Work Text:
The window felt cold against her cheek. Ice cold. Cold like his hand did. Not cold like him necessarily. His was more of a gentle chill. Calm. Soothing. Steady. This was a biting cold. A bitter cold. A cold of winter the old poets of Ninjago would write about.
Pixal wondered if she now knew what they meant with their words that once were so strange and meaningless to her.
She felt fingers brush her back. Light and warm with the slightest tremble.
Doctor.
“Pixal,” his voice wavered. “I am going now. But I will return in a few hours.”
He hesitates.
“Pixal?”
“Yes, sir?”
“Pixal, can you look at me? Please?” Pixal turned her head despite her wishes. She was an assistant. She did what she was told. “Oh, my dear.” He reached up a hand to brush her cheek. The faint warmth did little to penetrate the cold that clung to her. “I just wanted to tell
you,” he swallowed, his eyes hardening. “It was not your fault.”
Liar, Pixal thought despite the lack of reaction from her lie detector scanners.
“It is my fault,” the words fell dully from her mouth. “I stole his heart. Without it he was weak, vulnerable. Operating at 50% power. His chances of survival were decreased because of—-“
“No,” Pixal jumped at the steel edge in the doctor’s tone. “No, Pixal. You did not steal anything from him. He gave you a gift. A costly gift, yes, but a gift that saved your life. And I doubt that he would take it back for anything.” Pixal’s head tilted downwards. She wasn’t even aware that she disobeyed the doctor’s earlier request until his hand guided her chin upwards to meet his eyes.
“I love you, Pixal.”
Pixal’s lips parted. A knife-like bolt of pain shot through her chest region.
“Sir?”
“Even before Zane gave you his heart, you were special. I tried sixteen times to build you and—“ he swiped tears from his eyes. “I never intended to create a life but I did…and it was you. Please, please, my dear Pixal. Do not blame yourself for his death. It is not your fault and—“
Don’t hurt yourself.
Please.
Daughter.
Two pairs of green eyes scoured each other. One, filling with tears. The other, dull with defeat.
“I promise.”
Liar.
You are such a liar.
And a monster.
And a fool.
And her thoughts continued to spiral long after Dr. Borg had left to attend the funeral. She did not want to picture it—but she knew she could.
In perfect, intricate detail.
Her creator couldn’t do it alone.
So she helped.
With every single bench
Flower
Candle
Garland
She had found the photograph and enlarged it for the frame.
She helped Dr. Borg drape the curtain over the statue
and saw its blank face staring at her
Imprinted on the back of her eyelids like sunspots.
And now
She couldn’t go.
A murder shouldn’t attend their victim’s funeral.
His family should mourn in peace without the monster who stole his heart and life.
She didn’t know what was next.
Was there anything next?
She half wondered if she would stop functioning.
If the remaining half of his heart would shrivel and shut down.
Dying with the rest of him.
Why was she made?
Why was she?
Her father
creator
wanted her?
Ridiculous. She was broken from the start. He should have hired another assistant. Then he’d have realized she was a mistake from the start.
Love—-he couldn’t love her, could he?
Could…they???
She had never even contemplate the concept of love before…before him and now that he is gone—-
I miss you
I’m bitter
I should go—
The murderer shouldn’t attend the funeral.
It has never been this quiet here…
She couldn’t tear herself from the window pane.
She wouldn’t.
Not unless—-
She let out a shuddering sigh.
I’m sorry, father.
The piece of shrapnel shivered in her hand.
Would he know? That she ended herself with…
Something that might have been a piece of him?
No. Nindroids don’t have afterlives.
Not even magical ones.
Her grip tightened on the metal. The only thing that was keeping her from plunging it into her heart was…
Dr. Borg.
Don’t hurt yourself.
Please, Pixal.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir.” Tears dripped down her cheeks. “I cannot obey you this time. I’ve hurt too many people. And I cannot afford to hurt any more.”
I don’t deserve to live.
I…why can’t I do it?
Is it my programming?
…what is it?
Oh, she knew. Deep deep down inside her, she knew.
He wouldn’t have wanted this.
I can’t do this.
Then, what?
I must go…somewhere far…somewhere…
I just can’t stay here.
Pixal.
Pixal?
Pixal?
Can you hear me?
PIXAL
No.
It couldn’t be.
“Pixal?” Hope tore through her chest like a grenade, sending her stumbling, clutching at her chest. The blade of shrapnel she forgot she was holding clattered to the floor.
