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Atavism	By : ctsama Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 9192 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball, Dragonball Z, Dragonball Super, Resurrection 'F', or Battle of Gods or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Harsh Truths

Vegeta awoke where he had fallen, feeling slightly less exhausted than when he’d arrived. He stayed where he was for several minutes, both adjusting to the throbbing pain in his loins and the awful recurring and seemingly inescapable reality of waking in his own blood and the seed of an abuser.

He couldn’t think about it yet, wasn’t ready to face anything that had happened so he pushed it all to the back of his mind in a practice he hadn’t had to use since his early days with Zarbon and Ginyu. He took a deep, steadying breath and rose unsteadily to enter the house.

He stopped at the kitchen, put water bottles and a few ready-to-eat snack foods into an empty capsule. After shrinking it down he limped painfully upstairs, gasping as he went. He struggled out of his boots and stripped the remains of his shorts from his body. He held the ruined material and boots in his hands and spared a small amount of ki to burn them out of existence.

They smelled like Gohan and it wasn’t enough to throw them away. He would not, could not have that near him.

He went to shower first. A cry of distress escaped him when he reached for the faucet and saw how badly Gohan had mangled his wrists. It took a few minutes but he was able to get himself back under control. He stepped into the shower and allowed himself to give in to the compulsion to scrub himself raw in near scalding water even though he knew full well it wouldn’t help.

It never did.

He dried himself as best he could after the urge had passed and dropped the wet towel on the floor. He needed gloves back. He went to get a pair and pulled them on, covering those awful marks. He climbed gingerly into bed with the capsule within reach, hating that he knew the drill so well. He would have to sleep on his stomach and do nothing for at least a few days.

He would focus on the needs of the children. They were Saiyan, they were of his people, they were part of him, and they were innocent. He would keep them safe no matter what. It would have to be enough.

In the days and weeks that followed Vegeta forced himself to eat and he kept up with the babies and their new families, but that was all he could do. Sleep was fitful when it would come at all. He felt as though he was full of broken glass inside, raw and bleeding. It was partly because he had been given no choice but to face the unbelievable truth that the son of his first real friend, a boy he’d watched grow into a man, had defeated and ravaged him so completely.

It was partly because he now bore the fruits of that violent attack in his own body and he had yet to come to terms with it.

And it was partly because his mind had been damaged from the attack in a way he wasn’t even aware of.

He missed Goku so badly it felt like the best part of him was just missing. The ache was never ending. There were times when it even drove him to his knees, when all he could feel was the unending crawling of Gohan’s touch on and beneath his skin and all he wanted was Goku’s touch to chase it all away. He would shiver, sometimes blankly, sometimes sobbing, but always crying out for him. Not out loud, of course, but deep within where he knew he wouldn’t be heard.

Vegeta’s body hadn’t had a chance to recover between pregnancies and he could feel the difference. He was barely strong enough to tolerate the gravity chamber at Vegeta-sei normal, let alone do any real training. He wasn’t able to see Trunks in the early months as he had before either, keeping up the illusion of being well was too much of a strain and he would not have his son worry.

He visited Trunks only to tell him he’d be absent for a few months. The boy had been disappointed but had seemed to know without being told that something was wrong. Before he’d blinked out again he’d taken Vegeta’s hand, startling him, and told him to take care of himself. He’d been too touched to give a haughty reply, he’d only nodded slowly and thanked him.

The twins inside him were slower than the others at manifesting a presence he could read. The question of what he bore inside him gnawed at him. Would they really be innocent children, born from such a horrible act? Or would they be monsters?

It wasn’t until the second month of the pregnancy that the mental attacks started.

It seemed Gohan had learned to use the savaged bond to assault him. At first it was just at night while he slept. Sometimes he would dream of Goku, taking the place of Ginyu or Zarbon, violating him in every way possible before he would morph into Gohan, who would drive the monsters away. Other times it was just Gohan, holding him down, pressing into him and repeating ‘mine.’

He would awake in cold sweat, shaking and gasping. The little sleep he had been getting dried up to brief naps when his body forced the issue.

By the third month the attacks were coming at all times of day as Gohan realized that if he could break through into Vegeta’s waking mind he could find him.

The attacks were unpredictable, sometimes coming on slowly, sometimes all at once. They took the form of relentless hammering against his mental walls. The only saving grace was that Gohan seemed to lack the telepathic strength for a prolonged assault without having any physical contact with him.

