Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 05: Are You Now or Have You Ever Been...? ( Chapter 5 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 05
The night was silent. Since Goku, or rather, Lord Kakarrot, had decided to go on vacation with Lady Chichi and Nappa, the palace had quieted down considerably. No more screaming. And the usual fights had even quieted down, as if they weren't needed now that the main judge wasn't around. After a month there, though, the noise was expected, and Yamcha was having trouble sleeping without it.
Of course, he always had trouble sleeping. Alone. In a big bed. In a strange place. With people he didn't trust all around him. And only two friends close at hand. Or rather, three. With a huff of disgust, Yamcha threw off the covers.
He had once lived in the desert. Hot days. Cold nights. He was used to that. It didn't mean he liked it, it was just something he was used to. After he and Bulma broke up, he was forced to live on his own in the large city, and he hadn't always had enough to make ends meet. Therefore, he sometimes sacrificed the heating bill in order to pay the groceries bill. Of course, that was before he became a professional baseball player.
His room was dark, just as it had been since the first night. He stared through the darkness and through the shadows to the ceiling. The darkness was very much like the rest of the world. It was vaguely familiar, as if he had known this palace back in HIS reality. But everything was so much... darker here. Well, except for Vegeta. This world's Vegeta was... better than his world's.
Sitting up, Yamcha gave up on sleep. With a sigh of boredom that comes from having a tired body yet an active mind, Yamcha climbed out of bed. He paced around the room for a few moments. He looked around, trying to find something to occupy his mind. The room was bare, though. Shrugging his shoulders, he thought to leave his room and go find something, anything to do. Perhaps Vegeta was having as much trouble sleeping as he was, and maybe they could go exploring. Of course, they'd have to keep clear of the hallway patrols and the two princes, but it might be fun. Like anything else, a forbidden fruit is always sweeter.
Grinning, Yamcha opened the door... and then stopped cold. The hallway was still well lit, which made sense since people were still moving around. But what pulled Yamcha up short was not the lighting, though it took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Vegeta was curled up in front of the door, sound asleep. His thick brown tail was curled around him, and it almost seemed a fetal position. Yamcha gazed down at the sleeping saiyajin, his smile already gone, and then looked down the hall. The other two guards, 17 and 18, stood at attention in front of their respected doors. He opened his mouth to ask, but then closed it with a soft click. He knew the answer to the question, even before he asked.
Vegeta was unallowed to leave his post, at least while Yamcha was vulnerable. And when was a person most vulnerable? When they were unconscious, of course. Brown eyes roamed over Vegeta's position, taking note that the shorter male was shivering slightly. With a snort of contempt at the entire world, but mainly the cold bastard who ruled this one, Yamcha went back into his room. The door slid shut behind him, but had to re-open as the scarred human returned with blanket in hand.
As gently as possible, Yamcha draped his thick quilt over his guard tucking it slightly. As he stood up, he saw the two androids looking at him. 17 looked away quickly, as if not wanting to notice what the human had done. 18 merely smirked as she shook her head slightly, disgust written all over her face. She held no respect for these strange humans, least of all for Yamcha.
Yamcha slipped back into his room, his body suddenly overcome with fatigue. He crawled onto his bed, tugging the light sheet around him. He pulled the pillow close, hugging it more like it was supposed to be another person rather than merely a soft, down-filled bag. Yamcha closed his eyes, and the darkness was complete.
17 turned to look at the sleeping saiyajin prince through the red tint in his scouter. The movement caused his ponytail to sway ever so slightly, again. He did not hold Vegeta in high regards, but he didn't think to mistreat him, either. He was, after all, Trunks' father, and deserved -some- respect, though slight as it may be. He didn't know what to make of Yamcha's actions, though.
On the one hand, they seemed to be done out of kindness. But, on the other hand, they only caused more grief to fall upon the short saiyajin, due to the fact that every time the human acted, it illustrated Vegeta's weaknesses. Such as this, letting him sleep on the job. Granted, the saiyajin was pure organic, and therefore his body demanded sleep, but he had been allowed to doze before, and wake up for their relief without anyone the wiser. Well, he and 18 knew, but they expected organics to sleep on the job at least part of the time. But this time there was a blanket, something that would just prove how inept Vegeta was at his task.
