hello again! I'm so sprry this took so long. My Dragonball z muse just gave up and died since my last chapter and I just couldn't get anything for Fools Fall in down. I will not be abandoning this fic - whatever happens. As I've had my heart broken by far too many fanfics that just stopped.
So yeah, Maron is on the scene, 18 is grumpy, 17 is 17 and Krillin still has no idea what's happening.

Chapter 13: also entitled 'Get Right'
My knees
they don't go weak
they don't go giddy-up
when you don't call me
And my head
it does not spin
so don't try me, with your sweet nothings

But my heart, it won't obey
it won't do, without you
I doubt my heart, it won't obey
it just wont do, without you - Just won't do by Tim Deluxe feat. Sam Obernik

Majon found herself once again, for the 6th morning in a row, hunched over her toilet heaving her guts out. Pregnancy was not her friend before 11am.

"…I didn't even eat carrots."
She padded through her hall back towards her bedroom, still a little shaky on her feet. Another hour in bed and then she'd finish what she'd started last night. There was a pile of clothes that had been pulled out of her wardrobe and her dresser; ones she'd have to throw away or find another place for. Majon had been making space. She'd already started clearing out the spare room as a nursery, and she'd started thinking about Krillin – and where on earth he would fit into her little house. Her nice little house nestled into one of the slightly quieter corners of the Demon Realm.

Not long to go now, she thought, only a few more weeks and she'd have her pet boyfriend under her roof; helping her paint the nursery, choose baby clothes, holding her hand through the (if her mornings were anything to go by) rough months ahead. They'd be a happy little family in time.

It took most of the day for Krillin, Master Roshi and Oolong to get everyone who didn't like there out of Kame house. And even then it was only when the shape-shifting pig got up and put 'Longest under the Heavens' on the TV without context word or warning that they moved at all. Moved is perhaps an understatement.
Fled. Fled is a better word.
17 mentally logged his favourite reactions to the film and vowed he would get them all printed onto a T-shirt. ("I know I should be horrified by what 4 of me are doing to Goku but I'm honestly impressed with the makeup effects" or his absolute favourite "that is an alarming way of getting Kami out of Piccolo")

There was one person, however, who was proving more difficult to shift. Maron was sat on a deckchair in the sun flicking through a magazine, seemingly oblivious to the two androids looking down at her from the spare bedroom window.
17 looked over to his sister, scrutinising her face. "How're the moodswings? Levelled out yet?"
18 snorted, still quietly watching the blue-haired woman with barely concealed fascination. "Not yet. I'm still up and down."
"…and you think that's because of the lack of inhibitor?"
"What else could it be?" she snapped at him, swinging a leg over the open window sill and sitting down. "I just don't know if the therapy is working."
"I'm enjoying it."
"Of course you are. Tormenting Ché like you do."
He chuckled, leaning on the sill and dipping his head, a black curtain shielding his face from his sister's icy view.
"I think its working sis. I do," he half-shrugged, toying with the orange scarf at his throat, "I can… remember them sometimes, our family. Not their faces… but impressions… sometimes. It's weird. You try too hard and it spills away like water in your fingers. And it makes me… angry… and also, I suppose… kinda sad."
"So that makes you think it's working?"
"Look at it this way – five months ago we were on a crime spree and literally blowing shit (and people) up, two months ago we were both emotional wrecks, raging and weeping over anything and now we're sitting in a house (belonging to people who are nice to us) acknowledging and discussing our feelings that now seem to make a little more sense. I'd say that was progress, wouldn't you?"
His twin narrowed her eyes at him, as if trying to catch him lying. She said nothing.

Krillin slumped down on the deckchair next to Maron. She turned to him and pulled down her sunglasses, bright blue eyes full of mischief and a grin spread across her face.
"18 is super cute."
"I know…wait. What?"
"Is she your new girlfriend?" Maron threw the magazine over her shoulder and gave him her full attention, "I heard someone mention a girl called Majon last night. Is that her? Is 18 just her nickname or something? Is-"
"What? God, no. No! She's not Majon. Majon is a completely different woman." Krillin sputtered.
"So she is your girlfriend?"
"Um, no. She's just…um."
"I was just wondering since I came home with you and she stayed somewhere else last night. I'm totally okay with that sort of thing by the way."
Krillin put his head in his hands, he'd momentarily forgotten about last night, what must Maron being here look like to 18?
What did it matter – she had stayed somewhere else last night.
She had stayed somewhere else last night. His heart dropped into his stomach and felt as if it were being digested in there. She's a grown woman, she can do whatever she wants.
Maron continued, oblivious, "So who's Majon then? Is she your girlfriend?"
"Sort of," he replied, "through no choice of my own."

