The next few days seemed to pass in a haze. A haze in which Zane's eyes never ceased to be irritated and red, tired of crying. Where every glance to his wrist, where his father's ancestral golden watch now sat, caught the breath in his throat and held it there. There was no escape from this heavy overpowering feeling, no respite, and for the first time in a long while, Zane wished he had never been programmed with emotions.
Dr. Julien's death had been quick and simple. Garmadon had been the one who had found Dr. Julien gasping for breath and clutching his chest in the hallway, and had rode in the ambulance holding the inventor's hand as the painful heart attack took over. Dr. Julien had died moments before the call to the ninja had been made, his last breath leaving him as the doors to the ambulance were swung open at the entrance of the hospital. This was all relayed over the phone to the group huddled around Cole, listening with tears in their eyes.
The car ride to the hospital had been silent. Cole's knuckles had been white against the steering wheel, weaving in and out of traffic as fast as he possibly could, racing against an unseen clock that had already ticked to its end. Zane had stared forward without a single thought in his mind, as if his processors had ceased to function. His emotions had gone blank, and he left the crying to his friends while he sat in silent denial.
Upon arriving to the hospital, the doctors insisted that the older man was dead. That there was no one to see, no one to say their last goodbyes to. There was nothing even the best of doctors could do to change Dr. Julien's fated end. But Zane insisted for a reason he had not known, wanting to see the empty shell of the inventor, heart forever frozen in time. Maybe he thought there was no way the man was dead unless he saw it with his own eyes. In a way, the inventor's death was unbelievable. Not because it was impossible, no, Dr. Julien had been very clear about his mortality. But the man had been revived from death before, had survived many events and done things worth multiple human lives. Something as simple as a heart attack shouldn't have killed a man who had tricked death once before.
And yet, it had. Zane hadn't recognized his father at first. They had removed Dr. Julien's crooked glasses, and the man's glazed eyes had looked off into a distance Zane could not see. He felt so distant from his father. The mortality felt jarring to him, as if Zane had been transported onto another plane of existence, looking down at himself staring at the body on the stretcher.
Zane had barley noticed when Garmadon had walked into the room, until the man stood next to him and spoke.
"Zane… They need to… We need to give the staff some space." Garmadon had said quietly, as if speaking too loudly would disturb the still rest of Dr. Julien.
Zane did not look over to stare at Garmadon, only continued to stare at the body his father once inhabited. As reality cemented over him, the nindroid began to feel a soft sort of anger. Dr. Julien had left without a single warning, without a moment to say goodbye. There had to be someone to blame, there had to have been something that forced Julien's hand to enter Death's open arms. His father would have never left without putting up a fight.
"Did you kill him?" Zane silently asked, words escaping his lips softly before he had even registered saying anything. Only moments later did he realize he had directed such a question to the older man to his side.
He expected a shocked reaction, some gasp of anger in such an accusation. Or even a sob, the man feeling like he couldn't escape his past even now. Some response other than the one Garmadon gave.
The grey-haired man had placed a hand on Zane's shoulder, probably some form of understanding, before saying, "No. I didn't."
It was at this that Zane allowed Garmadon to slowly steer him out of the hospital room. He so badly wanted someone to blame, someone to pay for what had occurred and therefore make right the death of the inventor. But he knew when someone was lying, and the ex-lord was telling a scathing truth. No one had betrayed Dr. Julien, no one had deliberately caused his death. The inventor's heart had decided it was time, and only Dr. Julien himself was to blame.
The following days had melted together in an undeterminable timeline. At some point, the will had been read, with only a few things bequeathed. Zane had received the golden watch Dr. Julien always wore, passed down from the inventor's father, and now yet again passed down to the next generation of Julien. Jay had received every blueprint, every document Dr. Julien had ever made, including the schematics of the nindroid himself. This was all that Dr. Julien had to give, having brought little possessions with him from the tower guarded by the Kraken.
There had been many letters sent to the monastery from around the world, inventors writing in to send their condolences and voice how amazing they had thought Dr. Julien to be. But only Zane and what remained of his found family attended the funeral, the only people that truly cared paying tribute to the decorated inventor.
After this day, Zane avoided any talk about the death of his father. In any room in which the subject was brought up, Zane would quickly leave, not needing a single reminder of the grief hanging over his head. He would snap at anyone who attempted to breach the subject with him, not understanding why people couldn't pretend nothing had happened in the first place.
This was why he now found himself alone in the shared bedroom, perched atop his bunk bed. He now sat in the darkness, only illuminated by the lights flickering in the hallway. The only noise that broke the silence was the golden watch, ticking along to the ever-moving passage of time. His friends had, once again, attempted to talk to him about the inventor. He had shot straight out of his seat, leaving his dinner behind in his escape, all eyes following him until he had slammed the door to the mess room closed.
