Chapter Text
It was precisely twelve fifty-one at night when something fell in the living room.
Zane lifted his head, and the wires holding his eye together swung loosely.
A soft thump, something like a book, or some dull weight. When he focused everything on listening, he thought he heard tiny chirps and growls, followed by frantic, hushing whispers. Riyu, most likely, his mind supplied. If Riyu was not shrieking, then it must be someone they knew. That was safe.
Zane raised his hand, slowly and carefully feeding the wires to his eye back in place. Once they were secure, he popped the blue covering for his eye itself back in. Blinked a few times, moved his head this way and that, then stood.
Repairs would be taking a brief break.
The phrase “knowing a place like the back of your hand” came to his mind as he slipped out of his room, eyes straying to the doors of his friends. They were all shut, so he kept moving. He always thought he could traverse this place even if his vision and sense of direction were eliminated. This, however, he knew to be untrue every time he paused when a wall or piece of furniture was where he didn’t remember.
This was not the Monastery he knew. The new one was bigger. The walls weren’t all in the same place. He didn’t share a room with his friends anymore. There was always dust somewhere he swore he cleaned.
It panged against his pulsating heart, but he pushed that down. It was no time for reminiscing. The old Monastery was long, long behind them. It made no sense to be emotional over it now.
When he stepped through the hallway, he scanned the living room. Eyes already flicked onto night vision, although it didn’t look quite right, he caught a wiggling body immediately. On the couch, tail thumping softly, head nuzzling up into an arm.
An arm that was frozen, connected to a hand, holding a cookie from a jar he’d hid in a top cabinet so Lloyd wouldn’t find and eat them all, staring in shock at him.
Zane stared back.
“May I ask how it is you found that?” He broke the silence, pointing towards the cookie in question.
“Uh,” Sora darted her eyes around, nervous, then slowly shut her mouth, lowering the cookie. Though she kept it far out of Riyu’s reach, who didn’t seem to care at all about Zane’s presence, “Riyu could smell it.”
“He stole it?” Zane guessed.
“Trying to, I saw him pawing at the cabinets.” Sora jerked her head back in the direction of the kitchen, though her eyes didn’t leave him. They almost appeared to shine when the light of his own eyes softly fell on her. “Went up to take a look, found the jar.”
“Is it still there?” He tilted his head, looking towards the kitchen.
“I put it in the fridge.” Sora admitted sheepishly. “Dragons aren’t very good at pulling open metal boxes.”
Riyu huffed in response to this, clearly pouting with this turn of events, and tried to take a bite of the cookie again. Sora shifted it to her other hand, using her right to hold Riyu off.
“So, Riyu may not have one, but you can?” Zane asked, amused.
“Wh—he’s a dragon!” Sora protested. “Chocolate can’t be good for them!”
“It is not good for anyone.” Zane corrected, raising a hand to press around the side of his eye for a moment. No, its night vision still seemed to be a little less intense than its partner. “But I assure you, dragons can eat just about anything and not get sick.”
“Oh, uh, good to know.” Sora nodded, pushing harder against Riyu when he tried to lunge. “Did I, um, wake you up?”
“I was not asleep.” Zane said honestly. He was not honest that it felt too much like powering off, shutting down, going back in whatever cocoon he was in. He was still processing that he’d missed a year, his only condolence being his friends seemed to have woken up at similar times with no age added to themselves, either.
He simply went on autopilot most nights. Or meditated.
“Oh, cool.” Sora nodded, tight-lipped. Riyu grunted his protests, and in retribution, Sora shoved the cookie in her mouth.
Riyu cried out in dismay, slumping against her arm. The cookie didn’t fully fit, but Sora looked smug all the same as she forced it down. Her sharp teeth seemed to make it easier to break it up.
He genuinely found it surprising she had not been a formling, when he asked Kai. The teeth, the similar markings, he’d been preparing himself for it. He felt bad about being relieved she wasn’t.
“Were you also not sleeping?” He guessed, and Sora’s eyes shot back to him. “Even I had not heard Riyu, although I was busy with repairs.”
“Repairs?” Sora mumbled, then swallowed the last of her cookie. Riyu appeared to be playing dead at her side. “Did something break?”
