Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Two Sides to a Story ❯ Gohan's Lesson ( Chapter 10 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Two Sides To A Story
Chapter Ten


Vegeta driving?

When the Ox King confessed that revelation, the assembled Z
Fighters broke out of their collective rumination to reflect on the
events of the last hour.

"I shouldn't have been able to take him down so easily," Yamcha
muttered distinctly. It was a damning confession to admit out loud.
There was always a part of him that had a rivaling jealousy where the
feisty Saiyan was concerned. A small part was the competitive nature of
his own personality; to always look for that next great battle. The
true reason, he knew, was losing the love of his life to an alien who
had only ever displayed villainous attributes. That Bulma would have
chosen Vegeta over him was still not something his ego could easily
shake. "There was something wrong with him."

Tien grunted and looked away. "The attitude or the hair?"

"Both," Krillin piped up. "When Vegeta dropped out of his Super
Saiyan form, he didn't even recognize me. I don't even think he knew
where he was."

"No more poisons. No more prisons," Yamcha mused. "That was what
he was yelling when I tackled him in the hallway. What the hell did he
mean by that?"

Nobody had an immediate answer that wasn't pure speculation.
Stroking his chin, Krillin glanced at Chi Chi's father who was standing
quietly off to the side. "What color was the jeep that Vegeta was
driving?"

"Uhmmmm…" The huge man glanced up at the ceiling tiles as he
collected his thoughts. What pitifully few he actually had, anyway.
"Dark green, I think. Yeah! Reminded me of the forest on a cloudy day.
Pretty, shiny wheels, too."

"Krillin, what are you going to do?" Tien asked him suspiciously.

The small man didn't answer as he left the waiting area and
walked over to the private room where Trunks had been moved. The door
was open a crack and he was able to hear snatches of a hushed
conversation between Bulma and Chi Chi.

"-said that he want's to be left alone-"

"You saw him! There's something wrong, 'Chi. He's sick."

"He severed his own wrist, what do you expect? He was probably
dizzy from the blood loss, that's all."

Taking a deep breath, Krillin collected his nerve and walked into
the room. The brunette was clearly exasperated with Bulma who was
leaning over the baby and appearing on the verge of tears. Both women
looked up at his entrance.

"If you're going to talk, keep your voice down. The baby just
went to sleep," Chi Chi snapped at him.

Swallowing nervously, Krillin turned to Bulma and said, "The Ox
King told us that Vegeta left the hospital in a jeep-"

"-He was driving?" Bulma asked in disbelief. She knew that the
Saiyan had a curiosity towards technology that was almost a compulsive
obsession, but he had never betrayed any interest in a vehicle that
wasn't spaceworthy before. "Krillin, do you know where he went?"

"Actually, that's why I'm here," he said reluctantly.

>>>>>

Gohan or Piccolo would have been the more logical choices for
this goosechase, Krillin reflected as he flew over the Western Capital.
Unfortunately, the boy had chased after his mentor when Vegeta had
exited the hospital, to call off the Namek's search. He wished that he
had Gokou's telepathy to tell them to continue in the effort. Looking
for a dark green jeep in the sprawling metropolis of the Capital was
the proverbial needle in the haystack. The only thing going for him was
the general rarity of Vegeta's choice of transportation. Virtually all
vehicles in the Capital were hovercars in yellow or other garish
colors. It should be relatively easy to spot something dark with chrome
wheels.

After his third hour of fruitless searching, Krillin began to
doubt the logic. He had started with the outgoing highways and did
spirals above the city that gradually tightened up until he was roaming
the actual streets, his keen vision tracking the heavy flow of traffic.
The part of his mind that was responsive to the ki of others was open
but he hadn't felt so much as a flicker from the Saiyan. He wasn't sure
what to make of that. There was always a constant power signature that
enshrouded Vegeta, whether he was empowered with ki or at ease. His
aura was usually similar to the heavy air felt just before a severe
thunderstorm. Krillin knew the sensation intimately and would have
recognized it without hesitation, but right now he was drawing a blank.
It seemed that Bulma's worry was contagious.

Quite by chance, he skimmed past a motel that was close to the
hospital and actually slapped his forehead in exasperation. Parked in
front of one of the units was precisely the dark green jeep that he had
been searching for all along. He landed beside it and walked around the
back to take note of the license plate number, frowning at the city of
origin.

