Mind Games – Part Eight

A Dragonball Z fanfic

By Hana Noir

Their time was almost up. In a way Kyrie couldn't wait to get out. Oh, she missed so much… blue skies, fresh breezes, the sounds of birds overhead. And especially food!! She sighed, smacking her lips as she meditated.

Piccolo cracked one eye open at the sounds she was making. From the noises, she was fantasizing more than meditating. And most likely about food. He shook his head wryly. He pitied the first restaurant she found once they were out. They had accomplished a lot in the year they had spent in here, and he was a bit surprised to find that he would miss their time alone. He was also a bit disappointed that, for all her hard work, Kyrie hadn't been able to master the Soul Cage technique. Maybe they would find the time to work on it outside. And there was always Tien…

Kyrie opened her eyes, sighing. She didn't feel like meditating any longer. She glanced over at her companion and saw him looking back at her. "Hi," she said softly, moving over until she was sitting next to him. "You know," she began conversationally, "when we first came here, all I could think of was 'how in the hell am I going to last a year in this… this horrid place??' Now, I'm kind of sorry that our time is up." She smiled bit wistfully and leaned her head against his muscular leg. "I've learned so much in here. And not just the obvious things. I've learned things about you, and about myself. I'm proud of what I've accomplished in here. No matter what happens, that's something I can hold onto. But at the same time, I'm a bit disappointed."

"In what?" he asked, his arm slowly going around her shoulders.

"As hard as I worked, and as hard as you tried to teach me, I just couldn't perform the Soul Cage," she said angrily, her hands fisting tightly.

"You tried to the fullest extent of your abilities," Piccolo said, frowning down at her. "Don't beat yourself up over it. You did your best and that's all anyone has the right to ask of you. Even me. You've improved greatly in the time we've spent here." He smirked slightly, humor tinting his tone. "You can even handle sparring without hurting yourself."

"Oh, ha ha, Piccolo," she retorted, poking him in the leg with her finger. "You should take that act on the road." She hesitated for a moment, then asked the question that bothering her the most. "When we leave, will… things… change?"

"Things?" he asked, frowning again, wondering what she meant.

"You know, things," she repeated. "You and me, in particular."

He pondered the question for several seconds, giving it the attention it deserved. "I… don't really see why it should," he finally said. "Unless you want to…" He trailed off, unable to finish. She sat up, turning around to face him. Her green eyes were wide and serious as she stared up at him.

"You're everything to me," she said, her voice low and intense. "You know that. Do you doubt me?"

He reached out and pulled her to him, holding her close, unable to stand the sad look in her eyes. "No. I doubt myself," he whispered, as she wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his wide shoulderguard.

"If I ever lost you, I'd go to any lengths to find you," she said fervently. "I'd march straight into Hell itself."

Piccolo snorted. "Yeah, that'd probably be the best place to look."

"You!" she exclaimed, swatting at his arm. She then grinned mischievously. "You're not going to have a serious talk with me are you?" He shook his head, letting her see the humor in his eyes. She glanced over his head at the hourglasses behind him. "How much time do you think we have left?"

He glanced over his shoulder. There were only a few grains left in the top. "A day, two at the most." He flinched when she removed the heavy turban atop his head. It landed behind him with a dull thud.

"What're you doing?" he growled as she made herself comfortable in his lap.

"I see no reason why we should waste the last few moments we'll have completely to ourselves," she said matter of factly, pulling off her t-shirt and dropping it to the side.

"Out here?" he asked, eyes widening at her audacity. They had always confined their activities to the bedroom or the bathroom. He knew he'd never look at a shower the same way again because of her. Or a Jacuzzi for that matter….

Her smile was full of predatory heat, her eyes seductive. "Why not? It's not like there's anyone here to see us."

"Good point," he said, his voice becoming slightly strangled as she nibbled on his ear. Damn her, she knew all his sensitive spots by now. Little witch! He grinned as he ran his hands up her bare sides. Two could play this game!

*******

They lay there for several more minutes, until their bodies cooled and their breathing slowed. Kyrie sighed softly, closing her eyes. "Going to sleep?" rasped an amused voice near her ear.

"No," she said slowly, smiling. "I think this is the part referred to as 'basking in the afterglow'."

Piccolo snorted, leaning all his weight on to one elbow. "We both need a shower now."

"You fiend," she said, opening one eye to glare at him weakly. "I don't think either of us could handle another round."

He gave her a condescending look. "I meant to use the shower to bathe, not for recreational purposes." He planted one last kiss on her forehead and slowly rose to his feet.

"Recreational purposes?" she asked, sitting up, tilting her head back to see him better. "Is that the new term for it?" He accepted the hand he offered her and stood as well. She stared around at the clothes thrown every which way and sighed, beginning to pick them up. He couldn't help but to admire her lithe figure as she bent to retrieve their clothing. She turned and caught him staring. "What?"

