Chapter Text
Transformation had swept through the Bounty, carrying with it a sense of fullness and laughter greater than the ship usually hosted. Early guests were mingling about, helping to set up decorations, adding finishing touches to their festive costumes, and growing the ever-present community the ninja provided a beacon for. Outside, the sun cast rays of mid-autumn light through the glass windows. They spread across the lower decks, and everyone relished in the last warmth of the evening while they were hard at work.
Except, the sunbeams didn’t quite banish every shadow.
And Cole was the only one who noticed the chill the transformation had brought.
He stood with his arms crossed in the shade of a wooden beam, just out of reach of the window. The light would have shined right through him even if he chose to step into it. He could stick out a hand, and no one would see a thing. This, among other worries and fears, coursed through his mind as he closed his eyes to the beginnings of the party.
In the darkness… he felt just a little more solid. Yet, he was still invisible. There was nowhere he could stand where he truly felt seen.
A shudder that might have once felt like a heavy sigh wracked his body. He leaned his head against the beam and hugged himself a little tighter, wishing he didn’t have to deal with this tonight. This was the first Halloween. The first night of the dead. And, well… it was hard, most of the time, to see how that didn’t apply to him.
He was about to head to his quarters, maybe wait things out alone until the party got started—maybe not show up to the party at all. From nearby, though, a voice called out, and the hero inside of the ghost called out, if only softly.
“Could I get some help over here?”
Cole perked up. He tilted his head in the direction of the plea, then took a few steps towards it, passing through the sunlight just as it bled into night. “Yeah, I’m here,” he said back, looking around as his brow furrowed in confusion. He didn’t see anyone setting up on this part of the deck. “What can I help with?”
A short clatter sounded behind him. Cole spun around, and—
A sharp, high-pitched screech filled the space, rattling through him, sending more chills up and down his arms as he was paralysed by the sound. If breath were still flowing through his lungs, it would have faltered and stopped with the onset of that terrible noise. It was…
Zane stepped out of the shadows, closely following his metallic falcon. The look on his face was curious and amused, but it softened slightly when he caught sight of Cole. Cole must have looked startled, at best.
At most, terrified.
Hesitantly, he began, “Was that…”
Zane couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across his own titanium features. “I managed to edit it to form a new rendition,” he said, half-proud, half-sheepish. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”
Cole shook himself off, and shook his head. “It’s fine,” he mumbled. “Just never expected to hear that again, I guess.”
Another shudder took over. He closed his eyes, and he was almost taken back. To the temple. To the time he’d let out the very scream that Zane had recorded to produce that new, frightful noise.
“It seems even now, you haven’t quite let go of your old fears, have you?”
Almost—but Cole managed to lift his head and face Zane, even as his hands slipped and passed through his own form when he tried to hug himself again. “I guess maybe not.” He forced a smile to his lips. “So, what’d you need help with, buddy?”
For a nindroid, Zane’s expressions were just as detailed and nuanced as a human’s, and traces of a grimace rose to his face that he couldn’t hide. He reached out to let his falcon perch on his arm, and the hand holding its controls dropped to his side. “You know what?” Zane said tensely, though gently. “I think you’ve done enough for me here. Why don’t you go see if anyone else requires your assistance?”
Cole’s smile wavered. When one of his friends used a tone like that, he tried to convince himself they were just protecting him. But cold was one of the few things he could feel these days. He couldn’t keep a sting from pulsing through his empty form.
“Right,” Cole said, milking positivity into his tone. “I’ll go… see if there’s anything else I can do.”
He headed off, and he stumbled upon Lloyd before long, sitting at a table with his back to Cole. A rather tall stack of unfolded rice paper lay to his left, paired with a jumble of bamboo frames. Ah, the lanterns for the departed—or for decoration, perhaps. Samples of the finished product were lined up on the table across from Lloyd. A simple job, though a tedious one.
Cole approached quietly, his lightened footsteps not making a sound, but his intentions were pure as he reached out to put a hand on Lloyd’s shoulder.
It went wrong, though, when his form flickered again, and instead of touching his friend gently, Cole’s hand passed right through him. It slammed down onto the table when Cole lost his balance. The paper fluttered into the air, and Lloyd jumped up in his seat with a yelp. Cole could imagine the shiver that his own hand forced into Lloyd’s body.
“I’m so sorry,” he stammered as he withdrew and stumbled backwards. A short chuckle rose in the back of his throat when Lloyd whipped around with alarm in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Zane had said something similar only minutes prior, so Cole knew how weak that excuse felt. He wasn’t the only one with ghostly experience, after all.
