Uncharted Waters

Chapter 19 (Screw the Roman numbers at this point, I don\'t think I\'ve been writing them down correctly anyway)

(Note: I defy canon and come up with my own description of …things in this chapter due to abhorrence of GT.)

The entire room shook violently with what sounded like a turbo-jet took taking off at their feet. The roar was deafening and both of them covered their ears from its onslaught. The intense tremors that followed threw its unprepared occupants from their respective places unto the floor.

“What in the fuck is going on?!” Yamcha yelled covering his head from the debris falling around him. But Piccolo was all ready on his feet and racing towards the other end of the building, or what was left of it.

Half of Capsule Corporation was blown to rubble; what were once the labs and technicians’ offices was now a huge gaping hole that opened into the city streets. Piccolo didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that the buildings across the road had taken some damage as well. He soundlessly thanked whatever divinity who might have taken an interest that it was after 6 p.m. and everyone should be home for the evening, or so he hoped.

He vaulted over a collapsed stairwell and around a tangled mass of steel and live wires that snapped around dangerously like a monstrous nest of landed eels. A wrath like he never thought possible, pounded down upon him like a war hammer quickening his steps. Cursing what he considered a lack of ability he, for once, was jealous of Son Goku’s talent to transport himself to his destination at will. He would have given anything to reach his mate instantaneously. Vegeta, from what he could sense, was in such a state that his emotions where melding with his own. The Namek tried to differentiate between his own feelings and his mate’s, but the thin line between their psyches were quickly becoming blurred. Ire and hatred were overcoming panic and fear and then all of a sudden, his vision went red with the urge to render his enemy asunder piece by bloody piece.

He stumbled when the feelings within him surged. This was beyond animosity and hatred; this was deeper, much, much deeper. This was a violation, a rape of everything he stood for and believed in. This was heresy— a blasphemy so grievous that nothing could make it right again. The intensity blinded him, he couldn’t see or hear anything around him. It was beyond himself, he could hear in the distance, millions of voices screaming. An entire race shrieked and howled in outrage as an ancient, holy, law was shamefully defiled. The rage and hatred poured through his skull and down his body like acid, burning his mind to ashes.

Piccolo fell to his knees and retched.

‘Stop!’ his mind screeched, trying desperately to pull away from the invading pathos as it threatened to break his sanity, ‘Stop! For the love of the Gods, STOP!’

But it did not stop. It continued on and on until finally he curled upon himself and screamed, but the sound was washed away in the tide of black malevolence. He could literally feel the other souls he had merged with cower and twist upon themselves as they were being slowly ripped away from his mind. Nail was the first to loose footing, and Kami, as powerful as he was, could do nothing to stop any of it as he too was being torn away. Burning fingers invaded his mind and with one fell swoop, wrenched the elder guardian from his place and threw him down into a sea of vindictive chaos to be consumed utterly.

Piccolo tried to fight the invasion off, but an invisible force was holding hiwn. wn. And then all at once, he felt horribly displaced. He could sense the Saiyan influence of their bond brutally overpowering the Namekian. Almost beyond words now, the bond he had with his mate twisted into naught but pure raw emotion. Primal instincts that had never existed in his native race were coursing through his veins like molten lava. Nothing could quench this thirst, or right this wrong. One dead lowborn Saiyan would not pay back this debt, no, an aberration so horrid would demand—

‘Please,’ he begged with the final shred of his sanity pushing the last of his telepathic abilities before they were destroyed. ‘Please Vegeta…’ It was so weak that Piccolo wasn’t sure if he had even sent anything at all, ‘stop.’

Everything went dead silent.

It was a pause, only long enough for Piccolo to gather his wits again. Wasting no time, he got to his feet and shakily began his journey again. He didn’t know how long he had been down, it could have been a few seconds or hours; he had no way of knowing. What he did know was that he had to get to his mate and fast. He had to soothe the prince’s anger before he ended up blowing something else into infinitesimal pieces, preferably not anything that lived and breathed.

As he moved, he took stock of himself. Small rivulets of blood ran down his hands from where his nails had dug into his skin and his vision swam in such a way that he knew he must have burst a few capillaries in his eyes, but other than that he was physically well. He did a quick check on the other souls within in him and found they were gone. Halting his steps, hysteria rose within him as he tried again and again to search for them. There was nothing, he could only feel an awful emptiness but the feeling was abruptly wrenched aside as another tide of rage washed over him.

