Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dance With Death ❯ Within the Waking Dream ( Chapter 16 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
By: Angel Katarina aka AC 
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.18.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 7.1K | Visits: 331 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 03.18.2005 | Pages: 5 | Words: 7.1K | Visits: 331 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I don't own DragonBallZ or any of its characters, I just own Comet.
"Dance With Death"
by A.C
Chapter Sixteen
Within the Waking Dream
---`---,---@
And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
and sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
- "Iris", The Goo Goo Dolls
---`---,---@
"You are my ultimate acheivement. So why haven't you successfully completed your task yet?!"
She raised a hand to her forehead, a scowl plastering itself across her face. "Get out of my head, old man," she hissed under her breath, "I don't have to listen to you anymore."
"You fool, how very wrong you are! I may have been killed, but I have yet to be finished! You will listen to me, or I can and will find a way to make you suffer." The voice seemed to reverbate painfully around in her skull, as if her head was empty, filled with nothing but his grating voice. And yet a part of her clung desperately to that voice, for it was the only one she knew. It had been the first to penetrate her mind. And so it stayed.
"I... I will kill them." Her tone had changed somewhat, but she angrily fought to keep it as disdainful and proud as possible. Beneath, her pride was crumbling. "Give me time, and I will! I can do it-"
"I should hope you can - I programmed you that way! You may have been the first of a more independent life form, but I still created you. You learned from a computer. You still depend on a computer's information - on me!"
"Silence!" Comet snarled, "I depend on no one! Least of all a COMPUTER. I am better than any computer - I am perfect!"
Suddenly, a searing pain shot down her arms, errupting through her chest. It was unexpected, and managed to rip a cry of pain from her. Her nerves tingled, flames shooting throughout her blood. She could feel her heart swelling, a pounding in her ears, in her chest. Everything was on fire, burning...
"You forget your place," the voice hissed, "You may be perfect, but you've developed flaws. Your program went haywire, so I've seen. You weren't meant to feel emotion. And now, what are you doing...? You've allowed this - this Earthling..."
"It's too late," she panted in response. She had fallen to her knees without realizing, and now stared blankly down at a dark floor beneath her. Her arms and legs were holding her up, but her limbs were trembling. She shifted her attention to her right arm. She could feel the muscles flexing uncontrollably, tensing and relaxing with an unnatural rythmn. Every so often, a shock jerked its way up her nerve endings, causing the limb to go limp for a few moments. "It's too late, we've bonded."
"You idiot! You mindless, blathering fool! What do you expect to come of this? Why are you wasting your time in such a way?!"
"I can't help it!" she wailed. Another tremor raced down her spine, but she knew it to be self-induced. How dare she allow such misery into her voice. She couldn't let him know he was getting to her, couldn't let him win. As she continued, her tone hardened, icy and biting. "My mate will learn to accept me-"
"You cannot believe that. You simply cannot." The voice was mocking - actually MOCKING her! How dare he... "Look at yourself. You're a monster. The human cannot love a monster, cannot love you! And you cannot love in return." In self-torment, she looked down at herself. Cold black armor glinted in a light above. She raised a hand, flexing it testingly and fighting back the stings that resulted. Her eyes studied the pale white skin. He was right...
"No!" she cried, slamming a fist on the surface beneath her. It was glass, for it cracked, a spiderweb of silver staining the black glass beneath her. Only... the web continued to spread.
"Yesss... this isn't love." The cruel, twisting irony with which that word was pronounced was physically painful. Another throb erupted in her chest, and this time she couldn't bite back the howl of pain. "You're a poor, weak victim to lust, my creation. Lust! And nothing more. And yet it is your downfall. Kill the Earthling, kill the Z Fighters! Complete your task."
The spiderweb continued to spread. In places, the glass was falling away, black glass that melted into shadowy demons. They flitted away on velvet wings, cold eyes glinting gleefully in her direction. A roaring was building beneath her. She could feel it. She couldn't hear it, all she could hear was the voice. But she could feel it...
"Then what?" she whispered, feeling warm tears dripping down her cheeks. Slowly, she lowered her chin to watch as a single drop landed on a twisted piece of black glass beneath her. It stained the surface red. Blood. She was weeping blood.
"I don't care. You'll be useless, then. You can die, for all I care. You can die alone."
The roaring built to its climax, and she threw her head back with an anguished howl. Above her, they had gathered, those on the midnight wings. They clustered together, silent and imposing, merging into one. And finally, a monstrous blade of shadow - its tip dripping with blood - slammed down atop of her.
---`---,---@
Her eyes flared open, as if she had been electrically shocked, a surge of energy suddenly forcing its way into her. Comet sat up, eyes stinging against the sudden illumination of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. She stared blankly for a moment, chest rising and falling with her deep, panicked breaths. Slowly, she calmed. She was lying on her back on the floor. A white floor. The silence was ringing in her ears.
Footsteps echoed to her left. Too emotionally drained to defend against whatever unknown presence making its way towards her, she merely turned her head, looking dazedly up at the Chamber's only other occupant. Cell finished walking over to her, gazing calmly down at her, eyes half-lidded. She looked blearily back.
He said nothing at first, merely watching her. Her eyes focused and blurred, struggling to clear the image she held of him. At length, she heard his deep voice; "Have you awoken?"
It was as if everything had been coated in a layer of silvery mist. She felt so cold. Not chilled, but icy cold, as if she was laying on a layer of ice. She nodded, and her head pounded. Something cool was forced into her hands, but it was cool that slowly seeped in, as if dulled by something.
"Drink this."
Her hands struggled thickly to remove the lid of the bottle, and she took a gulp. Icy water gushed down her throat, hitting her stomach and causing it to recoil. She forced to keep it down, ignoring the throbbing in her head, looking up again at him and willing her gaze to clear. He seemed hesitant about something.
"Keep sipping that, and you'll feel better."
She opened her mouth to respond, but automatically felt the bottle meet her parched lips, and she took another sip. Her gaze cleared a little bit, her thoughts still vaguely swimming. She looked curiously up at him, as if suddenly fascinated with the purple stripes at the edges of his eyes, and the band of yellow running under his chin. Her eyes swept over his head crest, and the gleaming black dome within.
A short silence fell over the two of them. Cell had lowered, kneeling on the ground beside her. The position looked a little awkward for him. She had never seen him kneel before, which was a curious enough fact in itself, but also how it jumped out at her. Seeing a person and imagining him kneeling was a matter of the imagination and simple enough to reproduce, but somehow she had been unable to force any sort of image of Cell in that stance. And here he was, knees bent, closer to her level, looking very much out of place before her.
She opened her mouth to question, drawing air into her lungs. Instantly, fire erupted in her throat, the pain darting its jagged way up. She convulsed, gasping, and regretted the action again, as the cool air invited another stinging attack. She forced herself to breathe through her nose, clutching desperately at the floor for some object of stability, fighting away her panic. Her throat felt as if it were closing up, making it difficult to breathe.
"Comet," he murmured softly. A pale hand found its way to her forehead. "Don't panic."
She willed herself not to, gasping out words and writhing against the pain that accompanied them. "What h-happ... ened...?"
"You don't remember any of it?"
Would I be asking if I did? her thoughts spoke freely, unrestrained by pain or breathing. Instead, she forced her eyes to clear - as they were threatening to blur on her and dash away all the images she could currently see - and stared, almost fiercely, at his face. Tell me, why I can't speak...
He hesistated, levelly meeting her gaze. Another few brief moments of silence drifted between the two, until Cell finally murmured a response. It was more or less to himself, but she caught his short string of words. "Perhaps it's better you don't..."
