Author’s notes: I wrote this for Dasia, she begged and made me promise to write it down after I told her I had thought of a way to make a Mirai Sage. (who she’s not obsessed with at all, just ask her) So if she likes it and nobody else does, that’s ok with me!

More notes: This was my first foray into the darker fics, a lot of firsts in this fic. First request fic, first rape, first incest, first one-shot universe. There will be no more written in this universe, (probably) and this has no connection with Birth of a Prince, or any other Sage fics currently out there. This is completely stand-alone.

Warnings: Violence, rape of a male child, incest, blood, language, angst, secrets, lemon, yaoi, sap and fluff(eventually)utter confusion that occurs when two of the characters have the same name…

Disclaimers: I own Sage. Well, more or less. Not Sage-Rihs Rihayyidian, nor Ryu Sage, I wash my hands of THEM. I do not own DBZ. As though that weren’t fucking obvious...

Dedications: Since I wrote this fic for her, it only makes sense to dedicate it with lots of mushy love to my koishii tsuin, Cleodasia Rihs. If it wasn’t for her, I honestly would never have written this, which I’m sure some will think that wouldn’t have been such a tragedy...this is your fic Das-chan...enjoy!!! *chu*

Special thanks to bakayaro onna and her rat for undertaking the staggering job of beta’ing this monster...thank you BOTH!!!!!!! *glompkisskisskiss*

Like Father Like Son

A Mirai Sage Story

By Talon

Darkness. It’s always dark when she comes for me. Sage quieted his breathing, willing himself with all his might to stay asleep, not to wake, not to respond, and not to cry out. Can’t wake Trunks, he thought. Maybe tonight, she’ll…but there was a shadowed outline in the doorway, and his nightmare began again.

Sage sat bolt upright in bed, both hands clasped over his mouth, hoping he hadn’t actually cried out. He shuddered, trying to regain control of his body. He could hear Trunks breathing deeply beside him. Good. He must not have screamed. Suddenly feeling sick as he always did after that nightmare, he fumbled for the opening in the bed curtains and stumbled towards the bathroom.

He barely made it in time as he vomited most of his dinner into the sink. I hate throwing up, he thought to himself between heaves. I can never seem get the taste out of my mouth.

Finally finishing, he rinsed his mouth, and sat down, back against the tiled wall, reminding himself where he was. The Room of Time and Spirit. With his brother and his…father. Vegeta. The man whose name and face he had born his entire twelve years of existence, and never seen…until a few days ago on the outside….here on the inside it had been weeks. Well, not counting the first time they came here, but he had kept his distance then. He took deep breaths, calming himself as the nightmare washed over him again.

Quiet, you baka, he berated himself silently. You’ll wake the both of them if you can’t get some control! Remember, Trunks doesn’t need to know. He doesn’t need to know. He can’t do anything; it would only hurt him to know. Calm, calm, nothing can hurt you here, not really. His tail twitched itself around his knees, as he tried to force himself to calm down. It didn’t work. With a gush of crimson, his nose started to bleed.

“Kuso,” he cursed out loud before he could stop himself. Pulling himself back up to the sink, he grabbed a towel and pressed it over his face. The doctors had some fancy name for his condition, but the long and the short of it was when he got stressed out, he got nosebleeds. He hadn’t had very many of them since coming to this time, but back home they had been a daily occurrence. Funny though, he mused…they seem to be worse here. He discarded the soaked hand towel, and keeping his head over the sink groped around for another one.

He jumped about three feet when somebody he hadn’t sensed walking into the bathroom pushed a wet washcloth into his hand. He turned and looked up into the endless obsidian eyes of his father. Wordlessly, the man bent his future son’s head forward and thrust the washcloth up under his nose, pressing firmly on its bridge. With the other hand, he felt gently around the base of Sage’s skull and pressed a spot with his finger. For a moment the boy felt lightheaded and dizzy, then to his surprise, the bleeding slowed, then stopped.

He looked at his father in amazement, but before he could speak, the man said, “You must have inherited that from me. It’s a genetic condition, common in the royal family.” He shrugged. “If you want, I’ll teach you the pressure point I used to stop it.”

Sage nodded wordlessly, then turned back to the sink to wash the blood from his face and body. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

The older man did not reply, but watched his son carefully, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the wall of the large communal bathroom. Something about the boy was unsettlingly familiar, more than just the upswept black hair, the face identical to his, the small, compact yet graceful stature…something lurked in his eyes. They were shadowed eyes, though perhaps that was not surprising considering what and where the boy had come from. Still, it was a very different look than his brother’s. Vegeta suspected the haunted-ness lurking in his younger son’s eyes had little to do with the destruction and devastation of all the home he had ever known.

Also, Trunks didn’t have nightmares every single night. With all the training the younger boy was doing, he should have rightfully been too exhausted to dream. But whatever woke him night after night seemed to transcend his fatigue.

The younger Vegeta raised his head, suddenly aware of his sire’s scrutiny. He turned and looked coolly at the naked man. “Something you want, Father?”

Vegeta didn’t hesitate. “I want to know what wakes you up every single night without fail. I want to know why you are throwing up, and why you are so stressed out over whatever you are dreaming about you have nosebleeds.”

Sage looked at him, then turned away, muttering, “It’s nothing.”

“The hell it’s nothing,” Vegeta crossed over to the brat, catching his arm and jerking him around to face him. “Tell me, brat, or else I’ll beat it out of you.”

Sage looked at his father’s hand tightly griping his forearm. “Beat it out of me, ne? Nice way to show your concern, Father.” He powered up briefly and wretched his arm from his father’s grasp. “I said it was nothing, and even if it were something, it’s none of your business.” He turned and walked into one of the showers.

“Fine,” called Vegeta after him. “I’ll just ask your brother.”

There was an audible, and quickly stifled gasp. “Don’t bother. He doesn’t know.”

Vegeta knew the boy was telling the truth. He’d seen for himself how close the two brothers were, but Trunks was still sound asleep. If he didn’t know, then that meant Sage was deliberately hiding whatever it was from him. Kami, don’t let it be what I think it is, thought the man suddenly, then wondering why he cared so much. After all, strictly speaking these weren’t his sons…and yet, he could feel a faint parent-child bond with the both of them. And going by looks there was no doubt he had sired them, whether in this time line or another, both had undeniably Saiyjin faces, though the older one had ningen hair and eyes; and the younger one…the younger one could have been him at twelve if it weren’t for the blue-black tail. Before it had been cut off his own had been a russet color, the color of his childhood hair. He wondered why the younger son had his tail and the older one didn’t. Hn…maybe the boy would answer that question.

He walked into the shower, eyes widening at the sight meeting them. Masses of yellow and black bruises that had been thus far hidden by shorts were in the disturbing shape of handprints and covered the boy’s hips. They had the look of severe bruising finally starting to heal. The lie of his tail looked off as well. Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. Wonder if the brat will let me take a look.

“Boy,” he snapped. The child, obviously oblivious to his presence started slightly. He whipped around, a familiar guilty look on his face. Vegeta brushed the thought aside. There was time later to ferret out the boy’s problem. He held his hand out. “Let me see your tail,” he ordered.

Sage hesitated, wrapping his tail around his waist instinctively, and wincing slightly at the shooting pain. “Why,” he asked suspiciously.

Vegeta snorted. “Aren’t you in pain, boy? You clearly have a tail injury, let me see it, maybe I can help.”

“What’s got you so concerned all of a sudden, Father,” the boy snapped back at him.

“Let me see your tail, boy,” said Vegeta calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you, I swear it.”

Sage obeyed.

“Brace yourself,” warned Vegeta.

He pulled the long thick limb straight, marveling for a moment at the perfect conformation of the half-breed’s tail. Beginning at the base, he felt carefully with his fingers down the pelted length, pausing several times as his fingers encountered slight scar tissue, and finally, about midway, came upon two of the small bones that had been dislocated. He quickly pushed them back into place, wincing in sympathy as Sage put his fist through the wall of the shower in a vain attempt to stop himself vocalizing the intense pain.

“Thought…you…said…you…weren’t going…to…hurt…me…” gasped Sage.

“Sorry about that, brat, but your tail can heal properly now, “ said Vegeta gruffly as he wound a strip of torn toweling around the spot where he had straightened his son’s tail.

“Why is it you have your tail and your brother doesn’t?”

Sage shrugged, reaching for a towel. “Bulma had his removed when he was born, but after I was born, she wasn’t in any condition to request anything. Gohan and Trunks decided to let me keep my tail, and later she decided it was useful.” There was glaring pain in his eyes, Vegeta noticed as the boy turned away, and pulled his blood spattered shorts back on.

“I’m going back to bed,” Sage said quietly. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

And he left Vegeta alone to muse over what little information he had managed to glean from the curt youth.

The next morning, breakfast was quiet. Vegeta watched the two boys surreptitiously, noting for the first time how they seemed to communicate in glances and silences, not needing words. Surely, he thought to himself, if they are that close, Trunks must know something. But as he watched them, it became clear to the man Trunks hadn’t the faintest clue something or anything was wrong with his brother. He didn’t know whether to be disgusted at the elder for being so glaringly obtuse, or impressed with the younger at being able to hide something so painful it caused his body to react physically, from the person he was closest to in the world. He grunted in frustration, and pushed himself away from the table. Time later to think on it. Now he needed to train. Leaving the house, he headed out into the blankness to begin his drills, knowing the boys would train together. Really it was fortunate there were two of them. He preferred to train alone, so they were able to train together, and on the rare occasions he wanted to spar with someone, fighting the two of them at the same time or in shifts so one was always fresh was an excellent way to build his stamina.

The two boys watched him walk out of the house before rising themselves and beginning their accustomed training drills.

The gravity, the heat, the biting cold all served to help Sage focus his mind away from the previous night’s encounter with his father. Fighting, sparring with his brother always helped. It got his mind off his living nightmare at home, and here, it helped him to refocus, to remember his true purpose of being here. To destroy the androids certainly, especially, his face hardened as he redoubled his attack on his older brother, Android Seventeen. But also to get away from….her.

Trunks didn’t know, could never know what had been happening to him since he was six. Trunks was Bulma’s favorite, she never mistreated him when Trunks was around, but the second he was gone, the smacks, the pinches, the hair grabbing…the touches….he broke away from Trunks and readied his father’s Big Bang attack, not losing control, realizing even during his pained memories it was his brother he was sparring against, not his mother. She wasn’t here, and she couldn’t hurt him. He let it fly with a roar of triumph as Trunks struggled to block it. Trunks was still stronger than he was, but at the rate he was going lately, he just might catch up with him.

He dropped back and watched as Trunks successfully cancelled his attack. His stomach rumbled, and he turned, ignoring both his father and brother and headed back to the house to eat. He could wait until dinner, but he didn’t think he actually stood a chance of keeping all of his dinner down long enough to digest it. Better to eat now.

Trunks glanced after his brother, used to his abrupt exits and continued training. A few minutes later, Vegeta followed his younger son. Trunks didn’t notice.

The brat had removed the towel scrap from his tail, Vegeta noted as he watched the boy rummage around for food. It really was disconcerting watching a mirror image of himself walking around. Trunks didn’t bother him as much for some reason, though that might be because the boy already existed in this time line, in the form of his nine-month-old son. But Vegeta…Vegeta had been born after the prince had died at the hands of the androids. He had been confused at first at the timing, surely the boy wasn’t his, not if he had been killed when Trunks was still a baby. There was four, nearly five years difference between the two brothers. Trunks had explained after it became apparent Sage wasn’t going to offer any answers. His mother had told him Vegeta had had some sort of vision of disaster and between the two of them had taken certain steps to continue the royal blood line, not to mention the Saiyjin race. They had frozen a number of embryos in the event Vegeta died before he could sire more children on her. When Trunks was four, his mother decided the time had come to have another baby. The first two implantation attempts had ended in miscarriage. The third one had ended with the boy who sat with his back to him, eating his way through a considerable pile of food.

Vegeta grunted and walked past the brat, feeling the boy ignoring his presence. He smirked to himself, yes; this one was definitely his spawn. He sat down across from him with his own pile of food and began to eat. For the first few minutes the air was filled with the sounds of chewing and swallowing and nothing more. Vegeta was watching his younger son out of the corner of his eye getting more and more agitated at the silence between them. That’s right, boy, thought the ouji, you react just like I would have at that age.

Sage finally couldn’t take it anymore. “WHAT,” he yelled at his father. “WHAT IS IT YOU WANT FROM ME?”

Vegeta looked at him calmly. “You know what I want, brat. I want you to tell me what is bothering you. I want you to tell me who hurt you.” He hesitated, not sure how far he wanted to take this, then continued. “It could help you know, to tell someone. Might make the nightmares stop.” He shrugged and turned his attention back to his food. Sage was staring at him with something like dread in his eyes.

The boy hung his head and whispered. “I can’t. I can’t tell ANYONE.” And he left the table for the bathroom, his hand clasped over his nose.

Vegeta watched him go, wondering if he should help. He could smell the fresh scent of his son’s blood and knew he had triggered another nosebleed. He growled softly to himself. He had caused it by pushing the boy, it was only right he should help. He remembered all too well the frequent nosebleeds he himself used to get during his years with Frieza. If he was correct, and he sorely hoped he wasn’t, he and his youngest son had much in common besides physical appearance.

