A/N: Ladies and gentlemen, here it is—the oneshot to trump all oneshots—the culmination of months of sweating and fretting and rewriting and editing and betaing and discussing—and now please enjoy:

~ Broken ~

December 12th, 5:23 PM; four months after Overlord's second defeat

The Julien household

"Hey, Amilia?" Azamat said. "What's the plural of 'fish'?"

Amilia glanced at him from the island, where she chopped celery for the soup.

"Fish," she said.

"Yeah. Fish."

"No, 'fish'," she repeated. "It's already plural."

"Well yeah. But I've heard 'fish-es' before. Does it mean something different from plain old 'fish'?"

"I don't think so." She slid all the chopped celery onto a plate with her knife. "'Fishes' sounds like old Ninjagian to me."

"So... should I use 'fish'?"

"Depends on the context. If it's possessive, 'fishes'. If someone is presently fishing, like 'John fishes in the pond', it's 'fishes'."

"But for the animal itself?"

"I don't actually know. Look it up."

Azamat grunted, typing into the laptop. After a moment, he read aloud: "'The plural of 'fish' is usually 'fish'. In biology, 'fishes' is used to refer to multiple species of fish.'"

"Oh, well that makes sense," Amilia said.

Azamat wrinkled his nose—Amilia thought it was with distaste, but he sneezed.

"'Fishes' it is, I guess," he said, rubbing his nose. "It sorta sounds like it shouldn't be a word."

"Sorta," Amilia agreed. "This is your language arts project?"

"Ugh, yes. Could you edit it when I'm finished?"

"Sure. It's about fish, then?"

"I wish. It's a critical analysis presenting the symbolic controversies of the last book we were supposed to read."

"You say 'supposed to' like you didn't."

"Heh, naw, I read it last night, after Miss Rivera announced the analysis assignment."

"Oh, brother." Amilia glanced up at the ceiling.

Azamat snorted. "Hey, at least I'm not failing yet."

"You say 'yet' like you're going to!"

Amilia lifted her wooden spoon threateningly. Azamat ducked behind the laptop, grinning, but she at last shook her head.

"Well," she said after a moment, giving the soup a final stir before setting the lid on. "Think your fishes could wait for a bit?"

"Why?—Oh, the tree?"

They had wanted to decorate the Christmas tree with Gahiji, Lou, and London, when they came back. ... They were supposed to have been here by now.

"This is really the only night to do it," Amilia said.

"Yeah," Azamat said, half-shutting the laptop. "I have rehearsals on Saturdays and you have class all the other nights. ... I don't think they'd mind if we went ahead and decorated without them...?"

"Gahiji doesn't do Christmas, anyways."

They both chuckled.

Then the garage door opened.

Amilia whirled—Azamat got up from his chair.

A head of ginger hair, dripping with rain, came through the door, followed by one of slicked-back charcoal.

"Speak of the devil!" Azamat yelped, as Amilia cried "You're home!"

"Yeah," London said with a tired smile. "We're home."

She closed up her umbrella and leaned it against the table. Lou shed his raincoat and hung it on the back of the door, closing it softly. They were immediately wrapped in a hug each.

"Sorry." Lou chuckled. "We're a little late."

"I'll say," Amilia retorted, hugging him for all she was worth. "You were supposed to be home two days ago."

"We tried to call you," London said.

"We tried to call you!"

"... We got a little held up."

Another pause. Azamat craned his neck over London's shoulder, gazing at the closed garage door, and blinked.

"Where's Gahiji?" he said.

Lou and London exchanged looks.

"He's okay, right?" Amilia demanded, pulling back from Lou.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's fine," Lou said heavily. "He'll be home soon."

"How soon?" Amilia shot back. "Two days soon? Or two weeks?"

Lou winced, but London wasn't phased.

"I don't know," she said frankly.

The twins looked at each other. Azamat grimaced; Amilia sighed.

"Glad you're back safe," she said at last. "Sit down, and you can tell us everything."

"Starting with why Gahiji's not with you," Azamat said.

They did sit down. There was another short silence; Lou and London seemed to be having a conversation entirely of significant looks.

At last, London sighed.

"Gahiji is with Prosper."

"With Prosper?" Both the twins blinked. "Why, what's wrong with Prosper?"

Two months prior

October 4th, 5:52 AM

The Destiny's Bounty

"It's a Christmas miracle," Jay whispered, his nose pressed to the glass of the bunkroom window.

The sun wasn't quite up yet, but there was enough light to see the white blanketing the whole deck; two feet of glorious, wet, perfect snow.

"It's not even Halloween," Cole said.

"What, you think that's about to stop me?" Jay said. They both grinned and scrambled to the closet, rifling around for their winter clothes.

"Technically, we have training to do," Zane said with a smile, seated on the edge of his bunk. "As if that's about to be seriously considered, but for the record."

"I mean, we've been training a lot lately," Jay said. "Sensei can't be too upset with us."

"The snow will all melt by the time the sun comes up," Cole added. "Better go out while it's fresh."

"It won't melt as much as one might think, this high in elevation," Zane said, joining them at the closet. "We are in the Orroran mountains, after all, one of the coldest mountain ranges in all of NinjaGo.—But I don't care, either."

Jay nudged him, grinning. "That's the spirit, Frosty!"

They gathered an armful of winter clothes each, then retreated to their bunks to dress.

"Is Kai up?" Jay asked. "He oughta come outside too."

Cole squinted at the top bunk. "Think he'll want to go outside?"

"Think he ought to. It's a snow day."

"Statistically speaking, things are more interesting when Kai is included," Zane added.

