Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing!

Chapter Eleven

Goku wished he could let the obviously exhausted woman in Kaio-sama's bed rest a while longer, but something in his gut told him they were running out of time. He pushed off of the wall he had been leaning against and padded over to the slumbering figure silently. Now that he had a chance to take a good look at her, there were noticeable differences between her and the Bulma he had known most of his life.

He thought back to when Mirai Trunks first told him about his horrific timeline, and how he had tried to visualize what the boy's mother looked like, having lived in a reality where the androids terrorized everyone on the planet. This Bulma was almost exactly what he had pictured back then, minus a decade or two. He had to admit, even if he didn't need to help the people in both of their realities, he was curious to see what circumstances had shaped this woman's life.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, wincing when it creaked from his added weight, and put his hand on Bulma's shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. "Hey, Bulma, you need to get up."

The slight female curled on her side shifted and muttered unintelligibly, but she quickly relaxed again, her eyes still closed. Goku couldn't help but chuckle; she was really cute like this.

"C'mon, Bulma. We have work to do. You've gotta get up," he implored again, amusement clearly evident in his patient tone as he gave her another soft nudge.

When he saw a sly grin find its way onto her lovely face, his brow furrowed uncertainly. Before he had a chance to see if she was actually awake, she rolled onto her back and two surprisingly strong hands wrapped around his bicep and pulled him off-balance towards her otherwise prone form.

His reaction was a testament to the countless years he'd spent training his mind and body to work as a single, fluid entity; instinct told him to move quickly so that he wouldn't crush her, so with a combination of force and ki, he used the arm she was still tugging on and placed his palm flat against the bed. Using his legs to throw the rest of his body into the air, he made a shallow arc just high enough to go over her, using a slight energy upsurge to slow himself down so he wouldn't turn the antique-looking piece of furniture into a worthless, albeit cushioned, pile of wood and metal when he landed on the other side of her.

With an imperceptible 'oomph,' his acrobatic endeavor came off without a hitch as he landed semi-upright, propped on his elbows, with a good six inches to spare between the two of them. Then the awkwardness of their position hit him, and as his brain kicked in, his previous grace and agility went out the window. He clamored backward like a crab until the back of his head hit the headboard, his round, onyx eyes wide with confusion.

He reasoned that she must have, once again, mistaken him for the man she had been with in her timeline. I think I'll just let her sleep, after all. He swung his leg over the opposite side of the bed with every intention of getting out of there, and no one had to be the wiser. After all, she had been pretty embarrassed the last time she mistook him for her mate, so he figured she'd probably be beside herself if she found out it happened again. Just as he was about to hoist himself up, a soft murmur stopped him.

"Don't go."

Goku gulped nervously and glanced over. Bulma was still lying on her back, but her bright sapphire eyes were half open and regarding him lazily. She yawned once and stretched languidly before turning towards him, raising her head up so that her chin could rest comfortably in the crease of her hand. He opened his mouth, intending to tell her that she had the wrong Saiyajin, but she beat him to it.

"I know you're not him, just in case that's what you were thinking, but your reflexes are definitely just as good as Kakarotto's. Maybe even a little better," she stated, obviously impressed.

"Why did you do that?" he asked without preamble as he settled himself back against the dark wooden headboard.

"I wanted to see how you would react," she replied honestly.

Goku blinked a few times. "You were testing me?"

She nodded, making several locks of silky blue hair to fall over her shoulder. The stunned warrior suddenly realized that she was situated much like one of Master Roshi's pin-ups, and her clothes actually made her seem even more inviting rather than less so. Maybe it was the sleek, midnight blue bodysuit that clung to every curve from her ankle up, or perhaps it was the long-sleeved, white button-down she wore on top of it that went just past her hips; the fabric was thin enough that he was able to see an outline of the dark, sleeveless garment beneath it.

He hastily banished the strange thought and shifted uneasily, returning his attention back on what she had said rather than... more distracting things. "Why?"

Bulma shrugged. "Well, I figured you would assume I had mistaken you for Kakarotto again." She waited a minute, expecting him to acknowledge that he understood what she was trying to say, but when she realized Goku hadn't caught onto her hint, she rolled her eyes impatiently. "I wanted to see if you'd make a move on me," she explained.

