Disclaimer: I do not own DB/Z/GT. In fact, since I am only a few months from attending University, it would be farcical to suggest that I own anything at all. By the time I've finished with loans and grants, I probably won't even own my own clothing . . .

A/N: I'm not even going to look at the date of my last update, because this story has given me so much gosh-darned trouble, that I'll admit I 'shelved' it, so to speak, and haven't looked at it for the last two months. I was much too annoyed by any previous attempts at drafts that I decided to wait until I obtained a fresh outlook.

And so, I'm afraid that has resulted in a very lengthy gap between updates, but I really was stymied at how to proceed. When writing the last chapter, I hadn't even envisioned Mr. West and OPAW until they suddenly wrote themselves into the story … so I very effectively 'wrote myself into a corner', as I'm sure some saying goes. (If not, then I copyright it as mine!)

Even now, I'm not sure how it worked. The flow of this chapter is different from the rest of them, but the regular style and content should return by the next one. I don't know about the success of this chapter, but I'm almost positive it's the longest one so far. Bleaugh.

Oh. I hope no one thinks I am belittling social workers, women's shelters, and the like - I have great respect for all such organizations. I am, however, writing from Goku's point of view, and I doubt he fully understands how the situation would look from another's perspective.

Well, that's enough of that. Shall we move on?

(I'd like to add that, at this very moment as I am typing, I am on vacation in the Bahamas, using my Aunt's laptop. I hadn't thought to write any fanfiction while I was here, but the atmosphere was just so conducive to creativity that I couldn't help myself.)

Gradual Love

Chapter Six: Over and Over and Over Again . . .

Goku had seen and experienced many horrible things in his lifetime - including the deaths of his grandfather, his best friend, and his mentor - but in that moment, every traumatic memory fled from his recollection. Faced with the complacent social worker and the stern-faced doctors, Goku felt panic rise to scrabble up in his throat.

He swallowed many times, gulping in great breaths of air, as the invisible vice around his chest tightened. "You can't take her! You - you can't!" wildly, Goku whipped his gaze from face to face, but the expressions that met his wide eyes were impassive, furious, and coolly professional, respectfully.

"I'm afraid, given the circumstances, we can, and we must," that was Mr. West. "You'll have to admit that your wife was admitted under more than suspicious circumstances."

The same man who had faced Tao Pai Pai, the Red Ribbon Army, Piccolo Daimaou, and Maa Junior without a shred of fear, now felt his blood run cold. "But - but I didn't mean to hurt her!" he protested. "We were sparring - ChiChi's a champion martial artist - she wanted me to - I don't like being rough on her, but she made me - she got mad if I took it easy - " Goku's voice scaled up into the hysterics range, the one Yamucha used when faced with a PMS-suffering Buruma.

The female doctor bristled and stepped forward, looking like she wanted to take a chunk out of Goku then and there, but Mr. West held out his arm and stopped her. "That's enough, Son-san. If you persist on being difficult, security will be called. If you leave quietly, things will go much easier on your part."

Goku turned to the door and pressed his hands helplessly against the glass window, watching ChiChi. She lay curled up on her side, the blankets pulled over her protectively, shaking her head as a nurse offered her a tray of food. Seeing her but unable to go to her or provide any comfort, Goku felt a strange feeling flood through him. He wanted to pick ChiChi up and cradle her in his arms, holding her to his chest. He wanted to stroke her hair and kiss her forehead - things that calmed her when she had nightmares. Maybe the doctors would change their minds, if they could see how worried he was.

"Son-san," the voice was even and level, but steely with the edge of command. "You have to leave now. Remember, the permanence of the situation is still pending, until the investigation is made. My organization will conduct it, of course, and afterwards it will be decided whether or not it is safe for your wife to return to you."

"But I can't . . . I can't be without her," Goku clutched his hair and tugged forcefully on the strands. He'd never realized how much he took ChiChi for granted - her presence, whether beside him in bed, or bustling about the house; her smile, bright and infectious; and her cooking . . . Goku had become accustomed to ChiChi's hearty cuisine.

