Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There were few things Zane understood in life.

If it had no equation, no exact, factual answer, it mystified him. He tried, truly, he did, but he always faltered when it came to something with no clear solution. How was he supposed to know he was doing it right? 

Once, he may have thought that, since there was no clear answer that everyone followed, then it would be impossible for him to fail, wouldn’t it?

He’d since learned that was almost never the case.

It was very, very easy to do such things wrong, which made it all the more perplexing. So, there was no way to do it perfectly, but there were hundreds of ways to do it wrong? That was just plain impractical. He’d like to speak with whoever decided that.

Zane had been told, many times, he was rather awful at understanding people. Emotional responses, chemical changes in the brain, and feelings in general.

Long ago, these had been said rather cruelly. By people he’d met in his travels between villages, those who called him a machine before he knew that's just what he was. Who thought his negligence was purposeful, or for a lack of trying. Zane liked to think he tried, once he knew there was something to be trying for.

Nowadays, it wasn’t so unkind. It was stated as simply a fact, and he much preferred that. Facts were not good or bad. They were simply the truth. He enjoyed that much more. A clear truth, something that was not to be judged or scrutinized. It would be like arguing on why it had to storm, or why decomposers existed.

Zane was simply bad at emotions. This was a fact. It was nothing to be upset about. He was loved as himself.

But that was the tricky part. The unpleasant hangup, one that prodded at his mind. Like the seasons, it continued to return. Some years, it was a gentle fall of snow. Other times, it was a blinding blizzard. It would always return, and he only had to brace for what the worst would bring.

Zane didn’t often find that he was desperate to understand emotions. He categorized them as an overall umbrella, because trying to put it all in a box made his circuits fry. There were too many ways to describe how excited his friends got over one thing versus another, and Zane held none of those correct words within him.

Some days, he thought perhaps it was pointless to try. Emotions were complicated, tricky things. Zane preferred to let his own ebb and flow. It did no good to waste his time figuring them out, or describing it. He simply felt what he felt, and that was all. It was easier. It didn’t cause problems or odd looks.

And then there was love.

The word had wormed its way into his gears, and Zane had never been able to get it out. Whether it arrived as a cold breeze or pelting hail, it always came back. Jeering and prodding at his mind, because no matter how hard he tried, he didn’t get it.

And everywhere he turned, it seemed like, more than anything, he should get it. Should understand its purpose, how it worked. It was why people existed, why they did the things they did. It was important to understand.

That, unfortunately, was much easier said than done.

“Goodnight, Zane.” Murmured Dr. Julien, brushing his synthetic hair back, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

“Goodnight,” Zane hummed, closing his eyes. He smiled at the contact, gears slowly whirring to a stop as he shut down for the night. The Falcon had already chirped its own farewell, silent and still on its perch by the nightstand.

Dr. Julien’s hand lingered on his head a moment. Zane tilted his head into it, though he would not have any sensors that would really feel the touch, hardly even be aware of the pressure.

But it was there, however faint, and it felt nice. He wondered if this was why hair existed, to be combed through in easy quiet.

“...’ove you.”

“Sorry, what?” Zane blinked open his eyes, gears skidding to an uncomfortable kick as they nearly stopped completely. They whirred back to life, however small and brief, when he forced himself back awake.

Dr. Julien smiled, almost hidden in the dark. He combed his hand through Zane’s hair again, and his breath seemed a little shaky. He was getting older, a few gray streaks in his hair. Zane thought that getting old was kind of cool, because then his father was starting to have hair like his own. 

“I love you, Zane.” Dr. Julien repeated, something so very, very fond.

“Oh,” Zane blinked, head turning slightly, though he made sure it was further into Dr. Julien’s hand, “that's when you really like something, right?”

“Close.” Dr. Julien smiled. “It is more than liking something. It is…deep caring. Deeper than anything else.” He brushed his thumb by Zane’s eye. “When nothing else in the world matters more.”

“That is love?” Zane blinked, gears turning and clicking inside his head as it stored this new information. “You love the carvings I made.”

“Oh, yes, I do.” Dr. Julien nodded. “Those wooden carvings were something special. I suppose there are two kinds of love.” He chuckled, thumb lingering at the thin spot of fake skin at the corner of Zane’s eye, where it grew too overheated if a thicker covering was placed. “I may love many other things, Zane, but none will be more than you.” He promised.

“But you said that is when you love nothing more.” Zane frowned, eyelids clicking as he blinked.

“I suppose that was a bad explanation.” Dr. Julien admitted with a slight cringe. “It is adoring something, and it comes in different intensities.” He tried again. “But true love, real love,” He lightly scratched his fingers in Zane’s hair, “is far more important than anything else.”

“And that's for me?” Zane confirmed.

“Yes, yes it is.” Dr. Julien nodded, amused. “It always will be.”

“Oh,” Zane turned his head, filling all of this information away, “I think I love things, too.” He decided, looking back up. “I love my carvings as well.” He looked off to the night stand. “And I love the Falcon.”

“I’m glad.” Dr. Julien chuckled, hand slipping away.

“I love you, too.” Zane said, firmly, because he thought maybe that was how his father would know it was true. He took the hand as it fell away, fingers creaking as they curled over those that were calloused and wrinkled. “I think I love you the most.”

Dr. Julien smiled wide, one that was not small and soft, but big and bright. Zane knew he’d definitely said the right thing, and he decided then that he didn’t think, he knew. If feeling so nice came with telling his father he loved him, then he decided that, yes, he must love him.

“I’m honored to hear it.” Dr. Julien murmured, pressing his face lightly into Zane’s hair. “Sweet dreams, Zane.”

“Sweet dreams, father.” Zane hummed back, and only then did his gears finally fall to a slow, steady stop, with the weight of his father’s face over his head, and a glowing glee in his chest.

“I always do love coming here.”

“Do you?’ Zane wondered, tilting his head to the side, watching the old woman.

Her bones were knobbly, her hair almost whiter than his. Somehow. But she had a kind smile, and she thanked Zane each time he saw her hobbling by the pond and offered to help her to the same bench she sat in. Every third morning, when the sunrise was half over, she would appear down the eastern dirt path. 

