Chapter 61

It seemed oddly cold in the bed, the expanse of covers empty as he lay on his side and stared out the window. The twin moons had risen some time ago and were already well on their way across the sky. He had been watching them move along their path ever since they had appeared in the heavens that evening, and still she had not shown up. He had no idea where she was, and told himself he didn’t care. Something in his chest felt like it was falling, and for the first time he wondered if maybe he did care. He lifted his left hand near his face, gazing at the thin band of gold that encircled his ring finger. The ring hadn’t left his hand since the day she put it there. That day seemed simultaneously like it had happened a million years ago and yesterday. He let his hand fall back on the mattress and fixed his eyes once again on the moons, suddenly deciding they were too bright. He rose and closed the shutters, then climbed back into the massive bed. He was just settling back down in the warm spot his body had made when he heard the door swing open. The sound of feet sliding out of shoes immediately followed and the door clicked shut. The soft noise of bare feet padding across the stones and the rustling of cloth reached his ears. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep as the mattress shifted, and his nostrils picked up her scent. She had come to bed at last. His brows furrowed more deeply as he pushed away the relief that welled up in his heart. Had he been afraid she wouldn’t show up? Why? Why would it even matter, either way?

Her soft skin was pressed up against his back, and by the way she nestled against him he knew she thought he was asleep. “Oh, Vegeta,” he heard her whisper. “Why does it have to be this way?”

Be what way?

Her arm slid over his waist and she ran her cool hand up to his chest, her fingers finding the deep cleft between his pectorals. He felt her lips graze the taut muscle of his shoulder and the goose bumps rose on his skin despite his best efforts to prevent it. Her soft stomach pressed against his back and her legs wrapped around his until he was effectively trapped in her embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. The words sent fear racing up his spine and he could no longer keep up the charade of slumber.

“Sorry for what?” he murmured, not stirring.

“You’re awake?” she gasped, recoiling from him and moving quickly to the other side of the bed.

He rolled over and propped his head up with a hand, dark eyes boring into her. “Of course. You weren’t here when I arrived.”

Her brow creased slightly, the blue hair falling into her face as she sat up and pulled the covers over herself. “What? Why?”

He almost couldn’t stand the sight of her, with her pale skin visible even in the perfect darkness of the room, the shine of her silky hair falling over her shoulders, the angle of her soft, pink elbows as she pulled her knees into her chest. He could tell she was staring at him, even though he couldn’t make out her eyes except for tiny flecks of reflected light. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t sleep until you got here. Heaven only knows what trouble someone as obnoxious as you could get into.”

Her laugh sounded a little forced to him. “You mean you’ve actually gotten used to me?” she chuckled, but her body was shaking a little. He could feel the movement in the mattress beneath him, and he wondered if she was even aware of it.

“I could never get used to you,” he said, a small smile stretching his lips against his better judgment. He sat up and reached over to her, gently clearing the strands of hair from her face. “Now, what were you apologizing for?”

She looked at him askance, her features suddenly guarded. “Why are you being so nice? You haven’t been this nice since our honeymoon.”

“I wasn’t even very nice then,” he said, moving closer to her. He cupped her chin in his callused hand and turned her face towards him, gently planting a warm kiss on her temple. “But you were,” he purred. “You were very, very nice.”

She pushed him away and it was if a tiny piece of him was shattered. He scowled to rid himself of the feeling and grunted angrily. “Please, don’t. I can’t,” she murmured.

“Can’t what?”

“Can’t do this anymore. I can’t take it. I didn’t know it was going to be this horrible when I followed you here. I didn’t have any illusions that you would love me, or that we would be happy, but I didn’t know that you were going to be this way forever.”

He felt his spine go rigid, small beads of cold sweat forming at his hairline. “What are you saying?” he whispered.

The outline of her body quivered and he heard her swallow a sob. “I’m saying that if you live through this fight with Freeza, I might not be here to see your return.”

“What?” he said so softly he could barely even hear his own voice. Comprehension refused to come to him, leaving him feeling hollow and blank.

“You only married me to keep an eye on me, to make sure I didn’t die. From what I gather from this ‘bonding’ thing you’ve done to me, if I die I take a part of your soul with me, without which you’ll just sort of wither up and die. I know that I’m not telepathic like you are, but I think that if you die it’ll hurt me, too. I don’t want to accept that, but I can. What I cannot accept is the fact that you don’t care how I feel, that you don’t care about how anyone around you feels.”

