a/n: I am so sorry for the long wait between updates. The funny thing is I wanted to make sure I had a good length of writing that was well enough to post and contribute to my plot, when I realized I had hit a jump spot in my writing and poured out a whole lot more than I thought I did. SO, here's an update that I hope will suffice to ease any ruffled feathers.
The fighting was ending on the plains of Gondor just as the battle between Freeza and Vegeta began. The Fellowship was scattered more now than it was when they had to split apart days ago. Each had their own things to do. Aragorn and Gandalf were speaking of matters only the King of Gondor could understand as they made their way toward the Halls of Healing. Gimli and Legolas were roaming around the halls outside the healing chambers, trying to stay out of the way of the medics within but mostly concerned about Merry. Pippin was sitting next to Lord Faramir's bed, watching the ill man with eyes filled with worry. He was still a servant of Gondor in his heart and he would stay by the lord's side until they physically removed him.
Piccolo was slowly making his way up the stone stairs, helping men move hunks of rock and tumbled walls as he went. He barely noticed their awed stares when he heaved pieces onto his shoulders to set aside that twenty men could not budge. He was not thinking of anything except Merry as well. He had seen the Rohorrim men move both the Hobbit and the Lady Eowyn from the field but he was in the thick of battle and didn't know what had happened.
The twin sons of Elrond were talking quietly ahead of him. They had started up the stairs before he had, and now it seemed he had caught up to them.
"Master Namek." Elrohir nodded to him as he noticed Piccolo coming up behind.
Piccolo grunted, eyes trained on the Halls of Healing that still loomed above him.
The elves exchanged a smile, recognizing the worried look that etched a line between Piccolo's eye ridges. "Might I bend your ear, Piccolo?" Elladan asked. The Namek's gaze flicked to him and he nodded. "I realize that Trunks had to leave quickly, but I am not sure why."
A deep sigh pulled from Piccolo's chest. "He's gone to help Goku and Vegeta."
A raven head cocked to the side. Elladan pursed his lips and looked over his shoulder toward the sky where Mirai had disappeared a time ago. "Help them with what?"
"Freeza." Piccolo spat. It seemed no matter how many times he said the name it still left a sour taste in his mouth and made his blood raise a few degrees.
The silence that fell between them after the name remained until they made it to the citadel.
The Halls of Healing were busy. Assistants were rushing from one room to another carrying trays of materials and herbs for the healers. Healers themselves were few and the wounded were many, it made speed a necessity.
Besides those that were there to help, the halls were also filled with worried souls wanting nothing more than to comfort their friends and companions. Among them, two familiar mismatched souls caught Piccolo's attention and made him stop at the entrance to simply stare.
Leaning against a wall and talking quietly to his companion, Legolas was oblivious to the appreciative looks he was receiving just feet away. Piccolo did a quick scan of the half he could see and sighed lightly when he saw no injuries. The elf was a little ruffled and dusty from fighting but it only added to the ethereal beauty that Legolas had.
A stifled giggle came from beside him and Piccolo glared at Elladan as the son of Elrond smirked at him. He motioned to the blonde elf at the end of the hall with the flat of his hand. "He's not part of your imagination, Master Namek."
Piccolo snorted at him as he turned back to Legolas. It had been a fluke that he looked back at the same moment Legolas turned his head to look down the hall. The elf blinked and pushed himself off of the wall. A slow smile curled onto his face and Piccolo felt his heart hit his feet and rush back up into his chest. He couldn't help but smile back.
The bustling in the hall slowed as curious stares followed Piccolo to Legolas, then did double takes when the Namek cupped the Elf's cheek for a quick second before dropping his hand. Piccolo touched the badge on Legolas' chest and grinned to himself.
"It is good to see you," Legolas spoke quietly. His eyes scowered Piccolo's face and took in the torn and ratty clothing. Below the holes there were no wounds, only smudges of dirt and dried blood. "I was worried." He admitted with a small sigh.
