Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sleek sports car rolled to a stop alongside the curb. After a moment, the low rumble of the engine ceased, and the doors swung out and up. From each side one man exited, surveying their surroundings with a practiced eye.

The neighborhood was not one you would say had seen better days, because there had never been any. Building slumped into their foundations, exteriors crumbled to the point they might have been built that way. Trash littered the streets, except in the trash cans. The street light they parked under was the only one working for three blocks in either direction.

“I don’t see why I can’t drive,” the taller of the two complained. He wore a jacket and pants of matching sky-blue, a pastel orange v-necked shirt underneath. His clothes were crisp and neat, a contrast to the dark hair sticking in all directions atop his head.

“The last time you drove, you smashed 4 fruit carts, ran through three different panes of glass that were being carried, and nearly hit two baby strollers.” His partner was much shorter, dark hair rising in a uniform mass, like the end of a brush. He wore an outfit similar to his friend’s, but with a white jacket (sleeves rolled up to his elbows) and pants, the shirt robin’s egg blue. “And got your license revoked.”

“Oh yeah!” His friend laughed. “I forgot that! Good thing I don’t need a license for the speedboat, huh, Krillin?”

The shorter man chuckled. “Sure, Goku. Now come on.”

In perfect sync, they entered the nearest alley, Krillin stepping around stagnant pools of water, mindful of his designer shoes. It was somehow even darker than the streets, and barely wide enough for them to walk side-by-side. As they neared a dumpster, Goku’s nose wrinkled, eyes narrowing against the stench.

Krillin fished a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it over. Goku quickly pressed it over his nose. “Thanx, Krillun. Yer’re lugy you dob’t hab a nose.”

Getting no response, Goku glanced down to find Krillin busy running a comb through his hair, pulling it back in long swipes to lay flat. Safely past the dumpster (which was just there as a deterrent anyway), he lowered the handkerchief. “What are you doing?”

The comb paused above Krillin’s ear. “Uhhhh, the humidity messes up my hair.”

“Huh.” Goku patted his own unruly mess. “You think if I tell Captain that, she’ll stop yelling about it not being regulation?”

“Probably not.” Krillin was pretty sure that was Chi-Chi’s excuse to run her fingers through Goku’s hair.

“Well look who it is,” a voice from the shadows ahead taunted, “Orange City’s finest.”

Krillin and Goku waited as lights flickered and hummed to life, revealing their surroundings. The alley opened onto what was once loading docks for three different warehouses. The businesses that owned them abandoned the neighborhood decades ago, the only evidence of their existence the bolts sticking from the walls that used to hold signs.

Which didn’t make them abandoned. The loading dock was now the courtyard of a kingdom. A kingdom whose crest was outlined in red neon on each wall.

A red ribbon.

“What are you two doing here, anyway?” This voice was flatter and more demanding than the first. Its owner stepped from the shadows, heavy, scuffed black combat boots thumping against concrete until they stopped at the edge of the loading dock.

Blue eyes swept over the two, mouth drawn in a tight line. Blonde hair was arranged in a series of spikes, each ending in a point sharper than the woman’s voice. A worn and ripped leather jacket hung over a neon, lime green t-shirt emblazoned with the word “H8TEGIRL.” A broad, studded leather belt hung loose around her slim waist, angled against hips held in a tight skirt. Purposefully torn leggings ran from under the skirt down to the boots.

Two more shadows joined her. One the same height, face similar in the way of siblings. His eyes carried the same amusement as the earlier taunt, and dark hair was pulled back into a shiny ponytail. He wore a slick grey windbreaker over a flannel shirt faded with age and wear. His ragged jeans didn’t match the bright blue hightops, but his smile suggested he was more than happy to make you eat your teeth if you said so.

The third was taller than the other two put together. His head was longer and thinner, accentuated by the massive red mohawk. He wore army fatigues with no identifying characteristics, but the clothes and boots were otherwise immaculate.

Goku waved. “Hey, Eighteen, Seventeen, Sixteen! How’s it going?”

“Pretty good until a couple of Easter eggs showed up on our doorstep,” Seventeen replied.

“Huh, Easter eggs? Do you mean Boss Rabbit? Didn’t we arrest him for, um,” he rubbed his chin. “Krillin, what did we arrest him for?”

“Extortion, assault, trying to coerce people into running drugs for him. He’s doing life in Luna Prison,” Krillin answered. “Seventeen means us.”

“What? We’re not eggs!”

“Yeah,” Seventeen’s Cheshire grin widened. His hands were hanging loose at his sides, but he definitely had at least one gun in easy reach. “Too square for that.”

“Get to the point!” Eighteen snapped. “Why are you here, hassling us?”

“We got a tip drugs are being moved through your territory,” Krillin said.

The siblings’ eyes narrowed in perfect synchronization. “Bullshit. We don’t do any of that.”

“See Krillin,” Goku said cheerfully. “I told you they wouldn’t be involved!”

Krillin ignored his partner. “I’ve got a warrant to search these warehouses.”

“Not a chance.” And there was the gun. One of them, anyway.

“Seventeen, put the gun away.”

“What, lose your nerve, sis?”

Eighteen put one hand on the firearm. “You know how many gangs have tried to kill these two? The Demon Kings, the Saiyans, the Cold Empire, that yuppie Pilaf and his trust fund cokeheads. Even if you succeed, there’ll be 100 cops here tomorrow tearing the place apart. It'll be a war.”

She glanced towards their giant compatriot. Tiny stress lines had formed around Sixteen’s eyes, and they could almost hear his teeth grinding. Seventeen lowered the weapon.

Eighteen returned her attention to their visitors. “I’m going with you. So you don’t plant evidence.”

She waved one arm towards the warehouses. “Well? Take your pick, Shorty.”

Krillin headed for the warehouse on the right. “Watch those two, Goku.”

“Sure thing, buddy!”

“You two keep an eye on him.” Eighteen hopped off the dock, boots hitting the pavement with a crack that suggested the pavement lost the confrontation, and followed Krillin.

Awkward silence descended. Goku rocked back and forth in his zip-up leather boots, humming to himself. Seventeen and Sixteen watched him with stony glares. “You guys have any food?”

“Sorry, the cafeteria closed 15 minutes ago,” Seventeen said insincerely.

“You guys have a cafeteria?! Krillin shoulda let me drive, I woulda got us here in time.” Goku’s glum expression vanished in a brilliant smile. “Oh, that’s right!”

He rummaged in his jacket, and drew out a carefully wrapped sandwich that looked to have at least four kinds of meat and a garden’s worth of vegetables. “Captain Chi-Chi made this for me, ‘cause she says I’ve blown too many stakeouts when I get hungry!”

As Goku chowed down, Sixteen’s fists clenched. “I could kill him.”

“Not unless you want to explain it to Eighteen.”

* * *

Krillin found nothing in the main floor of the warehouse. Not that he was looking very hard. Or that he had much time to look. As soon as the doors slammed shut behind them, Eighteen dragged him upstairs to the office at the back of the building. She shoved him into a rolling chair with enough force it rocketed across the room, dust following Krillin like a jet contrail.

Eighteen flipped open the warrant, and adopted an expression of false outrage. “A takeout menu for The Launch Pad? Faking paperwork? Wow, you must really be desperate to see me.”

Before he could make a response, Eighteen was straddling his lap, lips pressed to his. Eighteen’s tongue prodded for entry with slightly less force than Goku kicked in doors. One of Krillin's hands came to rest at the base of her skull, mindful not to mess with the spikes. The other slid down to grip her very tight butt and squeeze.

She groaned into his mouth in approval, rocking her hips against him. Eighteen pulled his shirt from where it was tucked into his pants so she could run her fingers over his hard stomach and up his chest. Her other hand traced along his jaw and then over his cheekbones, only to pause when it reached the top of his head.

She drew back, watching him need a few seconds to come back to himself. It was definitely a point of pride that she could get him so lost in the moment with her. “What’d you do to your hair?”

“You don’t like it? The slicked-back look is in now!”

Krillin was legitimately worried she didn’t like his hair. She really had this goody-goody wrapped around her finger. She leaned closer, so her breath could tickle his cheek. “The only good thing about it, I get to have fun messing it up.”

Illustrating her point, she ran her fingers through his dark hair, enjoying the feel as it resumed sticking straight up. The little gasps and twitches he made when her fingers scraped his scalp were nice, too, sending another bolt of heat between her legs.

They had been at this for months, since Krillin and his partner helped her and her brothers get free. At first, she thought he was trying to find an excuse to arrest them. But he never gave any indication he suspected them of anything, and if she mentioned some other criminal activity, he’d build a case and arrest the ones responsible without ever bringing up her name.

