Uncharted Waters

Er, heh, *looks sheepish* Sorry about the long ass wait. I know many of you have been looking forward to this update and again I\'m sorry to keep you all waiting. I could give you a string of exscuses, but, well that would be pointless, and you didn\'t click on this chapter to read about the \'goings on\' in my life, *snore* so let\'s just get to the good stuff shall we?


Chapter XVIII


Bulma slammed the receiver into the cradle so hard that the telephone fell off the wall. She cursed and kicked it, only succeeding in hurting her foot. Swearing even louder now, she hopped up and down a few seconds before limping to the chair Gohan had sat in earlier.

He was gone now. A part of her wished he had stayed to tell Vegeta the same story he had told her. As furious as she was she didn’t think she could re-tell it coherently. She glared out the window, her jaw set angrily as she watched the skies.

“Don’t tell me it’s true, Bulma.”

She resisted the impulse to flinch. She had thought she was alone. Albeit, she was yelling quite loud earlier, so she shouldn’t be too surprised that someone overheard her. Without tearing her gaze away she replied, “It’s true,” in clipped angry tones.

She heard a loud exhale of air and the sound of something heavy collapsing on the couch nearby.

“But…” the words trailed off, “but that can’t be right. Trunks and Goku? Are you sure he didn’t say Goten?”

Agitated, the woman turned her head, her lips curling slightly as she spoke, “Yes, Yamcha, he said Goku. You know, the little boy with the tail we hung around with when we were teens?” The sarcastic tone softened to something more mournful as she turned her gaze to the window once more, “I wish it had been Goten, though. I was so damn sure it was him, and apparently I’m not the only one.” She sighed heavily, “How could I have missed it?”

“Bulma,” Yamcha sat up and leaned over to take her hand in his, “there was no way you could have known.” He gently squeezed her hand, “What happened? What exactly did Gohan say? I only caught the tail end of it.”

Taking a shaky breath she began to tell him what had occurred twenty minutes prior.

She had been in the backyard, tinkering with one of the servo-bots that had malfunctioned when suddenly the breeze violently picked up. After years of living and sharing company with the strongest warriors in the world, she didn’t need to turn around to know someone had landed behind her. Thinking it was her son or boyfriend— as they would be the only ones to drop in unannounced—she didn’t immediately acknowledge the newcomer but continued re-wiring the bot on the table.

“Bulma,” a ragged voice had said, “I need to talk to you about your son.”

Startled, she whirled, gasped at the sight before her and dropped the small bot that was still in her hands to the ground below.

It was Gohan - beaten to a bloody mess.

“Kami! What in the hell happened to you?”

His dark eyes narrowed hatefully, “Your son,” he replied.

“Trunks?” Her brows drew together in confusion. “But why—

“It’s a long story,” he staggered here, nearly falling to his knees in exhaustion, “Listen, do you mind if I sit down?”

“Oh, sorry, here,” she reached out a hand to steady him, “let’s get you in the house.”

She had led him inside to the living room, which was nearest to the door, and directed him to a chair while she ran to the kitchen to fetch a wet rag and a glass of water.

After wiping away the majority of the blood from the demi-Saiyan’s face, she rose, intending to hasten to her lab to get a first-aid capsule, muttering that the wounds were deeper than they looked, when he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“Don’t worry about that right now, I need to talk to you.”

She was about to protest but the burning need to know what her son had to do with this held her tongue.

“What’s going on, Gohan? Who did this to you, and how is Trunks involved?”

“Believe it or not, he’s the one who did this to me.”

She was stunned into silence, something that didn’t happen often.

“You’re right,” she finally said after a long pause, “I don’t believe it. Why would Trunks attack you?”

“Because,” he said coolly, “I called him on something he obviously wasn’t ready to share with the rest of the world.”

“Which is?”

“It appears he’s grown very attached to someone in my family in a very inappropriate way.”

Most of the compassion for the battered man sitting on her chair vanished; she had no idea Gohan was a homophobe. She had thought him open-minded on the subject, especially where his sensei was concerned, but perhaps he was naïve to the relationship Piccolo had with her ex.