Senses straining for any hint of the Saiyan's presence, Krillin
was still drawing a blank and looked into the motel room's window. The
curtains were open and he could see someone on the bed wrapped up in
the bedspread. The figure was an indistinguishable lump and again, the
diminutive fighter was plagued with doubt. Cautiously, he tried the
doorknob and found it unlocked. Taking a deep breath, he let himself
inside.

I must have a deathwish, he thought morbidly as he approached the
bed on his tiptoes. His features were set into a terrified rictus as he
looked around the room for any sign of something familiar. If I'm in
the wrong room, I hope it's some ditz like Marron so that I can charm
my way back out without any hassle.

All doubts were suspended the instant he caught sight of short
spikes of hair against the pillow. Leaning in for a closer look, he
could see one thick eyebrow above the coverslip the Saiyan had pulled
over himself.

"Veh-" Krillin's voice came out as a soundless croak and he
gamely tried again. "…Vegeta?"

There was no reaction. He should have taken his leave right then
and there; after all, he had accomplished what he had set out to do.
Quite inexplicably, an odd sense of concern flooded him and he chose to
linger. The last time he had seen the brash prince display any kind of
weakness had been back on Namek. Vegeta had outfitted them in combat
gear prior to Frieza's arrival but Krillin and Gohan noticed that he
had been battling exhaustion, and not able to successfully conceal it
from them. Typically, he had a mindset to press on until he literally
collapsed and it appeared that this time was one of them. When Krillin
dared to raise his ki, Vegeta continued his deep slumber, unresponsive.

Not good, the small fighter concluded when he exited the motel
room as silently as he had come in. No, that wasn't a good sign AT ALL.

>>>>>

"What am I going to do?" Bulma whispered under her breath as she
stood at the window looking out into the darkness. Trunks had been
brought back home a little over an hour ago. He had consumed an
enormous pile of food, practically his entire body weight and reverted
back to his pleasant, if obstinate, self again. Right now, he was
sleeping away in his crib behind her as if the events of the last four
days had never happened, his little face even had a hint of a contented
smile. As tired as she was, Bulma knew that sleep would be impossible
for her. Every time she looked at the infant, she saw Vegeta's
bewildered, bloody face.

"No more poisons. No more prisons," he had said. Oh dear Dende,
what had happened to him? The arrogance at the hospital had been
typical but when she replayed the confrontation over in her mind, she
saw telltale cracks in his demeanor. Too stunned by his words to chase
after him, she regretted the opportunity once it had passed. Krillin's
revelation that the Saiyan was driving was a gift she could not ignore.
It meant that Vegeta was still relatively close, perhaps still in the
city limits.

Despite his own fear of the Saiyan, Krillin had offered to search
and Bulma practically leapt on the opportunity over Chi Chi's
objections. She had become quite skilled at ignoring the brunette's
constant criticism of Vegeta, but her tolerance was becoming strained.

"I just want a license plate number, Krillin," she told her
friend. "If you don't have to talk to him, then don't. Give him his
space for now-"

"Why on Earth are you doing this, Bulma?!" Chi Chi snapped in a
harsh voice. Responding to her aggression on some unconscious level,
Trunks cringed from the voice and whimpered forlornly in his sleep.
That alone was the final straw for the sea-foam haired beauty. "The
father of MY child isn't dead, Chi Chi. Just because Gokou is lost to
you doesn't mean I have to lose Vegeta, too." As the woman stammered
out a response, Bulma took advantage of the silence and trained her
azure gaze on Krillin. "Go find him. Please."

In her hand, she held a crumpled piece of paper with numbers
scrawled on it, as well as some other information. Not satisfied with
just the license number, Krillin had talked with the motel manager.
Vegeta had apparently assumed the identity of an army Corporal named
Garth Tucker. He had paid for the room using the soldier's credit card
and even signed the register with the same name.

None of it made any sense. How had Vegeta managed to slip into
the identity of another person without calling attention to himself?
She peered at the paper until her eyes ached, trying to sort out what
it all meant. Engineering and technology were her strengths, not
detective work. She was out of her league trying to figure all of this
out on her own.

As she stepped away from the window, she caught sight of a
vehicle turn its headlights on and pull away from the curb where it had
been parked. Bulma didn't think anything of it until she was walking
down the hallway and heard a whisper sweep through her mind. Her arms
crawled with responsive gooseflesh at the immediate familiarity of the
raspy voice.

