Beginning with an End
Part 7
Bulma rushed to
Nahmi's side, bending over her with motherly tenderness. She gently brushed the amethyst hair away
from Nahmi's brow, and carefully mopped away the blood that oozed continuously
from it with the pink cloth. A look of
pain twisted Nahmi's pale face as she stirred, and her eyes opened slightly.
"Nahmi!" Gohan
cried with a mixture of relief and concern, as he scrubbed the glistening tears
from his eyes.
"Gohan?" she murmured in reply, turning her
head towards him. It was not
recognition, but confusion, that Gohan glimpsed, as he gazed deep within the
pools of her sapphire eyes. Not only
confusion, but also something so strange that he had never felt it before. Whatever it was, his insides turned cold at
the mere thought of it. Like contempt,
but much deeper. Was it…could it
be…hatred? He brushed the thought aside
- not hatred, not from Nahmi. However,
as hard as he tried to deny it, the feeling that the look in her eyes gave him
shook him to the core. It wasn't that
it was directed at him; it wasn't – it was that it was there.
She had said
the boy's name, yes, but it was by an automatic reaction, rather than by
knowledge. Who was he? Why did she feel as though he was the only
trustworthy person on the whole of Earth? Person…she mused over the
word, she may have been injured, but she could still tell that he was not an
ordinary person. Most people did not deserve the title of person. Human. Human was all she could
call them. They were nothing more. However, they still called themselves people, and this boy, she could
feel it in her heart, did not deserve to be associated with humans. Not even by title. He was no person, as
humans called them - rather…Saiyan. People
could not be trusted; they did not deserve trust. But Gohan was a Saiyan, like
herself. The humans would soon get what
they deserved. If only she weren't so
weak.
"Shh Nahmi," Bulma smiled reassuringly, and
turned the girl's head towards her, lifting it slightly and rewrapping it skilfully
with the pink cloth. She wasn't quite
sure whom she had been trying to reassure, the children, or herself. "Don't try to talk just now, okay? You need rest," she cooed soothingly. Trying to hide the fact that she was doing
it, Bulma felt the young girl's temperature, rubbing her cheek
kind-heartedly. It was worse than she
expected, she had a terrible fever; scorching to the touch. With a head wound such as this, any normal
man could have easily been killed, and though Nahmi was conscious, her fever
was high enough to…well, Bulma didn't want to think that way just now. At least she was conscious.
Nahmi turned to
Gohan once more, with a small groan. Her head ached and she was shivering, barely grasping onto the
consciousness that she had somehow managed to gain. She didn't know what was going on around her, or who was around
her, but she knew only one was worthy of her trust. Humans had done this to her. They had taken her only link to her past, to her family. Humans. Her memory was returning. All
she had had were feelings; feelings that she didn't understand. But now she remembered. It had all been for silver. All for a precious metal that could gain the
humans wealth. This was as far as her
memory extended. Humans. Hatred. She could feel and remember nothing else, nothing but the pain they had
caused her. As far as she could
remember, they were the most foul, cruel and selfish beings she had ever
encountered. More memories arose,
memories from long ago. They were
feeble snatches of faraway images. Images of destruction; devastation; fire. In a sudden rush, one memory became clear, as clear as if it were
happening around her. Furious flames
licked the canopy, charring the trunks of the trees until the intensity of the
heat boiled the very sap, splitting them open like lightning. And she wasn't finished yet. On she flew, burning the forests as she
went, until she reached a small village, covered in the icy snows of
winter. This village would be the
first, she remembered thinking, as she gathered her energy, preparing to send a
blast at the snow-capped mountain above it. Laughing; laughter was all she could remember. This time she had escaped. She had finally escaped from her captor and her prison, her home since
she had been very young. The energy
throbbed in her ears. Laughter. She took aim. She was going to bury the town. It would literally be covered in snow. Laughter. She was young; she
didn't know how young, but the memory was from when she was young. She didn't know why she was trying to
destroy the village…wait…she did…she had known all along. Everything had suddenly become clear. Her Mission. Her Mission to conquer Earth. It was ground into her as deeply as instinct. Conquer the Earth. Suddenly, she felt something collide with her head…and the vision
flickered, and vanished. The pain in
her head throbbed ever the more intensely. She had been knocked unconscious in her memory. That had stopped her from conquering the
Earth then, but it would not stop her now. The first to go would be those who had taken her ship…for some reason,
that ship was special to her…She remembered. It held the co-ordinates for her home planet. It was up to her to find her way back…that would be easy
enough. She was angry, furious: furious
at the humans for taking her ship. Her
thoughts swirled, memories appeared and faded, emotions whipped through her
like a hurricane in her mind. New
memories erased the old. What she had
remembered moments before was forgotten. It was almost as if she had undergone a transformation. Only one thought was clear, and she held
onto it for all she was worth. It had
been the center of her being for as long as she could remember, and that was
all she needed to know. She needed not
to remember anything more – it took too much strength. Conquer the Earth. Her one thought and goal. But something else nagged at the back of her mind. She couldn't
understand why co-ordinates were of such importance to her, but thought of the
ship brought on a surge of emotions. Hatred. First, before she could
do anything else, she had to find her ship. And destroy those who had taken it from her.
