Kage went through a period of hard withdrawal. He spent most of his time down in the boiler room because he was so cold. He looked like he had the flu. His eyes were watery and blood-shot, and he shivered all the time. He was always covered in cold sweat, and the vomiting just would not stop.

I tried to get him to eat, but his stomach would reject it. I tried to get him to take a shower, but he said that the water hurt him. He smelled like death.

I began to worry that he was going to die. I was always awake, checking on him, to make sure he was still breathing. I probably woke him up several times an hour just to be sure he was still with me.

I went into the kitchen to get something to eat. I was always ravenous now; like I could never have enough to eat.

As my toast popped up from the toaster, I felt a sudden thump from inside my stomach. I stood stalk-still for a moment, and felt alongside my stomach. It thumped again.

I couldn't be going into labor; it was weeks before the baby was supposed to be born. I felt a wave of panic, and left the kitchen in a hurry.

I had promised I would leave him alone, but I woke him up once again. He groaned and looked up at me through pitiful red-rimmed eyes.

"Something's wrong," I said quickly, and pressed his hand to my stomach. "Do you feel that?"

He felt along my stomach for a moment. "Yeah,"

"What is that? What's going on?"

He let his hand flop back down to the blanket he lay naked on. "Nothing. It's just kicking."

I cocked my head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," He said, turning away from me and curling his arms under his head like a pillow.

I sighed, and stood up. Before I left, I looked him over. His bones stuck out in almost every place imaginable. I knew he should eat something, but he couldn't keep anything down. He was almost as skinny as he had been when I met him.

I went back to get my toast, and then sat down on the floor to stay with him a while.

He must have smelled the toast, for he rolled over to look it, and then at me.

"You want some?" I asked.

He shook his head. He got up from the blanket, and then stumbled against the wall for support. "Water," He rasped.

I nodded, and followed him into the kitchen. The baby was still kicking like crazy. It hurt, actually. It had to be a boy. I don't think a girl would be this aggressive.

He got a glass of water, and then rinsed out his mouth before taking a drink. He looked miserable. I felt a twang of guilt.

"So, what do you think we should name it?" I asked to distract him.

He rubbed his face and his eyes rolled as if to try and refocus them. "What are you saying to me?"

"The baby? What should we name it?" I said more slowly.

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Bob,"

"That's a terrible name." I said at once. "That name says 'I thought about this kid's name for three seconds'."

"Not even," He agreed.

"Come on, think of something better."

His head whipped back with exasperation. "You're creative. You think of something."

And then he made his way back to the boiler room on stumbling, exhausted feet.

I thought long and hard the rest of my waking hours. Now that the baby was kicking, I actually had to acknowledge it was there. And maybe if I gave it a name, it wouldn't be so scary.

I went through literally hundreds of names before decided on two that seemed perfect. I went to consult Kage.

He seemed annoyed that I woke him for the thousandth time, but he did not say anything. He just lay on the floor and listened.

"Okay. If it's a boy, how about Jackson, and a girl, Emma."

He shrugged and rolled back over.

"What do you think?" I asked with a sigh.

"I hate them both." He muttered.

"You hate them?" I repeated, and then frowned. "What don't you like about them?"

"Jackson is a last name, and Emma's a stripper name." He said simply.

"Lots of kids have last names as first names, and it is not a stripper name!"

"Fine. Name it whatever you want."

"I want your opinion. I don't want to name it something that one of us doesn't like."

"How do I know it's even my kid?"

I knew he was joking, so I rolled my eyes. "Just help me think of better ones."

He fell silent.

"Kage?" I asked, thinking he'd fallen asleep.

"I'm thinking," He snapped. "How about The Fonz?"

"You want to name a child 'Fonz'?"

"No, The Fronz. Like from Happy Days."

"…I'm not talking to you anymore." I said, and went to leave the room.

"No, wait, I have a better name," He said, rolling back around to face me. "Jake, or Excalibur,"

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. "Is Excalibur a girl's name?"

"No,"

"That's not how the game works. You have to have a boy and a girl's name."

"What if we get two boys?"

I fell silent, confused.

Then it dawned on me. What if there were more then one? It had happened to my parents; they had expected one, and got three instead. What's to stop nature from giving us three as well? Or even four? This thought had never even crossed my mind.

Kage seemed to have already thought about this, and accepted it. "What about Carl?"

"Kage, there might be more then one,"

"Yeah, I know. I like Mark too."

"There could be four," I pointed out.

