Blizzard

by KC

Disclaimers: I don't own DBZ. I wish I did, but I don't. Am working off the anime version.

Pairings: none

Rating: none

POV: Gohan

Wordcount: 865

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He's really not that much taller than me...though he seems that way when he stands, like he can project a bigger image than what he really is. He's always so confident even when he's losing. Sometimes I see him, though, when no one else is looking, when he thinks he's all alone and no one'll see him tear into himself, ripping his skin open with his ki. I like to watch him then, forcing his power higher in a way my father never would, in a way that scares me.

Now he feels smaller, my size. I wish he'd look at me. I'm afraid he's frozen. He's as tired as me, he must be. I can't feel his ki around me like before. All I can feel now is his heartbeat telling me he's still alive. If this storm does last all night, I'm sure he'll survive. He always survives. I don't wanna imagine how he survived on Freiza's ship, survived his home world's death, survived living here with us. I couldn't survive living in another country, what must living on another planet feel like?

The wind doesn't hurt as much now. The snow used to sting, each snowflake feeling like a small razor, but my skin feels all tingly instead of cut. This stretchy cloth we're wearing is for fighting, not cold weather, and it feels like it's starting to freeze onto my skin. I bet I'd look the same shade of blue if I took it off, but then peeling this stuff off will probably take more skin, so I'd look more red than blue. My stomach and chest are warm, though, plus where Vegeta's hands wrap around my back. I guess he can't stand anymore. His grip feels weak, like his hands aren't even there, or maybe I just can't feel them anymore. Hard to feel anything now. I hug him closer. He hugs me back a little and I wanna smile except my mouth won't move. I open my eyes for a second, long enough to see him.

He looks so small curled up against me, especially with the snow starting to rise up over his boots, and he tucks his head so he can press his face against me. He'd look younger if it wasn't for the way he stares at people, the way his eyes narrow and he sometimes growls. I wonder how long he's looked this old. Maybe since he was my age. Vegeta doesn't seem like he's ever been young. His breath comes slower against my arm. I can still feel that, the only warmth left.

I can't hear anything over the storm. There's so many clouds that even the snow looks black, like frozen shadows coming closer and closer. There's lightning every few seconds, sometimes so bright that I can see Vegeta's outline. I can't see anything else, just the snow turning dark a few feet away and the jagged flame of a line his hair makes against the blizzard. I wish a lightning bolt would strike us. My books say lightning's as hot as the sun.

I wish he'd look at me or say something. Probably tell me in his rough voice to quit being weak and force my ki up, warm myself, survive. Why does his voice sound like that? Like someone tried to shred his throat, or like he screamed for hours--

I probably wouldn't be able to hear him over the wind anyway. It roars past my ears, so loud it feels like the storm's screaming at both of us, and I want to put my hands up to cover them, but that would mean letting go of him and I won't do that. Besides, my ears are probably ice. My hands might shatter them.

There's no cover out here and I wish I could use my ki to warm us. His ki sparks deep inside him, trying to keep his heart warm enough to beat and his blood hot enough to flow. My veins feel like frozen water pipes about burst, and he can't feel much better. He can't keep us warm anymore, he can't even stand. But he hasn't let go of me, and I haven't let go of him.

I flare my ki one last time and the sudden heat hurts, not burning like fire but throbbing as if all the bones in my hands are broken. He has enough strength to inch closer. I want to move closer, too, but my legs won't move anymore. My ki fades to a sparkle over my fingers and then a dim glow, lighting only my hands, his closed eyes, and then disappears altogether. I close my eyes again.

Cold creeps back in, then disappears as if never there before. My hands stop hurting. I have to keep my head down now. I don't wanna open my eyes in this snow. I think they'd freeze into little balls of ice, if they haven't already. He's stopped shivering. So have I. I don't feel cold anymore. The snow feels soft, like cotton balls. Maybe he's sleeping. I'm tired too. Maybe when they find out where we are, they'll come and wake us up...