Cursing once again, he kept moving, faster this time, trying desperately to calm himself. He had to keep a cool head, otherwise he would end up on the floor again and then he, and everyone else, would be shit out of luck. He would worry about Nail and Kami once he had dealt with Vegeta.

He found himself surrounded by darkness as he entered the living area of the building. He was close, only a few more steps away as he rounded the corner that was once the dining room. The breath was stolen from his lungs at the sight before him.

It was dark, but he could make out the forms of Trunks and Bulma. They were cowering on the floor amongst the fallen bits of debris. The young man was shielding his mother, and making horrific sobbing noises, keening pitifully at the floor in front of him. Towering over them was a warrior Piccolo did not immediately recognize.

He wore his mate’s clothing and had his mate’s build, but that is where the similarities ended. The figure had a curtain of long spiked gold hair that fanned out from his scalp down to his waist like a fire gone out of control. A razor-cut fringe of hair completely covered the widow’s peak that had once been a sign of noble blood in the Saiyan race. The accrual tresses nearly brushed the figure’s lashes, bringing focus to the eyes.

And those eyes; though the light was minimal, he could make them out clearly. They were not black, nor were they the shimmering aquamarine of a Super Saiyan. They were of the deepest out outlined by thin yellow rings Yet, instead of gleaming with power— as had been the case with the other ascentions—they were dead, dull, as if they were the eyes of a corpse. Slanted beneath a pronounced brow, they set their sickening gaze on him. And that’s when Piccolo got the full view of his mate and shuddered despite his best efforts to remain calm.

Vegeta’s cheekbones, once so delicately defined, wtwictwice as prominent above sunken, hollow cheeks that stretched tightly across the bones. Devoid of all color, the bleached pallor of the Saiyan gave the appearance that his face was devoid of skin entirely. His lips, thin and chalky, were drawn back over sharpened elongated canines that unlike the Namek’s own, resembled the maw of a carnivorous ape. And behind him, swaying back and forth was a long, gold, tail.

“So,” Piccolo said softly, his voice trembling, “this is Super Saiyan four.”

The figure hissed at him and took a step forward. That’s when he noticed the third figure crumpled on the ground.

“Goku!”

His jaw dropped slightly in surprise. He had not felt the other Saiyan approach; his overloaded brain belatedly supplied that Goku must have used instant transmission. A foolish move on his part, and quite possibly his last.

Resembling more a pile of half-devoured carrion than a man, he was nearly bloodied beyond all recognition. His legs were twisted at odd angles, as was his left arm that was dangling limply in the wrong direction. The other arm—Piccolo gasped at the crimson mess of Goku’s right shoulder. The other arm was missing entirely, ripped clean from its socket. Upon scanning the grounds he found it strewn across the floor yards away. A gurgling sound issuing from a gash torn in the man’s throat was the only indication he was still alive.

A shrill laugh tore his horror-filled gaze away. Vegeta’s triumphant, insane, laughter echoed in the room that was now nothing more than a cave of rubble.

“Kakarott,” he said, his voice sounding nothing of his former self, “finally dies by my hand.” A rictus smile cracked upon his face. “I’ve waited too long, too, too, long…and now,” his skeletal grin growing so that it crinkled his eyes, “his life is mine to take.”

The high-pitched rasping tone caused the Namek to back step, but try as he might he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the creature his mate had become.

“But you,” the Saiyan continued, cocking his head here as if he didn’t recognize the green man befhim,him, “interrupted me, and that’s not very nice, now is it? Not when I’ve waited so long for this.” He paused here, as if deciding whether to attack or not. He must have chosen, at least for the time being, to spare the intruder’s life because when he spoke again his tone had unexpectedly changed. “ But there’s still time,” he beamed. “Look,” he said gleefully, pointing to the body as if it were a piece of art, “see how he bleeds? Only traitors and lowborns bleed like that. Their blood is thinner, runs more.” He nodded as if extremely proud of himself, “And he’s both. That’s why it’s all over. His blood sprays like water because it doesn’t have any substance.” He gestured around himself and it was then that the Namek was finally able to look away and survey the room in more detail.

