Content Warning: someone potentially (though accidentally) overdosing on medicine is depicted in this one. please be careful if you take allergy meds, kids, 'cause i didn't know you could before i did my light research. also, it's flu season for the ninja and morro's relatively immunocompromised here, so if you're sensitive about the implication since the past year, please be mindful of that too
for convenience sake, acronix doesn't make his arrival until about a month after the DOTD instead of what looks like only a day or two in canon
part of the Ninbingo (ninjago-bingo) challenge over on tumblr, fulfilling the "sickness" prompt!
Morro is gonna die.
He's done that once already, so it's really not that big a deal, but First Master, if this pathetic, fragile bag of flesh that the, ugh...ninja call his "body" would just finish him already, that'd be great.
Instead, it's forced him to languish for days on end without relent. He maintained control for a number of them at the beginning, keeping to himself and stifling the evidence of his weakness. Still, the best laid plans have proven themselves vulnerable to the wiles of creeping, crawling, over-chromatic adversaries who lurk around every corner, squeaking at each other like rats. Always leery of him, always challenging. How could he not rise to it? His renewed limitations be damned.
Now, he finds himself submerged up to his neck in lukewarm water, trying not to panic about it.
And the little green usurper, of all people, sits on the floor with his back pressed against the tub, talking on and on and on about feelings.
What brought him to this point again?
Ah, right, when it came time for him to return to the museum, to the Departed Realm, Wu stopped him and asked him to accompany them. It was a good thing, too, since the gale force winds spiraling in fury around Sensei Yang's temple might have knocked the Bounty straight out of the sky. That could have been the end of it. Just one final service to make up for the Preeminent, and the spell would break, allowing Morro to fade back to where he belongs. Yet as the Rift of Return began to close, again Wu stopped him. His hands were full with disobedient elemental power, and his sensei stopped him and repeated what he said the last time they stood at the edge of this crossroads.
"Do you see how much stronger we can be together? Please, Morro, I— Allow me to make it right."
What in the world possessed him to listen?
One week ago
"This is so lame," Jay whines, tossing Samukai's mannequin head into a box with the rest of his bones. "We're ninja, not janitors!"
Rolling his eyes but smiling, Lloyd pushes the dolly he just finished loading with Chen's pieces and reminds his team why they're here. He catches the first half of a tease Jay launches Cole's way as he splits from the storage room, taking his cargo to its place in the Hall of Villainy. The big, ugly throne's already been polished and put back together, waiting. All that's left is arranging Chen's solid plastic figure in it. That might be the fun part in this whole thing — getting to pose the adversary in a ridiculous position as retribution for...everything — so he hurries his pace.
His mood dies the second he enters the hall. He shouldn't be surprised.
With his arms crossed, Morro's there in front of what was his display pedestal not two days ago.
Dr. Saunders ordered a replacement mannequin, but they're all handmade by the city's top sculptor, someone well known for being a perfectionist. It'll be a while then before it arrives. Why Morro needs to stand there and gawk at nothing, Lloyd has no idea.
"Y'know, we could've been done already if you helped," he says, wheeling by from as far away as he can.
"I did," Morro bites, not turning around.
Well, as long as he stays there, Lloyd can look at each corner of the room more closely. And okay, fine, the place is spotless. How nice of him. Still, it'd be nicer if he didn't jump through the—
Lloyd shakes his head, derailing that thought right off its tracks.
It's just temporary, he takes a moment reminding himself now instead. Morro claimed he'll be gone by the end of the week, and letting him stay at the temple at all is just a favor to Master Wu. It's fine. Besides, he did help them more than Lloyd can ever thank him for, pointless as his oh, so benevolent double-cross ended up being. Cole and everyone else on the team can take care of themselves. Lloyd knows that, but they wouldn't have cut it so close to begin with if he'd just been paying attention to his own people like he's supposed to. And who the heck is he to be wishing for someone not to have a second chance at life anyway? That's just cruel. He'd give anything to have his dad back, the man who also did his fair share of evil, so what right does he have deciding who—
With a restrained gasp, he realizes he got distracted when he senses Morro, having yet to turn away from the empty pedestal, watching him from the corner of his eye — just normal, human hazel eyes, not haunting rings of yellow-green in unending black and scarred beyond them, it's fine—
He's not afraid of Morro. He really isn't. It's just that everything started with them right here in this museum, so he spends no extra time on Chen's display than necessary, then he very casually races off to find his friends.
It's just temporary.
The weekend comes and goes, and still Morro's hanging out at the temple. Surprise, surprise. As some weird blessing, though, he's made himself pretty scarce. He rarely leaves the guest room they put him up in. Really, Lloyd only sees him maybe twice a day after he's slinked out for food and when he goes to spar with Cole in the training yard.
Is it really spying if Lloyd's taken it as a matter of principle to oversee whatever's going on with that? Neither of them knows he watches from his bedroom window on the second story. It does...kinda feel like spying, but it's not like they're trying to be secretive, and it's Lloyd's job to keep an eye on such things anyway. So he stays by his post each afternoon Morro graces at least one of them with his presence.
Does he think something bad might happen? Of course. Something bad always happens. Villains don't just reform for no reason, and for the life of him, Lloyd can't figure out what reason Morro could possibly have. He should try talking instead of worrying, maybe, he's sure Master Wu has an idea, but until something presents itself, the Preeminent's 'favorite' servant remains a threat.
Lloyd hisses in a breath of air, covering his eye.
Morro was the only elemental master in her collection, he's suddenly remembering.
Down below, Cole throws a kick that he dodges with ease, using the momentum instead of his wind to spin around to Cole's back, and aims for the blindspot that Lloyd has tried to tell him time and again to guard. Not following the move fast enough, Cole gets entangled in a full-body restraint, the two crashing to the ground. Lloyd tenses. It's hard to read their expressions, but a few seconds later, Cole's laughter as he's released warms the courtyard.
Relaxing, but only a fraction, Lloyd shakes his head. The possession was something he put very far out of his mind, except 'out of sight, out of mind' doesn't work when he's faced with the reminder every day. So now he's been stuck getting flashes of memories anytime his thoughts stray too close, of his constant fear and each time Morro attacked his friends with his own hand, but not all the images belong to him.
As the master of wind, Morro was a target in that realm. His power marked him as one of the First Spinjitzu Master's, and the Preeminent, along with everything trapped within her, took pride in the fact that she finally stole one from his golden legacy. Pride, or something like it.
Lloyd only knows that because of one memory. Through all the ego and all the jealousy he didn't even try to hide, all the memories of his need to be the Green Ninja, it flooded Lloyd's entire being the moment Morro took over, burning his eyes to ghostly ash, too, her tentacle crushing around his face and marking him forever as the herald of her invasion into the First Master's realm. So yeah, it was a monster's idea for how to display things she was proud of. She sure learned.
Morro's greater discipline kept Lloyd subdued and blind to anything else he didn't want seen. But with all the time he's had to think about it, he realized that that particular thing must have got through because Morro just couldn't keep it hidden. It was too...impacting, if Lloyd had to guess.
A shout outside turns his attention back to the present.
It's Kai. He's joined the sparring pair, saying something cocky and presenting his element to Morro. Typical. Lloyd figures then that he can expect a match between them instead soon.
And by soon, he sees that it's set for the next morning as he takes up his post at the window. If anything bad was gonna happen one of these days, today would be it, huh? He just didn't expect it to be happening to the person who doesn't belong.
Morro wasn't dishonest. He had every intention of leaving before the ninja found a chance to put a slit in his neck during the sleep he stopped being able to fight after three nights, but he realized a little too belatedly that he's trapped himself atop this floating prison. He no longer has the luxury of summoning Lloyd's elemental dragon. He didn't even know such a thing were possible before he saw the brat's memories about it. That means he should be able to create his own, yet... It's out of the question. There is nothing he's afraid of. Guess he's just not meant to have a dragon, then. Shame.
