Author's Note: Hey, I'm back! Thanks to all of you who reviewed and favorited! Any and all support is welcome! Now, get ready for a long-ass chapter, peeps, and enjoy!

Unexpected

By: Mad Betrayal

"Friendship is the source of the greatest pleasures, and without friends even the most agreeable pursuits become tedious…"—Thomas Aquinas

Chapter 40 ~ The Lost Master

Brunch with the old vagabond had been…interesting, to say the least. They had had to take an elevator to reach the mess halls located in the upper struts. The one they had entered had been packed (though most had been), with citizens brandishing their meal tickets in order to feed their hungry families. The standard being served at the time had been potato and ham hash with a chilled bottle of water. If you wanted anything else, you would have to pay for it.

Which the scarred stranger had done. And exuberantly so.

Though he had gotten Garmadon exactly what he had asked for—tamago kake gohan—it had seemed that the scarred stranger had a voracious appetite, in comparison: a massive stack of banana pancakes, a plate of eggs benedict with eight strips of bacon, a bowl of fruit salad, grits, and bratwurst. And to wash it all down, a pitcher of orange juice. After he had placed his order, and no doubt had gotten the attention of the entire room, he had slapped another five ¥10,000 notes on the serving counter, much to the shock of everyone—including Garmadon.

He then had told the serving team: "The Christmas spirit has overtaken me this late morning. Please allow these people to order whatever they want."

And the occupants' reaction to the scarred stranger's generosity had been instantaneous. They had stampeded over to the serving counter… At least, they had attempted to. All it had taken was one, pointed glare from their heavily scarred and surly-looking benefactor for the unruly mob to straighten up, show appreciation, and become more orderly.

He and Garmadon had seated themselves amongst the crowd and had been served promptly. While Garmadon had been content as always with his helping of a raw egg over steamed rice (topped with plenty of seaweed and soy sauce, mind you), watching his scarred companion eat was like watching twigs being fed into a woodchipper. And funnily enough, watching him eat had also roused a feeling of déjà vu, even his expression of childlike joviality as he did so had stirred something in the Master of Darkness.

In all honesty, not many words had been shared between them during their little brunch. And that became doubly true when the scarred man had suddenly broke into song. His silvery alto had caused a stunned hush to permeate their mess hall. He had sung strange renditions of Christmas carols, songs Garmadon hadn't heard in decades and had thought their lyrics had been lost since the destruction of his father's monastery.

And again, that voice… Akin to a fine wine—sweetened with age.

Garmadon had been enraptured and wildly confused. If only he had had the opportunity to listen to that voice for a few hours more, or at least until he'd forgone his bemusement. But, of course, all good things had to come to an end. And when he had ended his last song—The Promise of Pine—his last note ending on a pleasant hum, the scarred stranger had received a standing ovation, with surprisingly several hoots and whistles thrown in. But more than that, his voice had cajoled the congregation to start singing their own songs, lifting their spirits further.

They had left during the crowing guffaws of the 12 Days of Christmas.

Garmadon eyed his scarred acquaintance from his peripheral as they meandered down some arbitrary corridor that was sparsely occupied. The smidgens of information he's been able to ascertain so far didn't amount to much. He was still thoroughly confused about the scarred man's identity. But for him to know those old carols—The Promise of Pine specifically, his father's favorite—made him believe he was a remnant of the past. His past. And possibly Wu's.

That's it! If I can get him to meet Wu and maybe even Misako, then perhaps they would recognize him more than I would… Garmadon thought quickly and cleared his throat. "That was generous of you back there. Did the "Christmas spirit" really possess you?"

His scarred acquaintance shrugged. "Well yeah. But mainly I felt sympathetic to the plight of the people of this city. Most of it has been destroyed, after all."

Garmadon looked at him. "You've seen it?"

"From on high, yes," he replied, relighting his kiseru and taking a meditative drag. He exhaled slowly. "I'm a late player in the game. I haven't been here long. Coming down to the Honeycomb was more of an afterthought, really. I was simply curious. This place is very well-stocked. Great booze, especially."