Cole snorted. "Statistically speaking, you'd be nuts to wake him up before seven."

"Oh, please." Jay climbed halfway up the ladder and popped his head into Kai's bunk. "Kaiiiii."

Cole shook his head. Zane looked amused, but kept eying Jay's back apprehensively.

"Kai, wake up!" Jay poked him in the side. "We're all going outside. It snowed last night."

Kai squirmed, but didn't turn over.

"Come onnnn, Kai. Don't be a killjoy." Jay poked a little harder. "We're all going!"

Kai rolled over and attempted to slap Jay.

"Geez!" Jay said, but smiled. "You missed."

"Go away," Kai croaked, pulling his covers over his head.

"Oh, come on. It snowed!"

"Go away."

Jay huffed, then ducked another swing. "Alright, alright! Yeesh!"

He slid back to the floor, shoved his arms through his coat, pulled his boots on, and scooped the rest of his gear into his arms.

"See ya, Kai," Cole said, shooting a glance back at his bunk as they started out the door.

"We'll be outside," Jay added. "In all that glorious snow."

"Come out when you're ready," Zane said, ever the merciful one.

But Kai didn't stir or reply.

"What a grinch," Jay remarked.

"Again," Cole said, grinning, "it's not Christmas."

"Oh, please! It snowed. I'm going to make my holiday references, thank you very much."

"Shh," Zane reminded them. "It's hardly six o'clock."

They all hushed. In the kitchen, Cole tentatively flicked the light on—just as the sliding door open. Nya tromped inside, covered in white from her knees down.

"Nya!" they said, surprised.

"Oh! You're up!" she said. "I was just coming to get you guys."

"You have impeccable timing!" Zane said.

She laughed—face pink from the cold, teeth chattering, already half-soaked and grinning hugely.

"Are you guys gonna be warm enough?" she asked, surveying the boys wearing only pajamas, coats, and boots.

"Are we?" Cole asked, grimacing.

"It's freezing out there." Nya shook her head. "I'm wearing two pairs of gloves, a sweater, and some leggings under this, and I'm still cold."

"Ugh, fine," Jay said. "We'll bundle up better."

Nya grinned. "Don't worry, I'll wait."

Then, after a pause, she asked: "Hey—where's Kai?"

"In bed," Jay said. "Being a grinch."

"And where's Eboni?" Cole asked.

Nya shrugged. "In bed. ... Being a grinch."

A pause.

"Grinches!" Jay declared. "Both of them."

Eboni braced herself to walk into the kitchen. She expected the loud, good-natured bickering and chattering of the boys over their food. Expected to hear all their plans for the day, all their opinions on said food, their kitchen utensils, training, NinjaGo's crime rates, missions, Jay's hair. Anything and everything, really. Expected to be ducking beneath all their gazes.

But she stopped short in the doorway.

The kitchen was empty.

It was too good to be true. Were all the Ninja and their Sensei outside playing in the snow? It had seemed a little quiet—maybe—

She leaned up against the kitchen sink and peered out the window. One, two, three, four—five and six weren't there, but they weren't in the kitchen, either.

She was alone.

What a relief.

Eboni fixed her own breakfast, for once. It was quiet in the kitchen—for once.

It couldn't last... could it? She was quick about cracking eggs into a pan, setting the heat to high. Her eggs cooked—still, no one intruded.

She was just starting to believe perhaps she had a morning to herself, just sitting down to a nice solitary breakfast-of-one. Then all four dorks burst in from the great outdoors.

She sighed.

"Spinjitzu Master, that smells amazing," Jay gasped, inhaling the scent of Eboni's eggs. "You didn't happen to make more of those, did you, Eboni?"

"I figured you'd eaten already."

"I'll make some," Zane offered, draping all his snow gear on the back of a chair. Jay, Nya, and Cole followed suit; Eboni found herself suddenly surrounded by soggy clothes, which somehow spread all across the table in the ten seconds it took them to half-undress.

"And we should make some pancakes, too," Cole said, hanging his coat unwittingly off the back of Eboni's chair. Snow dripped from the collar onto the back of her neck, and she stiffened.

"Great idea," Nya said. "Do we have any bacon?"

"I know there's sausage in the freezer," Jay said.

"Someone mind shutting the door?" Eboni said.

Zane leaned over and shut it, delegating cooking jobs to the others as he did so. All four of them set to work, bustling and buzzing around the kitchen.

Eboni briefly considered taking her breakfast and locking herself in Nya's bathroom.

"Hey, Eboni," Nya said after minute. "Is Kai up yet?"

"I haven't seen him," she replied, starting on her eggs anyways.

Nya frowned. "Hmm." Turning back to her teammates, she asked, "You guys didn't stay up super late last night, did you?"

"No later than usual," Cole said.

"Yeah? What's the usual?"

"Heh—I mean, we all went to bed at ten thirty. Kai might have stayed up. I don't know."

"I'm going to go wake him up," Nya said. "That way he can eat and come out with us."

"Good luck," Jay said. "He was a real grouch earlier."

"You mean grinch," Cole corrected, as Nya left the kitchen.

Jay huffed. "Excuse you. Weren't you the one getting all torqued about my holiday references?"

"Well if you're going to summon the Yuletide demons, you could at least be consistent."

"Yuletide demons?"

"Yuletide demons. You know. The hell-sent creatures that decided the holidays were a good idea."

Zane laughed. Jay sputtered.

"Excuse you," he said again.

"The wicked spirits who whisper in people's ears to set up their fake Christmas trees in August and play carols in the car in May," Cole said frankly.

"Excuse you!" Jay cried, and this time Cole and Zane both laughed together.