The next option would be to ask the old man for a lift, but that'd be begging for another can of worms to begin bursting at the seams. No, asking Wu anything is a last resort. Asking the ninja is even further away from being anywhere near the initial question.
That left the wind. Not ideal, the island is rather high up in the sky, and he's stood on the edge and looked down enough times to know that gravity has nothing for him anymore. But as established, fear isn't his concern. The problem instead, he is not reckless when he doesn't have to be. He's already learned that lesson to last two lifetimes. No, he won't take a stupid risk when it's his powers that haven't been the most trustworthy since returning.
It started the first morning after they repaired the museum, him waking up to a rough tickle in the back of his throat. He didn't think much of it until, as the day wore on, it steadily morphed into a dull ache. Still not feeling much concern, he drank a bit of extra water with little change. Then late that night, in an effort to fend off the lull of vulnerable sleep, he attempted gauging how well he could negotiate a descent to the ground below by leaping off the temple's utmost point.
Nothing broke upon landing, but it was a near thing. His airjitzu failed. Summoning the pure wind in succession, he intended to swirl it like Yang's technique to cushion the hit; however, it refused to draw to his feet tightly enough, and as he crouched in the dirt, biting into his arm to keep from crying out, that's how he remembered old memories he almost forgot. Old weaknesses.
Weaknesses, as implied, cannot be shown to others under any circumstance.
The rockhead accepted it without much questioning when Morro insisted on not using elemental powers during their sparring matches. He kept away from everyone else otherwise. Even as the symptoms worsened, spreading from his throat, to his eyes and nose, to the muscles aching throughout his pathetic walking corpse, he wouldn't let anyone see.
But hiding is exhausting work, and he's sick of it. The challenge the firebrand issued yesterday should be just the refreshment he needs.
He's in the kitchen, ducking with a light step behind the icy one bent over the stove. The ball of his foot still aches tremendously since the night his wind failed him, but he can ignore it well enough. He just needs a little bite of something to make his stomach settle before the match. It doesn't help that he can smell whatever Zane's cooking from way across the building. And why exactly does it smell so good? He's not gonna ask for it, though, so he's reaching for a slice of bread from the loaf on the table when a brain-rattling sneeze catches him by surprise. With it comes an unfocused blast of wind from his end of the room to the other, sending Zane along with the sizzling pan of food clear through the lattice wall into the hallway.
He slaps both hands over his mouth and stares. Zane sits up, staring back.
Before he can say anything, Morro darts past him.
This calls for countermeasures.
Last week, he saw Zane building a shelf somewhat concealed behind the bathroom mirror. When he snooped later, he found it assorted with things, spare toothbrushes and the like, but most importantly, medicines.
Shaking off a dizzy spell that suddenly hits him, he skims the writing printed on the bottles, all labeled with fake words he's not keen on reading, until he finds one that says, 'For sneezing, sore throat, watery eyes, runny nose.' Well, that sounds right.
The cap won't come off no matter how hard he pulls on it, and even his teeth tell him in no uncertain terms that they aren't up to the task. Rubbing the surge of pain out of his gums with his knuckle, he inspects the lid's edge before he makes a mess stomping the whole infuriating thing open. Curiously, there's an arrow pointing up carved on the bottle itself as well as one aimed down on the lid. He aligns them, and like magic, the cap pops off. What a simple, pointless puzzle.
Silver paper glued over the opening removed next, the oblong tablets inside are each so incredibly small, he can't imagine that they do much on their own even if the directions claim he ought to only take two. Three should be about like the giant capsules of his day, and he's sure to appreciate the extra strength anyway, so he snags the little suckers and downs them with a handful of water from the sink.
With the bottle returned how he found it, he clicks the mirror-door shut and strides off to ready himself for training, smirking because no amount of 'marked drowsiness' is gonna stop him from showing up to the ninja today.
He's feeling better already.
Cole likes to think he's good at adjusting to change. He's probably the second most experienced with it on the team, right behind Lloyd. The whole 'turning into a ghost' thing was a hard sell, but can anyone really blame him for that? Sure, he laid around in his one-man self pity party for what, a day? Yeah, a day, tops, and then he was owning it like it's what he always was. There's been worse stuff to deal with.
Now, on the other hand, turning back into a human has been leagues easier to accept. It was kinda the goal and everything when he didn't even know it. Still, it hasn't been without its hitches.
His own friends forgot him while an enemy remembered. He's not bitter. No, really, he knows that they didn't mean to leave him behind, especially considering what holiday it was. He knows the kind of weight that must have been on their minds. He just...acknowledges the irony of it, and in spite of everything Morro did, Cole can't help giving him a point in favor. He can't really stop thinking either, about the old ghost being alone at the end of his life so prematurely all those years ago, having no one on their way to him. He doesn't have the words for that. Not after almost facing it himself, in a way.
So, in place of words, he offers Morro the chance to stretch his legs by sparring with him — it's helping them both get used to their human hands again anyway, he thinks — and not going totally frigid on the guy the rare times he enters the room. If the others have a problem with it, they're not telling him. Is that weird? Nobody on the team is especially careful about watching their mouths, so if treating Morro the same as Sensei Yang was a no-go, someone would've said something by now, right?
"Don't lose your focus," Morro orders, his leg already pinning Cole to the ground in a perfect counter to his super strength.
Oh right.
He struggles against the hold for a few seconds but accepts he has to yield, tapping out.
In spite of himself, he finds sparring with Morro to be a lot of fun. His experience uncovers holes in Cole's defense that he never knew were there — Wait, why can he hear Lloyd's baby voice yelling at him? Eh, oh well — and his ruthlessness even in mock battle gives Cole a rush that the others aren't always willing to offer. It makes him wonder, just a little bit, what things could've been like now if Morro never left the monastery. Would he have trained them instead of Master Wu? Hmm, 'Master Morro.' That's definitely weird. Anybody else besides Sensei having the title just doesn't sound right, so—
"Hey!"
And anybody with the ability to perceive knows Kai is not good with change.
He comes flying out of the temple in a red blur and grinds to a halt in front of them before Cole has a chance to worry about a real fight breaking out. Sizing Morro up, who's doing just the same, he lights both hands and declares, "Instead of just playing around, how 'bout you take on a real element?"
"That's low," Cole grumbles. "I'd like to see you try fighting an earthquake," he says with a light stomp that shakes the ground under Kai's feet and puts out his fire.
"Please, neither of you could handle me even with your powers," Morro says, crossing his arms, shrugging. "It's the reason I've been sparing him. Pity, if you will."
Kai's smoking hands go to his hips. "Oh yeah? Why's that? You too chicken now that we can use them?"
"No, I- I'm not—" Morro starts, but he turns aside to hack out that cough interrupting him. Probably some dust the quake kicked up? Anyway, he glares back at Kai with a little grimace to himself, saying, "I'm not afraid of anything."
Unfazed, Kai challenges, "Cool. You, me, here, first thing tomorrow."
"You got it. Don't go chickening out on me, firebrand."
Oh, this is gonna be...something.
The next day at the appointed hour of reckoning, Cole crosses his arms casually and goes on standby near the temple — far enough away from any metaphorical stray bullets but not so far that he can't intervene. Word's apparently got around to Master Wu because he joins Cole in the shade, playing referee, too. Precautions. They're wise to take.
Kai arrives last, interrupting the warmups Morro's been at for a while. The two face each other, the air growing as tense as can be expected.
Morro lunges first.
Blocking the hit, Kai whips into his spinjitzu, no fanfare about it. Knocked to the side, Morro narrowly catches himself on a broad gust of wind that wicks the fire in Kai's attack. Spinning out of it, Kai turns, high-kick aimed for his head. Ducking it, he goes for an uppercut, but Kai hits his wrist off course and tries to grapple him. He almost gets his fingers closed around Morro's arm. Not giving him the chance, Morro dodges, scuttling away with a weird skip in his step. Kai chases him, and they work themselves fully into trading blows.