What the darkness had disguised as the hardwood floor was actually a thin layer of blood. It was everywhere, even on Trunks and Bulma. Their huddled forms were speckled in crimson spots, looking for all the world, like they had been sprayed with canister of red paint. The Namek then noticed the pools around his feet and was astonished that he had not slipped in the stuff when he first entered the room. Horrified, he looked at Goku’s prone form once more.

“Vegeta,” Piccolo breathed as he soaked the sight in, “Gods, what did you do?”

The grin washed from the other’s face at the Namek’s apparent lack of delight over the matter.

“No, no” he shook his head frowning, “he has to die. Yes.” He nodded here, like an exuberant child, and then smiled sickly again.

Suddenly, his features rearranged themselves into something conspiratal. “He sinned, you see,” he whispered loudly as if that explained everything. He leaned in slightly, “he did…they both did.” He straightened and his voice grew louder and more commanding, “And now they must die, and this planet too because it’s been defiled by what they’ve done.”

“Vegeta,” Piccolo repeated cautiously, “this isn’t you talking. The change, the assention, it’s scrambled your mind—

“No!” the Saiyan elite shouted, floating up in the air. And then his eyes went wide, “YOU!” he pointed as if he suddenly recognized who he was speaking to. “You lied to me! You tricked me, and hid what they did from me. You hid their crime from me and told lies with your false heart-bond! ” His eyes glowed in anger, “You betrayed me!”

And without warning the Namek was vaulted into the air, an iron-grip clamped around his throat crushing his windpipe. “You used that old fool to hide from me, but I…” he laughed here, “I took him away and that arrogant whelp too. They turned you against me.” He gave him a toothy grin, “But that won’t ever happen again. I silenced them forever and now you won’t ever lie to me, ever again, will you?”

Piccolo didn’t struggle. What he had just been told jarred his mind. They were gone. Kami and Nail where no more, and neither was his mate. He refused to believe that the thing holding him was his lover. But this couldn’t be so! It may have been too late for Nail and Kami but he swore that he wouldn’t lose his mate.

Determination serving as his only strength, he closed his eyes when he felt the pressure increase on his throat. Vegeta was ranting at him some more, but he blocked it out hearing none of it, instead, he reached deep within himself into their bond.

His mate’s mind was shattered. The uncontrollable rage had caused him to pre-maturely ascend into SSJ4. However, his body and his mind was not prepared or remotely disciplined for the sudden leap. Vegeta had only recently ascended, and had been training like a mad man, to maintain SSJ3 for longer than a few moments. Sudden fluxes in power demanded that the mind and body be perfectly disciplined or things could get extremely dangerous. This Piccolo knew first hand as he dangled from the Saiyan’s grip. Slowly he began to push the fragments of sanity together even as he felt his life drain out of him. And then he saw it, and made a precarious dive.

Opening his eyes he looked down into the monstrous face of his lover and smiled sadly.

“Are you going to kill me too, love?” he managed with a stolen breath of air, “At least,” He gasped, “I die by your hands. A good death, I think.” He had very little air left so he used it wisely, “They say that the most honorable way to die is in battle, fighting your mortal nemesis. But the most serene, is by the hands of the one you love beyond all others.” Oblivion was claming him slowly, “And you, my mate, have been both. ”

The Saiyan stopped short. Something clicked behind his eyes and a new clarity focused his vision bringing his dead gaze alive. The bond between them righted itself into balance, forcing the primal instincts roughly to recede.

“Oh Gods!” he shouted as he released the Namek in his hands. Piccolo crumpled in a heap, the Saiyan, wasting no time, bent over him. He forced his mouth open as he pressed his own firmly over it breathing a lung full of air into him.

‘Oh Gods, what have I done!?’ he mentally cried. ‘Piccolo, don’t you die on me!’

‘For fucks sake, power down, then!’ came the sudden, relieved, reply. Apparently the Namek
still had his senses about him, at least enough to respond, ‘If you’re not choking the air out of me, you’re smothering me with too much of it, you stupid ape.’

‘Sorry’ he pulled himself away, nearly sobbing with relief, ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’ll live, the question is, are you?’

‘I don’t know,’ came the honest reply, ‘I feel like I’m trying to contain a typhoon within a glass jar.’

