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spinchip · 5 months

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NEVER THE DARK

Chapter 12

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11

Warnings: Body horror, mentioned violence, incredible guilt and self hatred

WE CARRY OUR OWN// LONELINESS// WITH US

Lloyd doesn’t panic. He’s the green ninja of prophecy, he’s the leader, and he most certainly doesn’t look to Honeysuckle for advice.

“What do I do?” He asks the horse after he finishes refreshing the trench he’d dug with all his pacing, “What would he consider morning? Do I give him more time, or start pulling him out by the rope now?”

She whinnies at him and whuffs hot air directly into his face.

“Of course,” He says with a derisive nod, “You’re right, i’m no help if i keep spiraling. I’ve got to pull myself together. Thank you.” He turns back to the rope that disappears into the mist, thinking.

He picks it up with an air of determination- he’ll pull it taught and give it a firm tug. If Birdy tugs back, he’s fine and Lloyd will leave him to it. If he doesn’t, he’ll start to pull him out. With his plan laid, he picks up the rope and starts to drag it out of the mist- the more he drags out, the more he’s made aware of a tingling, buzzing feeling on his palms. He stops pulling to fish his gloves out of his gi where he’s stowed them, returning to the task once he was safe guarded against the mist saturated into the rope. Birdy had taken a significant amount of slack with him which Lloyd was churning out at this point.

Finally, the rope pulls tight. He gives it a good, strong yank- something Birdy wouldn’t be able to ignore.

Nothing happens.

Heart in his throat, he tries again. This time he yanks in a rhythm, hoping maybe Birdy didn’t realize it was him trying to signal the man and that he’d respond in a rhythm of his own.

Again, the rope remains still.

He still hesitates- getting these flowers was of the utmost importance. Maybe the rope was too heavy and his tugs weren’t transferring through. If he pulled Birdy out now and he wasn’t done, that could mean the trip was for nothing. They’d have to do it all over again.

The sun moves higher behind the clouds.

He takes the rope in each hand and begins to drag.

Hand over hand, for what feels like eons. His arms start to burn but there’s still no sign of Birdy. How far did he go? Would Lloyd be able to pull him out in time? The lack of movement, of fight, from the other end of the line is making Lloyds mind assume the worst more and more. What if he was wrong, and the mist affected him just as quickly as everyone else? What if something changed, the mist changed, and Lloyd was dragging out a corpse?

The rope comes to an abrupt stop and Lloyd stumbles at the sudden resistance, frowning into the thick mist. He tugs again, but it doesn’t budge. There is no pulling in return… Was Birdy caught on something? Or caught by something?

He squares his shoulders, lowers his stance like Cole taught him to do, and pulls with all his might. He has to get Birdy out of the mist no matter what, that sinking dread in the pit of his stomach is sure that he doesn't have time to waste. He leans backwards, throwing all his strength and all his weight into this pull- please work, please get Birdy unstuck!

Something gives and Lloyd falls backwards flat, wheezing as the air is knocked from his lungs. He rolls over onto his side to catch his breath, smiling at the worried Suncup, “I got him!” He reassures him with a laugh, dragging himself back to his feet to pull Birdy out the last bit of the way. The homestretch!

Except when he goes for the rope again, it comes too easily. There is no resistance on the other end at all, it simply slides over earth and sand easily. Lloyd stops immediately, accomplished joy turning to lead in his chest, sinking down to sit sick in his belly. He tugs it again, and it's the same feeling. Again.

There’s no weight at the end of this rope.

He stares down at the length he has in his hands. He runs his thumb over the strands, noting how- with a little force- they tear. With enough force, he could snap the line. With enough force, he did snap the line.

He stares at the rope in his hand and then back up to the mist. He couldn’t keep pulling, it was a fruitless endeavor- he had to go in. He had to go get him. He drops the rope to the ground and doesn't tug another inch- he would leave the rope where it lays now and follow it to where he’d lost him. “Like the yellow brick road,” He mutters to himself softly. He looks over at Honeysuckle, “I’m off to see the wizard!” He tries for a smile, feeling a grim worry settle over him in the wake of what he might find in the mist.

Honeysuckles knickers at him.

“Stay here.” He orders, before he takes a deep breath in. He’ll run as far as he can with the rope under him and when he reaches the breaking point, he’ll stop and begin a more thorough search. The evershift moves under him. He’ll just have to keep his bearings. He can do this.

Deep breath out, back in again. Hold it.

He breaks into a sprint, disappearing into the mist to the horses alarmed dismay. The rope is a dark line along the ground under his toes and he keeps his head down, staring at the guide without so much as blinking so that he doesn’t lose himself in the mist. The horizon in all directions fades into a solid, disorienting white wall. It takes a moment for the mist to fully penetrate his clothes, but when it does he feels a jittery tingling sensation settle over his skin. Not painful, not yet. He has to hold his breath as long as possible- keep the mist out.

He crosses over patches of thick greenery, the color muted due to the way the mist de-saturates the world around him, but he can see the trampled grass and torn up earth. This must be a former patch of funeral flowers, the earth gouged out and ruined. He keeps going, more plants growing up around his feet. This place is lush with strange flora, he passes by flowers that stink of rotting meat and tube-like cactuses that ooze instead of poke. He doesn’t allow himself to get distracted, just keeps himself aware enough to follow the rope and not run entirely into a poisonous plant or twist his ankle.

He can’t hold his breath forever, but he keeps his mouth firmly shut until his lungs start to spasm. His chest hurts with the need to breathe, but he still persists until his legs falter and starbursts of darkness ping across his vision. The shuddering exhale is a relief, the first lungful of the thick mist is… strange.

It’s harder to breathe, almost like being on top of a mountain, but the air is thick here. He has to work to draw in a full breath, like breathing through a straw, his lungs aching with the force of it. After only a few inhales, the tingling feeling on his skin spreads under it too, and his mind grows loose along the edges. Not enough to make him forget his mission, but… noticeable. He’s more relaxed. He can immediately understand how dangerous this is- if he’s here too long, if he grows too calm and accepting… he could fall asleep so easily, and never wake up. He can’t hold his sprint so he slows into a brisk run, using all his ninja training to keep his body going. He is the green ninja, he can handle this.

