THREE MONTHS LATER…
Chichi didn't even jump when she heard the front door open - she knew full well who it was. The one being she'd never quite managed to train to knock. He hated knocking…matter of fact, he hated doors. She also knew that he wasn't going to say a word until she did. He was just funny that way.
"The door's open," she said, fighting back a grin as she continued to pull the seemingly unending stream of damp clothes from the washing machine to the laundry basket.
A noncommittal snort from the doorway. "I hadn't noticed."
"He's at school," she continued. It had become routine with them - what to say and what not to say. She knew that if she ever accused Piccolo of coming to see her, he'd fume for at least an hour. Someday she planned to spring that one on him, just for laughs. To her mind, very few things were as funny as a seven-foot-tall alien warrior in a sulking fit.
"By the way, you've got a dead deer on your porch," he said in his usual, matter-of-fact manner.
And even this part of the routine had ceased to surprise her. "Hit another one training? Goodness, Piccolo, you should be more careful."
She could almost hear him bristling at the overplayed obliviousness in her voice. That was yet another thing that, at least outright, she didn't dare accuse him of: feeding them. At first, she'd wondered how she and Gohan would make do without her husband's hunting habit…but little more than a day after she'd invited Piccolo in, he'd shown up on her doorstep with something he'd 'accidentally' killed, wondering if she could possibly take it off his hands…
Of course, she'd noticed some odd coincidences within the first few deliveries. Number one: Piccolo was too skilled to let so many of his blasts go wild. Number two: for some strange reason, every single blast happened to be very small, and located either directly behind an ear or above the heart. Number three: the casualties were fairly regular…say, once or twice a week. Usually on the same days. She had to suppress a laugh just thinking about it - trying to be subtle or not, Piccolo was a creature of habit.
Or maybe deep down, he wanted her to know. She was never really sure with him.
At any rate, she turned at that point to look at him. From the look of it, at least part of his story about hitting something training was true - he had been training at the time. And looked as though he'd brought the whole desert along for the ride. Chichi wrinkled her nose, doing her level best to look disapproving rather than as if she were trying not to grin at him. "Piccolo, if you're here to see my son, you aren't going to do it looking like that."
He blinked at her.
"For Kami's sake, you look like you've been through a war."
He crossed his arms, raising an eyeridge in a what-exactly-do-you-suggest-I-do-about-it manner.
She crossed her arms as well, in a very conscious mockery of his pose. "Oh, come on…you know the drill by now, right?"
One of his antennae actually quirked. "What's wrong with the drill?"
Chichi chuckled in spite of herself. "It's just that we've been through it before. Would a little change every once in a while really kill you?"
Gruffly, "It might."
"Where's your spirit of adventure?" She asked, grinning in a coy manner oddly reminiscent of her younger days.
A snort. "Dead already."
"Piccolo, I seriously doubt that you'd shrivel up and die if you just…"
"Look who's talking," Piccolo shot back flatly. "You haven't changed a bloody thing in all the time I've known you, if you could help it."
"That's not true."
The Namekian smirked in the infuriating, now-I've-got-you way of his that, no matter the context, always made her want to throw something at him. "You name me one voluntary change you've made in the past…oh…ten years. One."
There were some. She knew there had to have been hundreds…but it was like being told, on the spot, to name a hundred old TV shows. Her mind simply wouldn't put forth the information… "Hmph," she said at last, picking up the laundry basket and breezing past him, through the door.
"Do I need to say I told you so?" he asked…and she was sure that he'd followed her outside. Somehow she always knew when he was following her.
"Well, you definitely don't need to be so smug about it," she said in return, setting down the basket at last in front of the clothes line. "But just because I don't turn my whole life upside down every day doesn't mean it's not a good thing to do once in a…"
She cut herself off when she felt an arm…easily as big around as her leg…latch around her waist from behind and pluck her from the ground as if it were simply picking a daisy. "Piccolo, what are you…"
Again, she didn't finish - she swallowed her words when she felt him leave the ground. They were a good twenty feet in the air and still climbing before she found her voice again. (Squeakier than she would have liked….but at least it was her voice.) "Piccolo!"
Was it her imagination, or did she hear a slight chuckle from him? "What's wrong? You were the one who wanted me to try something new."
Any rejoinder she might have made flew right out of her head when she looked down at her rapidly shrinking back yard. "This was not what I had in mind, and you know it!" She snapped at last. "Now put me down, Namek!."
His voice from behind her sounded especially dry. "You don't really want to go down already, do you? Where's your spirit of adventure?"
"We left it on the ground. Which is where I'd like to be" she returned in as belligerent a tone as she could manage under the circumstances. She wished he'd at least picked her up so that she was facing him so that she could see what was going on.
"You've only been up here for ten seconds, woman," he said in a way that let her envision the sarcasm dripping off every word. "Aren't you going to give it a chance?"