Her lips parted to protest, but her outcry was silenced by a sharp bite at the back of her throat. Cell gently nudged the water in her hands, and she raised it to her lips and gulped it down again. Momentarily, icy relief flooded down. She kept her lips firmly shut this time, carefully watching his measured gaze as she lowered the bottle again.
"You will be able to speak once again soon," he assured her, quite evenly, after another couple moments of suspicious silence. "It would seem that you've... burnt your throat. We were training," he added, in response to her narrowed eyes, "And it appears your ki grew a little too much for you to handle."
Wonder how that happened, was her first dry thought, as she raised the now half-empty bottle again to her lips. This time, however, her steadily clearing eyes caught sight of her own hands. For a moment, she was paralyzed. She was still dreaming - her hands were still white. She was still - !
A few seconds later, the fear subsided, as she saw the clear ridges in the white on her hands. It now registered in her mind that her hands had been bandaged. The white gauze wrapped firmly around her fingers in a sort of glove effect, which explained her awkward handling of the bottle. But why had her hands been bandaged up?
She snagged Cell's gaze, shortly. He glanced away, looking down at her hands, but no surprise mounted on his face. "You burnt yourself," he supplied softly, after a minute, refusing to meet her eyes. "It will take a while to heal."
Got all the time in the world now, don't we - thanks to you? she wanted to shoot at him, but half of her was prevented by the faint, reminding tingling in the back of her throat. The other half faultered at the almost sad look on his face, and the soft tone of his words. Something had happened he refused to tell her, but it was something that had impacted him. With time, she would come to realize how it had impacted herself, as well.
"How long-?" she managed to choke out, before grimacing against the sharp bitings in her throat. She closed her eyes in a wince, teeth bared. Cell's hand lightly ran over her hair, but she didn't move to swat him away. It even hurt to speak.
"How long...?" he repeated after a moment. "How long before you can talk?"
She took in a deep breath through her nose, and spat out another couple of broken words, "We - been -"
His eyes gleamed, clearing. "We have been within this chamber for five months and a week. I can only presume ten or so hours have passed on the outside."
She bit back a low whimper. How badly she wanted to speak! When the one moment she was handicapped, her head resounded with questions, demands to know of an explanation. The length of her throat, down to her very stomach, throbbed, as if constricting. How had her training gotten so badly out of control, and how had that burned her... internally? As far as she could tell, it was as if her throat and hands alone had been burnt. What had happened while she was unconscious? What change had come over Cell?
She remembered... a moment of comfort... that comforting, safe, warm feeling she had once gotten. It came faintly back, only for a moment, in the back of her mind. As if struck with a fleeting, misty sense of deja vu, she remembered that, once, she had looked into the monster's eyes and felt comforted. Without questioning herself, her eyes desperately sought his. He knew the answers to her questions; he knew what had happened. The two sat and gazed at each other for several long minutes.
For those minutes, all Comet could feel was a desperate need to be comforted, and to find that look in his eyes again that had once filled her with that warm feeling. When had that been? Months ago? Weeks? Minutes...?
The spell didn't come, but still she searched. Cell remained motionless, as if obliging to her hunt, as if knowing she wouldn't find what she was looking for. As she gazed, her mind began to wander... but to wander back to the situation. She suddenly realized who she was staring at it. Cell, the cold-blooded Android who had almost killed Vegeta, who had tried to kill her friends, who had kidnapped her and practically raped her and trapped her in this horrid place. Instead of the wave of security she craved, a chill of fright and repulsion trickled down her spine.
Why, oh why, was she seeking comfort in the eyes of a murderer?!
"... Cell..." she breathed, struggling weakly against the threatening sting building in the back of her throat, "Will we ever get out...?"
His own eyes, which had softened as she stared pleadingly at him, now seemed to see she had regained herself, and mentally shied away upon realizing something. His own look hardened, in an instant, so that suddenly she had gone from looking at Cell, to looking at the blood-thirsty bioandroid who was holding her hostage. The change was subtle and immediate, but she caught it instantly.
"... I'm not sure..." he replied in a low voice. A part of him wanted to assure her that there had to be some way... but he didn't want to lie. He honestly didn't know.
His hand, still resting on her head, felt a slight tremor go through her. He saw, to his astonishment, that she was trembling. For a moment, he withdrew, pulling his hand away. But then he saw it was not out of fear, but of pain. With a terrible effort, she was whispering again.
"Will you.... still... k-kill them..."
His cold pink eyes didn't leave her broken green ones. Hardened and oblivious to emotion, she was unable to tell, again, what he was thinking. What he was feeling. A slight pressure rested on her upper chest, and without looking down, knew it was his hand. A small warmth began to spread from his fingertips.
"Go back to sleep, Comet," he ordered softly.
Her lips began to open in protest, but her eyelids drooped. That delicious warmth continued to spread through her, and her body reacted obediantely, dropping her back off into sleep. She fought it as long as she could, but her arms began to tremble, weakening. Slowly, she fell back to the floor, eyes blurring as she struggled to keep them open. The last thing she saw was Cell's stoic features, but there was a deepening sadness in his eyes. The last thing she remembered, before falling into blackness:
The dreams...
---`---,---@
Cell kept his hand steady as she fell into another deep slumber. Once her breathing slowed and regained its regular pattern, he slowly pulled his hand away. Her head lolled dreamily to the side, face relaxed, serious. Her look reminded him of a child, somberly regarding one of those many tragedies of youth that come and pass as quickly as laughter. He let his eyes drop to her hands. Her bandaged, broken hands. Gently, he reached down and took one in his own.
"No," he whispered, very softly, not even bothering to steady his shaking voice, "No, love, I will not kill them..."
---`---,---@
"I don't like this place... I don't like it at all," Krillin mumbled meekly, staring around as he followed Piccolo and Gohan. "Why do they have this thing on the Lookout at all? Sheesh..."
Neither of his companions responded. Gohan, too, gazed around in wonder. The young boy had to agree with Krillin's words, but he was ashamed to show them in front of Piccolo, who was leading the way and looking neither remotely surprised nor nervous. He hadn't spoken, either. In fact, Krillin had been the only one to break the silence since they had arrived.
The place that Popo had showed them to could only be described as the perfect graveyard and nothing more. The graves were scarcely visible amongst vast clouds of thick, rolling mist, and although it had been through a doorway Piccolo had led them, Gohan was still trying to figure out if the place was room or space or another dimension entirely. The descent to the pit of the Lookout had been like returning the distance to Earth and dropping further still into the underworld, and it took all of his senses to convince himself that he was still in the sky, but this was not a heaven of any kind. There was no sky, but there were no ceilings, no walls. Just a gray horizon, and the rolling mist.
Where were they going? To talk with the guardians? Piccolo seemed to plow on steadily as if knowing the precise way to go, and Gohan and Krillin, unsure, followed. Popo himself had refused to go past the archway point, claiming he had been here once, and once was enough. What was so horrible about this place, anyway? Sure, the fog and the fact that it was a graveyard was creepy, but what was so bad about a graveyard? Ghosts? This was a graveyard for the past Guardians of Earth, and if those guardians were anything like Kami - dear old, kindly Kami whom he remembered well - then their spirits couldn't possibly be so awful.
There must have been spirits, Gohan thought anxiously to himself, now gazing around for a silvery form stalking them through the fog, if they were to communicate with past Guardians of the earth. Then why was everyone so scared?
"Hey, uh... Piccolo?" Krillin piped up, his voice gaining a slightly higher pitch. Piccolo didn't respond or slow any, so Krillin took this as a sign he would at least listen, and continued; "D'you know where we're goin'?"
"Towards the center," came the Namek's rumbling answer. "The closer we get to the center, the more attention we draw, and we'll find more of them."
