Back Against the Wall

Chapter 4

Watcher

If Piccolo remembered what happened, he did an extremely good job of hiding it. Gohan felt grateful but also a little forlorn, like a part of him thought something interesting might come of it. At this point, even a good old fashioned row would be a welcome disruption to the routine. His Namekian friend just kept on with passive interest until they were able to train and spar. He looked at the calendar Trunks had fashioned for one of his school 'art projects', Piccolo had arrived nine months ago exactly. Bulma had even calculated the exact point he had travelled forward in time. Year 764.

Not much else had come of her findings, but Gohan wasn't too worried anymore, they had nothing but time on their hands. They trained when they could, a couple of times a week, and his Namekian companion would meditate or pretend to for the rest of the time. The first couple of months, Piccolo had rejected Gohan's friendship with gusto, declaring that 'The Demon King didn't have any need for human bullshit.' Gohan knew better than to bring up mounting evidence to the contrary, like the laughing Namekian tumbling over him, trusting and drunk. He had simply waited the surly young man out. It was a day like any other, right up until Gohan sauntered into his almost friend's room.

Piccolo stood frigid, every muscle on fire from tension. It had been raining, but through the myriad of droplets on the window pane Gohan could clearly see what had transfixed the Namekian so. Eighteen's liquid blue eyes shone more brightly than the dark day should have allowed, her nose hovering just a hair breadth away from the house's forcefield. The mahogany building behind her did nothing but accentuate how close she really was. Gohan went from calm to quite frantic at impressive speed, but managed to maintain his composure enough to act sensibly. He stepped forward, logically knowing she couldn't break the field but terrified all the same, and placed his hands on Piccolo's shoulders. He whispered in his ear.

"Just follow me"

Piccolo had not seen the androids before, and he now realised that he didn't need to see them at all. They had a presence that preceded them, only he hadn't known it. That buzz, a soft electronic hum that must be moving somewhere in her circuits, he had heard it before. She had been here before, stood in the silence, watching. Waiting. He felt sick and excited. He didn't register Gohan's voice until he spoke again, this time a little louder.

"Piccolo"

Reluctantly, he stepped back with Gohan, neither of them taking their eyes off the Android. She cocked her head ever so slightly, soft blonde hair falling to the side, and undid the top button of her denim jacket. Such an offhand, trivial human thing to do, and it made Piccolo swallow an undignified feeling. Gohan closed the door to the single bedroom and pushed a makeshift emergency button on the wall. The house lights dimmed a little, and Piccolo could hear machinery whirring somewhere.

Bulma appeared a few seconds later, still sweating from being on the treadmill, with Trunks in hand.

"Where are they?"

"The girl is outside his window," he pointed to the door, "so her brother must be somewhere near"

Please God don't be in the house.

The same thought had occurred to Piccolo, and even though he had been informed that they had no chi to sense, he still searched for it. Cursing, he closed his eyes and listened.

"I don't hear anything"

But then he hadn't really heard the blonde stalking him either. How long had she been there? How many times had she visited? What the fuck was she doing?

Gohan made a non committal noise and gestured for them to follow him into the kitchen. Piccolo paused, itching to fight, but something made him follow his bossy pupil. He sneered at the realisation. He watched, noiselessly, as each of them grabbed a bag with, what Piccolo assumed, was belongings packed for this kind of emergency. Trunks handed him one too. He took it without argument, realising they were likely leaving and fiddled with the straps to put it on his back. Bulma grabbed him roughly, and he stiffened. She strapped him into it whilst talking to Gohan, and he thought it funny, because the Bulma he knew wouldn't have come within six feet of him without fainting.

"I've sealed off the exits, we'll have to come back for my lab equipment. Luckily, there's a place not too far that we can go to, unoccupied and not too badly damaged," she patted him on the back before rounding to do the same for Trunks "let's hope they've gotten slower."

She smiled the most humourless smile Piccolo had ever seen on a human being.

"I'll take Bulma, Piccolo - can you take Trunks?"

Trunks scowled dramatically, the most Vegeta-like face he'd pulled so far. He nodded.

They grabbed a few more things, Gohan shoved bottles of water and various liquids into Piccolo's bag, last minute items went into everyone's pockets except Piccolo, who had never thought to fashion any into his gi; a fact he felt bizarrely bad about now. To his chagrin, Bulma passed him some kind of device to place over his head.

