Falling Down Part Seven

A Dragonball Z fanfic

By Hana Noir

Kyrie roused slowly, the sunlight bright against her eyes as her senses began to relay information to her. There was a warm, lightly scented breeze blowing over the top of the thick grass, making the plants sway in a graceful dance. A smile curved her lips upward as she closed her eyes, letting her other senses speak to her. Birds were twittering brightly overhead in the sky and in the trees. A large, warm body was pressed against her back, a powerful arm draped possessively across her waist. She brought her left hand up to touch firm, slightly rubbery skin and she traced her fingertips across the curve of Piccolo's forearm, noting the difference in texture between the pink and green areas.

Her fingers continued down, past the wrist, tracing the long, almost graceful bones of his fingers. They twitched slightly, then spread to intertwine with her own. Her smile grew wider as a husky voice rumbled softly into her ear. "Good morning."

She finally opened her eyes, turning her head to look over her shoulder at Piccolo's sleep softened face. His features took on a boyishness that never failed to surprise her when he was asleep. That look lingered for a few moments after he woke, before his habitual shields fell into place. She loved that she was the only person to ever see him like that. "Morning," she replied, letting her head fall back against his shoulder. "Where are we?" she asked, not recognizing the area at all.

"A place I used to come to," he answered. "It's summer here. I didn't think you'd like to sleep outside as cold as it was near the Tenka."

Kyrie chuckled. "Piccolo, last night I could have slept on a iceberg and not have noticed. I haven't slept that soundly in weeks." His arms tightened around her waist and she smiled. For a brief, wonderful second, all was right with her world. If only it could stay this way, she thought.

That's why we need times like this, Piccolo said mentally. To hold on to when times are rough.

Sometimes you make a lot of sense, she replied, sitting up and stretching her arms as high as they could go. Piccolo let her move away, knowing that she needed a bit of space. They were on intimate terms again, though the hurt of their separation was still fresh. He knew that she wouldn't go far, though.

Unconscious of her nudity, Kyrie rose to her feet and looked out at the tall grass surrounding them. Piccolo propped up on his elbow and watched her as she stood there. He had never really noticed the anatomy of human females before but he knew that, by human standards, Kyrie had an attractive body. She looked a bit thinner than when he had last seen her, and he frowned slightly as he noticed the defined edges of her ribs. Her breasts didn't reflect the gaunt lines of the rest of her body, however, and a faint smirk pulled at his lips.

She stretched again, rising to her toes, making all her joints pop. A cool breeze blew up, ruffling the fringe of shoulder length hair framing her face and making her shiver slightly. She retreated to the warmth of Piccolo's heavy cape and snuggled back up against him. "Where have you been all this time?" she asked softly, staring up into his onyx eyes.

"Getting my head on straight," he replied, looking thoughtful. "Meditating and thinking mostly. I've never been a nice person, Kyrie. I don't have much use for the majority of the beings on this planet. I was perfectly content to live my life alone, bar the occasional visit from Gohan. You changed all that. You're the only person in the world I can't live without. I'm still uncomfortable with the depth of feeling I have for you."

She smiled slightly. "I think I can understand all that. After all, I'm much the same way. But there's more than what you've said."

Piccolo snorted, giving her a wry look. "You're too perceptive for your own good. I can't help but to wonder if some day you're going to want more than I can give you." His eyes were serious as he looked at her. "I can't give you a normal life. I'm not human." He hesitated, looking away, then took a deep breath to continue. "And you are only human. You're going to grow old and… eventually die." A choked sound made him glance back at her. She was staring at him, green eyes wide and stricken. To his surprise, she started laughing softly. Then her mirth turned hysterical and she pushed away from him, a keening wail rising to burst out of her. She fisted her hands in her hair and bent double, her spine bowed tautly.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he shouted, grabbing her by the arms and shaking her sharply. The violent motion snapped her out of her fit and she sagged against him, whimpering. She managed to find her voice and attempted to explain.

"Dr. – Dr. Briefs spoke to me, last night, before… before I left the Tenka," she began, trying to explain something she still didn't completely understand herself. "He's been working on the encrypted files I brought from the Facility. He… did some simulations with the data from my genetic workups. He's not really sure, this is only from the preliminary results, but… I'm completely changed from normal humans, Piccolo." She paused, not looking at him. "He doesn't think I'll ever be able to have children. My reproductive system doesn't work; he says I'm effectively sterile. Also… my cell structure is different. He's not sure what that means yet. He wants me to come in for some tests. Bulma's supposed to call me back today." A look of brief dismay crossed her face. "I think I lost my phone last night."

"Don't worry about it," Piccolo said gruffly, pulling her against the hard wall of his chest. "It's not important. Cell structure is not what makes you special to me." She embraced him hesitantly, closing her eyes and trying to push aside the nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach. She sighed and took a step back, severing the contact. Cupping her elbows in her hands, she looked around on the ground, the effort of looking for her clothing an excuse to move away.

Piccolo refrained from a sigh of his own. He didn't really understand why she was so upset over her genetics, but he could tell that they were going to have to rebuild what little foundation their relationship had sat upon. Kyrie was oddly moody and her moods were easily communicated to him, even when she had her mental barriers up. That small display of hysterics had been only a sample of her erratic behavior. He watched her search for several minutes, a smirk on his face, before deciding to be nice. "You're not going to find them, you know."

Her head came up and she fixed him with a grim glare. "What did you do with my clothes?"

"They're probably scattered all over creation by now," he replied, the smirk deepening into a smug grin. "We were pretty high up when they came off."