They're both doing fine, but for every hit he gets on Kai, Morro takes three from him. He's definitely not reacting as fast as he should, as fast as they all know he can since fighting him for real. That's probably because they're just sparring. They should just be sparring anyway.
Oh, who is Cole kidding.
Morro takes another hit, Kai's fist glancing his temple. It's not quite direct enough to mess him up, but he jumps out of range, faltering, and swipes his eyes like he can't see. Even Kai hesitates in surprise before resuming the onslaught.
Dropping his arms, Cole hears it when Master Wu mumbles, "Something is wrong," concern widening his fixed stare on them.
But no sooner than Cole starts to call out to stop the match, Kai's swinging a billowing trail of fire that makes Morro retaliate with his own deflecting blast. The wind's stronger than it needs to be given that it sends Kai sliding backwards across the ground by several feet, but for Morro, he's flung the opposite direction straight into the air, landing way too close to the edge of the floating island. Arms whirling out, he stumbles for balance...which might've worked a lot better if his heel actually had land to stabilize on.
Cole doesn't think. He just moves.
At least one of the others races behind him at the same time, but he's the first to the edge and dives off, summoning his elemental dragon in one fluid action.
The guys would see him coming and get ready with a hand outstretched like any well-oiled-team-machine, but Morro's not one of their own, and he's freaking out. Fair enough, really, but the annoying thing about it is that with every flail, more blasts of wind respond all over the place, knocking Cole's dragon off trajectory. Maybe it's a weak attempt to slow his fall or form an airjitzu sphere. Either way, it's not helpful. Honestly, it's like trying to rescue someone from drowning, only Cole doesn't think Nya would have the kind of trouble that causes. Something must be wrong.
Abandoning the simple hand-grabbing plan, Cole urges his dragon to spiral down past Morro's screamy descent and waits the half second to catch him.
"Whoa, hey, hey, I gotcha, man," Cole hollers, tightening his hold on the body flailing in his arms.
That gets Morro to calm down as he realizes he's not falling anymore. He looks from one hardworking dragon wing to the next, and then he's staring up at Cole in complete disbelief. "You—?"
"Yep." Grimacing, he focuses his energy into getting the dragon to carry them back up to the island. Still, he can spare enough to ask, "This makes us even, right?"
"...Right."
Maybe it's the adrenaline, but Morro's back and his torso against Cole's feel like a furnace.
He swoops well above Master Wu, Kai, and Zane gaping at them from the edge, but it's probably a better idea to drop down at the temple right in the center. Sensei hurries to meet them while the other two follow at their own pace.
Dispelling the dragon in the air, he braces for the short fall to the ground, knees bending from the extra weight. Morro makes a gasped sound when they hit the dirt. Oops, probably should'a warned him. Straightening, Cole plants him on his feet and watches him sway precariously before he holds stock-still with all the determination he's made of.
Glaring daggers at the ground, it looks like he hears rather than sees Wu's steady approach. Stiff, uncoordinated, he turns tail and attempts a tactical retreat inside, but he bumps into Cole without even meaning to considering he hops away like he friggin' forgot Cole was there. Then, with a loud grunt of surprise — or pain? — he totally trips over his element on the grand total of seven stairs to the door. Out of breath, he must give up 'cause he turns over to just sit there, drawing his knees close and panting harder until he's burying his head in his arms. A string of coughs wracks his shoulders, capping off with an agonized groan.
So, Cole's no math whiz, but two plus two equals four. "Dude, are you sick?"
"Aghh..."
That's reassuring.
He starts sitting up, gripping his ankle, but then he flops back, stretching out his legs and pressing on his heart, his labored breathing getting worse.
"Morro?"
Alright, well, that's Master Wu here now, so he can handle it. Crouching beside Morro on the stairs, he's quick to demand, "Is something the matter?" While the question's both a bit urgent and a lot pointless, he at least gets props for trying.
Morro shakes his head, but the action's pained like he's clearing a wave of dizziness, making it an answer whether he means it to be or not. He rocks sideways, almost sending himself tumbling over the stairs' exposed flank, coughing again, hard. Wu's hand darts out to hold him steady, though it doesn't stop him from folding at the waist. The gentle, trembly squeeze he earns for his silence seems to finally force out his verbal skills.
"I'm- fine," he bites through his very not-fine sounding wheezes.
Wu agrees with Cole's mental assessment, saying, "Please tell me the truth, Morro. What ails you?"
With some trademarked mix between a sneer and a sarcastic laugh, he sharply casts Sensei his best petulant, unseeing — dude, that looks a little teary — glower as if to say, 'Really? Where do I start?' except his eyes keep right on rolling up into the back of his head, the hand on his chest falling limp against the side of the staircase. Following it, Sensei's pulled forward by his spine giving wholly out, but with a muted cry, Wu snakes his arm around to support Morro by both shoulders and leans back upright before he can crack his skull on the top step.
Eyebrows shooting into the stratosphere- scratch that, they're already there, Cole sucks in a breath. He can't remember the last time he's ever seen a person just blink off for no reason like that. Even Lloyd, who by all rights should've when they got him back, didn't shut down that fast.
Turning to the others, he notes them picking up the pace in response to his expression, and when he looks back, Sensei's ditched his staff so he can touch his knuckles to Morro's brow ridge, then his jaw under his ear, startling away when he feels the same heat Cole did. Moving lower, he checks the guy's pulse in his throat for a second.
"Oh my- Inside," he gasps, "help me take him inside, out of the sun. Quickly." He scoops Morro's dangling arm so he can stand up with him facing the right way.
Hopping two steps at a time behind them, Cole asks, "Do y'know what happened?" as he grabs Morro's other arm.
Wu kicks the door open, saying, "In a moment."
Toting his staff, Zane jumps to walk half-backwards ahead of them, baby blues glowing in scan mode. His endless compassion translating to shock, he reports, "His heart rate is exceedingly high."
"Yes," Wu confirms, starting to sound winded himself.
"What, he couldn't take a little heat?"
Looking over his shoulder at him, Cole thinly retorts, "He's already sick, Kai."
Kai backs down, kinda surprised by the even slight hint of defensiveness in Cole's tone. "Well, then what the heck was he doing out there today?"
"I don't know, Kai. Why don't you ask him?"
Playing along, he huffs and crosses his arms, angling around to try questioning the unconscious person, but Master Wu cuts him off.
"Ninja, please," he begs them both, not wanting to listen to bickering right now.
Nya happens upon the procession then, becoming one with the wall to let them pass, her brow arching. Cole shrugs at her, not blaming her a bit for her narrowing eyes. Immediately, she deadpans, "What did you do, Kai?"
"Me?" he squawks.
He hangs back to defend himself with the scant details they know while Zane breaks off, heading for elsewhere in the temple.
By the sharp inhale as he snaps his head up, only to drop it listlessly, Morro's coming around when they reach the hallway to his room. He fights to pull his arms off their shoulders all the way to his bed, digging his heels in once and moaning something so slurred, Cole finds it totally incomprehensible.
Wu seems to understand him, though, saying, "Just give us a moment, Morro. Three more steps, no further. There you are. Well done."
They sit him down on the cheap futon Sensei dug up for him, spread out in the middle of the otherwise empty room. He takes one wobbly look at the pillow before he throws himself at it face-first, groaning into it.
"Wha's wrong with'me?" he whines, intelligible enough now for Cole's ears.
"We shall determine that now," Wu tells him, nodding to Cole in silent request.
Right, yeah, the fever. He turns to go to the kitchen and nearly smashes into Lloyd hovering there in the doorway, a scowly, thoughtful look on his face.
In the bathroom, Zane opens the medicine cabinet with the intention of retrieving the thermometer, but he detects that the new bottle of antihistamines he purchased the other day sits three centimeters to the left of where he placed it, turned one degree. Odd. He does not recall observing any of the others experiencing allergy symptoms since moving into Sensei Yang's temple, and with all the dusting the old structure required, he was very attentive to such reactions. Yet he finds the inner seal removed when he investigates further. Very odd. He supposes it is possible he missed an episode, but...Morro did sneeze with a rather intense amount of power this morning.
