Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Misplaced ❯ Interactions ( Chapter 5 )

Author's Note: No it's not a hallucination. This is an update; sorry for the long wait everyone. 5 months…. Ouch, well at least I've gone down from 8. Yeah…. It's hard to think of something that doesn't follow any cliché I've seen. Thanks to those who gave me an extra review to get my butt in gear, it helped. Everyone should thank Sabi2, who is my beta. Thank you sooooo much, love ya girl! ^_^

 

Misplaced

 

Chapter 5………

 

Shifting onto my side, I suddenly froze as my arms brushed against something wrapped around me. Pushing them out I tried to stretch, ignoring the previous feeling of confinement that I had just felt. It didn't go away, a tight steel vice was around my body. I wrestled with the binding force, my body rolling on the ground. It felt as if I was wrapped in latex, my arms stretching but a few inches before snapping back to my sides. I whimpered as Claustrophobia set in, my breathing growing heavier as my panic grew.

 

Why couldn't I move?!

 

Suddenly a blinding white light washed over me, the inside of my eyelids lighting up a stark red as I internally winced. A low moan fell from my lips as I relaxed my arms and pulled them away from my sides. I gasped in shock as I stretched out my limbs, surprised by my sudden release. I tried to rid myself of the confinement and stiffness that had moments ago taken hold of me, but the memory still held a haunted hold over my mind.

 

I cracked open one eye and then the other, my vision blurring for a bit as I tried to adjust to the light. Propping myself up, I leaned back against my palms and studied the white expansion before me. No matter how long I stared, I couldn't differentiate whether what was above me was a sky or ceiling, or if there was an end to what I saw at all. It was like my father's description of the Room of Time & Spirit.

 

I slowly pitched myself up and glanced around having absolutely no idea why I was here, or where `here' was…

 

Taking a cautious step around, I tried to denote anything; suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spotted a silhouette in the distance. It was a person, lying against the ground with their back facing out.

 

I started walking towards it, not entirely sure why I was doing so. It wasn't the smartest thing to do, but I couldn't seem to help myself. I stopped a few feet away, my eyes widening as I noticed the small pool of blood that started to seep from under the person. Bending down, I stepped a bit closer and reached out to grasp the figure's shoulder. I shook them lightly, not daring to utter a sound.

 

I shook harder, as my frustration grew; the person's identity becoming a quick obsession that I couldn't explain. Suddenly they swung back, their arm flying over as the body turned. The face slowly rolled towards me as the figure groaned, obviously in pain. The blood caked hair plastered itself to… a girl's face, her features obscured.

 

I mutely pushed the strands aside, anticipation and nervousness shifting uncomfortable in my stomach. Yet my curiosity continued to grow as more of the girl's face became clear. The last strand disappearing behind her ear as her identity was finally revealed, or rather the physical identity. Yet I was so absorbed in my task, the feeling of the blood and the sound of it peeling away from skin, something akin to a sticker being pulled off. All I could do was stare at my hand, as I carefully made sure the last strand stayed in place. A fear settled into me, although what was there to be afraid of? I glanced up as my hand fell away, my eyes widening as I scanned her face. Gasping, I staggered back as I tried to breathe against my constricting lungs. What the hell was this?! Was this some sick demented joke?!

 

There before me was…

 

Slapping my hands over my eyes, I tried to shut the image out. My legs backing up before tripping over something that I could have sworn was never there. I braced myself, the dull pain that raced up my thighs as my knees jarred against the ground went by unnoticed. Instead my eyes bored into the ground, the edge of my vision suddenly spotting a thin line of crimson as it flowed before me and slowed to a crawl as it found a path between my arms.

 

It didn't make any sense!

 

I pounded my fist against the ground, my mind unable to unravel the impossibility. Yet as another groan fell upon my ears, I couldn't deny the urge to catch a glimpse of what I refused to believe moments ago. To make it fake, to prove it was a hallucination or perhaps some nightmare that unconsciousness has projected.

