Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Crimson Rain ❯ Running Away ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z, all of its characters, places, and other descriptive elements are property of Akira Toryama, Bird Studios, FUNimation, etc, etc. All other characters, places and events are my own. I make no money off of this writing.

 

Chapter Three

Running Away

 

If you take a life, do you know what you'll give?
Odds are you won't like what it is
When the storm arrives would you be seen with me?
By the merciless eyes I've deceived
I've seen angels fall from blinding heights
But you yourself are nothing so divine

Chris Cornell “You Know My Name”

 

They had landed on Faeyr hours ago. Trunks and Scar were still waiting, less and less patiently, to get paid. Almost as soon as they had landed, the princess was whisked away into her father's study and had yet to emerge. Guards filed in and out of the room, ignoring the two bounty hunters as they waited on an uncomfortable wooden bench across the hall from the study door.

Scar got up and began pacing the hallway, “Come on a pay us already!” he shouted at the door.

Trunks stayed strangely silent, ignoring Scar's rant at the closed door. When it finally opened and Kyara emerged, she lowered her head to both of them. Trunks stood, stretching the stiffness out of his muscles.

“I want to thank you both,” she said.

“Just give us the money we earned. No thanks necessary,” Scar said gruffly.

She smiled gently, “Still,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. He blushed brightly, his tone gentle.

“It was no problem,” he said, “just don't go get yourself kidnapped again. I might not take the job next time.”

He moved out of the way and Kyara looked at Trunks. He was thankful for the glasses that hid them, and not because he feared being recognized.

“Thank you,” she said, her hands on his shoulders as she stood up, kissing him the same way she had Scar. His reaction was purely internal as electricity seemed to surge through his veins at the brush of her soft lips.

“You're welcome,” he said tersely, not intending to be rude, just eager to leave the job and most importantly, her behind.

The study door opened again and the king looked at both of them, “I cannot thank you enough,” he said, handing them a small case with the credits inside, “you will always be welcome here on Faeyr.”

“Let's hope that there is no reason to return,” Scar said.

The king nodded and offered his hand to both of them. Just as he gripped Trunks' hand, the entire building shook with a loud explosion. Kyara was thrown backward onto the floor and the king barely recovered his balance with his hands on either side of the doorframe. Trunks lost his balance and rolled with the fall, coming to his knees, guns drawn. Scar was the only one who hadn't toppled and he, too, had his guns drawn. As the shaking stilled, guards appeared at the far end of the hallway, running towards them. Some had guns, others had swords and spears. They all converged on each other, looking around wildly for the source of the explosion.

“The palace is under attack,” one of the guards said, “It's got to be the Seelie.”

All of them rushed to the grand hallway just in time to see hundreds of Seelie warriors burst through them. They collided in a wave of gunfire, sword slashing, and blood. Brom was among them and Kyara ran at him, screaming like a banshee. He smirked, brandishing his sword in a flourishing movement. It ripped out of his hand and flew across the room, slamming into the wall with a metallic thunk. He stared at his empty hand as though he expected another sword to sprout from his palm. Then he was thrown backwards against the same wall, bones crunching on impact.

He slid down the wall, unconscious but far from dead. It wasn't enough to kill him, but Kyara hadn't intended on killing him; she simply wanted to hurt him. She began picking out Seelie targets at random, throwing them backward with her power. She was capable of much, much more, but because she was still weak, this was the best that she could do.

“Get the princess out of here!” the king commanded, swinging his sword over his head and bringing it down across the neck of a Seelie guard. His head flew into the air as his body crumpled to the floor.

She felt someone grab her arm and turned, palm out, ready to throw him across the wall. It was Trunks, his glasses having been knocked off. He was bleeding from a blow to his head, the blood flowing just on the outside of his eye.

“Come on,” he said, “We'll get you out of here. Scar!”

The man looked at Trunks as he pushed the muzzle of the gun underneath the chin of his opponent and pulled the trigger. The skin where the man had touched his arm was blistered and red, as though it had been boiled.

“Let's move, kid,” Scar agreed, walking backward in a low crouch, “you grab the princess and haul ass back to the ship. I think that the rest of us can hold them off.”