At some point, she started contacting him covertly. He’d bring food for both of them, and wait until she felt like telling him what she knew. When she contacted him for a meet, and he didn’t even care she had no information, she jumped him. Apparently goody-goodys were her type.

Her hands headed for his belt, only to be caught by his broader hands. “Wait, Eighteen. I need to talk to you.”

She grumbled, “can’t it wait?” but when he didn’t let go, she sighed and leaned back. “OK, talk.”

“There are rumors,” and now he looked down at his hands, where his fingers rubbed gentle circles in her palms, “Gero’s back.”

That heat vanished instantly, replaced with something cold and furious. She was on her feet and pacing instantly. “Bullshit. His place in the mountains didn’t just burn from the shootout during your raid, it exploded. Seventeen and I made sure of that.”

With the super cops keeping him busy, plus Sixteen’s knowledge of his dad’s armory, it was easy. “You found his skull.”

“We found a skull,” Krillin argued. “I asked our chief forensic scientist to examine it again. Bulma’s not sure the teeth were originally in that mouth.”

Eighteen wanted to argue the idea Gero took all his own teeth out and put them in some random person’s head was crazy, but it wasn't much crazier than what he tried doing to her and Seventeen before Shorty – Baldy back then – and his goofy buddy raided that drug lab. Getting them hooked on something to make them emotionless, obedient killing machines.

Eighteen didn’t think it would have made them heal faster like Gero claimed, but she could believe it would have kept them from getting tired - until their injuries killed them. She’d seen what it did to Sixteen, who only just retained control.

Krillin waited, those dark eyes seeing too much inside her, and Eighteen dragged herself out of memories. “So why are you here?”

“I want to put the three of you in protective custody.”

“Under lock and key,” she snapped. “We’re not going into any cells.”

“It wouldn’t be cells,” he protested. “We have some nice safe houses.”

“And how are you going to clear that with your bosses? We’re the leaders of the Red Ribbon Gang, the rulers of the Break Wastes. Officially, we’re still crooks.”

“I register you formally as a C.I.”

“Tell my brothers I’m a police snitch? Oh yeah, that’ll go over great. Maybe I can follow it up by telling them I’m fucking Officer Shorty while I’m at it.” She regretted the words even before hurt flashed across his face.

It wasn’t like Eighteen hadn’t thought about it. If nothing else, she was tired of sneaking behind her brothers' backs just to steal a few minutes of frenzied making out with Krillin before she had to go back to pretending to hold “that short cop” in contempt.

“We could have you all stay at my place without telling anyone,” he mumbled, head lowered. “But I don’t think your brothers would go for it without a better explanation.”

“You’re right about that.” Seventeen would ask a million questions. The second he heard the word “Gero”, he'd start hunting the man, and he wouldn’t be careful. He might end up wanted for real. “We’re better off staying here. We can look after ourselves.”

“Yeah, but my job is protect and serve. To make it so people don’t have to spend their lives doing that, even if they can, like you.”

Eighteen would have found the notion ridiculous a couple of years ago. Cops only came around here to hassle people or accept bribes. But she'd seen enough of Krillin - and his goofball partner, she supposed - to believe it of him. Hesitantly, she reached out, taking his hands in hers. She kept her voice soft, hoping he could read the apology in her tone. “I get it, you want to look out for us. But we look out for a lot of kids on the streets in this area. They’d get swept up in worse gangs if we weren’t here to hold the line. Drug mules, stealing, prostitution.”

His hand didn’t close around hers like she hoped, but he raised his head, face determined. “You should get me names of those guys. Goku and I can take them down.”

“You have, but there’s always more. And if Gero is back, street kids are exactly the sort he’d target. No one misses them.” Bitterness crept into her voice.

Now Krillin’s hand, warm and reassuring, gripped hers. “We’re not going to let that happen. Not again, alright?”

When she nodded, he said, “If you’re going to stay, just please, please be careful?”

“I will.” She offered a gentle smile, touched by his concern.

The smile turned sly and suggestive. “Wouldn’t want to get in trouble with the law. You might have to handcuff me to teach me a lesson. Maybe to something sturdy, like your bed? Use that nightstick in your pants to punish me?”

Krillin turned red, mouth opening and closing like a gasping fish. Eighteen pulled him out of the chair and led him towards the stairs. “Come on. Any longer and my brother will definitely get in some trouble.”

* * *

As they walked through the alley, Goku asked, “What happened to your hair? Was it the humidity?”

“Yeah, Goku,” Krillin replied. “It was the humidity.”

“Your clothes, too? They’re all messed up, and dusty!”

“Nobody’s exactly cleaning those warehouses, buddy. . .”

As the echoes faded, Eighteen pushed away notions of following them. She had his home number, she could call once she had something to tell. All Krillin had besides hints of Gero was something about a “cell.” She’d ask around. “Nice to see you two behaved yourselves.”

“Neither of us wanted to deal with your bitchy mood if we made a mess of that Goku’s face.” Seventeen grinned as a shout of dismay echoed back to them. “I might have sent some of the kids to strip down their car.”

Eighteen released something between a scoff and a laugh, but her amusement was short-lived. Her brother added, “At least now Shorty doesn’t have to make up another reason to come visit you.”

Eighteen turned bright red. “What?!”

Chapter Text

Eighteen blamed Krillin. After all, he was the one who brought up the idea of a family portrait at dinner.

Marron stopped pushing broccoli around her plate long enough to ask, “What’s that, Dad?”

“A painting, of us.”

“Are you going to paint it?”

Krillin chuckled. “No, you’ve seen Dad’s fingerpainting.”

“I could do it,” Marron declared.

“I bet you could," Krillin agreed, "but how could you be in it if you’re painting it?”

Marron’s cheeks puffed out as she pondered this. “A mirror!”

“That could work, but I thought we’d hire a professional, so you could sit with your Mama and me.”

“Neat!”

“That’s not a quick thing, Krillin,” Eighteen said, already considering the logistics of the idea. “We’d have to sit still for a while.”

She motioned with her eyes towards their energetic daughter, already bouncing in her chair in excitement at the idea. Krillin joked Marron inherited her mother's infinite energy, but sometimes Eighteen wondered.

Ever the optimist, Krillin wasn’t deterred. “It doesn’t have to be done all at once. We could make a few short visits.”

He looked at Marron. “How about it, firefly? Could you sit still for a while a few times so the painter could paint all of us?”

“You bet, Dad!” Eighteen hid a grin as Marron put on a determined expression so much like her father’s. But that was precisely when things started to go wrong, as Marron continued, “Turtle will help me sit still!”

Krillin's brow furrowed. “Turtle?”

“Mm-hmm! He’s really good at not moving for a long time! We can make it a game!”

“Oh, uh honey,” Krillin began hesitantly, “I meant you, Mama, and me.”

“Bu, but Turtle’s family, too, even though he lives in a different place!” Marron insisted, voice rising in pitch. “And Grandpa Roshi, and Uncle 17, and and, they’ll be sad if we don’t include them!“

Marron looked on the verge of tears. Eighteen leaned over, wrapping one arm around her, while shooting a glare at Krillin that told him to fix this, now. “Don’t worry, Marron. Your Dad wouldn’t leave any of them out. Right?”

Krillin gulped. “Of course not! Daddy's brain just wasn't working right! We’ll call them right now!”

He jumped from the table and disappeared down the hall to find his phone.

* * *

Getting Turtle and Roshi to agree was no problem. Eighteen made sure the hermit understood the assignment. “Dress appropriately. Try not to look like a dirty old man.”

“Hey now, don’t judge by what I wear around home! I clean up great when I come to the mainland, yehahahaha!”

Eighteen’s voice turned to ice. “You’re posing for a painting with your granddaughter, not trolling bars for women with low standards and lower IQs.”

At the ominous creak of plastic, Krillin gently eased the phone from her hand. “Wear your Tournament suit, Master. It makes you look, uh, dignified.”

Eighteen raised one eyebrow and mouthed, “dignified?” Krillin put a finger to his lips. She heard Roshi say, “Dignified, eh? Well, I suppose I am the wise elder of the family, with so much wisdom to impart, among other things, yehahahaha! I’ll do it! Let me know when, Krillin!”

The call ended. Eighteen sighed. “How did I live there that long without killing him?”

Krillin set the phone aside and took hold of her hand. “Because you’re an incredibly patient, compassionate, and understanding woman, who makes me thankful every day that I’m alive?”

He pressed a kiss to her palm. Eighteen narrowed her eyes, assessing even as her heart sped up. “Flatterer. Come here.”

