For a Thousand Days
A One Piece one-shot.
Pell survived the Alabasta explosion, but not everyone knew it. Stubborn as he was, he would traverse the desert alone to return to the palace; but dehydration was at its highest, and in those dying moments, Pell thought of a lot of things. Most of all, he wished for rain. A day without Chaka was a year without rain.
Rated T for pairing.
Heat eclipsed the earth. Sweats chiseled out gorges on the sun-beaten skin, drew the sand back to the ground where it came. A dry fern crackled. The wind swept over the sand dunes. Tranquility.
Can you feel me when I think about you?
Roads were hard for the earth to accept, but still, he trod them as if they did exist; as if beneath the very sand they wove the path to his destination. It didn't know where he was going; nor did he for that matter. Perhaps the water driving from his body like the high heat of noon was making him delirious. He knew the yearning was not a product of dehydration, but it was pleasant to think it so.
My world is an empty place.
Months. That was one thing he could count in that desolate, open place, the months he spent away from it. Recovery was hard, harder for a stubborn man as he. Even still, as he slipped through the open tendrils of the sand, his back made it remembered. It wouldn't heal easily, or correctly, the doctors claimed.
I've been wandering the desert for a thousand days.
His parched mouth almost cracked from the smile. They had advised him against it, pleaded almost when he stuttered out the door with an uncertain walk. You will die in the desert he was told. But if that was that, he hoped it wouldn't be as cruel to him as it had been to others. And thus for his journey, he had already spent a week in the desert, in-between feverish nights and a back that could hardly manage anything more than ten miles.
However, he could see the journey was at its end. The supply of water was sucked dry by a man in fever and pains. The thick pads of sweat cataract down his back reminded him how much hydration he was losing within the hour.
His arms flexed at first, rose a little. From the position of the sun, the way the sand shifted suddenly and the ruins he had passed, he was quite aware of his location. A lift and he could be within the kingdom in a matter of minutes; but like always when his aviary instincts came, so did the sudden slap of pain in his back, which thrusted his arms back to his sides. If you're going to do this carelessly, at least remain a human. I don't think your body can handle the shift of a devil fruit in any event.
He wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh so badly and only didn't because of how starched and burnt his throat would be from it. He was so close, closer than he was estimated to have gone in the strenuous conditions, but still, it was not enough.
I need you by my side; don't know how I'll survive.
He had done his duty; enough was enough. Slowly sinking to his feet, his back gave one final protest. Despite the deliberate coverings, every inch of his skin boiled with fever. The sun harshly eliminated any comfort in his scenery, made everything bland and ugly. The fern gave another crackle.
Pell…
His ears perked. A voice, yes it was a voice. But from where? He twisted his head, but nothing revealed itself. Dehydration was already settling in, nausea making him shake his head to try to dismiss the frothing dizziness of it.
I hear your voice in my mind.
He did have goodbyes. The one he gave to the Princess before he dove into the atmosphere was hardly the proper one he wanted to give. And still, no formal one would be recited, but he couldn't help but imagine what exactly he would say if given the opportunity.
Thank you, King, for all you have done for me, he would start. For allowing me the privilege and honor of serving you. I couldn't have asked for a better ruler for the Kingdom of Alabasta. He hunched over slightly, despite the pain caused, because for a moment he could remember the weight of a child on it. Thank you, Princess Vivi. You too were the best ruler the Kingdom could have asked for. I'm sorry I could not protect you from the horrors that were Crocodile… but I'm glad I could save the city... so you could continue to live within it. I hold our flights dearly, and if I was given the chance to just fly one more time, it would be you that I would fly with.
Can't you hear me calling?
And Chaka... I can't exactly find a start to words that are not needed. You know how I feel.
He licked his lips, but there was no moisture to sooth the ache. No, words had never been needed between them. It had always been a look, and the understanding was immediate. It didn't matter if it was patrols or their secret meetings.
The patrols. Oh, how he missed patrols. Where he had settled currently was often a route he had taken, with strong pumps of his wings. He missed seeing the people of Alabasta beneath him, occasionally waving and cheering him as he rounded past them.
Since regrets seemed heavy on his mind, he couldn't help but tear his claws into the evil conjuring that was Crocodile. He wished so desperately that he could have eliminated him, made him suffer as he had Vivi. But his back reminded him of how futile that was, of how weak he was. It was only ironic that the material that constituted Crocodile, sand and cruelty, would be the mixture to bring him to his actual demise.