"Oh man," Krillin moaned, softly enough just for Gohan to hear. Piccolo's answer was simple enough, but still somehow very ominous. Gohan's attention, however, was held elsewhere. Some twenty feet away, through the mist, he had spotted the first tombstone he had seen in this graveyard.
"Hey, Piccolo!" he announced, running over towards it, "Maybe we can find them there!"
"Gohan, no!" he yelled back, but he didn't need to. Gohan froze as a figure rose up in front of him. It was a tall figure, swathed all in a dark gray cloak and carrying a staff, its face and features hidden from view. The young boy backed up, gaping at the ghost before him, who didn't move nor speak, but just stared without any eyes.
"Gohan!"
"Get back here!"
Only too happy to oblige, the boy turned tail and ran, but he had barely gone two steps with another figure slid into sight before him, bearing a strong resemblence to the first, but the height and build were distinctly different. And more were emerging from the mist, forming a loose circle around him, staring, silent and imposing. Vaguely, he heard Piccolo and Krillin shouting. His head was swimming. Where was that hissing coming from?
"Get away from him, you!" Krillin yelled furiously as he approached the dark circle, raising his hands over his head. "Destructo-!"
"Stop!" snarled Piccolo, fangs bared as he bolted alongside the monk, "If you attack them, they'll kill him!"
But little Gohan hadn't heard this. Surrounded by death and with his father's words of recent training ringing in his head, the boy raised his hands and drew them back. "Kaaaa... mee... haa... mee..."
"No!! Gohan!" The two Z Fighters screamed, but not in time. With self-defense in mind and nothing else, the boy shut his eyes as he released his attack. The few spirits in his direct path of fire disappeared instantly. The others instantly closed in, eyes glowing yellow beneath their hoods. Terrified by the Reaper-like creatures forming a tighter ring about him, the demi-Sayain dropped his attack and looked around him, trying to find a way out, wondering if he should fight.
One of the ghosts raised his staff, reaching out for the boy. Its eyes gleamed brighter, as the claw struggled to reach his neck. Gohan stumbled back, throwing a ki blast at the offender. The others simueltaneously raised their hands. A wave of nausea swept over the half-Sayain, and as he staggered, he caught sight of a... a blur of light, it looked like... actually sweeping off of his arm and drifting into the palms of one of the ghosts. As more blurs darted away from him, he felt himself weakening, until he fell to his knees.
"Stop!" Piccolo roared, finally reaching the circle and seeing Gohan about to faint, paling considerably. "Leave him! The pathway, you old fools, the pathway has been broken! The Hyperbolic Time Chamber has been disconnected!"
This attracted their attention. The ghosts looked up, lifting their hooded heads towards the alien. Slowly, they all lowered their hands. Krillin rushed forward to Gohan, who was still very much awake, but lay shaking on the ground.
"The pathway..." a faint, echoing whisper came from one of the spirits.
"Tell us how to restore it," Piccolo demanded, standing his ground and glaring at them with his great dark eyes, "You know the dangers if it isn't."
---`---,---@
This time, she knew she was dreaming. She knew this wasn't real. But still she dreamed.
She was herself this time. Cell stood before her, and she before him, free of the chamber, free of her bandaged hands, free of silence or blindness or the previous awkward feelings that rose and fell between them. They faced each other evenly, and for the first time she didn't feel a twisting in her stomach of loathing or fear. They faced each other like old friends. Like a married couple. Like mates.
"Go ahead," he spoke calmly, almost in a warm, kind tone. Like a friend. "Ask me anything."
And so she did. Without even thinking of her question. For she had always had the question. It had just needed to be given its opportunity for freedom. "Why?"
"Why what?" he questioned in response. "Because."
"Because of what?"
"You know, Comet. But all of your becauses mix with one another and confuse each other, until you can't sort why from why. You finally have to accept all of those becauses. Why? Because then you can answer that why yourself. And you won't need me."
"That's not true, Cell," she answered. Freely, without restraint. Her mind and common sense was the restraint. Her heart spoke freely. "You know I always need you. Just as I know."
"Very well, then. Answer me why."
"Why are you a cold-blooded killer? Why are you trying to kill my friends? Why do you love me? Why me? Why have you caused me all this grief? Why have I felt this way?"
"Why do you love me, Comet?"
"I never said that," she answered calmly. Cell's expression didn't change. He blinked, once, with his soft pink eyes. This didn't look like him. Was it him? It was a dream, after all. Maybe it wasn't a dream. No, they weren't in the Time Chamber. She knew she was asleep. She knew this was a dream.
"Why do you hate me, Comet?"
She didn't even stop to chide him for moving away from the topic. For he spoke the mind he shared with her, and she knew that to answer her own questions, she had to answer his, first. In due time, the answers would unravel themselves. Just as they had been wound up. Backwards, in order.
"Because you tried to kill my friends. You're a cold-blooded killer. And even if you aren't now, you were at one point, and I cannot overlook that and fall in love with you. You will not change."
"Did you know I wept for you, Comet?"
A pause. She didn't even blink. "Yes."
"Now, Comet. Did you feel me weep for you?"
"Feeling and knowing?"
"There's a difference."
"I'm dreaming this, you know. You are me. You aren't a separate entity. How is it I'm simply not telling myself this?"
"Because you are telling yourself this. But you needed to tell yourself this. Because you wouldn't listen. Always listen to yourself, Comet. It is a sad day on Earth when all on the planet ignore themselves. Who else would you listen to?"
"I'm listening."
A sad smile curled his pale lips, crinkling the purple stripes at the corners of his eyes. "You know I wept for you. Have you let yourself think about the meaning of my tears? When you realize the meaning of an action, you know it through and through. And you feel it. Feel it, Comet. Think about it, and feel it. I wept for you. I shed tears, for you."
"... For me..." she repeated, staring at him.
"Think of it when you awaken, so I may know you felt it. The cold-blooded one shed tears for you. Have you felt my dark fate? My past, my present, my future? It would seem I have no future. I am but with a simple task that my heart forbids me, and my life depends on, to complete."
"Why do you shed tears for me? Wouldn't it seem I should shed tears for you?"
"Do you? You needn't answer. Not aloud. But tell me, Comet. What are your reasons for loving me?"
She stood her ground, staring at him. His magneta eyes didn't leave her own. And slowly, in a shaking voice, even in her dream, she began to recite.
"Because-"
He crossed to her, and pressed a finger to her lips. It was as if both were numb. Neither felt the action, but as if it signified something, it broke something else.
And Comet opened her eyes.
"Because when your reasons for loving outnumber your reasons for loathing..." she whispered, staring into the empty white sky stretching above her, "Things... change..."
---`---,---@
When she next awoke, Comet noticed something immediately. Something peculiar, almost to the point of such an oddity that it was frightening. Firstly, Cell was not meditating. He wasn't even standing out on the tundra, his darkly colored shell a stark contrast to the blinding white horizon. He wasn't hovering above it, either, training.
The Earthling slowly pushed herself forward into a weak crouch, and then climbed to her feet, surprisingly steady and clear-headed. Her hands smarted only faintly when she pressed her weight on them, and she saw they were still heavily bandaged. Her eyes gazed dully at them for a moment, before brightening as she lifted her head to look around. From where she stood, on the edge of the tundra, she couldn't see him.
Curiously, still glancing warily about, she raised one of her damaged hands to her throat, wondering if her voice had returned. She could hardly bring herself to open her mouth, and it took some powerful self-convincing to take a breath. Her attacks before had been brutally painful. She gulped in a quick breath of air, and braced for the spasm. To her relief, only a slight twang came. It felt no more threatening than a sore throat.
