Sand Storm

By Elektra

Ratings: T for drinking

Disclaimer: I write only for fun not profit. DBZ characters belong to Funimation, all Xmen mentioned belong to Marvel Comics, Frodo and others belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and Vertigo characters belong to D.C. Comics.

A/N: Italics indicate that characters are dreaming.

Summary: Our party meets a being that knows our friends better than they know themselves…

Chapter 2

A few hours later . . .

"Heh. That Wolverine guy reminds me of a certain Saiyan. What do you think Piccolo?"

"I'd like to see a sparring session between him and Vegeta. Are you sure you don't have Saiyans on your world? This Logan seems to fits the description."

"No, Wolvie's a mutant, just like Ororo and me." Betsy explained.

"The planet Namek is fascinating place Piccolo. I can't believe that dragons have the ability and the desire to grant wishes." Frodo commented.

"I find your world just as fascinating," Ororo interjected. "Elves sound enchanting. Can you imagine being immortal?"

"I was invited to live with the elves. I was on my to see them when I ended up here. I wish I could go home . . ." he murmured, a little wistfully.

The others looked on sympathetically.

"I may be able to accommodate your wish Ring-bearer."

All eyes turned to the source of the haunting voice. Frodo saw a tall, pale fellow in an elfin black cloak with black spiky hair. No one had noticed him before until that moment. A hush fell over the tavern and all patrons became still except for their table.

"Who are you?" Piccolo demanded with a low growl.

The stranger smiled a little. His eyes where covered in shadow and mystery. "You do not know me?" Piccolo squinted and saw a large, pale Namek that resembled Guru somewhat. He was swathed in silky black cloth and wore a puffy white collar in the manner of most Namekians.

"I know you Demon King," he continued, interrupting their reveries, "and I see your dreams. You once wanted to destroy your world. In your new dreams you are surrounded by silence and solitude and you are not unhappy."

Piccolo found himself in a rich green forest surrounding a beautiful crystal clear lake. He drank in the sights and sounds of the most peaceful surrounding he'd ever visited. Then he caught the sounds of footsteps approaching. An older gentleman approached him.

"Come no further human," Piccolo warned.

"I mean you know harm. I want to welcome you."

Sensing no threat from the old man, Piccolo relaxed. He took another look at the area surrounding him and asked, "What is this place?"

"I am Fiddler's Green and this place is me."

Piccolo peered closely at the old man again. Thin, wired-framed glasses sat on his round face. The man had a remarkable moustache and a pleasant demeanor. Piccolo decided to believe him.

"Why am I here?"

The old man looked thoughtful for a moment, then answered, "honestly, I don't know. Why do you think you're here?"

"I–I think I was sent here. I was sent here by the King of Dreams…"

"Well of course! This is the dreaming. The King sent you here then? Good for you! Come, dip your feet in my waters, it's refreshing. Spend some time before you wake. You might like it!"

With that, the old man walked away. Piccolo closed his eyes and sighed.

'He's right. I should enjoy this. Somehow, I think this will be the last peace I'll know for a while.'

Then, he did as the old man told him.

"Goddess," the stranger acknowledged, staring at Ororo with endless black eyes. He was dressed in the robes of a village shaman, clothing that was familiar to her once upon a time.

"What do I dream? I can never remember," she asked breathlessly.

"Close your eyes," he commanded.

Ororo was tending her garden with loving care. A shadow fell over her and she looked up. It was the Namekian.

"What are you doing?" He asked politely.

"I'm taking care of my babies," she stated rather proudly.

"You call your plants babies?"

"They are not just plants silly. I must raise them perfectly or else their fruit will bare dolls instead of real babies."

"Really?"

"See for yourself if you do not believe me."

Piccolo hunched down for a closer look.

Indeed the plants appeared to have fruit that resembled little plastic dolls. Piccolo found this unnerving.

"By taking good care of them they will become real children and I will be a mother at last."

A breeze suddenly rose up and took the plastic dolls with it. Ororo cried out and vainly tried to control it, but failed. The dolls flew off into the distance and disappeared.

Ororo was overcome with despair. She covered her face with her hands and wept at the loss of her surrogate children.

"Don't cry," Piccolo begged. "You can help me raise mine."

Piccolo reached into a bag that was tied to his waist. He lovingly opened it up and pulled out an infant. The baby was Piccolo in miniature form. He had a green complexion, bud like antennae, and tiny fangs like his father.

"Is that your baby? He's beautiful! May I hold him?"

Piccolo carefully passed the baby to Ororo and when she had him situated comfortably in her arms he asked, "would you like to live with us? The boy needs a mother and you want a child."

"What do you need Piccolo?" She hoped that he needed her too.

The Namekian looked surprised by the question.

"I don't know. I think I need, no, I desire peace. And I wish to have… to have…"

He reached out to her with one hand. She shifted the baby into the crook of her arm and reached out to him with the other. They clasped hands for a moment and stepped close together.

"I wish to have a future," he whispered into her hair.

Ororo smiled and answered, "all right then, I will."

TBC