Of course the first thing Vegeta growled upon coming to was, "I don't need your help, Namek."
Piccolo could have written that script all on his own. He forbore to point out that the Saiyajin needed his assistance to stand, instead cut to the heart of the matter. "What did you do to Son?" Then, after more closely inspecting Vegeta, he added, "What did he do to you?" He hadn't seen the prince look this bad since the fight with Cell, bruised and battered, glaring eyes sunken and jumpsuit torn. Moreover his ki was...almost nonexistent. Vegeta had good control, had learned to shield well, but even touching him Piccolo couldn't detect much more than existed in any living being. "The hell have you been up to?"
"You think I'm here by choice?" Vegeta snarled, then cut himself short. With abnormal calm he continued, "We're both injured."
"I can see that," Piccolo said. Goku looked worse off than Vegeta, and his ki was even lower. He lay where Piccolo had dropped him, face-down on the cave floor, unmoving; if the Namek hadn't been able to hear his shallow pants he wouldn't have known Son was breathing. "What's wrong with him?"
"He's ill."
"I didn't think you guys got sick," the Namek remarked.
"We're immune to most diseases."
Piccolo said nothing, simply folded his arms and waited.
At last Vegeta capitulated. "This isn't a typical virus. It's called the kaji. A terrible plague on Vegetasei, centuries ago. It attacks, not just the body, but the life energy of every cell."
"Ki?" Piccolo would have raised an eyebrow, had he had any. "It infects ki?"
"Yes." Vegeta leaned against the stone wall of the cave. "Infects ki, and turns it against the host body. It rages, uncontrolled, causing madness and destruction, until finally all energy is burned out. Then, of course, the victim dies."
Dies? Piccolo seated himself, cross-legged, but the prince didn't follow suit, though he clearly could use the rest. "And you and Son have this kaji."
"Not me." Vegeta's tone might have held irritation, or something less interpretable. "I was bred with every immunity our people developed. But Kakarotto would have received no gene or vaccination."
"Why not?"
"Because the kaji is an extinct disease. Like the humans' smallpox. It hasn't occurred naturally for over a hundred years."
"Then how did Son--"
Vegeta's eyes snapped black sparks in the shadowed cave. "It became a weapon. One of the craven tricks of one of the Saiyajin's most pernicious foes. They're dead--their homeworld was destroyed a few years before Vegetasei." Piccolo didn't need to ask who had done that deed; the satisfaction in the prince's voice as good as trumpeted Saiyajin victory. "But one of their damned probes made it to Earth, and Kakarotto naturally was lucky enough to stumble across it. The idiot goes seeking trouble if it takes too long to find him. I brought him here before he could destroy a country or two in his delirium."
Piccolo looked to where Goku lay, still as death already. "You said it's fatal." The dragonballs would be no good if he died before they could be used; Son had been resurrected too often for Shenlong to restore him again. "How long..."
"If the kaji runs its course unchecked, a week at most."
The Namek's head spun back around to Vegeta, but the Saiyajin was looking outside the cave, not meeting his eyes. "Unchecked?" Piccolo repeated. "What's the cure?"
"There's no cure," Vegeta said coldly, staring at the shimmering desert sands. "We're warriors, not doctors. The weak who are not cunning enough to avoid it deserve death."
"Then what have you been doing to Son?" Piccolo rose to his full height, enough to loom over the prince from ten paces away, not that Vegeta had ever cared.
But the Saiyajin now looked decidedly uncomfortable. "There was a method some low-class fighters used with ill comrades, letting the fever burn itself almost out, then replenishing the lost energy with their own ki. Sometimes it was enough to keep them alive until their bodies fought off the sickness. A royal warrior of course would not lower themselves to such desperate measures...but Kakarotto would lose to a virus, to deny me my victory over him. It's the kind of irresponsible stupidity he'd try to pull."
So that was why he was out here, drained to a husk for the sake of his arch rival's life. "Hah!" At Piccolo's bark of laughter, Vegeta came close to jumping. His brow furrowed as he tried to imagine the reasons for the humor. Truthfully there wasn't much, but Piccolo couldn't help it. "I don't understand you, Saiyajin," the Namek said dryly. "Son is stronger, faster, tougher than you--"
Vegeta glared. Piccolo glared back. "As you both are more than me. And yet, you surpass Son in cunning, in strategy, in your knowledge of your people. Hell, I'm given to understand that by most human standards, your mate is a 'catch', while Son was himself caught. But you refuse to accept any victory you might have."
"They're all worthless," Vegeta spat. "There's only one thing which matters, and Kakarotto defeated me in every battle so far. But eventually I'll triumph."