"You should be." Piccolo's face held no trace of humor and Legolas pursed his lips.
Gimli muscled his way between them and patted Piccolo's thigh much the same he did to Legolas when trying to distract him. "The young Hobbit is sleeping. He's injured his arm but no healer here knows how to fix it."
The news didn't sit well. Piccolo watched the perplexed healers move from one room to the next. They were worried and frazzled, nearly ready to come apart at the seams from frustration. Piccolo didn't bother to interfere with them, instead, he neatly passed by them and pushed his way into Merry's room without noticing the startled reply of the healers.
The Hobbit lay on white linen much like Piccolo had lain Faramir upon earlier that day. Merry's face was ashen and grey with hard lines around his mouth were he frowned in pain even in his sleep. Piccolo looked down at the injured arm bandaged in more white cloth. There were no stains of blood on the linen and Piccolo frowned as he gently lay his hand across Merry's forearm. An icy cold permeated from the boy's arm and numbed Piccolo's fingertips within moments and the Namek drew his hand away when Merry moaned in his sleep. What odd affliction is this, which kills a limb without a wound to show for it?
Behind him, Piccolo could hear the medics making an uproar about him barging into Merry's room and somewhere between their loud ravings, he could here Legolas' quiet tone. A moment later a warm palm settled on his shoulder and Legolas beckoned him from the room. "They've asked us to leave with the promise of any news on Merry if he takes a turn in either direction." The elf spoke softly, words that nestled into Piccolo's worried mind and eased his frustration. They must have had a similar effect on the sleeping Hobbit since Merry sighed in his slumber and the deep frown of his lips eased.
Finally, Piccolo nodded and allowed himself to be led from Merry's side. Once the door to Merry's room was shut he frowned deeply down at the medics that screeched up at him. Snarling, he hissed at them, "Enough. I'm leaving but if I don't hear from you when Merry wakes up, I will be back." Piccolo loomed over them, meaning the subtle threat. All of the Hobbits were his now, always would be, and he refused to let anyone deny him the right to see them safe and well. Even ChiChi's lunatic ravings to Gohan hadn't stopped either one of them from meeting at the waterfall, and there was very little more scary than a raving ChiChi when she was protecting her children.
He didn't bother to see if others were following him. The dark and foreboding sky wasn't exactly the reprieve he was looking for, but Piccolo took what he could get. Sitting on the broken edge of the wall he shifted over a bit as Legolas sat beside him.
"Are you well?" Legolas looked up at him. Piccolo looked tired, physically and emotionally. Perhaps even mentally, but that was a hard thing to judge with a creature that spoke so little of his inner turmoil.
"Mm." Piccolo grunted. In the distance he could feel Vegeta and Goku fighting what could be the last fight of their lives. He wanted to be there, to see and help, but he knew he was no match for Freeza. He wasn't all those years ago and he wasn't now. He understood for the first time how hard it must have been on Bulma and ChiChi to sit and wait for news that their husbands were dead.
Legolas watched his lover with concerned eyes. He felt for this creature what he hadn't for anyone else and he was helpless to aid him through whatever pain he was experiencing. He was a truly incompetent friend at the moment and it was driving him insane.
Piccolo looked at the elf with his peripheral vision and saw the muted distress play on his features. He knew the elf wanted to ease him, but he wasn't even sure himself how it could be achieved. But having Legolas there was a giant step in the right direction to be sure.
"Piccolo?" Legolas shifted, until he could look unhindered at the Namek's face. Piccolo made a noncommital noise in the back of his throat in response. Legolas knelt and pushed Piccolo's arms from where they were crossed at his chest. Onyx eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he let Legolas move them without question. The elf crawled forward, sitting down on Piccolo's lap and idly played with the hard, calloused fingers of Piccolo's right hand.