"What?"

"A little birdie braved the city during the evacuation for me and let me in on what was going on. While I hung around the city outskirts." He chuckled. "Literally."

"A little birdie…?" Garmadon frowned. "And what exactly were you doing?"

"Me? I was waiting for Armageddon to begin. Figured it would be one helluva way to die, yanno?"

"What? But you're—"

"I am… I am a man without consequence." The scarred man's entire disposition changed at that moment. Gone was the slipshod, devil-may-care attitude. And what was left it is wake was desolate detachment with a hint of bitter anger. "I am an old nobody waiting to die. I am nothing. Just a monster."

"No, that's not true. It can't be…" Garmadon muttered. He and the scarred man came to a halt, the former vaguely realizing that they were back in front of the elevators again.

The scarred man pressed the "up" arrow button. "The Mana Cetra are nothing humanity should fear. Although they will always fear change, they will learn to adapt. Well…some of them will, as one can only hope against hope for the forever fickle and frail folk."

The elevator chimed and doors slid open. The scarred stranger boarded and turned around, his long salt and pepper tresses swishing along the backs of his calves. Skin of earth and bronze… His heavily scarred and scraggly visage pieced together in a lazy albeit bright smile as crimson clouds billowed around him. Vermillion and milky white looked only at Garmadon with something akin to…fondness.

"Well, Silver Fox, I'm afraid I must bid you adieu. The Honeycomb is no place for an old nomad such as I." Garmadon's frown hardened, as did his silver gaze until it turned to steel. "Thanks for indulging me. And thanks…for the memories."

As the doors began to slide shut, Garmadon continued to scrutinize that grinning, scarred face. It was morphing, the lips pulling at the corners more until a row of white teeth were forced to reveal themselves. The three deep, jagged tracks that marred the right side of his countenance stretched and thinned. But the most suspicious of all were those dual-colored irises. The way vermillion and milky white shifted and rolled away from Garmadon, almost guiltily but not really. What then…smugness? Saccharine triumph?

Kai had a word to describe such an irritating expression. Was it…"trollface"? The worldly representation of mischievousness to the point of being annoying? Garmadon hadn't been privy to the context of the argument, he only had recalled Kai telling Lloyd to stop "trolling" him and answer whatever "damn" question he had been asking. Funnily enough, the red ninja had also coined the phrase "resting bitch-face" when describing most if not all of Cole's facial expressions. In truth, Garmadon rarely understood today's youth and their use of colloquial speech. Wu understood it more than he did. But that wasn't the point right now.

When only two inches remained between him and the scarred stranger being forever lost behind a wall of chrome, Garmadon stuck his hand between the doors, forcing them to halt and retract from closing. The scarred man's "trollface" immediately fell as Garmadon boarded the elevator and pressed the "down" arrow button. "It's illegal to smoke in an elevator."

"What are you doing?"

"You're not leaving until I figure out who you are."

"I already told you who I am."

"Fine." Garmadon looked at him then. "Who you used to be."

The scarred man exhaled a huff of exasperation, lifting a condescending eyebrow. "I'm just a random stranger, Garmadon."

"No, you're not," the grandmaster retaliated with certainty. "Those songs you sang… There was a reason why no one could sing along with you—they didn't know the words."

"Or, they just wanted to listen."

"The Promise of Pine is a sacred song. A song that my father coveted close to his heart." Garmadon looked away, the dark melancholy of loss tainting his aged countenance. "He died…uttering the words to that song…each one quieter than the last… Only Wu and I are supposed to know that song. But for some reason…you not only know it, but you also sang it so beautifully, as if the lyrics themselves were a part of you."

The scarred man's face went eerily blank again, observing Garmadon. Silver eyes narrowed. "Subsequently, to be frank, you brought this on yourself."