The rope ends abruptly and he stumbles, startled. He’s not too deep into the mist, he’d been running for what he would assume is an hour and a half. He jogs a few steps before his brain catches up with him and he doubles back to grab the end of the rope, carrying it with him while he searches so he knows which direction is the way out. The mist is so thick that there’s very little area Lloyd has to go off of, and he doesn’t see any shadows indicating something that Birdy might have gotten caught on.

Walking straight out from the rope, Lloyd hopes that he’ll stumble upon Birdy sooner rather than later. He keeps his eyes peeled, staring hard into pure white mist, looking for dark shapes in the paleness stretching eerily in front of him.

Which is why he doesn’t realize what he’s looking at until he runs directly into it.

He bounces off a pure white wall, startled enough that he falls straight on his butt. He groans, looking up in front of him- the mist is so thick that the white wall in front of him was invisible, blending in seamlessly to the air around it. He climbs back to his feet, running a hand down one side smoothly. He tries to go the other way but yelps, the wall suddenly sharp and textured- he jerks back, stepping away to shake out his finger. It got him through his gloves with that sharp prick! He frowns at the obstacle.

He’s about to take a closer look when something catches his eye. A dark spot right over him, hanging from the top of the wall- the rope!

Lloyd gasps, this must be where the rope snapped! Possible because of the texture of the wall? His head swims with fog, so he doesn’t take the time to wonder what the wall is for, and who could have erected it in the first place. He ties his half of the rope to his waistband and steps back, hyping himself up to leap up the side of the wall, scaling it quickly and efficiently. Oh yeah, he’s definitely still got it. When he gets to the top, he finds it’s strangely curved and natural, like an arch. He walks over the ground slowly- for some reason he can especially feel what use be the ever shift here, a strange swelling beneath his feet. As he reaches the apex, he comes across a thick band of… something that stretches as far as the eye can see in either direction. It’s so pale it's almost translucent, thick fleshy plants that mimic some type of branching coral he’s certain Nya had shown him a picture of before. The rope weaves between it. Lloyd touches one carefully and to his surprise, it waves softly at his brush. The plant isn't hard like elkhorn coral typically is, it’s soft and malleable and if there were a breeze Lloyd thinks it would be fluttering gently like tall grass in a prairie. He gingerly parts the fronds and slips between to the other side. When he comes to the curve of the wall, he Carefully sits and- going with the grain- slides down to the ground.

Almost immediately he’s aware of the lump collapsed against the wall, unmoving.

He gasps, “Birdy!” He darts over to his ally, kneeling on the ground next to him.

Birdy moves his head in a slow, bobbing manner, “Lloyd?” He mutters, head jittering as if he can’t quite get his body to respond like it should, “What…? You have to get out of here.”

“Not without you.” Lloyd says firmly, hauling Birdy up by the front of his tunic and throwing an arm over his shoulder. “Can you stand?” He asks, fully prepared to shoulder the man's full weight if he needed to. His first priority was getting them both out.

Birdy takes a long moment to fortify himself before he attempts to rise. His knees are shaky and he’s clearly struggling to stay coherent. His knees buckle for a moment and he sags onto Lloyd before he can get his legs under him again.

Lloyd nearly hits the dirt. Birdy was heavy- much, much heavier than he looked. It was like trying to pick up half a car! He doesn’t collapse under the weight, but there’s a rising sense of dread. He was confident in his ability to leap up the side of the wall with Birdy before he realized how dense he was. Now… Maybe under different circumstances, when it wasn’t so hard to breathe, when his muscles weren’t so fuzzy and loose from the mist. He wasn’t sure he could take him up with him.

“We have to walk around,” He says grimly. “I don’t think I can lift you.”

Birdy nods, head sagging, and slowly begins to walk alongside Lloyd. They keep close to the wall, Lloyd following Birdy's lead since the man had immediately headed right along the wall, waiting for the end.

It’s only here that it clicks, when they come upon the leg.

At first it’s a massive formless lump coming out of the wall that they have to walk around, and as they pass by and mist becomes less opaque, Lloyd can truly see the fine details of a beastly clawed dragon foot. The strange sharp-smooth texture registers as scales too late. One claw is the size of Lloyds torso and completely bone white- The dragon has no markings, it’s just one solid pale color that blends seamlessly into the mist and makes it impossible to spot. A hunter made for this place. The coral he’d seen along its spine is some type of fin.

Birdy comes to a stop and shakily turns towards the leg, stepping over to the claw and hiking his foot up to step onto it.

Lloyd nearly has a heart attack as Birdy hops up, “What are you doing?” He demands, whispering is some sort of attempt to not wake the sleeping beast.

“I can make it… we have to get over this soon before I can no longer walk…” Birdy takes a long moment to process Lloyd's furious whisper and why exactly the man was keeping his voice so quiet, “It won’t…wake up.” He says unsteadily, before turning back to crawl up the leg to the hip, making his way over top.

Lloyd feels crazy, but he moves to follow him with purposefully light, hesitant steps. He catches up with Birdy on the apex of the dragon's body, collapsed just past the flat of its spine with his head between his knees. He puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him and offer him strength.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly.

Birdy processes, “Yes… as soon as we are out of the mist… and my… mind… has time to reconnect… I will be fine.”

Lloyd draws in a rough breath, “Okay. I’ll get you out.” He crouches down and takes Birdy by the arm again, bringing them both to their feet, “I got you from here.” He says firmly.

With that, he slides the two of them down the dragon's other leg and he carries Birdy alongside him. He pulls his half of the rope easily free from the spines along the dragons back and they follow the guide back towards fresh air. The extra exertion is slowing Lloyd down immensely, and he finds himself breathing harder which introduces more of the mist to his body. The tingling over his skin has turned to a buzz that rubs his nerves raw, over sensory flooding his body with every second.

Birdy stumbles again and falls to his knees. Lloyd grunts and tries to haul him up, but his strength fails him too. Attempting to stand is futile for Birdy, his legs trembling like a newborn deer, “The flowers were too deep.” He says softly, “I went… too far. I am not sure I will make it out…”

“Don’t say something like that.” Lloyd says stubbornly, arms shaking where they’re wrapped around Birdy's chest.

Birdys head lolls to the side before he jerks himself back awake, “Lloyd… take my things and leave me.”

