Chapter Text
He finds him at random whilst he’d been working at the landfill, scraping by and trying to make a living.
His knees are dirtied as he scrambles forward, earnestly wiping the sod and dust away from an old friend's face. He blinks past tears, hoping that this isn't a dream and that this truly is who he thinks it is.
Looking to the side, he finds a blanket that's fried and has holes in it, but it'll do. He gently wraps it around his friend, and searches for parts that might have fallen loose, and then carries him away, not able to tear his eyes away from the silver face.
Cole never thought he’d see Zane again, at least not like this. But then again, Zane was the only one who never got a funeral. No one had any idea of what’d happened to him, so Cole had assumed he was gone from this world.
Once home, he carefully puts Zane down and leans him up against a wall. Zane’s head falls forward; Cole catches it quickly and pushes it back again, making sure it stays put.
Zane has his eyes closed. Cole tries to push them open, but it’s like they’re glued shut. “Zane, buddy?” He says quietly. There is no response.
Getting to his feet, Cole searches his apartment for some tools that could help him. He ends up finding some basic stuff, like a screwdriver and a hammer.
Kneeling in front of Zane again, he sloths the end of the screwdriver beneath Zane’s lids and pushes, finally prying them up. There is no light in Zane’s eyes. He’s completely shut down.
Cole runs a hand through his hair and sighs. What to do now?
Looking out through the small window, he decides to go out and seek help from one of the shops of Borg Industries.
“Sorry, but we don’t have those parts,” the woman tells Cole. “The model is too old. I haven’t even seen it before, I wouldn’t know how to fix it. Would you like an upgrade instead?”
“Thanks, but no…” With his head held low, Cole exits the shiny and tall building, wishing that Borg himself was still alive, if only to have someone familiar to share Zane's discovery with.