Calling her brother could wait.

* * *

Getting Seventeen to agree wasn’t much harder, aside from his ducking her calls, requiring Eighteen fly to his nature preserve to ask in person.

‘Sure thing, sis. Wouldn’t want Marron to be the only good-looking one in the picture.’

He even wore the best dress uniform he had. It wasn’t as nice as Krillin’s suit, or Eighteen and Marron’s matching dresses, but Eighteen thought it made him look professional. “I’m impressed you have this.”

“Came with the job,” he muttered, tugging at the collar. “Never wear it.”

“I would have never guessed,” she said, pulling off the tag that was irritating him.

The problem was getting him to behave once he arrived.

“So I’m thinking we go Surrealist with this. Put Krillin or the old man in the turtle shell, and the turtle wears their suit.”

Krillin laughed nervously, unsure as usual whether his brother-in-law was serious. Turtle murmured, “oh no,” and ducked inside his shell. Marron, seated astride Turtle’s back, said, “But Turtle can’t take off his shell! It’s part of him, Uncle!”

“OK,” Seventeen shrugged. “Then I’ll stand in the center, and hold the turtle over my head like this,” he hefted Turtle, Marron still on top, with one hand. “The old man and the monk can pretend to be dead at my feet. Eighteen, face the wall so we catch your good side.”

Eighteen threw Krillin a look that said, ‘This is your fault,’ walked over, and smacked her idiot brother on the back of the head, while Krillin swooped up to gather their daughter and Turtle and carry them back to the ground.

The painter, who was had apparently seen enough bickering siblings to be bored by her and Seventeen, goggled at Krillin actually flying. He looked at his paints, sniffed the air around him, and crossed the room to open several windows, muttering about needing better ventilation as he returned to his easel, “Have you decided how to arrange yourselves? I assume the young miss and the turtle in the front?”

“Yeah!” Marron cheered and high-fived Turtle’s flipper as Krillin set them in place.

The painter nodded. “I’m thinking the two siblings in the middle, with the shorter gentlemen on either side?”

Krillin said, “I don’t think that’s a great idea – “.

At the same time Roshi began grinning. “I’ll be next to Eighteen. Age and beauty, the perfect – “

Eighteen flatly stated, “No.”

The painter jerked back, startled at her vehemence. Eighteen walked calmly to Marron’s left, Krillin joining her so that he was flanked by his two favorite girls. Roshi positioned himself to Marron’s right with only a little visible disappointment. Seventeen sighed theatrically and took the open space between Krillin and Roshi. “Behave yourself, old man. I’m armed.”

The painter waited to see if there would be any further outbursts. Seeing none, “Today I’ll make a sketch and get the initial color palette going.”

“Ready, Turtle?” Marron asked.

“Uh-huh.”

“The who-can-sit-still-the-longest contest starts now!”

Marron and Turtle both went stock-still, although Eighteen could tell Marron wasn’t going to last long, as she’d tensed her entire body in a dramatic attempt to try and hold position. Roshi straightened himself up, ditching the bowlegged and hunchbacked posture he seemed eternally stuck in. With his whiskers trimmed and waxed, sporting a less-garish set of sunglasses and a pleasant smile rather than a leer, he might actually have been dignified. At the very least, Eighteen would allow he looked respectable.

The painter continued, “I’ll focus on the areas where you overlap. That way we may not need everyone back simultaneously for future sessions.”

“What, I have to come back again?” Seventeen groaned, rolling his eyes but otherwise remaining still.

“I told you that,” Eighteen murmured.

Her brother ignored her, of course. “Hey, Krillin.”

“Yeah?” Krillin’s smile didn't waver, but stress lines appeared around his eyes.

“Does that scientist friend of yours still have that shutdown remote?”

Krillin’s eyes bugged out, looking first at Seventeen, then back to Eighteen. “What?!”

“Please hold still, sir.”

“Dad loses the holding-still-game!” Marron cheered.

“Yeah,” Seventeen went on as if nothing happened. “I’d like to sleep through this.”

“This was your idea,” Eighteen reminded Krillin, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

At least, she reflected months later as she paused in the living room on her way to bed, the portrait turned out well.

Krillin was a few steps ahead, but looked back when he sensed her stop. "Eighteen? Anything wrong?"

"No." They made for an odd group, Seventeen and Eighteen wearing matching expressions of small, tight smiles, towering over Krillin and Roshi, whose bald heads gleamed. Marron beaming with a wide smile like her father's, seated atop a giant sea turtle. Still, looking at it always produced a warm feeling inside her. "Just appreciating what I've got."

Chapter Text

Eighteen opened her eyes to the sight of curtains dancing in the wind, the sun’s reflection off the sea creating living patterns on the ceiling.

She was pretty sure she didn’t need to sleep. At least, since being awakened for the last time in that damned tube, she had never felt what she'd call exhaustion. Never felt her eyelids grow too heavy to keep open. Still, she had, eventually, decided to test it. (The fact she was awake for 5 weeks prior to that was a pretty strong evidence she didn't need it.)

Eighteen found that she still could sleep. It remained an infrequent occurrence the first few months on her own after Cell's destruction, but she'd taken to sleeping every night in recent months. She didn't exactly wake up feeling rested, but she could see things more clearly. What annoyed her or seemed impossible one day, looked different the next morning. Especially in her current surroundings, where she awoke to the ocean hissing softly as it washed against the shore, or the breeze rustling the leaves of the palm trees on the little island she was starting to think of as home.

“Oh baby! Shake that thing! Yehahaha!”

Well, some mornings it was pleasant to wake up.

“You’re pathetic, old man. Now quit blocking the screen.”

“It’s my TV! I get the best seat!”

Eighteen rolled onto her back and released an annoyed huff towards the ceiling. The pig was still here. Wonderful.

She grudgingly accepted Roshi; it was his house after all, and though it would have been child’s play to kill him without leaving a trace, in part to distance herself from the lethal engine of revenge Gero tried to make her, Eighteen never seriously considered it. At least, not too often.

Oolong was another matter. He showed up whenever he felt like, and while he sometimes dragged the old pervert off to a beauty contest or other lecherous pursuit on the mainland, granting Eighteen some peace and quiet, the pig was just as likely to camp in the living room for days, drinking loudly late into the night with Roshi.

Eighteen had, as soon as she understood what she'd moved in with, made certain Roshi and Oolong knew her boundaries and what would happen if they crossed them. It only took backhanding the hermit through the wall - and causing him to skip like a stone six times across the ocean's surface - the first time his hand drifted towards her butt to get the point across.

The problem was, once drunk, whatever survival instinct kept them aware of that boundary abandoned them. With her senses, Oolong’s attempts at stealth were doomed to fail, but the need to be alert left her on edge. A reminder of some vague, half-memory, half nightmare of what could happen if you dropped your guard. A blight on the otherwise pleasant life she was tentatively building here. Which brought her to the other reason she refrained from killing those two.

“Guys, keep it down, Eighteen’s still asleep.”

Krillin. Even though her favorite housemate had better friends – even Yamcha had the sense to keep his distance and not try flirting – Eighteen knew it would hurt Krillin if these two died. (And it might hurt his opinion of her, which Eighteen found she didn't want.) So she walked the line of intimidating without actually getting violent.

This would have been harder, except Krillin, in a way of his she found less irritating all the time, somehow perceived the strain she was trying to hide after the first time. Since then, he took it on himself to keep the perverts in line. The second time Oolong visited after she moved in, Eighteen heard tiny legs scuttling outside of the house at night. She thought little of it, until a familiar voice snapped, “Gotcha!”

Peering out her window, she found Krillin snatching a big crab off the wall beneath her window in one hand. As she watched, he gave it a squeeze and in a puff of smoke, the crab became a struggling Oolong. Krillin noticed her watching and offered an apologetic bow, which just so happened to smash the pig's face into the sand. “Sorry to wake you, Eighteen! Oolong had a little too much to drink! He’s going to sleep now!” He’d punctuated it with another squeeze.

Sliding her legs over the side of the bed, she heard Roshi scold Krillin. “That’s no way to talk to your teacher, my boy!”

“It’s the Turtle School Way to rest well,” Krillin replied. "You're making that harder for her."

“Well, if the young lady’s going to study under me, she needs to wear the uniform!”

“Launch burned that lingerie years ago.”

“Like I only had the one, yehahahaha!”

“If you’re going to play nursemaid, why don't you bring us some of that breakfast,” Oolong sniped.

"He's right," Roshi jumped in. "It's also the Turtle School credo to eat well! We need our strength to properly appreciate these ladies!"