 

My breath caught as every feature settled and my doubt was contradicted by the plain sight before me. Cracked armor adorned her body; tuffs of loose material peaking through were she was bare. Her legs had a thick spandex covering of some sort, as was evident by the tight hold it held over the limbs. The blood that had caked her face was everywhere, embedded in ever crevice, the darkness perhaps giving way to a deeper injury that my eyes couldn't see. Yet, this girl… with every feature…

 

“Miroshu?”

 

I bit back a scream, her voice all too familiar…

 

Yet it didn't make sense. It wasn't possible…

 

My head split in two, my hands flying to my ears to cradle it, as the headache throbbed and steadily grew worse.

 

“Miroshu?”

 

My hands clawed at the floor behind me, not wanting to see it, not wanting to know why it existed.

 

I tried to voice my panic as it suddenly hit a peak, my voice failing to only a hoarse wheeze as it passed my lips. Its hand, each finger was wrapped around my wrist. The tips growing white as the grip tightened; the area growing red as the pressure threatened to break the skin. Then it shifted and another groan filled the still air as the crimson liquid trembled beneath me.

 

I swallowed, my fingers folding into a fist as I growled. What the hell was wrong with me? This… thing couldn't hurt me, especially not in their state.

 

I ripped away my arm, its body jerking suddenly as its grasp slipped away from my wrist. I watched, as if a spell was broken as the hand fell against the ground, the action seemed to slow and fear began to grip me again.

 

The palm hit the white surface, the sudden contact causing the thing's eyes to shoot open. A look of confusion and perhaps a hint of fear dawned its face, before the eyes darted and locked onto my own.

 

Yet before I could react or speak, its face screwed into one of pain as its mouth opened to scream. A sound almost unhuman tore from its throat, my body falling back against the ground as I forced my palms against my ears. Yet the cries would never cease, and

 

I felt the tears, like I could feel this thing's pain.

 

But why? What I saw wasn't truly there, in no respect could it be. But…

 

I let out my own cry of anguish as the pitch of it heightened, and I knew that within moments blood would be covering my hands and I'd hear no more, “It's not real!”

 

 

I lurched up in my bed, my throat constricting tightly as I tried to breathe. I felt myself being pushed back and thrashed, the sight of that thing's face coming to my mind again.

 

The blood…

 

That thing that had my face….

 

What the hell was that?

 

I whimpered slightly as I felt an arm wrap around my waist; my name suddenly reaching me, yet sounding like a whisper from the ghost in my dream.

 

“Pan!”

I froze, my mind clearing. This room, everything around me reminded me of something. I turned my head to the figure, resigning to his hold. However, his arm slid away and instead brought his hands up to cup my face, his eyes filled with worry as he searched for the source of my distress.

 

“Pan?”

 

“Grandpa?” I sighed and relaxed in his hands, my own coming up to clutch onto his forearms. I let my head fall forward, my eyes boring into the floor as my fingers began to dig into his arms, the fingernails almost piercing the skin.

 

He sighed, and the bed creaked lightly under his weight as he sat down next to me. His arms bending as I found myself leaning against his chest, my hold still as tight as before.

 

A dull throb swam through my body, each limb taking its own turn before my back and my abdomen. It was like I had just trained with my grandfather or Vegeta, but I haven't trained for a year or so now. It didn't make any sense. What was wrong with me?

 

I glanced up at him; feeling hot paths scathe my cheeks as my vision became unexpectedly blurry. I loosened my hold, my hands falling down by my sides. Grandpa gave a small smile, his hands coming around my waist in a comforting hug.

 

Yet, just as I had decided to relish this comfort I saw his arms and the tiny marks that my nails had made. They were already fading, the only sign a faint redness now thanks to his saiyan-jin blood, but it brought to mind my own and that cry of pain that had shook my entire being.

 

“Pan?”

 

He was trying to coax an explanation from me again and noticed suddenly that I was trembling, when did that happen?

