FFF: Haha. XD Thank you!
KaitheHotHead1: What wasn't wrong with Overlord is more like it! He was a rather...perverse character, to say the least. And you're welcome!
Breeze Winder: Heh. Well, I'm glad to hear I got that much of a reaction out of you! *Breaks out celebratory cake* Yesss! He's gone! :D
Thank you, everyone, for your reviews! I'm realizing, regretfully, that I might not have replied to all of them, and it's probably to late to do so now, but please know that each one was received and appreciated! :) (::) Cookies for all!
In other news, I'm almost done fixing all those format errors. In case I didn't tell you all, this is what happened: about a month ago, I started doing little revisions on the app. But the app is about as buggy as roadkill, and after a while I realized that every time I pressed "save", the app would start shipping random italicized words with the un-italicized one just to their left. And it'd also break up all of my paragraphs longer than three lines, sometimes putting random slashes through them. Soooo...it's been a long month, because on top of everything else, I've been trying to fix those boogers. -_- Please tell me if I've missed anything before chapter 98, and if I made any other mistakes- like replacing chapters in the wrong order or anything like that.
Scars
Cole awakened to the soft pattering of rain and the low buzz of distant voices.
Overlord-!
Cole struggled upright. His spine burned like a hot metal rod under his skin. He grimaced, falling back down again with a startled grunt. Determined not to go down without a fight, he reached for his Blade at his side. But it was gone, along with most of his clothes: he was stripped down to his underwear, chest wrapped in tight bandages.
"Hey," a quiet voice said to his right. He turned his head- still feeling that searing pain, particularly in his mid-back- and saw Jay sitting in a chair, elbows on his knees, a stack of papers in his hands.
Only then did the situation begin to dawn on Cole's hazy mind. They weren't running through the rain to avoid flash floods and earthquakes, and Overlord wasn't attacking him anymore. But what had changed that? Cole tried to remember, but his memories were fuzzy after Overlord kicked him down the hill.
"Where's Sage?" he asked. His throat felt scratchy and dry, and every breath was a struggle with the constricting bandages. "Chedva?" His heart jolted. "She-"
"They're both fine," Jay assured him with a faint smile. The skin around his face had a sallow, puffy look, like he'd recently been crying. The notion caused Cole to pause: in all the time they'd known each other, he'd never seen Jay shed a tear. And now it looked like he had shed a thousand of them, and was trying too hard to hide it.
"Chedva got too cold," Jay continued. "She's going through her first baby fever. But I wouldn't worry about it: Overlord may have been cruel to his slaves, but he made sure they had access to good medicine. Chedva will be fine."
"Why aren't they with me?" Cole asked. Of all the questions churning in his mind about Overlord- and about why he was in the infirmary with a hurt back instead of running from stone warriors- this one seemed the most pertinent.
"Because Chedva won't stop crying, and Sage didn't want to wake you. She went to a room a ways down the hall." Jay's smile slipped. He stood and set his papers on the chair. "Do you want a drink?" he asked, scooping a cup of water from a basin on the floor.
"Thank you," Cole said, and forced himself upright with considerable difficulty.
"Hey- Hey, Cole! Easy. Here, let me help you." Jay snatched up a blanket and wadded it under Cole's shoulders so he could be recline more comfortably. "Lay down. Like that, yeah. Here."
Cole reluctantly- but gratefully- allowed Jay to bring the glass to his lips, and he drank.
"What happened?" Cole asked when the cup was empty, and his head was a little clearer.
Jay, in the middle of setting the cup on the floor, seemed lost in his thoughts, so Cole repeated the question.
Jay blinked, straightening. He pulled his lips up in a forced smile. "Overlord is gone," he said. "But don't worry; Lou is safe. He hasn't woken up yet, though."
Overlord…gone. His father alive. It was too good to be true. "How?"
Jay was silent for a moment. "I don't understand much of it myself," he admitted at last. "But…I will say this: you should reconsider your opinion of the God of the Way. He's the only reason we survived."