“What’s left is Eighteen’s portion.” Eighteen paused in front of her closet. She hadn't learned to sense ki yet - her lessons with Krillin were progressing slowly - but she'd learned to read his voice. He'd kept his tone level, but there was an edge that meant his patience was near its limit.

She selected a loose t-shirt from her closet, and reflected that even if his power was far shy of hers, Krillin was also more than strong enough to crush Roshi and the pig if he wanted. He was just too kind, or perhaps grateful to Roshi, to really put his foot down. Except when it came to her.

She ran a brush through her hair a couple of times. It wasn’t like they were dating; yes, he was the only member of the household she willingly spent time with (besides Turtle, who sometimes sunned on the beach with her.) Yes, they went to the mainland together regularly. Sometimes for specific objectives - Eighteen always took her dirty clothes to a laundromat - others just to look around. It was to the point she took it as given he'd come with her, not even needing to ask. Of course she knew Krillin was in love with her, or at least had a crush. But he never broached the idea of a relationship, so neither did she. (She wasn't even sure how you went about doing that.)

He seemed determined to be a good host, or housemate, or friend, she supposed. When she moved in, Krillin asked if there were foods or drinks she’d like him to grab on grocery runs. When Eighteen admitted she didn’t remember any favorites, he started buying small amounts of different things for her try. Inviting her to any gatherings with his friends, and making sure she wasn’t left out. Which wasn’t hard, most of his friends were more than willing to accept her. She would have thought it insane, considering she was their enemy once, but her files showed most of them started as enemies. (Chi-Chi was the one who told her Krillin had asked for advice on foods for Eighteen to try.)

Through it all, Krillin seemed content to know these things made her happy, and that she felt comfortable here. It was, nice. Or kind, a word she thought fit him.

As she buckled her jeans, she heard steps ascending the stairs, a steady tread, light without trying to be quiet. She waited for a knock, but heard a tray being set down. As the steps withdrew, she opened her door. “Where are you going?”

Krillin froze, ears turning red. “Eighteen! I didn't wake you up, did I? I’ –“

She cut him off. He was getting better about it as they got to know each other, but still apologized for no reason entirely too often. “I was awake.”

She gestured to her fully dressed state so as to make it obvious, and watched him relax. When she first moved in, Eighteen would have taken his nervous state as him being afraid she would hurt him. But she knew what that fear looked like, and this wasn't it. He was worried about being a bother. “Did you need something?”

“No, I just figured I would bring you some breakfast.” He pointed to the tray, smiling.

She smiled back, a reaction she found more natural these days. “Before the two downstairs ate it?”

“Yeah.” His laugh was forced. “I used a spicier type of pepper this time, so I wanted to make sure you got to try one of the omelettes.”

“Thanks.” Krillin's trial-and-error work led Eighteen to discover she enjoyed spicy foods. Maybe they had enough kick to catch her attention, even with how strong she was. She lifted the serving tray, a sharp, smoky scent wafting from it. Her stomach didn't rumble, but she found herself eager to try it. “Did you like it?”

“It might be a little too hot for me.” The laugh was genuine this time. “I still think it tasted good, though.”

“Then I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”

How his face lit up. It was almost maddening, how her words affected him. It would be so easy to tear him down. Probably wouldn’t take her two sentences to shatter him. Being careful with her words didn't come naturally, so maybe she'd always had a sharp tongue, even before Gero made her strong enough to split the planet open, but she forced herself to learn. To be mindful of what she was going to say.

It also gave her time to process what she observed. The computer portion of her mind could take in a lot, and she was learning to actually really pay attention to what it picked up. Past the smile, Eighteen saw the bags under his eyes. Keeping the perverts off her nerves took its toll. Krillin didn’t have infinite energy, so when these parties went on for days, he didn’t sleep. Too busy making sure her peace wasn’t bothered.

“Why don’t you come inside?” She tilted her head towards her room. “I’d rather eat up here than deal with them, and some company would be nice.”

He lit up again, then opened his mouth. Probably to tell her that wasn’t necessary or he wouldn’t want to intrude. Eighteen pressed the index and middle finger of her free hand to her lips, then to his.

Krillin went still. If she couldn’t feel his breath, or the blood rushing through his lips – warm and surprisingly soft – against the pads of her fingers, she might have thought he died. “Don’t make a big deal of it. Just get in here, before those two notice.”

Chapter Text

The shadow towered over him, outline suggesting arms hung loose at its side, head tilted. The face was invisible, save for a hungry, contemptuous grin that gleamed like a half-moon. A grin that promised to take everyone he cared about. That there was nothing Krillin could do to prevent it. That the idea of Krillin even thinking he could do anything was the best joke the shadow had heard in years, maybe ever.

Still, Krillin would try. He had to try. He cupped his palms and drew them back, a blue glow growing stronger. “Ka. . me. . ha. . me. . .”

The shadow’s grin widened as Krillin thrust his palms forward. “HA!”

The blazing beam of energy rushed forward – and vanished into the shadow without a trace.

From somewhere behind him, Krillin heard Marron scream. He tried to look for her, to see what was wrong with his daughter, but his body wouldn’t obey. His head wouldn’t turn from the shadow, still standing there, still smiling. He felt his arm rise, ki gather in his palm, flatten and whirl.

“Destructo Disc!”

The attack darted like a living thing, intending to cut this shadow in half, so it could never hurt anyone again – and the mark it made was gone instantly, sealed up, the shadow unaffected.

Another scream behind him. Eighteen. He had heard that mix of terror and desperation before. A single word, shouted. His name. As he, as he,

Without his noticing, the shadow was closer. Its eyes were visible now, beady little dots surrounded by blank white. A black belt, gold buckle with a stylized “M” on it.

Panic seized Krillin. His heart beat erratically, an animal in a snare thrashing to get loose. His lungs couldn’t seem to work. He threw a punch – sloppy, slow, worse than when he first began studying martial arts – and this time the shadow shifted and stretched, curving around his fist before rushing into Krillin’s face, bubblegum pink skin and stubby fingers now fully into the light.

Oh, oh no.

That low, guttural, inhuman voice said, “They were delicious.”

No!

Pink light filled Krillin’s vision and –

* * *

Eighteen woke up when the covers were wrenched off her. She sat upright, instantly on guard against attack, just in time to see Krillin fall off the far side of the bed.

She heard a solid clunk that had to be his skull bouncing off the floor, but there was no groan, or cry of pain. Instead, he rolled awkwardly to his feet, throwing a wild punch at nothing. The sheets, tangled around him, tore from the force, but Krillin didn’t seem to notice.

Even in the darkness of their bedroom, she could see his eyes were wide, full of terror, but focused on nothing. “Krillin?”

No reaction. His attacks were growing more frenzied. At this rate, he’d destroy their room, if not the entire house. Faster than thought, she moved in front of him, catching his punches in her palms, absorbing kicks on her forearms. “Krillin, snap out of it.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears streamed from eyes seeing something she couldn’t. “Eighteen, Marron, I’m sorry.”

“Krillin, I’m right here.” Eighteen fought against the pain the desolation in his voice sparked in her. She tried to keep her voice down to avoid waking their daughter, though that was probably a vain hope. The shockwaves were rattling the house.

She could stop him with one strike, but what would that do to him, caught in the throes of whatever this was? She didn't want to hurt him. Desperate, Eighteen stepped inside the next punch and wrapped her arms around him, one palm between his shoulder blades, the other on the back of his head. She pulled him tight against chest. “Come back to me, honey, please.”

Hot tears doused her shirt, but his struggles slowed. His breathing followed, but Eighteen could feel his heart going like a triphammer where his chest was pressed against her. Finally, his arms encircled her, gripping her shirt like he expected her to slip through his fingers. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” His voice was small, the way it got on the days where his inner demons got the best of him and he withdrew. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for a nightmare, just talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Noth – I don’t remember.”

He was a terrible liar, and she would have made sure he knew it from a look, but she’d have to lean back to make eye contact, and she didn’t think Krillin could lose the physical contact right now.

The pad of little footsteps came from the hall. “Mama? Daddy?”

Eighteen kept her voice calm. “Yes, Marron?”

“Was that an earthquake?”

“No, no earthquake,” Eighteen replied smoothly. Marron was right outside the door, and Krillin probably didn’t want their daughter to see him like this. “Maybe a thunderstorm. Did it wake you?”

“Nuh-unh. I heard Daddy shout. Is he OK?”

Eighteen felt Krillin flinch, but he untucked his head from her chest. “I’m fine, honey. Just a bad dream. I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Do you want Little Turtle? He keeps bad dreams away!”

Krillin tried to clear his throat. “Tha, that’s kind of you, but won’t you miss Little Turtle if I have him?”