He didn't need to hear how happy Dr. Julien's life had been, or how the man wouldn't want to see them sad. And he certainly didn't need to be told that there was absolutely nothing he could have done.
Of course, no one would have understood the turmoil going on within Zane. Humans weren't made specifically for a purpose. Yes, they obsessed themselves with finding a purpose to their lives, but they weren't made for one reason and one reason only. They weren't made to protect life, to save those who could not save themselves. Humans were not immortal, forever fated to carry out a duty that caused their creation. They could move on, adapt, eventually come to the realization that they are not God, that they couldn't persuade Death and who it chose to invite.
But Zane was not human. He had only been made to keep people alive and safe. He was wired, as much as he wished he wasn't, to hide people from Death's searching grip. He knew could have done something if he had been there. He could have saved Dr. Julien.
Tears slowly fell down his cheeks at the thought of his failure, salty water splashing on his wrist and the golden watch that glinted back up at him. A watch that, in the back of his dark and repressed thoughts, he felt he no longer deserved. He did not deserve the heirloom to a name he had failed. He had let down his creator, let down everything that he had been made to stand for; failed his purpose.
Zane felt as though his world was crumbling around him. The pillars that stood to define everything he was, to motivate his every action, were dissolving under his failure to execute his duty. The drive to push through every wish to be human, to live such a half-life, was now slipping like fine sand through his fingers. There was no longer a reason to pretend he was satisfied, to delude himself into even questioning wether he could be considered "alive". It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. It was all wires and switches, nothing but a malfunction and a faulty invention.
He wasn't breathing. He wasn't living. Zane had no heart.
As his thoughts carried him, spiraling ever downward, his artificial nerves didn't alert him to the movement of his own hand. There was no awareness as he unconsciously took off his shirt, as his hand found the catch on his side with a steadiness he did not usually possess in such a task.
Artificial, inhuman, machine was the mantra that his processing system chanted, around and around in circles. It distracted him from his hand as it moved inward, distracted him from the pulsing red lights blinding his vision, distracted him from the warning symbols blocking his view in each eye, a desperate attempt for his attention.
He grasped a handful of wires, chilled fingers wrapping itself around the bundle with a certainty. He began to pull without thought, without hesitation and-
"Zane?!"
The tugging hand froze immediately as Zane was crashed forcefully back into awareness. His blue eyes were glazed and blank as he slowly looked down, the image of his hand caught in the action of the unimaginable to greet him.
The bunk bed creaked as someone clambered up the ladder, bed slats groaning under the added weight. But Zane did not look up from his opened abdomen, paralyzed for a reason he did not know. The other's hand came into view, rough and calloused hands prying Zane's fingers off of the bundle of wires he had grabbed. It was only after the person had closed the panel with a click that Zane found he could move again.
"Zane? Zane? Can you hear me?" The person questioned; untamed panic laced in their shaky, desperate tone.
Zane slowly moved his head, looking up to find emerald eyes, filled with fear, gazing frightfully back at him.
"Cole…" Zane managed in a croak, grasping onto the wrist that still held his hand, "I…"
He was left speechless as the situation finally computed in his mind. Mortification drenched him in a cold shiver, and tears began to desperately stream down his cheeks once again. What had he been thinking? He had acted on a desire he had never known he had, something within him that had never once reared its ugly head until now. Zane had always felt burdened by his nature of existence, had always felt like there was more to be desired in his life. But this… it felt like a betrayal of his father, and it scared him to the core.
Cole wrapped his arms around Zane as the nindroid cried himself into silence, staring at the wall as he tried to comprehend what he had just walked in on. Logically, he knew what he had witnessed, understood the pain Zane had to be in, how alone he must have felt. Cole gripped the crying man, as if to hold him together for both of their sakes.
They sat like this for a while, Zane's tears staining Cole's shirt until it seemed the man had no more tears to cry. They were plunged into silence, the only sound being the occasional sniffle and the constant ticking of the watch on Zane's wrist. In the darkness, their embrace felt frozen in time, seemingly to never end, when suddenly there was a knock at the door, causing Zane to flinch in Cole's arms.
"Cole? Zane? Can I come in?" Jay's voice called from the hallway. Of course, Cole had completley forgotten about the rest of the group, anxiously awaiting in the mess hall for the earth elemental to come back and tell them if Zane was okay.
"Yeah Jay, come in." Cole answered. He tried to look down at Zane as the door to the bedroom opened, searching for some reaction or recognition. But the man's eyes seemed blank, a void that looked rampant with hopelessness.