17 wasn't going to say anything, however. Yamcha wouldn't understand the harm he was causing. In less than an hour, someone would be coming by to allow them to go to their rooms to bathe and eat before returning to their posts. That's when the others would see Vegeta curled up with his charge's bedspread! 17 sighed. If Vegeta had any pride left, it would surely have been killed with this little insult.
"Thinking of getting to take a shower? I know I am. I'm filthy!" 18 asked softly.
"Yes. A hot shower sounds great. And I need to wash my hair. My scalp itches," 17 replied, turning back to her. Of course, he didn't tell his sister that he was also looking forward to checking up on Trunks. The lavender-haired demi-saiyajin had taken to sleeping in his room since the last attack by Goten. Normally, since Lord Kakarrot was gone, he'd have slept with his mother in her bed, but since 17's bed was large, protected, and unoccupied, the three of them agreed that Trunks would be better served sleeping there. Also, if anyone entered the room, 17 would be permitted to hunt them down and kill them. It was, after all, HIS room.
"Your scalp does not itch. That's just your imagination," 18 said smugly. It was an old argument between them. They weren't born machines, but they weren't organic anymore, either. So, to mess with each other, they would question what was really there, and what was simply ghost-limb like behavior.
"My scalp itches," 17 retorted. He intentionally intoned his voice to be a little above normal, though not so that his sister would care or notice. She would think he was merely rising to her baiting. This was why HE was the better fighter; he noticed things.
In the corner, where Vegeta lay, there was some stirring. The shorter guard sat up and looked at the blankets surrounding him. There was obvious confusion in his eyes, but he quickly masked it all by placing his scouter back on and standing up. He folded the blanket and placed it away from him. Heavy footsteps sounded coming down the hall. It was almost time for their break.
Vegeta returned to his position just as the trio rounded the bend.
Gamma, Sigma, and Theta. They were so identical, they may as well have all been clones. In fact, 17 was of the opinion that most of the fighters in Lord Kakarrot's legion were clones. They all acted the same, talked the same, and more often than not, they looked the same. As was the case with these three guards. As each guard made their replacement, the three -real- guards quickly made off for their desired destinations.
Theta watched Vegeta walk away at nearly a run he left so speedily. Just inside his peripheral vision, he spied something tucked away in the corner. What was that? A blanket? Why was there a blanket in the hall? Unless... Theta smirked. Was that little whelp sleeping on the job? Oh, the princes were going to love hearing about this.
***
The servants moved around the table in absolute silence. The silverware was equally as mute. The only sources of sound in the room were the two high-profile men who sat at the ends of the table, large platters of food spread out before them. There were several different varieties of meat and the like. Different vegetables, desserts, breads, and fruits were presented as well.
Goten was spooning a delicious soup, as Gohan told him about his day. The main lighting was provided by several candles around the room allowing the shadows to flicker and mask the movements of the servants as they passed by the table. As was usual, Gohan was doing all of the talking, and Goten was doing more of the thinking.
"Ya know, I miss having ma around here. She was always good for a few laughs," Gohan commented after he gulped down a bite of bread and stew. "She'd sit in her corner, drooling, rocking back and forth, muttering to herself about demons. She didn't even flinch when we used to throw things at her."
"Yes, but father was never very appreciative of us throwing food," Goten said as he dabbed his mouth dry. He frowned as he thought of his past deeds, feeling a little sick because he did remember the absolute... glee that he derived from inflicting those little acts of torture upon the woman. She was, well, harmless. It was like cooking moths for no reason. He doubted that was why his father was annoyed with their antics, though. In fact, he knew why he forbade them from going near their mother. "He did not like to see us taking advantage of HIS weakness. And she was weak."
"True," Gohan sighed. "But it was fun."
Goten merely refilled his plate with more food.
"Anyway, it's a shame that da is taking so long with this little 'vacation' of his. I mean, it's not like he does anything anyway. He's just a figurehead," Gohan complained as he began to tear into a leg of a strange six-legged animal. "We do all the work. The planning, the data collecting, and all that crap."
"True. But since he is away, this means he is not as underfoot as he normally is. And it IS quieter without HER here," Goten remarked dryly, knowing that his older brother had been doing very little of said tasks.
"Yeah, which is a big plus," the heir replied. "Anyway, you'll never guess what I did today! And I do mean that! Not even YOU can guess what kind of fun I had."
"You went to the arena today and nearly killed six fighters," Goten said, not bothering to open his eyes as he gently blew on his stew to cool it.