Eboni rolled her eyes.

Nya reentered the kitchen, looking grim.

"Is Kai up?" Zane asked.

"He's sick," she replied.

All three Ninja gave groans of mixed disbelief and sympathy.

"Head cold?" Jay asked.

"Fingers crossed," Nya said, rummaging in a cabinet. "I need to check his temperature, though. Might be the flu."

"Well that crosses 'snow day' off the list for a while," Cole said.

Jay sighed. "Fine. We'll let him rest, I suppose."

There was a pause.

Then—

"Hey, Eboni. Wanna come out with us?"

Eboni tensed.

"I'm fine," she said. She offered a brief, small smile over her shoulder at Jay. "Thanks, though."

There was a pause. Eboni supposed they must be wondering whether or not to press her. They weren't opposed to pressing Kai—but of course, it was another matter to press her.

"Come on, Eboni," Nya said. "I've got another coat and gloves you can use. And Jay and I need someone on our team."

"We have a better fort," Cole said.

"But you have Zane!"

"Ehh, fair."

Eboni shook her head. "I might come out later."

Another pause.

"Okay," Nya said. "But hey, the sooner, the better. Jay and I really are getting crushed."

"Heh. Noted."

Nya left to take Kai's temperature, and the boys reverted to their slightly nonsensical, barely straight-faced joking. Eboni finished her eggs, putting her dishes in the sink just as everyone sat down to the table to eat their own feast of a meal, and went back to hide in Nya's room until they'd all gone back outside.

She felt a little guilty about shutting them down. It was nice of them to try.

They'd been trying since she'd first arrived, the dear idiots.

And to be clear, Eboni didn't hate them.

She had to be grateful to them. They'd taken her in; given her a second chance, as it were. It was of course the most gracious, kind, cliché thing for a team of heroes to do, but she was still indebted to them.

Which ought to have provoked gratitude.

But it instead resigned her to an indelible guilt.

How dare she accept so much from them?

She tried to believe their kindness was free. At least, meant to be. They supposed she needed help, after everything that had happened that night—but she wished they could see what they were really doing, "helping" her.

If they knew how much the guilt weighed on her, they might have just let her be.

Let her rot.

But no—they were dear, sweet idiots.

Oh no, it's okay! they said. Don't worry, it's our pleasure! Really, we insist, Eboni!

It would have been insulting if it weren't meant so honestly.

Kai awoke with a blinding headache.

It took a while to force himself out of bed. He wasn't sure how he made it down from the top bunk, but he dragged his blanket down with him. Wrapped in his bedding, he plodded down the hall into the kitchen.

Eboni was there, washing the dishes. She glanced at him, then down again, focusing on the sink full of sudsy water.

Kai stood in the doorway for a minute, trying to blink himself awake. He determined he'd better get himself some sort of painkiller before his throbbing head got worse, and he set off stumbling towards the cabinet full of medicine beside the sink.

Eboni stepped to the side, continuing to wash and rinse dishes. Kai did his best to ignore her, too, registering somewhere in his aching brain that his company was the last thing she'd like.

Oh, and he was sick. Another reason to avoid him.

He found the bottle of tylenol and tipped a few pills out. He turned to get a glass from the adjacent cabinet, hoping to get out of Eboni's way—only to find it empty.

He cringed. Then he shot a look over his shoulder at the rack of drying dishes on Eboni's other side.

"Hey," he started, pointing at the dishes. "Could you—?"

Without a word, she plucked a glass from the rack, filled it, and set it on the counter beside him.

Kai took the glass just as the pain intensified, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Thanks," he gasped.

Eboni glanced up at him, opening her mouth reluctantly; probably to ask if he was okay. He was about to reassure her that he was fine, just a headache, when the glass slipped from his fingers.

She caught it inches from shattering on the floor.

"Lean over the sink," she said, grabbing his arm, giving him no option to disobey.

He was vaguely aware of Eboni's palm digging into his spine as she rubbed his back, which was painful, but it distracted somewhat from the fact that he was vomiting all his respiratory and digestive organs down the sink.

Not actually, but still.

He thought it would never pass. As it went on, Eboni whistled, impressed.

"You're a real wuss, aren't you?"

He leaned back. She snatched the towel from the counter and wiped the bile from his mouth.

"You done?"

He nodded.

"Come on."

Eboni pulled him away from the sink and lead him to the TV room, adjacent to the kitchen.

"Lay down."

He laid down on the couch, turning onto his side. The nausea departed, but that cursed headache resurfaced.

"Dear Overlord, your team sucks at taking care of each other." She sounded disgusted. "Stay right there."

Kai might have been irritated at Eboni's open distaste, but right now he could only regret ever getting out of his bunk. How he stayed conscious, he didn't know. He almost wished he'd black out.

Eboni returned, a cloth draped over her arm, the glass of water in one hand, pills in the other.

"Sit up," she said, kneeling next to him.

He tried to. At last she grabbed his arm and helped him upright, then handed him the glass and the pills.

"Here. Take those."

With some difficulty, Kai swallowed them. He started to lift the glass, but Eboni took it back impatiently, tipping the water down his throat for him.

"Good job." Sarcastic. "Now lay back down."

She folded the cloth, pushed his hair back from his forehead, and pressed it to his skin. It was cool and damp, instantly soothing both headache and fever.

There followed a brief pause. Kai forced his eyes open and met Eboni's own haughty hazel gaze.

She gave him a tight, insulting grin and tucked his blankets closer to his neck.

"You get some rest, now, sweetie," she said.

Kai seethed. He swallowed his anger—but only just.