She did not giggle when he told her his story (the baby-bits completely deleted). Nor did she laugh, but tipped her head to the side and blinked a little and then squealed, clapping her hands and hugging him.
"Oh Krilly! You two can get married! It's so romantic – two people finding each other like that!"
"Are you insane – it isn't romantic its messed up! She didn't find me, she won me!"
"I've read romance novels like this, except that you're be the princess, and she's the hunky barbarian warlord."

He pushed her off him, missing the sun glint off something yellow in the window above them. "I don't want to be the princess! Or the poor lord's daughter, or slave girl or any incarnation of those ridiculous harlequin romances where I'm thrown over someone's shoulder and claimed as a prize! I want a... a... I dont know...a good movie romance, one that hasn't been added to give the hero a prize or the obligatory girl character something to do apart from stand there. I want a well-written novel or hell, even a fanfiction relationship, Maron!" she furrowed her brow and let out a little gasp, cocking her head to the side in puzzlement, "Like the X-files? and Pride and Prejudice? And Mpreg?"
"Yes like -NO NOT LIKE MPREG MARON."
He flailed for a second, searching for the words, running his fingers through the ever growing buzzcut.
"But... but... it's hard to explain without sounding like some ridiculous white guy from an American sitcom..."
She held up her chin with her hand, an indulgent look on pretty features, "Nah, Krilly, it's okay to want something. That's why we make wishes on stars."
Krillin blinked owlishly, before letting out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sigh.
"I want the slow build of two people getting to know each other over time and figuring each other out and what they love and hate, ya know? I want kisses in the rain and anguished declarations of love in public places... and dumb little arguments over our favourite TV shows and quiet moments where you dont have to fill it with words... I want our world and relationship to take on 100 different forms and faces and universes every day and I want…I…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say to Maron, who was looking at him with pity in her eyes.
"I think I get it, Krilly. What you want that is." She looked up towards the window above them – the one belonging to the spare room and there was a flash of gold as someone moved away from the window.

He let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding in. "Care to share it with the class?"
Maron just smiled.

By the next day, the hangover had abated, Maron had wandered off and a particular android and a particular ex-monk were starting to break through the barrier of awkward coldness that the previous night had put between them. Neither party were really aware of why the other was being somewhat standoffish, but after 17 had gathered them both around and shown them a video on his phone of them all drunk, singing to the camera; laughter had thawed the thin ice.

"Excellent song choice I feel."
"Definitely. You can learn all you need to know about a person by their response to the phrase 'it's getting hot in here'. Proven by science."

Blue eyes stopped watching the screen about halfway through and instead drunk in the growing grin and summer-warm laughter of the fool beside her. Krillin's dark eyes crinkled at the corners when he was happy, she noticed. His shoulders shook and he turned pink in his joy, she saw. She vaguely realised that she was consuming these details without any sense of purpose. She was neither documenting nor updating files. No red letters appearing in the periphery of her vision. But if she was asked to describe him at this moment, this stupid insignificant moment, it scared her to think that she could – perfectly.

When the video ended, Krillin noticed 18 was still looking at the space where 17's phone had been a moment before. Unfocused. Processing something.
Files maybe.
Maybe she was storing this for later, making a note of alcohol levels needed to render them all helpless. It was an odd, unfair creeping thought that had popped up from the back of his head that he quickly shook away. He hated it when he reminded himself that she was not all human.
Machine.

Oh yeah.

"When are you two next at Capsule Corp?" he asked with an excited squeak. 17 raised a lazy eyebrow.
"By a strange twist of fate– this afternoon. I must oh I must decide on what I'm wearing. Red scarf with black shirt or blood orange scarf with black shirt? What a conundrum." Yawned 17, levitating and floating away, apparently done with the conversation.
Krillin let out a little huff at the odd cyborg before turning to 18 and grinning inanely again.
"Stop smiling so hard you ridiculous little man."
He had the decency to look hurt for a moment, and then quickly got over it.
"When you've both finished your therapy sessions – go to the Gardens, like, in the Bio-dome. Just, just trust me on this. Go to the gardens and find the central control station. There's something there that I think you and 17 will like."
There was something so mischievous in his smile, and incredibly earnest, that 18 just nodded.
"Something in a garden that will interest us?"
"I guarantee it."

Bulma had offered 18 a coffee whilst she waited for her session. 17 always went way over time, but as she remembered how he seemed to be benefitting from the therapy; so she couldn't complain. As she sat at the odd woman's kitchen table, she wondered if she could go first next time.
Bulma was fiddling about with a remote control for something (a device that always made 18 feel slightly uncomfortable), and wittering away.
"He is handsome though, isn't he?"
18 blinked owlishly. "Who, sorry?" He's kinda cute, if you li-
"Che, just a beautiful beautiful man. Not that that's the reason I hired him or anything-" oh, thought 18, oh Che? Okay.
Bulma continued, "I like his nose. Big. Streamlined. Like a shark. He's a handsome shark."