“Woman,” he began to say, but words deserted him. He was speechless.

Suddenly she grabbed his hand, grasping the finger with the wedding ring on it. She placed her own hand in his and looked down at them, the metal sparkling faintly in the near-darkness. Her eyes caught some of the reflected light, so that they glowed sapphire blue for a brief second. He was reminded that he had nearly given up his life to that blue. “These symbolize a union, Vegeta,” she said steadily. “These mean that we are husband and wife, two parts of a whole, a family. Don’t you remember what it was like to have a family, to have people that care about you?”

Vegeta felt as if he had been struck in the back of the head. Images of his father popped up from his memories. He had been so proud of his father, and his father had been proud of him. His father had faith in his son’s strength, had believed that he would be the strongest warrior the universe had ever seen. He knew his father had loved him, although he had rarely showed it. Vegeta had never realized it before, but his father had died fighting Freeza for that love. He had wanted Freeza to die because he loved his son and his people, and wanted to keep him safe. He, on the other hand, also wanted Freeza to die, but for revenge and hatred, not for love. “Quiet, woman,” he managed to say, frantically trying to throw the walls up in place around his heart and mind, which was all the harder because of the telepathic bond.

“No, Vegeta, I won’t be quiet. If you leave tomorrow planning to die then I promise I won’t be here if you manage to return. I can’t allow myself to love a man that lives his life with despair and hatred. We have a life together ahead of us,” she said, voice soft and urgent. “We have children and grandchildren and a great empire to uphold ahead of us. We are family, you and I. We are a pair. We are life mates.”

“You are insane and I...” he growled, turning away from her.

“What?” her voice whispered behind him.

“I only have one chance.”

He felt her soft hand come to rest on his shoulder. “That chance is enough to make the right choice. Live, Vegeta. Love is a stronger power than hate.”

“Love is weakness, and only the strong survive.”

He felt the bed shake slightly as she seemed to deflate behind him, and he turned to glance at her, her body a mass of round, soft shadows in the darkness. “Then you will die, Vegeta, because without the strength of love you do not even have a single chance to beat Freeza. You condemn me to live the rest of my days with the pain of losing you.”

“You didn’t love me, either, when we married,” he snapped.

He almost gasped as he felt her hand tighten around his. “Things change,” she murmured. There were several long moments of silence as his brain refused to absorb the implications of her words. Her sigh broke the stillness and she lay down. “Just give me this one night, then, to hold you and pretend it’s forever,” she asked.

He was completely at a loss. What was he supposed to do? How could she possibly understand? He sank down next to her, pulling the covers up around them, and held perfectly still as she nestled her naked body against his, resting her head on his chest. Her hand still held his, her ear pressed against him. He could feel her heartbeat slow and match his.

“You know, I’ve never just laid with you and held your hand,” she murmured against his skin. “You have wonderful, strong hands.”

“We haven’t been together very long,” he said stiffly, feeling awkward.

“No, we haven’t. I wish it didn’t have to end like this. I wish you were strong enough to live through this.”

He felt an odd, slow anger bubble up within him. “What?” he said coldly.

“Dying is easy, Vegeta. It’s living that takes courage.”

“You don’t understand what a monster he is,” he growled.

“I know he gave you those scars. I don’t know why, or what he did to you, but you’re not under his control anymore. Don’t act like you still are.”

“How dare you,” he began to say, but a wetness on his chest stopped him. Her slender body quivered with sobs and her fingers clutched at his bare skin. “What?” he asked her roughly, beginning to panic. The situation was completely out of his control and he had no idea what to do. He didn’t even know why she was crying.

“Don’t leave me,” she mumbled, voice thickened with tears. “Please, Vegeta, don’t leave me.”

“What are you talking about, woman?”

“I don’t want to live my life without you. I want you to rid yourself of these demons and stay with me. I want us to be together, and happy.”

“We will never be happy.”

“Only because you won’t let us!” she said, raising her head and looking at him.

He sighed. “I’m not the sort of man to make you happy. I’m not the man for you.”

She shook her head, strands of blue hair running over his flesh like silken threads. “You are. You have a temper like mine, you have passion like I do. When I speak to you about my work, you’re smart enough to understand. Don’t you see? The only way we are not a match is in our desire for life!”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, his panic rising nearly to the point he felt he should flee.