She rose, shaking, to her feet.
“Your hardware is outdated and your system is incompatible with ours—-“
“You are vital to me.”
“You are vital to me.”
“Zane…is that you?” Images flared on the screens around her showing memories—-the few memories she has had in her short life through another’s eyes.
Through his eyes.
“Zane?”
“I’m just Zane.”
Then electricity flared across the screen. Guiding her.
And she knew.
She flew down flight after flight of stairs and then—-
She was there. He was there.
Zane, smiling at her, half-built and kneeling on the factory line’s conveyor belt.
And she ran—-ran and jumped into his arms.
And he giggled and spun her around, squeezing her tight to his chest.
And the giggles became sobs. Chest-wrenching sobs that came from him alone, and yet, Pixal felt silent tears building and gushing down her cheeks. As if they were in perfect sync. As if they were one body, crying together—-Zane, the noise and Pixal, the tears.
“I heard you,” he said as she buried her head in the hollow between his neck and chest, her tears soaking the bare metal plating of his chest. First Master, he was naked but she didn’t think about that now, not when he was here, alive and in her arms. Or maybe she was in his. She could not tell and certainly did not care.
Her—-his—-power source hummed and she mistook its beat for a new heart of his own. It gave an illusion of them sharing a heart—-split into two bodies but whole, perfectly whole when aligned. “I—I couldn’t leave you,” the beautiful, beautiful ninja said, brushing strands of Pixal’s tangled hair from her face and tucking them behind her ears. “Not when I heard you in pain.”
“You…you heard me?”
A flare of panic spread through Pixal’s chest.
Did he think—-did he know—-?
“It is hard to explain.” He drew back from her slightly, blushing at their closeness. Pixal blinked as she recognized that his cheekbones were now outlined in grooves—-groves that were now glowing a faint blue, indicating a blush. A small smile spread on her face.
It’s so…cute.
“I heard you but I didn’t…it was more like a feeling. I felt your pain.” He reached for her hands. She accepted them immediately, squeezing them between her own. “And I…wanted to come back to you.”
A small ripple of relief weaved through her. Along with a great blossoming of warmth.
He didn’t know that she wanted to—-
“I—“ Pixal choked, moving her hands away and clasping them against her chest. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault. If I wasn’t here—-if I didn’t take your heart—-“ She stammered into silence. She clasped her hands over her mouth to cover a sob.
Please don’t please don’t.
Such an idiot
Fool
Monster
Murderer.
“Pixal.” His voice was so soft. So gentle. Like he was speaking to a dove. “I would make that choice again and again if it meant that you would live.”
A sticky, hot slime weaved down Pixal’s back and clenched at her stomach compartment at the same time a gentle, sunlit warmth burst through her chest, warming her heart.
“Pixal, you are so amazing. I have not know you for very long but you such are a strong, beautiful spirit. You have worth and value. You may not be human, but you are wanted and loved. You’re a person, just like me.”
I love you.
Zane, I love you.
Oh, First Master that’s inappropriate.
I’ve only know him for what? A few months?
Not to mention he just came back from the dead and he is half-constructed and naked and I have recently learned that humans—and Zane—are quite sensitive about that subject.
I CAN’T TELL HIM THAT.
Pixal’s face spasmed as the barrage of strange, sudden, half-formed but also deeply sound tore through her mind.
“Pixal?” Zane’s face creased in concern. “Are you—-?”
“Clothes…let’s get you some clothes…“ Pixal stammered, then she let out the loudest (and very first) groan of her life and slapped her palms onto her face.
First Master.
You absolute idiot.
What were you—-
And he burst out laughing.
I love you, was the first thought that entered his mind.
First Master, that is inappropriate, came his second. FIRST MASTER I HAVE NO CLOTHES ON, was his third. But in the valiant struggle to keep these thoughts to himself all he managed to choke out was “yes, I’ll put some clothes on. Ah…” He experienced a second, clearer wave of mortification and instantly covered his nonexistent privates. “I…I think you’re great.” And then his blush deepened so much that it illuminated the rest of his titanium skin and Pixal clamped a hand over her mouth to hide her smile.
“I think you’re pretty great yourself,” she said and they stood smiling at each other until Pixal offered him a hand and guided him upstairs to a workshop where she could complete his repairs.
And offer him some clothes.