"It's so we can hear each other. Let's go"

They were out of the door quickly, flying at the highest speed possible from the moment of take off. Gohan had been worried about using the door, expecting the Androids to be stood, poised to knock, like a couple of murderous evangelists. Piccolo took a moment to feel suspicious, also expecting them, but soon focussed on their escape. Bulma looked back sadly at their now abandoned little domicile but Piccolo was glad to be free of the hideous, brick prison. Trunks felt dense and warm in his arms, and he held onto him tightly, although he'd deny that he had grown attached to the charming and surly youngster. The dilapidated city blurred past them in all its ruined glory, Gohan's orange gi fluttering in the wind looked obnoxious ahead of him.

Eighteen watched them leave in an organised flurry, narrowing her eyes in amusement. She levitated, with all the grace of a ballerina, and followed in silence. Piccolo spotted someone in the distance, and his heart quickened. He hoped Trunks couldn't feel it. His voice sounded strange and nasal in the headset.

"She's behind us"

Gohan opened his mouth to speak but wasn't able to, he dropped Bulma, doubling over in pain. Seventeen's fist shattered something as it hit, moving his flesh and insides alike. Blood gargled in the back of his throat and he cursed with red teeth. Bulma was falling, and screaming. Piccolo tried to dive for her but a steely hand around his ankle halted him mid flight; Trunks felt the jerk and struggled out of his hands to go after his mother. Piccolo all but threw him away from their attacker. Eighteen squeezed and he could feel his fibula bend and heard it moan in a bony protest. He kicked her in the face, as hard as he could manage from this angle, and looked back to check on Gohan.

He was punching the other android over and over, green eyes enraged as his fist met hard reinforced metal, over and over. Piccolo snarled as Eighteen almost punched him in the stomach, rolling mid air and delivering a back kick. She swerved, remembering well the power of the Namek's long legs the last time she had killed him. How he had reappeared she had no idea, and it piqued her curiosity no end. Her blonde hair whipped his teeth, as she whispered in his ear. Knives for fingers dug into his biceps painfully.

"What have we here?"

Her voice was soft, soothing and cold. She bit his ear and he yelped, hoping no one heard it, before head butting her hard. He followed it with a hand to the throat as she recoiled back, charging an attack in her face. Gohan yelled something but he didn't get a chance to respond as something struck his spine, hard. Bewildered, and in blinding pain, he wondered if Trunks had caught Bulma.

Eighteen took her chance to go after Gohan, leaving her brother to continue his assault. The smaller man avoided Piccolo's elbow, then Piccolo's punch and he found himself getting annoyed. They were faster than him, stronger than him, and all by a country fucking mile. Seventeen grabbed him, pin fingers as sharp as his sister's and flew them into the ground below. Hitting the rubble and concrete at speed felt exactly as comfortable as he'd imagined it, dust pillowed up and scratched his eyes. The android's hand around his throat came out of grey nowhere and they struggled for the upper hand. Piccolo had a feeling this android wanted a fight more than he wanted to kill him, and he supposed he should feel lucky. Laughing blue eyes came directly into his vision, and he choked, clawing at the hand around his throat. Piccolo used his weight to roll them and drove a knee unceremoniously into Seventeen's crotch. It hurt, and he laughed. Seventeen's eyes narrowed. That was a dick move, Namek.

The headset had disappeared somewhere but he heard it crackle, hoped it was Bulma saying she was okay. He didn't have time to analyse the sentimentality of the thought before Gohan sent Seventeen flying through the building behind them. Piccolo found himself being dragged along at Super Saiyan speed suddenly, and the same type of chi shield they used for training enveloped them. He could see another one ahead, probably for Bulma and Trunks. Piccolo scowled. Now they use the shields.

They flew for another hour, slower this time whilst mapping the landscape, before landing on the roof of a row of houses, all five stories tall. Or what Piccolo assumed was a house, it looked old, with crumbling bay windows and covered in ivy. He raised a brow. Gohan laughed, somehow, and bared his blood stained teeth. Piccolo took place at the back and followed them through a steel door, down stone steps in the dark, and onto a landing. Carpets and chandeliers that might have looked grand once met their squinting eyes. Bulma kept walking until she reached a door with a gold plated plaque with the number 52 on it.

"This is it. Welcome to your new home boys"

She pushed the door open and the permeating smell of dust that Piccolo was truly fed up with puffed out. The hallway was a good size, lined with mosaic tile and coats that didn't belong to anyone anymore, it appeared to all be on one floor. The word came to him eventually. An apartment. It opened into a living room, it looked aged, and the kitchen was bigger than their previous one. Plush seating with colourful cushions matched the curtains. Large windows looked on at them, ornate and leering; Piccolo immediately started opening them. Bulma started to fuss but he interrupted her.