Nevertheless, anxiety began to take him over. It kept him from eating properly or resting as he should. His body routed whatever the children needed to them but Vegeta was suffering. His resources were strained, but he had to keep the babies protected, so he struggled on. He had always had a knack for shielding, but as the attacks continued he was nearing his limit with two months still to go.

He knew he couldn’t keep going the way he was, but didn’t know what to do. Even if he could tell someone, who could he tell? Who would even listen to him? This was Gohan, and no one was going to believe such a sweet and gentle person had changed so drastically. He had even mentioned ‘keeping up appearances,’ and Vegeta knew how clever he was. There was no way he didn’t lay some groundwork just in case he decided to poke his head out and start talking. Best case scenario, they’d only think he was lying.

No, he was on his own and he knew it.

He was just going downstairs for a meal when the breaking point finally came. Gohan had left him alone for over a week, and he was beginning to eat enough again. Between one step and the next though, the ground had spiralled up to meet him and he lay there screaming as pain drilled unrelenting into his mind. His shields began to fail under the onslaught, Gohan would be through and if he found Vegeta it was over.

It would have taken just one more focused assault, and he could feel Gohan gearing up. Suddenly, energy flared and rose through him, a bright, pure light that forced Gohan out of his mind. He lay there shuddering in the stillness, wondering what deity had taken pity on him.

It took him a moment, but he realized the energy flare had come from within him. His girls. They had helped him. He laughed weakly through tears of gratitude, rubbed his stomach though a bump barely showed. “Lovely ladies,” he murmured, blanketing them in warmth. “Thank you.”

Things improved after that. His little warriors were the antithesis of the brutally violent act that conceived them: they were protection incarnate. And they were ferocious in that protection; there was nothing infantile in the way they slammed into their other father’s presence whenever they felt it. Not even sleep could stop them.

Eventually Gohan was forced to give up on trying to find them through the damaged bond and left them alone. Vegeta’s listlessness eased and he was able to care for the children better.

They had obviously inherited his telepathic strength and since he was in a weakened physical state, he devoted his time to communicating with them mentally. They were naturals at blocking and repelling thought, so he strengthened those skills with games. He would send one a picture of some simple object, and when she would send it back he would shield and ‘bounce’ the picture to her sister. When they were ready for a new picture one of them would ‘receive’ it to end the round. It was their favorite game.

Their curiosity was great and he thought about sharing language skills to them so they could understand more, but decided against it, sticking to images and emotions instead. Words just muddled things anyway. He loved the pure simplicity of their feelings. They were truly his salvation during a time in which he was more physically and mentally fragile than he had ever been in his life.

____________________________________________________________________________
Goku woke blearily again as he did so often now. The sound of his own name screamed in pain reverberated through him and he brought his palm up to his forehead, deep in thought.

It wasn’t just in dreams that the cry came. Sometimes it came in his waking life, jolting him so badly that he froze mid-action to steady himself as it passed. The dreams came infrequently, and they didn’t make sense. Dreams of Vegeta being swallowed by darkness, crying out to him for help.

It had angered him at first, thinking it was simply his subconscious mind being an asshole. But there was something too real about the dreams and he started to wonder if he was picking up real pain through some trick of Saiyan telepathy. If so that meant Vegeta’s decision to use him and throw him away, to betray him with his own son was causing him pain.

He was able to square that explanation with himself for months, even found some small satisfaction that Vegeta was hurting too.

But spite never had suited him and he couldn’t maintain it forever. His heart knew none of it made sense and it had only been a matter of time until its voice became louder than his increasingly unstable emotions. Vegeta had been secretive, but never dishonest. But in that light what Gohan had told him didn’t make sense, and he knew his son to be utterly trustworthy.

And through all his turmoil, the dreams and the cries continued, getting weaker and weaker as time wore on. Goku’s indecision weighed on him heavily.

Now that he wasn’t so blinded by pain, something else didn’t make sense. There had clearly been a challenge and Vegeta would never, ever have submitted to someone weaker than him. Yes, his son had great potential but it always had to be unlocked by great need. He hadn’t been doing any serious training lately either. Taking all that into account, he could not have beaten Vegeta, there was no way.

“I’m missing something. What am I missing?” he thought out loud. He dressed, Transmitted himself to that meadow which was Vegeta’s last known location.