“I can be brave! I have you and Mama to take care of me!”

The misery and guilt on Krillin’s face would have hit Eighteen like a hammer blow if her own hadn’t roared through her mind at the same time. Krillin released her, and Eighteen reluctantly did the same. He scrubbed his face with the back of one hand as he crossed to open the door. “Thanks, firefly. I’m sure Little Turtle will take good care of me.”

Eighteen gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze as she stepped past him. “But your dad won’t be able to sleep until he knows you’re back safe in bed, so let’s go.”

She scooped Marron up in one arm, their daughter waving to her father and her favorite stuffed doll. “Night, Daddy! Night, Little Turtle!”

Krillin nodded, trying to smile and feeling like he failed miserably. Like he failed to protect her. He hadn’t thought he could kill Buu, or even hurt him. But slow him down, for at least a few seconds? Give Eighteen time to get out of sight, to use her speed and lack of a ki signature to hide, to keep Marron safe? Surely he could do that. Make his death count for something.

Even as a sacrifice, he failed.

* * *

Eighteen got Marron settled under the covers with her second favorite stuffed animal – this week, it was a Brontosaurus from 17’s nature preserve – then, quickly straightened all the things that had been knocked down. Thankfully none of the pictures in the hall broke. Marron could have cut her feet during the trip to her parents’ bedroom.

When she returned, Krillin was seated on the edge of the bed, turning Little Turtle in his hands. “The wish we made for people to forget Buu didn’t affect her, did it?”

Eighteen closed the door. “It was supposed to be for everyone except the people on the Lookout, but maybe Shenron messed up.”

“Maybe she’s just strong that way. Doesn’t let it bother her.”

“Or she’s too young to understand what happened.” Eighteen didn’t remember dying, although she remembered being struck by something. She did remember being dead, which would be strange if Krillin hadn’t told her years ago about his experiences after Frieza. “Would you want it differently?”

“No.” His voice was low, but sharp in a way Krillin never was when speaking to her. “If she doesn’t remember, or doesn’t understand enough to be scared, I’m glad. I hope she can stay that way.”

Eighteen hoped so, too. She assumed – hoped – she had been that way at some point, in the years before Gero. Those were an unknown country now. All the memories she did have were tinged by the idea of how easily things could be taken from you. “It’s our responsibility to make that happen.”

Krillin shook his head. “I, I couldn’t. She was in danger, you were in danger, and I couldn’t do anything. Just like with C – “

He clamped his mouth shut. Cell was a subject they rarely discussed. Eighteen didn’t like thinking about being absorbed by him, and Krillin respected that. “You protected me once I was free of Cell. You made the wish to get the bombs out of Seventeen and I.”

“But – “

“Don’t say it doesn’t count. I don’t have to live in fear someone’s going to make me or my brother blow up.” She paused. “It helped me see you more clearly, or I wouldn’t have this life with you. Wouldn’t have Marron.”

Krillin looked up, and all she saw was despair. “But what good is it if I can’t protect either of you when some monster shows up? I couldn’t even slow Buu down long enough for you to escape!”

“Don’t damage Little Turtle.” Krillin blinked at the innocuous comment, before looking down to see he was squeezing the stuffed toy tight. Once his fingers eased their hold, Eighteen crossed the room to sit next to him. “Would you rather we were gone, or never here at all?”

Krillin gaped, voice barely audible as he shook his head. “No. That, that would be Hell.”

Eighteen touched his arm, fingertips gliding along muscles and tendons to the sturdy hands that chased away more than one nightmare by holding her close. “Then don’t ask what the good of it is. Part of the risk of opening yourself to let others in, is that you can lose them and be hurt by it.”

Krillin didn't speak, but his fingers intertwined with hers. She folded her other hand over his. “It’s why I didn’t want to trust anyone but Seventeen for a long time. They might try to hurt me, and if I lowered my guard, opened myself up, I’d just make it easier. But you took that chance with me, and eventually I took it with you.”

He leaned his head on her shoulder. “I’m glad you did.”

“I’m glad I did, too.”

Chapter Text

Days off Krillin could enjoy were rare. Most of his vacation days – to say nothing of sick days – went to recuperating after the latest battle to save the planet. The younger generation - Gohan, Goten, Trunks, Pan - took the lead more all the time, but Krillin still couldn’t bring himself to just stand aside and do nothing.

What time off remained was for family outings which, no matter how hard Eighteen and Krillin tried to plan or prepare in advance, always seemed to result in last second rushing and struggling not to be late to whatever attraction they promised Marron they'd see.

Today though, there wouldn’t be any of that. Krillin woke up at his own pace, knowing there was no hurry. Actually become aware of the weight of the blanket, the quiet tick of the hall clock, before opening his eyes to enjoy the sight of his wife still asleep beside him. Eighteen typically woke before him, trying to either get things ready for his day or Marron’s or an early start on her own. To see her entirely relaxed and at peace was a rare treat. He wrapped one arm around her and, still asleep, Eighteen snuggled closer.

They stayed that way for a time. Krillin listening to Eighteen’s breathing, feeling the rise and fall of her chest, the soft scent of her shampoo filling his senses, how the sunlight filtering through the curtains almost made her glow.

Her lashes fluttered as she took her own time climbing out of sleep. She made no effort to change her position, curled against him. “Waking up early on your day off?”

“I didn’t want to waste a minute I could spend with you.”

Eighteen didn’t bother to roll her eyes, nor did she try to disguise the blush that rose in her cheeks at his words. It might have been cheesy, but she knew him to be genuine. It was why he still held her heart.

‘Well, that and a few other attributes,’ she mused as she allowed herself a casual grope of his body.

“Guess you have something in mind for a few of those minutes,” Krillin teased, hands beginning to wander as well.

Even into his 50s, Krillin was still in excellent shape. In part at her insistence, and not strictly for her enjoyment of his physique. Eighteen accepted Krillin was never going to stop trying to help people. It was another of those things she loved about him. But if he was going to put himself in danger, she wanted him able to defend himself to the best of his ability.

That she reaped the rewards in the bedroom was just a bonus, Eighteen reflected, as Krillin urged her gently onto her back, already trailing kisses down her breastbone.

* * *

This morning, breakfast was a collaborative affair. They worked together smoothly, years of opportunity granting them understanding of what the other needed and when. Krillin would pass her the milk at the same time he was adding a pad of butter to the skillet. Eighteen would set a bowl of egg yolks beside him on her way to the espresso machine.

Krillin watched Eighteen move with casual grace, a big smile on his face. He so often raced to work in the morning – so it was difficult to leave a warm bed, sue him – he either made something simple quickly for himself, or Eighteen handled it while he showered, shaved or dressed. They usually made dinner together; but even once Marron was old enough not to require supervision, it was the end of a long day, and they focused on efficiency. The opportunity to make something at their leisure, that they could savor equally leisurely, was a real win.

They took the French toast, eggs and coffees onto the patio in their backyard. By this time in the morning, the sun was high enough the old elm provided shade, and the wind rustling the trees was a pleasant background music.

Krillin sat for several moments, just staring into his cup. “Have I mentioned how cute I think the heart in my coffee is?”

“Only every time I make it for you.”

His eyes sparkled. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Then I can’t break the streak,” he said with a silly grin. “I think the heart in my coffee is very cute.”

Eighteen slowly raised one eyebrow. “Now it’s very cute?”

“Mm-hmm. It almost makes me sad to drink it and mess it up.”

“If you don’t, then it’ll get cold,” she pointed out. “That would be like letting it die for nothing.”

She hadn’t really intended to say that, and she watched him take it in, turning it over in his mind. He slowly raised the cup to his lips, savoring it. “Thanks, babe. What needs doing around the house today?”

“Doing?”

“You know, laundry, leaky faucet, garbage taken out.” He puffed out his chest and patted it. “Consider me at your disposal.”

“I took care of all those things yesterday.”

“You did?”

“Mm-hmm.” She leaned across the table. “You aren’t the only one who didn’t want to waste a minute.”

Krillin leaned in to meet her. “And what did you have in mind?”

She offered him a cryptic smile.

* * *

Krillin knew that, to most people, Eighteen came off as reserved. Cold, even, if her blunt way of speaking ruffled feathers.

It had taken him a lot of work - and a few missteps - those first months after she arrived at Kame House to begin to understand her. That what she was feeling was easy to see, if you could read beneath the words. When she flatly told him to run if a situation grew too dangerous for him, or that it was foolish to urge Goku to hit him as hard as he could – admittedly, not one of Krillin’s brighter ideas – she was telling him how important he was to her.