Trunks rarely defied Scar and grabbed Kyara's hand, taking off in a dead run towards the other end of the great hall and back the way they had come. Kyara kept looking back over her shoulder and Trunks would have to jerk her forward.

“Don't look back,” he advised, “it will only slow us down.”

She nodded, her lungs screaming for air as they tore down the corridor and came to another hallway.

“Which way?” Trunks asked.

Panting, she didn't answer. As she sucked in air, he looked down both ways to make sure they were clear.

“Which way?!” he barked and she pointed, still unable to answer.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her at a full jog down the hallway, which opened into a ballroom. Crossing it, Trunks burst through the doors at the other end and down a small hallway that led into a kitchen. Weaving between the tables, ovens, and cooks who were blissfully unaware of what was going on, he kicked open another door that finally led them outside. Only then did he stop and Kyara fell to her knees, gasping for air. Her legs felt like gelatin from the strain of struggling to keep up with him. He was faster than any Sidhe she knew of.

He kept his eye on the door, waiting for Scar to emerge. As the endless moments wore down, he debated going back inside for his partner and friend. Just as he was about to tell Kyara to head for the ship while he went back in, Scar emerged, stumbling. He wasn't running, he was barely jogging, his hand gripping his shoulder as blood poured down his arm.

“Damn it!” Trunks cursed, putting his weapons back in their places, “get on my back, Kyara.”

She looked at him strangely and he screamed, “Now!”

With a jump, she wrapped her legs around his waist and locked them together. Her hands gripped his shoulders, and he shot into the air, flying at breakneck speed towards Scar. He lifted Scar up from under his arms and turned, heading for the ship. This time, he flew them into the ship and slapped the button to close the hatch. Not stopping to check on either of them, he flopped into the pilot seat and began to take off.

Kyara, having recovered enough to see that Scar was wounded, crawled towards him through the turbulence of their take off and pulled off Scar's jacket. His shoulder had been run through with a sword and the wound was still gushing blood, looking red and inflamed. She cursed, something unintelligible and ripped the bottom of her shirt, using it to staunch the flow of blood.

“I'll be damned,” Scar said, “but that hurts.”

Kyara grimaced, “This is going to hurt,” she said softly.

Her hand began glowing blue and she placed it over the wound. Scar screamed as tendons, muscle and skin came back together against their will. Trunks looked back, “What the hell are you doing to him?”

“I'm trying to heal him. If I don't try and do something now, he'll lose the entire arm. I can't help it if it's more painful than the original wound.”

Kyara concentrated harder, sweat beading on her forehead, and the skin began to close. Scar watched in wonder as the skin became flawless, without even a scar to tell he'd been wounded. Panting, she looked at him and smiled.

“Glad to know my power is worth something other than throwing things.”

Her head swam and Scar caught her before she hit the floor, easing her head down onto it. He stood and took over the pilot seat from Trunks.

“Take care of her,” he said, “since it's your fault she's here. Put her in the spare bedroom.”

Trunks said nothing, just picked her up gently and kicked open the door to the small bedroom with the toe of his boot. He laid her on the bed and covered her before turning and closing the door. She had passed out; there wasn't much more that he could do other than let her sleep.

“Let's go home.” Scar said, his voice tired.

Trunks had been expecting a lecture, but Scar remained silent.

“You're not going to lecture me?” he asked.

“Would it do any good? You're a damned good Hunter, Trunks. There's no denying that, but why do I get the feeling that you've become personally involved?”

“I didn't mean to, Scar,” Trunks sighed, “it's just that…”

“She's your responsibility, just so you know. Hopefully once we get back to Andromeda Station, we can contact her father and have them come get her.”

“That's fine,” Trunks said tersely, “It's not like I expected you to take care of her. It changes nothing. She's here now, so we just have to deal with it.”

“You mean you have to deal with it.”

Trunks shrugged, turning his attention back to the navigation computer, pretending to check coordinates.

Fifteen hours into the flight, approximately three hours from Andromeda Station, Trunks heard the bedroom door open. Scar had gone into his bedroom, leaving Trunks at the controls.