"Huh?" Goku stared at her in blatant disbelief - he was careful not to let the stab of guilt show - for another moment. "You thought I was gonna take advantage of you?"

"No, not really," she admitted after a short pause, "but it never hurts to be careful. Besides, if I'm supposed to let you do your thing so you can root around in my head, I need to be sure I can really trust you, don't you think?"

"I... uh... yeah, I guess so," Goku conceded after a minute. Then, deciding that trying to figure out her rationale was pointless, he flashed his trademark Son grin in acceptance. "So I passed?"

"Not yet. There are a few things I want to ask you first." Bulma took Goku's silence as a cue to go ahead, and she took a deep breath as she quickly ordered the countless questions that were assaulting her mind. "First of all, what's the deal with you and the Saiyajin Prince?"

"Hell, I gave up trying to figure that out years ago," Goku answered with a chuckle. "He says he hates me and always goes on about defeating me someday, but I don't really think it's as important to him as it used to be. And he's not as bad as everyone thinks. When Vegeta first came to Chikyuu, he was a real bastard, but he's basically been one of the good guys since then. He's settled down a lot, and he has a son to think about now."

"So he came just like in my time, but you let him go?" Goku nodded dumbly. "Why?" Bulma inquired sharply.

Goku scratched the side of his head and shrugged. "Well, he was really beat up and couldn't fight anymore, so I didn't see any reason for him to be killed when he was defenseless," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But... but he was a cold and ruthless killer!" Bulma exclaimed.

"Maybe so, but people can change, Bulma. I mean... everyone deserves a second chance, right?"

Bulma inhaled shakily and bit her bottom lip that had begun to tremble. "Yes, I suppose they do," she allowed quietly.

Goku waited a minute, watching Bulma battle back the sorrow that flashed across her face with concern, but she soon seemed to regain her composure. "Was that all you wanted to know?" he asked after another heavy pause.

"No, there's something else." Bulma shifted slightly. "Isaka told me that you have a son in your timeline..." she began.

"Yeah, his name's Gohan," Goku confirmed with a proud, affectionate smile.

"Right, but you don't have the mark of your mate on your neck," she went on critically. "Why is that?"

Goku's forehead crinkled for a second. "Oh!" he cried once he realized what she was talking about. "When I married my wife, I didn't know anything about the mating ritual," he clarified matter-of-factly. "And, truth be told, Chichi probably wouldn't have let me do it anyway, even if I had. She's not too keen on Saiyajin stuff, and lord knows if I had ever tried to bite her like that," he pointed at Bulma's scar, "she'd have chased me down with her frying pan and throttled me."

When he noticed Bulma's eyes bug out and her mouth fall open, he laughed. "Hey, she may be human, but lemme tell ya, if I'm not expecting it and can't power up in time, that cast iron hurts!"

"I see," Bulma breathed. It seemed almost unbelievable that a Saiyajin, even one as seemingly childlike as Goku, would allow himself to be bossed around by someone so much weaker than himself.

But the fact was... she did believe him, and that was enough to let him proceed.

Goku cleared his throat apologetically. "Um... we really should get started," Goku stated tentatively. "I don't wanna rush you, but I don't know how much longer we have."

"You're right," Bulma agreed nervously as she hoisted herself into a sitting position, her eyes darting between the Goku and the bedspread between them. Her thoughts were already back to the task at hand: letting a virtual stranger into her head. As far as she knew, there was only one way for a Saiyajin male to accomplish that. He and Vegeta had both admitted that they knew her old bond with Kakarotto would be useless, so...

Goku shifted himself so that he was sitting with his legs crossed comfortably in front of him, and he tilted his head slightly as he watched the woman's face go from sickly pale to deep rose pink within moments. "Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. "You know, maybe we should wait until you've rested a little more -"

"No, that's not necessary," Bulma waved him off with a shaky hand. There were definitely worse things she could imagine than mating this version of Kakarotto. The man was certainly just as handsome, and she realized that she could probably even get used to his strange mood swings that sent him from infantile to imposing without warning. He was sweet, sincere, gentle, humble, powerful... And she had a feeling that life wouldn't be boring anymore with him around. As harmless as he seemed, he had a presence that she was willing to bet her precious laboratory attracted opposition wherever he went. Just the idea of no longer lingering around the Grand Kai's with nothing to do and no one to talk to but the heavily-adorned walls and that crackpot old man was enough to give her a measure of peace.