"Oh, did I?" The scarred man recovered and chuckled, the sound as choked and wry as ever. "This is my just dessert? My comeuppance for singing a few measly songs, eh? A coerced interrogation? And what happens if I don't comply, Garmy? Will you beat me until I do? Ooooo—you really know how to make a random nobody feel special."

Garmadon grimaced, discomfited. "I have no intention of doing you any harm. I just want answers."

"And I just want to be on my merry way outta this colorless, underground hellhole, but I don't see that happening anytime soon. Not without things getting violent between us, and that's not how I want to part ways with you. Soooo…a compromise will have to suffice." He took another drag just as the elevator chimed and opened its doors, revealing a new pristine corridor, a new labyrinth of scarcely colored hallways. In short, they were back on the residential floor. The scarred man extended his arm politely, allowing Garmadon to disembark first. "After you, Garmy. I am ready for another waltz with you. Only this time…you lead."

Garmadon drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Still nothing. He exited the elevator and waited for his scarred acquaintance to do the same. Once he did, Garmadon asked that he walked beside him, not behind him. And once again, the scarred man complied. The trek back to his clan's temporary domicile was long and felt even longer due to his companion's obstinate silence along the way.

The Master of Darkness squared his composure. He didn't sense any rising aggression or hostility from the man. Then again, he could still feel nothing from him. But that didn't stop his heart from beginning to thud loudly against his ribcage. Where was this nervous energy suddenly coming from? Garmadon bit the bullet. "What exactly is the compromise?"

The scarred man expelled a puff a crimson. "You ask a question, I answer it. The catch—just in case you're wondering—is that you have a time limit."

"What?"

"Well, I'm not gonna let you hold me hostage down here just because you're curious. My little birdie is waiting for me. And that little birdie is more important than your prying."

Garmadon whirled on him, stopping the stranger in his tracks. "Fine." If this was the way he wanted to do this, in lieu of just sitting down in a private room and discussing things like two rational adults. Then so be it. "How do you know that song?"

"Which one?"

Silver eyes flashed, his mouth set in a thin line. "The Promise. Of Pine."

"Oh, that one." Unperturbed, the scarred man grinned. "I made it up."

"Tell me the truth."

"I am telling you the truth." He stepped closer and met Garmadon's glare with stout tranquility. "And who are you to say I'm not."

"That was my father's song—"

"No. It is my song. Not…your-fucking-father's."

Garmadon saw red in that instant. And his body reacted. But it was just that—a reaction, an impulse. His stance was wrong, and his swing was too wide. He knew this even as he swung his fist at the scarred man's face. Garmadon felt the other man tense and expected either a dodge or a counterattack. He had enough time to do either.

So why didn't he do either?

Garmadon's sloppy albeit powerful right hook landed squarely against the scarred man's jaw, throwing his head to the side. But his body didn't move. He had braced for the attack. Nothing else. Loose strands of wavy salt and pepper obscured the scarred man's profile somewhat, his gaze awash in shadow. He stood expressionless for a time, a split in his bottom lip hemorrhaging and drawing a crimson line down the side of his chin.

"Ah… Garmadon…" The scarred man turned his head and Garmadon was shocked to see such a wide and bright smile. "…Thanks again…for the memories."

Before the scarred man could even turn away from him, Garmadon grabbed his hand. "I'm… I'm sorry for hitting you. Please wait."

"You have nothing to apologize for," the other said easily. "You obviously still love and respect your dear ol' dad. I can't blame you for lashing out. Now…let go. I have."

Garmadon fought against the questions gathering on his tongue and sighed. "Please. Just allow me to restore my honor by treating the injury I caused you. I…promise not to disturb you by asking any more questions. After that…we can part ways."

It only took a second of deliberation before the scarred man turned back to face Garmadon, his smile a little dimmer but still content. "Alright. Lead the way."

