. . Camouflage . .

Lady Rhapsody

. Seven .

When Bulma woke she was not alone. A pair of dark eyes, framed by long wild hair, studied her from across the room. Uncomfortably aware that she was clad in nothing but her thin robe, she cautiously sat up, the blankets gripped tight to her chest.

Radditz leered at her and rose from his chair. "You've been cordially invited to the med wing, m'lady," he announced with a mocking bow. "Pray, do not let my presence alarm you. You will be seeing a lot of me in the weeks… years… perhaps even decades to come."

She slid to the edge of the bed, obviously still angry. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Long enough to lament the fact that you belong to my Prince." Radditz crossed the room to stand before the door. "Alas, I am just your lowly personal guard, destined to admire from afar. But don't get your hopes up - I am commanded to keep you within my reach, so the distance will not be so great."

Bulma flinched as the door slammed behind him. She assumed that she was meant to follow her guard, but did they really mean for her to roam the palace dressed as she was? Then the memory of the other night came back to her. Whoever had been curious to see her had already glimpsed more than most had seen as Vejita had dragged her kicking and screaming to his chambers. Running a quick hand through her disheveled curls, she stepped into the hallway.

Radditz awaited her, flanked by the orange-skinned servant woman, who kept her eyes trained to the floor. "Vejita has ordered that I take you to the med wing. You won't be completely restored by your first session, but it will get rid of your superficial bruises and soreness. We can't have our little ningen looking like a punching bag, now can we?"

Bulma fell into step behind him, unwilling to join into any sort of banter with one of the men who had hunted her like an animal for the better part of three years. She knew that she should be grateful that Vejita hadn't assigned Nappa as her guard - with his brutish personality and their recent 'confrontation' that would hardly have been pleasant - but if Radditz meant to chat her ear off, she might be forced to commit an act of physical violence again.

As if reading her mind, Radditz cut in: "Nappa was so disappointed that he couldn't be with us today, but I'm sure you two will get the chance to meet again soon."

As they navigated the labyrinth-like hallways of the palace, Bulma took the opportunity to try to accustom herself to her surroundings. Though the floors, walls, and most of the décor were dark, it was obvious that Vejita had taken the myriad cultures of his empire into consideration. Here and there strange objects and paintings brightened the black surroundings. The scientist in her wanted to stop and run both her fingers and her mind over the things, but the survivor won and erred on the side of caution.

Don't let him have all of you.

She shuddered at the memory, trying to push her fear about where Goku and Piccolo were out of her mind. It would only cloud her judgment and serve as a distraction - a distraction she could not afford at this point. If Vejita saw her anxiety, it would only inflame his ire towards the pair. If they truly were still alive…

A set of ornate doors loomed before them. Bulma would have expected the med wing of such an enormous complex to be a bustling place, full of scientists, doctors, and patients going about their business. What they walked into, however, was much different than she anticipated.

They were greeted with silence, along with a sterile smell and a gust of cold air. Bulma felt as if she were walking into a morgue, until she saw the rows of healing tanks lined up against the walls. Some were curtained to provide privacy for the patient, most were not. She stared hard as Radditz led her through the hall, unable to conceal her scientific curiosity. Of course the place wasn't busy - everything could be cured by a simple visit to the regeneration tanks. It was a far cry from the primitive self-medicating she and her companions had been doing.

"Like it here, do you?" Radditz chuckled. "Behave yourself and maybe Vejita will let you play with the tanks."

They had stopped at the end of the long row of tanks, and went through a smaller door marked with a seal that Bulma recognized as the mark of the House of Vejitasei. She assumed that this was where Vejita received his medical treatment, and felt nervous despite herself - she had not agreed to do anything for Vejita yet and as far as she knew, this could be another punishment. Her fingers tightened on the front of her robe, hoping that that was the only sign of her apprehension.

Radditz grimaced to himself at the sight of Bulma so clearly concealing her discomfort. All they were going to do was throw her in a tank for a few hours, and the girl was about to jump out of her skin. If Vejita wanted someone to work beside him, he was going to be severely disappointed unless the girl decided to grow a pair and accept that the game was over. Disappointment was not a pleasant emotion in their bold leader.

An alien in a lab coat greeted them when they entered, trying to not meet Radditz's eyes. All palace staff - as well as the general populace - treated the Saiya-jins with a healthy amount of fear and circumspect after the things they had seen over the years. It met the orange-skinned girl's eyes and nodded. The girl seized Bulma's arm and started to remove her robe.

"Hey!" she protested, trying to wrench herself from the servant's grip. She was weaker even than this fool, Radditz mused, but at least she was starting to show some courage.

"Quit your squirming," he growled at her. "They're just going to put you in a tank for a few hours."

Bulma shot him a glare and shrugged out of her robe, leaving her naked before the tank. Her eyes burned when they met Radditz's and the doctor's, her chin lifted in defiance of their examination.

