Chapter 20

Something warm squirmed against his side, fishing him from the depths of slumber. His awareness broke through the surface and he opened his eyes, tucking his head to his chest and looking around in confusion. His body still ached, the bruises bone-deep as he tried to turn to the form next to him, but was stopped by a soft hand on his shoulder. “ChiChi,” he gasped, tears leaping to his eyes as he remembered the fear he had felt when he thought he would never see her again.

“I’m mad at you,” she said petulantly, rolling over and reaching towards the bedside table. “But since you came back alive this time I’m willing to talk it over.” She wriggled her body closer to his and reached over him, parting his lips and dropping something inside his mouth.

“What’s this?” he mumbled around the object.

ChiChi scowled. “Just eat it. Piccolo said to take it when you woke up.”

Goku shrugged and crunched it up, eyes widening as strength flowed through every vein, the aches vanishing and his vigor renewed.

“Senzu,” he breathed, closing his eyes in awe.

“Better?” she asked, placing a delicate hand on his bicep.

“Mmm,” he replied with a nod, rolling onto his side so he could look at her.

She scowled, her fine black brows drawn together as her long black hair spilled loosely over the pillows. Her hand propped up her head, her elbow planted firmly on the mattress as her other hand clutched the blankets to her chest, her eyes glaring at him. “Like I said, I’m mad at you. Where in the hell have you been?” she snapped.

“I was gone a whole year,” Goku confided, looking at her through his bangs.

Her scowl deepened. “I know that!” she snarled. “Do you think I didn’t count the days?”

“I don’t know,” he replied honestly. “I was busy training in the afterlife.”

“And you didn’t even check on me?” she said, voice turning from angry to hurt and back again. “Not once?”

Goku frowned slightly. “Well, no. I knew you were okay. You’re strong.”

“I was not okay! My son and husband were taken from me in the same day! I was heartbroken!”

Goku’s brows wrinkled. “I’m sorry, ChiChi. I didn’t know,” he murmured.

“How would you feel if one day I just up and died, huh?” she blurted. “Oh, I forgot, you wouldn’t care because you’d think I was okay.” Tears sprang to her eyes and she wiped them away hastily.

“An entire year,” Goku muttered under his breath.

“Do you know how bad that hurt?” she demanded. “You died again in my heart every single day. You died in pain and I felt that pain every day for the past year. Add to that the pain of knowing that you didn’t care about me, that you were off somewhere having fun and training. I was somewhat less than okay,” she reiterated, sniffling.

Goku felt his heart sink into his feet. “ChiChi, I’m sorry,” he tried. “I had to train for that whole year or no one would have been able to fight Vegeta.”

“And you couldn’t even send word?” she said sharply.

He scooted a little closer to her. “No. My every second was filled with training. When I was too tired to go on, I got up and trained some more. I had a good reason for training as hard as I absolutely could.”

She scowled again. “You and your have-to-save-the-world complex,” she growled, wiping away more tears. “I wish the world would go away and just leave us in peace for once.”

Goku reached out and swept away her tears with his thumb, gently curling his fingers at her jawbone. “Sometimes the whole world doesn’t matter, ChiChi,” he murmured. “Sometimes all that matters is you.”

“What?” she said, black eyes staring at him in disbelief.

Her doubt hurt him. Had he always been so forgetful of her? “You were my reason for training. I knew that if I couldn’t protect you nothing meant anything anyway. I’m sorry you had to feel so bad.”

She sniffled and turned to the side. “It was just so long. So long since I heard your voice, since you held me...”

He moved closer to her and wrapped an arm around her, meaning to give her a hug, but she turned in his grip to face him and he kissed her on the mouth instead. After a moment he pulled away, her eyes slowly opening as she recovered from the surprise of it. “A whole year, ChiChi,” he whispered, suddenly able to smell all the wonderful scents her body put off. All her soft, supple skin was pressed against him. “A year is a long time.”

ChiChi swallowed and nodded. “Yes, very long,” she replied.