Piccolo let out an amused grunt that rumbled through Legolas back. The elf relaxed further when he knew Piccolo wouldn't push him away; then smiled to himself when Piccolo's arms curled around his waist and held him.
Gimli, son of Gloin, watched them quietly from the entry of the Citadel. He grunted and smiled lightly to himself. The two would take care of each other. From his travels with Legolas and visiting the Golden Wood he could strongly guess that elves were not light in their affections, especially the physical kind. And though he had known only this one Namek for a short time, he knew that he was just the same.
Gimli nodded to himself and turned in the doorway to look behind when he heard the sound of shuffling feet. Young Peregrin Took was walking toward with a tired smile. The young boy looked far older than he had when they had started the trip.
"I thought I heard Piccolo," The Hobbit smiled.
Gimli nodded, pointing beyond to the two seated on the rubble. "They are both there." He was about to curb the boy's desire to see the Namek to give Piccolo and Legolas time alone but he was mildly surprised when he didn't have to.
"Good. They could both use a distraction. Come, Gimli. Let's find something to eat." Pippin motioned to the dwarf and started down the stairs with his sluggish step. The dwarf smiled to himself, apparently, the Hobbit did not only look older, but had grown inside as well.
With a final look behind, he followed Pippin down the stairs.
Goku was scowling while his muscles were jumping and twitching in time to the blows Vegeta was recieving. The ouji was bleeding and slowly swelling with blue bruises across his cheeks and chin. It took all of his resolve not to leap in and blast Freeza, just so he could curl protectively around Vegeta and lap at his wounds to prove to himself that his mate would be fine. A carnal, primitave urge to be sure, but that thought alone didn't quell it.
Water sprayed up as Vegeta clapped back into the ocean. Goku snarled as Freeza laughed, again. He couldn't wait any longer, not while Vegeta was being too stubborn and prideful to ask for help. He leapt into an ascended saiyajin and took at Freeza with lips peeled back from his teeth, just itching to bite a chunk away and feel the villians icy blood pool across his tongue.
Freeza was waiting for him by the time Goku was clenching his fists and aiming for the icejin's face. Goku feinted, bringing both fists together and spinning away to slam Freeza in the back of the head. The villain grunted as he fell, but gathered himself quickly and shot back through the air at Goku with a snarl on his face.
Vegeta hissed as he came from the water. The salty brine stung in his wounds like acid, but it was easily ignored when he saw Goku in fisticuffs with Freeza. He couldn't tell what made him angrier, the fact that Goku had jumped into his place before he was out of the fight, or that Freeza dared touch what was his...again.
As Freeza's hand snapped out and fingers curled into Goku throat, Vegeta realized it was the latter that made his blood pound in his ears. When Goku kicked away and blasted Freeza, Vegeta's tension dropped a degree and he ground his teeth together in frustration. Kakkarot is not his brother.
The air crackled with energy the likes of which Middle Earth had never seen. Vegeta itched to jump back into the fighting, but he knew, and grudgingly accepted, that he needed a moment to gather his strength.
From the north, Vegeta could feel Trunks coming. He didn't bother to look for him, knowing that the boy would be there soon enough. Besides, his priority at the moment was waiting for Freeza to make a wrong move so that he could take extreme advantage of it.
"Father!" Mirai sidled up to the prince, palms already itching. He carefully took in his father's injury without seeming too obvious. Kami, he had been beaten into lumped dough already and it looked as though Freeza hadn't broken a sweat yet.
Goku was suddenly blown back into them. Vegeta held the taller man by the arm, obsidian eyes like chips of slate. The air around them thickened as Vegeta pushed his ki out. Goku was bleeding at the corner of his mouth. The copper tang was letting loose a feral answer deep inside him. Freeza had touched him, touched Kakkarot and hurt him! Made him bleed.
"We need to plan--" Goku started, but Vegeta had released him and was barreling back into the fight. "Damn it Vegeta!" He hissed.