Cole hardly believed that, but, too weary and pained to argue, he let it slide. He closed his eyes.
In another room he heard the first cries of a newborn infant, and he sighed, despite the pain the action caused him. Overlord may be gone, and Jay would undoubtedly cease the brothel work soon- if he hadn't already- but otherwise, life for these slaves had not changed much. They would still have to work in the orchards and gardens, preparing the ground for next spring. They would still give birth to children they had unwillingly carried. And they would be burdened with the traumas they had endured for the rest of their lives.
That wailing infant seemed to have put Jay on a similar train of thought, because he said, "After Overlord…died, the stone warriors all regained control of themselves. Some got angry and tried to fight us, but most just wandered like those ones this morning by the river. We evacuated the brothel and locked them all in there. I found this one man, Gihara. One of my father's soldiers that I knew when I was a kid. After he'd recovered a bit and we told him what had happened, he was more than willing to help us out, so I sent him running down to the coast to retrieve Momo from the little cave I hid him in. You know, before we left."
"And my violin?" Cole asked.
Jay chuckled. "It's good to have you back," he said. "Yes, your violin, too."
"You told him that it can't get wet? He needs to wrap it in-"
"Gihara was a musician himself back in the day, if my memory serves me. I don't think you need to worry." A slight grin. "Maybe if his care satisfies you, you can…um, un-Transform him and the rest of the stone warriors tonight."
"I can't heal all of them," Cole said. "At least, not today. I don't know how much power my Blade has left." He paused. "Where is Raindancer?"
"Over there." Jay pointed to the far wall, where Cole's rain-soaked clothes had been laid out to dry.
"Okay…good." Cole shifted on the makeshift pillow, wincing. "And what's wrong with my back?"
Jay chuckled breathily. "Took you long enough to ask that question. You broke it." He said it absently, as if he'd just explained that he'd stubbed his toe, or gotten a bit of dust in his eye. He opened a crate beside his chair and riffled through a few papers inside. Compared them with the ones on his chair. "Under the guidance of one of the doctors, Ronin fixed most of the damage. But his Gem ran out of power before he could finish. He said to take it easy for a few weeks and you should be able to walk. If not, his Gem should have power by then, and he'll finish the job. Oh- and I'll send a doctor in here as soon as I can to check on you."
A few weeks….! All of this past month Cole had gone to bed thinking that he might be killed in his sleep, and he woke up each morning knowing that he might not last through the day.
To have a long-term goal, even one as simple as resting, threw him for a loop. Not only that, but for the last two years, Overlord had given him nothing lengthier than a weeklong sabbatical. Being told that he could possibly have a whole month to take it easy almost had him scoffing. Even his father had not been so easy on him, back in his days as a studying, traveling musician. Jay had to be joking.
The look in Jay's eyes said otherwise.
I must be dreaming… Hosts, but Cole didn't want to wake up if that was the case. "Can I see Sage?" he asked.
Jay nodded. "I was going to leave now, anyways. It's going to be chaotic here for the next few days, and I need to…" He waved the papers. "…Yeah. Going through Overlord's manifests. I'll get Sage." He left the room, shutting the door gently behind him.
What happened to him? Cole wondered, brows furrowing with worry. This was not the triumphant scene he'd always envisioned when he thought of the hours after Overlord's defeat.
This was the solemn scene of a man who knew they had won, but at far too high a cost.
Cole closed his eyes. He took a deep breath- damnation, even breathing hurt- and let it out slowly.
Overlord was dead. Supposedly. And without a leader, the stone warriors had been contained. From what Cole could gather, Jay had taken control of the Dark Island and was working to put things on the mend. Ronin was alive. Even Lou was safe now. And Kai-
Cole's eyes opened with a jolt. Kai! Was he alive? What if that was why Jay looked so distraught?
Cole was in the process of sitting up- Hosts consume his healing back, he needed to make sure Kai was okay!- but then he heard the soft wail of a familiar infant, and he settled back down with a wounded grunt. A moment later the door opened, and Sage entered, Chedva crying in a sling across her chest.
