Rhyme & Reason 7:
[ E G O T R I P ]




Rhys was caught off-guard when two arms circled his neck and gave him a tight squeeze. His reaction unruffled at least, he turned and looked at the man who had given him what he had learned through years of silent observation to be called a hug. Never having been a man of contact, nor one to be easily offended, Rhys didn't holler at the stranger for touching him or bother to return the embrace.

"Hey, pal. Whazzup?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked away. "Nothing, really." Vejiita and Chester's friend was too outlandish for Rhys' own tastes. Reserved and generally quiet people were the only kind of people he would dare call a friend. Craig was rowdy and mismatched and loud. What a terrible type of person. All the same, Rhys raised his eyes to meet Craig's, keeping his head bowed and arms crossed standoffish across his chest. He'd be polite to this monstrosity, but he never said he'd be friendly.

Craig jerked his head, motioning behind him. The purple-tinted sunglasses he wore flashed in the mid-day sun. "See that?" Rhys nodded. "That's our trunk. It's got all our junk in it. I thought you'd want it back."

"No, I don't."

"Well, too damn bad. I don't have any place to put it in my apartment."

"I guess I can hold on to it for you," he said, not wanting to cause a scene.

Craig studied him peculiarly. He ran a hand through his hair, which was growing quite long and unruly and hanging in his eyes. "Help me carry this inside," he told Rhys, shoving the sunglasses to the top of his head. Rhys complied silently and walked around to the other side of the massive trunk and helped Craig carry it inside.

He dropped it in the entry way. Rhys looked back at him quizzically, then set down his side of the bulky luggage. Craig sat down on the it and stared up at him. "You're different."

He shrugged. "I'm pretty normal, actually." The other shook his head.

"You know what I mean."

Shifting his weight, he replied, "Yes, I suppose I do. What does it matter?"

"Who are you?" Craig jumped up and studied him closely, the tip of their noses almost touching. "Because, you are different from the others."

Rhys raised an eyebrow in confusion. After a moment he seemed to realize what Craig was talking about and nodded. "That's right... you do know about us."

"Yep. Now, who the fuck are you? Answer me."

He stared at him a moment in silence. Craig was still leaning close to him. "No.." he said uncertainly, frowning and tilting his head away from him.

Craig jumped back. "Fine. I don't care about you either." He crouched in front of the huge trunk and unlatched the rusty clasps with a bit of difficulty. He paused, thinking. "You think you can still fit all the way here, pal?"

Rhys was taken aback. "Uhh.. No."

He grinned. "You certainly could I think! Eh, maybe we'll try later."

"What are you getting into?" Rhys asked, curiosity crumbling his desire to have this stranger out of his house.

Craig beamed up at him. "You know me. I can't keep a damn thing straight in my head. I don't know what's yours and what's mine. You need to help me sort all this crap out." He heaved the lid back. Inside was a hideous mess of old, torn clothes, wrinkled and smudged paper and drawings, a few pages and covers of books here and there, half a dozen spoons, some bullet shells, a broken dart board. Rhys stared, appalled, at the mess. "Well!" Craig snapped. "Get the hell down here, I didn't drag this thing all the way here for nothing!"

Rhys joined Craig on the floor but what hesitant to touch anything in the trunk. "None of this is mine... I don't want to go through it."

"I don't mind." He glanced at him sidelong. "And Chester won't either."

"Vejiita would. For sure."

"He doesn't have to know."

Rhys, who was balancing on his toes, leaned back and rested his back against the wall. "Forget it."

Craig slouched. "Well, I can't do it alone." He stared at the mess within the trunk. "You like golf?

"It's okay."

He plunged his arm into the trunk almost up to the elbow, divulged a video cassette. "Where's the TV box?"

"That way," He pointing. Craig grabbed his outstretched arm and dragged him to the living room, where he popped in the tape and shoved Rhys onto the couch to watch.



Which was where Gokou found them a few hours later.

