Chapter Text
"I can't believe it! Bring it in!"
"Get away, weirdo."
"Still no memory?"
"I got plenty of memories, bub. Just none of them are of you."
Jay's words are stuck repeating in his mind. Cole shuddered out a breath, he thought he was over this, but he guesses being forgotten is an experience you never really get past. It's stupid, Jay wasn't talking about him specifically, right?
Just none of them are of you.
But he can't help that inkling of doubt, coating his thoughts oil slick. He can't help being reminded of the last time he was forgotten.
Cole pushes his way into a hopefully empty bathroom, breaths coming out in quick succession. He's fine, he just needs to calm down, that's it. Turning around, he finds himself leant over the sink, his eyes meet his own in the mirror's reflection. Amber and green on amber and green. If he covers his unnatural green eye, he could almost fool himself into thinking it never happened, but its unearthly gleam creeping past his fingers stopped that potential source of comfort right in its tracks. With a huff, his knuckles crack down onto the sink, inadvertently sending light fractures splintering through the porcelain. Cole stares at the mirror, as if daring his reflection to expose his ghostly nature. Heart pounding up his throat. Threatening to expel itself at any minute. He waits. Waits for the inevitable moment where he's proven right. He's not alive, he never has been. He's not real. He's not even human.
Mindlessly, he grinds his knuckles into the shards of porcelain. It brings about a thin veil of clarity. Fragile, but it ensures that he's really there - that he's tangible and real.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
He whips around at the open window. The other ninja must be training outside, completely oblivious to his panic. The noise chokes him. Cole clamps his hands over his ears, but it's no use. The periodic clashing of fists on wood drowns out his last cohesive thoughts, leaving him with nothing but fog.
They're out there right now. Have they forgotten Cole too?
Cole can't bring himself to check. The crippling fear is not allowing it, he's too scared of being faced with a reality where they have.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
He can't go back to being forgotten. Can't go back to seeing his memory trickle like sand between their fingers. No matter how much they grasped at him, Cole just fell straight through the cracks. It was pathetic how quickly it happened. All in the span of one day his team completely forgot about him. With a snap of a finger, all of those shared battles, laughs, experiences just vanished. He didn't blame them, of course. But that did little to quell the paralysing fear.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
There's a thick haze clogging his senses, everything is fading to a muted hum. Not again, this is not happening, it can't! Cole slams a trembling hand on the mirror. Clammy skin to a dull chill. He's here, he's alive. See, I can feel that, right? He lets out a distressed whine. It's not enough, panic is still seeping into the crevices of his head. Ready to pounce and overwhelm if given the chance.
He needs something sharper. He digs his hands into his hair and pulls. Sending dull throbs pin-pricking across his scalp. His vision wavers. Fuck, it's not working. Why is nothing working? He scrambles into the corner, wedging himself between the toilet and the wall. Slowly sliding down to the floor and slamming his eyes shut. He doesn't want to see his reflection anymore, can't see the ghostly green hue or his body clinging to its last dregs of humanity, because if he does, he wasn't sure he could make it through again.
Is he real? Was this whole thing just an elaborate nightmare?
A noise slips through the cracks of his haze. Knocking at the door. Then, a voice, "-ole, Are you alright in there?"
He can't make out its owner, Cole can't make much sense of anything right now. He tries to respond but it is a struggle to get his tongue to cooperate.
"Cole?" They say, sounding concerned.
His name! He holds onto that. Someone knows him. Cole hasn't been forgotten, not again.
He brings his hand up to his face, clearing away tears he hadn't known had fallen. He glances at the wetness coating his hands. Relief swells inside him. Water, and it didn't burn! A wobbly smile broke its way onto his face. No, no, he is not a ghost. He's fine. He's alive; living, breathing people don't get wounded from water. He's okay. Cole releases a deep breath and braces himself. Thrusting his palms to the floor, he attempts to align his breathing with the familiar thrum of the Earth. It's only half-successful.
"Y-yeah, gimme a minute." Cole winces at the croakiness of his voice.
"Of course. I can wait." The voice replies, which he can now identify as Zane's? Begging the question on why Zane needs to use the bathroom - he doesn't exactly have human needs.
He realises the thwack, thwack, thwacks have ceased. The ninja have stopped their training, is it lunch time already? How did he manage to skip a full morning of training? How long was he in the bathroom for? Shaking his head, Cole climbed up on unsteady legs and apprehensively turned back to the mirror. He heaved a sigh of relief. No full-body spectral glow. Just a human body with real blood flowing through its veins. Inspecting himself closer, Cole blanches. He looks like a mess. Well, with Zane at the door, he can't exactly wait out his red rimmed eyes and trembling hands. He resigns himself to a couple of splashes of water to his face and prays that Zane doesn't look too closely. Fortunately, the cool water does offer its brief reassurances. Hand on the doorknob, he allows himself some deep breaths. He's okay.
Cole swings the door open with a false bravado. He can do this, he's totally fine.
It is clear to Zane that Cole is not fine and has not been fine for the past couple days now. And after practically growing up together, Zane feels he has a pretty good grasp on his friend's tells. So he is confident that something is amiss.
