Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Persistence ❯ Part 11 ( Chapter 11 )

Hello, LadyKATT! Hope you have completely recovered, and your girl is doing well.

Will Vegeta live? Sure he will. I can't kill off my favorite characters. Though, maybe I should learn finally.

 

Hello, NewFan! Yep, progress is being made, the things are sorting out themselves, some of them at least, but new problems are going to arise. Kakarott will have many things to think about, many things to sort out in his head.

 

Yeah, King Vegeta isn't happy about his son choosing Kakarott. He'll leave it for now, but he isn't happy.

 

Hello, GundamCat! ACK? What does it mean? I'm not native English speaker.

 

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I'm not making any money of this.

Warnings: Yaoi (male x male). Kakarott/Vegeta

 

Persistence by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by achillona

 

Part 11

 

Gods, why did he feel as if he'd been thrown into a vat of acid?

 

The prince's eyelashes fluttered then his eyes opened. He was lying in his room, in his bed on his stomach. The prince was confused - it felt as if his entire back was on fire. He felt sick and weak. He tried to move, and hissed in pain as his body gave a harsh protest.

 

“Don't move.”

 

With a great effort the prince tried to turn his head to his father's voice. The king pushed his chair into his line of vision, making the task much easier. The prince put his head back on the pillow.

 

The king observed his son's face then sighed. “The insurgents are caught and executed. Their leader, Damaro, is still in the dungeon. I presumed you might want to have a word with him before he died.” The king shrugged, dismissively waving his hand in the air. “Though, he is not one of those who talk. Spent several hours with him but didn't manage to get a word.”

 

“Kakarott?” the prince managed to find a voice in his sore and hoarse throat.

 

The king snorted, rolling his eyes. He left his chair and wandered into the middle of room, out of his son's sight, then turned to go back to his chair, but then stopped again. Finally he crossed his arms and locked his gaze on his son's bandaged back. “And nevertheless you've chosen very well. That third-class of yours saved your life,” he said in an annoyed voice. “He was ready to splash anyone's guts who went near you.” He saw his son's arm grip the pillow tighter.

 

“Ho-?”

 

“He's alright,” the king looked at the ceiling. “Oh, he's perfectly fine. Though I had a thought to kill him and later shift the blame on the rebels. Your third-class idiot had conveniently been wearing blue colors, same as our guards and staff. Could have simply said that anyone of them blasted his scull to hell.”

 

“Why d-?”

 

“Ah…I, thought that you'd be very unhappy,” the king sighed, slowly walking over to the chair and sitting down. He looked at his son's face. “They got here through some goddamned tunnel underneath this damn castle,” he changed the subject. “I told your grandfather that it was a fucked up idea to settle in this cursed castle. He should have built one, if he wanted a castle, or at least checked better for damn secret passages. Fuck knows, maybe next time they are going to crawl out from under the bookshelves or under-beds.” He noticed that his son was drowsy. “How the fuck did they get you on your back?” he finally asked.

 

The prince blinked his tired eyes; he felt drained and his body was sinking into healing sleep. He looked at his father's face. “Can I get a glass of water, please?”

 

The king sighed again. He stood up. “Yes, I'll send someone. And you'll need the bandages changed.”

 

“How bad is it?” the prince closed his eyes.

 

“Bad enough.”

 

The prince chewed his lower lip.

 

“Though you are healing fast,” said the king with an almost comforting note in his voice. “Your entire back is covered in wounds and blisters. Your tail is scorched as hell and your hair got singed too. Before you ask - they used some fucking clever gun. I've already found and killed the inventor and everyone who had anything to do with it. Of course, the sketches were too priceless to destroy.” The king went to the door. “Do you want your third-class to bring the water to you?”

 

The prince's eyes opened. He stared at the dresser before him. “Y-n-yes.”

 

The king just nodded and silently closed the door behind him.

 

XXXXX

 

Kakarott's hands were shaking so much that the glasses, which were on the tray, were jingling nonstop. He put the tray back on the table, deeply inhaled several times, took the tray again and went to the prince's room.

 

Kakarott had been mortified after the king entered his room and ordered him to immediately take some juice and water to the prince. Kakarott nervously ran to the kitchen where Veliro showed him everything. Seeing Kakarott's distress, Veliro tried to calm him down, but without any luck. Kakarott didn't know what to expect. He was sure that the prince knew that he belonged to the same rebel group as Damaro. The prince might have thought that he had something to do with that attack. Besides, Kakarott wanted to ask a very big favor, and was afraid that his request might be refused, or worse - punished with death.

