Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Amazon & Saiyan: Consequences ❯ Memory of Flames ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or anything even remotely associated with it, and after this weekend, I won't even get the cable required to watch DBZ & DB anymore…

Amazon & Saiyan: Consequences

By Nadia Rose

Chapter 3: Memory of Flames

It was a scene from a horror movie; the sun was just settling over the horizon, bathing everything in a macabre red glow. The air was dry and thick with heat; the world was still, and almost silent. The wind rustled through the thick brown remnants of what had once been a field, broken only by the crashing sounds of someone running through it. In the background, the sound of metal-upon-metal rang clearly as a battle took place.

Two children broke through the hay field, running as fast as they could from something only they could see. As soon as they reached the worn footpath along the trees, flames devoured the hayfield from which they had just emerged.

The tiny girl with ragged black hair glanced back over her shoulder at the inferno bearing down upon them.

The redhead beside her grabbed her hand and pulled her along after him as he sprinted towards the river that would save them. "No…Chi-chan!" He gasped between breaths. "Don't…look…back…just…run!"

The little girl nodded and followed her brother as they tried to outrun the magically enhanced flames and the demon that was spreading them.

Just as they were about to reach the river, one of the trees lining the path caught flame, and the two children watched, horrified, as it began to fall across their only route of escape.

They weren't going to make it. The little girl slowed down, crying out as her bare toes barked against a rock. She stumbled, nearly falling, but the older boy grabbed her by the arm and kept her on her feet, continuing to drag her towards the burning tree and the river beyond it.

Just as they passed underneath the tree, one of the burning branches fell to the ground, pinning the boy beneath it. He cried out in pain, and the smaller girl turned to try and help pull the branch off. With a shrill cry, the fire demon began to swoop down upon them, and the boy pushed the little girl towards the river, crying out for her not to worry about him, to run and get to the river, where it was safe.

Shaking with fear, the girl fled to do his bidding, crying as his pained screams rent the hot air…and the fire demon was swooping down upon her-she wasn't going to make it…

Then there was nothing but pain as a hand made only of whispering flames grabbed her ankle.

Chichi sat up with a shuddering gasp, eyes unfocused as her mind reeled from the memory. After a moment, she pulled her legs beneath her and rushed across the house to the bathroom, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

Once she'd finished and rinsed her mouth out, she sank to the floor in the hall outside the bathroom, unwilling to go back to the front room to lay on the mattress thrown down just in front of the only window in the house that caught the evening breeze.

If she closed her eyes again she'd hear the boy's screams of pain as the fire demon killed him, see the torment of the girl-child who'd done nothing wrong except exist.

She couldn't deal with those types of memories; not now-not when she had to go back to Mt. Frypan that day. There were enough reminders of that night there; she didn't need to relive it in her dreams anymore.

Chichi shuddered, trying to push the sound of her brother's screams out of her head, tried not to remember how the demon had felt when it'd grabbed her and thrown her into the river. Tried not to remember the pain and the tears and the blood.

But once the first memory trickled past the dam, the rest followed like a huge wave, and the Amazon Princess fought bravely against her own personal hell. She wasn't strong enough; the faces of her brother and mother flashed before her eyes, she could hear her mother's cries as she bled to death, her father's roar of grief as he came into the room to see her body lying still on the bed, Taro and Chichi crouched next to her, tears running down their faces.

She could remember crawling into Taro's bed those first few nights after their mother's death, thankful for his comforting arms as their father raged on elsewhere in the castle, breaking anything he could get his hands on. How Taro had sung her to sleep on those nights to keep her from hearing Ox-king's cries, and the vicious battles that had taken place when the Amazons tried to help them.

But most of all she remembered the demon; and how much it had hurt her, and the never-ending spiral of pain she had traveled for days after Taro's death. How it hurt to move, to breathe, to even try to think at all; her aunt's pleading voice and soft hands helping her cling to life as they'd traveled to the Fountain. Her mother's voice, beckoning her to join them in the afterlife; her father's voice, apologizing for every time he'd ever hurt her. She hadn't known who or what to listen to; but all she had wanted was for the pain to stop.

Chichi wrapped her hands around her knees and stared out at the starry sky. They'd said it was a miracle that she'd even survived long enough to make it to the Fountain; that she never should have survived being pulled from the burning river. That her badly-burnt body would never be able to withstand the healing forces of the Fountain.