Nahmi suddenly
lurched forwards. Gohan grabbed her,
steadying her with his strong grip. The
look in her eyes remained, and if he was not mistaken, had grown stronger.
A fellow Saiyan, she pondered, he should not be here, but surely, if he is, it is to assist with the
Mission. But the Mission can wait, for now…he will help me find the ship, or
die denying my power. She was
panting with the fever, and could feel her strength decreasing. "The….the
humans," she stammered weakly, but fiercely, "they t-took the sh-ship…" Her
voice grew stronger, but it was forced, with great effort evident. "You m-must help m-me…I h-have to g-get it
…back…" Gohan nodded assent, and with that comforting image, if anything on
this god forsaken planet could be considered comforting, her voice faded with
her final word and she fell limply into the Saiyan's arms. He looked at Bulma, eyes filled with fear.
"Will she be
alright?" he whispered, his eyes begging Bulma to say yes. Something bothered him, tugging on his
attention as a child pulls at someone's sleeve; somehow, her voice had
sounded…different. Different in a way
that suited her eyes. He could feel
heat radiating from her. She had a
fever. Perhaps it was only the fever
talking.
"Of course,"
Bulma replied softly, "she'll be just fine." She gazed at the ground, only wishing she could be as sure as she
sounded. She glanced at Gohan, a look
of confidence blazed in his eyes. She
couldn't live with herself if she let him down. She'll be just fine,
she repeated in her mind, over and over until she felt herself believing it… just fine. It was resolve, not confidence, that wrought itself on Bulma's
face, and she turned to Gohan, rising to her feet. He moved to stand, careful not to stir Nahmi, and carried her
gently in his strong arms. Bulma
flashed him a smile of determination. "Take her up to my bed so we can get that wound fixed, okay?" Not to
mention the fever, she added dolefully to herself. Gohan nodded in reply, and weaved carefully
through the opening of the door. Bulma
followed, closing the door behind her. She didn't want the attacker, or attackers, to have easy access if they
returned. She fiddled with the locks.
"I'll just fetch the first aid kit, okay Gohan, and she'll be fine in no time,"
she called after him.
…Just fine…
******
The golden
gate, shrouded in a veil of sunburst colored mist, towered above his jagged
black head. Goku gaped in awe, his gaze
cast upward, toward where the top of the arched door should have been. It was covered in the brightly colored
nimbus clouds; it's true height left to the imagination.
"Wow King Kai!"
– the little blue bug-like man collapsed behind him, puffing as though he had
run halfway around the Earth – "Gosh," Goku went on, ignorant of the sprawling
heap on the ground behind him, "this is huge! Hey King Kai?" He turned to his
companion, and grinned widely, "Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to set such a fast pace. I'll let you catch your breath."
"That's…okay…Goku,"
King Kai managed between ragged gasps for air, "just give me…a minute…and I'll
be…fine." The stubby figure pushed
himself to his feet, placing his hands behind his head for easier breath.
"I was just
gonna ask," Goku continued, and gazed upwards, "how do you get in?"
King Kai
toppled over once more, along with Bubbles and Gregory. He jumped to his feet; disbelief painted
itself across his face and rang in his voice. "You mean you don't know!" Goku
shook his head in reply to the unspoken question. King Kai gave an exaggerated sigh, shoulders slumping, and blew
his antennae from in front of his face. The pause lasted only a second, before King Kai released a yell that
shook the doors themselves. "You Ring The Door Bell! You Know…That Thing Hanging Right Beside Your
Hand!" He glared at him incredulously,
light flashing across his glasses.
