A/N: Time for some MELODRAMA.
"Song, where's Daikon?"
Trunks had just run up to her from digging in the sandbox to ask this, the question coming out of nowhere. Song straightened from where she had been slouching on the park bench, eyes staring unfocused at the gleeful chaos of the playground, and looked at the little face in front of her.
"How should I know?" she said, scowling. Trunks continued to stare up at her, hands braced on her knees to propel his face even further into her personal bubble.
"You're no fun anymore," he accused. "And Daikon isn't here to play with either. And Papa's being moody."
"Don't let him catch you saying that," Song said, gently pushing Trunks back. "What, you want me to push you on the swings? You can fly, Punch, what's the point?"
"No, I want to —"
Her cell phone rang, the one Bulma had given her for emergencies. As far as she knew Bulma was the only one with the number. Frowning, she answered it.
"Hello?"
"Song, are you still at the playground?"
Bulma's voice sounded strange. Normally she spoke to Song with either an abrasive impatience or a knowing condescension, but this was neither of those. It was almost... kind. Song got a funny feeling in her stomach.
"Yes...?"
"Can you come back home please? Your mother is here."
All at once the outdoor, cheery playground became an airless, claustrophobic nightmare. Song stood up, phone still to her ear, and tried to estimate how long it would take Bulma to get to the playground once she realized Song wasn't coming. The search would start here, so which direction would it likely go first? She would go in the opposite direction. She would tell Bulma she was coming to give herself more time, and then she would ditch the phone and start walking. She had a little cash on her, enough to —
"Song?" Trunks said, tugging on her free hand. She looked down at him slowly, dimly aware of Bulma's insistent voice in her ear. For a brief, insane moment she started to include Trunks in her plans: the money would have to stretch a little farther, but he was strong, and he could keep up with her. But the innocent, trusting concern in Trunks' eyes and Bulma's growing volume snapped her out of it.
"Yes, yes we're on our way. We'll be home soon."
But she couldn't go back, not with her waiting there. She would walk Trunks most of the way home and then, when they were in sight of Capsule Corp., she could —
No.
Song lowered the phone from her ear and remembered the way Daikon had looked facing Vegeta: jumpy and nervous and scared, but, ultimately, there. He had faced him despite, from what little Song could tell of such things, being grossly outclassed.
Grossly outclassed was exactly how she felt now, but, she reminded herself, no one was trying to kill her. Her mother couldn't punch through mountains, couldn't shoot lasers from her fingers or even fly. What was there to be afraid of, anyway? The toddler holding uncertainly on her hand was more powerful than what faced her. With a gulp she snapped the flip phone shut and looked down at Trunks.
"Ready to go, kiddo?" she asked with a cheerfulness she did not feel. Trunks wasn't buying it either, but he nodded anyway, and, squeezing each other's hand tightly, they walked out of the playground towards home.
Song regretted her bravery the instant she walked through the door.
"Oh, my sweet baby, where have you been?"
Her mother, all 250 pounds of her, squeezed her in a bear hug, and Song had no choice but to stand there and take it. Despite being almost six inches taller than her, she was deathly afraid of this woman. Dr. Briefs led his grandson away, Trunks looking back at her questioningly, but all Song could think about, the image that played over and over in her mind as she stood there, was the time her mother had picked up a shoe to hurl it at her and had only hesitated because the shoe she happened to grab had been expensive.
Eventually Gerti let go and turned to Bulma and Pansy, who were standing in the foyer with unreadable looks on their faces.
"Thank you for taking care of my irresponsible daughter, but I'll be taking her home now."
Taking advantage of the space between them Song widened it, edging closer to Pansy as fast as she could. Gerti dropped the pleasant facade instantly.
"Song, I've managed to convince that saint of a man who offered to marry you that you just had some pre-wedding jitters, but his patience has a limit. And so does mine."
Bulma spoke for the first time.
"I'm pretty sure Song has no intention of getting married, Aunt Gerti."
