Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You could still wish this all away.”

     Jay couldn’t feel his body. Vibrations of pain came from somewhere, echoes of sensationalized violence, but that couldn’t be from his body. His body thrummed with current, sparked idea after idea, hummed to him like Zane might as an analysis ran through his titanium cranium, whereas the one he felt was dead, a broken circuit.

     One of Nadakhan’s four arms pressed up the deepstone-embedded gi Master Wu had so lovingly made to protect him. Jay couldn’t manage a word. He’s going to wrinkle it, provided his mind from whatever distance it was keeping. Maybe even damage it. Master Wu will be disappointed. Personal upkeep is important to maintain discipline.

     Jay pressed Nadakhan’s hand away. Nadakhan humored him, satisfied that he had enough others to keep his prisoner still. The pressure irritated his bruised and battered body. “Little birdie,” Nadakhan purred, “I’ll have what I want unless you wish this away.”

     What is Nya going to think?

     It was a selfish thought; that ship had crashed on the rocks long ago. Still, it made his stomach flip to consider. What would she want me to do? And would she want me once it’s done?

     “A ninja never gives up,” Jay choked, spitting up blood that his sore throat failed to swallow. Distantly, he thought about Cole, and about the trust everyone had in him before this. In the tournament of elements, he trusted everything to me. Slowly, the movement its own form of torture, Jay lifted his gi of his own power. There. He won’t damage it. I can still wear it later, and- and nobody will know.

     Determination was Nadakhan’s favorite emotion to play with, Jay was learning.

     “I see why they all like you. I wonder if you’re shared.”

     I’m going to earn their trust back. I won’t break.

     Nadakhan wasn’t careful about throwing Jay’s bloodied gi aside, and hardly any more careful about keeping him restrained. As the vengestone weight was dropped from his leg, Jay all at once understood the purpose of the earlier brutalization. It was all he had in him to squirm into a more comfortable position; anything more would be too painful to bear.

     “My. Well named, are we? Beautiful birdie, remember this will stop whenever you say the words.”

     Jay focused on his gi and not his not-body, not the surely phantom sensations, not the welling tears that reminded him of Nya and the water he’d rather drown in below.

     They’re not coming to save you.

     Nothing was left to fight the terror of being alone and so, so hurt. Nothing but his training and his convictions.

     It can’t last forever. It can’t last forever. I’ll survive. It’s for the plan, I’m- I’m stalling for some kind of plan.

     Nadakhan’s fingers spread through Jay’s blood-crusted hair, yanking it back to focus on him. The humming in his head went silent for the first time.

     Nothing would pry Jay from this corner. He couldn’t so much as sit up, but lying there on that bed, all re-dressed for appearances? It was too much. He’d clawed himself across the floor and he would not move from the crevice he’d backed himself into.

     The door didn’t move, and so Jay was entirely unprepared for the shuffling of footsteps and clattering of moving glass that visited. His heart rate thundered, the only part of him still electrified. This time, the possibilities didn’t race through his head; all that remained was a dull, quiet acceptance of his new normal. In spite of his body screaming at him to run or hide, Jay couldn’t form a single thought until he recognized that this was a ghost before him. A ghost, on a pirate ship? What could that…

     “Cole?” Inflammation cursed his pipes, and so Jay’s call came out weak and quiet, a huffing sound. “Is that you?”

    Cole rotated on the point, a perfectly rehearsed motion. He’s so exact. Jay was convinced now; either this was a hallucination, or Cole was really here, really coming to get him.

     “Jay! You’re okay!” Cole rushed over, and Jay did what he could to crawl forwards, limbs aching. The turbulent shaking to his locomotion had the black ninja reconsidering his words and reevaluating his friend’s position. “What happened to your eye?”

     “Why- Why are you dressed like a pirate?”

     Jay’s words came out listless, disconnected. He didn’t crackle inside like he used to, animated by his delusions that nothing could ever go this wrong.

     You can’t think positive because there are no positives. You’re just someone’s used up pawn.