Her mind free and her head clear, she turned to now find herself gazing into the living area. And felt her emerald eyes widen in surprise. For there, lying on his neglected bed, on top of the blankets rather than beneath them, was Cell. He was obviously awake, for he sat up, leaning against the headboard, but didn't even spare a glance in her direction. Instead, he stared fixedly at something she couldn't see from where she stood.
After a few moments' hesitation, she stepped onto the platform of the living area, and slowly made her way towards him, boots tapping softly on the tiled floor, much more softly than whenever she tread on the Lookout. The Android remained perfectly motionless until she was almost to his bedside, upon which he slowly looked up at her. The two gazed lightly at each other for a moment.
"How are you feeling?" Cell questioned first. Comet noticed he hadn't been staring at anything in particular, after all. He had simply been staring into space.
"Better," she responded truthfully, noticing her voice a little hoarse. Cell's usually cold demeanor melted, and although he didn't smile, his eyes now reflected a more calm, kind light. He shifted slightly in his position, and Comet turned her attention, sleepily, to take note that his wings were spread to allow him to sit like that. The slick shell gleamed brightly in the lightless illumination of the chamber.
"Are you wondering why I'm lying here?" he murmured his next question, tilting his head slightly to regard her. She noticed the peculiar angle he held it at, as well as his arm. She nodded, half relieved he had brought it up first. Would he have been offended if she had asked? "Why?"
"Aren't I allowed to?" she responded softly. Cell stared at her for a moment longer, and then slowly turned to stare back out at the tundra, his eyes hollow. She watched him a moment longer, and then let her eyes drop to the floor. There, lying on its side, was a large roll of gauze. As she gazed at it, eyes glimmering, she noticed its similarity to the white wrappings about her hands. And suddenly, her stomach seized up. She sharply looked up at him.
He didn't move. The bed hangings, that thick, royal purple hanging, was drawn halfway, throwing most of his form into a shadow beneath the canopy. She dug her hand into the heavy material near its top, and threw it sideways, casting the light across him. He looked back at her sudden action, and she caught his muscles tensing as she beheld him, realizing his reason for lying down.
She hadn't noticed it previously, in her drugged, comatose state, but Cell was horribly, horribly injured. Much worse off than she had been. Gaping wounds covered his entire body, the bleeding purple flesh burnt raw at its edges. Various other singes decorated his armor in places, and the arm he held limply across his chest had to be broken. His breathing was low and shallow, and carefully measured, and if the slashes across his delicate ceramic skin weren't bleeding, they were swollen an ugly purple. The left eye, which until he looked directly at her had been hidden from view, was practically shut, and a nasty bruise about the size of a fist dominated his neck. A piece of his head crest had actually been broken off, the other side; cracked.
In a flash, upon witnessing the full extent of this seemingly indestructable monster's injury, she understood everything. A wave of horror, unparalleled to anything she had felt before, struck her, and she couldn't restrain a shaking gasp, nor the burning sensation in the back of her eyes.
He had tensed further, particularly in the arms, as if to make to stand up. She had extended a hand to him directly after her horrified cry, and now stood before him, pathetically trembling. "Cell...!"
I did this. I did this! Oh, Kami, what have I done....?
Another long, heavy silence. Comet drew in shaking breaths, which she exhaled in low whimpers. Cell still remained poised to flight, watching her with the scorned, hurt look of a dog having disobeyed its master. "It's... difficult," he began after an awkward pause, "To wrap one's own wounds..."
"I'll do it," she whimpered, instantly crouching and scooping up the roll of gauze on the floor. She almost expected him to protest, or make a scathing comment, but he remained silent as she ripped a long piece, tearing it roughly. "Is... is that arm broken?"
".... Yes," he whispered calmly, his eyes never leaving her's. "Along... with the opposite leg. I should have been able to regenerate on my own, with Piccolo's D... NA... but..." he had slowly trailed off into silence, for at that moment, Comet had kneeled beside him and slowly, gently ran her fingers down his good arm, very tenderly seeing the depth of the damage on that particular limb, and then had begun to wrap it, starting at his bicep. His face relaxed into a sort of gentle surprise, and he remained motionless and speechless as she began wrapping down to the elbow.
HIs wounds had never been tended by someone else before. He either hadn't needed it, or recovered on his own. Sometimes it was painful. After that particular battle, he had never felt so much pain in his entire life. But at Comet's soft touch, his entire body went numb, and he found himself frozen, stunned, at the gentleness and warmth of her touch. He then realized he was quivering.
Just a few hours ago, the same meek creature before him had been consumed with flames and a burning lust to destroy him, completely and entirely. He swallowed, recovering his thoughts, and considered opening his mouth to point out how he had attained these wounds in the first place, but he found himself struggling to retrieve the exact words. Even as he stared, in a trance, at her soft curls twirling around her face, in his mind's eye he could clearly see the expression on her face the second she had glimpsed his injuries.
"You've changed," he choked, steadying his voice; "You suddenly don't seem to want to kill me."
From where she crouched at his bedside, carefully winding the gauze around his wrist and dabbing at the dried blood that dribbled over his palm, she looked up at his cold words. In that instant, she met his equally icy stare. The pair were silent for a lingering moment, an emptiness in the air between them. And then, silently, he watched as a single tear slid down her pale cheek. It snagged his attention and held it there, like a delicate rip in time.
She knew she had almost killed him. She knew that his formidable injuries were due to her. She knew she had only gotten angry with him for all that he had done in the past. She knew that he had been a heartless, cruel monster. She knew that he had planned to kill her friends.
Another tear shortly followed the first. And it was with a vibrating, shaking amazement that swelled in his throat, that Cell truly realized she was crying. Comet was crying. He had never seen her cry before.
"I'm.... Cell, I'm sorry...." she breathed, her breath hitching even as she gasped out the words.
She knew that he had done all of that... only because he had known no other way. She knew that Dr. Gero had programmed him - the computer had programmed him - to do these things. She knew he was trying. It hadn't been his fault... And, finally, she felt... that he loved her.
And Cell knew she was crying. And he felt that she was crying... for him.
The motionless silence was broken as Cell shifted, the bed creaking very faintly beneath his sudden movement. He paused again, watching her intensely, as if he had startled himself and was waiting to see if she would flee. Comet didn't move either, staring back at him. After another beat, he tried to sit up again, and finally did. And Comet slowly rose to her feet, watching him miserably.
As Cell lurched to his feet and took two jerking steps towards her, she stayed absolutely still. He steadied himself before her and stood, humbly, a trickle of blood smoothly trailing from his forehead, a visible plea in his eyes. She hesitated, gazing equally back at him. ".... No, Cell," she whispered, leaning up and gently brushing his cheek with her fingertips, "You... don't have... to live like this..." And softly, she leaned into him...
... And her lips met his.
Everything within him seized up immediately. And in the next instant, the first tears flowed freely. Trembling, shaking, quivering, modest and meek and as timid as the young child, he dared to return it, slightly. The kiss steadily deepened, but never lost its soft, tender embrace. He felt himself swooning, his knees were weakening, and he had to break away. Briefly, he met her eyes. And slowly, across his face, as if a warmth were blossoming, a sad, broken, beautiful smile formed.
And as he smiled through his tears, he began to sink. The throbbing in his head had tripled, but he ignored it, simply succumbing to the physical weakness that had struck his body. Comet sank with him, cupping his cheek, as his blood slipped within her palm.
"C-comet," he whimpered, the hand free from the rigors of his broken arm seeking her hand, desperately, and clinging to it as if it were the only thing that held him from collapse, "I'm... I-I'm... Comet, I-I'm... oh, Comet..."
She drew his head against her breast and held him as she felt the last of the tension leave his body, and his full weight slumped against her upon losing his entire ability to hold himself up. And there, crumpled on the floor in the Time Chamber they'd trapped each other in, Comet lay and simply held the murderous Android as he let himself sob.