"Yeah… but that's not likely. I've never come across quadruplet cubs before."

"That's because most of the Saiyan race was dead before you were even born,"

He seemed to consider this. "This is true." He didn't seem to have anything else to say.

I felt the anxiety building. I could handle maybe one; but no way two, or three, and definitely not four.

"Do you think there could be four?" I asked him. He was still rattling off names. Once given a task, it was hard for him to focus on other things.

He stopped naming for a moment. "What day is it?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"What time is it?"

I checked a clock. "It would be 5:00 am in Japan."

He nodded, and closed his eyes for a moment. "So we've been up here approximately 2976 hours, which is 121 days, right?"

I nodded, though I had no idea if that was right.

"That's about four months. If that's right, then you're a month away from delivery. So you'd be way bigger if there was more then two, I would say."

I shook my head. "How can you know that?"

He shrugged again and opened his eyes. "Numbers don't lie."

I sat back against the wall. "So you're a math geek now?"

He laughed. "Something like that. I can do it in my head pretty easy, but I can't read it off of paper. I need it read to me."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I get them mixed up, and I almost always get it wrong. I used to get D's in school because I couldn't figure out how the order was supposed to go."

"You mean you're dyslexic?"

"Is that the technical term?" He yawned, his eyes going half closed. He seemed to be lost in thought. He smiled all of a sudden, and laughed to himself.

"What?" I asked.

"You were freaking out because it kicked," He laughed again. "What did you think was happening?"

I flushed red, "I was thinking that it was too early for it to be born," I admitted.

He laughed louder and rolled onto his back. "Believe me; when it's time, you'll know right away what's happening."

"How would you know? How you had a baby before?"

He shook his head. "No, but from what I understand, it's excruciating. There was a metaphor Bulma used… Something about a keyhole going through a watermelon."

I knew what he was trying to say. I must have looked horrified, for he slapped my thigh playfully.

"But don't worry. That was a human talking. Saiyans have a much higher tolerance for pain."

Tolerance or not, it was going to hurt. I was sure of that.

He shifted, and I stared at him for a while. His face was masculine, squared around the jaw, straight nose, arched eyebrows, and big, but not goofy, ears. A long neck, broad shoulders, a hairless, smooth chest, slender arms and wrists, a flat stomach, two creases where hips met stomach, long, muscular legs. An excellent sized cock.

He was absolutely perfect. Like a model before a camera. He was the kind of flawless that everyone wishes they could be.

"Like what you see?" He asked in a mocking voice.

I looked back up at his face. His eyes were half closed, taunting me.

I blushed and looked away.

I hated how he had no sense of embarrassment. He did whatever he wanted, however he wanted, and he didn't care if he made a fool of himself. He could do it all naked, and be perfectly okay with that. While I blushed when he gave me just one look.

"Jealous?" He asked, jokingly.

"Yes," I said seriously.

This seemed to surprise him. "Really?"

And then I was surprised. "Well, yeah. You're perfect,"

He cocked his head. "Are you on drugs?"

"You're like a fucking model," I spat, letting more envy out then I'd wanted.

He was bewildered now. "Uh… thank you?"

"Don't even act surprised. You know how gorgeous you are."

He thought about this for a moment. "So if I'm gorgeous, then that makes you… stunning? Unbelievably beautiful? Intoxicating? What other words are there to describe you?"

I shook my head. "You want sex or something? Stop messing with me."

"I'm not messing with you." He insisted seriously. "Have you seen your parents? They're beautiful. And your sister? A knock out. You're entire family makes humans turn their heads. When you're all together, people just don't know what to do. You make people question their sexuality, gay or straight. People want you. Especially you."

I frowned deeply, wanting to believe him, but unable to. "Why especially me?"

"Because you have this… innocence about you. A Junoesque, that's a little watered down by your awkwardness."

"You think I'm awkward?"

"In a good way. In a way that is easily forgivable because you're so cute."

"But I'm awkward?"

He nodded. "You seem like you fall down at lot."

"But I don't; not any more than anyone else!"

"I know that, but you just seem a little like a damsel in distress."

"Thanks," I said dryly.

He ruffled my hair with a laugh. "I like feeling like I need to go save you." He beckoned for me to come closer for a kiss.

He tasted terrible, but I didn't mind. He put a hand up my shirt to feel only my stomach. The baby had stopped kicking until then, but it started up again as he touched me.

I ignored the child, and continued to kiss him. He twisted my nipple gently between his fingers, and my breath hitched.