"They're being opened"

She hesitated, before letting him have his way, suspecting that his Namekian senses were to blame. Trunks grabbed his hand and he looked down to the bruised little boy.

"Come on Piccolo, let's go pick our rooms before they do"

Stunned at the action, so much like his little Gohan had done, he allowed himself to be led back into the hallway, wooden floorboards creaking underneath them as they went. Why he indulged the boy so much he could not fathom. Trunks investigated all the bedrooms, of which there were four, and declared his chosen one.

"This is mine, it's the best"

Piccolo smirked.

"You should take this one Piccolo, it's second best. I think you'll like it"

The Namek raised a brow and peered inside the room. It was so much larger than his previous, dismal little room and he hummed his approval. The same big windows lined the wall ahead of him, with floral curtains he didn't care for, but the view more than made up for it. It looked onto fields and forest, all green and untouched by the misery. Trunks wandered into his own room with a lingering comment.

"I told you"

He assessed the rest of the room, a double bed lay tidily in the middle, simple decor with a grey rug stretched across the floor. A useless TV sat in the corner, surrounded by a wall so full of books they had been shoved into every crevice. His curiosity had grown since coming to this weary future and he grabbed one of the books, wiping a thumb over the title to clear the dust.

The Chronicles of Narnia

It didn't mean anything to him, and he returned it to the bookcase. Gohan watched him from the doorway, eventually walking into the room to announce his presence.

"Well, this is an improvement isn't it?"

Piccolo heard his footsteps before his words, turning to acknowledge him. He continued his appraisal, he was so used to the other man's presence now; it used to fluster him being around people all the time. A door in the corner led to a little bathroom and Piccolo's eyes widened at the tub, independent and ornate like the rest of the decor. It wasn't very large, but it was deep, which meant that the Namek actually had a shot at feeling clean.

To his irritation, Gohan followed him into the small space.

"This is nice, Bulma's already gone to work on the plumbing so you should be able to use it soon"

She was actually installing her own water conversion system, a capsule corp invention that allowed people to easily fend for themselves in this version or reality. She had even sold a fair few before there was no market, and no money. Gohan smiled fondly, remembering that she had made it purely for his own mother to use, once upon a time. It's one of the reasons she had started looking in this location, because of the reservoir half a mile away. He'd join her shortly to lay down the pipework, although most of it was self replicating, it weighed a tonne and there would be pumps to lug around.

He knew that his taller friend would be itching for a bath; having private use of a waterfall had spoiled him. He also knew the Namekian would be calculating if he could just take his leave and wander off into the forest just ahead of the field out of the window.

"We could get it done quicker if you lend us a hand?"

Piccolo nodded, he actually didn't mind helping, even wanted to be useful. He sneered to cover it.

"Fine"

They both headed down the grand spiralling staircase in the centre of the building, leaving Trunks to mess around in his room. The lights had flickered on as they had left; Bulma had made quick work of hooking up their generator. Not for the first time, Piccolo marvelled at her intelligence and ability, and again thought it was such a waste inside a fragile human body. He let his hands feel the worn wood of the bannister as they made their descent. His fingers were still sore from hitting androids and he felt an odd sense of dysphoria; how they had gone from a vicious fight for their life, to this, in the space of half a day. A thought occurred to him as they walked, but he couldn't quite analyse it, something about the way the androids had looked bothered him.

They spent the rest of the afternoon following Bulma's instructions, Piccolo was surprisingly nimble and able to get his hands in difficult to reach places with his Namekian abilities. The pump, or what Piccolo assumed was the pump, at the reservoir was huge. He made a comment about the androids spotting it but Gohan assured him it would be shielded, from his vantage point, hanging off the side of it, he could almost see their building. Never had he imagined he'd be doing such things.

Gohan called up to him.

"Okay, next, reach in and pull the second lever down"

Piccolo complied, squeezing his arm through the tight gap. Humans would have set all this up before encasing it in alloy but the blue haired scientist made it clear they had no time for following such procedures. It was warm and even without his gi top he felt clammy and unpleasant. The machine was already functioning and the metal was hot to the touch, burning his pink armour and leaving little red blotches up and down his arms.

"Have you done it?"

He matched Gohan's shout with one of his own.

"No!"

He was beginning to feel light headed, and belatedly wondered if he'd banged his head too hard in their earlier brawl. He wouldn't have felt so pathetic in his own world, this horrid future was doing something to him. Talons grazed the lever and he pulled it, locking it in its downwards position. Gohan had floated up to get a better view of what was taking so long, coming face to face with a sweaty, angry Namek.