"The investigation will last a matter of months, and the hearing will immediately follow," Mr. West informed him. As though that made everything all right!

Goku couldn't tear his gaze from ChiChi's unmoving form, and he thought irrationally that everything would be okay if only he could go in and talk to her. He would tell her about the book he'd read, and how he understood what she was feeling, and would help her the best he could . . . ChiChi would tell Mr. West (politely, of course), that she didn't need his help.

"Let me talk to her," Goku pleaded, "Just for a few minutes."

"I can't allow that," the doctor interposed firmly. "My patient needs her rest, and must not be disturbed."

She's your patient, but she's my ChiChi!

The idea of ChiChi at a woman's shelter was a frightening one, at least to Goku. He pictured her, living with many abused, hurt, and bitter women . . . women who would instantly sympathize with ChiChi's supposed situation, and would try to help her . . . eventually, she might begin to believe that Goku really had meant to hurt her! This immediately took flight in Goku's mind. He could see the other women, kind and well meaning, endeavouring to pull ChiChi out of her "denial" . . .

He couldn't have that - he couldn't! Not when he enjoyed ChiChi's company so much, when he was still getting close to knowing what love was!

Blood began pumping rapidly through his body, hammering in his temples, and Goku's eyes narrowed with anger. He'd refrained from getting physical, but they hadn't listened to him!

In an instant, the normally gentle Goku had the doctor by the throat and slammed him up against the wall. "Let me see her!" Goku shouted, shaking the man for emphasis. "You can't take ChiChi away!"

Mr. West was at his side in a flash, commanding Goku to put the doctor down. Through the roaring in his ears, Goku managed to hear what the social worker was saying to him. "Don't you understand? You've hurt her! Accidentally - on purpose - sparring - arguing - abuse - unintentional - that doesn't matter! Your wife could have died, and you caused her this pain. I don't care if you 'meant to do it' or not'; your wife has been putting danger, by you, and it is my job to remove her from that danger!"

Stunned, Goku knew it was true, every word of it. He stopped. Mr. West, perhaps seeing his advantage, pressed on. "If you really care for your wife as you claim to do, then you'll understand that this course of action is the best one. She's not safe with you," silently, Goku released his grip on the now unconscious doctor, and backed away from the door. Mr. West looked absolutely furious, full of righteous anger.

Goku turned and ran, breaking through the line of security guards who had been attracted by the ruckus; through the crowd of startled nurses; past the visitors, the patients on walks, the doctors . . . he didn't know his way out, and Goku turned down several wrong hallways, heart pounding and guilt screaming and tearing at him like the claws of a giant eagle. At last he found an open window, through which he flew.

The wind whipped around him in chaotic frenzy, drawing tears from his eyes. Goku didn't know where he was going, nor did he care. He crashed through trees, flew through mountains, narrowly avoided a passenger plane . . . without noticing any of it.

Goku's chest heaved, his fists clenched, his entire body trembled. Energy blitzed off him, sparking and exploding. His teeth ground together until his jaw ached.

At last, Goku could fly no more, and he dropped to the ground, landing in a heap. His fingers dug into his scalp as Goku buried his face in his hands - and suddenly, powerfully, the young man broke out into harsh, wracking sobs.

Hot, salty tears poured down the cheeks of a man rarely accustomed to crying, and never with such hopelessness. His hands shook. His energy rose, fell, and then peaked again. He wept until no more tears could fall, until his lungs burned, and his body hurt from the force of his misery.

Goku's wild energy spiraled upward, gathered in the clouds. Lightning crackled across the onyx sky, thunder crashed ominously, and eventually, rain fell in torrents. Still, Goku did not move, even as his clothing became soaked, his hair hanging in limp strands over his face.

Still, he cried.

Time had no meaning. Goku did not know how long he sat, the self-induced storm roiling overhead. The entire time, the horrible, guilt-ridden thoughts never ceased to torment him. He felt it like a flock of feral vultures; shrieking, flapping, clawing, biting . . . he began to sob anew.

"Goku! What happened?"

With drugged slowness, Goku raised his head, peered through the icy sheets of rain with bloodshot and swollen eyes. Two figures - one tall, one short - gradually took shape. Goku shook his head to clear his vision, and was finally able to identify them.