He did not know her name, but he knew her routine. She never seemed to mind how often he came to the pond, and so he always tried to look out for her. She, at least, spoke with him when few others would.

“It's always so peaceful in the morning.” The woman hummed, smiling in a stiff, but no less joyful way. She dropped the pieces of old vegetables and fruit into the pond, not quite having the agility to properly throw it. The koi fish swam up eagerly all the same for their treats. “And the koi are always so pretty. It would make any woman jealous how they stay so flawless.” She teased.

“Love,” Zane repeated, turning the word over on his tongue, “I don’t know if I understand that word.”

“Of course you do, have you not heard me?” The woman snorted, dropping a piece of what appeared to be bell pepper. “Love, child. You have loved, you know.”

“I have?” Zane blinked, and the woman snorted as though he’d asked if the sky was blue.

“You’re alive, aren’t you, boy?” She huffed. “Of course you have.”

“I see.” Zane said, pursing his lips and nodding to himself. “Very well.”

“You take things much too seriously.” She chuckled, dropping a piece of what may have been tomato. A rather large, black koi nabbed it before a much smaller, golden koi could. “And these pretty things are much too greedy.” She puffed. “Suppose that is the price of such beauty.”

“If I may?” Zane offered, holding out a hand.

“Child, you need not ask by now.” She smiled, reaching out to let him gently take the last handful of vegetables. It was not the first time she had let him feed the koi, but he would always find himself asking.

Zane took a few small pieces of the vegetables, using his not-stiff limbs to toss them further off to the side. All of the koi instantly swam over, gobbling as much as they could. He threw an extra piece, then, satisfied that all the bigger koi had swam to get their fill, he took the biggest pieces of vegetables and dropped them much closer to shore.

Most of them hadn’t noticed at first, too invested in the first pile. But there, swimming around the horde, was the tiny golden koi. There was no chance for it to slip into the crowd, and in its circling, it spotted the large vegetable.

Happily, the little koi rushed over and ate up the largest pieces of vegetables before the bigger koi could notice. Zane smiled, and wondered if this satisfied joy was love. He was much too embarrassed to admit he still wasn’t sure what it felt like, though he could swear he had some idea of where to start.

“You’re much too kind for this town.” The woman huffed, as she had exactly four times before. 

“I do not think there is such a possibility, to be too kind.” Zane said, brushing off the last of the vegetables. 

“And yet, you have found it.” She chuffed, then sighed as she leaned back in her chair. “Have you got nothing but to stand there all day?”

“I often have little else to do.” Zane said easily, as he had the last five times she asked. “So, yes, I will be happy to help you with your garden.”

“Oh, if you insist.” The woman hummed, because she never seemed to want to ask for his help with her own words. “Will you be cooking any for yourself?”

“Perhaps I will.” Zane smiled. “Perhaps I will even share it with you.” 

“Hmph. Perhaps you will.” The woman sniffed, and Zane thought this was her way of saying thank you. “You cook too well for anyone in this town, too.” She huffed. “I’ve only loved my mothers more than yours.”

“You love the koi, and food?” Zane inquired.

“They are more than worthy of it, are they not?” The woman scoffed, cracking open an eye at him.

“I wouldn’t know.” Zane said simply, tilting his head up, watching the gathering light gray clouds. Snow will arrive soon, signaling the end of fall. “I did not know love was deserved.”

“It's always deserved.” The woman huffed, and when he glanced back, her eyes were shut, and she almost looked content.

“I see.” Zane slowly looked back down to the pond. Where the little golden koi swam in the shallows, hidden in the shade of his body and the rocks. Where the large black koi swam freely in the sunlight, uninhabited. “Then I will ensure it remains deserved.”

“Yes, Zane. We would love for you to make dinner.”

It was odd, how the memory kept surfacing. Even as he wiped the dishes clean, a chore to which it seemed only he and Kai could do, as their new home had yet to acquire running water. Freezing the plates and melting them wasn’t the most efficient of methods, but it was all they had.

“You sure we couldn’t just, I dunno, leave the icy plates out to melt? We’re in a desert!” Kai groaned, slumped over the counter as though his legs had stopped working.

“It would take an awfully long time still, and Wu told us to clean them tonight.” Zane said simply, placing another plate away. “Cole and Jay could always help.”

“Yeah, like they ever would.” Kai snorted, handing Zane a cup.

“It was only an idea.” Zane hummed, reaching for the sink handle—for more puffs of dirt to fall out. 

Right, no water. Zane shook his head and turned off the faucet, drawing the cup back and watching ice creep up its sides. Kai was suddenly awfully quiet, he noticed.

“Okay, you’ve done that, like, three times.” Kai eventually said, and Zane looked over to find himself being squinted at. “I get you’re not the most present up here,” Kai made a looping gesture with his finger by his head, “but usually not this much.”

“My apologies. My mind seems to be wandering.” Zane handed over the frozen cup, to which Kai sighed and began melting it.

“It’s always wandering. Where's it going this time?” Kai raised a brow. “To the Falcon?”

“I think that may be part of the issue.” Zane admitted, picking up a hand towel that was, at least, mostly clean. They had no soap, and so they had to live with simply washing the tupperware off for now. “I mentioned I felt a connection to it.”

“You did.”

“I feel as though I have cared for it.” Zane tilted his head, staring off at the wall. No visual distractions to halt his thoughts. “Or perhaps I still do.”

“What, like, you knew it before you became a Ninja?” Kai asked, sounding disbelieving. 

“I must have.” Zane decided, holding out a hand without looking over as Kai gave him the wet cup. “Maybe I love it. But I am not sure if that would be accurate.”

“This sounds like it’s gonna become a confusing metaphor thing.”

“Well, I agree that it is confusing.” Zane tried giving Kai a smile, who, while not disinterested, certainly seemed no more believing than he had when they started speaking. “Sensei Wu mentioned…” He frowned, then began wiping down the cup. “Loving when I made dinner.”