"Oh, is that what you think?" Gerti said mockingly. "I'm so glad we have a genius in the family who can tell us these things. Song doesn't have a choice, and unless she wants mommy to go bankrupt, she will marry the perfectly nice man who has offered to help us out— once he's family, of course."
Bulma rolled her eyes.
"Gerti, if it's money trouble, I can bail you out."
"No, Bulma dear," Pansy said, her eyes fully open for once and staring right at her sister. "Gerti has always made it perfectly clear she doesn't want our charity. Isn't that right?"
Gerti looked truly enraged for the first time since she got here.
"That's rich, calling it charity when you see nothing wrong with charging interest to your own family."
"Maybe if you'd ever once in your life paid back a debt we wouldn't have to."
"All this money and you can't even see your way to giving your own sister a present, not even when it was the difference between having a roof over our heads and sleeping in a cardboard box!"
Song closed her eyes. They had never, she knew perfectly well, been in danger of being homeless, but her mother had been in danger of losing a particularly shallow boyfriend on more than one occasion. It had never made sense to her why her mother cared so much since she always had plenty of them. She wondered what would happen if she just left and went upstairs. Would Gerti try to follow her that far?
"What the hell is this racket?"
It was Vegeta, freshly showered and carrying a sports bottle. Song watched her mother rake her eyes up and down his body and looked away.
"I'm Gertrude, pleasure to meet you." She extended a hand to shake, but Vegeta curled his lip in obvious disgust.
"Is there a reason you're taking up space in my front hall?"
"This is Song's mother," Bulma said quickly, before Gerti could express her outrage. "She says she's taking Song home."
Vegeta turned to Song, appalled. "You're not going?" It was more a command than a question, and it made Song more happy than she had imagined it would to know he didn't want her to leave. That his opinion of her wasn't bad, or even neutral. He added, "We went through fourteen babysitters before you got here, there's no way in hell I'm letting you leave."
It didn't even dampen her happiness.
Gerti snorted.
"You must be Bulma's mysterious husband. Well, you can find another babysitter, but this is the only daughter I've got and she needs to make herself useful."
"Doing what?"
"Getting married," Gerti said, moving forward with arm out stretched, ready to take Song by the hand and drag her away. Song backed up a step, but to her surprise Vegeta spoke first, looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
"You're getting married? Does Daikon know of this?"
Gerti whipped her head back and forth between Song and Vegeta. "Daikon? Who is that?"
Song felt her mouth open and words begin to fall out of it, without any input from her brain whatsoever. It wasn't until everyone froze that she even realized what she had said.
"Daikon is my boyfriend. And I'm pregnant."
All four of the adults in the room gaped at her, frozen where they stood. Song stared steadfastly at the ground, but even out of the corner of her eye she could see her mother puffing up, ready to start shouting. Bulma beat her to it, cutting all the wind out of her sails.
"Does Daikon know?"
Something about her tone made Song look up. She wasn't positive, but she was pretty sure Bulma didn't believe her. Willing her cousin not to say anything, Song looked back down at the ground and shook her head.
"Then we'd better tell him," Bulma said grimly, but Gerti finally found her voice.
"We are not telling anyone anything," she said firmly, closing the gap between her and Song and grasping for her wrist. Song dodged her, and after a couple of back and forths, Gerti gave up. "You're getting rid of it and he never needs to know."
"Out of the question," Bulma growled. "Aunt, how could you say something like that?"
"This is none of your business, young lady," Gerti snapped. "Song, come with me this instant."
Song shook her head, edging even farther away until she was hiding behind Pansy.
"She doesn't want to go with you," Pansy said firmly.
"Song, stop being stubborn." Gerti had switched to persuasive mode. "This boy probably won't even want you once he finds out you have his baby, and then what will you do?"
Song hated how tongue-tied she was, how tongue-tied she always was, how she could never think up ways to argue with her, and always had to resort to ridiculous lies that outed themselves almost as soon as she had told them. Gerti had the wrong idea, but she was still right. Why would Daikon to take responsibility for someone he barely knew? They liked each other, had bonded, but they weren't dating. There had been no formal declarations. They hadn't even kissed. And besides, Daikon would know better than any of them that it was a lie.