“Tell me you won’t die. Promise me you won’t die,” she said, her body shaking harder.

“I can’t,” he replied, feeling strangely helpless. What was he supposed to do with her?

She wailed and collapsed against him, breath coming in ragged gasps as she tried to breathe through her violent tears. He rolled onto his side and pulled her to him, putting his hand on the top of her head and stroking her hair gently. She just cried even harder, and the walls around his brain slowly began to crumble. Her fear started to trickle into his mind, and he felt the burning ferocity of her feelings for him. She truly did not want him to die. The panic broke loose inside of him and he leaned toward her and kissed the places on her cheeks where the tears had made little trails on her skin. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, kissing her face and neck, his lips taking away the tears. “I’m here now.” He traveled down to the hollow of her throat and kissed her there, pulling her body as close to his as he could.

“Promise me,” she choked.

“Bulma. . .”

“Promise me!”

“I. . .”

“You’re strong enough to defeat him without dying! I know you are! I even put features on the ship to help you get stronger. You and Goku can train the entire trip!”

“I still don’t think I can-”

“Promise!”

He slowly allowed himself the thought of never seeing her again. The intense, gut-wrenching fear he had experienced when he thought she had died in the collapse of the palace came back to him in a torrent of emotions, and suddenly he didn’t want to lose her. Something had happened in the past few weeks or Arlia, or maybe it had been there before and he just didn’t want to admit it. He really didn’t want to admit it now. Somewhere along the way he quit putting up with her and started to want her around. She was smart and fiery; she both entertained him and kept him sharp. He needed her around, whether he loved her or not. “Yes,” he said softly, hoping she wouldn’t hear.

“Again,” she murmured, her tears slowing as she threw her arms around his brawny neck.

He breathed in the smell of her, the heat of her, and felt his hands travel down to her hips almost of their own free will. His thumbs rested against the bones of her pelvis and he kissed her neck again. “I promise you,” he said, closing his eyes and reveling in the feel of her. He pressed her groin against his and suddenly wanted her very badly. He kissed her deeply, tasting her lips, tracing the curve of her white teeth with his tongue.

She exhaled and pressed herself against him. “Say the whole thing,” she whispered.

“I will come back to you, Bulma. I promise,” he panted, running his hands up and down the graceful curve of her back, desire rising within him. He could not give her up so easily, he realized with chagrin. Eternity without her touch seemed oddly hollow. He took her earlobe between his teeth and pulled gently, feeling her body arch slightly.

She unwrapped her arms from around his neck, placing her hands on his rear and pulling his pelvis against her more firmly. Her soft, slender fingers gripped his powerful muscles tightly and he nearly lost control of himself then and there. “And I will be here waiting for you, Vegeta. I will wait forever if I have to.”

He shuddered and parted her thighs with his leg, rolling her onto her back. “I don’t intend for you to wait forever,” he murmured, and lost himself within her.

---

He awoke in the morning feeling as if his insides had been scraped clean. For the first time ever the world seemed clear to him, with everything in its place. What was this sensation? He took a deep breath and was glad to take it, was exhilarated to feel his heart beating strongly in his chest. Bulma’s body warmth was mingling with his, creating a small sphere that contained just the two of them, but it seemed like it was the whole world. Eyelashes fluttered against his arm where she pillowed her head and an involuntary smile graced his lips. “It’s called peace, Vegeta,” she whispered. “If you live through this, we can feel this way every morning for the rest of our lives.”

It was the first time he ever truly believed her. The truth of her words went straight to the heart he had thought long dead and wound around it, tightening until he could not deny it. Perhaps this strange quiet and clarity was preferable to the oblivion of death. He had never really considered the possibility before “We’ll see,” he said, although suddenly he wanted to tell her much more, wanted to tell her everything. It was as if something inside of him had been broken completely, and now he felt oddly liberated.

“What you’re feeling, Vegeta, is what it’s like to be without hate. I know you have more emotions than angry, very angry, and enraged,” she murmured, turning in his arms and looking up into his eyes.

He thought the blue of those eyes would swallow him up, their color so intense that he felt as if he were flying through the sky. “I do what I have to,” he said gruffly. What was he doing? He wasn’t saying any of things to her that he wanted to.

