Buying Radditz, by Talon and Manawolf

by Talon and Manawolf
See Chapter 1 for Warnings and Words to Know.

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With a yowl worthy of a catamount, Radditz suddenly pivots and leaps for the pickpocket. He wants the alien's blood under his teeth and broken bones under his palms, and regardless of ki restraint he's perfectly capable of making it happen.

Radditz's transformation; such as it was, had not gone unnoticed by Trunks. He was just more focused on making sure Sage was okay, and didn't kill someone. Again. From a Saiyajin, authorities expected such barbarities. But not from fairly non-descript...erm...non-Saiyajin.

Still, even he's surprised at Radditz's attack, and he jerks him back HARD, first with the leash, then when that isn't sufficient, by the mane as well. And he glares at the pickpocket who still wears Sage's hand prints around his neck. "Do not mistake my good intentions...I WILL let him kill you if you do not vanish RIGHT. NOW." So he'd have to pay a fine. He was a new slave owner. So he didn't get the extra restraints when they were offered. It'd be worth it...even though he knows he can't allow it.

To Radditz, he murmurs, soothingly, "Calm. Easy. I know. But now is not the time. Calm down." He lets his dominant energy flow into his words and his grip. If he has to wrestle Radditz back to the ship, he will. This? Shows he remembers Sage. On some, primal, instinctive, visceral level, Radditz knows who Sage is.

Radditz choked as he was hauled back, his mid-air leap cut short by his owner's intervention. Still, he would have scrambled up off the dirt and crossed the few feet that remained to rip his target's throat out if a strong hand didn't stop his momentum before it re-started. Glaring in fury as the pickpocket scrambles away and high-tails it to safer hunting grounds, Radditz' weight strains against his new owner's grip one final time with the urge to chase fleeing prey. Unable to break free, he bristles and growls for long minutes before quieting.

The burst of energy cost him; Radditz shivers a little, then stiffly wraps his damaged tail. It hurts like hell, but he ignores it - what else is new?

His owner's voice is calming. It shouldn't be, but it is. It's not worth it to fight him on this - nothing to gain - so Radditz saves his fight for another time.

Trunks is patient. He anticipates the last ditch effort strain at the pickpocket and then loosens his grip as Radditz shivers. He doesn't miss the way his tail wraps. That has to hurt. A lot. Radditz settles further and he strokes his mane where he had been gripping it. He doesn't purr, but only because of long, long practice.

"Let's go now." He leads with a shorter leash and a slightly quicker step, pausing to let a local security know about the pickpocket his "partner" had marked as they head towards the docking bay.

Sage wants to run past the docking bay and keep running. But his feet turn, and his hand swipes his entry card and his retina is scanned on automatic as he bursts into the ship and heads directly for the small closet at the foot of the bed. He doesn't take his contacts out or switch his clothes; Trunks hasn't given the okay yet for one thing, for another he just wants to be surrounded by solid walls where no one can see him or touch him.

Stupid pickpocket. He doesn't even care about the stupid money. It was only good for buying food he could steal as easily and for buying Saiyajin to free from slavery. He didn't even carry that much money anyway. He throws the wallet against the wall and shivers. It was all fake anyhow; his ID, passes to different stations, licenses to pilot various types of ship, those sorts of things. The money was real though, it had to be. None of it was Saiyajin currency though.

The inside of the closet smelled like Saiyajin. Like him and Trunks, and a little of Turles and even some of his father. He breathes it in and waits.

The touch on his mane feels better than it should. Radditz won't be won over by little kindnesses, but he follows quietly, having no reason to do otherwise. He needs rest and food before he can muster another defiance - though he's unlikely to get enough of the latter. He ignores the officials who take notes on the pickpocket, showing little interest in anything that doesn't come within a few feet of him until they reach their destination.

Now he hopes he'll be able to rest. The handlers at auction had been rough on him, and as usual they fed paltry little. The ordeal of the auction cages followed by a long walk to the spaceport punctuated by the energy expenditure and adrenalin of the pickpocket incident had left him with very little to spare.

Trunks swipes his card, then walks to the ship, following the smell of Sage. He could almost see where the boot had pivoted and turned him into the entrance of their ship. He lets it scan his eye; their contacts were pre-programed to be accepted, then punches in the code for another passenger. "C'mon. I know you're tired. Chibi?" He calls out. A muffled reply from the sleeping room answers him and he walks Radditz into the small room with the big bed as Sage slides the closet door open enough to peer out. "It's okay. See?"

