"Hey, 18." Krillin gently nudged his wife with his foot. The setting sun cast a deep orange glow over everything, making her pale white skin appear apricot colored. Android 18 stirred, sitting up and brushing the sand off of her arm. She'd sought refuge outside near the water for a nap, leaving her husband to watch their daughter.
"What?" she asked in her usual sarcastic tone. Used to her icy 'public' attitude, as he called it, Krillin only grinned, and extended a hand to help her up. 18 ignored his offer and stood by herself. It was important to the android to be independent.
"Where is Marron?" The short ex-Z warrior asked. His hair was starting to grow back in. He'd stopped shaving it now that he didn't fight any more. She found it funny the way his hair stood up the way it did, too short to lay flat like it should. Android 18 did not bother to look around, only searched for Roshi's energy. It wasn't like there were many on their island. Finding it, she gestured in his direction.
Krillin nodded, and with another one of his goofy grins, turned away towards his kyuushi. Marron squealed and babbled excitedly when she say her daddy, waving her arms. The turtle jerked awake, looking around to see what the fuss was. Seeing Krillin, he lifted a fin but did not move. The short man saluted. Scooping up his little girl, Krillin lifted her high above his head, spinning around in a circle.
'Goku would love her,' he thought suddenly. His face rose up in Krillin's mind, laughing and carefree. His eyes and arms lowered as he thought of his friend since childhood, gone now. Holding Marron close, he lay down on the hammock and watched the clouds pass over head, remember all the good times.
"Damnit!" 17 cried, and slammed a hand down on the table, not noticing when it cracked and groaned. After being unable to find Goku's energy anywhere, the cyborg had searched everything he could on the battle after his death. And it wasn't hard; everyone seemed ready to boast about Hercule. He could find nothing more, though, after a certain point. After seeing the man they called Hercule yell and boast on the television, 17 was convinced that the man had had nothing to do with Cell's ultimate defeat. What he had discovered was that Goku had perished in the battle. This was an inconvenience, though the man's death meant little to the cyborg.
Breathing deeply to calm his anger, 17 searched his data on Goku. Even with him gone, there had to be someone... Spouse...Child...Child? One son by the name of Gohan.
That was it! If he could not use Goku, who better to know then Goku's son?
A soft groan passed 18's lips, and a frown creased her forehead, though her eyes remained closed. Her hand clenched the blanket in her fingers. She rolled restlessly. And then, almost as though someone had comforted her, she relaxed. In her dream, a dark haired face smiled down at her...
Android 18 was rudely jostled awake by the sound of young Marron crying. Bemused, the cyborg stared up at the ceiling, gathering her bearings. The crying persisted. She glanced over at Krillin. He was dead to the world. No help there. Heaving a resigned sigh, she pushed the covers back and swung her feet to the floor. She shivered, because the wooden floor was cold. Why wasn't Master Roshi ever awakened by her daughter's fussing?
When her mother appeared above her, wrapped in a robe the color of her eyes, Marron stopped crying. The infant tossed and turned restlessly, softly whimpering. Smiling, 18 gently lifted her out of her crib. A song, very vaguely remembered, floated to the edges of her awareness. She sat down in the rocking chair and hummed whatever broken lines came to her. Soon it all came back.
"Mama's here…hmm, hmm…Have no fear, Mama's here. Mama's here…hmm, hmm…" Tears poured down her face as she sang the short, repetitive verses. It was supposed to be impossible for her to remember her previous life. Her memory had been erased, more effectively them any case of amnesia could have done. But suddenly, a memory was playing in her mind as vividly as though she was once again seven years old.
She and her brother had been scared by a thunderstorm. The two of them huddled together, shivering, beneath a thick, patched quilt, jumping when the thunder rolled. She cried, and 17, pretending he wasn't frightened, tried to comfort to his sister. Then, the door opened, spilling soft golden light into the room, and she appeared. Their mother sat between them on their bed, stroking their hair and singing as they leaned against her for comfort. Her mother, loving her, protecting her children, caring for them. Love like 18 hadn't known for a long while. Fear was driven from their minds as they cuddled against her and slipped back to sleep.
"Oh, Marron," number 18 whispered brokenly, "I miss my brother so much."