---`---,---@
"Dance With Death"
by A.C
Chapter Sixteen
Within the Waking Dream
---`---,---@
And I'd give up forever to touch you
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be
And I don't want to go home right now
And all I can taste is this moment
And all I can breathe is your life
and sooner or later it's over
I just don't want to miss you tonight
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
- "Iris", The Goo Goo Dolls
---`---,---@
"You are my ultimate acheivement. So why haven't you successfully completed your task yet?!"
She raised a hand to her forehead, a scowl plastering itself across her face. "Get out of my head, old man," she hissed under her breath, "I don't have to listen to you anymore."
"You fool, how very wrong you are! I may have been killed, but I have yet to be finished! You will listen to me, or I can and will find a way to make you suffer." The voice seemed to reverbate painfully around in her skull, as if her head was empty, filled with nothing but his grating voice. And yet a part of her clung desperately to that voice, for it was the only one she knew. It had been the first to penetrate her mind. And so it stayed.
"I... I will kill them." Her tone had changed somewhat, but she angrily fought to keep it as disdainful and proud as possible. Beneath, her pride was crumbling. "Give me time, and I will! I can do it-"
"I should hope you can - I programmed you that way! You may have been the first of a more independent life form, but I still created you. You learned from a computer. You still depend on a computer's information - on me!"
"Silence!" Comet snarled, "I depend on no one! Least of all a COMPUTER. I am better than any computer - I am perfect!"
Suddenly, a searing pain shot down her arms, errupting through her chest. It was unexpected, and managed to rip a cry of pain from her. Her nerves tingled, flames shooting throughout her blood. She could feel her heart swelling, a pounding in her ears, in her chest. Everything was on fire, burning...
"You forget your place," the voice hissed, "You may be perfect, but you've developed flaws. Your program went haywire, so I've seen. You weren't meant to feel emotion. And now, what are you doing...? You've allowed this - this Earthling..."
"It's too late," she panted in response. She had fallen to her knees without realizing, and now stared blankly down at a dark floor beneath her. Her arms and legs were holding her up, but her limbs were trembling. She shifted her attention to her right arm. She could feel the muscles flexing uncontrollably, tensing and relaxing with an unnatural rythmn. Every so often, a shock jerked its way up her nerve endings, causing the limb to go limp for a few moments. "It's too late, we've bonded."
"You idiot! You mindless, blathering fool! What do you expect to come of this? Why are you wasting your time in such a way?!"
"I can't help it!" she wailed. Another tremor raced down her spine, but she knew it to be self-induced. How dare she allow such misery into her voice. She couldn't let him know he was getting to her, couldn't let him win. As she continued, her tone hardened, icy and biting. "My mate will learn to accept me-"
"You cannot believe that. You simply cannot." The voice was mocking - actually MOCKING her! How dare he... "Look at yourself. You're a monster. The human cannot love a monster, cannot love you! And you cannot love in return." In self-torment, she looked down at herself. Cold black armor glinted in a light above. She raised a hand, flexing it testingly and fighting back the stings that resulted. Her eyes studied the pale white skin. He was right...
"No!" she cried, slamming a fist on the surface beneath her. It was glass, for it cracked, a spiderweb of silver staining the black glass beneath her. Only... the web continued to spread.
"Yesss... this isn't love." The cruel, twisting irony with which that word was pronounced was physically painful. Another throb erupted in her chest, and this time she couldn't bite back the howl of pain. "You're a poor, weak victim to lust, my creation. Lust! And nothing more. And yet it is your downfall. Kill the Earthling, kill the Z Fighters! Complete your task."
The spiderweb continued to spread. In places, the glass was falling away, black glass that melted into shadowy demons. They flitted away on velvet wings, cold eyes glinting gleefully in her direction. A roaring was building beneath her. She could feel it. She couldn't hear it, all she could hear was the voice. But she could feel it...
"Then what?" she whispered, feeling warm tears dripping down her cheeks. Slowly, she lowered her chin to watch as a single drop landed on a twisted piece of black glass beneath her. It stained the surface red. Blood. She was weeping blood.
"I don't care. You'll be useless, then. You can die, for all I care. You can die alone."
The roaring built to its climax, and she threw her head back with an anguished howl. Above her, they had gathered, those on the midnight wings. They clustered together, silent and imposing, merging into one. And finally, a monstrous blade of shadow - its tip dripping with blood - slammed down atop of her.
---`---,---@
Her eyes flared open, as if she had been electrically shocked, a surge of energy suddenly forcing its way into her. Comet sat up, eyes stinging against the sudden illumination of the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. She stared blankly for a moment, chest rising and falling with her deep, panicked breaths. Slowly, she calmed. She was lying on her back on the floor. A white floor. The silence was ringing in her ears.
Footsteps echoed to her left. Too emotionally drained to defend against whatever unknown presence making its way towards her, she merely turned her head, looking dazedly up at the Chamber's only other occupant. Cell finished walking over to her, gazing calmly down at her, eyes half-lidded. She looked blearily back.
He said nothing at first, merely watching her. Her eyes focused and blurred, struggling to clear the image she held of him. At length, she heard his deep voice; "Have you awoken?"
It was as if everything had been coated in a layer of silvery mist. She felt so cold. Not chilled, but icy cold, as if she was laying on a layer of ice. She nodded, and her head pounded. Something cool was forced into her hands, but it was cool that slowly seeped in, as if dulled by something.
"Drink this."
Her hands struggled thickly to remove the lid of the bottle, and she took a gulp. Icy water gushed down her throat, hitting her stomach and causing it to recoil. She forced to keep it down, ignoring the throbbing in her head, looking up again at him and willing her gaze to clear. He seemed hesitant about something.
"Keep sipping that, and you'll feel better."
She opened her mouth to respond, but automatically felt the bottle meet her parched lips, and she took another sip. Her gaze cleared a little bit, her thoughts still vaguely swimming. She looked curiously up at him, as if suddenly fascinated with the purple stripes at the edges of his eyes, and the band of yellow running under his chin. Her eyes swept over his head crest, and the gleaming black dome within.
A short silence fell over the two of them. Cell had lowered, kneeling on the ground beside her. The position looked a little awkward for him. She had never seen him kneel before, which was a curious enough fact in itself, but also how it jumped out at her. Seeing a person and imagining him kneeling was a matter of the imagination and simple enough to reproduce, but somehow she had been unable to force any sort of image of Cell in that stance. And here he was, knees bent, closer to her level, looking very much out of place before her.
She opened her mouth to question, drawing air into her lungs. Instantly, fire erupted in her throat, the pain darting its jagged way up. She convulsed, gasping, and regretted the action again, as the cool air invited another stinging attack. She forced herself to breathe through her nose, clutching desperately at the floor for some object of stability, fighting away her panic. Her throat felt as if it were closing up, making it difficult to breathe.
"Comet," he murmured softly. A pale hand found its way to her forehead. "Don't panic."
She willed herself not to, gasping out words and writhing against the pain that accompanied them. "What h-happ... ened...?"
"You don't remember any of it?"
Would I be asking if I did? her thoughts spoke freely, unrestrained by pain or breathing. Instead, she forced her eyes to clear - as they were threatening to blur on her and dash away all the images she could currently see - and stared, almost fiercely, at his face. Tell me, why I can't speak...
He hesistated, levelly meeting her gaze. Another few brief moments of silence drifted between the two, until Cell finally murmured a response. It was more or less to himself, but she caught his short string of words. "Perhaps it's better you don't..."
Her lips parted to protest, but her outcry was silenced by a sharp bite at the back of her throat. Cell gently nudged the water in her hands, and she raised it to her lips and gulped it down again. Momentarily, icy relief flooded down. She kept her lips firmly shut this time, carefully watching his measured gaze as she lowered the bottle again.
