Suggested Listening: Natalie Imbruglia "Torn"

The Half-Breed Hermit

Just another boring day, Aubergine mused, viciously kicking a fallen fruit from one of the osage orange trees nearby. Another day walking the boundaries, the cliff, forest paths, and creeks, all to distract herself from boredom. The world existed in a constant state of flux—it was the very nature of life to change. Now, though, it seemed time stood still, and had done so for a good ten years. Ten years…She forcibly searched for a happier memory—something, anything to distract from the destruction of Old Earth, and the events that followed. Twenty years, thirty years, forty….

'Fine,' she admitted silently with a particularly violent kick, splitting the pungent green fruit into chunks. 'Life sucks, life's always sucked, and it will continue to suck until it's over.' Brushing her spiky black fringe out of her clouded eye and back behind her left ear, she fought memories of the few times in her life that hadn't sucked…times when she and her half-brother had at least tolerated one another's presence…times when she and the planet's resident Namekian warrior sparred till her training field was painted in burgundy and violet blood...the times before he turned on her, shattering—

"NO!" she barked angrily, sending another hedge apple sailing through the air. "He's gone—no point in rehashing the past. Just focus..." Focus on what? She sullenly glanced over at the reconstructed Mount Paozu, where her only living family resided. Not that she really knew any of them well...Chi Chi made certain of that.

Damning the burning in her dark violet eyes, she turned from the mountain, following her usual path along a cliff side littered with caves. Piccolo had called those caves home...rather, their counterparts on Old Earth. Though their innards were identical, he'd never seen these caves. He'd spent no rainy days meditating there, no cold nights ruminating by a fire in their stony depths. On Old Earth, those caves would still carry a sweet scent of grass, spring water, smoke, and mysterious unknown herbs. These caves never sheltered Piccolo; they smelled only of dirt, mildew, and bat guano.

She woke with a start, suspiciously searching the dim cavern around her. A campfire flickered by the entrance, filling the space with a smoky fragrance of oak, pine, and dried moss. Along one wall, young Gohan lay curled up on a pile of furs, out cold. She'd felt the presence of another, but where were they? No, not they...he. She shivered in the damp air, going over her last memories. That moron Raditz recognizing her...their nephew's abduction...Goku and Piccolo finally, briefly on the same side...Goku...being...

Her chest ached in a very non-Saiyan manner that had nothing to do with the ribs Raditz cracked or the lung he bruised. Her half-brothers were both dead—the only family she'd ever had, killed by the very being she'd spared from starvation all those years ago. Piccolo...the name reverberated in her thoughts like an oath. So much for peace and quiet...so much for life without bloodshed.

"He won't stay dead," the sullen warrior pointed out as he slunk into the cave, arms laden with firewood. "Those friends of his won't allow it...not with two more of his kind on the way." Her dark purple eyes darted to his; this was only going to get worse.

For a moment, Piccolo seemed torn between two paths; his brow furrowed as he settled by the fire. Finally, briefly, he met her eyes; within them, she saw the child that she met years before and fed beside a fire much like this one. "I'll not ask your assistance, Aubergine," he muttered lowly, black eyes burning her own before retreating to the fire. "Not when I've given you no reason to assist me." She scowled. They practically grew up together; hadn't that ignorant demon learned anything about her?

She had family, but what good had they ever done her? Bardock's weakness was the reason she'd been born and his job was the reason she'd been orphaned. Kakarot's head injury was the reason she was marooned on this primitive planet and his ineptitude was the reason her solitude was stolen away. Raditz' refusal to take no for an answer was the reason she was forced to decide between violence and letting her nephew die. Granted she never landed a single punch, thanks to her detestable emotional weakness, but she tried, dammit. Now...now Gohan's complete and utter uselessness was the reason she was completely and utterly the last living child of Bardock the Visionary. Family had never been a blessing, only an impediment. Piccolo, however...

She stalked toward the fire, settling beside him with her tail across her lap. As always, his eyes were drawn to the scruffy black fur; as always, he wrenched them away, scowling in the opposite direction. Never once had Piccolo allowed her to come to harm, even when she broke down on the battlefield without landing even one hit. Nor had he ever condemned her inability to stomach bloodshed.