"Dammit," she griped, frowning. "Those clothes weren't cheap, and they were practically new too…" She trailed off as Piccolo snapped his fingers, and she was fully clothed. She blinked several times, an amused smile replacing the frown. "Doesn't matter how often you do that, I still think it's cool." She gave him a wry look. "But why is it that you can never manage to conjure up underwear?"

Piccolo couldn't help it; he laughed aloud. "Underwear serves no purpose. It's just extra work."

"Easy for you to say," Kyrie said, tongue in cheek. "You don't have breasts." She pantomimed a bouncing action at chest level, eyes dancing in amusement. Piccolo's eyes bugged out in a effort to control himself, but it was a losing battle. He snorted, then chuckled, finally bursting out into gut wrenching laughter. Kyrie watched him, grinning broadly. When he managed to stop, gasping for air, she caught his arm and smiled up at him. "I'm hungry. Feed me, Seymour."

Piccolo gave her an odd look, not getting the reference, but nodded. "The Tenka, then?"

"Yes," she said, frowning slightly as she remembered something. "I never did finish telling Dende about what happened yesterday." She shook her head in disbelief. "Was it only yesterday? It just doesn't seem possible that so much can happen in such a short amount of time."

Piccolo slid an arm around her waist, bringing her back up against his front. "I'll teleport us there." She nodded, clearing her mind and relaxing against him. The transfer was almost instantaneous.

*******

Bulma chewed thoughtfully on the tip of her thumbnail, wishing for a cigarette. She had mostly given up smoking them when she and Vegeta had first started sleeping together. He had complained about the foul smell and the taste it left on her mouth, so she had, with more than a little reluctance, cut back on her daily consumption. Once she had learned of her pregnancy, it had been easy to quit altogether. But now, with the chill that existed between Vegeta and herself, and Trunks being weaned, the cravings were harder to ignore. And it didn't help, she thought, staring crossly at the littered ashtray on the desk corner, that her father smoked like an engine. And didn't bother to empty the ashtray, either…

She sighed as she pulled up yet another of the files from Kyrie's laptop. The information both fascinated and revolted her. On the one hand, she was almost in awe at the sheer genius of the person who had modified the genetic codes to such a radical extent and produced such near miraculous results. But, she was also disgusted by the presumption and ego that had prompted one person to play God. She shook her head as she read slowly. Without even realizing it, her hand opened the desk drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It was the force of habit that had her lighting up and inhaling. The sting of the smoke and the sudden rush of nicotine made her eyes water.

Bulma exhaled gustily, noticing something in the progress report that had her leaning forward, taking another deep drag from her cigarette. "What the hell?" she muttered, scrolling back up the screen and rereading the section.

There has been a new development with Subject. The genetic manipulation has

resulted in an unforeseen speeding of the natural aging process. Subject aged

normally enough until age eleven, when the unexpected onset of puberty triggered

massive hormonal changes. In only two months, Subject has become physically

mature, her appearance that of a human female in her late teens. At my suggestion,

Subject has been placed in cryogenic suspension until further testing of her genetic

structure can be conducted.

(Personal Note: I am loathe to order the termination of our only viable subject to

date, but if her sudden, rapid aging continues, than she will be of no use to our

studies. Postmortem examinations may be helpful, in any event, all our work

will not have been in vain. We are prepared to try again with another subject.)

Bulma's hands were shaking in anger at the callous tone of the notes in the doctor's journal. How dare he treat a living being this way!! She took several deep breaths and another calming drag on her cigarette and forced herself to continue reading. She couldn't help but to wonder how Kyrie had dealt with all this and kept a hold on her sanity.

The com on her desk buzzed, making her yelp when her cigarette fell into her lap. Cursing loudly, she jumped up, swatting at her jeans with one hand, while fumbling for the intercom with the other. "Yes?" she asked, managing to stamp out the smoldering cigarette under her desk.

"Ms. Briefs?" came the voice of her unflappable executive assistant. Marge was a model of calm, collected serenity, the only person on the planet who didn't even blink an eye when Vegeta threw one of his royal fits. "Your father just called over. It was hard to understand him, he was speaking so quickly, but I think he wants you to come over to his lab."

Bulma blinked. What could her dad want? "Okay, Marge, thanks. I'll be leaving in a minute, then. Take messages for me if you would." She saved her work, shut down the computer and left through her private exit. When she reached the huge, warehouse sized room that was her father's lab/workshop, she found a most unusual sight.

Dr. Briefs was dancing about the room, a sheaf of computer printouts in his hand. Bulma could see that some of the print was circled and hastily scribbled notes were in some of the margins. "Dad?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Bulma!!" Dr. Briefs skidded to a halt, grasping his startled daughter by the shoulders and doing a little jig. "I've figured it out!! This is most amazing, truly remarkable, I'm awestruck!!" He pulled her over to the nearest tabletop and spread out the papers. "I've just finished going over the preliminary genetic workups on your friend. Just look!!" He pointed to a section circled in bright green ink. Bulma obligingly examined the papers, but the complex coding and sequences were beyond her ken. Dr. Briefs waited expectantly, grinning hugely as he watched for a reaction.

"Uh… Dad?" Bulma asked finally, her face turning slightly pink. "What am I supposed to be looking at here?"

Dr. Briefs' face fell almost comically and he regarded his only child with something akin to pity. "I forgot, Bulma, dear, your knowledge of biology is a bit… sparse." He pulled the papers closer, arranging them tidily and gave her a smile. "How about I just explain it?"

Bulma eyed him with no small amount of loving annoyance. "Yes, Dad, why don't you?"