"And I'm to leave you alone with Son, knowing that's your only goal." Piccolo nodded significantly toward Goku's unconscious form. "You could end this now. No one would know that you hadn't done everything possible. He'd never beat you again--"
Vegeta was faster than he expected, even with his diminished ki. Piccolo didn't duck in time; the Saiyajin's fist smashed into his chin and knocked him back. Staggering, he caught himself against the cave wall, blinked at the two Vegetas wavering in his vision. "I am no such coward," both princes hissed as they melded back into a single entity.
"I don't believe you are. Now." Piccolo grinned, pulling his lips back from his fangs. "And Son knows it--else he would've killed you."
Vegeta snorted. "He's hardly strong enough to, now."
"I wasn't referring to now." The Namek cast another look down at Goku. No longer so still, restlessly twitching, fingers unconsciously closing in a loose fist. "He'll be waking soon."
"He's still burning," Vegeta said. "Get out of here."
"Are you worried for me, or him?" But Piccolo strode to the cave's mouth.
Vegeta's voice stopped him before he stepped into the sunlight. "Piccolo. Don't tell anyone of this."
The Namek turned back. "His family's combing the planet for him. Yours, too."
"Don't tell any of them where he is," Vegeta repeated. "They don't have the brains to stay away, if they knew he was sick. Kaji's contagious, and I don't know if half-breeds or humans would be immune."
Piccolo hesitated. "Gohan might understand--he'd be content just to see him..."
Under the desert sun's glare, Piccolo couldn't make out more than Vegeta's silhouette in the cave, his face lost in shadow. "And if the boy were too slow defending himself from his precious father's attack? Kakarotto wouldn't recover from that, even if his body were fully healed."
"I won't tell them," Piccolo agreed. Then added, with dark humor, "Be careful, Vegeta. Son wouldn't take your death much better."
He took off before he heard Vegeta's response.
"Bulma?" The lab was dark. Kuririn entered cautiously, reached up and fumbled for the lightswitch by the door. Florescence flooded the tables and various instruments scattered over them. At the far computer console, Bulma jerked up. He thought at first she had fallen asleep, until he saw her surreptitiously brush at her eyes. Pretending he hadn't seen the tears, he asked, "Have you found anything yet?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course I have. I'm a genius, aren't I?" She sighed, irritation gone so fast he knew it had only been assumed. "There's something in Goten's blood. It looks like a virus but it's more advanced, though how I'm not sure. It's pushing the cells' mitochondria into overdrive, but not just accelerating the metabolism, it's actually increasing bioforce production--" She must have noticed Kuririn's eyes glazing over. "Long story short, it's making his ki go all wacky, but I can't tell how. He's unconscious now because it went so high it almost burned itself out. Now it's working on the embers. From what I've seen, it's going to use up the last of his life energy soon. And I don't have a clue how to stop it."
"You can't."
At the deep bass Kuririn sprang into the air, fists clenched. Then he caught sight of Piccolo's distinctive white cape and even more distinctive green skin, standing directly behind him. The Namek regarded the human warrior with dour tolerance as Kuririn settled back on the floor with an embarrassed chuckle. It wasn't that his size was imposing--Kuririn was used to people taller than him--but Piccolo always seemed to exude an untouchable disdain for Terran sentience, with few exceptions. And now his green brow was lowered in a grim frown that rendered him all the more forbidding.
Bulma, being Bulma, wasn't impressed. "What do you mean, I can't?"
"It's a Saiyajin disease. Deadly. There isn't a cure."
"And you know this how?"
"Vegeta told me."
"Vegeta? Where is he? Is he with Son-kun?"
"I can't say," Piccolo said flatly.
For a moment Kuririn thought Bulma was going to smack the Namek, braced himself for whatever disaster would follow. But instead she took a deep breath, released it, and asked patiently, "What can you say?"
"It's a Saiyajin illness deliberately spread by one of their enemies. This enemy was annihilated by the Saiyajin, before they themselves were destroyed, but a probe survived. Vegeta is immune, but he's doing what he can for Son--"
"Piccolo-san? You've seen them?" Gohan all but flew into the lab, hope brightening his voice. "I thought I felt you come back--did you find them?"
Piccolo looked surprisingly uncomfortable. "I--am not at liberty to say."
"All he can say," Bulma said angrily, "is that there isn't a cure. And it's fatal."
"Fatal?" Kuririn could see the last blood drain from Gohan's face, leaving him gray. The boy was practically dead on his feet already. Circumnavigating the globe several times hadn't fazed him, not compared to the impact of sitting vigil by his brother's bed.
"It'll be okay, Gohan." Kuririn patted his back reassuringly as he reminded him, "The dragonballs will be back in a few months."
"The dragonballs can't help Son," Piccolo said, coldly.
"Yes, they can help Goten," Kuririn shot back, glaring at the Namek. Then blinked as what he had said registered. "Goku? Goku really has this--"
"Goten?" Piccolo said simultaneously, "Goten caught--"
"Who did you think we were talking about?" Bulma snapped.