“Whoa, hold on there, bud,” she snapped, narrowing her eyes. “If you insulted my son for being gay, then I don’t hold much sympathy—”

“I don’t care if he’s gay!” he cut in angrily, jumping to his feet, “What I do care about is that he’s sleeping with members of my family—”

“Oh,” she interrupted her tone rising as she too stood, “so it’s okay to be gay, so long as it’s not anyone in your family. Well I’m sorry, kido, but you have to come to terms with it. Goten is almost an adult now and can make his own decisions. If he wants to—”

“Goten!” he exclaimed, cutting her off once again, “You think I’m talking about Goten?” He laughed humorlessly, “If it were Goten, I wouldn’t have lifted a finger. I would have been shocked because Goten’s straight,” he admitted, “but I wout hat have protested.”

“Straight? W...What?” she shook her head, “You’re not talking about Goten? Well...” she fumbled, “well who in the hell are you talking about?”

“My father.”

“Bullshit.” She snapped, “This isn’t the time to be making jokes.”

“I’m not, Bulma,” he said lowering his voice, “though I wish I were.” He eased himself carefully back in the chair, somewhat calmed now that he knew the blue-haried woman wasn’t defending Trunks’ relationship with his father. “Goten came to my house Sunday night, raving that he had seen dad making out with Trunks. Apparently, he walked in on them after the party in one of the utility rooms you have around here. It shook him up pretty bad so he ran off. He led dad on a wild goose chase then came to my place to vent.”

The woman slowly sat back down on the couch shaking her head, “No, there had to be a mistake. Goku would never do anything like that, and Trunks wouldn’t either.” She paused considering, “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she darted her blue eyes up to look at him, “but Goten’s been under a lot of pressure lately. Perhaps he misinterpreted what he saw. There were a lot of people here that night, maybe he saw two other people and mistook them for Trunks and Goku. Or maybe they where roughhousing or sparring or something, you know how Goku is…” she trailed off.

The dark haired man nodded, “I thought the very same thing.” He paused, jaw clenching, “But then Goten told me that he wasn’t the only one who saw it. Piccolo did too.”

“What?!”

“Yes. Goten said he had been looking for Trunks when he came across Piccolo standing stock still in the middle of the hall staring into a roomif hif he was seeing a ghost. He went to investigate and there they where…wrapped around each other…and they weren’t sparring.” He clenched his fists, “Evidently Piccolo picked up on that rather quickly because, as Goten put it, he went ‘shit-ass mad’, and then I don’t know what, Goten didn’t hang around long enough to find out.”

Bulma couldn’t believe her ears, “Still, I mean, there must be a mistake.”

He shook his head, “I went to the Lookout.”

She waited with baited breath, “And?”

“He confirmed the story,” his voice was harsh, “he said that he had talked to them and found out that they were all ready bonded. Bonded! Dad and Trunks, bonded!” He sneered in disgust, “my mom hasn’t been dead a year and….” He was quivering with anger, “I was going to confront Vegeta about it, but Piccolo stopped me, I don’t think he’s told him. Anyway,” he said shifting gears, “I went to Trunks to find out for myself, and it’s true. He admitted to it and then we got into a fight and dad came barreling in and broke it up...and well, it’s true, all of it.” He looked up at her, noticing that her own fists were clenched tightly at her sides. “I came by to tell you this, because I was hoping you could talk some sense into him as his mother.”

“Oh, I’ll talk some sense into him, all right.” She said standing and making her way to the phone.
Seemingly satisfied that his task was done, Gohan nodded and muttered something about needing to go. The mother in her caused her to pause long enough to tell him to seek medical treatment, before she continued her angry stop to the telephone. He nodded again and was quickly out the door and into the air.

Taking no notice that she was now alone, Bulma started to dial the number for Trunks’ cell phone, when she abruptly stopped. This was too big. It was too much for her to handle alone. With a grim determination in her eyes, she punched in a different set of numbers, one too complex to be a normal phone number. There was a buzzing sound and then she heard the deep kind voice of Mr. Popo.

“Hello Bulma.”

“Is Vegeta there?” she asked shortly. The genius tried her damnedest to hold her anger in check, keeping in mind that she was speaking to a semi-divinity, though given the circumstances it wasn’t an easy endeavor. “I need to talk to him right away—wait,” she reconsidered, remembering what Gohan had just told her, “let me talk to Piccolo instead. It’s an emergency.”