Life had returned to the meadow. Nature was reasserting itself, grass and flowers again covered the once-fractured earth. He could even hear fish jumping in the nearby lake, sending ripples across the clear, cool water. The natural beauty and peacefulness of the place immediately put a smile on his face. It faded quickly though and a frown took its place.

He saw the scene through fresh eyes and his skin crawled as things began to fall into place.

Vegeta had invited Gohan to spar… here? Vegeta would never have wanted to spar here. Both he and Gohan both preferred empty places when they trained. This was someplace Vegeta would have chosen to bring Goku because he liked surroundings like this.

He looked around, really searched on a hunch he hoped was wrong. After an hour or so he found them, half buried in the dirt. He dug them out, choking on a sob.

Vegeta’s gloves, whole and undamaged, removed before the fight. He never took them off around anyone unless absolutely necessary, and that necessity was usually Bulma’s complaining at some official setting. To spar with someone other than him? Never. He hadn’t been here to spar. He was here… ‘Because… it felt like me. Because he missed me.’

His son had lied.

And he’d left Vegeta alone, in pain and in danger for months.

Another outburst of Saiyan rage and pain and the meadow had more healing to do.

____________________________________________________________________________
As the time drew near for delivery, sharp pains began to shoot through Vegeta’s belly at times. He just attributed it to the fact that the children were partly human; some differences were to be expected, and they never seemed to be in distress from the pains.

He was dozing in the gravity chamber when one of those strange pains heralded the onset of labor, though much stronger than it had been before. It left him gasping for breath, and once the wave passed he realized his sweatpants were damp. He thought for a moment that it was simply time to deliver, but as he peeled them off he realized that the dampness wasn’t the usual fluid, it was blood. The babies seemed to be fine but he knew something was wrong. The blood was coming out in a steady trickle.

His only concern was for the girls, he needed to make sure if something happened to him they would be with someone who could protect them from Gohan if necessary. He closed his eyes and drew on his fear for the strength he needed. He opened them again to see Piccolo’s surprised expression before the pain tore through him again.

The Namekian dropped quickly out of his meditation to the ground and caught Vegeta before he could fall over. His fingers curled in the material of his shirt, gripping tightly as he panted for breath. His legs were shaking and Piccolo lowered them both to the ground, supporting him as Vegeta sank to his knees.

There were so many questions to ask but Vegeta was in too bad a state for explanations so he settled for the crisis of the moment. “Vegeta? What’s wrong?”

“The girls are coming but something’s different,” he gasped. “It’s not like the other births, but… that doesn’t matter now. They may need your help.”

“Okay but, what do I do? My people spit out eggs for crying out loud. I don’t know anything about this stuff!”

“Strip.”

Piccolo blinked owlishly at him until he explained. “I didn’t exactly have time to pack a fucking ‘go’ bag. They’ll need to be kept warm and it would be best if they were around your smell.”

Piccolo shook his head ruefully. ‘Of course.’ “What else can I do?” he asked, shrugging out of his cloak and shirt.

He spared a weary smile for the bewildered Namek. “I don't know, it’s not like I usually have an audience for this.”

Vegeta pushed against him, seemed to be trying to move away from him but Piccolo wasn’t at all convinced he could do this on his own. “Hang on, you can barely support yourself. Isn’t there some other way you can do this?”

“I think so, I’m just… used to doing it alone.”

“Well, tough. You bothered me and now you have to deal with it.”

The tight bunching if his abdominal muscles started up and he gasped, “Just keep me upright, I’ll do the rest.” Piccolo settled behind him, one arm loosely around him just above the curve of his swollen stomach.

He was still partially under his own weight and Piccolo just pulled him flush to his chest. “I’ve got you, relax.”

Vegeta drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. It was strange having someone else there with him, but it was nice. Piccolo’s warm, steady presence took away some of the anxiety that had been his constant companion over the last six months. His hands fell naturally to Piccolo’s arms and he pulled them away as soon as he realized what he was doing. Piccolo snorted behind him and took his hand, bringing it back. “I told you. Uncle Piccolo wants to help. Squeeze as hard as you need to. If you pull it off I’ll just grow another one.” Vegeta spared him a small chuckle before he had to start pushing.

Piccolo just watched over Vegeta’s shoulder in a somewhat horrified fascination as the process unfolded. Vegeta was squeezing his arm hard as he gasped between long stretches of held breath. He was perplexed, he’d been told pregnant people yelled a lot through delivery, but Vegeta was almost completely silent. He was glad he had braced himself so well because Vegeta pushing back into him would have knocked them both off balance otherwise.