First and foremost, if the heavy bags under his eyes are anything to go by, Cole has not been sleeping well. Is it nightmares? Insomnia? Both? While restless nights are not uncommon for the team, they usually take comfort in each other when it gets bad. Late night talks or simply sharing a bed, it's been their well-oiled system for years. Unfortunately, Cole had never been good at seeing their system as a two-way street. Always the first in line to offer a safe space to his teammates, but always the one shying away from receiving it. Zane never understood it. It was illogical.
He remembers one of the only times Cole had eagerly welcomed it. It was the night he had just recovered from his ghostly form. They had all piled onto their biggest sofa in one huge heap, with Cole squished at the very centre. He seemed to revel in the solid pressure being surrounded gave him. Zane smiles at the memory.
Zane has also noticed that Cole has been unnaturally… clingy. Don't get him wrong, he doesn't mind this change of behaviour, it just concerns him. Cole's always been a big lover of quality time, but recently it seems almost excessive. Whether he's insisting on joining their one-man patrols or just latching himself to another, he's never alone, apart from when he is sleeping - which, Zane concludes, could easily be remedied. Despite all this, Cole is refusing to disclose the clear problem. To Zane, it seems as if Cole is trying to cope in a way that doesn't involve actually acknowledging it.
His mind drifts to Jay's reappearance, wondering if that had anything to do with it. Cole and Jay were always close, so it is not a totally outlandish thought, but something tells him there is something more going on here.
Which is exactly why Zane has been glancing back and forth at the bathroom door for, he checks his internal clock, 9 minutes and 47 seconds. He had been preparing a meal for the other ninja, when Cole came rushing in with all the energy of a derailing steam train. Now this in itself was not unusual, they were all familiar with episodes of anxiousness now and again, but Cole, still wearing his sleeping attire at nearly noon, was. Everyone had become well-accustomed to the early waking hours that came with being a ninja, so Cole sleeping in and skipping morning training struck Zane as odd.
Mind elsewhere, he gives his soup a quick stir, thoughts still stuck between checking if he is alright or leaving him to it. Cole does usually work these things out on his own. A subdued whine slipped through the door, stopping Zane's internal debate in its tracks. He abandons his soup and rushes to the source of the noise.
Pressing his ear to the door, Zane raps his knuckles against the wood, "Cole? Are you alright in there?"
No response. "Cole?" He tries again.
A sniffle, then, "Y-yeah, gimme a minute."
Well, that left no room for doubt in his mind. Cole sounded out of breath, like his lungs couldn't quite keep up with the pace at which he was breathing. His voice panicky and small, as if trying to hide itself from Zane's ears.
Zane takes a step back and replies steadily, "Of course. I can wait."
A moment or two later, the door swings open.
In one swift movement, Cole steps out and closes the door behind him with a slam, "Zane! Hey man, you all good?"
I should be asking you that, Zane thinks wryly.
He's smiling, Zane realises, but the corners of his mouth are quivering slightly. He looks up at Cole and the brief glance solidifies his earlier statement. Cole is most definitely not fine. Contrary to the smile poorly plastered on his face, everything about him was sounding the alarm bells in his mind. Eyes rimmed red and trembling hands, it is clear that he had recently been crying. His hair disheveled, as if he'd been repeatedly running his hands through it.
"You did not answer my question," He inconspicuously ran a scan of Cole's body, checking for any irregularities, "and your heart rate is unusually high. Is everything okay?"
Strangely, Cole's taut shoulders slumped and his smile grew genuine, "Yeah, of course. I always am."
Zane's eyes narrowed, taking notice of how Cole seems to be shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Eyes trained everywhere but him. Cole leans forward, clapping Zane's shoulders with a grin. As he turns to leave, something catches Zane's attention. His arm whips up and grasps his hand before it can return. A rushed intake of breath and a weak attempt to pull back, but Zane's grip holds true. They meet each others eyes. There's a defeated expression in Cole's, and Zane takes this as permission. He cradles his hand up into his eye line. Blood. Barely noticeable, but it's there, peppering over Cole's knuckles.
"Are you certain you are okay? I can wrap these for you, if you would like." Zane implores, trying to make him see reason.
Cole scratches his neck and chuckles uneasily, "Oh, yeah. Must've been training too hard. I'll wrap them up later, don't you worry about it."
Zane slumps. It's a lie, a terrible one at that. They both know for a fact that Cole has not trained today, he's not even dressed in his usual training attire. Zane opens his mouth, ready to call him out, but Cole's expression causes him to reconsider. He's tired. Eyes pleading to just leave it alone. So, Zane releases his hand and takes a step back.
"My apologies," He gestures to Cole's knuckles with a warm smile, "But, my offer still stands."
Cole flashes a smile, though his eyebrows furrow, "Yeah, uh. Thanks."
Cole shifts backwards and turns to leave once again. Zane, sensing his unease, lets him. He peers his head around the bathroom door, hoping to find the source of Cole's injuries. A quick scan of the room reveals the issue in question. He sighs. There's flecks of blood smeared on the sink, wedged into cracked porcelain.
"Oh, Cole." Zane mutters, swiping a finger over the ridges. He peers back around, watching Cole turn out of sight, and finds himself regretting not pushing him harder. But, his offer still stands. If Cole needs support, he knows where to find it.
He just hopes Cole will allow himself the chance before this buries him completely.