Lloyd put a hand to his chest and forced himself to recover. “I’m okay,” he promised. He laughed, too, and he seemed stunned, but that sound was a little heartier, a little weightier, than what Cole could produce. “Are you practising for tonight?”
“No, I just thought I’d come see what you’re up to.” Cole managed to keep his grin and peered over Lloyd’s shoulder once more. “Paper lanterns, huh?”
Lloyd turned back to his project with a sigh as his shoulders relaxed. “Yeah. It’s sure going to take me a while to finish all these. I just hope I have enough done in time.”
“Well.” Cole would swallow if he could swallow. Breathe in if he could breathe. “Maybe I could help you. Everything goes faster with an extra set of hands, right?”
Lloyd faced him again with wide, hopeful eyes, but his expression fell just as quickly. He paused to take in Cole. Cole. “Oh,” he stammered faintly. The corners of his mouth twisted, and he tilted his head, studying his friend for a moment longer. Then the strange look in his eyes cleared, and he said, “Well, it couldn’t hurt to try. I’d appreciate that, actually.”
A real grin spread across Cole’s face. He hurried to take a seat beside Lloyd, with the stack of paper in between them, and concentrated before taking a piece to fold.
The world stilled for a moment, and he could almost feel his fingertips solidifying, growing stronger. Cole narrowed his eyes and began to wrap the paper around an empty frame. He pinned it on one end, pulled it over, and…
“Hey, that one looks pretty good.” Lloyd glanced over with a glimmer of pride in his hazel eyes, and when he reached over to offer Cole a fistbump, the touch actually landed.
The tiniest spark lit up inside of Cole. “Let’s finish these up,” he said. “It should go much faster now.”
He grabbed a fresh sheet of paper, wrapped it onto a frame, and set it aside. Grabbed another, wrapped it, done. Cole laughed lightly to himself—he was on a roll, and he was starting to feel pretty good about himself until his concentration slipped. So did his hands, and so did the lantern in his grasp.
Cole blinked a little too slowly. A clatter rose from the finished pile of lanterns, and he heard Lloyd call out, “Oh, crap!” before lunging towards them.
Cole heard tearing, too. A few of the frames split with faint cracking noises. He peered over at the toppled-over pile in shock. The lantern he had been working on seemed to have bowled over all the ones they’d finished so far, its paper wrinkled from where he’d been holding it before it slipped through his grasp. It laid in the midst of the fray, damaged enough to be unusable, most likely. Along with a good handful of others.
“I’m… so sorry,” Cole stammered. “I don’t know how that happened. My reflexes should be quicker than that.”
He held a hand up in front of him, as if the problem was hiding in his fingers. In a way, he figured it was, as he studied the table through the faint glow of his own form. Cole winced and tucked his hand to his side.
Lloyd held up one of the partially-damaged lanterns and fiddled with the paper to see if he could reattach it. He was clearly more focused on the lanterns than on Cole, and Cole wasn’t sure if that made him feel better or worse.
“No,” Lloyd started, setting the lantern down and moving on to the next. His brow furrowed in frustration. “I’m sorry, Cole. Maybe it would be better if I did this on my own.”
Better, he said. Sympathy bled through his tone. It would be better without Cole. They were supposed to be a team, supposed to be brothers, but—
It was just a lantern, Cole told himself. So this wasn’t his forte. He could find something else to do.
“Sure,” Cole agreed. He stood up from the table, and he was certain if he could sigh, he would sigh. He drifted—headed—walked towards the stairs leading to the top deck.
By the time Lloyd called out, “Wait, Cole—” behind him, Cole had vanished, and didn’t quite care enough to reappear.
He only flickered back into view when he nearly collided with Nya in the stairwell. Panic seized his chest, for she was toting a large glass bowl, presumably filled with liquid, and Cole had never been able to shake the distrust of water that filled his essence since it had become deadly to him. How could he?
He played it off as cool, though, and called out to Nya so she knew he was there behind the load in her arms. “Hey,” he said, “you got that okay?”