"Thank you," he mouthed.

She looked about to snort.

Then she stood.

"Hopeless," she muttered.

She left him lying on the couch, feeling decidedly ungrateful—until pain overtook him and he did black out.

It took Eboni the better half of the day to clean the main level. From time to time one of the Ninja would come inside for an extra scarf or a carrot, see her cleaning, ask her again if she wanted to come outside—help them with their snowman or snow fort. Or whatever.

Again, rather sweet of them.

Eboni finally stepped back to survey her work. Every surface was nearly spotless. The bookshelves in the TV room were dusted and their contents straightened. The oven and microwave were clean, too, the floors were swept and mopped, the baseboards wiped down. Times like this, she almost believed she could survive in this place for another day.

Then she glanced at Kai, sacked out on the couch, snoring ill-sounding snores.

She narrowed her eyes.

Then she approached him, lifting the cloth from his forehead and feeling for his new temperature. Still high. She rewetted the cloth in the sink, wiping at the sweat on his flushed face before arranging the cloth back on his forehead.

Sheesh. She might as well make him some chicken noodle soup, seeing as she was so appallingly nice and all.

Kai stirred in his sleep. The back of his hand brushed her thigh.

Eboni jumped. She stepped back, narrowly resisting the urge to slap him; but he didn't wake up.

She exhaled. "Creep," she muttered.

He went right on snoring, oblivious.

Eboni stood, arms crossed, glaring down at him.

Trying to convince herself she felt sorry for him.

Because that red streak in his hair was faded, but still visible. There was an indentation in his lower lip from the labret. The single earring he'd kept didn't help, either.

She hated him. That face, that smile, those striking amber eyes—they made her sick.

She could hardly speak to him politely. She made herself look at him now, knowing she shouldn't hate him; but if she had her way, she'd never have to look at him again.

Justified? Maybe.

Fair? Definitely not.

As if it was anything new.

Because sometimes she hated Nya, too. She hated all the Ninja, all their Shautei friends—their stupid jokes, the way they all cared so much for each other. Their concern and hovering over her, wanting to "help" any way they could.

It reminded her of her own team.

Zakhar, Liv, Pyoter.

She hated them, too, because she didn't know where they were, and she didn't have the guts to find them, to let them know it was alright, she was alright.

Because she didn't have the guts to turn around and look them—and everything else—in the face.

She hated herself for that. It was so unfair to them.

To all of them.

Sometimes, looking at Kai, that guilt would swallow her. And other times she would just hate him.

Looking at him, now—at the sheer goodness in what was once J'avi's face—she hated him.

She hated Soren.

Eboni clenched and unclenched her fists. She lifted one hand to her mouth and bit her index finger.

This happened often. She would gaze at Kai, and for a moment she would hate them all. Every last one of them—oh, she would hate them.

And when she couldn't hate them anymore, she missed them.

So much she wanted to scream.

She missed them.

Missed him.

Eboni took a deep breath.

Dear, sweet idiot.

She knew she couldn't run from Soren forever. She could only push Kai out of her way for so long.

As if that would stop her from trying.

A week later, Jay came into the kitchen and found Kai at the table, staring out the window, his chin in his hand.

He walked past him without noticing, at first. But when Kai didn't greet him, he turned from the refrigerator, watching Kai's pensive expression curiously.

He glanced out the window, too. Eboni and Nya were attacking the snow with a shovel each, apparently having a rather entertaining conversation. When Jay looked over, Nya threw her head back in helpless laughter, and Eboni herself was grinning.

Of the two, Jay could guess who Kai was watching.

He gave Kai a few moments to notice him there. Then he cleared his throat.

"That blue is a good color on her, huh?"

Kai grunted. Then he registered what Jay had said; he glanced up at Jay's smile, then looked at the table.

"What," Jay said. "You think no one notices you staring at her?"

"It's not like that," Kai said with a sigh.

"Yeah? What is it like, then?"

He didn't answer—only closed his eyes and sipped his coffee.

There was a brief pause. Jay craned his neck to look out the window again, then shot Kai another grin.

"She's cute."

Kai rolled his eyes. Jay squinted at him.

"And smart," he added. "And practical."

"Jaaaay."

"Whaaaat? She's kick-ay."

Kai huffed. But he smiled a little. "Geez. You're not actually encouraging me to pursue a former Hidoimastaa."

"Hey, note the former," Jay said, smiling broader. "She's Healed now."

"Yeah. Well." Kai looked out the window again. "... She doesn't like me very much."

"I don't think she likes any of us very much," Jay pointed out. " 'Cept Nya."

"Sure."

"Oh, come on," Jay said. "So what makes her specifically dislike you, huh?"

Another silence.

"I'm honestly grateful it doesn't occur to you right off the bat," Kai said, giving Jay another a weak smile.

Jay opened his mouth, confused.

Then he groaned.

"That's what's on your mind."

"It's on my mind a lot, if you can believe it."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Like I said, glad it's not your first thought."

Another pause.

"Well, that would put a damper on the relationship."

Kai mmed.

"Do you...?"

"Do I what?"

"I don't want to pry."

"Say what you were going to say."

Jay bit his lip. "Do you... remember? ... Everything J'avi did?"

Kai looked up at him, blinking in surprise.

Then gave a tight nod.

Jay blew out through his lips.

"So... you sorta knew Eboni already."

"Sorta." Kai rubbed his mug, closing his eyes again.

"Did he know her well?"

"I mean, he only spent a few days in the Compound." Kai's eyes darkened. "But he knew her well enough."

Jay's stomach lurched.

