Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Dragon Ball VE: The Keeper Saga ❯ Chapter 8

Dragon Ball Vegeta's Era: The Keeper Saga

 

Chapter Eight

 

 

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ. I do, however, own the plot of DBVE and all of the original characters that might appear.

 

Author's Note: When you read this chapter, you may sit there and wonder if you've missed something. You haven't. But don't worry, what happened between chapters will be revealed in chapter nine.

 

Co-written by: Mia Skywalker

 

~*~

 

Goku woke up with a start, leaping out of bed before he even realized what had alerted him. It only took a moment to recognize the energy signatures that had materialized in his bedroom.

 

“Gohan?” he blurted out, shocked by this sudden turn of events.

 

“It's me, Dad,” came a weary voice. Then a small ball of light ignited, Gohan holding it up with one hand so they could see each other.

 

Goku stared in shock at his oldest son, noting instantly the maturity that had etched itself into his face over the past year. There was a hardness to his son that had never been there before. Gone was the almost boyish innocence that Gohan had maintained even throughout his marriage.

 

He also noticed that both his son and the man who had always viewed him as a rival were injured. Gohan had a wound along his face that ran over his eye, similar to the scar Yamcha sported, while Vegeta was so drenched in blood that it was hard to tell just where he had been hurt. He already bore the eye patch and claw marks that his future self had possessed, and he held a swaddled infant.

 

“You need some senzu,” he said immediately, talking to both of them. “I don't have any in the house, but I can get some from Korin's tomorrow for you. Are you….” He hesitated a moment, looking from one to the other. “You're going home, right? Or do you want to stay here?”

 

“Goku?” a sleepy voice murmured from the bed. “Who are you talking to?”

 

“Chi-Chi,” Goku said, still wondering what his son was going to do, “it's Gohan. He's home.”

 

“Gohan?” Chi-Chi was awake instantly, leaping out of bed and staring around. She saw Gohan and ran towards him, engulfing him in a hug. “My baby! You're hurt! You've been fighting, haven't you?”

 

“Of course he's been fighting, Chi-Chi,” Goku said gently, prying her away from their son. “How else would he have escaped?”

 

Goku made his way to the wall and flipped on the light switch, flooding the room with bright light. Gohan extinguished his ki ball in relief. He was tired, and trying to maintain that light - normally something ridiculously easy for him - was draining to him at the moment.

 

Gohan was utterly exhausted, as was the little girl clutching his free hand. Goku thought she looked like she wanted to either cry or faint, but couldn't decide which. He said nothing about it, but wondered what exactly the three of them had gone through.

 

“Would either of you like to stay here?” Goku asked quietly. “Or do you need a lift home?”

 

Gohan shook his head in response, but Vegeta hesitated a moment. Then he glanced at Bra and made up his mind. “I need to get her home. She needs to sleep in her own bed again.”

 

Goku nodded, but it was Chi-Chi who replied at that point. She had also noticed the little girl's exhaustion. “She's practically asleep on her feet,” she noted critically. “She's not going to make it if you don't get there soon.”

 

She crouched down in front of the girl so she was slightly below eye level to her. “Are you all right, honey? Do you need anything before you get home?” It was then that she finally noticed the blood on the girl's clothing, and her eyes widened, her maternal instincts going into overdrive. “Are you hurt?” She gently took Bra's free arm to turn her and examine her for injuries, hoping the blood wasn't hers.

 

Bra blinked owlishly. “I'm not hurt,” she said, her voice slurred from exhaustion. “Daddy and Gohan kept me safe.”

 

“She just needs to get some rest and get clean,” Vegeta said, curling his tail around the little girl.

 

Chi-Chi released Bra's arm with a nod, then looked back at Vegeta. “You may need to carry her though. Let me get you something to put that little one in.” Without waiting for an answer, she bustled from the room, leaving the others staring after her in surprise.

 

Goku shrugged with a sheepish smile after his wife left, looking almost like his old, innocent self. Then his smile faded as he studied them. “She's been lonely a lot lately,” he said apologetically. “Goten got a job as a graphic artist at Capsule Corp., so he isn't around much anymore. And since I've been going to school now, she's alone a lot more than she used to be.”

 

“You're going to school?” Gohan asked in surprise. His father had never seemed the least bit interested in learning anything other than basic reading and arithmetic, unless it involved fighting.