Bulma, concerned more than ever over "Rhys", had called Gokou the next morning to ask him to come over. She wasn't quite sure what to make of this ordeal and was quite certain that Gokou would be able to supply her with some insight, considering the time he spent the Vejiita every week. She rarely saw him much anymore. Their schedules simply did not mesh.

Unfortunately, Gokou was out, according to Goten. "Waiting for Vejiita-San. But I'll give him your message when he gets back."

"Oh.. I don't think Vejiita's going to meet Son-Kun today, Goten."

"Uh huh. Dammit--! Oh, I'm sorry Bulma-San... I just died."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, I'm playing this great new game! I'm winning–!" He was cut off by a muffled voice on his end of the line. It sounding vaguely like, "No, you are not!"

"It that Trunks, Goten?"

"Uh.. yes..." Bulma sighed. She said good-bye and hung up, knowing it was next to impossible to talk to those boys when they were in the middle of playing a racing Playstation game.

But, she must have been lucky that day, for Gokou did come over at her request.

He recognized that this wasn't "Vejiita" immediately. It was the over-all air around him. Usually Vejiita maintained a dark atmosphere about himself, presumably to ward off unwanted attention from those around him. Now, slouched and quite unkept, half laying and half sitting on Bulma's new couch, the Saiyajin could have been described as anything as dark.

When he finally noticed Gokou's presence in the living room, he craned his neck around, his eyes brighter than usual and swallowing up his image. The crease between his eyebrows wasn't there because of a scowl; if anything, the expression on his face was a mixture of annoyance and a laid-back "hey and whatever, just be nice" look. But, when it seemed to register who was standing at the living room door frame, he grinned.

"Hey, there. Carwreck, right?" he asked in a lilting voice.

Gokou blinked. "Um.. no... It's Kakarotto.. That's what you call me."

He winked. "Damn straight." He turned back around to study the television.

"Vejiita.... are you watching golf?"

"Best sport out there," another voice howled. Gokou took a few tentative steps forward, peering over the back of the couch, not sure what to expect sitting there with Vejiita. He was laying horizontally on the sofa, one foot just happening to rest on Vejiita lap while the other foot curled under his knee. Vejiita didn't seem to be the least bit bothered. His head was resting on his palm of his hand. He slowly rose his eyes – slightly bloodshot and circled by dark skin – to meet Gokou's. "You heard me."

"Golf?" he repeated dumbly. Vejiita's couch buddy didn't respond, just stretched and shifted his position so he was on his side facing the televison. Vejiita, however, stood.

"We like golf," he said, shrugging, leaning down to put Craig's foot, which had fallen off the sofa when he rose, back on the sofa. "Got a problem with that?" he snapped.

"N-no, I don't--"

He laughed. "Hey, I was just joking. Remember? I'm a nice guy." He pointed to the couch. "But he's an idiot. Watch out." Gokou heard a yell of protest.

"What the hell are you talking about... Hey, that blond dude is gunna hit one on the green."

"Really?" Vejiita glanced behind him to watch the white dot fly across a cloudless blue sky and land near a flag. "He's good, isn't he?"

"Yeh.."

Vejiita turned back to Gokou and shrugged. "Why are you here, by the way?"

"Oh.. Goten told me Bulma called and wanted me to come over here." He shrugged. "I probably would have come anyway.."

"Well. Good to have you."

"Be quiet!" hollered the guy on the couch.

Gokou glanced at Vejiita. "Is that your buddy?"

"Yep."

"The one who got you in trouble a few weeks ago?"

"The one and only."

"Hi, I'm Craig." A hand waved over the back of the couch.

"Yeah, hi," Gokou said, as kindly as he could. He wasn't sure about this guy; he didn't seem too bad, but then again Vejiita seemed to be good friends with him. To Vejiita he said, "Do you know where Bulma is?"

He shook his head. "Negative. No idea." He paused. "Why?"

"Well, Goten told me she called and sounded worried and wanted me to come over."

"Worried, eh? Well I dunno about this 'Goten' fella, but everything here is snazzy. Huh, Craigie?"

"I'm kinda hungry."

Vejiita appeared to think about that for a moment. "Yeah, me too." He looking longingly over at the kitchen. "I wish I could cook, damn am I hungry."