She fell silent for a few moments, porcelain face grave as her eyes seemed to search his. He scowled down at her and waited, knowing that she would tell him when she was ready. He nearly smiled when he realized she had been responding to him without him saying a word. She was far more telepathic than she realized, and had unwittingly been tapping into the bond between them. He, however, was not going to be so sneaky. He was curious, albeit grudgingly, but he wanted to hear whatever it was she was going to say from her own lips. Suddenly she pulled him very tight for a moment, as if she was trying to make him a part of her. She released him and put her hands on either side of his face so that he could look nowhere but straight into her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, voice shaky, then flinched, as if he were about to strike her.

A thrill ran up his spine as she spoke. His eyes widened and he stared down at her in disbelief. Was it true? He examined her face, searching for the truth in every pore of her skin, in every tiny striation of muscle in the irises of her eyes. He laid his hands upon her and felt the verity of her words. “This will be forever,” he murmured in reply, closing his eyes and kissing her on the forehead.
She clung to him fiercely, burying her face in his chest, and he sighed and ran his fingers over her silky hair. “I believe in you,” she said, hiding her expression from him.

“You had better,” he growled.

Suddenly she pushed him away gently. “You had better start to get ready. I’m sure that Zarbon has made sure your things are packed.”

Vegeta scowled at the mention of Zarbon, a strange jag of ire bubbling through him. “Hmph,” he grunted, unable to justify the anger he felt.

She sat up and brushed the hair from her face. “He loves you, too,” she said softly. “What you’re doing to him is hurting him badly.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snarled. “I don’t care.”

“Do you really believe that?” she replied.

He turned away from her, his earlier feelings destroyed. The clouded rage he always felt moved in to take its place, and suddenly he felt more courageous. “The bastard can die and go to hell for all I care,” he spat.

“Think what you like,” she said stiffly, and he felt her rise from the bed. He was sorry to see her put on a robe. For some reason the act of covering the body he had made love to so many times and in so many different ways the night before was like closing a chapter of his life. He wondered if he would ever feel that sleek body beneath his fingers ever again.

“I will.” He rose as well, tossing the covers aside and retrieving his clothes from the chair where he had folded and placed them the night before. He pulled on his bodysuit, gloves, and boots violently, leaving his cape and armor alone for a moment. Instead he went over to where she sat in front of a mirror, brushing her hair, and he paused. It was just like it had been the night he had proposed to her. She looked exactly the same, and he was just as awash in conflicting emotions and thoughts as he had been then. Without stopping to think about it, he knelt beside her, his dark eyes searching out hers. Her brow creased slightly and she put the brush down slowly, confusion written across her features.

“What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not done with you,” he said. “I will never be done with you.”

“What?” she repeated, even as he tossed away his gloves and boots, peeling his bodysuit away. He knelt again and grabbed her by her supple waist, pulling her to the stones with him. “What are you doing?” she asked in alarm, but he was already undoing her robe and sliding her out of it, letting the expanse of smooth fabric cushion her from the stones beneath. He was already poised to take her, surprised at his sudden arousal. Why did she always manage to do this to him?

“I am taking you,” he said softly, a wicked gleam in his eye.

“You have to get ready!” she exclaimed, but he did not wait. He did not even make an effort at foreplay. She inhaled sharply as his body joined with hers, her breath coming in ragged gasps as he moved within her. She was so sweet and perfect. He wanted to shelter his whole body in hers, to be a part of her completely. He couldn’t believe her body fit him so well. Then he remembered that he could be within her completely, and he let down the barriers he had placed to prevent from feeling their telepathic link, and her mind meshed with his in a rush of emotion. He made a small noise, somewhere between a cry and a choke, as her feelings for him washed over him, and he felt her body arch as she began to experience the pleasure she was giving him.

“Tell me again that you love me,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear.

“I love you,” she moaned.

“Again,” he said, running his tongue over the curve of her ear.

“I love you!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him into her even further with her legs.

Yes, he said directly into her mind. This is the way it was meant to be.

Yes, she agreed.