"Gee King Kai," Goku grinned, and waved his
hands in front of him, "I was only joking. You didn't believe I was really that dumb did you?" His grin faded, and he cringed at King Kai's
retaliation.
"Joking! Joking? At a time like this Goku, I swear you are the only one in the universe
who could be cracking jokes! You – are – un-be-LIEVE-a-ble!" King Kai shouted, and
harrumphed loudly, "for once in your LIFE
– BE SERIOUS! Unless you never – want – to – live –
again! Do I have to spell it out for
you?"
Goku stared at
him blankly, and his face broke into a grin. "Gosh King Kai, calm down, I know just how serious this is. I just don't see the point in being bummed
out about it, that's all. I mean, we
only died."
Sparks of
frustration frazzled around King Kai's head. He heaved a sigh and his shoulders slumped. Only died? Only Goku could take something like dying so
casually. "Just ring the bell so we
can get this over and done with. I
don't know how long I can bear…" his
happy-go-lucky attitude, that's what I can't bear – boy it'd be nice to have a
view of li…ah - death like that, "…oh, don't worry, just ring the
bell." He waved his arm dejectedly at
Goku, who in turn, grinned and rang the bell as if he were visiting his
grandmother.
******
"Gohan! You are going NOW!"
"No – I'm –
Not!" Gohan planted his feet firmly and
folded his arms.
"Yes – you – are!" Bulma planted her feet even more firmly, if possible, and flung a
pointed finger wrathfully towards the open window of her bedroom. This method
of arguing may have been to some avail when used on Vegeta, but it would have
no affect on a distress stricken Gohan. She sighed, letting her arm drop. If Gohan thought he had won the argument with Bulma, it was a fleeting
thought indeed. "Gohan," she pleaded,
far from desperately, almost informatively, as though he weren't seeing what
was plain and clear, "can't you see? You can't help anymore than you already have. If you stay here, you're only getting yourself into trouble. What will Vegeta do if he finds that you've
been out causing trouble all night? And
you know that Trunks and the others won't leave without you. There's no need to worry about Nahmi – she's
with me remember?" She gave him a wink
and flashed the victory sign.
Gohan let out a
long breath, and his expression and stance softened. "You're right Bulma," he grimaced ruefully, as though going
against his better judgement, "if I hurry, I suppose I'll get back before
Vegeta wakes up…" He gave Nahmi a sideways glance, and took off out the window
without another word.
Bulma smiled at
Gohan's determination, and reluctance to give in…such a sweet kid. Goku, she
looked at the ceiling, and the smile that she had struggled to keep all night
finally gave way to tears, how could you
leave him behind? She wiped her face as she shut the window, and a smile
touched her eyes…but I know you'll be
back…with a son like that, I know you'll change your mind. But Goku, can't you see? As brave as he's acting, Gohan needs you! Godammit Goku! You have to come back, you just have to!
Nahmi rolled
over in the bed, and Bulma was by her side in two strides, wetting her forehead
with a damp wash cloth. She took a seat
by the bed and bent over the girl, studiously tending her wound. Already, the swelling was receding, and her
temperature had dropped slightly. However, not a word had she uttered since she had lost consciousness;
this indeed had been her very first movement. That surely was a good sign. Soon she would gain enough consciousness to notice the pain of her fever
without awakening. She would begin
murmuring and tossing in her sleep…Bulma knew the routine all too well. With a baby son, it was a little hard not
to. Undoubtedly, her murmuring would be
the outward signs of fever-dreams, nightmares, but as bad as they were, it
would be a sure sign of recovery. She
sighed and leaned back in the desk-chair. At least, being a Saiyan, Nahmi wouldn't have to suffer for long; that
was something in which to gain comfort. Nahmi tossed again, the washcloth falling from her head. Bulma wrung it out in a bowl of water on the
bedside table and repositioned it on Nahmi's forehead. She would have to rub healing herbs into the
wound once every half-hour if she wanted it to heal quickly. It would be a long day, possibly longer, but
it would certainly be worth it. Only
now, as Bulma sat it the darkness of her bedroom, did she begin to allow
herself to contemplate a terrible thought – a little girl was beat unconscious
in her own front yard. What was the
world coming to? She found herself
shivering at the question, unable to stop herself from imagining the answer.