"Go get me somethin' to eat," said Craig, his eyes fixed on the old golf recording. Vejiita frowned.

"No, you leech. Go home and eat your own food." Vejiita walked over to the trunk left in the hallway and kicked it so the front was facing him.

"There's no food at my house," Craig complained, turning around and fixing a glare on Vejiita's retreating back. "All that's there is a pepper plant and a stack of CDs."

"Eat the peppers."

"No!" Craig looked like he had just been slapped across the face. "His name is Larry and I won't eat him!" He vaulted himself over the back of the couch. "Please? Just a few chicky nuggets."

"Craig, no. I don't want to cook for you."

"Just one? I'll make it myself."

"Fine! Cripes..." He crouched in front of the huge trunk and lifted the lid with some obvious effort. Craig gave a "whoop" of joy and ran to the kitchen.

Gokou laughed at the entire scenario, the followed Vejiita. Craig must be a really good friend to pester him so much and not get screamed at. "Is this yours?" he asked, motioning to the trunk. "I nearly tripped over it coming in."

Vejiita laughed. "Sorry about that, I'll move it." He grabbed one handle and dragged it into the living room. Craig still hadn't returned from the kitchen. He unlatched it and had a very different reaction to what was inside. He beamed. "Yeah, all my old stuff, cool. Craigie, all our junk is here!"

"No shit." The answer was muffled and distracted.

Vejiita continued to murmur sounds of delight and he started heaving junk out of the trunk onto the floor. Gokou wasn't quite certain what he saw in this assortment of garbage and odd trinkets. Almost as if hearing his thoughts, Vejiita craned his head back and gave him a strange, crooked smile. "Yeah, isn't it sorta sad that my entire life's belongings consists of mostly blood-stained clothes and crumpled papers? I think it's sad. Hey!" At the exclamation, Vejiita pulled out from the bottom of the trunk a horrendous light turquoise T-shirt. It was the gaudiest thing Gokou had ever laid eyes on. On the front of the pale green-blue T-shirt were printed three foreign words in light pink. On the back was another unfamiliar square-looking pink symbol. He grinned at Gokou. "My fave shirt! I thought it was gone forever!" He gave it a quick, fierce hug before whipping off his dark gray shirt and yanking the newly-found one over his head. He stood proudly and modeled for Gokou. It clung to his body tightly, as if were a few size too small.

Gokou raised his eyebrows, amused, to say the least. "How do I look?" prompted Vejiita.

"Dashing," he snickered, humoring Vejiita. He beamed. "What's it say on the front?"

"Girls. Girls. Girls," he said, grinning. He turned around and pointed to the back. "Number one!"

"What?" a voice suddenly hollered from in the kitchen. "You found the girls-girls-girls shirt?" Craig stalked up to him and studied the front of his shirt. Gokou noticed he closed one eye and squinted the other to be able to read it clearly. "You bastard, that is mine!"

"Whatever." Vejiita grabbed his head and shoved him back, knocking the sunglasses off his forehead "It was on my side of the trunk."

"Fine." Craig came back and shoved over. Vejiita stumbled back a step and let Craig throw stuff on the floor. He caught Gokou's eye and shrugged, as if to say, 'Well, that's Craigie for ya.'

But something else had Gokou's attention. "Uh.. Vejiita.." he pointed behind him. Smoke was flowing into the living room from the kitchen, staining the walls and making the air hard to breathe.

"Oh fuck," he murmured jumping up and running into the kitchen. Gokou followed, nervously wondering what a friend of Vejiita's could possibly concoct.

"Craigie!" Vejiita screamed, coughing. Gokou caught sight of him near the microwave, where he was trying remove something that was smoking and looking incredibly hot. "What in hell did you do?" he cried, finally dropping it on the ground.

"Oops. I was trying to cook a chicky nugget."

"For how long did you put it in the microwave?" He opened a drawer, withdrew a fork, and stabbed the chicken nugget up off the ground.

"Uhh.. Two minutes?"

