Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters featured therein; they belong to Akira Toriyama and whoever he's decided to share them with. If I did, Dr. and Mrs. Briefs would have FIRST NAMES! Blergh!

Author's Notes: Apparently I'm on a crusade to make Puar and Radditz the new DBZ supercouple, because the madness continues.

Also, I hate to say this, but there may be delays with the next few chapters. Something very cool could happen, but only with some time and effort on my part, which means I won't have as much time for this. It's temporary, I promise.

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PRESENT DAY

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Vegeta lay on his bed, sheets and blankets balled up at his feet. Fuck. He should have known that he'd be in for a sleepless night the minute he'd heard her voice. It had hit him like a spacepod at full speed, crashing into his chest and knocking him backwards with the intensity of his surprise. Blue. Fucking Blue, in the bedroom right down the hall, trying to steal the brat away. He hadn't known that she was from Earth, or that she knew Gohan. He realized that he didn't know nearly as much about her as he thought he did, and it disturbed him.

It hadn't been a great idea to go into the room and risk exposing himself - after all, if he knew her voice, what was to stop her from recognizing his?- but he'd done it anyway. He'd just had to know if the busty bimbo from the weapons factory was, in fact, Blue, as he'd suspected. So much for being a bimbo. He'd thought, on first sight, that the bigger the tits, the smaller the brain, but he'd been wrong. He knew what she was capable of, if her progress with Frieza's ki-technology was any indication. In her case, the enormous jugs were probably auxiliary storage for extra brains. No way was all that genius fitting inside her pretty little head. Then again, considering the way she'd acted tonight- sneaking into one of Frieza's bases in the guise of a prostitute, of all things- perhaps common sense had been scrapped to make room for technical knowledge.

But with a body like that, what else could she have been taken for? She did not look strong enough to be mistaken for a soldier on sight, and no one else would have a legitimate reason for traipsing around the base in the middle of the night. She was smart, and she'd done what was necessary to get in, even if it meant putting herself in danger. And, holy fuck, had she ever.

He groaned, remembering the weight of her breast in his palm, so soft and round. Gods, he hadn't meant to feel anything when he touched her! He'd only wanted to mess with the kid, but he'd quickly lost control of himself, and that was something he never did. Dangerous bitch, with her lightning mind and tempting curves. He'd wanted to throw her down and fuck her, just like he'd wanted to do at the weapons factory. Even when she'd thrown the m-word in his face, he'd never really planned on killing her, but the thought of humiliating her, breaking her down and tearing off her clothes, had made him ashamedly hard. He wondered if she knew how lucky she'd been to escape with her dignity intact.

Cracking one eye open to verify that his door was locked, Vegeta loosened the drawstring on his pants and lifted his rear off the bed to tug them low on his hips. He closed his eyes and took hold of himself, imagining those impetuous lips, that snake's tongue. He could smell her still, on his clothes and skin, and it was driving him mad. He imagined her there, in his bed, rubbing that soft, pliant body against his, straddling him with warm, smooth thighs. She'd been frightened when he touched her, but beneath that she'd been aroused by him. He'd smelled it all over her, desire emanating from every pore, and felt the evidence of it on his tail between her legs.

Vegeta felt a brief trill of shame jolt through his body at that thought. He hadn't planned to touch her there; even if it was just a flick of the tail over wet panties, it had terrified her. She'd thought she was about to be raped, and though he wasn't about to descend into pits of remorse and self loathing over the matter, it wasn't exactly something he was proud of either. It wasn't that he had any particular aversion to rape, he just didn't get off on it. He was indifferent to the pain and suffering he caused, not excited by it, and for Vegeta, there was no pleasure in mounting a screaming, crying, struggling woman. He'd sooner not bother with the whole business if there were no willing females available. He'd a perfectly good imagination and a dextrous right hand at his disposal.

Beside that fact, Blue was his ally, whether or not she was aware of it. He was a prickly bastard, that was true, but he was loyal to those who returned the favour. He'd hurt her in the name of the cause without batting an eye, but never for personal satisfaction. Not without provocation, at least.

Did she know? His mind flitted back to that ever important question, as his fingers flitted over hard flesh. Had she figured it out? He always tried to disguise his voice when he spoke as Vengeance on the comlink, but Blue was distracting. Ever since meeting her at the weapons factory, he couldn't help but to picture that gorgeous girl with the blue hair, face stunned as she looked down from her position on his lap. He'd hadn't been certain that it was even her, at the time, but he was now.

