Continuity

Chapter 97: Unravel

'...Repeat that, please.' Gero's mind raced even as he spoke slowly, voice crisp and steady. 'What do you want?'

Raditz loomed in the darkness of the bunker, untouched by the dim light from above, unseen except for the faint metal sheen of the swaths of him stretching over raw flesh. 'My name… Raditz…' he said through clenched teeth, fists tightening, as if it took all his will and effort to say it. 'My name is Raditz… I won't forget.'

Gero suppressed a sneer. 'Raditz,' he repeated. 'You've chosen a name for yourself?' This isn't right, this isn't — shouldn't be possible… How is he remembering?

'Raditz… Raditz…' Fingers wrapped around his head, pressing into hardened metal plate and skin, body shaking. 'It's a memory… what I was, before…'

'I can see you are disturbed by this… process,' Gero said through clenching teeth. 'So please! —'

A sharp inhale. '-What?!…' Raditz blinked as if exiting from a fog. His eyes landed on Gero. 'What did you do to me?'

'I… I don't understand,' Gero said, quieting. 'I'd advise you to remain calm—'

'You…' Without warning a ring of aura lit around Raditz, pink light filling the room. To the side 19 straightened, dead eyes splashed with newfound color. Raditz's voice started growing in volume and pitch, raising with every jerking wrench up of his hands. 'I… I remember!...'

'Remain calm!' Gero screaming, face twisting and spittle flying, mustering every bit of intimidation left with his weathered, broken, battered body. He saw the flicker play out across Raditz's face in real time — the anger and fear rolled together in the face of such a naked command, confusion circling like a predator ready to gorge on cornered prey. Gero knew he could die right then and there if enough of that malcontent remained in Raditz's eyes. If it didn't weep and drain and die from his mind. Gero saw how close it was. Just barely — barely — did hesitation hold him back from utter disaster.

Gero's wrists relaxed — severed machinery for now missing hands so fraught and damaged that tiny pistons swung into the air as Raditz drew back, eyes suddenly unable to face him.

'...I'm… I'm trying…' Raditz said. Anger made its final retreat from his posture. More importantly, his hands were once again preoccupied with cradling his head.

'My head… my head!... So many memories…'

'...Raditz,' Gero ventured, cursing his own weakness, using that bastard Saiyan name, addressing the subject like that, even if the situation demanded he put aside his usual policies in favor of immediate survival. 'I would recommend—'

'Air,' Raditz said, suddenly groping the air around him. Spinning, walking towards the exit. 'Air…'

'I— R— subject!' Gero mangled through his words. 'You…' His creation wasn't slowing. 'Outside… wait outside. I will come to you soon, once I have my thoughts in a row. Do you understand?'

Raditz stopped just before the doorway, facing away from him, the only marker of life carried by the wavering shine of the gray-colored metal plating at the base of his neck.

'Do you understand, subject?' Gero asked in a more pinched, pained voice.

'Yes, Dr. Gero. I'll wait for you outside.' He moved again and through the door and closed it with a soft tac. The sheer brightness filling the room receded in his wake.

His other creation turned to him. 'Are you alright, Doctor?'

'...19, I…'

Dr. Gero collapsed into a chair. Handless arms felt his face, searching without really searching and without a goal in mind except to give his mind some space to process. He had nearly died there — him and his dreams and his extants, all consumed in purposeless, mindless inferno caused by the very same type of alien that had nearly destroyed everything he cared about decades prior.

He focused on his face — making it normal again. Deconstructing the sagging frown and wide eyes. The scars would always be there; his face would never really be what it was under papered synthetic skin and wired oil. But like before he would rebuild, because he had to. He had only a lab decades prior, and now — he had the beginnings of one here, too. He could live here, rebuild, though perhaps for not as long as his previous residency. Like before he'd fix the issues in front of him — the cruel, almost sadistic challenge fate had left at his feet. To overcome his weakness and his failures to realize his vision and stay atop this world. To destroy every pair of hands that had ever been lifted to oppose him. To secure the work of the Red Ribbon Army, which became his work, which became his life.

More difficulties would arise. They always would. For Raditz… for him nearly losing all control like that…he just… needed time to think…

He sat there for a long time. Absent any command 19 remained silent at his side.

0o0o0

Dry wind cut through the air, swirling and shaking across the sandy plains. On the tallest plateau he waited, hair thrown by the wind but eyes sharpened on the dot of light hidden by the storm. Yellow aura bursting with light and color, shining through the dust that clogged the air. Coming closer. Closer. His hand tightened around a thin-feeling panel of his armor. Closer…

He stepped back, away from the chasm, breath misting, mind racing. Too much — this was too much now. Gold flooded his vision. He had never agreed to this. Distant tremors shook the ground beneath his feet, and he felt the earth give out somewhere. He had never wanted this. He would fall. This — to fight this — to overcome such a monster!... —

All at once the image pulled back. The sand and the air and the wind all folded into the center of his vision, overlapping and consuming itself into a single point — until only the light remained. Gold drifts across the mirror, like spectral strings reaching into an instrument's back.

Vegeta blinked, then a second time. After the third attempt a shadowed mirror greeted him once again. He acquainted himself with reality. He was in his room, in his bathroom, the sound of filtered air buzzing dully in from the vent above his only companion. His pristine white gloves hung from a rack to his right. He grabbed the edge of the sink and levered his upper body over the basin, sweat dripping from his nose and chin, mouth dry and wet all at once.

That was?... That was what?... Vegeta scowled and directed his attention to his ungloved hands. Scars and calluses covered them like an intricate web locking away untold secrets upon secrets. Truths he alone knew, and knowledge of the past that would never leave him. A record more true than the shoddy one in his mind. With a nonverbal snarl he grabbed the bar of soap from the basin's rim and started scrubbing.