Vejiita gave him a look. "One chicky nugget in the microwave for two minutes? Are you an idiot?" He looked at Gokou and shook his head. "Can you believe it?"

"Maybe you should get out of the house, let it air out," he suggested.

"Yeah, I guess." Vejiita threw the fork and boiling-hot chicken nugget at Craig and stalked to the window, of which he promptly slide open and crawled out.



Gokou and Craig had quickly evacuated the kitchen shortly after Vejiita made his exit, although they exited through doors, not through the window. They found Vejiita sitting near the open window with his back against the side of the house. He appeared to be waiting for them.

Gokou cringed, looking around. There wasn't that much smoke, but it was enough to make Bulma angry at Vejiita yet again. He didn't seem the least bit worried. Or angry. Craig had sat down next to him, twiddling the fork in his hands, snickering about something with Vejiita, who was laughing right along with him.

He sighed and leaned against the side of the building as well, but did not slide down into a sitting position. He was a father, and even though he was never able to spend as much time with his sons as he would have liked, he knew probably better than anyone when someone needed looking-after. He wasn't going to let Vejiita and this friend of his out of his sight.

He was talking quickly, hands flailing in extravagant gestures, his facial expressions shifting from angry to amused to serious, according to whatever part of the conversation he was at. Gokou wasn't quite sure what he was talking about, only that he seemed to be more talkative than ever before and it was clearly because of Craig's presence. Or maybe it was his voice that threw him off. It was different. Not deep or arrogant as it usually was. Lilting and often cut short by a snicker or chuckle at the end of a sentence.

Gokou suddenly remember something from a long time ago, almost twenty years back. It was the beginning of December, and Gokou and Gohan had been taking the morning off from training due to a snowstorm having started in the middle of the night, leaving the land hidden in a sheet of ice and snow. It was calm by ten A.M., and Gohan had taken it upon himself to try to teach his father how to play chess.

He had just finished explaining the roles and names of each of the pieces when there was a frantic, insisting banging at the door. "Kakarotto! Open the damn door up now!"

As Gokou got up to answer the door, quite relieved to get away from chess, he heard Chichi complain from the kitchen. "Oh, what does that awful man want on a day like today? Gokou, tell him to go home, you're not going outside in this weather!" He chuckled and hurried to the door, where the knocking had not ceased.

He threw the door open to see Vejiita standing there, alright, looking quite flustered. He was shivering. "Kakarotto! What the hell is wrong with this planet?"

Needless to say, he was taken aback. "What?"

Vejiita jerked his head back, gesturing to the blinding white landscape behind him. "What is this cold white glop that came from nowhere and covered everything and freezes my innards! I don't like it!"

"Uhh.. It's snow Vejiita," he tried to explain without letting his amusement become apparent.

"Snow!" he cried, spitting the word out with disdain. He turned from Gokou, hugging his arms to himself, gazing out sulkily. He murmured the new word over to himself quietly, tasting it, feeling it. "Snow.." he said darkly.

He twisted around suddenly, poking Gokou in the chest. "You'd better take time from your training, buster, and spend some time on this filthy planet of yours. Might as well fix the faulty axis before trying to save the damn world, eh?"

After informing Vejiita of the "seasons" and other basics any Earth-raised person would know since third-grade, Vejiita hastily excused himself and headed home.

He heard later, through sources such as Bulma and Chichi and even Yamucha that Vejiita spent most of his time in the basement of the Capsule Corp. building he was living in. "Usually when he go down there," they told him, "he's doing push-ups or some other sort of exercise. But he always sticks close to the furnace."

Gokou found Vejiita's predicament understandable, for the most part. From what he had learned of Vejiita, he had spent most of his life in man-made buildings or in space pods, only for short periods of time being on actual planets. He, and the rest of the crew, had hardly expected the stoic Saiyajin to actually voice his complaints of Earth's constantly altering climate.

"Chesta, I'm still hungry."

The scrubby Saiyajin's loud complaint broke Gokou from his reverie.

Vejiita responded, "Then go home and eat somethin'."

"No food. No money."

"Aw, too bad."