Vegeta groaned, allowing his mind to linger on the memory of her warm weight pressing down on him, lips pursed in that surprised little `o' that sent wicked thoughts racing through his brain. He imagined it was her mouth wrapped around him then, rather than his own hand, taking him deep into her throat, moving faster and faster until he spilled himself, with a grunt.

He opened his eyes and sighed, wishing that she were there, if only for the fact that there wouldn't be a mess for him to clean up.

*

*

“So, what do we tell her?” Krillin asked the two miserable faces opposite him. He, Bulma, and Puar had all made it back to the ship safely, though Krillin and Bulma had been seriously worried at the time it took for Puar to meet up with them. His tale of being stuck in the kitchen, masquerading as a plant while Radditz ate a midnight snack big enough to feed the inhabitants of Red Station for a month, would have been amusing, if not for the dark mood that hung over the trio.

They'd managed to avoid the topic last night and all through launch prep that morning, but it was several hours into their journey and Bulma had decided that enough was enough; they were going to talk about Gohan.

“Gohan asked me not to tell her anything.” Bulma repeated, having already given her friends a detailed play-by-play of her encounter with Gohan, minus the part where Vegeta molested her, of course. She was sure that Krillin had heard the words, but she wasn't about to tell him how the Saiyan Prince, terror of the universe, had groped her boobs and tickled her no-no spot with his tail. She squirmed, remembering the slow slide of it up her thigh, the way his fingers had danced across her skin, the scent of him filling up her nostrils. She was embarrassed at the knowledge that she'd gone to bed that night and imagined how it would have played out, had Gohan not been there.

Like some sort of twisted, bodice-ripper novel, she'd imagined herself panting and protesting, before finally giving in to his rough but gentle touch. Seduction in Space. An Alien Love. The Saiyan's Lady. She'd even thought up some hokey titles for a nonexistent book that she'd have snapped up, had it been for sale. Bulma was too smart to romanticize their encounter for long, however; she understood that the Saiyan Prince Vegeta was no tender beast. In real life, she knew she'd have been fucked like an animal.

The thought was not unappealing.

“Can we really do that, though?” Puar put in, his squeaky voice drawing Bulma away from her fantasies. “Is it fair to Chichi to deny her the knowledge that her son is alive?”

“Is it fair to crush her with the knowledge that her son is alive and would rather hang out with those monsters than come back to her?” Krillin sighed, looking forlorn. “Man, I knew Chichi was tough,” he said, only half-joking, “but really? Was it that bad?”

“Of course not, don't be stupid!” Bulma snapped, rising to the defence of her friend. “Gohan's a kid, he's too young to know what's good for him. And those Saiyans probably fed him a load of bullshit about his people or whatever,” she continued, acidly, “so that he thinks he belongs with them.”

“Still though, his ki seemed fine. Didn't feel like he was hurt or anything. Maybe a bit distressed when Vegeta...ah...erm,” Krillin broke off awkwardly as colour flooded Bulma's face. “Anyway,” he mused, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head, “maybe he came by that black eye honestly.”

Bulma was incredulous. “What are you saying, Krillin? That we should just leave him there and pretend we never saw him?”

“No,” Krillin glared at her, “I'm saying that he's probably not in any immediate danger of death, so maybe we stop panicking. We take some time to figure this out before barging in there again.”

“Unacceptable.” Bulma shook her head. “No way are we leaving him there. Not for long, at least.” Krillin sat up straight at the curious tone that had suddenly entered her voice. He shot her a look and she grinned, triumphantly. “Vengeance,” she said, answering his unspoken question. “He'll get us in there. I know he can.”

“That guy again?” Puar and Krillin both muttered at the same time, but it was Krillin who continued speaking. “Bulma, do you think that's wise? He's going to want to know why you're so interested in the newest member of Team Saiyan. I don't trust him.”

“He hasn't let us down, yet.” She protested.

“Are you kidding? He nearly killed us, he didn't tell us that he knew we'd be meeting with Guru, he wasn't anywhere to be seen at the checkpoint yesterday, and he didn't even tell us that there were going to be Saiyans!”

“You don't know, Krillin. Maybe he didn't know about the Saiyans either, and of course he didn't show himself because we didn't run into any trouble. It was never going to be a meet and greet.” Bulma crossed her arms beneath her breasts and glared him into submission.

