Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ And then there was Light ❯ The Other Android ( Chapter 1 )

(A/N: I finally got up enough courage to post this… For the record, this will be a Cell romance. ^^)

 

Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ……

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter One ::The Other Android::

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

*One Week Earlier*

 

 

They found her in the ruins of the old lab, the other android.

 

It was Krillin who'd discovered her. Krillin who'd stumbled into the back room and ran across the dusty old tank. Similar to the tank the being called Cell had been `birthed' in, before Trunks had destroyed it.

 

It had been dark in the room. So dark that he'd had to strain to see inside, and then wipe his hands across the glass to clear away the thick layers of dust that topped it. He cupped his hands around his eyes, trying to make use of the miniscule light that came from the adjourning room.

 

Was that liquid? It certainly looked like it. Liquid that looked black from the lack of light. And in the middle of that liquid was something dark. Something large and dark and floating in the center of the tank.

 

A body. There was a body in the tank.

 

Oh Kami..

 

He screamed, falling backwards over some boxes the scientist had left littering the room.

Kami, but there was something in that tank. Alive or dead he had no idea. Even so it was enough to freak him out.

 

“Krillin!” it was Trunks. He must have heard me, he thought embarrassed, wiping a hand across his bald head.

 

“Krillin! Are you alright? I heard you shout.” The demi-saiyan was flushed and slightly red. He'd been particularly vindictive in destroying Gero's Lab; something Krillin had been both surprised and disturbed about. He'd had the boy tagged as gentle and well mannered, but when it came to battle, he was anything BUT. Something changed in him when he fought. Something primitive and distinctly saiyan. At that moment Trunks reminded him eerily of Vegeta.

 

“Um…yea…I just saw something that freaked me out is all.” He answered finally. Trunks frowned, attention currently diverted to the new room.

 

“I didn't know this part was here.” His eyes came to rest on the tank, round and cloudy in the corner of the room. Krillin had no idea what was going on in the boy's head at the moment. His eyes, being half saiyan, were much better than his in the dark. Maybe he could see-

 

Trunks frowned, eyes furrowed, with a look of concentrated interest that could only come from having a scientist for a parent. He opened a hand, revealing a small ball of energy, and held it up to the tank like a flashlight.

 

A body.

 

A HUMAN body, floating curled in the fetal position. He couldn't see much else; only that the body was skinny; skeleton skinny, with long legs and arms. Web-like hair floated ghostly around what he guessed was a head.

 

He felt faint and nauseous; all he could remember was that time he'd let Yamucha trick him into watching Night of the Living Dead. Kami…

 

Trunks, he'd noticed after a while, seemed to be having a similar reaction. The boy looked pale; a thin sheen of sweat had broken out on his brow. He's scared too, he realized. It made him feel better, knowing that the demi-saiyan was just as frightened as he himself was.

 

But a moment later his relief was shattered when Trunks spoke.

 

“I didn't realize our timelines were so different…” he shook his head slowly, words no louder than a mumble. “Just how many of these creatures are there in this time?”

 

What? Did he mean-

 

“You mean….this is another android?!” his eyes widened and he could only stare dumbly at the spindly figure in the bubble shaped tank. Trunks nodded, not even bothering to take his eyes from murky liquid.

 

“Another Cell, from the looks of things. I guess he was planning on making an army of biomechanical androids.” His voice was thick with disgust as he referred to the late Dr. Gero. “Though it looks as if this one was further along than Cell.” He was talking about the Cell they'd previously destroyed in the other tank, Krillin knew. Kami only knew where the current Imperfect Cell was hiding.

 

He looked up just as Trunks laid his palm against the glass, Vegeta style. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened next.

 

“W-what are you doing?” but he already knew.

 

“I'm destroying it, of course. We certainly don't need any more of these creatures to deal with.” His voice was firm; it booked no argument. At that moment Krillin felt about three years old.

 

An image of Blond hair and slanted blue eyes blinked before his face. He felt her soft kiss, like butterfly wings, on his cheek. Her throaty laugh floated around him-

 

Android 18.

 

“No wait!” he didn't realize he was doing it until Trunks was tugging his hand away from his grip.

 

“Krillin? What's wrong with you?” he looked confused, slightly annoyed and Krillin had to wonder himself just what was going on in his own head.