"Hi," Sage said, shutting the door. She moved a few of Jay's papers from the chair and dragged it closer to Cole's bed.
"Kai," Cole said over the baby's wails. "Is he okay?"
Sage blinked. This, apparently, was not how she'd envisioned this conversation starting. "Yes," she said. "Kai is wounded. He and Besai are resting."
"Good." Cole searched Sage's eyes, exhausted and dark. The silvery-gray added a strange contrast to her skin: brown-skinned people were rare enough in this world, but she was the only one Cole had ever seen with eyes this color. They were unique, beautiful—like the woman they belonged to.
"Are you all right?" Cole asked. "I don't remember anything after Overlord first appeared on the hill. Did he hurt you? Chedva's okay?"
Sage shook her head. "We are fine," she assured him, sitting in the chair. "Kai saved us. But do not ask me to tell the story: I was with you at the bottom of the hill when they fought. He promised to tell the story in full later."
"I can't wait." With considerable effort, Cole reached out his hand and touched Sage's cheek. He paused, frowning as he noticed how pale his skin was. I'm not a stone warrior anymore. This would take some getting used to.
His shoulder quickly grew tired, and he lowered his hand to the writhing bundle at Sage's breast. "Her skin is hot!" he remarked.
"Mmm." Sage pulled Chedva from the sling and turned the child so she faced her father. Her dark skin was flushed, and bubbles of mucus ran from her nose. Sage quickly wiped this away, which only made the child cry harder.
"Ohh…" Cole caressed Chedva's warm forehead. "Hey, love. Stop working yourself up. It's only gonna make your fever worse."
Chedva's fit tapered off. She whimpered, waving her pudgy fists as if reaching for him. Another bubble blew from her nose, and her lips puckered as her cries began anew.
"Aw…" Cole crooned, chuckling. "You look like your mother when you're sick."
"What?" Sage smiled indignantly. "That is not true."
"Oh, you know it is." Cole dried the tears from Chedva's tiny, dark cheeks. "Let me hold her."
"Cole, your back-"
"Is not going to break any further if you put her on me. Come on. Please?"
Sage relented with a tired shake of her head, setting the baby carefully on Cole's bandaged chest. Cole placed his hand on her back- she was so tiny!- and planted a kiss in her dark hair.
How long had it been since the last time he'd held his child and dared to imagine that she may actually have a future? Cole almost teared up at the thought. They could go to Ninjago- himself, Sage, Chedva, and his father, and live together somewhere. In a real house. They could have a normal life. Chedva could grow up not looking over her shoulder in fear of Overlord or stone warriors.
Chedva quickly settled down, whimpering twice more before nestling her warm, wet, booger-slimed face under Cole's chin and closing her eyes. Once her breathing calmed, Cole could discern a slight whistling sound as she breathed. She coughed once, then quieted completely, one hand gripping Cole's hair as she fell asleep.
Cole smiled at Sage's rueful expression. "Jealous?"
Sage shook her head again, looking up at the low ceiling. "After all I've done for her…"
"Don't feel bad." Cole took Sage's hand, which lay on the bed by his head. "She may be a daddy's girl, but you'll always be my favorite person."
Sage pursed her lips to hide a smile, looking down at their entwined fingers. Her expression darkened as she turned his arm over, caressing his scars.
"Why?" she whispered, swallowing hard. "Why did you do this, Coleman?"
Cole wanted to jerk away from her touch and hide his hands. By Mena's- Why did she have to bring these up now?
"I don't know," he answered her at last, voice cracking.
"That is a lie." A sudden ferocity lit up Sage's eyes as she looked up from his arms. Cole flinched, and she softened, moving her other hand to smooth his hair. "Was it because of me?"
Seeing the sadness- the anger, the displeasure, the disappointment- in her eyes only made it harder for Cole to gather his thoughts. He didn't like being put on the spot in any circumstance, but this was undoubtedly the most sensitive subject Sage could have breached, and the fact that she was doing it now, of all times, almost drove Cole to snap that it was none of her business. He had his past, and she had hers. Couldn't they just ignore it and move on?