     Cole doesn’t know that yet. The thought of being abandoned to Nadakhan triggered the backup power inside him. He listened closely, trying to soak in every feature of Cole’s face, the first reliable and comforting thing he’d seen in weeks

     ‘Don’t worry about that. Our friends are nearby.” Cole paused, carefully thinking his actions through, though Jay couldn’t imagine why. Kai could never. “We’re gonna get you out of here,” Cole added, before carefully leaning down to fiddle with Jay’s binding.

     Please don’t leave me. Please. Jay tried to put on his usual smile, put off by the look of regret on Cole’s usually stoic face. Act animated, now. “Boy, am I glad to see you.” And an apology. I need to deserve this, to earn it. “Cole, I’m sorry about keeping stuff from you. I should’ve told you that—”

     Overwhelmed by something outside Jay’s understanding, Cole cut him off as he carefully supported Jay to his feet.  “—And I should’ve been a better friend. Don’t worry about it. Save your strength. We can laugh—or talk—about this when it’s all behind us.”

     Jay shuddered, his whole feverish body quaking as though Cole’s power had shaken him down. Hearing at once the whistling magic of Nadakhan’s approach only made it worse, freezing him to the spot as he barely managed to hiss “Behind you.”

     Chanting expletives under his breath, Cole threw Jay into Nadakhan’s closet. The sudden force constricted his chest, forcing air out and making it hard to breathe anew. Bruises and cuts smarted as they hit the back, his nerve signals reminding him of being passed around in Scrap N’ Tap.

     Peeking through the closet door, Jay watched in horror as Cole settled the ball and chain back on the bed where he’d had his first encounter the night before. Cole ruffled the sheets, trying to emulate someone’s body beneath them.

     He knows. He knows.

     “Jay.”

     The sound of his own name still sent chills down his spine, reminding him of its melody on a smoother tongue. Jay spun around, smiling too widely at Cole. “That’s me. Need my legendary assistance?"

     Cole was avoiding eye contact, which didn’t feel right. The man was usually very direct. If he wasn’t looking Jay in the eyes, it was for Jay’s sake, and that would mean—

     “No assistance needed. I just… wanted to check on you.”

     Jay’s forced grin spread wider, as though begging Cole to see it and look no further. “Me? I’m doing great. Positive thinking. Say, did you ever see Nya and I’s dragon? I wonder if we could…”

     Cole put his hands on Jay’s shoulders, and Jay at once felt the heaviness of it all surge back into him. His eyes watered uncontrollably as Cole pulled him into a gentle hug. Afraid that Cole might call him a crybaby as they let go, Jay clung to him, desperate beyond reason for this one small gesture of support. Even as he took his time, Cole made no comments about it.

     Knowing what would probably come next, Jay’s heart picked up. Cole murmured soothing reassurances as he felt the thrumming in the blue ninja’s chest. “Take your time,” he insisted. “There’s no hurry anymore.”

     Words were a bit too much as the generator faced overdrive in his heart, so Jay nodded instead. Cole, feeling the motion, reassured him of his safety.

     “We should—” Jay paused, choking back an unexpected sob. “Privacy. What if Nya comes by? Or Kai or, or Sensei Wu—I am not explaining this to Sensei—”

     “Loud and clear.” Cole slowly detached himself from Jay, careful to let Jay lead the motion. “I’m not saying anything to anyone without your agreement.”

     “Okay.”

     Jay dried his quietly falling tears with his gloves. Nodding all the while, he put his hand in Cole’s and let himself be led out of the common space.

     Cole sat down on the bed of Jay’s room. Jay sat down in a chair, turning it to face Cole. Both sat in silence for a few minutes, unsure of how to make the first move.

     “I’m not upset,” said Cole at last, breaking the silence. “You’re not any lesser and you’re not alone.”

