The rebuilding process was running smoothly, faster than anyone could've anticipated. It turned out that some of Frieza's men ventured to the Namekian camp shortly after Goku and Eighteen left it. They'd taunted, attacked, and tormented the natives while the fighting occurred in West City. The Namekians had entered the town, incredibly grateful to the people who effectively cast out their tormentors by killing Frieza. The chief, Guru, showed no hesitation in offering their assistance with the rebuilding of West City's structures, especially after the fervent coaxing of Dende and Cargo, the two young boys Gohan and Krillin had befriended.

Children, both Namekian and West City-resident alike, traveled together under the hot sun, to-and-from the nearest stream, fetching water for the rebuilders. The blood was already scrubbed clean from the town. Sounds of hammering filled the air over the past days as adults drove nails into the new wood planks while others set to carving to reform rough wood pieces into new bannisters and doorknobs.

Krillin watched, his arms crossed as he stood in the cool shade outside the sheriff's office. The noise coming from inside was atrocious, what with that massive hole in the floor being replaced. Reaching into his pocket, Krillin retrieved his flask, pressing it to his mouth just as he spotted Yamcha. After a greedy gulp of the cool water inside, he hurried to screw the flask shut and shove it inside his jacket. He'd been waiting for this. He and Yamcha needed to talk.

Yamcha lifted his hat, running his fingers through the rim of sweat at his hairline before pressing the hat back on. He whimpered at the sharp chest pain ignited by bringing his arm down. A complete recovery was going to take more time, but at least he was healing, finally walking around today. He couldn't possibly thank Bulma, Dr. Brief, Krillin and the others enough for what they'd done to save him, even if Bulma had ended it between them. He saw it coming long before the Saiyans stepped foot in West City. He would never tell Bulma (because she wouldn't want to hear it, and probably would refuse to believe it), but he wanted the relationship to end, too. He wanted very much to be married someday, but not to Bulma. She was, and would always be, his friend. Leaving that opinion unsaid was the easiest way to walk away from her unscathed, and so he did.

Now, as Yamcha walked toward Krillin, his smile faltered. He was able to distinguish a look in Krillin's eyes, and something about his eyes -kept hidden beneath the brim of that wide brown hat- told Yamcha Krillin didn't have good news. He briefly wondered if it was Goku back at the Capsule Hotel, maybe not faring as well as Yamcha had. To his surprise, he even found himself worrying that it might be Piccolo, who had barely survived the fight. By the time he was face to face with Krillin, Yamcha was sure Krillin could see the worry burgeoning on his face as well.

Krillin licked his lips and forced himself to meet Yamcha's gaze. "Hey, Yamcha."

Even as his nerves jittered, Yamcha casually wedged his thumbs into his beltloops and bounced on his heels. "What's up?"

"We uh," Krillin said, rubbing the back of his head so his hat wobbled, "we need to talk."

Yamcha waited. He glanced for a split second at the sight of Bulma twirling a parasol on the other side of the street and strolling over to Eighteen Gero, before delving into a conversation with her. Then he set his gaze back to Krillin, frowning at the sight of his friend working his fingers at his badge.

"Krillin?"

"Here," Krillin said, plucking his star-shaped badge from his chest and extending it toward Yamcha. "I want you to have this."

"What?" Yamcha sputtered. "Krillin!"

"I have total confidence in you, Deputy Puar. But now I'd like to start calling you Sheriff. Take it."

When Yamcha felt the cold weight in his palm, he curled his fingers between the pointed edges. It wasn't just the weight of the metal, but the weight of responsibility and authority he held in his grasp. As Yamcha looked from the shiny silver to Krillin's grinning face, he gulped. Krillin really held him in high regard, to offer his position like this. Yamcha wasn't even sure if it was technically legal to go about it this way, but then he doubted anyone in West City would complain about the changeover. There was only one thing he didn't understand.

"Why?"

Krillin bobbed his head resignedly. "I think all my limits as sheriff have just been tested, Yamcha."

"Oh," Yamcha chuckled, turning the badge over in his hand, thinking back on the appearance of the Saiyan in the West City Saloon, the bank robbery, Bulma's kidnapping, the bounty hunter's deadly gunfight in the street, and everything that followed with Frieza and his men. "I guess they have."

"I'm finished. Frankly, I need a break from the responsibility."

"I can't blame you."

Krillin sighed. He was relieved by Yamcha's easy acceptance. It wasn't that he expected his friend to refuse the position - sheriff had to be a promising gig after those threats were driven clear from town - but he was worried what Yamcha would think of him, what questions he would ask. Krillin had ulterior motives, after all, for wanting to resign his position as sheriff.

"So you'll do it?" Krillin asked, beaming in anticipation of Yamcha's answer.

"Yeah," Yamcha said, poking the pin through the thick leather hide of his brown vest. "Sheriff Puar won't let West City down."

"I know you won't," Krillin said, clapping Yamcha on the back. "Good man!"

Yamcha watched Krillin turn away, cocking his head when a thought occurred to him. "Hey, Krillin!"

Krillin spun around. "Yeah?"

"Why are you really stepping down as Sheriff?"

Tucking his hat over his burning face, Krillin grimaced and stepped in front of Yamcha. He guessed there was no getting around explaining it. He owed it to Yamcha, at the very least, if Yamcha was going to take over as lawman.

"Look, I'll still be available," Krillin said, "if you can't find a deputy and need some back-up, but…"

"But?"

Krillin sighed. "I fancy the lady, Yamcha."

Yamcha raised a brow. "Eighteen Gero? Yeah, I guess I could see that. But she's-"

"She has a record, I know. She's not a criminal anymore, though!" Krillin shot his friend a glare when he spotted the dubious look on Yamcha's face. "She's not. I know how she was with her family, but they're not here anymore and she's…she's different."

Yamcha placed his hands on his hips. "And you don't think she'd court a lawman."

"Well," Krillin scrunched his face, "I don't really know what she wants. But I don't think the people of this town would appreciate its sheriff starting a relationship with its longest-residing criminal."

"Well then," Yamcha said with a boom of laughter, "go for it! Propose to the lady!"

Krillin grunted, shooting an uncertain gaze across the street where Eighteen was talking to Bulma beneath the shade of her parasol. Bulma was smiling and nodding, so Krillin guessed his chances of a friendly reception were looking good. He hadn't considered proposing to the woman, though! That would be too fast, wouldn't it? He didn't want to scare her away.