"Zane..." Pixal alerts, dread in her voice.
Yellow warning symbols flashing across his vision, he takes what he came for as well as the bottle.
Lloyd blocks the doorway, but he flees the immediate area when he becomes aware of the speed and directness with which Zane hastens down the hall.
"Is he conscious?" he asks, only partially into the room.
"Yes," Master Wu answers. "Have you discovered something?"
An explanation may be a waste of crucial time, so skipping it, Zane kneels on the floor, leaning over Morro lying half curled on top of the duvet. His upper body twists at such an angle so as to plant his entire face into the pillow with his arms up, clutching it close. It seems quite an uncomfortable position but not as uncomfortable as he will be if Pixal's fear is correct.
"Morro," Zane says, tapping his shoulder. "You may rest soon, but I need you to answer my questions first. Did you take anything from this?"
He turns his head just enough to side-eye the bottle but promptly shoves his nose back into the pillow. "Di'n' touch your stupid capsules."
"Apparent prior knowledge of the object in question. Reluctance to observe it," Pixal notes. Agreed. He most certainly did.
Grasping his shoulder instead and leaning closer, Zane presses, "Morro, it's of extreme importance that you tell us how many of these you took."
Now privy to the direness, Master Wu places his hand on Morro's back and assists the effort, pleading, "Tell him, Morro."
"You will not be in trouble. Do you recall an exact amount?" Zane tries again without result.
"Morro, please."
"...Three," finally comes the delayed response.
"Are you certain?" Zane wants to confirm.
He exclaims a hoarse sound in some resemblance to an affirmative, but it lacks any of the intonation or linguistic shape of a real word. He simply growls, not unlike an animal. Zane will take it. He suspects it is the best he can hope for at this time.
Straightening, he lets out a breath as Pixal disables the alarms. Though it is over the recommended dose, it's not as egregious as they both feared. Still, it would be ill-advised to discontinue further observation given his reaction.
Master Wu shakes his head in weariness, rubbing Morro's back with a few slow strokes as he accepts the thermometer Zane proffers up for him.
After nearly forcing Morro to sit up, Zane watches the mercury line climb to a temperature just a decimal point below mid-grade. "I'm sorry, Pixal," he says to her internally. "It appears we will have to reschedule with Dr. Borg."
"It is quite alright, Zane. Their bodies are not repairable to the same degree as ours. I can wait a bit longer."
Ever amazed by the depths of his other half's kindness and understanding, he settles into a caretaking mode for the remainder of the day.
With the assistance of the nindroids' downloaded expertise and skills of observation, Wu ruled out heat stroke — his initial guess — and the frightening potential for overdose that followed, then together, they made Morro comfortable underneath the covers proper. In mere minutes, the side effects of what he took drew him into a deep slumber, leaving him undisturbed by the conversation being carried on over him.
It appears to be influenza, here in just his second week of restored life. More than that, Wu noticed the peculiar way he stepped during the fight; therefore, upon request, Pixal scanned him again and discovered an acute sesamoid fracture in his right foot. There are only so many ways he could have acquired such an injury in his short time here. Did he not think to ask for help leaving the island if he so wished?
No, Wu supposes he did and rejected the notion. It has always been his foolish way. Did he truly learn nothing?
Exhaling a sigh he is sure has been years in the making, Wu wrings out a cloth in the bowl of water Cole kindly brought to him earlier. Glancing at Zane, he begins to shed a little light. "It was a terrible habit he has had since childhood." Dabbing it on Morro's feverish skin, he continues, "In the nearly five years he lived at the monastery, he fell ill dozens of times. He always pushes himself too hard, too fast, and refuses to stop when he has reached his limits." The memories of it, of how a child so small could make a profession out of breaking limitations before he was truly capable- an impulse exacerbated because of something Wu instilled in him— Every moment plagues him. He lays the cloth over Morro's eyes, shielding him from the rising afternoon sun, and folds his hands in his lap. "It saddens me to see that he never adopted better ways."
Zane tilts his head to the side in sympathy, offering, "He has been a ghost for decades, Master Wu. Perhaps he simply didn't realize."
"Yes." He appreciates his most wise student's judgment, "But that concerns me as well. An immune system over thirty years behind..." Shaking his head, he pinches the bridge of his nose. He is old. So very old and very foolish. "I should have anticipated this and been prepared for it."
When the monastery burned down, he lost his store of healing elixirs. He will need to travel to Steep Wisdom to retrieve the herbs, roots, and tea leaves he has collected since then to mix a new potion for Morro. Unfortunately, it is a six hour journey there and back with the Bounty. Slower by dragon, slower still by land even if he used one of the ninja's vehicles.
Zane follows him out to the main doors, listening to the parting instructions Wu gives him. "I will return swiftly, but if his condition grows worse before then, do not hesitate to consider hospitalization."
"I understand, but the—"
Wu shakes his head, insisting, "Allow me to worry about the cost."
Nodding, Zane bows as he returns Wu's staff and says, "You don't have to worry, Master. We will take care of him."
"Thank you, Zane." Patting him once on the shoulder, Wu departs for his destination.
When Zane and Master Wu got to work, Lloyd gave the room a wide berth. He wandered around without much thought for a while before ending up back in his own bedroom, sitting by the window to, he doesn't know, cloud-gaze he guesses. There's really not much to do up here. Eventually, Master Wu took off with the Bounty, and now a few minutes later, someone knocks on his door. "It's open!"
Kai pokes his head in, followed by Cole and Jay stacked across from him. "Hey, Zane's kicking everyone out until whatever bug Morro caught clears up."
"Thought we'd race with the roadsters now that I'm not gonna phase through the levers!"
"Yeah, you wanna come with?"
Lloyd regards them for a second. That sounds fun, but, "Uh, that's okay. You guys go ahead."
"Well, then where are you gonna be all day?" Kai questions, squinting.
"I dunno." He better come up with a good answer before Kai gets more suspicious. "Um, I haven't been to the comic shop in a while. I'm sure I could make a day trip out of that."
Apparently accepting it, Kai lazily tosses, "Alright, whatever," over his shoulder, walking away.
"See ya', Lloyd," Jay says as Cole salutes.
As soon as the three of them disappear beneath the clouds, Nya shortly after them to wherever she plans to go, he hops off his chair and returns to Morro's room.
"The Green Ninja would never need to lie."
"Shut up, brain," he mutters under his breath.
He's standing outside the door for...a long time. He's not sure. This is stupid. This is so, so stupid, but he can't make himself turn around and leave or knock or do anything. At length, though, Zane needs to come out for something, so the door slides open, and Lloyd snaps to attention at the sound.
"Oh, hello, Lloyd," he greets, wide-eyed.
"Hi. Um." Yeah, it's fair for him to be staring like that. Probably thought everyone would be gone by now, but since it's obvious he's mistaken, Lloyd doesn't volunteer anything about it and gets up on his toes to peer over Zane's shoulder, seeing what he expects: Morro lying still in bed, blindfolded by a damp rag. Dropping back down, he asks, "Is it bad?" The possible overdose, he means. Zane gets it.
Smiling some, he moves over like he thinks Lloyd just wants to reassure himself. "No, not especially," he says, turning to glance at his patient. "It appears he was more caught off guard by the side effects rather than experiencing anything truly troubling." Looking back at Lloyd, he explains, "but someone should remain vigilant for the next twenty-four hours just to be certain."
Well, that's as good an icebreaker for it as he can get. "Um," he says again, eloquently. "Can I help with that?"
Zane tilts his head. Actually, it's more like it twitches to the side. "Please explain."
"Y'know, help out, keep watch, do whatever you need me to."
"I, uhh, I feel that is unwise, Lloyd. We should not risk exposing you or the others to his illness."
Hand on his hip, Lloyd argues, "And what, because you can't get sick, it has to be you only?"
"That is correct. I also do not require sleep. Therefore, I am the most suited to perform this task."