 

“I…I just..”

 

The teasing lilt of her voice…

 

Trunks was looking at him as if he'd lost it. And maybe he had. But in the next moment he found himself saying words that sounded completely unbelievable, even to his own ears.

 

“What if we brought this one back to the lab, y'know….for Bulma and her Dad to look at? I mean, if this one was created in the same way as Cell, then we might be able to find a weakness, right? Maybe…maybe create like, some kind of medicine or serum or something from this ones blood, and-” He paused at Trunks' wry smirk.

 

Ok….maybe that WAS a little much.

 

He decided to try again.

 

“I mean…..at the very least we'd have a better idea on how Cell works…” That was it. The teen was shaking his head, staring at Krillin as if he'd grown scales and horns. He looked back at the tank wordlessly, then down again at the shorter man.

 

He's considering it…

 

“That's completely absurd, Krillin.” But he was frowning, looking narrowed eyed into the tank at the creature in it's simulated womb. “Why would we revive another one when we already have three more plus Cell to deal with? You've been watching way too many Sci Fi movies.”

“But this one can help us defeat Cell! It's worth a shot, right? I mean, it's not like we're gonna…..wake it up or anything, right?” he shook his head helplessly. “It probably wouldn't survive that long outside that bubble thing anyway…” it was actually a pretty good idea, he commended silently to himself. He was shocked he'd even come up with such a concept, really.

 

Trunks was still looking doubtful.

 

“It looks like it's already pretty well advanced. Theoretically it could survive independently…” he was staring again into the tank with an almost professional interest. But an instant later the look was gone, replaced by a hard glint, and for a moment Krillin was worried. Was he going to destroy it? Would he….? The image of 18 again flashed before his eyes. It would be wrong to destroy this android, wouldn't it? It hadn't even DONE anything yet… But then the boy suddenly sighed. A resigned sigh, one that made Krillin wonder, not for the first time, just what sorts of horror the teen had gone through back in his time.

 

“Fine. We'll take it back. But only to find a weakness for Cell, ok? Nothing else. We aren't reviving it or anything like that. And when we're done with it..” he trailed off, not finishing his statement. He didn't have to. Krillin had only nodded grimly.

 

That had been a week ago.

 

And now as Krillin stared down at the dark, emaciated figure on the examining table, he had to wonder just what he'd gotten them all into.

 

 

****

 

 

She awoke distorted and in pain. And with no idea where she was. Her breath came in short flurries and her body felt cold and stiff. She shifted slightly, in an effort to sit up.

 

Big mistake.

 

Sharp daggers of pain drove themselves through her, forcing away all rational thought. I'm dying, she thought wildly. I'm dying and my body is shutting down and that's why I hurt-

 

It took a moment for her to realize that the pain was ebbing away. As long as I don't move I don't hurt, she thought foggily. A sort of numbness snaked through her. She lay there, still as stone, her mind slowly becoming awake and assessing the situation.

 

Where was she? The last thing she remembered was-

 

Well, she didn't remember. And as she lay there, waiting for the inevitable memories to resurface, waiting for her mind to refresh itself after the shock of waking, nothing appeared. No sudden flood of memory, no familiar words or images. Nothing. As if she hadn't existed at all before she'd awoke.

 

Stupid. That was a stupid thought. And she gritted her teeth and sat up. The pain was sudden and severe…and a welcome wake up call. As long as there was pain she knew she was awake. She was here. She wasn't just dreaming or something…

 

Around her, the room was dark and still. It made her feel strangely small; small and alone in the emptiness of the room. The unfamiliar room, she corrected herself. And-

 

-where was she?

 

Her mind couldn't let go of this thought. It ran rampant, in circles through her head like a tape stuck on rewind. She wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't where she was before-

 

But where exactly had she been before?

 

It didn't make sense; NOTHING made sense, and now the pain was coming back, a dull throb that grew inside her until her vision dimmed and she collapsed on the bed in wracking sobs. Tearless sobs, because for some reason her body didn't seem capable of emitting liquid.

 

Dehydration, a part of her vaguely noted. Her mouth was bone dry and her throat tasted of dried blood.

