Author's Notes: Last chapter's sex scene might be toned town, but then it just wouldn't have the same narrative impact, so no promises.
The best thing about 18's place was the apartment service. Professional chefs and waiters worked tirelessly, bringing tray after tray after tray of gourmet meals ranging from miso noodles to fresh lasagna. The aroma wafting out the dining room's window drifted up into the heavens; Gohan hoped Father could smell what he was missing out on—the best food in the universe.
18 refilled her cup of plain black tea. She drank like a princess. "So it really was you who destroyed Cell, but you didn't say how your daddy died."
Gohan remembered to wipe his mouth with the napkin and not his sleeve. "After Cell spat you out, he reverted to his second from. Instead of finishing him off, I lost control of myself and wanted to make him suffer. Cell took the chance to blow himself up along with the planet. At the last second, my dad used his instant transmission to take him somewhere into space. I'll never forget his sacrifice. All because of me. It was all my fault."
"I see," 18 said with some sympathy. At least she was trying.
"But that's all history," Gohan said. "We've all moved on. I'm sure my dad is having the time of his life in the Otherworld. Because he died a hero, he gets to keep his body for the rest of his afterlife, so for him, it's like he never even died."
That took 18 by surprise. Drops of tea landed on the table. "He's immortal?"
"Well, not immortal. He could die again, and it would be permanent. Piccolo says not even the dragonballs on Namek would be able to bring him back."
18 was uncharacteristically slow to take that in. She topped up her fancy tea cup, then quietly said, "What happens to those who aren't heroes?"
Gohan downed a bowl of chicken soup in a single guzzle. A soft burp rose up his chest. "I never actually asked. Though I'm pretty sure there's a Hell and a Heaven for spirits."
"Where would I go? Who or what decides that?"
"Oh, there's a big guy named King Yemma at the check-in station. He reads over your life record, but I think you'd go to Heaven. Most of what happened to you wasn't your fault." Gohan grabbed a bowl of lamb noodles and couldn't help but to slurp loudly. Drops of delicious lamb sauce splattered all over the table.
18 recoiled in disgust but in a good way if that were possible. She was smiling at least. "What about you, Gohan? What would King Yemma say if he reads that you held me down and had your way with me while I screamed for you to stop?"
Bits of half-chewed noodle lodged into Gohan's windpipe. He coughed into his napkin. "But you were pretending. You wanted it. You liked it."
Her eyes slightly narrowed.
He asked, "You were pretending, right?"
She took a painfully slow sip of tea. "Does it matter? Either way, you enjoyed it. You should've seen your own face. It was the face of a sick, devious predator. You almost looked at me like how Cell did."
"Come on, I wasn't that bad. You're not even bothered. Hahaha." He tried to laugh it off, but he knew she had a point.
She smirked. "You know, I could blackmail you. For all you know, there's a hidden security camera in my bedroom. What would your friends and family say if I show them what you did to me?"
"What?! Please, don't!" His high pitched voice echoed.
"I should show your mother at least."
"18, please don't tell Mom! She'll have a heart attack! I'm begging you!"
"I could…"
"Please, don't! I'll do anything!"
"But I won't, because I think you're good at heart, Gohan. There's no hidden camera. Relax."
His pulse skipped a beat. "Then why would you say there is?! Don't scare me like that."
18 chuckled. "I couldn't help myself. You're cute when you're flustered."
He grumbled annoyance. His bottom landed back down on his cushioned chair, and he reached for the last plate—a plate of deep-fried crumbed chicken breasts he had been saving for last. He bit into one. It was stuffed with cheese, ham, and chives. Delicious. One by one they went into his bottomless stomach. The food easily made up for her teasing.
He swallowed a cup of her bitter tea and asked, "So were you pretending last night?"
She was suddenly bored. "Next question."
He wasn't giving up so quickly: "Was it a one-off or do you want to pretend again later?"
"Next."
"Do I need to hold you down and force the answer out of you?" This was pushing it a little too much. He broke eye contact for a split second.
She sighed in an amused way. "How about this; after we collect the dragonballs, we can talk about sex as much as we want. Is that fair?"
Her implants were slapped back into the forefront of Gohan's attention. His brow and jaw hardened. "Yeah, that's fair." He stood and helped 18 load dishes onto the service trolley, which she then pushed into the corridor. He said, "Let's go get that dragon radar." It was still the middle of the night at West City. "We'll have to be quiet."
"Obviously."
He followed her up the stairwell to the roof where air conditioning units were humming away. They took off side by side, his golden aura engulfing her body. They flew high above the intercity highway, under darkening clouds and through raindrops that evaporated against his aura. Not far into the countryside, the landscape darkened, the sun dipping back below the eastern horizon. Even to this day, Gohan was not used to flying westward, especially at these speeds; it was like traveling backward in time.
West City at night was a massive light beacon. Beams of light waved about from the commercial district, and the noise could be heard from a dozen blocks away. Capsule Corporation, however, respected the peace of night; the only lights on were ones atop the security fence and occasional lamps. Almost all windows were dark.