 

After hearing the answer, Kakarott entered the prince's room. “Your highn-” Kakarott faltered seeing the prince lying in his bed on his stomach, his back all covered with bandages. Kakarott saw that the prince's face was turned away from him.

 

“You can call me Vegeta,” the prince automatically answered, not turning to look at Kakarott. He had no strength to move his body.

 

“I brought some juice and water,” Kakarott finally shook himself. He rounded the prince's bed. He put his tray on the cupboard. “Would you like water or juice?” he asked. “There's aritu, saira and latri.”

 

“Saira will be just fine,” the prince said. He watched Kakarott pour him a glass of saira juice. Because of Kakarott's shaking hands there was more juice floating on the tray than in the glass. “Look at me,” the prince said.

 

Kakarott stood for some time staring at the glass of saira then finally raised his eyes to the prince's face. He nervously stared back into the prince's eyes. He loudly gulped.

 

“My father told me that you saved my life…” the prince asked rather than said.

 

“Err…” Kakarott fidgeted. “You saved mine.” He was relieved when at least for some time those two black pools closed, releasing him from their binding spell.

 

The prince's eyes opened again. “Isn't Damaro in the same group as you?”

 

Kakarott slowly nodded. “Yes. He's…” Kakarott faltered, “…Was my friend.” He was sure that Damaro would never forgive him this. He became an enemy to Damaro. And it was no wonder. “I…I…can I ask you something?” Kakarott nervously shifted then lowered himself near the bed, squatting down. The prince nodded, but Kakarott felt so scared that he was hardly able to breathe. “Can you release him? I'm sure there must be some compromise available… The king is going to kill him…”

 

The prince closed his eyes then, after a minute, opened them again. “Do you realize what you're asking?” He was silent for some time. “I understand that you must feel guilty, but I can't grant that. Besides, now I can't even do anything about it. Not until I get up from this bed. And I advise you not to speak about this with my father, otherwise it would be the first thing he'd do - kill Damaro. My father doesn't like you. And he isn't nice with people whom he doesn't like. Watch out for him,” the prince closed his eyes again. Though the prince was sure that he was giving an empty warning - if his father wanted to do something to Kakarott, there would be no chance of avoiding that. Not until he himself was weak as a child and put to bed. Besides, even if he were able to grant Kakarott's wish, he wouldn't grant it - he wanted the bastard dead. It was because of Damaro he almost died. “Why did you save me?” he asked once again.

 

Kakarott's fingers dug into his knees. His eyes lowered to the carpet. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Vegeta.”

 

The prince stared at Kakarott's face. He tentatively reached his hand to Kakarott's face. The prince ran his fingers over Kakarott's cheek. He felt Kakarott's face lean into his palm.

 

“I'm so sorry,” Kakarott repeated.

 

“Shhh…” Vegeta brushed the tears away from Kakarott's face with his fingertips. Vegeta smiled then. “Pass me that saira juice finally, will you?”

 

Kakarott's teary eyes left the carpet. He quickly nodded at Vegeta who smiled again.

 

After Kakarott helped him with the juice, Vegeta settled into the bedding again. “Have you planned something important?” Vegeta asked.

 

Kakarott looked at him. “Why?”

 

“There's plenty space in this bed,” Vegeta tried to shrug, but had to refuse the thought. He wanted Kakarott to stay, he hoped that Kakarott would stay. Even if the prince was sure that he was going to fall asleep in two seconds, he still wanted Kakarott beside him.

 

Kakarott shook his head. “No, at this moment nothing important crosses my mind,” he tentatively smiled. He kicked his boots away, rounded the bed and carefully climbed in. He curled next to Vegeta. After several minutes Kakarott knew that Vegeta was fast asleep, but he had no wish to move anywhere.

 

XXXXX

 

The prince could hear calm breathing beside him. He turned his head around. He was pleased that it didn't hurt as much. Kakarott was asleep and facing away from him. Kakarott was wearing different clothes than when he last saw him; that meant that Kakarott changed and came back to him. He tentatively reached out to Kakarott's dark spiky hair.

 

Kakarott gazed at the white wall alongside him. He could feel Vegeta caressing his hair then Vegeta's hand ran down his nape and shoulder. The touches were feather light. He doubted that Vegeta realized that he was awake.

