The next ball was almost due south, and Seventeen figured it would take about six days to reach it. The enormous trees that grew just below the mountains were uniformly breathtaking, and after the tickle war was over they spoke mostly about the untouched natural beauty around them. The fourth day out brought them to less beautiful but more civilized parts: a flat, brown plain still far from any large cities, but with paved roads instead of gravel tracks. On occasion they would pass other cars. At about mid afternoon Seventeen spotted a hitchhiker in the distance, and he considered whether to slow down. Marron's presence made him land on the side of not stopping, but as they drew closer and he could make out more detail, he realized that he knew this particular hitchhiker. The knowledge did not make him any more likely to stop.

"Trunks!" Marron cried joyfully, which meant Seventeen had to slow down whether he liked it or not. As he pulled up, he saw Trunks smirk.

"Fancy meeting you here," he said, jumping into the car. Seventeen turned around in the driver's seat and fixed him with what he hoped was an intimidating glare.

"Do your parents know you're here?" he asked. Trunks flipped his hair back from his face in a calculated gesture that made Seventeen want to throttle him.

"I'm fifteen, I can go where I want," he said, and Seventeen snorted loudly.

"Somehow I doubt that. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't give Bulma a call right now."

"Aw, come on, I thought you were the fun uncle," Trunks cajoled. Seventeen maintained his flat stare.

"Come on, uncle," Marron joined in, and he was forced to break from Trunks' gaze. "Why not? It'll be nice to have company."

It was probably a little immature to feel slighted by a ten year old with a crush, but Seventeen did anyway.

"I thought this was a family road trip," he said, trying not to sound like he was whining.

"I'm practically family, aren't I?" Trunks said. Marron looked at her uncle with pleading eyes, and after another moment's hesitation, he rolled his eyes and relented.

"Fine. But it's on your head if you get grounded or whatever."

"I won't," Trunks assured them, leaning back in the backseat like he was being chauffeured. Seventeen ground his teeth and started up the car. "Where are we going?"

"South," Marron said, turning in her seat to show him the dragon radar. "See? We're looking for the seven star ball."

"Why are you driving, anyway?" Trunks asked. "Couldn't you just fly there in, like, five minutes?"

"It's more fun this way," Marron explained. They chatted, Trunks obviously humoring someone he saw as a child, Marron obviously smitten and trying to act cool, and Seventeen glowering out the window, pondering how to get rid of this intruder and get his road trip back on track.

That night they stopped at an open patch of ground bordered by a few scraggly trees and popped open the house capsule. Trunks clearly expected to be taken care of, and when Seventeen informed him that not only was he not letting him borrow any of his clothes, but he was also not allowed to sleep inside, his expression turned ugly.

"What do you mean I'm sleeping outside?"

"I mean, we only have the two beds, and I'm not sharing."

Trunks stared at him in angry disbelief, but Seventeen felt absolutely no remorse. No one had asked him to come, and if roughing it bothered him that much maybe he shouldn't have run away from his mansion. He wondered if this would be enough to put him off the idea of staying with them. But after a brief stare down during which Marron's wide eyes flicked back and forth between the two of them, her wadded up pajamas held tight against her chest, Trunks deflated and he scuffed the ground with his foot.

"Fine, I can sleep in the car."

He turned, hands thrust deep in his pockets, to do just that, and Seventeen saw Marron's mouth open in invitation just in time to catch her eye and shake his head decisively. He ushered her inside and closed the door.

"Uncle, we can't just let him sleep outside!" she protested. "He can sleep on the floor, or I can sleep on the floor and he can have my bed."

"Bug, there are a thousand reasons why that is not going to happen," Seventeen said, turning away to rummage through his bag for a change of clothes. He heard Marron take in an angry breath behind him, and turned to meet her eyes. "One of those reasons is that he's obviously run away from home and I am not about to make that comfortable for him."

"But why not?"

Seventeen straightened, holding a shirt in one hand, considering how to explain. Eventually he settled for,

"Because no one can run away from their problems forever, bug."

He didn't miss the expression on his niece's face, but he couldn't for the life of him decode it, so he walked past her into the bathroom without further comment, pleading with her in his mind to give it up.