“No, only minor malfunctions.” Zane said, deciding to tread lightly. Lloyd had spoken to him, and he’d caught the tail-end of his conversation with the girl. He still wasn’t too sure how much she believed him to be sentient. “The results of being encased for years, I presume. It is fortunate I was built to last.” He attempted a smile. He wasn’t good at faking those.
“Titanium was definitely the best choice.” Sora agreed, sitting up a bit. She seemed more curious. “Real durable, and rust-resistant. You’d have a ton of it by now, I imagine.” She chuckled, though she started trailing off in uncertainty near the end.
“Or when I am too close to Nya.” Zane added in an attempt at a joke. “We will have to hope that Pixal was in a similarly secure location, for her repairs sake.”
“Is she not made of titanium?” Sora straightened. Interested, he noted. But in a cautious way.
“Aluminum and steel, mainly.” Zane said, tilting his head to the side, studying. “She originally had more zinc and some titanium, but she had to be rebuilt, like me.” He made a small gesture towards himself. “She made herself to her own liking's. Titanium was important to other inventions at the time, and she claimed she did not wish to be made of too many heavy metals.” He said, smiling lightly. That time, it was genuine.
“Oh, sweet,” Sora hummed, and he was reminded of Kai being told to refrain himself from trying to solve their problems by just setting it on fire. Restrained, but only barely, “well, I–I’m good at building stuff.” She gave an uneasy shrug. “If–if she needs any help with, um, rebuilding, I–I know I’m not experienced in nindroids, but—”
“She will be grateful for the offer.” Zane said evenly, though he tried to sound kind. Pixal most certainly would, but he was unsure if she would agree at all. So far, anyone she had let help her with repairs had been Cyrus, himself, and only recently, Nya. She’d yet to allow Jay, and he was nearly as good as Nya.
“Okay, uh, nice.” Sora gave a jerky nod. “Can’t…it will be nice to meet her.” She tried, awkward and tilted.
“I can only hope it is soon.” Zane hummed, looking off to the side, where the windows were, to the dark Monastery.
“Yeah,” Sora agreed, and Zane blinked his eyes to snap out of the memory threatening to play, “she sounds fun.”
“She is.” Zane turned back to her. “And she and her father will gladly answer your questions on nindroids when they are found.”
“Ah,” Sora winced, smiling sheepishly. Her hand returned to Riyu, petting his belly as he rolled over, giving up on playing dead, apparently, “you heard?”
“And asked.” Zane answered truthfully. “I admit I was perplexed by your earlier questions about me.”
“I’m sorry.” Sora ducked her head. “That was rude, I–I didn’t mean anything by—”
“You have been much kinder with your questions than many others.” Zane raised a hand, quieting her. She looked back up, curious. “However, it does cause me to form a question of my own.” His eyes flicked over her. “You are the creator of the Photacs, yes?”
“Unfortunately,” Sora muttered, turning her head away again.
“Do you hate your creation?” Zane blinked, surprise leaking in.
“What—no!” Sora straightened up, horrified. “No, I love my Photacs, they were my most advanced creation to date!” She insisted…then slowly deflated. “Which is probably why they’re not mine anymore.”
“They were made by your hands, therefore, they are yours, no matter who holds them.” Zane said simply. It was a fact, was it not? “I truly am sorry they were stolen from you.” He continued, his own face falling. “I can only imagine what that is like.”
“Yeah, well,” Sora shrugged, hunching in a bit on herself, bringing her legs up onto the couch. Zane decided to let the impoliteness slide tonight, “serves me right for making anything under the name of the great Empress Beatrix.” She sneered, resting her chin on her knees.
“She was great to you, was she not?” Zane raised a brow. “I hardly find fault in that. You were raised in Imperium, weren’t you?”
“It’s just unfair.” Sora hissed, glaring at the floor. Riyu perked up his head, and nuzzled up closer to her side, head falling in the small space between her stomach and legs. “She doesn’t love them, my Photacs were the best thing made in that entire stupid dimension, and then they were—!”
“Taken,” Zane finished, “just like that.”
“...yeah.” Sora exhaled heavily, looking so very weary for someone so young. “Just like that.”
Zane paused for a moment, looking around the room. Riyu lashed his little tail, head poking free to give Zane a begging look. He didn’t know how to make her feel better, either.
