Taking Control. (a Ninjago fanfic)

Chapter 63- Relief

K A I

I couldn't feel my right hand.

Or, well—I could, but not in any way that was useful. Every little shift sent fresh waves of pain tearing through my whole arm, sharp and searing, like someone was jamming a hot, searing knife straight into it.

It wasn't dislocated anymore—Lloyd had fixed that with a quick, brutal pop that almost made me black out—but something was still wrong. A fracture, maybe. Or worse.

Didn't really matter. I wasn't about to start complaining, not when everyone else looked just as bad.

Jay was in the mirror.

Not... in it, exactly. His body was still here, still breathing, still shaking faintly under Nya's hands. But his eyes—blank and unfocused—were locked onto the glass, glowing softly as the mirror did... whatever it was doing.

But hey, at least his eyes were the blue and yellow we were used to, albeit a little more dull than they were before all this.

At least they weren't that horrific purple we'd been seeing for the past month.

It was weird, the mirror. Magical, almost. Tendrils of shadows were just attached to him, the parts physically touching him slowly turning gold. Maybe that meant it was working? I honestly had no idea.

I didn't know how long it would take. I didn't know if he could feel any of it, or if it hurt, or if—

No. Not thinking about that right now.

But if I wasn't thinking about that, I was thinking about Rue.

And I didn't want to.

She's dead. I was the only one who could have possibly saved her, and I didn't.

I just watched.

Watched as she fought the Overlord alone, watched as he neared with the blade, watched as he drove it—as he drove it straight through her heart.

I exhaled, letting my head drop back against a chunk of debris.

Don't think about her right now.

She's dead, and I- I can't do anything about it. I should just accept it, right? Is that the best thing to do? I don't even fucking know. I've never really lost anyone close to me before, and even though I hadn't even known her for that long, it still hurt.

It hurt that she was gone, forever, and it hurt even more because I could have changed the outcome.

Stop. Just— just think about something else.

Focus on your injuries.

My whole body ached. My ribs—at least two of them—felt cracked, maybe broken, sending deep, grinding pain through my chest with every breath. My left palm was burned raw, blistered and throbbing, thanks to the lightning. And my legs—well. They weren't great either.

Cole had it bad too. Fuck, we all did. He was cradling his right hand against his stomach, trying not to let us see how bad it was. A huge bruise—deep, ugly purple—was already forming along his jaw where Jay had thrown him, and he hadn't tried to stand since.

Zane looked barely functional. Ice was still creeping over his joints, but it wasn't controlled—it was cracking and melting, dripping down his arm in rivulets of water. His systems were glitching out again, blue light flickering wildly beneath his skin. He was fiddling with the loose wires from his hand socket, trying to fuse them together so they'd stop bleeding.

Lloyd was pale, swaying slightly where he knelt beside Jay. His hands were shaking so badly he had to curl them into fists, and I knew it wasn't just from exhaustion. His fingers had been burned worse than mine, maybe worse than any of us, just from how long he'd been holding Jay down. But he hadn't made a sound about it.

Typical.

Nya, though.

She hadn't let go of Jay—not once—but I could see the way she was trembling, how she kept swallowing down pained noises when she shifted. Jay had kicked her hard, right in the ribs, and I had no doubt something was cracked or broken. But she wouldn't pull away.

Wouldn't leave him.

"...Think we're gonna have to start taking bets," Cole muttered, his voice scratchy, barely above a whisper. "About who can actually stand up without blacking out."

I let out something between a laugh and a groan, wincing as my ribs protested. "Joke's on you. I'm perfectly fine."

Lloyd snorted, though it was weak and half-hearted. "Yeah right."

"Nah, just watch and learn," I shot back, shifting slightly to get up and immediately regretting it. Burns—shoulder—ribs— whole body—fuck, ow. "Ughf— never mind."

Cole exhaled, shaking his head. "Idiot."

I grinned, or tried to. But my ribs didn't like that very much either.

Silence stretched between us again, thick and heavy, broken only by our uneven breathing. It wasn't comfortable—not really—but it was relief.

For the first time in hours, none of us were fighting for our lives.

No screaming. No lightning ripping through the air. No desperate, thrashing struggle to hold Jay down while he—

I swallowed, forcing the memory away.

He was still breathing. That was what mattered.

Another minute passed. Then two. None of us moved.

"...Think it's working?" Lloyd asked eventually, voice hesitant.

No one answered right away.

Zane, still glitching out and flickering, finally murmured, "I hope so." His expression was tight, tense, but hopeful. "Jay has not reacted negatively. That is a promising sign."

Nya let out a shuddering breath, pressing her forehead against her Yins. "...Then we wait."

My gaze flickered over from Wu on the intercom, to Jay.

Jay, though.

Jay was the worst off, and it wasn't even close.

His whole body. Everywhere.

Burns, blood, cuts, bruises, wounds, open and closed, new scars, broken bones, oh fuck—

We all stared at him, speechless and horrified.

Because we did this to him. Nearly every cut, every wound, was from our hands.

Another silence.

At least it was over. After this, he could heal, and he would be ok.

He would be ok.

We would all be ok.