That was?... A waking nightmare. He'd heard one of his father's advisers talk about it, once — who was he? — the condition flared whenever they were stressed — I… what was his name? Gherkin? — stemming from a moment of weakness where they'd lost their — so weak… he was so weak, and…

Vegeta's eyes lifted and bored into the mirror in front of him. He could not avoid looking at his emblazoned gloves, chest armor, shoulderpads, hipguards, jumpsuit and boots, all branded with the mark of Cooler. Every inch of his body fashioned to identify him as not his own, but another's, trapped on a ship ruled by another being.

Gerkin. His name was Gerkin. That's all that's left of him now — his name. Vegeta could rely on no one else; that has always been true. The temptation to let others do his bidding, his work, when he had left it undone…

Vegeta pictured that Saiyan in his mind. He had died on Planet Vegeta with his father the King. Died doing his duty as a member of the court. What was it like to die for someone else? Did it feel good, if who you served commanded your respect? Or did that only soften the blow?

His hands tightened around the sink's ceramic rim. Thinking like that… I am a Prince — I am the last true Saiyan. I'm not going to die for someone else, even if… if...

I'm… that Saiyan, Gerkin, now. I'm… the word caught in Vegeta's mind, as if a wall of feeling rose up to block him from finishing. No, that's… I'm not...

'You are.'

Vegeta's poise shattered as the words crawled around his neck, tightening and strangling like a noose. He rose to face the mirror again. His father shone from its shadows, bearded mouth twisted with contempt.

'You are weak.'

Crack.

Vegeta's fist smashed into the mirror, gouging broken glass into his knuckles and shattering apart whatever didn't. Strands of light danced and played off the broken slivers of glass as they spun and landed all around the small bathroom. What was left were shards of his image broken and pushed apart, reflecting nothing but cruel and unintelligible impressions back to him. Points and pieces of his black hair. His constricting uniform. His frown. His frown. His frown.

A shudder wracked Vegeta, teeth cutting into each other, jaw twisting and gnashing so hard that the muscles at its hinges kept snapping. 'No… please, just… be quiet…' He closed his eyes as his frown sank lower, creased deeper, face laden with pain. 'Please, father… please, stop…'

The words continued to echo. Even with his image gone the sting remained. The picture of that always present, dismissive scowl, knowing that he'd never amount to what a King needed, knowing that before he'd even tried, knowing that all that time he'd spend among such disgusting aliens would warp and twist and break him in ways he'd never understand. Knowing that, as Prince, he'd failed to stop that.

'You… never amounted… to anything,' Vegeta spat, bleeding hand clinging to the sink's rim. 'You sold our race… into slavery!' Vegeta said, tweezing and twisting out every word through a ragged face. 'And you let those who held our chains… use them to strangle us!'

Vegeta's hands slammed down on the sink, sending a crack through it.

'WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO CALL ME WEAK?!'

He stared defiantly into the broken mirror, just slivers of warped reflection. He expected a response. He wanted a response.

The mirror was broken. His father was dead.

Vegeta hung like that for however long it took for him to steady his breathing. Minutes and minutes and minutes, even as blood seeped from his knuckles. In. Out. In. Out.

In. Out. That's what this is, until it ends. Until this all ends. He thought he knew what the answer to his question might be; it might well be what his father had beat into him every waking minute of their time together. Be that. Do that. You are the Prince. Achieve more.

Vegeta let out a low, mirthless laugh. 'Achieve more...' His fingers curled against the sink. 'As a tailless disgrace…'

0o0o0

The long silence that had settled into the room was nudged aside by a cough. Then Yamcha held out his hands and turned them over. Hovering over his bed linen it was easier to see the bandages covering his right arm were stained and sticking together. The flesh… had… clung to it. But now...

Slowly he tore at the linen's edges and unwrapped the limb. Once the grime and pus and dried blood was pulled apart, healthy-looking skin and color greeted him and the room. For the first time since regaining consciousness, he smiled.

'Look,' Yamcha said, lifting the hand.

Rush and Chi-Chi sat in chairs pulled up next to the bed, always either looking out the cloudy bedside window to a foggy day or to Yamcha himself. Chi-Chi particularly marveled at him.

'The Senzu bean did the trick,' Retu said, spoken like he was somewhat surprised. 'It's good to see you like this… again.'

Chi-Chi leaned forward, seeking and meeting Yamcha's uncovered hand with her own. 'Everything's going to be alright now,' she said, voice warm. 'Everyone else is alright now. We - ' She made a pinched-but-happy face. 'There's still work to be done, but for the moment we're safe here. So sleep and rest as much as you need, okay?'

'Yeah, okay.'

'You should rest. You should — yeah. I'm so happy and relieved I'm repeating myself.' Chi-Chi stood, taking and moved towards the door. 'Let me know if you need anything.' Her eyes skirted to Rush. 'Are you? —'

'I'd like to talk with him for a moment,' Yamcha spoke up, relaxing into a comfier position in bed. 'If that's alright. Ask some questions.'

Rush was already halfway out of his seat. 'Um… sure,' he said, sitting back down.

'Right — right,' Chi-Chi repeated after a heartbeat. 'You have questions, I'm sure, even after all that. So... ' She opened the door and slid behind it. 'I'll leave you to it.'

A clunk sounded against the doorframe and they were alone. Rush laced his fingers together. 'What's on your mind?'

'Hm.' Yamcha glanced out the window to his right. At night the only thing visible this high-up on the mountain were the distant flickers of light coming from the village far below. And even then just that — flickers, which might as well not be anything considering how nondescript and featureless they were. Blurs against the darkness, wavering…

He found a pleasing smile before he turned back. 'I can understand why you lied to me. I can excuse that — the fear or hand-wringing you must have felt in the moment. But there's something I don't understand.'

Rush was as rigid as a statue. '...What do you mean? What?'