Trunks frowned as he watched his father fight. Freeza was stronger than he anticipated. "What do we need to do, Goku?"
The older saiyajin glanced toward him at the solemn tone. "We need to plan. We can't take him one on one."
"Got any ideas?"
"One." Goku paused, staring after Vegeta intensely. "But I'm going to need Vegeta's help."
"Say the word and I'll distract Freeza." Trunks stated, chest puffed out and hands curled into fists. A large hand settled onto his shoulder and Mirai looked up at Goku.
"You've turned into one hell of a man, Trunks." He smiled at the light blush that rose into Mirai's face. "I'll let you know."
A fast moment later, a sick crack split the air and stilled the seas and winds all at once. Goku gaped, almost dropping from ascended saiyajin and back to normal from shock.
In Freeza's hands, Vegeta was gaping, eyes bulging from his head. One of Freeza's fists was covered in blood, dripping it from one hundred feet in the air where is slipped into the sea and disappeared. The fist was sticking straight out of Vegeta's back. The Ouji hung impaled, staring down in horror and disbelief as his blood ran down Freeza's white arm and dripped from the creature's elbow.
"Got you again, Vegeta." A mirthless laugh curdled in Goku's head as it spilled from Freeza's lips.
"Impossible." Goku breathed, whole body numb with shock. Freeza covered Vegeta's face with his free hand and pushed the prince from his arm with a wet sucking sound. Time snapped back with slap of pain as Goku saw Vegeta falling to the earth like a disjointed doll.
Goku screamed, tumbling from the air as his heart was rent into pieces. Vegeta hit the earth with a sick crunch, the ground around him splitting from the impact. Goku hit the ground at a run, falling to his knees beside Vegeta's limp body. Blood poured thick and pungent into the sand. He had tasted that blood in moments of perverse pleasure and to see it pooling in waste, paling a slack face made it that much more a sacrilege.
"Vegeta?" He whispered, hand hovering over the Ouji's face almost afraid to touch. Above him, Goku could hear Trunks screaming in pained rage. He couldn't bring himself to look up to see what was happening, his eyes were too busy staring down at Vegeta.
Bruised knuckles brushed across Vegeta's cheek and Goku's breath hitched at how cold his flesh was already. "Vegeta." He said again, with more force, willing him to wake. To his immense relief one swollen eye cracked open. A dull obsidian eye tried to focus on Goku's face where it loomed above him.
A smirk twitched at the corner of Vegeta's lips and his mouth opened and closed painfully, blood staining his teeth. A slow gurgle pushed further crimson onto his tongue. He coughed weakly, clearing his throat as he blinked at Goku's face. In the sand, Vegeta's gloved hand curled lightly and twitched as he tried to raise it. "'karot..."
Goku held in a sob and nodded, "Yea, 'Geta. It's me." He smiled sadly as Vegeta grinned. The hole in Vegeta's chest slowly stopped oozing. Goku pressed his hand over it, the blood that stuck to his palm was thick and cold. "'Geta?"
He glanced up to Vegeta's face. The ouji was grinning, a royal smugness and haughtiness that almost made Goku think he was doing better. "No pain."
Goku blinked, panic gripping his insides. "W-what?"
A hard cough brought Vegeta curling up off of the sand before falling back. He turned his head with agonizing slowness. "No pain." Goku pushed a heavy lock of hair from Vegeta's face and cupped his cheek. The glitter of Vegeta's eye was fading.
"'Geta?" He shook him, knowing full well it was the wrong thing to do but doing it anyway. "Vegeta!" A slow lungful of air seeped out of Vegeta's mouth, bubbles frothing at the corners of his lips.
Then nothing.