It seemed as though she had, for though she turned her nose up at him when he exited the bathroom, she did not resume her pleas. When she went in for her bath, Seventeen stepped outside and rapped on the window of the car where Trunks had curled up on the backseat. The boy raised his head, clearly still wide awake, and slowly sat up. He exited the car when Seventeen motioned for him to, his demeanor wary. Seventeen stood with his arms folded, studying the boy.

"What's this about, kid?" he asked. Trunks scowled.

"None of your business," he mumbled to the ground.

"You made it my business when you asked for a ride," Seventeen pointed out. "I let you hang out with us today because Marron wanted you here, but if you want to stay tomorrow you're going to have to convince me to let you."

The boy stared thoughtfully at the ground for a long while, and then eventually looked up at Seventeen appraisingly.

"Do you know what my dad used to do, before he came to earth?" he asked. Ah, there it was. Seventeen didn't hang out with his sister's group of friends very often, but he heard the gossip and he had their files. He was also one of the participants in an unspoken pact between the lot of them to never mention certain things to certain people. Yamcha having been a bandit in his teens was something they politely didn't mention much, but also didn't try very hard to hide. On the other hand, things like Vegeta having been a genocidal space pirate or Piccolo's former life mission having been to kill Goku were things that all of them understood were to be kept from the children at all costs. He wondered who had let it slip.

"More or less," he replied. Trunks grinned bitterly.

"He used to kill people for a living," he said with mock enthusiasm. "Whole planets at a time. Used to blow up entire civilizations so his old boss could turn around and sell the planets for a profit. He was even going to do that to Earth, before Goku stopped him. Told me all about it yesterday. So I kind of don't want to look at his face right now."

You could cut wood with that tone, thought Seventeen, impressed. He cocked his head. Trunks was looking a little crazed, though the pain he was obviously hiding was bubbling up through his facade.

"What about your little friend? Why don't you go to him?"

The manic grin subsided and the boy's gaze once again dropped to the dirt.

"Goten doesn't know," he said in a low voice. "So I don't want to look at his face right now either."

Seventeen thought morbidly about what the fallout might be like if Marron ever learned more details about her mother's (and his own) past, and felt a flash of compassion replace his mild distaste for the boy.

"All right," he said finally. "You can hang out with us for a while. But only until we find the next ball. After that you're on your own."

Trunks nodded, and then, remembering his manners, said, "Thanks."

Seventeen went back to the house, little knowing that his niece was still in the tub, sitting motionless underneath a slightly opened window, eyes wide and breathing artificially even. When she didn't emerge for almost an hour he chalked it up to her still being mad at him, and didn't think anything of it.

After days of driving though unmitigated wilderness, they were delighted to finally happen upon a town in time for lunch. They stopped at a restaurant, Marron and Seventeen eager for food they hadn't cooked themselves. The fare on offer was a little exotic compared to their mostly western tastes, but it smelled delicious.

"What are you getting, Trunks?" Marron asked him, after sounding out the strange names of the food on the menu. The kid grimaced and looked at Seventeen.

"I don't have any money on me..." he admitted, to Seventeen's amazement.

"What kind of person runs away from home without even a wallet?"

Trunks shrugged, obviously not too bothered by the idea of being in the middle of the wilderness with nothing to his name. A large portion of the compassion he had engendered in Seventeen last night evaporated in the face of such burning apathy towards money.

"Well, I'm not buying you anything," he said, sticking his nose in his menu. He didn't want to see Marron's outrage. After a moment, though, he heard her offer to buy Trunks lunch with her own money, and he decided not to say anything. Her money, her loss. Luckily the kid at least seemed to understand gratitude, because he thanked her profusely, and spent all of lunch doing magic tricks and making her laugh.