"Well, yeah, I did that, too. And it was fun, let me tell you. That one fighter, what was his name? The one from South Central Lobos, the one that was all hairy and animal like. Well, anyway, his bones were a bit tougher to break than some of the others, but when they do break, they completely shatter. I don't think that's a very good evolutionary trait right there."
"So, are you pulling him from the gene pool, then?" Goten asked, looking up with a raised eyebrow.
"No, he's still one of their better fighters. Which, if ya think about it, that's rather sad."
"If you think about it, all the other worlds' 'better fighters' are rather sad compared to our strength," Goten pointed out, sitting back.
"You mean, they're sad compared to the strength of the Super Saiyajins, little brother," Gohan smirked before laughing. Shaking his head, he continued. "To tell you the truth, I'm still hoping to get into the ring with that Piccolo character. He's so... mysterious."
"Very true. He is an enigma. He does not train. He does not fight, it seems. Yet, I know that he is very strong," Goten spoke reflectively, shoving his plate away, though he was by no means full. In a total breach of manners, he put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on the bridge created by his clasped hands. "He has a very commanding presence, and I get the impression that he can be very..."
"Hot?"
"I was going to say 'dangerous'," Goten stated, watching with half-lidded eyes as Gohan got that far away look in his eyes, the same one that the heir took on whenever he was thinking about going hunting... for a prospective concubine.
"Yeah. I'd love to see his...erm, techniques. And movements," Gohan jeered. "I'm sure they're quite... informative. You know, his actions reflecting how he thinks, and all. Like, is he a talker, or does he scream during -- battle? How does his body move? I can't wait to find out. And I will. Mark my words. I am going to have Piccolo. He's very, er, interesting. Like a new delicacy, brought in from a distant solar system. Since he's a warrior, I plan on learning him like I'd learn an enemy, or an ally. And I imagine he and I will become very, very, very close allies."
"Yeah. Sure, I guess," Goten said quietly. Part of him died as he looked at his older brother, knowing that Gohan was going to try to get, and was probably going to succeed in getting, the large green warrior.
"Heh. That's right. You WOULDN'T know anything about THAT, would you?" Gohan laughed.
It wasn't fair, was it? At long last, Goten thought that maybe, finally, he'd found someone who was worthy enough for him to take a chance on pursuing. Even if that's not ultimately where he would end up with Piccolo, he still wasn't going to get that chance. Not with Gohan in full game mode. It was all just a game to his older brother. Pick a target, chase the target, capture the target, keep it for future games. That was how it always was.
A light wave of nausea pushed through the young demi-saiyajin. Gohan was going to sink his filthy claws into the green man, and there was nothing Goten could do about it. He'd win the game. He always won.
Trying to shake off the sudden stupor Gohan felt as he thought of the mystery man, he continued, "Anyway, fighting is NOT the topic I was going to tell you about, though I am very glad you brought up such a ... stimulating conversation. I was going to tell you about the new duty roster. Vegeta is no longer guarding the human. What's his name?"
"Yamcha."
"Yeah, him. I've assigned Captain Ginyu to the position."
Goten paused as he was raising his glass of wine to his lips. He had heard that some incident occurred regarding the guests and their guards, but he hadn't suspected that a replacement had been made. Somehow that didn't sit quite right with the younger male. "Really," he responded finally. "And what brought about this decision?"
"He was caught napping on the job," Gohan smirked.
"Confined to his quarters?"
"Of course."
"Hn."
"What is it?"
"Come on, Gohan," Goten sighed. "He's only flesh and blood. You know he has to sleep some time."
A raised eyebrow met his statement. "Is that sympathy I hear coming out of -your- mouth?"
"Of course not," answered his brother with a mocking roll of his eyes. "But I can't fault him for something I might have done myself."
"True," nodded the elder demi-saiyajin. "Guarding a human must be so boring, even for someone as pathetic as Vegeta."
"I imagine any guard duty is boring." Goten leaned back in his seat with his glass of wine.
"I suppose. Not as irritating as being in charge of them, I assure you." Gohan shoveled a bit more stew into his mouth, not really caring if some spilt on the table or himself. Gesturing with a dinner roll, he went on, "I have a pile of discs on my desk like you wouldn't believe. It's as if these morons feel like they have to report -more- while our father is off-planet."