Lloyd stares at him, disbelieving, “You’re not being serious.”

“I’m slowing you down and I cannot walk any further. I’m sorry.” He uses the last of his strength to gently pat Lloyd's hand, the one wrapped around his chest and resting over his heart. Almost a hug, “Thank you…” There’s something else there, in those words. Thank you for coming back for me, even if it is futile. Thank you for caring. “It will be okay… Honeysuckle will… take you back… You will find the… the mountain without me.”

“I’m not leaving you.” He says firmly.

Birdy doesn’t say anything more, slumping over to the side and going still where he’s leaned against Lloyd. Ninja never quit. Gritting his teeth, Lloyd tangles his hands in Birdy's shirt and hauls him along, dragging him through the mist with single minded determination. He stumbles, his hands slip, it’s getting harder to breathe- but Lloyd wont stop, and he won’t give up. He closes his eyes and he pushes himself to keep moving. His skin hurts like he’s been out in the sun too long. His lips are numb.

“I’m not-“ He wheezes, drawing up every ounce of strength he has, “I’m not going to lose you again.”

He keeps moving mindlessly, one foot in front of the other. The sounds of Birdys body dragging behind him turns to white noise, the numbness in his fingers spreading up his arms and over his throat.

He forgets why he’s walking. He forgets everything. His mind is a series of disconnected thoughts, loose and liquid, sloshing around his head with no direction. There is no intention in his steps- he keeps moving, keeps dragging, but he doesn’t know what he’s trying to achieve. He wants to sleep. Numbness turns to warmth, his body swaddled in heat. He’s vaguely aware of blood dripping from his nose, splattering on green grass below him. Why do his hands hurt again? What is he holding?

He’s tired. He’s sleepy. He could sleep forever.

His skin is hot now, tingling and raw. When he swallows his throat hurts.

There’s a faint buzzing in his head, the sound of something dragging. How long have his eyes been closed- he didn’t mean to close them, did he?He doesn’t need to open them. He’s too tired to open them.

His hands hurt. His muscles ache. There’s the sound of something dragging.

Keep walking.

His lungs hurt. Everything hurts. His mind is quiet.

why is he walking?

There's the sound of something dragging.

One foot in front of the other, keep moving, Why? keep-

Fresh air floods his lungs and his eyes snap open to familiar, pooling fog and a purple-red sky. No more wall of mist as far as the eye can see. Several yards down, Honeysuckle and Suncup startle and rush over to greet them. The fog over his mind snaps clear, like surfacing from underwater- his mind rushes and roars and screams at him. Latent panic and bone deep fear flood his body with enough adrenaline to drag the two of them several yards clear of the mist. Finally, his exhausted, aching legs fold under him and he goes crashing to the dirt. He needs to get them underground, somewhere safe-

Everything goes black.

“-old! Lloyd?” Coming back to the land of the living after that is like swimming through a sea of molasses. Every inch of him felt frayed and worn, his skin hypersensitive like he’d taken steel wool with him in the shower and scrubbed the top layers of his flesh off. He groans and peels his eyes open- his eyelids feel like sandpaper, and his vision swims- blinking up at the hovering masked figure above him. He credits his weird life as a ninja as to why this doesn’t alarm him.

“Can you hear me?” Birdy asks, hands skating over Lloyds shoulders as if afraid to touch.

“Yes-“ He coughs and clears his throat, “Yes, Birdy. I can hear you-“ He rolls over on his side and hacks, spitting up mist-tainted globs of saliva that leave his lips burning. Birdy doesn’t touch him, which Lloyd is eternally grateful for. He doesn’t vomit, which he’s even more grateful for.

Birdy visibly relaxes, sitting back on his legs in the corner of Lloyds eyes. When Lloyd finally manages to drag himself to a sitting position and really looks at Birdy again, he’s relieved to see the man looks fine. The mask is still intact, his outer tunic is messed up and open due to Lloyd dragging him around by it but his shirt under doesn’t have any tears or burned out holes in it.

That relief turns to ice in his veins as soon as he realizes what he’s looking at. He can’t speak for a long moment. He’s so stupid- so so gullible-

Birdy misinterprets his silence, “Lloyd,” He starts gently, “There is no need to worry, we do not have to return to the mist.” He rummages around in his bag, pulling out a bundle wrapped completely in wax paper. He holds them out with an obvious smile in his voice, “I got the flowers. We have exactly what we need.” He says, offering the prize to him.

Lloyd takes the flowers with a shaking hand. He should be happy- this should bring him that wonderful, satisfying feeling of a successful mission. He can’t stop staring at Birdy's chest. How pathetic is it- with just a few well-placed words and Lloyd will listen to anyone, will lend credence to any sob story- first Harumi and Now Birdy playing him like a fool-

“Lloyd?” Birdys voice grows nervous, worried, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

He doesn’t even realize it. Doesn’t even know the jig is up, that Lloyd can see the evidence of who exactly Birdy is splattered all over the front of his shirt.

“I know what my last question is.” He says hollowly, a creeping sense of scared dread crawling up his spine. He stands, tossing the flowers aside and reaching for his sword. He motions to Birdy chest. The dark blue tunic he kept tightly wrapped over his body had been tugged away from him by Lloyd's hands as he’d dragged him from the graveyard. Underneath was a pristine, white robe- what would have been a pristine, white robe, if not for the- “Whose blood is that?”

Birdy turns to stone, so still Lloyd can’t even tell if he’s breathing.

He looks down slowly, staring directly at old dried blood that went from ribs splattered up to neck. He’d been completely drenched in blood- Lloyd was certain it must have been all over his mask too, if he’d been wearing it. He was painted in gore. Stained with it. A badge of shame, hidden under his chest wrap.

“Lloyd-“ He starts, scrambling to his feet. He wraps his outer tunic around himself frantically to hide his transgressions, a desperate attempt to keep up the act.

“Whose blood is it, Birdy?” He demands, unsheathing his sword.

Birdy looks lost, unable to form words.

Lloyd wants to look away, wants to scream and shout and punch something, “I am such an idiot. I believed you, I thought- You’re just like Harumi.” He says bitterly, and maybe he’s not being entirely fair but he’s strung out and in pain and the mist had messed with his mind and everything just felt so awful. All that blood- He would have died for Birdy not two hours ago, now the gulf between them couldn’t be wider. He hoped it was an animal, a fight Birdy won against one of the beasts of the realm. Birdy shaking hands promises him it is not.