“Uh, duh,” Kai snorted, something he did when he seemed to believe something obvious, “everyone loves when you make dinner. Or cook. You’re, like, five-star-chef worthy.”

“Is it worthy of that?” Zane wondered.

“What’d I just say? Five star cooking.” Kai snorted, plucking the cup from Zane’s fingers when he apparently deemed it dry enough. 

“I see.” Zane blinked slowly, then picked up a fork to begin freezing. “Do you believe the Falcon is worthy of love, then?”

“It’s a bird, I don’t know.” Kai shrugged with a huff. “You said you probably used to know it, yeah? Do you love it?”

“How can I when I do not know if it is deserved?” Zane inquired, brows furrowing.

Kai gave him an odd look. It was far from the first time Zane had received such an expression. Not from Kai, and not from anyone else. It was more familiar to him than the confusion. A look that meant he’d said something wrong, or odd. That he should have known it was wrong. 

These rules grew more frustrating by the day, when no one ever seemed to write them down.

“Deserved?” Kai raised a brow that almost looked alarmed. “You think a bird needs to deserve love?”

“But you have—” Zane shook his head, handing the fork to Kai. “My cooking is deserving of love, you said. Would the Falcon also not be deserving of it?”

“Oookay, uh,” Kai pursed his lips, “I think we’re defining ‘deserve’ incorrectly.”

“It is to do or have something,” Zane began to list, wondering if perhaps Kai had forgotten, “or show qualities worthy of—”

“I know what it means!” Kai puffed, though it didn’t seem to be a true annoyance, and he began melting the ice. “I just…when I say you’re cooking is ‘worthy’ of being loved, I mean, like, it's really really good, so of course we love it.” He tried, explaining it much slower than Zane needed him to. “Like…loving cooking and loving a living thing are different, y’know?”

“I do not.” Zane said, and Kai sighed.

“FSM, do I have to explain this?” Kai muttered, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. Zane began to tell him no, he didn’t have to do many things, but then he was speaking again. “Living things are more important than non-living things, yes?”

“Define importance.”

“You would save them in a disaster first. Because you can get material stuff back, but not living ones.” Kai deadpanned, continuing when Zane nodded, deciding that must be the correct response. “Then it's like that. Living things don’t need to prove anything, cause you just…love them. Like,” He gestured out a hand, to which Zane took the fork before it could drip on the floor, “I love Nya, right? She doesn’t need to ‘deserve’ it, I love her no matter what.”

“Then what determines love existing in the first place?” Zane tilted his head.

“Well—Nya’s my sister.” Kai shrugged, going back to picking at the towel left under the drying utensils and tupperware.

“And family is automatically loved?” Zane inquired.

“Well, yeah, of course, they’re family.” Kai blinked.

“I see.” Zane nodded, thinking that, maybe, he was putting a few pieces together. He looked down at the fork, running the towel over it. “And we are family, yes?”

Another bout of silence. He worried he had done something wrong, then, because Kai wasn’t one to be quiet. Twice in one conversation? Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked at all.

But when he looked, Kai was staring back at him. His eyes were widened, ever so slightly, as though shocked at the words. When Zane looked, Kai’s eyes snapped to the clean tupperware in front of him, focusing heavily on picking at them.

“I, um, well,” Kai cleared his throat, “I mean, I–I dunno.” He mumbled, crossing one arm over the counter and resting his chin on it. “Didn’t think ‘bout it.”

“I like to think we are.” Zane smiled, slowly setting down the fork next to Kai, who’s eyes trailed to it. “I have not had one before, but I’ve seen many good things. Is this not what it's like?”

Kai’s eyes flicked up to Zane, who furrowed his brows. He wondered if he’d somehow kicked up dust. Kai’s eyes looked shinier than normal.

“I, uh,” Kai chuckled, sounding a little wet and rubbing a hand over his face before casting a smile, softer and less taunting than usual, “I guess so, yeah. I don’t think we’re gonna exactly be what a normal one looks like, though.”

“I did not know there was a normal way to be family.” Zane hummed, then wiped his hands off on the towel when he saw they had no dishes left. “Though, I suppose you are right. We are not very normal.” He smiled, setting the towel down to try. “I do hope the Falcon could be family too, then.”

“Sure, Zane.” Kai snorted, flicking at the drying cup. “You can add a bird. You’re gonna be caring for it, though.”

“Of course I would.” Zane raised a brow. “Why would I not?”

“Just making sure.”

Chapter Text

Zane thought he understood why the Falcon could never stay for long.

Tonight, it lay peacefully in their room, powered off. But before then, it could never be pinned down. Flying everywhere, all across Ninjago. In all these years, he wondered what it had seen. If it had flown across the whole world twice over in those decades.

He wondered if he had seen it before. He didn’t think so, he believed he would have remembered. Had it seen him, perhaps, and known it wasn’t the time? He didn’t think that sounded right, either. He thinks perhaps he was simply a difficult person to find.

If Zane could fly like that, as free and peaceful, unbidden by people, he would do the same. Even now, standing on the deck of the Bounty, watching the lands far below, it was freeing. They were perched on a mountain for the night, but he always had the desire to fly even when the others slept. To guide the Bounty all across the land and see, to surprise them by waking up somewhere new.

He wouldn’t, because that would be a waste of fuel. But he still longed for it.

“Oh, hey.”

Zane blinked, aware of every small movement as he looked back. What gears moved, what wires sparked to life, he wondered, to make him move? He thought this is what an ‘itch’ felt like, how uncomfortable his fake skin felt. His desire to peel it off, piece by piece, and lay out every single spare part that sat inside him.

He wondered if any of it would be in need of repairs. He’d gone without them for an awfully long time.

Cole stood at the doorway onto the deck, pushing the last of a cookie into his mouth. Zane thought he had hidden those specifically because his friends would try to eat all of them, and then the others would complain about having no treats. 

Serves him right for trying to halt Cole’s stomach.

“Hello.” Zane murmured. Was that a hollow tilt to his voice? Was it always there? He was sure it wasn’t, his voice sounded the same as it always did, he knew that. But he still wondered if he could tell where it fell flat, where a human voice would rise.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Cole guessed, swallowing the cookie and striding out.