How's the therapy going anyway? Bulma had asked.
Alright ,the android explained. She'd done a lot of baking. He'd recommended exercise to release endorphins but shut up when she floated up to the ceiling. He'd even discussed writing letters to the important people in her life as an outpouring. She didn't even have to give them the letters, just write them. 18 had tried but ended up with a shopping list, a short story about a Pangolin called Clive and a dirty limerick (which she was particularly proud of).

Bulma proved attentive most of the time, but kept tinkering with the machine in her hand, only vaguely explaining what it was – something that would allow for manual override to the fire safety features in Capsule Corp vessels and training facilities. So it was a remote. 18 wasn't a fan of remotes. They brought uncomfortable and tumultuous flashes of emotion to the bottom of her stomach. She wondered for a second if it was fear, but then heard a wavering and familiar voice in the back of her head "I came here to kill you… please just go." 18 swallowed hard.
18 must have looked confused because the blue-haired scientist simply wiggled the device and giggled, "I can turn on the sprinklers in the anti-gravity room if he annoys me. Mine is a cruel laugh. Bah ha haa."

Red writing flashed behind her eyes. Bulma Briefs. Non-combatant. Technologically advanced –serious threat. Previous partner, Sha Yamcha. Current partner and father of son, Vegeta (family name unknown).
Ah yes. Vegeta. A delightful gentleman. She'd managed to forget about him mostly. Probably because the writer couldn't figure out how to shoehorn a cameo. The blonde allowed herself a smirk as she remembered what she did to his arm.

"Are you smirking at what I think you're smirking at?" Bulma had stopped giggling at her own joke and was sporting the most horrifying grin. "It's okay, he's not everyone's favourite person."
"I…don't think your husband is my biggest fan either."

Bulma pulled a grimace and twiddled with the remote some more, her grimace slowly turning into a horrific grin as she turned her face towards the cyborg and whispered (somewhat creepily) "I know who your biggest fan is..."
18 flinched, but was saved from replying by an annoyed looking man standing in the doorway holding a baby.
"Why is the Toaster here?"

The scientist threw up her hands in frustration and rolled her eyes, "Speak of the devil and he shall appear. What do you want?"
He ignored her and went straight for the fridge. 18 watched him go by and wondered vaguely what the baby's face was covered in, hoping it was jam. She was willing to put money on the theory that Vegeta's idea of bonding with his son was making him eat the raw heart of his first kill. God, she hoped that was jam.

He picked up a couple of slices of bread and looked at them for a moment and then glanced over at 18. Bulma could almost see the wheels in his head turning. "Don't you dare."
He grunted and shoved them into his mouth with a shrug. She let out a long suffering sigh, then turned back to 18, pointedly ignoring him.

"Where was I?"
"You asked me how the therapy was going." 18 blurted, good save.
There was derisive snort behind them.
"Do you think you'll get any of your pre-cyborg memories back?" Still ignoring Vegeta.
"No… no… those are gone for the most part." She replied quietly.
The fridge door shut with a slam and a louder snort, and it was 18 who turned towards him with narrowed eyes. "What", her tone as icy as her eyes.

The saiyan grinned back at her in an ugly way, "Heartbreaking, I'm sure. Oh poor you, having to deal with such a tragic background. I'm sure talking it out over a hot beverage and singing about your inner pain will solve everything."
Bulma pulled a disbelieving face and shot him a look "because the way you deal with your emotional constipation is completely healthy?"
There was a loaded silence. "The things you weaklings do to try and make yourselves feel better about your pathetic existences are of no interest to me, " pointed a bottle of milk in their general direction, "I deal with things however I chose."
"AND WHAT A WELL-ADJUSTED PERSON YOU ARE." His wife in turn pointing a screwdriver at him.

"Woman you can make no comments on anyones mental health when I watched you laugh for half an hour yesterday because you'd shaved a lightning bolt into your leg hair."

Neither had noticed 18 had disappeared, heading swiftly for Che's office, praying her brother was done.

It was like a scene out of a Disney film, really. Sunlight pouring in through the glass roof into the verdant gardens of Capsule Corp biodome; a picture of serenity and natural beauty – but yet it was so obviously man-made. The irony was not lost on 18.
She could not hear the drilling or random explosions that so often could be heard on the grounds, and she could see why Che had suggested she take a walk there to ponder his question. It was peaceful – the sounds of running water and birdsong floating in the tropical air around her. Soft grass was lost beneath her feet as she meandered aimlessly through the trees, into the shade that dappled the sunlight on rock and steam banks. Watching a dragonfly swoop past her head, her attention was attracted by a large gathering of songbirds further on into the compound. They seemed to be flocking around a certain spot, and she figured that was where they were probably fed, until she noticed a small flashing red light amongst them.