"Why, Cole?" There were tears in her eyes now as she rubbed the thick, raised horizontal scars with her thumb. Stacked from his wrists to near his elbows, there were too many for her to count.
Of course, Cole knew their exact number. They each had a name, and a story. Cole felt sick to his stomach just thinking about it.
"So many…" Sage murmured. "These were not here after Chedva was born." She met his eyes again, droplets like liquid diamonds- or starlight- trickling down her cheeks. "You did this because of me. Because you thought I had died."
"Sage, it wasn't-"
"Don't!" Sage's sharp exclamation caused the baby to shift and whine in her sleep. Sage was truly crying now, hiccuping and sniffling and trying- and failing- to dry her eyes on her sleeve. "What are we doing? If you cannot even tell me the truth-"
"Meloni," Cole interrupted her, and she froze.
"…What?"
"That longer scar under your thumb," Cole explained tightly. "Meloni. A three-winters girl that a stone warrior killed during one of my raids seven months ago."
Understanding, then horror, illuminated Sage's face, and she examined his arm again.
"Jaeger, the man who attacked me because I had taken his bride just days before their wedding. Her scar is just below his, right there. And this one…a slave from here on the Dark Island. She broke some stupid rule of Overlord's, and he made me execute her, right out there in the grove not a hundred paces from here." He swallowed hard, raising his left hand momentarily from Chedva's back. "Ronin and Tina, too."
"Cole-"
"I can't forget," Cole interrupted, shaking his head at Sage, not caring about the pain it caused. "So many people were hurt because of me. Each death, each kidnapping, each torture…" He gripped her hand as tight as he could in his weakened state.
"You were what kept me sane, Sage," he whispered. "You kept all those people I hurt from rising up, even from the grave, to torment me. And when I thought you were gone…nothing was left to keep them at bay." And then he wanted to cry, too, but he staved the tears and kept his voice as steady as he could. Then Sage tried to cut him off.
"Cole, please-"
"I wanted to die, Sage. Every time I bled, I waited for death. But…but no matter how many times I cut, no matter how many people I remembered…they didn't take me to the grave. It's as if something was physically keeping me from dying. Instead of taking me away, I was left here with these…these scars to remind me of my mistakes. Life was the worst sort of punishment for a monster like the Dark Knight, and it's like they knew it.
"And I'm only here today because as an eighteen-winters, rebellious excuse for a boy trying to prove himself a man, I abandoned my parents and got mixed up in Overlord's Host-cursed underground coffee cartel!" He faltered, but continued when he saw Sage was going to try interrupting him again. "Well, coffee was one of the sweeter addictions I sold for him, and I didn't realize it was run by Overlord until it was too late. Still, I'm a fool. I was then, and I still am today. I wasn't even able to kill Overlord myself, to get retribution for what he made me become. I never got peace for all these people I hurt. Now…now these scars are here, screaming at me, and I will live with it forever with no peace. Overlord-"
Sage stopped his words with a kiss.
It was not a soft, gentle kind of kiss that left one's chest trembling with quickened breaths, nor did it leave his gut fluttering and tingling with promises of even finer things to come.
It was a sudden, fierce kiss that smashed their noses together together with no room for breath, filling Cole with more pain than peace when Sage finally pulled away.
"Overlord," she said, "is gone. All those people he forced you to hurt…they are gone, too. Please, do not stay in this place and be angry with yourself for what is already done."
"But there were times that I almost-"
"No!" she sobbed, a hand on his cheek, thumb stroking his ear. Her voice subsided to a pleading whisper. "Cole, listen to me. Those you killed are gone. Those you hurt are scarred, but that is all. Just scars. Memories of pain." She took his hand, earnest gray eyes never leaving his. "You are not that man anymore, and I forgive you, Coleman. I am ready to move on, and get away from this place as fast as I can. Will you this pain behind and come with me willingly, or must I drag you?"
"But…you don't-" Cole stammered. Sage stopped him with an exasperated frown.