She still loved her Kakarotto, but facts were facts. He was alive, she wasn't. And even if, God forbid, he did die sooner rather than later, there was no way he'd be allowed to remain flesh and blood in the afterlife. He would be an unrecognizable spirit while she would remain basically carrying on as though she were still living, only in the realm of the dead; she had a hunch that Goku was facing the same fate with his own wife, leaving them both in similar predicaments.

So what's the problem? she asked herself. We're both dead, and we both kept our bodies to move around this realm as we please. Surely he gets lonely up here with only Kaio-sama and that freaky monkey to keep him company...

Bulma caught herself going over his relaxed form with a slow, inspecting gaze while a little place in the back of her mind contemplated whether the man's flawless body moved just as perfectly in bed as it had when he had been forced to jump over it. With an inaudible gasp at the direction her musings had gone, she turned her eyes downward as blood rushed to her cheeks and neck. The room had suddenly become unbearably warm, and Bulma took a deep, steadying breath.

Well, they were going to have to come off anyway, she reasoned, so now's as good a time as any.

With a final, bashful glance towards Goku's concerned visage, the tense female inched forward and folded her legs beneath her so that she was on her knees in front of him. Then Bulma's trembling fingers fumbled with the top button of her oversized shirt.

Goku watched in blatant bewilderment as one pearly button after another was undone until the shirt was open completely, and Bulma quickly pulled it off her arms and tossed it off to the side. She paused for a moment and looked at him again, this time more inquisitively than before. She leaned herself forward, staring at the mismatched shirts before reaching her hand out, her fingers grazing the soft orange material on top.

"You know, I've been wondering why you wear all this," Bulma murmured.

"I... uh..." Goku stammered as the woman slid closer still, now examining the texture of the navy training shirt. "I've always been more comfortable in stuff like this," he offered stupidly.

Bulma nodded. "And what does the symbol mean?" she asked as her eyes moved to the small patch sewn into the material.

Goku relaxed slightly. "It's the sign of the people I've trained under. This one," he motioned to the one in front of her, "is the sign of Kami-sennin, my first sensei. And the one on the back is Kaio-sama's."

Bulma blinked, locking her eyes with Goku's. "You were a student of Kami-sennin?"

"You knew Master Roshi?" Goku questioned.

"I'd never actually met him," Bulma explained, "but Kakarotto heard a great deal about him when he was a child. His human guardian had been trained by him."

Goku nodded happily. "That's right, Grandpa had been the old man's student years before we - sorry, I meant me and Bulma - met him."

"Is that who you learned that...that thing from? That thing you did when you took the Saiyajin Prince back to Earth?"

"Huh? Oh, you mean Instantaneous Movement! Nah," Goku answered, "I learned that technique from the people on Yardrat a while back, actually. They taught me while I was healing up after the fight with Frieza."

Bulma drew in a shaky breath. Now they were getting somewhere! "So Frieza really is dead in your timeline?" she questioned, leaning anxiously forward until there was only an inch between their faces. "Who beat him? And how?"

"Well, I beat him the first time, but I didn't kill him," Goku replied. "I was hoping if I damaged his pride enough, he'd back off, but that wasn't what happened. He fixed himself up and came back to Earth with his father in tow."

"And you killed him that time, right?" she pressed pleadingly. "It was you, wasn't it? Because if you tell me it was Vegeta that finally killed him, I think I'll-"

Goku shook his head. "No, Vegeta didn't personally defeat Frieza," he stated, "but he was a major factor in the fight, in a roundabout kind of way." He chuckled softly when Bulma's face became disgusted. "Look, it's really complicated. A lot's happened in the last year, and it'd take a while to explain." Goku grinned at the lovely woman's sudden crestfallen expression. "Hey, c'mon. Tell ya what," he offered, "once my Bulma's back home in my timeline and your family's safe in yours, we'll have all the time in the world to trade stories, neh? I mean, it's not like we're going anywhere, right? I promise, I'll tell you anything you want to know as soon as this is all over. Deal?"