He followed the bloody trail into the bathroom where the younger Vegeta was frantically trying to stop the blood pouring in startling amounts from his nose. The scarlet fluid splashed over the white sink and countertops and Sage desperately wrung out the towel he had been using and put it back to his face, groping for another one. His eyes in the mirror were scared, and no wonder. It was a bad nosebleed, one of the worst Vegeta had ever seen. Sage choked on his blood and tried unsuccessfully to stop the tide.

Vegeta grabbed a bath towel and silently held it out to his son. Sage took it gratefully. As he had the previous night, his father pinched the bridge of his nose firmly and probed the pressure spot at the base of his skull. It took longer this time, but the elder Vegeta was patient watching the flood slow, and finally stop. He held the position a few minutes longer, then released his hold. Sage, slightly dizzy from the massive blood loss fell and smacked his eye on the edge of the countertop. Vegeta grunted in surprise and picked his son up off the floor where he had curled into a ball.

He shook the boy slightly as he sat him on the countertop and forced him to meet his eyes. Kami, that eye was already starting to swell and color.

“Do you want to stop this?” he asked him roughly. “Do you ENJOY watching half your blood volume run down the sink or soak into towels? Do you LIKE having your sleep disturbed every night and puking your guts out? Because I can tell you I don’t. For some stupid fucking reason, I can’t shut you out. You need to tell me.”

The boy met his eyes and glowered. “I WON’T tell you, Father.”

“You will.”

“I will NOT.”

Vegeta stood back and regarded the brat for a minute. Time to shift attacks, he thought to himself.

“Why won’t you tell me,” he asked quietly. “Are you ashamed? Afraid I’ll think you weak? You can’t know much about me if you believe that.”

The boy looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Oh come on, boy, surely you know what I did before I came to this planet.”

The boy, Sage, Vegeta reminded himself, hesitated then said, ”Go-chan told us you had worked for Frieza, purging planets.”

“Did he ever tell you why I did that?”

The…Sage frowned then said, “No, he only said you had no choice.”

Vegeta snorted. “True. I didn’t. Only one person alive knows the entire story, and that person is Kakkarott.”

Sage’s eyes widened. Vegeta glared at him. “What, you expected me to tell the onna my life’s story?”

Sage stammered. “Well, the way she talks about you…and you did have children with her…”

“Baka. I like and respect the onna, but she is not my mate. And she is not a Saiyjin. I used to be like you, boy, thinking if anyone knew what my life had been like they would think me weak, and telling them made me weak. But it’s not true.” The boy looked like a trapped animal. He continued. “I told Kakkarott because he already knew a good deal of it from the bond we had forged together on Namek. I hated the idea of telling him…but he was right in the end. It helped bleed the poison from the memories, made them less volatile.” He caught the pale chin with his hand and turned it back to face him. “You must know I suspect, boy. Just tell me.”

The boy met his eyes fearlessly. “You first, Father.”

Vegeta’s eyes narrowed. “Very well, boy. I was taken from my father by Frieza when I was six. I was to serve basically as a hostage for the entire planet. Frieza kept me in line by reminding me my obedience was the only thing keeping my people alive. Then, when I was eight, he destroyed Vegetasei, and he no longer had that to hold over my head. He replaced it with another form of “discipline.” He raped me. Brutally and repeatedly. Over the next twenty five years I spent more time in the tanks then I did purging planets. He humiliated me, forced me to do things that to this day turn my stomach. He nearly fucked me to death more than once. He beat me, brutalized me, and he enjoyed every Kami-damned second of it. I can STILL hear his laughter, even after your brother killed him again.” He raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. “Your turn.”

Sage gulped and lowered his eyes. He REALLY didn’t want to say anything. But his father had called his bluff. Out of habit, he searched for his brother’s ki. He was still training, thankfully. Sage had worked hard to get to the point where his brother wasn’t aware of every little or big thing that pained him, without seeming to block him out. When he spoke, his voice was small, quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“She’s always hated me, you know. Ever since I was born. She wanted me to be a girl, and then after I came she couldn’t have more children. She hemorrhaged after my birth and they had to do an emergency hysterectomy. Gohan and Trunks told me she said one thing when I was born and they showed me to her. “Vegeta” They assumed that was what she wanted me named, so that’s what they called me. Trunks started calling me Sage later as a joke, cause he said that was what I smelled like. He was the only one who called me that. Everyone else always called me Vegeta.”

“She was always mad at me, and it was a long time before I realized she resented me. I wasn’t what she had wanted. She had wanted a girl, I was a boy. She had wanted someone like her, I was the image of you. And she was stuck with me. She couldn’t have another. And she started hitting me, but only when we were alone. She never touched me if Trunks or Gohan was around. When I was six, she started…touching me.” He shuddered. “It confused me. One minute she was beating me around the head, or squeezing my tail, the next minute, she would be almost gentle…touching me. But that was worse.” He stopped, still not meeting his father’s eyes. “She’d say things, stuff I can’t remember, but it was scary. I tried my best to never be alone with her, but it still happened. Then, when I was eight, she moved on to more horrible…, things.”

If Sage had cared to look at his father’s face, he would have seen the horrified look in his eyes. His soft voice continued.

“She started coming to my room at night. She made me…respond to her touching. She…she…raped me. Often. And she acted like I was you. I’ve never been able to figure out if she actually thought I was you then, or if she was just pretending. Either way…” his voice trailed off. “I felt so dirty, because…my body responded. She used my tail, to hurt me, to keep me…uh…hard. I didn’t want to, I swear!” The twelve-year-old’s voice broke as he sobbed into his hands. Around his sobs, Vegeta could hear his voice. “couldn’t tell anyone…tried to make her stop…nothing worked….hate her.”

Vegeta was shocked. He had expected something like this, but Bulma? He couldn’t imagine the woman hurting one of her children like that. From what Trunks had said, the woman was, well…much like she was here! Intelligent, caring, hard-working, hell, she had built a time machine to save Kakkarott’s life! And yet, here sat the sobbing wreck of his son, claiming his mother not only molested and abused him but actually raped him!

Vegeta knew better than to doubt his son’s story. He could smell clearly the boy wasn’t lying. Still, he was stunned. This had been going on for six years, and no one knew of it? No wonder Sage had wanted to come to the past with his brother. If Trunks had left, he would have had no protection against his mother, no excuses not to be around, no one to go off and spar with or look for the androids with. Even if Trunks didn’t know, he still provided some sort of protection. He looked back at the boy, remembering the horrific bruises he had seen last night. He frowned. Even with a tail hold he didn’t think the onna was strong enough to bruise a demi-Saiyjin like that.

“Did she give you those bruises?”

Sage’s head snapped up. His face once again shuttered, blank. He gave his father his best I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about-look and slid off the counter. He swayed unsteadily and made for the door. Vegeta thought about grabbing him and dragging him back, but decided against it. Instead, he followed the weakened boy at a distance.

The worst thing about this place, thought Sage bitterly, is there isn’t anywhere to hide. Wherever he was, he was in plain sight of his father or brother. He leaned against the side of the house, unwanted tears coursing down his cheeks. He really didn’t want to tell his father the rest. He knew now he would understand it happening, but would he understand the rest of it? Worse, if he told him, would his father tell Trunks? He scrubbed at his wet cheeks angrily. Damnit, he hated feeling weak.

Vegeta deciding he had pushed the youngster enough for the time being, returned to the table to finish his lunch. He had barely started back eating, when he felt Trunks’ ki approach. Immediately Vegeta was standing in the doorway, watching the lavender-haired demi-Saiyjin approach. The boy looked exhausted and expectant. Vegeta could see him glancing around for a sign of his younger brother as he neared the house. He saw the moment when Trunks sensed his brother, saw the concerned frown as he turned to go around the corner of the house. In a blur of color Vegeta grabbed his arm and stopped him, dragging him to the doorway.

“What the…” Trunks began indignantly.

“Shut it, brat,” said Vegeta quietly. “Leave him alone.”

Trunks glared at the man. “That’s my brother.”

“And he wants to be left alone. So respect that. He’ll come in when he’s ready.”

Trunks looked suspiciously at his father. It was true, he reached through the bond he had with his brother; there were the mental equivalents of No Trespassing and Leave Me the Fuck Alone signs posted all over the brick wall shutting him out. “What did you do to him?”

Vegeta snorted. “I didn’t do anything, come in here.” Frowning, Trunks obeyed, and gasped slightly at the trail of blood leading into the bathroom. Following it, he was very nearly sick at the sight meeting his eyes. Blood was everywhere, bloodied towels here and there, blood on the floor, pooled on the countertops, staining the sink…He must have had a nosebleed, thought Trunks…but I’ve never seen such a bad one. He swallowed and turned back to Vegeta.

“Is he alright?” Trunks asked quietly.

“Just a little weak. He lost a lot of blood. Does he usually have a great deal of nosebleeds?”

“Yeah, back home he’d have two or three in a day. But never like this. Since we came back here, he didn’t seem to be having nearly as many. But this…”he gestured to the bathroom. “I’ve never seen it so bad before.” He looked at Vegeta. “What did happen? I mean, his nose doesn’t just bleed for no reason…he must have been really freaked out for it to have been so severe.”

“He was.”

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“It’s not my place to tell you, brat. If Vegeta wants you to know, he’ll tell you. Speaking of which, can you tell me if he’s acted funny about anything since you came here? Anything you’ve noticed…even something small?”

“Sage acting funny? By whose standards?”

Vegeta made a disgusted sound. “Whatever, brat. If you think of something, tell me, don’t tell me, I don’t care. And leave your brother alone,” he said as Trunks turned back towards the door. “He’s not in any shape to continue training today anyhow. Just let him be.”

Upon reflection, Trunks felt his father was correct. Back at home, Sage often disappeared alone for hours at a time. When questioned on where he had been, he would merely shrug, or ignore the question entirely. Surely his brother would tell him what had happened. He could wait. He concentrated on his lunch.

To Trunks’ surprise, after lunch his father invited him to train with him; he suspected it was to distract him from Sage’s continued absence. It worked. He was so absorbed in trying to keep up with his father’s lightning fast attacks he forgot all about his brother. In fact he was so distracted it wasn’t until Sage wandered into the house where he and Vegeta were already eating dinner he remembered something had been wrong with his little brother.

Sage wouldn’t meet his eyes when he greeted the boy. That wasn’t unusual, neither was his stony silence. But when Trunks looked closer he could see a whopper of a black eye blossoming over the youth’s fair skin, and when he caught the light right, tear tracks. That puzzled Trunks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually seen his brother Vegeta cry. Surely it wasn’t the black eye that had him crying; Sage took physical pain well. He had a high tolerance for it. Gohan had often remarked on the similarities between the youngest Briefs and his sire. And there was something else. A palatable tension between the two Vegetas. They didn’t look at each other, or speak, but it was there none the less. And Sage was still blocking him. He considered cornering the younger boy, but remembering the bloody bathroom thought better of it.

For his part, Sage merely ate his dinner and retired to the bed he was sharing with Trunks. He spoke to no one, neither to greet them nor to bid them good night. His father and brother watched him, concerned in their separate ways.

“What happened to his eye?”

“Bashed it on the counter during the nosebleed.”

“Oh.” Pause. “You’re really not going to tell me what happened?”

“I told you, boy, if your brother wants you to know, he will tell you.”

Trunks glanced over at the bed. Sage had closed the bed curtains and Trunks could hear his light snoring. Hn…maybe I can get him to tell me in the morning, thought the older boy. He retired himself after a shower; crawling into bed, he brushed his brother’s stiff-soft hair with his hand, and whispered a good night to him before rolling over and falling almost instantly asleep himself.

Darkness. Oh Kami, the nightmare was beginning again. Vegeta’s dream-self stiffened, preparing for the oncoming horror, when the scene suddenly shifted. At first there was overwhelming relief. For once he was not going to relive one of his mother’s nocturnal visits. He hadn’t told his father the entire story about her, some of it was just too hard to vocalize, especially since he worked very hard to not remember it at all. He glanced around. He was outside, back at home; devastation everywhere he looked. He felt the hair prickle on the back of his neck, and his tail bushed out like a bottle brush. Something wasn’t right here. And he was alone. Oh no.

He knew this place. He backed away, stumbling slightly, then turned and started to run, even though he knew there was no use. He couldn’t escape. There was nowhere he could run.

As though determined to prove him right, he was suddenly there. Vegeta nearly ran smack into him. He made to change direction, to run, to flee, to fly, but impossibly strong cool fingers gripped his hair in a merciless grasp.

“Oh, no you don’t, little one,” admonished a cold, silky voice. Vegeta bit back a scream as he was turned to face Android Seventeen.

The aloof cerulean eyes ran over his body in amusement. “Now just where did you think you were going, my little toy monkey? Don’t you want to play?”

Vegeta didn’t reply. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, hoping for this to dissolve, to just be a dream.