He closed his eyes and kissed her soft mouth again, moving his hand between her shoulder blades and pressing her to him. She sighed and placed her hands against his chest, folding her leg over his. He released her lips and rolled her underneath him, kissing her collarbones and cupping her hips with his hands. She spread her legs and buried his head in her chest, luxuriating in his warmth. “I love you,” he whispered against the silky skin of her stomach as he moved his body up and against her.

“I love you too,” she replied into his ear, feeling the sweet rhythms of his lovemaking take her over as she watched the sun rise.

She fell asleep not long afterward, her head in the notch of his shoulder as he lay wrapped around her, watching the morning sun travel slowly upward through the sky. Her breath stirred the small hairs on his skin, her eyelashes occasionally tickling him as they fluttered in her sleep. He smiled and nibbled on her exposed ear gently, stroking her silky thick hair with a large, calloused hand. She was warm and soft against him, and he reveled in the feeling of just existing. Death had been fun, but nothing was better than this. He heard the door swing open behind him and he turned his head, breaking into a grin when Gohan’s scruffy mane poked itself into the room.

“Daddy!” the little boy cried, bounding into the room, eyes shining with tears of joy and disbelief.

Goku unwrapped an arm from around his wife and caught up the squirming little boy, pressing his nose into the hair that still smelled of the cleanliness of child. “Gohan,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “I heard you fought hard.”

Gohan planted his hands on his father’s chest and nodded vigorously. “Mmmm,” he replied. “Mr. Piccolo trained me. How did I get home?”

Goku’s brows gathered together a little. “I don’t know. I woke up here too.”

Gohan sighed from his perch on Goku’s stomach. “Mommy,” he whispered.

“Don’t wake her,” Goku said. “She had a hard year. She was all alone.”

Gohan nodded, reaching up with a hand too strong for his age and brushing hair out of his eyes. “I tried to come back to her, but Mr. Piccolo said not to.”

Goku laughed softly. “Can’t argue with Piccolo,” he replied.

“Piccolo,” ChiChi snarled as she surfaced from slumber.

Goku smoothed back her hair from her forehead once again. “Shhh. Did we wake you?”

ChiChi’s eyes popped open and she sat bolt upright, holding the sheet to her chest as she stared at Gohan. “You’re up!” she shouted, throwing her arms around the boy and crushing him to her.

“Mommy,” the little boy said, notes of suffering rippling through his voice.

“She missed you, Gohan,” Goku chided. “I missed you too.”

Gohan sniffled, tearing away from his mother a little. “I missed you guys. Mr. Piccolo took good care of me, though.”

ChiChi’s face hardened a little, but she nodded. “Yes, that horrid fellow deserves some thanks, I suppose,” she said bitterly. “He brought the two of you home yesterday and said to put you to bed. He gave me some senzu to give you when you woke up, but it doesn’t look like Gohan needs any. He was none too nice about it either, if you ask me.”

“Mom, Mr. Piccolo is great!” Gohan protested.

Goku laughed, the sound rumbling out of his chest. “So what were you doing up, Gohan?” he chuckled, overjoyed to hear the sounds of his family.

Gohan reddened, drawing a circle on the blankets with a forefinger as he took his eyes off of his parents cuddled together. “Cartoons,” he mumbled. He saw his mother open her mouth to chastise him and decided to hurry on. “Then the phone rang. You need to call Bulma, Daddy. She sounded really upset.”

Goku’s face fell as he remembered the day before. Vegeta would be back. His family would be in danger once again. “I wish there was a way to change him,” Goku mumbled to himself, pushing away from his wife and child and sliding out from under the covers. “You would not believe how strong that Vegeta guy was,” he said over his shoulder to ChiChi as pulled on a pair of pants.

“He wanted to take Uncle Radditz,” Gohan offered, scratching his jaw as his eyes watched his mother solemnly.

“I don’t like any of these Saiyans,” ChiChi growled under her breath.

“They’re not very nice,” Gohan admitted. “But Uncle Radditz wants to keep them all safe. He’s scared of something else.”