“Whatever, Bulma,” he sighed, “do what you want. You're the genius, after all. But leave me outta this conversation. That guy gives me the creeps.” Puar nodded vigorously beside him. Bulma huffed and pushed herself away from the table.

“Don't forget to thank me when I get Gohan back.” She snapped, before whirling around and stalking out, leaving the boys to their devices. She was going to talk to a man.

*

*

Puar, the message simply said, do you remember how I felt inside you? Because I sure as shit do. -Radditz.

He stared at the screen for a few moments, dumbstruck by the words printed there. It was short and it was crass, but it was there, in front of him, proof that the burly Saiyan was thinking about him. Puar wasn't expecting romantic words or drawn out declarations; truth be told, he didn't want them. The idea of Radditz spouting poetry made him cringe a little. Hell, he was surprised just to get a message in the first place, and more than elated. Did he remember? Fuck yes, he did. How could he forget the craziest, stupidest, most wonderful thing he'd ever done?

He hit reply and sat back, nervously waiting for the screen to load. He'd no idea how to respond. He'd never really been in a relationship, and wasn't even sure if this constituted as one in the first place. More than likely, he was just being booty-called. He'd had sex, only a couple of times, always using forms and names that he'd never assume again. Always one night stands with strangers who didn't look and act like they'd gladly roast his normal form on a spit and eat him for lunch. He didn't quite know how to react to that. Gods, how he wished he could talk to Bulma about it. She understood this whole bad boy thing, she'd know what to say and do, but she didn't even know about the “new” Puar and how he'd gone and made it in a cheap hotel with a mass murderer. Did the bad boy justification even extend to cover murderers, or was that just too far? Puar had no idea.

Hot and hard. He typed, carefully hitting each key with his paws, one at a time, as he floated over the keyboard. His whole body was quivering with nervous excitement, fur standing on end. He hit `send' before he had a chance to regret it. The computer chimed and a message popped up, indicating that his letter had been sent. He promptly regretted it.

“What am I doing?” He squeaked to himself, catching his reflection in the computer screen. A little blue cat with a cream coloured face stared back at him, its eyebrows knit together with concern and an anxious cast to his mouth. “He's going to eat me, if he ever finds out.”

*

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Chichi gasped, doubling over as Tien's bare foot collided with her stomach. He whirled on one foot, the momentum of his leg against her side knocking her off her feet and sending her skidding across the floor. So much for going easy on him, she thought, as she dragged herself up off the mat and onto her feet. He was waiting, crouched low, studying her with an intensity far beyond what was expected in a normal sparring match.

She shook her arms out and stepped into her own fighting stance, readying herself for his next move. She'd thought to go soft on him, fresh as he was from the violence and despair of the slaver camps, but it appeared as though he needed the exact opposite. “You wanna take it all out on me,” she snapped, surging toward him, “FINE!” She feinted with her right arm, and when he blocked his stomach she punched him in the face with her left. He stumbled, surprised. “But be prepared, Tien, I give as good as I get!” She swung her leg out, but this time he was prepared for her. He grasped her ankle and pulled her off balance so that she crashed to the floor.

Half expecting the move, Chichi rolled quickly back to her feet and attacked again, engaging Tien with a volley of fast punches and hard kicks. He was in surprisingly good form, blocking most, but returning those that landed with his own. They would both walk away from this bruised and sore, but better for it in the end. Chichi needed the exercise and the experience of fighting someone new, and Tien needed the chance to release some of the pent up frustration and pain he was carrying around with him. Chichi could see that he'd already begun to liven up a little more, even away from the training mat.

Still, she thought, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent him flying, he could use some work. She watched him for a few seconds, and bounded over to where he lay, when he did not immediately spring back into action. “Done for the day?” She asked kindly, extending a hand to help him up. He nodded, allowing her to pull him to his feet after a moment's hesitation.

“My strength is not what it used to be,” he said, sounding bitter. Chichi nodded, but did not pry. Everyone knew how poorly people were treated in the slaver camps; malnourishment and illness reigned, while strength and muscles wasted away. Tien had survived three years in a place where normal people were lucky to last three months.