The younger prince sipped gingerly from his glass. Watching his brother stealthily over the top of the rim, he questioned the other's decision. Goten had heard rumors, of course, that there was something slightly more than a mere guard-charge relationship between the human and the small saiyajin, but nothing which the prince could solidly confirm. He knew for a fact that Gohan paid little attention to rumors, so that likely didn't color his choice. Goten really didn't see the sense in what Gohan had done. A reprimand may have been required, but not a dismissal.
A light frown creased his brow. What had happened to his normal way of thinking? Maybe a month ago, he might've demanded Gohan do something worse, even putting the saiyajin to death. But now? He didn't think that taking Vegeta away from his duty was a good idea. It didn't seem fair. And since when did Goten give a damn about what was fair?
'Since you got your ass handed to you,' a little voice inside him chided. The young demi-saiyajin closed his eyes. It was true, wasn't it? That Piccolo just crawled beneath his skin, hadn't he? What was the power that man had? And apparently it affected Gohan too, in some way. Only... Goten knew Gohan hadn't had a single conversation with the green man. 'Ashamed to admit how you know that, huh?' the little voice asked.
'Shut up,' he told the voice.
'Oh, come on, Goten,' it chuckled. 'Tell your brother how you spend the majority of your days.'
'Shut up.'
'You know you can't win, don't you?' it sneered. 'He's the golden heir. He's the one everyone adores. Not you. Never you. You'll never be good enough. Why even bother trying?'
"Shut up!" Goten screamed aloud, slamming his fist down on the table, shattering the wine glass he'd been holding.
"What the fuck are you talking about, Goten?!" Gohan shouted. "I haven't said a word in five minutes!"
Goten stood abruptly from the table. "I apologize, Gohan. I'm -- I'm not feeling well. Excuse me."
Gohan watched his brother quickly stride from the room, practically running. He popped a grape into his mouth, his eyes never straying from the younger demi-saiyajin.
"Freak," he muttered.
What was Goten's problem, anyway? Lately, the normally reclusive demi-saiyajin seemed more withdrawn than usual, more distracted. He rarely saw him except at meal times, and even then, he'd always leave quickly, making some lame excuse. Like tonight. Every once in a while, Goten reminded Gohan of their mother in her earlier descent into madness. Gods, he hoped his sibling wasn't headed down that path as well. It would ruin a perfectly good Inquisitor.
He liked his brother, he really did, but there were some times that the littlest demi-saiyajin worried him. Like when he acted like their mother. He didn't think that Goten would crack under the pressure, whatever pressure it was he felt, but there was always that chance that he could. And if that happened, well, rabid animals had to be put down. "Heh. Too bad mother can't be put to sleep as easily... or quietly."
He turned back to the still large banquet in front of him. He didn't have to tell his little brother the truth, or at least, the truth as he saw it. Though, he wanted to. Who else would listen to him? Well, actually, if he wanted people to listen to him, he'd only have to snap his fingers. But they'd only tell him what they thought he wanted to hear. Goten was different. He was secretive, and apparently going quite mad, but he was also smart. And that's what was interesting about talking with him. He'd know why Vegeta didn't mind being made a fool of by the humans. 'Why does he allow the humans to handle his battles, and to offer him blankets, when he gets a stiff tail every time I offer him my bed?' It was a puzzle, but one that wasn't pressingly urgent to solve. It didn't really matter anyway.
The only real mystery that needed to be solved, and solved soon, was Piccolo. The oldest prince grabbed a dark green fruit and tossed it in his hands. Smiling, his thoughts turned from what it felt like to take something by force, to what it was going to feel like to have someone beg to take him.
***
Trunks knelt in the half-light of the secret entrance to his mother's room. He listened in on the sounds of Zarbon making sure that there were no possibilities of being overheard. No one was, of course, so Trunks crept all the way into the room, dashed onto his mother's bed, and curled up under her covers, his form huddled though his tail poked out from underneath the blankets to curl up behind him.
"Hello, my son," Bulma said as she went over to wrap her arms around her only child. "How fairs you?"
"I'm doing well, mother," Trunks replied as he leaned his shrouded form against her slight body. "And how are you?"
"I am doing very well now that Lord Kakarrot is not here to demand my attention," Bulma replied. "Tell me, what news do you have? Is there anything of interest occurring out there?"