Goku paused and turned around, shirt in hand, and stared at his son. “What are you talking about, Gohan?”

ChiChi pulled the boy into her lap and the two of them watched Goku dress. “Uncle Radditz is really scared of something, you can feel it. He’s scared that all the Saiyans will die. He wants both you and Vegeta alive, although I don’t like Vegeta very much. He and his friend are mean,” Gohan said, leaning back into his mother.

Goku’s eyebrows fell a little as he tucked in his shirt. “Yeah, I think so too,” he replied, smiling at his son. “But Vegeta would be a great sparring partner. He’s so strong,” he said, a strange fire burning in his eyes. “If I could get that strong...”

ChiChi scowled. “Don’t you even think about it, Goku,” she snapped. “You have other responsibilities besides fighting, you know.”

Goku’s face fell. “But ChiChi,” he whined.

“Don’t!” she said sharply, sliding out from underneath Gohan and snatching up a robe. “I don’t want to hear any more on the subject.”

“But what if Vegeta comes back to kill us again, Mommy?” Gohan said, rising to his hands and knees on the mattress as his mother cinched the belt of her robe.

Goku watched his wife’s face tighten with unspoken fear. “Do you think Radditz would help us, Gohan?” he asked.

Gohan scowled. “I don’t know,” he admitted, liking that his father was asking him grown-up questions. “He wants to take care of you bad, but he really cares about Vegeta too, I think.”

“Do you really think there’s danger, Goku?” ChiChi asked softly, a hand rising to the base of her throat as her eyes searched his face.

Goku sighed and put on his boots. “I think so,” he said quietly. “I’m going to visit Radditz right now and find out.”

---

Vegeta awoke enraged and promptly put his fist through the tank’s glass, sending shards everywhere as crawled out of the chamber amidst the water that was rushing away. A tech ran over to assist him and he vaporized it with a scowl, sending the rest of the staff scurrying. A cry of anger ripped its way out of his throat and he lowered his fists to his waist as he howled, his tail lashing back and forth.

“You’re always crabby in the morning, aren’t you?” a cool voice said from the entryway.

Vegeta whipped around to be confronted with the cold, crisp features of Zarbon. “Shut up!” he shouted, raising a hand and letting a ki blast fly.

Zarbon raised a hand and swatted it out of the way, hearing it ricochet down the hall and explode. He hoped it didn’t hit anything vital. “Hello to you, too,” he said smoothly, sliding the rest of the way into the room. “Now what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Vegeta snarled, casting about for something to wear, his expression like midnight.

Zarbon sighed and handed him a navy bodysuit. “Would that ‘nothing’ be Kakarott? Or the Earthlings? Radditz?” he asked. “Or do you want me to bring in more techs so you can kill them and start a mutiny?”

Vegeta’s dark eyes narrowed and he slapped Zarbon across the face as hard as he could. The green-haired man staggered backwards a few steps, a dark blue mark appearing on his pale cheek. Cold golden eyes stared at him angrily. “I will no longer tolerate your impertinence,” Vegeta snarled, reaching down to pull on his boots.

Anger boiled in Zarbon’s stomach. The upstart Saiyan really was too much. Every time he was about to feel sorry for Vegeta he went and did something horrible. “And I will no longer tolerate your stupidity! If you ever lay a hand on me again I’m going to leave you immediately and live on Earth myself, like that Namek fellow!” Zarbon hissed back, his reason melting away. “What in the hell were you doing yesterday?”

Vegeta stiffened as he put on his gloves. “What do you think?” he growled.

Zarbon crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring the throbbing in his cheek. “Losing your mind,” he replied curtly. “You nearly destroyed all of us several times over. And you didn’t even succeed in retrieving Radditz. You were in poor condition to begin with, and yet you wouldn’t let me fight for you. These Earthlings are so weak that we didn’t even need to fight. We could’ve just waltzed right in, taken Radditz and Kakarott without a struggle, and then left, blowing the planet up behind us. End of story. Is there anything else you’d like me to tell you that you were doing yesterday?” he said, voice rising in pitch as his anger increased.