It was almost funny, how familiar the structure of this argument felt. It had been a while since their last fight: it was easy to keep the peace and forgive faults when there were larger problems, like Overlord trying to kill them, to contend with. But Hosts, this was reminiscent of those early times when the only thing that kept them from each other's throats was Varasach.
Don't fight, Vara would say. Though her voice was quiet and timid, it somehow always drew their attention, no matter how loudly they were shouting. Please, don't fight.
On Cole's chest, Chedva writhed and coughed again. Sneezed. Her fingers splayed, then went into a fist that she suckled as she fell back asleep. Cole fingered her dark wisps of hair, unbidden tears in his eyes.
He hadn't dared hope that they would live out the storm. All throughout that last day, he had imagined countless horrible ways that his child might die. How, somehow, it would happen, and Cole would be powerless to stop it.
Or, even worse, that he would be the cause of her death. That he would give in to his Transformed instincts and murder her, and Sage, and Kai, and everyone else.
And, worse still, that he would enjoy it.
Were they really safe now? Was Lou alive? Did all of the slaves no longer have to look over their shoulders, fearing the Transformed predators that used to lurk behind every tree?
Cole was glad, at least, that Kai had gotten his revenge for all Overlord had done to him. The man deserved his retribution for his pain. I deserve my pain. But Kai's a victim; he was swept up in the mess against his will.
Yes, Kai deserved to be the one to take Overlord down. And Cole was glad that he'd done it.
Ronin shambled into the rain with the hood of his cloak well up over his eyes, Jay at his side. Despite his many injuries, including, but not limited to a broken collarbone, a torn tendon in his ankle, and a cracked rib- which had happened as he'd escaped the flooding fortress through a far too narrow hole in the wall- there was a light bounce in his step.
He'd wanted to rush to the building where the slaves were kept immediately after learning that Kai and Besai had defeated Overlord, but had instead brought Jay to the infirmary; the Western nobleman had many of his own injuries to contend with: several bruised ribs, a deep, bleeding gash behind his shoulder blade that had needed stitches…
Jay was able to move without his injuries showing too much, but Ronin was not so fortunate: his right arm was now immobilized in a sling, and he held a stick in his left to help him walk. Bandages protecting his cracked ribs made breathing difficult, and there were so many painkillers in his system that he felt a little groggy. Even so, anticipation and excitement filled him so much that he thought he might burst.
For an entire year, Ronin had feared that Tina might not be alive. That the injuries to her legs had been too severe, or that a stone warrior had murdered her on a whim, or that- heaven forbid- she'd killed herself after a few torturous months in those brothels. Overlord's comment about "what a pity" it was that he'd come to rescue her had jarred Ronin for a while, too.
But then, as Jay had been visiting Cole, he'd gone through a few chests of meticulously organized slave profiles that Overlord had stored in the infirmary, presumably to save from the flood in his fortress. Jay was an incredibly fast reader- even faster now, thanks to Stormstrider- and had quickly found a paper that exactly matched Tina's description. Age, eyes, height, hair, and the date she had been integrated into the so-called "breeding program"- Ronin's blood boiled every time he heard that name- it all matched Tina perfectly. The only thing that was different was her name. Overlord had changed it to Monch'a.
Monch'a. In the Dark Tongue, it meant Alone.
But no longer. Ronin would sweep his Tina into his arms, and he would never leave her again. They would go home and live with their kids, a family whole and complete once more. He would buy her so many gifts she wouldn't know what to do with them. With his every breath for the rest of their lives he would tell her that he loved her, that he was so sorry for everything that he hadn't done to protect her. That she didn't need to be afraid anymore, because he would keep her safe from now on. Together they would heal, and Ronin would teach her about the Way.
Ronin felt like a lovesick schoolchild. Butterflies flitted in his stomach, and he had to look away from Jay to hide his grin. He could not wait to tell Tina that Cyrus wasn't crazy after all; that the God of the Way was very real. There was so much for her to learn about the Way! Of course, Ronin still had a lot to learn, too. But they could learn together.