He was weaker than he ever had been and it took longer than it should have to push her out. At last the first child finally slipped free of Vegeta’s body and just kind of flopped out of him in a terribly undignified way. Not at all what he had expected having heard of the miracle and beauty of birth. And yet, he realized he was grinning like an idiot. “That was amazing, Vegeta.”

“Glad you’re… impressed, Uncle Piccolo,” Vegeta said quietly, smiling at his daughter as he pulled the crying child to his chest with shaky hands. He looked her over and when he was satisfied she was all right gestured for Piccolo to take her. Before he did, Vegeta half smiled, “And I thought I was the soft one,” he said, knuckling away a tear or two off Piccolo’s cheek.

“Oh, shut up,” Piccolo grumbled. “It’s not every day you get to witness a birth of an endangered species.” He helped Vegeta get to his side for a break before he took the baby from his arms. He lifted her gently and wrapped her in his shirt, studying her in a daze while her father talked him through the cleaning and cord process.

She cried softly in his arms and he couldn’t look away. Her damp little tail twisted its way out of the folds of his shirt to wrap around his wrist and something cold in him just melted clean away.

Vegeta felt far too worn out for having delivered only one child. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and his muscles trembled. He watched as Piccolo cleaned his daughter. The usually stern Namekian displayed more gentleness than he had ever seen from him before, a soft smile on his face all the while. He could feel his daughter calming as Piccolo studied her. ‘She likes him too,’ he thought. He started to feel some distress from the child still within him and his anxiety shot off the charts.

Muscles clamped down again in response to it and he gasped in pain. Piccolo heard him, rested his daughter gently nearby before returning to him as he curled over. “Can you get back up?” Vegeta nodded, took Piccolo’s hand but was too exhausted to get there himself. Piccolo stopped him, laid him back down while Vegeta gave him a questioning look. “What about this?” He settled behind Vegeta and slid his arm under Vegeta’s knee, lifting it to make room for the baby to come out. Vegeta nodded and in the new position Vegeta’s shirt rode up enough for him to actually see the intense clenching of the muscles under his skin, it was fascinating.

Vegeta was pushing hard, groaning at the effort but even he could see that something was wrong. He was so pale, eyes glazed and Piccolo could tell his energy was failing. He was starting to panic as well, something about the baby and the process had him spooked.

His hooked arm was close enough to reach Vegeta’s face, so he leaned down and touched his cheek, making him turn his head to look at him. “Look at me.” He waited for Vegeta’s eyes to focus on him before continuing. “Don’t give up, calm down. You can do this. Just focus on me, you’re not alone. Breathe, in slow. When I say, breathe out and push as hard as you can.” Piccolo waited the few seconds for Vegeta’s abdominal muscles to clamp down again before telling him “Now,” as gently as he could.

Vegeta followed his voice and pushed so hard every muscle in his body went rigid and Piccolo winced in sympathy. After a few moments of hard straining his second child slid out in a gush of blood and Vegeta reached for her weakly. He checked her over and she wasn’t breathing. “No,” he cried softly. He extended his ki around her to make her feel warm and safe, cleared her mouth of mucus and gently slapped her back. “Please,” he begged quietly as Piccolo watched with his heart in his throat as well. After a few tense moments she drew in a ragged breath and wailed.

They both breathed a sigh of relief and Vegeta held her close for a moment before he handed her to Piccolo. He cleaned her up as Vegeta pushed out the afterbirth along with more blood. By the end of it things were going dark at the edges of his vision. “Piccolo?” he called in confusion.

With Vegeta on his side he hadn’t noticed, but now he realized the ground was stained red. He grimaced. This couldn’t be normal. He set the children down gently right next to him and returned to Vegeta’s side. “I’m here, you’ve got to tell me what’s happening.”

Vegeta was losing consciousness and he grabbed at Piccolo in desperation. Piccolo frowned, moved closer and Vegeta’s hands grasped the sides of his face. He let Vegeta pull him down until their foreheads were touching and images filled his mind, zooming by until he arrived at his destination and he realized Vegeta was sending him a mental map to his home. “Don’t let… him take… the girls. You raise… them. They will need… you…” He trailed off, hands sliding away and Piccolo panicked.

“Vegeta! Snap out of it!” He frowned, lifted Vegeta’s leg to see what was happening and his heart dropped. There was blood everywhere and more kept trickling out. Piccolo cursed, still holding the distressed children. Between honoring Vegeta’s wish to keep his activities a secret and saving his life, there was only one choice he could live with.