Vegeta glared back at him, black eyes blazing. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” he spat.

Zarbon rolled his eyes and let his arms drop to his sides. “Good gods, Vegeta, I’m not trying to tell you what to do!” he shouted, “But if I were you’d better listen. I’ve got several decades on you and a few of those were spent as one of Freeza’s commanders. I know how to deal with situations like this, and you’d do well to listen to me if you want to keep your entire empire from falling down around your damn fool ears!!”

Vegeta’s lips tightened into a thin line and he raised his nose in the air a little, a blush spreading across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. “Are you done?” he said coolly.

Zarbon sighed and bowed his head. “Apparently,” he grumbled, shaking his head and closing his eyes. Would the little Saiyan ever listen to him?

Vegeta pulled on his armor and straightened his clothes, even taking a quick glance in the mirror to ensure that everything was in place. “Good,” he said calmly. “Meet me in my quarters in an hour.” He gave his chestplate one last tug and shot Zarbon a dark look before striding out of the room.

Zarbon took a deep breath and rapped on the door with a sheathed hand, steeling himself to deal with the stubborn prince. He waited for a few minutes, but there was no answer. He knocked again, pausing to listen. All was quiet inside the room, and he remained outside, debating whether or not to just go in. He was given the clearance codes, after all, but he really did want to respect Vegeta’s privacy. Zarbon stood in the corridor and weighed the consequences, trying to decide if Vegeta would flip out more if he was late or if he entered without permission. He sighed and put two fingers to his temple, trying to clear his mind of the past hour so he could make a decision. Nappa had called, irate about some trivial thing, and there seemed to be endless complaints from the techs. Zarbon stared at the door and swallowed. Late would be worse today, he decided. If Vegeta was upset that he had entered the Prince’s private quarters then so be it. He took a breath and punched in his clearance code, ducking his head as the door slid open and he entered.

He did not expect the Saiyan to already be in the room. Vegeta was sitting in a chair by the window, his feet up on the table and his fist propping up his chin as he stared out at the planet below them. “Sir?” Zarbon asked gently, not wanting to disturb him if the Prince was actually reflecting. “Vegeta?”

The dark gaze slid away from the window and met Zarbon’s. “You’re almost late,” he said coldly.

Zarbon restrained a scowl. “Yes, sorry about that. Nappa was having kittens on Arlia and I had to calm him down.”

Vegeta smiled, the shape of his mouth the slightest of curves. “Send him to Kijar for a vacation. That should clear out his mind, since he doesn’t think with the head that sits on his shoulders.”

Zarbon smiled back. “I don’t even want to think about it,” he replied, pulling up a chair and beginning to recline himself before Vegeta’s cool stare reminded him to retain his decorum. “What were you pondering?”

Vegeta snorted. “Nothing of import. Just the Earthlings that I want dead, which happens to be all of them.”

Zarbon nodded, examining his fingernails and occasionally glancing outside at the blue planet. “What is the course of action to be?”

“Why don’t you tell me,” Vegeta said, trying to sound bored.

That gave Zarbon pause. For the first time Vegeta had actually listened to him. The poor boy’s brain must be more damaged by the psychic assault than he first thought. “Pertaining to what? What do you know you want from this planet?” he replied, curious.

Vegeta leaned further back into his chair and turned his attention outside once again. “I want to get Radditz back. He’ll make a better commander than Nappa. And I want the scarred Earth man dead,” he said with certainty.

A sigh escaped Zarbon. “Well, that certainly leaves a lot to be dealt with,” he said. “I think at this point it’d be best to try and be friendly. They put up a pretty good show. Besides, I’m curious about that woman. A lot of people seemed to be protecting her. I’d like to know why.”

Vegeta scowled at the mention of the woman. He remembered those eyes, still burned into his memory although no longer plaguing his sanity. “Do they have anything to offer?” he asked slowly, trying to recall his role as emperor.