…you win… Vegeta told her, the intent shrouded with grief and
unspent tears. There was more, but it faded with the distance as the
Saiyan drove away from Capsule Corporation leaving behind only a void.

She ran back into the nursery and looked urgently out of the
window but she was too late. The vehicle was already out of sight.

>>>>>

Her resolve restored, Bulma went into her office and called the
number of a private investigator that the company had on the payroll.
Faxing the scant details of what Krillin had provided her, she urged
the man to gather what information he could and to hurry. When she hung
up the phone, she stared disgustedly at the mounds of paperwork that
were piled on her desk. Staci, her secretary, had seen fit to
haphazardly place documents in untidy mounds on any available bare
surface without even bothering to sort through them. With a sigh, Bulma
began the task of delegating priorities amid the clutter.

Her garbage can was filled to the brim by the second hour and she
was only half finished when she suddenly pulled out a manila envelope.
The blood in her veins immediately dropped ten degrees. No return
address, only her own, typed in nondescript block letters. With a sense
of foreboding, she ripped it open with trembling fingers and pulled out
two photographs. The first was another copy of the one she had received
before- as if that one hadn't caught her attention. The second was of
Trunks taken with a telephoto lens when she'd had the baby out on the
lawn for an afternoon picnic only a few weeks ago. The sense of
violation that swamped her was indescribable. Through indignant tears,
she barely made out the message written over the infant's face;

I think it's time we discussed paternity, don't you?

There was a date and an address and a deliberate caution; Come
alone. Slamming her fist down on the desk, Bulma released a string of
bitter curses that would have made even Vegeta blanch in surprise.
After that, she grabbed the phone. "Darren? There's something else I
want you to do for me…"

>>>>>

Pulling into a parking spot in front of the school, Chi Chi held
her swollen stomach as she laboriously exited the vehicle and rubbed
her sore back when she straightened. "Damn you, Gokou," she swore, not
for the first time and certainly not for the last. It was a litany that
became more frequent as her pregnancy progressed. Right now, the baby
was doing cartwheels in the womb and the last thing she wanted to do
was travel. The crisis with Trunks had been two days ago and she had
only started settling back into the family routine. Gohan had forgotten
his lunch and Chi Chi had not given him any money for the cafeteria. A
growing boy intent on his studies needed proper nourishment.

Carrying an enormous paper sack filled with sandwiches, she went
up the stairs that led into the large building, stepping around several
youths lounging on the steps. "Don't any of you have classes to
attend?" she asked churlishly.

"You a teacher?" a young boy shot back.

"I'm Gohan Son's mother!"

The city school catered to over two thousand students and names
became indistinguishable in favor of faces and specific cliques. One of
the girls took note of Chi Chi's peasant attire and sniggered. "I bet
she's Bumpkin's mom."

"Bumpkin! No shit!" Several of the boys broke out laughing. "That
little wussy in Kipfer's sixth grade class?"

Chi Chi recognized the name of Gohan's homeroom teacher but
dismissed the rest. There was no possible way that these rude little
upstarts could be badmouthing her precious boy. They had to be mocking
some other unfortunate child. "School is in session. You should be in
class," she said, breaking into their cruel amusement.

"Says who?" One of the boys challenged.

A malevolent red aura enfolded the brunette's form. "!!ME!!" She
shrieked at them, raising one fist and the children practically
clambered over one another in their haste to run back into the
building.

Breathing heavily, Chi Chi rubbed her stomach, trying to soothe
the babe who was reacting to the tension and kicking urgently in its
distress. "It's okay, everything's alright. Mommy just lost her temper
there for a minute. Disrespectful little brats…" It was another
reminder that this city was not the life for her. The people in the
Capital were sophisticated, rushed and downright rude, right down to
their children. If she weren't in such financial straights, she
wouldn't even be here but Bulma's invitation to come and live with her
could not have been turned down. If only for her child's sake-

My children's sake, she corrected herself. They deserved the best
and stability and education were at the top of her priorities for them.
Right now, her present situation would have to suffice until she could
figure out a way to return to the country. As she entered the school,
she reflected that things should have been improving in hers and
Gohan's life but if anything, it was only growing more complicated. The
boy was becoming moody and actually starting to challenge her on her
normally strict decisions. He wasn't sleeping well and more than once
she had caught him in the living room watching a late night movie
despite a strict bedtime curfew of nine o'clock. Early one morning she
had even caught him doing laundry. Chi Chi didn't know what to make of
his odd behavior and was growing frustrated with each clash of wills.