Yeah, for a whole twenty-four hours? On this particular day? Sorry, Zane, not happening. "But didn't you guys have somewhere you needed to be today?" Lloyd reminds him. He doesn't know exactly what Cyrus Borg wanted with them because Zane only mentioned it in passing last week. It just seemed important because the man is notoriously busy and impossible to get a meeting with, especially since he's preparing to release some new watch tech or something.
"Yes," Zane answers slowly, starting to get suspicious, too. "Pixal and I planned to visit Dr. Borg so he could continue studying what remains of our shared power source, but we have agreed to reschedule with him."
See? Exactly. Lloyd's right on this one. "You're not a robot, Zane," he says, and looking deep into Zane's eye, he adds, "Or you, Pix."
"On the contrary, we—" Zane starts, trying to walk away.
"You know what I mean."
Zane stares at him blankly, but then he blinks fast, the lightbulb above his head practically visible. "Ah, you are suggesting that we are undervaluing ourselves and brushing aside our own needs to accept an overabundance of responsibility that would never be placed on one of you due to our inherent characteristics. Or position on the team."
Lloyd blinks at him next. "Yeah, that's basically it."
Ducking a little and closing the door behind him, Zane steps forward, forcing him to take a step back. "Well, then, Lloyd, I should say the same to you."
"Okay, you got me."
"You shouldn't feel like you have to do something you may find discomforting on my account, Lloyd. Pixal agrees."
"It's not that," he gripes, crossing his arms. Well, of course it is, he'll always help his friends, but, "I'm the Green Ninja, and before, it was just us, this team, but then we found out that it's not just us. That there's more elemental masters out there. So, when it's within my power at least, that makes all of you my responsibility. He's one, too."
"As I said, you are attempting to take on a burden no one expects of you."
Switching gears, Lloyd tries the cold, hard facts angle instead. "Okay, but I've never been sick, ever. Not once. I don't think I even can get sick, and I'd bet it's because of this," he says, generating a marble-sized green orb between his thumb and forefinger. That's the truth. He used to think it was weird that everyone at Darkley's would drop like flies during flu season, even the teachers, but not him. It's fine. "So, just trust me, okay? I can handle it."
"Lloyd," Zane intones, looking a millisecond away from dragging a hand down his face. "I do not believe you are following logic on this, but..." And now the second is up. He leaves it there while he processes all of this. "But I can see that this seems to be something you need to do," he finally says, dropping his hand but not the conflicted expression he's wearing. "So I won't stand in your way."
"Great. Thanks, Zane. What should I—?"
"Wait. First, you must agree to these terms."
Lloyd gets a little prickly at that, but he lets it slide because it sounds like he's winning.
"You may take over the first six hour shift, but you must relinquish the second to Master Wu when he returns. Pixal and I will take the final twelve during the night while you are all resting."
Lloyd can keep arguing, but they both know Master Wu would be beside himself if he couldn't stay involved in Morro's care once he gets home, and letting Zane have the nighttime half is a proper utilization of his strengths without him going too overboard about it. There's also the fact that Pixal's in there with him, so it's kinda like they'd be splitting the twelve for an even six anyway. It works out to be a sound enough plan, so he agrees to it, nodding.
Zane goes over a checklist of things to keep an eye on and what to do in case of emergency. That's fine, but he holds off on leaving until the last possible minute he can without being late for the meeting at Borg Tower, meaning Lloyd is only gonna be trusted alone for about two hours if Master Wu's on track. Which isn't mothering at all. Like yeah, Lloyd would love to see Morro try anything when he's too sick to keep from passing out during a fight. As such, he's still fast asleep when Zane replaces the rag on his face with a fresh one and doesn't seem to be waking up anytime soon.
"I suspect that we won't be back until this evening, but I will be available if you need to call for anything."
"Alright," Lloyd says from his new post. "Good luck on the tests. Hope you studied for 'em."
"It is not that kind of test," Zane laughs.
Yeah yeah, he knows, but somebody's gotta lighten the place up around here.
Morro wakes up this time to a horrible blend of hot and cold, a head splitting in half, and a heartbeat still making itself so incredibly, nauseatingly known in his chest. Parts of him feel numb while his feet radiate pain with every pulse, only lessened a minor amount since the last time he had awareness. For once, he doesn't want to be awake for any of this, but there's a humming aura of pure, inimical, unabating annoyance from somewhere beside him like that square...food heating...thing in the kitchen, energizing him just enough to chase away any hope of sleep.
He wills his eyes to open so he can find out just what the hell that is, but the distorted blackness that smothers his vision almost has him fearing he's gone blind if not for the moist weight pressing around them. He scrabbles at it, forcing his breathing to stay even.
Gods above, it's just a piece of cloth, not— Dragging it away, he turns towards the first problem, regretting it immediately when he's met with Lloyd sitting there against the wall, leafing through a thick stack of his flimsy picture stories.
Comics. Like comic strips but whole books. He knows that, thanks to Lloyd's memories. What does he think he's doing with them in here?
In anger, and maybe a little surprise, Morro darts upright and regrets that just as fast. His headache spikes as grainy patterns spread across everything, so he has to cover his face to clear his vision and make the world stop spinning. By the time he gets a grip on himself, Lloyd's looking at him with an apathetic kind of glare, barely tilting his head up.
A can of...soda with a bendable straw sits on the floor by his right leg — something Morro knows, also from his memories, that the ninja aren't supposed to drink unless it's a rare 'cheat day.' Lloyd is very adamant about that, so the fact he decided that today is the one he's willing to cheat on must mean something. Not that Morro cares. A colorful opaque cup with a lid and its own straw sits by his left. Grabbing that one by the top, he swishes it in circles, alleging, "Zane said you have to drink this." He puts it back on the floor then pushes it towards Morro with his foot. "Sorry it's not cold." Yeah, he sounds real sorry.
Ignoring it, Morro glances towards the line of windows. The daylight hasn't changed much since, well...he was carried in here, wasn't he? A squall of curses racing through his mind, he grimaces, tensing, and asks, "How long...?" His voice is too rough on his throat to finish the sentence, and he tries to squeeze the pain out of it while Lloyd answers him.
"About four hours. We kinda thought you'd sleep until Master Wu got back."
Pressure isn't working, so Morro diverts to swallowing a few times, dropping his hand. Wait, he said Wu went somewhere? "He left?"
"Went to go get you some medicine."
Of course he did. Of course. It takes extreme effort not to turn his glower on Lloyd as he grinds, "That was not necessary."
"I think I'd prefer to let him be the judge of that."
"Why?"
Lloyd says nothing, his mouth drawing into a sharp line.
"What, you care or ss-someth—" He can't hold back the cough that tears up his throat, being nothing but an embarrassment heating his already burning face.
Lloyd still won't say anything, rolling his eyes then pointing them directly at his book, flipping the page. "I'm serious, you need to drink that," he says, nodding to the cup.
Although he can't see for sure, Morro gathers that it's just water. When he forces the coughing to stop, his throat aches like he's been lying here mouthbreathing for days, so fine, he'll take a lousy sip. He is not expecting the gritty texture and bizarre non-flavor he gets along with it. "Eugh, what is this?" he demands, yanking off the lid. Black soot swirls around the bottom.
Charming.
With not one ounce of enthusiasm, Lloyd says, "Activated charcoal," like that's supposed to have meaning, and doesn't add a single detail more.
Charcoal? Soot? So this is dust from a fireplace? Rock dust from their grimy old fireplace in a cup that has been given to him with a cutesy little bendy straw and 'activated' by some kind of witchcraft? That's what this is? "Are you trying to poison me?"
"Actually, Morro," he chirps, "it's supposed to help you after you tried poisoning yourself."
What is he talking about? Morro didn't— he wouldn't, except now he's vaguely recalling being interrogated about the medicine he took. And that...alright, he gets how that looks. "I didn't try, I was just—" he starts to say but bites it off. Why should he have to explain himself to anybody, let alone Lloyd? Anyway, a vile excuse for a 'syrup' he can't remember the name of is what people used before in situations like this. "It won't make me vomit, will it?" He's not sure if he can take that on top of everything else he's having to relearn about living bodies right now.