“Open your eyes,” ordered Seventeen, his tone icy, displeased. “You’re not nearly as much fun if I can’t see you cry.” Vegeta tried, but couldn’t. He felt those chilly fingers grasp his tail, gently at first, then with a violent gesture, the android squeezed…hard. “I said, open your eyes.” Vegeta obeyed, a choked shriek rattling in his throat. Seventeen released his tail.

“That’s much better,” said the android approvingly, stroking the side of the boy’s face. “It’s time to have some fun.”

“Please,” whimpered Vegeta. “Please don’t…”

Seventeen laughed; a chilling, pitiless sound that echoed strangely in the child’s ears.

“Oh, little monkey, you are endlessly amusing. I suppose that is the real reason I don’t kill you. Well, that, and the fact you are an incredibly tight fuck…” As he spoke, he was carefully pulling off Vegeta’s pants, running a frigid hand up the inside of the boy’s thigh. Vegeta twitched violently, but the android still had him firmly by the hair. It frightened him when Seventeen took such care to undress him; enjoying every twitch, every jerk as his body was exposed and touched. It usually meant the android had come prepared to enjoy himself with a long drawn-out rape instead of a quick, fuck-the-boy-unconscious and leave to kill some more people.

Seventeen shoved the naked boy down on the ground and opened his own pants, revealing his hard member. Without preamble, he dropped down to his knees, rolled the boy on to his back and thrust in hard. Vegeta’s scream was choked off as the android grasped his throat and pressed his other hand over his mouth.

“Oh, not yet, little one,” chuckled the android. “I don’t want your voice gone when we get to the good parts…after all, we’re just getting started.”

Sage woke, already sitting up with both hands over his mouth. He was sweating and shivering violently. He didn’t bother to check to see he hadn’t woken his brother, and he fell with a crash trying to climb out of bed. He half crawled, half stumbled to the bathroom, nose already bleeding, barely making it to the sink to throw up.

Trunks had woken; his brother’s choked scream had penetrated his dream, nudging him to consciousness, but not quickly enough to stop him leaving so he could find out what was wrong. He could hear violent retching coming from the bathroom, and had swung his legs over the side of the bed, fumbling for the opening in the curtains when he heard bare footsteps pad into the bathroom after his brother.

Trunks stopped fighting with the curtains and forced himself to think instead of react. Fact one: Something was really bothering Sage-kun. Fact two: Their father knew what it was. Fact three: Sage just had a nightmare, was puking in the bathroom and their father was in there with him. Conclusion: Since no one was telling him anything, in order to find out what was going on, eavesdropping seemed to be called for.

Pushing down his concern for his brother, he really could help him more if he knew what was going on, Trunks silently walked towards the lit bathroom, stopping outside the open door, pressing his body against the wall. Suppressing his ki as though he were still sleeping, he listened closely.

Blood spattered in the sink for the third time in twenty-four hours, and this time Sage was tempted to just let it go. Just let it flow down the sink…it really was pretty, the patterns the red made on the white ceramic bowl, he thought dazedly. But once again, his father was there, pressing that magic spot at the base of his skull, the blood flow slowing, slowing, stopping. Sage collapsed in his father’s arms, tears leaking down his face, shivering fiercely. Why? He wondered silently. His mother’s abuse hurt him more emotionally, tore at his soul, confused him, rendered him helpless. But Seventeen caused him such pain, raw physical pain, and terror that left him a quivering mess. His mother’s actions could almost be chalked up to madness; but the laughter of the android froze his blood. He honestly didn’t know which was worse. Choose your poison, he thought hysterically, and he began to laugh even as the tears flowed down his face. He couldn’t stop, he simply couldn’t stop.

He felt his father pick him up and carry him away…to where he didn’t know. He continued his hysterical laughing until a spray of cold water hit his body. He gurgled and tried to get out from under it, but was held there forcibly. He knew when to stop fighting. He always knew.

Mercifully the cold was fleeting, and the water slowly heated up. Sage leaned back against the strong presence of his father, wondering slightly at the firm grip the elder Vegeta held around his chest. Must not want me to blacken the other eye, he thought dizzily.

“Are you calm enough now?” a voice murmured in his ear.

Sage nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

The water was shut off, and he found himself being wrapped in a towel and carried back to the sinks. Vegeta sat him on the counter and looked him in the eye.

“Your mother?”

Sage shook his head.

“Then what?” Vegeta’s voice was patient, gentle. “Tell me.”

The boy shivered again. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. He swallowed and tried again.

“Those bruises? On my hips?” Vegeta nodded, understanding.

“He…he…he gave them to me,” faltered the boy.

“Who gave them to you?” Kami, if it had been that brat of Kakkarott’s…

“Android Seventeen.”

Outside the bathroom, an ashen Trunks slid silently to the floor.

Unaware of his brother, Sage continued in a low, trembling voice, not meeting his father’s eyes.

“He likes to hurt me, to make me scream. It…it amuses him, and other one.”

“How long has this been going on?” His father’s voice was full of cold fury.

Sage shrugged despondently. “A few years, since just before Gohan was killed. But I don’t usually dream of it.” He frowned. “I don’t understand why I am such a mess here.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I could always handle it before.”

“Boy, why didn’t you tell your brother about this, and about your mother?”

“I couldn’t…I WON’T.” The child’s voice was fierce.

“Why? Do you think he would think less of you…”

Sage interrupted him. “NO…that’s not it at all.”

“Then why?”

“What good would it do? It’s not like he could stop Bulma from raping me, and if he couldn’t stop her, how the hell do you think he could stop Seventeen?”

His father was silent. Sage continued.

“There is no use in telling him, it would only hurt him. Why should both of us hurt? It’s the one thing I could do for him. How could I tell him our mother used me, thinking or pretending I was you? Do you think he looks that different from you she would hesitate to fuck him too if he gave her a reason? Do you think I wanted those fucking androids to notice him? Do you think I wanted my brother to have to live in the hell I do? Isn’t it bad enough he lost Gohan?” A sob forced itself out of Sage’s chest, despite his fierce struggle to suppress it.

“With Gohan gone, there was no one to protect Trunks.” He lowered his head.

Vegeta’s eyes widened, understanding dawning in his brain.

“You…you…you used yourself as a decoy?” he breathed in open admiration.

Sage shrugged. “After Gohan was killed, Trunks was always sneaking out to train. I knew he was missing Gohan badly and needed to be left alone even though training together would have been better for both of us. If there’s anything I understand, it’s the need to be left alone. But one day, not long after it started Bulma sent me out to look for him, and Seventeen found me. All I could think about the whole time he was fucking me bloody, was thank Kami it was me and not Trunks he had found. I couldn’t bear to think of my brother being hurt like that. So the next time Trunks snuck out to train, I snuck out too. Those damn androids were always together…if Seventeen found me, Trunks would be safe.” He sighed. “It worked….every time.” He glared at his father suddenly. “Do you understand now why I can’t tell him?”

Vegeta stared in open admiration at his young son. He was so Saiyjin, so fiercely protective of his brother. Rightfully it should have been the other way around, Trunks protecting Sage. But how could you protect someone who wouldn’t let you know he needed protection? A slow smirk spread over Vegeta’s face. “Boy, you are something else.”

Sage looked at him, puzzled. He continued. “Nevertheless, I think you should tell Trunks now.”

“But I can’t, Father, I just can’t,” whispered Sage.

“Hn…how on earth did you function back at home with all this?” He gestured to the blood and the remains of Sage’s dinner in the sink.

“I told you, I could always handle it before. And I used to have a couple nosebleeds every single day. But they were never this bad. Just little ones.” His voice lowered. “I thought it would be better, coming here, not worse.”

Vegeta regarded his son. The boy was so much like him it was creepy. And he could hear the other brat outside the bathroom, listening, though he was sure Sage hadn’t detected him.

He sighed. “This can’t continue, boy.”

Sage looked ashamed. “I know, Father,” he said softly.

“Damnit, boy, it’s not your fault!” said Vegeta irritably. “It’s not like I don’t know what you’re going through.” He ran his fingers through his flame of hair, thinking hard. Damnit, he wasn’t any good at this kind of thing. He…

“How did you control it, Father?”

Vegeta blinked, and looked into ebony eyes. “At first, through violence. There was plenty of that available when you are a planet purger. Later, as I told you, telling Kakkarott helped a great deal.”

Sage looked hopeful. “Then if I told you what happened, I wouldn’t have nightmares anymore?”

Vegeta considered, thinking. Then he shook his head. “It wasn’t enough for me. But it did help bring them under control. I still had nightmares, but not every night…and they weren’t as awful.”

Sage looked crestfallen. “But you are in control now…you don’t have nightmares anymore, do you?”

Vegeta smirked. “No, not anymore.”

“Then what happened? What did you do?” demanded the chibi.

“I didn’t do anything,” replied Vegeta.

“Huh?”

“The nightmares stopped after the first time I had sex….and it didn’t hurt.”

Sage stared. “You mean with Bulma?”

Snort. “No, not with the baka onna. She was my first female, and that is a completely different feeling, different mechanics, different everything. Besides, who said that didn’t hurt? I had to hold back so much with her, I barely managed release.”

“Well, then who?” Sage was intensely curious. “C’mon, Father, tell me!”

“Boy, don’t you ever stop asking questions?” Sage stared at the man. He was…blushing! He put on his best pouty chibi face.

“Please, Father?” he pleaded.

“Damnit, brat!! All right, if you must know, it was…Kakkarott.”

Vegeta cringed inwardly, expecting the brat to laugh at the very least. He was shocked when he looked up and saw him nodding slowly, understanding emerging on his face.

“Tell me, Father…please?”

Vegeta sighed. The boy was really too young for this. Hell, the boy was too young for everything that happened to him in his life. He growled softly, thinking of the dark haired android. Kami, I swear you’ll pay for violating my son.

“I told you I didn’t do anything. I didn’t. He…made love to me.” He flushed furiously, hardly believing he was admitting this to his twelve-year-old son. “He was gentle, loving. He…worked purely for my pleasure, not his own. He gave…everything. It didn’t hurt. And it was amazing. Since that day, I’ve yet to have another nightmare.”

He glanced at his son who looked torn. Vegeta could guess what was going through his mind.

“Hey,” he said, cupping his hand gently over his son’s cheek. “It doesn’t have to be the same for you. There are other things we can try. Do you know how to meditate?”

Sage shook his head. “Gohan tried to teach me, but I couldn’t…it hurt.”

Vegeta understood. The boy hadn’t been able to manage proper technique, hardly surprising considering what he went through day after day. It must take most of his concentration just to hold himself together.

“It’s high time you learned then. We’ll start tomorrow before we train. You’d better get some sleep now. I’m going to run you into the ground, boy. Go on…I’ll take care of this mess.” He gestured to the blood-spattered bathroom.

Sage slid carefully off of the countertop, shed the towel that had been wrapped around him and started towards the doorway. Halfway there, he turned and walked back to his father and wrapped his arms around the man’s stomach, squeezing hard. Automatically, Vegeta felt his arms respond, embracing his son’s strong shoulders briefly.

“Thank you, Father.”

“Go to bed, brat.”

“Yes, Father.”

Trunks was back in bed before Sage had reached the bathroom doorway, his brain a whirlwind of horrified thoughts. How could he have been so BLIND?!? Damnit, he was supposed to protect his little brother, and he had failed. He quickly stifled his harsh breathing; he didn’t want Sage to know he was awake. The last thing the boy needed was a confrontation now.

The bed bent slightly as Sage climbed back up on to it. He seemed to hesitate, and then moved closer to Trunks, sharing his warmth. Trunks felt a feather light touch on his shoulder, and instinctively as though in sleep turned over so he was facing his brother. Sage jerked his hand back, then crawled under the covers. When was the last time Sage had touched him; for that matter, touched anyone except during fights or spars? Trunks suddenly remembered a baby Vegeta who loved to be tickled and held, who was openly affectionate; vividly remembering the sensation of velvet fur on skin when his brother wrapped his small tail around his wrist. Kami, why hadn’t he noticed the change?

Trunks could feel Sage’s light, and surprisingly sweet breath on his face as the boy settled into sleep. As Trunks drifted off himself, his last vengeful thoughts were interrupted by Sage’s tail winding around his wrist. He hesitated then reached over and drew his baby brother into a protective embrace. He murmured sleepily, “I swear, Vegeta; I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

The next morning, Trunks woke early. Sage was still sleeping soundly, curled closely to his brother, tail looped loosely around Trunks arm. The amethyst-haired demi-Saiyjin carefully detangled himself from his brother, and climbed out of bed, scowling at the unfairness of Sage’s situation. To his surprise, their father was already awake and at the table. The strong scent of Saiyjin sweat and frustration mingled with the dark smell of fresh coffee was heavy in the air. Vegeta sipped casually at a steaming cup, and Trunks helped himself, joining his father at the table.

“Did you even go to sleep last night, Father?” asked Trunks curiously.

Vegeta glanced at him. “No.”

“I…uh…understand why you didn’t tell me earlier. But now that I know, some of it anyway, what can I do to help?” His eyes were pleading. “I didn’t know, Father, I swear it.”

“I know you didn’t know, boy, your brother took great pains to make sure you never found out. As for what you can do to help…first you need to let Sage tell you what happened himself. Until that happens, there isn’t much either of us can really do.