Sage fusses with his collar a bit in a subtle, unspoken query; can he take the disguise off now? The combination of the high collar and some creative hair product gave his long, voluminous, very Saiyajin mane the appearance of being short, as contacts colored his black eyes violet. But Trunks shakes his head. "Not yet. Can you come out and help me get Radditz settled?"

Sage looks up at his Mama, closes the door, stands up and opens it again so he can walk out instead of crawling out. Despite the short, compactness of the closet, he doesn't yet have to actually stoop.

"Are we leaving right now?" he asks as he carefully closes the door behind him.

"Soon as I can get clearance. If you're ready."

"I'm ready. I'm okay."

Trunks gives him a half smile where he would normally hug him roughly and rumple his hair. He heads up to the controls and leaves the leash in Sage's hands with neither Sage nor Radditz knowing quite how it got there.

Radditz blinks and looks at the door his owner left through. Leaving a clearly untrustworthy Saiyajin in the hands of this kid? It was true, Radditz wouldn't have harmed a hair on his head, but that didn't mean he wouldn't slip his leash. Chances were the door was locked, he couldn't get anywhere, but... still.

He frowns, swiping the back of his hand across his nose. It was still hard to smell anything around the blood, doubly so in the conditioned air of the ship. He wishes he could smell Chibi; somehow Radditz thought if he could do that, he could figure everything out.

No help for it. There was nothing he could do about it, so he would just have to deal. He looked at Chibi - dammit, he KNEW him, he didn't recognize him but he knew him...

But damn if he knew how to ask.

Sage looks at the door Trunks had gone through and closed behind him. Okay, on the one hand, he knows his job. They don't always do it this way, but sometimes. Depends on the slave. But...Trunks had said NOT to take off the disguise. Which made sense, because they were under risk for inspection until they were actually in clear space. Still...it made everything harder.

"C'mon," he says quietly. "It'll take him awhile to get everything set to take off. Let's at least get that bruise cleaned up. Everything else'll have to wait until we're in space, but I ken at least do that much." He unhooks the leash and puts it in a drawer, not to save, but to make sure it doesn't bang around when they do take off and he opens the door to their bathing area and goes in, getting down the supplies he needs. He doesn't turn to look and see if his Mama follows him. He assumes he will. Most slaves do.

Well, yes - after all, what else is he going to do? Radditz rubs under his collar after the leash is removed - it's sore from the yank-back earlier, after all he was caught in a mid-air leap. It shouldn't bruise as badly as his jaw, though.

His ears twitch at Chibi's use of slang and he follows, curious and unafraid, though not trusting. Radditz has to fight the urge to let his tail down; the kid was no threat, but that wouldn't make moving his crooked-and-fused vertebrae any less painful.

There don't seem to be any other servants or personnel. Odd.

"So. What's it take to piss that guy off?" he inquires casually. Information gathering was essential to survival. Chibi's answer ought to clue him in to the kid's own status - servant? Underling? Friend? - as well as figure out what his new owner's deal was.

Sage's eyes flicker briefly. "Hurt one of his own," he says quietly. Still, Trunks could be pissed off enough to blow a planet to bits and a person standing next to him might not know it. "Get in his way." He shrugs. "Siddown," he points with his head to a bathing stool. When Radditz does, cautiously, he carefully cleans his face and neck with warm water that has a mild healing solution in it. "Only stings a little," is his comment as he works it under the collar, careful not to set off a feedback loop. He frowns at the unfamiliar design. Well, he should be able to get it off, but not until Trunks says so.

His fingers are gentle as he examines the bruise on his sebba's jaw. He knows he'll find worse under Mama's mane, but he reminds himself, just little stuff first. He activates an auto-cold pack. "Hold that there for now. I dun 'member where I left the bruise balm." His slang and accent tend to be a little odd unless he focuses hard. He can't help but be multilingual with as many different masters he's had in his life. Some of his s's run a little long, and some of his vowels are oddly shaped, but his Common is plain enough.

Well THAT wasn't very informative. Did "one of his own" apply to kin, or property? If the former, Radditz wasn't likely to accomplish it. But the latter... depends on who else he owned. "Getting in his way," however, was pretty fucking easy. Radditz would have to check that out.

Wiry muscles solid, he braces for a feedback loop as Chibi cleans under his collar, too used to people who didn't know what they were doing, or were unprepared for high-tolerance ki restraints. The kid's light touch is nice, and the aforewarned sting doesn't faze him at all.