Garmadon turned, keeping the scarred man's limp hand in his grasp. In solemn silence, he led the way down a few hallways until stopping before a door that looked like all the rest, just with different letters and numbers on it. He bypassed the lock with his keycard and opened the door. Light was granted with a flick of a switch and Garmadon almost meekly requested that the other man go and sit in the living room.

Garmadon joined him soon after with a first aid kit in hand and settled himself down beside the other man. He opened the lid and spread the few items he needed on the table in front of them. "Can you face me, please?"

The scarred man turned his body slightly, his face now an expressionless void. Garmadon dipped some antiseptic on a cotton swab and gingerly took the other's chin in his hand, the short, little hairs unevenly peppering it tickling his fingertips. The cut on his lip had clotted and wasn't hemorrhaging anymore, thankfully, so he first cleaned the man's chin of the drying blood.

"I…should've had better control of my emotions," Garmadon began softly, his touch on the scarred visage just as soft as his voice. "I usually do. It's just… You were right. My father means a great deal to me. And he always will."

"I used to share that sentiment, but now I don't… Not after what he did to me…" the scarred man's tone was a blunt knife. "I hate your father, and I'm glad he's dead."

Garmadon froze. He stared long and hard into the empty dual-colored irises looking back at him. His hands shook as he pulled them away from the scarred man and settled them in his lap. He curled them into fists, the blood from the cotton swab staining his palm. He took a deep, steadying breath and exhaled slowly. "Why would you—" he closed his mouth, remembering his earlier promise. "I don't know you," he uttered instead. "And I don't know why you would say that. When he was such a good man. And a wonderful and loving father."

"No. You don't know me. Not anymore. But I know you. And Wu."

Garmadon opened his mouth, but his objection died on his lips when he saw the man lift two of his partially bandaged fingers, the tips aglow in chartreuse light, and tapped them against the cut on his bottom lip. The small laceration instantly sealed a moment later, not a mark left behind. But Garmadon did detect a faint floral aroma before it too dissipated.

It had also been…slightly medicinal. But how could anybody just summon the effect of a medicinal plant at will? That's not possible! That is unless… Silver eyes widened. "You're an Elemental Master!" He quickly shook his head. "No! But Bolobo is the Master of Nature. And there can't be another master with the same element in the same lifetime unless they're twins! And you look nothing like Bolobo."

The scarred man's expression didn't twitch. "You're not the only one who forgot about me, Garmadon. The world did too…after your father sent me to my death."

God-DAMN his honor! He just wanted to ask so many questions and SCREW the promise he made! Instead, he thought quickly. "You said, you knew me and Wu. Therefore, please tell me something that only me and my brother would know."

The scarred man raised an eyebrow. "You have a terrible burn scar on your right buttock," he said flatly. Garmadon bristled, the entirety of his face instantly turning a deep shade of red. "You got it when you fell into the pond behind the monastery and a few leeches attached to you. Wu tried to burn them off as quickly as possible, but I screamed and broke his concentration because…" Vermillion and milky white averted from him, "…Well, because I didn't want him to kill them. I wanted to try and talk them into leaving you unharmed… He ended killing them…and I cried. For you and the leeches."

Garmadon had to really try to keep from reeling. He reigned in his wide-spread blush as best he could. "But…that happened when we were so young…"

"Wu and I were six and you were seven."

Garmadon could only gape at the scarred man. After a time, the enigma-of-a-man moved and reached into his plentiful sleeve. He removed his gunmetal wallet and opened it up. A faint, mournful quirk of the lips touched his face before it fell away. He then gave it to Garmadon. The aged grandmaster looked down and felt his world tilt on its axis. Inside one of the laminated slips in the billfold was a small picture. It was a bit faded and worn around the edges, but it was all there. In color. It was a picture of his father—in his prime and wearing a warm, proud smile. And oddly enough, a flower crown made of sakura blossoms sat atop his head. And three little kids stood happily in front of him, and they too wore flower crowns. There was Wu in a white yukata and sandals, his platinum blonde hair cut short as always and his big, black eyes alight enough to match the sunbeam of a smile on his face. On the other side was Garmadon, his childish frame adorned in a black yukata and sandals. Silver eyes ready and eager, with a small puff in his chest as he smiled determinedly at the camera. His dark, brown hair was a little long but also terribly wild and unkempt. But in between them…was the prettiest little girl to ever grace Ninjago. She held both his and Wu's hand as she smiled ecstatically at the camera, openmouthed and giddy. Beautiful hazel-green eyes sparkled at him. And long, wavy naturally highlighted tresses of black and gold framed a round face colored a healthy bronze and tumbled down to her ankles. Her yukata was two-toned—green and yellow. And she stood happily barefoot.