 

“Do you want anything?” Kakarott asked after he felt the hand retreat. He felt Vegeta flinch. “To drink or to eat?” trying not to shake the bed, he carefully, turned around to look at Vegeta.

 

Vegeta silently gazed at Kakarott then nodded. “Yes, both. But first I need to go to the bathroom.”

 

“Do you want me to help you?” Kakarott asked, perfectly realizing that Vegeta probably was hardly able to get up on his own.

 

The prince thought a moment. He didn't want Kakarott to see him like this, but he would need someone to help him, anyway. “Yes.”

 

It took incredibly long to get into the bathroom. Because the prince's body hurt badly, Kakarott was hardly able to support him - there barely was a place where Kakarott could hold onto Vegeta to keep him steady. After they finally reached the bed again, Vegeta was so exhausted that he didn't want anything else simply sleep. But Kakarott insisted on food, and only after he made several sandwiches for Vegeta, and Vegeta ate them, did he allow the prince sleep.

 

XXXXX

 

Several days passed, and it seemed that things were improving. The prince was slowly, but surely recovering and he felt better. Journeys to the bathroom and back weren't as exhausting anymore, and now he spent more time awake than asleep.

 

The prince settled back into the bed. He watched Kakarott dawdling with the food. Kakarott didn't raise his head once to look at him. He didn't know how to react to this at all. After that attack Kakarott became different. Kakarott said that he was sorry. Yes, he was sorry too. Sorry for what had happened between them long ago, sorry for what was happening. What now? Where do they go from here? Kakarott didn't avoid his eyes anymore, Kakarott wasn't afraid of him anymore; Kakarott didn't shy away from his touches. Then could he expect more? Was there a possibility that the situation moved, preferably forward? Ah, his head was already burning because of these thoughts. He had been torturing himself - Kakarott had been torturing him - for the past several days. Kakarott would bring him food, stay with him for a while. They would talk about this and that, but none of them ever mentioned what he cared for most. He had seen Kakarott's tears then, when Kakarott said that he was sorry for what happened. Did those tears manage to wash away all the anger and mistrust? Did they manage to bring everything back? Not likely. But he hoped. He hoped that they did. If not now, then later.

 

Vegeta watched Kakarott pick up the tray. Kakarott approached the bed and carefully put the tray on the bed. Kakarott still hadn't glanced at him once. Vegeta took a sandwich from the tray and slowly began to eat. He gazed at Kakarott who was silently sitting against the bed and staring down, between his feet, at a very interesting spot on the carpet.

 

“A beautiful day outside, isn't it?” Vegeta asked, taking another sandwich. He saw Kakarott crack a smile at the spot in the carpet.

 

“Yes, indeed,” Kakarott answered. “I wonder if we could go for a swim today.”

 

The sandwich faltered on its way to the mouth. Vegeta stared at Kakarott. The sandwich moved again. “It might start raining,” he said after a while.

 

“It had been raining for a while, it should stay clear now,” Kakarott answered.

 

Vegeta finished his sandwich. He picked up a glass of juice. “Then we really should go.” Yes, it was enough of rain, of pain and hurt. Vegeta put the empty glass back on the tray. “Come,” he patted the place next to him. Kakarott stood up and approached the bed. A bit unsure, Kakarott sat down.

 

He turned a bit then leaned down to Kakarott. Kakarott stared at him unmoving, his black eyes wide. Kakarott didn't pull back when his lips touched Kakarott's. In fact Kakarott's lips opened. Completely dazed from feelings that were bombarding him, he pressed his mouth to Kakarott's.

 

They attacked each other like starved wolves meat. They sought comfort and feeling in that closeness. They touched and kissed to be sure that it was real.

 

He broke the kiss to look at Kakarott then pressed his head to Kakarott's chest. He wanted to feel and caress but he madly hurt everywhere, his back felt akin to burning. Kakarott knew that of course, Kakarott was holding him by his arms, shushing him while he cried. And then Kakarott was crying, and he was shushing him. They held onto each other for dear life.

 

XXXXX

 

Kakarott climbed down the stairs. His heart beat madly and he felt that he was short of breath. He had to stop to compose himself before reaching the guards. The guards questioningly looked at him, but didn't get sardonic after noticing his white-less tail tip. All the guards knew and recognized Kakarott now. During this week he somehow managed to rise in their eyes. It was probably because the prince's order was clear - anybody, who messed with Kakarott, was going to be dead.