___________________________________________________________________________
It took almost an hour before Goku felt calm enough to do what he needed to do. He put two fingers to his forehead and focused on his firstborn. He sensed Gohan, but just as quickly as his presence had manifested it slipped away and disappeared. Goku frowned, tried again but he was gone, his energy just slipping away like water through his fingers. Goku had to fight off an explosion of satisfying yet unproductive rage when he realized Gohan was doing it on purpose, hiding from his wrath.

He forced his mind to calm and changed his tactics. He searched and found his daughter-in-law.

Videl had been relieved to see him. She was worried about Gohan. After a long conversation Goku learned that he’d been behaving increasingly strangely, more and more detached from her and Pan. He still smiled, still played the family man well enough to hold off any real fears on Videl’s part.

But he had stopped working so hard, stopped studying. When Goku pressed for more details Videl admitted to having found him deep in meditation fairly often, at first only in the middle of the night, and then at random intervals anytime of day.

Then he had left home suddenly, and not long ago.

Goku left her, smiling and reassuring her that everything would be all right. As he turned away from her, his smile faded, turned into a scowl. ‘What have you done, Gohan?’

In the next instant he felt Piccolo in distress, could even ‘hear’ his voice yelling out in fear. He put his fingers to his forehead and disappeared from the spot.

____________________________________________________________________________
Gohan felt the explosion of his father’s rage, felt his father searching for him. He cursed, and Videl looked at him in shock. He smiled, scratched his head and conveniently remembered a project he’d left running in Bulma’s lab. He kissed her and the baby goodbye and left before she could get a word out.

The beast inside him was already furious at being restrained for so long and now it clawed for release. Gohan’s eyes reflected the change but there was no one to see it. Vegeta hadn’t caved and come to him like he’d planned, proving more resilient than he’d thought.

He knew how to force Vegeta out of hiding, but it would force him out of hiding as well. However, he’d been deprived long enough. It was time to take things up a notch.

As soon as he was out of the house he Transmitted away.

____________________________________________________________________________
Piccolo gathered energy to him as fast as he could making as much of a disturbance as he could with his ki. He concentrated and yelled out for Goku, who appeared only a few seconds later.

He started to ask the Namekian what was wrong but as soon as his eyes fell to Vegeta’s pale body lying on the blood-soaked earth all questions vanished in a cry of pure distress. Piccolo barely had time to pick up the girls before Goku touched them both. He’d linked his arm around Piccolo’s to reach his forehead and they were all on the Lookout. Goku lifted Vegeta’s limp body and was off and running, screaming for Dende. Piccolo watched him go, hoping it wasn’t too late.

His attention drew again to the children in his arms. They had Vegeta’s nose, tanned skin and widow’s peak, but their hair was long, had three long, fluffy strands in the front and a cascade in back down to their little tails. And it was black, for the most part. It had a reddish tint to it.

Piccolo frowned. All full-blooded Saiyans had hair and eyes of pure black.

Goku wasn’t the other father.

He remembered Vegeta’s words of warning about protecting the children. He had thought them delusional rambling at the time, but maybe they weren’t. Had he been referring to their father? In that case it couldn’t have been Gohan as Goku believed; there was nothing there to inspire the kind of fear Vegeta had.

He went to find Mr. Popo. The children would need to be fed when they awoke, but he needed to find Vegeta’s book. Hopefully it would hold some answers.
___________________________________________________________________________
The map Vegeta had given him was flawless, and Piccolo flew now as fast as he could. The mystery of what had happened to Vegeta had to be solved as quickly as possible for his sake.

Vegeta’s plan for the future of the Saiyan race was amazingly well thought out and detailed. He understood that their human blood had much to do with Trunks and Goten’s ability to go Super Saiyan so early. He also recognized how wantonly destructive his race could be, had been, and that human dna had the potential to tone those instincts down.

Vegeta’s main part in his plan was to do what only he could: bear full-blooded Saiyan children. Human dna wouldn’t come in until the successive generation.

He remembered a line Vegeta had written. ‘We can and will be better than we were before, that is my hope.’ His end goal was a new race of Saiyans with a small amount of human dna in a few generations. It made no sense for him to bed anyone but Goku at this early stage.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought. Goku had only spoken of it once months ago, and he’d been seething in anger and betrayal. He believed Vegeta had had sex with Gohan because all he wanted was someone with Saiyan blood, that he’d simply been used to some ill intent. But he’d been so blinded by hurt he hadn’t seen how little sense that made, even without the full picture. Piccolo would have bet zeni on Vegeta not being willing or even able to bed any other male, and he didn’t even know Vegeta’s history.