“Of course,” he had said. “I’ll go find him at once.”

“Thanks.”

After a minute or so she heard his rumbling bass tone on the other end,

“What is it, Bulma?”

“You know damn well what it is!”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

“You want specifics? Fine!” she screeched, her ire finally given free reign, “My son and Goku! Is that specific enough for you?!”

“Shit,” he swore un-eloquently, “Who told you about this?”

“Not you, that’s for damn sure!”

He made a noise of agitation, “Did Trunks tell you or someone else?”

“Hell no, he didn’t tell me. He didn’t tell me shit.” And then it started to sink in, “I knew he was seeing someone, I could tell; woman’s intuition. But not GOKU— who’s more than twice his age, and has kids, and….” She trailed off into a litany of curses before changing tangents, “No, stupid me thought it was someone else. Fuck, I was so damn blind I thought he was seeing Goten,” she laughed to her self mockingly, “who is apparently a raging heterosexual!” I’m his mother, Piccolo,” her breath hitched a little, “you think I would have caught on.”

She was on the verge of both crying and screaming when she heard a low mumble.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” he repeated, “me too. I also thought Trunks was dating Goten. I no cno clue he was involved with Goku,” he spat the name out with disgust. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, they hid the relationship well.” He sighed, “I think we’ve all been strung along.”

“Well,” she said slightly calmer, “at least now I don’t feel like a total idiot. But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Bulma, I haven’t even told Vegeta yet, and to be honest I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. Trunks was supposed to come clean to you both by the end of this week.”

“Gohan beat him to it,” she ground out, her anger coming back, “he told me everything.”

“That damn little shit!” he exclaimed with a thread of anger in his voice, “He couldn’t hold out for three fucking days—

“I don’t care about Gohan, Piccolo,” Bulma cut in, “what I need to know is how,” she stumbled here looking for an acceptable word, “involved are they?”

There was a pause as if the Namek was reluctant to share the information, “They are bound,” he said at last, “though, at least as of Sunday, it has not been consummated, yet.”

“Bonded? Gohan said that, but I didn’t believe…” she wavered, “Trunks is too young for that.” It was a statement, a solid truth, as if she had said the sky was blue.

“Well,” Piccolo drawled, “Goku doesn’t seem to have any scruples about taking an eighteen-year-old as his new mate.”

That did it, something inside the woman snapped as all of the warm feelings of friendship towards the Earth raised Saiyan extinguished within her, “That fucking bastard!” she raved. “How could he do this to my little boy?!”

“Hn, Trunks said he is the one who instigated it.”

“What?!” She couldn’t believe it, not in a million years. Nonetheless, she not not allowed the luxury of considering it further as Piccolo abruptly spoke once more breaking her from her thoughts.

“Look Bulma,” the tone was stretched, “you need to talk to Trunks about it, not me.”

“I plan on it,” she stated, finally coming to grips. “I’m going to call him when I hang up with you, but I want Vegeta over here. If you say Trunks was going to come clean, then I’m not going to let Gohan ruin that, I’ll let him confess,” she stressed the word as if he had committed some horrible crime, “to his father. I think it’s best if we sit down and talk about it anyway.”

“I agree with you, but this is Vegeta we’re talking about. Are you sure you want to have that kind of conversation at Capsule Corp.? He’s not going to take this news lightly—”

“No, Piccolo, I want it done over here. Hopefully Trunks will be more forth coming if the conversation is done on home ground.”

“If you say so,” he said in a way as if he believed anything but, “When do you want Vegeta over there?”

“Immediately.”


She had then called Trunks, and screamed at him. Screamed what, she wasn’t sure, but she did remember telling him in no uncertain terms to come home right away.

Elsewhere:


“You know, some more detail would be nice.”

“It concerns Trunks, that’s all I’m saying.”

The prince’s brows drew together in mild confusion, “But why did she want to talk to you about it?”

Piccolo’s jaw tightened. He swore he wasn’t going to lie anymore now that this situation was finally going to be taken care of, but he was at a loss for words. They were only a few minutes from Capsule Corp., but it seemed the journey was taking an eternity.

“Ask her when we get there.”