He could feel their bodies becoming slick with sweat, and her robe became damp with their perspiration. He planted his hands on the stone on either side of the fabric for better purchase and arched his back to move even more powerfully. She writhed with the change in position and he smiled as waves of feeling washed over him through their link. He could not tell her he loved her, he was not even sure, but he could give her this. She would have to know how he felt after this. She would realize that he was hers forever. He was hers, he had been from the first moment he had gazed upon, in real life, the eyes that had haunted him for months. He just hadn’t understood that he was hers until now. For some reason it didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would. Perhaps it was because he knew she belonged to him as well. “Bulma,” he breathed as he finished, and the intensity of their link grew, her following him immediately. “I will always be with you. You are my bonded mate.”

She let her arms fall to the sides and looked up at him from underneath heavy eyelids, her chest heaving. “Yes,” she panted.

He lay within her for long moments, just kissing her face gently and memorizing the taste of salt on her skin. The way her soft lips molded to his was almost too much for him, and he finally pulled away, disappearing into the bathing chamber to prepare for a public appearance. When he returned she was still lying on the robe, her body rosy as she stared at the ceiling. For a moment it seemed as if she was a magnificent statue, removed from the garden and brought to life, just awaking from stony slumber on the floor. He picked up his clothes from around her and dressed once again, finally donning the armor. He reached for his cape, but slender, pale hands gently fastened it to his shoulders. Turning around, he caught her bare waist in his gloved hands and bent, kissing her gently. “I do not know when I will see you again,” he said quietly.

“It had better be soon. Hell hath no fury like Bulma kept waiting,” she said with a smile, but he was not fooled. She was worried sick, it was obvious. It was as if she knew that he could come back alive from this if he so wished, but she wasn’t certain he would choose to do so.

“I keep my promises. I promised Freeza that I would be his doom, and so I shall. I promised my empress that I shall return to her, and so I shall. It is up to her, though, to make sure we still have a future when I reappear.”

“She will,” Bulma whispered.

“Then I have not overestimated her,” he replied, and kissed her again. She made a soft noise and leaned into him, and he wondered if he was weak for wanting her so much. Perhaps he was. Perhaps, at present and forever more, it made no difference.

To his surprise, she laughed. “I don’t think overestimating people has ever been a problem of yours.”

He scowled. “Shut up,” he growled, “And get yourself dressed.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, voice turning a little sad. “I’ll meet you out on the launchpad.”

“See that you do,” he said sharply, and went to the door. He turned, still gripping the handle, and took in the sight of her as she watched him leave, her bare skin shining softly in the dim light. With a sigh, he forced himself to look away and left the room.

---

Goku shifted from one foot to the other as he stood on the tarmac, anxious to be on his way. He had come all the way to Arlia to help everyone out, but he had missed the fight. He wished he would have known how to work his ship, for then he could have parked on the right side of the planet and he wouldn’t have had to stay out of any of it. Still, at least they were going to fight now. He watched with a blank expression as Zarbon directed Arlians at various tasks, the man’s golden eyes hollow with shadows. Goku scowled. He was aware that he didn’t know Zarbon very well, but he still didn’t like to see him so sad. It wasn’t really sorrow, really, but more like hopelessness, like he had given up. Goku sighed. He liked Zarbon. The green-haired man could be scary and cold when the situation demanded it, but he could see that, on the inside, Zarbon was a deeply emotional man. Cocking his head, Goku looked around. Vegeta still hadn’t arrived. It was Vegeta’s fault that Zarbon was so upset. He tried to think of how hurt he would be if Radditz told him out of the blue that he hated him. A shudder wracked his body. That would be awful. It was true that he didn’t necessarily like his brother when he met him, but in the months after his revival he had become really fond of his older sibling. Radditz was sort of like Zarbon, but for different reasons, he mused. Radditz was just a big softie at heart as well. Radditz’s demeanor, however, was the cause of his upbringing rather than the survival skills learned in Freeza’s army. Actually, Goku was glad that both Radditz and Zarbon had served with Freeza, otherwise he might never have met either of him. What really made him happy, though, was knowing that Radditz loved him just as much as he loved Radditz. All the things that hadn’t made sense or made him feel hollow throughout his whole life had been clarified and filled when Radditz came into the picture. Goku was starting to understand that he really was a Saiyan, and he needed Radditz’s knowledge of their race in order to live a full life. Goku liked his life very much. He also wished Gohan could come with him, but he didn’t want to put his son in danger. For a moment he wondered how ChiChi was doing. The poor thing- she must have been so upset when she found both him and their son gone. “I’m sorry, love,” he whispered into the harsh, hot, Arlian wind. He truly did love her; he thought about her every day and couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms again. It was a good thing that they were going to fight Freeza, because he knew that if Freeza had his way, ChiChi and all the other people he cared about would live miserable lives. He could not let that happen.