"Well, it seems that of the latest batch of fighters to arrive, many of them are not going to make it to the trial round. Prince Gohan is systematically eliminating a vast number of them. Today he has already injured eight, with intimidation tactics directed towards four more. Prince Goten is acting strangely, but still managing to perform his duties. The trio from Betamore actually ARE hermaphrodites," Trunks said as he recounted all the things he had discovered during the day. "Anyway, that's all the normal news of the palace."
"As opposed to the not so normal news?" Bulma asked with a quirked eyebrow.
"Yeah. The three strangers... they aren't normal. I don't know how or why they act like they do, but I do know that they aren't normal." Trunks grinned at her. With a sixth sense born of a lifetime spent dodging other people, Trunks was acutely aware of where Zarbon was in the room. He didn't know how his mother could feel safe with the large guard, but she often said that she preferred his company to most other people's. Trunks thought that she really needed someone like 17, who was the best guard there was. Well, HE thought that 17 was the best. "It seems that Prince Gohan doesn't like the idea of Vegeta guarding Yamcha, and has confined my sire to his quarters. Captain Ginyu is now reassigned as Yamcha's guard."
"How is that going over?" Bulma asked as she reached her hand into the darkness of the blanket to wrap her arm around her son's figure. She pulled him down so that she could run her free hand through his hair. It was almost as long as hers was.
"Not very well," Trunks replied. He loved it when his mom played with his hair. It was very soothing. Her nails almost tickled him as they scraped lightly over his scalp. "Piccolo has ordered Yamcha not to leave his room. The short man, Krillin, isn't happy about this change of guard either. He was thinking about trying to protest, but the other two told him that it was pointless. They know the only person who could overrule Prince Gohan's decision is Lord Kakarrot, or if Prince Gohan changes his mind, then Vegeta might be reinstated."
"Piccolo seems rather intelligent. They can't do anything about the situation right now, so why cause trouble? What was this Yamcha's reaction?"
"He HATES the idea of someone other than Vegeta being his guard."
"Really?"
"Yeah. He's so agitated by it, I caught him performing a strange kata in his room, the bed pushed up against the wall. He is seriously pissed off about this," Trunks stated as he brushed his mother's hands away. He sat up and looked at the lovely lady in front of him and felt a deep swell of affection. "He seems to think that it's his fault. But he swears he was only trying to be nice. I tried telling Piccolo that no one here thinks nice is a good thing, but Piccolo merely acknowledges what I say and then tells me that it is not their way to be rude."
"You sound like you have a lot of respect for this Piccolo character," Zarbon interjected.
Trunks blinked at the guard. Usually Zarbon made it a point not to take notice of him when he was there, going out of his way to ignore him. "Well, I do. A couple of weeks ago, right around the time that Lord Kakarrot was deciding that he wanted to go on a vacation, Prince Goten caught me in the hallway. Piccolo saved me from being hurt. Again. You know, I don't understand why Goten doesn't just rape me like the rest of them do. I mean, why does he have to go out of his way to torture me in a different fashion, and in such a manner as it just causes severe pain and not death?"
"Perhaps because the more times you brush against death, the stronger you grow," Bulma answered softly. She hated to hear her son talk of his life, of his repeated rapes so nonchalantly. She should have heard anger, rage, or something in his voice, other than the sickening curiosity for why it didn't happen. She thought back to her people's folly in thinking that if they killed the maturing invader, then they would not have to worry. She thought about all the times that the news reported him retreating away from a battle, mortally wounded. They should have made sure he died. They should have hunted him down. They should have... done so many things differently. But they didn't. "Trunks-kun, I'm sorry that I can't protect you."
"Don't worry, mom," Trunks said as he smiled sweetly at her. "Prince Goten hasn't bothered me since. I told you he was acting funny. And I've been staying out of trouble, sleeping in 17's bed, or keeping to the shadow-ways."
"If you say so," Bulma responded, forcing a smile to her lips. "So, tell me, what's Goten's reaction to this?"
"I don't know," Trunks shrugged. His tail flipped behind him. "I do know that Vegeta is not happy with the new restrictions. He's raged silently for most of the day. He's been doing as many rigorous exercises as he can in his room. The place reeks of him and his sweat."
Zarbon smirked smugly to himself as he ducked his head. So Vegeta was taken away from his prized human? How appropriate. And could he give himself away more? He's obviously upset at the loss. As is the human. A light frown creased his blue brow. Unrequited love was such a tricky thing. But it appeared more and more as if it were not unrequited, just silent. As silent as his and his Mistress's.