"You will be able to speak once again soon," he assured her, quite evenly, after another couple moments of suspicious silence. "It would seem that you've... burnt your throat. We were training," he added, in response to her narrowed eyes, "And it appears your ki grew a little too much for you to handle."
Wonder how that happened, was her first dry thought, as she raised the now half-empty bottle again to her lips. This time, however, her steadily clearing eyes caught sight of her own hands. For a moment, she was paralyzed. She was still dreaming - her hands were still white. She was still - !
A few seconds later, the fear subsided, as she saw the clear ridges in the white on her hands. It now registered in her mind that her hands had been bandaged. The white gauze wrapped firmly around her fingers in a sort of glove effect, which explained her awkward handling of the bottle. But why had her hands been bandaged up?
She snagged Cell's gaze, shortly. He glanced away, looking down at her hands, but no surprise mounted on his face. "You burnt yourself," he supplied softly, after a minute, refusing to meet her eyes. "It will take a while to heal."
Got all the time in the world now, don't we - thanks to you? she wanted to shoot at him, but half of her was prevented by the faint, reminding tingling in the back of her throat. The other half faultered at the almost sad look on his face, and the soft tone of his words. Something had happened he refused to tell her, but it was something that had impacted him. With time, she would come to realize how it had impacted herself, as well.
"How long-?" she managed to choke out, before grimacing against the sharp bitings in her throat. She closed her eyes in a wince, teeth bared. Cell's hand lightly ran over her hair, but she didn't move to swat him away. It even hurt to speak.
"How long...?" he repeated after a moment. "How long before you can talk?"
She took in a deep breath through her nose, and spat out another couple of broken words, "We - been -"
His eyes gleamed, clearing. "We have been within this chamber for five months and a week. I can only presume ten or so hours have passed on the outside."
She bit back a low whimper. How badly she wanted to speak! When the one moment she was handicapped, her head resounded with questions, demands to know of an explanation. The length of her throat, down to her very stomach, throbbed, as if constricting. How had her training gotten so badly out of control, and how had that burned her... internally? As far as she could tell, it was as if her throat and hands alone had been burnt. What had happened while she was unconscious? What change had come over Cell?
She remembered... a moment of comfort... that comforting, safe, warm feeling she had once gotten. It came faintly back, only for a moment, in the back of her mind. As if struck with a fleeting, misty sense of deja vu, she remembered that, once, she had looked into the monster's eyes and felt comforted. Without questioning herself, her eyes desperately sought his. He knew the answers to her questions; he knew what had happened. The two sat and gazed at each other for several long minutes.
For those minutes, all Comet could feel was a desperate need to be comforted, and to find that look in his eyes again that had once filled her with that warm feeling. When had that been? Months ago? Weeks? Minutes...?
The spell didn't come, but still she searched. Cell remained motionless, as if obliging to her hunt, as if knowing she wouldn't find what she was looking for. As she gazed, her mind began to wander... but to wander back to the situation. She suddenly realized who she was staring at it. Cell, the cold-blooded Android who had almost killed Vegeta, who had tried to kill her friends, who had kidnapped her and practically raped her and trapped her in this horrid place. Instead of the wave of security she craved, a chill of fright and repulsion trickled down her spine.
Why, oh why, was she seeking comfort in the eyes of a murderer?!
"... Cell..." she breathed, struggling weakly against the threatening sting building in the back of her throat, "Will we ever get out...?"
His own eyes, which had softened as she stared pleadingly at him, now seemed to see she had regained herself, and mentally shied away upon realizing something. His own look hardened, in an instant, so that suddenly she had gone from looking at Cell, to looking at the blood-thirsty bioandroid who was holding her hostage. The change was subtle and immediate, but she caught it instantly.
"... I'm not sure..." he replied in a low voice. A part of him wanted to assure her that there had to be some way... but he didn't want to lie. He honestly didn't know.
His hand, still resting on her head, felt a slight tremor go through her. He saw, to his astonishment, that she was trembling. For a moment, he withdrew, pulling his hand away. But then he saw it was not out of fear, but of pain. With a terrible effort, she was whispering again.
"Will you.... still... k-kill them..."
His cold pink eyes didn't leave her broken green ones. Hardened and oblivious to emotion, she was unable to tell, again, what he was thinking. What he was feeling. A slight pressure rested on her upper chest, and without looking down, knew it was his hand. A small warmth began to spread from his fingertips.
"Go back to sleep, Comet," he ordered softly.
Her lips began to open in protest, but her eyelids drooped. That delicious warmth continued to spread through her, and her body reacted obediantely, dropping her back off into sleep. She fought it as long as she could, but her arms began to tremble, weakening. Slowly, she fell back to the floor, eyes blurring as she struggled to keep them open. The last thing she saw was Cell's stoic features, but there was a deepening sadness in his eyes. The last thing she remembered, before falling into blackness:
The dreams...
---`---,---@
Cell kept his hand steady as she fell into another deep slumber. Once her breathing slowed and regained its regular pattern, he slowly pulled his hand away. Her head lolled dreamily to the side, face relaxed, serious. Her look reminded him of a child, somberly regarding one of those many tragedies of youth that come and pass as quickly as laughter. He let his eyes drop to her hands. Her bandaged, broken hands. Gently, he reached down and took one in his own.
"No," he whispered, very softly, not even bothering to steady his shaking voice, "No, love, I will not kill them..."
---`---,---@
"I don't like this place... I don't like it at all," Krillin mumbled meekly, staring around as he followed Piccolo and Gohan. "Why do they have this thing on the Lookout at all? Sheesh..."
Neither of his companions responded. Gohan, too, gazed around in wonder. The young boy had to agree with Krillin's words, but he was ashamed to show them in front of Piccolo, who was leading the way and looking neither remotely surprised nor nervous. He hadn't spoken, either. In fact, Krillin had been the only one to break the silence since they had arrived.
The place that Popo had showed them to could only be described as the perfect graveyard and nothing more. The graves were scarcely visible amongst vast clouds of thick, rolling mist, and although it had been through a doorway Piccolo had led them, Gohan was still trying to figure out if the place was room or space or another dimension entirely. The descent to the pit of the Lookout had been like returning the distance to Earth and dropping further still into the underworld, and it took all of his senses to convince himself that he was still in the sky, but this was not a heaven of any kind. There was no sky, but there were no ceilings, no walls. Just a gray horizon, and the rolling mist.
Where were they going? To talk with the guardians? Piccolo seemed to plow on steadily as if knowing the precise way to go, and Gohan and Krillin, unsure, followed. Popo himself had refused to go past the archway point, claiming he had been here once, and once was enough. What was so horrible about this place, anyway? Sure, the fog and the fact that it was a graveyard was creepy, but what was so bad about a graveyard? Ghosts? This was a graveyard for the past Guardians of Earth, and if those guardians were anything like Kami - dear old, kindly Kami whom he remembered well - then their spirits couldn't possibly be so awful.
There must have been spirits, Gohan thought anxiously to himself, now gazing around for a silvery form stalking them through the fog, if they were to communicate with past Guardians of the earth. Then why was everyone so scared?
"Hey, uh... Piccolo?" Krillin piped up, his voice gaining a slightly higher pitch. Piccolo didn't respond or slow any, so Krillin took this as a sign he would at least listen, and continued; "D'you know where we're goin'?"
"Towards the center," came the Namek's rumbling answer. "The closer we get to the center, the more attention we draw, and we'll find more of them."