He looked around again. Radditz had appeared, as had Piccolo. He really had no idea where the Namek had been at night, but figured it didn’t matter. If anyone could take care of themselves, it was Piccolo. A scowl marred his usual happy expression as he realized Vegeta still hadn’t shown up. Now, if anyone needed taking care of, it was Vegeta. Goku knew that he wasn’t the brightest bulb on the block, but he could see that Vegeta needed Zarbon, Bulma, and even Radditz like a man needs his own arms and legs. He really hoped Vegeta made the right moves when the time came. Vegeta was powerful, no doubt about it. He figured Vegeta could even give him a run for his money. He didn’t know if the Prince had the strength it took to win, though, and that worried him. A lot of things about the situation worried him, and he didn’t like it at all. He just wasn’t used to fretting about things.

“What’s the matter?” a gruff voice said from beside him, and he looked up into Piccolo’s green face.

“Oh, just thinking about stuff,” he said with a smile, scratching the back of his head. He knew that this was the gesture that had everyone convinced that he was a complete buffoon, and the more they thought that the easier it was for him to maneuver around them. He was aware he wasn’t brilliant, but unlike most everyone else, he also perceived that he wasn’t an idiot. Well, most of the time. Some of the obvious things escaped him, as did details, but he always knew about the big picture, and the truth of the matter. The only person that seemed to think that there was more to him was Zarbon, but he managed to avoid him most of the time.

“Like what?” Piccolo pressed, and Goku jumped. He had forgotten the Namekian was standing there.

“Like Gohan. I hope he’s okay with Bulma. Do you think we’re doing the right thing?”

“Would you rather put him in the clutches of Freeza himself?” Piccolo countered.

Goku hung his head. “Well, no, but we aren’t even letting him come outside to say goodbye.”

“It’s better that way. We’ve all said our goodbyes. There’s nothing for him to do out here. Besides, it is good for him to learn some restraint.”

“Aw, Piccolo, he’s just a kid!”

“He may be a child, but he is still a warrior,” Piccolo replied.

“Still...” Goku said, trailing off. Vegeta had made his entrance. The Emperor strode to where Zarbon was giving the Arlians orders and shooed him off, Goku’s heart feeling like it was going to hit the pavement, it became so heavy when he saw the tight expression on Zarbon’s face. The taller man bowed and moved away stiffly, muttering a few words to Atlia and then boarding the ship. Bulma showed up moments later, a huge smile on her face that was obviously forced. He knew her too well, and he could tell this whole thing was eating her up inside. He hoped that she had at least managed to set a few things straight with Vegeta. She had come to him the night before, rather late, and confided her fears. He knew Vegeta had to care about her somewhere in his black heart. Goku knew that Vegeta wouldn’t have freaked out when she was buried under all that rubble if he didn’t. Still, it wasn’t really any of his business. Radditz joined Bulma and the two of them approached.

“Ready, brother?” Radditz said grimly, a hand on Bulma’s shoulder.

“Sure!” Goku crowed, giving the bigger Saiyan a thumbs-up.

“Oh, for the love of,” Piccolo grumbled under his breath, but Goku ignored him.

“How are you, Bulma?” Goku said, gathering her up in a bear hug so she could whisper in his ear.

“Fine, Goku,” she said loudly, and hugged him back. “Watch him,” she whispered. “He could go either way. No matter what happens, though, you have to patch things up between him and Zarbon. Zarbon could succeed where I couldn’t.”

Goku nodded and released her, his black eyes holding her shining blue ones for several moments. “Glad to hear it. Take care of my son.”

“Of course,” she said, glancing away. He could see that she was blinking back tears.

Radditz put his hand on her shoulder once again, his thumb gently rubbing her sleeve. “It’s all right,” he said gently, his sharp features softening for a moment. “We will do our best.”

“I know,” she said, sniffling. “I still can’t help but worry, though.”

“Come,” Radditz replied, and began to lead her toward the ship.

“Gonna be a long trip,” Piccolo grated.

“I agree,” Goku said.

---

60/ Bulma’s Hideout / 62