He grimaced. Just as there were terminal illnesses and injuries of the body, there were terminal injuries of the mind as well. When Vegeta had touched his mind to give him the map he’d been appalled at the state of that touch; Vegeta had sure as hell felt terminal to him, it was just a matter of time. Maybe if he could find out who had done this to him and how, the damage could be repaired, it was his only chance.

He landed, went inside, frowned at the state of the home. It wasn’t really dirty, just disorganized, not up to the usual tidy standards of the Vegeta he knew. The book was open on a desk and Piccolo flipped through it. It had the latest information on the children, their progress and abilities, but aside from basic information and notes on their development and strengths, there was nothing about the girls. Strangely undetailed for such a detail-oriented person.

A paperbound notebook on the corner of the desk caught his eye and Piccolo flipped it open. It was a journal. Piccolo shrugged; he’d already invaded the man’s privacy. ‘In for a penny,’ he thought.

It was written in Saiyan, and he called for King Kai’s help. Thankfully he ‘picked up’ quickly and was willing to help. He read it through Piccolo’s eyes and related the contents. The journal seemed to hold more personal observations about the pregnancies, his body, and the children. King Kai’s translation wound down and trailed off. Piccolo frowned, wondering if King Kai had dropped out of contact.

“No, I’m still here. But… Piccolo, you might want to... sit down for this one.”

He was grateful for the admonition as King Kai began to stumble haltingly through the translation of the brutal attack.
____________________________________________________________________________
Goku sat beside Vegeta’s bed, wishing like hell he hadn’t let it come to this.

He’d gotten the prince to Dende just barely in time to save his life. What Dende had told him in the aftermath had rocked him to the core.

It had been a pregnancy complication. Vegeta had given birth. And more than once.

For all he knew male saiyans were incapable of bearing children, but the irrefutable evidence had disabused him of that belief. Goku resisted the urge to pull the covers away to get a better look at Vegeta. The robe covering him seemed to swallow up his body. Vegeta was shorter than him, but he’d never really thought of Vegeta as small before now. He was too thin, his muscle mass had decreased farther than Goku had ever seen on him. He looked so delicate even though Goku knew he was anything but.

The tip of his tail was just visible as it poked out of the covers and Goku frowned. That was another question. Why his tail had grown back? It could happen in times of great danger or need, but there hadn’t been any major threats for quite some time. At least, not to the Earth.

The two babies were nestled against their father’s side. When they woke they had been hungry, but had angrily refused to eat until they were brought near him. Thankfully Mr. Popo had known what they needed, and they fell asleep immediately after being fed. Goku reached out and stroked one plump cheek. She was so soft and so beautiful. He sighed. How many children did he have out there? Were they as strong and beautiful as these two?

He turned his attention to the second twin, stroking her soft hair. His breath caught as he noticed the slight red in the mane. They were Saiyan enough to have tails and high power levels, but human enough to have a slight variation in hair color.

The thought of Vegeta in Gohan’s arms choked him, but that Gohan had fathered these twins was clear. The question of how it had happened, however, remained unanswered. There were so many questions and not enough answers it seemed, and Goku struggled to make sense of it all.

He had the urge to just crawl in bed with him and hold him, but held himself back for fear of hurting him. It seemed like even the most gentle touch might shatter him now. “What happened to you, Vegeta?” he murmured.

“I can answer that,” Piccolo said from the doorway. He looked and felt to Goku as if a heavy burden had crushed him. “But you might not want me to. I wish I didn’t know.”

Goku swallowed hard. “I need to know. Tell me.”

Piccolo fell heavily into a plush chair across the bed from Goku. “Gohan attacked him when he was still weak from delivering your children,” Piccolo said harshly. “He raped him, over and over again. And it didn’t end there. His tail growing back was the only thing that saved him.”

Goku’s world narrowed to a pinprick.

“No,” he breathed. “Gohan would never... He’s… kind, he’s not capable of… No, Piccolo. You have to be wrong!”

“He did. He did it all, and he enjoyed it.” The namekian laughed harshly. But that’s not even the worst part. We should have seen it coming, Goku. It was there the whole time and we both missed it.”
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Atavism