Turning down a corridor, she approached the closed door of
Gohan's classroom and knocked on the door. The teacher's muted voice on
the other side immediately stilled and Ms. Kipfer opened the door a
crack to look at her. "Yes?"

"I'm Gohan Son's mother. I've come to bring him his lunch," Chi
Chi offered the woman the bag, but for some reason the teacher stepped
outside with her.

"Gohan isn't here," the redhead informed her in a low voice.
Behind the closed door, both women could hear the curious hushes of
conversation among the students. "He didn't show up for class this
morning-" The teacher hesitated at the sight of the livid blush that
suffused the other woman's face. "I, uhm, take it that you didn't know.
I should have called."

"I saw to it that he left this morning," Chi Chi said from
between clenched teeth. "I don't believe it. He's playing hooky!"

"Mrs. Son, please keep your voice down-"

"Bumpkin!" A child in the classroom shouted out and the rest of
the students erupted into peals of shrill laughter. Ms. Kipfer opened
the door to flash them a warning glare and when she turned back, Chi
Chi was stalking back down the corridor, angrily talking to herself.

The teacher debated calling her back but word had already spread
among the faculty of the Son woman's caustic personality. There was no
need to give the children of her homeroom more ammunition to use
against Gohan than they already had. A quiet and unassuming boy, he was
already being teased as a teacher's pet and the fact that he was a
grade behind made him a convenient target among the other students.
Perhaps Ms. Kipfer was guilty of a little favoritism but her heart went
out to the boy who was from an obviously poor family and whose father
had died in the spring. There was no sense to try and explain that to
the rest of Gohan's peers: Children were cruel. Taking a deep breath,
the woman returned to her homeroom.

>>>>>

At precisely the same moment, Gohan was sitting outside of
Bulma's office waiting for the Heiress to get out of a staff meeting.
He was fidgeting in the seat and trying to curb his anxiety by rifling
through the available magazines. It didn't help. He was a bundle of
nerves for a variety of reasons, first and foremost was the knowledge
that he had skipped school for the first time in his entire life. The
consequences if his mother found out would be brutal but what had
happened in bed last night had been the final straw. There was nobody
else he could turn to with the exception of possibly one person. It was
a longshot but it was a gamble that he was desperate to try.

As he waited, a middle-aged man in a lab coat wandered by the
secretary's desk. "Hey Staci, is Bulma out of the meeting yet?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Not yet, Charles. I told you before
that I'd page you, didn't I?"

"It might have slipped your mind, sweetness," the man drawled. He
was about to turn around and head back when he glanced at Gohan. All of
a sudden, he did a comical double take. "You! I know you!"

Gohan looked guiltily around. Registering that there was no one
else who could possibly be the focus of the man's attention, he
squeaked out: "Me?"

"I never forget a face," Charles remarked, closing in and
squinting at him. Making a circle with his index finger and thumb, he
examined the boy's features. "Yeah… yeah! I see it now! You're the
blond kid who took out Cell, aren't you?"

"Well… it wasn't just me-"

"I knew it!" The man roared, causing the secretary to jump in her
seat and spill her coffee. Searching the pockets of his coat, he pulled
out a day planner and a pen. "Can I get your autograph?"

Blushing clear down to his toes, Gohan signed a blank page for
the man. "Like I was saying, mister, uhm…"

"Just call me Charles. Everybody does."

"…they call you asshole, too…" Staci muttered distinctly as she
blotted out the coffee stains on her skirt with a napkin.

Ignoring her with difficulty, Gohan continued, "I just meant to
say that there were a lot of others there helping me, that's all."

"Yeah, I watched it all on the television. Until the reception
went tits-up, anyway. Vegeta was the first one to show up. I was really
rooting for him, no offense."

"You know Vegeta?" The boy asked in surprise.

"Know him?" The constant grin on the man's face stretched to
almost impossible proportions. "That sonovabitch provided job security
for me and my staff for the next five years! He was one hell of a
gifted engineer, let me tell you."

"We can't be talking about the same person-"

"-Tanned, spiky-haired, hot-tempered, mean little prick," Charles
said without malice. He burst out laughing at the shocked expression on
the boy's innocent face. "He didn't work here long, just enough to
shake things up. Truth be told, we'd been running out of ways to
exploit the Hoi Poi Capsules and really needed to diversify our product
line. Your pal sure did that! I still say that's why old man Briefs
fired him. Couldn't stand any new blood coming in and showing him up.
Now THAT was one bad month, let me tell you-"

"You've lost me," Gohan finally managed to get in. "When did all
of this happen?"