 

“Pan, what's wrong?” I felt him sigh as I stayed silent, and pulled away slightly. I couldn't look at him though; it hurt too much to keep these things away from him. I could already see in my mind's eye the expression of worry his face must hold.

 

“What happened?”

 

Persistent today…

 

“Grandpa, I-“ I quieted at his raised hand, a brow quirked as I wondered what he wanted to say.

 

“Pan, I know you don't want to talk about it. That has been your way usually, but if you know what's causing what happened earlier, you should tell me.”

 

I felt painted into a corner. I didn't know why it happened, or to be honest exactly what had happened. All my memory conjured was a feeling of pain, which still visited in a dull throb, and random images that didn't make any sense.

 

“Pan?”

 

I ventured a glance up, finding my grandfather's face sympathetic as if to coax me to answer. It was annoying that he would treat me that way, he should know by now that I can see through his façade very easily,

 

“I don't know anything, probably less than you do,” I conceded, but not before settling my gaze away from him. No doubt he'd wonder at the credibility of my words, although I was curious if they were true or not as well. With what happened and that dream…my body seemed foreign and completely not my own.

 

 

“God damnit!” A hiss passed my lips, my teeth coming down to gnaw on my bottom lip and stop my next scream of pain. I could hear the other men in my cell snickering, but a low growl shut them up. My fingers dug into the arms of the man next to me, his face giving no hint to his own pain or the annoyance of my inflictions.

 

“Akashu, you got to stay still.”

 

Miroshu's calming voice didn't ease the pain, but it did make me smile a bit. Somehow, although I could never think how, he had managed to sneak in my cell. I was grateful, but as another shot of pain streaked through my body, I didn't have the will power to focus on anything but the pain anymore. I could hear him cursing next to me, the most colorful obscenities in the saiyan-jin language flowing from his mouth. I sighed, the end of which turning into a small whimper which Miroshu muffled with his hand. I nodded, the only sign of gratuity that I could manage.

 

“You seemed to have already fallen into your nightmares when you were unconscious.” Miroshu stated softly as he concentrated on bandaging me. A subject change was a poor distraction, but I needed it.

 

“Yes, but it was different.” I gave a small cry as my wounds began to burn.

 

“Really.” Another pull of a bandage and he was muffling my whimpers again.

 

“It was…” I trailed off, trying to remember what the dream was about. Relying on this sole interest, like meditation to stave off pain.

 

“A white expansion and I was hurt… Another person was there; a girl and she felt familiar or looked… I don't remember.”

 

Miroshu simply nodded, so absorbed in his current task that I doubted his attention span. Then again, it was a good thing his focus wasn't divided.

 

Pulling the last bandage tight, he secured it and set me upright against the nearest wall.

 

“Sons-of-bitches…” Miroshu hissed as he watched another flash a pain cross my face.

 

“What? You run out of curses in saiyan-jin so you turn to my language?”

 

Miroshu smiled and cupped my cheek, “There's my akashu.”

 

“Yeah, well you're a good doctor.” I bit back a cry as I shifted into a more comfortable position. I heard him chuckle and managed a half smile.

 

“If it wasn't for King Vegeta marrying a ningen, then your language wouldn't be in use.” Miroshu commented as he wrapped an arm around me, shifting my body where I was now leaning against him. I was grateful for the change despite the pain; anything was better than the wall.

 

“True, then I'd be forced to learn saiyan-jin, well fluently anyway…” I closed my eyes, my words slurring slightly.

 

“Tired akashu?” Miroshu tightened his hold slightly, being mindful of my injuries. I heard a low growl come from him, no doubt a warning to our other occupants. “You should get some sleep Pan. Since Vegeta ordered for you not to be healed, and after the guards…”

 

His voice became a low hiss, my senses only registering his anger more than his words.

Suddenly a piercing light filtered into the room and I winced. The loud screeching of the rusted cell door didn't help my senses either as my ears protested.