“It will get better with time.” Chichi said, recalling how bruised and broken her body had felt after taking up her training again. She felt a twinge of something akin to guilt, that she had let her strength go to waste while she spurned the fighting arts in favour of becoming a wife and mother. Without a mother herself, her father had taken her under his wing, but as she'd grown older, a series of tutors had beaten it into her head that proper ladies take care of the home, including the needs of the husband and children. Proper ladies were slender and delicate, and did not have muscles to rival their husband's. Foolish girl that she'd been, she'd eaten it all up, tossing aside her hard-won strength and technique like so much trash. Damn the tutors. Watching the Earth crumble, realizing that she'd never see her beloved family again, she wished she'd never fallen for their outdated ideas. Maybe then she'd have been kinder to Goku about training Gohan. Maybe she'd have joined them, trained together with them. That's what it was all about, wasn't it? Her jealousy of Goku's freedom to be who he was, to feel the power rushing through his body; the heady thrill of facing an opponent brought no shame for him. Truly, she'd felt left out. It wasn't fair that she'd been stuck inside, cooking the meals, doing the dishes, being the good wife and mother, while her husband and son knew the thrill of battle that had once coursed through her veins.

And it was all gone now. That life, that crushing, soul destroying existence was gone. Along with it, the two greatest loves of her life.

Shaking her head, trying to clear her thoughts, Chichi made her way toward the ladies' changing room. Absently, she wondered at its existence, seeing as before their arrival three years ago, the space station had been occupied solely by Dr. Gero and his all-male team of androids. Then again, the old bugger was so secretive; perhaps there had been a female here at one point, or plans for one's residence.

Sixteen was waiting for her when she came out, as he often was. She saw the careful way his eyes scanned her, searching for injuries, for any excuse to bring her back to his little medical bay, and she was flattered, and embarrassed. He'd been such a gentlemen, helping her out while she was injured; she'd have had no idea he liked her, if Bulma hadn't clued her in to all the times she'd caught him staring. He'd seen her naked. She knew he hadn't ogled, but she wondered what he'd thought about while his big hands lifted her out of the tub, touching her bare, wet skin, even only in innocent places.

The thought sent an unexpected jolt through her body and she found her cheeks hot with the sensation. How long had it been since she'd been touched by a man? Since Goku, of course. More than three years had passed since she'd known sweat slick ecstasy of a hard body against hers, and she was surprised to find that she missed it.

“Sixteen,” she said, pushing the changeroom door open again, “come here.” She ignored the niggling little voice in the back of her head that told her to stop, to think, to talk to her friends about it. Bulma wouldn't be back for at least another week, and there was no way she was talking to Mrs. Briefs or any of the guys about such a thing.

“But that is the ladies' room.” He said, puzzled. “I am not permitted there.”

“There isn't anyone else in there. Don't worry, no one will come in.” She stepped into the doorframe and looked at him over her shoulder. “So come here.”

Nervously, Sixteen did as he was told, ducking his head to fit through the doorway. It was muggy and hot inside from the shower she'd taken, but he wasn't bothered by it. He watched as moisture settled on her skin and made the drying ends of her hair curl up. He sat down on a bench, while she stood before him, unbuttoning her blouse. She let it drop to the floor.

“Chichi, are you okay?” Sixteen asked, seeing the bruises on her arms and ribs. Was that why she had invited him in? An emergency medical inspection?

“Shh,” she whispered, leaning forward to put a finger on his lips. Her breasts plumped enticingly between her forearms, and she saw his eyes dart quickly to that forbidden part of her anatomy before returning to her face. She thanked Kami for good-quality bras, recalling how her breasts had never regained all of their original perkiness after having nursed Gohan.

Sitting, Sixteen was still nearly as tall as she stood regularly. He stopped trying to talk, and she replaced her finger with her lips, tentatively kissing the big android, trying to put other thoughts out of her mind.

Goku was dead, she thought, as she lowered herself onto Sixteen's lap, knees braced on either side of the bench to straddle him. There was no reason why she shouldn't move on. She grabbed Sixteen's large hands and placed them on her hips, while she reached for the zipper of his pants. Steeling herself, she slipped one hand beneath his waistband. She had to move on. She had to, or she'd die of loneliness, clutching at the past with withered old fingers.

“Chichi, I...” Sixteen trailed off, as her wide, surprised eyes met his.

*

*

As it turned out, Bulma did not need to contact Vengeance herself, as he was already waiting for her to accept a voice link by the time she got to the communications center of the ship. She felt a little guilty at the way she'd treated Krillin and Puar, implying as though they didn't want to help get Gohan back, but she was feeling too prideful to go back and apologize right away. Maybe later.

