Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing.
Chapter Nine
Bulma pocketed the brand new and fully stocked capsule case with a huff. "Thank God that's over! I can't believe how hard these things were to find!"
"It seems the technology is a bit different," Isaka added. "Probably because we have a greater integration with alien designs and engineering in this time. I recognized a few of the items you asked for, but only from my history texts."
"Well, just because it's from another planet doesn't mean it's better than the stuff my father developed," she responded stubbornly, crossing her arms and throwing her head back indignantly, almost tossing the draping hood that shielded a great deal of her face completely off in the process.
Her smaller counterpart immediately yelped and grabbed the tumbling cloth before it could expose her entire profile to the world around them. "Remember," Isaka reminded Bulma in a soft voice, "you need to continue to act as inconspicuous as possible. If would be most regrettable if anyone were to recognize us and mistake you for my mother." To emphasize the point, the young man tugged at the hood of his long, black cloak. However, it didn't hide the gleam of mischief in his wide blue eyes that were identical to her own as he glanced at her. "And if dad finds out I took you into the city, let alone without proper escort, he is liable to lock me in one of the training chambers for a week and bind me under a few hundred times normal gravity."
Bulma got the distinct feeling that the boy was only half joking, and she immediately thought of Vegeta and his several near-death GR incidents. "That's not funny," she snapped half-heartedly - the edge of worry significantly diminished any irritation she was attempting to convey - as they continued down the bustling concrete-gray road that wound through the center of town. "I've seen what happens to people under those conditions," she added quickly, "and it's never pretty."
"Did the Saiyajins where you come from train in similar facilities?"
"Oh yeah," she confirmed with a sarcastic laugh. "That is, if damn near killing yourself on a daily basis is what you would consider training like the guys where I'm from do."
Isaka considered that for a moment. "It seems there are strong similarities between the warriors of your reality and mine."
"I guess so," Bulma agreed with a nod, "though your father reminds me a great deal more of Vegeta than his alternate self from my time, though there are still a few likenesses between them, too."
The boy's eyes became even wider. "It is hard to imagine Vegeta being anything like my sire," the boy stated bluntly, a hint of defensiveness threaded into his curious tone.
"He wasn't always such a decent guy, believe me," Bulma replied with a chuckle, "and he's still no Mr. Personality for sure. Still, I think he made the transition from cold-blooded, power-hungry murderer fairly well, all things considered. Before I managed to send myself here, he hadn't even threatened to kill me for" - her brow furrowed as she did a quick approximation - "at least a year now."
"He was not serious about those threats though," Isaka questioned hesitantly, "right?"
Bulma smirked behind the folds of her own hooded cloak. "Only the first ten or so times. After that, I think he finally realized it would be much harder to get his training equipment fixed if I was dead."
"It sounds like you have the golden touch," Isaka remarked softly, his childlike features melting under a very thoughtful and overly mature expression.
"What do you mean?" Bulma asked, her eyebrows drawing together with obvious interest.
The boy's thin lips opened, then closed again before he shook his head dismissively. "Nothing, really. It is interesting to know that you and my mother are so much alike and have influenced the people around you in many of the same ways as well," he asserted quietly. "Perhaps I should not feel this way, but," he let out a long breath and drew another in slowly, "I am glad you are here, Bulma-san, and that you are helping my father."
Their pace had slowed over the course of the conversation, and now they stopped as the young man -my son , Bulma's brain amended - regarded the mirror image of his mother meaningfully, and much too patiently for his age, she told herself. Still, she could see the ghost of a grieving, lonely little boy within those experienced sapphire depths begging to come out and voice the unspoken question that hung between them.
Was she glad she was here?
Her thoughts immediately went to Trunks, whom she missed more than anyone else by far during this little adventure. The angelic, chubby features that were anything but when his meal was five minutes late or his cap fell off his lavender fuzz-covered head fixed itself in her mind's eye, and she smiled negligibly to herself and wondered if her future self had felt the same way as the man version jumped back in time with the sole responsibility of changing history and saving the world.
Then there was Gohan, the sweet, smiling child that had made his own unrecognized mark several times over in his short life. After all, how many pre-teen boys could say they had single-handedly melted the heart of a demon king by age five, held their own against several of the galaxy's most terrifying and formidable fighters before he turned seven, were on a first-name basis with God, and topped it all by doing the impossible and defeating a creature that threatened the entire universe. Or was it more amazing that he had witnessed so much evil in his life and still remained so hopeful and innocent?
Isaka was so much like Gohan that Bulma just wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. But thinking of those two adolescent heroes gave her the answer he was waiting for, and she smiled as she leaned down and took his hand into hers. Besides, she'd always been on the sidelines, so she kind of liked the idea of joining the ranks for once. Even if it meant having to see Frieza again, at least she could do something -really do something - this time.
And it sure beat the hell out of moping around her laboratory.
"You know," she began, giving his fingers a light squeeze, "I'm glad I'm here, too." The lines that creased Isaka's brow disappeared as his entire face lit up, making Bulma's own smile broaden that much more.