'There comes a point where vagueness and mystery doesn't cut it anymore, right? Sure, you can keep yourself apart and distant and put up walls and make excuses — but at the end of the day people are people, and they're there, willing to interact. Willing to talk to you.' A frown slid onto Yamcha's face. 'I'm not sure we'll ever really be able to call each other how we should — dad and son, because you're so… distant. So my question is this: after spending months with us, knowing we are who we are to you…. why did you decide to reveal yourself now?' Yamcha turned to the window for a sigh, then turned back. 'What did you have to gain from waiting all that time?'

Rush seemed shocked — or, at least his wide pale blue eyes made it seem that way. Yamcha felt a twinge of something unpleasant, sharp.

'You're asking why I spoke up, after months and months and months of saying nothing,' Rush said slowly. 'Is that right?'

'Yes.'

Rush leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs forward. 'I was worried about Traveler. He sounded dangerous.'

'I see.' Yamcha pinched his mouth. 'There's no doubt that he's strong. So then... why'd you wait?'

'Huh?'

Yamcha's face straightened. 'It's not like Traveler was unknown to you. You admitted to us you were there when Traveler defeated the Saiyans. You obviously knew about him, or otherwise you would have revealed to us who you were there and then.'

After a pause Yamcha's face grew more rigid. 'You traveled through time, Rush. Everything else you've told us indicates you know a lot about the past — our present. Even if your memories are distorted or misplaced by what Gero did to you… you came here with far more knowledge of what's happened and what's to come than us. Traveler, for all his faults, was transparent with that fact — that he was keeping information from us.'

Another pause. Rush's hands threaded together.

'You didn't know Bulma had Raditz?' Yamcha asked.

'No,' Rush said quickly, 'never.'

'But you knew other important facts — revealed to us piecemeal, as if you were stringing us along. I'll be honest Rush — it now feels like you're doing it again, with what you told us about Bulma.'

Rush avoided Yamcha's gaze. 'Traveler's appearance in the timeline changed things,' he said.' Changed events, either when they occurred or whether they ended up happening at all. I can't be sure—'

'You should just admit it now, Rush.'

Their eyes met. Despite being in bed there was nothing in Yamcha's presence that indicated he was asking. 'Admit what?' Rush said, muted.

'Admit it. Admit it that you knew Bulma was going to die in West City well before you told me. Admit it that you wanted her to die.'

The room was silent except for the distant creaks and thuds of wood and stone elsewhere in the castle. No sound came from the hallway — nothing pierced the clear glass beside Yamcha. No person was coming to interrupt them and no event was waiting to sweep them up. It was just them — just as Yamcha wanted.

'I nearly died in West City, Rush,' Yamcha said slowly. 'Because of how you told me at the last possible second what was going to happen, you nearly killed me. You understand that, right? My injuries, they were because of you. So I'll ask again — why did you want Bulma to die?'

'I…' Rush turned away. 'That's not…'

'No? Wrong question? Then what did you gain from not telling me Bulma was going to die? What was your reason for holding back that information until the last possible moment?'

Rush closed his eyes. 'It's not… it's not so clear-cut and dry—'

'You're talking to me now, Rush,' Yamcha intoned, voice darkened. 'You answer to me. I don't care if you're as strong as Chi-Chi described — that you could probably kill me with a wave of your arm. I'm tired of everyone keeping secrets and holding back what they know. If we had all pooled our knowledge to begin with, then maybe—'

'I didn't think — wasn't sure — he would reappear,' Rush spoke quickly, words pressured and nervous, 'but… I vaguely know of Traveler in the future. He destroyed the Earth with the PTO, and—'

'You've told me this already, Rush,' Yamcha cut in. 'You need to—'

'—listen… he had Bulma help him to do that. '

Yamcha's hands snuck back under his sheets. 'Like you said,' he said, thinking. 'As you think… actually.' Yamcha shifted so he could bring his full gaze on Rush. 'If Traveler used the time machine Bulma made to make the trip to this time… how'd you get here?'

There was a moment of stillness between them. Each facing and turning and gazing at something that wasn't alive or breathing or thinking. Rush, frowning into the wooden floor, scratched his neck and sighed. As he did his eyes closed and he leaned back into his chair, arms folding across his chest, chin pointing towards the ceiling. 'Well.'

'Well what?' Yamcha pressed.

'Well…' Rush's entire posture relaxed — shockingly so, considering how'd he'd been noticeably tensed ever since Chi-Chi had left the room. 'I stole the machine from Bulma — that's how I know about her involvement. I would have never worked with her in my time. She couldn't be trusted — she had her own goals that were totally opposed to your own. She was vicious and cutthroat and played to win, which means — I'm rambling.' Rush smoothed out his pants. 'All you need to know is that, for the foreseeable future, you cannot trust Bulma.' Rush hesitated. 'Maybe never.'

For a moment Yamcha watched Rush for any shift, slip, or twinge of his flesh. Anything to indicate he felt the scorn being thrown towards him. This was outrageous, obscene, and an insult. He had no right — he didn't know what he was talking about.

'I've known Bulma far longer than I've known you,' Yamcha spoke softly. 'What reason do I have to put your worth over hers?'

'Besides what we just learned about her harboring Raditz?...' Rush made a commiserating, almost cheery face. 'Because you're weak, Yamcha, if left to yourself,' he said.

'...What?' Confusion swirled in Yamcha's mind. He couldn't make any sense of Rush's abrupt new tone — superiority and concern and bluntness all meshed and folded together into something… knowing? Empathetic? 'What do you—'

'You and Bulma have a history. You had one long before I came into being. And during my life your history carried forward, pulling both of you together even when that was the last thing anyone wanted.'

Rush paused to look over Yamcha. 'You look confused,' he said.

'All this vagueness—'

'Traveler never told you how you died, did he?' Rush asked, looking earnest. 'I guess that's to be expected.'

Rush tried to take Yamcha by his hands, and failing to meet them, came to rest on Yamcha's legs. 'It was because of Bulma. She left with the Saiyans, and you abandoned us to follow her. So you both came to work for the PTO, and then you died.'