"He—he didn't—" Stuttering, nauseated by the thought. "He and Eboni, they didn't—?"

"No," Kai said. "No, First Spinjitzu Master be praised. He didn't try—"

He faltered.

"—that."

But Jay got the feeling J'avi had tried something.

Kai looked sick. He pushed the mug away and cradled his forehead in his hands, exhaling slowly.

Jay swallowed to keep down the rising gag reflex.

He could only imagine what it must have been like. For Kai to be in there. Trapped in his own mind—in his own body.

Watching J'avi.

Terrified at the thought of what he might do.

And to be there for all the things he did do...

"Eboni hated him."

Jay glanced up. Kai smiled, though he looked anything but entertained.

"I doubt she has the presence of mind to differentiate me from him," he said. "If she does, she hardly cares. She's too angry. She's been hurt too deeply."

"Was it... J'avi, who hurt her?"

"No. But it hardly matters. He reminds her of the one who did."

Silence again.

"But for her to hate you?" Jay said finally. Bitterly. "She knows you're not J'avi. She can't judge you by him."

"I don't think it's that simple."

"Sure it is. You're not J'avi."

"I look like him."

"He looked like you."

"It doesn't matter. Not to Eboni. She doesn't care."

"Why not?"

"She hurts too much."

Jay leaned back, still fuming.

"She needs to get over herself."

Kai's pained smile remained. "It's alright, Jay."

"Um, no, not really," Jay said. "You shouldn't have to deal with this. You don't deserve this—any of this! None of the crap we've all given you. None of the crap Eboni's giving you."

"It's alright. I'm not angry with you, or her."

"Why?" Jay demanded, helpless. "What, you're just gonna sit back and take it? All this contempt and anger not meant for you? Aren't you sick of it?"

Kai gazed at him, silent, for a long time.

"I can't force her to judge me fairly," he said at last. "She's in too much pain, Jay. You don't know what Soren did to her."

Jay stopped, too, considering this.

"What he did to her?" he repeated slowly.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the refrigerator, clenching his jaw.

"How about all this, huh?" he murmured. "How about what J'avi did to you?"

Kai winced, and looked down into his mug.

Jay wanted to either scream or cry—by the lump in his throat, he could guess which was going to come first.

"You're too good for her, you know that?" he said hoarsely. "You're too damn good for her."

On December twelfth, they got a phone call from the twins about Prosper.

It shocked them all, but threw Kai for more of a loop than he expected.

He hadn't brought himself to think of what had become of the Overlord, since that night. It hurt to think about—having been himself possessed by a Fragment of Prosper's soul, having seen intimately into the depths of Overlord's two other Fragments—recalling them both frightened and grieved him.

It felt strange, now, to regard Overlord as a mere man.

A man, like Kai; a man who must fight with the guilt of his actions.

Cole hung up. Kai and Zane were there with him, and had heard Cole's half of the call—they had just enough of an idea to dread the look on Cole's face when he turned to them.

They called for everyone. Everyone came—Nya holding Jay's hand, Sensei standing just behind them as Kai and Cole and Zane all stuttered to relate what they were still wrapping their own heads around.

Eboni stood in the doorway.

She listened for a moment.

And then she left.

That was it, Kai realized, when he looked up and saw an empty door, when he fell silent to hear her footsteps retreat calmly to Nya's room.

The news about Prosper—that was the line. Eboni would not live among the Ninja a moment more.

Half of the others looked like they wanted to run after her. Catch her, talk to her; try to slow her down enough to understand what this could possibly mean to her. Whether she felt grief or relief; regret or resignation.

Try to help her.

But no one did.

Kai wouldn't call it a reconciliation, exactly; the day Eboni left. He would have liked to, if he could. It was more like a roundabout apology. Except—no, neither of them had actually apologized, had they?

Fine, call it what it was; a confrontation.

On December twenty-sixth, roughly four months after Overlord's second defeat, the Destiny's Bounty flew over Jamanakai village for the first time since they had rebuilt it.

The Ninja all stood leaning on the deck railing. Gazing across at the bustling center of the snowy village they were fast approaching.

"Guess this is it, huh, Eboni?" Cole said.

She smiled a little from where she stood, apart from the Ninja. "Yeah. Guess so."

"What are you planning to do?" Zane asked.

Eboni regarded the village in the distance, quiet for a bit.

"Well, I'll stay with Liv for a while," she said, spreading her hands like it was a given. "I was thinking about moving to the City. Provided I can get a job to pay for it. Depends on how many miracles I can muster."

"The City's not cheap," Jay said with a whistle. "And there's a waiting list a mile long."

"But if you do end up moving," Nya said. "We know a real estate agent down there."

They all blinked at her. "We do?"

Nya laughed. "Don't tell me you guys forgot about that cozy little one-room one-half bath?"

The Ninja all groaned.

Eboni, for once, looked amused. "A real estate agent?"

"Patty Keys," Nya said. "I'll get you details later if you want."

"I mean, again. Gotta get a job first."

"I'm sure you can find work somewhere."

"Yeah—I'll probably work at a pizza joint."

They all got a significant chuckle out of that.

"If I can't make the City, I'll probably go to Orrora," Eboni said. "Little less intense."

"Oh, have you thought about going to school?" Jay asked. "Orrora's a great college."

"I did consider it." She shrugged again. "Still figuring out what route I wanna go, far as careers go."

"Mm, yeah."

Another long silence.

Then Nya said, "We're going to miss you."

The Ninja all nodded. As guarded as she'd been, as cold as she was—they would miss her.

"Yeah, well."

Eboni's smile pinched. She looked down at her crossed arms, taking a deep breath.