“It feels odd to do so, now.” Zane admitted, looking back out to the land below, hands gripping the railing. He knew he had a strong grip, but now he wondered just how strong it was. He had no muscles to limit him. How much strength did a machine have? “When I know it is my body shutting down, and a battery is regenerating. When I know it is not supposed to feel like that.”

“Ah,” Cole sounded tense, maybe a tad remorseful, but Zane still did not look back, “yeah, I don’t blame ya.”

Cole stood at Zane’s side, crossing his arms over the railing. Zane saw him out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if he’d woken up just to steal treats, or if there had been something else.

“My father wasn’t sure how it worked.” Zane said after a moment, gently raising a hand to press where his heart lay. “The memory is fuzzy. But I remember that he used to know. Then, one day, it was different, and he didn’t know why.” He frowned. “But I still worked, and he was much too fascinated to change it.”

“Guess you were always an enigma.” Cole tried. His voice tilted. An attempt at something lighter.

“I do not think I like it.” He admitted, never quite sure that was the feeling until he said it aloud.

“Hey, it’s not bad.” Cole said gently, a weight on Zane’s shoulder. “We like you with all your weirdness, no matter what.”

“I do not like having something I do not understand.” Zane clarified, glancing down at the hand. Large, solid, a shade or two darker than his own. Calloused and rougher, while his had always stayed smooth. “Or things I do not want.”

Cole’s hand squeezed. He wondered if he was breakable. 

Cole was strong, and his Element made him triply so. Could his shoulder dent in, crush apart as wires were split and springs snapped? Would it hurt? He remembered feeling unpleasant bumps. He remembered his wires fritzing when his father worked on him, when something went wrong. Could he be hurt in a fight at all? Did he know what real pain felt like?

“Well, we’re glad to have you here.” Cole murmured, and Zane looked up to see a face similar to his fathers. Almost remorseful, but fond. So full of caring. Was that love? “In any form. You don’t really have to like it, but we’ll like it for you.” He offered, attempting a smile.

“I do not know if I want it to be liked.” He admitted, looking back down, pressing a hand over his chest. Where that compartment lay. 

“Too bad, cause we love you.” Cole said, giving him a tiny shake of the shoulder. “Maybe the others won’t say it yet. But we do.” 

“Love.” Zane repeated, and then he tilted his head up to the sky. “Love is good, right?”

“Wh—yeah, of course.” Cole’s voice turned concerned. “Love is great.”

“It is not supposed to…hurt?” Zane asked, voice becoming quiet. He didn’t choose that. Was his voice failing? Would he need a new one? What would it sound like?

“...oh, Zane,” Cole sighed, something doubly remorseful, and that arm moved to sling over both his shoulders, pulled lightly against Cole’s side, “no, it…it does hurt sometimes, yeah.”

“But I thought it was supposed to be good?” Zane murmured.

“Good things hurt sometimes.” Cole answered softly. “It's usually nice. But every once in a while…it hurts a lot.”

“Are the people supposed to hurt you?” Zane asked, eyes locked on the millions of stars high above. They weren’t always the same. How many stars had died since his father last looked at them? How many were born? “I was given a memory switch.” He splayed his hand out over his chest. “My father flipped it. I know why, but I still do not understand how he could.” He shut his eyes. “I do not think I could do such a thing. It hurts.”

Cole knocked the side of his head against Zane’s, squeezing around his shoulders. Zane cracked open his eyes, the stars blurring into tiny white dots. He always found crying to be an odd thing. Perhaps this was why, for he could not cry. It did not seem to have any real benefits, but he still thought it rather unfair.

“Sometimes,” Cole murmured, barely more than a breeze, “people do things because they love you, and they think it's best for you. It hurts, and…they aren’t always right for it.” He trailed off.

“But if you love someone, surely you should not do something that hurts them?” Zane thinned his mouth.

“Well…” Cole hummed. “You know how we all complain that the disinfectant stuff burns, but we know it helps our injuries?”

“It is like that?” Zane lowered his head, looking straight ahead. “Something that hurts, but it will be better in the end?”

“Sometimes.” Cole tilted his head, and Zane looked to him, finding him staring off. “Sometimes they think it’ll be better in the end, but then…its not.” His shoulders hunched slightly. “It's pretty nuanced.”

“Nuance is confusing.” Zane sighed, and he swore a smile pulled at Cole’s mouth. “How does one know if it is a good kind of hurt?”

“You kind of have to decide that for yourself.” Cole shrugged, sympathetic when he glanced over. “Like, if it repeatedly hurts you, and you don’t think it feels like it's helping, then there you go. Sometimes, it hurts for a long time, but you know it was best in the end.”

Zane nodded, slowly dropping his hand from his chest. He held onto the railing, and he searched the sky. He remembered hearing from a child in a village he passed through, as the moon rose, that the dead became stars. 

Logically, he knew this to be false. Stars were burning gas and light billions of miles away, and he doubted spirits had anything to do with their existence. But, then again, he did not think a robot could forget they were ever such a thing, and turn a lake into ice if he so wished.

He thought it was a rather nice sentiment. The idea that the dead watched from the stars, way off in the Departed Realm. 

“I don’t know if this hurt is good.” He decided, slowly dropping his eyes from the sky. “I don’t think it helps to know he made me forget because he loved me.”

“Yeah,” Cole snorted, pulling him a little tighter for only a moment, “dads have a habit about that.”

“Does yours?” Zane asked, and when he looked back, Cole looked away.

“Ah, we’re not talking about me.” Cole patted Zane’s shoulder, arm drawing away. “You wanna stay out here a bit longer?”

Zane watched Cole for a moment, then watched the land miles below. Where people were born, lived, and died. He wondered if he could die.

“I will be in soon.” He decided. “You will need your sleep.”

“So do you, frosty.” Cole said, but he gave one last nudge before heeding his wishes and departing, pushing off the railing.

Zane only nodded, and Cole left without a word. If he stayed there until dawn, then nobody would know if he slipped into their room exactly five minutes before their alarm clicked to life.