Vegeta stopped in mid-air, “What in the fuck is wrong with you?” Piccolo cursed under his breath as he too halted, “You’ve been acting odd for the last few days, and now you’re telling me that we have to get to Capsule Corp. right away but you refuse to tell me why.”

“I said it was about Trunks.”

“Yes, but what? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine,” came the un-helpful reply.

Vegeta paused, waiting for an elaboration. Instead, he got an impatient look and then, just there, something flashed across the Namek’s features, something the prince couldn’t quite read.

“Damn it,” Vegeta barked, “he’s my son, Piccolo, I think I have a right to know if anything is going on with him.” He cocked his head regarding his mate suspiciously and in a quiet voice he asked, “Why are you keeping things from me?” he narrowed his eyes, “And I know you are.”

The chill tone startled the Namek, “Look,” he said, the sound of exasperation masking his guilt, “You’ll find out soon enough,” Damn it all, he wished they could just keep moving, “besides,” he continued, “it’s not my business to tell you anything at this point.”

Vegeta seemed far from appeased with this reply and with a disgusted grunt and a shake of his head he powered up once more and continued his way towards his son’s home.

Though he wore a mask of indignation, inside he was deeply troubled about all of this. Covertly, he did a ki scan finding his son safe and whole at Capsule Corp. Relieved, he then tapped into their bond, which was something he didn’t do often. He felt an overwhelming sense of fear, guilt, and defiance come from his son. ‘So,’ Vegeta thought blandly, ‘He did something he shouldn’t have.’ He darted a glance in Piccolo’s direction to see if he would confirm this thought, however the Namek was looking pointedly ahead. His lip curled in annoyance, the elite sped up, his patience wearing thin, until finally he touched down on one of the balconies adjoining the compound, Piccolo following not far behind him.

Yamcha was the first to greet him. Though he didn’t have any quarrels with the scarred warrior, the prince was in no mood to exchange pleasantries. He shoved past him, angrily demanding to know where his ex-mate and son were.

Surprisingly, Yamcha didn’t protest at the rude treatment, in fact he looked as if he expected it. Unnerving Vegeta further, he followed the other warrior down the corridors not caring if Piccolo was coming or not. He was angry with his mate and he swore when his business—whatever it may be—here was done, theyld hld have words.


The one time desert bandit led them through the spacious dining room used only for formal occasions, into the kitchen that housed the family’s personal table at which they took their meals. He paused inside the doorway, murmured something to the occupants inside and stepped back to allow the Saiyan prince leeway.

Without so much as a muttf thf thanks, Vegeta strode past him. Piccolo did not follow him, choosing instead to lean against the wall a few feet from the door. Knowing the circumstances for their visit, the scarred man didn’t blame him in the least and he too inclined against the opposite wall.

Vegeta swept his eyes around the room, taking note first of Bulma’s pursed lips and crossed arms as she stood off to the side looking straight at him. Her blue eyes were bright, blazing with anger but her face was pale, wan almost, as if she had been ill. His black orbs then sought out his son who sat hunched in his chair, his face turned towards the table so that his hair fell down around his ears, obscuring his face.

“What is this about?” he asked curtly.

Trunks fidgeted in his seat but did not answer. Bulma opened her mouth, seemingly thought better of it, and closed it.

“Well?” he demanded, grinding his teeth.

“I think,” Bulma said quietly but coldly looking over his shoulder at the men in the doorway, “that this conversation would be better spoken prily.”ly.”

The prince raised an eyebrow; whatever was going on here was much worse than he first thought. Bulma never had any reservations about venting her problems in public; indeed she made an art out of ranting. He glanced once more at his son, leaning down so that he could see the boy’s face beneath the curtain of hair. The boy was as white as a ghost and was trembling as if he was standing in a snow bank.

Very worried now, the elite looked over his shoulder at his mate and gave a short nod. The Namek returned it and melted into the shadows. Yamcha shifted from foot to foot for a moment, looking for all the world like a lost pup, before he turned and called, “Hey Piccolo, wait for me,” and jogged after the tall man.

Once they were gone, Vegeta pulled out a chair and sat down across from his son. Eyeing the blue-haired woman carefully, he gestured to the vacant seat at his left, which she took wordlessly. He looked at her expectantly, at which she shook her head, “This isn’t my story to tell.”