“The operation went well?” Vengeance said, omitting the `hi, how are you?' as usual. Bulma frowned; his voice seemed deeper than usual. Something clawed at the back of her mind, but she couldn't place it.

“The operation went fine. But I need your help.” She replied, and on the other end, Vegeta breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't seem to have recognized his voice.

“No.” He said.

“Ugh, don't be an ass. This is important. What do you know about the little Saiyan?”

“The Halfling, you mean?” Vengeance asked, sounding suitably surprised. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because he's my best friend's son.” Bulma said, opting for the truth and hoping to shock him. When he didn't respond, she assumed that she had been successful. “Look, I shouldn't be telling you this, but for some stupid reason that will probably get me killed, I trust you. I need to get him away from the Saiyans. I don't care how, as long as he comes out unharmed.”

“You're asking me to kidnap a Saiyan?” Vengeance sounded incredulous. “Are you crazy?” He growled.

“What, you can't do it?” She lashed out, hoping to sting his pride.

“Believe me Blue, I am more than capable of dealing with the Saiyans,” he said, dangerously, “but this has nothing to do with my goals. I will not waste my time or my resources because you don't like the babysitter.”

“You son of a bitch!” She hissed. “How can you knowingly leave a child with those monsters?”

“To my knowledge, he has been with them for over two years, and he is not dead yet. Besides that, I already told you, I don't give a shit about it.”

“Vengeance,” she begged, “please. His father was like a brother to me. Gohan is practically my nephew.” She sighed softly, as silence surrounded her. He'd either paused to think, meaning she'd got to him, or he'd hung up, meaning she'd pissed him off.

“Practically doesn't cut it,” he said, after a moment, “when he's Radditz's nephew for real.” Bulma's eyes widened. Why hadn't Gohan mentioned it? “According to my sources, the Saiyans sent an infant named Kakarott to Earth before Vegetasei was destroyed. It would appear that your best friend” he sneered the words, “was one of those monsters. Radditz's brother.”

“What, like you're such an old fashioned family man?” She didn't know what to think, so she pushed forward, belligerently. “ I don't care if Radditz is his Uncle, those bastards have no right to be raising a child! And how do you know, anyway?” She pressed, wanting to believe that he'd made it up.

“You come to me for information, and then you doubt the answers I give you?” He growled, churlishly. “Like I have said before, Blue, I make it my business to know. Just as I've made it my business to know that we have an information leak. Frieza somehow knew that I planned to be on Chisal, and that information was restricted to you, me and Guru. I know I didn't tell.”

“What, you think it was me?” Bulma gasped, surprised and a little bit disappointed in his lack of trust.

“No, I do not. But I do believe that you are likely too trusting of your companions. Find the leak,” he said, his voice dark, “and stop it.”

As usual, he made his exit unexpectedly and without closing remarks, completely ignoring the unresolved issue of Gohan. “Bastard.” Bulma muttered to herself as she flicked off the dead radio and leaned back in her chair. “What a mess,” she moaned, irritated. Who on the station would betray them? She didn't want to be in this situation. It made her sick to think that one of her friends might have sold them all out. Someone she trusted had put all of their lives on the line. And to make matters worse, Gohan was still stuck with the Saiyans, indefinitely. Vegeta would surely kill her if she made another attempt to kidnap the child, and she was sure that no excuses would save her if she dared defy his orders this time.

And why had Vengeance defended the Saiyans, anyway? He was supposed to be on her side. Okay, so maybe he hadn't defended them, she amended, but he'd definitely been a prick about the whole matter. The man had no respect for life. She wondered what on Earth he was doing, teamed up with a saint like Guru against the tyrant Frieza, if he couldn't even be bothered to muster up a drop of sympathy for a poor, eight year old kid who'd suddenly been dropped with Uncle Murderer and Co.

Guiltily, she recalled the way Gohan had bowed, prostrating himself before that arrogant ass, Vegeta. He'd seemed so frightened, but in truth, the fear was for her sake, and the man hadn't done either of them any lasting damage. Not that she knew of, anyway. Suddenly, she had terrible images in her mind of the punishment Gohan must have received when she left.

“Go ahead,” She cried, hearing the shuffle of footsteps in the doorway, “tell me I'm an idiot for hoping that Vengeance would help us. Go ahead and rub it in my face.”