He had hooked his legs around the upright struts and had one arm deep inside the outer casing. Gohan pursed his lips at the odd arrangement but said nothing. Another snipe at Piccolo's handiwork might actually end their already fragile friendship.

"Okay, last bit now, just further on. So that's left of the lever, there's a switch to start the automatic pressure release...valve...mechanism...wait"

Piccolo rolled his eyes and grabbed the manual with his free hand. Gohan waited impatiently, hovering. He mentally noted his friend's strong back, his taut abs, his slim waist. He felt stupid, again, and cursed that it kept happening. He had been telling himself it was just biology. Piccolo wasn't strictly male, as far as he understood, and he was so lonely. Trunks and Bulma were great company but not at night, not when he needed someone to-

Piccolo interrupted his thoughts and Gohan immediately panicked that the Namek might have heard them. The manual was shoved in his hands.

"Here"

He reached back inside the machine, cringing at his burning flesh, which he was sure Gohan was beginning to smell as he was starting to look stressed. A banging noise resounded through the metal and he withdrew his aching arm, finally. Despite the awkward work, he enjoyed it more than he was ever going to let on. Gohan patted him on the back, which Piccolo found irritating as fuck.

"Good job! Let's go see if it's working"

He jumped down, landing gracefully. The temptation to jump into the reservoir was strong but Bulma had forbidden them both from letting their bodies touch her drinking water. They walked back amiably, Gohan talking about how he was glad in a way that the androids had discovered them, so that they had an excuse to move on from 'the grotty little bungalow'.

Piccolo didn't know what the word grotty meant, but he could guess. Bulma met them at the bottom of the staircase, her hair askew and tied back in its usual messy bun.

"We're on boys, why don't you both go test it out"

A not so subtle hint.

Bulma lay on the sofa, everything had been hoovered by a grumbling Trunks, so at least most of the dust had gone. Her bones felt tired but her brain kept working. Her mother used to say that she had been cursed with an overactive imagination, and the brains to do something about it. She smiled at the memory, missing the soft scent of her mother's hair and her parent's smiling faces.

She even missed Vegeta, although their turbulent relationship hadn't lasted spectacularly long. Trunks had been the surprise of her lifetime. She let the sadness wash over her. What a world to bring him into.

Unlike herself and Gohan, Trunks had adapted brilliantly. He didn't really know any different, found happiness in the oddest of places and made friends where he could. Got over it when he couldn't. Forgot about them when they left. The androids had little else to do but hunt remaining humans, and they made such a long sport of it, people were leaving or disappearing all the time. She hadn't told the boys yet that there was another family moving in a couple of floors down, it had all been arranged. She laughed. Family, I guess that's what we are.

Piccolo barely heard Bulma's laugh, and he was eternally grateful for the thicker walls. He sat in the ceramic bath, legs bent but with its depth the water nearly came up to his shoulders. His knees poked out of the water and he let his legs drop and spread to dip them under. His eyelids dropped and he let himself nod off in the warmth, it must be the first time he had felt content since arriving. The adrenaline from their short and humiliating fight earlier had well and truly taken leave, and he now felt the impact of every single punch. He preferred bathing by his waterfall, but this beat the shower at their previous house. It alternated between hot and lukewarm, would hammer you one minute and spit at you the next. He let his thoughts drift and they, as usual, went straight to Gohan. Strong mahogany eyes staring up at him, thick hair wavering in the wind. Hazy thoughts of the other man made his fingers twitch and he gripped his thigh.

Bulma walked in, nearly resulting in her receiving a chi blast to the face. She held up her hands in mock surrender. She did eventually avert her gaze, but not before getting an eye full, and she chuckled to herself.

"Just checking the pressure"

She turned on the taps at the sink, but gave the younger man a wide berth.

"Get out!"

She pulled a face that might have been an apology. They had been living under each other's feet for so long she had forgotten what privacy meant. Although she hadn't forgotten how furiously private the Namek was, she had now become an expert at ignoring it. He heard her voice carrying as she left all the doors open in her wake.

"Don't go in there unless you want to be bitten by a rattlesnake"

Gohan laughed and entered his room anyway. Piccolo thought he might explode with anger. He decided to finish washing, repeatedly dropping a questionable, ancient bar of soap and eventually stepped out onto a shaggy grey mat. Gohan threw a towel through the door and it landed at his feet.