They continued making their way along the streets, Isaka guiding the way while Bulma tried to soak in as much as she could. It was uncanny how much the city looked the same, though not as well developed as it had gotten where - or rather, when - she was from. Still, many of the buildings were familiar to her, especially in the district they had gone to, since it had been the oldest part of town. The major difference wasn't structural but cultural. Instead of large families, young lovers, and searching singles that cruised this particular thoroughfare in her time, the sidewalks were filled with varying humanoid species that ranged from midget to mammoth in comparison to humans. And there weren't many humans around at all, she noted. She kicked herself internally for not doing more research into the current society during her long night of investigating the past.
Well, the only way to find out was to ask. "Isaka, why aren't there many humans in the city? And what about all these other people?"
"Ever since my father openly defied Frieza by declining to join his ranks, refugees from all over have come here for shelter, as well as to help in any efforts to defeat the Icejin," Isaka responded knowledgeably. "At first, I don't think he wanted to allow them to stay, but my mother persuaded him. And it has worked out well," he continued. "Each new race of people that comes brings ideas and inventions that can be used to help protect everyone. It has become even more important now, because Frieza is becoming more ambitious with every planet he conquers. It was only a matter of time before he set his sights here."
"Okay, I can understand that, but what about humans? I've seen a few, but not nearly as many as there should be."
They had reached the entrance to small alley between two of the larger buildings, and Isaka led her into it and stopped, his face grave. "You told me that you read much of the history of this time last night. Unfortunately, many of the planet's original population died in my father's conquest. There have been many battles since, both internal and external, that have added to the casualties." He gave a grim smile. "I am thankful that I was not alive during the worst of it," he admitted somberly, "though my mother explained the worst to me when she felt I was old enough." Then his youthful visage became less solemn. "Now, because of that and the fact that Earthlings are not allowed in some of the more dangerous areas of the city, most remain in smaller colonies along the countryside. The only ones that reside here either work for my father and wear the royal badge to show that they are under his protection, or they have been genetically enhanced to make them stronger and faster than they would be naturally."
Bulma thought about that for a moment. It seemed to her like old-fashioned racism, forcing innocent people out of the city. But her real question at the moment wasn't about the socio-political system. What she really wanted to know was why all those people that had died over the years hadn't been wished back. Before she had the chance to ask, she noticed Isaka's eyes narrow as his entire body became taut beneath the dark bodysuit he wore under his robe.
The persona of the child was gone, replaced with that of a seasoned warrior at the ready before she ever heard the first set of footsteps coming toward them from the other side of the alley.
It didn't take long, though, before a group of four blue-green creatures Bulma likened immediately to iguanas came out from under the blanket of shadows, looking delighted with their find as slanted, glossy black eyes ran over them both and long, scaly tails thumped heavily against the ground. The one in front stood a good ten feet tall and was at least half as wide across, rolls of disgustingly knotted flesh jiggling unhindered by the small vest he sported above the waist as he laughed sadistically. The three behind him, all a little shorter and much leaner though no less aesthetically appalling as far as Bulma was concerned, began chatting excitedly amongst themselves in a language she didn't understand, though the series of gurgles and hisses made her even more nervous.
Bulma scooted behind Isaka as discreetly as possible. "What are those things?" Bulma whispered shakily into his ear, and tried to take it as a good sign when he snorted.
"Sekeijin," Isaka growled. "The three smaller ones would be easy to defeat, especially in such a closed space where they can't use their tails, but the one in front..."
Bulma balked and nearly gagged when the hideous head attacker ran his thick, slimy tongue over jagged teeth and sneered provocatively; his eyes were glued quite obviously on her rather than Isaka. "You've got to be kidding me!" she squealed, backing up another step. "But... but he looks like he could barely move with all that fat hanging off him!"
"Unfortunately, that is not the case," Isaka replied evenly. "Sekeijin are quite fast, and both their age and strength can be assimilated by their size. And he is one of the largest I have seen."
"Great," Bulma groaned. "But you can beat him, right?"
Isaka shrugged. "I do not know," he answered quietly. "I have never faced one in battle before. Unfortunately, it appears we will find out." He moved a step forward and turned slightly. "You should go, just in case."
Bulma stammered for a moment. "But -" She stopped when the lot of them advanced slowly, the back three poised for a fight while the ringleader's lecherous gaze narrowed on her, sending shivers of dread down her spine and making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.
She realized running didn't seem so bad after all and made a break for the road.
She managed one step before a clammy, clawed hand grabbed her by the arm and forced her against the wall before her vision was filled with a bright flash and her ears rung with the echo of her own scream. She reopened them in time to see the hand fall away from her arm, and the lifeless eyes rolled back before her assailant finally fell in a half-charred heap at her feet. She jumped away and darted her frightened eyes to Isaka, prepared to thank him for the quick save when she realized, judging by the three limp bodies surrounding him, that he had not been the one to rescue her. His eyes were fixed on someone behind her.
She turned and gasped as she almost ran headlong - again - into the broad chest of a very pissed-off looking full-blooded Saiyajin.
Kakarotto knew he had no right to be angry, for he only had himself to blame.