******
Gohan flew on,
towards the lodge. Now, even he could
perceive the visible dimming of the stars. He put a sudden burst of energy into his speed. Vegeta was always up with first light, if
not earlier. He quickly worked on an
alibi to use if Vegeta caught him. If
he forced himself to believe it, then maybe Vegeta wouldn't see through the
lie. He doubted that greatly, but tried
to convince himself none the less, as he followed the direction in which he
could sense a great many powerful ki's. Sensing ki's was much easier than following the guidance of stars. He glanced upwards wearily, doubtful of
whether he would ever understand how Nahmi could possibly judge direction by
the stars. Nahmi. Who would have done such a thing to
her? And if there was one thing he
didn't doubt, it was that she would do anything to get the only link to her
past back. The gleam in her eyes and
the tone of her voice played on his memory. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he couldn't help but
think that something was not quite right. However, he had not known her for long, and if Indigo could believe that
Nahmi had simply left to train, then perhaps it was just a side to her
personality that had not yet been revealed. Something, somewhere within the depths of his mind, told him to doubt
that thought too. He was still
incredulous to the fact that Nahmi was confident that Indigo would believe her
simple note; but then again, he only had his mother's reactions to compare
with. If he ever left a note like
that…it was no wonder he was skeptical as to whether it would be enough of an
explanation.
Suddenly, the
Lodge came into view, peeking from where it was hidden among the evergreens on
the mountainside overlooking a vast valley of forest, small boulders jutting
from random positions at the bottom, indicating the vague, winding path of a
brook. Even here, a thin layer of snow
blanketed the land, so thin that it would have melted by mid-morning. He reflected on Nahmi's real home and
laughed; this truly was a summer retreat.
Gohan
concentrated like he hadn't since his mother had last mounted a twelve-high
stack of books on his desk; he couldn't wake Vegeta with the sense his ki, not
when he was so close. He glided carefully
down towards his window, sweating with the stress of suppressing his ki. A final glance at the sky told him that he
should be safe from Vegeta's wrath, and he slipped through his window with
ease. In the darkness of his room, with
the mountain breeze blowing through his open window, he felt beads of
perspiration freeze like icicles on his skin and shivered, wiping them away
with relief. He seemed to be safe.
"Cold?" a voice
hissed from the deeper darkness of his bed. Gohan wheeled around in the direction of the voice in time to notice
something large hurtling towards him. He strangled a surprised yelp and snatched at the flapping object. A jacket. A purple jacket... with the Capsule Corps symbol marked clearly on the
sleeve.
"Trunks?" Gohan questioned warily. He had been sure the voice was Vegeta's.
Soft laughter
radiated from the bed, and a figure stood, moving out of the shadow. Gohan heaved a sigh of relief; Vegeta
wouldn't laugh, not like that, and with the flash of lavender hair and the
teenage voice, it could be none other than Trunks.
"Scared ya," he
mock-sneered, "put on the jacket before you freeze to death. Well go on, what are you waiting for?" Gohan slipped the jacket on, over his skin
writhing with chills. It didn't take long
for the warmth to permeate throughout his body. "Who did you think I was?" Trunks questioned wryly, "I don't
usually get reactions like that,
unless I've been mistaken for someone."
"Vegeta," Gohan
confessed, flopping down onto the bed. He wasn't too worried about the noise he caused now; he was distanced
from Vegeta's room by Krillin's and Yamcha's, and with Yamcha's snores to
contend with, he wasn't too worried about waking him. Besides, he was due to awaken any minute now.
"Father,"
Trunks nodded in satisfaction, "that's who I meant to sound like." He gave Gohan a mischievous glance from
under and expectantly raised eyebrow.
On cue, Gohan
sat up. "No fair," he protested, and
Trunks just snickered, "You meant to scare me! Gees Trunks, after all the trouble I went to
- and then you getting me thinking I'd been caught -…"
"- What were
you doing that you didn't want to be caught doing?" he interrupted swiftly,
"Not something with…" he fluttered his eyelashes, "Nahmi?"
"Actually,
yeah…wait - N…" Gohan glared at Trunks, outraged, "No!" he snapped sternly,
"What are you trying to get at Trunks?" Accusation blazed in his eyes. "How could you even think that?" He folded his arms defiantly.