When he heard Yamcha's throat clear, loudly and impatiently, Krillin sneered in his friend's direction. He supposed there was no time to wait, so he waited for a horse-led carriage to pass and then crossed the street in the shadows of its squeaking wheels. Bulma was turning away from Eighteen with a wave and a smile, and Krillin realized this was his perfect opportunity. He might never have a better chance with Eighteen again. Self-consciously, his straightened his jacket collar, tilted his hat, and cleared his throat to make sure his voice would be working properly.

"Miss Gero," he said, faltering at the suddenness with which she turned her striking blue eyes on him, "um, Miss Gero, would you…may I take you on a date sometime?"

"A date?"

Suspicious, Eighteen crossed her arms over the lacing of her blue dress and narrowed her eyes at the sheriff. Something was different about him. His brown vest was straighter than usual, his cheeks were more flushed, but that wasn't it. Her eyes went wide when she saw it. His badge. Gone. Her eyes darted to his, then back to the brown, empty patch on his vest. Krillin didn't seem to pick up on her unspoken question. Instead, he looked flustered, intently focused on her lips. Self-consciously, Eighteen pressed her lips together, feeling heat flush to her face at Krillin's unyielding attention. She shot her gaze past him, needing the weakness in her knees to go away as she pondered instead on the loss of Krillin's badge. No one would take his badge. He'd done an excellent job defending the town and keeping its people safe. Better than Eighteen ever thought he could do. Sixteen and Seventeen would've even been impressed by him if they were here. But then she saw it, flashing in the sunlight, pinned to the deputy's chest across the street. Yamcha Puar was wearing Krillin's badge.

Eighteen turned a glare on Krillin. "Why would you give up your badge, Krillin?"

Krillin's jaw fell. He was expecting an answer to his question, not this. It took him a minute to process her change in subject. It was hard enough to explain his reasons to Yamcha, but telling Eighteen would be nearly impossible. He didn't want to confess his feelings to her this way. He worked his jaw, trying to concoct a response. As Eighteen's eyes sparked with understanding, the sly smile crossing her face rendered speech an impossibility. The look on Eighteen's face, in her eyes, was almost like…she knew.

"Idiot," she said quietly, the smile never leaving her face. "Are you thinking of taking up a life of crime with me? I didn't think you had it in you."

Krillin sputtered, until he realized Eighteen was teasing him. Then he clenched his fists and locked his eyes on hers. "You don't have it in you anymore either."

Krillin needed Eighteen to know what he thought of her. He hoped he conveyed it right. As she stared back at him, stunned, but seemingly impressed with his vehemence, he supposed he had.

Eighteen kicked a stone on the ground, before meeting Krillin's gaze. "Want to meet at the saloon later?"

"They're-they're still rebuilding."

"Bulma Brief says it'll reopen tonight."

Krillin's eyes went wide before he gave Eighteen a nod. He would love nothing more than to meet her for a drink, maybe start getting to know her socially. He was sure she'd never done that with anyone in town before, aside from…

"Eighteen," he said with a quiet sigh, "I'm so sorry for your losses, everything your family went through." His eyes burned as Eighteen looked at him, her brows bowing with concern. "I admire your strength. You…you deserve to be happy now."

Eighteen's eyes watered as she fought back the tears burning to the surface. She didn't want to linger on memories of Sixteen and Seventeen, because she knew they wouldn't want her to do that. She had nothing more important to say to Krillin, so she didn't say anything. She was sure no one else in West City was grieving the loss of the Geros, but Krillin genuinely cared. A smile crossed Eighteen's face as she swallowed down the lump in her throat, pressed her hand to her chest and lingered on Krillin's heartfelt gaze.

Krillin turned away not long after Eighteen did. He was thrilled at his plans to see Eighteen later, but also nervous. He would have to convince her that he was a catch in this town full of taller, more handsome men. He didn't know how he was ever going to do that. "Oof!"

Krillin was pushed back by the collision with someone's shoulder. He grunted, turning and holding his shoulder to glare at the person passing.

"Moron!" The coarse tone of voice yelling at Krillin matched the contemptible face glaring at him. "Fucking look where you're going!"

Krillin's glare turned to a grimace as he met Vegeta's black eyes, before shifting back to a glare as Vegeta turned his back on Krillin. Vegeta was heading to Frieza's abandoned saloon, the same place he'd been spending most of his solitary time over the past week.

Shaking his head, Krillin muttered under his breath, "No good, that Saiyan. But I suppose it's up to Yamcha now to push Vegeta out of town, if needed."

"Krillin."

Bulma's voice was right in Krillin's ear, causing his eyes to go wide as he whirled to see the woman crossing her gloved hands over the handle of her parasol and looking down at him.

"You have nothing to worry about," she said. "Vegeta is harmless."

Krillin balked. "I'm sorry, Miss Brief, but your brain must be fried from the exhaustion of taking care of patients day and night at your hotel. Or maybe it was all that heat in the desert that did it. That guy came here to force Goku back into a life of crime!"

"He didn't," Bulma said matter-of-factly. "Goku's brother did."

"All Vegeta's done here over this past week of rebuilding is stalk around refusing to help, threaten the Namekians, antagonize our residents, and hole up in Frieza's saloon doing God-knows-what."

"He's staying there because he doesn't want any of Frieza's men returning to reclaim the place," Bulma said with a smile at the quiet saloon. "He's pretty proud to be taking property from Frieza."

Krillin crossed his arms and scowled. "That's what he says he's doing."

"I know, right?" Bulma said with a laugh. "We both know he's really hanging around here because he can't walk away from a beautiful lady like me."

"B-Bulma?" Furrowing his brows, Krillin gaped at Bulma's smug grin. "You and Vegeta?"

Not seeming to hear him, Bulma placed her hands on her hips and raised her chin. "I'm going to have a talk with him. Krillin, if my dad needs my help with the patients, you can tell him I'm at Frie- I mean, the new saloon."