Sighing, Lloyd shakes his head no. "Can you just drink it already and stop complaining?" he orders, snapping his book like the newspapers it owes its life to.
Gripping the cup tighter, Morro glares at him. Just spears the brat with fury twitching at his eye. He slams the thing firmly on the floor, a few drops spilling over, and he lets it stay there while he continues glaring until the sticky pain in his throat threatens to send him into another coughing fit. Growling his frustration, he snatches it back up and chugs half the loathsome concoction. Gasping in air after ripping it from his lips, he uses his hardly soothed voice to snarl, "You're lucky I can't feel my hands right now, or I'd be strangling you for daring to speak to me like that."
Lloyd hasn't looked away from his book throughout all of this and mutters, "Wow, I'm so scared."
He thinks about retorting, 'Actually, Lloyd, you are,' in his most scathing level of mockery. He's seen the way the insolent little whelp runs away from him, but something tells him not to say it unless he wants a fight. Any other time. Any other, but not right now. "What are you even doing in here?" he goes for instead. "This is my room. Get out."
"Oh, you don't like it when someone invades your personal space? Interesting."
First Master, is he asking for it! "Hey, I'm trying here. What else do you want from me?"
"I didn't think I was supposed to get anything from you, but since you're asking—"
"You earned it, okay? Remember? I conceded, so stop!"
Lloyd stares at him for a moment, then says, "What are you even talking about?"
"I don't know!" he shouts, throwing his arms up at the ceiling. "Gah, you're insufferable! You- Why are you— You're still here!"
His books scatter, and his hair puffs out every which way, but Lloyd simply whips up his forearm to break the gust Morro's not sure he meant to deliver. The bored look on his face starting to crack, he slowly grates, "I'm in here against my better judgement because I'm trying to watch out for you, so a little gratitude would be nice."
"I didn't ask for you to- for any of—" He has to say it, he has to, but this body's killing him with what has to be twenty coughs in a row, suffocating and shredding like knives. It detonates pain through his chest all the way down to his feet and up into his brain matter, weighing heavier each time. He can't make it stop now, and when he can finally see again, hazy as his vision's growing, he's inches from face-planting on the floor. Pushing off his shaking arm, he falls back onto the pillow and throws it over his eyes, groaning. Why did he do this? Why did he come back, if it was to this? "This was- a mistake," he gasps. Gods above, it's so hard to just breathe.
"You'll be fine. It's just temporary," Lloyd says, and his tone's gone soft.
As punishment, Morro finds it in his steadily shattering voice to spit some wisdom for the stupid, limitlessly naive child. "No, it's not. Your bodies are weak and vulnerable and break down the entire time you draw breath like it's what you were born to do."
There's silence for a handful of seconds before Lloyd flips another page. "Jeez, dramatic much?"
He can't muster a response. Maybe he's tired himself out enough to just sleep and hope Lloyd goes away on his own, but blissful unconsciousness still evades him while his nose rallies against him next. He has to constantly sniffle to get an open airway, and why is the room so cold? He pulls up the blanket, turning his head towards the opposite wall and sniffling for probably the hundredth time.
"There's tissues right there next to you, or are you trying to be annoying on purpose?"
There's what? A blue box. Okay, whatever, excuse him for not noticing. Doesn't matter. If it makes Lloyd leave, he'll just exist louder.
Garmadon huffs, his chains rattling. It's so annoying. When is she going to do something about him? He can't stay here forever, not like the rest of them. But no, he's always there, talking, proselytizing, acting like there's hope, always, always, no matter what, as if anything could be more foolish.
"Morro."
"Shut up...shut up." There is nothing else he can say that Morro's not already heard before.
"Hey, look at me for a sec. Come on. What about my dad?"
What the— He flinches. That's Lloyd, he's not in, he's alive, he, "Leave me..." he moans, rolling away onto his side. "Leave me alone."
No, he's not in the Cursed Realm anymore, but it's still just as cold as her.
When he first showed himself after the Rift closed, Lloyd was shocked by how pasty white Morro had apparently been in life. It's as if he went from being a real ghost to one in fairytales with the freakish way he can reflect moonlight like a traffic sign, but now he's looking a lot like a miserable, boiled lobster.
He's shivering despite how overheated he's gotta be for the sweat beading on his forehead. That, and he barely responds to his name, whispering to himself about Garmadon. Lloyd thought he was talking to him at first, except the phrase, "Not like us," came through the murmurs clear enough.
Well, an increasing temperature is one of the things he's supposed to watch for, and if Morro's wanting to act delirious, then...
He grabs the thermometer with a new germ guard Zane left, peeling off the blanket Morro tried hiding under, then sticks it without preamble into the corner of his mouth. After the allotted minute, he plucks it back out, squinting at the tiny numbers. "Mm..." 102°? That sounds bad.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the reading in case he got it wrong, other hand scratching the back of his head, he shuffles off to go call their resident nurse.
Zane's quiet for a moment after hearing the report, thinking. At length, he says, "Pixal and I are both hesitant to bring down the fever. It is a necessary function in recovery, but if his temperature continues to rise this way, we should consider other options."
Since Master Wu is so close to being back, they decide to let Morro try pushing through it until his fever jumps to high-grade in less than an hour.
Thermometer with the third reading in hand, Lloyd kneels over him, watching him toss and turn and gasp in pain as he shoves the blanket down away from his sweaty neck, lost in semi-consciousness.
He doesn't know what to do.
The black-green scars on Morro's eye sockets vanished with his return, so Lloyd figured that meant they were gone for good, except now the marks stand out as starkly pale shapes etched by the fever turning his face scarlet. And what does that mean? That they're a part of him forever? That the Preeminent gets to keep her horrific grip on his soul even when he's finally free of her? Maybe it's just what he deserves, but—
He's cracked his all-too-human eyes open, finding Lloyd there after a bleary second. Reaching up, he clutches Lloyd's sleeve and rasps, "Please...make it stop."
Okay. That solves that.
The team has gel packs for when they work their muscles too hard, but last Lloyd knew, they're still boxed up somewhere. If Morro needs help now, there's no time to go hunting through all the stuff that hasn't been unpacked yet and then waiting for them to get cold again. It'd be faster to just dunk him in water.
"I have an idea," Lloyd says, "but you're probably not gonna like it."
Morro kinda still looks at him, releasing his sleeve like he's too weak to keep holding on, but he doesn't respond one way or another. Lloyd takes that as a bad sign and hurries out to draw a bath.
Now, moving into Master Yang's temple has been...an exercise. On top of the place being ancient, there's also the whole 'floating high above the ground' thing. There was no electricity until Jay slapped together a generator or whatever he did. Zane has to be in charge of keeping the ice box — an ice box — cold until they can upgrade to something more modern. But the important part at the moment is that, every morning, Nya's primary chore gets to be filling the water tank she jury-rigged to the building's antique plumbing system, and whenever someone wants a warm soak, Kai's elected next. It's not a problem that he isn't here, though, because Lloyd knows from survival training that the water shouldn't be too hot or too cold for this anyway.
Speaking of the temple being ancient...unlike the kitchen, the traditional-style bathroom remains preserved just the way it was built. Since the sink and toilet are in a separate space, it's a rectangular cypress tub set directly on the floor against the far wall in a glorified closet by itself, and it uses a well pump instead of a faucet. Despite the strength he has to catch his dad's big fat statue head, it takes him a minute to fill it to what he hopes is a good level, and as far as he can tell by touch alone, the water's the right temperature as is.
Zane said Morro went and found some way to bust up his foot, but Lloyd hopes that doesn't mean he can't walk here on his own. Still, as he heads back to get him, he prepares himself to carry his archnemesis if he has to.