 

“What the hell?” I croaked as I tried to dispel my fatigue.

 

A guard walked in and luckily enough, he made a beeline for me. “She's been summoned,” he said simply as if the comment alone would cause me to jump to my feet. The guard quickly grabbed my arm, yanking me away from Miroshu. I bit my lip, silencing my scream as the movement tore at the wounds that Miroshu had carefully bandaged.

 

“Putaq!” Miroshu cried as he tried to rush the guard. I whimpered slightly, knowing too well it was a valiant effort, but useless at the same time. Before he could get with a couple inches from the guard, another appeared and slammed Miroshu into the wall. Two cuffs fastened onto Miroshu's wrists and dug into the wall behind.

 

“Qustah nuq jay!” Miroshu cried out, but the guards ignored him. I closed my eyes, my teeth grating as I heard Miroshu cry out. The guards' weapon of choice for subduing an inmate; the cuffs were created from a fusion of ki and kinetic energy. When once applied they sent a shock through the nervous system and paralyzes the victim for a few minutes; a quick fix usually.

 

He fell limp against the wall, the guards taking out their frustrations on his body. I clenched my fist tightly, willing myself to look away. Miroshu would never forgive me if I got myself killed by retaliating now. I gasped as my body was heaved back, the guard beginning to drag me out of the cell.

 

What the hell did they want me for? I was summoned? That usually meant Vegeta wanted me for either a session of disparaging lectures or to sate his pent up sexual needs. Considering my recent interaction with the King, the primary was most suspected.

 

The guard turned sharply as we entered the main entryway to the palace, our presence now moving along the shadow walls that the columns created against the light of the torches. This wasn't the way usually taken… In fact, amid dividing my attention between pain and the new surroundings, I had no idea where the hell we were going.

 

The guard turned down into a narrow hallway and followed it, all the while tugging me along like a rag doll. I was so caught up on our path that I didn't even notice that he had come to a stop before a large chamber door. He growled low, spitting out a saiyan-jin curse that I didn't quite catch. To my utter surprise, he let me go; his arm slid away and he moved to stand against the far wall. The loss of contact brought forth how much I depended on the guard and the momentum he had kept up. I hissed painfully as my knees threatened to buckle and the pain flared up. This wasn't measuring up to be a promising situation…

 

The door suddenly opened, moving easily as if it truly didn't way a hundred pounds, or so I suspected. I glanced at the guard and noticed the smirk on his face, my stomach churning with unease.

 

“Pan, so glad you could come.”

 

The voice was dripping with sarcasm and charm, a voice I had recently become accustomed to, but not like this. I turned to the figure that stood in the doorway, his hand beckoning me to come into the room. I placed a mask of indifference, the pain filling into the back of my mind reluctantly and giving way with every step I took. I truly hadn't expected this, but then again `father like son'? Isn't that how the phrase went?

 

 

There was nothing to do but stare at the walls. Grandpa had left, but not before promising not to mention my sudden consciousness. I didn't want to deal with the questions my parents no undoubtedly wanted to swamp me with.

 

I glanced down at the covers and bit down on my bottom lip. Sweeping the blanket back, I glanced at my body. There were no bandages or bruises, but when I pressed into an area there would be a lingering feeling of pain. Yet, it didn't make any sense… I could understand if this happened after sparing or training, but now…

 

“It's like the twilight zone…” I muttered as I leaned back against the headboard. With the dreams and unusual bodily motions, I think I would be a perfect specimen for any psychologist.

 

I sighed and closed my eyes, relaxing as much as I could given the situation. After all, who knew when I could be alone again.

 

How are your injuries?

 

My eyes shot open, “Trunks?” Glancing around the room I found myself alone. Yet, just now I could have sworn I had heard his voice.

 

You didn't summon me just to ask that did you?

 

I gasped, my hand coming up to my throat. That voice… It was mine, but I didn't say anything.