There wasn't much room between them, but just enough for him to put his hand out in an attempt to shake and seal the deal. Rather than accepting, Bulma found herself staring at the innocent and friendly offering as though it were a foreign object. This man, this unbelievable, confusing man was really another version of her Kakarotto, she reminded herself. And knowing the two, Goku and Kakarotto, were actually one in the same at some point in the space-time continuum was...comforting somehow.

This is what her mate could've been, had circumstances been different. Kind, compassionate, genuinely loving. Her mate held those qualities, sure, but they were coarse and had taken a long time to develop, and that was only after several years of iron-fisted tyranny. Goku, on the other hand, displayed those characteristics as though they were second nature, while still maintaining his strength of body and mind when the situation called for it. The perfect mix of what she loved and longed for in her Kakarotto.

She had to know what happened in the past that turned one man into two very different people in their individual versions of the present. And not just to help him, or to help her family. She wanted to know, just for herself.

When she did finally take his hand, it was with both of hers, holding it gently as her fingers rubbed slowly over each digit. "It must be something incredible that happened to you," she whispered as she gazed beneath long lashes, "for you to become the man I've met here." She noticed his childlike expression and grinned coyly. "If you were anyone else, I'd probably be inclined to think you were dropped on your head as a baby, you act so different sometimes!"

"Well...I was, actually."

Bulma blinked a few times. "It," she chuckled, "it's just an expression, Goku."

"No, seriously," Goku argued matter-of-factly. "I fell in a ravine and split my head open when I was really little. Grandpa said a normal child would've died. He didn't know I'm not human, of course, so he thought it was a miracle when I was able to recover. I still have the scar though. See?" He leaned over and tilted his head, pointing to a small area where the thick sable strands didn't grow along a long, silvery gash.

"Oh my God," she breathed as one of her hands let go of his so her own fingers could run through his hair and over the scar, "that's it. That's where the timelines split."

Goku straightened back up. "You mean I didn't hit my head in your time?"

"No, you didn't. Kakarotto always knew he was Saiyajin, understood everything that meant as far as it went at the time. Everything since then has been an extension of that," Bulma whispered. She didn't understand why, but she was suddenly fighting a nasty case of disappointment.

She wanted to smack herself, knock some sense into her own head. Sure, she'd psyched herself up to do whatever it took to help her son, and she'd had misgivings at first, but now... Now she was wishing he hadn't found out like this. Selfish as it was, she'd believed, only for a few minutes, that she wouldn't be alone anymore.

Goku, on the other hand, was elated. "This is awesome! Now all we need to do is figure out how to tap into your timeline, grab Vegeta, and do our thing. We can have Bulma safely back home in no time. And then we can focus totally on helping your family against Frieza!" His smile faltered when he heard her sniffle, though he was sure she'd tried very hard to be discreet about it. "Hey, c'mon, this is good news, isn't it?"

"Of course it is," she agreed shakily, turning her face away, her eyes burning behind closed lids.

Goku rubbed the back of his neck nervously for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had no clue why she was so upset all the sudden. She'd been the one who'd demanded they getting things moving as quickly as possible, and he figured this revelation saved them a lot of time. So why was did she sound like she was about to cry? He wished he knew this woman better, or at least knew what she would accept as consolation as he saw the first tear fall onto his hand which she was still holding onto. Then again, she did remind him a lot of the woman he'd known the majority of his life, and the fact was he couldn't stand to see people unhappy, especially not ones he cared for so much.

So he followed his instincts; they'd rarely let him down before. "C'mere," he beckoned, pulling her forward until she was positioned cozily in his lap. She stiffened, but didn't protest as he wrapped both arms around her thin body and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

"Listen, I know you and I are basically strangers, but you're still Bulma to me," he assured her. "I want you to remember that. I'm your friend, and I'll always be here if you need me, alright? So don't look so down, okay?"