Radditz tried not to stare at her - though undoubtedly shapely, her body was malnourished, and small bruises dotted her from collarbone to calf. It was clearly going to take more than one session to restore her to health. Lucky for him, if he was to be her escort.

"Into the tank, here," the doctor mumbled, his accent rendering his words almost incomprehensible. He brusquely secured Bulma into the tank, affixed her breathing mask, and slammed the door shut. The tank began to glow with eerie green light as it filled with liquid. Before the sedative kicked in, the ningen's eyes widened with something like panic as the liquid reached her face.

When her eyes had closed and healing started, Radditz turned to the doctor. "How many sessions before she is restored?"

The doctor studied her for a moment, then shrugged. "Two, sir. First session for superficial damage, second for overall health. He will be pleased."

"He'd better be," Radditz warned, taking a seat across from the tank and propping up his feet. "I'll remember your ugly face, just in case."

. Vejita .

When I entered my room in the med wing, I found Radditz snoring in his chair, an orange servant lolling about on the floor, and the woman floating in the tank. I give the chair Radditz is sleeping in a rough kick, sending him sprawling to the floor, which awakens the servant woman. She scurries to her knees to show the proper respect before melting into a corner to stare at the floor. I like my servants invisible, and it appears that the trainers have been doing their job well. At least someone is around here.

I stand before the tank and study the woman carefully. Her bruises are gone, and her body has even begun to fill out a little more. The timer reveals that she has two hours to go. Radditz comes to stand beside me, wearing that ridiculous expression of concentration he has when he's attempting to be my 'friend'. Though he is perhaps the closest thing I have ever had to a 'friend', I resist the urge to slap him. Good lackeys are so hard to find.

"I thought that she was a little ghost at first, but we got a taste of her fire before long," he says, placing a finger on the glass to trace her face. "Am I to be her babysitter from now on?"

Babysitter. I should make him be her slave instead of her guard - what good will he do my empire in comparison to what she is capable of? "For now, you are her babysitter. Until she is ready."

"I don't think that it will take long," Radditz said. "Especially not with her little friends as bargaining tools."

I'm not so sure. It appears that dynamics between the group changed dramatically since that day three years ago. She was quick to sell out the cueball and Kakkarott's annoying wife, but Kakkarott himself is another matter. She may have always thought of him as her stupid younger brother, but I am certain that he saw things differently, and that his feelings have deepened over the years.

It wasn't long after our return from Namek that I decided to study them.

These people are always emoting, always talking, always giving themselves away. If they were charged with a deadly secret, or a mission which required discretion, I'm not sure they would even understand the point. Not that I'm complaining - unbeknownst to them, my task is therefore made that much easier.

The Briefs are having yet another frivolous gathering. The woman's mother has decided to take credit for the work her gardeners' have done for her and organized for everyone to picnic by the pool, which (oh joy!) is surrounded by tumbles of garish floral displays. Thankfully I have superior Saiya-jin eyes, or else I would be very much in need of the sunglasses the humans are always wearing.

Kakkarott and his horrid family are splashing about in the pool, making enough noise to drown out a jet engine. The rest of the ragtag group lounge about in chairs, attempting to change the color of their pasty skin and not really admiring the flowers at all. Only Bulma examines the foliage, wandering from one cluster to the next in her swimwear and a long filmy dress.

I allow myself an extra minute to 'study' her. We had an encounter in the kitchen last night that has me watching her more closely. I have not had her yet, but I know now that I will.

She had been sitting on the counter, eating some weird Earth fruit, when I came in from training. She was often awake when I finished, wandering the halls or toying with her inventions. It was hot, and a thin film of sweat coated her skin. I tried to ignore her, but as soon as I brushed past her I felt it.

Previous to this, I had not given much thought to her as a sexual object. Beyond my initial impression - a comparative child in life experience, but a pretty one - I had no cause to look further. Now, however… I suppose my time on this backwater rock has made me restless. I feel attraction, strong attraction, and desire.

"You seem more comfortable here."

Her words surprise me; her friends are too terrified to even look in my direction. Usually when we find ourselves alone in a room together, she quietly finishes her business and makes it a point to leave. I do not let my interest show, but instead rifle through the fridge, gathering ingredients for a snack. Could it be that the slightest of the group, the only non-fighter, is the most courageous? I turn from the fridge with the food in my hands and have a seat at the counter.

She turns to look at me, her long hair falling into her face. If I had a moral code, it would have been in serious peril. She looks so much a child, but there's that something… I shrug it off - humans mature slowly, perhaps in a few years, she will be more suited to my taste. Then she swings her legs around to face me, and there is no mistaking the undertones. She is intensely aware of her sexuality, and now so am I.

"I will never be 'comfortable' in such a ridiculous place," I reply. I do not reveal anything to these people. My plans are best served by stony silences and vague responses. I want them to forget, not that I am dangerous, but that I am an immediate threat to their way of life.