 

Clever girl, yet is anything less to be expected from you Pan?

 

Once again Trunks's voice filled my ears, but he wasn't here…. What is going on? Am I becoming schizophrenic with little voices in my head??

 

A compliment? My, my, aren't you a charmer.

 

Yet, that didn't make sense either. If it were true, then shouldn't all the voices be a variation of my own. I could distinctly hear Trunks voice, but it was strange. It felt like telepathy, something only my grandfather was truly experienced with. I closed my eyes again, trying to block out the voices. However, instead of being greeted with darkness, my vision warped behind my eyelids taking on a crimson hue as different objects begin to be given shape and form.

 

Well, I am a prince.

 

A smirk perhaps, not derived from mischief or an inside joke… It seemed almost devilish, alluding to an ulterior motive. Yet the face, it was obscured. My eyes shifted spotting a fireplace, each crackle heard as if I was in the room. Yet I couldn't touch anything or see my own body. It was if it was all a dream, yet I feared I wasn't asleep.

 

Ah, I see. The apple does not fall far from the tree perhaps?

 

It was another voice, the one I thought had been my own. The woman was seated in a chair, one arm draped across her lap. Her hand seemed fastened over her side, the dark crimson stain beneath her fingers giving way to the cause. A snarl drew away my attention. The man seemed irritated with the woman, and he turned away to paced over to another room, which was only separated by a small partition that reached halfway across the entryway.

 

Why do you tirelessly try to create a comparison?

 

The sound of liquid being poured could be heard and soon the man reappeared with two filled glasses. He stopped before the woman, holding out a glass. He lifted a brow as she gazed at in an unsure manner.

 

It's not poisoned…

 

Yet he smirked, seemingly enjoying her discomfort. She smiled, the act appearing false as she took the glass and swiveled the liquor. It was the color of blood, but was probably wine. Then again it was my hope that thought of it as wine.

 

How kind of you. I don't usually get to enjoy a nightcap.

 

The man chuckled, taking his own reclining position in a chair opposite. He took a small sip, letting the glass rest in his palm. He glanced into the fire, his attire becoming more apparent. Something casual, a shirt that hung slightly open with dark pants that blended into the fuzzy edges of my mind. His eyes peeked out between dark black strands, yet with each crackle there was a hint of purple. The tint held such a dark hue, I wasn't entirely sure if it had actually been there at all…

 

A toast to a rather interesting defeat… Or rather to a victory, if my father hadn't interfered.

 

She swiveled the liquor again and lifted it to her nose to smell the pungent musk. A smile dawned her lips as she shifted slightly, the pain hidden in her eyes belied her calm demeanor.

 

Perhaps… It was quite a surprise. Apparently your father thought so too. One of Kakarrotto's army?

 

A low chuckle and another sip of wine, his face conveying he knew something.

 

 

Yes, and no. Those that you fought were… He paused, his smirk growing. One of his weakest warriors…

 

The woman frowned and looked away as confusion filtered onto her face.

 

Then why the blatant display of anger? Your father isn't the type to do such a thing. She stared into the glass and smiled, taking a hesitant sip. Then again if you chose to reflect upon on his selective past, it may contradict it. Perhaps that is the reason for upheaval, or does this run too close to home?

 

What was she talking about? They both spoke in riddles, as if something terrible would happen if they spoke directly. A snarl drew my attention back from my thoughts; he stood up from his chair and stalked over to the heath.

 

Rumors and stories that you all entertain.

 

The woman's smile widened.

 

Perhaps, although you are acting odd, now that I have mentioned it.

 

He swung the glass up and finished his drink; staring at it for a moment as his tongue ran over his bottom lip. I almost expected him to throw it into the fire, since his eyes reflected such anger. Instead he placed it down on top of the mantle, his hand coming up to run down his face. He sighed and turned abruptly to look at the woman, his chest rising a bit faster.

 

You like to think that you know, but in actuality your information comes from cellmates and random conversations from the guards.