Craig looked despondently at the fork in his hand. Most of the destroyed chicken nugget was still stuck to the end. He sighed. "I sure wish I didn't blow up my food."

"Well, I'll be you'll never do it again."

"Ha, yeah."

Vejiita snapped his fingers on both his hands twice and slapped his knees. "Do you have any paper?"

"Nada."

Vejiita fidgeted a bit more before plunging his hand into his pocket and withdrawing a black permanent marker. "Roll up your sleeves, I'll draw on your arm." Craig's eyes widened.

"Cool." He complied, rolling the long sleeve up to his elbow and held his arm out to Vejiita. He pulled the cap off with his teeth and held it in his mouth. "Draw somethin' cool," Craig instructed him.

His mouth obstructed by the pen cap, Vejiita didn't reply. He just leaned over and concentrated on the tip of his marker.

Intrigued, Gokou left his spot against the building and squatted down before the two. Vejiita had already lightly sketched an angular design resembling fire on Craig's forearm, and was starting to color it in with the marker. He paused and Gokou realized he was staring at him. "Do you mind?"

Gokou blinked and stood up. "Sorry," he muttered. Vejiita just laughed and shook his head. "What?"

"Nothing!" he said angrily, then laughed and commencing to draw again. Gokou sulked until Bulma got home.

Surprisingly, she wasn't as upset about the filthy kitchen as he had anticipated. She seemed more entertained by the "chicky nugget" incident than the end result. She was also quite interested in his friend, Craigie, for reasons Gokou could not grasp. To him, the other Saiyajin was a sloppy hellion of a sort. It wasn't that he didn't like him, but Gokou thought he was a kind of sleazy guy. Well, he thought, at least she isn't yelling.

After calling in a clean-up service that came along naturally with her position in the Capsule Corporation, she invited them in to the living room, which was relatively unharmed, just a bit smokey. She guided Gokou unapparently away from Vejiita and his companion. Vejiita wasn't interested in any conversation, anyway, and Craig could hardly sit still. After only seconds both were out the door agian.

"Did Goten give you my message?" she asked as soon as the door slammed behind them.

"Yeah, that's why I'm here. What's up?"

She frowned. "Haven't you noticed?" She glanced at the television. The old recording of the golf game was still playing. "That Vejiita's been acting... strange for the past few weeks? And who is this other guy?"

"Vejiita said he's his friend."

"Friend from when?" Gokou shrugged.

"I guess from when he was younger. They get along awful well Bulma," he said. She seemed quite concerned about the stranger, despite her earlier interest in him. "Vejiita really seems to tolerate him."

"Well, I hope he doesn't plan on staying here. I'm not sure about him."

Gokou decided that for now, it was best not to mention that it was Craig's fault that Vejiita left Trunks and Bra home alone a few weeks ago. As far as Gokou knew, no one else realized that Vejiita had stopped at his house for an entire hour before finally departing for Capsule Corp. He didn't want to look suspicious for holding back information. "He's okay," Gokou decided on saying.

Bulma nodded, consoled. "I don't know what Vejiita's ever told you during those sparring sessions," she began, "But he told me something very peculiar last night. He said that he wasn't even Vejiita at all! He came up with this big long name and said that he appeared at the end of the Cell Games or something... Gokou, he just didn't sound himself at all!"

A bit baffled at all this, Gokou didn't say anything. He was surprised that she would tell him all this. He didn't see himself as someone people would go to for any reason besides having fun or saving the world. But... Again, Bulma's actions were justified. He certainly knew what she was talking about. He nodded to let her know he understood.

"What name did he give you?"

She sighed, flustered. "I think it was.. Rhys something. Rhys Schultz." He nodded again. "Gokou, do you know anything about this?"

He frowned. "Do I know what he's talking about? No. But I know what you're talking about... kinda."

"He's just making me nervous, Gokou. I don't know what to make of him. He's either causing trouble and acting like a child or.. just sitting calmly on the couch reading–!"

Gokou cut her off, not wanting her to get started on a frantic tirade. "Bulma," he said loudly, "I'll keep an eye on him, is that what you want?"