It was peaceful out under the sky, after all.

Chapter Text

Lloyd threw a rather sharp wrench in Zane’s already confusing theories.

The boy could be rather irritating, but he was quick to grow kinder under just influences. He had made mistakes, but he was trying very hard to fix them. He was only a child, and Zane had met many of those on his travels. 

He was also the son of Lord Garmadon.

This posed a question for Zane, one he needed time to figure out how to ask. Garmadon was family to the boy, as he was family to Wu. It was a question he’d been meaning to ask Wu for a long time, but it was something he was easily distracted from with how much he had to focus on in his life. 

It finally spurred him when they were watching an old movie on the couch.

It was a rare moment of calm, a break only a few days after the Great Devourer was behind them. Wu had long since gone to bed, but the rest had remained. Lloyd was allowed to be on the couch, however he was spread across Kai and Cole on opposite ends. Zane and Nya took their places leaning against the couch on the floor, with Jay between them, closest to the TV, laying on his stomach.

It was a film Zane had never heard of, but the others seemed to be quite familiar with it. There were a lot of explosions, and he couldn’t quite follow the story, but they appeared entertained, so he stuck to critiquing the character dialogue. Of which Jay kept trying to shush him, and Cole kept laughing.

Lloyd was nearly asleep, head resting in Kai’s lap, though he fought valiantly to keep his eyes open. Zane was the closest to the boy’s head from his seat, and so he didn’t have to look back far to notice.

He almost told the boy to go to bed. But he decided, no, Lloyd could stay up late tonight. It was unhealthy, but so were cookies. Tonight could be an exception.

On the screen, two characters were talking. A father and daughter, with some strained relationship they’d been having throughout the movie. There was some kind of alliance, or war, and the father seemed to be on the opposite side.

Currently, they were having some tearful, climactic conversation. He still didn’t quite get it, but it appeared the father seemed to be switching sides for his daughter. Why he was a villain in the first place was unclear to Zane.

Perhaps it was unclear to the others, too, because they had surprisingly little to say as the scene commenced. They were usually speaking throughout the whole film, even if it was little comments, but this one was oddly…quiet.

“Those tears are totally drops.” Nya whispered, on a zoom-in on the daughters face, and that finally caused Cole and Kai to snicker.

“Gosh, yeah, they totally are.” Jay grinned. “Oh, jeez, now I can’t stop looking at it. It looks so fake now.”

“I know, right?” Nya smiled.

“Most of this film has looked rather unconvincing.” Zane commented, getting a groan from Jay and a murmur of agreement from Cole. 

Zane looked back, then, though he wondered why. Maybe it was to see Cole, but instead his eyes found Lloyd.

Lloyd, who was more awake than he’d been in the last half hour, eyes glued to the screen. 

He was paying rapt attention. His eyes flickered when the others started speaking, reflecting the screen. They flashed red, just a little lighter than Garmadon’s.

Lloyd’s eyes met Zane’s for a moment before they darted away again. Zane turned away to focus back on the screen, leaning his head back. He had the thought he may be blocking Lloyd’s view until:

“D’you think Dad’ll hurt me?”

It was quiet, cracking on every syllable, and Zane thought, had he not been right in front of him, he wouldn’t have heard. But as he slowly turned his head back, so as not to startle him, he saw that Kai’s hands had stiffened in Lloyd’s hair, and Cole had whipped his head around.

Nya might have heard, but he wasn’t looking at her. Jay most definitely hadn’t, and maybe that was for the best.

Lloyd squeezed his eyes shut when Zane turned around, ducking his face further into Kai’s lap. Curling in on himself, as though he wished to disappear.

“Sorry,” He mumbled into Kai’s leg, “I didn’t mean to—“

“We won’t let him.” Kai growled, that tight hand smoothing out, though it shook with the strain, and instead pressed a weight into his head. Zane wondered if it felt as nice as when his father brushed his own hair. Was it better, he pondered, for a being like the others, who could get more feeling out of such touch?

“Yeah,” Cole agreed, though he, too, kept his voice quieter, large hand resting over Lloyd’s leg, “and he…yeah, we’ll beat him up so bad he won’t even have a chance by the time you get to him.” He said firmly. Lloyd didn’t relax much.

“Statistically,” Zane added, “though that becomes difficult to determine with destiny, we may not have a say in the matter.”

Lloyd turned his full face into Kai’s leg. For that, Kai sent a burning glare towards Zane, and Cole looked scolding. Zane pursed his lips, glancing over to find Nya giving him a similarly reprimanding look. Jay’s eyes were still on the screen, but he was uncharacteristically quiet, so Nya must have alerted him.

It never made sense to him, lying so as to spare one’s feelings. He understood omitting the truth, such as when he did not give statistics on survival, but that was often because the statistics would wildly change once the others heard it. Sometimes the statistics would increase or decrease depending on what they told him.

He didn’t see the point in promising Lloyd they would harm Garmadon before he could. They certainly had no way to know that. And wouldn’t it distress him more, then, if they didn't get there in time? Would it not decrease Lloyd’s chances, because he expected them all to get there first?

“However,” He added a moment after, faltering for a moment before gingerly setting two of his fingers over Lloyd’s arm. He hoped it was comforting, “I find it hard to believe he would want to hurt you.”

It was the truth. Technically. When it came to something that was both a truth and a lie, Zane often kept it to himself until he knew for certain. But he supposed, tonight, he would make an exception. He didn’t think it was enough of a lie.

Lloyd poked an eye free, where it shined all watery as it looked at him. The climax of the movie reflected in it, with more explosions and machinery that Zane knew were impossible to actually make. The volume, he noted, seemed to be turned down a little.

“You think so?” Lloyd whispered.

“He is your father.” Zane said. “He loves you, does he not?”

This is where the truth and the lie met. He supposed it was easier to say he did not know the answer, but that didn’t sound right. Family is meant to love one another, and any harm should be with the intention to aid. That was what he was told.

Zane found it horribly confusing, now. Garmadon was darkness personified, yet he surely must be capable of love. He has a son who loves him, yet he had taken those golden weapons and run, knowing fully well what will happen. 