Zarbon shrugged. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I think we should do some prying tomorrow when we go to visit Radditz.”

“Kakarott,” Vegeta said out loud as his memory turned the previous day over, worrying the word like a stone. “A son of a third-class warrior shouldn’t be that strong.”

“Radditz is stronger than he should be too,” Zarbon reminded him. “I don’t see what’s so strange about it.”

Vegeta’s face hardened and Zarbon knew he had hit upon a tender subject. “He’s almost as strong as me, Zarbon,” he said quietly. “He only grew up under 1 G, and he’s nearly as strong as I am. I’m a super-elite and he’s a third-class at best.”

“I continue to fail to grasp the significance. You’re still stronger than he is,” Zarbon said, scowling.

Vegeta brought his hand down on the table top firmly, his fingers spreading out across the surface and remaining tense in frustration. “The point is, Zarbon,” Vegeta said through slightly clenched teeth, “That if a third-class Saiyan can nearly reach my level, what have I been doing with my own potential?”

Zarbon rolled his eyes, something he noticed he was doing more and more frequently. “Vegeta, you’re the strongest Saiyan in recent history,” he protested. “I don’t see how that can be a bad thing.”

The hand on the table balled into a fist. “I should have surpassed myself long ago. I should have worked harder,” he said, jaw tight and eyes locked upon the stars outside.

Zarbon’s expression softened. “I think your accomplishments are extraordinary. No mammal has ever matched your talents in the history of the universe, save that of that one Super Saiyan of your legends,” he said gently. “And even when one considers that, you’re of the same bloodline, aren’t you?”

Vegeta inclined his head a little, his jaw relaxing a little but his eyes still intense. “Yes, I am descended from that particular Saiyan. I just can’t shake the feeling that if a third-class warrior can be so powerful for his caste I should be far stronger than I am,” he said, voice rough at the edges.

Zarbon shrugged and shifted in his seat. “You have the rest of your life. If you’re worried about it, train with him. Defeat him. That should put your mind at rest. Just take care you don’t kill him; he seems like he would be an effective soldier on your behalf,” he said carefully.

Vegeta brought a knuckle to his lower lip and scowled, staring off into the depths of space. “We could use another Saiyan among us,” he agreed. “We’ll have to ask Radditz about his relationship with his little brother.” He was trying to be curious about Radditz’s condition, but instead his thoughts were filled with blue eyes.

Zarbon noted Vegeta’s distraction and decided to change the subject, unsure of what exactly the Saiyan was feeling. Vegeta had always been volatile and moody, but since the psychic assault incident he was even more unpredictable and touchy than usual. “Would you like to take our personal pods as before, or would you prefer a grander entrance?” he asked offhandedly, waving a wrist in the air to emphasize his nonchalance.

Vegeta’s dark eyes slid over to Zarbon’s and bored into him. “Grand, I think. Let us land the mothership on the woman’s lawn. That should aid them in realizing who exactly we are.” That should put that cocky scarred man in his place as well, he thought to himself.

Zarbon nodded. “Tomorrow, then?” he asked. He needed time to ready his wardrobe and that of the Emperor’s as well as make sure the crew was properly outfitted. Appearance would form the majority of the impressions the Earthlings had of them and their purpose, if the battles of the days before hadn’t completely ruined their chances of gaining enough trust for reconnaissance.

Vegeta, for once, was thinking of his wardrobe as well. “Yes, tomorrow will be ideal. Can I trust you to find me something suitable to wear?”

Zarbon’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Vegeta was concerned about his appearance? “Can you trust me?” he asked, a little wounded. “Shouldn’t you know the answer to that by now?”

Vegeta tilted his head and let his mouth relax a little. “Point taken, Zarbon. Do what you must in preparation, then spend the remainder of the time resting or whatever it is you do in your spare time. The petty officers can take care of things for a few hours.”