Slowly, Zane strode closer. Sora’s eyes flicked up, but she didn’t move as Zane took a seat on the couch about a cushion away from her, letting Riyu have his own space. Even if he was half in Sora’s.
“I do not know if this will be helpful,” He started, folding his hands in his lap, “but I believe it is because you loved those Photacs that they were so advanced. You can rest easy knowing Imperium will never that have over you.” He tried a reassuring smile, but he was never good at those, worse than faking them. “It is unlikely they will ever have someone as passionate as you to make anything that wonderful. Imperium does not sound like the kind of city that breeds compassion.”
“Nope,” Sora puffed, though she looked a tad less downtrodden, looking down at Riyu in her lap and patting his head, “it sure wasn’t.”
The silence lingered for a moment, in the empty space. Zane worried for a moment he was making it awkward. He was never good at guessing unless it was obvious on a person's features, but even then, he couldn’t tell if he was the one causing it.
Perhaps he should speak? What was there to talk about? He didn’t really wish to bring up how he was built, but Sora seemed to be treating him normally—
“Were you loved, too?”
“Pardon?” Zane turned.
“Slipped out!” Sora squeaked, cringing away a tad and disrupting a mildly annoyed Riyu. “Sorry, I–I didn’t…you don’t have to answer, seriously, sorry, that just kinda popped into my head—”
“Did my father love me, you mean?” Zane tilted his head.
Sora snapped her mouth shut, eyes warily darting to him. Riyu seemed to be settling down again, but Sora was tense and stiff like a statue. Zane realized only then that perhaps the possible answer to her did anyone love you question may have made it a much more sensitive topic.
“He was my creator, and he did.” Zane kept his voice soft. Sora’s fear remained, but her intrigue grew. “I believe that is likely why I am the way that I am, too.” He smiled, a shifting screen of memories behind his eyes. They weren’t as clear as all the others, no matter how much he and Pixal fought to recover them. That loss of memory ached at him, but he had more than enough that remained, and some fuzzy half-finished ones, to know he was loved. “He loved me more than anyone, and I, him.”
“Did he love all those nindroids he made? Pixal, too?” Sora asked, and Zane was internally grateful she didn’t ask if she could meet Dr. Julien—before he stuttered.
“Oh! No, no,” Zane waved his hands, finding the emotion to be embarrassment. He hadn’t felt that in a while, “Dr. Julien was my father, Cyrus Borg is Pixal’s. Very different.” He chuckled, rubbing at his wrist that still felt a little stiff. “But, yes, Borg admired all his nindroids. Pixal is most definitely his favorite.”
“Two different people made nindroids?” Sora sat up.
“Borg used my blueprints, do you recall?” Zane shook his head. “He was a fan of my fathers work, and so he requested access to what remained of my designs, and tweaked them to create an entirely new, and modern, nindroid.”
“Huh,” Sora blinked, “I meant to ask, but you didn’t mind?”
“I was much too excited to have other nindroids like me to be upset.” Zane smiled, another surprisingly genuine one. “Pixal likes to tease and claim I ought to be updated to the newer models myself.” He chuckled, fingers drumming in a soothing pattern over his leg. “Of course, she has complained less than she did with my original model.”
“Weren’t, uh, made of great material?” Sora guessed sheepishly.
“Spare parts.” Zane tapped his one finger over his knee. “I am told it was a miracle I worked at all.”
“Oh,” Sora stared, then she dropped her eyes, looking down at the floor, “huh.”
“...you seem curious, still.” Zane commented, and Sora’s eyes flashed to him. “May I inquire why?”
“I don’t want to sound rude.” Sora chuckled nervously, rubbing her thumb and pointer finger through the fabric of her sleeve. Riyu seemed to be rather tired with no longer receiving pets and wiggled his head free, instead plopping it onto the cushion next to her.
“If you are, I will tell you.” Zane said in his best attempt at being reassuring. “Please, I would like to solve any questions. They often spiral into something rather complicated in our work.”
“Oh, jeez, I hope not.” Sora blanched a bit, fiddling with her sleeve again before exhaling, and then staring at the wall away from Zane. “I just…do you know…” She paused. Zane patiently waited those few moments, eyes flicking to Riyu for a moment. He looked awfully tired. “What made you…” She swallowed, shoulders hunching. “Sen…tient?”