“I'm not here to rub anything in your face,” Krillin sighed. “And if anyone was going to be able to get Vengeance to help us, it was you.”

“I'm a fool for thinking, even for a second, that he'd be a nice guy. I mean really, he's a complete jerk, what made me think he'd help out?”

“You see the goodness in the worst people, that's what.” Krillin put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them in a friendly neck rub. “You know,” he paused, “I thought I heard him hesitate for a second before he dropped that Radditz's nephew bomb on you.”

“Are you trying to comfort me with that, Krillin?” She laughed bitterly. “That bastard was probably just thinking of the most hurtful way to say it.”

“Well, you know him best.” The monk shrugged, removing his hands from her shoulders and coming around to sit in the chair beside her. “We'll figure it out, Bulma. I know we will. Gohan's a tough kid. He'll survive until we can get him out of there.”

“And in the mean time? What do we tell Chichi?”

“We don't tell her anything. Not yet, at least. I couldn't bear to see her crushed again, if something should happen before we're able to get him back.” Krillin couldn't help the guilty look that spread across his face. “Though I don't know if I've ever felt so low in my life.”

“Me too.” Bulma agreed, shaking her head. “Krillin, one more thing? Could you maybe...maybe keep quiet for me, about the leak? I don't want anyone else to know, until I figure it out.”

*

*

“Hey,” said a tired voice from the adjacent cell, “how long do you think it's been since they fed us?”

Piccolo sighed, glaring over at his neighbour. “They have not fed me, as I do not eat.” Truthfully, he'd been sneaking his portions to the man.

“Okay, fine. If you want to get picky, how long has it been since they fed me?”

“Three or four days, at least.” Piccolo tried to recall, but his brain was not functioning at optimum levels. Water was given out only every two days or so, to keep the stronger slaves in a constant state of slight dehydration, thus making them lethargic and easy to control.

“Man, I sure am hungry.” Said his companion, whose stomach released a howling gurgle, as if to emphasize his statement.

“Try not to think about it, Goku.” The Namek responded, closing his eyes against the glaring sun. He was a little worried about his former enemy, whose boundless energy and enthusiasm seemed significantly dampened under their less than hospitable living conditions. He could tell that his old enemy's strength was waning, due to the constant starvation imposed upon him, as well as the lack of opportunity to train. His mental condition was not optimal, either.

“What should I think about instead?” Goku rubbed his yowling tummy as he lay back down in the dirt, feeling as though his body was too heavy to remain sitting.

“Whatever you please.”

“If I start thinking about other things, I'm worried I won't be able to stop.” Goku said, caught in a once-rare but ever increasing moment of self pity and doubt. “Say I start thinking about Chichi and Gohan,” he proposed, “and I think about how much I miss them, but then I think about how glad I am that they aren't here. I like to think that they're somewhere better, but then this little voice in the back of my head says maybe they aren't. And I start to wonder, and then I start to panic.” He paused, and Piccolo tried to think of something comforting to say. There was enough of Kami in him to think that he should try, but too much of the Demon King in him to actually come up with something. “Gohan is just a kid, you know? And Chichi...” Goku breathed her name, savouring the memories it evoked, “She was awful pretty.”

“I met your wife once, if you recall.” Piccolo said, quietly, “And it seemed to me that she was capable of handling her own.”

“That was before.” Goku sighed, regretting the path his wife had chosen for herself. “After Gohan was born, she...she changed.” He tilted his head, rubbing his hair through the dirt, to look at Piccolo. “I wondered sometimes if maybe she regretted marrying me. It was plain that I wasn't always her idea of a good husband.” He blushed and looked away from the Namek's hard gaze. “But I really loved her, you know? I didn't know what I was getting myself into, but I really loved her. Love her.” He corrected himself.

Piccolo grunted, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. He did not understand the human idea of romantic love, though thanks to Kami he at least understood familial love and friendship. Goku flashed him an apologetic grin; he knew the subject was foreign to the asexual Namek in the cage next to his, but it really did help to let out his thoughts sometimes. He found himself grateful that they were together, at least. Once enemies, he now felt a strange bond of companionship with the green man, which he knew was shared.

“They're out there somewhere, Goku.” Piccolo said, patiently. “You'll find them.”

.

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Radditz really knows how to romance a guy. Be like Radditz! Show some love, and leave a review! Even if it's tough love, I won't mind!

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