"Three years ago," Charles said, taking a seat beside him. In his
usual exorbitant manner, the scientist explained how Vegeta had briefly
worked for Capsule Corp in exchange for staying there and using the
facilities to train. He had provided the company invaluable schematics
that were still being studied in the Research and Development lab. When
he was fired for indeterminate reasons, Bulma had quit her position of
vice-chair and department head. She had even moved out of the
headquarters building in protest of the action. Rumors among the staff
speculated that the pair had run off to get married.

Gohan burst out laughing at that last part. He couldn't help it.
"I can set the story straight on that one. They didn't elope."

"Heh, too bad," Charles surprised him by saying. "I remember one
morning, the entire staff walked in on them and there they both were;
on the floor together. Bulma was straddling him and it looked like-
Well, you get the idea," the man finished quickly as the boy's
embarrassed flush came back deeper than before. "It's a shame that it
didn't work out. They were a unique pair. Equally matched in spirit and
intelligence. It's not often you find two people like that."

"No, it sure isn't."

"Trunks, though… He IS their son, isn't he?"

Lost in thought, Gohan betrayed a simple nod before it dawned on
him that Bulma wanted to keep the issue private. He almost groaned
aloud for his stupidity.

"I thought so. Mr. Satan's love child, my ass. The boy is the
spitting image of his father, minus the hair and eye-color, of course.
I'm glad to know that for sure."

"Listen, mister- Charles, I don't think Bulma wants anyone to
know-"

"Relax, like I said, it's no surprise to me. Hell, most of the
staff has figured it out but Bulma's the boss. If she wants to keep it
a secret that's fine with-" There was a shrill beep that came from the
scientist's pocket and he pulled out a pager and read the tiny display.
Jumping to his feet, he turned to Gohan. "Looks like I'm back on the
clock. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"Same here," Gohan offered. Scarcely before the words were out,
the man was rushing down the corridor, talking into a cellphone and
gesturing wildly. The boy released a pent up breath at the sudden
silence and he wasn't the only one. The secretary gave up trying to
clean her skirt and got to her feet. "That Charles McNeal may be
brilliant but he's too damned hyper from caffeine. I'm going to try and
get this stain out. I'll be right back if anyone asks."

"Sure," Gohan said, watching the woman as she retreated to the
nearest bathroom. Leafing through a magazine to help pass the time, he
looked up to watch a deliveryman approaching the desk. The man
irritably looked around and then glowered at the nearest person within
sight. "Where's the secretary?" he asked Gohan.

"The washroom. She won't be long, she said."

"Yeah, right. Listen, kid, I'm late for my rounds and I'm not
waiting around. Tell her I've dropped this off and I'll be back later
for a signature, alright?"

"Sure, I guess. What is it?"

"Just some information on a guy that Ms. Briefs was tracking
down. Came from a private dick's office so I figure it's probably
personal. I'll just leave it on the desk, okay?"

Nodding, Gohan's attention was riveted on the envelope and he
barely registered it when the man left without another word. For
several minutes, the boy sat immobile in his seat, staring at the
documents that were lying on the desk. He didn't make a move until the
door to the woman's washroom started to open and he leapt from his
chair and snatched the envelope, traveling down the opposite corridor
in a blur.

Staci returned to her desk with a noticeable wet blotch on the
front of her skirt and reclaimed her seat. It actually took her awhile
before she noticed that the boy was no longer in the waiting area.
"Probably got bored," she muttered and went back to her typing.

>>>>>

In the Continent's Midwest region, an early snowstorm was bearing
down on Pitch, bringing the city to a crawl. The surly residents of the
city grumbled at the timing as they got their winter gear out of
closets and went into garages to retrieve shovels and snow blowers.
Only the ski resort operators were thrilled by the blizzard, as well as
one other person.

Walking along the snow-covered sidewalk towards his apartment,
Vegeta reveled the hush that fell over the city block as the storm
intensified. Raw displays of weather always called forth an affinity in
him; a similarity of untempered violence that refused to be tamed.
There had been times, when he was younger, when he would ride the
churning currents of storm clouds and dance with the lightening, having
the time of his life. Perhaps on some unconscious level, he had been
trying to become part of the storm and lose himself in the elemental
force that enjoyed being something he was not.