"Do you mean that?" she whispered. "That you'll always be here for me?"

He shrugged. "Sure I do. I mean, it's not like I'm going anywhere, right?"

She couldn't help but chuckle. Sure, the logic was simple, but true nonetheless. "I guess not," she replied. Which meant there would be time, after all.

Goku was relieved she seemed to be cheering up. "So, what'd ya say? Ready to talk to Kaio-sama about how to get to your timeline from here?"

She nodded against his chest. "Goku? Thank you," she added softly, "for everything."

Goku smiled and gave her a gently squeeze. "Anytime."

Neither Bulma nor Kakarotto had any idea how long she'd been reciting the history of her reality, with special emphasis on the various incidents which had made Son-kun into the powerhouse he'd become before his death. But now that it was finished, Kakarotto's mind was spinning with questions and possibilities, while Bulma was just plain exhausted.

They'd both shifted positions during her tale. First she'd moved from the floor to sitting next to him on the bed. Then he'd shuffled back, leaning against the headboard. She'd followed his lead soon after, and once lack of sleep had begun taking its toll, she'd let her head rest on his shoulder. When his arm began tingling from the awkward position, he'd instinctively lifted it, draping it over her shoulders.

It wasn't until Bulma sighed and her breath blew lightly against the skin of his neck that he realized how intimate their position become over the past few hours. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, the fact that he'd allowed it to happen, or that he rather enjoyed having her nestled against him in such a manner.

"You are obviously tired," he managed roughly. "You should lie down."

Bulma shrugged negligibly. "That's okay, I'm comfortable right here."

"What?" He stiffened. She didn't actually expect to sleep in his bed, did she? Then again, she did seem completely drained, and he had to admit, his own reserves were running low too. He could carry her to her room...

He shifted slightly to give himself enough room to pick her up, but she quickly closed the gap he'd made. "Don't leave," she mumbled sleepily.

"I..." he stammered uneasily, "I was only-"

"I never got to do this with Son-kun while he was alive," she admitted sleepily. "So can we stay like this, just for a little while longer? Please?"

Considering everything she'd told him, he already knew he wouldn't be able to refuse her request, so he relaxed once again, letting her curl up in the crook of his arm. "I don't understand this man you've described me to be in your time," he stated after a moment. "He sounds like a weak-willed fool."

"That's what Vegeta always says." She shook her head against his chest. "But you're wrong. All those things you think are weaknesses are what made him the strongest man in the universe."

"If what you say is true, then I have no chance of accomplishing the same strength," he pointed out.

Bulma lifted her head and looked him in the eye, catching him off guard by their closeness; they were almost nose to nose. "I think you can," she stated confidently, "because you're him. All those things I loved about Goku are in there somewhere," she went on, placing her palm over his racing heart for emphasis. "You just have to believe it."

"Your Goku was suffering from brain damage," he croaked out, once he'd forced himself to ignore the feeling of her hand on his chest and the affection in her eyes. "I have no such injury."

Bulma grinned mischievously. "Want me to throw you down a ravine and see if we can change that?"

His coal-black eyes widened a fraction, until she started giggling. Of course, she was joking, he realized. It'd been so long since anyone had dared such a thing, he'd nearly forgotten what it sounded like.

"I do not think that will be necessary," he replied after a few seconds, and for the first time in over a year, Kakarotto let himself laugh. Genuine, unrestrained laughter.

Even as she chuckled, Bulma's insides were flip-flopping wildly. Seeing Kakarotto so at ease was like a blast from the past, one that tore her heart to pieces. There was no doubt in her mind that this man and Goku were one in the same, despite their apparent differences. Only Goku could laugh like that.

Their chuckles subsided, leaving them both slightly out of breath.

"It has been a long time since I have allowed myself the luxury of such humor," he noted solemnly. "My mate was the only one who could convince me to...'let go', as she always put it." He swallowed hard, his gaze burning into hers. "You are frighteningly similar her. Your wit, your stubborn pride...your smile..."

Bulma drew in a shaky breath as she felt his fingers trace her jaw line from ear to chin before stopping just below her lips. She could even see a flash of fear in his eyes as he leaned his head down until his forehead was resting against hers.