He had been shadowing them all day, avoiding any contact with the townspeople and keeping his ki drastically down to avoid detection by anyone who could sense such things. He had been enraged when he left the castle, true, but his mood had altered over the course of the afternoon as he saw the tension and grief his son had suffered through for a year dissolve from the boy's features, replaced with a combination of relaxed enjoyment and genuine contentment in the presence of their unexpected guest. It had been too long since his heir had actually been able to be the exuberant youth he had been when Bulma was alive, and no matter how foolish his decision had been, he had found himself unable to interrupt their afternoon adventure, especially when it seemed they had taken the necessary precautions so they wouldn't draw attention to themselves. They had started back towards the castle shortly after dusk, and by that time, he had given up on being angry entirely; he chose to simply give the woman a warning about such reckless behavior along with several questions about the numerous purchases she had made, and his son would receive a rougher than normal training appointment in the morning and a stern warning never to do such a thing again without consulting him first.
He realized his mistake when he noticed, from his place within one of the doorways, four pairs of vile, opportunistic eyes slitting in concentration as they spied Bulma and Isaka from the opposite end of the narrow pathway. The good news was that Kakarotto was quite certain his son was stronger than the four of them combined, but the bad news was that he was even more sure that the largest would be faster and would be able to evade his son altogether. Then there was the issue of what Isaka didn't know about the lizard-like opponents - their rather nasty inclination to females, particularly the weaker human variety.
Still, he had waited for another moment, but it became quickly apparent that the largest had set his sights on Bulma. As soon as he realized it, the rage he had held back all day came back with a triple fold vengeance, though it was no longer directed toward his son or the onna. The final second had him moving faster than he ever had before and blasting a large hole through the heart of the one that dared touch his mate.
No! She is not my mate... she is a duplicate only.
But it didn't change the level of relief that flooded his mind as she looked up at him now, nor did it weaken his resolve to send the others that had been taken down by Isaka on a one-way trip to Hell for even considering her as a target.
"K-Kakarotto?" Bulma squeaked out, her cerulean eyes impossibly wide with raw fear that twisted his gut like a vise.
The glance he meant to be momentary to ensure she was unharmed became a locked gaze of obsidian on sapphire. His features softened dramatically, the sharp planes of fury becoming soft lines of concern. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly, not entirely confident in his voice. She nodded quickly, and though he could tell her body was unmarked from the encounter save for a pink ring around her bicep where the thing had grabbed her, the tremors he could see wracking her small form left no doubt that she had been scared half to death by the incident. Unfortunately, he had never been good with handling situations like these, even after so many years with his Bulma, but one thing his mate told him long ago stuck out in his mind.
When in doubt, she had said with a tender smile, just hold me.
It was still strange, however, when it was Bulma that took the step into the arm he opened to her, and he frowned even deeper when she wrapped herself around his waist and buried her face in his chest and her erratic shivering calmed seemingly on contact. He forced himself to take several deep breaths before finally leveling a stare on the boy a few feet away, apprehensive about how the boy would feel seeing such an open display of comfort towards the woman.
To his surprise, relief, and even a bit of anxiety, Isaka, cape long tossed away in the name of battle, smiled and gave him a nod of approval. Damned kid is too sentimental, he admonished silently. Hn, perhaps we both are.
Because, his rebellious brain proclaimed, it felt unbelievably good holding her.
He mentally slapped himself - hard - and focused his attention back to the three that lay behind Isaka, eyes narrowing dangerously as one of them began to stir. He had not even realized that his own hood had fallen from his face until the doomed assailant blinked several times and sat up, a threatening hiss cut off abruptly as the thing's eyes became saucers.
"Kakarotto-sama!" came the horrified gurgle before it turned toward the one who had landed it on its scaly back. "Isaka-sama!" Faster than it would have normally, the thing found its balance and stood, bowing immediately. When it rose again, it was evident that the creature was hoping he could weasel out of being executed by the royal father-son duo. "I-I did not recognize you, my lord," he offered to Isaka. "We-we were simply following the orders of our commander," he continued in a rush as he saw no signs of leniency from either of the Saiyajins glaring at him.
Then, as Bulma turned towards the speaker with her own hood pushed back and plainly showing her face, the unfortunate fighter's expression lost any trace of calm. "You... but..."
It turned to run, but was stopped by a thin blast of ki straight through its head.
Bulma winced as the thing fell to the ground with a wet thud, though her eyes never left Isaka, even as he lowered his hand and repeated the act on the other two that remained. Her heart raced, and it felt as though it was pure ice coursing through her veins. His face was so... impassive as he killed them. A true warrior. A ten year old, battle-hardened warrior.
Too young... her mind cried over and over. He's too young...
When it was finished, the young boy's shoulders slumped slightly and he turned to his father. "Did you see it?" he asked quietly.
"Hai," Kakarotto answered as he let go of Bulma and walked in front of her.
Bulma swallowed. "See what?"
Isaka saw the sadness of the doppelganger's face. "They bear the mark of Frieza," he replied apologetically. "They were spies. If they had been allowed to report back that my mother was alive along with anything else they may have gathered..." The bright blue eyes pleaded to her - for understanding, for forgiveness. "I had no choice, Bulma-san."
Well that certainly shed a new light on things.