God had given Ronin hope and endurance in those first months after Tina was taken. Now Ronin could not wait to show Tina and the other slaves that same hope.
"Right through here," Jay said, and opened the door to a large building made, like the other three, from blackened brick. His expression was drained and distant: the look of a man so tired that he might not wake up again if he were to set his head on a pillow. Of a man who might not want to wake up. And while he looked better now than when Ronin had first found him weeping over Merv's mutilated body many hours ago, Ronin understood his little brother well enough to know that Jay's mind was still in the throes of grief.
Ronin felt a sudden barrage of guilt as he looked at his little brother. For the second time in Jay's life, he had lost Merv. This time forever. Here I am prancing about like a colt in the clouds while he's grieving the loss of his best friend…
As soon as they cleared the doorway, Ronin slipped off his wet cloak, propped his stick against the wall, and wrapped Jay into as firm an embrace as he could manage with just one arm. He did not let go for a long time, and Jay did not push him away.
"I'm really sorry," Ronin whispered at last. "It's not your fault."
Jay clutched him a little tighter. "Thank you," he murmured into Ronin's shoulder, voice thick with emotion.
They said nothing more for a good long while. Ronin could hear Jay crying softly. Small gasps; short, restrained sniffles.
Though Ronin had first met Jay over fourteen years ago, the memories of their first day as family were strong and vivid in his mind. John Keith, the scrawny and reticent eleven-winters kid who bottled up his feelings, thinking it would make him stronger. All throughout his formative years he had held fast to that philosophy, despite Ronin and Cyrus' insistence to the contrary.
How much he has grown, Ronin reflected, tears wetting his good eye. The little boy Ronin had befriended so long ago was now a man.
"Why didn't he save her?" Jay whispered tearfully. "I prayed, but…"
"I don't know," Ronin admitted quietly. "I'm sorry."
For too many hours today Jay had been forced to shove aside his emotions and be the Western Lord: rounding up stray stone warriors, organizing a search party for Wu, arranging transportation for the wounded stone warriors near the river…
Jay needed a few minutes to be the little brother. He needed to cry it out.
"She didn't know the Way," Jay said. "Ronin, I tried last night, but she…"
"Shh," Ronin said. "Shh. No, you don't know that for sure. She might have turned before the end."
Jay did not answer.
After another minute- and a warm parting squeeze- Ronin stepped back. Jay wiped his sleeve across one puffy eye, and then another. He took a deep breath, steeling his expression.
"Let's go," he said, a hand on Ronin's shoulder. Neither cared to point out that it was damp and cold from Jay's tears. "They're waiting for us."
"Yeah." Ronin patted Jay's back and picked up his cane. Together they walked down the hall, into the first door on the right.
The room was suffocatingly warm from bodies packed together too closely: Jay had sent all the women from the brothels into this building, because the other was filled with stone warriors. Ronin left the door open, hoping the draft would help prevent him from fainting- it was hard enough to breathe with just these bandages around his cracked ribs.
The room was far too quiet. Scattered whispers and sobs. A few babies wailed, but even they seemed stifled. The slaves avoided meeting Ronin's eyes, and crowded even closer together to get out of his and Jay's way as they wove between the cots toward the center of the room, searching for Pixal.
Pixal saw them first. She waved them over to where she stood, serving food and drink from her large basket.
"Hey," Pixal greeted them as they came close. She touched Jay's arm. "You okay?"
Still red-eyed from crying, Jay nodded. He managed a smile that didn't look too fake. "Yeah," he said, returning her gesture. "Thank you."
"How's it going?" Ronin asked, standing on his toes to look about the room for Tina. But it was hard to see anything when all the women were packed this close together. Women and children from two buildings crammed into one. We'll have to figure out a way to house them all more comfortably… This isn't right.
"I need an interpreter," Pixal sighed. As she spoke she pulled out a handful of dried fruit and meat, piling them on top of a piece of some sort of flat bread. She gave it to a little girl of about six winters, with wide, confused bluish-brown eyes.