"Thanks for... You know. Everything."

At this point Kai was familiar enough with guilt—both his own and Eboni's—to detect the bitterness that laced her thanks. She had braced herself for the "no trouble" it had been for the Ninja to host her, for the "always welcome" they'd extend, in case she ever needed their help again.

And Kai was familiar enough with pride to know she would never accept the invitation as long as she lived.

The others knew, too. To Eboni, this had not been an act of kindness, but one of cruelty.

Made all the more unbearable because kindness was all they'd meant.

So no one said anything. Nya nodded, and they left it at that.

The silence lasted a few more minutes. Eventually, the Bounty came to hover over Jamanakai.

Not four months ago, the village had been ravaged, almost beyond repair. A few houses were still under renovations. Singed roofs here and there. The gorge Ivorymastaa had torn in the earth was still there—roped off for now, but with plans to be filled and patched up.

Kai could look down into the village and tell you exactly where it had all happened.

He remembered where Povelitel had stood, where Kai had draped his arms around him—right there, in front of the great Fountain. He could trace, step-for-step, where he had dragged Soren by the throat up the mountain steps and dropped him from the sheer cliff wall.

He'd killed December in front of the Fountain, too.

—J'avi had killed her. He had to remind himself that, sometimes, when the line between the Fragment's actions and Kai's blurred.

That you even have to remind yourself of that, a small voice murmured. Doesn't it make you wonder whose actions they really were?

A hand rested on his shoulder. Nya.

"Hey," she said.

Kai tried a smile. It apparently didn't work, since she leaned all the way across and wrapped him in a half-hug. Over her shoulder, Cole, Jay, and Zane all looked up at Kai, regret and sympathy in their eyes.

How pathetic they should be the ones comforting him. Apologizing to him.

Like it wasn't his fault.

It would take Kai a long time to believe that.

But the fact remained, it was not his place to apologize for J'avi. It would mean nothing if he did.

So why harbor this guilt?

Irrational, but he couldn't shake it. The guilt was all-consuming. It repeated all his weaknesses, told him to sit still, be quiet—he had no place here, he did not deserve his teammates, he did not deserve their kindness. Nor did he deserve their love.

Aw, the familiar voice said, making Kai's forced smile pinch.

His only comfort was that Lloyd was gone.

Lloyd, at least, had the decency to shun him. He was considerate enough to hate him, leave him, let him be.

Let him rot.

But Kai loved his teammates, regardless of his guilt. It was only because of them that he could stand it all. They were maybe the only reason that when he looked down, past the railing of the Destiny's Bounty, miles in the air, he didn't see the idea of slipping as a way out.

It had tempted him, sometimes; sometimes it seemed like such the perfect solution.

The voice tutted. Even now?

Kai swallowed, leaning slightly back from the railing. It revolted him that he had ever considered the thought.

Especially now.

Nya's grip tightened around Kai's shoulder.

"Ow," he said.

She looked at him. Then she punched him.

"Ow, sis!" he repeated, this time laughing a little. "What was that for?"

"What was what for?" She gave him a mock-innocent look. "Come on, bro, let's go inside."

The others had all gone already. Kai stood up straight, stretching.

"Yeah, here I come."

"Wait."

They both paused.

Eboni stood at the railing a little ways behind them.

"You have a minute?" she said.

Kai hesitated.

"Yeah," he said.

Nya looked at him, wary. Are you sure about this? she seemed to say.

Kai wasn't sure, and Nya knew that. But he nodded for her to go, and she trusted him.

The sliding door closed.

Kai and Eboni were alone.

She looked grim. Kai leaned tense against the railing, waiting for her to speak—trying to force his heart from his throat back down into his chest.

He had no place to hope.

And she made it clear, when she finally did speak, that mercy was the least of her intentions.

"How does it feel, Kai?"

A pause.

"To go through all that."

Another long silence.

"I can only imagine how it must be." Dryly. "How it must have been, for both you, and Hokori. Maybe you don't even remember it?"

Kai looked down at the snow on the railing, still biting his lip.

"Do you remember what he did, Kai?"

"I do."

She turned her head towards him, her eyes narrow. "Oh, you do?"

Her mockery chaffed. "I'm sorry, okay?" he snapped.

She stopped. He huffed, but met her gaze, struggling to soften himself and stay resolved.

"I'm sorry," he said again, quieter. "I... I know what happened. Everything that happened. I know why you're angry. And I'm sorry."

Please forgive Soren.

And if you can't forgive him, forgive J'avi.

And if you can't forgive them, then please, just forgive yourself!

Because if she forgave him, she might acknowledge her own pain instead of lash out against Kai.

He wanted to say it—but before he could muster his individuality, Eboni sneered.

"What," she said. "Are you apologizing for him?"

"No," he said, voice hot in his frustration. "I'm sorry for being locked up in my own head, watching everything play out and not being able to do a thing to help you."

"Tell me about it," Eboni said.

Kai glared.

"No, really," she said, turning fully to face him. "What was it like, I'm curious."

He looked away.

"Just how much pain were you in, Kai? How torturous was it to watch it all happen? How kind was that Fragment to you?"

He couldn't answer. The lump in his throat forbade him.

"Awh. Look at you." Her voice softened. "Guilt-ridden, aren't you?"

He couldn't look at her. He chewed his lip again, this time biting tears.

"Poor thing. It's hardly your fault." She sounded bitter. "At least you'll have that much to lean on, when you stop blaming yourself."

How dare you feel guilty, is what she meant.

How dare you regret something you didn't do as I stand here bearing the guilt of my own actions.

Kai wanted to apologize again—wanted to say something that would have meant something to her.

