Another ficlet written a while ago. Basically, Morro's POV during Day of the Departed.

His eyes open.

The room is dark, silent. A sword is in his hand. He lowers it cautiously, observing his surroundings.

He knows where he is, of course. He was present when the exhibit opened, a fragment of a person, kept alive by memory, holding onto the real world by the thinnest thread. The feeling of utter wrongness as he's slammed into a mannequin, a corpse, a vessel.

Something stirs. He's on alert, currents of air swirling around him before he can think twice. The air is stale, and yet he embraces it. It's his element, the part of his soul so long missing.

An onslaught of colors as the world bursts into movement. A portrait speaks, deals are struck, minds made up. He knows who Yang is, of course. And he knows not to trust the sensei, the captor of students. So he picks Wu, the man he'd once held as the best of them all, Wu, whom he'd looked up to and admired.

He feels Yang's eyes on him. Why didn't you choose the green ninja? he seems to ask. Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you've worked so hard for?

Old temptations stir. But he shoves them aside. He's been blessed with something most only dream about, a chance to make things right. And he's not going to waste his time. Lloyd may keep his gi. He will make sure that he keeps his uncle as well.

And so he takes to the skies. He doesn't need to think, he knows his old sensei's habits. The winds greet him as an old friend, a dear friend, one who's been lost but now has returned. They bring him to the mountain where the monastery sits. The building is gone, but the sensei remains.

"Is this good? Or bad?"

"Bad. Very bad."

His master prepares for a fight. He understands why. The last time they met, they parted on terms unfinished. But that's not why he's here. He extends his sword, hilt out, trying to communicate a sense of friendliness. Of honesty. Of regret, perhaps?

"I'm not here to harm you, but to warn you."

A brief exchange, and the sensei has all he needs to know. They find the team, a little worse for wear, but alive and breathing. It's more that he can claim, and he's satisfied. Lloyd has kept his uncle. Ninjago has kept its protectors. He has fulfilled his promise.

And so, as the ship rises, he begins his descent once more. He walks down the barren halls. They feel cold and harsh, so different from the life he just witnessed, the love, the familiarity of friends and teammates interacting.

He steps into the room, taking it in one last time. The walls are painted silver by the moon. The stands cast long shadows. The shattered glass glitters in the pale light.

He steps up to his platform. Then, not bothering to read the plaque, he climbs up and reclaims his place.

He lifts his sword.

The room is empty, silent.

His eyes close.