako," he returned, and his voice was the kissing of a snake coiled beneath a lost katana, with a green stone set into its head and a red gleam in its eyes, like the burning of so many funeral pyres. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, but it was not unkind. There was a secret softness to his voice.

"Our son," she said shortly, "is on the island."

It took all of his self-control to show no emotion at this fact. "I'm aware of that fact."

"Are you aware that he is now of age to fulfill the prophecy?" Misako's voice was sharp as a whip, and Garmadon visibly started.

"What?" he growled. "Lloyd?"

"He is sixteen now," Misako said in a quiet voice. "He will try to stop you."

"That will not happen," Garmadon's voice was surprisingly soft, and she saw a promise in his eyes. "I have found a way to become too powerful for him to even attempt to fight me." He moved to one side to let Misako see the helmet. Her eyes widened, and, without thinking, she reached out to grip Garmadon's arm.

"No, you can't do this—don't you know what that is?"

"Of course I know," Garmadon shrugged off her hand and finally touched the helmet, lifting it from its perch and holding it at eye level, his horrendous face reflected back to him from the onyx surface. "With the power harnessed from this, I will be undefeatable, and when the ninja come for me, I will destroy them, and take my leave of this dark place."

Misako shook her head. "No, that's a lie the Stone Army told you—"

"This is my only chance to save Lloyd."

She looked at him silently. He did not look at her, his eyes locked on his reflection in the helmet. "That is not a lie, my… Misako. That is not a lie."

"The darkness tied to that helmet is tied to the worst monster, the most evil thing in all of creation, and it waits beyond the veil in the Afterworld… what if this helmet is the key?"

"I thought I was the most evil thing in existence," he quipped in a sarcastic voice.

"No." She placed one hand on his chest, on the black flesh and the white bones and she felt his heartbeat rushing away beneath it all, the same heartbeat she had felt and listened to for years. "No, you're not."

He smiled, and if she looked past the pointed fangs, past the stretched muscles and red eyes, she could almost see a young boy with eyes such a dark shade of blue they were almost purple, laughing as he fought with his brother, the same confident smile he had shot over his shoulder as he scaled the wall, in search of a weapon that was lost.

"You're not a very good liar, Misako," he said, and placed the helmet on his head.


Cole did not hear himself scream. Rather, he felt it, the fire in his throat and flooding his veins as he watched Zane die, lying on the cold, rocky ground.

His hands were shaking, out of his control, as he pressed them around the wound, to Zane's hands, to the side of his face, attempting to wake him from a sleep that was dark and endless. His eyes, a shining, delicate gray, looked right at him as he felt himself scream and drenched his hands in dark—almost black—blood. Cole's hands slipped over his face as he sat back, unable to breathe, a man on fire, burning.

Kai was saying something. Cole didn't care.

His hands were on his scythe, and he was standing, unsteady. Jay was at his elbow but Cole pushed him away. The Army. The Stone Army. He knew they did this.

"I'll kill you!" he shouted, screamed, "I'll kill all of you bastards!"

"Cole! COLE!" Jay was in front of him, hands up beseechingly. "Cole, you need to calm down!"

"He's dead!" he shouted, voice cracking. He dropped his scythe from his shaking hands and brought them to his face once more, feeling warm wetness staining his cheeks. He was sitting on the ground. Jay was still talking. Cole didn't hear him. Zane's eyes were locked in his mind and his voice was in his veins, laughing like the ghost he now was.

Everything went silent as the Captain mourned, kneeling on the stony ground, his back to the corpse he couldn't face. He couldn't stand to see the wounds and the blood. Couldn't make himself do it.

"Kai." Nya's voice was quiet. Her brother moved to stand next to her as she kneeled next to the Prince's still corpse. He didn't say anything, and, with one eye on Cole's back, Nya took his hand and moved it down to where Zane's neck met his shoulder. She pressed his fingers there, silently, waiting.

"He has a pulse," Kai said in an awed voice. "He's still alive."

Cole couldn't breathe.

He turned around, on his hands and knees, scrambling to Zane, and felt the weak push of blood through the vein on his neck. Biting back a sob, he moved Zane's head into his lap protectively. "What do we do?!" he demanded.

To their surprise, Lloyd was the one who spoke up. Tears tracked down his face and Kai was sharply reminded that for all of Lloyd's life, Zane had been his brother, his teacher, the closest thing he had to a friend.