 

She smiled, her head cocking to the side as she surveyed his body.

 

Yes, but you haven't denied what I said.

 

He laughed at this, taking a step forward. There was a slight swagger to his step, although it couldn't be attributed to the liquor. After all he had only had one glass.

 

No I haven't. He let his head fall back, his eyes closing as he sniffed the air.

 

What the hell was he doing? The woman seemed taken back by his actions, her eyes narrowing as she shifted in her seat. Her hand flexed, the blood sticking to her finger. It was then that her eyes widened, like she suddenly realized something. She cursed under her breath and moved to get up. What was wrong?

 

If his `highness' is quite done, I rather return to the cell barracks.

 

She turned away, but the man took a few steps and grabbed onto her wrist. She looked back, panic flashing onto her face. He pulled her around forcefully, one hand drifting up by her waist. She gasped as he slid a finger against her bandaged side, bringing it between them he placed his finger against his lips. I didn't understand his actions, but apparently she did.

 

His tongue snaked out and wrapped around his finger, his face showing satisfaction. What the hell…

 

He dropped his arm, allowing it curl around her waist.

 

Daring to take what your father claims to own.

 

Her voice was shaking slightly, but he didn't seem to notice.

 

My father owns nothing, although he has convinced himself otherwise.

 

Just as he jerked her body closer, I felt mine convulse. I tried to breathe and found myself unable to. There was a faint call, like a whisper about me. Yet, all I could concentrate on was getting more air, which suddenly seemed in short supply.

 

“Pan!”

 

My eyes snapped open, my chest heaving as if I was hyperventilating. I squinted against the light, remembering it was darker before. My eyes searched for the owner of the voice and I gasped as I locked eyes with them. This truly was unexpected.

 

 

I found myself in a rather compromising position. Yet, what was strange is that there was no savage lust despite his choice of actions in depositing me on the bed. His grip was soft and his teeth only made small nips instead of the painful bites of his father. I could understand his behavior. Stupidly enough I had forgotten about the fact that I was bleeding. The smell of which in and of itself is a aphrodisiac.

 

Usually, I would follow a routine with his father. I would be discreet enough where it appeared mutual, but in my mind it was simply a mechanical response to what he wanted.

 

I moaned his name as he trailed kisses over my body. His hand flittered down my body, resting on the bandage of my side. I stiffened, wondering what he would do. He noticed this and came up, seeking my mouth in another kiss. Another difference. The prince was sweet and gentle, coaxing me to respond, while Vegeta would leave my lips raw and swollen.

 

I suddenly felt a warmth race into my body. Trunks broke contact and I glanced down in between our bodies. His hand laid against my side still, yet it glowed lightly. He was healing me? Another bout of ki entered my body and I sighed as the pain completely vanished.

 

Even though I was grateful, I could comprehend why he would do such a thing. I stared back at him, noting the look of drunken lust and a smile that spoke of no ill will. His hand came up and I flinched slightly as he brought it to the side of my face. Yet, he didn't pull away or show any anger, instead he went ahead and placed his palm on my cheek. He stared at his own hand as he cupped my face. I didn't understand why he was doing this. For a saiyan-jin male this was the strangest behavior I had ever witnessed. Then again, having Vegeta, the guards and a few cells mates wasn't much to compare to.

 

I started to say his name when he dragged his hand over to silence me. He began to caress my face, studying every line and angle. I watched him, not entirely sure what I was suppose to do. Did he wish for me to do the same or something else? He glanced up and our eyes locked, and he just held me there in a staring match.

 

“Qabang…” He whispered giving me a small kiss on the forehead.

 

I had only heard that word once, when Miroshu was telling me about his mate. To be more accurate his fiancé, thanks to King Vegeta they never got the chance to be mates. The word itself sounded gruff and yet it meant something endearing. The saiyan-jin language would never cease to puzzle me.