"'ve had worse," he points out wryly. Getting medical treatment at all was more than he expected. So what if it stung? The cold pack is a cute idea, if wholly unnecessary as far as Radditz is concerned, but he shrugs and does as he's told anyway. Don't look gift murgs in the mouth, and stuff.

The mix of accents becomes clear the more Chibi speaks. Radditz starts to recognize it as common among those raised in slavery. The kids he looked after in the auction cages spoke like that, sometimes. But Red-hair hadn't treated him like a slave... maybe he'd been freed? If so, why, and what the heck was he doing here?

He wants to ask where Chibi is from, but that can be a loaded question, and he doesn't really think he'll get an answer.

He rummages around in another cupboard, frowning, taking a few things out before squatting down and opening another. He curses in a mixture of hissy and surprisingly lyrical languages before he finds the tub of balm he's looking for. "Who the hell put it down there?" He frowns and sets it on the sink, thinking back to the last time he used it. He can't remember. Oh well.

He eyes the bruising under the collar. Cleaning it had been easy enough without setting off a feedback loop, but he still doesn't recognize the design of the thing. He scratches his head. "D'you know who gave you this collar?" It's a long shot, but he has to ask.

Radditz is hard-pressed not to chuckle at the small drama unfolding with the balm. God dammit, he's cute.

The collar... he would love to forget. But he can't; it was linked too closely to the story of his tail. Why it's so damaged, why he still has one.

An old Saiyajin trick to rid yourself of the weakness a tail posed in extreme circumstances. Forced regeneration, a surge of ki that half-fried his old collar. New collar, new tail... something new for them to hurt. Teach him a lesson.

It almost broke him. Almost.

"Chirujin," he replies, voice neutral through long practice, even though he can't hide the tension in his jaw or the way he sits perfectly still, muscles locked. Cousins to the Icejin, they weren't common and they didn't hold the same political sway, but they were no less vicious.

He stills entirely. He'd only had one, brief encounter with any of that race. His tail wants out, wants to lash around and then wrap tightly around him, but it can't so it just wraps tighter so he can feel the pressure against his scars. He'd heard much more about the variant of the Icejin than he had personally ever experienced. He'll have to do some research before he tries to get the collar off later, to see how the technology matches up with Icejin collars. They don't look the same. He doesn't want to assume they'll function the exact same way and make a painful mistake.

Mama's scent was another reason. He's almost knocked down by the intensity of the reaction in scent and body language. Oshit. He grips his forehead and slides down the wall until he's sitting. That hurts and it makes him nauseous. He's not going to throw up. He won't waste food, and if he throws up, he'll get in trouble, not for throwing up. He won't get in trouble any more for throwing up. He has to remember that. It's the totally reasonable thing he used to do AFTER he threw up so as to not waste the food that got him in trouble these days.

He hears the footsteps and the knock at the door and Trunks' voice asking if he's okay. Hell, he doesn't know!! "'m fine," he calls back, regardless. He has no idea at the moment if his sebba is also fine, he just breathes and waits for it to clear. Of course Trunks would sense THAT. He repeats himself, hoping Trunks wouldn't come in. Not gonna puke. It's fading...not gonna puke. Pain is going away. It is.

... The hell? Radditz doesn't know what that reaction is about, but his own response is immediate and instinctual. Or it would be, if he wasn't interrupted by a stab of pain that surges through his brain and down his nervous system like a floodwater deluge. He ducks his head and takes half a second to work through it, then slips to his feet to retrieve a washcloth he spied earlier when Chibi was going through cabinets. Soaking it in water, he twists the cloth free of excess before crouching down to press the cool fabric against the boy's forehead. His movements are gentle, and he clears the disguised Saiyajin's bangs away from his face in a comforting gesture.

Damn it, where does he know this kid? Up close he can see - it almost seems like -

His new owner's query instantly redirects his attention. Chibi doesn't seem to find him an overt threat, but Radditz does, his back curving into a protective crouch as his teeth bare in a silent snarl. He doesn't need to know why he feels the way he does in order to act on it, and he's clearly willing to come between his new owner and the vulnerable... whatever Chibi was... putting himself on the line to protect him.

Trunks' nose works just fine. "All right Chibi. If you need anything, call me, okay?" He won't even open the door, not with what he smells in there. One step at a time. Sage is okay, it's just feedback from the bond, something strong must have triggered a reaction in one of them. Not surprising considering their backgrounds. And Radditz is putting himself between his new "owner" and Sage. There's another mark in the right box. Still..."If you throw up, clean it up, please don't eat it." Just incase. He won’t be upset if it happens; his constitution is fairly iron clad, it's really just as much a warning to Radditz as it is to Sage.