 

“Yeah,” Goku replied with an embarrassed grin. “I read all of your old schoolbooks, but then I found that I wanted to know more. So I applied at the university, they tested me, and then let me into the freshmen class there. I've been going there for the past six months now.”

 

He turned to Vegeta, looking at him seriously. “I almost hated you at first for your wish, but now I want to thank you. I know I can protect my family and friends better than I could before…. I'm not going to just let things happen anymore. I'm going to be proactive, and try to protect them before things happen. I want you to know that I'm grateful for what you did for me.”

 

Vegeta nodded once. “The mind is a muscle as well, Kakarot. Our people have always been well aware of that fact, though most races who know of Saiyans tend to think we are stupid brutes who would kill even our own without a care. Keep your brain as fit as your body, and it will serve you well.”

 

Goku didn't have a chance to reply, as Chi-Chi came back at that moment, carrying something that looked like a strange mixture of leather straps and heavy cloth. She handed it to Gohan, then took the baby from Vegeta and handed it to Goku, taking full charge of the situation.

 

She took the device back from Gohan, then pulled it apart in her hands, showing them a cloth sling with several leather straps. “This can be fastened to you so that the baby can be strapped either to your front or your back. The back would probably be a better idea for now, so that you can carry Bra as well.”

 

Vegeta stared at the odd contraption, trying unsuccessfully to figure it out. His tired mind refused to make any connections.

 

“Turn around,” Chi-Chi ordered, noticing his confusion. He silently obeyed, wincing as the straps aggravated the injuries on his back and left shoulder.

 

“I'll get some senzu from Korin tomorrow,” Goku promised as he slipped the infant into the sling and fastened her securely.

 

Vegeta nodded his thanks, then bent with a slight of grunt of pain to scoop up Bra. The little girl had been swaying on her feet, and she fell asleep the instant he had her in his arms.

 

He glanced over at Gohan, wondering if the half-breed had enough energy to use his instant transmission technique to get them home. If not, he could always fly or ask Goku. If he had had only himself to worry about, he wouldn't even have considered asking for the other Saiyan's help, but he wasn't going to endanger his daughters for the sake of his pride.

 

“Thank you for your help, Dad,” Gohan said, exhaustion threading his voice. “Vegeta, let's get you home. Dad, you said Goten is over at Capsule Corp, right?” At Goku's nod, he nodded back and snaked his tail out to wind around Vegeta's arm. “I'll home in on his ki. I can fly home from there - it isn't too far.”

 

He brought his hand up to his head and they all vanished, leaving Goku and his wife alone in the room again.

 

…

 

Vegeta silently slipped out of Goten's room, leaving the half-breed still deeply asleep and snoring away, and slowly made his way to Bra's room. He gently settled his older daughter into her bed and tucked her in. She was a mess, her hair and clothing matted with grime and blood, none of the latter being her own, fortunately. She desperately needed a bath, but her need for sleep was even greater.

 

He took a deep breath and tugged at the cloth sling, the sleeping bundle that was his younger daughter shifting until she was in front of him. With one last look at his blue-haired offspring, he resolutely headed toward the room he had once shared with Bulma, ready to face his punishment.

 

Perhaps he stumbled, or maybe something in the air alarmed the infant, but it suddenly woke up and began to cry. Vegeta froze as the blue-haired termagant he had known for the past twenty years suddenly sat bolt upright in her bed.

 

“Who… who is it?” she called it, clutching the bedcovers close to her chest. She mentally cursed that she had chosen to wear only some flimsy lingerie because of the heat of the night. If she were going to face an intruder, she wished she were wearing something more intimidating. Like maybe a combat suit.

 

“It's me,” he answered, his voice rough with exhaustion and pain. He staggered to the side of the bed and fell heavily to his knees.

 

Bulma's mind froze in shock at the voice. “Vegeta?” she choked out. “Vegeta, is that you?” She wasn't sure if she was dreaming or hallucinating. She could hear a thin wail that sounded strangely like a baby, but it didn't really register. “You're… are you real?”

 

“If not, then you need to dream me feeling a hell of a lot better,” he managed to retort while fumbling with the buckles and straps holding the infant in the cloth sling. He finally freed her and held her out in Bulma's general direction before the woman could react.

 

Bulma took the bundle from his hands automatically, holding it at arms length before she realized what it was. A baby? What was her husband doing carrying a baby with him? Why, in the midst of escaping imprisonment, would he have brought a baby with him? Unless it had been held in captivity as well. But why had Vegeta brought it? Why hadn't Gohan taken it? Was he....