"Well, I'm here now," Jay said. "I can help out."
"Thanks." Pixal smiled wanly. "How are Kai and Besai?"
"They're okay, I think," Jay said. "Besai is…eh, bleeding. But it isn't too bad. The doctors say the baby's probably fine. She's been told not to exert herself these next few days. And with Kai's concussion and multiple broken bones… Neither of them will be leaving their rooms for a while."
"Cole is out of commission too," Pixal said. "That leaves just us to put the West back together. Ugh…I just want to take a nap."
"Do you need a hug?" Jay offered with a weak grin.
Pixal cast him a sidelong glance that was half sympathetic, half murderous.
Ronin chuckled. "I'll leave you two alone," he said. "Do you know which room Tina might be in?"
Jay shook his head. "No. I put the brothel women in every room. But chances are, she's already…well, with child. So she should have been in one of these rooms to begin with, and…" Jay exhaled. "I'm rambling. Sorry. Um, she could be anywhere."
"I think I remember what she looks like from the time when you two were spies in my father's house," Pixal said. "I've kept my eyes peeled, but I haven't seen anyone like her yet."
"I'll figure it out." Ronin dipped his head to the two of them and pushed his way toward the back of the room. Most of the women here had already gotten food, he saw. Those that had any appetite at all picked at the bread or dried fruit slices without much vigor. Everyone looked at their feet when he approached them. They did not look up again until he was well past them.
There were ten rows of ten cots in the room, Ronin counted. He would walk between each row in this room, and then every row of the next, and then the next after that until he found her. He wanted to shout her name, but reluctantly decided against it. Though he didn't want to believe it, he knew his shouts might scare her more than attract her. He would do this quietly, and calmly, and…
Oh, to Damnation with that! Ronin hadn't seen her in a year! Now that she was nearly within his grasp, was he really thinking of doing this calmly?
Despite the throbbing pain in his heel, Ronin picked up his pace as he walked the last row, his cane clicking against the stone floor. A little boy, maybe ten months old, sat on a cot sucking his chubby fingers. He looked up at Ronin with round brown eyes. A girl of about fourteen hastily scooped up the child, scolding him quietly for looking at Ronin so boldly. Ronin did not bother stopping to assure her it was all right- there would be time for that later. Right now, Tina was waiting for him.
Deciding that Tina was not in this room, Ronin went back into the hall. He gulped hungrily at the cleaner, fresher air as he limped to the next room. He entered, also leaving this door open.
Ronin was more than willing to search every room in this compound. He'd scour every square inch of the island, if he had to. If it took him weeks, months, or even another year, he would not stop looking.
But Ronin found himself unprepared for the other alternative: that he would enter this room and find her directly in front of him.
Tina sat on a cot, facing away from him. He hadn't seen her face yet to confirm it, but Ronin would be damned if he didn't recognize his wife's profile.
Her brown hair was gathered in a braid that reached nearly to her waist. Her head was bowed; she did not make conversation with any of the women around her, and they did not try to speak to her.
This more than anything else enraged Ronin as he froze, staring at her. Tina was a girl with friends on every street corner. She could talk about nothing and everything from sunrise to sunset if one was willing to stop and engage her.
If Overlord were still alive at this moment, Ronin would have hunted him down and strangled him for making his Tina into this shell of herself.
Ronin's hand shook on his cane, and he took a deep breath of the muggy air.
This was it. The moment he'd been envisioning in his head in a thousand different ways, a thousand different scenarios, since he'd first promised to come back for her. None of his fantasies helped him now as he tried to decide how to reveal himself to her.
Finally, praying to God for wisdom- and that he wouldn't blunder his words too badly- he closed the short distance to the cot. Anticipation made his heart beat fast and his head buzz incoherently.
"Hey, Tina," he whispered- his throat had tightened, making normal speech an impossibility.
Tina turned immediately, staring up at him with her big, beautiful brown eyes that now gave Ronin the impression of a startled deer.