"Oh, he's finding out." Unexpectedly, it was Vegeta. "We're all telling him."
"You don't get a say in this," Gerti informed him, and then actually stepped backwards when Vegeta bared his teeth in what was ostensibly a smile.
"Oh, I get a say alright. I've been made responsible for that boy, so his 'extracurricular activities'," he said, with another bare-toothed smile at Bulma, "are entirely my business."
"Then you should want this taken care of as discreetly as I do," Gerti said winningly, but Vegeta shook his head.
"What I want is for him to know, and for her to tell him." He jabbed his chin at Song and grinned. She knew he was just teasing her, that he didn't actually care one way or the other, but somehow that dismissive arrogance that had set her teeth on edge when she first met him was working out in her favor.
Gerti ground her teeth.
"Fine," she said, teeth still clenched. "I was trying to spare you some heartache, Song, but since everyone is against me, I suppose I have no choice but to go along with it. Call this Daikon, let's get this over with."
Vegeta looked expectantly at Bulma, who returned the look mildly.
"Well?" he said impatiently.
"Well what?" she answered. "You're the last one who saw him. Where did you leave him?"
For once Vegeta looked like he wasn't entirely in control of the situation.
"He goes where he pleases, woman. Didn't you say you knew where he was staying?"
"I did, but that was before you left him in the desert. I thought the idea was he'd come home after your little fight. I have no idea where he is now."
Vegeta's gaze went distant for a moment, and then he shook his head impatiently.
"I can't sense him, wherever he is. Call the tin can, maybe he went back there."
Bulma gave him a sour look, but pulled out her phone. "I've got half a mind to make you call her."
Vegeta ignored that. Bulma smiled as the phone picked up. "Hey Eighteen, sorry to bother you but do you know where Daikon is?... Oh, really?" Bulma's eyebrows went up significantly. "No, I didn't. Do you have the address?... Okay, thanks. Tell Krillin hi for me."
Bulma hung up and affixed Song with a raised eyebrow. "He's staying with his brother. Eighteen is going to text me the address."
Vegeta looked horrified. "Brother? You don't mean...?"
Bulma shrugged with mock indifference. "She didn't say." Her phone dinged. "Oh, how convenient, they live right here in West City. Let's go."
There was a minor scuffle when Song refused to get into her mother's car, but Pansy put her foot down and Gerti backed down. During the drive over Pansy held Song's shoulder and no one said anything, though Bulma was busy texting. When they arrived a short man in flip flops and a taller woman with blond hair were waiting outside the apartment building.
"So you're Song," the woman said, not even bothering to hide that she was sizing her up with half-lidded eyes. Bulma laughed.
"You came for the show too, huh?"
"What show?" the short man asked. "We just came because we've been wanting to meet Song. I'm Krillin," he said, extending his hand to her. She took it reluctantly. Krillin shook it twice firmly and then released her. "Daikon stayed with us for a while and we've gotten kind of fond of him."
"Song," Gerti hissed from behind her. Song jumped almost a foot in the air. "If you don't want to make a spectacle in front of all these people I suggest you just come home with me."
Feeling like she was swallowing air instead of breathing, Song left them all behind and walked into the lobby. She didn't know Daikon's apartment number, didn't even know what floor, but somehow she had started to believe that all she had to do was get there, just enter his apartment and tell him the lie and somehow this would all be over. It was stupid, and she knew that, but her throat was stuck and her feet were on autopilot and it was the only objective she had. Bulma reached the bank of elevators just behind her and whispered the number to her, and Song had never been more grateful for anything in her life.
The door was opened by a tall, graceful-looking man with long green hair Song instantly wanted to touch. His eyes widened at the sight of the seven of them, but otherwise he kept his composure.
"Can I help you?" he said in a voice like silk.