Holding his breath, Krillin watched while Bulma walked down the street, climbed the saloon steps, retracted her parasol, and disappeared behind the same door Vegeta did. He was worried for her safety. Then again, he remembered this was Bulma he was worrying about. His punishment for interfering uninvited could be worse than what might happen to Bulma in that saloon. His impulse to follow and protect was quickly overridden. He had self-perseveration to think about, both on account of Bulma's and Vegeta's reaction to his barging in there. Bulma was going in there willingly, and if anyone could handle herself around dangerous men, it was Bulma. She'd be fine.

Instead of heading to that saloon to bear physical pain and angry tirades, Krillin turned to the West City Saloon to assist Tien with his rebuilding.

The saloon was quiet inside. After propping her parasol against the wall, Bulma tiptoed across the wood planks of the open floor plan, past gambling tables and an empty bar to her left, seeing no sign of Vegeta. The place was surprisingly clean inside, though Bulma noted there was no more sign of the elaborate purple draperies Frieza had placed. It looked like Vegeta had been doing some renovation of his own over the past week. But Bulma had given him enough space.

She needed to ask him - No, she was going to demand he tell her...how he felt about her. It wasn't all her imagination, right? The adventure, the excitement, being captured, chased through the wilderness by killers and saved by him, later saving him. It had to be more than an illusion of the excitement, the connection she felt. If that was all it was, she wouldn't have risked her life to save him, the way she'd never risked her life for someone else before.

Bulma had never been wrong. She sure as hell wasn't starting now. The hard part was going to be getting that stubborn, pompous ass to admit that he had feelings. She approached the stairs, grabbing the wooden bannister with a deep breath. This was it. It was time to face Vegeta.

Bulma stormed up the stairs, her footsteps thumping until the sound of a glass shattering upstairs brought her to a sudden halt. Her heart raced as she heard a muffled crash, followed by the sharp sounds of more glass shattering. It sounded like Vegeta was angry up there. Maybe this was a bad time. Bulma's heart thudded in her chest, her mind conjuring images of Vegeta easily and brutally killing the Ginyus that night in the wilderness. Shivering, she took a step back, the step creaking below her weight.

"Running away so fast?" Vegeta's voice was muffled behind the walls, but hard and taunting all the same. "Who's there?!"

Bulma couldn't move a muscle. She was petrified on the stairs. Her mind raced through her options. She could run, but there was a good chance he would catch her. She could scream, but the chances of anyone coming to help and actually being able to do anything against Vegeta were slim. She could power forward and confront him as intended, acting as if he hadn't rattled her. When she willed herself to power forward, her body wouldn't cooperate. She was still frozen in fear.

A scoff sounded, loud enough for Bulma to hear it through the walls. "Coward."

Another glass shattered. Bulma didn't even cringe at the sharp, grating sound. She was too busy flaring with fury at being called a coward. Bulma Brief was not a coward, and she certainly wasn't going to stand there taking insults from a short, arrogant bastard who was too stubborn to confront his feelings for her.

Bulma marched up the stairs, stormed through the door through which she heard another glass shatter, and stepped in, glaring. Vegeta was seated behind the desk, his eyes never lifting from his work at Bulma's noisy entrance. He pulled a frame from the top of the piled frames at his elbow. Taking his time, he lowered his eyes and absorbed the image in the frame. Bulma crossed her arms and tapped a finger on her bicep impatiently. A disgusted scowl crossed Vegeta's face before he bared his teeth and chucked the picture at the wall. Bulma flinched at the suddenness of his movement, while the picture's glass front shattered against the wall and fell into the pile of glass and discarded frames on the floor below. Bulma had no time to fixate on the proudly smiling images of Frieza looking up at her, covered by shards of glass, not when Vegeta required her immediate attention.

"Vegeta."

"What are you doing here?"

Bulma frowned, offended by his derisive tone, and a little hurt. But this was Vegeta. She should've expected as much.

Vegeta looked up when she didn't answer, surprised to see a look of hurt on the woman's pretty face. He scoffed. "You must be impressed by what I've done with the place. It's a vast improvement, wouldn't you agree?"

"The shattered glass on the floor's a nice touch," she said coolly. "Did you come up with that yourself?"

Vegeta turned his eyes on the next portrait at his side. This was one of Frieza's favorites. He was posed proudly with his father in front of his first ranch, a prize horse by his side. The picturesque image disgusted Vegeta. Still, he lifted it from the pile, absorbing the image as if memorizing it. A thump at his desk and rush of air in his face forced him to peel his eyes from the image and look at the woman again, who was now uncomfortably close and towering over him.

Bulma glared and covered the portrait in Vegeta's hand with her flat palm. Locking her eyes intently on his, she clenched her jaw. She couldn't hide the emotion behind her gaze, which he was obviously reading. Even as she lowered her brows in threat, Bulma felt incredibly vulnerable.

"Will you stop that and look at me?" Bulma said. "I came here to talk to you."

Keeping the frame pinched in his grip, Vegeta raised a brow. "Why?"

"You know what?" Bulma said, frustrated with his aloof attitude. "I think it's you who should be coming to talk to me."

Vegeta's brow furrowed. "What?"

"You heard me." Bulma straightened and crossed her arms. "You owe me a thank-you."

Vegeta dropped his chin, staring into Bulma's expectant gaze. "You do know who you're talking to, don't you?"

"Oh," Bulma huffed with a flick of her hair, "if you mean the man whose life I saved at risk to my own, I think I do."

Vegeta sputtered incredulously. "I saved your life! Or have you already forgotten the Ginyus?"

"And I thanked you for it! Unlike someone I know!"

As Bulma turned, crossing her arms again and sticking her nose in the air, Vegeta's brow furrowed, his eyes darting rapidly side to side while he tried to sort the thoughts and emotions racing through his mind. This woman was making this big a deal about his gratitude? There had to be something else going on here. But her roundabout way of expressing herself was infuriating. With her eyes closing smugly, her nose held in the air like that, and her feet planted firmly, she was clearly expecting Vegeta to say something.

Vegeta could insult her, tell her he could've survived on his own, any number of ways would be easy to get her out of his office. But the idea of her running out of the room crying or storming off in a huff was not appealing. No, he didn't want her to leave. His eyes roamed her body, the rigidity of her shoulders, the soft curve of her lower back, and the swell of her hips nearly concealed by her long skirt. He felt a lump rise in his throat.

The words flew from his mouth before he knew what he was saying. "Thank you."

Bulma blinked. "Wh-what?"