Goku held his breath, willing Vegeta to breathe, just once more. It was in vain. He pulled Vegeta up from the sand and held him to his chest, the Ouji hanging limp in his arms. Goku clutched at the back of Vegeta's head, fingers burying into the thick mane. In his mind something snapped, and it was painful and clearifying at the same moment. Goku pulled Vegeta tighter, nearly cracking the Ouji's ribs, and with a snarl he bit him at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
There was barely enough blood left to well at the wound, but a bead managed and Goku lapped it away, mouth suckling on the cold flesh without success. He lowered Vegeta to the ground, and watched the peaceful look on his face.
A startling blast blew past his head and cratered the ground beyond him. Snapping his head around, Goku glared at Freeza where the beast was laughing. In one of his hands, Mirai was struggling to breathe as Freeza's thick fingers dug into his throat. With a snarl and a yell, Goku leapt into the air and after the creature that dared harm his Prince.
Below him on the wet sand, Vegeta's body lay in a heap. Aqua eyes glittered just under the waters' surface and thin blue lips frowned deeply. The Golden Warrior was dead on the land. An internal struggle wavered on the creature's face before it looked cautiously for the Warrior's mate. The large man was busy. With determination, the sea-bearer climbed onto the sand and sidled slowly toward the prone figure. A webbed hand reached out and settled carefully onto the cold chest. Aquamarine eyes widened and a glittery blue face looked up at the Warrior's mate with incredulity.
As Goku and Trunks fought Freeza with a fury only loss can breed; a creature from the sea sat at Vegeta's side, scales itching from the sand and mind whirling about these powerful beasts that could perform such miracles. Beside it, Vegeta no Ouji lay shallowly breathing.
"No." Piccolo stood from the dinner table, surrounded by men of great power from nations all along Middle Earth. Legolas startled beside him and stood slowly, seeing the color leach out of his friend's face so quickly he thought the Namek was going to be sick.
"Is something the matter?" Aragorn called from the head of the table. He had been talking quietly with Gandalf and Eomer who sat on either side of him when the Namek had startled the whole room with his outburst.
Piccolo didn't answer, too busy clenching and unclenching his fists. His breathing had grown hard and ragged while his onyx eyes snapped back and forth across the room, looking at nothing.
Murmurs started from those seated. They had been wary enough of the creature when he had entered late with the Mirkwood Prince, but allowed it quietly as Aragorn vouged for them both. Now, the creature was having some sort of fit, and by his size--and even taking their own skill into account--they were leery of just how they could bring him down if it came to blows.
Legolas hesitantly reached for Piccolo's shoulder, startled when it was jerked away at his touch. He stared up at the Namek, hurt at his actions and failure to speak.
Those that knew of the two's connection stared wide eyed. Gandalf stood from his seat, staff clutched tightly in his hand. "Master Namek, is there something you would like to share with the rest of us?" The wizard made his voice hard, using his commanding tone that both soothed and quailed every other beast he had used it on. Not so on our Namek.
Angry eyes flashed at Gandalf as Piccolo turned. The chair he had been sitting on clattered to the floor as he moved around it. He had made it as far as the entry when Aragorn called to him. He paused, back tensed.
"What is the meaning of this hostility?"
Piccolo's eye twitched. It was still gone, cold space where a raging fire had been. He turned, eyes narrowed as he looked at the Gondorian king. "I'm leaving."
Before he could turn back to the door and move through it, Aragorn had hold of his wrist and somewhere behind the man's left shoulder, Legolas stood with a cool, closed off face. "We'll need you here to help with our final ride to Mordor."
A harsh snort hardened the ranger's face. He had intended to sooth Piccolo's worries, giving him something to do when he was obviously feeling so helpless. Piccolo shook off his hand. "It won't matter. Even if you manage to kill everyone and Frodo throws your ring into the mountain...you're all dead. We all are."
"What are you talking about?" Legolas all but spat. Piccolo was slightly surprised at the anger behind the words. He could see the anger in the elf's eyes, the suspicion and hurt he had bred there. He felt a pang of regret and guilt in his gut, but there was no time for soothing his scorned elf.
"Vegeta is dead." The words were flat and emotionless.