“There’s no problem there, Father.” Both Vegeta and Trunks jumped slightly at the sound of Sage’s voice. “I’ll tell him now.” And in a distant-sounding voice that didn’t sound at all like Sage, he did.

Before he had finished, the elder Vegeta was pale and trembling with rage. Trunks wanted nothing more than to gather his little brother in his arms and comfort him, but he knew now physical touch was anything but comforting to the little Ouji. One hour, then two, finally sometime during the third hour, Sage’s distant voice stopped. He had told them everything…everything he could remember, and no nosebleeds, no ill feeling, he felt…empty. And cold. Curiously cold. It wasn’t him after all who had stood there telling of all those horrific, nightmarish scenes…it must have been someone else…someone else…some one was calling his name, but he couldn’t answer. There was a thud, and Vegeta Briefs collapsed onto the floor.

He awoke, still cold on the inside, but wonderfully warm on the outside. He was wrapped snugly in a blanket and cradled in his brother’s strong arms. Kami, how he loved his brother’s scent…like sun-warmed grass, clean, after a long rain.

“How are you feeling, chibi?” asked Trunks.

“Don’t call me chibi,” replied Sage groggily. “What the fuck happened?”

He felt rather than heard Trunks chuckle. “He’s fine, Father.” Then to Sage, “You passed out after you finished telling us…telling us about what happened to you. Father says you need to eat…can you?”

“Hai…I’m hungry, Trunks…put me down.”

Trunks complied, and set the boy down in a chair. Sage shrugged against the blankets until they fell away, freeing his arms. He leaned his elbows on the table and rested his aching head in his hands. A plate of food was shoved roughly in front of him.

“Eat,” said the imperious voice of his father. “You’ll need your strength. Meditation is hard work, and the sooner we get started on it the better for all of us. We need you strong, Sage; even though I plan on being powerful enough myself to defeat the androids, having another Super Saiyjin around is always beneficial. The way you’ve been losing your dinner and blood the last few days, I’d be surprised if you can even transform.”

Sage shook his head as he began to eat mechanically. “I can’t, I can tell. I haven’t the reserve strength.”

“What about you, boy?” Vegeta had turned to his elder son.

“Me?”

“Do you know how to meditate?”

Trunks looked surprised. “Hai, Father…Go-chan taught me.”

“Good…you can help your brother then.”

An hour later….

“Damnit, boy, will you stop fidgeting???” Vegeta’s exasperated voice echoed throughout the blankness as he tried to get his son in the proper frame of mind to meditate. Unfortunately it was proving to be extremely difficult. Every time he thought they were making progress, the brat would twitch, or startle, hum or do something else completely disruptive. It was as though he didn’t want to meditate.

“You need to be calm. Now find a position comfortable for you…again…and relax.” Vegeta again folded his arms, and bent his head, chin resting on his chest as he began to breathe in a rhythm he was so accustomed to it was second nature, when he heard his son fidget again. He sighed and opened his eyes.

“What is it this time?”

Sage looked away. “I don’t wanna do this anymore,” he muttered.

Vegeta fought for control of himself.

“Sage,” Trunks’ voice cut into the conversation. “Why don’t you want to do this? I know it will help. Can’t you give it a chance?”

Sage shook his head. “It still hurts me,” he whispered. “And…and…it’s dark in there.”

“What do you mean it's dark in there?” Vegeta’s voice was baffled.

Sage hugged himself tightly. “When I close my eyes and do like you say…relax and breathe, it’s dark…and I get all panicky like I can’t breathe the way you want me to, and then it starts to hurt and I have to move or do something because if I don’t,” he shuddered. “I think it will suck me in and I won’t be able to get out.”

Vegeta stared at his youngest son. “You’re afraid of the dark?” he asked incredulously.

“Not exactly,” muttered Sage. “But…it’s always dark when she comes…and…” he gulped audibly…”there were those times Seventeen…”he couldn’t finish. He was shivering again, remembering the roughness of the blindfold over his eyes, the bitter taste of whatever the android used to gag him with, the utter helplessness of being bound and dangled from Kami-knew-where…the laughter in stereo….

“Maybe what he needs is an anchor.” That was Trunks again. Sage blinked, forcing himself to come back. It wasn’t as if he wanted to dwell in those memories, but they seemed to suck him in…much like the darkness that threatened him whenever he tried to follow his father’s meditation instructions.

“An anchor? Hn…might work at that, boy. But will he be able to accept that?”

Sage looked at his brother, who shrugged. “Trying it will probably get us farther than we’ve managed without it. Should it be you or me?”

Vegeta frowned, thinking. “You. He knows you better, and you have a stronger bond with him than I do.”

“Would someone please explain what you two are talking about to me? Remember me?”

“An anchor would give you something to basically cling to so you can’t get sucked into the darkness while still allowing you to meditate. If you can manage to do even a little meditation, you can start to get some control over your thoughts and memories.” Here Trunks stopped, and waited for his brother to digest what he had just said.

“Ok,” said Sage. “Sounds good…so what’s the catch?”

“You’d have to allow one of us into your mind.”

Sage stared at his father. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said flatly.

Trunks shrugged helplessly. “It’s the only way,” he said quietly.

“There is no FUCKING way I am letting either of you into my mind.” Sage folded his arms and glared at the pair of them.

“Why don’t you trust me, chibi?” asked Trunks softly.

“I told you, don’t call me chibi. And I DO trust you, Trunks. I just don’t want you in there. I just can’t.”

“That’s what you said about telling us what happened to you.” His father’s voice cut through his stubborn mindset. “But you told us both, and you’re still here, in one piece. This is merely the next step, and if the only way we can get you to meditate is to anchor you, then that’s what we need to do.”

“You can’t make me.”

“No, we can’t,” agreed Vegeta. He looked calmly at his son. “But damn it, Sage, we don’t have all the time in the world you know. Something’s got to give here, and it’s going to have to be you again.”

“I know you’re scared, ch…Sage,” Trunks said. “But you’ve gone through your whole life not letting anyone help you. Let us help you now. Please?”

It was the please that got Sage. Damn ningen eyes. Like hers…and yet so not like hers there was really no comparison once you looked closer. He felt his brother reach out hesitantly to touch his shoulder and he flinched at the warm contact. But he held his ground, didn’t move away, and after a few moments, Trunks pulled him into a hug. Stiffening initially, Sage breathed in the comforting scent of his brother, and forced himself to relax into the embrace. He was startled to realize he was returning the hug. He buried his face into his brother’s shoulder and mumbled a timid affirmative.

Sage felt Trunks smile, as he gently broke the hug. “Let’s get started then.’

Sage sighed, hiding his fright at the prospect. “What must I do?”

“Find a position comfortable for both of you where you are in physical contact, skin to skin.” His father’s voice rumbled over them, and Sage’s eyes opened wide at the prospect of prolonged physical contact. Involuntarily he drew back into himself, then berated himself silently. It’s Trunks…TRUNKS, damnit! Your brother. He would never hurt you, never. He only wants to help you. Repeating that mantra over and over to himself, Sage forced himself to sit cross-legged facing his brother, knees touching, holding hands and breathing in unison while their father’s voice wound in slow circles around them, guiding them deeper…Sage closed his eyes and entered the darkness.

He opened them slowly and looked around. It was still dark, but a dim light was glowing somewhere. He was kneeling in the center of a large and cluttered room; cold…it was cold. He realized abruptly he wasn’t alone. He tilted his head up and caught sight of his brother standing before him bathed in diffused lavender luminosity. He was dressed simply in his dark grey cargo pants and black tank top, bare footed and his sword was sheathed across his broad back. Sage shivered again, and noticed for the first time he himself was completely naked.

He looked down at his body, liberally marked with purple and black bruises, cuts and gashes scattered here and there between them. His thighs were painted copiously with dried crimson, evidence of Seventeen’s ministrations. On the whole, he thought, he looked terrible. Nothing like the handsome, self confident strong figure of his brother. He curled himself forward, trying in vain to hide the substantiations of his mother’s and the android’s attentions.

He felt a gentle hand on his chin, and he stood, following it's mute instructions, but keeping his eyes cast downwards, his tail curling around one of his thighs in a futile attempt to cover some of himself. “No, Vegeta, don’t be ashamed. None of this is your fault, you did nothing to deserve this.” Warm hands cupped his aching cheeks and he felt Trunks’ warm breath on his face. “Look at me,” instructed the older boy. Sage obeyed, meeting his brother’s calm azure gaze with his own hesitant obsidian one. “I am here to anchor you, and to guide you should you need it. But unless it is absolutely necessary, I will not interfere, and I will not do anything nor go anywhere you don’t want me to. Understand?”

Sage nodded. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Meditation serves many different purposes. To calm and clear the mind, to control the mind, to help focus energy and concentration, to reach out, to heal…you must decide what you want to accomplish, and simply do it.”

“I don’t know what to do,” whispered the younger boy. “What should I do? How do I start?”

“Are you asking for my help?”

Sage cringed slightly, then straightened. Damnit, it was time to stop acting like such a scared fucking baby. “Yes Tru-chan, please help me.”

“Very well. My suggestion is you begin with memories less painful, easier to control and deal with them. Once you get them straightened out, you will find you have added resources to handle the more difficult ones. We have a limited amount of time here, Father is monitoring us. Don’t try to overreach yourself, and if you feel you are slipping, just stretch out to me. I will anchor you.”

Trunks stood back and watched, arms folded as his brother began picking through his memories.

Sage opened his eyes yet again, this time back on the blankness the Room of Spirit and Time consisted of. His legs felt cramped, his fingers cold from lack of circulation despite the warm grasp of his brother. He met Trunks’ eyes cautiously; the crystal orbs meeting his calmly, acceptance in their direct gaze. Suddenly, Sage shut his eyes and winced, squeaking in pain.

“What is it, chibi?” asked Trunks in concern.

”Spasm…leg…can’t…move,” gasped Sage. He choked in surprise as strong arms hauled him to his feet from behind and straightened his cramping limb.

“Flex your foot, boy.” The commanding voice of his father was harsh in his ear.

“Can’t…” gasped Sage.

“Damnit, boy, don’t be so fucking weak. Trunks, grab his foot and push it up towards his shin.”

Sage could feel his brother obeying, and gradually the cramping pain eased then stopped. His father set him down roughly, hissing with annoyance as Sage’s legs threatened to crumple beneath him; Trunks steadying his brother until he got his footing back.

“How do you feel, brat?”

Sage growled as his muscle threatened to cramp again. “Tired…achy.”

“Inside, boy, how do you feel inside?”

Sage stopped rubbing his leg and thought for a moment. “Calm sorta. A little relaxed. Kind of…blank almost.” He blinked. “It’s strange, really.” He nearly fell over as Trunks slapped him across the shoulders.

“You did it, Sage!”

Baffled, Sage looked at his older brother, then at their father who was smirking in satisfaction. “I did?” he said uncertainly.

“Yep, you meditated.” Trunks was grinning. “Way to go!”

Vegeta grunted. “First step only, boy. Now come on. It’s time to train.”

Wordlessly, Sage followed the man further into the blankness that soon became biting cold. Vegeta held a brief conversation with Trunks, who looked apprehensive but agreeable, then turned to Sage. He gasped as they both powered up to Super Saiyjin.

“HEY, that’s not fair!!! You know I can’t transform right now.”

“Then you’d better prepare to defend yourself, boy.” His father’s voice held no hint of mercy, humor or anything except the cold statement of fact. Sage looked frantically at Trunks for help, but his brother’s face seemed to mirror their father’s intent.

Sage slammed the door down on his panic. Fine, if that was they way they wanted to play, that was fine with him. The challenge got his Saiyjin blood boiling, and he powered up as much as he could; his best still falling far below the two Super Saiyjins facing him. He glowered at them both, and Vegeta felt his heart nearly turn over with pride at the wholly Saiyjin glare his youngest son was giving them. The harsh black and purple bruise on his face only served to heighten the savage effect. Then, to his surprise, not waiting for the signal to begin, the brat attacked.

The sparring session was brief but intense. For a surprising amount of time, Sage gave as good as he got, but the lack of energy began to tell on him.

“Come on, boy, defend yourself,” bellowed Vegeta, as he brought both hands down on the back of Sage’s neck, sending him crashing into the ground. Sage struggled back to his feet, powered up and attacked his father again, only to be kicked away into his brother who in turn blasted him away with a low-level energy beam.

“Again, brat, is that the best you’ve got? I can’t believe you are even a Super Saiyjin, judging by that pathetic display,” taunted Vegeta. Sage growled and staggered back to his feet, bracing himself, then flashed a smirk at his father who hovered just slightly above him. Before Vegeta realized what was happening…

“FINAL FLASH!!!!!!”

The attack was weak, a testament to the boy’s flagging ki, but impressive in that he could even manage it. Vegeta dodged it easily, feeling the hairs on his neck crackle as the intense power of his signature finishing attack flowed past him. He looked down at his youngest son in time to see him collapse, completely, utterly spent.

Trunks and Vegeta floated down to stand beside the prone child.

“Is he...” came Trunks’ hesitant voice.