Years and years of memories and thoughts and self-reprimations flooded into Yamcha's mind, veering him from when he was lovestruck bandit to a half-hearted fighter sleeping his way through to that bloody, terrible time in space to the pain on Namek and seeing Bulma's blue eyes—

A gasp escaped Yamcha's mouth even as his hands gripped his jaw. His vision darted spot-to-spot, eyes moving like frantic flies. Suddenly his attention rounded back on Rush. 'If you know how I died, then—'

'No. You shouldn't know.'

'Rush, please—'

'I'm not telling you,' Rush said, firmer. 'I only told you so that you wouldn't make the same mistake. I'm trusting you not to repeat that. After this is over — after we've beaten Gero and Raditz, and I know you won't do something dangerous — then I'll tell you. But until then… the risk is too great.'

Yamcha felt like he was drowning in a whirlpool. His thoughts were swarming him, threatening the single line of clear thought he had left. Risk… risk too great. I've lived a long life considering what I've faced. I'm not blind — I know my life has come off the rails a few times in the past. But… to abandon everyone, when… Chi-Chi's face flashed in his mind. No… I… left Earth for Bulma after Chi-Chi died?... No, that… that sounds like something I could do.

The sound of a chair sliding across the floor caused Yamcha to snap back to the present. Rush was moving towards the door. 'You should tell Chi-Chi what I told you,' he said as he stepped into the hallway. 'It's not my place. Beyond that…'

As that door closed that anguish and discomfort from earlier returned to Rush and gave a sad bend to his mouth. 'I'm sorry. Really sorry. I didn't want to tell you that, but…'

He left the sentence unfinished. The door shut and Yamcha was left alone in the dusk.

0o0o0

Fibrous darkness had swept across the sky by the time Krillin was done speaking. Among those gathered around the bonfire only Bulma had moved — she had heard it all before and busied herself with keeping the campfire they were gathered around fed with wood. Not once did she interrupt Krillin's soft-spoken, pausing recollection of everything he and the bruised machine behind him had endured. Never did Rayne wake from her pained sleep, body churning and twisting until calmed by a press of Krillin's palms. And the four of them — Launch, Bez, Recoome, and Mark — couldn't turn away from what they were told. It was all they could do to sit and stare and listen until the end in silence.

Even after Krillin finished they remained that way, inert and processing. No one prodded them to speak. Like a weight had been lifted both Krillin and Bulma got comfortable sitting down closer to the fire. Krillin made sure to swaddle Rayne in a blanket before creeping closer. And yet neither said anything.

Somewhere far off an animal howled.

'Well.' Launch said finally, staring off into the sky.

Mark, Bulma, Bez, and Krillin all each shot a confused look at her., Krillin especially. 'Well what?' He asked.

'Guess that makes it pretty clear.' Launch grunted as she haggardly got to her feet, as if carrying the weight Krillin and Bulma had let go of. 'I gotta get searching.'

Blunt alarm — emotion for the first time they'd reunited — flared on Bulma's face. 'Launch — you're not thinking of going out there right now—'

'And what if I was?'

Launch wasn't looking at her — she wasn't looking at anyone except some shape unseen by everyone else in the darkened air above them. Her eyes kept adjusting and moving, scanning. 'I don't know,' Launch admitted. 'A lot of what you and Krillin told me makes me wanna leave and punch something. Do something.'

'Are you mad?' Bulma probed. 'About me withholding—'

'Sure,' Launch said quickly. 'I'm more than a little angry you withheld the fact that you were keeping Raditz's body in a tank like some kind of half-dead lobster. But I'm even angrier about what Krillin told me — about that future. Everyone died, and… what the hell did I do?' She glanced at her open palm and closed it. 'Nothing.'

Krillin stifled a sigh. 'You shouldn't equate that with living. Not when—'

'I might have had a reason to live that long?' Launch turned on him. 'Something worth letting all my friends die, without—' She faltered. 'Without… forget it. That past isn't worth arguing over. What we intend to do in the present is what's important. And I intend to prevent that from happening. If we're going to beat Gero, beat Rush, and need to beat Gero, we need to group up. All of us, all our friends, working together… so that living as long as possible doesn't become the only victory we can hope for.'

'Launch, I can't fly,' Krillin said, wincing as he shifted against the stump he was leaning against. 'Look at Rayne. She's not even awake. With everything that's out there this isn't the time for us to be splitting up even more! If what you said about that PTO battleship is right—'

'And what am I supposed to do about that here?' Launch shot back as frustrated as she'd been since rearriving on Earth. 'We alone can't take down a battleship. We need all our friends. If we don't find them, then we're fu—'

'You're rushing,' Krillin said. 'We haven't even begun to discuss what we're going to do. At the very least we need to keep someone here to keep an eye on the Saiyans on the ship.'

Launch eyed him. 'You can't?'

'I can't really stand for more than a few minutes at a time to keep watch, so no.'

They each reached the end of their push; two glares resting against each other, waiting for the other one to flinch. In the end Launch's eyes skipped away. 'I'm not planning on abandoning you all,' she said in a calmer voice. 'It's just… we need to get help… anyone's help.'

From the side Bez caught a split-second image of Launch's expression. Pinched, pained, and lost in thought. 'Hey…' he said, 'are you sure you're…'

Launch glared at him. 'What? Sure I'm what? Say it.'

'Are you sure you're… okay?'

She flared her nostrils and her gaze shot away. 'Given everything that's not important. What matters most now — is drawing ranks and dealing with our enemies one at a time.' Her eyes narrowed dangerously. 'Preferably starting with this Rush, considering he tried to kill us most recently.'

'No complaints there,' Krillin said.

Recoome scratched at his hairline. 'If you're going searching… who are you looking for, huh?' He asked bluntly.

'—Is there… is there a sequence, or order... or?...' Mark jumped in just to taper off.

Launch's glare passed over them like a racing rain cloud. 'Well, obviously I'm going to find Tien first.'

'Figures,' Bulma said.