"They took her away," Goku croaked hoarsely. Kuririn and Yamucha dropped to their knees beside him in the mud, peppering him with questions, but Goku just closed his eyes. He felt one of them pry open his fist, where he realized dully he still clutched the OPAW pamphlet.

"Organization for the Protection of Abused Women," Yamucha read aloud. He sounded incredulous.

Kuririn grasped Goku's shoulders, shaking him. "Goku, you've gotta' tell us! What's going on?"

His friend's urgency failed to penetrate the thick haze surrounding Goku's brain, but he did open his eyes. "It's my fault," Goku's voice sounded hollow, even to him, "It's for the best," he tried to explain, but couldn't.

Kuririn and Yamucha exchanged glances, and without a word, they grasped Goku under the arms and lifted him into the air. He let them carry him, too numbed to think how odd it was that his grief should be so strong.

He must have fallen asleep, because Goku had no remembrance of the journey. When his eyes opened again, Goku was lying in a strange bed, between crisp linen sheets, dressed in a fresh set of clothing.

"Good, you're awake," Goku turned his head and saw Buruma watching him. Her brow was creased, her mouth tight, but she smiled when he met her gaze. "Son-kun, what happened?"

The pain slammed into him, and Goku shook his head. At least he didn't cry.

"Son-kun, you have to tell me," Buruma insisted, reaching over to brush his still damp bangs off his forehead. She held up the OPAW pamphlet. "What is this? Is it ChiChi? If you talk to me, I might be able to help you."

These last words brought a small sliver of hope, and slowly, Goku began to speak. He related to Buruma the events of the sparring match, of his fateful blow and ChiChi's collapse, of how the doctors scowled at him, of the questions and the assumptions, and finally the arrival and decision of Mr. West.

All the while, Buruma's face worked, going through the stages of concern, worry, sorrow, sympathy, disbelief, and anger. "Well, he meant well," she murmured when Goku had finished, but again her visage contorted into what looked like fury. "But really! Anyone who even looked at Son-kun would know it wasn't what it looked like . . ."

Goku raised his eyebrows, feeling better already. When Buruma got angry, things got done - he knew this from experience. "Buruma? Do you think you can get ChiChi back?"

Buruma bristled. "Of course I can! Now you just relax and sleep, Son-kun; you've had a long day, and I don't want to hear Yamucha tell me that you were up and about training again, you hear me?"

Goku smiled, and it was strange how good it felt to do so. He never had a mother, but he imagined she would be something like Buruma. "Thanks a lot . . . I didn't really hurt ChiChi you know," he half-sat up, propped up on one elbow, and looked at Buruma earnestly. He didn't suppose she doubted, but he thought he would reiterate just the same. It never hurt to be safe.

"I know that," Buruma seemed insulted that he would even question her. "I just have to convince that man. Well, I'll be back," she patted Goku on the shoulder, and left the room.

Goku lay back, feeling a strong sense of relief, though not without an undercurrent of worry. Supposing the men didn't believe Buruma? Supposing they had already taken ChiChi away, and Buruma couldn't find her? Supposing -

But Goku was so exhausted from his ordeal that he fell into a troubled sleep before he could 'suppose' anything else.

******

The murmur of voices woke ChiChi from her fitful rest, and she rolled over to face the doorway. She still felt extremely sore, and her stomach was nauseous, but at least the throbbing pain in her abdomen had subsided. Her emotions were topsy-turvy and she felt like crying, but a kindhearted nurse had informed her this was normal in her situation.

ChiChi sighed and rested a hand on her lower stomach, and without warning her dark eyes brimmed with tears as she thought of the tiny life that no longer resided there. She hadn't even known of the baby's existence, but now that she knew of its death, her sorrow was unending. So many if-only situations existed, but she refused to acknowledge them. ChiChi knew they never got one anywhere.

Still, it was distressing beyond words to think that she and Goku could have been parents . . . were parents, really, though the child had barely begun to develop. She could only imagine what a wonderful experience it would have been if the baby had been born. An only child, without memory of her mother (who had died in childbirth), ChiChi had longed for children of her own even before she was a teenager.