"We need to get him somewhere sheltered," he said, and then looked up the trail. "I'll scout ahead, there's got to be an empty cave up there somewhere."

"Okay. Okay," Cole cradled Zane's body in his arms, picking him up and making a strangled noise as the shard of rock still protruding from Zane's chest shifted and a river of black blood flowed out, drenching Cole's arms up to the elbow. He settled Zane's weight against his chest as well as he could and began to walk while Lloyd sprinted ahead, disappearing around the bend. Kai took out his sword, flames igniting along the blade, and followed, keeping the young man's green robes in view, just ahead of him. Around and around they went, eventually passing where the shard had originated from, the footprints of Stone Warriors present, and a lingering scent of darkness and smoke. The walls of the mountain held no crevices. Lloyd began to grow desperate, and stumbled, his hands cutting on the ground. Kai went to help him but he was shrugged off, the Destined Prince pushing on forward.

Finally, they rounded the final corner, reaching the summit of the mountain.

It was flat, and they froze. Directly in front of them was a great temple forged all in gold, with a great circular red door shut against them.

Next to the temple, almost leaning on it for support, was a ramshackle house. And standing in front of the house, frozen in mid-step, was an elderly man, looking in shock at the odd pair panting in his sanctuary.

"Please," Lloyd panted, "Please, we need your help."

The man twitched. Then he sprinted inside the leaning house and slammed the door. Lloyd gritted his teeth and began to stalk forward, with Kai on his heels.

"Hey, old man-!" Lloyd shouted, and then was cut off as from the floor of the mountaintop, walls of chinked earth rose up, a fifth section clapping on top to complete the cage trap. Kai and Lloyd were trapped inside and immediately began testing for weaknesses in the cage.

The old man appeared, cautiously peeking out from behind his front door. "You Stone Army goons never come this close to the Temple," he called out, "That's changed?"

"We're not Stone Army!" Kai called out angrily.

"I am Prince Lloyd of Ninjago!" Lloyd nearly screamed, tear tracks on his face collecting dust. "And I order you to set me free! My brother—"

"Prince Lloyd…" the old man said, as if to himself. And then his eyes widened, a pearly grey color. "Brother?"

"My brother Prince Zane is injured and needs help.Please." In the past twenty-four hours, he had lost his mother, his childhood, and now his brother. Kai could see he was close to cracking.

The old man disappeared back inside and Lloyd began screaming obscenities, a few of which Kai took note of for later use. But then the cage fell down into its original hidden setting. The man walked back out, white hair askew.

"Where is he?" he asked, breathless.

Wordlessly, Kai lead the way.


Zane was heavy in Cole's arms, but still he walked. On and on and on, with the black liquid drying in streaks down his arms, sticking to his neck. Behind him, Jay and Nya both carried the weight of his scythe, struggled with it. All Cole could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other, up the mountain incline.

Don't die, he begged silently, please.

He didn't know who or what he was begging.

All he knew was that he couldn't lose Zane without saying goodbye. He couldn't leave a love silently.

Not again.


He didn't say a word to his father as he left the ship.

Cole was young, not yet strong, with wildness to his lanky limbs and a rebellion housed in his mouth, crowded in amongst his teeth, bared often in humorless grins. His eyes were not yet defiant, but they were just as dark and boundless. The skin of his back was bare and empty.

He was young and he was restless; he was cold and distant and he was constantly looking for a horizon he could touch, coming up empty so long as his father, demanding and constant, was at his shoulder.

And so he left.

He gathered up his few belongings and prepared to sneak across the deck of the ship at night, when the moon was empty and dark. His feet were sure and cold, bare against the wood. This was his freedom, carried on the cold air, burning into his lungs.

As Cole reached the side of the ship there was a loud creak that could only be one thing. With a hostile, childish look, Cole looked to the helm. A figure leaned against the wheel languidly, lazily, and as Cole stared with horrible anger in his eyes the light of a pipe illuminated the face of his father. It was the face all fathers wore when their children were no longer children.

There were no words. Only two pairs of dark eyes staring from across the ship.

Cole turned away and left the ship and his father behind.

Years later, after a dragon, gold, and a tattoo of ink and flight on the virgin skin of his back, Cole would hear of his father's death.

There were no words.


Cole walked and walked and walked.

And he never made a sound.


"Come with me," the old man said urgently when he reached them, Kai and Lloyd at his side, "I can save him."