“Vegeta?” she whispered, her voice sounding frightened. “Are the others... did Bra and Gohan make it out as well? Or are they... did they....” She didn't know how to say the words out loud, just prayed that they were still alive.

“They are both alive,” Vegeta said, pillowing his head in his arms as he allowed himself to lean against the bed. He hurt so badly, both in body and in spirit. He just wanted things to end, but he was oddly grateful that she had yet to realize what the baby was. He wanted to hear her voice for just a bit longer before he died. “Bra is completely exhausted and is in bed right now. She will need a bath in the morning, and a big meal.”

 

Bulma stared at him for several minutes, not sure what to say or do. Part of her wanted to leap on him and hold him tight, never to let him go again. But there was something strangely distant about him, as though he didn't want her near him. She had known him far too long to not be able to recognize certain signs from him, even if they confused her now. It almost seemed as though he didn't want to be around her. But… that couldn't be right, could it? Was it possible he hadn't really wanted to return? None of it made any sense.

 

As though to find something to distract herself, her gaze moved back to the infant in her arms, and her eyes widened. She hadn't really looked at it before, but now, seeing the spiky hair, there was no mistaking that it was a Saiyan child.

 

“Vegeta,” she said quietly, an odd catch in her voice, “whose baby is this?”

 

He was silent for several moments, the only sound in the room his harsh breathing. “…Mine…” he finally whispered.

 

Bulma had known the answer, but she couldn't help the hollow feeling that settled in her heart at the word. There had to be a logical explanation for it. He had been gone a year, and the infant didn't appear to be more than a few days old, so whatever had happened, it must have happened only a few months after he had been captured. She didn't think he would have betrayed her willingly, at least not so soon.

 

“What happened, Vegeta?” she asked quietly. “Who is the mother?”

 

“What happened?” he repeated, a hint of bitterness creeping into the dull tone of his voice. “I betrayed you. I cheated on you with another woman. And now I put my life and the life of this child in your hands. You are a good woman, so I know you will let her live. All I ask of you is that you tell some good things of me when she is old enough to understand.”

 

Bulma frowned, her brow furrowing. She knew there was something wrong in what he was saying to her. Why would he assume he wouldn't be around? Putting his life and the life of this child in her hands? What was he talking about?

 

“Vegeta,” she snapped almost peevishly. “What are you babbling about? I'm not going to throw you out or anything!”

 

She placed the baby gently on the bed, then turned to Vegeta and placed both of her hands on his shoulders. She felt him tense under her touch and vaguely wondered why, but forbore from hugging him more closely. There was something wrong, and she sensed he wasn't going to allow her to get close to him until it was resolved.

 

“I know you didn't betray me. I don't believe you would have cheated on me willingly. Whatever happened while you were a prisoner doesn't count. If you had to do things in order to survive, I'm not going to hold it against you.”

 

“I cheated on you,” he quietly insisted. “When a male Saiyan cheats on a female, his life is hers. You are well within your rights to kill me any way that you see fit. You also have the right to kill the child, or to take it from its mother and raise it as your own.”

 

Bulma stared at him. There was a tone in his voice that she had only ever heard once before, a note that showed he was just giving up. It terrified her- the Vegeta she knew never gave up, not even faced with insurmountable odds. It was one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place; his determination to improve himself, to defeat anything that came at him.

 

He was giving up, and it angered her. He was giving up on her, assuming she was just going to throw him out, that she would refuse to forgive him. She dismissed the part about a female Saiyan having the right to take his life. That was his culture, not hers. The most she would ever do to him was throw him out, and she wasn't going to do that.

 

“First of all, Vegeta, I'm not Saiyan, I'm human,” she said firmly, her voice quiet. “What women did in your culture doesn't apply to me. Second, what you did when you were a prisoner is not your fault. I don't know exactly what happened up there, but I do know this - the Vegeta I know wouldn't have betrayed me willingly. That tells me you must have been forced into it, maybe in order to survive. I am not going to blame you for wanting to survive. I would rather have you betray me and live than never come back to me again! I don't want you to die, Vegeta. I want you to stay with me, and never leave me again!”

 

Vegeta cocked his head, gazing at her steadily with his remaining eye. “No. No, you are not a female Saiyan,” he said, his voice soft and slow. He struggled to his feet and turned away from her, limping toward the bathroom. “The child is sleeping for now, but she will likely be hungry when she awakens. She will need to be fed.”