"Are you Valis's son?" Vegeta asked before the rest of them could say anything. The man was still holding the door in one hand and Song watched his grip on it tighten. He stared at Vegeta, frozen, for a long moment before answering warily,
"Yes."
Vegeta harrumphed in disgust and walked past him into the apartment. "We are here for the other one. Daikon. Where is he?"
Krillin stepped forward, chuckling apologetically. "Sorry, Rafano, but I guess they need to talk to Dai about something."
"Y-yes," Rafano stammered, eyes twitching back and forth between the party outside his door and Vegeta in his apartment, already making himself comfortable. "Of course, come on in. I'll go get Daikon."
He slipped into the back of the apartment and they filed in, Pansy sitting with Song on the loveseat before Gerti could get situated. Vegeta had taken the armchair, and that left the rest of them standing. Song barely had time to look around before Rafano re-emerged with Daikon, at which point he caught her attention completely. He was walking gingerly, holding his side, and his face was still a galaxy of bruises, one eye in the process of reopening from being swollen shut. He saw her and stopped, then caught sight of Vegeta and automatically backed up a step.
"Go on, girl," Vegeta said imperiously, waving his hand. "Tell him."
Song stared down at the plush carpet, trying to breathe around the rock that had taken up residence in her chest. It was nice carpet, gunmetal gray and soft-looking. She was still wearing her shoes, but Daikon was barefoot, his toes sinking into the carpet threads luxuriously. It looked like the perfect carpet to be barefoot on. There was a lump in her throat along with the rock, and even if she had wanted to speak, even if she knew what to say, she would have been unable to. After the silence stretched too long, it was her mother who spoke.
"Young man, we have come to give you the unfortunate news that my daughter is carrying your child. No obligation on your part is expected, but she wanted you to know."
Daikon drew in breath so hard it made him wince and clutch at his side. The t-shirt he was wearing rode up slightly and Song could see that his torso was swathed in bandages. She could feel him looking at her but did not have the courage to raise her eyes. When, again, no one said anything, Gerti went on, still addressing Daikon.
"I can see this is a lot to take in, but you don't need to worry. We will have it taken care of. We won't even ask for money."
"Wait." Daikon's voice was pained, confused. It made Song's ears hurt. "Taken... care of?"
It was hard to tell if he knew what it meant and was merely repeating the words, or if he was asking for clarification. Vegeta answered like it was the second.
"She's proposing to have the child killed, Daikon," he said, saying the words slowly and clearly. "Around here they let the mother live. Isn't that civilized?"
She hadn't thought she could hate Vegeta more than she had when she first met him, but Song could feel herself getting ready to make a go of it. Her anger unblocked the lump in her throat and she raised her head.
"No," she said firmly, though the rock in her stomach didn't allow her much breath and the words were soft. "I'm not getting rid of it."
Gerti sighed in exasperation.
"Song, this young man doesn't want his life disrupted, and your fiancé will certainly not want to raise someone else's child. Either way, you are not keeping this baby. Get that through your head."
"I— you're—" Daikon stammered, but Song kept her chin raised and addressed the far wall.
"I'm not getting married, and I'm not getting rid of it."
"Foolish child!" Gerti snapped. "Who do you think is going to help you? No one wants you to have it. They—" she gestured sharply at Vegeta, "want a babysitter, not another child to take care of. He's—" she jabbed a hand at Daikon, "not going to take responsibility, not at his age. I—"
But before Gerti could elaborate on what she would or would not do, Daikon broke in.
"I will," he said. It seemed like the words caught him by surprise, but then he rallied, standing up as straight as his broken ribs would allow him. "I will take responsibility."
Gerti gaped, her mouth working like a fish. It was clear this possibility had never occurred to her. Song knew distantly that she should be grateful Daikon was keeping her cover, but all she felt was a sickening embarrassment that so many people were humoring her lie.
"You can't!" Gerti exclaimed once she had found her footing. "You're not even an adult yet— or do I have to add statutory rape to the list of things you people have allowed to happen to my daughter while she was under your care?"
