He held my arms down at my sides as he entered me, and I let out a hiss of pleasure. He was covered in sweat; it ran down his chest and trickled down his narrow hips in beads. His lips were pulled back in an almost snarl, his teeth bearing.

He pulled almost all the way out, and I braced myself just before he rammed back in. I felt myself grow hotter as he went faster and harder. He still wouldn't let me move, but I didn't care. I trusted him.

Then he lifted me as he sat up, until I was sitting on his lap, and he clung to me, burying his face in my hair. He muttered unintelligible sentences in my ear as I howled for more.

The thrusting became faster, more desperate, and we came to that point just before the dam broke.

And then, with strangled cries, we finished together.

He kissed down my jaw, each one desperate and anxious, then our lips met and we continued with a slow, passionate kiss.

He laid me down on the bed, and then took up the space next to me. I watched his back rise and fall in the semidarkness. His tail was limp beside him, just as spent, it seemed. I ran my fingers over it affectionately. It bristled, and then began to wind it's way through my fingers.

I laughed to myself, and then sighed.

I missed my family.

As much as they got on my nerves, as much as I wished sometimes that I was an only child, or someone else's kid, I missed them. I missed Lysander, and all the adventures we used to have. I missed Vienna and all her talk about writers and books that I didn't understand, and Papa's obsession with food. I missed always having to fight for Da's attention, and then relishing how sweet that attention was. I missed Gohan, and Goten and Trunks, and Bra and Bulma; I even missed Chi-Chi.

I missed the house I had been born and raised in, even with the lack of space, the faucet that never stopped leaking, the flooding in the spring time, and the roof that could hardly be called a roof anymore.

I would have given up almost anything to see them all again, and tell them how sorry I was. But I couldn't ask Kage to do that. I couldn't ask him to go back at all that misery. He was still in love with Da, after all. Although he wasn't exactly obsessed with him anymore, I knew he thought about him. Asking him to go back and have to see him all the time just wasn't fair.

Everything was such a mess.

A moment later, I felt sick. I got up to go to the bathroom. I just barely made it to the toilet in time before I threw up.

I must be getting the flu, or something, because I had been sick for the past few days. But it wasn't a consistent sick. It was more like it came and went at various times, and I never knew when it would strike.

I brushed my teeth to get the taste of bile out of my mouth. When I returned to the bedroom, Kage was sitting up, drinking. He didn't smoke much anymore. Maybe he was saving what was left of his stash. He was even drinking less too.

"Are you alright, love?" He asked me in Saiyan.

I shrugged. "I don't know; I think I'm getting the flu, or something." I replied in Saiy-anese. That's what we called it at home when we switched back and forth between Japanese and Saiyan mid-sentence. Da really hated when we did that because he thought it was idiotic, or something. Papa did it all the time though; probably because he didn't always remember the word for something in Saiyan.

Kage didn't even seem to notice the switch. He continued on in Japanese. "I've never known a Saiyan that caught the flu."

Now that he mentioned it, I had never really been sick. I had chickenpox when I was really little, but I'd never had a cold, or the flu, or anything. Saiyans had quiet an immune system, I guess.

I shrugged and crawled back into bed with him. "Maybe its just space sickness still," I offered.

He finished off his drink and set the glass on the table. He didn't say anything after that.

After that conversation, I noticed that he was avoiding me. Whenever I wanted some attention, he would say he was busy or something. What could he possibly have to do? I suspected that he was trying to hide drugs from me or something.

I found him in the living room. He had a martini, and seemed to be looking at something in a book. I knew for a fact that he couldn't read a word of Japanese, so I confronted him.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

He looked up, and set his drink down. "I'm not ignoring you."

"Yes, you are. You haven't said anything to me in three days. Are you hiding something from me?"

He shook his head. "So quick to jump to conclusions. I'm not hiding anything. I just need some time to myself, that's all." He went back to the book.

I crossed my arms. "If you're not ignoring me, then why are you looking at that book?"

"I'm reading,"

"You can't even read Japanese!" I cried, frustrated.

"So?"

I threw my hands into the air. "That doesn't make any sense! What are you doing? Looking at the words and making up your own story?"