"So, both Vegeta and Yamcha are against this new change," Bulma commented as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I am surprised that Goten hasn't noticed this. He's usually very observant."
>"May I inquire, Mistress Bulma, as to why you are so curious of Prince Goten's thoughts?" Zarbon asked quietly, interrupting again.
"Because," Bulma began as she climbed off the bed and started pacing, "I can't help but think that something that effects him might effect the rest of us. He's powerful, Zarbon. You and I and Trunks all know that, and what effects the powerful usually effects the weaker more severely. He usually is kept busy with office affairs, but since the travelers came... I don't know. I feel as if there is a piece, a very important piece, of a puzzle missing. We need to find that, and then perhaps we'll find out what the picture of the puzzle is."
"I don't think I understand, Mistress," Zarbon stated. "Prince Goten has no bearing on what happens to you specifically. Trunks, yes, but not you."
"You heard Trunks. Goten has been acting very oddly. Think of ripples in the water, Zarbon. The ripples could effect us." She turned to her son. "How has he been acting? Specifically, Trunks. Can you think of anything?"
"He's left me alone mostly," Trunks said as he tilted his head to the side, obviously recalling most of the incidents in the past weeks. "As for how he's been acting, he's a bit more subdued since that incident with Piccolo. Maybe something happened that I don't know about. Piccolo must have spoken to him." Trunks looked wistful for a moment, as if trying to situate the days afterwards in his head. "I'd say that maybe Piccolo scared him or something. Though, truth to tell, he's been following Piccolo a great deal more than anyone else, including me. It isn't stalking, either. That's more Gohan's style than Goten's, you know. Goten is just following him, watching him. Spying."
"Well, Prince Goten IS the Royal Inquisitor. Spying, checking out threats is part of that," Zarbon intoned softly, worried. He didn't like the idea that his Mistress was concerning herself with so much happening outside of her room. She did this when she grew bored, and it usually ended up badly. For her.
"No, not that kind of spying. When he is checking out threats, he is usually prone to write notes. He isn't taking any notes when he watches Piccolo," Trunks said. "He's just... watching."
'Watching,' the blue-haired lady thought. 'What makes someone just 'watch' someone else?' Tumbling that thought over and over in her mind, a single answer slowly came to the forefront. Bulma frowned. No, that couldn't be it, could it? Surely that was too simple, too easy. And yet... Her pacing came to a halt, and she once again rested beside her son on the bed, stroking his hair lightly. She had that idea -- that single idea -- but how could she find out without directly asking? Oh, how her mind got her into trouble sometimes. She'd have to start with something vague, she decided. "Trunks, love, tell me something," she spoke softly. "What does Piccolo look like?"
Trunks grinned as his mother resettled herself next to him. "Well, he's tall. Very tall. And green. I've never met anyone as green as him. He looks to be about as deep green as the leaves on the flowers that Zarbon gives you. He has pointed hears, fangs, and sharp claws on his fingers. He wears a white hat and cape and an indigo gi with a blue sash. He looks very intimidating, but he's actually very, very nice. His voice is this rich, deep, rolling sound that'll send shivers up your spine until you're used to it. And once you are, then it's very calming, like listening to distant thunder when you know you're safe. He's strong, self assured, and very... commanding. But not cruel at all. He's just... very different."
"That's very detailed, Trunks," Bulma smile. "Sounds like somebody's got a crush."
"No, not anything like that!" Trunks clarified passionately. "He's nice and all, but... No."
"Oh?" Bulma giggled, one eyebrow upraised. She saw him flush, but she relented. He was so secretive when it came to matters of the heart, as if by admitting to finding anyone even remotely attractive then that would give them more power over him. "He doesn't sound all that attractive to me. Green, you say. With claws and fangs?"
"Yes. But he is rather attractive, if you go for that sort of thing. He's very frightening upon first meeting, though. Very scary," Trunks said, his tail going to wrap around him. "He's strong, Mother. Very strong. And I think that's part of what makes him so intimidating. But he knows his power, and he knows how to use it."
"You've seen him fight?" Zarbon queried. To his knowledge, the guests had been like pacifists: no sparring or training of any kind. This was all, of course, according to palace rumor.
The lavender-haired youth shook his head. "No. No one has. He gets a lot done with very little effort, I think. He uses his mind a lot. And he meditates. Once you get to know him, he's not that bad of a guy."
"If you say so, Trunks-kun. I still don't think he's all that attractive," Bulma said.