The lights in Bulma's lab were on.
18 said, "I'll wait out here." She floated to an oak tree, stood on a branch. Her arms crossed.
He nodded and flew ahead. Security cameras, which he hadn't noticed before, were everywhere. An old security guard at the east entrance noticed Gohan and waved him through, giving a thumbs-up. Gohan returned the gesture but couldn't remember the guy's name.
Inside, Bulma was still working on her healing pod. The thing now bore a striking resemblance to the one Gohan's dad had been in back on Namek. But the floor was flooded. Bulma was in gumboots. She nearly slipped as she noticed him. "Gohan! Why are you here? It's the middle of the—" She looked at the analog clock on the wall. "Morning at your place."
Mother and Goten should be awake by now. Gohan gulped and said, "Hey Bulma. Have you been up all night?"
"I have. I couldn't sleep."
"How come?"
"Oh, you know, Gohan. With this Majin Buu guy looming over Earth, it's like that time we were waiting for the androids to show up all over again, except this time we don't even know when or where. I can't believe Vegeta didn't tell me, his wife."
Mother must've told her, Gohan thought, nodding. "Maybe he cares about your sleep."
"I'm sure he does." Bulma rubbed her tired eyes against the back of her wrist. "So are you here just to say hi? I don't recall another package arriving. Though one might be in transit. Come back lunchtime."
This was a perfect opportunity. Gohan brushed aside his guilt and spun up a perfect lie: "I'd like to borrow your dragon radar. I'm going to collect the balls beforehand this time."
Her eyebrows lifted. "That's a great idea. Why didn't I think of it?"
"Haha. Maybe because you're overworked. You should get some sleep."
Her head shook. "I need to finish this healing chamber. Trunks fractured his ankle again last night in the gravity room."
"Can't Dende heal him?"
"We can't always rely on Dende, Gohan. What if Majin Buu gets to him? Not saying I'd ever want anything bad to happen to Dende. I'm just stressing out, you know?"
"I know. Now that my dad isn't with us, it's up to us now to keep Earth safe when something like this happens."
Bulma exhaled. "Do you think we should go to New Namek and wish Goku back to life?"
Gohan had thought about this many times. "Not unless we have no choice. And there's always a chance that Buu might not be so tough."
"Not so tough." Bulma's lips pressed into a line. "I wouldn't be so sure." Her head shook. "Anyway, the radar is in the bottom drawer under that bench."
He floated over and pulled on the plastic handle. The radar looked different, smaller and squarer. It had multiple buttons under an LCD screen. Gone was the green grid.
Bulma said, "I made a few improvements. It can now pinpoint exact locations globally through our satellite network, but the downside is that it only works on Earth now. It also uses a lot more battery power, so remember to not leave it on all the time. Other than that, you're good to go."
"Wow, thanks, Bulma!" He floated toward the door. "Seeya."
"Seeya," she chirped. "Nice pajamas, by the way. And I think you have Chi-Chi's perfume on you." Bulma's laughter was manic.
He almost lost balance and crashed face-first onto the wet floor.
Then her communicator went off with a merry tune. She immediately plucked it off the bench and answered, "Hello, Bulma speaking. Chi-Chi? Calm down, Gohan's right here, he asked for the dragon radar. What? He sneaked out? That's not like him." Bulma glared knives at Gohan. "Sure, I'll tell him to go home for a family breakfast. I'm surprised a half-Saiyan would go out on an empty stomach. No, I don't think he's up to something; he came in his pajamas. Go easy on him, he's stressing out over Majin Buu. Yes, he's listening. Gohan, your mother wants you to come home. You forgot your communicator. And Goten has a dragon ball in his room."
Gohan sheepishly smiled before hurrying out, flying through two sets of double doors, out the main lobby, over the gate, and toward the line of trees. 18 joined him as he picked up speed. "About time," she said.
"Sorry, Bulma likes to chat, and she got a call from my mom." Gohan thumbed the red button on the radar's side. The screen lit up in high resolution color, beeping twice. A triangle marked his location on a detailed topographical map. He zoomed out as far as possible with three taps. Seven orange stars were scattered around the globe, the nearest somewhat close to the Cell Games arena, the furtherest on an island in the East Ocean. One was in southern East District—home. "Goten apparently has a dragon ball."
As they flew over the city bounds, 18 smirked devilishly, saying, "I'd love to meet your family." She swerved toward the south-east.
Fingers tingling, his grip tightened on the radar. "Why?"
"Isn't it appropriate? You want me to be your girlfriend. This is the proper way to do it."
"What if Bulma finds out?"
"As untrusting she is of me, I don't think she'd kill your love interest. She's going to find out anyway, and you already have the radar."
He scrambled to find more counterarguments. "Do you have to make this so difficult?"
"Did you have to hold me down and have your way—"
"Fine! I'll introduce you to Mom and Goten."
"Good." She was so smug about it too.