 

“I'm here to see Damaro,” Kakarott said, handing over the prince's note with permission to enter the dungeon to one of the guards.

 

After reading, the guard folded the paper and gave it back to Kakarott. The guard motioned for Kakarott to follow him. Kakarott watched the other guard unlock the heavy bounded door. He followed the guard into the dark corridor. The smell beat Kakarott as a wet rag into his face. Urine, dank humidity, rotting flesh, illness, blood, death. He suddenly felt sick. Vegeta had warned him about that, but he didn't expect to be it so bad.

 

Kakarott closed his eyes and stopped for a moment to lean on the wall. He instantly regretted that - the stony, heavy walls were covered in something damp and sticky. He hoped it was just growing silt. He pushed away from the wall and staggered after the guard, who hadn't even stopped to wait for him.

 

They passed several locked doors. Some of the doors were open, and Kakarott was able to see chains hanging from the stained walls. His gaze lingered on the blood stained floors, dirty buckets, then he had to turn away. Almost. Almost, he was almost here. He felt himself shaking, now he was twice as afraid to see Damaro as he was before. He was hardly able to breathe and was sweating non-stop. The stench and anticipation were making him sick.

 

Finally the guard stopped against one cell and took the bundle of keys from his waistband. Kakarott watched him fumble with the lock in the light of torches then the guard pushed the door open. Kakarott stepped in then heard the door shut behind him.

 

Damaro was sitting in the middle of his cell, on the cold stony floor, his hands and feet shackled with heavy chains. Shielding his eyes from the light, Damaro raised his head.

 

Kakarott stepped back at the anger and hatred that pulsed from Damaro in waves. Damaro's face was black and blue, there was curdled blood everywhere, on Damaro's face, his scarce clothing, walls, floor, even ceiling.

 

“Damaro…” Kakarott found his voice. He had no idea what to say or to do. He had to see Damaro, he had an urge to see Damaro, but he didn't know what to say. Nothing that he wanted to say was going to redeem him or change anything.

 

“And I was getting impatient thinking when you'd show up to feast your eyes…” Damaro's lips upturned into a snarl.

 

“Damaro, I…” Kakarott came closer. He was shaking profusely. He didn't know how to explain. Oh, how he wanted to make things better than they were! “I…” he went closer. He managed only a gasp, as suddenly Damaro launched on him, knocking him with his back into a wall, winding the chain round his neck and then he was turned around, his face painfully smashing into the wall.

 

“Yes, I was getting fucking impatient,” Damaro purred into Kakarott's ear, pulling the chain with all his might.

 

Kakarott strained himself against Damaro while trying to loose the chain around his neck. He earned only more pain and a bigger lack of air.

 

“I'll fucking haunt you here and in the other world,” Damaro hissed at the back of choking Kakarott. “You know whom I hate even more than Elites? Traitors!” he hissed.

 

Kakarott was half-conscious when he heard the door opening then suddenly the chain around his neck became loose. While he was gasping and filling his lungs with some much needed air, someone grabbed him by his shoulders and began to drag him out of the cell. Through a daze in his mind and blood pounding in his ears he was able to hear Damaro shouting after him: “Look at what you've become! You betrayed not only me, you betrayed yourself! You betrayed everything you've been fighting for, everything you've been living for! How did you stoop so low?! Do you know what you are, Kakarott? A whore! Nothing more than a whore! You always liked to be fucked by an Elite, didn't you?!”

 

XXXXX

 

He was still shaking when he went to see Vegeta.

 

Kakarott knocked at the door then entered the room. He sat down on the armchair in the corner to wait until the doctor finished changing the prince's bandages. After several minutes the doctor finished and left. Vegeta pulled himself higher onto the pillows.

 

“Have you seen him?” the prince asked, though he already knew the answer - Kakarott's face was ashen and Kakarott was chewing on his lower lip.

 

Kakarott nodded. He let his head drop on the back of the armchair and closed his eyes. “He almost killed me.” He couldn't see Vegeta's eyes catch a sudden flame. “If not for the guard, knocking him down…” he sighed, opened his eyes. “Though, he has a perfect reason.”

 

“Did he tell you anything?” the prince asked.

 

Kakarott bit his lip. “Nothing what I'd want to repeat,” he shook his head. “Oh, Gods!” he groaned. “I didn't want that, I really didn't want that…”

 

TBC

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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