"What?" Aragorn asked, face screwed up in confusion. Over his shoulder, Piccolo got a sick satisfaction that Legolas had recieved the news properly the first time. The elf had paled, his crystalline eyes faded.
"He's dead."
The twins stood from the table, unable to keep their sensitive ears from eavesdropping. Soon the whole table was curious at their reaction. Piccolo spun and stalked from the room, ignoring the calls for him to wait.
The halls were empty when Piccolo charged through them. He couldn't sit idly by now, not anymore. It would take every hand they could get to fight Freeza, even if that meant he was killed.
"Piccolo?" A curious voice called to him. The Namek was ready to snap, but the owner of the voice came out of the shadows and Piccolo forcefully calmed himself as Pippin stepped forward.
"Are you feeling well?" The Hobbit asked quietly. His large eyes were sleepy, but a smile was still on his round face.
"I'm fine."
Pippin nodded slowly. His eyes brightened suddenly and he grasped Piccolo by the hand, tugging him--unsuccessfully--toward the citadel. "Come on," Pippin encouraged, "Merry woke up a few minutes ago. I'm sure he'd like to see you."
Piccolo shook his head, about to tell him no, but the boys large eyes blinked up at him. Damn Gohan for starting all of this. With a sigh, Piccolo followed the Hobbit back toward the Healing Hall. His soft spot for the innocence of children having been prodded thoroughly.
When they entered the long hall lined with doors, Piccolo felt a strange spark somewhere in his mind. It was like a soft breath of air from a butterfly wing, barely noticable and hardly tangible, but he had felt it. Piccolo stopped in his tracks, not noticing the queer look he got from Pippin as the Hobbit tugged at him and spoke to him in harsh whispers to gain his attention. After a moment, Piccolo blinked, perhaps he had imagined it.
"Are you alright?" Pippin whispered, eyes wide in worry. Piccolo nodded, ignoring the curious look he was getting from the Hobbit.
He allowed himself to be led toward Merry's door. The low frame stood unobstructed and Merry could be seen sitting up amongst his pillows. The Hobbit still looked exhausted but he was awake and some of that familiar sparkle was in his eyes. "Oy, Pip."
Pippin ran into the room, intent on jumping up onto the bed beside his cousin, but settled for carefully settling next to him. "I've brought a guest," Pippin beamed.
Merry smiled sleepily as Piccolo stooped through his doorway.
"How are you feeling?"
"Sore," Merry admitted. The Hobbit flexed his shoulder and curled his fingers, grimacing at the spikes of pain that raced across them. Piccolo noted the pain, but nodded his encouragement to the boy. He shifted from one foot to the other, anxious to start his journey to the saiyajins again.
Merry was watching him, as was Pippin. Piccolo was mildly surprised when Merry spoke. "You're leaving aren't you?"
Piccolo nodded stiffly. "They need my help."
Pippin's face fell. "You're going to fight that thing? But you said he was too strong for you before we split up a week ago."
With a soft sigh, Piccolo rested his large hand on the Hobbit's head. "I have to."
Pippin shoved the hand from his hair and glared up at him. "But he'll hurt you! You could be killed."
Piccolo didn't respond, only stood there frowning at them both. "Did you tell Legolas?" Merry spoke softly.
Piccolo shifted on his feet. He hadn't told the elf, not directly anyway. Merry and Pippin both frowned harshly at him. "If you're going to fight, you should tell him." Pippin spoke matter-of-factly.
"I know." Piccolo sighed. He looked up to two sets of glares. With a roll of the eyes, Piccolo crossed his arms over his chest. "I will."
"Good," Pippin smiled, "you should do it straight away. Especially if you're leaving so quickly."
Piccolo turned from them and made his way to the doorway, Pippin's voice called out to him as he entered the hall. "Be careful."
Whether he meant with the fight against Freeza or with Legolas, Piccolo could only guess.