The tone of her voice caused a sickening feeling of dread to rise in his chest. He turned away from her back to the teen. A few seconds past by before it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak. His mouth dry, the prince asked in a grim voice, “Are you using drugs?”

Momentarily startled, the youth’s face shot up in disbelief. Their eyes met briefly, blue eyes quailing before black, before Trunks’ gaze was once more downcast upon the hardwood table. He shook his head, indicating the negative.

“Did you knock someone up?”

Another shake of his lavender head.

“Kill anybody?”

“Vegeta!” Bulma exclaimed looking cross.

“Well,” he huffed, “he’s not giving me a lot to go off of here, now is he?” Irritated now, he looked pointedly at his only child. “Enough of this, Trunks. I’m not going to sit here all day and try to guess what the problem is. I didn’t rush over here to watch you sulk in your chair. Now out with it.”

The teen shifted in his seat, he shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he opened them he had found the courage to face the older man across from him.

“I don’t want to go to Prichard,” he said bravely.

Vegeta blinked. So this was what all the fuss was about. A weight lifted from his chest and he let out a small sigh of relief. Granted, he wasn’t exactly happy about this information, but he didn’t feel as if this was a life or death situation, unlike the woman siting next to him. Fully understanding now why she was so angry, he glanced at Bulma, expecting her to throw a conniption fit at any moment. However, he was surprised and a little unsettled to find that she was staring at their son as if she wanted to strike himpillpilling out of her mouth like liquid fire she said, “Tell him why you don’t want to go to Pritchard, Trunks.”

His gaze instantly shot back to his son. The prince didn’t think it possible but the boy had paled further, a sheen of nervous sweat breaking over his brow. All of the bravery seemed to flee from him in an instant, taking the ability of coherent speech with it.

“I…I...well, you …”

“For fuck’s sake, boy! Spit it out!” Vegeta yelled in exasperation, the feeling of anxious worry mixing noxiously with agitation at his son’s lack of forthcomingness.

Trunks flinched. He closed his eyes again and took three deep breaths. His voice was steadier this time.

“You…you know how you asked if I had knocked someone up?”

A sharp nod was the reply.

“Um, well,” he rushed his words, “thatwonteverhappenbecauseimgay.”

“erbiddyblah, what?” Vegeta inquired raising both brows, “Slow the hell down, son.” Vegeta shook his head in spite of himself as he suddenly got a vision of the nine-year-old little boy who would constantly run his words together when he was excited or upset. That boy was now sitting in front of him a man, but traces of that child were still there, as he had just been reminded. He was shaken from his—somewhat maudlin—thoughts when Trunks spoke.

“I said,” he repeated slowly, “that me knocking up a woman up won’t ever happen because,” he took a breath, “I’m gay.”

“Yeah, so, what’s your point?”

Trunks blinked and a little frown etched his lips, “You could have at least acted surprised.”

“Why?” the prince asked lightly, “So you prefer men, big deal. I had a feeling you would.” Trunks gave him an odd look that seemed to be a mix of indignation and confusion. “What? Did you think I was going to be angry with you because of that?” He smirked, “That would be the pot calling the kettle black now wouldn’t it? And as far as me knowing about your preferences,” he shrugged here, “well I was about 90% sure. You never did seem to have any interest in girls. And when I first told you about Piccolo,” he darted a glance towards Bulma who, despite her anger, forced a small smile indicating she was not insulted, \"you were really enthusiastic about it, don’t you remember?”

Trunks nodded.

“But,” the elite continued, his voice once more serious, “I think we’re getting off the subject. I don’t think you coming out of the closet is the rn whn why I’m here, nor the reason why you don’t want to go to college.”

Looking down at the table once more, the teen shook his head.

“I’m seeing someone,” he said softly.

“I see,” Vegeta said coolly, half-way expecting this, but then Trunks bottom lip began to tremble and the prince felt wave after wave of fear come off of him. He happened to look up at Bulma who was again glaring at the boy. His heart froze in his chest. In that instant he was sure of one thing; who ever his son was seeing, it was not Goten. They would not be behaving this way if it were. In fact his son’s and his ex-mate’s demeanor screamed that the person in question was someone Vegeta knew and would definitely not approve of.