“Oh!” A shocked noise rose from Nya, and she pivoted on her heel, risking a tumble down the stairs when the bowl threw off her balance. “Cole, is that you? Please be careful, this is absolutely full of—”
Cole put both of his hands on the bottom of the bowl before Nya could spill it. The contact caused the bowl to jolt, though, and over the side spilled a dangerous portion of—
“Punch!” Nya finished. Her gaze locked onto Cole’s just as the punch began to spill, and he was right in its path. With a sharp gasp, Nya threw her balance to the other side, dragging the weight of the punch bowl with her, and managed to kick out and plant her foot directly into his chest. He must have been shocked enough for it to land, for the impact sent him tumbling backwards until he hit the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
“Whoa.” Cole watched with wide eyes as the punch spilled all over the stairs, and Nya hurried past him, keeping the bowl high and far away from him.
“I’ll go get some towels to wipe this up,” she promised. A grimace was evident on her face as she passed, and she eyed Cole sceptically. “Yeah, you should probably stay far away from the refreshments. We still don’t know if sugary drinks are on the list of things that could dissolve your essence with a single drop.”
Cole hesitated and let her pass. Nya had been good at protecting him these past few months. But Cole wished he didn’t need protecting.
He stood gradually, taking his time, and paused on the stairs before he continued upwards. He stepped around the spilled punch and peered down at it out of the corner of his eye. Still no reflection, not on any surface.
He let out a short growl of frustration and chose to persevere. Jay, he decided. He would find Jay, who usually didn’t mind having Cole around no matter the circumstances.
Though it was clear as soon as he reached the ninja of lightning that Jay, despite being the most conspicuous person on the deck of the Bounty, did not wish to be found.
“Listen, bud, I’m just a… skitch busy here,” Jay called down from his position below the crow’s nest. Tangled in his hands—and around his foot, somehow—was a long string of lights, flickering on and off as Jay attempted to string them up. The faintest of lightning burns speckled his hands where he was holding up the cord. “Only one who can withstand the electricity and all that, you know?”
Jay whipped his head around one way, then twisted it the other. He squinted at Cole, who stood firmly on the deck with his arms crossed nervously. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
“On second thought. Could you plug in that end over there?” Jay wiggled the foot that was wrapped up in lights. A ripple of energy flowed through them, and the end in particular he was talking about sparked and jumped closer to Cole, as if asking to be picked up.
Cole squinted down at it suspiciously.
“It won’t hurt, right? That much?” Jay added, layering on a tone of innocence. “Because you’re a ghost?”
“Thanks for reminding me,” Cole muttered.
Jay shot a hopeful smile over his shoulder. “Please?”
That same chill stirred in Cole’s chest, but it was mixed with wariness now. He looked up at Jay, then back down at the plug, which had stopped sparking at least. With great caution, he bent down to pick it up. “Okay, now where—?”
“There should be an outlet against the wall right there!”
After a quick scan of the Bounty’s outer wall, Cole did locate an outlet, though that would have been the last place Cole would have chosen to put it. He turned back to Jay and called, “Are you sure? Won’t it get wet?”
“Maybe a little,” Jay said. He shifted his position clinging to the mast, gripping the edge of the crow’s nest with one hand and trying to free his foot with the other. “But it’s fine, it’s happened before, you know? Just hurry up and—Ow!”
Cole was definitely not on top of his reflexes tonight, because he didn’t even think to drop the cord as a strong surge of Jay’s electricity passed through it. He opened his mouth, would have gasped if only his lungs would fill with air, and his mind ran blank as the electricity surged through him, next.
Oh, Cole managed to think. ‘Won’t hurt that much’ my backside.
Out of his control, he noticed the ground shifting beneath his feet, and the fuzziness in his head cleared just in time for him to watch Jay slide down the mast with a cry of protest.
“Crap. Sorry.” Cole rubbed the back of his neck, then his forehead. Ghosts were better conductors than the others expected, and a dull ache did pulse through Cole’s system, though it was hard to detect. If he focused on any one sensation, when they were usually buried so deep beneath the flesh that wasn’t flesh, it tended to overwhelm him.
It wasn’t just physical sensations, either. The tangible feeling of not being enough to help anybody settled like a stone in Cole’s stomach.
Not until he wandered off, leaving Jay behind to mutter incomprehensible things to himself, and bumped into someone else, did Cole start to feel even an inkling of warmth.
“Whoa there.” A hand swiped past Cole’s shoulder, but as soon as the contact didn’t land, it withdrew.
Coming up the stairs, a pair of finished lanterns under his opposite arm, looking as confident as ever, was Kai. He wore that half-smile that displayed a bit of comfort and a bit of alarm, along with a teasing and sympathetic glimmer in his eyes. He shot a glance behind Cole to where Jay was now lying on the deck with his legs propped straight up against the mask.