ChiChi sniffled and wiped away the tears, feeling silly. She had long prided herself on being practical when it came to grief, so there was no need to get all weepy now . . . nevertheless, she couldn't help being sad.

The voices outside the door grew more insistent, and as ChiChi listened out of curiosity (and perhaps to get her mind off her troubled thoughts), she was surprised to identify the loudest voice as that of Briefs Buruma. Sitting up, ChiChi strained her ears to hear what was going on.

"I understand your motives," Buruma was saying, "But you must understand that Son Goku is the least likely person to be abusive."

Abusive? What on Chikyuu . . .

"Briefs-san, I assure you, I was called in by several doctors. Mrs. Son was admitted for a miscarriage caused by a blow to the stomach, and her body was covered in bruises. Furthermore, her husband admitted to causing them -"

"Of course he did!" Buruma exploded. "Don't you know who Son Goku and his wife are? Don't you watch the Tenkaichi Budoukai? Son Goku was the winner of the last one, and his wife was in the semi-finals! They're both martial arts experts."

"That type of story has been told before."

Buruma's voice dropped, and ChiChi, still groggy enough that she didn't understand what was going on, was nevertheless able to sense the danger behind it. "Are you accusing me of lying? You, Mr. West, may not be aware of this, but my father's company, Capsule Corporation, has provided millions of dollars in funding, both to your organization, and to this hospital. If I am to understand that you do not trust my word - nor that of my best friend - I'm afraid I will have to take my money elsewhere."

A pregnant pause issued, then the man continued. "Briefs-san . . . I am very sorry to hear you resort to threats, and even more sorry that you do not believe me. But if you would only view Mrs. Son's condition -"

"You're not listening to me! I know Son-kun would never mean to hurt ChiChi. Putting her in a woman's shelter would be the worst thing you could do! ChiChi would agree with me, if you asked her. In fact, I'm certain she would support both mine and Son Goku's statements."

"Abused wives often lie to protect their husbands, Briefs-san. And it is the sad truth that best friends often do not realize that abuse is taking place. I appreciate your efforts, but I do not believe you understand the severity of the situation."

"No, you don't understand -"

"I'm afraid, Briefs-san, that nothing can be done until a formal investigation has been made."

At last, ChiChi's sedative-fogged brain grasped the situation, and she was filled with disbelief and rage. The doctors - and this mysterious Mr. West - thought that her Goku-san had hurt her on purpose - that she was a victim of domestic violence - and they intended on placing her in a women's shelter?

Ignoring the pain that immediately stabbed at her, ChiChi swung her legs over the side of the bed and got unsteadily to her feet. Taking a few shaky steps to secure her footing, ChiChi managed to hobble to the door and open it, where she found Buruma in heated exchange with a brown-haired young man.

"What's going on?" she demanded, addressing the unfamiliar man. "My Goku-san would never hurt me on purpose!"

Mr. West looked at her tiredly, as though he had gone over this argument many times and would very much like to avoid having it again. "Mrs. Son -"

"No! I'm not listening to you! I've heard you malign my husband long enough, and I'm not letting you do it anymore!" ChiChi trembled with rage, and she glared daggers at the man. "Why are you being so persistent? Why would Buruma lie? I'm sure there are thousands of women who actually are being abused, and would be glad of your help."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Son, but . . ."

And so on . . .

The debate raged on for over an hour, with neither side getting anywhere. Buruma and ChiChi staunchly defended Goku's innocence (how could they not?), while Mr. West insisted that ChiChi remain at the shelter until the inquest was over. The same arguments were hashed and rehashed, both parties becoming exhausted from arguing, when finally, a nurse approached them.

"Excuse me . . ." she cleared her throat timidly. "But someone has come to see you, Mr. West."

The three of them turned and saw an old man with a long beard, dressed in a loud Hawaiian-print shirt and white shorts, wearing large sunglasses and carrying a shopping bag. Never in her life had ChiChi been so glad to see the lecherous Turtle Hermit, for she knew he had somehow heard, and had come in Goku-san's defense. He didn't even pinch or poke any of the nurses who went by.