 

I'm really dying, she thought again, bordering on hysteria. I'm dying and I'm alone and no one will ever know. I'll die in the dark in a strange room-

 

And suddenly there were hands on her, dragging her up by the armpits, shaking her. Something sharp punctured her neck and almost immediately her head went clear of the obsessive thoughts. Her chest rose in wheezing gasps.

 

“…wrong with her?”

 

“……lack of mobile control..”

 

“…stunted development-“

 

She was aware of the speech above her, disjointed phrases that didn't seem as important as what was currently happening with her body. She couldn't seem to catch her breath, but at least the pain was gone. All that was left was an eerie calmness. Calmness? Completely inappropriate for the situation. She wanted to scream, wanted to move, to demand answers, but her body felt like dead weight, and already the hands were releasing her.

 

“I think the tranq kicked in. Think she can talk?” Tranq? As in Tranquilizer?? They tranquilized me like some animal?!

 

“She should be able to,” the other voice answered. “Hold on. Lemme hit the light.” There was a pause, then movement, and bright fluorescent light flooded the room. She winced, squinted, squeezing her eyes shut, and speckles of green and red danced beneath her eye lids.

 

“Are you ok?” It took a moment before she realized that the question was being directed at her. She cautiously opened her eyes, millimeter by millimeter, until they adjusted to the light.

 

 

 

“Can she hear us?” The person above her, a woman, made a noise of irritation.

 

“That's a stupid question, Krillin.” she turned back to the girl. “How do you feel?” At the moment, she couldn't feel anything, she realized. Her head was swimming and her vision was blurred and fuzzed.

 

There's something wrong with my eyes. What's wrong with my eyes-

 

“What am I doing here?” There was silence, and a second later she realized the words had come from her. That ugly croaking voice was hers. Repulsion filled her, followed by a ghost of a pain in her throat. It was almost as if she'd never spoken before. The sensation was….odd.

 

Apparently the people above her thought so too. It was a moment before either of them responded.

 

“We……found you. You had been abandoned and we brought you back here. You were in pretty awful shape though. We didn't know if you'd pull through, to be honest. You're obviously a very strong girl.” The woman smiled slightly, brushing pale aquamarine hair from her face.

 

I was abandoned? But try as she might she could summon no sadness, no anger. Simply because she had no memory of anything before waking up. There was only confusion. But…somebody didn't want me. Somebody left me someplace to die..

 

But why?

 

“You're severely malnourished,” the woman was going on. “Dangerously dehydrated..it's a miracle you're even alive right now-“

 

“Wh…why can't I remember anything?” Her halting speech was raspy and dry, and now a definite pain exploded in her throat. The woman paused as if considering her question, then seemed to disregard it all together, gesturing instead behind her towards the other person she'd forgotten was even there.

 

“This is Krillin. He's one of the guys who found you and brought you here.” A muffled salutation was said from across the room, but she barely noticed. Whatever they'd given her was beginning to wear off; she felt the obsessive thoughts returning, jumbled and pixilated in her head.

 

“My name is Bulma.”

 

What's my name, she wanted to ask. But she didn't think her throat could take another onslaught of speaking. It felt shredded already, and she thought she could taste fresh blood.

The woman, or Bulma as she'd called herself, seemed to notice.

 

“Oh! I'm sorry…let me get you some water.“

 

She never got the chance.

 

The door swung suddenly open, sending a blast of cool air that swayed even the lank hair that clung matted to her scalp, and the room went deathly still. She couldn't see who it was that had entered; only a pale blur that stayed fixated in the doorway. For a moment no one said anything; she got the distinct feeling that the two had been caught doing something terribly wrong. The air seemed charged with anger. And then the blur spoke.

 

“Tell me you didn't,” he said softly. A man, she realized. The other person who had entered was male. But a young one. He didn't sound quite as old as the man Bulma called Krillin. Though she could tell even through her distorted vision that he was none-the-less significantly taller.

 

“T-Trunks!...” From somewhere in the room, Krillin gave a decidedly nervous laugh. Above her, Bulma simply sighed. But the boy, Trunks, wasn't finished.

 

“Even after all I've told you. Even after everything you've seen so far. You have no idea what you've just done.” He spoke evenly, and with such flat finality that it unnerved her. Apparently she wasn't the only one who felt this way, because there was a brief hesitation before anyone replied.