Cole didn't have the energy to question him. He followed him quickly to his house on the summit of the mountain, with the glare from the gold burning Cole's eyes somewhat, but he didn't care about a shining temple when Zane was pale and cold in his arms, dripping black liquid in small running rivulets.

Inside the man's house was cleaner and larger than it appeared from the outside, with several rooms with doors shut and a wide, clear hallway that Cole maneuvered into, trying to keep Zane from colliding with the walls. At the end of the hallway was a larger, brightly lit room with a large table in the center. With a sweep of his arms the man cleared piles of machinery from it and let Cole lay Zane's body down softly. When Zane was lying there, still and pale Cole's arms were shaking, and not from the exertion. He grasped at Zane's hand, leaving behind a large black stain.

"You need to leave and let me work," the man said, not unkindly.

"I'm not leaving him," Cole said, voice faint.

Jay's hand was on his shoulder. "Come on, you need to rest. Let…"

"Dr. Julien," the man supplied into the silence.

"Let Dr. Julien work. Come on." He tugged at Cole's shoulder, moving him like he weighed nothing, back and back and back, until they were standing in the doorway. Kai and Lloyd were collapsed against the walls, panting and sweating. Nya remained behind with Dr. Julien, and said something to him in a quiet voice. The old man nodded.

"Okay," he said, nodded, and then shut the door.

Cole sank to the ground, Jay's hand still on his shoulder.


"I know who you are," Nya whispered once the door was shut. "The Watchmaker to the Empress."

He looked at her for a long moment, in her dusty red robes with her disheveled black hair, bobbed short to cup her face.

"How do you…?" he asked, and then pushed it from his mind. "No matter. You told me that you worked with machines, and that is why you are here. Help me." He grasped at the shard of rock impaling Zane's chest. "Hold him down." She pinned his shoulders to the table.

Dr. Julien, with a grunt, wrenched the rock free. Black liquid surged through the open wound, which flashed a metallic color within.

Zane screamed.


Jay watched Cole intently. The pirate was on his knees, staring at the door that separated him from Zane with an empty, void gaze. His arms were drenched in the black liquid Zane had been bleeding, but his black clothing showed no stain. However, where Cole had touched his face with his soiled hands were large black stains.

Cautiously, Jay laid a hand on Cole's shoulder, expecting a retaliation of some kind. No response.

"Come on," Jay said quietly. "You need to get cleaned up."

Slowly, sluggishly, Cole allowed himself to be guided up and down the hall into a room with a sink and a faucet. Jay got the water running, and then Cole was a flurry of motion, getting out of his shirt and with a strangled cry shoving his head under the stream of water, back shaking silently. Jay was about to do something resembling comfort—although he had no idea really how to do that—when Cole withdrew, water streaming in grey streaks down his shoulders and chest.

"I can't do it," he said. Jay was an audience, not a participant, and so he did not speak. Cole plunged his arms into the basin, half-filled with water. "How am I supposed to save my father when I can't even save my…" with another strangled sound his ducked his face into the basin, drenching it. He game up gasping and sputtering, face clean of black.

"I was always a failure to my father," Cole said. Jay stood by, silently. "And now I think I get why he thought that. I couldn't do anything right… it wasn't until after he died I even started being a pirate for real. And it was… I was looking for some sort of reassurance from the gold and whatever else I got. And it wasn't enough. And then I decided to try and buy my father back from death and I end up here… and here is where I let Zane die."

"He pushed you out of the way," Jay spoke up quietly, loathe to break the silence. "He was trying to save you."

Cole laughed, hard and dark and bitter. "I'm not worth saving."

"Everyone is worth saving," Jay replied. "Everyone deserves a chance."

One of Cole's dark, defiant eyes stared at him from underneath a chunk of wet, dripping black hair. "Is that the Sheriff talking?" he asked, "Or the guy behind the badge?"

"You say that you're not worth saving," Jay countered quickly. "Is that the killer, infamous pirate with no regrets talking, or the boy who lost his father?"

Cole looked at his hands, a bit of gray water sticking in the creases. "It's all… it bleeds together after a time, doesn't it? The boy becomes the pirate, the pirate is the boy."

Jay shifted his weight from foot to foot. "The responsibilities of the Sheriff overcome the man."

"Now, the big question is which one of those two thinks I deserve a second chance," Cole said. "And frankly, I'm going to have to disagree with whichever one it is."

"Shades of grey," Jay commented lightly.

"Shades of grey," Cole agreed.