She snapped her gaze to Vegeta, momentarily stunned that she actually succeeded in pulling those words from the stubborn bandit. But then she smiled as his eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed with pink. With bolstered confidence, she strutted over to him, leaned across his desk, and licked her lips.

"See, Vegeta?" she said softly. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Hard?" A smirk pulled at Vegeta's lips as he felt Bulma's breath ghosting across them. "I'll show you what's hard."

He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss across his desk. With a forceful sweep of his arm, not daring to part his lips from Bulma's skillful tongue sweeping into his mouth, he knocked the frames and other junk aside, before hoisting Bulma onto the desk and climbing over her. He was staying in town to spite Frieza's empire by stealing his possessions, while biding his time to finally face off with Kakarot when he recovered, but this perk wasn't something to deny himself. With this gorgeous, demanding woman throwing herself at him, he'd be a fool to pass this up. He wasn't in any rush to leave West City, not with Bulma in his arms.

Dr. Brief patted a towel over his sweat-glistened brow, turning from his glass-front, half-empty medicine cabinet. In the same room where patients had been piling up on the day of the firefight, the last two patients remained in the company of their visitors and caretakers.

Dr. Brief turned to Krillin. "Did Bulma tell you how long she would be?"

"No," Krillin said absently, frowning down at a Goku grimacing in his sleep. "She didn't say."

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Dear." Mrs. Brief said, sitting in the chair at Goku's bedside, giving him a rousing shake.

He didn't stir.

"He's a deep sleeper," Krillin said with a knowing grin. "What are you waking him for?"

Mrs. Brief blinked. "His dinner's ready. I was just going to bring it to-"

"Hm?" Goku sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "What'd ya say?"

Even as Goku winced and slid back beneath the sheets, Krillin laughed. "You said the magic word, Mrs. Brief."

"Oh, good!" She clapped her hands together. "I'll go get it."

As she swept out of the room, Krillin stole the chair at Goku's side. He cast a brief glance at Piccolo, still asleep in the other bed, who he supposed didn't need to eat as badly as Goku did, seeing that Mrs. Brief didn't bother to wake him. Of course, given the way Goku ate, that wasn't surprising. Maybe Mrs. Brief was just showing Piccolo mercy by not subjecting him to the greedy, ill-mannered eating that was about to occur.

"Krillin," Goku said.

Krillin snapped his gaze to his smiling friend. "Hey, Goku. How ya feelin'?"

Goku chuckled while pressing his hand to the stitches on his bare chest and windmilling his arm. The motion ended with a gasp and a pained contortion of his face. "I've been better."

"Yeah, well," Krillin said with a subdued smile, "you're getting there. Just like this town."

"Really? It's coming together?" Goku beamed. "Sorry I couldn't help with the rebuilding."

"Are you kidding?" Krillin laughed. "Goku, you took care of Frieza for us. Without you-"

"I didn't. Vegeta did."

Krillin's smile fell. "Yeah. Don't remind me."

"He's still here?"

"Yeah, Goku." Krillin removed his hat and scowled toward the ground. "And I don't like it. When do you think he's leaving?"

While Mrs. Brief re-entered with a steaming tray of food, Goku smiled with a knowing, satisfied look in his eyes. "He's not."

"What?"

"Vegeta's not goin' anywhere, Krillin," Goku said, reaching for the fork on the tray before Mrs. Brief even set it in his lap. "But don't worry," he rushed to say, "he won't be any trouble."

"Oh?" Krillin raised a skeptical brow. "Just like you weren't?"

Goku's bulging, filled cheeks flushed pink. He gulped the food down before a guilty giggle slipped from his lips and his hand flew to the back of his head. "I guess I should've told you who I was, huh?"

"Well," Krillin said with a grin, "if I knew, I would've had to turn you in, being a sheriff who's bound to the law and all. So, no."

"The Saiyans don't have any more enemies out there, Krillin," Goku said between bites. "The town should be safe now."

"Safe?"

The sharp voice from the doorway made Krillin and Goku gasp and snap their heads to the two figures entering the room. Goku and Krillin grimaced, knowing Chi-Chi's tone too well not to worry. By her side, Gohan stepped forward on wooden crutches, a hesitant smile on his face, which might've been broader if not for his mother's dangerous tone.

"Um," Krillin said, his voice shaking, "hello, Mrs. Son. Hi, Gohan."

Ignoring Krillin, Chi-Chi set her glare on Goku. "You call this safe? Just look what happened to your son!"

Goku blinked, furrowed his brows, set his gaze on Gohan, and smiled when Gohan met his eyes. "You're okay, aren't you, Gohan?"

"Ye-"

"No, he's not! Goku, our five year old was shot! He's stuck on these crutches for another month! His knee might never be right again. Not to mention the psychological trauma."

Krillin put his hat on and stood. "We all suffered, Mrs. Son. But Gohan was very brave. If not for him, someone could've die-"

"Don't," Chi-Chi hissed, "tell me my baby belonged out there again, Sheriff."

"Mom," Gohan grumbled.

"I think I should go," Krillin said, casting Goku a meaningful, sympathetic look while Goku shoveled down the remainder of his meal. "But before I do, I want you all to know I'm not the sheriff anymore. I handed Yamcha my badge."

Chi-Chi blinked. "R-really?"

Goku smiled and pushed his empty tray aside. "All right! Good for Yamcha!"

"Yeah." Krillin smiled at Goku, feeling happier and more confident with himself than he'd ever felt. "Yamcha's going to be great as sheriff. Well." He looked at Chi-Chi, whose scowl was returning, and Gohan, who smiled back. "I'd better let you all talk."

With a tip of his hat, Krillin fled the room, and Goku found himself face-to-face with his wife. She'd kept her distance for the few days he'd regained consciousness, aside from delivering him home-cooked meals regularly with minimal interaction. Goku easily dismissed her absence from his bedside, assuming Chi-Chi was too busy helping with the town's rebuilding and tending to Gohan's needs. But as she sat in the empty chair beside him with that look in her eyes, Goku realized she looked troubled. His smile fell as a thick lump formed in his throat.

"Gohan," he said with a smile, directing his gaze to his son, "you're recovering nicely."

"Yeah?" Gohan stepped forward, evading his mother's gaze. "It wasn't so bad. Doesn't even hurt anymore."

Goku smiled, knowing all too well how the agonizing pain of a shattered knee lingered. "That's my boy."