“You look like you just got quite the shock,” Kai said coolly. It was obvious by his tone that he was trying to make a joke, not actually saying Cole looked like crap.
And it made Cole melt a little more towards him.
“You know,” he said, “that sort of thing keeps happening tonight. I’m starting to think Halloween parties aren’t my forte, at all.”
Kai laughed, a crisp, but stilted sound. “Strange,” he responded with a fond grin. “I would have thought it would be the opposite.”
The words settled on Cole’s shoulder like the hand Kai couldn’t touch him with. Cole shrugged his shoulders upwards a little, and a shy but pained smile spread across his own face. “Yeah, well,” was all he could think to mutter in return.
A blend of calm and unease stretched out in the air between them. Each of them glanced away from the other, and Cole wondered why his cheeks felt almost warm. The smile trickled off his face within a few seconds.
Kai adjusted the lanterns to hold one in each hand, and he leaned in to try to meet Cole’s eyes once more. “Hey, why don’t you help me with these? It’ll be an easy job, I promise. You won’t even get burned.”
Cole winced teasingly and sucked in through his teeth. “The bar’s that low? I dunno, sounds kind of like what Jay said. Besides, I’ve already messed up lanterns once tonight.”
“Come on.” Kai stepped forward, nodding to Cole as he did so, and headed towards the bow. He waited for Cole to follow, then settled on a location, placed the lanterns on the deck, and pointed at them commandingly. “All you have to do for now is stay here and make sure these don’t blow away. Think you can handle that?”
A laugh stalled in Cole’s chest when Kai wiggled his eyebrows.
“I guess so,” Cole said. “But don’t take too long, ‘kay?”
“Cross my heart.” Kai swept past him and headed back towards the stairs, spinning around once to shoot Cole a thumbs up. “I trust you to keep them safe.”
Cole shook his head and tried to ignore the new sensations prickling at his shoulders. He shouldn’t even be feeling that. He laughed to himself one more time before sitting down cross-legged beside the two lanterns, eyeing them both carefully. “Okay,” he mumbled to the open air. “Watch the lanterns for Kai. I can do that.”
The first two times he returned, carrying between two to four lanterns per round, Kai remained quiet. He hardly even acknowledged Cole, going so far as to avoid eye contact with him as he set the lanterns down. Cole kept silent, too, and kept a watchful eye on the lanterns. Kai probably wanted to get this done quickly, and if the wind picked up, one gust could send a lantern tumbling overboard.
The third time Kai arrived, he set down his lanterns, then said, “Your shoe’s untied,” without looking back.
Cole glanced down, incredulous, only to remember he wasn’t even wearing shoes that tied. What the hell, Kai?
On the next trip, Kai was carrying a total of five lanterns, and as the deck in front of Cole was getting a little crowded, he started placing lanterns behind Cole, too. That wasn’t the end of it, though. He moved around quite a bit, circling Cole multiple times and adjusting the lanterns as he went, close enough that Cole couldn’t move to see what he was doing without knocking anything over.
“What are you doing?” Cole asked, once it seemed as though he was completely surrounded by lanterns.
Kai didn’t answer, but when he moved in front of Cole again, a wide and sloppy grin was painted across his face, and his cheeks were slightly red. He offered Cole a wink and scurried off down the stairs.
Cole stared after him. Confusion ticked in the slow gears in his brain. “Oh-kay,” he said slowly.
The last time Kai came up the stairs, he had a single lantern in his hands, and he held it proudly to his chest. The goofy grin had fallen off his face, and he looked more cool and confident again, ready to proceed with the task at hand. He stepped as close to Cole as he could without kicking any lanterns and held out the last one above Cole’s head. “Here, hold this for me, will you?”
“Um.” Cole had no choice but to take the lantern and hold it steady in the air. The surprise factor must have been enough to keep him from dropping it, and he managed to get a secure hold right away.
Before he could so much as blink, Kai lit one of his fingers on fire and stuck it directly into the lantern.
Cole had to keep himself from jumping back. “Whoa! Warn a guy before you do something like that!”
Kai couldn’t hold back a laugh. He gestured to the lantern, though, indicating that it was fine—all he’d done was light the wick on the inside, so that it now glowed with a hearty and comforting light.
A darker expression washed across Kai’s face. He blinked a few times, then leaned in, one hand extended. “Can I?” he asked, soft and hesitant.