"Oh man," Krillin moaned, softly enough just for Gohan to hear. Piccolo's answer was simple enough, but still somehow very ominous. Gohan's attention, however, was held elsewhere. Some twenty feet away, through the mist, he had spotted the first tombstone he had seen in this graveyard.
"Hey, Piccolo!" he announced, running over towards it, "Maybe we can find them there!"
"Gohan, no!" he yelled back, but he didn't need to. Gohan froze as a figure rose up in front of him. It was a tall figure, swathed all in a dark gray cloak and carrying a staff, its face and features hidden from view. The young boy backed up, gaping at the ghost before him, who didn't move nor speak, but just stared without any eyes.
"Gohan!"
"Get back here!"
Only too happy to oblige, the boy turned tail and ran, but he had barely gone two steps with another figure slid into sight before him, bearing a strong resemblence to the first, but the height and build were distinctly different. And more were emerging from the mist, forming a loose circle around him, staring, silent and imposing. Vaguely, he heard Piccolo and Krillin shouting. His head was swimming. Where was that hissing coming from?
"Get away from him, you!" Krillin yelled furiously as he approached the dark circle, raising his hands over his head. "Destructo-!"
"Stop!" snarled Piccolo, fangs bared as he bolted alongside the monk, "If you attack them, they'll kill him!"
But little Gohan hadn't heard this. Surrounded by death and with his father's words of recent training ringing in his head, the boy raised his hands and drew them back. "Kaaaa... mee... haa... mee..."
"No!! Gohan!" The two Z Fighters screamed, but not in time. With self-defense in mind and nothing else, the boy shut his eyes as he released his attack. The few spirits in his direct path of fire disappeared instantly. The others instantly closed in, eyes glowing yellow beneath their hoods. Terrified by the Reaper-like creatures forming a tighter ring about him, the demi-Sayain dropped his attack and looked around him, trying to find a way out, wondering if he should fight.
One of the ghosts raised his staff, reaching out for the boy. Its eyes gleamed brighter, as the claw struggled to reach his neck. Gohan stumbled back, throwing a ki blast at the offender. The others simueltaneously raised their hands. A wave of nausea swept over the half-Sayain, and as he staggered, he caught sight of a... a blur of light, it looked like... actually sweeping off of his arm and drifting into the palms of one of the ghosts. As more blurs darted away from him, he felt himself weakening, until he fell to his knees.
"Stop!" Piccolo roared, finally reaching the circle and seeing Gohan about to faint, paling considerably. "Leave him! The pathway, you old fools, the pathway has been broken! The Hyperbolic Time Chamber has been disconnected!"
This attracted their attention. The ghosts looked up, lifting their hooded heads towards the alien. Slowly, they all lowered their hands. Krillin rushed forward to Gohan, who was still very much awake, but lay shaking on the ground.
"The pathway..." a faint, echoing whisper came from one of the spirits.
"Tell us how to restore it," Piccolo demanded, standing his ground and glaring at them with his great dark eyes, "You know the dangers if it isn't."
---`---,---@
This time, she knew she was dreaming. She knew this wasn't real. But still she dreamed.
She was herself this time. Cell stood before her, and she before him, free of the chamber, free of her bandaged hands, free of silence or blindness or the previous awkward feelings that rose and fell between them. They faced each other evenly, and for the first time she didn't feel a twisting in her stomach of loathing or fear. They faced each other like old friends. Like a married couple. Like mates.
"Go ahead," he spoke calmly, almost in a warm, kind tone. Like a friend. "Ask me anything."
And so she did. Without even thinking of her question. For she had always had the question. It had just needed to be given its opportunity for freedom. "Why?"
"Why what?" he questioned in response. "Because."
"Because of what?"
"You know, Comet. But all of your becauses mix with one another and confuse each other, until you can't sort why from why. You finally have to accept all of those becauses. Why? Because then you can answer that why yourself. And you won't need me."
"That's not true, Cell," she answered. Freely, without restraint. Her mind and common sense was the restraint. Her heart spoke freely. "You know I always need you. Just as I know."
"Very well, then. Answer me why."
"Why are you a cold-blooded killer? Why are you trying to kill my friends? Why do you love me? Why me? Why have you caused me all this grief? Why have I felt this way?"
"Why do you love me, Comet?"
"I never said that," she answered calmly. Cell's expression didn't change. He blinked, once, with his soft pink eyes. This didn't look like him. Was it him? It was a dream, after all. Maybe it wasn't a dream. No, they weren't in the Time Chamber. She knew she was asleep. She knew this was a dream.
"Why do you hate me, Comet?"
She didn't even stop to chide him for moving away from the topic. For he spoke the mind he shared with her, and she knew that to answer her own questions, she had to answer his, first. In due time, the answers would unravel themselves. Just as they had been wound up. Backwards, in order.
"Because you tried to kill my friends. You're a cold-blooded killer. And even if you aren't now, you were at one point, and I cannot overlook that and fall in love with you. You will not change."
"Did you know I wept for you, Comet?"
A pause. She didn't even blink. "Yes."
"Now, Comet. Did you feel me weep for you?"
"Feeling and knowing?"
"There's a difference."
"I'm dreaming this, you know. You are me. You aren't a separate entity. How is it I'm simply not telling myself this?"
"Because you are telling yourself this. But you needed to tell yourself this. Because you wouldn't listen. Always listen to yourself, Comet. It is a sad day on Earth when all on the planet ignore themselves. Who else would you listen to?"
"I'm listening."
A sad smile curled his pale lips, crinkling the purple stripes at the corners of his eyes. "You know I wept for you. Have you let yourself think about the meaning of my tears? When you realize the meaning of an action, you know it through and through. And you feel it. Feel it, Comet. Think about it, and feel it. I wept for you. I shed tears, for you."
"... For me..." she repeated, staring at him.
"Think of it when you awaken, so I may know you felt it. The cold-blooded one shed tears for you. Have you felt my dark fate? My past, my present, my future? It would seem I have no future. I am but with a simple task that my heart forbids me, and my life depends on, to complete."
"Why do you shed tears for me? Wouldn't it seem I should shed tears for you?"
"Do you? You needn't answer. Not aloud. But tell me, Comet. What are your reasons for loving me?"
She stood her ground, staring at him. His magneta eyes didn't leave her own. And slowly, in a shaking voice, even in her dream, she began to recite.
"Because-"
He crossed to her, and pressed a finger to her lips. It was as if both were numb. Neither felt the action, but as if it signified something, it broke something else.
And Comet opened her eyes.
"Because when your reasons for loving outnumber your reasons for loathing..." she whispered, staring into the empty white sky stretching above her, "Things... change..."
---`---,---@
When she next awoke, Comet noticed something immediately. Something peculiar, almost to the point of such an oddity that it was frightening. Firstly, Cell was not meditating. He wasn't even standing out on the tundra, his darkly colored shell a stark contrast to the blinding white horizon. He wasn't hovering above it, either, training.
The Earthling slowly pushed herself forward into a weak crouch, and then climbed to her feet, surprisingly steady and clear-headed. Her hands smarted only faintly when she pressed her weight on them, and she saw they were still heavily bandaged. Her eyes gazed dully at them for a moment, before brightening as she lifted her head to look around. From where she stood, on the edge of the tundra, she couldn't see him.
Curiously, still glancing warily about, she raised one of her damaged hands to her throat, wondering if her voice had returned. She could hardly bring herself to open her mouth, and it took some powerful self-convincing to take a breath. Her attacks before had been brutally painful. She gulped in a quick breath of air, and braced for the spasm. To her relief, only a slight twang came. It felt no more threatening than a sore throat.
Her mind free and her head clear, she turned to now find herself gazing into the living area. And felt her emerald eyes widen in surprise. For there, lying on his neglected bed, on top of the blankets rather than beneath them, was Cell. He was obviously awake, for he sat up, leaning against the headboard, but didn't even spare a glance in her direction. Instead, he stared fixedly at something she couldn't see from where she stood.