"You need to calm down," Kai ordered.

"Oh, that's fantastic, coming from you," Lloyd replied. "The famed fire samurai with a chip on his shoulder and problems with authority, telling me to calm down." He kicked at a stray pebble on the ground. He and Kai were outside Dr. Julien's house, trying to vent steam. Tensions were clearly high.

"But that never interfered with my tasks." There was a vein in Kai's forehead, pumping angrily. "Right now you're preparing to try and defeat your father in a world that is a bridge to where spirits go when they die. A land of lost souls."

Lloyd grunted, pacing. "Don't remind me." He stopped pacing suddenly. "If Zane dies… we won't have four. Does that mean I'll fail?! Will I die if Zane dies?!"

"Focus," Kai demanded, although his tone was not unkind. "Breathe. Control your fire. That's what I do. Channel it. I channel it into my sword. You… you have energy powers."

Lloyd nodded. "Yeah, like King Wu."

"Show me."

Lloyd cupped his hands together at chest height and then thrust them out, a green light emanating from his palms into a hard stream of power. Ozone rippled out through the air.

Lloyd stood still, panting slightly, eyes unfocused. "What if it's not enough?" he asked in the voice of the small boy he really was, despite his body.

"Again," Kai ordered. "Do it until your mind is clear."

Lloyd did.


When the messy work was done, Nya collapsed into a chair. Dr. Julien watched her solemnly. "You knew?" he asked.

"I suspected," she said. "That's why I offered my help with machines."

He nodded slowly. Zane lay before them, stretched out on the table. His robes had been stripped away and now his chest was covered in a shiny metal plate, covering how instead of a heart, lungs, bones, he was built of steel and the components of a clock. A clock similar to the one a watchmaker had made for the Empress so many years ago, tapping into the flow of time to tell the future. Zane's visions were mechanic, not mystical.

"Watchmaker…" Nya said slowly. "You disappeared."

"I was taken," he said, sitting down as well, waiting for Zane to wake from his slumber. "By a warrior whose flesh was made of stone. They took me here because of my understanding of the anti-matter… it's how the visions work, how the Empress's clock works. They made me… they had this helmet, and they made me do… horrible things." The old man shuddered just thinking about it. "And then they left me here. I had no idea if they would return, so I set up some traps…" he shrugged. "I never suspected…" he looked wistfully as Zane.

"He is your son," Nya said.

Dr. Julien jumped and then eyed her. "You're a very perceptive young lady."

She shrugged. "You should tell him," she said.

"I can't." he shook his head sadly. "I can't give him the pain of knowing… I gave him away. And I have regretted that choice for as long as I've lived."

Nya let him keep his silence for a long moment before speaking again. "I kept a secret from my brother for a long while. We were all each other had, and still I thought it better to keep this secret from him. If something had happened to either of us before he knew the truth…" she drifted off sadly. "Trust me, you don't want that. He… we are all going somewhere dangerous. We might not survive."

The doctor was looking at his sleeping creation, his son, once more. Nya stood and began to leave.

"If you don't mind my prying… what was the secret?"

She paused. "The secret was that I gave my life away for my country." She looked over her shoulder at him, saw him squinting and then his face going slack with shock as he recognized her. She left him alone with his choices.

Outside, she found Jay at a window, his hands braced on the sill and eyes moving as he watched her brother talk sternly to Lloyd.

She leaned silently into his back when she reached him. He gave a slight jump in surprise and then looked over her shoulder. "Hey," he said softly, turning and bringing an arm over and around her. "Are you alright? Is Zane-?"

"He's fine," she said shortly, but her eyes, looking up at him, said so much more. They were going into the heart of danger, now that Zane was back with them. There was nothing to stop them.

His face softened as he read her silence well. He entwined his fingers into hers, stained black from the oil pumping through Zane's veins, and tugged her towards a sink. "Let's clean you up," he said. She followed behind, her heart full and her mind heavy.


Dr. Julien sat alone.

He leaned forward and opened the hatch in his son's chest, revealing all manner of new dials and switches to replace those that had been crushed by the rock. His hand hovered over an unmarked switch. He could remember turning it, so long ago, before delivering his son to the Palace of Wu. It had been so long ago…

Before his courage could leave him, Dr. Julien flipped the switch.


Pain registered. Systems damaged. Emergency shutdown protocol enga-ga-ga-gaged.

Cole's arms, wrapped around him. But it wasn't an embrace.