Free.

Now that he was, being a participant of the storm was an
impossibility for him. He had to be content with looking up into the
clouds and submerging his regret. Grasping his heavy coat closer around
him, he cast the windblown snow a longing glance and went inside his
building. He was carrying several bags of burgers from the fast food
restaurant around the corner and now all he wanted to do was get home,
crank up the heat and eat his meal in peace.

The instant he reached the landing of the forth floor, his
expectations went out the window at who he saw waiting for him outside
of his apartment. "I don't fucking believe it," he growled under his
breath.

Still wearing only clothes reserved for the West Coast, Gohan was
sitting beside the door. He got to his feet when he saw the outraged
Saiyan advancing. "Don't get angry, Vegeta. I just wanted to come and
visit-"

"Go play welcome wagon somewhere else!" Vegeta shouted. "How the
hell did you find me?"

"Bulma hired an investigator to track down your license plate
number. The address was on the registration." Gohan pulled the envelope
he had stolen from the secretary's desk out of the back pocket of his
trousers. With a livid snarl, Vegeta lunged in and snatched the papers
from the boy's hand before the youth could react.

Glaring at him, the Saiyan began frisking himself for his keys.
"I made it clear that I wanted to be left alone. Get lost, boy."

The picture of dejection, Gohan put his hands in his pockets and
shivered. "I'm really cold, Vegeta. Can I come inside and just warm up
for a minute? Please?"

"No," Vegeta responded. He unlocked the door, stepped inside and
slammed it shut on the boy's hopeful face.

With a huff, Gohan's lips tightened in irritation and he sat back
down in the drafty hallway outside the Saiyan's apartment. He was
determined to wait until next spring if that was what it took to talk
to the embittered alien. In terms of stubbornness, the boy could hold
his own if he had to, and that was precisely what he did right now. He
remained where he was for an indeterminate number of hours and realized
that he must have fallen asleep at some point in time. When he snapped
out of his restless doze, he saw Vegeta standing in the doorway with
his arms crossed, staring at him with an expression of exasperation.
"Tenacious little bastard, aren't you?"

"My parents were married," Gohan shot back as he stifled a yawn.
"How about yours?"

The deliberate sarcasm had the effect that Gohan hoped for. The
Saiyan betrayed a reluctant smirk and retreated into his apartment but
this time, the door was left open. Gratefully accepting the unspoken
invitation, the boy entered the blissful warmth and closed the door,
looking around curiously. He hadn't quite known what to expect to find
if he successfully made it inside; he had been too absorbed in the task
of just figuring out a way to get in. As ever, nothing about Vegeta was
ever what it seemed, and his apartment seemed to reflect that. What
surprised Gohan the most as he slowly made his way to the living room,
was the neatness of the apartment. Everything was in its place, nothing
was disturbed. He looked into the kitchen and plainly saw dishes that
had been washed the night before and left on the tray beside the sink
to drip-dry. The counters and floor were spotless.

Vegeta had reclaimed his spot on the sofa, seemingly ignoring him
as he watched the news on the large television screen that dominated
the far wall. Coming up behind him, Gohan continued to look at the
movie posters on the wall and the bric-a-brac on the various shelves.
There was a fine sheen of dust over these things which suggested that
the Saiyan's housekeeping abilities weren't perfect, but the boy was
still thunderstruck by what he had seen. Everything looked perfectly
normal. It wasn't a concept that was ever associated with Vegeta.

Casting the Saiyan a wary glance, he settled down on the other
end of the sofa, waiting for a reaction; a spike in ki, an explosive
outburst. He received neither. Encouraged, he leaned back into the soft
fabric and willed himself to relax, letting the room's heat lessen the
chill his long vigil had settled into his flesh. For a time, the pair
watched the TV in companionable silence until a commercial for a
chocolate bar came on and the boy's stomach released a loud growl.

Embarrassed, he dared to look over to the older Saiyan who was
scowling at him. "Sorry. I haven't eaten since breakfast."

Unexpectedly, Vegeta nudged the paper bag on the coffee table
towards the boy using his foot. It took a minute for the offering to
dawn on Gohan before he reached inside and pulled out a cheeseburger.
"…Thanks."

"Food is important to a Saiyan youth," Vegeta said gruffly.