"D-Dad?"

"I know I haven't said it yet, but I'm proud of you, both with handling Cell and for helping Piccolo. I'm sure Piccolo appreciates what you did for him."

Gohan's look of shock turned into a somber frown as his eyes darted to Piccolo's bed. "Some good I did. He almost died. If I'd acted earlier-"

"He didn't die. He survived because of you and your brave friend."

"V-Videl."

"Yeah."

Chi-Chi huffed. "She hasn't stopped coming around since the rebuilding started. Between that girl and those Namek boys, Gohan hasn't had the down time he needs to recover."

Goku blinked. "Girl?"

He scratched his head, raising his gaze to the ceiling. Everything happened so quickly, he forgot it was a girl that helped Gohan drag Piccolo to safety. By the way Chi-Chi was talking, this girl was growing really attached to their son. With a smile spreading across his face, Goku met Gohan's eyes, amused by the shade of pink splashing across his son's cheeks. Then Chi-Chi cleared her throat. Her arms were crossed, her shoulders were rigid, and Goku realized there was no more time for stalling.

"Why don't you go see what they're up to now, Gohan?" Goku said.

"M-my friends?"

"No," Chi-Chi swiftly interjected. "Gohan, you've fallen far too behind on your studies with everything that's been happening. You need to take a break from friends and hit the books!"

"But Mo-om," Gohan whined. "I don't have-"

Chi-Chi was already bent over, retrieving the texts she'd stored beneath Goku's bed for such an occasion. Even in the wake of crisis, she was going to keep her family on the straight and narrow. Gohan would resume his studies while healing, and she and Goku were going to have a long discussion.

"Your books are right here." Chi-Chi thrust the stack of books into Gohan's arms. "Down the hall, Mrs. Brief has done me the favor of keeping the rooms vacant, so behind any door will be a nice and quiet place for you to study and catch up on your reading."

Gohan frowned down at the stack of books weighing heavily on his arms. He knew when it was time to admit defeat, but there was still one last chance that he might be able to spend some time with his friends first.

He raised his eyes to meet Goku's. "Daddy?"

"You should do what Mommy says, Gohan." Unhindered by Gohan and Chi-Chi's dropping jaws, Goku continued, "I'm sure your friends will understand why you can't come out to play until later."

"G-Goku..." Chi-Chi fell back into her chair, looking pale.

Gohan shook his head fervently, unable to believe what he was hearing. But his father was holding firm, and he knew what his mother would say if she spoke again. He supposed his chances were gone now. Defeated, he bowed his head and shifted his weight onto the crutches propped beneath his armpits.

"Oh, Gohan!" Chi-Chi shot to her feet, reaching for the books in Gohan's arms. "Let me take these over there for you."

As Chi-Chi shuffled to the door and held it open with her back against it, Goku noticed the way her eyes avoided him, as well as the way Gohan dragged himself out the door on his crutches, his head hung low. The door swung quietly closed behind them, leaving Goku with the quiet sounds of Piccolo's shallow, restful breathing and his own deep sigh as he settled his head back into his pillow and patted his full, satisfied belly. Goku set his eyes on the ceiling overhead, smiling until he heard the thump of a closing door. With the approach of footsteps, Goku's smile fell into a weary frown.

"Goku." Chi-Chi's voice was somber, calm. "Are you feeling feverish? Your wounds might be infected."

The softness of Chi-Chi's warm hand cupped Goku's forehead before he spied her yellow, elegant dress sweeping into the chair at his side. Goku didn't move or speak as his eyes darted past her arm, to her face. He hoped Chi-Chi found no reason to investigate her suspicions further. He'd had more than his fair share of medical attention over the past week. When Chi-Chi finally withdrew her hand with a sigh, Goku looked beyond her brow creased with worry, into her shimmering dark eyes.

Chi-Chi frowned and leaned over Goku, nearly touching her face to his. He didn't feel warm and his eyes looked alright, but something seemed off about her husband. Chi-Chi never thought she'd see the day Goku backed her up on the importance of Gohan's learning. Yet with no pressure or insistence from her, he'd done just that. And now he was laying there calmly, having to know the cause of her distance the past few days.

The last time they really talked to each other, they'd exchanged some harsh words, or at least Chi-Chi had. She narrowed her eyes at Goku as she decided she didn't regret anything she said, because it needed to be said, and perhaps due to those harsh words, her baby was home and recovering under her watchful eye now. But so was her husband, a man who, she realized now that laudanum's numbing effect was wearing off, had been lying to her all along. He'd been a bandit before they married. He'd been friends with those derelicts who dared to take Gohan from the safety of his home and his parents' protection. But looking down on his innocent, handsome face wearing a weary frown, it was hard to believe anything negative about him.

"I'm sorry," Goku said.

He spoke those words so softly, so succinctly, that Chi-Chi thought she'd imagined them. "What?"

He answered not only with words, but with his eyes, piercing into her gaze with sincerity. "I know I've been selfish."

Licking her lips, Chi-Chi shook her head. She swallowed down the lump in her throat before masking her expression with hardened resolve. She'd been ready to give Goku a piece of her mind, spending the past few days planning a lengthy, passionate tirade. That was all wiped clean the moment he voluntarily acknowledged his mistake.

"What are you talkin' about, Goku?" Chi-Chi said firmly, shifting in her chair to level him a powerful glare. "I'm not goin' to sit here and listen to you berate yourself when you've done no wrong!"

"I know I should've tol- huh?" Goku cocked his head, his brows tightly furrowed. He knew Chi-Chi was ready to lace into him, but her words, though spoken firmly as expected, weren't nearly as harsh as they should've been.

"You heard me." She crossed her arms, scowling into the air. "I know the man I married, and he's no selfish bandit. He's no Saiyan. He's the best man I know in West City - the best husband I could ask for."

Goku smiled. "Chi-Chi."

"If I hear another word of that nonsense from you, I'm going to beat some sense into your addled brain!"

Goku pulled Chi-Chi's hand from her lap, squeezing it at her gasp of surprise. "I love this about you."