"That's exactly what I'm doing," He said, and went back to the book coolly.

I sighed and stomped out of the room.

Hours later, I went to find him again, to try and make peace. This time, he was in the boiler room, looking at the hot water heater. There was a bottle of scotch at his side, but it appeared to be unopened.

I crouched down next to him and threw my arms over his shoulders. I let my hand find a convenient place down his shirt.

"Do you want to know what I want to do?" I asked.

He hummed at me, but didn't really say yes or no.

"I want to go into the bedroom," I leaned in closer to whisper in his ear. "And maybe we could play a game, or two?"

He stood up. "I need a shower." He headed for the bathroom.

I frowned deeply, and got to my feet. That prick.

I ran after him, and forced my way into the bathroom before he could close the door.

He stared at me, eyebrows raised. "What are you doing?"

"You are avoiding me!" I accused, pointing at him. "You don't want to be around me at all!"

"That's not true, love. It's all in your head. Your teenage hormones are making you crazy," He grasped my hand to take me out of the bathroom, but I pulled away.

"I am not crazy!" I said, stomping my foot like a child. "I just want you to admit that you're trying to get away from me!"

He stepped towards me, and I put my fists up, ready to fight if need be. He put his hands on my hips, and pulled me closer to him. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but we're in a bit of trouble."

I looked up at him, still frowning. "What kind of trouble?"

"The kind that is going to pretty much change our lives."

"Are you dying, or something?" I asked, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. It was amazing how quickly he could make my emotions change for the better or worse.

"No, I'm probably not dying. But you…" He paused to relax his grip on me a little. "You're pregnant."

I stared at him a moment, and then scoffed. "Yeah, okay," I laughed. That's ridiculous. I'm fifteen; how could I be pregnant?

"I'm not joking, love," He said, his face completely serious.

I shook my head. "Whatever. How about we get a drink, huh?"

I turned to leave the bathroom. He followed me out. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?" He asked. "Do you know what pregnant means?"

I took hold of the scotch bottle and pulled off the top with my teeth. "Yeah, I know what it means."

He took the bottle from me before I could take a drink. "It means that you're going to have a baby," He put an emphasis on the word 'baby'. "My baby. Do you understand?"

I shook my head again. "You're mistaken. We have been careful."

"Obviously not careful enough. You have to face reality now. You are going to be a daddy."

We stared at each other for a long time. I kept searching his eyes for a hint of a lie, but I couldn't find one. I felt my knees go weak.

He caught me in strong, but thin arms and took me to the couch, where he sat me down. "I don't mean to scare you," He went on. "But this is a serious thing to deal with. I don't know what happens to children born to parents of different times. I don't know if it's ever been done before."

I looked at him. "I hate children," I said meekly.

He went on like he didn't hear me. "This might cross some line of space-time continuum that no being is actually supposed to cross,"

"All they do is eat, and poop; that's all they're good for,"

He went on. "And think about it; technically, we're never supposed to meet. In my time, you're never born, and in your time, you never met me. Obviously, we are not supposed to have contact. Nature has a way of stopping things like this. What if the universe puts something like a vendetta on us?"

"And they cry all the time. And you have to make sure they don't swallow anything, or hit their heads,"

"What if we have to live the rest of our lives trying to cheat death? Could one actually do that? Cheat death?"

"And what if I'm a bad parent?"

He stopped in his rambling about his space-time-continuum apocalypto crap to look at me. He saw I was on the verge of tears, and he had a moment in which he did not know what to say. "Aizel, don't be ridiculous. You're going to be the best dad in the world. If anything, I should be afraid that I'm going to be a bad father."

This did not make me feel any better. I burst into tears, and began to sob so violently, I could barely breathe.

He quickly swept me up into a hug and tried to quiet me. "It's alright, shh, everything is going to be perfectly fine,"

I was shaking I was so terrified. A baby? How the hell could two people that can't even maintain themselves raise a child?

I couldn't go back home now; not after this. Da wouldn't take me back; I know he wouldn't. Despite what Krillin said; parents don't have to love their kids unconditionally. I knew there was no going back now. They would forget about me eventually; and maybe one day, I would forget about them.

This made me feel even worse.

I cried myself to sleep in his arms.