‘Power down!’ The Namek comanded, wondering why he had not done so all ready.

Vegeta shut his eyes taking deep breaths, and then opened them wildly again, “I can’t.” he hissed in that stranger’s voice.

‘Yes you can, concentrate.’

Agonizingly slow, he worked over the link of power, pushing it back bit by bit until finahe lhe lowered himself to SSJ3, which he could safely descend from. The red eyes gave way to blue then black as his facial features shifted and hair returned to its normal length and colorghinghing in relief he turned towards his mate, and leaned down spending a few moments to make sure he was really okay before he finally spared a look around the room and flinched. He deliberately stood up and swept his gaze around what used to be the kitchen.

Vegeta appeared visibly upset by the destruction of the building, his face going quite pale, but when his eyes came to rest on his nemesis and his son sobbing over him, he froze. He stood there for the longest time staring at them; he might as well have been a statue for the lack of emotion on his face.

“Piccolo,” he said finally.

The Namek looked up at him from his place on the floor warily.

Without turning he spoke, “Summon Dende.” The voice was stagnant as it continued, “If he hurries he can still save Kakarott’s arm and,” he muttered as an afterthought, “his worthless life.”

Trunks looked up at him, at last. His face was smeared with blood, grime, and tears. He glared at his sire with a mixture of the utmost hatred and fear.

“How could you do this,” he cried, “HOW COULD YOU!?”

The prince’s face remained immobile on the point of answering, “The only reason I do not finish my kill, is because you have chosen to bond yourself with this peasant and you are not strong enough yet to live through his death. However,” his voice turned to ice, “His life is forfeit in my eyes and if he ever crosses my path again I will end him, bond or no.” He took a few steps and knelt before his only child, “And you, my son,” his eyes were steel, “you have spit upon your Saiyan heritage and disregarded our customs and laws and mingled your blood with a low-level’s; the gravest of offenses among our people.”

Rage etched the youth’s features, “Our people,” he spat, “The Saiyans are dead, dad, or haven’t you noticed?” His voice shook with loathing, “You uphold the standards of a dead race, and for what? What kingdom do you have, father? What throne do you sit on? Who are your subjects?” He smiled bitterly, “You have nothing, your race is gone.”

However, Trunks might as well have been talking to a stone for all of the emotion he inspired.

“I am the Prince of Saiyans,” Vegeta uttered stoically, “and you were my heir. It was your kingdom you mocked, your subjects, and race. And while they may not breathe, your dishonor brings shame unto them in the afterlife.” He stood on his feet and looked behind the youth to the unconscious woman l beh behind him. “Take good care of your mother and send to her my regards,” he looked around the room, “and apologies,” he added, “for destroying her home.” His eyes settled on the youth once more, something flashed behind them quickly before returning to the hard penetrating gaze, “But as for you, Trunks, I will not look on you again.” He said something in his native tongue, which Trunks translated into “Thy dishonor banishes you. You are not recognized and will not enter our Halls in death.” He then said softly, “Goodbye, my child.”

He turned and walked away without a backwards glance, he paused in front of the Namek who was now standing and staring at him in shock.

‘I’m sorry, for all that I’ve done to you,’ His eyes softened, ‘I’m so sorry. I know that I can never be forgiven for what I’ve taken from you. Just know that, no matter what, I’ll always love you, and I hope you can go on with your life in p.’ A.’ And with that he reached out and trailed his fingertips over his lover’s cheek before drawing back and delivering a glancing blow to the side of the younger man’s head. The prince caught his unconscious form and lowered him gently to the ground. He took one last look at him, and then he was gone.

He soared to the Lookout, intent on a packet of capsules stowed away for emergency use that he hoped he would never have cause to use. He savored the view of the ground that spanned out below him; the planet that had been his home for nearly two decades. Everything ahead was uncharted waters; he didn’t know where he was going to go, or even had the vaguest of ideas of where to start looking. But it didn’t matter. He smiled slightly to himself as he bid the Earth and those who resided in it a silent farewell.


The End.


(Notes: I don’t like GT’s SSJ4, so I made a few modifications.)


Damn, that was fucking evil, wasn’t it? And what’s sad is that I wasn’t intending to be this time around.