Beaming, Chi-Chi swiftly fell forward to press her lips to Goku's. She felt him jump at her suddenness, which made Chi-Chi smile more into their kiss. Goku's strong fingers, interlocked with hers on the mattress, tightened ever so slightly. A soft moan was pulled from Goku's lips into Chi-Chi's. He weaved his free hand around the back of her neck, caressing his fingers through her hair. This kind of touch from her husband was the comfort she'd been yearning for since the day her child was taken. She didn't realize it until now. Those moments from Goku's past were just that - in the past. Though Goku wasn't always the best at showing it, he really loved Chi-Chi. And now he was showing her that he always had.

Goku's eyes darted to Chi-Chi's loving gaze for one last second, wishing he could appreciate her longer. But he needed to address the man sitting behind her. "Piccolo Daimao."

"Goku Son," Piccolo retorted as Chi-Chi gasped, before smiling when Goku frowned. "Am I making you nervous?"

"I'm not gonna lie," Goku said, his eyes narrowing as his wife trembled and clung to him. "If it wasn't for what you've done most recently-"

"You mean saving your life?"

"Yeah, and-"

"I didn't do it for you."

Goku balked at the interruption, then settled his expression into a knowing grin. "I know."

"What?" Chi-Chi gasped and flailed. "Goku!"

Goku grasped Chi-Chi's arms and stilled her. "Don't ya see, Chi-Chi? He did it for Gohan."

"He-" Chi-Chi shot Piccolo a furtive glance, before shaking her head and scowling at her husband. "He what?"

Piccolo clenched his jaw, annoyed by the smug look in Son Goku's eyes. Piccolo never thought he'd do anything for that man he'd suspected of not being who he said all along, even when he had the rest of the town fooled. Goku was practically hailed as a town hero from the moment he rode into West City, via the people's misdirected gratitude. Yet Piccolo couldn't deny that the man's son, the young boy who knew so little yet could teach Piccolo so much, had warmed a spot in Piccolo's cold heart. If Piccolo truly cared for Gohan, he knew he had to show some level of consideration to the boy's parents, no matter how detestable one of them could be.

With a smile, Goku set his eyes on Chi-Chi. "You think Gohan can take a break from his studies? I think he's been waitin' for Piccolo to wake up."

Chi-Chi blinked. "Y-you want me to interrupt Gohan's studies so he can visit with the man who kidnapped him?"

"It won't take that long, and he can get right back to it when he's done. What d'ya think, Chi-Chi?"

"What do I think?" Chi-Chi repeated with a heated growl. She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at her husband's expectant look. "I think there's no point arguin' with you, is there? I'll grab Gohan, but I'm not goin' to leave him alone in here with you two like this. You and Piccolo both, lay down!"

Goku's brows nearly touched his hairline. "Huh?"

"You heard me." Chi-Chi stood from her chair, turning to narrow her eyes at Piccolo. "If Gohan's comin' in here to see you two, you'd better both be setting a good example of how a patient should behave. Follow Dr. Brief's orders and lay in that bed, or Gohan's not skippin' a second of his studies!"

Piccolo raised a brow, watching Goku descend swiftly beneath the sheets, clinging to them as if they were there to protect him. The insistent look on Goku's face told Piccolo that he'd better do the same, but that was ridiculous. No civilized city woman would dare give such orders to an infamous native like himself.

"Well?" Chi-Chi huffed, tapping her foot on the wood floor.

She moved her hands to her hips, watching in satisfaction as Piccolo's expression changed from incredulous to bemused to defeated as a bead of sweat trickled over the pulsing veins of his temple. When he finally followed Goku's lead and slipped back beneath his covers, she rewarded him with a firm nod of approval. Maybe there was hope for him yet. Where Goku lacked exemplary discipline and manner in his behaviors, Piccolo could potentially fill some gaps in Gohan's influence. Savage as Piccolo was, he was slowly gaining Chi-Chi's trust. In spite of Chi-Chi's unfavorable opinions of Piccolo, she knew what a bright boy Gohan was. He'd demonstrated adamant approval of this man who had gone out of his way to save her husband's life. He'd also won Goku's approval. What kind of woman would she be if she didn't give the people her family trusted a chance to prove themselves?

"That's better." Chi-Chi beamed, before turning to the door with a nod. "I'll usher Gohan in here, but only to say a few words. His studies are more important than anything now."

Pressing his cheek into the softness of the pillow, Goku shot his wife an appreciative smile. "Thanks, Chi-Chi."

She made a sound between a huff and a scoff as she swept out the door, yet her tone was notably approving - a tone Goku knew all too well. Curiously waiting to hear what transpired between Gohan and Piccolo in the wilderness, Goku braced a hand behind his head and directed his smile toward the ceiling, being careful to leave the arm by his injured shoulder down by his side.

When Gohan would reappear, Goku was sure his son and Piccolo had things they needed to say. Piccolo had forced Gohan, a scared young boy, into action and held him against his will. Goku was willing to forgive the kidnapping along with Piccolo's other past indiscretions, mostly because he knew that plan was Raditz's doing, but also because he could see how quickly his boy had grown under Piccolo's tutelage in a short amount of time. There was no doubt that Piccolo had a positive effect on Gohan, and even after everything he'd put Gohan through, Piccolo mattered to Gohan. That was all Goku needed to approve of his past enemy's continued association with his son. He only wanted to see Gohan happy. So when Gohan bobbed through the door with a smile on his face, warmth spread through Goku.

"Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan called, "you're awake!"

Piccolo felt a strange giddiness inside at Gohan's familiar voice, his jubilant tone, his eagerness to rush forward in spite of the hindrance of his crutches. He tried to hide it, but judging by the amused smile aimed his way from Goku's bed across the way, he wasn't doing too well with not giving himself away.

A weight thumped on the side of his bed. "Mr. Piccolo!"

"Now Gohan," Chi-Chi chimed in from the doorway, "slow down and be careful! You need to take it easy with your knee."

"Ah, he's alright, Chi-Chi," Goku added before Piccolo or Gohan could respond – Gohan prepared to whine in his defense, while Piccolo looked ready to snap at the interruption. Gohan quickly sat, sighing in relief at his father's intervention. "Look, he's sitting down now."

"Yeah well," Chi-Chi huffed. "He'd better stay there."

"Yes, Mom," Gohan said, though his eyes were now set on Piccolo while he propped his crutches against the bed. "So…how do you feel?"

Piccolo quirked a smile. "Fine, Kid."

"You don't look fine. You've been in bed for a week."