Better now, he supposed, then making it to Alabasta with a fever and dying of sickness a few days later. Better here, better now, then causing that pain twice over to the Nefertari household.
And Chaka. But he didn't like to think of Chaka while dying.
Catch me, I'm falling.
The beloved falcon knew what rain smelt like. There was deep aroma to it when it was soon to come, and it would settle across the dunes before the clouds came. He wished so desperately for rain. For a moment, he thought he could catch that musk on a gust the wind but soon attributed it to the dehydration. The dry fern whimpered.
It's like the ground is crumbling underneath my feet
He was happy to die in the land he loved; would have been even happier to die for the land. He couldn't understand why he had woken up at all, after the explosion.
He couldn't understand why he didn't contact the Royal Palace.
He couldn't understand anything really, and again his mind twisted back into the stupor it had settled in.
Won't you save me?
He spent rocking between consciousness. Once, he woke to the caw of the bird, only to tilt back to the sand. Again, when he thought he heard the shuffle of a scabbard, only for darkness to drag him back. What was burning him, the sun or the fever, he could no longer discern. Occasionally, it would be the pain of his back that jolted him awake, but even that wasn't enough to stimulate a lengthy consciousness.
Don't waste any more time.
He wouldn't lie. He dreamt of Chaka finding him, of carrying him back to the palace. But it was futile to think; the route he lay on was on his own patrols. Chaka's often took him to the other side of the city.
I always see your face.
I'm missing you so much.
Death would take him in his sleep. He knew that much.
So let this drought come to an end.
The fern crackled again. Heat patted at his arms and sides. Cold sweat dosed his face, dirt washed away in streaks of purple. Death was oddly comforting, oddly gentle. Tranquility.
And make this desert flower again
Confusion.
Pell…
It was a voice, a human voice that removed him yet again from his sleep. His eyes almost condemned the sight of a ceiling above him. Surely, this was what their heavens looked like? He studied the contours of what lay before him, and nothing but recognition came to his head.
"Pell!"
I'm so glad you found me.
He jolted, expecting more that his ears would not work instead of hearing the voice again. His back forbade him from rising, but instead, he asked in a crackle, "What's... going…"
The words wouldn't string together, but still, the radiance was at his side, and for a moment, his sensitive skin stretched away from it as his eyes sought for answers. A cool cloth was pressed to his forehead as his hand was scooped up, one oddly pale hand cupped in a dark pair.
He didn't need to look further, but he did anyway. His eyes made rivulets all the way up until a solemn face explained to him in one look all he needed to know.
"Chaka…"
He had survived the trip, and by the stroke of the gods, Chaka had gone down his beloved patrol route to find his white form cradled in the sand.
I need you here, I can't explain it.
"Pell. I can't believe…" Chaka breathed slowly, harnessing his emotions, "That you are still alive. What happened? How did you…?"
And in Pell's eyes, Chaka found his own answers. He gave a small smile in acknowledgment as the restored falcon gave another jolt, this one in surprise at the sudden rumble that shook through the room. His mind instantly surmised another attack.
"No, no. It's fine," The jackal placed a hand against the falcon's slightly raised shoulders, "It's fine."
"Then.. what.." Speaking hurt, but words didn't. Words were what he wanted to give all along. To speak to them one more time, all of them, all the people he loved.
Chaka gave Pell's hand a tight squeeze. It too said a lot of things, but not the answers his companion was looking for.
Can't help it, I'm in love.
Their eyes met, the strongest most intimate connection they shared together. The jackal and the falcon. What a funny combination, Chaka couldn't help but think, now that he had a chance to think it again.
"The Kingdom is not in danger," He explained with a gentle smile, "It's only raining Pell."
A day without you is like a year without rain.
"Rain…" And when the falcon relaxed, he heard the steady chords. He wanted to ask Chaka what possessed him to change his patrol. However, he couldn't help but linger on the rain, one of many things he wished for dying in the desert that did come true. If he listened hard enough, he was sure he could hear the desert sighing in relief; but the act was enough to usher him towards a peaceful rest.
The fern wept from its good fortune, restored with life again.
It would survive until the next rain.
In 2011, I wrote a fanfiction after Selena Gomez's song A Year Without Rain. After revisiting it, I decided I was going to rewrite the Zosan story; however, after listening to the song once again, I settled on Chaka and Pell as my muses. Hope you enjoyed.
-Soul Spirit-