"Yessir," he manages. "'m fine. 'm fine." Go away Trunks...everyone...go away. Only long conditioning stops him from unconsciously asking for his Mama even though he's right there. He listens to Trunks head back to the cockpit and the world rights itself. He blinks large, violet eyes up at Radditz. "'m fine. Thank you."

How did he know Chibi was upset? Coming to the door just then was coincidence, but the rest of it...

"Mm." That's his version of "no problem." Those eyes... Radditz almost leans in to lick Chibi's forehead. Only training, long years of being relentlessly taught that those instincts get him into trouble, hold him back. Spontaneity and initiative weren't ideal slave traits. He rests on his heels, one set of fingertips brushing the ground to maintain balance while his tail remains wrapped.

He's certain Chibi used to be a slave. Eating what you threw up wasn't something Radditz had ever resorted to, but a lot of growing cubs did. They were in need of far more nutrition than Radditz. The mention of "Sir" cinched it.

Now that he knows, he won't ask. Especially with that reaction. Maybe he'd been a Chirujin pet himself, maybe not. It was his business, and he'd tell Radditz if he wanted to. The camaraderie of slaves was a language all its own; it didn't need specifics, merely hyper-vigilance. Deflected glances and tense shoulders replaced tales of brutality; they lived it, they didn't need to say it. And if you really wanted to know the specifics, you asked someone else. No need to go poking old wounds.

He breathes until he feels steady enough to push himself up onto his feet, still leaning against the wall. He must be stronger. He remembers howling when Trunks first found him. He doesn't look at Mama now. Mama knows. Still doesn't know HIM, but knows...things he doesn't talk about. It's a few more moments before he finds his voice again. "Gotta finish," he murmurs. Focusing on doing something makes him feel steadier. More in control of himself. He knows what he's supposed to be doing. He's not in trouble. And even if he did something wrong, Trunks would never, EVER hurt him. Never.

He'd thought he was past this stage. "Couldja sit back down inna chair please?"

Radditz nods, sliding to his feet with the underlying grace of a trained fighter and sitting on a chair for Chibi to reach. He'd been known to make trouble for handlers attempting to clean him up for presentation, but sits still and cooperative, tilting his neck for ease of access. The kid was just acting on orders; Radditz knew he would get upset if he couldn't finish the job.

Not very many owners had figured out that Radditz wouldn't hurt cubs. If they'd assigned cub slaves to care for the Saiyajin, he'd have been docile as a lamb - or at least he wouldn't have fought back.

"Thank you." Since he can reach them, he cleans off his sebba's shoulders while he's at it before first carefully applying the bruise balm to the knot on his jaw. This stuff was good, worked well on Saiyajin where not alot of stuff might for things like bruises and swelling. And it wasn't even home grown. He's relieved to see the coloring go from dark black, blue and purple-red to easing to greenish yellow as the knot shrinks noticeably.

The bruise from the collar is newer though, must have happened after he ran for the ship. He wonders how, Trunks doesn't DO things like that, not without reason, so something must have happened. He'll ask Trunks. Later.

He's generous with the balm to make up for having to be lighter with his touch, and more careful as he applies it on his Mama's neck and throat. He's pleased to note that his hands don't shake. Good. If he screws up it won't be because he got spooked and felt sick and stuff. His breath is steady too as he works. He could hardly wait to get OUT of these clothes and clean himself off...the stink of the auction was still in his nose, and it wasn't the stink that Mama retained from it either. The contacts don't exactly bother his eyes, but he'd rather have them out than in, and most of his mane and ALL of his tail was restricted and hidden. He can't even take his boots off yet.

Patience. Be patient. Like Trunks is patient. Like Mama is being patient right now.

Chibi's careful, very careful, and even though Radditz can't separate Sage's scent from the dust and blood and dry air, the cub scent still works its way into his brain. Between the gentle touches and his physiological reaction, the big Saiyajin starts to relax, a purr starting up in his chest.

Moments of comfort are few and far between; take what you can while it's there to be had. Radditz doesn't relax completely, keeping an ear out for his new owner, but he trusts Chibi.

Mama's PURRING!! He keeps his hands steady though as he finishes with the balm and puts it aside in favor of the cutbane for some of the open wounds he saw here and there. It wouldn't do to get too deeply involved with what he's doing because at some point he'll have to stop to help with the ship before they can focus on Mama, but it sounds SO good and makes him feel so good he ALMOST forgets himself.