'Whatever,' Launch said dismissively, frowning. 'Krillin — I know I can't run off, and I won't. But we need to spend some time trying to get in contact with the others. From how you described Rush… it sounds like Chi-Chi and Yamcha might be… hard to reach, understand?'

'We get it,' Mark agreed.

'We do?' Recoome asked.

Mark elbowed him. 'I'll tell you later.'

Launch waited impatiently for them to quiet. '...And once I find Tien and Chiaotzu, maybe I can reach Piccolo. He and Tien did start training together regularly a few months before our ship left Earth.'

One of Krillin's eyebrows raised. 'Really?... Huh…'

'One day,' Launch repeated. 'That's all I need. If I find them, I'll bring them back here. If I don't, I'll return anyway, and we get to the business of saving Earth.'

She watched for any objections. Her stern posture seemingly dissuaded any. 'Good. If there are no more complaints, then…'

'Hey, Launch?'

Bulma's voice captured everyone's attention; they turned back and to their surprise saw she was jabbing out a large, proud thumb. 'Good luck,' she finished, smiling.

A small bend turned Launch's expression towards the night sky. 'I don't need luck.' She glanced over the others. 'One day,' she repeated.

'We got it, go,' Krillin said. 'See you soon.'

She flashed a grin. 'See ya.' A quiet ripple of red energy surrounded her, and quieter than they expected, she shot and drifted into the night sky, arcing and disappearing over the horizon. The night sky shimmered with the passage of her ki before a time before darkness washed back.

'I hope she doesn't do anything stupid,' Bez said with a frown.

'It's just one day,' Mark said. 'I mean... what's the worse she can do?'

'I can imagine a few things,' Bez accentuated his gloomy expression.

'Yeah — but it's not like she did anything too crazy or thick-headed in space. She was a team player, in the end.'

'It sounds like she was on her best behavior in space, for what it's worth,' Krillin said, glancing between them.

Bez looked unwilling to concede the point and instead sat down again by the fire, leaned his back against a curled-up bedroll, and closed his eyes. 'One day,' he muttered.

From the side Bulma circled around the clearing and spared a glance into the darkness before roping back towards them. 'Well I'm tired now.' She pointed to the ground near the fire. 'There are bedrolls around on the ground. Sleep on as many as you want.'

Krillin raised a hand to acknowledge the roll swaddling Rayne and the one padding him against the stump. He glanced towards the others. 'Are any of you sleeping on the ship?'

'We are,' Recoome said, placing a hand on Mark's shoulder.

'Someone has to stay close to the Saiyans.' Mark not-so-subtlely pointed aimlessly towards Krillin and Rayne. 'Not like, uh… you can... anyway.'

'No need to dodge it,' Krillin spoke up, smiling warmly. 'I don't mind doing nothing.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'Alright!' Bulma furiously flapped and flailed her bedroom in the air before stretching it out and practically jumping onto it. 'Goodnight!'

0o0o0

He was close to a dream — or dipping in and out of it — when he heard a voice. A real voice. 'Pssh. Krillin?'

Out of near-sleep Krillin's body twitched and straightened. 'Huh— who?'

'Here,' Bulma whispered from his left. In her bedroll she had crawled up to him and Rayne. The only other person around was Bez, whose chest rose and fell slowly underneath a darkened flap of linen. Krillin noticed that the fire had dimed — he must have fallen asleep for a little bit.

'Bulma?' He said finally, turning to his left. 'Why are you still awake?'

'Couldn't sleep — and whisper,' she admonished him. 'I don't want to wake anyone else up.'

She was being weird, though he couldn't say in what way. 'Alright.'

'Listen.' Bulma scrunched further up and wiggled out of her bedroll so that she could gesture broadly with her arms. 'I know I said before a little about how there's probably a bunch of timelines messing with ours right now — but I need to convey the gravity of that,' she emphasized, dropping her arms. 'I've been doing a lot of thinking, and while it's all mostly speculation built on coincidence and correlation, it's all we got.'

'...Alright?' Krillin said. 'It sounds like you're trying to… justify to yourself, Bulma. Just say it.'

He must have been at least somewhat right considering how Bulma's cheeks pulled inward. 'First thing Krillin — I think I'm working with the PTO in the future.'

'...What?' Krillin uttered. 'How? Why would you think that?'

'It's mostly a hunch. But time travel?' She gestured, hands going somewhere into the darkness where Krillin couldn't track them. 'Who else do we know could pull that off? Make it real and not the stuff of insanity?'

'So, you?'

'Who else? If the PTO or Gero had that kind of tech, don't you think we'd been screwed over by it by now?... Besides.'

Krillin rubbed his eyes. 'Besides, what?'

Bulma was staring off into the night sky. 'I went with the Saiyans into space, right? What do you think the chances they left me all alone out there, and I had to fend for myself?' She looked back at Krillin. Faint and starry light danced on her face. 'It's not like I can punch myself out of a bad situation like everyone else. I've just got my brain… that's it.'

'Yeah, I…' Krillin straightened so he could sit more comfortably facing her. 'Yeah, that makes sense… '

'Anyway, second theory… I think Traveler is someone we know. Someone who's probably alive right now.'

'Someone?' Krillin stressed. 'No ideas who?'

Bulma flashed a grin. 'Not a one. But call it a feeling. Think about how he kept his distance from us when we first met, and only spoke to Piccolo. Is it a coincidence that, knowing all of us, he chose to talk with the most isolated and unsociable person present?'

'...And then he ran off, yeah,' Krillin remembered. 'Without talking to any of us directly. Without giving something away… sure, that could be true. Anything else?'

'Third?… I think Rush is someone Traveler caused or created. Someone that wouldn't exist in time if not for Traveler existing… if that makes sense.'

'This time travel stuff? Consequences of using it?'

'Yeah.'