 

He settled above me, wrapping his arms around me as he buried his head in my hair. The guards had dumped buckets of freezing water over me, saying I smelled like `a filthy Curdasian'. It washed away most of the blood and grime, something I usually never paid any attention to. After all, it wasn't like I lived in pristine living conditions. Yet, at this moment, I was glad for it.

 

He shifted again, pulling himself up and sat back on his knees. He sighed and buried his face in his hands, chuckling lightly. I raised a brow as I watched him. He slipped off the bed then and went back into the other room. I pushed myself up and tucked my legs in, wondering what the hell had just happened. It wasn't as if I wasn't unhappy that for once someone had decided to walk away, but it was… odd.

 

He came back, the wine glass in his hand again. He walked to a cabinet and retrieved a bottle and poured himself another glass. Sipping it slowly, he looked over at me and walked back over to the bed. Yet he sat away from me, his form leaning back against the headboard.

 

“You can go…”

 

That was it. Three simple words and he took another sip of his wine. I stared wide-eyes at him, wondering if he was joking or not. Vegeta had pulled something like this once, just to see if I would try and leave. Which I stupidly enough had, and earned a wealth of repercussions for, so I sat there and didn't move. He glanced back at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as if the sight of me annoyed him.

 

“Nadevvo' yighos!”

 

I jumped slightly at the words. Taking his use of saiyan-jin as a sign of complete seriousness, I quickly slipped off the bed. I glanced back and found him staring off into the other direction. It wouldn't be wise to dawdle, so I quickly walked over to his chamber doors and let myself out. I leaned my head against the closed doors, trying to replay everything that had happened. What was the Prince trying to achieve by all that? What was the purpose? The royal family always had ulterior motives.

 

“That quick huh?”

 

I jerked my head back to see the same guard that had originally dragged me here. I chose not to answer him and he snorted in amusement. He grabbed my arm again and hauled me back to the barracks. I didn't protest this time. I didn't truly care as long I didn't go to Vegeta's chambers.

 

I wondered for a moment whether Vegeta would care or not that I had been with his son. Albeit, nothing happened, I wondered if there would be a consequences because of this. The Prince apparently didn't care what Vegeta thought, but my survival depended on that bastard being in high spirits.

 

My body jerked again and I felt myself be thrusted forward into the darkness of my cell. I hit the floor and was grateful that my wound was healed. The door closed and I pushed myself up. The others moved away, apparently surprised that I could move on my own since when I had left Miroshu had to watch out for me.

 

MIROSHU!

 

I scanned the cell, my senses panning out as I searched for his ki. Yet I couldn't find him anywhere. I grabbed one of the men in my cell and slammed his form against the wall, “Where the hell is Miroshu?”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” He cried out and tried to squirm out of my grip.

 

A growl reverberated in my throat, “You better tell me where they took him, or God help me I will tear out your intestines and wring them around your neck till you die of suffocation.”

 

He snorted, seemingly not taking my threat seriously. I allowed a smirk to fall on my lips as my power flashed, “The guards won't even hear you scream.” I placed a hand just below his ribs and pressed into the area with the tips of my fingers. “Care to test it and see if I'm bluffing?”

 

He swallowed nervously, “I don't know who you're tal-“

 

“Miroshu! The man that was with me, before I was hauled out of here!”

 

The man gasped in pain as I slammed his body into the wall again, his hands coming up as a sign of surrender.

 

“Alright, alright! The guards beat him around for a while and then dragged him out of here. I don't know anything else.”

 

I locked our eyes, scrutinizing his words. Did he have anything to gain by lying? The guards never cut deals, that was beneath them.

 

“I'm not lying!” He cried.

 

“No, I guess you're not.” I let him go and he fell to the ground. I walked away and settled down against the far wall. After that little incident, the other men had given me a wide birth and I was glad. My mind went back to Miroshu and I cursed silently to myself. They'd recognize him as a member of my team. They wouldn't kill him, after all none of them wished to piss off the King.