She calmed. "Well, not that way... Yes, I suppose that's what I would like you to do." She sighed again and rubbed her forehead. "Could you, please? I have to work and I'm not sure I can study him and keep up with the business at the same time..."

"No problem."



Chester was bouncing a ping-pong ball of the side of a Capsule Corp. business building, discussing with Craig how useless dart boards were if you didn't have the darts, when Kakarotto joined them.

"Yo. What's up?" Kakarotto had come up behind them and was standing next to Craig, who was sitting and shredding a grass blade to pieces.

"Oh, not much. I was just talking to Bulma, that's all."

"Good for you. Did she ask about my shirt?" He was still wearing that awful turquoise and pink shirt. Kakarotto shook his head. Chester frowned, disgruntled.

"Vejiita, do you know anyone called Rhys?" Kakarotto asked.

He straightened, rocking back and forth on his heals. The name sounded vaguely familiar.. wait! Yes, he knew. He felt like slapping his forehead. "Yeah, Schultz. Why do you ask?"

Kakarotto shrugged. "Bulma said that you said you were that name a little while ago. She said she wasn't sure what it meant. Um, how do you know him, if you mind me asking?"

"Nope, don't mind at all. I just know him."

"How?"

Chester thought about his answer before saying anything. He wasn't sure how to explain to Kakarotto in a way that he'd understand. It wasn't just that he was a bit slow, it was that it was difficult to put this situation into words. "He's the voice in the back of my head." Kakarotto raised his eyebrows, clearly not understanding.

"What?"

He shook his head. He wasn't quite sure why he bothering to explain this crap anyway. Still, he reasoned, if you're going to explain something, might as well do it right.

He was going about it in a horrible fashion, but it was sort of the truth; when Rhys rather suddenly appeared about fifteen years ago, all of the academic knowledge Chester and mostly Vejiita had absorbed when they were younger became built up largely in Rhys' psyche. It wasn't that he and the others were dumb, but they weren't especially intelligent. There was simply never a need for such an education in the past, and it didn't look like anyone was going to need it anytime soon, so they all got along fine with Rhys hoarding it.

Chester, being, in short, the memory trace of all of them, automatically knew this about Rhys. Putting it in words, however, was a whole other story and coherent speaking had never been his forte.

He shrugged. "He's just a guy I kinda know, is all. We're not close. I don't really like him that much, but he's okay."

"No, that's not what I was--"

From his sitting position on the ground near Kakarotto's feet, Craig suddenly said, "Hey, Chesta, is Rhys that dork who I talking to earlier?" Chester slowly walked over to them, thinking.

"Yeah.. yes, that was him."

"I don't like him."

Chester frowned. "Why, he's a nice guy."

"He's boring." Chester shrugged.

Gokou never was able to steer the conversation back to precisely who Rhys Schultz was.



Much to Montgomery's disgust, Chester had taken quite a liking to that Kakarotto idiot. Craig was one thing, a thing he could handle, but Kakarotto didn't even have the rough edge to him that made him more familiar. He just barely managed to shake the fool, who had been hanging around for two days now, by saying he wished to train for awhile – privately. Kakarotto took the hint and left, and Montgomery was pleased to see that he was disappointed at being shunned like that.

In order to elaborate Kakarotto's appropriate feeling of unwelcome, Montgomery locked himself in the gravity room before the other had even left the property. He stood before the console of the amazing machine. He had long ago memorized where each switch was placed, what color each small light was, and which combination of dials and buttons made the gravity more intense or contrarily softened the room to a more appealing atmosphere.

Sighing softly, he leaned his head back, feeling the muscles in his back and neck flex slightly. How did he feel today? Annoyed; that was usual, but his normal irritation was heightened due to Kakarotto's recent constant company and to Chester encouraging the presence. He also felt embarrassed; it was becoming increasingly difficult to cover up and make excuses for Chester's childish behavior. He frowned.