'Alright — I'll take your word for it. It's all too confusing, anyway…'

Bulma rolled over so she could reach for a canister near the fire. 'You don't need to know the science. Just think about Rush's actions.' She took a sip of water. 'He's not omnipotent — or at least pre-armed with knowledge — in the same way Traveler is. There's no reason to spend months in our time just… living… without acting. There was something he didn't know. Something that must have become obvious or clear to him just recently.'

'Either that, or he felt we were catching onto him and felt like he needed to kill us.' Krillin yawned. 'What with — oh, oh, Kami.'

'What?'

A shot of adrenaline shot through him. 'Gohan — Gohan was the one who warned us about Rush to begin with. When Rayne and I got attacked by Rush, he was heading towards our house where Gohan was… and without us…'

He let his mouth taper off into silence. He didn't need to finish that thought. He couldn't finish that thought.

'Marron was with him, too,' Krillin added.

'...Guess we should have told Launch about them, huh? She could have searched for them.'

Krillin grunted. 'If not her, then—-'

'You can't go either, Krillin,' Bulma said quickly. 'The ship's medicinal machine hasn't fully healed you yet. If you put any pressure on your leg, you might reopen the wound, or worse.'

'I know…' Krillin placed his hands, forced to relax, on Rayne's head. 'I know. I can't do anything now. I just wish… I hope they're alright.'

'They're smart Krillin — they're okay.' Bulma crawled over and placed a hand on his arm. 'I know it.'

'Really?'

'Yeah.' She rolled back towards her earlier spot. 'Alright — that's it. I'm going to sleep.'

'Just like that?'

'My mind's quieted some.' She shot a warm glance towards him as she bunched up her bedroll and laid down. 'Thanks.'

'Yeah…' Krillin's mouth dropped. 'Sure…' Images of Gohan and Marron sitting by that valley stream floated through his mind. He had to stop and stall a dull pain in his chest.

So she could go to sleep now, and he couldn't. Maybe that was a good exchange.

0o0o0

He crept towards the exit with the light at his back, eyes scanning and triaged stumps for hands feeling the walls. Still there were hours to go before he'd even have one hand repaired to a semi-functional state with 19's help. The materials in this stowaway bunker were of a lower quality and more raw state than he would have liked.

What mattered now though was what awaited him beyond this final door — what lurked in the dark of night as the bunker and its flickering light swung back inside. The surrounding forest was motionless and quiet underneath a waning moon.

'Raditz?' Gero quickly scanned the immediate area past the nearest trees. 'We can talk now. Come out.'

He waited. And waited. Still no sound. Still no stir.

'Raditz?' Gero leaned further into the darkness, trying to glean anything that wasn't a stodgy rock or gnarled tree. 'We can talk.'

His eyes started jumping around faster. Picking a random direction Gero strode deeper into the forest, not bothering to dampen the noise of his feet stamping onto dirt. 'Raditz? Raditz!' Past a few more trees into a shadowed clearing. His right wrist was moving towards his pants. Perhaps he did not want to be found. Perhaps he was angry still. No matter.

His foot fell unexpectedly into a ditch. Ankle-deep and near cursing Gero scowled and pulled his right leg loose. Dirt stained the lower hem of his pant leg. 'Blasted night—'

The sound of metal hitting the ground near him made Gero spin. His eyes resumed their frantic sweeping. 'Raditz?'

No reply, no sound. Frowning Gero turned his attention to where he thought he heard that sound — vaguely in front of him, and suspiciously close. With sharpened attention he crept forward and studied the ground for anything noteworthy. A glint of light hit him as he bent down. Using his right arm as a stick he pushed the small thing towards himself and under the faint moonlight. For a second he saw nothing, recognized anything. He flipped the small square of metal junk over.

His limbs froze. The red diode lining the center of the metal patch was round, narrow, and tall — and more importantly unmistakably familiar. Hastily, right arm shaking, Gero shoved something out of his pockets onto the ground next to the square. He fumbled and flipped until he saw a green-lit grid display.

Gero pressed a button on its top and waited. A few seconds more, power filled the device. Gero pressed another button. Waited. Waited.

It beeped. A red dot was centrally located on the display. Undoubtedly — a trace of light flared in the red diode on the metal square before fading back.

Oh. Stunned Gero sat back on his legs, mutely watching the display on his right ping the red dot again and noting the corresponding flare of light from his left. His arms pressed into his gut, finding brittle wires and tubes of oil and flaky metal casing just below the skin. He thought he had removed this feature of the flesh-and-blood body from this design. He felt sick.

He's… he's gone. Raditz's gone...

0o0o0

Into the darkness he stumbled, hands running over worn stone and sharp shards of rock, pointed bits and chaotic chunks. It was a small cave, he thought, but would do. He just needed to get out of the weather. He just needed a moment to rest.

Traveler groaned as he sat down, clutching his chest and sides. Old and new bruises, tears in his already torn clothing, and marks that would never leave him. He was a stone wall in motion, carrying lifetimes of idle and manic scrawlings, all passing in thought, all permanent in nature.

This was his burden and his burden alone. He had made countless journeys and seen the consequences of his travel… his twisting at the edges. No one else was witness to everything he's seen or done. The harm and pain he'd spun out again and again, to save just one measly timeline.

His head lowered to his chest as he listened to the cave's ambiance around him. The drip of water from a rogue stalactite, somewhere. His heart tightened and waited. No. That was all.

...No else knows. Not like me. And he had to remember what he'd done, what he'd enabled, to get to here and now. In the dark Traveler balanced a capsule in his hands, feeling the crushing weight press into his skin, threatening to slip through his hands and hit the stone ground. He was ready to return whenever he wished. There was nothing that would or could stop him from leaving. It was more than anything a choice.

He couldn't see the capsule but he imagined it in his hands. He had to remember what had brought him here.

'Waiting, waiting, waiting…' Traveler muttered. 'He'll reveal himself again soon… he has to…'

0o0o0

The lights were dimmed in the ship's main hallway as he slouched against the wall. Even though Mark was supposed to be on watch he was drifting in and out of sleep, eyelids dipping and seesawing like a ship crashing against waves — until rattle rattle rattle made him flinch.