Birdy flinches like he was struck and Lloyd doesn't care to ruminate on why Harumi's name affects someone who would have never met her, too swept up in the betrayal.

“I will tell you.” Birdy whispers, “I will tell you please, just let me… let me gather my thoughts.”

“Okay.” Lloyd says, clutching his sword in a hand that doesn’t shake. The soft, purple glow from the night sky has turned sinister and evil with the blood staining Birdy revealed.

Birdy ties his tunic tighter over his body to hide the blood once more. He stays quiet after that too, kneading his fingers together just to do something with his hands. He twitches as if he wants to reach for their rations bag, do something silly like make lunch. He needed to be providing something, taking care of Lloyd so that whatever he says next will not be such a cruel blow.

Birdy spits out jerkily, “It’s Farleys blood.” He says, stunted. Lloyd remembers the name instantly, the man who’d traveled with Birdy before.

“Farley.” Lloyd echoes, suddenly understanding Birdy words from the day before. A messy breakup. Lloyd feels dizzy, “You said you went your separate ways…” The words make him feel cold.

A pause, too thick for Lloyd to think around.

“I killed him.” Birdy forces out in a broken whisper.

Lloyd's fingers tighten around the handle of his sword. Despite it all, the pain and betrayal and the overwhelming desire to scream, Lloyd can’t bring himself to rage against Birdy. He can’t bring himself to spit out Murderer. “What happened?” He says instead, because in the deepest pit of his heart he hopes there’s an explanation. There has to be. Birdy helped them.

Birdy bows his head, “He chose to accompany me as I traveled through the land. I refused, but he insisted and I could not make him leave me alone. Over time I found myself enjoying his company… he was charming and clever, and I had been alone for so long. He did things for me without asking anything in return. He was kind- he was good at making me believe he was kind. I thought I could trust him, I thought he cared about me-“ His voice grows so thick with emotion he cuts himself off, swallowing down his feelings. He takes a breath, “I showed him my deepest secret and he accepted me- he acted like he accepted me. The next morning I woke up to his knife trying to sever my spine.”

He goes silent and still, reliving a horrible moment behind that mask. Lloyd's heart twinges but he doesn’t allow himself to feel any sympathy, not yet, “And then?”

“I defended myself. We fought and he…” He stops again and seems to bow even lower, as if weighed down by that day. His shoulders stoop and there’s a certain desperation in his voice when he speaks next, “I did not mean to kill him. I wanted to believe we could talk, that we could make a deal and we could both walk away from it unscathed. There was no way out, no escape route I could take that wouldn’t leave me a life on the run, a life as a hunted thing. I just needed him to stop long enough to listen to me. It was an accident but I…” His voice shakes, “I… I watched him bleed out. There was nothing I could do to help him- he was too far gone.”

Lloyd Searches his body language, desperately wishes he could see his face so he could scrutinize every micro expression for the truth. Does he believe him? His heart had twisted during Birdy's confession, an ache settling in his ribs as Birdys voice trembled with grief. His head feels clearer, the lingering effects of the mist finally releasing his mind as he turns over the man's words. There have been many people in his life who manipulated his favor with lies and deceit. He should have his guard up, should be putting as much distance between them as possible… But Birdy woke up early to make them all breakfast. Birdy saved him from the Fizz tree. Birdy brought Deacon those painkillers. Birdy helps these people and asks for no favors in return.

Birdy shakes his head, “There was another way, there is always another way, Lloyd. I will never forgive myself for Farley- for any blood I have shed.” He still bows in on himself, and if he’d been sitting Lloyd knows he’d be prostrate in his grief over the death of someone he considered a friend. Even when Farley attempted to take his head, Birdy still wanted him to live.

Lloyd takes a step closer and hesitantly reaches out a hand and rests it on Birdy's shoulder, who jerks up to look at him, “It… was an accident. You were protecting yourself.” He says quietly, firmly, sounding out the words as he says them. Finding the truth there, “I don’t believe you’re a bad person.”

“You don’t know everything I have done.” Birdy whispers immediately, the grip on his staff tightening.

“Then tell me.” He squeezes his shoulder, offering strength.

To his surprise, Birdy does.

“I was a powerful warrior, years ago. Formidable. I was traveling between… kingdoms when my transport failed and I was stranded alone, unable to reach out for help.” He starts slowly, but his voice takes on a desperate edge, like all he wanted was to confess his crimes and face judgment for them, “I took shelter in a cave and attempted to find a way home, be that fixing the issue keeping me stranded or finding a way to reach my family so they could extract me. I was a stranger in this land, I did not know their customs, I did not know their evils. Such an evil found me in that cave.”

He begins to shake at this, body trembling as he recounts a depth of trauma Lloyd can’t understand. An evil found him vulnerable and alone. He trembles for a long moment before he speaks again, “I stormed the Emperor's palace and used my power as a warrior and the evil in my heart to lead a successful coup, where I installed myself as a tyrant dictator. I killed-“

“What happened in that cave?” Lloyd interrupts, feeling like he’d missed a chapter. Birdy hated himself so deeply that he would omit any piece of the story that might offer him clemency. Lloyd knows that with a sudden certainty he didn’t expect.

Birdy looks at him, perplexed, “It doesn’t matter, Lloyd, did you hear me? I became a tyrant. I was the hand of death, I committed war crimes and acts of terror like the land had never seen before, I eradicated whole species.”

He keeps his hand squeezed around Birdy's shoulder, “I think it matters. I think what happened in that cave was important.”

“I hurt those people, Lloyd! That is what is important!” Birdy argues, yanking himself from Lloyds hand. He presses a trembling hand to his chest to emphasize his words, digging his fingers painfully into his shirt.

“…It doesn’t change anything,” Lloyd agrees quietly, “But it’s important.”

Birdy goes still with disbelief, “I did not want to hurt anyone, but I did. My intentions do not matter i- I killed the krag. I murdered Farley. I am a monster, Lloyd, you should be scared of me. You should be raising your sword to me now, as we speak!”

Lloyd purposefully sheaths his sword, hands empty.