"Good morning," Master Roshi bowed politely, addressing Mr. West. "Somebody told me that you've bin questionin' the integrity of one of my students."

Mr. West's face lost a few shades of colour, but ChiChi credited that to exhaustion more than anything else. "And you are . . . ?"

"Kamesen'nin, the legendary martial arts master," the old man couldn't resist giving a V for victory sign before lapsing into his somber mood once more. "Son Goku was one of my pupils as a youngun, and I can't believe you think he would abuse his wife!" he tipped his head toward ChiChi. "If you knew her, you'd definitely see how silly that is. That gal can sure take care o' herself!"

ChiChi flushed, but said nothing. Mr. West cleared his throat uncomfortably. "May I help you, Kamesen'nin-san?"

"Well, sure, now that you've bin so kind ta' offer," Master Roshi grinned, "If I could use a VCR and a television, I might just be able ta' add a little to the arguments these fine young ladies have already given."

They were soon seated in the lounge, and Master Roshi puttered around with the VCR, talking to them as he did so. "I got some tapes o' the last Tenkaichi Budoukai . . . assumin', o' course, that you even know what that is."

Mr. West admitted that he did not, and ChiChi felt a stab of exasperation. What kind of self-respecting person didn't know of the greatest martial arts tournament ever? Master Roshi nodded sagely. "I thought so. Well, Son Goku and his wife here were both participants. I dunno' if this'll help my boy any, but I thought if you would watch the tape o' their match, then mebbe' you wouldn't be so quick to call it abuse."

He pushed play, and soon the television crackled and a rather shaky image of ChiChi and her Goku-san's fight at the Budoukai was played. Forgetting the situation for a moment, ChiChi was caught up in the emotions of the memory . . . how intrigued Goku-san had seemed by her, and how outraged she was that he hadn't remembered his marriage proposal. She watched each blow landed between them with professional interest, grimacing at her lack of technique, and marveling at Goku-san's courtesy (as annoying as it was at the time) for merely blowing her out of the ring instead of knocking her unconscious.

"Now, young man, p'rhaps you don't know much about martial arts," Master Roshi explained when the fight was over. "But I think even an amateur like you can see that this beautiful young lady isn't about to let herself get manhandled, 'specially by her husband. An' if you watched closely, you'd've noticed that he finished the fight quickly, so he wouldn't have to beat her up too bad. They practise like this all the time."

Master Roshi kept on talking and providing other home videos of ChiChi and Goku-san sparring together, and ChiChi listened in awe. For once, the dirty old man was being useful - his voice droned on with spellbinding quality, and she watched Mr. West's face carefully. His expression was incredulous at first, as it would be expected to be, then finally his face shifted to something else.

"Well," Mr. West announced finally, looking at ChiChi. "I'm afraid I must have been mistaken, given the evidence presented. I'm sorry, Mrs. Son, but you have to understand that similar situations have come before me in the past, and their outcomes were not so positive. I was only trying to protect you."

"I understand," ChiChi rose unsteadily to her feet, thought better of it as pain slammed into her stomach, and sat down again. "I appreciate your concern," the urge to pick the man up and toss him through a window had finally abated, and she shot a smile of thanks at Master Roshi. He waggled his eyebrows and grinned at her.

The next hour or so, ChiChi stayed in bed while Buruma, Master Roshi, and Mr. West went through various legal proceedings, in which the former two vouched for Goku-san's integrity and Mr. West signed his agreement. She stayed awake long enough to see Buruma come back into her room and give her the thumbs-up before allowing herself to fall asleep.

******

Goku sat alone at the kitchen table, gnawing unenthusiastically at a haunch of meat from an animal he'd caught. He'd left Capsule Corp. a few days ago, after hours had passed with no word from Buruma, and the young man had finally given up hope. He knew his friend was persuasive, but obviously it wasn't enough to assuage the suspicions of the hospital staff.

"Hey, Goku!" Yamucha's voice was accompanied by a noise at the door - as though he were kicking instead of knocking. "Are you home?"