 

I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. I'd see him tomorrow, laughing in disbelief about my night with the Prince. They wouldn't kill him. I just kept repeating that phrase as worry slowly started to consume me.

 

 

Crossing my arms, I continued the stare off. Neither of us had said anything yet and I wouldn't be the one to break the silence; rather that was what I told myself ten minutes ago, now the silence between us was starting to ware on my nerves.

 

I sighed and shifted under my covers. She looked away and wrung her fingers together, her legs swinging slightly under her chair.

 

“Is there a reason that you're down here?” I couldn't help the contempt in my voice, she seemed to be the catalyst for the current events.

 

Her head swing back at the comment, her eyes narrowing. “So now you're going to blame me for everything that's happened to you.”

 

“If the shoe fits, besides I'm not the one that came all the way down here to just sit in a chair and say nothing.”

 

She scoffed and bent forward slightly, gripping both sides of her seat to brace herself. “I can't be concerned for my friend?”

 

“A friend…” I chuckled lightly, “Do I have to remind you that you jumped my boyfriend?”

 

Bura's mouth fell open, but she quickly recovered and snapped it shut with her lips in a thin line, “How dare you. After all the spouting of `I wish I could break up with him'.”

 

“I was depressed; I was just taking it out on him.” I defended.

 

“Really? How convenient for you.” She rolled her eyes, “You were looking for a way out and I gave it to you.”

 

“No, what you did was take advantage of what I said. I never gave you permission to do what you did.” My voice rose an octave.

 

“How dare you!” She cried causing me to flinched. “Your permission?! That would have made it ok?!”

 

“Does it make any difference now?”

 

“Then why the hell bring it up?!” She cried again as she stood up and paced about the room. “Mikhail obviously doesn't care about me and had nothing to do with what happened.”

 

I could remember his shock and the pain of guilt when he saw me open the door.

 

“So what? Are you willing to throw away 21 years of friendship for this?” She said and looked at me in disbelief.

 

“I never said that.”

 

“Then what Pan?” She asked as she ran a hand down her face. “What do you want from me? An apology?” I didn't answer and she sat down, burying her face in her hands. “Fine then, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for kissing Mikhail.”

 

“You-“ I blew out a breath of air in frustration, my hands gripping the comfort. “You don't have to Bura. I just, I don't know.”

 

She glanced at me and settled back in her chair, allowing her head to fall back, “Pan… What's going on?”

 

“That's just it, I don't know. I don't understand why any of this is happening.” I stared at the comforter, kneading the material with my thumb. “It scares me. That I don't understand, that I don't know anything. I mean I should, it's my body…”

 

“Pan,” Bura shifted. “Do you mind that I'm here, cause if-“

 

“No, it's ok Bura.” I moved down the bed and pulled the covers up to my shoulders. “I don't mind.”

 

She didn't say anymore and I was glad for it. Talking about that certain subject wasn't on top of my `things to do' list. Actually, I wanted to tell her to leave, but I didn't feel it was the right thing to do. The only person whose presence didn't set me into a paranoid mode was my grandfather. Who knew where he was at the moment, probably trying to take out his frustrations in the gravity chamber. I smiled, pulling the blanket tighter around me. At least there was one constant in my life.

 

 

akashu - endearment

 

Pataq - jerk/asshole (depends on tone)

 

Qustah nuq jay - What the hell is going on?

 

Qabang - An endearment

 

Nadevvo' yighos - Go away!

 

Trying to create some parallelism in this, if any of you noticed. I think I know just about what is gonna happen in the next chapter, but while that is being jotted down I will be working on Origins, since it's due for another chapter. Taking on 4 writing/reading intensive courses this semester, so I can't say when to expect the next update. I'll try to get it out as soon as I can.

 

Oh and the saiyan-jin language wasn't made up by me just typing random letters on the computer; it's from an `actual' language. Well, all of it except akashu, I did make that one up. ^_^ Can anyone guess what language it really is?

 

 

 

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