Goku didn't sleep long. He couldn't. He was too hot, and too hungry, to sleep. The bed was soft, unlike the ground he'd been bedded down on. And it was clean. A far cry from what he'd woken that morning to find himself it. How he'd managed to heal as well as he had in such conditions, he wasn't sure.
But he was grateful. Carefully, he tested himself. He'd mended. Not well, perhaps, but he wouldn't know that until he wasn't so weak. The thought of getting out of the bed for anything was enough to make him whimper. Slowly, he catalogued his various aches, determining just how badly off he truly was.
He came to the rather astonishing conclusion that he wasn't all that badly off. Most of the aches were just that. None seemed to indicate something worse, even the familiar pain in his leg and hip seemed less than usual.
Goku closed his eyes. Deana's questions plagued him. Yes, he'd stayed. He could have left after Mitzu grew up, but he'd stayed. When he'd been broken all those years ago, Vegeta hadn't cared for him, nor had Mitzu. It was as if all the assistance he'd given them meant nothing. He'd managed getting around well enough by flying, but his soul had been scarred by the callous disregard.
Once, he and Vegeta had been friends. They'd sparred, gone to family gatherings, even just sat around and talked. When the world had ended, he'd naturally stayed with Vegeta and Mitzu. There wasn't anyone else. But somehow, he'd lost Vegeta's friendship and respect. With it had gone Mitzu's childish love. He didn't know how, he couldn't even pinpoint when. It had just happened.
It had happened with each of the children. He raised them, taught them, loved and cuddled them. He hadn't often smiled or laughed, but he had let them know they were loved. But within a year, each had begun to scorn him. Each child had given him a fresh soul-scar with each taunt, every exploitation of his injuries. He didn't understand, couldn't understand. Only Deana had been different.
Tears welled in his eyes when he realized it was about to happen all over again. Only this time, it would be worse. This time, it would be his children that scorned and mocked him, his children who would take advantage of his weakness. It would be his children, his own flesh and blood, who would order him around like he had less intelligence than the animals he cared for, his children who would break his heart.
His children would not call him daddy. They would not be proud of him. He would be Kakarot, the family servant, and unless, like Goten, they looked like him, they would probably never know that he was their true father.
No. No. Surely Vegeta didn't mean to take it that far. Did he? He stifled a moan.
"Kakarot?"
"That isn't my name." He turned to face her, a sudden resolve on his face. "My name is Goku."
"Goku?" Deana looked puzzled. "But, we have always called you Kakarot."
"I know."
"Does this have something to do with why we're the only ones around?"
"Yes."
"Are you still too tired to tell me about it?" She approached slowly, trying not to slosh the items on the tray she held.
"I'm still tired, but I can't sleep."
"I thought you might still be hungry. You didn't eat very much. I know I don't cook very well, but I brought you some more anyway. And a glass of milk."
"How did you escape?" he murmured.
"Escape what?"
"Hating me. Scorning me the way the others do."
"I have little interest in fighting or hunting, and as my mother so calmly pointed out, I'm the weakest in the family. You trained me, and you took care to explain why or how something was supposed to work, instead of just bashing me down and laughing at me because I screwed up!" Deana smiled slightly. "You never minded being interrupted to hear my woes of the day, or to fix one of my dresses, or complained because I was following you around all the time.
"Besides, I think you're cute," she added, then gasped. "Oh, you probably didn't want to hear that! Not after what happened."
"Not really," he admitted. His hand wavered as he lifted the cup to his lips. He drank all the milk before setting the cup unsteadily back on the tray. "I think that I better try to sleep."
"Oh. Well, alright. I'll… put the soup in the fridge."
"Deana."
"Yes?"
He heard the eagerness in her tone. "I will tell you… in the morning."
"Okay!"
