Chapter 8
Julien's Window
"C-can you t-t-take me to m-my father's h-h-o-use?" I gasp, clutching the bedpost, bending it till it snaps and cuts my hand deeply, though no blood comes out.
"You need to remain here until you recover," Pixal tells me.
"Rob-bots d-don't need to re-recover," I respond and shift my glance to Jay, who stares at the wall, noticeably uncomfortable. "Am-am I fixed?" No one responds and I feel foolish for having asked such an obvious question. The answer rings in my head, like a prominent nightmare floating through my conscious, yet barely comprehending mind, my own words echoing from when I was in the ship 'The Glass Lady'. My father is dead and I may die. No one can repair me, ever again. I do not know why, but the words reopen a deep wound in the very depths of my heart. A lump forms in my throat, and I fight for composure, not wanting my family, especially Pixal, to see me like this, grieving for my beloved father. It feels like he was murdered yesterday.
I startle out of my thoughts, hearing Pixal saying softly, "The robot technician repaired you enough that you won't bleed for the present, as long as your portion of your heart remains green. If it turns any other color or shade, that means-" She hesitates, looking at me square in the eye.
"What does it mean?" I ask.
"You might remain in this state unless Mr. Borg can repair you, somehow," Jay's voice trails off into a mutter I cannot hear enough to make out the words; then speaks suddenly out loud, "Um, I'm going to, uh, check on Nya and the baby." Jay exits the room awkwardly closing the door behind him.
"Do you need my assistance with anything?" Pixal inquires, gently stroking my blond hair.
"I can get back on the bed. Could you get me another shot of oil?" I request; Pixal's eyes focus on the dripping IV, spilling on the floor in a pool, nearly at our feet.
"Okay, I'll go get it, but-are you certain you don't need me to help you on the bed?" she questions me as she heads for the door.
I draw in my breath to keep my voice steady enough to persuade her and respond, "I can manage."
She nods, opens the door, and exits the room, shutting it to behind her. I put both of my hands on the cold floor, preparing myself, heaving my hollow body up, pushing myself to my knees. I wince, reaching my right arm to my aching shoulder and take my hand off again, grasping the end of the bed. I lean against it, forcing myself to my feet. A wave of nausea rushes over me, and I struggle to maintain balance as I stumble to the window. I put both hands under it and push it up, but to no avail. It's locked. I draw the white curtain back, seeing the lock, and take hold of it, striving to wrench it off before Pixal returns. It breaks. I drop it and open the window, staring down into the busy streets of New Ninjago city; a cold draft and snowflakes blow onto my face. I shut eyes for a moment, enjoying the wonderful weather. Footsteps draw my attention back to my current desire: to go home.
I swing both of my legs over the side of the window, calculating how far up I am: eight floors. I grasp the top of the window with both hands, lowering myself slowly and my feet lightly touch the sill. The door begins to creak open as my heart leaps into my throat and without much consideration I bend down, grasping the sill and swing my body down, my dangling feet groping for the next sill. My arms are weaker than prior to the accident, but still will hold out for a brief duration, hopefully. I hear Pixal gasp and rush forward, to the window I suppose. "Zane!" she calls me, a hint of disbelief, mixed with anxiety in her lovely voice, "Zane, why are you down there?"
How did she know- I glance down at my shoulder, to see bright red blood running down it and my side, past my leg, to my foot below, dripping, dripping, dripping constantly with a rapid rhythm as I hear her calling the others. I can't wait any longer. I find my foothold and let go of the above sill and fight to maintain my balance. I lurch forward, thrusting my hands out to stop my fall, finding myself plummeting and my stomach drops as my left foot catches the sill. I shut my eyes involuntarily as my head smacks into the window below and my eyes fly back open, my hands stretching for the sill. It's too far away. Just a few more inches and I'll be there. My fingertips touch it every so slightly and I stretch a bit farther. My foot slips as I grasp it, and I flip over, losing my grip on the sill, feeling myself plummeting.
Just so everyone knows, the escape from the window is from Mission Impossible 4, except that the escape is not the same. Disclaimer: I do not own Ninjago or MI 4.