“Why would you do something so idiotic?” meant, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

That said, even after all these years, Eighteen was still capable of surprising him. When she’d casually flung him over her shoulder and walked away from the dishes on the patio with nary a second glance, Krillin started gathering his energy for a second round in the bedroom.

When she dropped him on the couch, and headed upstairs without breaking stride, he recalibrated only in that he figured she was going to change first.

Instead of returning in something lacy, Eighteen reentered the living room in the same clothes as before, but carrying two books, one of which she handed to him. “You’ve been saying you haven't had time to start that for months.”

It was a book on various older religions. While Krillin didn’t look back on his monastery days all that fondly, he wanted to reconnect with some of the beliefs, assess in the light of his experiences.

Eighteen settled beside him, and let him see the cover of the other book. A mystery, the author one whose work she’d read before. “And I’ve been meaning to read this.”

They read in silence, save the turn of pages and the soft whirr of the ceiling fan. They sat just close enough their shoulders could touch. The book wasn’t written for a layperson; even for Krillin many of the concepts were entirely new, or ones where he’d only been taught the most basic framework. Taking his time, trying to fit the new information in around what he’d known, or thought he'd known, he was only dimly aware of the sun’s passage by the shadows shifting in the room. He didn't notice the light faded until an erratic patter against the windows made him look up. “Did the forecast say anything about rain?”

“Hmm, for the rest of the afternoon.” Eighteen looked as though she’d finish her book in a few minutes. She was a voracious reader when she was invested.

“You figure out who did it yet?”

She closed the book with a sigh. “I’m used to her pattern now.”

"That's too bad." Making a mental note to look for other mystery authors she could try, Krillin marked his page, set his book aside and picked up the remote.

As he flipped through channels, Eighteen slid her back against his chest. He let one arm rest across her stomach and leaned back until they were stretched out on the couch.

Sometimes Eighteen liked to hold him, whether face-to-face, or her as the big spoon. Others, she wanted to be held by him. It looked like this afternoon was the last option, not that he was complaining.

Krillin left the TV on a movie, something in black-and-white. The characters talked in low voices, blending with the rainfall drumming on the house. The cloudy weather left the entire room in a half-twilight, and it was easy for Krillin to settle into a drowsy state. Near sleep, but aware of his surroundings, especially the person in his arms.

The soft sound of her breathing, barely audible even this close. The peaceful look on her face, the warmth of her body, steady and constant like few other things in his life could claim. He still sometimes expected (feared) Eighteen would look at him as though seeing him for the first time, decide this had been a horrible mistake, and leave.

It never happened. Even when frustrated, she was there, not shy about letting him know what he’d done to make her feel that way, but also making sure he knew that she was there, with him.

“I’m the luckiest guy alive,” he whispered to himself. Or so he thought.

Eighteen turned her head just enough to make eye contact. “Luck didn't have anything to do with it.”

Chapter Text

The aircar was just reaching the ranger station as Seventeen finished his afternoon circuit of the island.

‘I’ll give this to Krillin, he’s never late.’

Seventeen rolled into a dive, descending far faster than the aircar. He caught a glimpse of surprise, then alarm, on his brother-in-law’s face as he zipped past, though the passenger barely reacted. Seventeen exerted a minute amount of his energy and slowed his fall until his boots touched lightly to the ground. The aircar settled on the landing pad beside the station, and the driver door swung open. Krillin waved as he stepped out. “Hi, Seventeen!”

“What, no worries that something might be wrong with me?”

“Huh?” Krillin paused in hauling something out of the trunk to peer at Seventeen around the side of the aircar. “Oh, I figured you were just, you know, excited for a weekend with Marron.”

Seventeen glanced at the aircar. The passenger side door was still closed. “Well, yeah, can’t wait to spend time with my favorite niece.”

Krillin, carrying a cooler, a suitcase and another bag, stuck his head back into the cab. “Marron, don’t you want to say hello to your uncle?”

Finally the passenger door swung open and Marron levered herself out, though it seemed to take such effort Seventeen wondered if she was wearing those weighted clothes Son Goku and his pals liked so much. Marron raised one hand briefly level with her face, in what could pass for a wave, if you were generous. “Hi, Uncle Seventeen.”

The hand dropped and she stood there, like a condemned prisoner waiting to be led to a firing squad.

“Hi Marron.” Mispronouncing the name was only funny when Eighteen was around to get irritated. Seventeen waved her inside. “Your room is the same as you left it.”

She nodded, barely, and trudged past without a word. It was like watching a miniature version of his sister, except Marron closed the door quietly rather than slamming it so the hinges broke. Seventeen glanced at Krillin and rolled his eyes her way. “What’s that about? She was so excited over the phone a couple of weeks ago I thought I’d go deaf.”

The mini-monk sighed. “It just started this week. We think it’s something at school.”

“Maybe because you guys are making her go to school.”

Krillin didn’t take the bait. No fun at all. “She won’t talk about it. Eighteen tried pressing and,”

Seventeen winced. Marron was a pretty cheerful kid, but he’d seen glimpses of his sister’s temper over the years. If she inherited Krillin’s stubbornness. . . “Guess that didn’t go well.”

Krillin inhaled through his teeth. “I think Dende probably heard the arguing up on the Lookout. I know everyone on our street did. Anyway, I’m hoping this will give them both time to calm down, and Marron was looking forward to it so much.”

“Nothing gets a person out of a funk faster than watching dinosaurs,” Seventeen agreed. “Now what is all this stuff?”

“Food, clothes, bug spray, sunscreen. . .” Krillin trailed off at the look Seventeen threw him. “Eighteen insisted.”

Seventeen grinned. That was his sister. Rather than apologize, do something nice to show Marron she cared. “Well, let’s see what my dear sister packed for snacks.”

Krillin shoved the smaller bag at him. Seventeen opened it to find a note atop several familiar bags. It read, “Here’s that trail mix you like so much. Keep your hands off Marron’s food or I’ll rip them off.”

“Awwwwwww.”

* * *

Once Krillin left, Seventeen headed inside, already munching on the trail mix, and found Marron busy with the broom. “You’re not on a work detail, kid.”

“My room was buried in dust. It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in there in a year.”

“Like I said, I left it just how you did.”

She blew an exasperated huff of air, making her bangs flutter. “You know, that’s not as funny as you think it is.”

“Depends how funny I think it is,” Seventeen replied, leaning against the doorframe. Marron didn’t respond, eyes on the broom and the floor. Tough crowd. “So, apparently your mom doesn’t trust my cooking.”

“She said you probably just eat chocolate and dead animals when you’re away from home.”

“Did you point out you guys eat dead animals too?”

“Yes.” Flicker of a smile. Progress.

“And what’d she say that?”

The smile turned into a smirk he’d seen countless times on Eighteen’s face. “That at least we cook them first.”

“Sure, because your dad’s got a sensitive stomach. You’re probably like Eighteen and me; eat anything with no trouble.”

The smirk vanished and she swept a little harder. In fact, if she swept much harder, Seventeen thought she’d start pulling up the floorboards. “Anyway, your mom’s food. What do you want to eat tonight?”

* * *

Dinner was quiet. The next morning didn’t start off any better. “I figured we’d go look at the Cataclysm Falls first.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wait until afternoon to visit the Roc nest on top of Blood Jello Mountain. That way the parents will be there.”

Nothing. No reaction even to the names he was making up. Marron was ignoring him and her breakfast, face buried in a book.

He tried to joke with her. “What is that, some cute boy magazine?”

Two years ago, she’d have gotten flustered and blushed, even though it was obvious she was looking at a textbook. Now, she briefly looked at him over the top of the book. “It’s math. Homework.”

“Homework?!” He put on his best offended expression. “No niece of mine’s doing homework while I’m around! Save that for when you hang out with Gohan, he’s the Nerd Uncle. I’m the Bad Influence Uncle.”

When she didn’t respond, not even to defend Gohan or correct Seventeen that Gohan wasn’t really her uncle, his patience ran out. If she was going to sulk like his sister, he’d snap her out of it like he had Eighteen.

He snatched the book at the same time he jumped away from the table to the front door. She blinked, surprised to find her book gone, before she tracked his movement. “Uncle, give it back!”

“Nope. Not even if you ask nicely.” He threw her the same grin that annoyed the hell out of her mother. “You want it, come and get it.”

He thought for a moment she’d just ignore him or storm into her room. At which point he was pretty well stuck. But she pushed her chair away from the table and stood, determined glint in her eye. Seventeen couldn’t help noticing that despite her air of indifference, she dressed for a day outdoors. Solid boots, thick pants built for rough terrain, a long-sleeved flannel shirt over a tank top.