It stopped. He waited. Then the door to his right opened.

'Hey.' Bardock stuck out his head. His usual frown wasn't any less severe in the middle of the night. 'I need to pee.'

Mark blinked — he was sleepy and surprised. '...You know where the bathroom is, right? If no one ever told you—'

'I know the one on the ship.' His eyes narrowed. 'I'm not a fan of that janky vacuum airlock. I want to pee outside.'

'...Um…'

'My son too, for what it's worth.'

Mark glanced down the hallway away from Bardock. 'You know… we're in space, and…'

'We're not idiots. I can tell the gravity in here has shifted from a day ago — we're on some kind of planet, and I'd like to take advantage of that.'

'...to pee?' Mark asked.

'My son too.'

They knew, Mark accepted, and they weren't idiots. It wasn't by chance they wanted to get off the ship in the middle of the night. That meant…

Mark walked away from the wall. 'Level with me. Why do you really want to go outside?'

It was obvious Bardock hadn't expected such a frank question. His face took a moment to revert to its usual frown, only this time everything was more pinched and deliberating. 'Full truth?... I just want to see what this planet is like. Earth, right? And my son…' He looked back inside. 'Well…'

He moved aside and Kakarot stepped into the hallway. 'I haven't seen Earth in a long time. I… just want to look at it, if it's alright.'

'Even at night?' Mark said.

'Yeah.'

Mark glanced between them as he felt increasingly cornered. 'You can't wait until tomorrow, when there's some light out, at least?'

'Still worried we'd run?' Bardock asked, unable to resist a smirk. 'Where would we run off to? I've never been to this planet in my life. And from what Kakarot has told me, this ship is probably the friendliest place in the world for us right now.'

Kakarot shaped his hands into a fist and rested it on his abdomen. 'Please?'

'...Um…' Mark stalled. 'You… uh… Ah — what about Turles? I don't trust him now to —'

'He might as well be dead right now,' Bardock said. 'We pushed him outta his bed earlier and he just rolled onto his stomach and kept sleeping like that on the floor.'

Mark gaped. 'Why?'

'Are you taking us outside or what?'

0o0o0

'See?' Bardock called back towards Mark standing at the top of the ship's ramp. 'We're standing here just as you wanted!'

Mark winced. 'Keep your voice down! People are sleeping…'

'Right, right…' Bardock turned forward again. He took in the give of the ground as he pressed his boot into the dirt. He even crouched down to try and smell the overturned soil. Smelled… like dirt.

'Can't believe I missed the smell of this,' Bardock said, standing again. 'That gray planet were we on, just before everything went crazy?' He said sideways to Kakarot. 'Land there didn't smell a fourth as good as here.'

'...'

'Son?'

Kakarot hadn't said or done anything since arriving at the center of the clearing — he simply gazed into the forest in front of them, eyes shifting but not moving in the way a memory played out across a clean slate. It was — it was almost impossible to believe he was here again. When he died then, in West City, that really felt like it was it. He'd lived a terrible life, but by himself and by others, and it was an immense — beyond measurable act of cosmic kindness that he'd been given not one but two chances on the same fateful day to make something worthwhile of his worthless time on Earth.

It was like stowing the old man's writings in the old desk in his sad old hut — a hut that likely wasn't even standing anymore — so that he could never again read what he'd written about Kakarot when he was too young to understand anything, most of all himself. At the time he didn't know, but felt it; maybe some good would have come from letting someone else read those writings. Maybe taking himself out of view was the best final thing he could do for anyone.

Bardock's hand clapped down on his shoulder.

'Lost in thought, son?'

Kakarot sighed. 'Yeah.'

'It's all a lot? Coming back?'

'...Yeah.'

'Uh-huh.' Bardock paused. 'Wanna hear some good old-fashioned wisdom?'

'Depends. Is it yours?'

Bardock made an amused sound. 'Sharp. Here it is: if you live long enough, you can atone for anything. And the same's true the other way. Spend enough time alive and you can ruin any and all good you've ever done.'

'...alright… well…' Kakarot turned slightly towards his father. 'How do you… do one and not the other?'

Bardock let himself grin. 'I only know the first step.'

'Which is?'

'Keep living, hah!' He slapped Kakarot on the back, shaking him. 'Hah, hah! Ahh, I crack myself up sometimes.'

'...' Kakarot wrapped his arms around his body.

'You guys done?' Mark called in a quiet voice from the ramp. 'Visibility isn't great out here — kinda hard to keep you two in sight.'

Bardock waved back. 'Yeah, yeah. One more minute. You know — all that talk earlier made me need to pee, funny enough.'

Mark groaned. 'Are you being serious?'

'Just to the treeline. I don't want to pee in an open field.'

'...you… you just can't…'

Bardock grabbed his son and turned him towards Mark. 'Kakarot will stay here. We're not running off. You know,' Bardock said as he started walking away, despite a distant reach of Mark's arm. 'If we really wanted to escape, we'd have done that by now, don't you think?'

He reached the edge of the trees, flaunted a smirk back towards an admittedly hard-to-see Mark, and unzipped. 'If anything,' he borderline yelled, turned away as he was, 'just sticking around for this long makes it easier for you to guess where we'd run off to, and if we were running away, we wouldn't want to give anything like that away, right?'

Mark was speechless. This damn Saiyan was peeing on his watch!

A few long seconds passed and Bardock finished and turned back. 'See?' He lifted and twisted his arms. 'Didn't go anywhere, nothing happened.'

'I can't see you… asshole!' Mark added.

Bardock's face blanked. 'Oh. Right.'

Without warning dark blue light, shading like a shadowed stretch of ocean, at the edge of the forest. Shrouded in his aura Bardock was much more visible now. 'That better?' He joked.

'Stop!' Mark yelled. 'You can't use your ki! We — we agreed!'