Vegeta placed a hand on Sage’s chest. “He’s fine, brat. Just drained.” He nodded in satisfaction. “Which is, after all what we were after. Hopefully now he can have a proper healing sleep.” The Saiyjin prince rose. “Take him back to the house and put him to bed.” He turned his back on both boys as Trunks moved to obey, easily lifting the slight, motionless form of his baby brother into his arms.

“Father, can I ask you something?”

The man stopped, but did not turn. He grunted in what Trunks took as an affirmative.

“How did you know something was wrong with Sage?”

Vegeta snorted. “Boy, are you really that oblivious? With the nosebleeds and the vomiting, and the restless sleep? K’so, brat, you share a bed with him, he’s your brother and you never noticed?”

“Iie, Father, that’s not what I meant. How did you know?”

“Why don’t you tell me, boy, you were listening at the door last night.”

“Truthfully? I didn’t hear much past Android Seventeen. My brain just kind of went into overdrive when he said that.”

Trunks heard a soft sigh. “I suppose I suspected because he was just too damn much like me. There were too many similarities.” A pause. “There are some things that just aren’t hereditary.” And he walked away, leaving Trunks to mull over what his father had just told him.

Walking back to the house, Trunks noticed things about his brother he hadn’t seen before. The boy had small scars on his face, in places that made them unlikely to be the result of training or fighting the androids. And he was light, so light it seemed impossible for the thickly muscled shoulders to be his. He noticed how very much Sage resembled their father…Gohan and Mother had always commented on it, but seeing them together was almost frightening. There were slight differences of course, Sage was smaller, not having reached his full growth yet, and his tail, well, there was the fact he had one for starters. But Sage’s tail was a brilliant blue-black, and he was sure the blue in it hadn’t come from Vegeta. Instead of rising from a widow’s peak, Sage’s hair hung in spiky bangs nearly into his eyes before sweeping up into the gravity defying style of their sire. Unlike his own lavender locks, Sage’s hair had never been cut; had never needed it.

Underneath his blood-red CC shirt, Trunks knew with certainty more scars existed. He was careful to handle his brother gently, mindful of the bruising on his hips mentioned the night before. Thinking of how his brother had gotten those bruises caused him to tighten his grip involuntarily and the younger Vegeta whimpered in his sleep. Contrite, Trunks relaxed his hold, silently scolding himself. The last thing he wanted to do was cause Vegeta more pain.

Carefully, Trunks laid the small figure out on their shared bed and covered him closely. He watched him sleep for a few minutes, marveling at how young he looked. It had been a very long time since he had really thought of his brother as being a child, but sleep seemed to erase years from the chibi’s face, despite the massive black eye, making him look half his age. It was hard to believe the slight body beneath the covers held a power that threatened to rival his own. Impulsively, he leaned over and brushed a kiss against his brother’s forehead, much the same as Mother used to do to him when she thought he was sleeping. One last look at the exhausted child, and he returned to the blankness to continue training.

Dinner that night was nearly silent, both Trunks and Vegeta listening to Sage breathing evenly from the bed.

Trunks finally broke the silence. “When do you think he’ll wake up?”

Vegeta grunted. “Probably sometime tomorrow morning. Hunger will wake him if nothing else. A healing sleep requires fuel after all.”

“So then what? We just continue like normal?”

Their father shrugged. “Normal enough. Meditation first, then training till he drops.”

“Will it help?”

“Hai…”

Trunks’ next question was almost too low for his father to hear. “Will it be enough?”

Vegeta, staring at the bed which held the younger Briefs was silent. Then, “I don’t know.”

“If it’s not, then what?” Trunks was frightened for his brother, though he tried not to show it.

“I don’t know, boy, I just don’t know.”

Trunks watched as his father went to bed, then sighed and climbed into bed beside his brother. It looked like Sage hadn’t moved at all since Trunks had put him to bed earlier. Trunks stayed awake a long time watching his brother sleep, hoping their plan of action would be enough to help him, and cursing himself again for being so blind.

Sage awoke the next morning feeling wonderfully refreshed, and ravenous. Beside him Trunks lay still sleeping, one arm over his eyes. Sage smiled at the picture his older brother made, and climbed out of bed and pattered into the bathroom.

Damn, he actually felt good. He stretched under the warm water, feeling muscles flex and relax; tension he usually carried around in his neck was eased away. He felt calm, collected. If this was what meditation did for you, then he was all for it. He finished his shower, shaking his head vigorously and returning his hair to its usual upswept appearance and walked back out into the main living area.

His father and Trunks were up and watching him closely. He suddenly felt like he was under a microscope. He growled at the both of them. “Knock it off…I’m fine.”

Trunks snickered and Vegeta smirked. Sage folded his arms and scowled furiously.

“Sorry, chibi,” apologized Trunks. “But you’ve been dead to the world for the better part of a day now. It’s just good to see you up and about. How do you feel?”

“I feel fine, Trunks…no, actually I feel good.” He looked quizzically at them. “I got the crap beat out of me yesterday…why do I feel so damn good?”

“You had a healing sleep,” replied his father shortly. “You’re supposed to feel good. And hungry.”

“I am,” admitted Sage wryly.

Vegeta snorted. “So eat, brat. We’ve got work to do.”

This time when it came time to meditate Sage wasn’t nearly as hesitant. He knew his brother would keep his distance in his mind, only helping if he was needed. The physical contact still bothered him, but less today. It was easier this time, and he noted his body looked less battered, though he was still naked. He moved around carefully, reaching out twice for his brother, grateful for his strong and silent presence in his mind. It was starting to look a little less cluttered in here, thought Sage. Trunks was right…clearing things up did free up energy and concentration for other things. When they came out of the trance this time Sage felt…lighter. He smiled and thanked his brother as they followed their silent father far out into the blankness. And when the training session began Sage didn’t even blink when they both powered up to Super Saiyjin. He merely followed their example and transformed himself, feeling the sharp increase in his ki that came from being so completely beaten yesterday.

This time Sage lasted until the three of them agreed to stop to eat. He was bloodied and battered, but grinning widely and he actually joked with his brother on the way back to the house. Then it was eat, train some more, separately this time, Vegeta alone and Sage and Trunks together, another meal, then bed. Once again, Sage slept peacefully with no nightmares, no nosebleeds, just restful slumber.

The third day was much like the last two. Eat, meditate, train, eat, train, eat, bathe and sleep. It seemed to be working. To Trunks, Sage appeared to be more like his former self, and more like the Sage Trunks thought he should be. He didn’t flinch…much…anymore when Trunks touched him, and he laughed…really laughed. Trunks caught Vegeta watching his brother once with a look of critical satisfaction on his face. It was working, Sage would be ok.

But on the fourth day disaster struck.

Sage awoke feeling shivery…out of sorts and generally nervous. He wasn’t hungry, and he poked at his breakfast. His father and brother watched him, strange looks on their faces. During meditation, Trunks’ hands on his burned like fire, but he managed to meditate anyway. He didn’t accomplish much, he kept looking nervously over his shoulder at Trunks, sighing in relief as each glance reaffirmed his brother hadn’t moved. But during the sparring session all hell broke loose.

In the middle of a particularly tense moment in the fight, Sage was going head-to-head against Trunks, completely caught up in the match when his brother abruptly Solar Flared him. The younger Vegeta didn’t see it coming, and caught it full in the face. He knew what to do when caught by surprise with that attack and he started to compensate, using his other senses and following his brother's and father’s ki when a crippling panic gripped him. Trunks, not realizing his condition followed the Solar Flare immediately with a vicious punch to Sage’s chest, fully expecting the younger boy to block it. He didn’t, and Sage crumpled and fell out of the air, hitting the ground with a sickening crunch.

He lay there, stunned for the moment, and still completely blinded. He trembled, not understanding his sudden panic, when he felt hands trying to help him up, a voice speaking to him. Not recognizing his brother, he screamed, “DON’T TOUCH ME!” and scrambled away from him. His skin burned, his thoughts were jumbled and confused. What was happening to him? Oh Kami…he couldn’t see…he couldn’t see…where was he? What was going on? Violent shivers rent his body, yet he could feel sweat pouring down his skin in rivulets.

“Sage? SAGE?!? Father, what’s wrong with him?” Trunks was beside himself with worry. “I didn’t hit him that hard, I swear it! He should have blocked it…”

“Quiet, boy,” snapped Vegeta. He approached the trembling cowering child quietly, frowning. What on earth could have reduced the boy to this? He knew the progress would be a one step forward two steps back kind of thing, but he shouldn’t have regressed this much so suddenly…

He reached out quickly and grasped the boy’s arm before he could pull it away. It was slick with sweat, and nearly hot to the touch. The child whimpered and tried to pull away, pleading noises emanating from his throat. Vegeta could taste the boy’s fear, his panic, his confusion…what was going on?

Sage’s vision cleared slowly, and he could make out his father holding onto his arm firmly. “Let me go…please,” he pleaded. “Don’t…don’t touch me…”

Vegeta’s calm voice answered, “I will let you go, however, I want to make sure you don’t go the wrong way. Can you see where the house is?”

Sage tried to stifle his panic and follow his father’s directions. “Y..yes…I see it.”

“Good. Remember you can’t go so far out you cannot see it. You will be lost in time forever. If you must run…run towards the house. Do you hear me?”

“I…I…I hear you.”

“Good.” He released Sage’s arm.

Sage knelt there, trembling for a moment more, then suddenly he sprinted for the house, leaving a very confusing scent in his wake.

Trunks and Vegeta watched, completely baffled at the unexpected turn in events.

“What’s the matter with him, Father?” asked Trunks, clearly alarmed.

Vegeta frowned. There had been something familiar about the scent his younger son had been giving off, but he couldn’t place it. He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

“Should we go after him?” It was obvious Trunks wanted to.

“No. Let’s leave him alone for now. Come, fight me.” With a last look at the house where his brother now hid, Trunks obeyed.

Inside the house, the younger Vegeta was fighting a furious battle with himself. Feelings he had never known were fighting their way to the surface and clashing with the trauma of his past, creating a painfully bewildering web of confusion. His blood burned, causing some of his more recent scars to throb and stretch painfully. The bruises on his hips ached as well as his tail. And yet, he kept feeling the beginnings of arousal, it was only dampened by the feelings of nausea that always accompanied them, courtesy of his mother’s “attentions.”

He cried out low as the thoughts shifted, creating an intense need to be filled. He wrapped his arms around himself, balling up tighter, willing the fear away as every rape that had ever happened to him by the sadistic android was relived in stark, pain-filled detail, as though his subconscious was punishing him for the waves of new desires. His nose burst out in a flood of crimson blood, and he made no attempt to stop it. It was doubtful he even realized it was happening, so deeply ensconced was he in his conflicts.

That was how Vegeta and Trunks found him when they stopped for their evening meal. Cowering in a corner in a pool of his own blood, shivering as though with fever, sobbing weakly and still giving off that strong, confusing scent. For a moment, they just stood there, staring. Then Trunks moved swiftly and made to pick his brother up.

“DON’T TOUCH ME,” screamed Vegeta hysterically. “GET AWAY FROM ME…please…I don’t want to…” his screams trailed off into quiet whimpers, punctuated by his fierce shaking.

“Saaaa, chibi, I’m not going to hurt you,” said Trunks soothingly, as he attempted again to pick his brother up. Sage struggled, scrambling to get out of his brother’s grasp, crying out as Trunks tried to get a firmer grip on his blood and sweat-slicked skin.

“LET ME GO!!! LEAVE ME ALONE,” Sage’s panicked cries echoed through the house as Trunks bodily carried him through to the shower. Not even attempting to remove his clothes, he turned the spray on and stood with his sobbing brother in his arms, washing the blood and sweat away. There was that scent again, thought Trunks, as he tried again in vain to soothe the panicked child.

“What is it, Vegeta,” he asked his brother quietly. “What’s done this to you?” There was no answer as the boy shook in his brother’s grasp.

Back in the main living area, Vegeta paced, trying to place that elusive scent. It was maddeningly familiar to him and yet….he scented again, deeply, and a light flashed on in his brain. He stalked through to the bathroom where Trunks was wrapping a mercifully unconscious Sage in a towel.

“How old is he?” asked Vegeta tersely.

“Who? Sage? He’s twelve,” replied Trunks automatically.

“Are you certain?”

“Of course I….” Trunks paused thinking. He carried his brother back to the main living area and put him in bed, covering him, his brain doing rapid calculations.

“Well?” said Vegeta impatiently.

Trunks held up a hand to the older man, still calculating. Coming to the same conclusion four times in a row, he smacked his forehead with the flat of his hand. He turned to face his father.

“He’s thirteen. I can’t place the date exactly, but it had to have been either yesterday or today. I can’t believe I missed his birthday.” He looked at his father, startled to see Vegeta paling.

“Father? What is it?”

“I know what is wrong with him.”

“Nani? Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

Vegeta shook his head. “If you are correct and he is thirteen, then there is one very simple explanation for what is wrong with him. And in his case, it is not a good one.”

“What is it?’ asked Trunks again impatiently.

“He’s gone into heat.”

Trunks sat down hard at the table. Vegeta followed suit, with slightly more control.

“You’re sure?” asked Trunks.

“Are you sure he’s thirteen?”