Kakarotto looked around before turning back to Isaka. "Go back and inform Laresk of this. More than likely, there are more where these came from," he stated firmly. "I will expect to have council with Laresk when I return."
Isaka nodded curtly. "Yes, sir,!" Then he glanced at Bulma and smiled. "I am sorry we were unable to spend more time together," he admitted somewhat shyly.
"Well, I guess we'll just have to do it again, then," Bulma answered, still a little shaky, but the affectionate tone was undeniable, getting an ear-to-ear grin from Isaka in return that revived the little boy she was growing very, very fond of.
Another nod, and the boy took to the sky in a streak of light, leaving his father and the twin image of his mother behind.
After watching his son leave, Kakarotto went about the business of disposing of the bodies. After piling them one on another, he commanded Bulma to shield her eyes and fired a final attack at the heap large enough to completely vaporize them all.
"It's finished," he stated, and Bulma looked up to find that, just as he said, there was nothing left but a large hole in the ground.
"Thank God," she breathed softly, her nose wrinkling as the dust settled. "I still wish Isaka hadn't killed those guys, though."
Kakarotto raised an eyebrow. "Why not? He is the future leader of this world, Bulma, and he must be prepared to defend it at all costs. It is necessary that he understand that."
"But," she cried helplessly, "he's just a kid! And he looked so... normal ... doing it."
"If it is any consolation, those were the first deaths by his hand," Kakarotto stated after a significant pause, his face thoughtful. "I have never required him to kill anyone, and I did not expect him to do it today."
Perhaps it shouldn't have made any difference, but the soft-spoken words actually did make her feel better. "I wonder why, then?" she asked herself under her breath. "I mean, I guess he knew they were a threat to Earth -" she reasoned before Kakarotto cut her off.
"He did it to protect you ."
"Oh," was the only reply she could manage.
Their eyes locked once again, though Kakarotto's broke away after only an instant as his chiseled features stiffened in concentration. "Damn it," he cursed. "Apparently the blasts have attracted some attention. There are people coming."
Bulma blinked several times and glanced around nervously. "What should we do? Fly out of here?"
"No," he replied as he took her by the arm. "There is too much chance we will be recognized," he explained quickly as he walked her back into the inky shadows. "We must wait and hope that no one comes back far enough to see us." He drew his nondescript cloak around him, pulling his hood over his head once again. Bulma immediately followed suit as he drew her against him so that her back was turned away from approaching people, dipping his head down and leaning against the wall. He fought back the urge to put his arms around her thin form by fisting the material at his sides instead. "Stay quiet," he whispered as various voices began filtering in.
"Over there! I know I saw a bunch of smoke!"
The footsteps stopped, and she risked a furtive glance up and saw him take a similar look behind her.
Several indistinguishable murmurs. "I don't see anything back there!"
"It's too damned dark, you baka! Somebody bring a light!"
Kakarotto stiffened against her.
This was just like those cheesy black-and-white movies she used to watch with her mother, she mused. Dark alley... the strong man and his helpless dame backed in a corner, hiding in inky blackness... the mob thrusting lamplight haphazardly about in search of the source of commotion... Bulma's eyes widened as Plan B was formed. Who said nothing good came out of watching TV?
The handsome Saiyajin growled softly when the first streak of light invaded their pseudo-shelter. It was now or never.
If he doesn't die of shock, he's probably gonna kill me for this.
A deep breath that made Kakarotto's eyes go wide, then... "You saved me!" she bellowed in her best recently-rescued-damsel-in-distress voice. "Thank you!" And just as he opened his mouth to say...whatever ... she grabbed each side of his hood, pulled his head down, and clamped her mouth firmly over his.
She didn't hear the jovial laughter or the appreciative wolf-whistles. She didn't notice the remarks of "Lucky bastard" or "Well, I think they've got this taken care of." She didn't register the light going off or the retreating footsteps amid soft chitchat.
She did hear Kakarotto's sharp intake of breath when his lips responded to hers and a velvety tongue claimed hers in a frantic duel. She did notice his arms snake themselves around her and pull her completely against his own firm body, one hand around her neck, the other pinning her at the small of her back. And she did register that every nerve ending in her body from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes felt like they were being teased with tendrils of pure electricity.
It was several minutes before the two finally separated, panting heavily as they looked at each other through half-lidded, unfocused eyes. Kakarotto was the first to recover, his onyx eyes going so wide that Bulma could have almost mistaken him for the man he was in her reality. It was short-lived, and his eyebrows drew down once again, though the staggering disbelief within them did not diminish until it was overtaken by another emotion that made Bulma regret ever having put him that position.
Pain.
It was almost palpable as it brutally distorted the normally cool and indifferent visage into something entirely new - something that looked so broken , Bulma realized, and her chest constricted seeing the all too familiar emotion. "I-I'm sorry," she choked, dropping her shameful gaze. "I never should have-"
"It is not your fault," came the unsteady reply followed closely by a ragged sigh. "And your method was... effective," he admitted tightly. "But we should leave now before anyone comes back."
Bulma nodded dumbly, wishing she had some eloquent words of sympathy or understanding and coming up completely blank. Instead, she let herself follow behind him silently as he turned on his heel and led the way back to the palace.