He's reminded of what he's doing when he absently licks a finger then makes a face...cutbane didn't taste very good though it wouldn't hurt him any, and he looks over Mama's bulk...such as it was into a mirror. Shit. His "short haired" violet eyed self blinks back at him. Right. It's NOT FAIR but Trunks' knock at the door is enough to startle him out of a potential internal temper tantrum.

"Chibi," he pokes his head into the bathroom. "I need your help with the final checklist, finish up please and see me up front."

"Yessir." He doesn't see or hear Trunks' small sigh at his automatic response, but he also notices that Trunks doesn't stay for his sebba's reaction.

The purr vanishes into thin air as his new owner appears. He watches the exchange mistrustfully, and is left with the distinct impression that he's missing something vital. Of course, no one ever explained anything to a slave, but this was different.

Well. He ought to ask where they were going, but in the end it made little difference. Radditz wouldn't recognize the name, and it wouldn't affect him one way or the other. Just like it didn't matter what his owner's name was; Red-hair would make it clear if he wanted to be called something, and in the meantime "Master" or "Sir" was expected.

Not that Radditz had the slightest intention of using those titles. He might concede the point, if pressed, but only if pressed.

He wonders how long the trip will be, and where he'll have to wait it out.

The purr vanishes, and Sage quickly finishes what he's doing and puts things away, being sure to put the bruise balm in the TOP cupboard where it belonged. He hesitates, but they can't get any further until they're out of the stupid space port, so he opens the door to the bedroom. "C'mon."

Radditz cocks his head, getting to his feet and trailing after. (Again, where else was he going to go?) Looking around, it doesn't seem like any slave quarters he's ever seen. It's not actually dehumanizing.

Maybe he was supposed to sleep at the foot of the bed. It would be an unusual privilege (especially to an unbroken Saiyajin), but it made more sense than anything else.

Oh how he wants to take off his boots!! But he's careful as he crawls onto the bed and pulls the covers back from the side closest to the wall. "You're prolly real tired, an' this side of th' bed has safety straps. You only need 'em until we're clear an' on course, but it ken get bumpy until we do. But they're comfortable. I've used 'em myself." He looks up from moving the pillows around and blinks. "C'mon. It'sss okay, really. 's where you're supposed t'be." Ugh he hates that hiss when he notices it. "You'll prolly fall asleep before we even take off 'f you lay down now."

Okay, what. The bed? Seriously?

Maybe Red-hair hadn't planned on picking up a slave and the ship didn't have any 'appropriate' quarters. So, fine. He was tired, and if Chibi said that was where he was supposed to go, he would trust that. He's subconsciously preparing to get punished for dirtying up the sheets, though. Showers were not an amenity the slave traders provided to their stock.

With an equanimous shrug, he gets on the mattress and makes his way over to the far side. At least he'll have his back against something. It was always good to have one side you could be certain was safe.

But if he's going to lay down, he'll have to unwrap his tail. Painful experience has taught him NOT to rest his body weight on the damaged links, even if that posed no problem for an intact limb. It just couldn't flex the right way.

Stiff and careful, he unhooks his tail-tip and awkwardly straightens the length. There are a spare handful of undamaged joints, but far more sections of bad kinks and fused vertebrae. When it's clear he settles down on his side.

Sage lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding as his sebba unwinds his tail in a very obviously painful series of motions and settles down. First on the list, he's finding out WHO did that to his sebba's tail, and then he is going to hunt them down and...probably watch Trunks vivisect him, her, it or them.

He scoots over and helps his Mama with the straps, noting they latch, they don't LOCK. He knows Mama is confused, but there are no words to explain things here and now, so he just pulls up the covers and bites his lip. "I gotta go. Jus' rest. I'll be back." He scoots off the bed and out the door, closing it behind him and joining Trunks up front, taking his place in his own seat and picking up his check list. It shakes in his hands.

Trunks turns his seat and gently takes the list from Sage's hands and pulls him into his lap. Sage was small, but not tiny, but Trunks didn't get his size from their father's side of the family anyway even if he wasn't quite as tall as Radditz. "It'll be okay. We got him. He's safe now. You're safe."

Sage nods as he curls up on Trunks' lap as he fights the tears. They weren't gone yet. A few spill out as Trunks purrs quietly to him and strokes his head, but he settles down quickly enough.