But she was still here, today, sitting on the floor of the house her husband had built, without a mark on her. There was no evidence of the massive burns that should have claimed her life, her skin was smooth and pale, her eyes sharp and bright, her hearing excellent. She'd grown up, married, and even born a child, when by all modern laws of science she should have died at age six.

Over the years, if there was one thing she'd learned, it was that nothing good ever came to you unless you fought for it. She'd fought for her life and won.

Now she'd have to fight for acceptance, and for love.

She'd seen the looks on their faces; the pure betrayal written across Krillin's features, the disgust that Tien wore like a cloak. They didn't understand, didn't even try to understand what she'd been through. And as far as she cared, they didn't have to understand-most of them probably couldn't. All she wanted was for them to accept what had happened because they were the only people she'd had any contact with for the past decade, and the only people her young son knew.

She could deal with their giving her a cold shoulder just as long as they didn't shun her son for her actions. Gohan didn't deserve to lose his only friends because they were too narrow-minded to see past their own anger.

Chichi doubted he would, though; they were fairly forgiving people, in the long run. They'd learned to adjust to many different people, like Piccolo and Vegeta himself, thanks to the ministrations of Goku.

The slender shoulders drooped a little bit at the thought of her husband.

She missed him horribly, and knew she'd never stop loving him, but she belonged to Vegeta now. When he had taken her that first night he had claimed her as effectively as branding his name across her forehead. She wouldn't-she couldn't-betray him. She was his now, in body, and, thanks to the Saiyan bond, in soul. Dwelling on Goku would only depress her.

Delicate fingers prodded the old set of teeth marks at the left side of her throat. Goku's mark; the mark that had made Vegeta so angry at her that morning. In the midst of the vicious argument they'd had after their visitors had left, she'd managed to pry why out of him. According to Saiyan custom, if the bond hadn't dissolved at the time of Goku's death (which it hadn't-in fact, it'd only blistered when Radditz had killed him) and she hadn't wasted away and died, then it should have disappeared when Vegeta had bonded with her. But it hadn't, and he had eventually written it off as a mutation due to her human blood, and they had continued on with their argument.

Chichi's hand located the other, much more sensitive scar on the other side of her throat. They hadn't finished the argument, but they had come to a resolution, of sorts. She knew she'd be picking arguments with him if they all ended like that one had. It had been far too long since she'd been held like that, and she enjoyed the sensation. Of course, Vegeta would eventually have to realize she was her own person, too, but for now, she didn't mind being a possession.

Eventually, after a long fight, he would love her, but not now. Neither of them were ready for that now. She was still dealing with her past with Goku, and Vegeta wasn't ready to admit that he could love.

It would be a long battle, but Chichi was used to that. There was always something to fight for.

This one was just personal.

She reluctantly pushed herself up from the floor, surprised to see that the sky outside had turned a murky gray in preparation for the nearing sunrise. It was too late to go back to bed; and she had a long drive in front of her.

If she left by the time she thought she would, she would be lucky to make it to Mt. Frypan by nightfall. It was time to get moving. She shook out the flimsy cloth of her nightgown, sighing in relief as the morning breeze cooled skin clammy with sweat. If there was one thing she missed about the castle, it was the eternal coolness of the thick stone walls in the summer. Here she spent each night trying to find a room with a breeze so she wouldn't get heat exhaustion while she slept. Usually she and Gohan would take the mattress/big bedroll from the guest bedroom to whatever room was coolest and sleep there.

Tonight Vegeta had looked at her like she was mad when he'd seen her drag the thing into the front room and shove the couch and chair back to the wall to make room for it. After she'd explained and he'd retorted that sleeping outside would be cooler. She'd returned that unless he wanted to listen to her whine about the bugs eating her alive, they'd sleep inside. He'd been genuinely confused until she realized that his skin was too thick for the bugs to actually penetrate and bite him.

As she rubbed the red welt of a fresh bite on her arm, she decided that Saiyans were definitely luckier than most when it came to survival equipment.

She crept back to the front room, where Vegeta lay sprawled out on his back, unwilling to leave his most vulnerable side free to attack even in sleep. Chichi moved to wake him up, but then decided to play it safe. If Vegeta was anything like most of the other warriors she knew, shaking him awake was a good way to get herself knocked across the room with a defensive punch. She retreated to the safety of the kitchen, where she pulled her largest cooking pot from beneath the cabinet, grabbed one of the wooden spoons that hung on the wall, and belabored away.