"You cannot comprehend how much I have longed for her since her death," he whispered.

Bulma bit her quivering bottom lip and nodded. "I think I can."

He closed his eyes, knowing he'd get lost in her bottomless blue orbs if he didn't. "You should get some rest," he suggested. "I have kept you long enough."

Bulma sighed softly. "Do you really want me to go?" she ventured tentatively.

"No," he admitted after a moment.

"Then why should I?"

His jaw clenched several times. Gods, she had no idea what she was doing to him at that moment, and it frustrated him to no end. If only she hadn't kissed him that afternoon, he wouldn't be so desperate to feel her lips again. "I...am finding it... increasingly difficult...to restrain myself when you are so close," he growled, though the hint of guilt in his voice was unmistakable.

He cupped her chin suddenly, making her gasp. Good, he wanted her to be afraid, wanted to make sure she knew the fire she was playing with. "Do you understand, Bulma? If you do not leave my chamber now, you will not be leaving at all," he warned.

Bulma had no doubt he meant every word. "Okay."

Kakarotto was surprised at the equal amounts of relief and disappointment he felt, though his carefully stoic expression revealed none of the inner turmoil. It's best this way.

His eyes became saucers when her arm wrapped around his neck.

"I'll stay."

It was exactly what his mate would've said, and the knowledge shattered what was left of his already shaky self-control.

Before Bulma completely understood what was happening, Kakarotto had grabbed her and pulled her down until she was laying flat on the bed, quickly covering her body with his own. Then his lips claimed hers in a fierce, demanding kiss, stealing the air from her lungs and replacing it with an ache of desire in her chest so strong, she thought her very soul would crumble beneath it.

Kakarotto felt himself falling-drowning-in the woman beneath him. The silken texture of her hair, the softness of her skin, the warmth of her mouth...even the thunderous beats of her heart enveloped him, tore his senses away from the anguish he'd suffered with for so long.

More surprisingly was his newly acquired recognition of qualities unique to this Bulma. Her taste was slightly different, and her natural scent was mingled with a hint of flowery perfume, which was something unavailable to women in his world. He would've expected to feel some sense of guilt or harbored some reservations after acknowledging such details, but he experienced none of those. Perhaps, subconsciously, his heart still wanted to see her as his mate, despite the differences, although it most likely wouldn't have mattered at that point.

The bottom line was he'd denied himself close contact with women before he'd met his mate, and he'd completely shut himself off from any female not in his employ after her death. Desire was an easy thing to ignore when there was no one whom he considering appealing, but those many months of solitude came crashing down on him in the presence of this unexpected visitor, as well as the regrets he'd buried away.

Even after he'd fallen in love Bulma, he'd rarely permitted himself to open up completely to her. Perhaps it was because he'd spent most of his young life trusting noone but himself, or maybe it was the idea of exposing any weakness which could make him vulnerable. In either case, he hadn't realized his mistake until it was too late to correct it.

There were none who knew about the guilt he'd harbored in his heart; he'd kept his mate-the most precious person in his life-at arm's length more often than not, never considering a day might come when he wouldn't be able to reach her at all. Had he known, he would've done so much differently... Of course, it was impossible to go back and change what was in the past.

As he pulled away to look at the woman who'd invaded his reality and dredged up all of the emotions he'd tried to forget, it felt as though he was being given one last opportunity to do what he had been unable, or unwilling, to do before. It was true, she was not the Bulma Brief he'd known, but she was Bulma.

At that moment, it was all the reason he needed to make up for lost time.

Bulma didn't know what to make of the reflective expression on Kakarotto's face. Was he having second thoughts? "Kakarotto...?"

Just the sound of her voice alone, throaty and unsure, was enough to push him over the brink. There would be no turning back.

"Bulma, you do not know what you have done to me," he whispered.

His mouth covered hers once again, cutting her off before she could ask what he meant, and within seconds, she didn't care anymore. The only thing she wanted to focus on was Kakarotto. That act...that moment was important, for both of them. Even more for him than for her, she knew.

End Chapter Eleven