He almost missed her first lunge, but raised the book out of reach just in time. She seemed prepared for that, because she didn’t stumble or fly past him. Instead, she planted her lead foot firmly and jumped, hand shooting forward like a piston.

Seventeen had the front door open, so he made a quick dash outside. She followed. He led Marron on a chase across the island, never getting too far ahead, and sticking to the safer trails. The wildlife here knew him, and most left him be, but he wasn’t taking the chance one decided to snack on her.

As far as he knew, Marron had no interest in fighting, but Eighteen insisted she at least know how to defend herself. (From what he heard, Chi-Chi, Videl and Gohan all backed her on that. Something about child abductions.) Clearly, Marron took it seriously. She had Eighteen’s straightforward efficiency, with Krillin’s smooth footwork and experience fighting bigger opponents. She was no Super Saiyan, but there were maybe 20 people on this planet that could take her in a fight.

Unfortunately for Marron, he was one of those 20. He kept her at bay easily, brushing her hands aside each time they got close. “Isn’t this more fun than math?”

“No!” Her breathing was getting ragged, but she didn't seem tired, just frustrated.

He sidestepped another lunge where she almost collapsed, then hopped over her attempt at a leg sweep. “If you say so.”

She popped out of the leg sweep with both hands in front of her face. “Solar Flare!”

That caught him off-guard, and he didn’t react well. Blinded, he could only hear the pained grunt and thud as Marron pancaked against the barrier he raised on instinct. Blinking the glare away, he dropped the barrier. Marron slid to her knees, clothes sweat-stained and body heaving. She was covering her left cheek with one hand. “Let me see.”

She let the hand drop. “Is it bad?”

“No. No,” he lied. It was already bruising. ‘Eighteen’s going to kill me.’ “It’s fine, just sit here for a second.”

He handed her the textbook and darted to the falls, soaking his bandana in the freezing cold waters. He handed it over, glad she hadn’t taken off with her book. “Press that to it.”

She did as told. Her breathing settled as she took in the scenery. “Candlestick Falls?”

Seventeen crouched beside her. “Yep.”

“Did you call it Cataclysm Falls earlier?”

“So you were paying attention.”

“Heh.” A real smile. “It’s more beautiful than I remembered.”

“The river started carving another notch in the cliff 11 months ago. Caused that spout arcing way out, see?” He pointed and she nodded. “It’ll probably finish wearing away the rock and settle down in another year, so it’s good you’re here now.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, eyes fixed on the waterfall. “It’s neat. I’m glad I came anyway.”

He tilted his head. “Anyway?”

Her smile faded. “My friends, Sauge and Romarin, they asked me to come with them to a concert for some idol they like. When I told them I was going to visit my uncle’s nature preserve, they said that was weird.”

“We could have rescheduled if you wanted to go.” Seventeen thought that was an appropriately grown-up answer.

Marron shook her head. “I don’t really care about that idol, and I’ve gone to other shows with them. It’s just,”

Her knees were drawn up to her chest, arms folded across them, and Marron rested her chin there. “They say that about most of the things I want to do with my family now. They didn’t used to. In grade school, they thought it was neat when I talked about playing in the water with Turtle. Now it’s weird I say Turtle is one of my best friends, or that I still talk about Piccolo training Pan, because they think he’s just some imaginary friend I made up. They think flying is neat, but all the meditating and training I did so I can fly, that’s weird too!”

This wasn’t good. Anya would have known what to say; she’d been the one who helped their kids when they had problems like this at school. Seventeen had no memory whether this had even been a problem he faced at Marron’s age, let alone how he handled it if he did. He suspected his answer would have been to tell those girls to go to hell, then beat up their brothers if they showed up looking for a fight. Which was not the answer Marron was looking for. And she wouldn’t tell her parents, because they might feel like it was something they were doing wrong, not giving Marron a more “normal” life. I mean their life with space aliens and genius scientists and magic wishing balls was pretty weird, but Seventeen didn’t see a problem there.

Maybe Marron did. “Do you think that stuff is weird?”

“No, but, I grew up with it. It’s not like any of the kids I know at school. If I mention hanging out with Trunks and Goten, all the girls want to know what Trunks is like because he’s Trunks Briefs, heir to Capsule Corp. But he’s just Trunks to me! I can't even mention his dad is an alien!”

“Tell them lots of embarrassing stuff. If you make him sound gross or lame, they’ll stop asking. Tell them he tried to kill your mom with a sword once, and she kicked his ass.”

Marron snickered. “That was a different version of him, but I guess they fought at the Tournament that one time where he teamed up with Goten. She beat both of them!”

Seventeen took a seat beside her, leaning back on his hands and watching birds swoop low over the lake. “Your friends may not get why you like coming out here, or going to visit the Son family out in the sticks or whatever. If you’re really friends, it ought to be enough to them it’s important to you. Give ‘em time, maybe they’ll realize hanging out with dinosaurs and aliens is cool.”

“Is that why you like animals so much?”

Seventeen cocked his head to look at her. “What do you mean?”

Marron fidgeted like her dad did. “Mom says, Sixteen liked birds and squirrels and stuff, and they liked him. So I thought, maybe. . .” She waved her arms at their surroundings.

Seventeen hadn’t realized Marron knew about Sixteen. He was never sure how much his sister told her daughter about their past. “Yeah. Your mom and I didn’t really get it. We thought it was, heh, weird, he’d sit there and just let birds land on his shoulders or whatever. But, once I spent some time out here, I started to get it.”

Marron stared thoughtfully into the sky. “Maybe if I show them some pictures from this weekend, they’ll understand.”

“Worth a shot. If they don’t get it, maybe you need cooler friends.” He stood, offering her a hand. “I can come visit. Get all the girls cooing over your cool, hot uncle. They'll all want to be your friends then.”

“Ew, no way!” Marron laughed, only to cut off with a wince. The bruise was going to be noticeable.

“Come on, we’ll head back to the station and clean that up. We can see the Roc nest tomorrow.” As they started their walk back, he asked, “Can you not tell Eighteen I gave you a black eye?”

“Maybe,” she said with a teasing lilt.

“OK, it’s extortion, huh? There’s your mom’s influence.” Seventeen pretended to give it some thought. “I’ll tell you where Anya hides the chocolate.”

“Heh, the twins and I found that last Christmas when they were looking for presents.”

"What?" Marron ran ahead, laughing, while Seventeen stopped dead in his tracks. He caught up to her a minute later. “You’re being a Bad Influence Aunt. I like it.”

“Yep!” She seemed to be thinking. “I won’t say anything to Mom if you. . .let me stay up as late as I want!”

“Deal.” When she blinked at him in surprise, Seventeen grinned smugly. “I was gonna let you do that anyway. Bad Influence Uncle, remember? Besides, how else were you going to see the Giant Blood-Sucker Bats?”

Marron pumped her fist and jumped into the air. “Yes!”

Chapter Text

It started with a grey hair.

Marron saw it one evening when the three of them were all relaxing on the couch. “Daddy, your hair changed color!”

“It did?” Krillin’s eyes rose to the tops of their sockets as he tried pushing his hair into his line of sight.

“Not there, here!” Marron intended to just pull in offending follicle to where her father could see it, but ended up yanking it out entirely.

Krillin winced but avoided any sort of yelp that might frighten his daughter, and inspected the hair. “You’re right.”

“Can my hair change color, too?”

“Probably not until you’re much, much older,” Krillin told her. “Like me.”

Marron’s disappointment that she’d have to wait was short-lived, and she was soon singing along to some laundry soap jingle on TV. In fact, she seemed to forget about it entirely. Later that night, as they were getting ready for bed, Eighteen found Krillin standing in front of the bathroom mirror, parting his hair in different places. “Got you feeling self-conscious?”

Her husband grinned sheepishly. “Guess I should be glad it’s not snow-white with all the close calls. Just means I’m getting older, is all.”

He said it lightly, followed by a peck on her cheek as he went to crawl under the covers, but the words hit her unexpectedly hard.

Thanks to the computerized part of her mind, Eighteen had excellent recall. In the days following Marron’s discovery, Eighteen found herself pulling up old memories of Krillin. That first conversation on the mountain highway. Her temporary good-bye on the Lookout. The day she asked to stay at Kame House. Their wedding, Marron’s birth, the Tournament of Power. Each image, captured and displayed for her mind’s eye in perfect clarity, was compared against the man who returned home to her each evening with a smile, no matter how weary he might be. And so she saw the changes.

The crease in his brow growing deeper. A new wrinkle under the eye. A change in the complexion of his skin. Eighteen hadn’t noticed at the time, but when she shaved his head before he flew to confront Frieza with the others, there were already other hairs turning a different shade.