"It sure is," Gohan managed to get out between mouthfuls. The
youth had better manners than his father ever had, at least in the
sense that he took the time to unwrap the food before inhaling it.
After five burgers, he appeared to be temporarily sated and the Saiyan
wordlessly offered him a can from the six-pack that was sitting between
them.

Gohan eyed the beverage dubiously. "Beer? Don't you have any pop
or juice or something?"

"Do I look like a concession stand to you? Take it or don't, see
if I give a shit."

Despite his better judgement, the boy didn't want to end whatever
odd truce they currently had between them. He took one of the cans and
popped the tab, taking a small, experimental sip. It really didn't
taste all that bad and he was amazed by how thirsty he really was. With
true Saiyan fervor, he upended the contents and downed the entire can
in one huge gulp. When he pulled it away, he released a belch that
almost rattled the windows.

Not looking away from the television, Vegeta handed him another
beer, his slight smirk widening when the boy took this one without
hesitation.

Obviously, it wasn't long before Gohan was sporting a nice,
mellow buzz. It was actually a welcome sensation. He had been a nervous
wreck for months and being near Vegeta at the best of times was always
a little unsettling. Gohan didn't fear him as much as Krillin did, but
he had a healthy respect for what the mercurial alien was capable of.
The beer helped take the edge off of that anxiety quite nicely.

As if sensing the change in the boy's disposition, Vegeta asked,
"Why are you here?"

"I need to ask you something."

"You didn't chance your mother's wrath to simply go sight-seeing.
What do you want?"

Gohan felt his tension start to return. Swallowing with
difficulty, he looked down at the floor and managed to get out,
"Vegeta… is it- is it normal for your body to… leak?"

The irritation in Vegeta's features transformed into confusion.

Starting to fidget in place, Gohan could feel his face burning
with shame but he forced himself on. "I couldn't talk to mom about
this. I mean, she's got problems of her own! I tried to explain it to
Piccolo but being a Namek he doesn't understand so I thought that maybe
Dende could heal me but he said I wasn't sick so I-I-I…"

"Boy, stop your babbling and get to the damned point! You're
making my head spin."

Compulsively, the young boy took a deep, fortifying drought from
his third can of beer. "The first time happened after the Cell games, I
really didn't think much of it. But lately it's been happening almost
every night! I'll wake up and I'm all sticky, y'know… down there-"

Vegeta's perpetual frown lessened with immediate understanding.

"-At first, I thought I was bleeding. Then I-I thought that I was
maybe wetting the bed but it's not- it isn't like-like-"

"Boy, it's normal."

Blinking with shock, Gohan whispered, "… it is?"

"You're shooting off while you're sleeping. Get used to it,"
Vegeta said shortly and turned back to the TV.

The Saiyan's casual dismissal of the topic was not something that
Gohan could have ever anticipated. He had thought he was dying or
afflicted with some strange disease like what his father had contracted
from Yardrat. It had been interfering with his concentration and his
studies and driving him practically mad with worry. "It's normal," he
repeated in a stunned voice.

"Yep," Vegeta confirmed as he popped open another can of beer.
Unknown to the boy, he was nursing a decent buzz of his own.

"… It happened to you?"

"When I was your age. You get dreams, you get hard, you get off.
It means you're growing up."

"It's gross. How do I stop it?"

Vegeta choked on a mouthful of beer and broke off coughing. He
turned to look at the boy in disbelief. "Stop it? Haven't you been
listening to me? You're becoming a man. You'll be getting stronger-"

"-I don't want to get any stronger!" Gohan suddenly yelled at
him. "What has all of this power gotten me? My father is dead! I'm a
grade behind in school! My mother is pregnant and we don't have any
money! I duh-don't know whu-what I'm going to do!" He broke into
shuddering sobs and took his face in his hands. The raw emotion had
been building up for months; some of it was delayed shock and grief
that still lingered from the Cell Games and even more from the stress
of his family situation. The rest was actually relief that he was
really okay.

Feeling awkward for the first time, despite the subject matter
involved, Vegeta shifted his weight and then reached out towards the
boy. His intention had been to poke the wailing youth in the shoulder
in an effort to get him to stop his bawling. Gohan only saw the
outstretched arm and pressed himself against the shocked alien, weeping
against Vegeta's chest in great braying sobs that shook his entire
body. Torn between confusion and disgust, the older Saiyan actually
tolerated the display of weakness until the torrent appeared to finally
be tapering off. Not unkindly, he pushed Gohan away and wiped at the
dampness on his sweater with an expression of distaste.