It was with a heavy sense of apprehension that he asked the question he wasn’t sure if he wanted an answer to.

“Who?”



Yamcha had led his Namekian guest into what he liked to think of as his ‘den’. It was a smaller room than most of the other dwelling spaces within the compound furnished with an older but infinitely comfortable couch and a set of recliners.

“Boyfriends banished, eh?” he said conversationally.

“So it would seem.”

The scarred warrior sat in one of the recliners offering the couch to his guest. However Piccolo shook his head, and leaned against the only blank wall in the room, a dreadful expression on his face.

“This was a bad idea,” he muttered to himself.

“What?” Yamcha asked.

The Namek regarded him a moment before answering. “Bringing Vegeta here.”

The other man only nodded, he wanted to make a comment but he wasn’t the best of friends with the Namek and didn’t know how far he could press the matter. Making a noise in the back of his throat he leaned back in his chair and said the obvious, “I don’t think anyone was expecting this to happen.”

The tall warrior only grunted and shut his eyes. He was trying desperately to ‘listen in’ as it were to a conversation that was taking place halfway across Capsule Corp. Vegeta was still angry with him; as such he shut off himself off to any mental contact. Yet, as angry as he might have been, the Saiyan was currently more worried about his son than his mate at the moment and vague flashes of the dialogue were available to the Namek if he concentrated hard enough. Yet this was difficult due to Yamcha’s lack of ability to tolerate any scarcity of noise.

“So,” he broke in uncomfortably, “Goku, huh? Who would have thought?” He waited for a response, and when none came, he continued, “I mean I know Goku’s a lot older but well…Trunks is a good kid too, I mean I didn’t even know he was gay.”

Piccolo growled softly from his corner.

“Hey, not that it’s a bad thing. I was just surprised is all; whatever does it for him, that’s cool with me. So long as he’s happy, I don’t have a problem with it. If he thinks—”

“Would you kindly cease your incessant chatter?” Piccolo snapped abruptly, glaring at the other occupant in the room, “I’m trying to find out wis gis going on in there and you’re not making it very easy.”

“Oh, sorry.” The scarred man looked slightly embarrassed since he was only trying to make polite conversation. “Um,” he intoned meekly, “can you really hear what’s going on?”

“Sort of,” Piccolo shook his head in frustration, “Trunks just told him he was seeing someone, but didn’t tell hio.” o.” He paused trying to discern his mate’s feelings and wisps of thoughts into something synchronous, “Damn it!” he bit out, giving up after a few moments, “I can’t make it out, he’s too hard to read at this point—

* BOOOM *


>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Oh look, a cliff hanger. Aren\'t I just a cunty bitch? *winks*

Ahem, time for praises.

Jaygoose: \"you write excellent dialogue\" *blushes* Thank you.

Kira: I suggest you put on your raincoat, because the shit is most certainly going to hit the fan. Vegeta\'s reaction? Well judging from the \"*BOOOM* I think we can surmise that it\'s probably for the best if we all hide in a corner. As for Gohan, yes, he\'s a little prick, isn\'t he? But some would say tha und understandable due to his cirumstances, other\'s would say he\'s a little dickweed. I never really liked him all that much, so I\'ll settle with the latter. Thanks so much for your review! You give the best reviews and I always look forward to reading them. *g*

XZanayu: The moment of truth has finally arrived, full force! And Goku...I have plans for Goku. *Evil Giggles* Plans..yes..plans...oh look an oreo!

Mehla Seraphim: Yes, Trunks is in for it...sorry about making you wait so damn long. Competition? What\'s this? Are you hoarding art from me? *Narrows eyes...reaches for sporking tools* Out with it I say!! Hrm, that goes for Dania, as well. Everyone must spork her for fanart! *nods*

Berni: Wow! A new review type person, yay!! *cheers* Thank you! Thank you!

Jupitor Knight: Well here it is--and I really do appreciate the loyalty--- many praises to you! *g* I promise the next chapter won\'t take so damn long to post, and as always I\'ll be sure to let you know when it\'s updated. Thanks for the kind words!


And thank you to everyone else who has stuck with me thus far! I love getting those hits! *Hugs all around*