'What?' Bardock finely controlled the luminosity of his aura, brightening and darkening as he pleased. 'Agreed to what? And ki?' He laughed. 'Now you sound like my son—'

It was sudden — like a candle being snuffed. One second Bardock was there. The next, he wasn't. With no light to fight it darkness rolled in again.

Kakarot reacted quicker than Mark. 'Dad?' He called, no mistaking the concern in his voice. As a reflex his aura had lit up around him, gentle but present enough to throw light across the clearing where they were. It wasn't a joke or a trick — Bardock really was gone from his spot.

At the ramp Mark was ready to burst out of his skin. He focused on his ki — the little he could call on so quickly or at all — and tried to peer into the darkness. Even when doing this he couldn't say anything he saw was anything more than his mind creating colors. Shades of red and gray and beige and black...

'Kakarot?' Mark said, tensed. The remaining Saiyan in view hadn't budged. 'Come to the ramp, and keep—'

Soundless, secondless, it happened again. Kakarot's aura blinked out and it was dark all over.

Mark knew immediately it was pointless — he could always see Kakarot from the ramp — but he still ran out into the clearing and stopped at the exact spot Kakarot was. Crouching he found the gentle imprints of Kakarot's boots — and then a single, deep impression in the dirt. And yet no Saiyans.

Leaving him. Mark listened, watched, waited… but nothing came. 'Damn it…' He banged his fist against the ground. 'Damn it! They ran off!'

0o0o0

Amid all the shadow and colors and piercing fog that seemed to shroud and wrap around his boots like airy mud he strove forward against the wind towards a mountain crowning a village. Leafy trees and leisurely birds swirled and spun and the scene shifted towards an island of faded pink wood paneling and a lone and slouching palm tree. More shifting, spinning, and he saw the jagged carcasses of steel buildings rising out of the brimstone earth, a waterfall of blood and bodies falling and thrashing, a grove quiet enough to die in, then a cream-colored arena ringed by an empty stadium —

Seizing his chest, Kakarot shot up out of sleep. His hands and arms landed and gripped his thighs. Muscles squirmed and threaded between his fingers, pulled and pinched enough to dull the pain ringing between his ears. A swarming nightmare like sand.

He coughed into his fist. 'Where…?' He squinted and looked around. Wherever he was, it was too dark to see anything. His eyes landed on a vague shape towards the other end of the space they were in — his father, he realized, after a few heartbeats spent staring. Sleeping on the ground like he'd been.

'So… again…' Kakarot stood, groaning as a few squeezed muscles in his legs ached and burned from the simple exertion. He felt like he'd been hit by a spaceship. As he crept blind further into the dark he noted the painful bruises and aches scattered all over his body, like he'd been handled too roughly as a package. He… right… I… we were at the ship, outside. Kakarot frowned and moved closer to a wall and ran his hand over uncut, natural stone. A cave?... How'd we get here?...

He vaguely got the sense of danger — that something was seriously off about this — but the darkness offered up things one at a time. A few bedrolls propped against the wall. Animal bones stripped of all flesh pushed into a messy pile. Burnt embers scattered around a few loose rocks. Kakarot grimaced as he crouched and checked the blackened ash left in the center. Some of it new… and some of it very old. Away from the old firepit led a trail of ash… towards a silvery opening to what seemed to be outside.

Towards a single figure standing there, staring up at a barely present crescent moon.

As Kakarot pulled himself forward he realized he had been here before, years earlier, as a different person. As… not as he is now. He felt that — and desperately wanted to believe that feeling. Not how he was then, either. He was silver and shadow, his skin replaced in long stretches from dull metal that shimmered slightly in the sliver of moonlight cast through the sky. His long hair was there but it didn't hide the smooth bolts and grotesque plating cradling half his skull like a metal hand ready to clench.

When he turned, showing the very beginnings of a waterfall known to fall from this ledge, feeding headlong into the stream he'd lived above years ago, his eyes, one black and bead-like while the other cut into him like a red incision of light, Kakarot stopped and waited. He was too stunned to feel anything.

'This… this has to be a dream… Raditz?'

His brother offered a mocking grin, unchanged by — by what had clearly changed him.

'Good,' Raditz spoke. 'You're awake. Now, brother — this conversation is long overdue. I've come to collect you. And you owe me an explanation.'

Kakarot found he couldn't swallow. When he spoke his voice trembled. 'W— what?'

'Brother,' Raditz said in a soft voice. 'I ask a simple question. This planet?...' He gestured, grand, towards the night. '...Why hasn't it been purged?'

A/N: Hello everyone: it's been a while. For that, I'm sorry. But good news to share now that we're here! This site isn't borking and breaking for me anymore. My stat counter is working again after almost half a year! Wahoo!

Second, I plotted out the current arc in detail. As you may have noticed I was having a hard time writing this chapter for the past two months… until I realized I hadn't actually plotted out the minutiae of the next few chapters yet. Now that we have — well, I hope it goes faster. No promises after the big gap between this chapter and the previous one, but at the very least I can say I won't go nearly 2 months between updates again.

Anyway, onto reviews! Apologies if they're a little abridged but I wanted to get out this chapter ASAP once I had it ready to go!

KagariAsuha: You got your wish this chapter. Thanks for the review!

The Rocha: Raditz is undoubtedly the linchpin. It's like he's an important character for many different characters for vastly different reasons… Thanks for the review!

Cityracer: Hope you're feeling better, bud!

Mark perhaps made a slight mistake this chapter, but then again, who's really to blame for Kakarot and Bardock's abduction in this chapter? Probably themselves. Probably Raditz.

As for your last question, it really depends on how long Traveler is going to be in the metaphorical town, right? If he's in this time long enough, it might be a given that he'll interact with Gohan eventually…

Thanks for the review!

Guest: I'm back! Enjoy the chapter.

chris. : It very much seems Raditz was flipping between both column A and column B in the moment, but may have trended towards one over another now.