After a few moments' hesitation, she stepped onto the platform of the living area, and slowly made her way towards him, boots tapping softly on the tiled floor, much more softly than whenever she tread on the Lookout. The Android remained perfectly motionless until she was almost to his bedside, upon which he slowly looked up at her. The two gazed lightly at each other for a moment.
"How are you feeling?" Cell questioned first. Comet noticed he hadn't been staring at anything in particular, after all. He had simply been staring into space.
"Better," she responded truthfully, noticing her voice a little hoarse. Cell's usually cold demeanor melted, and although he didn't smile, his eyes now reflected a more calm, kind light. He shifted slightly in his position, and Comet turned her attention, sleepily, to take note that his wings were spread to allow him to sit like that. The slick shell gleamed brightly in the lightless illumination of the chamber.
"Are you wondering why I'm lying here?" he murmured his next question, tilting his head slightly to regard her. She noticed the peculiar angle he held it at, as well as his arm. She nodded, half relieved he had brought it up first. Would he have been offended if she had asked? "Why?"
"Aren't I allowed to?" she responded softly. Cell stared at her for a moment longer, and then slowly turned to stare back out at the tundra, his eyes hollow. She watched him a moment longer, and then let her eyes drop to the floor. There, lying on its side, was a large roll of gauze. As she gazed at it, eyes glimmering, she noticed its similarity to the white wrappings about her hands. And suddenly, her stomach seized up. She sharply looked up at him.
He didn't move. The bed hangings, that thick, royal purple hanging, was drawn halfway, throwing most of his form into a shadow beneath the canopy. She dug her hand into the heavy material near its top, and threw it sideways, casting the light across him. He looked back at her sudden action, and she caught his muscles tensing as she beheld him, realizing his reason for lying down.
She hadn't noticed it previously, in her drugged, comatose state, but Cell was horribly, horribly injured. Much worse off than she had been. Gaping wounds covered his entire body, the bleeding purple flesh burnt raw at its edges. Various other singes decorated his armor in places, and the arm he held limply across his chest had to be broken. His breathing was low and shallow, and carefully measured, and if the slashes across his delicate ceramic skin weren't bleeding, they were swollen an ugly purple. The left eye, which until he looked directly at her had been hidden from view, was practically shut, and a nasty bruise about the size of a fist dominated his neck. A piece of his head crest had actually been broken off, the other side; cracked.
In a flash, upon witnessing the full extent of this seemingly indestructable monster's injury, she understood everything. A wave of horror, unparalleled to anything she had felt before, struck her, and she couldn't restrain a shaking gasp, nor the burning sensation in the back of her eyes.
He had tensed further, particularly in the arms, as if to make to stand up. She had extended a hand to him directly after her horrified cry, and now stood before him, pathetically trembling. "Cell...!"
I did this. I did this! Oh, Kami, what have I done....?
Another long, heavy silence. Comet drew in shaking breaths, which she exhaled in low whimpers. Cell still remained poised to flight, watching her with the scorned, hurt look of a dog having disobeyed its master. "It's... difficult," he began after an awkward pause, "To wrap one's own wounds..."
"I'll do it," she whimpered, instantly crouching and scooping up the roll of gauze on the floor. She almost expected him to protest, or make a scathing comment, but he remained silent as she ripped a long piece, tearing it roughly. "Is... is that arm broken?"
".... Yes," he whispered calmly, his eyes never leaving her's. "Along... with the opposite leg. I should have been able to regenerate on my own, with Piccolo's D... NA... but..." he had slowly trailed off into silence, for at that moment, Comet had kneeled beside him and slowly, gently ran her fingers down his good arm, very tenderly seeing the depth of the damage on that particular limb, and then had begun to wrap it, starting at his bicep. His face relaxed into a sort of gentle surprise, and he remained motionless and speechless as she began wrapping down to the elbow.
HIs wounds had never been tended by someone else before. He either hadn't needed it, or recovered on his own. Sometimes it was painful. After that particular battle, he had never felt so much pain in his entire life. But at Comet's soft touch, his entire body went numb, and he found himself frozen, stunned, at the gentleness and warmth of her touch. He then realized he was quivering.
Just a few hours ago, the same meek creature before him had been consumed with flames and a burning lust to destroy him, completely and entirely. He swallowed, recovering his thoughts, and considered opening his mouth to point out how he had attained these wounds in the first place, but he found himself struggling to retrieve the exact words. Even as he stared, in a trance, at her soft curls twirling around her face, in his mind's eye he could clearly see the expression on her face the second she had glimpsed his injuries.
"You've changed," he choked, steadying his voice; "You suddenly don't seem to want to kill me."
From where she crouched at his bedside, carefully winding the gauze around his wrist and dabbing at the dried blood that dribbled over his palm, she looked up at his cold words. In that instant, she met his equally icy stare. The pair were silent for a lingering moment, an emptiness in the air between them. And then, silently, he watched as a single tear slid down her pale cheek. It snagged his attention and held it there, like a delicate rip in time.
She knew she had almost killed him. She knew that his formidable injuries were due to her. She knew she had only gotten angry with him for all that he had done in the past. She knew that he had been a heartless, cruel monster. She knew that he had planned to kill her friends.
Another tear shortly followed the first. And it was with a vibrating, shaking amazement that swelled in his throat, that Cell truly realized she was crying. Comet was crying. He had never seen her cry before.
"I'm.... Cell, I'm sorry...." she breathed, her breath hitching even as she gasped out the words.
She knew that he had done all of that... only because he had known no other way. She knew that Dr. Gero had programmed him - the computer had programmed him - to do these things. She knew he was trying. It hadn't been his fault... And, finally, she felt... that he loved her.
And Cell knew she was crying. And he felt that she was crying... for him.
The motionless silence was broken as Cell shifted, the bed creaking very faintly beneath his sudden movement. He paused again, watching her intensely, as if he had startled himself and was waiting to see if she would flee. Comet didn't move either, staring back at him. After another beat, he tried to sit up again, and finally did. And Comet slowly rose to her feet, watching him miserably.
As Cell lurched to his feet and took two jerking steps towards her, she stayed absolutely still. He steadied himself before her and stood, humbly, a trickle of blood smoothly trailing from his forehead, a visible plea in his eyes. She hesitated, gazing equally back at him. ".... No, Cell," she whispered, leaning up and gently brushing his cheek with her fingertips, "You... don't have... to live like this..." And softly, she leaned into him...
... And her lips met his.
Everything within him seized up immediately. And in the next instant, the first tears flowed freely. Trembling, shaking, quivering, modest and meek and as timid as the young child, he dared to return it, slightly. The kiss steadily deepened, but never lost its soft, tender embrace. He felt himself swooning, his knees were weakening, and he had to break away. Briefly, he met her eyes. And slowly, across his face, as if a warmth were blossoming, a sad, broken, beautiful smile formed.
And as he smiled through his tears, he began to sink. The throbbing in his head had tripled, but he ignored it, simply succumbing to the physical weakness that had struck his body. Comet sank with him, cupping his cheek, as his blood slipped within her palm.
"C-comet," he whimpered, the hand free from the rigors of his broken arm seeking her hand, desperately, and clinging to it as if it were the only thing that held him from collapse, "I'm... I-I'm... Comet, I-I'm... oh, Comet..."
She drew his head against her breast and held him as she felt the last of the tension leave his body, and his full weight slumped against her upon losing his entire ability to hold himself up. And there, crumpled on the floor in the Time Chamber they'd trapped each other in, Comet lay and simply held the murderous Android as he let himself sob.
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