“Sentient?” Zane repeated, then spun the sentence around in his mind for a moment. “Oh, I’m afraid there was no particular machinery. We would have known if there was by now.”
“Is it your…powers?” Sora tried, slowly turning her head back to him. Not enough to look at him, but it was close.
“There is nothing special about me that makes me any more alive than anything else.” Zane said simply, and he figured he might have said that too monotone, or too firmly when Sora flinched and hunched her shoulders higher. He tried to switch to his softer tone of voice. “Pixal has no powers herself, and was made of none of the same parts as my original body. Neither of us are less sentient than the other.”
“Sorry,” Sora mumbled, and Zane paused for a moment before laying a hand on her shoulder. It startled her, and she finally looked up.
“I know you mean no harm by it.” He said kindly. “But now I have grown more curious.” His eyes flickered as he tilted his head. “As to your interest, if you find it so easy to see us as alive.”
“Yeah, sorry, again, I just…” Sora glanced at his hand, then up to his face. He stared impassively back, and she seemed to be searching for something. He quirked his brow, ever so slightly, and her eyes immediately followed it. Then, she slumped and turned to look back at the ground. “I wondered if… I could do that.” She raised her hands, clasping them together and fiddling with her own fingers. “Make something as sentient as you. I didn’t…” She swallowed. “I never even knew that was possible.”
“May I ask why?” Zane tilted his head further, almost leaning down to try and catch her eye again.
“If…” Sora hesitated. He saw it, how she sucked in a quiet breath and debated. Her eyes darted in front of her, seeing something that wasn’t there, before her voice dropped even quieter. “If that was possible, could it have…could my Photacs…?”
“Been alive.” Zane finished, and Sora’s nod was jerky and uneven. Her mouth was thinned tightly. “Had the chance to be, you mean, but never were.”
“I programmed them how to act.” She said, voice cracking slightly, and he knew she was wound tight like a spring underneath his hand, eyes locked on the ground. “How the fish moved through the air. How the cats would purr. How the dogs would play around.” She traced a finger over her leg. “But I knew they weren’t alive.”
“Did you want them to be?” He asked, though he knew the answer before he did. Sora turned and ducked her head further. She gave no answer, and that was confirmation in its own right.
“I’m kinda glad I didn’t know it was possible.” Sora mumbled, so quiet that Zane had to increase the sensitivity on his ears. “I would’ve driven myself insane trying to make them alive.”
“I’m afraid I do not know how such a thing was made possible. With Pixal’s existence, I know it cannot be something in relation to my power source.” Zane said sympathetically. “I do sometimes believe that to be a good thing. I’ve been told they are like…happy accidents.” He chuckled. Sora didn’t seem cheered up, and he worried he’d been bad at reading what was appropriate to say again.
“I made the Photacs to be my friends.” Sora admitted in the silence. A lonely, quiet admission, one that had Zane staring possibly as fiercely as she’d been staring at him. “I didn’t know it was possible to make a real one.”
Her voice choked at the end. Zane took a risk, slipping his hand from her shoulder to come around her side. She jerked slightly, but did not pull away. So he gave her a gentle, almost unnoticeable squeeze, the sort of side-hugs that Kai would give when he didn’t know what else to do.
Truth be told, he wondered if sentience was being made up of different people. He knew he was a different person than the son Dr. Julien created. He wondered if that had to do with how many people he loved. If being made up of Dr. Julien was the same nindroid who was made up of his friends, of his family. If Pixal’s was from being made up of Borg, of all of them.
But he wasn’t all too sure, and so he hesitated to say it aloud.
“You were lonely.” He said into the quiet. “And so you made something to be less lonely.”
“That’s sad, right?” Sora sniffed, and he may have squeezed her tighter when he saw her lift her sleeve to wipe at her eyes. “Lonely kid makes some random lights programmed to be all nice and cuddly, still complains about them not being real.” She snorted, eyes glancing at him. “And then she gets them stolen. And,” She continued, something that was starting to sound like a rant, “it’s not even like they would’ve liked me if they were sentient. And that's somehow a bonus! Like, I don’t know,” She dropped her head into her hands, “if–if they could choose to stay—”
“And if they did,” Zane said, slowly, something hollow clawing at his insides, where half-finished memories lay, “then it was truly a friend.”