After a few more hours spent driving they arrived at the ocean, where a nice sandy beach stretched out invitingly. It seemed the ball was likely buried somewhere in the sand, and Marron squealed with delight and kicked off her shoes, running full pelt toward the water. Trunks followed more sedately, and Seventeen, who had no desire to get his sneakers full of sand, stayed with the car. Out of the corner of his brain he felt a slight flicker of energy, and turned toward the source. Looming above the beach was an outcropping of rock, and standing nearly at the top, mostly out of sight of the beach, was a familiar, pointy-haired silhouette. Seventeen sighed, but then flew up to join the man, who had clearly been trying to surreptitiously catch his attention.

Seventeen landed on the rock next to Vegeta, both of them looking out at the sea. From their vantage point they could just make out the children, tiny dots on the beach that were unlikely to be able to see them in return. Vegeta was silent so long Seventeen thought he might have to say something first, but eventually he spoke.

"I hope Trunks has been behaving himself."

He said it like if Seventeen so much as hinted that he wasn't, he'd go down there and remove him from their roadtrip personally and with great speed. Though the thought of getting rid of the boy appealed somewhat, Seventeen shook his head.

"He's been fine. He's leaving after we find this one anyway. Want me to let him know you're here?"

The tension in Vegeta's stance ratcheted up considerably, which was about what Seventeen had expected.

"There is no need," he said quickly.

"Why are you here?" Seventeen asked, determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible. His cool-uncle roadtrip had been derailed and he intended to take it out on somebody. Vegeta's crossed arms tightened.

"Trunks was asking about the... incident with Marron," he said slowly. "One thing lead to another, and..."

"What do you mean, the incident?" Seventeen said icily, uncrossing his arms and facing Vegeta. The man looked caught off guard, and then wary.

"Surely you noticed the cast," he mumbled. Seventeen felt white-hot fury bubble up through his placid veneer.

"She told me she punched a wall," he said, voice eerily calm. In fact, Marron had implied that her frustration over her parents' fight had been the reason for punching said wall, so he hadn't pushed it. Now he realized the idea of Marron punching a wall out of anger was patently absurd. Vegeta seemed to hesitate, and then faced Seventeen squarely.

"Actually, it was my jaw," he said. The fury dissipated somewhat, replaced by shock.

"I beg your pardon?"

"She said she had never punched someone before, but I did not believe she would hurt herself that badly."

"I'm sorry, why was Marron punching you exactly?"

Vegeta shifted uncomfortably, but stood his ground.

"I wished to allow her to even the score."

The fury was coming back.

"Even the score for what?"

It looked as though Vegeta was wishing he'd kept his mouth shut, but Seventeen had to hand it to the guy, he did not back down from a challenge.

"She caught me unawares when I was sleeping and I... reacted without thinking. She was unharmed but likely very frightened, and I wished to make up for it. I did not want her to remain afraid."

Amazement mingled with the fury, and Seventeen turned away to stare at the tiny dot that was Marron, currently playing in the water with the other tiny dot that was Trunks. To his surprise Vegeta spoke again.

"She is stronger than she looks."

"Who, Marron?"

"Indeed. She is as... unassuming as her father, but there is fire there."

"Buddy, you have no idea," Seventeen said. He thought of the recent "incident" of his own, and decided not to murder Vegeta on the spot. Not that he likely could, these days. "Does my sister know?"

"...Yes."

Seventeen remembered the black eye Vegeta had been sporting at the beginning of their trip, and felt pretty confident he could put two and two together. He decided to stick with the discomfort track of taking revenge.

"Trunks said you finally told him about your former occupation." He saw the other man twitch out of the corner of his eye, and he smirked. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention stuff like that to Marron."

"Of course not!" Vegeta scoffed. "I didn't want to tell Trunks either, but once he asked about Marron the topic came up and I was forced to tell him the rest. That damn brat is too smart for his own good."

"I will agree with you on that," Seventeen said, with feeling. His tone apparently caught Vegeta's ear.

"Are you sure you don't want me to take him? I expected him to hide out with Goten, but the boy hasn't seen him in days. Why did he choose to bother the two of you instead of his best friend?"

Seventeen shrugged.

"I don't pretend to know what goes on in the head of somebody who just learned their father's a murderer," he said casually, and delighted in the way Vegeta's fists clenched.

"Watch it, tin can," he said. "I didn't come here to pick a fight, but if you start one I will gladly finish it."