Curiouser and curiouser, she thought to herself, well aware that curiosity was a feeling she was not much accustomed to yet and it worried her more than a little bit.
The cyborg hopped over the stream in front of her and decided to have a look. Birds always reminded her of… well… they made her smile.

"Why are we in here again? All this nature's making me itchy."
17 meandered alongside his twin. Their therapy sessions for the day had finished, and they had left their therapist tired and in disarray; clutching his clipboard and notes to his chest and curling up on the sofa contemplating his career choices.
"Krillin told us to check it out."
"Oh well if Krillin told us then we simply must. Wow. Trees. Grass. Disturbingly large bugs. He truly has a keen insight into our interests and hobbies. "
"Shut up 17. All he said was that there was something here that'd interest us."
"You do realise that it's just gonna be him, don't you? Sprawled. Naked on a rock. Waiting. For youuuu, "he hissed.
18 had, over the years, learnt to mostly tune out a large portion of what her brother was saying to her. Some things were harder block out.
"You do realise that's the third time you've said the word 'sprawled' today." She muttered with a blush.
"I'm expanding my vocabulary. Desist your vile grousing, impertinent wench."
"Look, all he said was to lo- huh?" Something caught her eye.
The woman floated over to where she had spotted a small flash of metal in sunlight. Over to where a number of tiny chirping birds where hopping about.
"What's this precious?" She hovered nearly vertical above something on a small stand. It looked like a security camera set above a LCD screen. The camera moved and pivoted on its mission to stare directly back into 18's face. The little red light on the screen started blinking rapidly. 18 moved her head to the side, rather like a cat, and the motorised arm moving the camera head copied her.
"Hey 17!" She called him over, "come look at this…thingy."
A familiar voice floated up from speakers.
"Hello 18."
18 lowered herself slowly to the ground beside the mechanical arm of the camera. 17 was stood beside her now, noting the sudden paleness of her face.
"I have missed you both." Came the calm and now infinitely more digitised voice of Android 16.

18 heard a weightless laugh to her left, and almost didn't recognise it as 17's. Because she could hear the sheer joy in his voice. Her brother sounded human for an instant, and when she looked at him she saw a little boy with floppy black hair and a plastic sheriff badge pinned to his shirt.
A tiny sparrow landed on top of the camera, which zoomed in and out with a little whirr of gears.
"There are a large number of birds here. This is Cecil. Say hello Cecil."
18 let out a strangled laugh, almost a sob, of delight when the tiny thing chirped at her then flew away. She almost understood why old cartoons and films would end with the characters all laughing together, hands on hips and heads thrown back. She and her brother were almost there, laughing like loons at a contented little android camera before them. What an odd little of family they made, now reunited, sitting amongst birds and sunlight – strangely and undoubtedly awestruck and alive.

Ché had smiled at her, at their therapy session, warm and affectionate. Running a pen down the notes he always kept on his clipboard, wiggling a little on his chair.
"I think you're making steady progress here Eighteen. Obviously…. Obviously a lot of the deeper issues will take time to heal. Your memories….for example. And your flashbacks to the lab. Those need more time, we can make more advancement with those, I'm positive."
The psychiatrist had tapped a certain point on his notes and then pulled his glasses down the bridge of his nose, forest green eyes fixing on her blue ones. "Eighteen, when was the last time you had a bad moodswing?"
"Yesterday." She had replied. It wasn't a lie, she'd spent the day going from from angry to sad in a matter of seconds, with a few other stupid feelings mixed in for good measure.
Ché crinkled his nose at her answer, "From my notes over the weeks, your mood fluctuations are getting weaker and less frequent…. Could your moodswing have been brought on by anything else? Any… external factors…bothering you?"
18 had found she couldn't meet those eyes again, her heart thudding suddenly within her chest.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that the lack of inhibitor may no longer be the cause of any emotional irregularities," he reached out and held her hand, "something else is affecting you, Eighteen, think about it."

Sitting now on warm grass, listening to her brother chat away to 16, 18 was more confident than ever about how she felt.
Almost human.

Hope you liked this chapter. I promised Vegeta, so there he is - its very hard to write him without turning him into the TeamFourStar version. Speaking of which - their androids make me very happy. Especially 17.

So as always, any comments, reviews, constructive criticism and feedback is greatly appreciated. I'm also on AO3 and Tumblr as Gremlinloquacious.

Hmmm, looks like the protagonists are getting closer - I wonder what the rules of Rom-com's says on what must happen next?
Mine is a cruel laugh.