It'd really figure then that the first time he enters a room expecting to see Morro in it, he wouldn't be there. Thankfully, Lloyd isn't forced to go on a wild ex-ghost chase, hearing a clattery thump from around the corner.
Wherever he planned to go, he only made it partway down the hall before he collapsed flat on his knees, propped up where he must've been using the wall for support.
"Morro, that's the wrong way," Lloyd calls, stepping towards him.
If he hears it, he's not polite enough to answer with his words. Instead, he decides that the best course is to start blasting out a tornado in all directions.
The sudden and altogether surprising strength of it blows Lloyd clean into the wall behind him. He's only just able to get his arms up in a shield against the picture frames flying off the walls before it's too powerful to lift them. That does nothing for his skull hitting the support beam. It's okay, wasn't hard enough to stagger him, but the blast stays relentless, rooting him to the spot. "Morro!" he yells over it. "Hey, cut it out!"
Morro just sits there, face in his hands. He might be shaking his head, or it's the howling wind ripping at his hair, and it isn't weakening at all. Heck, it feels like it's getting stronger, nearly suffocating with how fast the air twists around. Is he doing this on purpose?
"Stop, Morro!"
Just as rapidly, the words he should've used first pour out, throttled by the power tearing through the hall. "I can't! I'm supposed to save them, protect the realms, I'm not- you can't- I won't, I won't stop, I can't do it, I'm- please—"
Morro screams, a second, even stronger blast exploding off of him, but it's dying fast. He can't keep this up while he's so sick unless he's trying to make himself pass out again, and Lloyd realizes then with that same flash of foreign memory that he's not in control. He thinks he's back there, being tortured with the Preeminent's searing tentacle around his face.
That's what he told her, that he wanted to be the one to save creation, not destroy it. And now that he's alive again, even after years and years of it being buried under darkness, there's hope for that old spark of goodness to come back and shine.
Lloyd has to get over there. Locking his arms where they are, he stabilizes his stance then pushes off the baseboard at his heel. One sliding step at a time, if he just balances, he can cut his way through. Two, three, four. He's got this. The last few steps he needs blessedly turn into the eye of the storm, so he's able to get around to a crouch in front of Morro, low enough that the wind can't easily knock him down.
Though he stopped babbling, Morro's still pressing his hands into his eyes, fighting in the memory and shaking so hard that it's visible through the wind violently tousling his clothes. He won't come back to the present and just look at Lloyd no matter how many times his name gets called, and Lloyd's not about to touch him in case that makes it worse.
Lloyd leans away, a second idea Morro probably won't like forming.
First Master, don't let him regret this.
Generating another marble of energy, he flicks it at Morro's chest. It starbursts out in fine green glitter trails, giving him enough of a jolt that he drops his hands. In complete shock, he's finally looking at Lloyd. "You just— Ow?"
Nodding, Lloyd leans back farther, ready in case Morro takes his shot at making good on that strangulation threat, saying, "That's right, you know where you are now? It's me, the Green Ninja. You got it? You're in Ninjago, remember? You're stuck here in my world, Morro, not hers," 'cause if he's still confused, maybe the rude reminder will drag him kicking and screaming into the light.
There's only a glint of lucidity in Morro's eye at that, but it's a sharp one, and the storm ebbs as his breathing steadies and deepens. He breaks eye-contact, darting glances around the hall, then he winces, ducking to try covering his face again.
Lloyd grabs his burning wrist mid-reach, ordering, "Stop thinking about that. Morro—"
"I know- I know who you are, you, get off me!" he shouts back, jerking out of Lloyd's hold. Placing his hands on his thighs, Lloyd lets him have a minute to get the dwindling gusts of wind under control. The corridor at last falling silent, he slumps against the wall, blinking heavy and taking in long breaths that just lead to powerless coughing.
"C'mon," Lloyd sighs, "the bath's getting cold."
"What?" he snaps, though his tone sounds as defeated as he looks.
"Up. Let's go."
He stumbles to his feet as asked, but when he steps to turn, Lloyd's supportive grip on his arm is the only thing that stops him from toppling straight back down. That's fine, Lloyd can just- "Dude, quit it!"
"No," Morro whines like an absolute baby, trying to wrench his arm off Lloyd's shoulders.
"Listen, you either walk like this," Lloyd warns, "or I'm deadlifting you over my head. Do you want that? 'Cause I can do it no problem, and I will if you don't knock it off already."
He's impressed by how effectively threatening Morro with coddling makes him get his act together. They can work on the flurry of "I'm gonna kill you, Garmadon, I'm gonna end your entire bloodline," and on and on later.
Without extra incidents or detours, they reach the bathroom, but Morro shuts up suddenly, going rigid, when the water's in his sights.
As long as he was in control of Lloyd's body, he didn't have to worry about water, but Lloyd could still feel his instinctive directive to avoid it. The delirium must be making it hard for him to fight that fear even if a part of him probably knows he doesn't need it.
"Hey, listen to me," Lloyd says, jostling him a little. "It's okay. You don't have to be afraid of it anymore."
So much like at the museum, Morro stares at him from the corner of his eye. He looks back at the water, side-eyeing a few more times like that and baring his teeth as he steels himself further, but then he spits out a scoff, moving towards the tub on his own. Flinging his leg over the side, he tries to get in without argument, tabi socks still on and everything, but apparently that leaves the idiot putting all the pressure on his bad foot. Shrieking in pain, he wobbles and falls the rest of the way in, splashing water everywhere. It's all Lloyd can do to keep both of them from bashing their heads on anything.
He hears wood split, but when he looks, it's just a crack high up on the side. Nothing to worry about. The tub should be grateful his knee didn't smash an entire hole in it. He's positive it's gonna bruise him as payment anyway.
"Great work all around, guys," he almost mutters out loud.
So, even after all that, Morro's still for a second, eyes squeezed shut. Opening them, he makes an indistinct, 'Huh?' sound like he can't believe he hasn't dissolved into a million ghostly particles yet, or maybe he just didn't realize how nice the water would feel on his fever. As if experimenting, he waves his hands across the surface, his sense of wonder tangible despite the dead look of exhaustion on his face.
What was that he said earlier? 'This was a mistake'? "See? That feels pretty great, right?" Lloyd snarks, kicking Morro's useless right leg into the tub with his toe. "You couldn't of had this as a ghost."
"Whatever," he says, glancing away but still waving his hands back and forth.
The small smile Lloyd let show fades because he can't help noticing how the scar patterns are taking their sweet time disappearing. He doesn't want it to, he really doesn't, but they're getting under his skin just a bit much for comfort. He still has a duty to see his shift through, though, so he picks the one dry spot left on the floor and sits down to wait for Master Wu, or Zane, whoever gets back first.
In the lull, of course, he can't help thinking about his dad, either, especially after all of this. Sighing, he draws his knees close. Maybe...it's time to stop worrying and just talk now.
So that's where Morro is now, staring at the water lapping at his chest in gentle ripples. Pushing on the tub with his left foot, bracing his hands on the sides, he sits up straighter, turning to look at Lloyd's blurry head as the kid drops it on his knees.
"He wasn't like you and the other ghosts," he's saying.
Morro missed the start of this...thing, or maybe that's how Lloyd thinks conversations should be, just begun out of nowhere.
"He was still alive in there, and now he's really, he's..." Dead. "Because of you. But...but he isn't trapped forever in the Cursed Realm anymore either, so..." Lifting it back up, he runs a hand through his disheveled mess of hair, leaving it there, and sighs in frustration with himself. Tilting to see Morro but not really trying, he says, "I don't know if I'm supposed to hate you or not feel anything at all."
Morro looks back at the water, brushing his fingertips over the surface. It once symbolized a gateway to imprisonment; now, it gives way to his solidity rather than the reverse. Since returning, he only allowed it to touch his body for the briefest of times, never fully submerging like this. But the war of heat and cold slowly equalizes, and he can think. He scoops a handful of it and presses it into his face, rubbing his eyes, spreading its tempering balm across his dry skin.