Zarbon nearly had to physically hold his jaw to keep it from falling on the floor. Had Vegeta honestly listened to him? What had caused the change in the Saiyan’s mood? He stared at his employer for a few moments more before collecting himself and realizing that the sooner he got things done the more time he would have to primp himself. “Thank you, Vegeta,” he said, blinking. “I'll have everything seen to posthaste.”

The black eyes turned away, back towards the Earth. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Vegeta said, voice nearly a whisper.

---

“You called, sire?” he asked from the doorway, hands folded behind his expansive back as he peered into the room.

“Yes, Dodoria. Come in and close the door behind you,” the voice said from the hoverchair.

Dodoria swallowed and glanced around the darkened chamber, the atmosphere in the room thick with heavy, dark thoughts and emotions that were nearly tangible in their intensity. Taking a few steps forward he entered and slid the portal shut before coming to rest at the arm of the hoverchair. “How may I serve?” he burbled, his scratchy voice thickened further by the apprehension that was starting to creep up the bases of his multitudinous spines.

“I need you to run an errand,” Freeza said, staring off into the darkness of the room without seeing anything.

“Whatever you desire,” Dodoria replied, his fear growing. Freeza had been becoming more despondent since the demise of his brother. The closer they came to the center of King Cold’s empire the more irritable Freeza became. Of course, King Cold’s summons never seemed to bode well, and it was possible that Freeza was just upset at meeting his parent. Dodoria knew he certainly wouldn’t want to be held accountable for anything by the King, let alone the death of a sibling.

“I want you to go to Rihon 8,” Freeza said, black full lips parting as his eyes narrowed in his horned head.

Dodoria’s own eyes widened in the purple, fleshy folds, as he was shocked to his very core. “Rihon 8? But isn’t that where Zarbon and Vegeta disappeared?” he gasped.

Freeza’s cruel eyes slithered over to Dodoria’s fat face, the gaze cold and threatening. “Precisely,” he said quietly, voice dangerous.

“But we’ve already lost another mission there since then!” Dodoria protested. “Don’t you think it would be risky to send another?”

Freeza’s expression sharpened until it seemed his very glance could slice someone in two. “The product is worth the price,” he replied.“Are you questioning me, Dodoria?”

Dodoria felt sweat wind its way between the spines on his pink head. “Of course not, sire. It’s just that we’re so many months away from the Rihon system, and it may be more cost-effective if we waited until our own travels place us closer.”

Freeza’s lips parted in a snarl, his hand seizing a goblet resting on the arm of his chair and hurling it onto the floor. “Damn it, Dodoria, I want those two FOUND!” he shouted, eyes ablaze. “Our last mission didn’t lose their way and I do not want the same mistake made again!”

Dodoria cowered as best he could while standing his ground by the hoverchair. “Yes, sir,” he croaked, not daring to reach up and wipe away the sweat that rolled down his bumpy skin. “What exactly do you require?”

Freeza settled back into his chair a bit without relinquishing the posture that suggested he would spring up at any moment and start blasting things into oblivion. “I want you to take a battleship and four auxiliary ships to the Rihon system. Bring whatever soldiers and weapons you need, but I expect a full report. Return Vegeta to me, even if he’s just remains when you find him, but by no means harm him further. Have I made myself clear?”

Dodoria nodded. “Yes, Lord Freeza,” he replied. “When shall I fetch the ships and supplies?”

Freeza sighed and tapped on the arm of the chair, seeming more like his cold, calm self. “We’ll take some ships of my father’s when we get there and then you can set out immediately.”

“That will take some months, sir.”

“I don’t care what it takes, Dodoria. Just get it done.”

Dodoria bowed, one hand on the front of his abdomen, and began to back out of the room. He was nearly to the door when something occurred to him. “What about Zarbon, sire?” he asked.

He heard Freeza sigh, the upholstery in his hoverchair creaking with the sound. “If he’s not dead already destroy him,” he said quietly.

“As you wish,” Dodoria replied and left the room, a chill inexplicably working its way down his spine all the while.

---

19 / Bulma’s Hideout / 21