But he couldn't speak through the tears in his throat. Not without letting Eboni see how far she had pushed him.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I can't look at you and not think of him."

She wasn't talking about J'avi.

And she wasn't sorry, either. She apologized because she'd realized he was crying.

He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to keep his lips from trembling, wishing she would just leave.

Because there was nothing either of them could say, now.

All either of them could seem to do was blame themselves.

Pathetic, the familiar voice started to say.

But it couldn't finish whatever poisonous thought it had prepared before Kai awoke to a remembrance of himself.

"I'm not going to do this," he said suddenly.

Snow drifted soundlessly into their hair and alighted on their shoulders. Eboni remained silent, but he knew she was glaring at his back.

So he stood up straight and wiped his eyes. He took a breath, composed himself; squared his shoulders and his thoughts at once.

"I'm not going to do this," he said again, with conviction. "I'm not going to trap myself here."

"Trap yourself where?" Eboni said, pretending like she didn't know what he was talking about. "On this ship, with these people? These damn do-gooders?"

"Here," Kai repeated, and he turned to look at her. "With you."

She fell silent again.

"Kicking myself for everything I couldn't control. Blaming myself for the pain that I didn't ask for, trapped in a spiraling cycle of misery and guilt. Like you."

She didn't answer. Only watched him, expression unchanging.

Kai's eyes burned again, because the look on her face was one of hot, angry, yet cold and lonely pain—and he couldn't stand it.

"I can't stand it," he said aloud, and that was as far as he got.

"Can't you?" Eboni said dryly. "Can't take the pain? You'll sit this one out, huh, big boy?"

Kai swallowed his indignation, tasting regret instead.

"I wish you wouldn't do this, Eboni," he whispered.

"Oh, do what?" she snapped. "What am I supposed to do? Roll over, let you give me belly rubs? Wag my damn do-gooder tail like nothing's wrong? Like it's nothing? Is this nothing to you, Kai?"

"It's everything to me," he said. "But I'm not going to let it destroy me inside and out. I couldn't control what J'avi did to me, just as much as you couldn't control what Soren did to you."

She shut her mouth.

Kai softened.

"I'm not sure how," he began. "I don't know if I deserve it, either. But I know I don't want this despair anymore."

"How poetic."

"I hate to see you do this to yourself," he tried to say. His heart weighed his voice, made it unsteady.

She shook her head, warning him not to continue.

She didn't want to hear it.

"Aren't you done with the pain?" he said, and started to cry again. "Aren't you sick of this? This is not your fault, Eboni. Aren't you finished telling yourself it is?"

He saw a glitter in her eyes. A longing to reach out and take Kai's hand—or at least take a hold of his hope.

It was there, when she looked at him, but it was such a small glimmer amidst a whirling storm of despair.

And when he looked at her, he knew that she could see everything in his eyes. He could only hope it would be enough to kindle her own hope.

And it would have been enough; if she would have let it.

Eboni looked him square in the eye.

"No," she said coldly. "No, I'm not."

Despair returned with her words. But it wasn't his own despair, though that was still heavy on his heart, too—it was a little of Eboni's despair, he realized, which came to settle on his shoulders.

And a little of his, upon Eboni's.

Funny how that works, he thought, through his grief.

She may not choose to heal, but she will always remember that I did.

The Destiny's Bounty bumped against the mountain.

They'd landed.

Eboni looked at him. She looked like she wanted to say something.

Then she shut her mouth, letting her eyes tell him what she couldn't say—

That the love of that Fragment had gutted her.

She wouldn't face him yet. It hurt to face Soren and admit she loved him; admit she loved a lie, even if it had become a truth.

She didn't want that vulnerability. Couldn't bring herself to fall apart in someone's arms.

Eboni didn't want to be loved.

She turned and padded away through the snow. After a moment, the door to the Bridge slide shut.

Kai stood alone on the deck.

Stood, wiping tears and forgiving Eboni for everything she'd said, and everything she wouldn't do, everything she wouldn't say for him, or for Soren, or for anyone else.

Look at you, the voice sneered at Kai—and he at last recognized it.

J'avi.

You're pathetic. You couldn't have done anything to stop Soren from loving her. You couldn't have done anything to take away that pain.

But you just had to go love her yourself, didn't you?

Can't you see that's the last thing she wanted?

Kai groaned, but pushed J'avi with all the strength he could muster.

Get out, he said. I won't let you kill me.

But you'll let Eboni kill you? J'avi objected, shoving back. That's hardly fair.

Kai gritted his teeth. I won't let either of you kill me. Not anymore.

You're gonna fight me, huh? J'avi said—and Kai wasn't so sure his taunting voice was his imagination. You'll have to fight her, too.

"I'll fight in spite of her," he said aloud. "I'll fight for her."

Cute. But I'm pretty damn sure she doesn't want you fighting for her, Romeo.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm fighting for myself. If it'll save her, fine—if it won't, fine. I'll still fight."

Ouch, Kai. You're heartless.

"From now on," Kai said, "you are unwelcome here. And if you try to stay, I'll force you out."

Ooh, you hear that! J'avi cackled. He means it! Oh, help, I'm so afraid!

Kai felt himself trembling.

Because he was afraid—of J'avi—of slipping into the despair again—of losing hold of this sudden and small conviction to escape.

"Kai!"

He opened his eyes, unaware that he had closed them in the first place, and turned.

It was dark. He'd been standing out here for hours. The open doorway spilled gold out into the black snow.

Nya stood silhouetted there, incredulous.

"You still out there?" she called.

Kai shrugged.