Chester was deliberately obscuring Vejiita's illness from Gokou and the woman's knowledge. He wasn't quite sure why. His first assumption was that Hardy thought of this all as a game– but he wasn't that sort of childish. Maybe... He wanted them to figure it out on their own. Hardy, despite his lowly reputation in Mont's eyes, was a clever guy. He liked mind games, but was kind enough to pull his stunts on those who could handle it. He came right out and admitted it to Craigie. But Mont had to remember to consider the circumstances back then. It was an impulsive move.

Nimbly, he entered his own password and identification code to activate the machine and set the gravity level to a fairly high mode, slightly less intense the mode of his last workout. It was not his intention today to tone his body or perfect his skills. Today's workout was definitely for stress-relief only.

He pulled of the dark blue tank top and whipped it out of the way. He had stored that nasty shirt Chester had been strutting around in recently under the sink among the cleaning supplies in Bulma's parents' room. He started off easily, with a simple warm-up kata that he had executed at the beginning of every training session since he was eight. It had changed gradually as his own status as a decent fighter rose, but it was basically the same thing, just evolved. It was his personal form of art.

The soreness of his tired eyes and the ache in his back and the sharp, cramping pain in his stomach all began to dull and disappear as he finished up the kata and commenced actual practice.



"Hey there. Where ya goin?"

Gokou paused and looked off to the right. He was just gathering his ki in preparation to fly off, Vejiita having seemingly switched moods on him again, going from an old friend to the rude, arrogant, hateful prick he usually was. He was pretty much used to it from before, and he was only disappointed because he had gotten his hopes up that Vejiita would finally relax around him, as he had been. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case.

Now he found himself watching Vejiita's peculiar friend. He was leaning against a lone tree with a half-eaten microwave burrito wrapped in a napkin in one hand. The sleek, purple-tinted glasses were at their usual place on top of his head, only this time they were balanced on a dark red visor he wore.

Gokou slackened his ki. He knew Vejiita had told him to leave – quite bluntly in fact – but this Craig fellow had caught his attention. The other man left his post under the lonely tree and strode over to him. As he closed the distance between the two of them, Gokou noted that he looked much better than he had when he first saw him, a few days ago laying on the couch watching an old golf tournament. His eyes were no longer bloodshot, his hair was washed, and his face looked scrubbed clean. Gokou glanced at his outfit. He remembered seeing Trunks wearing that very shirt the last time he saw him.

"Have the time?" Craig asked casually.

"No," said Gokou, gesturing to his arms, which had wristbands but no wristwatch. "But I think it was a little past four last time I checked." Craig nodded and looked away towards the main Capsule Corp. buildings, scratching the underside of his chin. Gokou noticed that he was growing a bit of a beard at his chin.

"If you don't mind me asking," Gokou started, "how exactly do you know Vejiita?" Craig glanced at him and quirked an eyebrow.

"You don't know?"

"Nope." Craig took bite of his burrito. "Vejiita's never come out and said he ever had a companion before, besides Radditsu and Nappa. And this is the first time I've seen you without Vejiita around."

Craig had a bewildered look on his face. "Radditsu and Nappa?"

"Yes." The Saiyajin frowned slightly. "Radditsu was my brother and Nappa worked under Vejiita, I guess. When they were alive."

Gokou literally saw the light go on in the other's eyes. "Oh yeah!" He laughed. "I remember Nappa; we used to throw food at him and called him a mean, mean, dirty old man." He grinned. "And when Rad was in a good mood, he was one helluva party animal."

"You and Vejiita....threw food?" He trailed off. He simply couldn't see Vejiita acting so.. juvenile.

"Yeah, all the time. It pissed him off, God was it funny." He finished off his burrito, wrinkled up the napkin, and dropped it on the ground. "Good days, good days." Gokou cleared his throat. "Oh yeah, 'Jiita. Yeah, we were roommates."

"Roommates."

"Yeah, we lived in a room together. I usually got the bed." He coughed and stretched. "He was a good roommate. I miss him. He cleaned a lot." He laughed and stuck out his tongue.

Gokou smiled. Craig couldn't be much younger than Vejiita, but he sure wasn't acting old.