He shot her a confused glance when she laughed lowly. "That's cute," she smirked, giving him an admittedly feeble sock to the arm that only stung her knuckles. "After all these years, you still think you have to ask ." He hesitated, countenance blank as he searched hers.

"Your brothers—" She cut him off with a shrug.

"—are dead." She stared soberly into the flickering flames. "No amount of anger or resentment will bring them back. We've got bigger things to worry about...Kakarot's harpy is now a widow." As the two lapsed into a silence as familiar as their own heartbeats, the air crackled with tension and unspoken promises.

Shaking herself from the memory, Aubrey stalked further from the cliff's edge. Not an hour later, she reached an equally familiar field bordered with trees and scrub grass. Again, as every time before, she recalled the day Earth's defenders returned from Namek. Two were left behind on the dying planet, replaced by a horde of displaced Namekians, many with serious injuries.

At first, she couldn't believe what she was seeing; how could so many people simply materialize on her property at the same time?! Despite her confusion, she raced through the crowd of Piccolo look-alikes, seeking the real Piccolo—the living, breathing, and infuriating source of chi she could have sensed light years away. Finally, she found him, bleeding out among the multitude of other wounded and the overburdened Namekian healers tending to them. Ignoring the curious stares she was getting, she skidded to her knees, laid her palms over his heart, and called on her gift.

A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd as a bright white aura surrounded Aubergine and Piccolo, her pupils swelling and swallowing the irises and whites of her eyes in solid inky black. Near frantic with worry, she watched for any sign of recovery, panting with the effort of healing him. When his eyes finally opened and focused on hers, her lungs shuddered to a standstill. As the last wounds faded from grass green skin, pitch black receded from suspiciously shiny violet eyes. Unnoticed by the crowd around them, Piccolo's eyes softened, echoing the sentiment in her own.

The next day, when only they remained, Aubrey and Piccolo took to the still blood-stained field. Sparring as only they did, they fought tooth and nail from the first moment of sunrise to the first chill of coming dusk.

With the sickle moon standing guard, they finally gave into the connection they'd fought practically since the day they met. In the bloodied grass, attended by a symphony of crickets, Aubergine and Piccolo became one. No vows passed between them, nor any promises or confessions—neither was any good with words, and actions always spoke louder. As dew began to fall, and as they caught their breath, Aubrey stared defiantly at the moon above, promising all manner of horrors if the gods dared to come between them again.

Aubrey cursed her non-Saiyan side, her throat tightened in hurt. She'd never really fit in with the true Saiyans, back home on Vegeta-sei. After all, she was a bastard and a half-breed—the unexpected result of a drunken hooker binge after Bardock's mate died and left him saddled with a young boy. He'd never spent much time with her, much less told her about her mother's race. 'Your mother was a whore,' he snapped when she asked him. 'That's all she was—She's dead, and that's all you need to know.'

With no name, species, or helpful details, Aubrey had begun blaming her mother's 'inferior race' for everything that made her stand out. True Saiyans had spiky, thick black hair, a proud brown tail, and black eyes that could strike fear into the strongest warriors. Her hair was stubborn enough, but not nearly Saiyan level of stubborn. Add in her unnatural black tail and ugly non-black eyes the purple of the bitter egg-fruit she was named for, and she never fit in. It went beyond the visible, though. She had a 'pathetic' inability to stomach violence, 'sappy' emotional tendencies, and her strange innate healing ability—though frequently commandeered by her Father's fellow mercenaries—was nothing a true Saiyan would ever need! Obviously, they were all weaknesses of her mother's kind, and all weaknesses were to be denied and eradicated.

After years of fighting to be acknowledged by her father, her half-brother Raditz, and the multitude of Saiyans around her, she finally got a chance. Kakarot—born to Bardock's second mate—was to be shipped off-world for his infancy tour in a fortnight. Bardock had religiously avoided the communal nursery, knowing all-too well that he may never see his son again. It was a risk all knew, but none spoke of—it was expected for warriors to send their young out to conquer their first planet as mere babes. On the surface, it was an obligation that they should be proud to fulfill; under the pretty labels, though, lurked the dark truth of the multitude of infants who'd never returned, who'd never even made it to their intended planet alive.