“Yes…”

“Then I am in no doubt. It happens to all Saiyjins when they turn thirteen. They get their first heat.”

Trunks frowned. “I didn’t.”

“You didn’t have your tail either, did you?”

“No…”

“The tail releases certain hormones into the blood stream when a Saiyjin turns thirteen, causing arousal, and a need to couple. The reason Sage’s heat scent is so confusing is because of what has happened to him, the hormones are causing an internal struggle. The hormones tell his body it wants sex, but the brain reminds him how horrible sex is. It’s no wonder he’s a complete mess.”

“Oh gods,” breathed Trunks. “What happens now?”

Vegeta stared off into the blankness outside the house. “There is only one way out of heat. He has to have sex.”

Trunks stared at his father. He couldn’t have just heard what he thought he had heard.

“Nani?” he whispered, hoping his father would say something else, anything else.

“You heard me, boy. After the first heat, it’s not necessary, of course, but in order for the first heat to stop, he has to have sex. One way or the other...”

Trunks had a sudden flash of understanding. “Is this what it was like for you?”

His father looked at him sharply, then shook his head, turning away again. “No.”

“But…you said…”

“I was raped, yes. For most of my life. But I was always taken…I was never forced to do the taking like your mother forced your brother.”

Trunks shook his head. He still had a hard time believing Mother could have done what he had seen in Vegeta’s mind, let alone what the boy had told them. He knew it was true, but part of his brain simply refused to process it.

Vegeta was watching him sharply. “This is serious, boy, a normal Saiyjin in heat is nothing to smile about. And even if he is only half-Saiyjin, he’s obviously enough Saiyjin to go into heat. And with everything he’s been through…he has no idea what is happening to him. It could drive him mad. It could harm him permanently, physically and mentally. We can’t fool around with this.”

“Well, what do you suggest? I mean, there’s only the two of us in here…should we send him back out to the Lookout?”

“To what? To people who haven’t a clue as to what he’s been through, to what he needs?”

Trunks looked down at his feet. “I only thought maybe since Goku-san helped you…”

“That he might be able to help Vegeta? Possibly…but we have no idea what is going on out there, or what the effects would be if we sent him out before the day is up. Don’t think I haven’t already considered it, boy….but at this point the unknown risk to him is too great.”

“So what are you saying, Father?” asked Trunks apprehensively, not at all certain he wanted to know the answer.

“I’m saying one of us is going to have to have sex with your brother. Period.”

Trunks felt a little sick. “I was afraid you were going to say that,” he groaned.

The Ouji ignored his comment. “Ideally, it should be you. You are closer to him, he feels safe around you.”

“But…”

Vegeta held up a hand. “Forget it, boy. There is a more compelling reason it can’t be you. You’re a virgin, ne?”

Trunks blushed slightly and nodded. Vegeta sighed.

“You’d have less of an idea what to do for him than he would if I just locked you two in a room together.”

“Now, wait a minute,” Trunks started indignantly.

“Knock it off, boy. Remember for a minute what your brother has been through. He doesn’t need some fumble-fingered idiot to hurt him yet again…and you don’t want to be added to his list of abusers, do you?”

Trunks looked stricken. Vegeta continued, in a somewhat gentler tone. “Go. Train. Shower. Meditate…do something and let me do what needs to be done.”

Trunks hesitated, looking unsure. “You swear you won’t hurt him?”

“I give you my word as the Saiyjin no Ouji.”

Trunks nodded, then turned to leave. He paused, then not looking back, “If you DO hurt him, I will kill you, androids or no. Understood?”

Unseen by his displaced heir, Vegeta no Ouji gave a small, proud smirk. “Hai. I would expect no less from a son of mine.”

Trunks left the house, unsheathing his sword as he passed through the doorway and out into the blankness.

Vegeta turned with a slight sigh towards his still sleeping son. This was going to have to be handled…delicately. The boy was in a fragile state of mind. A wrong move on his part could damage him permanently…and Vegeta did not want to do that. His own first heat had been hellish enough, but he had KNOWN it was coming…had known what to expect, and had been grateful when it did happen, it had been one of the times Frieza had lent him out as a “reward” to Zarbon. The blue-skinned alien wasn’t exactly gentle, but he was not as brutish as Frieza…and considerably less generously endowed.

He watched the boy sleep for a moment, then walked into the bathing room in search of items to make this easier on the both of them. Collecting a number of various bottles, he returned to the main living chamber and arranged them on a nearby table, in easy reach of the bed his future son now slept upon. He stood and waited for the boy to waken, going over in his mind his options, and what he could say to the child to help him understand.

The boy…Sage, Vegeta reminded himself, stirred slightly, ebony eyes blinking open as he remembered where he was. Before the heat hormones and resulting terror could take over the brat, Vegeta caught his face with his hand and turned it to meet his own midnight eyes.

“Sage,” he said quietly. “You have gone into heat. Do you understand what that means?”

“N…no.”

“It means your body is producing hormones that are pushing you to desire sex. But the trauma in your past is clashing with those hormones and causing you, in essence, to fight your instincts.”

The child’s eyes were wide as he regarded the man who could have been his father, if only in another time…another world. “I don’t want to have sex,” he said clearly.

“I know you don’t, but unfortunately the choice has been taken out of our hands. You must listen carefully to what I say. The only way for the heat to stop is for you to have sex. There is no other way. And there is no one else here to help you with this. Your brother and I have discussed it. You must allow me to help you, Sage; I will not do anything against your will. You MUST fight your fear…try to keep your mind clear. I will do all I can to make this an easy and pleasurable experience for you, but you have to trust me.”

Sage regarded him with less than calm eyes. His mouth trembled slightly, betraying his fear, his hesitation. “Why…” he whispered.

“Why what?” Vegeta asked. He knew somehow if he could keep the boy talking, then he could hold back the mindless terror that had overtaken him earlier.

“Why…now? I don’t understand….”

“You turned thirteen. It happens to all Saiyjins, male and female, when they turn thirteen. On Vegeta-sei, it was a time of celebration. You left your childhood behind. And experienced people were there to help you through your first heat…usually a family member or close friend of the family. But here, there is only the three of us. And I couldn’t let your brother help you…he is a virgin.” He paused as Sage’s mouth quirked in an unmistakable motion of humor. “He would hurt you without meaning to. Sage, you have to trust me…do you? Can you trust me not to hurt you?”

“I…I don’t know,” Sage answered honestly. “My brain says I can trust you…” he bowed his head slightly. “But…I can’t stop…feeling afraid. And I can feel it again…here…” he pressed a small hand into his lower belly, and looked helplessly at Vegeta. “I don’t like that feeling…”

“What feeling?”

Sage blushed crimson. “I don’t like feeling…aroused. She….she used that…” he broke off shuddering.

“Don’t think about that now, Sage,” said Vegeta quickly. “She isn’t here and she can’t hurt you.”

A harsh whisper. “But the feeling is the same.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Sage, you’ve been forced to do things that make even me nauseous. It is amazing you have survived this long without significant damage to your mind. Your strength of will is remarkable, and you can get through this as well…but you must accept my help. I will NOT force you. You need to tell me….tell me you will allow me to help you…and we can get this over sooner rather than later. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for you, both to make a decision, and to quench your heat lust.”

Sage shook visibly. “You promise you won’t hurt me?” Tears stood in onyx eyes as they unquellingly held the gaze of the man who shared both his face and name.

Vegeta bit his lip. “I can’t promise it won’t hurt at all,” he said quietly. “You have been physically damaged by the android, I am sure. But I promise whatever pain you feel will be fleeting…and you will have honest pleasure. No shame, no guilt…no forcing you to do anything against your will. I will not hurt you deliberately.”

Sage stared at Vegeta, absorbing the truth of the older man’s words even as another wave of desire flooded him. He nodded slowly. “But what about you?” he asked suddenly.

“Nani?” Vegeta was confused. “What about me?”

Sage looked at him, shivering slightly. “Don’t you…have to be aroused for this to work?” he said hesitatingly.

Vegeta grinned. “Well that depends on what role you wish. But you mean…do I find my thirteen-year-old son particularly sexy?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I have been trained to resist the heat scent, and that is what I am doing right now. All I need to do is turn that off, and your scent will do the work for me. If I hadn’t been trained, I’d have fucked you before now.”

“Oh.”

There was a long pause. Then Sage looked at Vegeta and asked simply, “What do I have to do?”

“Only give me permission to help you, and tell me when anything I do makes you exceptionally uncomfortable. I clarified that because no matter what I do you will be uncomfortable, it is simply normal for what you have been through.”

Sage bowed his head. “I don’t have a choice, do I,” he whispered, shivering suddenly.

“Not really, no. But I won’t rape you, Sage. I will not become another one of your abusers.”

“I don’t want to do this,” said Sage, his voice still quiet. “I don’t like…sex. But I like this…feeling even less.” He raised his head. “And I do trust you…Vegeta…Father.” Visibly forcing himself, he met the older man’s eyes and said, “You have my permission to do what needs doing.” He held his proud façade for another heartbeat before collapsing back onto the bed, shuddering violently as he was overcome by another wave of hormones.

In an instant, Vegeta was there, carefully wrapping the child in his arms and purring soothingly. For a moment, the shivering increased, then slackened and subsided as the wave passed.

“Lay down,” said Vegeta quietly when Sage once more had wrested control of himself. “I want you to try and relax and think only about what you are feeling physically. First heat is not about love, nor lust even, but about need. You have a driving need that must be sated.” His voice was low and soothing, surprising Sage who hadn’t known this Vegeta was capable of such…tenderness…such warmth. He obeyed, and felt to his shock warm slick hands on his feet, rubbing firmly. It felt…good. He liked it. His body was sore and aching from the spar and fall earlier, not to mention the horrible shakes and tension that had invaded his body when the heat had hit him full on. But his father’s hands were quickly easing the aches and stiffness away.

He relaxed as the hands traveled further up his body, massaging, and almost absently it seemed, skirting his groin. He didn’t notice that fact as the firm hands kneaded his abdomen; he could feel the warm oil permeating his many scars…most of them courtesy of Android Seventeen.

His skin tingled when Vegeta reached his chest…strong thumbs smoothed the oil across rosy nipples, then stopped. A finger traced a pattern over his left breast. “What is this?” his father’s harsh voice asked.

Frowning, Sage reached up to feel what his father was asking about. Realization dawned. “Oh that…well, I have so many scars…nearly all of them are from…rape. I wanted one I chose for myself. I wanted something to remind me of who and what I am. So I made a brand, heated it with ki and branded myself with the royal crest. When Trunks saw it, he made me give him one too.”

Vegeta looked in open admiration at the child laid out before him. Not for the first time, he thought to himself, He is so SAIYJIN. However, all he said was as he continued his massage, “Hn…you did a good job, boy.”

A few minutes later, another shudder ran through Sage. This time however, Vegeta was prepared. He could feel it building, and a terse, “Roll over,” gave him the opportunity he needed to minimize the detrimental effects of this one. Sage obeyed, somewhat dazedly and skilled fingers stroked a thick blue-black tail from base to tip. Sage, whimpered suddenly, tensing, then relaxed as his father murmured quiet encouragement as he manipulated his displaced heir’s pelted appendage. This time, instead of fighting the hormones, Sage seemed to more or less go along for the ride…neither resisting, nor assisting the upsurge of need overtaking his body. In what seemed an eternity to the boy, a final shudder ran through him, and with a cry he came violently into the sheets beneath him…probably, Vegeta thought wryly, his first true climax of his young life.

Not giving the boy a chance to recover, he resumed his careful massage, easing the already somewhat relaxed muscles, though he could feel tension threaded all through the slight body.

“It’s all right, Sage,” he said quietly. “You’re doing just fine.” He finished the massage, but continued to stroke the muscled back gently as he spoke. “You need to make a decision, and you need to understand what you choose makes no difference to me. You need to choose to either give or receive. Either one will end the heat…and either one is fine with me…but you must decide. Not an easy decision, I know…considering you have been violated in both ways. Just tell me what you want.”

“I…I…I can’t,” he whispered brokenly. “I don’t want either…please…just make it stop…,” He broke off as a sob choked in his chest. Vegeta never let up his gentle stroking.

“You know what has to happen to make this stop. I know this is difficult, Sage, but I need to have you choose.”

“B…b..but I can’t,” he whimpered. “I don’t want either one, please, Father….please…”

Vegeta scowled, not in irritation at the child, but fury at the beings who had tortured and tormented the boy so much even the prospect of choosing fucking instead of being fucked was an impossible decision. The boy’s recent climax would buy them some time, but from experience, Vegeta knew it would only get worse the longer they waited to consummate his heat.

“I know you don’t want either. Which one do you not want more then? Which one was worse…think, boy…this must be finished.”

Abruptly Sage drew himself up onto his knees and faced the man who was his father. Tracks of fresh tears still littered his young cheeks as he met the elder Vegeta’s gaze steadily.

“If it were just a question of pain, physical pain, I’d say Bulma was less painful…but it wouldn’t be true. Seventeen’s motivations I could at least understand…” He paused and looked ruefully and slightly ashamedly at his rigid member. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to become once more the calm and collected adolescent Vegeta had first met weeks ago…strong…proud…stubborn…the image of his sire. “The truth is simple. Even allowing for the heat hormones, when it comes right down to it, I don’t believe I am capable of fucking you.” He shuddered slightly, and lowered his eyes. There was an audible swallow. Then…”You’re going to have to…take me.” Two twin tears meandered down flushed cheeks as Vegeta looked on pensively.