"Well," Piccolo drawled quietly, keenly aware of the Sons' eyes on him, "I've seen better days. But this is nothing I can't survive."

"Have you ever been shot before?" Gohan asked as his eyes went wide. "It hurts, doesn't it?"

Piccolo chuckled. "Believe it or not, you got the worst of it, Kid. A knee injury is far more painful than a chest wound. And honestly, no. This is the first time a white man's bullet pierced my flesh."

"Wow," Gohan whispered, his awe displaying his innocent youth in a shining display.

"You did good out there, Kid," Piccolo admitted, averting his gaze toward the wall as his voice grew quiet. "Better than I would've anticipated. I guess to some extent, you are your father's son."

"Yeah." Gohan smiled, wishing Piccolo would turn to face him again, and feeling better when he did. "I learned a lot from my dad. And I learned a lot from you too, Mr. Piccolo."

"Hey!"

Gohan started at the small voice and the bang of the door swinging open behind him. He shifted in his chair, turning his gaze on the girl in the doorway, who everyone else in the room was now staring at. He blinked, uncertain of why Videl was bursting into the room.

"Videl, honey?" Chi-Chi asked, stepping forward. "Can we help you with somethin'?"

"Yeah," Videl panted, as if she'd been running a long way to the Capsule Hotel. "I came to see Gohan."

Chi-Chi crossed her arms. "For what now?"

Ignoring Mrs. Son's question, Videl sprinted into the room, having seen Gohan sitting at the native's bedside. She slowed hesitantly when the native's eyes lit on her. Sure, she'd laid her hands on him to save his life, but at that time they were surrounded by flying bullets and the man was unconscious. Now, he was kind of scary and intimidating, even if he was still laid up in bed. Her eyes shot to movement to her left and she noticed Mr. Son, staring curiously at her. She faltered and blinked, before shooting Gohan a glare.

"Your dad's still alive?"

Gohan gaped. "W-what?"

"I thought those bullets…"

"No!" Chi-Chi growled. "Of course he's still alive! What are you thinkin'? My husband's survived quite a few fights in his day, even ones worse than this. Right, Goku?"

Goku raised his brows at Chi-Chi. "Uh…yeah?"

"Well," Videl said, crossing her arms, "those wounds were pretty intense. Glad to see you're going to make it though, Mr. Son. I wouldn't want Gohan to lose his father. I'm just glad mine made it out of this thing alive."

"Mr. Satan wasn't killed?" Chi-Chi raised a brow. "Now that's a surprise. I haven't seen him around town all week and with all those evil men surrounding him, I was sure he'd-"

"He's fine," Videl snapped, before shooting her gaze to Gohan. "Gohan. Dende and Cargo have been looking for you. They're about to finish up Mr. Shinhan's saloon. You gonna come drink some sarsaparilla with us when it's ready?"

Gohan hesitated, casting his mother a cautious sideways glance. "Well, I have to study. What…time?"

"Gohan," Videl said, placing her hands on the frilly frock at her hips, "if you don't come I'll-"

"I'll be there!" Gohan said, before casting his mother a pleading glance. "I promise I'll catch up with my studies before heading to the West City Saloon."

Chi-Chi frowned. She supposed there was no stopping her little boy from growing up. Here he was, only yesterday begging to ride Kinto'un through town, and now suddenly befriending violent savages and their young, along with rambunctious girls residing in whore houses. There was nothing she could do about any of this aberrant influence, aside from pushing him to further his education. It would be his only way out of this crazy mess their lives here in the West could become.

Noticing his mother's hesitation, Gohan quickly added, "Please, Mom? Can I go?"

Goku watched Chi-Chi heave a weary sigh as she cast him a glance, but he wasn't going to say anything. This was all up to Chi-Chi now. He didn't see anything wrong with the kid going – from what he'd heard from the Briefs earlier, this evening was going to be a celebration at the saloon for everything the town had survived. Goku was sorry he wasn't going to be able to be there. He was going to be bed-bound for a good month longer, or he could do real damage to himself.

"Alright, Gohan. You can go," Chi-Chi paused as Gohan and Videl whooped and hugged each other, which made her grit her teeth as she added, "after you finish your studies, Mister!"

"Well," Gohan said as he reached for his crutches, his smile spreading from ear to ear. "I'd better get back to it. Mr. Piccolo, I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer."

Piccolo cracked a smile and settled back on his pillow. "No problem, Gohan. You do what you have to."

"Is that guy going to make it? My dad doesn't think he will," Videl said, prompting Piccolo to raise his head from his pillow.

As Gohan joined Videl by her side, swinging his crutches forward, he cringed. He didn't know much about Mr. Satan, but it was doubtful that Videl's father knew much at all about Piccolo. That was probably his prejudice speaking…though Piccolo had taken a few bullets and lost a lot of blood. Glancing over his shoulder, Gohan cast Piccolo a smile. He was disappointed to see an incredulous glare on Piccolo's face.

"Of course I'm going to make it!" Piccolo fumed. "No pathetic little beads of metal are going to kill me. You tell your idiot father that!"

Videl growled, but Gohan clenched her arm before she could turn her glare on Piccolo. He chuckled nervously. "It's alright, Videl. You just might not want to say things to offend Mr. Piccolo."

As Videl huffed and turned her nose up, but marched forward to the door, Piccolo watched Gohan sigh. Poor kid was already dealing with girl problems. And that girl, though he had to admit she could be helpful…and he did owe her his life…she could be a real pain in the ass.

"Damn kids," Piccolo grumbled, plopping back into bed.

Goku chuckled, watching Piccolo wince at the disruption to his injuries. "Sharp movements like that aren't a good idea, Piccolo."

"Goku," Chi-Chi called, "I'll be joining Gohan at the saloon tonight, too. Bulma says Oolong will be playing us some music and Mr. Roshi might even sing a few tunes."

"Hey!" Goku shot his gaze to Chi-Chi, tensing and hissing in pain as he twisted his shoulder. He ignored Piccolo's mocking laughter. "You're going without me?"

Chi-Chi's posture deflated. "Well what am I supposed to do, Goku?"

"I don't know." Goku whimpered. "Could you-"

"You want me to bring you some food from the festivities?"

Goku's eyes lit. "Could you?"

Chi-Chi smiled. "Of course." She turned to the door, then hesitated. "You want me to bring you some food, too, Piccolo?"