Goku made himself comfortable against the pillows. How was he to tell that child of all that had transpired, leaving Vegeta and his daughter the only two survivors besides himself? How could he explain to her why he had stayed, and why he had never used his own name for her entire life? Would she understand? And did it truly matter if she did?
He sent his senses seeking the others, finding and identifying all the children, finding Mitzu. Vegeta… where was Vegeta? Oh, there. At the Lookout. He pushed further… and found no one else. So it had always been, since the end of the war. The attackers had been quite thorough in their destruction of intelligent life, and had done almost as well on the animals and ecosystem. How was he to tell that little girl about the horrors the invaders had inflicted?
By morning, he had gotten some sleep. When she came, he reminded her gently of the creatures she now had in her care. "The animals suffered, too, during the war. These few I have are descendants of ones I found when your father and I searched for survivors. They must be cared for, Deana, so that someday, they will flourish again."
"Water, then feed, milk, then gather eggs, right?"
"Yes."
"And the garden? Do I take care of that before I get my history lesson?"
"No. I will tell you over breakfast."
She went out to tend her charges. Goku propped himself up a bit more. He felt better. Decent food and decent care, although little enough of both. Could so little make so much difference? He had relatively few bandages, but then, most of his wounds hadn't been external. What was bandaged were scrapes and cuts he'd gotten moving from one place to another.
The new breaks in his leg had healed, but the leg was weak. He wouldn't be able to stand on it. And his hip didn't seem to pain him as much as usual. He tested the other bones he knew the women had broken. All of them seemed to have healed. How long had he been missing before Vegeta had sent them searching for him? And why had the man bothered? He'd gotten what he wanted! Hadn't he?
Deana's return broke him from those thoughts. She'd brought him a plate of scrambled eggs and another glass of milk. "So?" she asked, perching on the bed. "Tell me what happened. Why we are the only ones left."
He started with the easiest answer first. "We're the only ones left because Vegeta and I were believed to be dead. Mitzu is alive because we survived and dug her out of the basement where she was trapped in a pantry full of food.
"I don't know who the attackers were. None of us knew they were coming, we sensed nothing until the carnage began. I don't know why they came, or why they've never returned. It happened… a long time ago. Your mother had recently had her fifth birthday. I never really have kept track of time well, so I don't know how long ago that was."
"That's okay, Kaky. Tantrum's thirty. I'll guess it was about forty-five years or so."
"Tantrum's thirty? Time has gone by…" Goku nibbled at his breakfast. He really didn't want to remember this. "I had a wife, back then. Two boys, a daughter-in-law, and a granddaughter. Vegeta's wife was Bulma, and they had two children, a boy, Trunks, and their daughter, Bra. Trunks had given them two granddaughters, Mitzu and Kindra.
"Earth Special Forces, Z-fighters, Z-shenshi. We've protected the planet under those names. Not all of us were from Earth, or human. Vegeta and I are Saiyans from the planet Vegeta. Dende was from Namek, and Piccolo was an Earth-born Namekian. Gohan, Goten, Trunks, Bra, Pan… they were demi-Saiyans, all born on Earth. Yamcha, Bulma, Krillin, Tien… they were all Earthlings. 18 was an android, built here on Earth. We were a team, loosely connected, but a force to be reckoned with."
He paused a moment. "We had get-togethers at Master Roshi's island. Eat, drink, spar… just general fun. Almost all of us kept up our training so that we would be ready if something happened to threaten our home. It happened a lot, back then. Forty-five years… Earth's been peaceful a very long time. Back then, something seemed to happen almost every three years."
"Kaky…" Deana curled up next to him and rested her head on his chest. "If you don't want to tell me, it's okay."
"No, you have the right to know. You have that right, it is your history." But he was quiet a long time, stroking through the pale lavender hair. "You inherited Trunks' hair, and your Grandma Bulma's eyes. Vegeta's children didn't look all that much like him, really. Trunks, in the face, some, but Bra didn't at all. Trunks was taller than Vegeta, and had light purple hair, blue eyes. Bra was the spitting image of her mom, blue hair, blue eyes. They got all their parent's attitude, as well, and their brains. Smart kids.