"Yeah," Goku called back, and he got up. Yamucha sounded happy, and hope spread through Goku again. Maybe Buruma had finally gotten ChiChi out! Goku didn't like dwelling on his misery, and unlike many people he knew, he grasped at any faint thread that would give him hope. "Come on in."

"You wanna' get the door, pal? My hands are full."

He'd probably brought a whole bunch of food, courtesy of Buruma, since ChiChi was still at the hospital. Goku winced, for Buruma's cooking was definitely sub-par. Especially compared with ChiChi's dinners! What he wouldn't give for one of ChiChi's rice meals right now . . . what he wouldn't give for ChiChi, period, actually . . .

Goku shuffled to the front door, a little embarrassed. He'd been too weary to change his clothes for the past three days, and he knew his appearance was probably less than acceptable, but he opened the door anyway.

Yamucha stood on the doorstep, carrying a sleeping ChiChi in his arms.

Goku's jaw dropped, and he couldn't think of a thing to say. He had hoped, of course, that Yamucha would have brought some positive news about ChiChi's placement . . . but had never dared to dream that his friend would bring ChiChi home!

"Wh-what . . ." Goku stammered, and his heart swelled. ChiChi was back! His ChiChi was home - she wasn't taken away - she wasn't dying - she didn't hate him! He stepped forward, intending to take her from Yamucha, but the latter shook his head.

"Uh-uh, my friend . . . you might hurt her. You don't know your strength when you're excited," Yamucha brushed past Goku instead, still holding ChiChi. She was wearing a hospital gown and still had ID tags on her wrists, but the bruises had faded and her lip was no longer swollen. "You have a nice house here . . . can you show me where the bed is?"

Bursting with happiness, Goku fairly bounded into the bedroom, where he pulled back the blankets with such force that he whipped them right off the bed and into the hallway. Grinning sheepishly, he retrieved them while Yamucha set ChiChi down. Goku draped the covers over her body with a reverent gentleness, amazed at how good it felt to see her again.

Yamucha slung an arm around his shoulders and looked at him seriously. "Listen, man, you be careful with her, all right? She may be a martial arts expert and all that, but you're way beyond all of us. You don't want to hurt her again. She doesn't deserve to go through all this."

"Nobody does," Goku murmured, a sense of solemnity pervading him. It felt right to see ChiChi back in her own bed, but her skin was still pale and she frowned in her sleep. Only time would tell what was going through her mind - and how she felt toward him. He still couldn't forget her words to him the last time they'd spoken.

I just lost my baby, Goku. I don't want to speak to you for a very long time.

"Thanks, Yamucha," Goku turned to his friend and enveloped him in a spontaneous hug. "Hug Buruma for me, too . . . I can't - I can't say thanks enough!"

"It's Master Roshi you have to thank, apparently," Yamucha shrugged. "Buruma says he's the one who convinced them to let ChiChi go."

"Oh. Okay," Goku said brightly, "Thank him for me, too."

"Sure thing, pal," Yamucha left with a wave, and Goku slowly, gingerly, crawled into bed beside ChiChi.

He was careful not to touch her. She had made that clear enough, that she wanted no part of any affectionate actions for a while. Goku understood that. The book said that they shouldn't sleep together for at least three months after the miscarriage anyhow, and Goku didn't mind. He enjoyed talking and just being together more than sex, really.

He lay in bed and stared at her, and again was hit with the random thought that she really was beautiful. I'm lucky, Goku thought suddenly. I don't think I'll ever know how lucky I am. He was flooded with feelings of tenderness and affection, and couldn't help but kiss her forehead.

One of Buruma's favourite sayings was that people didn't appreciate what they had until it was gone. Goku shuddered, and he inched closer to ChiChi. He'd never really understood that saying before, but he sure did now! He vowed never to take ChiChi for granted ever again . . . never, ever, ever, ever, ever!

But underneath Goku's joy and relief was a small, niggling fear . . . what if ChiChi was so upset by what had happened to her - and their baby, Goku thought with a stab of pain - that she didn't want to marry him anymore?

******