“It’s stupid.” Sora mumbled into her hands.
“I find that difficult to believe.” Zane hummed, thought it over for a moment, then slowly drew her side to lightly press against his. “My father was lonely. That is the very reason I exist.”
Sora’s head jerked up at a concerningly fast speed. He frowned upon seeing her eyes looked watery, and he looked around for a tissue somewhere before Sora brought her sleeve to her eyes again and spoke.
“He—what?” She croaked.
“My father was an inventor, first and foremost, and perhaps that helped spur on his desire to create me.” Zane hummed, searching the depths of his memories, but, most of all, the records that Dr. Julien left behind. That was where his real knowledge came from. “But there was little company in those woods, and so, he decided to create me.” He flicked the memories away, trying to appear gentle as he gazed down to a gobsmacked Sora. “I was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves, because that is what a droid like me is made to be.” An almost sad smile came to his face. “But that was my purpose after I became something that worked. Before then, my amalgamation of spare parts was because he was lonely.”
Sora stared as though witnessing the moon and stars themselves. Zane did not understand it, but something looked lighter in her eyes. Something like a brightness returning, and Sora sniffed, straightened herself, and nodded, blinking rapidly. Likely to dispel the unfallen tears.
“And no one stole you.” Sora snorted wetly.
“Well, they have, but the times I have caused harm were not because I was stolen.” Zane said simply, ice spires and glowing staffs flashing before he threw those memories back into the buried folders they belonged. “I was only lost.” He said, nodding, wondering if it was convincing himself, too. “But that is something that will come with being sentient. To be alive is to be lost.” He tapped his fingers over her side. “And to love is to hurt. It is simply a fact, and it does not last forever.”
“You sound like some inspirational poster.” Sora huffed, though she was smiling, however shaky it was.
“Thank you,” Zane smiled back, “I’ve been told I’m very good at spurring inspiration.”
“That—sure, yeah.” Sora chuckled, shaking her head. Her voice wasn’t as cracked anymore. “Sorry about, uh—”
“Please, it is no trouble.” Zane waved it off. “I am here to help for any reason.” He said, squeezing her side for a moment before pushing himself to stand. “And to help, I believe I should recommend you get a healthy amount of sleep.”
“I’ve survived off worse all-nighters.” Sora huffed.
“Survival and health are two very different things. Luckily, we can accomplish both.” He said, offering a hand.
Sora stared at it for a moment, then up at his face. Her eyes were still a little wet, but after a moment, she smiled. Sharp teeth and all.
“I hope your dad knows he’s one hell of an inventor.” She said, gingerly sliding her hand into his.
“I will refrain from scolding you for that word only once, but,” Zane faltered for a moment, “he did.” He finished, smile softening. “And I hope your Photacs, somewhere, know that they have a remarkably kind creator.”
“Dude, come on,” Sora stuttered, jerking a hand up to her face and shoving her wrist at her eyes, “I’m not—y’can’t make me cry all over your living room.” She sniffed.
“It has had much worse befall it.” He said simply, Riyu lifting his little head at the shift in weight on the couch. He looked ready to fall asleep. “I am sure you will one day find out.”
“Sounds like a blast.” Sora muttered, still wet with her words, though he caught an eye peeking free of her fingers as he guided her back towards the rooms she and Arin had taken over.
It was getting brighter, in that metaphorical sort of way. Pupil a little too big for the darkness around them, but much, much less weighty and clouded than it’d been from the first time he met them across the Imperium battlefield.
He didn’t think he ever could have been upset at her sudden interest in him. With a reasoning like that, he thinks that he would have talked with her for the whole night. Perhaps he wouldn’t have been able to answer everything about himself, or even talk about tech in general, no matter how much she knew he was alive, but…
He would have talked to her, still, about almost anything. If only her eyes kept getting lighter and she failed to hide those smiles. He believed it, painfully and truly, when she claimed to have never had, yet so desperately needed, a friend.
He hoped Imperium never knew exactly what they lost with a girl this bright. They certainly weren’t ever getting her back.