"Trunks was a born fighter, Bra a born shopper. Vegeta saw to it that they were both trained, and Trunks often helped fight when it was necessary. Bra wouldn't unless she absolutely had to. I don't know if they were born without tails, or if Bulma saw to it that they were cut off, but I never saw either of them with one.
"My wife and I had two sons. Gohan was the scholar. He could fight, easily holding his own against your father if he wanted to. He was born with a tail, but when he was young, we had it removed. He looked kinda like me, and something like his mother. A good blend of us both, I guess. He married a fighter named Videl, and they had a little girl named Pan. Pan was about two years younger than Bra, a tomboy, and wasn't about to pass up any adventure or fight that came her way.
"Goten was a miniature me, and a year younger than his best friend, Trunks. He was a good fighter, a strong one. I was dead when he was born, and his whole life, I never did see him with a tail"
Deana wrapped her tail around his wrist. "Does it bother you that we all have tails and you don't?"
"No. I made the choice to allow mine to be removed. I wasn't really all that old… twelve or thirteen, I suppose, when I gave it up. And I can't say I really miss it. I know I don't miss people grabbing it."
The tail whipped from his wrist to wrap tightly around her waist. "Ugh! No kidding!"
"Yeah. A Namek, like Piccolo and Dende, are tall, bald, green men with antennas. Their race has no females, and the males reproduce by spitting big eggs out of their throats."
"EWWWW!"
"Piccolo was the warrior. Dende was the guardian of Earth, and a healer." He went on, describing the rest of the friends he had lost so many years ago, his voice poignant and plaintive. "They were good friends, and they all died when the enemy came.
"We had no warning at all. No one felt them approach. They were just there all of the sudden, with power levels that exceeded most of ours. Wherever we were able to feel them, we could feel others dying.
"We all raced toward them, of course. Even Bra. There were more of them than of us, but we were used to uneven odds. At first, we were winning. We took out a lot of their fighters by teaming up on them. All of the Saiyans were able to go super, all the males could make it to the second level, and I could make it to the third. So could Gotenks, but Trunks and Goten only managed to fuse twice before the enemy learned to keep them from completing the fusion.
"We Saiyans were the last to start dying. Trunks fell first, and Goten not long after. Vegeta was blasted out of the sky, and I was going to help him when they got me. I found my oldest son the next day, with the girls behind him. He'd been dead awhile, but their bodies were still warm. I hadn't gotten to them in time. I kept looking, because I hadn't found Vegeta yet.
"I finally found him, and gave him a senzu. He found another one for me. We buried our families, and set out to find the men who had destroyed them. All we ever found was more bodies, until we got back to Capsule Corp. Your mother was the only other person, besides us, who survived.
"The invaders had killed everyone. They'd left Vegeta and I for dead, had blasted the building where Mitzu was hiding to rubble. Her sister had died in the blasts, she'd been injured, but survived. They'd slaughtered livestock, destroyed farms, burned the forests and thrown carcasses into every waterhole, river and creek. They'd blasted oil tankers on the oceans. Anything they could destroy… they destroyed.
"We stayed at the ruins of Capsule Corporation for months, until we'd managed to recover our strength. Then we set out again with all the supplies we had managed to find, and started looking for survivors again. We found none, and finally settled here. In all these years, I've never felt another survivor."
Goku shifted a bit. "Now, Deana, you have chores to tend to."
"What?"
"There's dishes to wash, clothes to mend, animals to tend, and a garden to weed. You've chosen to be independent. And I'm afraid that right now… I can't help except to tell you what to do."
"Oh." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. You went from the story to chores… Ka - Goku, how old are you?"
"I don't know. I never really have. Older than you?" he offered.
Deana giggled. "Okay, old man. I'll get to work."