Krillin was getting older. Which mean he would one day get old. Which meant. . .

Eighteen knew, had known for some time, Shenron couldn’t bring Krillin back any longer. She told herself the others were on the front lines now, and there were always the Namekian Dragon Balls if the worst happened. But she never really thought about how, even if no alien, time traveler, or would-be God came along, Krillin would still eventually die.

And death by old age was something the Dragon Balls couldn’t undo.

* * *

That started 18 examining herself, a mental slide show of each time she looked in a mirror. She felt a wave of relief to notice changes in herself over time as well. A little filling of the cheeks, smile lines around her eyes. She was changing too, just not as fast.

Krillin was living a tougher life now than her, she reminded herself. Eighteen got involved in the big fights some times, but not as often. While she doubted he would switch circumstances with her, the road Krillin walked to reach his age and level of strength had been more physically taxing – if not anywhere near as invasive – than hers.

It was a reasonable explanation, but not reassuring. If she wanted to be sure, she needed more information. Which is how she wound up walking the halls of Capsule Corp. “Thanks for seeing me.”

She eyed the various labs and equipment they passed warily. Even after years of knowing Bulma, it wasn’t easy for Eighteen to come to a place like this.

Which Bulma was aware of, and today at least, willing to accommodate. She walked past her personal lab to a private lounge. No sterile fluorescent lights and metal tables. Instead, open windows to let in the sun and comfortable couches and chairs. “I figured it had to be urgent if you were willing to come here."

Bulma took a seat and waved for Eighteen to do the same. “So what’s the issue?”

She leaned forward, sly grin slipping onto her face. “Is Marron about to become a big sister?”

Eighteen leaned back, arms folded across her stomach. “Not that I know of. You know how long the odds of that would be.”

Bulma settled back and lit a cigarette. “True, but you get used to long odds paying off with the lives we lead. What is it if not that?”

“Is there a way to tell if I’m aging?”

Bulma didn’t react for a moment, cigarette burning forgotten between her fingers. “You're worried about age lines? I know I make being young look easy, but those are normal.”

“Sure, as easy as gathering the Dragon Balls and asking Shenron for a magic facelift,” Eighteen replied drily. “Congratulations on your fifteenth “27th“ birthday, by the way.”

The vein over Bulma's eye throbbed. “Hey! What are you implying?!”

“Nothing. Forget I said it.” Eighteen did need the scientist’s help after all. “I just want to know, after everything Gero did, if I still age,” she hesitated, “normally.”

The ire and defensiveness left Bulma instantly, replaced by understanding. “Age like Krillin, you mean.”

A long sigh escaped. It was a relief for someone else to say it. “Yeah.”

* * *

Bulma took a few skin cells to analyze and compare against the medical records she had from during Eighteen’s pregnancy. Maybe not the ideal comparison, but with Eighteen’s aversion to labs and tests, basically all they had. Bulma warned it would take a few days, but promised to call as soon as she had results. Which left Eighteen in a holding pattern.

She tried to fill the time with tasks around the house, or spending time with Krillin and Marron. But there was always a point where she had a quiet moment to herself, and her mind would return to the dilemma.

She already knew Shenron couldn’t make her back the way she was before Gero. Even if he could, she didn’t know if she wanted that. Would she be just an ordinary human, unable to help Krillin or protect Marron?

She tried to assure herself things weren't hopeless. Coming at it from the other direction, there were things Shenron could do for Krillin. And Roshi was centuries old, something to do with that plant he made Krillin fetch.

The phone rang one evening and Eighteen zipped across the room before Krillin could even start getting up. “Hello?”

“Eighteen?” Bulma.

“You have something?”

“Good afternoon to you, too.”

“I figured you’d want to deliver the message, then get back to your family.”

A quiet laugh. “True. OK, your cells do age, but I'd say somewhere between one-fiftieth to one-hundredth the average Earthling. Something about your internal energy generator rejuvenates them. It’s really fascinating!”

“I’ll bet,” Eighteen said in a flat tone.

“Well, yeah, not so much the procedure that got it placed inside you,” Bulma admitted. “There’s always a chance the effect has a limit, or that it’ll wane if the generator loses efficiency over time. But from what I’ve seen, even with you increasing the amount of power you can bring out at once over the years, the generator isn’t getting less efficient.”

“So it’s in for the long haul.”

“Looks like, but hey,” Bulma’s voice brightened, “there are options for him. If you want to borrow the Dragon Balls. . .”

From the corner of her eye, Eighteen saw Krillin appear at the entrance to the hall. “Thanks, Bulma.”

They each hung up, but Eighteen’s eyes remained fixed on the phone where it sat in the wall. “Bulma doing OK?”

“Sure.”

He took a few steps towards her. “Was she able to help with what’s been bothering you?”

She looked up from the phone. Krillin offered a smile that said everything would be alright. “You’ve been distracted with something for days. I’ve seen you looking at me like you were about to start crying.”

When she didn’t answer, he closed the remaining distance, let one hand rest against her arm. “It sounded like you were discussing the energy generator Gero put in you. Is something wrong?”

She shook her head, struggling to force words out. ‘Just say it.’ “Would you want to be immortal?”

Krillin’s eyes went wide, making it easy to see the confusion swirling in them. “Immortal? You mean, wish for it, like Frieza and Vegeta were going to?”

“Yes.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I’ve thought about it. Mostly when we were about to fight someone I was sure would kill me. Do I just keep aging without dying?”

“No, you could stay like you are now.”

A new clarity formed in those warm brown eyes. “Eighteen, is this about my gray hairs?”

“You age,” she said, barely noticing as he guided her back to the living room, “and I don’t. At least, not like you.”

As he helped her sit on the couch, she explained Bulma’s findings, concluding, “I don’t, I don’t like the idea I may outlive you by centuries. Marron, too,” she added, eyes drifting to the ceiling. Somewhere upstairs their daughter was sleeping peacefully. A child now, but who might become an old woman while Eighteen barely changed at all.

Krillin followed her gaze and there was a different sorrow on his face when they made eye contact again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that, you aging differently. I don’t know what I can say about the chance you might live longer than Marron. The thought of that, it hurts to even consider.”

He clasped her hands. “But, you know I wouldn’t want you to be alone after I was gone, right? If you found someone else who made you happy, I’d understand. I hope you would find lots of people that make you happy, because you deserve that, and they’d be lucky to know you.”

It was a kind thought, exactly the sort of thing she’d expect, but Eighteen felt something break inside her. “You won’t even consider it?”

Krillin sighed. “I’m not saying that. Even though I’ve seen what the afterlife is like, that doesn’t mean I’m excited about maybe not being here to see Marron’s family, or curl up with you at night. It’s that, I’ve already been brought back all these times, it feels wrong to use the Dragon Balls to cheat death again, especially when someone else might really need them.”

“Oh.” Her hands felt numb, like she couldn’t feel him any longer.

“But,” he continued, “that’s easy for me to say now. If I get older, it starts hurting to get out of bed in the morning, I can’t keep up with my favorite girl,” he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, “I might start thinking differently.”

“You already groan plenty when you get out of bed in the morning.” The pressure in her chest eased just a bit.

“That’s just because I don’t want to sit through another training on proper walkie-talkie etiquette,” he said with a silly grin. “But Eighteen, I wouldn’t wish for eternal life. That means I’d lose you some day, too.”

“That’s true. Or you might get sick of me.”

“Never happen,” he replied instantly. “Tien told me King Piccolo wished to be restored to his youth. I guess I could try that.”

He rubbed his chin. “Everyone will think you’ve gotten a handsome new boy toy.”

“If you make yourself too young, you’ll have to arrest me as a dirty old woman,” she joked. “Plus, you’d lose some of that rugged charm.”

“Rugged, eh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Was it the mustache? I thought you didn’t like it?”

“I didn’t. I’m thinking more about these muscles.” She squeezed his biceps and shoulders for emphasis. “You could use that plant Roshi eats.” She paused. “That isn’t what makes him act like that, is it?”

Krillin laughed. “No. He’s probably always been like that.” He settled back down. “Are we going to have this conversation with Marron?”

Both parents again looked at the ceiling. Eighteen said, “Not until she’s much older, but assuming the planet hasn’t been blown up by then, probably. See what she wants to do.”

“Good call. The point is, we’ve got time before we’d really need to decide any of this, so don’t waste that time driving yourself nuts. You’ve got us here with you, now.” He stood, gently pulling her to her feet. “Let’s use that time.”

“I like that idea.” Eighteen wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a kiss that seemed to go on forever.