It was better than he would have gotten a year ago, so he lets it stand when Sage rubs his eyes with his sleeve and sits up.

"Can we go?"

"Get your check list and strap in. I've got clearance and I'm starting the engines up."

Sage obeys, stopping himself more often than not from turning in his seat to look at the closed door across the ship as the engines rumbled then eased into smooth sound while they prepared to lift off.

It's been a long time... a really, really long time since he's been on a mattress (not straw, not a pile of hoarded blankets, not a pallet, not something infested with bugs), and the blankets are clean. Not only that, but there are no other slaves, no handlers; hell, he wasn't even properly restrained, he could defend himself if it came down to it.

Where will he end up? What kind of owner has he really fallen in with? How long will it last? Radditz hasn't the faintest clue. He'll find out as it comes; there isn't and never has been anything he can do to control it, foreknowledge or not.

He's asleep before they clear orbit. The noise and thrust of lift-off disturbs him a little, but not for long. He's too tired to stay awake for something that doesn't pose a threat. So he sleeps, thin under the blankets, unkempt mane spread out behind him, damaged tail resting on the soft mattress.

Once they're safely in space, Sage heads back to the bedroom and is gratified to see Mama sleeping soundly. AND he gets to finally take all this CRAP off! He still isn't used to wearing a full set of clothing for long periods of time, both slavery and living on Vegeta-sei lent themselves to a good deal of full to partial nudity. First he pulls off the boots and socks with a sigh of relief even if the floor is a little cold, he can FEEL it through his scarred and calloused feet. He peels off layers of clothes on his way to the bathroom to carefully take out the contact lenses and clean them.

Once that's done, and he's bare-footed, black eyed and long haired again he pulls on a regular pair of shorts and eyes the shower and bath regretfully. He'll wait until it's time to clean Mama up. The ship was good, but the hot water was finite depending on how much and how long you use it and how long you wanted to wait for it to get hot again.

He does take the time to wash his face good though and run his fingers through his mane. His scars were considerably more faded than Mama's and he was filling out. Trunks said he'd be busy for awhile yet and Sage knew he wanted to give them some time together alone first.

But now he's nervous. What if Mama doesn't remember him? Trunks swears he's sure that he does. And his brother is almost always right. Still, it's enough to make him sit against the wall again, his tail in his fingers, door partially open, thinking. Worrying.

Radditz wakes to the distinct sensation he's being watched. For once it's not a bad thing; it's not a threat, for some reason. His senses come online first, always looking for threats; when none are to be had, he stretches, the feel of the blankets and mattress helping him re-orient. That's right - the odd red-haired bidder, his new owner, and Chibi...

It feels like they're well in transit, so Radditz slips the restraints free and sits up to look around. There's a figure seated against the floor, but he can't quite make it out. They're not well-lit, and that hair did a good job of hiding him. It was a lot like Radditz' own.

Chibi's hair had been short... but something tells Radditz that's him anyway.

"Chibi...?"

He startles slightly and looks up. Mama's awake and sitting up. "Yeah," he whispers. He doesn't mean to whisper, it's just his voice is caught between wanting to fling himself at his sebba and frozen in place and needing to run away and hide because someone will get mad at him sooner or later. "'s me." He clears his throat a little. "You sleep okay?" He manages to raise his voice above a whisper with a little effort. His tail slips from his fingers and thwaps against the floor and the wall and he grabs for it to hold it close to him again. Mama's tail is so bent and hurt and his own is whole and healed and healthy; the fur soft and shiny.

And he's clean, even if he feels dirty from the station and the auction. His mane still has some stuff in it, but it is still healthy and shiny like his tail.

He wants to ask, he wants to say, "It's me, it's your son, it's Sage, you named me, you birthed me, don't you remember me," but it seems unfair. What if Mama doesn't remember him? What if he's just "Chibi" forever to him? No, Trunks SAID.

He wishes Trunks would come in here and do it how they usually do things. But Trunks said this way was best and he always does what Trunks says...

Radditz sees the movement of a tail. That's new. Something's different. He lifts his head, tries to scent the air. He can almost...

Enough of this. Not bothering to address the question, he flows off the mattress like a cat - mangled tail be damned - and crosses the distance to Chibi, all the while moving in a low crouch to keep them on the same level. He reaches out, fingers threading into the dark bangs and brushing them aside.

The world stops.

Radditz doesn't have to say it. If he gives voice to this precious thing in front of him, the world might break. But he knows.

The moment his heart starts up again he pulls Sage to him. He will never, ever let go again.

to be continued