“What happened in the cave?” Lloyd presses, approaching Birdy like he would a spooked animal. His voice is gentle but firm.

Birdy is trembling again, shaking his head, “It does not matter what happened to me, there is no excuse-“

“What happened, Birdy?”

He stares at Lloyd, working up the nerve to say it, “He… hurt me.” He says haltingly, “He damaged my mind and I… He lied to me, manipulated me for power so that I would… I thought it was my right. I trusted him. I could not remember love or what it looked like and I thought- he was my friend.” Birdys voice bleeds with pain, and Lloyd wonders just how much betrayal Birdy has lived through too.

“You’re not a monster.” He says firmly. Some part of Birdy, some desperate part, wanted Lloyd to say that. Needed him to say that. The way he slides his hands under his mask to cup his eyes is proof enough, fighting back tears, “That man took advantage of you, twisted your heart to follow his plans…”

“It was my strength, my hands, that killed those people.” Birdy chokes out. “It was my master, the man I saw as a father, who banished me here. He was right to do it. Even he could no longer see the good in me.”

“You were a tool used for destruction,” Lloyd reaches out to take Birdy's wrists, drawing his hands away from his face so Birdy can look him in the face and see the truth, “If you had been in your right mind, you wouldn’t have drawn a drop of blood.”

“Never.” He confirms breathlessly.

“You’re a good person, Birdy. I believe that.” He pulls him into a hug that Birdy freezes in. He can’t reciprocate, still beating himself down so hard his hands won’t accept that kindness. He leans into Lloyd, and it’s all he can hope to get.

“Thank you, Lloyd.” He whispers, voice soft and light, “Thank you so much.”

“You’re not a monster.” Lloyd promises again as they pull away, “I’m on your side, and I’m sure the others would be too.”

“You truly believe so?”

“I’m certain of it.” He says with an tired grin, the excitement of the day catching up with him and leaving him exhausted. Passing out never really counted for any substantial rest. They walk slowly back over towards the horses, with Birdy considering the rope in his hands. He leaves it in the mist. It’s too fragile now. There’s no camp to breakdown, but they prepare their horses for the ride back in comfortable silence. After a quick feed and water of their respective steeds, they both hop onto their rides to make the return trip.

As they begin to trek back Birdy speaks up, “Maybe… I will tell you my name. All of you.” He suggests quietly, “When we see the other again I could remove my mask. Show you who I am.”

“I’d like that,” Lloyd says honestly, “But only if you want to.”

The horses are tired from the excitement of the trip so they decide not to push them for the first leg of the trip. They end up trekking through the redwood forest again, through a part that is not so infested with those white spore pods along the trees. At the reminder of the first scaled beast they’d encountered in the realm, Lloyd remembers what they’d seen in the mist.

“Was that a dragon in the mist?” He asks as Honeysuckles trots alongside Suncup.

Birdy hums, “It is what we would consider a dragon, yes. It is believed to be what the people here call an ancient, which is one of the first beings to ever be sent to this place. Most ancients are fully lost to their transformation, and the unique qualities of that dragon indicate it is not a natural species. It’s specifically theorized to be an eagle from Chima.”

“It was huge. It’s a deep sleeper too… we were climbing all over it.” He thinks to himself, “It wasn’t in any distress… Does it breathe the mist like the Undertakers do-“ Something seems to occur to him suddenly, “Oh, is it dead?”

Birdy shakes his head, “You are correct on your first guess, it breathes the mist. It is not dead, simply asleep. No one knows why it has been asleep all this time, or why it cannot be woken. Possibly a side effect of its mutation that it will not rouse unless under specific circumstances. The original Birdy spoke to me about the dragon once, in passing. She somewhat implied it was not a natural sleep.”

“What else did she say?”

“Not much,” Birdy admits, “She was not a kind woman, even if she did save me.”

“She saved you?”

“I was not in good shape when I arrived here, mentally. If not for her, I’m sure I would have fallen into someone like Maurices clutches quickly.”

They keep moving, going through the land quietly. Eventually Birdy motions to Lloyd for them to start a loping gallop, their horses rested well enough to comfortably jog. Again, Lloyd is struck by the strange beauty of this place as they fly through unique and weird scenery. He wouldn’t call it beautiful at first glance, but as he feels the wind whipping through his hair he can admit it has a sense of charm to it that he’s growing to appreciate. The trees are beginning to thin as they approach the island where Oasis’s land begins, in the final stretch. The reddish glow from the sky seeps into the forest deeper here, making the red of the bark simply glow in the afternoon sun. There is simply nothing like this in Ninjago.

Especially horses. He’s pondering on if he can convince Ila to let him sneak Honeysuckle out with them when both horses skid to an abrupt halt.

Six figures dart out from the trees in front of them. The first thing that catches Lloyd attention is the glint of silver and bronze, curved blades and metal pipes wielded like clubs in experienced hands. The group isn’t ragtag- they’re organized and alert, perfectly executing the ambush to the point where the four of them are surrounded half a second after their horses panic and stop. Suncup is upset, knickering as nervously stomping his hooves. Honeysuckle is still and wary.

“Welcome back, boys.” A woman saunters up, almost completely unaffected by the chaos of the realm. The only indication of mutation is the way her arms are split down the middle, holes that show off her bones gaping open as she twirls her metal pipe. She’s got a curtain of hair hiding half her face, but as the breeze brushes her hair aside Lloyd can see more holes in her skin revealing teeth and eye socket. None of it is as severe as the other mutations he’d seen in the realm, “You have something I want.” She says smoothly, motioning to Birdy's bag.

“Morrigan.” Birdy greets coldly. “She and her gang are well known for attacking people over the Cure.”

“I love it when you say my name.” She teases, biting her lip at him and fluttering her lashes. She is beautiful, and maybe that flirty tactic would disarm others, but Birdy doesn’t seem phased by her teasing, “Now hand over the flowers, Lover, or I’ll take them off your corpse.”

Lloyd snorts, “No way. We need these to free our friends.”

“Do I care, little boy?” She looks annoyed suddenly, like a switch flipped the moment they didn’t give her exactly what she wanted, “This is too much talk. Give me the flowers or I’ll use your intestines to knit a fucking sweater.”