Zane does not think of Lord Garmadon and imagine a man who loves. He thinks of just Garmadon, and he recalls a man who stormed all the Serpentine with a skeleton army, who had to be wrenched away from an active volcano his son lay in. 

But he also thinks of a man who ordered those skeletons in the first place. Who wants their world fallen to ruin, and who has decided he must battle his son. He does not think it is because Garmadon believes it will help Lloyd someday. 

He thinks of Wu, longingly staring out his window, with a hand ghosting an old photo of him and his brother, before darkness consumed. He thinks that Garmadon does not hurt out of love.

And yet, he is family. He is supposed to love, isn’t he?

Whatever the case, Lloyd nodded. It was subtle movement, maybe it was even only the shifting of his head, but he relaxed further into Kai’s lap, eyes sliding half-lidded.

“I don’t wanna hurt him, either.” Lloyd mumbled, voice raspy and high.

For a brief moment, Zane remembered a young girl. One he’d found on his travels, lost in the snow. I wanna go home, she whispered, and he granted her just that. To a mother who smothered her on sight and couldn’t thank him enough, bundling her up before frostbite took its hold.

He didn’t intend to be a hero. He was only in that very forest to explore, and he only stumbled upon her. Her village happened to be where he was headed, and so it was hardly more than any other day to lead her there. He did not know how to react to the girl’s pleas, or her mothers thanks. Only to accept being touched, and to agree.

Zane ghosted his fingers over Lloyd’s arm, hanging off the couch, and he nodded.

The credits rolled behind him. No one said a word.

“May I ask you a question, Sensei?”

“You need not ask a question,” Wu chuckled, turning in his chair, “to ask another question.”

“My apologies.” Zane dipped his head, though he tried smiling. He found that was a good way to convey he was not wholly serious on something. Or, at least, spared him a conversation that explained a tease.

Wu smiled back, so he found it safe to raise his hand and fold his hands in front of him.

“I would like to inquire about Garmadon.” He said.

Wu’s eyes widened for a moment, then fell. Regret, bitterness, pain, longing, exhaustion, acceptance, some of these were constant in how Wu held himself. They were similar, at least, when Zane had met people feeling those emotions in much stronger volumes.

“I have given all I can in how to defeat my brother.” Wu sighed, though he gestured to another chair, setting down the scroll he was inspecting.

“This is not that.” Zane shook his head, obediently taking his seat. Back straight, shoulders up, perfect position. Had he been programmed with it? “My questions are if he…” He rested an elbow on his knee, giving a small gesture with his hand. “Loves. If that is an emotion we’ve ever seen him have.”

“Pardon?” Wu startled, in the process of turning his chair around.

“It is something I find myself having some…difficulty with.” He admitted, resting both arms on his knees to gesture as he squinted at the ground, flashes behind his eyes. “You are supposed to love your family, yes? And you are not supposed to hurt them, unless it will help them.” He folded his hands together, looking forward. “I wish to be aware if this is…inaccurate, as I would not prefer to lie to Lloyd when his father comes up.”

Wu stared, blinking slowly. Zane held his position, though he worried perhaps this had been a bad time to ask. It had been nearly two weeks since the Great Devourer, and Wu had managed to hole up a small shack by their apartment to study in, but it may still be affecting him. He was old, after all, and being swallowed by a snake couldn’t be pleasant.

“That is a…complicated matter, Zane.” Wu sighed, slowly setting his chair down till it was facing him, sitting with similar speed. “But, yes. Of course my brother loves Lloyd.”

“Does snake venom not affect such a thing?” Zane frowned. “I do not recall a time Garmadon has caused harm in any manner to Lloyd that shows to be beneficial.”

“People can love, Zane, and still be down the wrong path.” Wu said, folding his hands in his lap. “The venom has changed my brother in many ways, and it is almost impossible to tell what he would act on by himself or only with the venom's influence. But the venom cannot remove his love for his son.” He said decidedly.

“You are supposed to help the people you love.” Zane tilted his head. “Protecting them, especially when they cannot protect themselves. That is love, is it not?”

“Yes, yes it is.” Wu nodded, frowning in thought, possibly as to how to go about this. “Love should make a person do such things. But it is not guaranteed.”

“People can care and…still hurt them?” Zane leaned forward in his seat, arms braced on his knees. “That does not make sense.”

“Few things do with love.” Wu chuckled, not unkindly. “Influences, such as this, can cause it.” He said, voice falling morose through it. “Love, unfortunately, cannot promise safety.”

“Then…” Zane flicked his eyes to the mold on the ceiling, then back to Wu. “Love can be bad?”

“Never.” Wu said, firmly, then slumped back in his chair ever so slightly. “Sometimes…it is just not enough.”

“Oh,” Zane leaned back, hands smoothed over his knees, “then, it is entirely possible Garmadon could hurt Lloyd?” 

“They are destined to battle,” Wu dipped his head, “I fear he must.”

“That sounds like an unpleasant way to love.” He commented.

“It is,” Wu chuckled, but it sounded sardonic, “it is indeed.”

“Do you still love him?” Zane wondered. 

Wu looked back at him. Both staring right into and right through him. It was odd, Zane thought, because he never truly ever forgot how powerful Wu was, that he was the son of the First Spinjitsu Master. But sometimes, it was hard to associate that person with the old man before him. 

He always felt much too tired. 

“Yes,” Wu murmured, a little distant, “yes, and I believe I always will.”

“Even when he is…harmful?” Zane felt a wire spark to life, rearranging information.

“One cannot control love, I’m afraid.” Wu said simply. “I know he must be stopped. But he is my brother. I shall love him till life itself ends, and beyond even that.”

Zane could only nod. Love was starting to sound more difficult by the day.

Chapter Text

“Can you make sense of it, my friend?”

The Falcon chirruped, synthetic feathers rustling as it nipped at Zane’s fingers. He smiled, wondering how Jay could ever call its eyes too uncanny or movements too jerky. They looked just fine to him.