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

“About fifteen hours,” Trunks answered, not turning from his job as pilot, “feel better?”

She nodded, “Yeah. I didn't mean to sleep so long, though.”

“We'll contact your father once we land, which should be in about three hours. Then, we can figure out a way to get you back home.”

“Supposing there's a home to go back to. I didn't see the last battle, I wasn't around yet, but…”

Trunks chanced a look at her, “What happened?”

“Both sides lost many,” was all she said, the concern for her father apparent in her voice.

Trunks didn't say anything; he'd seen too many battles as prince of the Saiyans to not know that both sides suffered losses. Besides, it wasn't exactly something you talked about.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Andromeda Station. It's where Scar and I live. We'll figure out what we're going to do with you when we get there.”

“What you're going to do with me?” she spat, her eyes narrowing, “you talk like you're the boss of me.”

Trunks shrugged, “I'm not, but you're going to be in a strange place with nowhere to stay, no money, and no friends. One would think that you'd see that and not burn any bridges you do have.”

Kyara sat back in the copilot seat, her arms crossed over her chest. He did have a point but she would be damned if she let him make decisions for her. If she was going to stay there long, she would find a way to pay her own way. Besides, she probably wouldn't be there long. A couple of days for the dust to settle and she'd be back on Faeyr.

*************

He and Scar went back to the office first, Kyara behind them, silent. She looked around at the office as Scar disappeared into the garage and Trunks sat down wearily in the chair behind his desk. He'd been at least forty eight hours without sleep and all he wanted to do was go to sleep. Sure, he was worn out physically, but more than usual, he was mentally exhausted.

Scar came back into the office, “I'm going home.” He announced and Trunks stood.

“What about…” Trunks started.

“Like I said, you figure it out.”

Scar closed the door behind him and Trunks ran his hand over the top of his head, “I guess we'll go to my place unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

Kyara chanced a look at the oil-stained brown couch that was covered in boxes of parts and old newspapers. She looked back at Trunks, “Your place, then.”

He yawned, nodding, “Come on then. We'll walk as it's not too far from here.”

As they made their way down the street in silence, Kyara watched the figure in front of her. Broad shoulders balanced out a narrow waist. Even under his clothes, she could tell that his frame was well muscled. It was the obvious physique of someone who either exercised intensely on a regular basis or had been honed by a lifetime of physical combat. More than likely, it was both. He stopped at a tall building, pulling a key card out of his back pocket. He scanned it and the door clicked open with a beep.

It opened into a small lobby, with elevators at the far end. After pressing the up button and waiting several long, silent moments, the doors whirred open and he pressed the button to the top floor.

His apartment was large, though it only had one bedroom. The door opened into a huge living area that had a fireplace, flat screen monitor above the mantle, and a sectional sofa in the center, on top of a large area rug. Off to the side was a small kitchen area that looked like it had barely been in, much less used. A couple of stairs led down to another opening, where there was a single bathroom and back further down a hallway, a bedroom where the door was left open.

Trunks shrugged out of his jacket, taking off his holster and gun and putting it on the table. He placed the gun from his back beside it. “You can take the bedroom,” he offered, “I'll sleep on the couch.”

“You don't have to do that. I'll sleep on the couch. I don't want to be a… bother.”

“Take the bedroom then, because it will bother me for you to sleep on the couch. I may seem like an ill-mannered bounty hunter, but my mother raised me right. And a guest never sleeps on the couch, especially not a female guest.”

She smiled slightly, “I never thought that you were rude.”

He held up a hand, “Yes, you did. And I'm too tired to argue. I want to sleep.”

He sat down on the couch and laid back. Within moments, he was snoring softly. Kyara looked at the bed, but didn't find herself even remotely tired; fifteen straight hours of sleep tended to do that to you. She didn't want to disturb Trunks, so she walked out the door, closing it quietly. She made her way out of the building and out into the city.

Having never been off of Faeyr except when she was taken to Faer, Kyara was fascinated by the multitudes of different people on Andromeda. She had money- twenty thousand credits she had been saving for something. As she walked down the street, she stopped to glance in store windows and watched people as they made their way about their lives on the space station. The place was massive; towering buildings. As close as Kyara could tell, the place was a terra-formed asteroid that was miles in diameter, surrounded by a dome.