Birdy swings his leg over and hops down off of Suncup. The other people in her posse seem to immediately lose a significant amount of bravado as his feet hit the ground. His cape swishes down after him, kicking up a cloud of dust so that when he stands to his full intimidating height he rises through the debris in a shroud of darkness. “Lloyd,” He says quietly, shifting his staff so that the blade faces outwards, “We will have to fight our way out of this.”

“You’ve always complied before, Birdy. No need to show out for your new friend- Farley 2.0? I think he has more reason to be scared of you than I do.” Morrigan taunts cruelly, “I’ll tell you what, I’ll cut you a deal. You give me all three flowers and I let you keep your skin. How about it?”

Lloyd hops off Honeysuckle and draws his sword, “Counteroffer: We don’t give you anything and you will allow us to pass safely, with the flowers.”

“No deal.” Morrigan lunges the moment she finishes her sentence.

The rest of her little bandit squad leaps into action. Both horses are spooked by the fight, breaking into a startled sprint back into Oasis and straight to the palace at the first clash of metal. Credit where credit is due, however, because Honeysuckle did haul back and donkey kick the outlaw that rushes up behind her, knocking him out cold on the ground before the fight really even began.

The fight is brutal. Outlaws, Lloyd reminds himself, criminals of the highest degree. Criminals in a world full of criminals. They’re not going to play fair. Lloyd is barely surviving, moving just quick enough to avoid a metal pole cracking open his skull. Birdy has landed a few hits here and there, striking a crocodile with the flat of the blade from his staff so hard Lloyd heard a rib break. The Chima native had stumbled away from the fight after that, giving up with a slump against a tree. The rest of the crew is not so easily deterred.

There’s too many of them.

He leaps away from them, somersaulting away to give himself enough space to get his breath. One inhale to center himself before he moves- Jump up, kick back, whip around-

Birdy falls in step beside him, keeping up with each move until they both break out into picture perfect spinjitzu spirals.

“What the Hell?” Morrigan asks hysterically before she’s pummeled by the move, thrown across the small clearing to lay in a groaning pile on the ground. The other three remaining members of her little gang dont fare much better, the battleground full of pain-filled moans once Lloyd and Birdy come to a steady stop.

“You know spinjitzu!?” Lloyd asks at the same time Birdy grabs his arm and hauls him towards the tree line with an urgent come on!

“Morrigan will not stay down long, we need to get back to town!” They take off in a sprint.

“That was amazing!” Lloyd shouts against the wind, “Your spinjitzu- it was perfect form! You learned?”

“I studied it, yes!” Birdy shouts back, cape flapping in the wind as they cross the living grass field and barrel into the outskirts of town.

Behind them, Morrigan roars in anger.

As they barrel past Elona, Birdy calls out, “Deacon says he adores you! He’s doing better!” They can’t stop long enough for Birdy to watch her hands for a response, but they hear Morrigan cry out and when Lloyd risks a glance back, he can see that Elona had tripped her for them.

They dart through the city streets without stopping, Birdy calling out to the palace guards to allow them into the inner garden so she can’t chase them any further. They raise the iron wrought door just enough so that Lloyd and Birdy both have to drop down and skid underneath it, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. It slams down behind them and Morrigan finally catches up to them, screeching at the obstacle. She bangs her pipe against the metal with a petulant cry, “You jerk! No fair!”

“Go!” Birdy ushers Lloyd forward, but Lloyd is giggling too hard to rush. Birdy ends up laughing too as they stumble through the maze of the back garden.

“-and when you swung your staff and hit them in the ribs!” Lloyd mimes swinging a bat, “Home run!”

“What about you, avoiding all of Morrigan's swings? She was so angry!” Birdy snickers as they enter the stables.

“Birdy!” Ila darts forward, tentacles reaching out to poke at him and Lloyd, “You’re safe! When The horses returned without you I thought- it doesn’t matter, thank goodness you’re okay!” She throws her arms around Birdy, squeezing him tight.

It feels different than a normal hug- Desperate, almost like an apology, like she’s trying to make up for a transgression that Lloyd can’t pin down yet. That they don’t know about yet. The atmosphere tanks immediately, air growing heavy and sick. The laughter dies on his lips as Birdy returns the hugs gingerly, more for Ila than for himself.

“You know I care about you, don’t you?” Ila asks, squeezing Birdy tight.

The mood is strangely somber, “I care about you too, Ila. I am okay.” But she holds on a moment longer, like she knows she won’t be able to do this again for a very long time.

She lets him go, “Do you have the flowers?”

“Yes.” Lloyd confirms.

“Good, good…” She steps back, studying Birdy for a long moment, “You should go to the throne room. Samira and the others are up there.” Her lower lip trembles for a moment before she fortifies herself, “They’re waiting on you two.”

“Are you okay?” Birdy asks quietly, stepping closer to give the two of them the illusion of privacy in this open space.

“Samira expected you back hours ago. You should go.” Ila deflects, closing her eyes and turning her face away.

Birdy looks like he wants to ask more but Lloyd takes his arm and shakes his head at him, “C’mon, lets go.” Ila isn’t going to say anything more, that’s clear. After another moment's hesitation, Birdy nods and follows Lloyd towards the exit.

Dread settles in Lloyd's stomach. Something didn’t feel right.

He can’t shake it even as they enter the dim firelight in Samira throne room.

There's a moment of calm before all hell breaks loose.

#ninjago #zane julien #lloyd garmadon #ninjago never the dark #ninjago au #spinchip fic #body horror #mentioned death #death #murder #violence #guilt #poor zane #zangst

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Text

The Gift of New Life

Oneshot – (FFN) (AO3)

Summary:

Zane had sacrificed himself to save all of Ninjago from the Overlord. Pixal didn't go to his funeral. Instead, she went to the factory floor. Zane, of course, didn't stay dead, but how he lived afterwards is yet a mystery... Here is one possible story of his rebirth. aka, "How Zane Defied Death (the first time)"

Anyone who said "time flies" was wrong; Pixal had never felt time move so slowly. It had only been one week since the end of the Overlord's second attempt to conquer Ninjago, but the world had changed immeasurably, and no less with the loss of Zane. As she thought about it, Pixal's half of a heart hurt. The very one who had given her his heart was gone– cast into oblivion– dead and buried. Even the memorial service was too painful for her. Instead, she stayed in Borg Tower and watched as the Ninja said their last words to their beloved steel friend.