Bardock was anything but sentimental—he was Saiyan! He was ten feet tall, made of steel, and packing serious heat, with a pair of brass balls to boot, just like every other Saiyan Aubrey knew! Naturally, when he called her to his quarters one evening, packing for yet another mission, she was shocked at his reasons.

"Aubergine," he asked lowly as he buffed a chest plate set idly. "Do you remember your mother? No, I suppose not…you were only a babe then, barely teething. Sit." Respectfully silent, she lowered herself to the floor beside his chair, automatically reaching for a polishing cloth and one of his boots. At first, he seemed surprised at the gesture, but a wry smirk quickly hid it. "What I am about to tell you must never be spoken of again, or it could easily be the end of you. Clear?" She nodded, only halfway focused on the chore she'd assumed.

"If your mother had not found herself afoul of a headhunter, and had not sought me out for protection, I'd never have known you were born. I can only imagine how she wound up conceiving, what with most of her trade being sterilized upon hire, but it's no matter." Vindictively eyeing a particularly annoying blemish on the armor he held, he spat on it and began scrubbing with renewed fervor. "I cannot tell you what she was, only that in certain backwater systems, the eyes and hair of her kind are highly valued as supposed 'miracle cures.' Well, not the whole eye, technically, just the retinas." Aubergine startled, turning inquisitively at him.

"Miracle cures?" she asked rather bitterly. "Cures for what? Strength?!" A warning glance drew a mumbled apology.

"I don't know the details…I just know she was being hunted, and I turned her away." Blasted non-Saiyan sentiments, she thought, swallowing around the boulder in her throat. His words shouldn't mean a thing to her! "I reconsidered…but arrived too late. She'd been beaten, blinded, and scalped, and left for dead; I promised I'd keep you safe, and I have."

"But…but Sir!" He flinched at the name; he'd insisted, of course, but to keep her at a safe distance. Momentarily he abandoned his work, for the first time in years lifting the child onto his knee. She should be almost Raditz' age—they were only three years apart, but she was maturing far too slowly. Though they'd never been exactly what he'd call 'close,' he had never had the heart to completely push her away. She wasn't entirely Saiyan...she didn't understand the distance Saiyan children expected.

"Aubergine," he muttered, awkwardly petting her hair. "I kept you from joining the service for your own sake. Frieza's mercenaries aren't known for honor; if there was a market for Saiyan organs, my kind would have met the same fate as your mother, in a heartbeat. I only wish you safe."

"Yes, Sir," she mumbled, blinking rapidly to dispel the tears fighting to escape.

"Chin up, Brat," he smirked, tickling her with his tail until she laughed. "I have a mission for you—one of utmost importance. Your brother Kakarott is to be sent on his infancy tour, to a planet called Earth; you will travel ahead of him, and protect him." His gut churned at the lie, but he soldiered on. "I leave the next day on a long mission, and may not return for a cycle or more. When my mission is through and I am able to return..." He forced a smirk in place. "I'll come collect you myself. Until then, you must stay on Earth, with Kakarott."

She studied him silently a moment, as though she realized what he was trying to hide from her. Not for the first time, Bardock wondered if her mother's kind could somehow detect lies.

"You're leaving us there." The words held no trace of reproach, only sadness. "You've seen how your mission ends, haven't you...Papa..." He held his tongue, struggling for a gentler way to explain what he'd seen; there was none.

"Aubergine," he answered seriously, "Time is up for Planet Vegeta; the Saiyan race will fall. I'll die a warrior, but I'll be damned if my children die with me."

One year later, Aubergine lay in an empty field staring up at the sky, yearning for her father and fearing she wasn't strong enough to protect her baby brother. Twelve years later Goku took off on his first adventure without even saying goodbye.

"Screw this!"Aubrey spat suddenly, startling a flock of sparrows from a nearby tree. "Nothing's changed, nothing's happening, nothing's ever going to change or happen—I'm going home." For the first time in years, she cut her walk short, angling through a washed out gully toward the rural cabin she called home. She was alone on that New Earth but she was alone on Old Earth as well. She liked it that way—alone, she was untouchable, nothing could hurt her and nothing could break her!

…what a load of bullshit.

UP NEXT: A long-awaited reunion - "The Games we Play"