"Is… everything okay?" Jay asked, worry clear in his voice. Cole looked up from Zane to slowly shake his head in response, trying not to make a scene of how not okay things were. Jay's eyebrows furrowed, eyes flitting anxiously to Zane and back again.
Truthfully, Cole didn't know what to do. He felt like a like a deer caught in headlights, shocked by impending destruction, mind blank in the face of mortality. Of course, he had dealt with death and the idea of dying before. He had watched death slowly infect his mother, slowly take her away in fits of coughs and gasping breaths until the day she ceased to live. He had witnessed death move quickly and swiftly, as it had with Zane's father. But he had never experienced death in this such way, as if it were hanging over their heads, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, for a broken man to succumb. This wasn't like the deaths he had seen before, and it scared him; scared him to see someone so integral to his life, hang in the balance of an unseen force.
Cole tried to remember what his mother used to do to soothe him after talks about life without her. They were difficult memories to access, having been shoved into the deep recesses of his mind, along with scathing words from his grieving father and all too-sweet smiles from people in funeral attire.
The only thing he could remember was warmth. A surrounding warmth, much like a hug. Cole could remember fingers running through his hair, and a hand pressed to his hairline to ensure something wouldn't get in his eyes. These were the memories when he felt at home, when he felt cared for.
"Could you help me get Zane to the bathroom?" Cole asked suddenly, praying to a god he didn't believe in that Jay wouldn't question him. Now was not the time to sit and discuss what exactly was going on with Zane, "I think a warm bath might be good right now."
Sure enough, without hesitation, Jay nodded and immediately walked over, reaching out his arms to help Zane down the ladder. That was something Cole always appreciated when it came to Jay Walker. For all his jokes, for all of his seemingly carefree nature, he was serious when the moment called for it. He understood when humor was beyond helping a situation.
Once they arrived in the bathroom, Cole calmly set Zane down on the bath mat, where Zane curled up, tucking his knees tight against his chest. The nindroid watched as Jay pulled back the shower curtain and turned the water to a scalding temperature, getting the bath ready for him.
Cole sat down next to Zane, searching for the nindroid's gaze, which was still locked onto Jay.
"Zane, I'm going to need you to open up for a couple of seconds so I can help you out of your clothes and into the bath," Cole said, and the dulled blue eyes finally looked back at him.
Zane shook his head weakly, holding himself tighter, as if to hold his body together.
"Please, Zane?" Cole whispered, giving Zane a warm smile, "I think a bath might be what you need right now."
But Zane only looked back at him blankly. Cole sighed and looked up behind him to Jay, silently pleading for help.
"Alright buddy, let us help you out," Jay said, walking over to Zane, "How about you cling on to me, I promise I won't go anywhere."
Zane stared up at Jay for a few moments before nodding slowly. The lightening elemental leaned down and weaved his arms around Zane, propping him up in a standing position. Zane clung to Jay; it reminded him of a sloth, clinging on to its coveted branches as if its life depended on it. Cole made quick work of Zane's clothes, and as they helped the ice elemental into the steaming water (he didn't flinch, seemingly unaware of the concept of temperature), Cole turned to Jay.
"Could you go get Sensei? And a change of clothes for Zane?" Cole asked, stomach dropping when Jay's eyebrows furrowed in the first sign of curiosity. Jay could, of course, sense the urgency of the situation, even if he didn't know why. But Cole didn't need him to start raising questions in front of Zane, "Jay, please… I can't leave him alone right now."
Jay's gaze fell to Zane at these words, looking closely at the subtle trembles in the ice elemental's pale hands, the dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and most importantly, the unfocused gaze of a man whose mind was millions of miles away.
Cole swore he could almost see when everything clicked in place for Jay, who spun around quickly, swiftly leaving the bathroom to go do as he was asked by their leader, closing the door behind him as quietly has a concerned friend could.
The master of Earth looked back to Zane, still curled in the steaming bathwater, still slightly quivering. Cole grabbed the shower head from above and turned it on, passing his hand underneath it to check the temperature before gingerly washing Zane's hair. Zane let out a shuttering sigh, a frosty puff of air escaping from his lips, icy exhale mixing with the water's steam.
They sat like this for a while, Cole gently calming Zane down. And if the nindroid let a few tears to trace the dried paths on his cheeks, Cole pretended not to notice.
"He didn't hurt himself, did he?" Sensei asked, shifting his wrinkled fingers along the outside of his teacup. They were in the mess hall now, alone, Wu having made himself and his student some much-needed liquid relaxation. The steam from Cole's cups curled up into the air, brushing past his lips and tickling his nose.
"No. I found him before he caused any… damage." Cole explained, looking down into his drink, swallowing as if the words were trying to escape back down his throat.