"Not if I can help it," she snapped. No doubt about it - Piccolo was acting weird. Much weirder than normal…so much so that she almost didn't know him. "Now put_me_down. Now."
She could feel him shrug behind her. "Okay, your call."
And she realized a split-second too late why he'd given up so easily.
This bit of enlightenment came to her when she felt the arm around her waist withdraw.
Chichi had had the occasional dream about falling, but this was nothing like she'd imagined it would be. Her life didn't flash before her eyes…everything wasn't in slow motion. It was simply a rush of air that tore past her like the strongest gale she'd ever felt, and a dizzying view of the ever approaching-ground…
…completely eclipsed by purple fabric.
She'd thrown her arms around his neck automatically before she'd even realized that he'd caught her…it had been as instinctive a grab for safety as a drowning victim's, and every bit as choking. She didn't even care - just buried her face in those folds of cloth and drew steady, heavy breaths.
"Oh come on, woman," that familiar baritone voice said stiffly. "You didn't really think I'd drop you."
"Well, you did," she snapped back…still not lifting her head from his shoulder, still not lessening her grip one iota.
He made a low, irritated sound in the back of his throat. "You know what I meant."
Did she?
Was the fact that she had to think about it at all an automatic negative?
But she was thinking about it. About him. About how a few months ago she hadn't been able to look at him at all without wanting to string him up by his ears. About how he'd seemingly waltzed from the outer edges of their lives right into center stage overnight. About the way he'd looked the first time she'd ever seen him - fangs bared in an insane grin that could have been plucked from a wolf's mouth, eyes dilated with an odd sort of pain that she couldn't begin to understand. About the way he'd looked the last time he'd brought her husband home…so tired. And about how much her husband had trusted him.
About the way he'd just sort of stepped in…so gradually that she almost hadn't noticed. The way he spoke to her - sarcastically, gruffly, but never really harshly…
Feeling a little better, she glared up at him and thwacked him solidly on the chest with the flat of her hand. "Well, don't ever do it again."
He smirked at her in a way that almost seemed relieved, his eyes glinting like polished onyx. "Why would I do that? S'not exactly new if you try it more than once."
She wasn't sure whether she wanted more to laugh or to smack him upside the head. She was still trying to decide when she felt him stiffen. Not a normal tensing, either…but more as if he'd just been hit with a thousand volts of electricity. His head snapped over his left shoulder, usually-sharp eyes dilated as if by narcotic…expression practically vibrating with tension, to the point where his antennae twitched.
Chichi had never felt her heart drop so fast in her life - she wondered for a moment if it really had dropped out the bottom of her shoes and plummeted to the ground. She'd seen that look before. She'd hated that look. It was the one Goku always wore right before…
Next thing she knew, she was standing on the ground. He had put her down and stepped back…seeming distracted, distant…he turned away from her, bending his knees to take off.
"Piccolo!" she managed to choke out, stumbling to his side, clenching the corner of his shirt with one hand.
He paused. Yes, he actually paused. Turned his head as if just remembering that she was there…lips pressed into a bloodless line, startlingly pale against his emerald-hued skin. Looked down at her expectantly with those ever-changing eyes.
And she knew that she would never be able to talk him out of going to fight whatever he had felt, whatever had caught his attention. So she did the only thing she could think of, the only thing that felt right. "…be careful…"
He blinked in obvious surprise…his only answer being a slight lifting of one corner of his mouth.
And while this change happened, she was measuring the distance upward…she stood way, way up on tiptoe, taking the collar of his gi in one hand…pulling him down just far enough to peck him lightly on the cheek. "And I mean it," she finished, trying to sound menacing…trying not to cry…as she let go.
She got only slight satisfaction from seeing the truly amazing shade of purple that the former demon king had turned. Piccolo took a step back…obviously unsure what to say…finally just clearing his throat and taking off. She thought she could hear him mutter something under his breath as he left…something pertaining to crazy human women….but she wasn't quite able to catch it.
And she couldn't quite help smiling at him as he disappeared over the horizon.
Chichi felt like a stranger in her own body watching the news that night. Three cities destroyed…completely…and long distance footage of explosions. It was all familiar. Very familiar. And happening again.
She had no idea where any of them were…her son, her friends…her….well, anyone.
But she had a terrible feeling. And those were always right.
She sat staring at the TV as ten turned to twelve and twelve to one…was still watching the repetitive updates as the sun came up the next morning. And no one yet home. She was curled up on the couch like a cat, knees drawn up to her chest, chin on her knees, arms bracketed around her legs. She wasn't crying. Yet.
But she knew the moment Gohan burst through the door, hair wild raven's feathers about his face and eyes brimming. And she cried. For relief, because her baby was alright, and he was home…
For sorrow, because she knew someone who would never come home again.
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