Isaka had done exactly as his father had expected of him to the letter, from informing Laresk of the potential problem they had discovered to alerting the guard and posting extra security on the grounds. None of it took very long, though, and he decided to visit his mother's garden rather than pace the floors waiting for Kakarotto and Bulma to return. He sat cross-legged in front of a small rosebush that had been his mother's favorite on days when she simply wished to enjoy a peaceful moment with a good book rather than under the fluorescent lights of the laboratory. Many of his fondest memories of her were right here as well, having secret picnics when he should have been studying or training. And they had many of their one-on-one talks here, so it had become his haven since her disappearance. Anytime he wanted to talk to her, he would focus his eyes on the thorny vines and crimson blossoms and pour his heart out.
It had been too long since his last visit, he realized.
"I'm sorry I have neglected my visits, Mom," he began softly, "but things have been... hectic lately. Frieza is coming. I know you always told us it was inevitable, but it is unwelcome news none the less, especially since" - he chewed on his bottom lip a moment - "you are no longer here. Dad and I have been preparing almost non-stop, and father is determined not to lose your home to the madman. I believe he will save us, Mother, just as I know you do. And he is much stronger now," he added. "Remember how I told you that the regeneration tanks no longer worked? The problem has been rectified, thanks to... well, you, actually."
Isaka smiled despite himself. "You see, that is the other remarkable thing that has happened. A version of Bulma Brief from an entirely different reality had an accident and was transported here. You are far more knowledgeable in the actual science than I, but from what I can ascertain, I think she was trying to go back into the past and change an event of some significance, but something went wrong, pushing her into this timeline instead." The smile faded slightly, and Isaka pulled absently at a few blades of grass between his thighs. "It has been hard on Father to have her here. She... she is so much like you, Mom. Her hair is a little shorter, and she seems... sadder than you were," he explained slowly, "but she had been very kind to me. And she knew many Saiyajins in her time," he continued, excitement making its way into his tone. "We have talked a great deal in the days since her arrival. She knew what it was that was happening to father when he lost control of his power again. She said that he had become a Super Saiyajin, and that it had happened to all four of the Saiyajins in her time, two of them half human like me," he added. "And she knew Dad. Is that not something, Mother? That you and Dad have found one another in two versions of time? You did not have me, though Bulma-san does have a son named..." He went through the names she had mentioned before coming up with the right one. "Trunks was his name," he stated surely. "And his father is - this is unbelievable if you ask me, but it is what she said - the Saiyajin Prince, Vegeta. The other two Saiyajins are Dad and his son, Gohan."
"I cannot help but wonder," the boy mumbled, "what it is like in her time. A time where there is no threat of Frieza and my father isn't ruler of the planet. A reality where he had never been ruthless or tyrannical. Of course," he added as an afterthought, "she told me that her reality's version of my father, she actually calls him Goku for some reason, is dead."
He looked up as soon as he sensed his father's ki approaching. "Speaking of Dad and Bulma-san, she has agreed to help us get ready for the oncoming invasion rather than going home immediately. I pray it is not a mistake, but I am eternally grateful that she will be with us in our darkest hour. It is almost as though you will be with us." He took a deep breath, biting back the moisture building in the corners of his eyes. "And you always told me when the three of us are together, nothing can hurt us."
His father's ki was close now, and he stood quickly, dusting himself off before glancing at the twining bush one last time before returning to his quarters until summoned by his father. "I have to meet with Father and Laresk presently, but I promise that I will visit again soon. I love you, Mom, and I miss you very much. I still look at the picture you gave me everyday, and..." he hesitated for only a moment, "I know that wherever you are, you will be with us, and you will protect us. Goodnight, Mother."
Far above the realm of the living, Bulma Brief bid silent goodnight to her son before considering what he'd told her.
"Goku..." the woman repeated softly, chewing on the end of her thumbnail thoughtfully.
Since her arrival in the afterlife, Bulma had felt so... useless. Stagnant. It was something she wasn't used to, and quite frankly, she had been sure after the first several months that she would die of boredom. She knew subconsciously that it was a gift to be allowed to keep her physical body in death, but it sure hadn't felt that way recently. At least the spirits that floated around the heavens were content, constantly busy doing whatever it was they did. She, on the other hand, had simply watched and roamed and helped out here and there when something malfunctioned.
Monotonous to the worst degree.
It was these brief moments when her son would talk to her that had kept her sane through it all. That was a true advantage, and she cherished every word he said, whether it was venting frustration or crying so hard that he became ill.
But this situation that he had described... well, this was something indeed.
So her theory of parallel timelines had been correct, she noted negligibly to herself. The fact that it was Bulma Brief that proved it seemed almost like destiny in her mind, though her heart was conflicted about whether or not it was a good thing. On one hand, there was no denying that Isaka had sounded wonderful this time, almost like he was the last time she tucked him in for bed. On the other hand, there was Kakarotto.
How has her presence affected you, my love?