"I-I'm sorry," Gohan sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of
his sleeve. "It's just- It's been so long since I…"

"Your body is going through changes. It affects your emotions,"
Vegeta grumbled neutrally, unable to make eye contact.

"It's driving me nuts, Vegeta. How am I supposed to get any
sleep? I'm a nervous wreck!"

"Learn to jerk off."

"What does that mean?"

Vegeta gawked at him in disbelief. For a moment, he thought that
the boy was deliberately playing dumb until he realistically considered
Gohan's background; He had a shrew mother who was probably so frigid
that she screwed through a hole in the sheet. An idiot father who had
believed that marriage meant some exotic meal. He had been trained by
an asexual alien who, by the definition of his own breed, was
essentially a virgin. And he hung around a deformed midget who had been
a celibate monk for most of his life. Small wonder the boy was
horrified by what was going on with his own body. He needed a thorough
explanation and by some sick, twisted turn of fate, it appeared as if
Vegeta had been drafted for the job.

Releasing a sigh, Vegeta got to his feet and left the room
without so much as a word to the bewildered youth. A few minutes later,
he left the bedroom carrying a magazine and went into the kitchen to
retrieve another six-pack. Gohan watched him drink down two cans of
beer in rapid succession while he visibly collected his thoughts.

Finally, the Saiyan nodded to himself and returned to the living
room, sitting down near the confused boy. He opened the magazine he'd
brought to the centerfold and held it up in front of the stunned youth.
Gohan's face drained of color and his eyes bulged at the sight of that
moist slit between the model's parted legs. And that wasn't the only
part of him to bulge, either.

"It's just like any combat lesson but first thing's first;"
Vegeta said in as calm a voice as he could manage, given the
circumstances. He deliberately pointed to the nude woman in the
Penthouse he held. "Know your enemy."

>>>>>

Thirteen hundred kilometers away, Bulma was burrowing through the
paperwork on her secretary's once-immaculate desk, screaming; "Where is
it?" Standing off to the sidelines, Staci was trying to appear
invisible as her boss raged on. "I swear, Ms. Briefs. I didn't receive
any documents from Darren Fosters Investigations today. I would have
remembered!"

"Try harder!" Bulma snapped at her. "Did you leave your desk?
Could someone have taken it?"

"I don't-" Realization dawned on her face and she blinked at her
superior in confusion. "There was a boy here. I stepped out for a
minute to remove a stain from my skirt. When I came back, he was gone."

"A boy? Was it-"

"Gohan!" Called a piercing shriek and both woman whirled to
confront a seething Chi Chi who was marching down the corridor. "Is he
down here, Bulma?"

"Why? What's going on?" Bulma asked, entirely distracted by
recent events. Her investigator had called earlier, asking for her
opinion of the information he had managed to retrieve. After waiting
impatiently for the news, the sudden misplacing of the data was nerve-
wracking.

"Gohan's run away! Can you believe it?" Chi Chi fumed. "He
ditched school so I went to confront that green-skinned monster he's so
fond of. Piccolo hasn't seen him since the hospital two days ago and he
wouldn't dare lie to ME. Do you have any idea where he's gone, Bulma?
Bulma?!"

Barely hearing the words, Bulma ran a worried hand through her
hair. It was possible that Gohan had been sitting in the waiting area
when the documents from the investigation agency arrived. It was even
likely that he had taken them. He had known that she had been trying to
figure out where Vegeta had moved and made the necessary conclusions
when the papers were delivered. He was extraordinarily bright.
Moreover, he had been asking about Vegeta a lot lately, obviously
missing that male Saiyan presence that had been left behind ever since
his father had been killed. The boy might have been desperate enough to
steal the documents in order to finally track the lone alien down.
Normally, Bulma would have been unbothered if that was the only
information the envelope had contained.

However, the contents of the blackmailer's letters had been
included. Bulma had asked Darren Foster to have them scanned for
fingerprints and run them through the police files for a possible
match. Over the phone, the investigator had informed her that the only
fingerprints found on any of the photos had been hers. Unwittingly, she
had contaminated the evidence. The blackmailer's identity was still
unknown. The time, date and location of the meeting were currently in
Gohan's hands and he had taken them to Vegeta.

Even worse, that covert meeting was tomorrow.

--------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Eleven: Who will reach the blackmailer first? Bulma or Vegeta?