"I've put some more on your bed"

For some reason, the small gesture pissed him off immensely. He could make his own, make them all towels and clothes, but Gohan insisted on this pathetic, domesticity. Not in the mood for an argument, he tried to school his features. He supposed it saved his energy, which had come in short supply with the lack of water up until now. He conjured a new gi and stepped into his room, eyeing the Saiyan lying on his bed. Sock covered toes wiggled as he looked at the ceiling and Piccolo tried to assess whether or not Gohan was clean enough to be on his bed at all.

"Have you bathed?"

Gohan looked at him, insulted.

"Yes, thank you"

The Namek grunted, padding over to the other man and staring down at him.

"Get out"

Gohan smiled, sweetly, and it made Piccolo swallow.

"Just seeing if your bed is comfier than mine"

He raised a brow at the playful attitude.

"You can swap them around for all I care"

Gohan just snickered. It made Piccolo contemplate moving to the nearby forest permanently, if it weren't for the fact that he'd be dragged back kicking and screaming. That, and those goddamn androids.

"Just lie next to me for a minute"

"Why?"

Gohan just gave him a look that said 'I dare you'.

Piccolo huffed, hesitated, then ungracefully laid down beside the Saiyan. A few moments went by. He couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of the other man's bicep against his own.

"I knew it! This bed is bigger than mine!"

What a child. Piccolo actually chuckled under his breath, and meant it, making Gohan turn onto his side with one hand propping up his head. His hair had grown out again and, together with his ever darkening stubble, it made him look very unkempt. It brought the Namek straight back to that day he had tried whiskey, and that hand had come smoothly up the back of his neck. He wondered if Gohan had the same thought, because he coughed a little and sat up, climbing off the bed entirely.

"Well, see you at dinner. I have to go enjoy my 'third best' room"

Trunks had assigned Gohan's as well, then.

"Shut the door behind you"

He closed his eyes at the sound of finally having some peace and quiet. The sun had already set and a gentle dark blue allowed a few stars to glimmer through the open window. The lamp cast a nice glow, although it was hideous, and in that moment, he decided to skip dinner. He rolled onto his side and made a small, surprised noise, spotting a single black hair which the wild child had left behind. He traced a finger across it gently.

Gohan received the news of their soon to arrive neighbours with a shout, making Bulma feel all warm about it. She hadn't mentioned that she and the father, Atsuto, had been exchanging messages for nearly a year now. They had met once and exchanged numbers, or rather, capsule corp codes, whilst raiding an empty health food shop. He had two sons and a daughter, all alive and healthy-ish, and no wife. Or so she had assumed given the nature of some of their messages.

Trunks was excited to hear of having two youngsters to play with, though she had warned him to keep his saiyan strength to a minimum. Piccolo heard the ruckus as he left the apartment, not paying attention to what was being said, and closed the front door gently behind him. Thankfully, Bulma had given them all the lock code for the door this time. He grimaced at the patronising thought. He ventured into the adjacent apartment, it was utterly ruined and in far worse shape than their own. Finding a spare bit of horrid, dust ridden carpet, he sat down in the peaceful silence and meditated.

A couple of hours passed by before the inevitable footsteps of Gohan arrived, but he was glad of it. He sensed the oncoming verbal grief and held up a hand.

"Before you start. I have very good hearing, and every now and then, I need the quiet"

The demi-Saiyan mulled over his words and just nodded.

"Just let us know"

"Fine"

What he didn't divulge is the importance of his meditation. He needed the quiet in order to do it properly, and he needed to do it daily. There wasn't a lot propping up his balanced mind; too many memories of other people, too many conflicting feelings and thoughts, different personalities warring for dominance.

"I know it's late, but would you come with me to get some supplies?"

Piccolo perked up, and nodded.

They returned to their own apartment first, to put on what Trunks called 'ninja wear'. Piccolo materialised a version of what Gohan was wearing, black pants and a black padded jacket. Once the young boy had declared that they looked cool enough, they left with empty backpacks.

Gohan talked, like he usually did, as they walked down the stairs.

"Sorry I haven't asked you along before"

The words, I didn't want you to get hurt, went unsaid but Piccolo heard them anyway. He wondered what had changed. Maybe it's because they encountered the androids and he had survived. Either way, he was annoyingly used to the other man's Mother Hubbard routine and for the first time, supposed he was lucky someone cared. Bulma was rubbing off on him.

They walked out into the street with little or no bluster. Like it was just another rainy, quiet night. This neighbourhood had not been as badly damaged, since it was on the edge of the city, and Gohan revelled in the relative normality of it. Eighteen watched them, her icy eyes lifeless in the dark, perched on a wall across the street. She let them pass her, not moving, not following.

W.