"Nothing," he growled, crossing his arms.

"You were staring at my butt!" she accused, the amusement in her eyes ruining the stern look on her face.

"I was not," Piccolo said, a dark flush beginning to climb his face.

"You were too!" she crowed, delighted at having caught him. She twisted her head around, trying to get a look for herself. "Well, it must be something if you were ogling it!!" She strolled past him toward the living area, putting a little extra sway in her step as she went. Piccolo snorted, waiting until she was out of sight to relax enough to grin.

*******

Later, after a shower which had degenerated into "recreational activities" anyway, the two of them caught what they had thought was a quick nap. It had actually lasted about eight hours. Piccolo woke first, rising from the rumpled bed and going to the kitchen to gulp down about two gallons of water. Sex was a draining activity, he decided, reaching for yet another glass of water. His keen ears heard Kyrie wake, crawl out of bed and stagger off down the hallway. There was a faint 'click' as the bathroom door closed behind her.

He was working on his last glass when she shuffled into the kitchen area. Her eyes were still half closed and unfocused, her hair a tangled mess hanging down her back. A toothbrush poked out of her mouth like an absurd cigar and she snarled at the startled Namek as she went past him to rummage through the small amount of food that was left. He couldn't help but to wonder if she was always this pleasant after waking. He thought back, realizing that he had usually been outside warming up or meditation when she woke up. The few times he actually shared the bed with her, they had woken up together. This was the first time he had seen her first thing in the morning. It was a revelation to say the least.

"Are you always this cheerful and pleasant first thing in the morning?" he asked her, slightly amused.

She tossed the toothbrush into the trash, ignoring him as she turned on the tap and drank straight from the sink, spitting the toothpaste down the drain. "I can be a lot more pleasant if you keep bothering me," she said, warning clear in her tone. He smirked. This was priceless, he thought as she sat down, beginning to work a brush through the tangles in her hair. He watched her tugging and groaning for a while before speaking again.

"I'll have to tell Popo about the rats in here," he said, barely able to keep from laughing as she jumped, looking around at the floor suspiciously.

"What rats?" she asked, eyeing him with more than a bit of skepticism.

"The ones that decided to nest in your hair while you slept," he answered, an amused grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"You -- you asshole!!" she shrieked, jumping to her feet and slinging the brush at him with all her strength. He ducked and the brush knocked a three inch hole in the wall where his head had previously been.

"Damn…" he muttered as she stormed out, impressed by both her strength and her aim. He managed to pry the handle of the grooming utensil out of the wall, then went in search of its owner. He found her standing right by the edge of the terrace, glaring out at the unrelenting whiteness.

"You dropped this," he said, holding the brush out to her. She turned slowly, green eyes still smoldering and took it silently.

"I didn't drop it," she said finally, meeting his eyes squarely. "I threw it right for your head." She sighed then. "I'm sorry. I'm a bitch first thing in the morning."

"So I noticed," he replied, silently accepting her apology. "But I did push you." That was as close as he could come to an apology of his own on the matter.

"You did," she stated, beginning to work on her hair again. "But that's okay. I like to push your buttons too sometimes." He snorted at her blithe admission. When she finished with her hair, she reached for the ragged hem of her shirt, intending to rip off a length to tie her hair with.

"Wait." His hand shot out and caught hers before she could pull. He closed his eyes and concentrated, a length of emerald green ribbon appearing in his hands. "Turn around." Puzzled, she obeyed nonetheless, feeling his fingers sliding into her hair. He divided the locks in to three sections and set about weaving them into a tidy braid. When he finished, he wrapped the ribbon around the end, securing it deftly, two spare lengths waving downward. She turned her head, eyes wide, feeling the end of the braid brush against her back.

"Cool," she whispered, smiling at him. "Thanks."

"Just don't expect me to do it again," he said, scowling at her. "I'm not a hairdresser." She nodded, still switching the braid over her back. He turned to walk back toward the pillars and froze, staring.

"What?" Kyrie asked, coming to his side. He pointed to the great hourglasses. Two lone grains of sand clung to the glass at the top of the hourglasses. As they watched, one fell free and drifted lazily down into the bottom.

"The doors will be opening soon," Piccolo said grimly.

"I need to change," Kyrie said. "I think I have one relatively intact set of clothes left."

Piccolo sighed. "Just this once…"

She stopped and looked at him, confused. "Huh?"

"Hold still." He placed a hand on top of her head. With a slight shimmering, the disreputable clothes she was wearing became a clean emerald green t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts.

"You are just so handy!" she said, batting her eyelashes at him and simpering playfully.

He rolled his eyes at her behavior, turning his attention back to the hourglass and the last grain of sand. He almost stumbled when she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. His eyes widened in surprise, then slid shut as he returned the kiss. They finally parted, gasping for air, their foreheads touching. "For luck," she whispered, pulling away just as the last grain of sand slipped away.