Pain rrrregistered.

Systems dama-dama-damaged, pain rerererererere—

Pain registered.

Movement, faster now. Zane was lying on a table.

Majorrrrr system malfunction, paipaipain rrrrregistered, damage, damage, damage-mage-mage-maged.

Overload, creator system engaged, repair sequence beginning…

Creator. Creator. Creator. Creator ID identified.

Zane was calm, locked and still, asleep and yet aware of his surroundings.

Memory banks activated.

Zane was a child. He played with toys. He learned to cook, loved the taste of different foods. His father was a clockmaker. His father made him. His father programmed him; he was destined for something greater, he was a creation of a man with love in his hands. He was destined for something else, someone else, Wu, the House of Wu, he was a Prince, he had to leave, it was his destiny, his creation, he was a creation, a construct…

"Remember Zane. This is your purpose," his father-creator told him, his chest plate open. "And remember… I love you, no matter what." A flip of a switch.

Memory banks emptied. Assimilation of memory complete.

Systems online. New systems detected.

Identify.

Unknown.

Identify.

Zane…

Identify.

My name… my name is Zane… I…

Identify.

I am Zane. I am… I am a robot.

Identity Confirmed. Systems online. Start-up sequence initiated.


Slowly, cautiously, Zane opened his eyes. He was lying on the table, dressed in fresh white clothes with a bundle of cloth beneath his head as a pillow. There was a pressure in his hand.

Looking down, Zane saw a dark hand clasping his, and, following the hand, saw Cole, chin resting on his chest as he slept in a chair by the table. Suddenly it was hard for Zane to breathe as he watched the movements of Cole's eyes beneath a fringe of thick black hair, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Cole, so wonderfully, beautifully human, dreaming normally. And here he was, nothing but a construction.

Slowly, softly, with his heart in his mouth, Zane tried to remove his hand from Cole's grasp. The movements woke him, his eyes flickering slightly and then focusing on Zane, sitting up on the table.

"Zane!" Cole was relieved, breathless, and he wrapped his arms around Zane before the Prince could react, hugging him to his chest. Then he pushed Zane away to look him up and down frantically, taking a seat on the edge of the table. "You're alright." His voice was strained with emotion.

Zane couldn't bear to look at him, at his happiness. He didn't know. And Zane could not lie to him, could not bear keeping the truth from him. He began to speak.

"I am not…" he squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could keep himself from seeing how Cole's face would twist in scorn and disgust. "I am not human. I am… gears and machinery and I do not have a heart or-or anything—" he rambled on, thoughtless, trackless.

"Hey." There was a touch at his face, Cole's thumb dragging down the line of his jaw. Zane turned into it by instinct.

"I am sorry Cole, I am not human, I am sorry…" he tightened his eyes even more and began to see an explosion of colors.

"Stop." He bit his tongue at Cole's command, eyes screwed shut and heart—not heart, clock—beating out loudly in his mind. There was a shifting on the table as Cole leaned forward, and leaned his forehead into Zane's. The Prince reveled in the touch, the sensation of crushed black hair against his skin.Thiswas not a construction. It, Cole, his wide smiles and his dark eyes, those were real. Slowly, Zane opened his eyes to focus on Cole, face tantalizingly close, a gentle smile on his mouth as he looked up through lashes at Zane.

"Zane," Cole whispered with a breathy chuckle that made the hairs on the back of Zane's neck rise, "In case you haven't noticed, I'm a pirate. I don't care about rules. I don't care what other people think. I care about you."

Zane's breath clenched in his throat and he wrapped one hand around the back of Cole's neck, pulling him in close, thick black hair tangling in his fingers. Cole's face was flushed and warm beneath Zane's hands, his mouth, and Zane shifted his weight as Cole tightened his fists in the material of Zane's shirt, climbing up his back. Fingers, rough and calloused brushed against his spine and he couldn't help a shiver from traveling over him.

The space between them dwindled by the second, until there was nothing to separate them. No light, no shadow, only the sound of a heart beating in tune with the ticking of a clock.

There were no words.

They didn't need them.


The skeletons took Misako away as Garmadon sat on his throne with his crowned helmet, awaiting their son's arrival. She stumbled into a dungeon cell, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the darkness inside.

There was the sound of shifting cloth. And then, a familiar voice.

"Misako."

She felt herself smiling sadly. "Hello, Wu."


Ta-Da! Review, please? Three more chapters left!