She nods, thoughtful. "After Namek and everything that I know now… I don't think I'm comfortable here, either." She slides off the counter, picks up her bowl of fruit, and crosses the kitchen. She sets it before me, and then meets my eyes, closer than I have been to her before. I can smell her fear, and something else. "Try these. They're sweet." Then she disappears down the hall, leaving me to my meal.

As I lounge on my pool chair the next morning, I am thinking of that look and that scent. There was a challenge in her gaze - a tentative one, tinged with a healthy dose of fear - but a challenge nonetheless. The smell of her sexual interest, combined with her anxiety, stays with me. Was she offering me fruit, or herself? I do not know which she intended, but I know which one I want.

I can see her body through her dress, so I look. I am thinking about what it would be like to peel that fabric off of her when Kakkarott steps out of the water and over to her. She favors him with a smile, an indulgent smile that she might have given a child, and he moves elsewhere to bask in the sun. There is something odd about his demeanor around the ningen woman, and it is not merely his usual idiot behavior.

He is watching her. I am watching her. We are watching her.

Bulma is discussing some plant with her mother, fingering a blossom and laughing. Kakkarott is staring at her like he was staring at the buffet table earlier. I glance around to see if anyone else notices, but it appears as if I am the only one aware of my surroundings. Typical. He is watching her with a look on his face that I have never seen before - when he is forlorn, he looks almost Saiya-jin. Almost.

Its almost enough to make me laugh aloud. My enemy, my bumbling do-gooder anti-Saiya-jin counterpart, is salivating over his human 'sister'. The same little girl who transforms herself into a woman when she looks at me.

"We can do better than the dungeons for Kakkarott," I sneer at Radditz. I study the woman in the tank, trying to find the girl who fascinated Kakkarott and I both. She is there, but I prefer what I see now. This girl, the one who had to steal and lie and betray to survive, she is the one I need. I wonder who Kakkarott loves more? "When she is done in the tank, bring her to my quarters."

As I leave the room, I look over my shoulder to see Radditz watching her with a half-smile on his face, and I know I have left her in the care of the right person. He will protect her voraciously, if only to be around her longer.

Let them look - where I instill fear, she will stir desire, and Kami knows that that is a powerful combination.

. . .

. Piccolo .

I can tell that Goku is dreaming. Instead of shifting and snoring in the way that reminds me so much of his deceased son, his body is still. His face moves rapidly from expression to expression, to looks that I have never seen on the Earth-Saiya-jin before. Anger, happiness, bafflement - those I have seen before. Depression, longing, fear - those I have not, but I have an inkling that they will soon be close friends.

My restraints prevent me from being able to reach him, but I extend my arm anyway, in the hope that I can get close enough to forge a connection - unfortunately, close contact seems to be the only way I can guarantee my sight. I want to see what is changing the Saiya-jin, whether it be our present conditions or a specter from the past.

Goku has never been a closed person. As soon as my hand is near, he exhales, and I have him.

My wife and son are in the pool, splashing, but I can't do it anymore. Sometimes I can't keep smiling through it, and so I step out of the water and approach the girl who is both my problem and my solution. I don't want to admit it, even to myself, but its fighting it's way to the surface.

Bulma is looking at flowers with her mom, and she looks so pretty. She always looks pretty, but she's different when she's happy. She's brighter. I can see through her swimsuit cover-up, but I use all of my willpower to keep my eyes on her face. She smiles at me like she always does, and it hurts so much I have to walk away.

From my chair by the pool I can see both my family and my best friend. The pain is very real, more poignant than its been in a while. I cannot pinpoint why, but then I feel it.

Vejita is sitting on the only chair in the shade - typical, why can't he try to be happy for once? - and he is watching her, too. Watching her like she's a little lavender mouse and he's a cat. A black cat. Is he in the shade or is he emanating his own darkness? Vejita watches all of us, so it should not bother me. But it does. A lot.

"You're so gloomy, Vejita," Bulma complains as she walks past, twirling a bloom in her hand. "Didn't you sleep well last night?"

There. As she walks away, she looks at him. A split second. The sparkling look she gave Yamcha when we came across him in the desert. The look she gets when she's about to invent something. The look she has never, will never, give me.

Vejita catches me looking and smirks. It feels like he is punching me in the gut, so I hurriedly jump back into the pool.

Goku is not dreaming. He is remembering. This does not bode well. I was aware of Goku's feelings once we were on the run, but to discover that they ran deeper, farther into the past, is disturbing indeed.

And Vejita knows. He saw it.

Now I know.

I know why Goku has not been killed yet. I know why I see him when I look into the future. I struggle to find feeling in my legs, wishing I could reach Goku to wake him up and warn him… of what? We are too far down our chosen paths already. I settle back into my uncomfortable position.

Then the door slams open, and I am certain of nothing.

. . .

[[ A. N. : Cheers to awesome reviewers! ]]