She knew his torment intimately and could only imagine what having a stranger that was, in essence, his dead mate around was doing to him. Isaka had said it was difficult for him, but she was sure that the assessment was a grave understatement. And Kakarotto would never let Isaka see the true depth of his loss; his pride would never allow it. For the first time in over a decade, he had been forced to face everything alone once again, and Bulma had been overjoyed when she saw that he hadn't reverted back to the cruel leader he had been once upon a time. He was more introverted, but he was still fair and decent. And he had been amazing with their son - something Bulma had feared more than anything else.
But now, Frieza was being added into the equation, and Bulma didn't like the math when that got factored in. In the end, something was going to give, and she wasn't willing to risk the welfare of Kakarotto or their son to find out where that weak link would be.
"Yes, Isaka," she declared stubbornly, "I will protect you and Kakarotto, no matter what the cost."
With a real purpose for the first time in a year, Bulma got up from the desk she had been sitting at and strode purposefully through the large archway and into the massive room it led to, her determined cobalt eyes searching the room for the one person she knew could help her.
"Well, finished with that gizmo already, eh?" came the friendly voice, followed soon after by the form of an aged, denim-clad man in outdated shades.
"Yesterday. Actually," she replied steadily, jogging to meet the Grand Kai halfway, "I have a favor to ask. You see, my mate and our son are in danger, and I think there may be someone who can help me... if he wasn't sent down there" - she jerked her head to the floor - "and had his memory erased."
The white-haired man shrugged. "Depends. There's lots of people that come through those gates, ya know."
"This one would be a Saiyajin," she offered hopefully.
"Hell. No doubt about it. Evil, the whole lot of em."
Bulma felt her chance at doing something again slipping through her fingers. "Damn," she groaned helplessly. "Figures tracking down this Goku would be -"
"Hold on a second!" The old man grinned. "You're looking for Son Goku?" She blinked, then nodded emphatically. "Well, why didn't you say so! I keep forgetting that fella's one of those Saiyajins, ya know. A true exception to the rule, that one is," he went on, not noticing that the blue-haired woman in front of him was fidgeting impatiently.
"Well, how do I find him? Can I even contact someone who's a spirit?" she questioned, holding a breath... just in case.
At this, the geezer laughed. "I wouldn't worry about that, though I'll bet my Camaro the Northern Kai wishes that boy wasn't still flesh and blood, much as he eats!"
This was too good to be true, and unimaginable she had to admit, considering that she was quite sure her mate wouldn't be given such rewards for anything he had done in his life. Reformed, he may be, but there was no making up for some of the sins of the past. "You mean... this Saiyajin called Goku kept his body?"
"Yep."
"And he's with the Northern Kai?"
"More than likely. If not, just wait till chowtime, and he'll show up."
Before the poor fool knew what was happening, Bulma grabbed him and placed a loud kiss on his cheek, making the man blush brightly. Then she sprinted back the same way she had come in.
"Uh, Bulma?"
She stopped just past the doorway and peeked back in. "Hm?"
A wrinkled finger pointed to the other side of the room where four plain wooden door stood closed. "If you go through the first one, it's a lot quicker."
"Oh. Thank you!" And with that, the woman ran past him and bolted through the door. As the sound of a startled cry met his ears, the Grand Kai shrugged noncommittally.
"Whoops. Guess I forgot to warn her to watch her step."
Goku and Vegeta were sitting at the rectangular table in the middle of Kaio-sama's house, packing down massive amounts of food in relatively silence. Vegeta was tired, frustrated, and - damn this infernal dimension to hell - sorely missing his gravity room, while Goku, though fatigued and disconcerted in his own right, was also sporting a nasty headache.
They had spent an entire day rotating between Saiyajinism 101 and continuing their search for Bulma, and Goku was mentally exhausted. Sure, he comprehended everything easily enough, but the proud prince had been slow to get to anything that seemed practical in Goku's overstuffed mind. The history was interesting, no doubt about that, and the instinct stuff - hunting, mating and sex in general, blood-lust, and born need to travel to places unknown, just to name a few - had explained a lot. Still, he didn't really care about all that. What he needed was to know how to handle it, and so far, Vegeta had been rather close-lipped about that.
Sadistic bastard. He loves seeing me sweat it out, I'm sure.
Still, it had passed the time and seemed to bridge a little more of the gap between himself and the impenetrable prince, and for that he was thankful. Especially since it didn't look like Vegeta was gonna be going home anytime soon.
Face it, Goku. You've covered over half of the universe, and there's no sign of her anywhere.
He pushed the defeated voice in his mind down with a low growl. He wouldn't give up on her. Not yet. Hell, not ever. He'd known Bulma too long and owed her too much. Somehow, he would find her and bring her home.
And how do you plan to do that when you have no idea where she is? the damnable voice mocked. It's not as if she's just gonna fall out of the sky...
He stuffed an entire steak in his mouth and chewed it angrily just as a sound caught his attention.
A scream.
A shrill scream, at that.
He swallowed his bite quickly and concentrated on the ki signature since it was obvious whoever it was was headed for them, and there were few people who came to Kaio-sama's place for a routine visit. More than likely, he reasoned, he'd know whoever it was.
And if it was Princess Snake again, he was outta there.
One second to recognize it, and though it seemed a little strange, it was still unmistakable. The next second, and the piercing wail left no doubt. He stood quickly, drawing a scathing glare from Vegeta and a curious look for King Kai.