"It's kinda cold out, isn't it?" commented Craigie. "It wasn't cold at all when I first came here. It was nice."

"It'll be winter soon."

"What a bitch. Well, Kak, I dunno 'bout you, but I'm going inside." Craig coughed into his hand again and headed off towards the main building. Gokou followed, deciding that this Craig was more than enough to overrule Vejiita's earlier order to leave.

A chilly winter breeze flew past the corner of the building, ruffling the pair's hair. Gokou glanced over at the other. His hair was dark brown, almost black, with what were obviously dyed highlights here and there, blond among the black. He had an angular face, more similar to Gokou's than Vejiita's, in that it was not as lean as the latter's. And the jewelry: an eyebrow ring and no less than three piercings for each ear.

Inside, Craig stopped abruptly at the doorframe between the hallway and the kitchen and said, without a trace of humility, "I'm sorta banned from the kitchen. Get me a snack, would ya?"

Gokou nodded, amused, remembering the "chicky nugget" that had died at Craig's hands. He also remembered the burrito. "Craig, are you Saiyajin?" he asked, bringing out a box of Cheerios from the cupboard.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Doesn't mean anything now does it?" He accepted the box and opened it up and started munching quite loudly.

"Vejiita thinks it does."

"Yeah, he's kinda strange." Craig gave him a strange look to match his statement.

At that moment, Vejiita flung the door open and stormed in. He was slick with sweat and there was what looked like a floor-burn on the right side of his face. He halted abruptly and stared at them, as if just seeing the two standing there.

"Didn't I tell you to go home?" he grumbled in Gokou's direction, at last finding his voice. He glowered at him.

"Shut up," snapped Craig. "He's my guest."

"This is my house."

"Whatever."

In response, Vejiita reached out and smacked the bottom of Craig's hand. The pieces of cereal that were in this open palm jumped and fell to the floor. Craig swore and gave him a dirty look, but Vejiita's face remained neutral, vaguely angry. His eye twitched and he twisted around, running up the stairs to the second level of the house.

Craig was shaking his head. "He's so odd," he told Gokou.



Montgomery sat on the edge of the bed, his temples resting on the heels of his hands and his fingers gripping his hair. He was frustrated. With everything. With his training – Chester Hardy, that fool, had predictably slacked off, that wretched but oddly charming Craig coming out of nowhere and influencing him again, just like when he was younger. He could stand the high gravity just fine, but he could be in better shape. He was getting clumsy; he had been honing speed-movement skills and he had tripped and skidded a good eight feet on the side of his face. It stung like hell.

He was frustrated with not only Kakarotto's presence – but with whom he thought he was spending his time! He knew the younger Saiyajin thought he was spending time with a lighter-hearted, silly young adult with a strange sense of humor – Hardy. He was correct half the time, Montgomery would give him that. But at least four times in the last three days had Montgomery come out. Craig had sensed the difference in him and had subtly changed his behavior towards him. Kakarotto treated him the same as always.

He suspected that Craig would probably cause trouble for him in the future, as well. He hoped that Hardy wouldn't be an idiot and let Craig drag him into something that would get them screwed over.

Something was always distracting him, twenty-four seven. A buzzing, a tickling, a constant noise in the back of his head. The presence of the others. Of Hardy, Schultz, Rob, Rip. And off to the side, blind and silent, the waking self: Vejiita.

A loser with the maturity level of a college student, a day-dreaming novelist, two insane mass-murders, and one skittish nuisance. These were the entities with whom Montgomery shared his life. His precious life, which had been taken from him twice now. The chances of returning a third time were non-existent to his pessimistic way of thinking.

He did not need these distractions. Not one.

He'd deal with Kakarotto. Get him to see that he was Montgomery and no one else, and that he did not like him one bit, screw the other's opinions.

His training would be back in swing. He needed to toughen up, threat or no threat in the future. Training was the only time he could let his mind wander, and he needed, just like the others, time to contemplate.

The others.... They sucked up his time. Whether they were being dominant and paralyzing him until he felt needed, or just distracting them with their mere presence, they were nuisances and must be dealt with.