His Falcon was not perfect, but it did not need to be.

The Falcon finally clasped its beak around Zane’s ring finger, tugging his hand down. Zane allowed it, smiling wider at the Falcon’s victorious chewing, shaking out its head as though his finger were prey.

“You can love, can you not?” He murmured, watching it shake its head about, lifting his other hand. “You are alive, too,” he spoke quietly, raising two fingers up to the Falcon’s face, “of course you can.” 

The Falcon blinked up at him, a quiet click coming from its eyelids. He could see its pupils expanding and shrinking as its camera re-learned the shape of him. How it zoomed in, flicked some shaders, and adjusted the focus.

He wondered what that was like, having conscious control of such actions. Zane changed his own sight without thinking twice, never knowing for years that a human could not do such a thing.

Then again, he was not created with night vision and sight filters. Only enhancing and focusing. Even still, he did not know that eyes didn’t often take a minute to wipe the blur away like he did.

Two of his fingers came up to the Falcon’s head. Its eyes flicked to them, but it patiently waited as he stroked down its head, between its wings. The Falcon trilled quietly, rustling itself and pushing its head into his hand, taking his finger along with it.

“You’re a strange thing.” He said fondly, raising his hand completely to cup the side of the Falcon’s head and body. His hand was so large next to it, and the Falcon leaned in completely. “I find it odd to know that most people don’t seem to like strangeness.” He said, tilting his head down over the bird. “I find it rather endearing. Don’t you?”

The Falcon chirped, echoing slightly at the end. Its eyes batted, and it tried to get a better grip on his finger.

“Suppose you must,” He relented, gently pulling his finger away, and the Falcon tried to make a wild grab to get it back before his hand was well out of reach, “you’re still with me.”

The Falcon only puffed, tweeting its displeasure at its chew toy being taken away. He lifted his hand back, scratching at the spot under its chin, and it rumbled out a chirp. He wasn’t sure if the Falcon could feel the weight of his hand, certainly not ‘feel’ it like a fleshy being would, but he suspected it had something to do with the vibrations he felt, where its voice box sat next to a few pistons that sent power throughout its body.

He suspected the Falcon to not be as sentient as him. It was fascinating, because it led him to question how such a thing was determined. Was it his power source that made him sentient? He thought there was a difference between before and after his heart changed, but he never knew what.

That was one of the many alarming parts. That he could remember so little before he got his new heart, and he can’t even remember what that old heart used to look like. He just knew that, one day, it was gone. And his memory might not even be telling him the day it changed, maybe only a week afterwards.

If he was really curious, he could take those old blueprints of himself, the ones he took out of his old home and locked up in the memories of his hard drives, only accessible to his own mind. He destroyed the rest, because he never wanted their enemies to know how to make more of him.

And he rather hated knowing it existed at all.

If he wanted to know, he could take those blueprints of the Falcon he locked away similarly, and he could compare and contrast their parts. Figure out which were the same and which were different, then try to decide what made their sentience so different.

He didn’t, though. It felt wrong to rummage in his friend’s old blueprints, though he suspected the Falcon cared less about its heritage. He even uploaded those blueprints into the Falcon’s own hard drives, mainly in case anything ever happened to it and they needed someone to know how to repair it.

He didn’t think sentience was from their parts, anyway. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe it was intent. Maybe it was love, for all he knew. Maybe it was being loved as a son that made him one. Maybe it was the Falcon being loved as an animal that made it one.

He really didn’t believe that, but he found it to be a nice sentiment. That love made you who you were. He knew that couldn’t be real, though. It made no sense.

His creation as a whole was to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Eventually, something like love formed, and he became a son. The Falcon’s inception was to bring messages and watch for Treehorns. Its purpose, once it was real, was to be a companion.

Zane could no longer be a son. The Falcon could no longer watch for Treehorns. It seemed all Zane had left was what his creation itself intended, and the Falcon had only what it was repurposed into being.

Zane found comfort in that, because he believed that the Falcon must truly be capable of love, then. He was to be a son, but he grew into his life of protecting others. The Falcon was to be watchful, but it has since grown into a friend.

Both of these were lives intended for them. But protection was something that could be followed like an order. One cannot order another to be a friend. It has to learn.

He believed in the Falcon’s love faster than any other creature, biological or mechanical, because he knew there were no hidden details, or rules, or pitfalls. The Falcon came from the same creator as him, and it had no other way but to simply love. Free of the complications that plagued the life around Zane.

The Falcon stayed. It did not create him with the purpose of being loved, did not take him in because it was destiny, did not grow around him because they were in the same place by circumstance (at least not after Julien’s death). It was never annoyed, never had grudges he had no idea existed. It only wished to nip at his fingers, and to stay.

Zane leaned forward, eyelids drooping. The Falcon cooed, stretching up its neck and bumping into Zane’s forehead, heads pressed together.

“I have followed you into danger before, my friend.” He whispered, and once again mourned that he could not cry. It was often associated with sadness, but he knew it was a good reliever to get out a entanglement of feelings. He liked his emotions to flow, not to pent up in his chest. “I think I’d follow you anywhere, when there is nothing left for us.”

The Falcon crooned, trying to press its head firmer into his forehead. His smile was softer, and he stroked a hand down its back. It bowed slightly under it, but it did not leave. Its eyes were always a little dusty no matter how much he cleaned them, a faded yellow shining back piercing blue.

They were the only two of their kind in existence. The last remaining creations of Dr. Julien, who somehow made machines that could love, and could live beyond inception.

“Would you take me to the end of the world?” He murmured, finger brushing over the joint of a wing.

The Falcon crooned, and it turned its head slightly. Its eyes flicked over to his hand—and promptly spun, snapping its beak around his pointer finger.

He took that as a yes.

Chapter Text

Dr. Julien was alive.

Zane was reluctant to admit it, but he knew a wire or two sparked and fried itself upon the realization. His body struggled under the influx of information being rewritten, the way none of it made sense, and the plain surge of emotions that came with having his father cup his face and, with tears in his eyes, rejoice.