"You are Zane, a droid like me. What does Zane stand for?"

"I stand for peace, freedom, and courage." How long it had been since Pixal heard those first words. They almost felt like she was hearing them again.

"Your hardware is outdated, and your processor is slow and incompatible." Pixal once didn't know how beautiful Zane's differences were; once, she mindlessly followed her code, not her heart.

"Why are you so different?" If only she could hear that voice speak to her again. She turned from the window with an unnecessary sigh (no droid could need air) and looked toward Borg's computer. There, on the screen, was a camera feed from the day she met Zane. Hadn't it been blank just minutes before?

"We're all different, but I don't feel so different around you." Pixal gasped and ran to the computer.

"I wasn't recalling that voice! Zane, is that you?" Was he here, with her, somehow? She had always known him to perform small miracles.

"You are vital to me." There it was, the voice speaking again.

"You are vital to me," she replied, quiet. "Are you… here?"

"I shall see you again," the videos replied, before switching to a view of the nindroid assembly line. Pixal nodded before running to the elevator and slamming the call button. As she descended within it, she hardly dared to breathe. As soon as the elevator doors opened, she bolted out onto the conveyor belt, watching as the robotic machines turned their eerily human heads toward her. She held her breath, waiting for a signal.

"Are we compatible now?"

-----

Clank, clank, clank– the sound of a hammer rang throughout the factory. Three weeks had passed in a flash, so unlike before, but this time the distorted passage of time was a good thing. Pixal had been working non-stop trying to rebuild Zane's body, while he worked from inside the digital systems of Borg Industries to reconstitute his mind. A few small memories were lost, like Cole's favorite type of cake, but he was alive and intact, so it was good enough. Pixal had run a diagnostic on him at the beginning of the process, and she shuddered at the cold feeling that sprung up along her spine at the thought of Zane's untimely end. How awful that had been…

"Have you finished it, Pixal?" Zane's voice echoed from speakers, with a camera trained on her to act as his eyes.

"Oh, yes! It's all in place. I just need to finish the chestplate."

"Wonderful." Zane smiled, and despite him being the Ninja of Ice, it was like sunshine on a spring day (in Pixal's unbiased, logical opinion). She gave the hammer one final strike before putting it aside.

After fastening the plate to his new titanium body, Pixal turned to the computer, where a digital avatar of Zane waited. "Are you ready, Zane? You can commence the upload at any time."

"Yes, let's begin. Thank you, Pixal." Zane's avatar fizzled out immediately after.

A robotic voice echoed loudly in Pixal's ears. WARNING. Certain files are incompatible with newer BorgTech™ systems and may not properly align. Commence upload anyway? Pixal shook her head and pressed a button.

"Upload will commence in 3… 2… 1… Do not disconnect the power source."

-----

Aquamarine eyes flickered to life as a viewscreen displayed diagnostics. A titanium body sat up, creaking from its newness. A hand stretched out. "Pixal…?"

"Zane. Welcome back." Pixal took his hand and pulled him to his feet. "I have missed you."

"I have… missed you too, but I cannot remember why… Was I gone?" Zane blinked owlishly at her.

"Do you not remember it, Zane? You sacrificed yourself in order to freeze the Overlord." Pixal took Zane's other hand. "You saved everyone, including me."

Zane shook his head. "I feel out of sorts. It must have been the upload. I do not think this disorientation will last very long."

"I am inclined to agree with you. We should go meet with the Ninja and tell them the good news– they have not yet been informed of our project, in case something went wrong." While she did not say it, Pixal's fears were palpable; if they had failed, how would she have told them their brother was gone a second time?

Zane nodded. "Let us be glad it succeeded." He took Pixal's hand, and a pleasant staticky feeling ran up Pixal's arm. She smiled, but Zane's returning grin was short-lived. "I cannot remember some things, Pixal. Some of my memory files are missing or corrupted. I am concerned that perhaps the upload was not as successful as we thought it was."

Pixal's eyes widened. "You have more missing memories? What is the magnitude of their severity?"

"I do not think they are severe at the moment, but they may worsen. I am afraid only time will tell if they are resolved. We should meet my brothers and tell them; perhaps Jay or Nya can help." Zane sighed– to Pixal's ears, it seemed oddly mechanical.

"Very well, then. Shall we go?" Pixal held her hand out to Zane, who took it with a smile.

"We shall." Moments later, his vision turned black, consciousness lost.

-----

Zane blinked rapidly, his new eyes flickering slightly as he came to full consciousness. He looked around frantically, spotting Pixal shut down in a corner. "Pixal!"

"Hey, tin can, you're awake! Welcome to my humble abode," an unfamiliar voice called.

As Zane looked around, he saw no identifying markings of any kind; only the walls of a warehouse. He tried to stand, only to find that his hands were tied to a post, making that impossible without help. "Who are you?" He struggled against his bindings.

"That's not gonna work, buddy. You're well and truly stuck there." The stranger approached, remaining half-clad in shadow. Only half his face was visible, the other half obscured by a bandanna and an eyepatch with a telescoping lens. A wide-brimmed hat cast long shadows on his face, belying creases on his face. "Besides, we wouldn't want you getting hurt. You're worth an awful lot of money."

"You kidnapped us? Do you not know who we are?" Zane protested.

"Of course I do! That's the point. Too bad you're easier to transport in hibernate mode; you're such a bundle of joy to talk to." The man stepped closer. "I suppose it doesn't matter anyway; I can just switch you off."

"Don't do it!" Zane shouted, trying to lean away. "What have you done to Pixal?"

"Nothing that can't be undone," the man said with a chuckle. "Same with you." With those final words, he reached out; Zane shut his eyes tightly, and then he felt no more.

-----

Pixal blinked several times and sat up, raising her head to look around her. In front of her stood Zane, looking frightened for his life. "Zane? What happened?" She shook her head. "It seems I have been hard reset. Do you know who did this?"

"It was a stranger, Pixal. I do not know his name. He did the same to me." Zane kneeled before her, a hand resting on her cheek. "He has taken us hostage. My global positioning system says we are currently off the eastern coast of the mainland, on an unmarked island."