Unbeknownst to Sage, Vegeta’s brain was going a mile a minute. He hadn’t expected this…he had expected, from what the boy…Sage had told him, he had expected the opposite. But, he reasoned…the android had only hurt the boy physically. What his mother did to him damaged him emotionally, mentally and spiritually. When you came right down to it, it really was no surprise he would choose to be uke…his inexperience would work against him anyway as seme.

“Lie back down,” he instructed quietly. Mentally he was going over his first encounter with Kakkarott when the other Saiyjin had returned to earth from the battle on Namek. Kakkarott had taken his time making love to the prince…and it hadn’t hurt…not even a little bit. In fact, that time, and all the following times after had been visits in exquisite and delightful breathtaking pleasure …and Vegeta wasn’t always uke…not by a long shot…he had learned quite a lot from the larger man. Patience was the key…patience and gentleness…he could do this…he MUST do this. In his heart, he knew they would need every hand to defeat the androids, no matter how he protested the contrary. His pride had been sorely stung when he had been so easily beaten by that female, 18. This boy…his future son had been fighting the androids his entire life. He deserved the chance to fight the motherfucker who had violated him so horribly. If there was one thing Vegeta knew about it was unsatisfied revenge. He had never gotten his revenge truly against the changeling who had raped him throughout the majority of his life…Kakkarott beating him first, then his future son Trunks killing him three years ago when the ice-jin had come to Earth. He looked again at the child trembling, not from fear, but uncertainty and heat-lust beneath him and felt an upsurge of tenderness for the gaki.

Stripping off his shirt, Vegeta knelt beside his future son and kissed him gently, almost chastely on the lips. His hands stroked gently down the sides of his face, thumbs wiping away the last traces of tears as Sage looked up at him with wide eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, and Vegeta silenced him with a single elegant finger.

“Hush, Vegeta,” he said softly. “I want you to close your eyes. You can open them later if you like, but just for now, please do as I ask.”

Sage looked slightly confused, but obeyed, shivering slightly as he was kissed again, this time a little less chastely, and to Sage’s immense surprise, he responded, leaning into the strangely familiar taste of his…father. His father’s scent wound around him, creating a cushion of safe familiarity…although the sensations he was experiencing held no similarity to any of his previous sexual encounters, either with Bulma or Android Seventeen. Strong hands smoothed his hair from his forehead, and a lithe body nestled warmly next to him on the bed, pulling him over slightly so he lay on his side, his arousal bumping gently against a cloth-covered stiffness beside him.

He moaned quietly into the mouth ravaging his lips and gasped slightly as a warm slick something…was that Vegeta’s tongue?… slithered into his open mouth and caused delicious shivers to run rampant down his spine right to the tip of his now bushed-out tail. Hands that had murdered countless beings, were softly cupping his ass, and Sage drew a startled breath as he was rolled a bit so all of a sudden he was straddling the elder Vegeta.

Of their own accord, his eyes popped open and he looked down into his own face…he could see now why Vegeta had encouraged him to keep his eyes closed…it was strange to say the least…the prospect of being fucked by someone who looked almost exactly like you. But his eyes now refused to close, and quite suddenly, he smiled tremulously at the older man beneath him. This was different…he could tell it was different…and he knew without a single qualm his father would NOT hurt him.

Impulsively he leaned down and pressed his lips against Vegeta’s, who returned the kiss firmly, a smirk tickling the edges of his lips. A faint scent wafted across the younger Vegeta’s nose…it excited him….warmed him…caused blood to rush to the surface of his skin and to flood other places he had spent most of his life trying not to think about.

“Wha...” he started to ask. But his question was cut off by Vegeta as he was rolled onto his back and kissed thoroughly once more.

“I’m letting down my shields,” he said, his voice husky in Sage’s ear. “What you are scenting is the beginnings of my response to your heat-musk. Don’t worry, boy…I won’t hurt you.”

Sage’s voice was quietly confident. “I know you won’t, Father.”

Vegeta looked down at him, slight amazement evident on his usually impassive features. The startling thought had just occurred to him, perhaps this one act of his might go a long way in healing the damage done to him by his mother. He swore silently to himself. He would NOT fuck this up. He would not damage this child further…his son. The son he in all likelihood would never father, but who lived nonetheless.

Sage lost himself utterly in the touches and kisses, the utter tenderness of his father’s ministrations. The scent of his father’s arousal nearly made him dizzy with his own desire, and finally, he stopped fighting the sensation. This was like nothing he had ever experienced before…nothing Bulma or Seventeen had done to him had anything to do with what was happening now. A whisper in his ear clarified it for him.

“Rape is not sex, son.”

That simple sentence freed him completely, and when he felt the smooth sensation of lubricated fingers at his oft-abused entrance, he welcomed their gentle touch. First one, then another, slow and easy…brushing up against something wonderful inside him…something he had only felt a few times with the android, and the pain and shame and guilt at the time had drowned any sensation of pleasure his body might have taken. He was surprised to discover he wanted this…wanted to feel his father’s body on top of his, his slick, hard member moving in and out of him with all the fluid grace evident in his every move…surely his father would be as skilled at fucking as he was at all else physical. He was not to be disappointed.

He arched into his father’s touch, moaning in desperate need, as Vegeta ran strong fingers over that spot inside him, stretching him carefully, preparing him gently. His mouth was captured once again, and he felt he was drowning in sensation as his father’s tongue and fingers mirrored miniature thrusts at opposite ends of his body. He groaned, utterly confused, completely captivated, aroused beyond belief, longing, yearning for more, please, Father, more!!!

“Soon,” came a warm whisper in his ear. Sage would have started, but he was too far-gone to be surprised he had voiced that last thought.

Vegeta himself was very wisely NOT losing himself to his son’s heat scent. He took his time, stretching Sage very, very carefully. He could feel scar tissue beneath his fingers, and he growled softly, knowing the cause. Sage’s soft voice reached his ears, a question he didn’t actually hear, but knew nonetheless.

“It’s ok, Sage, relax,” his throaty voice reassured the youngster as he moved to slant his mouth over Sage’s again, delighting in the surprisingly fresh taste of his future son. He was a little bit surprised when the boy began to respond, moving back against his fingers, kissing him back desperately, hands alternately roaming over his body, and fisting in the sheets as he writhed beneath Vegeta.

Sooner than he would have liked, Vegeta came to the realization Sage was as prepared as he was going to get. His heat-lust seemed to, for the moment at least, have overcome the violent reactions his abuse had caused, and he was thoroughly stretched, lubricated, and wanting it. He was ready. Vegeta, on the other hand, wasn’t. His hands shook slightly as he prepared his own hardened member. Please, Kami, don’t let me fuck this up, please. I don’t want to hurt him. He looked down at the flushed boy beneath him with something akin to wonderment. It could be me, he mused briefly. The boy looked up at him, heat-lust evident in his eyes, need present in every breath, every movement his body made.

“Now, Father?” His voice was breathless, tinged only slightly with apprehension as he gazed at Vegeta.

Vegeta, quickly losing the battle to his own instincts ran a hand down the slight, rosy skin of his future son, coming at last to grasp Sage’s arousal. Caressing it with a firm hand, he smiled as Sage flung his head back and uttered an incoherent sound of pure lust.

“Hai,” he said simply, and positioned the head of his shaft at the boy’s well-prepared entrance.

To his surprise, Sage did not tense, he did not clench as Vegeta carefully began to maneuver into his son’s tight heat. A hitching breath caught his attention, and he stopped immediately, looking down at Sage’s face for a sign of pain, discomfort, anything. Sage’s mirrored eyes glimmered up at him, the complete trust visible, belied by a single tear meandering down his face. Vegeta wiped it away carefully with a gentle thumb, and kissed the track it had left behind. “I’m sorry, little one; I’m trying not to hurt you.”

“I know,” Sage whispered. “It…feels…okay. Don’t stop, ne?”

Vegeta nodded, and pushed again, pleasure sparking in his brain as he slowly encased himself deep inside the tight channel of his son. He stopped, waiting for the child, no, no longer a child, but a boy still, to become accustomed to his length filling him. Sage’s breathing evened out, and he slowly peeled back an eyelid and looked at his father.

“It doesn’t hurt.” His voice was tinged with wonder. “It…it always hurts.”

Instead of replying, Vegeta leaned down and kissed him, easing his tongue into the wet, warm confines of Sage’s mouth, and beginning to make tiny thrusting movements with his hips. Sage did tense at that, but only for a moment, giving into the hormones coursing through his body, helped along by the sudden appearance of fingers deep in the fur of his tail. He screamed into Vegeta’s mouth, not in pain, not in fear but in unbridled lust, in need.

Vegeta lengthened his strokes, angling to maximize contact with that spot inside the boy, surprised as strong arms slithered around him, legs circling his waist as Sage clung to him, eyes shut tightly against the tidal wave of sensation quickly overwhelming him. Sage made a surprised sound and came, his eyes flying open as the hot seed splashed between the two tightly toned bodies, one nearly perfectly muscled, the other smaller, slightly gawky in its youth, slick evidence of lust sliding between them, the scent driving both of them wild, the tactile sensations increasing the heat between them a hundred-fold, a thousand-fold, and before he knew what was happening, Sage was erect again, and moaning, “Please, Father, more, please?”

Vegeta was desperately hanging onto the last shreds of his control, and he nearly lost his grip as Sage’s plea reached his ears. Effortlessly he sat up, bringing the slight body with him as he knelt upright, Sage straddling his legs, his member lodged deep within Sage’s heat-lusted body and the boy's slick, slightly sticky shaft rubbing between them. Changing positions did exactly what Vegeta intended, it helped him regain some control and curb his satisfaction enough to tease more pleasure out of Sage. A firm hand cupped the back of the boy’s head, drawing him in for a kiss.

Moving his hands to grasp Sage’s rear, Vegeta broke the kiss, nibbling down Sage’s neck as he gripped slender hips carefully and began once again to fuck his future son.

Sage rode Vegeta easily, his arms draped around his would-be-Father’s neck as he pressed back in time with the thrusts causing such incredible feelings inside of him. It was…like nothing he had ever experienced. Vegeta’s movements were smooth, graceful, and…gentle, designed to give HIM pleasure, rather than simply take pleasure himself. He would have gladly stayed there forever; being loved, taken in such an intimate way by Vegeta…he trusted the man far more than he had ever trusted anyone, save his elder brother Trunks. He felt…right…complete, and washed clean of the taint his rapists had left him with. Somewhere deep inside him, he knew it was still there, waiting to surface, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered now was the thick shaft moving in and out of him, hands holding him firmly, but not bruising him, the marvelous mouth capturing his and…Oh, KAMI!!!! He could feel Vegeta groaning through their kiss as he pulsed hotly inside him, the heat nearly scalding him, the scent of the older man’s sated state sending him over the edge as he screamed something…anything…and passed out.

Trunks yawned and eased a crick out of his neck. He stood in front of the house, listening intently. The sounds had ceased some time ago, it ought to be safe to go back in, he thought. He braced himself, knowing what was supposed to have happened, and actually seeing what had happened were two entirely different things. But he was hungry, tired and worried about Sage and...he reluctantly admitted to himself...curious.

He eased the door open, wincing as it creaked softly and stepped into the dim room. Soft sounds issued from the bed he had left his brother on, and after a moment, his eyes adjusted to the muted lighting. He nearly fell over from the kawaiiness meeting his eyes. The scents in the room were low, and soothing, with none of the frantic confusion and fear that had emanated from Sage before he left. Sage was curled in Vegeta’s arms, what Trunks could see of his face was peaceful, most of it was nestled into their father’s chest. His head was tucked under Vegeta’s chin, and one of Vegeta’s hands was threaded in the midnight locks. A slight rumbling sound came from the bed, a duet of contented purrs wound around him, making him yawn again, involuntarily. He could scent what was evidently the odor of sex all around the room, overlying the tang of blood from Sage’s earlier nosebleeds.

He didn’t know how long he had been standing there when his father’s eyes met his own. Trunks did not blink, did not flinch, merely nodded at the older man, acknowledging their agreement, and confirming he hadn’t hurt his brother.

Vegeta smirked at him over the flame of Sage’s hair, and gestured with his free hand for Trunks to join them. Trunks gaped for a moment, before realizing their father meant simply for him to join them in sleep, and nothing more. Flushing brightly, he quickly stripped down, leaving his shorts on and crawled into bed, snuggling on the other side of Sage. He sighed and breathed in the sweet scent of his baby brother, mingled with the stronger, muskier scent of their father.

Draping an arm over his brother’s slender waist, Trunks reached out instinctively and caught his father’s hand. “Thank you,” he murmured quietly.