Now in most cases, the mere sound of a very loud noise would wake even a normal human up. But normal human did not apply to anyone within the Son household; or anyone associated with them, for that matter. Chichi had learned long ago that the only way to wake her husband without promise of a planetary emergency or a prompt breakfast was to shriek like a banshee and shake him hard. She assumed Vegeta was as hard to wake, and decided to do it the safe way.

Unfortunately for her, years of surviving on planets where the inhabitants were trying to kill you, and amongst the murderous denizens of Frieza's empire had taught Vegeta to always stay alert, even while sleeping. He'd woken up when the dream had bothered her, but had drifted back off to slumber when he'd realized what was the matter. If the woman were truly ill, she'd get him up.

He hadn't expected to be roused by her enthusiastic rendition of a Saiyan ritual war summons.

He swore under his breath and rose, heading for the kitchen where he found his mate, calmly pounding on one of her cooking pots like it was an everyday occurrence. Shimatta! Didn't the noise even bother her?

For the sake of his sensitive hearing, Vegeta did the first thing that came to mind. He lifted his hand, gathered a tiny ki blast, and flicked it at the offending spoon in his wife's hand. He failed to consider the fact that it was a wood, and watched in trepidation as his mate suddenly found herself holding a torch instead a spoon.

She shrieked and flung it away from her, straight towards the Saiyan Prince. He lifted his hands to disintegrate it into nothing, but misjudged the ki blast's power. Not only did he destroy the spoon, but sent the blast hurtling towards his mate. A quick flick of his fingers sent it on a course to miss her, and it zoomed across her shoulder, and seared a nice hole through the wall.

Chichi stared at the neat hole in the wall for a minute, before pinning him with a fierce gaze. "What was that for? You put a hole in my kitchen wall!"

"And you nearly destroyed my hearing with your infernal racket!"

Chichi planted her hands on her hips. "You Saiyans could sleep through a damn aerial assault! How else was I supposed to get you up?"

"You could have just told me to wake up through the bond," he snarled back, neatly deflating her bubble. "I am not the culture-deaf moron that your baka of a husband is!"

Chichi dropped her pot and jumped over the table at him, the frying pan magically appearing in her hand. Before he knew what was happening, it connected with the side of his head with destructive force.

He jerked backwards, swearing as he rubbed the lump developing on his head. "What was that for?"

Chichi stared at him, shaking with rage. "LEAVE GOKU OUT OF THIS!" Her bellow was louder than any he'd ever heard from her before, and he was sure his ears were bleeding.

And then, as abruptly as her anger had welled up again, it drained away, leaving him staring at a world-weary woman. "Leave," she said quietly.

"What?"

"You heard me very well, Vegeta," her tone was deathly peaceful. "Go back to Capsule Corps, go meditate in the mountains; I don't care-just go! I need-I need some time to think."

"What do you mean, woman?"

She locked tired eyes with his, and pushed a jumble of thoughts along the bond to him. Her head was whirling with so many conflicting thoughts it was a feat she hadn't gone mad.

She cocked her head and watched him. "I need to sort all of that out, and I can't do it with you distracting me every five minutes! Besides," she continued wearily, "I need to go get Gohan today, he's already been at Papa's for longer than they both expected." She flinched slightly, and he felt her resignation. "Gohan-Gohan's not going to like this at all."

Vegeta frowned, but said nothing. It was not his place to interfere in affairs between his mate and her son. If he were related by blood to the boy, he could tell her that the boy would either accept it or he wouldn't, but it was not his place.

At least, not yet.

She smiled apologetically at him, and disappeared up the stairs to her bedroom. He stared after her for a moment, then shrugged. He was hungry, and the old woman would have expected him back at Capsule Corps several days ago. At least she would feed him.

About twenty minutes after the sonic boom that signaled the Prince's departure shook the surrounding area, Chichi emerged from her house in a long flowing dress cinched loosely at her waist. She de-capsulized a small pickup in the clearing, climbed in, and the pickup barreled off in the direction of the distant Mt. Frypan.

For the first time in four days, Mt. Paotzu was silent.

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