"Hmm," Trunks grinned, "just a joke. I thought you would have been happy for
something to take the attention off what you really did." He cocked an eyebrow questioningly and
repeated the question; "what were you doing that you didn't want to be caught
doing?"
"…" Gohan choked back his answer and narrowed
his eyes accusingly. "You…tricked me." He nodded his head in understanding, and Trunk's eyes glinted
with cheek. "You knew how I'd react to
what you said. Pretending to be Vegeta
got me talking about getting caught, and then your little 'joke' got Nahmi into
it. You take after Bulma way too much!"
Trunks laughed. "Better than taking after…"
"No, him too," Gohan interjected angrily, "both
of them, way too much. I'd taken the
'anti Vegeta' precautions, but not 'anti Bulma' ones." He had taken Trunks' joke a little too
seriously. "And by the way," he
finished in a defensive growl, "that joke
was not funny."
Trunks simply laughed again, and took a seat on
the bed. "So," he said perkily,
ignoring the face Gohan pulled at him. This was the Gohan he had always known, and boy was it great to have him
back, even if only for a while. Gohan
laughed too; he couldn't stay angry at Trunks; after all, it was only a joke. "What were
you doing?"
Gohan sighed, and fell backwards into the
bed-sheets, and Trunks suddenly sensed that it was no joking matter. He drew in a deep breath. "Long story short, Nahmi, with my help, took
the space ship that she had traveled to Earth in, to Bulma, so that she could
decipher a message that was from the people who sent her to Earth. But when I went to wake Bulma up, someone
knocked Nahmi unconscious and they stole her ship. I think it was made of silver. Bulma's looking after her now, but I had to get back here before you
guys woke up because no one knew that I left, but Nahmi left a note…she says
Indigo will believe it and there's nothing to worry about. But, of course, there is now, because Indigo
told her never to leave the mountains, but she did, and now she's not going to
be coming back when Indigo expects her." He finished with a glum look at Trunks as if to say 'I'm in deep, aren't
I?'
"Gosh, knocked unconscious?" Trunks ran his
fingers through his hair in amazed frustration. A terrible thought suddenly struck him. A sense of urgency rang in his voice. "Right Gohan, we don't tell anybody, and we get outa here as fast
as we can without raising suspicion. Damn!" he banged his fist on the bed; "I'd go now, but father, if he
isn't awake yet, he will be damn soon. God Gohan, why did you have to go and do something so stupid?" No mischief flickered in his eye, and his
brow was furrowed. He turned to Gohan
suddenly, "Tell me, did you notice anything…strange…about her before you left?"
Did he dare tell him about that look that had
surfaced in her once kind eyes? He shook
his head. What was Trunks so worried
about?
"Good," he sighed with relief and ran his
fingers through his hair again, "I'm not so worried now."
Worried about what? Gohan bit his lip…he knew it could make him look like a fool…but
if Trunks really was so worried – "Wait," he shuffled uncomfortably in his seat
"there was this one
thing." Trunks tensed, and nodded him
on intently. "Well," he rubbed the nape
of his neck, "there was this…" his eyes darted towards Trunks and back down to
his wriggling foot, "…look," he continued nervously, "in her eyes." Trunks just nodded, his forehead rested on
his peaked hands. He looked up.
"Do you remember what Indigo said…about Nahmi's
past?" Gohan nodded, but he still
didn't understand what Trunks was getting at. "About how if she saw what humans were really like, she might become
overwhelmed and turn back into what she used to be?" Gohan gasped, horrible realization struck him like lightning, but
he suddenly shook his head vigorously.
"She… she would have seen what humans were
really like when we flew over the city – you can't see a city without seeing
how bad it is for the Earth – and she was fine then." Don't deny it Gohan, you knew
that look, you just didn't recognize it in Nahmi's eyes. But yes, you've seen it before. Remember Frieza when he killed Krillin
mercilessly; remember Cell when he was trying to crush you in his arms…that
look wasn't Hatred…not hatred alone, at least – that was Evil.
Trunks continued, not noticing the haggard
expression of cruel and torturous understanding twisted on Gohan's face. "If the city wasn't enough, then the being
knocked unconscious with the only link to your past taken forever sure as hell
would have been. But there's still a
chance that's she's okay."
"No there's not," Gohan shook his head
bitterly; regretfully, "it's happened, she's turned evil."
by Lolli