"Not so cute now, huh?" The scarred man beside him chuckled bitterly. "Up until I was 18 people always mistook me for a girl. I guess it didn't help that I had always kept my hair in braids and beads, but whatever. People can't make that mistake now…"

Garmadon could only stare helplessly down at the picture until…like a broken dam, it all came flooding back.

He remembered his father coming home one night. And in his arms, he had been cradling a small child no older than 4-years-old. That child had been on the verge of death—starved and sickly. But his father—with a combination of herbal remedies and Chi magic—had completely healed the little boy (not girl), while he and Wu had watched in awe. The little boy was then raised alongside him and his brother, and they had all gotten along swimmingly.

He remembered that little boy…refusing to wear anything on his feet, his thick, long, wavy tresses swishing everywhere as he ran around the monastery. He had spent most of his time outside. Prancing and rolling around in the grass and flowers with such speed and grace, he and Wu could barely keep up. But Father had taught that boy how to control that bountiful energy and express and hone it by different means.

He had calmed that boy… Garmadon recalled the many, many times his father had sat behind the little boy and had combed and brushed his hair until it had shone like a rook's wing streaked with gold. And then, he would braid it and decorate it with beads, glowing and murmuring of the little boy's flowery beauty. Over time, the little boy had found his balance—his peace and tranquility. There had been a moderation to his boisterousness as he took wholeheartedly into starting a garden behind the monastery. The tender hum of his voice as he took his sweet time planting and tilling the soil was akin to a lark's song.

Oh, that garden! Such vibrant colors it had! The flowers, the fruits, the vegetables…. It had become an orchard before long and had attracted many animals. They had all had a feeling… They had all had a feeling that the little boy had an affinity with Nature. And it had all come full circle when he had started speaking to those animals.

Fauna and flora… the little boy had been one with them all. And he had been one with them. They had been a family. He and Wu had excelled in the arts and poetry, while he had bonded with Garmadon…over everything else. Two sides of the same coin—yin and yang. They had strengthened and supported each other. The push and pull of their personalities could be unorthodox at times, but never vexing. Never a hindrance.

And there had been a name…

It had been…a special…name…that his father had bestowed to the little boy…

"Obadiah!"

"There you are, Obadiah! Come on! Training is going to start soon!"

"Would you please help me with this calligraphy, Obadiah?"

"I guess you now put a whole new meaning to the language of flowers, eh, Obadiah? …Shut up! I'm not lame!"

"By the gods… You sure have a black hole for a stomach, Obadiah."

"Obadiah, could you please tell this wolf spider to leave before I kill it?"

"Happy Birthday, Obadiah!"

And Garmadon remembered something else as well. Sometime when the three of them were teenagers during the winter solstice, Obadiah had presented something to Father. It had been a song—one he had written himself and wanted to sing to everyone. And that song had been The Promise of Pine.

It… It really was his song… Garmadon looked up from the photo and into the eyes of the scarred man beside him. He stared long and hard. But where were those beautiful hazel green eyes now? What all had time taken away? He didn't understand. Garmadon swallowed and tentatively raised his hand towards the other's aged face. "O—Obadiah…" But the allegedly deposed master frowned and leaned away from him. "But… What happened to you, Obadiah? Where did you go? And how…just how could I ever forget you?! And how could Wu, for that matter?"