They all remained quiet for a few minutes. Bulma was still bent on figuring out what was going on with Goten. The youngest demi-saiyajin had always been a little different from the rest, though not technically in a good way, and if he acting abnormally, she wanted to hear about it. Especially if her suspicions were even remotely close to the truth. Sighing she resigned to ask a favor or her son. Bulma fretted a bit over giving her son such a dangerous assignment, but she couldn't undertake the task herself, and in all earnestness, no one was really as well equipped for the task as he was. "Trunks," she addressed, "I want you to keep an eye out for Goten. When he crosses your path, follow him. Find out what he's up to. But, in the meantime, I want you to keep a close eye on the three travelers. Will you do that?"
"I will." Trunks sighed with relief, praying that he wouldn't have to follow Goten long enough to get caught at it. That would be very painful, and possibly lethal. "I think I'm becoming their friend. Just like you had friends when you were younger, I think they might be my friends. I'm also going to try and help Yamcha see Vegeta. I think it'd make the human happy, you know."
"If you think so, Trunks," Bulma said, brushing long, lavender locks away from a dirty face. "If you think that it will, then do it."
The large clock on the wall chimed the late hour, and Trunks hopped up from the bed. Bending over slightly, he kissed his mother on her cheek. "I'm going to go to 17's room now, Mother," he told her. "He should be on his break soon."
She gave him a warm hug and patted his back. "Take care of yourself, Trunks. I'll see you later, okay?"
Trunks gave his mom a reassuring kiss on the cheek before he vanished into the shadows from which he emerged. He knew the pathway between his mother's room and 17's better than he knew his own reflection in mirrors. Soon, the guards would be relieved for a break. He moved silently, but hurriedly. The raven-haired guard only had a short amount of time to shower and return to his station.
Trunks arrived in the room just as the door closed behind 17. He grinned with relief to see the android was alone, but then he usually was. "Hi, 17."
"Visiting your mother?" the guard asked easily, stripping out of his clothes even as he moved. He was conscious of Trunks' eyes on him, and he was glad he had his back to the demi-Saiyajin. Just thinking of Trunks watching him as he showered made him want to shiver with pleasure, but he held it in check.
"Yes. She sends her regards," Trunks said as he watched the black shirt fall to the floor. His mouth suddenly went dry. He kept his eyes focused on the material on the floor instead of the bare expanse of 17's back. He knew that if he looked up, he'd forget everything on his mind. He didn't understand why he did that, it just happened. And if 17 turned around to him, he'd start babbling, and then it'd be all over. He'd be embarrassed and afraid and... No. He couldn't let that happen.
Swiftly, he settled into putting his mind far from the disrobed figure near him and thought about other things he knew would take his mind off the android. His mother's request rang out in his head. '... follow Goten...' Trunks knew that 17 was the very best of all the palace guards, and not just in his opinion; the black-headed male was, after all, the right-hand guard of Lord Kakarrot. Perhaps 17 might have some insight into the younger prince. "You know," he began, "there's something I've been wanting to ask you, but... I'm not sure if you can answer it."
When the android just stood there with an expectant look on his face, Trunks continued. "That day... that day when Goten had me in the hallway... Do you remember that day?"
17 gave a small, sharp nod. He recalled that day with frightening clarity. The way he and Piccolo had found them he was certain Goten had done irreparable damage. They were so lucky to have stumbled upon them in time. Before something -really- bad had occurred.
"Did something happen? Between Piccolo and Goten, I mean," he clarified. "Goten hasn't come near me since."
"To my knowledge, nothing occurred that would have resulted in Piccolo being brought out to the arena and killed, seeing as he is still alive," 17 replied, thinking aloud. "But, he has been following us a bit closer than normal. He pays a great deal of attention to Piccolo. I believe that he feels threatened by the green man. It's his job to be somewhat paranoid."
"So, it's just paranoia?"
"What else could it be?" the android returned.
Trunks shrugged. Maybe it was best if he changed the subject, got on to his idea. "Um, so, what do you think of the new guard watching over Yamcha?"
"I do not like him. I never have," 17 called out as he turned on the shower water. "Captain Ginyu is an idiot."
"Yeah, I know that. But what do you think of him as a guard? Do you think he'd notice anything unusual going on in Yamcha's room if it was quiet?" Trunks asked, standing in the doorway of the shower room, his tail wrapped tightly around his waist, and doing his best to avoid looking directly at the blurred form behind the shower screen.