Pixal nodded and looked around. "Where are we? Some sort of holding cell?"

"We are in the back of a truck, I believe. It has not moved for some time." Zane glanced at the door. "I cannot access my elemental powers at all, and I am unarmed; with my neural drive's current state, I am also unable to open the door. We are trapped." He looked back to Pixal, a deep frown upon his artificial features. "I am terribly sorry you were dragged into this."

"Do not apologize, Zane. It was unavoidable, and I would have it no other way. I am glad I am with you." Pixal smiled sadly, taking Zane's hand in her own. "After all, we are compatible."

Zane smiled. "Yes, we are." As if to punctuate his statement, a loud thump occurred against the wall of the truck. "It seems we are not alone."

A voice rang out, muffled by the truck walls. "Gah, stupid cultists! Can't even carry crates right! This deal had better be worth it."

Pixal locked eyes with Zane. "How is your neural drive? I hesitate to believe we will be alone for long."

Zane shook his head. "It is in a bad state. I seem to have even more corrupted files. It will take a long time to dredge the backups from my hard drive."

Pixal frowned. "It will have to do for now."

The voice outside the truck shouted again. "Hey, watch it! That's valuable cargo, straight from Stiix!" It paused, then took a different tone. "Ah, Chen. There you are."

A whiny voice shouted in return. "There you are, Ronin! Do you have the robot?"

"Yes, I have the nindroid," the first– likely Ronin– responded.

"Let me see him!" the whiny voice, which must belong to Chen, shouted. "I need to know you kept your deal!"

"Hey, hold it," Ronin responded. "Give me the money first."

"Yes, yes," Chen replied, his tone off-handed. "Clouse, give him the money. I want to see the prize!"

"I brought Borg's droid too. The nindroid's smitten with her. You never know how helpful it is to have a bargaining chip."

"Yes, you're right! Clouse, add an extra three hundred for her. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Ronin."

"Yeah. A pleasure." The voices fell silent, and Pixal nodded at Zane.

"Here's our chance," Pixal whispered.

Zane nodded and stood, helping her stand up too. "We won't get a second. Ready?"

"Ready." The two of them stood apart, ready to fight. A minute later, the door creaked open, and Pixal launched herself at the men opening the door. After landing a kick, a man with a sort of telescoping eyepatch grabbed her foot and threw her onto her back.

"You're a feisty one, huh sweetheart? Careful, don't hurt yourself," the man snarked.

Pixal sat herself up abruptly and pushed herself back. After managing to stand, she glanced at Zane, only to find him frozen. "Zane…?"

Zane shook his head rapidly, looking confused. "What is going on? Did I miss something?"

Pixal's eyes widened. "Oh, no. Your neural drive!"

The man in the hat laughed harshly and turned to a man next to him with facial hair and a large purple boa. "Well isn't that handy. Look, Chen. He can't even fight you off! I'd say that's a deal for you."

Chen laughed. "Yes, yes, you're right! Clouse, get our men to take them to their cells!" Another man, this one with a greasy mustache and slicked hair, nodded and gestured to several tattooed men wearing skulls, who entered the truck. Pixal edged away from them with Zane, but they hit a wall and the men grabbed them by the arms.

"Zane!" Pixal called frantically, struggling unsuccessfully to free herself. "You must fight back!"

Zane shook his head and pulled his arms free, only to have another man pin them. "My d-defensive programs are not respon-ponding! I-I-I-I am unable to fight th-th-them!" His voice glitched painfully, displeasure evident on his face. The men wrenched his arms behind him and began marching him out of the truck. "Pixal!"

Pixal stared in horror as her own captors marched her in the same direction. As Zane glitched erratically, she tried to defend herself, but she could only watch as they were brought to two identical cell doors. Zane was thrown in the right, and she in the left.

Zane shouted as he was thrown against a wall and shackled. His captors immediately slammed and locked the door, as Pixal was locked in her own. "I am unharmed. Are you?"

Pixal ran to the window connecting their cells and shook her head. "I am as safe as I can be. You are shackled, Zane!"

"Yes," he replied with displeasure. "I will be able to cut them, I believe, but not any time soon. The saw in my arm will suffice."

Pixal nodded. "Very well." As soon as she said that, the door to her cell slammed open, revealing more of the tattooed men. She gasped and backed up to the wall, frantically searching for an opening for escape, yet finding none. "Do not touch me!"

The mustached man approached from the back of the group and grinned. "I find it difficult to see the power behind your words, robot."

"I said, don't touch me," Pixal exclaimed. "I am a droid, and I can defend myself!"

"Well, that poses a problem," the man simpered. "But that can be remedied." He gestured to her. "You know what to do." With that, the men advanced.

"Stop!" Pixal held out her arms in protest, only for the men to encircle her and remove her arms at the shoulder sockets. Red warnings flashed across her visual interface.

"Pixal!" Zane exclaimed, pulling uselessly against his chains. "What are they doing to you?"

"T-they are disconnecting my body!" Pixal replied. "They have taken my arms- You can't take that ou-" Her voice cut off abruptly.

"PIXAL!" Zane cried, but there was no response other than simpering laughter.

"My mistake. I seem to have removed her neural drive. Such a pity for that beautiful body to be useless." The mustached man came to the window. "Let this be a lesson, nindroid. Fighting back will only result in pain."

Zane shook his head. "You can't do this."

"You misunderstand, nindroid. I can, and I will." With that, the man stepped away.

Zane shook his head, his eyes falling to the floor as he uselessly tried to sob. His digital breath hitched, and he almost laughed; they had forgotten to add tear ducts to his new body. A fresh wave of emotion washed over him, pushing against his skull, and warnings flared across his vision. Warning: intense emotional experience will increase file corruption. Calm down. Zane laughed emptily and continued to silently sob, the warnings multiplying. It didn't matter that his files were slowly corrupting and disappearing; Pixal was gone, and nobody even knew he was alive again. There would be no rescue for him. He hung his head as his eyes closed, the warnings dyeing his vision red. Let him forget; it would hurt less.

#ninjago #ninjago zane #ninjago pixal #pixane #zane julien #pixal borg #ninjago fanfiction #set during the season 3 to season 4 gap #zangst #OLST fanfic #OLST writing

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