Obadiah made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat and brought his kiseru back up to his lips, the hizara still miraculously lit. "I think that's something you should be asking your bastard of a father. Too bad he's dead, huh?"

Why did this all just feel so wrong? Was this scarred vagabond really his Obadiah? Because from what he could garner from his now restored memories of his (more or less) adopted little brother, Obadiah had been deathly allergic to any and all cigarette smoke. He couldn't even be in the vicinity of someone smoking without starting to cough and wheeze and subsequently pass out from near asphyxiation. Now, here he was smoking from a kiseru with nary an asthmatic hitch in his voice? Then again, whatever Obadiah was smoking didn't seem to be any traditional type of stimulant or depressant drug.

Father had been a casual smoker. But when he had learned of Obadiah's affliction, he had quit cold turkey… "How can you still show him such disrespect?" Garmadon growled. "We were a family, were we not? We all loved and cared for each other deeply."

"Family?" He took a long drag and relaxed into the cushions of the couch. "Yes, we were," he exhaled his wisps of crimson. "And it was nice. It was nice for a very long time. And I was forever grateful. But let me ask you this, Garmadon… If you loved someone and cared for them so deeply…would you banish them to the Cursed Realm for forty-eight years? Would you send them to their death?"

Garmadon blanched, struck speechless.

But Obadiah wasn't done. "But I suppose he did warn me… I just couldn't… I just…" he suddenly stopped and grimaced as if a surge of pain had abruptly overtaken him. But then his features slackened and he graced Garmadon with a small, sad, lopsided grin. "Say…do you remember how we parted ways? In the bamboo forest?"

Garmadon't heart stuttered and clenched. "Oh gods…"

"He had told me that my feelings for you and Wu were to never change—that I would have to always see you both as my brothers, though not bonded by blood. While I could for Wu…my feelings for you…had changed Garmy…"

"No…" Garmadon shook his head. "He wouldn't have. Not for that…"

"He told me to change, but I couldn't. I begged for his forgiveness. I loved and respected that man so much, I just wanted his blessing. But you didn't see his face, Garmy. And I'll never forget it—that shadow that had passed over it… No longer was he my precious father-figure. Heh…that overwhelming disappointment… But then the bastard decided to screw with me and give me some false hope. He said…if I went on a mission for him, upon my return, he would then give me his blessing. And he gave me this moonseed medallion…" Obadiah gripped the opulent pendant tight in a bout of anger, "…said it would protect me." He chuckled, dark and low, the scars on his face more prominent than ever. "It didn't."

When Garmadon had learned of Obadiah's alleged mission back then and not getting any details about it from his father, he had rushed to find Obadiah before his departure. And had found him in the bamboo forest. He recalled Obadiah in his black and white ninja garb, his bare feet wrapped in black gauze. The long, wavy black and gold tresses had been braided, but not beaded, and gathered at the top of his head and bound by vines made from wisteria and morning glory. He would always stick some type of flower into the long, green scarf around his neck. And that day it had been a chrysanthemum. A white one.

Obadiah had looked beautiful and radiant as always. However, Garmadon had sensed his trepidation.

"I wish I could come with you. Father won't tell me anything about it. And he said, neither would you."

"It's a mission just for me, that's why. But don't worry, I'm sure I'll be back before you know it."

"…Alright. Just try not to space out so much, alright? Don't take a detour and stop to chat with a caterpillar or whatever."

"Haha! I'll stop and chat with whatever flora and fauna I like, thank you very much! You and Wu just better look after my garden for me."

"Heh, always."

"…But seriously, Garmadon… When I come back…I hope… I hope that you'll consider me."

"Consider you? Consider you as what?"

"…Someone special…"

How could he had ever forgotten the soft, chaste kiss placed upon his cheek? Yes, while it had confused him greatly, his heart had still thundered, and his cheeks had still warmed. Then, Obadiah was gone—disappeared in a whirlwind of leaves and petals. Always smelling so sweet. However, Obadiah's mission had stretched on for far too long for both Garmadon and Wu's likings and they had confronted their father about Obadiah's whereabouts after the first week had passed. But they had gained nothing. Nothing but…

"This is Obadiah's mission. If he's meant to return, he will."