Ronin's fingers tightened around his stick. It was all he could do to not pull her close and smother every part of her face in kisses. He wanted to so, so badly. But he knew that doing so would be a terrible foundation for the house of trust that Ronin knew he would have to rebuild, brick by brick.
"I'm so sorry," Ronin croaked. "Hosts, Tina, I am so sorry. If I could have taken your place, I would have in a heartbeat. I…" He realized he was rambling, and he tapered off.
Slowly, staring at Ronin as though he were an apparition that might disappear at any moment, Tina stood, eyes taking him in from top to bottom.
Ronin was thankful that the cot separated them, otherwise he might not have been able to stop himself from touching her. As it was, they just stared wordlessly, lost in a world where only the two of them existed: there was no room full of slaves, no Dark Island, no Ninjago. Just them.
Tina was pregnant, Ronin saw when he took a moment to examine more than her head. Very pregnant. Her skin had darkened, also, from her days in the sun, and she looked like she'd aged ten years by the creases around her eyes.
But then, Ronin had seen better days, too.
Tina looked ready to start crying. Whether out of fear or relief had yet to be decided. But she was showing him emotion, which was good. There were some refugees he'd taken care of that had done less than that.
Tina moved carefully around the cot with her short, shuffling steps; Ronin was right in his assumption that her legs hadn't healed correctly. She came within arm's reach of him, still saying nothing, still staring with those wide doe-eyes.
Then she did reach out to him. She tentatively touched his eyepatch, feeling the worn leather beneath her shaking fingers, tracing its seams with a fingernail. Ronin stayed perfectly still under her hand as she peeled back the patch, staring at his glass eye for a long minute before covering it again. She touched his stubbled cheek, brushed away a tear Ronin hadn't realized had slipped from his good eye.
Finally, her lips parted, and she spoke in a soft, wavering whisper.
"You look terrible."
Ronin could restrain himself no longer. Resting his cane against the cot, he cupped her cheek delicately in his palm, a flood of tears following the first. "You look beautiful," he replied, swallowing a fist of emotion that had lodged itself in his throat.
Tina began to cry too, touching his hand against her cheek. "Y-you came b-back," she hiccuped. "Ronin…"
"Tina… My Tina…" Ronin opened his arm to her, and she stumbled into his embrace, wrapping her arms around him. It was a bit awkward, with the baby between them, but Ronin was just grateful just to have her in his arms again.
"You…you came back for me," Tina repeated. "Ronin, you came back!"
"Of course I did," Ronin sobbed, his arm reaching up around her back, gripping her shoulder, fingering her neck. He kissed her hair. "I love you, Tina."
Tina didn't seem capable of saying anything more past her own sobs, which became a little louder with each breath.
"I'm so sorry," Ronin cried. "I'm so sorry, Tina. I'm so sorry…"
Thank you, he prayed. Thank you, thank you, thank you, God. She's safe.
*Blubbers incoherently* You guyyssss. So may tears went into this chapter. I can't even- Ronin! Tina! I'm so happy for you. And Jayyyy. Gah. That part where Ronin hugs him was as much for my benefit as it was theirs. Though it hurt, and there were a lot of tears on my part, really helped me get some closure. I hope you feel the same way.
Of course, it would be criminal to not mention Cole. That poor man has been through so much. Can we all give him a hug? :(
All righty! Next up, we're going east to see what's going on with Garmadon! I'm now hoping this story won't go past 125 chapters. *All my readers laugh raucously* Yeah, I know I've made so many end goals- 100, 115, 120...but ugh... More things keep demanding to be addressed, darn you Garmy.
Ahhh... But it's so nice to work with a villain that actually has standards! Overlord was awful because absolutely nothing was too perverse for him, but Garmadon is proving to be...eh, tolerable, as far as villains go. XD I cannot wait to show you all what I have planned.
Do you guys have a favorite/most memorable scene in this story? Knowing what that is may help me shape the ending, so participation in this unofficial survey is appreciated! XD
Okay then! Thank you all for your support thus far. I am blown away by the amount of people I have reading this story. I love you all. *Hugs* I'll see you all soon with 118!