Piccolo grunted. "N-no, thanks, I-"

"I'll bring you some food."

As Chi-Chi brushed through the door, Goku shouted after her, "Make sure you bring me more!"

"I will!" came the muffled call from the hallway.

Goku smiled and slid comfortably beneath his sheets again. The soft pillow cushioned around his head as he once again set his gaze on the ceiling. It was quiet again. Kind of boring.

"Your wife," Piccolo said. "Does she really expect me to eat that?"

Goku's eyes went wide as he looked at Piccolo, then he laughed at the concerned look on Piccolo's face. "Mm-hmm."

"And if I don't?"

Goku shook his head, an amused grin planted on his face. "I wouldn't try that if I were you."

Piccolo grimaced. "I was afraid of that. Why's she taking care of me? She's your wife."

"You're part of the family now, Piccolo."

Piccolo groaned. Goku said it like it was so easy, so obvious. Didn't these people remember that Piccolo had tried to kill Goku Son in the past? But now he never would. Somehow, they knew that. Piccolo sighed heavily. The people in this town were exhausting. Piccolo thanked his lucky stars that he was too badly injured to attend their damn jovial festivities later that night. He saw Gohan. That was all the company he needed.

Mr. Roshi had sweat dripping down his gaunt cheek. Yamcha tilted his head as he watched the old man place a bottle of whiskey on the liquor shelf behind the bar, then another bottle of vermouth beside it. The old man had been pretty quiet over the past week. It was strange, with all the developments going on between him and Bulma, the surprise decision of Krillin's, and the rebuilding of the town, that Mr. Roshi hadn't said much of anything. But Yamcha supposed that was just because they hadn't had a chance to talk. Tien was tight-lipped, setting up tables at the other side of the room, a solemn look planted on his face, as it had been all week. Launch was at the door, sweeping off the porch, just as Chiaotzu used to do.

Yamcha turned his gaze on Roshi's back. "Hey, Mr. Roshi. Where were you during the shootout?"

"Where was I?" Mr. Roshi drawled, spinning around with one brow raised and a bottle of liquor in each hand. "With Oolong."

Yamcha raised a brow and waited.

Mr. Roshi cleared his throat before a blush formed on his cheeks. He chuckled. "Me and Oolong were kind of hiding in one of the rooms of the bawdry house after the action got crazy around here. Playing it safe."

"Playing it safe, huh? In the bawdry house?"

"We-ell," Mr. Roshi giggled, dancing on his feet, "there might've been a little added benefit there."

Yamcha brought a hand to the ache in his chest, rubbing his sore bullet wound. "Alright. I admit, I can't blame you two. That wasn't such a bad idea."

"You're gonna be alright, ain't ya?" Launch said gruffly, brushing past Yamcha's shoulder.

"Y-yeah."

"So what're you blubberin' about?"

Yamcha gaped speechlessly as Launch propped her broom against the wall and bent over to wipe a spill from the ground, hissing in pain. Her bullet wound had to be hurting her as bad as Yamcha's – maybe even worse. He'd heard those shots to the gut were bad. And yet she hadn't complained, not even once. Yamcha's gaze shot to Tien, whose hands were frozen on the chair he'd most recently moved while his eyes were locked on Launch. Tien approached her, wearing a look of concern as he arrived by her side.

"Launch," Tien whispered into her wavy blonde locks. "I'm worried about you."

"Me?" Launch laughed. "Don't be, Sugar." She patted Tien on the cheek before turning to wipe the table in front of her.

"I'll give you a job here at the saloon, if you'll take it." When Launch froze her wiping and looked up at him, Tien quietly added, "I could use the help."

Launch knew he was thinking of Chiaotzu. How could he not be? Everything in this place had to remind him of his friend. Not only was it the place where he was shot and killed, but it was where he shared most of his memories with the little guy. Launch knew Chiaotzu was the closest friend Tien had ever had, aside from her.

"Tien," Launch said solemnly. "You should do somethin' to change up the place."

Tien blinked. "W-what do you mean?"

"The West City Saloon kind of brings back bad memories of what happened here, don' it? Why don't you try somethin' different? It's your place. You can do what you want."

"I-" Tien hesitated, furrowing his brows as he tried to work through what Launch was suggesting. "I'm not sure how I would do that, or why it would help."

Tien's head was in a cloud. He had been so focused this past week with the task of rebuilding the town, of helping others to recover from their losses and dispose of the bodies of Frieza's left-behind henchmen, that he hadn't had time to think beyond the one thing plaguing his mind the worst.

Chiaotzu was really gone.

He hadn't had time to process it before with all that was going on, but now that things were calm and mostly peaceful in West City again, and especially now that the saloon was back in running condition with an evening of celebration ahead, he was really feeling his best friend's absence. When those trespassers first entered his saloon, all he'd cared about was defending the place and keeping what was his. Now he had it, but it wasn't as important as he thought. Without Chiaotzu, the West City Saloon felt like an empty shell.

Launch's soft hand broke Tien from his reverie as it grazed his arm, before the back of her hand swept gently across his cheek. He saw her smiling with tears behind her eyes as she looked at him with the deepest concern. He had nearly lost her, too. He didn't know how he would carry on now if he'd lost both of them.

"Hey, Darlin'," Launch said softly. "Why don't you rename it Chiaotzu's?"

Tien inhaled sharply, tears prickling behind his eyes. He'd never considered anything like that. But what really had his heart fluttering and his teeth digging into his bottom lip was the sincerity in Launch's glassy eyes and the understanding behind them. She knew he was devastated about Chiaotzu. And she had just the right idea to do Chiaotzu justice. Chiaotzu would've wanted to have his memory wrapped into the saloon he'd worked so hard to build with his best friend. He spent his life putting his sweat, blood and tears into the place. As a smile flickered at the corner of Tien's lip, Launch gave him a soft nod.

Tien's brows narrowed and his smile slowly stretched, until he was beaming at the idea of honoring his friend's memory. "With a name like that, Chiaotzu's will be the best saloon the West has ever seen."

Launch smirked. "You bet your sweet ass it will, Tien."

A/N: Just the epilogue left, which is already up on Pat-reon if you can't wait! You might not see anything on here from me for a while, because next month I am putting all my writing focus into my original writing, but I'll be back with more fanfiction eventually.