Love was rather uncomfortable in his chest, he realized. Like a rock weighing down on it, but not necessarily in a bad way? It was difficult to explain. It was only when he was finally washing those dishes as his friends worked on the beach below that he understood this was the product of too many emotions fighting each other.

“If I wanted you to make a change in me,” He asked, “would you?”

“A change?” His father echoed.

“An alteration.” He clarified, looking over his shoulder.

“But Zane,” Dr. Julien frowned, “you’re perfect! I could never make you any better than you already are.”

Zane found that he couldn’t agree with it. Perfection was something that took a long time for him to understand, too. In his mind, perfection was when everything was neat, when it went exactly how it was supposed to go.

To him, perfection was every piece on a checkerboard placed exactly within the center of its designated square. It was clothes sorted by size, or color, or by who owned them, folded and placed where they were meant to be. It was completing the training course without a single stumble or hesitation, one fluid movement that didn’t stop until the end.

He was not perfect. He was made of spare parts, old tape, safety pins, and it was generally a miracle he worked at all.

This bothered him for some time. That he was so neat, that he loved to clean and create everything as perfect as possible, and yet he couldn’t even exist in perfection.

He soon decided it was not a flaw. Living beings were not perfect, either. The Falcon was not perfect, not with any of its old parts. He did not think anything less of it for that, and he found that imperfection was what made something alive.

He also knew that there were two kinds of perfection. Logical and opinionated. Logically, the dining table set with everything set straight was perfect. But in Jay’s opinion, the perfect meal was with a microwave in the odd hours of the night, shared with anyone else who was still awake, when it “tasted different”, or so he claimed.

It was confusing, but he thought he was learning. Here, he believed his father to be opinionated when he said Zane was perfect. Zane knew perfection. He may as well be the antonym of it.

“I see no reason for me to have a memory switch.” Zane said, staring down at his hands, and the synthetic skin his father created. It looked very similar to Dr. Julien’s own. “I happen to like my life,” He said, and it startled him, that surge of—protectiveness, he thought, when imagining forgetting this life he lived, “and I don’t ever want to forget you again.”

He realized what that emotion was, looking out the window, as his father stood at his shoulder and promised to never forget. What was at the root of it all, when he was on the Bounty’s deck with Cole, saying that he did not understand how his father could ever make him forget. Deciding that he didn’t like that choice, and only time would tell if it became a ‘good’ kind of love.

The emotion was fear. 

It was a new type of fear, and it made his gears stiffen up and his limbs threaten to lock. He had a switch, and not a very hidden one. What if he was hit the wrong way, and it was flipped again? What if someone took him apart, found the switch, and turned it by force? Where did his memories go, and could they always be retrieved?

No, he knew the answer to that one already. It made his heart feel like a hole had been blown through it, because he knew there were memories he never recovered. His memory drive recycled small unimportant things all the time, such as the minutes before he fell asleep, but he knew parts of his life would likely never be recovered.

He remembered the Falcon being first built, two-thirds built, and fully built. He had no recollection of when he was only one-third built, or halfway built. He remembered the many times his father came back from a nearby town with supplies, but almost never when he left. He remembered sitting in the tall trees around his home, but never climbing up. 

He had no idea what powered him before the heart he held now. He only knew it used to be different because he had the memory of his father saying as much. But in his own hard drives, there was nothing. He would have gone on believing he was created with this power source if his blueprints and his father’s words were never recovered.

It scared him. There was no other way to put it, knowing that there were parts of his life that were too far gone to be recovered. What else did he miss? How much of this love had holes in it, like moths eating cloth?

He didn’t want to forget. He didn’t understand love, but he wanted to. He wanted to remember all of it, so he could finally figure it out. 

He wanted to remember his fathers wheezing laugh. He wanted to remember how much Wu loved Garmadon. He wanted to remember that Kai had raised his sister, and sometimes that still showed through. He wanted to remember how sparks shot off Jay’s freckles when he was excited. He wanted to remember Nya telling him, in the quiet, that she never felt more free than as Samurai X. He wanted to remember Cole was the worst cook, and yet loved food. He wanted to remember that Lloyd had once been nine years old, and he never got to grow up how he should.

It felt like being eaten from the inside out, how much it scared him to lose those memories. From a movie night to the Great Devourer, no matter how much it hurt, he could never live without it. Even when his storage grew bloated, he’d simply make a bigger, better one. He’d remember until his wires ripped apart, his gears grew rust, and his heart grew dim. 

When he hugged his father then, thanking him for being created, he knew this was a fact as clear as any other. He was going to remember. That was how he was going to learn about love. By remembering and piecing together a puzzle he couldn’t see.

And when he dove into the sea that night, water blotting out his fathers cries, he wondered if this could be considered its own form of love. To take the starfish and place them over the chains and watch the thrashing, angry, and scared Leviathan. 

He wondered how his father could think anyone saw him as a monster. Zane understood his father had to make such machines to be free, he was only upset with the Skulkin for lying. If anything, it was the memory switch that made him most upset with his father.

But Dr. Julien was no monster. A monster was both a creature and something cruel. The Leviathan was a monster, and so was the Great Devourer, but to call them wicked would be inaccurate. The Great Devourer was, at the end of the day, hopelessly hungry, and never satisfied. This inherently was not monstrous. 

But he decided, when he pulled himself back onto the Bounty, that if his father truly thought himself a monster, then Zane would love him anyway. Monsters do not deserve to be caged, not from a Leviathan to a snake, even if those monsters need to be rid of eventually. 

Zane wanted to remember more than anything. He had said nothing, but he recognized his father had not agreed to remove his memory switch. Perhaps Dr. Julien would never agree to such a thing. With the smallest pieces of Zane being so easy to mess up and render a left leg useless until put back in place, the proper way to remove it would likely always stay within the doctor's mind.

Luckily, Zane had a lot of time on his hands, and Jay and Nya loved experimenting with machines.

He wondered if he should see his father as a monster, for wishing him to be able to forget. He found he couldn’t, when embracing him on the deck. Perhaps this was why Wu and Lloyd could still love Garmadon.

Then again, his father was no Garmadon.