"How do you mean?" 17 questioned, as he soaped himself over, ever mindful of the other presence in the room. He inhaled the soap smell, grinning at the scent of lavender. He had chosen this scent as his a long time ago. He likened it to Trunks.
"Well, I know that if you were guarding someone, and they stayed in their room for over a day, and they were quiet for that time, you'd go in and investigate. Would Ginyu?"
"It depends," 17 said after he thought a moment. He rinsed off his body, and shampooed his hair again. He wanted to stay in the shower as long as possible, and it wasn't because he needed to. He liked the idea of Trunks watching him. He didn't do it often, so when the opportunity to show off in front of the younger male did arise, 17 was all for seizing the opportunity. He sighed as he dipped his head under the spray again. Too bad it was only posing. He doubted Trunks would ever be willing. Not after the life he had led. The android removed himself from the water and shook out his hair even as he turned off the water. "Ginyu is an idiot, true, but after two days, I believe even he would become suspicious. He would go in to make sure that the human did not do anything foolish, such as hang himself. Or attempt escape."
"Hmm," Trunks sounded as he quickly turned away from the nude male. He flushed scarlet, his tail twisting around him tighter to try and still the jumping he felt in his stomach. "What if Yamcha made an appearance during the daylight hours, but was totally silent through the night?"
"Well, that would actually be consistent with what their routine is," 17 replied as he dried himself off, his eyes averted from the other's form as Trunks rested with his back turned and resting against the doorway. "They sleep at night."
"Yeah. That's true," the demi-saiyajin acknowledged. He practically jumped out of his skin when he felt 17's light tap on his shoulder.
"Can you hand me some more clothes?" 17 requested with a light smirk.
Trunks looked down to see only a small towel wrapped around the android's middle. He nearly fell in his haste to do as the other asked. "Here ya go."
"Thank you," 17 smiled as he turned to retreat into the bathroom. He knew Trunks well enough to know his fear of nudity. "What are you planning, Trunks?"
"Me? Planning something?" Trunks squeaked.
"Did you hear that?" 17 asked as he poked his head out of the bathroom to look around the room. "I thought I heard a mouse..."
The android was rewarded for his humor with his discarded shirt tossed at his face. Trunks flushed deeply as 17 laughed at him. The demi-saiyajin's purple tail tightened its hold even more, which normally would have seemed impossible, at the spine-tingling sound.
"Seriously, Trunks. What are you planning?" 17smiled.
"Well," Trunks sighed. "I thought that maybe, late at night, I might be able to sneak Yamcha out of his room to go see Vegeta."
The synthetic male paused for a moment, going as still as a statue, which he was actually quite capable of doing. He thought a moment, and then slowly nodded his head. "I think that might prove... entertaining."
"You approve?" Trunks asked excitedly.
"Yes. For now. But keep it a secret, okay? We don't want word getting out," 17 said as his mind raced with possibilities, mostly problems that would involve the lavender haired youth to get into trouble. "We don't want any trouble."
"Are you going to help?" Trunks asked, careful to keep his voice neutral.
"No. This is your thing. I'm a guard. That's my thing. I'll let you do your thing, though. And I won't interfere," 17 said as he tucked in his shirt. His mind betrayed his cool statement, continuing the thought. If he could at all help it, he wasn't going to let anything happen to Trunks. He'd spent so long letting everything happen to him, and none of it was good. How much longer would he be able to just let it slide? He checked the clock. He still had about five minutes. What to do to pass the time? Well, usually he would watch as Trunks slept, curled up and twisted in HIS sheets, wishing with everything that even remotely might have been his soul that he was entangled in those same sheets, while at the same time glad that he didn't have to go through that torture.
"Okay," Trunks whispered, his tail finally loosening somewhat. "Well, I hope you have a good day today. I know I'll see you later. I'm looking forward to visiting with Piccolo again, so... until then?"
"Yes," 17 responded, irrationally jealous of the budding friendship between the strange green warrior and the Palace Ghost. He knew it was because Trunks had always been HIS and was now beginning to form new friendships, but he didn't have to feel the way he did. He sighed in frustration, wishing that he could just simply walk over to the other male and gave him a quick kiss on the top of his down turned head. "Until then."
Trunks looked up, startled, but 17 was already walking out the door. A light frown washed over his thin face. 'We still had five more minutes left...'