"I thought you had seen enough of Son's behavior to deduce..." Piccolo trailed off.
"So Otousan has it, too," Gohan murmured, all but inaudible. "And it's fatal."
"Possibly," Piccolo said awkwardly. "But Vegeta is trying...there's a chance, Gohan, you know your father would never give up--"
"Where are they?"
Piccolo looked away. "I said I wouldn't--"
"Where are they?" When Gohan's head came up, his eyes were flashing. Kuririn felt his hair stand on end, caught in a current of building energy. Gohan's gi rippled in a nonexistent wind, and Kuririn could feel the anger raging around him, sudden as a summer storm, rocketing toward the threshold of Super Saiyajin. "Where are they, Piccolo?"
"Gohan," Piccolo began, calmly, but Kuririn saw his eyes widen minutely in distress at causing such anger.
"Tell me!" With a rush of abused energies Gohan broke the barrier. His hair blazed gold as his eyes flared blue. Power crackled over him, setting alarms wailing and sparks flashing between the lab's delicate scientific instruments.
"Gohan-kun!" Bulma shrieked. "Keep it down--"
Gohan ignored her, his aqua glare fixed on Piccolo. "Have you known this all along? You've been laughing as we searched?"
"Gohan, no!" Piccolo protested, and now he didn't even try to conceal his pain at the accusation. "I just found them, but I promised not to take you to them. There's nothing you can do for your father."
"You'd let him die! You'd let Goten die!"
"I didn't know Goten--"
"You're letting them die!" Gohan cried, and then he had launched himself at Piccolo, had smashed him through two lab tables and wrapped his hands around the Namek's throat before Kuririn could move.
"Gohan, you'll kill him--" Bulma gasped, too shocked even to minister to her squealing equipment. That Gohan would attack anyone unprovoked...but Piccolo? His mentor, the only being he possibly respected more than his own father? Kuririn tried to take Gohan's shoulders, then had to dodge the Saiyajin's insanely fast kick. The human rolled to his feet, panting. Piccolo wasn't even trying to fight back, only stared at his assailant in disbelief as Gohan throttled him.
"Gohan, what's wrong with you?" Kuririn yelled, keeping his distance while he searched for an opening--no good, Gohan would sense him coming from any direction. "What the hell are you--"
He caught the incredulous look Bulma aimed at him and realized he was as usual the last one to figure it out. Damn it all, not Gohan, too.
Piccolo was starting to look more gray than green. But Kuririn was no match for Gohan, even if the Saiyajin wasn't running at even higher ki levels than normal...higher levels. What had Bulma said about Goten's ki burning itself out?
No time to ask her. Kuririn took a deep breath and hoped he was right. "You're right, Gohan. We knew all along, and now we're going to," he swallowed, "to kill your father and your brother, and then we'll--we'll"
"Destroy the dragonballs," Bulma broke in, "so you can never get them back--"
"No!" Gohan dropped Piccolo and spun on them, his eyes incandescent blue. "I won't let you!" His ki, unleashed and impossibly high even for a Saiyajin, rose even further. Blistering energy washed over them and Kuririn flinched, heard Bulma's whimper as even her untrained nerves reacted. Her instruments' shrieking climbed to the supersonic range, glass flasks burst, and it seemed like the air itself was shaking in reaction. Kuririn remembered feeling this once before, on the battlefield with Cell, but that had been years ago, and Gohan had been pushed beyond those limits in the era between, his well of energy dug even deeper--power to destroy the world--
Then, suddenly as a popped bubble, the energy broke, crashing over them like a wave, leaving Gohan, black-haired and dark-eyed, swaying in the center of the demolished lab. He blinked, then collapsed.
Piccolo was there, catching him before he fell onto the shards of glass and metal scattered around him. His eyes fluttered open as the Namek swept him up, cradling him like a child. "Pi--piccolo-san? Wha..."
"S'alright," the Namek said, roughly, and Kuririn doubted it was from the bruising his throat had taken. "Everything'll be fine."
"S--sorry," Gohan whispered, and then he was out, head dropping limply to the side.
Bulma stood shakily, absently brushing debris from her hair. At that moment Trunks burst into the lab, Juuhachigou and Chichi behind him. "What happened?" the boy demanded. "We felt Gohan-san..."
Juuhachigou looked around, took in the wrecked lab, the panic on her husband's face, the lifeless Saiyajin in Piccolo's arms, and summed up everything succinctly. "Ah, shit."
Thanks to Kira for reviewing, and Dreamwraith for sticking with it - yes, go Piccolo! He's my fave after Vegeta...have a devil of a time writing him, tho'. Sorry for the delay in posting. Hopefully the next part will go faster...no promises, though. Should I bother? Is anyone still reading?