"Fool, what -"
"It's her," Goku answered as he looked skyward and saw a dot in the distance falling fast.
"What?"
"The scream," Goku groaned as the man raised an eyebrow, then remembered that his senses were more sensitive in this realm than Vegeta's. "Listen for a second, and feel for a ki."
Vegeta grunted as he finished a biscuit in one neat bite. Then his thick eyebrows dipped down before shooting to his hairline. He was on his feet immediately, looking up at the sky and the increasingly evident female form coming down like a shot.
And what had that evil little bastard part of himself just said about her falling from the sky?
He couldn't stop the grin the made its way from one side of his face to the other. Finally! After days of nothing, she was heading straight for them. Goku wanted to laugh, dance, hell, he would even sing...
"Well," Vegeta's irritated voice cut in, "are you going stand there and stare like an idiot, or are you going to collect her before she decimates my eardrums and creates a crater on the Kai's newly acquired planet?"
Oh shit... yeah, he should definitely do that before breaking into song, he realized, and quickly moved to intercept. It wasn't until he was halfway between the ground and his best friend that his previous relief finally made way for good old-fashioned observation, as well as the sudden, gut-wrenching grief that came with it. Immovable above long aqua locks waving chaotically around her face was a glowing, golden halo.
He was too late.
Bulma wasn't sure if the curses running through her head faster than she was descending made their way to her mouth as she screamed or not, and she really didn't care. All she knew for sure was that when she did finally get back on solid ground - she wasn't about to open her eyes and see if there was any in sight - it was gonna hurt like hell, and that she didn't care who the blasted onore that put in this predicament was. Next time she saw him, he was one dead deity.
And suddenly there was someone beside her. She instinctively reached out, winding her slender arms around broad shoulders as two strong hands shifted her slightly so that she was comfortably cradled against a contoured chest like a small child. She kept her eyes clenched shut and simply held on as the air rushing around them slowed, and she felt more than sure they were no longer falling but floating instead. Then she felt the blood begin to color her cheeks after she snuggled unconsciously against the powerful, cotton-clad body. A distinctly male body.
Oh...
She could count the times on one hand any man had held her so tenderly, so protectively, and all of those belonged to the same one. And it had been over a year since she'd had the pleasure of that. She had nearly forgotten how amazingly wonderful it felt.
Her next thought was how desperate she had to be to be getting hot and bothered just sitting in the arms of complete stranger.
"Bulma?"
She gasped sharply. What?!
"Bulma, look at me," he pleaded softly into her hair.
She obeyed, pulling her head off its comfortable perch and lifting her eyes to meet glassy black orbs filled with sorrow. "Oh... oh gods," she breathed shakily. "You... how..." She saw confusion cut through the sadness for a moment. "Never mind, I don't care how you found me," she stated giddily even as the tears began building in her eyes. "I've missed you, Kakarotto."
The man blinked stupidly. "Huh? Bulma, did you hit your head on the way down here or something?"
The woman scowled for a moment before her moist eyes rolled in exaggerated impatience. "Alright, point taken. No mushy stuff," she conceded as she squeezed him tighter.
He stared uncomprehending for a minute before shrugging. "I don't have any problem with mushy," he replied awkwardly. "You know that better than anybody." Another concerned frown. "We better get you on the ground so you can lay down. You're not acting like yourself."
"Well excuse me for being sentimental!" she cried indignantly. "Hell, it's not like I haven't longed to see you and Isaka again every day for the past year or anything."
"A year? Bulma, I've only been dead for a couple of months," Goku offered tentatively. "And who's Isaka?"
Bulma gaped for a minute before her entire face became enraged. "You're impossible! How can you ask me who our son is? If I didn't know better -"
"Hold on," Goku interjected firmly, though his face betrayed growing anxiety. "I think I missed something, and you know I'm not the smartest guy around so bear with me if I'm a little lost. Why did you call me Kakarotto a minute ago? And what do you mean, our son? I mean, not that you weren't like a second mother to Gohan... or do you have me confused with Vegeta and you meant Trunks?"
Gohan... Vegeta... Trunks?
Her son had said that the version of herself that was with him now knew Kakarotto in her timeline as well but called him by a different name... Still, she hadn't been prepared for this.
"You're Goku," she whispered in awe.
He caught her off-guard once again as the familiar face broke into a very unfamiliar, boyish grin. "Of course it's me," he answered good-naturedly. "Wow, you had me worried for a minute there, Bulma! You sure you're okay?"
Well, this was certainly embarrassing, not to mention extremely strange. "I'm sorry, K-Goku, it's just..." Oh boy. This was gonna take some explaining.
"Stop hovering there like a fool and put her down!"
Bulma's eyes widened at the guttural command, and she twisted to see the speaker, nearly losing her grip when her eyes met those of the irritated Saiyajin Prince. She choked when Goku laughed amicably in reply.
"Oh yeah, guess that would be a good idea," he answered before looking down at her again, "unless you'd rather I carry you inside."
"No!" she cried, pushing herself out of the tall warrior's lenient grasp and almost stumbling as she stood on shaky legs. "I can walk, thank you," she amended as she saw him shift uncomfortably.