"Come inside, dork," she said. "Quit moping."

Yeah, J'avi, Kai thought, and suddenly grinned. Quit moping.

Oh, ho, J'avi said, grinning back. I mean, you're not wrong.

And Kai made a point of kicking the snow with ridiculous vigor, sending mists of flakes to either side of him on his way to the door. It made Nya laugh, bewildered, and Kai laughed too.

"Prosper committed suicide?"

"Attempted," London corrected.

"He survived?" Amilia clarified, through her fingers.

"Yes."

"Barely," Lou said. "If not for Gahiji, he wouldn't have."

"Dear Spinjitzu Master," Azamat breathed. "Why?"

"Well, why do you think?" Amilia said. "It's not like anything's happened in his life to make him mentally unstable. Think, what with everything he's done—allowing himself to feel even an iota of guilt might be enough to drive him to the edge."

"Amilia," Azamat said, looking sick.

"Not to mention the state of his soul. He Fragmented himself. Putting himself back together again—and if he were to retain all their memories? He'd be trying to mush three peoples' brains together."

"Amilia, please."

"Sorry. Just saying."

He glared at her. "Insensitive, much?"

She glared back. "I'm just trying to understand."

"It's alright."

They both glanced at Lou. His eyes were dark, but he nodded at Amilia.

"He does feel guilt," he said. "Thousands of years of it. Ever since the night he was made Whole. I can't believe he's lasted this long."

"I'll say," Amilia said. "Suicide would seem like a reasonable option. That kind of guilt would kill a person without a Fragmented soul."

"Oh, shut up," Azamat snapped.

"Excuse you," she snapped back. "No one decides to end their own life without a deal of deliberation and pain. I'm just trying to understand where he's coming from—"

"Oh, well you're sure tactless about it, aren't you—?"

"Azamat."

London set a hand on Azamat's knee, silencing them both.

"It's alright," she said.

Azamat glared at her. There were tears in his eyes.

"It's alright," she said again, quieter; rubbing his knee as he looked away, covering his trembling lip with one hand. "Hey, it's alright. He's alright."

He's alright.

The words set both of them at ease. Azamat wiped his eyes; Amilia softened, closing her eyes and muttering silent relief.

The rain on the kitchen window seemed to drench and muffle their voices. It made them heavy, soaked them until they dripped with the numb grief of someone mourning another's suffering.

Lou and London explained how they had found Prosper at the foot of a mountain, just ten minutes after the attempt. That Gahiji's Element had Healed the mangled body, but could not fix the soul—at least not immediately. That they had spent the nights camped in a tent as far from that mountain as they could get, nursing Prosper back to health.

"I've never seen a man—" London started.

She cut herself off. Cleared her throat.

Lou, squeezed her hand, watching her with sad eyes.

"I've never seen a man so consumed by guilt," London finished, her voice unsteady. "He denies himself a will to live because he does not believe he deserves one. He denies himself food, water, basic human needs, because he feels guilty that he is alive. The man wants to suffer, dammit, and half of me wants to agree with him."

Yet another silence.

"And the other half?" Azamat said.

London shook her head. She wiped her eyes.

"We watched him grieve," she said hoarsely. "We were with him—we talked with him, as he suffered through one of the darkest weeks for him since that night in Jamanakai—I just know it was. The things he said to us..."

Her eyes became flaming flint.

"I wouldn't wish the pain that I saw him bear upon the vilest being in existence."

A chill ran up Amilia's arms.

"He doesn't need a hand of judgement; all the judgement he could ever need is self-supplied. More than he can stand. But whether or not he wants one, he needs a hand of love."

She relaxed. She sat back in her seat, looking exhausted. Almost meditative.

"Which is why," she said, "we left Gahiji there with him."

"Right," Azamat said numbly. "Master of Love."

"Right. We think he can fix at least some things. I can't bear to think of Prosper enduring that kind of pain a moment longer."

The pain London was talking about—Prosper's despair—it held a dull place in London's eyes. Lou's, too.

But it was more than that.

Amilia looked at them, and realized that somehow, they had forgiven Prosper.

They carried his burden with him. Mourned with him; eased the pain by carrying some of it upon their shoulders.

And when she looked at Azamat, she saw that he carried it. His green eyes clouded, head down, under the weight of Overlord's guilt.

And Amilia would carry it, now, too.

Afraid of the idea, she became indignant.

Why should she carry that for him? She didn't know Prosper. She didn't know someone who had learned to love everyone they had ever hurt, until the guilt of what they had done to them drove them to try to kill the memory of it. To try to kill the hands that had committed the murder.

She didn't know someone who loved another enough to risk their life for them, to turn their back on everything they knew for them, and to shun everything else that they had loved before—for the one they truly loved.

At least, in that moment, she forgot that she did.

Was the Overlord different? Had he gone too far to deserve forgiveness, even if he should completely reverse his actions and live every day of the rest of his life devoted to doing good?

Has this man rendered himself irredeemable? she wondered.

"Of all the people to rescue from their suicidal depression," she said, not meaning much by it except irony. "I never imagined it would be the Overlord."

A beat.

"Of all the people to shun a former enemy," London said stiffly. "A girl who has seen the transformation of Krovimastaa should know better."

Rebuked, Amilia shut up.

London was right.

She could not label Prosper irredeemable without labelling Gahiji likewise.

So what did that make Prosper?

... well, a bit pathetic, honestly.

He'd die to escape himself rather than search for that redemption.

But she wasn't about to say so, even if it was true.

Because now, she had a bit of Prosper's pain resting on her shoulders.

About time, too—

He'd carried the weight of hers for a long time.