The brothers had been dissatisfied, and against their father's wishes, they had set out to look for their dear friend. "We searched for so long… And I searched for even longer…" Obadiah gave him a rueful smile. "But why? Why would he do something so horrible to you? Just because you loved men?"

"Oh, Garmy… I wasn't condemned for loving men. I was condemned for loving you." Silver eyes widened. "I honestly don't think the bastard would've cared either way if it had been some other guy. Just you and Wu were off-limits."

This was all just so unbelievable! If what Obadiah was telling him true, then no wonder he hated his father so much. And again, just how could he and Wu forget Obadiah? Did their father really do something to them? If so, then to what extent? Did he really have all his memories? Or were there still some missing? But more than that—to do something so heinous and cruel to Obadiah… And for what? Just because he had developed romantic feelings for him? Absurd!

That's no justification to banish someone to the fucking Cursed Realm!

Even if homosexual relations were somewhat taboo back then—much more than they are now, at least—who Garmadon chose to love was his choice and his alone. No one else's. Not even his father's. He didn't care how powerful he was. But his choice had unknowingly been stripped away when Obadiah never returned. He never got the chance to give him an answer.

And looking at Obadiah now…Garmadon honestly still couldn't recognize him. More so than the physical change, the emotional blockage he could feel (or rather couldn't feel) from Obadiah was staggering. The Obadiah he had grown up with had been sweet, wholesome, open, and earnest in everything he did. But now…that strange nothingness encompassed his old friend in a noxious miasma.

Garmadon looked down at the picture once more, into those twinkling, beautiful hazel-green eyes, until a bandaged hand appeared and snatched it away. Garmadon looked up, meeting a terribly disgruntled and heavily scarred visage. Vermillion and blind, milky white narrowed at him, and Garmadon once again lifted a hand to Obadiah's face, only for the other to shy away again with a grimace.

Garmadon stopped short. "That happened in the Cursed Realm…because you were exposed…"

"Much happened in the Cursed Realm. It changed me too much. It took away too much. I'm a monster now, Garmadon."

"No, you're not. The scars and… Your eyes may've changed, but—"

It took the aged grandmaster everything in his power not to flinch back in surprise when a long, bronze-butter tendril (?) caught his peripheral. It moved, waving slowly—almost tauntingly in front of Garmadon's face. His jaw dropped. Did this thing…come from Obadiah? What was it? A…tail or something. It was somewhat thick and the same color as his skin. What…?

"I. AM. A. Monster." Obadiah enunciated each word slowly, punctuating his point. Garmadon saw the furrow in his brow, the anger in his eyes. As well as the unshed tears. Obadiah abruptly stood, with Garmadon a millisecond behind him. He grabbed Obadiah's hand and held it tight.

"No, you're not, my friend. You will never be a monster to me."

They stood there in silence, locked in a stare. That is until Obadiah's eyes shifted towards the door. A moment later, Garmadon's did too, as he could feel his brother's presence drawing nearer. "Stay here and stay quiet." He saw Obadiah's bemused frown before he turned and bolted for the door just as he heard the affirming *beep* of the keycard reader.

He opened the door to find his younger brother lifting a curious, white eyebrow at him. "Brother?" Wu gave a slight start and gave Garmadon a quick once over. "By the gods, what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Yes, over the last couple of hours, Garmadon did feel as if he'd aged ten more years. He was most definitely knocking on death's door now. But nonetheless, he quelled his frayed nerves and racing heart with supreme discipline and regarded his brother. "No, I… I just had a…disturbing dream, that's all." Wu stroked his long, white beard and he eyed his brother more intently, clearly skeptical. But Garmadon squared his shoulders and pushed on. "And? How are you? Were you able to reminisce with Misako to your heart's content?"