* sighs *

Well, folks, I hate to say it, but this is it for Uncharted Waters. It was either wait it out, where I could possibly add a chapter here or there which might end up with me abandoning the fic entirely, or give it an abrupt endiAt lAt least this way there is a kind of closure. I do have ideas about a continuation, however. But, I cannot promise anything. I’ll be moving out of the country in a few short months, (*sniff* bye-bye USA, hello England! *cheers*), as such it’s a little hectic here trying to prepare for the move, thus lack of time. I DO want to continue this story, so I’m hopeful that I’ll find the time here and there. But as for when? Well, it could be next week, could be months, or it may not happen at all. I just can’t say at this point.

While I apologize about the abruptness of the ending, I’m not in the least bit sorry about how I ended it. I could have written a happy ending, but let’s face it, Unconditional Bonds aside, I don’t do fluff. I guess this is what my take is on the whole situation if it were really to happen. If any of you are part of the SaiyanSlash group, (which unfortunately due to connection problems I don’t post on anymore) you may have read my little rant on Vegeta’s behavior. I do not see him as a victim or a kitten, or on the flip side, a raging one-dimensional bastard..thus why I let Goku live for Trunk’s physical sake. How I wrote this is what I personally believe his actions would have been given the circumstances, plus I feel like I’ve hinted to it in previous chapters. Feel free to disagree with me, it’s a free country and to each his own.

And now my humble thanks:

To the new reviewers:

Angel: You were right! This was, at least to me, a hell of a lot bigger than a BOOM. Not an original fan of the pairings? Well, I hope I’ve converted you, if only a little. Thanks!

Sarkywoman: Hmm..the name sounds familiar, did you review for UB? Anywho, I’m glad you liked the smut, I’m a fan of it myself. Hee. Well, I don’t think this is much better than a cliffhanger, but I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride nonetheless. I appreciate the time you’ve taken to read this in one big chunk. Kudos to you.

Dobela: Yes, I’m cruel! Ask anyone, they’ll tell you, *nods*

Chilly: Um, thanks, I think. Sorry about the cliffhangers, but I write em, likes I see em. Plus I tend to be downright evil, that might have something to do with it. Thanks for reviewing.


KitKat: I remember you! You posted on one of the ML’s didn’t you? Or maybe you did e-mail me…hmm, oh well.

Two reviews from you! Wow. Don’t worry about being too ‘harsh’, believe me, I can take it. As I said, everyone is entitled to their opinions, and frankly I like a good debate. You do have a valid point about the stark differences between P/V races, age, etc. But I think, at least to me, it is the emotional differences or social taboos that cause the biggest rifts. I’m sure this last chapter didn’t sit well with you, as I had Vegeta beat the living shit out Goku and disown Trunks, but this is Vegeta’s reaction. I would not, and would never force them to separate under these circumstances. I can say, at least as far as I can see, that they are still together.

Thanks for your input!

And to my faithful supporters:

Xzanayu: Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long for this one. I want to give you a big thank you for being one of my most loyal reviewers. You have no idea how much a little feedback goes. Again my heartfelt thanks for the time spent on clicking that ‘review story’ button.

Jaygoose: I can say the same for you. You have my utmost gratitude for your loyalty. I always have looked forward to your reviews and they have never failed to urge me to write more. Thank you from the bottom of my black heart * snerk* for sticking with me thus far.

Kira: Well I hope the metal umbrella provided ample protection. You were nearly spot on about Vegeta’s reaction…but I felt sorry enough for Goku to let him live. What can I say, I’m a softie. As far as Piccolo, well we’ll have to see where life takes me as far as a continuation, but I do have ideas…lots and lots of ideas. Thank you so much for all of your feedback.

Mehla Seraphim: Permission Granted! If you ever get a scanner you MUST send me what you’ve got! I want to see! * dances around* Fortunately, or unfortunately, Bulma is still alive and well, though I imagine she’ll be quite pissed once she comes to. Hee hee. Again, sorry about the cliffhangers, but at least I updated more quickly this time! Again, thank you thank you thank you for all of your kind words and I hope I’ve inspired you to write some of your own fics.
Much appreciation.

I hope I haven’t missed anyone. If I have, a BIG THANKS to you too, and to all of you readers out there.

As for now, but hopefully * crosses fingers* not too long,

Ja ne.