"Of course she can," Vegeta added roughly, throwing a glare at Goku before turning his stern attention back to Bulma. "Where the hell have you been, woman? Rather than training, I have been forced to assist this infernal idiot in scouring the entire universe for you."
Bulma's glare could have cut through steel. "Excuse me, but isn't there a corner in hell somewhere you should be lurking in?"
Goku choked, but Vegeta only lifted an eyebrow and smirked. "I do not believe you have ever used that particular insult before," he observed evenly, "but it does not answer the question."
Before the unhappy woman could launch another verbal assault, Goku stepped in. "Actually, Bulma, I'd like to know what happened, too. Was it the time machine exploding, or did something else happen? I mean, I had King Enma check the records to see if you'd come in, and I'm pretty sure he would have remembered you, especially since you've kept your body like I have," he continued. "It's not like that happens very often, ya know."
"Huh? Damn it, Kakarotto, what are you -" Vegeta began, but stopped suddenly. He had been so caught up in the fact that she was found and his own damned - dare he say? - relief that he had completely missed the obvious. His eyes widened a fraction as he took the opportunity of feeling unable to speak to actually look the woman over, though he had a hard time at first tearing his eyes away from the blatant proof of her demise - the halo. Still, when he did manage it, several things caught his critical eye. For one, the woman's hair, still faerie-fire blue, was layered softly and cascaded halfway down her back which was much longer than the shoulder-length crop she had sported when he last saw her. Her build was more athletic, too, as if she'd been working out as she did when he first met her. And there was the scar on the slope that connected her neck and shoulder, twin crescents that, when he narrowed his eyes and studied them hard, looked identical to - what the fuck?!
"Woman," Vegeta rasped harshly, pointing to the silvery-pink mark, "how did you get that?"
Bulma's hand immediately rose to her neck, and she traced the slightly raised flesh lightly as Goku craned his neck to get a look of his own. When he saw it, he balked. "Whoa, Bulma! It looks like someone bit the hell outta you."
At this, she turned to Goku and her eyes unconsciously looked to his neck as well, eyebrows raising quickly when she saw nothing there. Isaka had said he had a mate and a child of his own, after all. "Before I answer anything, I need to tell you exactly who I am and what I know. I think we'll all be a lot less confused once that's over with," she stated firmly.
Vegeta growled, but Goku just shrugged and put his hand behind his head nervously. "Uh... okay, Bulma. Whatever you say."
Oh boy... how the hell this guy could look identical to her mate and be so completely different, Bulma had no clue. "Okay, first of all, I'm not the woman you guys are looking for, but" - she eyed Vegeta sharply when he huffed - "I think I know where she is." And now the question was where to begin. "How much do you guys know about parallel timelines?"
An uneasy look shared between the men.
"I guess that means you know something, at least," she went on, unfazed. "From what my son told me, the Bulma of your timeline made a time machine, but by some set of circumstances I know nothing of, ended up in my version of the present rather than traveling to the past. With me so far?"
Goku nodded slowly, but Vegeta shook his head stubbornly. "Woman, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard, and considering present company" - a quick look at Goku - "that is not to be taken lightly."
"Do I look like I give a rat's ass what you think?" she hissed defensively. "I have no idea what you're doing here in the first place, and I can only thank whoever planned the fate of my timeline that Kakarotto removed you from it long ago."
That got everyone's attention.
"Wait a minute," Goku began hesitantly. "You mean that I killed him where you're from?"
Bulma nodded. "Of course. He and the brute he had with him killed a lot of people, including Kakarotto's brother. Isaka was devastated when he found out about Radditz, too," she recounted bitterly.
Goku decided to sidestep the whole Radditz thing altogether for the moment and risked asking about the other one, pretty sure she wouldn't bite his head off at this juncture. "And who's Isaka again?"
"My son."
"Oh!" Then Goku's brow furrowed. "But... when you mentioned him before, it almost sounded like... well, like you thought he was... you know..."
"I said he was our son," she supplied matter-of-factly. "I apologize. I said that because I thought you were my mate. I wasn't thinking straight at the time," she offered as a hasty explanation.
"But your mate is Saiyajin," Vegeta added gruffly. Now that he had entertained the notion that the woman's words held truth, he was quickly putting two and two together, based both on her reactions to him and to the fool hovering beside her.
Though Bulma still scowled, she forced herself to bite back the long list of nasty remarks she could say. "Obviously."
"Hn. It seems the gods have managed to create a hell for me, even up here," he growled angrily, though he forced his face to remain blank.
"What d'ya mean, Vegeta?" Goku questioned, totally in the dark.
Vegeta snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "It appears that in her reality, the woman is mated to you , Kakarotto."
"Mated... to me?" Goku repeated dumbly, shifting his gaze between Vegeta and Bulma. After a tense moment, Goku began laughing so hard it nearly shook the walls of the nearby house.
Bulma threw her hands in the air. "Is he always like this?" she asked Vegeta warily.
Vegeta's lip curled upward slightly. "And your mate was not?"
Bulma moaned in defeat and sat down to wait for Goku to calm himself down.
It's gonna be a long night.
End Chapter Nine