Wu's hand halted mid-stroke and he slowly lowered it. "Ah about her… I honestly don't know how to tell you this, Garmadon…or our family."

Concerned, the Master of Darkness opened the door a bit wider. "What is it, Wu?"

Wu took a moment, vexed by whatever ordeal that was currently going on in his head. Until he took a breath. "Misako…is being transported back to Europia by the military in the next hour or so. As you know, she's recently become a part of the States-General in the Basalands… And they need her back. And…" he noticeably swallowed, "…and she invited me to come with her… And I accepted."

Garmadon blinked. Then, he blinked again. "What?"

Wu lowered his head, his wide-brim hat obscuring the solemn guilt within his aged onyx depths. "I know this isn't the right time to do such a selfish thing, what with our clan in the state it is. I had tried to pull forth the words to decline her offer, but… Gods, I love her so deeply, Garmadon—I'm so sorry. But now that's she reciprocating and is free and—no. Not-not free. I didn't mean that, forgive me, brother."

Garmadon lifted a placating hand. "It's fine, Wu. Remember, I divorced her. You and she are both free…to do what you want."

Wu lifted his head and Garmadon saw how truly sad he looked. With a small smile, he walked forward and embraced his younger brother. "I truly wish you all the happiness in the world, Wu. So please, go do what your heart is telling you."

"My only wish is that I could tell them myself. That is what I regret most of all, for them to come back and I'm not here… It pains me."

"They will be shocked, yes. But they are not children. They will persevere and go on like the adults they are. And if not…I'll make them."

Wu chuckled, the sound reverberating from his chest and touching Garmadon's heart. "They won't think less of me…?"

"Of course not. You will always be their beloved mentor. You did right by them, Wu. You should forever be proud. And I'm sure Father—"Garmadon's breath nearly caught, but he managed to get the words out, "would be proud of you too."

Wu pulled back and the two brothers regarded each other with that special brotherly harmony. The light returned to Wu's eyes. "Thank you, brother."

Garmadon nodded. "Be sure to call us once you've settled in. Safe travels, brother."

Wu smiled and turned around to continue down the corridor. In his holy white robes, he blended seamlessly with the clean, radiant hallways. Forever silent his steps were, and as he rounded the corner and disappeared from Garmadon's view, the Master of Darkness stepped back inside his clan's temporary domicile and closed the door.

He kept his back to Obadiah, and all was quiet until the latter's voice tentatively whispered. "That was a nice thing you did, Garmy—giving Wu your blessing and all. You two are much better men than your father ever was… You both can be proud of that."

Garmadon turned around and walked the short distance back to his long-lost friend. He then embraced him as well. But unlike Wu, Obadiah didn't reciprocate. Garmadon closed his eyes wearily and rested his temple against the other man's. "Stay with me."

"No. Sorry, Garmy."

Garmadon's grip tightened around Obadiah's body, wanting to feel something from the lost master but despairingly still couldn't. Gods, even at this proximity, he still couldn't scent anything. His hair, his clothes, his skin. Nothing. But back then, a sultry spice had always clung to Obadiah's person along with a little something sweet—sweet peas. Yes, that had been it.

"I can never have my friend by my side again… Is that what you're saying?"

"Garmy…" Ah, but there was one thing Garmadon could definitely feel at this proximity: the thunderous beats of Obadiah's racing heart. "I've been alone for so long. I don't do well with people for extended periods of time anymore… I can't. My only true friends of late have been the flora and fauna."

"I'll help you. I want to reconnect with you. I don't want you to disappear from my life again, Obadiah."

Obadiah was quiet for a very long time, but not once did Garmadon let go of him. Until finally, the lost Master of Nature lifted his arms and reciprocated.

Author's Note: Annnd, back to the Ninja. I know it may feel like there's a lot of subplots going on but reassured, the primary focus of Unexpected is Jay and Cole. I know what I'm doin'… Sort of.