Probably not expecting an actual response to his musings, Lloyd lapses into silence. Morro would be content to let it remain that way, but the brat really did go through a lot of trouble he didn't need to. He could've left Morro to suffer the fever, or the memory, until it killed him. And with his vision blocked, he can sense Lloyd's aura of misery permeating the room, buzzing low.
He can't offer thanks, but maybe he has something better.
"You know, your father, he..." Morro tries, placing his hands underwater. "The Departed Realm..." Ugh, his stupid thoughts. He huffs through his nose, waiting a bit to organize them. The heat in his brain is still making it hard to think. He reaches for memory, images, sounds, just anything, but it's impossible to recall it clearly. He lost the details through the Rift, or maybe before that even. It might be meant to be that way because it's a realm unlike any of the others. He just remembers what it felt like, how much he wanted to go back. "It's different, it..." Digging his nails along the bottom of the tub, he sets his jaw. What he means to say is, "You're not a ghost there. You're just..." Pausing for the last time, he searches for the right word. There's only one. "At peace."
He can't find a way to explain it better. Souls who dwell there still care about the things they knew in life, but their troubles don't reach them the same way. He misses that. He misses it so much.
No one could've told him that his life-long crusade for the Green gi, or even the mad desire to see the destruction of every realm beyond his death, would wash away like it meant nothing before he felt true peace. It began as he heard the soft, welcoming call from that beyond while Wu gripped his hand, wanting to save him, so different from the Preeminent's reverberating wails, and it bloomed into everything he ever needed after the water ripped him apart.
He looks at Lloyd now, desperate to maintain even a fraction of that soundness of mind. But he feels it in his chest, the old insanity threatening to grow like constricting vines of thorn and poison through his peace again. He doesn't know how long he can hold it back.
Unaware of Morro's eyes on him, Lloyd inhales and glances up, swiping at his face. "Did you ever talk to him?"
Freezing, Morro snaps his gaze to the corner. "No," he lies.
No, Lloyd doesn't need to know that Lord Garmadon's memories were an invaluable source of information for him when he had to formulate plans of attack on Ninjago. That he even knew anything about Lloyd because of them. It's better that he just understands his father isn't suffering anymore.
Lloyd should hate him.
And he can hate him for all of it for as long as he wants, but — Morro again forces his breaths even — that's truth for another day.
After some length of time neither bothered tracking, the icy one's voice calls for Lloyd from somewhere in the temple.
"In here," he answers.
Zane comes in, saying, "We hurried as quickly as we could. Is everything alright?" Bending down, he holds perfectly still and stares at Morro with gigantic, unsettling lights of blue.
"What are you—" A scan. The icy one is metal, too, and can see things normal eyes can't. Right. Sinking all the way underwater to escape it is probably pointless then.
"He just needed to cool down some," Lloyd says.
"I see that," Zane responds, standing back. "You made the right call, Lloyd."
"I would've been fine," Morro grumbles. He wouldn't actually, he's sure of that, but none of them need the satisfaction. Everything is fine now, though, so they can—
They both ogle him like braindead fish as his stomach howls louder than his wind ever thought about being.
Eyes going wide, Morro makes fists out of both hands and turns towards the back wall to hide the renewed wave of heat assaulting his face. First Master, this form is a traitor in every way.
Laughing at him, Zane says, "I shall go prepare a meal," and promptly leaves the room.
"I don't want anything from y- him," Morro tries to bite before he's gone.
"Oh, c'mon," Lloyd tosses over his shoulder with a smirk, perhaps thinking about joining his friend and granting Morro some peace to himself. That would be so lovely. "If Zane's cooking, you're gonna want it."
He almost retorts, but once again, this body decides it hasn't made enough of a fool out of him yet. The wind taking his second sneeze of the day as another order, it splashes what managed to remain of the water, dousing Lloyd still sitting in its path. He cries out and whips around to glare in surprise, water just soaking into his hair and running down his face, drenching that pristine gi of his.
"Sorry," Morro says, sure to inject plenty of sarcasm so that Lloyd knows he's not sorry at all. Not about that.
A short while and a change into dry robes for both of them later, Morro hobbles without anyone's help to the kitchen, following the smell that he really wishes wasn't so good. Lloyd trails him, hands laced behind his head.
Zane greets them with a smile and directs Morro to have a seat at the table. He presents a hot bowl of chicken and vegetable broth soon after, complementing it with honey-dipped banana slices as well as a minty scented tea.
He really wishes none of it was this damn good.
"What'd I tell ya'?" Lloyd needles, sitting across from him. He has got to stop with that.
Morro ignores him, stuffing more chunks of savory bird carcass into his cheek.
Apparently just as prone to jealousy when he wants to be, Lloyd looks over at Zane stirring the pot and sheepishly asks, "Can I have some, too?"
"Certainly, Lloyd."
For now, maybe, Morro can sit here acknowledging the small joys of life. Lloyd wearing the same color and doing the same thing for the same reason as him, no battles for the world going on, can be a source of calm he'll use to stave off the loss of control sure to reclaim him some other day.
That day can come whenever it pleases. He's not afraid of it.
Wu prepared the new elixir during the return journey so that now, he shall take it to Morro directly.
Praying to his father above, he readies for the possible sight of a second home razed in fire, but miraculously, the clouds part and reveal nothing amiss yet. With the Bounty anchored, he hurries to Morro's room; however, he must pass the kitchen that way where instead, he finds three of his students sharing a pleasant meal.
He stands in the hallway for a time, just observing.
It is...profoundly good to see those two in high spirits.
Lloyd faces the door, though, so he notices Wu after a minute. Grinning, he calls, "Hey, Master Wu. You think Morro could borrow your staff?"
Morro and Zane turn to him, the latter nodding with a reassuring smile. The former appears much less contented, and he returns his ire to Lloyd, sputtering, "Excuse me?"
"What, you actually have a good reason for needing it this time," Lloyd shrugs.
Wordless for a moment, Morro declares, "That's the most offensive thing anyone's ever said to me."
"Okay, traffic sign."
"What?"
"You're pale. Pasty. Moldy like a piece of white bread."
Wu would object to what was just said, but Morro's reaction to simply sit back in his chair and cross his arms, no tension in his shoulders at all, suggests he has his personal offense under control. Instead, he takes a moment before snarking, "Am I hearing things right? Is the 'Green Ninja,'" he puts in tonal quotations, "being mean? I could almost be proud."
"Wait, no—"
Shaking his head, Wu steps away from the room devolving into raucous argument. Clearly, Morro is well enough to take his medicine later.
Still, Wu chuckles to himself, sending a silent whisper of gratitude to his father.
By the end of the week, Lloyd wanders outside for some fresh air. Kai and Nya both have only just now finally given it a rest on reading him the riot act every hour for lying, "Over something like this, Lloyd, seriously! Are you crazy? What if something happened?" but, look, he handled it, and he thinks they can see that, all things considered. Just a simple day's work for a future ninja master.
Morro's back to sparring with Cole despite Master Wu's insistence that he's not ready yet. Old habits and whatever. Eh. Maybe he'll join them today.
Looking up at the clear blue sky, he suddenly feels a sneeze coming on. He can't cover his face fast enough to muffle the sound, sniffling after it.
Like a bolt of lightning — hey, that's not his element! — Zane appears at his side, glowing eyes narrowed into slits. Lloyd slouches in defeat, which just encourages him to lean in for a closer scan of doom.
"Crap..."
hehe show!verse morro with a slightly archaic narration style go brrr
but omg 8k words of this went by like it was nothing and with that kind of energy, skytoucher could've been updated, oops ;v; but uh, it's still whumpy disaster cousins content so maybe it's okay?
anyway lloyd's a bit more..forgiving here than i would prefer, but he's still a bright, hopeful kid who hasn't gone through sog/hunted yet, and this oneshot's supposed to be pretty lighthearted and play off his attitude in the special anyway. in any case, i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing! i'm considering a continuation of some kind so it'd be really cool to hear what you guys think :D