Sensei Wu nodded minutely, watching his pupil with something that couldn't be placed. Almost as if he was in contemplation of moving a chess piece, or ruminating over a question that had haunted him for days.
"I'd like to know what your thoughts are," Wu began, before pausing to take a drink. After taking a satisfactory sip, he looked to Cole, making piercing eye contact that never ceased to unsettle his students.
"On?" Cole asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Yes, Wu was known to be cryptic in a scenario that could be learned from, but in such a situation as someone contemplating the value of their own life, words left up to interpretation had no place. Wu sighed and looked down at his tea, as though he felt guilty for what he was about to propose.
"I'm thinking about sending Zane off with my brother and Misako."
Cole took a very sharp inhale through his teeth at this. Never had he heard something so horridly unwise come from his teacher's mouth. A teacher, who gave Cole a place to live and train after his mother's death tore apart his relationship with his father. A teacher, who had lived with the weight of caring for his cursed brother. A teacher, whose life had seen more failure than success. Sensei Wu had always been wise and thoughtful, even if it wasn't always the right option. But this? To separate Zane from the only family he had left?
"Well, that's fucking stupid," Cole blurted, words flowing straight from his brain to his mouth. It was only moments after, watching Wu's white eyebrows rise past the brim of his hat, that he realized his thought had been said aloud. He immediately flushed and clamped a hand to his mouth, apologizing profusely behind it, muffling his words, "I- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to say that, forgive me Sensi."
Sensei Wu only leaned back and took a sip of his tea, observing his embarrassed pupil. When Cole finally broke the uncomfortable eye contact, the old man spoke.
"I'll choose to ignore your choice of words, if you'll elaborate?" Sensei Wu spoke coolly. Wu was known to be a strict authority when it came to curse words, especially when said curse words were uttered in the vicinity of his impressionable nephew. It was the team's secret to keep that Lloyd had joined the team with enough curse words for all of them to share twice over.
"What I mean to say is, it's probably not a good idea to separate Zane from us. He's grieving, and I've got a feeling isolating him from his family won't really help." Cole told his teacup, "And as the leader of our team, I don't want to take Zane out of my sight. It's my duty to be there for him."
There was a pause, in which Cole did not look up to see Wu's reaction.
"You may be right, Cole. But Zane won't be able to heal here. He needs quiet, relaxation. Somewhere his presence isn't demanded. His whole life has been dictated by the existence of other people. He has lived his time always helping others, never putting himself first. He needs a place where he is forced to become introspective." Sensei explained. And of course, it made sense. Zane never really seemed to breath, always looking at the next moment. Greif and self-help weren't things Zane regularly experienced. Being with his team would only distract him, would only cause the sadness to fester until it exploded. And considering Zane's reaction that evening, Wu was certainly correct in the observation of much needed introspection.
And yet, Cole hated the idea of Zane leaving his sight. Jay and Kai had always been close, understanding each other in ways Cole couldn't. Zane had always been his person, always the one he teased, always the one he paired up with. As a leader, he didn't like to see one of his team hurting. But as a friend, he couldn't bear the thought of not being around for Zane.
"I understand, Sensei. But I can't leave him. I hear what you're saying, loud and clear, I really do. But you can't send him off." Cole insisted, eye's locked onto his master's with a sincerity that rivaled no other. He watched as Wu's expression turned thoughtful, looking to the ceiling as if the solution would be written in the wood. And yet, apparently it was written in the paneling above them, because Sensei Wu looked back down at Cole with resolve.
"You should go with Zane. To the monastery."
Cole sat in disbelief, staring at his master as if the old man had said something blasphemous. Of course, this was a frequent occurrence, his cryptic nature sometimes bordering on lost sanity. But this was clear, and serious, and Cole was shocked.
"I… What? Sensei, I can't leave my team behind. What if something bad happens, what if-" Cole began, before Wu interrupted him.
"We have entered a time of peace, Cole. And you've led your team well. If anything were to happen, they would be able to handle everything themselves. Zane needs to take some time away, and if you must be with him on his journey, then do so. It might do more good for you than you realize. Maybe you'll be able to get a handle on the head cold I've been told about." Wu said, with a mischievous smile that always meant he knew more about a situation, but wasn't about to share.
"How-" Cole started, before Sensei Wu interrupted him for the final time.
"A sensei has their ways. Now go, Cole. I suggest you start packing." And with this, Sensei Wu took a long gulp of his tea, fixing his gaze on the wall beyond Cole. Clearly, this conversation was over, and he was dismissed.
"Yes, Sensei." Cole bowed his head in respect, and left the mess room, heading to the bedroom where Zane now slept. The night had been full of events, and Cole was looking forward to a new day.