     The words crackled off of Jay’s spirit like zapped flies. I am alone. This isn’t like when Zane—

     Guilt struck him immediately as he compared his sacrifice to how Zane was targeted by The Mechanic. He knew Zane must’ve been terrified, that he was never taught people could target him like that. He also knew Nadakhan had given him the power to stop his own incident at any time. They aren’t the same, because this is my fault and what happened to Zane was not.

     “I mean it Jay. Whatever words he said to you, it wasn’t your fault.”

     Jay pulled up his legs and crossed his arms, halfway to remind himself of his own freedom of movement. I’ll never be more glad than I was when that stupid ball and chain came off.

     Determined to break new ground, Cole assessed his surroundings. It was always the same process with him. Assess, adjust, act. Assess, adjust, and act again. He stood up from the bed and found himself a comfortable place on the wall to lean, only clipping into it slightly before getting his ghostly positioning right. “Here. Try asking me anything you want to know, and I’ll answer honestly.”

     “What was I supposed to do?” Before Jay could think, the words spilled out of him like a power surge. More and more piled up behind them, a vibrant power store generated by hours and hours of thinking. “Because I didn’t want him to succeed,” he continued, “but it—it hurts, even now! Tell me I made Sensei proud. Let me feel proud again.”

     His hopeful eyes cast up to Cole, practically begging for reassurance. Tell me I did the right thing. That it was useful. Please.

     Cole crossed his arms, thinking about what words would reach his audience like an ad-libbing actor. Even so many years removed from performance days, he was always putting himself on a stage. “There were no wrong answers,” he settled, his voice smooth as a river stone. “What happened wasn’t fair, but… you showed unbelievable strength. I think Sensei would see that too.”

     Relief balanced Jay’s circuits, settling his heart into a healthier rhythm. He’d called himself every name in the book: Irresponsible, pathetic, weak, over-dramatic, helpless, damaged. Even broken. Strong felt much better than any of them did.

     Tentatively, Jay spoke up again, fidgeting with his gloves. Another shadow loomed over his thoughts, an anxiety that never rested. “Will I ever feel clean again?”

     “Oh, Jay.” Goosebumps again crawled over Jay’s skin at nothing but his name. Is it no longer mine? Nadakhan had used it like a weapon, only speaking it when there was terrible danger to Jay. Or when he wants me scared. Here, though, Cole said it with such tender affection; such a drastically different form of love than what Nadakhan did to him. He could almost feel Cole’s restraint in the air, trying to stop himself from picking Jay up in his burly arms and keeping him there, where he’s safe from the world.

     “I can’t say for sure,” Cole settled. “I hope so.”

     Hope. I can’t believe I forgot to hope. Remembering it felt like light splitting the thunderclouds in his mind. There was all of this what if, what if, what if swirling around, and the cure was so obvious. What if he’s right? And who knows strength better than Cole?

     A genuine smile crossed Jay’s face for the first time since the attack, so out of place as silent tears continued to drop. “You’re my best friend,” he half laughed, half sobbed. “And you always know just what to say.”

     Genuine surprise colored Cole’s face. It bothered Jay how he was still so unused to recognition. Every time Jay showed him appreciation, at least, he’d turn another shade of grey.

     “I’m glad you think so.” Cautiously, watching Jay for any discomfort, he came closer. You still can’t handle any distance, huh big guy? “I’m always here if you need someone, and… for what it’s worth, I’m sorry we ever left you alone.”

     The realization that he’d finally been through enough—that he was really, truly on the other side of it—hit Jay hard. He stood up and hugged Cole again, trying and failing to imagine a version of him without the black ninja. “Forgiven.” Feeling almost weightless with some of the pressure relieved, he added “Now let’s go get something to eat! I… think that’s as far as I can dig today.”

     “Absolutely. We can grab a cake to share for dessert. Oh, and—Jay?”

     Jay, already marching towards the door sniffles and all, swung his head around, ready to listen.

     “Maybe our dragons can do that too. If you want to practice some time.”

     Sly mole. Of all the ridiculous times, now? An involuntary laugh erupted from Jay, and he threw an arm around Cole. “Yeah. I’d like that.”