 

Bulma frowned and glanced down at the infant. She didn't really want to deal with it right now. She was willing to accept Vegeta back, but the baby was another matter. It was a reminder - to both her and her husband - of a painful time in their lives. She didn't really know what had happened, and she was certain she didn't want to know the details.

 

With a look of distaste, she carried the baby into the old nursery next to their room. She dropped it into the crib, then turned away, ignoring the loud wail it gave as it was jarred into wakefulness. She summoned one of the feeding robots she had used occasionally with Trunks and Bra when she had been busy in the lab. She would let the robots feed and change the child. Maybe she could ignore its presence, or have put it up for adoption. She would just as soon pretend it didn't even exist.

 

She returned to her bedroom, and heard the door to the shower slide open. With a sly smile, she slipped out of her clothing, then walked quietly into the bathroom. She heard the shower turn on and smirked at Vegeta's look of surprise when she opened the shower door and joined him.

 

He raised a brow at her, standing still under the spray as it washed away the dried blood covering him and cleansed his fresh wounds. He had taken off the leather patch, exposing the shredded, sewed up eyelid that covered the empty socket. He gazed at her intently, as if trying to memorize what she looked like.

 

He kept his distance from her, waiting for her to make the next move. She had made it clear that she didn't want to lose him, but that didn't change the fact that he had betrayed her. It didn't change the fact that he had hurt her. What happened next in their relationship would be completely up to her.

 

Bulma tried to repress the shudder that went down her at the sight of his face, but couldn't completely. She raised one hand and ran it over his cheek, tracing the path of the scars. They seemed like old scars; it must have happened early in their captivity. She didn't ask what had happened; obviously, it had to have been fairly traumatic, and she wasn't going to make him relive it. She might ask Gohan later, but she would never ask Vegeta.

 

“We can use a wish to heal it,” she suggested quietly. She remembered the Vegeta from the future had worn a patch over the same eye, and had wondered why he hadn't used a wish to restore it. Maybe she would use one, if he would not. “It must surely hinder your fighting, being blind on one side.”

 

“I was completely blind until a few days ago,” he said softly. “I learned how to fight like that. This is an improvement.”

 

This time, Bulma couldn't suppress her gasp. “Blind? But….” She hesitated, then plunged on. She had sworn to herself not to ask him about anything, but….

 

“Why were you blind? And why are you not anymore? Will you tell me that much about what happened? Please….”

 

“Do you remember the bright light that was flashed in my face when the aliens showed up? That damaged my eyes so badly that I lost my sight. The Keepers had the ability to restore it, but refused to. They felt that blindness would make me more tractable. After… after the loss of my left eye, Gohan negotiated with the Keepers to fix the damage the light had done. Even after that, they didn't do anything until the day the child was born. They wanted me to be able to see her.”

 

“Is that… is that why you couldn't escape earlier? Because you couldn't see?” She threw her arms around him, oblivious to his wince of pain as her body and arms pressed against his fresh wounds. “I'm so sorry we couldn't rescue you, or use a wish to bring you back.” She wept onto his shoulder, her voice muffled against his skin. “But we… we couldn't. I tried - I wanted to! I missed you so much!”

 

He held her close and burrowed his face into her hair, breathing in her scent. “I would not have been willing to leave even if you had been able to come for us,” he said softly. He knew what he was about to say would hurt her even more, but it had to be said. “I had to wait for the child to be born. She is not that abomination's daughter; she is mine! And I refuse to allow a child of mine to have a childhood as abusive and soul destroying as my own.”

 

Bulma pulled back from him abruptly, staring him in the face. “But I… I….” Words failed her. That thing was what had kept Vegeta away from her this past year? Was that the reason his future self had told them not to rescue the three of them? Because of that… creature?

 

She rejected the baby, instinctively and automatically. That baby was responsible for her husband and daughter being imprisoned and apparently tortured for the past year. Anger welled up within her, resentment and hatred toward a child that she knew subconsciously was innocent and undeserving of the fury she was directing toward it.

 

Her attention suddenly latched onto something Vegeta had said. Abomination? Bulma felt relief flow through her. Whatever had happened, it had definitely not been willing on Vegeta's part. A small part of her had wondered about it, but his words relieved that worry.

 

“Oh, Vegeta.” She spoke in a soft, choked voice. “We missed you so badly. Trunks missed you as much as I did. It was so hard on us this past year, without you and Bra… not knowing what was happening to you….” Tears leaked down her face, getting lost in the steam of the shower. “Vegeta, promise me you will never leave me again! Promise me!”