"Who's starting fights?" Seventeen wondered expansively. "I'm not the one who goes around asking little girls to punch them in the face."

Vegeta breathed deeply through nose and clenched teeth, giving Seventeen a murderous glare, but he seemed to realize he was being baited, because he eventually calmed himself down and refolded his arms across his chest.

"I was worried about my son being a bad influence on the girl," he said. "But it seems you have that covered."

Seventeen laughed. Getting Marron to punch him aside, Vegeta actually seemed to be an alright guy. Way less uptight than the last time they'd spoken, which, come to think of it, had probably been all the way back when they were still enemies. He was contemplating whether or not to ask when he'd had the chip on his shoulder removed, when suddenly the crack of a rifle being fired sounded through the air.

Both men turned their heads sharply toward the sound. Seventeen squinted, and saw Marron holding her shotgun to her shoulder, aiming at Trunks, who was flying lazily through the air. She took another shot and the boy caught it, right at chest level. If he'd been a normal human, he'd be dead. Both children laughed.

"They're playing," Seventeen moaned, burying his head in his hands. Vegeta scoffed.

"How childish. Are you sure you don't want me to take him off your hands before I go?"

"No need. But Vegeta," he said as the other man turned to go. "Just so we're clear: you ever lay a finger on Marron again? They won't even find a body."

The look Vegeta turned on him was grim.

"Believe me," he said in a voice made of stone, "There will not be a second time."

And because Vegeta was the type who just had to have the last word, he flew away without waiting for a reply. Seventeen sighed deeply, pushing his hair back from his face with both hands, and flew down to the beach where Marron was still 'playing' with Trunks.

"Hey, bug, how about we don't shoot at people, okay?" he said in a mock friendly tone. Marron turned to him, eagerly apologetic.

"I'm sorry uncle, I know you made me promise, but Trunks can catch bullets!"

"So can I, but that doesn't mean I want people shooting at me."

Trunks landed lightly on the sand.

"I told her it was okay," he said, tossing his hair out of his face. "I'm helping her practice on a moving target."

It was so far from the point that Seventeen decided to just let it go.

"Regardless," he said, hoping he came across as a responsible adult and not the fraud he felt like, "no more live target practice while you're with me."

"Fine," Marron said, a little morosely.

"Don't we have a dragon ball to find?" Seventeen reminded her, and she brightened, encapsulating the rifle and taking out the dragon radar. He watched as the two of them played hot and cold until finally Trunks got down on his hands and knees and started to dig at the spot Marron indicated. Marron shrieked with laughter like the child she mostly still was as he deliberately aimed the spray of sand in her direction. After a few minutes of digging he held up the seven star ball, grinning triumphantly.

"My lady," he said with exaggerated formality, bowing as he handed it over. She giggled and curtsied and accepted the ball.

"Only one more to go!" she cried, turning to Seventeen with a wide grin. He smiled back, her joy as infectious as ever.

"I guess that's my exit," Trunks said, getting to his feet and brushing sand from his pants.

"Aww," Marron whined. "Can't he stay longer, uncle?"

"I really should get home, squirt," Trunks said before Seventeen had a chance to say anything. "I had fun. Let me know what you wish for, okay?"

He turned to fly away, but Marron told him to wait. She hesitated for a moment, and then stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. Trunks stared down at her, nonplussed. Marron smiled a sad, grown up smile and said,

"It'll be okay, Trunks."

He blinked at her for a few seconds, seeming to truly see her for perhaps the first time. Then he gave her a confused nod and flew away. Seventeen stared down at his niece, one eyebrow raised. She met his gaze defiantly.

"I heard you guys talking last night," she said by way of explanation. Her bravado was belied by the restless way she was rolling the dragon ball in her hands. Seventeen wondered if he should ask how she felt about having punched a former planet killer in the face, but refrained.

"You ready to go?" he asked. She gazed up at the sky where Trunks had disappeared, wistful.

"Yeah, let's go," she said, and trudged back to the car. Seventeen held back a sigh. This was your idea, he scolded himself, and followed his niece to the car.