Cole lowered the lantern in his hands, then decided to set it down at his side, just to be safe. He frowned in irritation, but nodded back at Kai and grumbled, “As long as you’re not still on fire, fine.”
The corners of Kai’s eyes crinkled. He brought his hand down with the intention of ruffling Cole’s hair. And Cole tried to concentrate, to let him, because he wouldn’t mind the touch right now—maybe he’d even welcome it. He closed his eyes tight, but at the moment Kai’s hand should have come to rest on the top of his head, Cole felt nothing.
He opened his eyes to see disappointment and remorse spark in Kai’s eyes. Kai’s hand hovered in midair, right where Cole’s head should have been.
Kai shook himself off, and the look drained from his eyes. “That’s okay,” he said quickly. “Anyway. Just as I expected, you are a world-class lantern guard. Thanks, Cole.”
Cole scrunched up his nose and scoffed. He tried his best to move past the moment, as well. Kai sure was making a big deal out of the lanterns—he wondered if Kai had had a word with Lloyd and felt bad for Cole. Honestly, Cole wasn’t sure the special treatment made him feel any better. He still wasn’t doing much.
“Anytime,” he said regardless, a bit sarcastically. “Now could you move some of these so I can get up?”
While Kai, in a systematic sort of way, moved a section of lanterns aside to make a way out for Cole, Cole took the single lit lantern in his hands once more and carried it with him. He focused hard in order to avoid dropping it. Interacting with objects was still easier than touching other people, at least.
But nothing lasted long in Cole’s grasp, and surprise could have adverse effects, too.
Kai cleared his throat as he hurried to replace the lanterns where he’d set them before. “By the way,” he said, loudly and boldly. “Did you—”
Cole chose that moment to turn around to face him. Something about the funny tone of Kai’s voice, and the way Kai was taking such care to arrange the lanterns, caught Cole’s attention. Distracted him.
It was at that moment that the last lantern, flame glowing bright, slipped from his hands.
He heard the snap of the frame on the deck, and he saw Kai’s eyes widen sharply. He saw him lunge before he cried out, “Cole!”
The fire jumped outwards at his feet, and the lantern collapsed in on itself, paper covering burning up in seconds. And that wasn’t all. The fire lapped at the wooden boards of the deck. Sparks leapt at the other finished lanterns, and at least two or three caught flame.
“No!” Kai dove for the first fallen lantern. He scooped it up and hugged it to himself, then rolled towards the others, desperately snatching them away from the majority of the group. “No, no, no!”
“I’ve got you!”
Nya came running up the stairs and rushed towards her brother, one hand extended. “Cole, out of the way!”
Cole just barely managed to sidestep the stream of water that poured from her open hand. He stumbled backwards to avoid getting wet, and guilt and worry climbed up his throat with sharp claws.
“Hey, is everything okay over there?” Jay made his way over, alarm twisted into his expression.
Kai managed to sit up on the deck, next to a fresh char mark on the wooden boards and crumpled, ashen pieces of the three lanterns that had caught flame. “Everything’s fine now,” he assured. “Only lost these three.”
“What were you thinking?” Nya scolded. “There are easier ways to light lanterns than by using your powers, and—”
Panic welled up inside of Cole, and from his safe distance away, he stammered, “It—It was my fault, you guys.”
He almost wished he hadn’t said anything at all.
The three of them all turned to face him, and their demeanors shifted in an instant. He could already sense how their voices would sound when they spoke, and what crap they would say to him. Like he was some sort of special case. Like he needed to be treated differently.
“Oh, Cole,” Nya began. Her tone was gentle, apologetic, exactly how Cole didn’t want it to be.
But it was the look on Kai’s face that set Cole off. That glimmer of remorse returned to his eyes, mixed with shame.
He looked lost.
“You know what,” Cole said in a rush, trying to keep his tone light. He inched his way closer to the stairway. “I think I’m just going to hide out in my room for a little while. I’m definitely not good at helping set up for parties. Maybe it’d be better if I just—disappeared for now.”
Before his friends could stop him, he did just that, and he stopped talking completely. Only the echo of his footsteps on the floor gave away his departure as he shied away from his friend’s gazes. They called after him, but he didn’t wait. He didn’t hesitate for a second.
He made his way down the stairs, through the hall past where Lloyd and Zane were still setting up, and into the depths of the hull. He didn’t stop at his room like he said; he kept going, down one more floor, until he reached the storage room in the basement. There, he shut the door behind him and locked it.
There, he allowed the dark and the cold to envelop him.