 

He gently stroked her hair. “I cannot promise you that. There is no telling what the future may bring. All I can promise is that I will never leave you voluntarily.”

 

He sighed softly and pulled her back against him, pressing his face lightly into where her neck met her shoulder. He had missed her so much. The scent and feel of her skin, the sound of her voice.

 

Bulma pulled away and smiled at him, her lashes lowering coyly. “Why don't I scrub your back, Vegeta,” she purred seductively. “Turn around and let me wash you off.”

 

He handed her the washcloth he had been using and turned away from her, his tail waving lazily behind him. A voice in the back of his head, sounding somewhat like Nappa, scolded him for leaving his tail down and allowing it to telegraph his emotions, but he was too tired to care.

 

Bulma washed him gently, taking care for his numerous injuries. She winced at the number of new scars she saw on him. Many of them looked old, like he had gotten them early in his captivity, but she knew they hadn't been there before he had been taken. He'd already had several scars before that, but she had memorized all of those. These were newer, fresher, and made her want to weep again at what he had suffered this past year.

 

She let none of that show on her face, however, when she gently turned him around and began sponging his front. Her touch was more gentle than seductive, although once or twice she stopped and deliberately focused on an area that she knew was very sensitive.

 

When she was done, she pulled the showerhead down and rinsed the soap from him, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss.

 

Vegeta returned the kiss, his tail twining around her waist, the tip lightly caressing her skin. The soft, wet fur rubbed gently against her as his hands explored her body. They were remarkably soft for a fighter, the gloves he often wore having protected them from scarring and calluses.

 

“Vegeta,” Bulma whispered as she broke off the kiss, “why don't we take this to the bedroom?” To emphasize her intentions, she reached one hand down and caressed him lightly in a sensitive spot. “Please…. It's been so long since I've been with you….”

 

He nodded, a little breathless after that, and led her back to their room, not caring about the water they were dripping all over the floor. He gently pinned her to the bed, careful to hold back his strength enough that she would easily be able to get loose, and began trailing light kisses down her neck and chest.

 

Normally, Bulma was the one in charge and things were a bit rough, but this time, Vegeta seemed to want to be in control and to take it slowly. She wasn't really in the mood to be gentle, but she let him take his time. This was, she knew, necessary in some manner for his emotional healing. He had been hurt very badly as a prisoner, and not all of it had been physical. Whatever they had done to him, they had apparently forced him to have sex with someone he loathed, some female he referred to simply as an abomination. What they were doing - what he was doing - was needed to help erase those memories from his soul.

 

She caressed him with her hands, every inch of his skin she could reach, and whenever a part of him got near her mouth, she kissed it, tasting him, showing him how much she loved him. Their joining took longer than it usually did, although it was just as earth shattering as it had ever been. Bulma could feel part of his soul within her again, and knew that his healing had finally begun.

 

…

 

The intruder was nearly silent as he slunk into the baby's room, but Videl had become a very light sleeper in the past year and nearly silent wasn't nearly silent enough. She crept to the closet and pulled out her heavy wooden bat before quietly making her way to the entrance of the room next to hers.

 

Rage flooded her being at the sight before her, her hands clenching around the bat. There was a man standing over her son's crib, leaning over as he reached down to scoop him up. She charged forward with an unearthly shriek and smashed the solid length of wood against the man's head, letting both ki and muscle power fuel her strike, just as Gohan had taught her.

 

To her surprise, the blow didn't even seem to faze the intruder at all. “Woman,” came a harsh voice, “do you think you could hold off on trying to bludgeon me until after I've had a chance to see our son? Then you can do whatever you want to me, and I won't stop you.”

 

“Gohan?” she whispered in confusion, backing up uncertainly. She recognized the voice, even through the harsh tone, but he didn't seem much like her gentle, loving husband.

 

Gohan sighed, then lifted one hand and formed a small ki ball so she could see him more clearly. “Videl,” he replied quietly, then turned back towards the crib. His little son had opened his eyes and was looking up at him curiously, even if without recognition. Gohan reached down and picked up the toddler easily, studying him a few minutes before looking back at his wife.

 

“I've missed so much,” he said roughly, and she could hear the despair in his tone. He took a step toward her. “I've missed you so much.”