 

“Trunks! C'mon! Honestly you didn't think I'd let a perfectly good-“ a glance at the bed stopped Bulma mid-speech. “I mean, you didn't think I would just let her die?” Die? Were they talking about her?

 

The boy didn't answer, and for minutes it seemed, the room remained silent. Then there was movement; the sound of shoes against linoleum. The boy was coming into the room. He stopped abruptly at the foot of the bed, one hand coming to rest firmly on the metal railing. With him this close, she could get a near perfect view of him.

 

And she was stunned.

 

His eyes were blue. The same cerulean blue as Bulma's, actually. Well, almost. His lacked that bright, whimsy glow that hers seemed to hold. They were also more serious, more…..wary? But perhaps what struck her the most about him was his hair. As compliant and fine as liquid silk. And pale too. But hued in the most delicate shade of lavender. No, not lavender exactly, she corrected. More like lilac.

 

He's pretty…she realized suddenly, unable to let go of those eyes. Vaguely she was conscious of a voice telling her that boys were not pretty. This was a feminine connotation. But she ignored it, letting it fall back into the banks of her mind. He was staring at her too, she saw, except that his face was twisted into a hateful scowl. She wondered absently what he looked like when he smiled. As if sensing her thoughts, his expression darkened, icy eyes narrowing bitterly into a glare. She felt herself cringe under the heat of that furious gaze. This boy, for whatever reason, did not like her.

 

“Listen to me,” Bulma remarked firmly. “Look at her. Do you really believe she could do anything in this shape?” They are talking about me, she realized with sudden clarity. His face wore an unreadable expression, like a blank slate.

 

“I hope,” came the quiet reply, “for all of your sakes that she can't.”

 

And then he turned and left the room, letting the door bang firmly behind him. It was a finality that slammed into her consciousness like the end of a song. He thought she was dangerous. Her. Probably they all did.

 

ME. I can't even remember my name and he thinks-

 

She stared down at the hands lying limply on the bed. Her hands. They were skinny and awkward, dark against the pristine whiteness of the sheets. The fingers themselves were long and bony, a dusky color she couldn't describe. They looked frail and ugly; nothing more than skin stretched taunt over bone. She couldn't imagine the rest of her looked any better.

 

A feeling of anguished despair hit her in the pit of her stomach. What happened to me?! Why won't anybody tell me anything? What had she done before waking up here? What kind of person had she been? What sort of life had she led? She didn't remember, and she felt like crying, was crying; at least she thought she was. But her body was so dehydrated that all that came out were heaving convulsions vacant of tears.

 

Trrk.

 

It was a tinkering sound, sharp and high that ended in a crunch, and instantly all eyes were fixed solidly on her. Or beside her, at the leaking pitcher of water that now had a long, uneven crack running up the side.

 

“What the heck-” Bulma wondered aloud, hurrying over and running the ball of her index finger against the cracked glass. Krillin shrugged.

 

“Too cold maybe? You packed it full of ice.”

 

“That doesn't happen!” the woman retorted, rolling her eyes at the shorter man's lackluster excuse. She turned back to the bed, staring hard at the girl in it. “You OK?”

 

A stupid question, she thought angrily. And suddenly she was exhausted. That brief surge of adrenaline that had accompanied her upon waking was rapidly beginning to fade. Suddenly she just wanted to sleep. Maybe she could sort this out herself. Didn't amnesia patients need to regain their memories back on their own? Without the help of others? Isn't that what doctors normally told a patient's families? At least, she guessed that was what was wrong with her. She vaguely remembered learning that from somewhere. She was hurt, or somehow had been at some point and time. Some point that she didn't remember, obviously, and from the condition of her seemingly dilapidated body.

 

She was afraid to look in a mirror.

 

She closed her eyes, trying to will the thoughts away from her head. They inked their way through, even though the rest of her body seemed fatigued and immobile. Distantly, she was aware of Krillin and Bulma leaving the room; they thought she was asleep. I'll come back and check on her later, Krillin was whispering quietly. No, there's a camera in the corner; we can observe her from the lab, came the low reply. And then they were talking about androids, and finding the androids before- And then the door shut and she was alone.

 

And when next she opened her eyes, she was dreaming.