"Take off your clothes." He demanded. "Lay with me."

He moved away from me to make room. I took off my clothes, as commanded, and lay next to him. It was warm in this room. Like lying out on the beach.

"I honestly don't see the point in clothes," He said casually. "They're more of an annoyance if anything. But apparently, it's 'polite' or something,"

I shrugged. "Well, on earth, everyone wears clothes."

"Which is dumb." He rolled onto his side to prop his head up onto his hand. "We should get a house in a nudist colony, and then I won't have to dress just to go to the store."

I rolled my eyes. "I feel bad for you, I really do," I said sarcastically.

"I want to live in a nudist colony, a French one, and I want to have tea with the Pope. Those are the only two things I ask out of Earth."

"Why the Pope?"

"Well, the Pope seems like he needs some loosening up, ya know? Like, we could be best friends, and we could go to the movies, and skateboard and stuff."

"You know the Pope's like eighty years old," I pointed out.

"That didn't stop Evil Kanevil,"

"Yes it did! That's exactly what stopped him!"

"No, a collapsed lung and a failing liver did," He rolled his eyes. "You are clearly not a true fan."

"Anyway," I said with a roll of my eyes. "Why does it have to be a French nudist colony?"

"Well, the French are very liberal. And they're hot, so that's a plus."

"I see."

"What are your hopes and dreams?" He asked, closing his eyes and letting his head drop onto the blanket.

"I'm not sure they can hold up to your outstanding dreams," I said sarcastically.

"Probably not." He agreed.

"But I think I want to finish high school first, and maybe go to college… get a degree in art, or something… Watch the baby grow up… Um…" I paused. "Make amends with my parents, if I can…" I trailed off and then sighed deeply.

"What?" He asked, not opening his eyes.

"The last thing I said to them was that I hated them, and that I didn't care if I ever saw them again."

He did not seem concerned. "The thing about Goku is that he can forgive just about anything. He's probably already forgiven you. He probably just misses you so much he doesn't care how you get back, as long as he can see you again." He paused. "Now, Da… he's a little bit more of an enigma. If he's anything like the one from my time, he can hold a grudge for a long time,"

I sighed. "Don't I know it."

"But just because he might not forgive you, doesn't mean he doesn't love you. He might not say it, or show it, but he does. He loves you, and your brothers, and sisters, and Goku and Bulma… he might even love Piccolo,"

"And Chichi?"

"Oh, God no. He hates Chichi,"

We had a half-hearted laugh.

"But seriously, don't even worry about it." He said with a wave of his hand. "He might kick your ass when you get back, and he might give you the cold shoulder for a while, but he can't be mad at you forever. He claimed he hated Goku, didn't he? And now where look where he is. Time is an amazing thing."

That little pep talk did make me feel better. "So when do you think we'll be getting back?"

He shrugged. "We ran out of gas a long time ago, so it might be a week or two, or it might be a year. I don't know."

"What?!" I cried, sitting bolt upright. The baby started to kick as if irritated as well. "We ran out of gas?!"

He opened one blood-shot eye. "Remember when the ship kind of jerked, and then went silent a few weeks ago?"

"You told me that was the pressure equalizing!"

"Oh, yeah. That was a lie. Anyway, I can't really calculate how fast the ship is going without some solid numbers so we're just going to float for a while, and see what happens."

See what happens. "Kage, on a list of good ideas, that isn't one of them." I ran my hand through my hair. "I can't believe this,"

"Whatever. Why do you need to stress about everything? Just chillax,"

"How old are you? Who the hell says 'chillax' anymore?" I asked, putting my anger aside for a moment.

"Old enough to know that if you obsess over everything, then you waste a whole lot of time. Just go with the flow. You can't control anything, so way try?"

"Yes, you can control things. You can control the ship running out of gas,"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if you were some kind of magical gas fairy or something,"

I paused for a moment, bewildered. "What?!"

"Did you see any gas stations on the way out here? We're in the middle of no where. Now if you are a magical gas fairy, then we'd be in a totally different situation."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" I got up onto my feet to leave the room. "Come on,"

"Where are we going?" He practically whined.

"I'm going to take a shower, and you're going to come with me."

"Why?"

"Because you smell like shit, okay?"

He shrugged. "Maybe I liked to smell like shit,"

I give him an innocent look and sniffle. "I guess I could start crying or something, if you don't want to come with me…"

"Alright, I'm coming."