 

She was quiet as she looked him over, her face expressionless. Then she pulled him close in a fierce hug, careful not to squish their son. “I'm missed you too. Don't you ever get kidnapped again, you bastard! If you do, I'm going to hunt you down, kick their asses, and then kick yours.”

 

She tried to sound tough, but it was ruined by the choked, tearful sound of her voice. He was different now, but she didn't care. He was still her Gohan, and she loved him.

 

“I don't plan on it,” he said quietly. Once, there would have been laughter in his voice; that was gone now. He was happy, he supposed, to be back here with his wife and children; he certainly loved the three of them dearly. But true happiness seemed to elude him now. Hope, happiness, anything other than despair and anger had been suppressed during his past year in captivity.

 

He felt a fierce satisfaction that he and Vegeta had destroyed almost everyone on board, sparing only the Keeper who had sheltered Bra and protected her from the others. They had felt that they owed him for that, and spared his life in exchange. They had felt no similar mercy for any of the others. Their captors had treated them as less than sentient beings, and the two Saiyans had made them pay for that arrogance.

 

“I'm not going anywhere, Videl,” he said quietly, the harshness slowly easing from his voice, which had begun to thicken with fatigue. “Would you mind if I took a bath before going to bed? I need…. It was a hard fight escaping tonight.”

 

“Daddy?” a young voice whispered. Pan had been awakened by her mother's earlier shriek and had run for her little brother's room, intending to come to the rescue. Instead, she had been frozen in shock, unsure if what she was seeing was real, or just a dream.

 

Gohan gently settled Iki into Videl's arms, then walked over to Pan, crouching in front of her. “Hello, Pumpkin,” he said quietly, gathering her in his arms as tears filled her eyes. “Honey, don't cry. I'm back now. I'm never going away again.”

 

“You can't promise that, Daddy,” the little girl said in a muffled voice. “You could die any day fighting enemies of this planet. But I'm glad you're back now, Daddy.” She hugged him fiercely, and smiled up at him when he let her go and stood up again.

 

Gohan stared down at her silently for a minute, his face solemn. “You're right,” he said seriously. “I could die any time fighting to defend our world. But believe me when I tell you that that would be the only way I would ever leave any of you again. No one is ever going to take me away from you again, and no one is ever going to take you away from me. I promise you that.”

 

He glanced at Videl. “Can you draw up a hot bath for me, please?” he asked quietly. “And you might want to bring some bandages with you, too.”

 

“Of course,” Videl said, going into a no-nonsense, almost business-like mode. She was very worried about Gohan's injuries, both physical and psychological, but she didn't want Pan to know. She put Iki in the crib, then turned to her daughter. “Sweetie, can you stay in here and watch your brother for me while I take care of your father? He's had a very exhausting day.”

 

Pan nodded, then levitated slightly and settled into the crib with Iki, putting her arms around him and curling around him. She was small for an eight-year-old, and the crib was large enough that the two of them fit together snugly, but comfortably.

 

While his wife left to ready the bath, Gohan entered their bedroom and began shedding his clothing. He winced as he pulled off his shirt, feeling it open a wound the cloth had adhered to. He hoped the hot water would help his injuries close more quickly and work with his natural Saiyan regeneration.

 

By the time he had stripped down to just his under shorts and had entered the bathing room, the bath was filled with steaming hot water. His wife was perched next it, holding a loofah.

 

He sank into the tub with a deep groan of pleasure at the feel of the hot water, tensed muscles finally beginning to relax. His exhalation turned into a soft sigh as Videl began to gently scrub him clean, humming softly as she worked. The tune was from a song her mother had sung to her when she was little, and that she in turn sung to her children.

 

Gohan found himself almost purring in contentment. Occasionally, her hands strayed a little too close to his injuries and caused a slight tweak of pain, but he ignored it and made no indication that it hurt. Over the past year, he had learned not to allow anyone to see when something caused pain or discomfort. It had become completely instinctive and was likely something he would continue to do for a long time.

 

It felt good, being touched by Videl again. He had dreamed of her touch many times while in captivity. It was one of the few things that had kept him sane through the torment his captors had inflicted on him. He had remembered her fire, her energy, her gentle touch when they made love. She was only gentle with him, he knew, and with their children; it was a part of herself she kept private to just those she was intimate with. Everyone else in the world only saw the face she allowed them to see. He saw her softer, more vulnerable side, and this was what he had clung to whenever he had felt that all hope was lost.

 

“Videl,” he breathed, leaning backward and closing his eyes. “How I've missed you.”

 

It was good to finally be home.