Weather, as well as light and dark, seemed to be controlled by computers and machines. Apparently tonight was to be humid and misty. Perhaps there would be rain later, or there had been rain earlier. It didn't matter; she knew that she needed clothes- one skirt and one top was not going to last her long. Besides, what would she wear while it was being washed?

She entered a clothing store and began looking around, picking out things that looked like they would fit. A salesgirl approached her and Kyara explained her problem. The girl smiled, “Well, then it looks like you'll need a little of everything. Follow me.”

Two hours later, she was laden with boxes and bags; too much for her to carry. She'd spent nearly a thousand credits, but at least now she had something other than a skirt and a tunic to wear. Of course, there was the problem of where to put it. She stopped for food, finally finding something she liked that they called “cheeseburger.” Soda was a little too sweet for her taste, but the bottled water tasted crisp and clean.

She spent another couple of hours exploring the city, tasting things she'd never had before- ice cream and soft pieces of bread twisted into shapes. She'd eaten so much that she thought she was going to burst before she finally retraced her steps back to the apartment. When she walked in the door, she heard Trunks let out an audible sigh.

“Where have you been?” he asked, concern touched with anger in his voice.

“I went out… I wasn't sleepy.”

She set her purchases down and he eyed them warily, “Good Gods, woman, how long are you intending on staying?”

She shrugged, “I thought that you were going to figure that out when you called my father.”

Trunks sighed, rubbing his eyes, “I've got to get to the office. We'll contact your father from there.”

“Can I… bathe first?”

Trunks rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, “Fine,” he said, “just be quick about it.”

 

*************

Trunks sat at his desk, waiting for someone to pick up the com on Faeyr. He'd tried twice already and hadn't been able to reach anyone. He glanced at Kyara, who was nervously pacing the room.

“Will you just sit down?” Scar requested, “wearing a hole in the middle of the office isn't going to make them answer any sooner.”

She stopped and sat down on the edge of the couch, the only space available.

Finally, he heard a click and the video link came online. One of the guards stood there, looking weary and bandaged.

“Who is this?”

Kyara started forward, “Aragon, it's me. Kyara.”

He smiled, “Good to know that you're far from here. There's still fighting. Bleddyn keeps sending more and more soldiers. Soon enough, he'll figure out that you're not here and maybe he'll move on.”

“Aragon, my father. Is he…?”

“Your father is well, at the moment, though he grows irritated because Donnan has him under such heavy guard that he claims he can't take a piss without someone in the room with him.”

Kyara chuckled, “Donnan's alive.”

“Don't think there's much that can kill him. He is our captain for a reason. There have been… losses, though.”

“I know,” she said sadly, “is it safe for me to come home yet?”

“No,” Donnan's voice joined the conversation, “it is not. Your mother, father, Rhianwyn and Cadwallon are all here, but under heavy security. It is best if you not return yet.”

“Everyone is alright?” she asked.

Donnan shrugged, “Ronan lost an eye, but it's not the worst injury.”

“Kyara,” Aragon said, “we must go.”

His gaze fell on Trunks, “Keep her safe. Eventually, they may try to come after her. Bleddyn is intent on creating peace through bloodshed until he gets what he wants.”

“Maybe I should just marry his son.” Kyara said, and Donnan looked at her.

“That is not an acceptable solution. There is no possible way that our kind will ever unite with theirs again.”

“But if it will stop the fighting…”

“It won't. Stay there.” Donnan clicked the connection shut.

Scar let out an audible sigh, “Great. We usually get paid for bodyguard work.”

“I don't need you to guard me,” Kyara said, “I can take care of myself.”

She turned to leave and Trunks called after her, “Wait a minute.”

She stopped, turning, “What?”

“If you're going to stay long, you'll need to find a job and your own place to stay.”

“I can handle that myself,” Kyara said.

Trunks chuckled, “Maybe so. It still won't hurt to have someone who knows their way around on your side.”

She couldn't argue his point.