Song closed her eyes, wishing she was anywhere but here, wishing she'd just kept her mouth shut and gone along with her mother and then slipped away again when she had the chance.
"I am his guardian, and I will help him take responsibility," Rafano said mildly, and that was one more person humoring her, unless he thought she was serious, and Song didn't know which would be worse.
"Song, think about this," Gerti was saying sweetly, having swerved wildly into persuasive mode. "It doesn't matter if he wants to take responsibility, if you care about him you won't ruin his life like this. You have a secure future waiting for you if you just come with me and do as I say. What can this boy promise you? Do you even have a job, young man?"
"N-no, I..."
"See? He can't—"
"I have a perfectly lucrative job that could easily support all of us," Rafano said. "But I know for a fact I am not the only one in their corner."
"Yeah," the bald man said from behind her. "Whatever we can do to help them, we will."
"Gerti, you seem to think everyone is as selfish as you are," Pansy said, steel underlying her high, sweet voice. "We would never kick her out just because she's having a baby. And give up this silly idea of her getting married, she's only seventeen for crying out loud."
Gerti drew herself up to her full height and girth, puffing up like a frog. Her face turned bright red and she looked like any moment steam might start escaping out of her ears. It would have looked funny, except Song knew what kinds of things her mother did when she lost her temper. Eerily, though, she did not starting screaming insults or throwing things. Instead she let out a whistly breath, a little like the teakettle she had briefly resembled, and fixed Song with a cold stare.
"I am going to give you one last chance," she said softly. Song felt the rock in her stomach drop, leaving a big empty hole that somehow felt worse. "Either you come with me now, or you stay here and I never see you again. Up to you."
Song felt cold, and then hot, and then cold again. Somehow, despite running away, despite vowing never to return, despite hoping she would never see her mother again, it felt like the world was dropping away. Wasn't this what she wanted? Wasn't this why she had finally put her foot down and come to Capsule Corp, hoping against hope that the family she'd only seen on TV would let her stay? If that was true, then why was she suddenly thinking of the time her mother had let her stay home from school because she was sick, and when Song had thrown up all over her blankets she had only smiled and did a load of laundry in the middle of the week, and then sang to her until she fell asleep?
Song swiped at something tickling her face and realized she was crying.
Beside her, Pansy said, "Gerti! You don't mean that! You're angry, but you don't really mean that."
"I mean it," Gerti said, her voice still low. "This child has been nothing but trouble her whole life, and if she won't pull her own weight when it really matters then she doesn't deserve all the love and care I've put into her upbringing. It's time she choose: me, or her selfish whims. Which is it going to be, Song?"
The tears came faster, and so did her breath. Song wrapped her arms around her stomach, which had begun to ache. She heard her mother take a few steps toward the door and raised her head frantically, but before she could look she met Daikon's eyes, which were closer than she had been expecting, and she couldn't bring herself to look away. He was kneeling, right in front of her, hands outstretched. She had no idea when he had gotten there, and when she didn't move he gently took her hands from where they were wrapped around herself and held them in his own. They were large, and warm, and engulfed her smaller ones completely.
"Song," he said, "if you want... I will vouchsafe for you."
She stared at him, blinking, tears still falling but less rapidly. She heard the armchair Vegeta was sitting on creak.
"He's offering to take formal responsibility for the baby, Song. You must accept or reject his offer, but you cannot leave him answerless."
"Him or me, Song," Gerti said tiredly. She was already almost at the door. Song found that she was shaking, but she hadn't noticed because Daikon's hands were holding her so steady.
"I accept," she whispered, and almost before she was done speaking she felt another hand clamp itself on top of their clasped ones and Vegeta was right there, grinning his sickening grin.
"So witnessed and so done," he said. "As royalty, I declare this union official."
Song was so engrossed in listening for the front door slam that she almost missed the horrified look in Daikon's eyes as he stared at Vegeta. Several people started talking at once, all trying to speak over each other, but underneath the uproar she heard it, the whoosh of escaping air as the door opened and the dull thunk as it closed. Song lowered her chin to her chest and gave in to the tears.