Vegeta did not reply, but his fingers twitched, squeezing Trunks’ briefly and letting go. Another moment, and Trunks realized the older man had drifted back into sleep himself. There was something in the air, he thought hazily as his eyelids grew heavy and began to droop. Something about that scent…he yawned again and inched closer to Sage’s warmth. His last thought before sleep overtook him was, “He’s gonna be all right now, I know he is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Trunks sat silently in a darkened corner of his brother’s room. They had hardly been back home a day, the androids were dead, here and in the past. Well, here anyway. It had done his soul good to see Sage beat the shit out of Seventeen, finally destroying him in a coldly controlled fit of Saiyjin fury.

He stretched a bit, thinking about the time in the Room of Time and Spirit after that night. Both Sage and Vegeta had been remarkably unembarrassed about the entire thing, something which Trunks simply could not wrap his brain around. He knew it had been necessary, but still...

And nothing had changed, not really, except Sage was astonishingly calmed and focused. Training with him became sheer joy as Trunks discovered the fighting machine his brother could become. His moves were smoother, more controlled, direct. His style evened out, matured and he grew in strength. And Vegeta...well, he continued to train alone...and with them. He never spoke of that night, but sometimes, when Sage wasn’t looking, half dead from the intense training and sparring, nodding off at the table; Trunks would catch a soft sort of look flickering on the Saiyjin no Ouji’s face as he regarded his youngest son. He was still the same stoic, driven fighter Trunks had known, but he was surprised to find he no longer considered him a heartless bastard.

There were no more nightmares, and his nosebleeds became an infrequent occurrence, perhaps becoming somewhat more numerous as their time drew short. And the day they left, Trunks noticed for the first time upon leaving the Room, Sage had grown at least two inches in the year they had been in there. He had to go out barefoot, as his shoes no longer fit him. Trunks had had a very hard time not giggling at it.

And of course they had talked, quietly at night, about what Sage had undergone, especially in reference to their mother, whom Trunks noticed for the first time, Sage never called her “mother” or “mama,” always Bulma. Not even Bulma-san. And that was why Trunks was sitting in Sage’s room right now.

He had been all for confronting Mother directly, but Sage had talked him out of it. Calmly, his brother had said, “I know you can’t really believe what she has been doing, and if you confront her directly, she’ll find a way to twist you into believing her.” Trunks had started to protest, but was stopped by the gentle pressure of Sage’s fingers on his lips. “Tru-chan,” he said softly. “I’m not blaming you. It is hard to believe; after all she is your Mother. Please, let me do this my way.” And reluctantly, Trunks had agreed.

And so, he sat. And waited. Because Sage was certain Mother wouldn’t be able to help herself. She would come, tonight, he had said, and Trunks waited with dread in his stomach.

“Don’t do anything until I say your name, Trunks,” Sage had instructed him. “No matter what happens, wait for my signal, ne?” And he had agreed.

His breath caught in his chest as the door opened, the sliver of light from the hallway widening across Sage’s bed, illuminating the faint blue highlights in the boy’s raven hair. Trunks’ eyes were wide as the door closed and a small light clicked on, the sound of the switch overcome by the faint thud as she set it down on Sage’s bedside table. He put his hands over his mouth to make sure no sound would give him away. Surely…surely she wouldn’t...but...

“Vegeta,” his mother’s voice was ice cold...a tone he had never before heard. “Wake your ass up, Vegeta.” He heard a sharp smack as flesh met flesh and he could feel, rather than see his brother’s eyes fly open. He watched, dumbstruck as their mother rolled back the blankets and ran a hand down Sage’s bare chest. “You’ve done some growing up, Vegeta. Have you grown “everywhere”?” He heard Sage’s sharp intake of breath as her hand traveled south and squeezed what she found there.

“Please...please don’t...” Kami, his brother’s voice, so...helpless. Trunks wondered why he had been so afraid. Though he put on a stoic demeanor, much like their father, his scent had given him away. With the androids dead, what could he do now? He had no choice but to go back home, and he didn’t want to. Because he knew. He knew he would be completely helpless under assault from this enemy. He couldn’t fight her, he couldn’t destroy her, he couldn’t do anything but lay there and let it happen. She had complete control over him, and she knew it.

Again the sound of flesh hitting flesh as she smacked his face and growled, “What have I told you about talking back to me, you Saiyjin shit? Well??” She pressed as he made no move to answer.

“Not…not to...”

“That’s right, Vegeta, you don’t talk back to me. I own you.” A sharp whine pierced the air and Trunks very nearly lost it as he saw her grasp his tail in one hand. With the other, she ran her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, sliding them down his thighs until they rested at his knees, where she left them, binding him, restraining him.

Kami, it was all so clear now, as Trunks sat helplessly, waiting for the signal, memories of their visit to the past flooded his brain, and he noticed every flinch, every shiver, every time Sage had gone out of his way to avoid any contact at all with the younger version of their mother. Numbly, Trunks wondered when...when his mother had twisted in such a way she could do this to her own son.

A breathless whimper filled the air and he watched in horror as she skillfully manipulated Sage’s tail until his member was fully erect. Why doesn’t he say anything?, thought Trunks frantically. Kami, Sage, this has gone far enough, I believe you, I BELIEVE YOU!!! But he made no sound, still as their mother climbed on Sage’s bed, straddling his thighs and caressing his erection.

“My, you have grown, haven’t you? You are so like your father, Vegeta, so like him, I could forget…” her voice trailed off and she lifted her nightgown and Trunks heard the sound he had been waiting for. As though it were costing him every ounce of courage and determination, Sage all but whispered, “Trunks.”

He stood, as he heard his mother laugh. “Trunks can’t save you, he wouldn’t care if he knew.”

“Is that so, Mother?”

He almost could have laughed at the way she fell off the bed, leaving Sage to curl into himself, his eyes blank and unfocused. He ignored her for the moment; crossing the room and helping his brother cover himself. Actually Trunks had to pull his shorts up himself, Sage was shaking so badly. He didn’t believe I would do anything, deep down, thought Trunks. He had believed her...despite everything...

Tears filled his eyes as he held his brother to him. “I promise, I promised a long time ago, I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you anymore. I won’t...not ever.” Sage clung to him for a moment, then let go, motioning subtly with his head at Bulma, still sitting on the floor.

“Stay here, chibi,” said Trunks, and punctuated his request with a kiss on Sage’s forehead.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mother?” He was surprised to find his voice was completely calm.

Bulma said nothing, she simply sat and gaped at him, as though she had no idea who he was.

“How could you hurt him like this? He is your SON!!!”

That seemed to snap her out of it.

“My son? He is NOT my son, Trunks. YOU are my son; he is the Kami-damned reincarnation of your father. He ruined me!!! It’s HIS fault I can’t have any more children, HIS fault!!!”

Calmly and deliberately Trunks drew back his hand and slapped his mother across the face, halting her hysterical ranting. “Mother, you are sick. It is not Sage’s fault you cannot have more children, and he is himself, not our father.” Trunks tried to find some iota of feeling within himself for his mother, but all he could feel was a kind of numb disbelief. How could she? How could she even think things like that, let alone do...what she had done...what she had been going to do...and what was he supposed to do now?? He jumped slightly as a warm hand grasped his shoulder, and he turned and looked into the endless eyes of his brother. He smiled as the lovely sensation of hot, velvet fur slid across the skin of his waist, and he turned again to look at their mother who sat sobbing on the floor.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Epilogue

Trunks slammed the door of the car with a satisfactory bang. “Hurry up, slowpoke,” he called out to his absent brother.

“Fuck off, Trunks,” came Sage’s mild voice, and Trunks snickered. It had been just over a year since they had committed their mother, with the hope treatment could help her to live a normal life again. At first, recognizing she was sick, Trunks had tried to deal with her himself; after all, she seemed to be fine a good deal of the time, a still brilliant scientist, and above all, once the initial shock had worn off, she was still his mother. Sage had tried to help, but he couldn’t handle it, and when Trunks realized Sage was spending more and more time away from Capsule Corp, and Bulma wasn’t really making any improvement, he had come to a decision.

The drug treatment and therapy provided by the Happy View Mental Hospital was proving to be effective, though she was still not ready to function outside of its walls. But they visited regularly, the doctors had been adamant, contact with Sage was important for her recovery. They had wanted him to undergo treatment, but Sage had steadfastly refused.

Sage...he smiled happily at the warm sensation rushing through him; the upsurge of love, bordering on adoration...he never would have guessed it. It had started innocently enough, by their realization they could no longer sleep alone. They had spent an entire year and a few days outside of that, sleeping side by side, often curled up together, and back at home, they couldn’t sleep in their respective beds. So, without really thinking about it, they had gone back to co-sleeping, Sage essentially moving into Trunks’ room.

At first, nothing happened. Things were so unstable, what with Mother being the way she was, the process of rebuilding an entire civilization, and new responsibilities ensured both boys collapsed into bed at the end of the day with no more energy than it took to drag the covers to their chins.

However, things settled down, and Trunks found himself in a rather embarrassing situation. It wasn’t that his brother was arousing him, so he told himself, just that he needed to...let off some pressure...so to speak. And he couldn’t do it with Sage in his bed, asleep or not. He struggled with it for a few nights, then eventually just got up and went to another room to jerk off. It seemed to work fine...he’d get up, get off, wash his hands and get back into bed with Sage, spooning up behind him; nose nestled into that lovely, fragrant flame of black mane. Yes, it was an ideal solution...until the night he nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand not his own closed over his erect and throbbing cock as he lay, stroking it in the next room.

His eyes had flown open to be met by completely calm, obscure orbs of night-washed black. “Let me help you with that, please, niichan?” Sage’s voice was barely a whisper, and a small smile was playing on his lips as he firmly stroked Trunks’ heated shaft.

“Sage...you don’t...”

“Shhh, I know I don’t have to, Trunks. But I want to. And,” a definite smile there, “I know you want me to.”

Trunks couldn’t have denied it if he had been so inclined. Sage’s warm hand left his erection to be replaced by what seemed to be endless loops of tail as Sage practically tumbled into his arms, mouth searching out his almost desperately. That kiss…that kiss had done him in.

A door closed on Trunks’ reflecting, and he turned, shading his eyes from the bright sun. “Took you long enough,” he said casually, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

A snort. “It’s not like I want to go, Trunks.”

He blinked, and suddenly he could see...and managed to fall completely in love all over again. Sage stood a few feet away from him, watching with those black eyes Trunks adored so. He was fifteen now, and looked like he had reached his full height, though he was still shorter by a few inches than Trunks. His hair waved slightly in the breeze, the upswept appearance tempered by the errant wind. His habitual scowl seemed to soften somewhat as he caught Trunks’ gaze. “It took you that long to decide to wear that?” said Trunks, grinning at Sage’s outfit. He was dressed comfortably in faded jeans and a loose beige t-shirt that clung to the swelling roundness of his abdomen.

“Shut up, Trunks.”

Obviously there was quite a lot of stuff they didn’t know about their own biology. Like the fact male Saiyjins, and apparently male demi-Saiyjins could get pregnant. Trunks couldn’t stand it, he crossed the few feet separating them and drew his lover in for a kiss, one hand straying to the bulge he loved so much, feeling with delight the bright, strong ki residing within.

“How are you feeling, aijin?” asked Trunks, gently rubbing Sage’s lower back which was beginning to pain him occasionally.

“I’m fine, Trunks,” replied Sage, brushing a lock of hair from Trunks’ eyes. Kami, his brother was so beautiful...he had been worried at first when they had figured out what was wrong with him...he wasn’t completely sure it was Trunks’ baby. He and Vegeta had had a final romp the day before they left the Room of Time and Spirit, driven together by mutual need...and desire. He had been almost afraid to tell Trunks...after all, they were brothers, but had only been lovers for a few months...and he had no idea what the gestation period for a demi-Saiyjin was. To his surprise, Trunks honestly hadn’t cared. His exact words had been, “If it’s mine, that will be wonderful, koi, but if it isn’t...if it’s Vegeta’s, well, that will be wonderful too.” His eyes had smiled warmly at Sage, and to his everlasting embarrassment, Sage had burst into tears.

Trunks had wanted to go back, back to the past and ask Vegeta what he knew about this sort of thing, but Sage had put his foot down. Trunks wasn’t going anywhere, especially after Sage had discovered that apparently the baby had stolen his ki. Trunks wasn’t willing to risk time travel while Sage was pregnant, so they were basically flying by the seat of their pants.

“C’mon, Tru-chan, let’s get this over with, ne?”

Trunks sighed, and nodded, opening the door and helping Sage inside, which only earned him a death glare. “I’m not a fucking invalid, Trunks, I’m not even that fucking big yet.” Trunks only smiled and shut the door on Sage’s smoldering glare, got in himself and started the engine.

“It’s only once every two weeks, Sage,” he said once they were on the road. “And once the baby is born, well, I’ll let you decide when you’re ready to go back. But we have to tell her...the doctors said springing a surprise on her would damage her recovery, and they’ve been preparing her for this for awhile now.”

“Yes yes, I know, Trunks.” Sage’s hands went protectively over his belly bulge. “That doesn’t mean I feel safe doing this. As far as I’m concerned, I’d be delighted if she never saw our baby.”

Trunks sighed. Her reaction to their relationship a couple of months ago hadn’t gone well. She had used it to justify her treatment of Sage, saying the brat had obviously wanted it...Trunks’ hands clenched reflexively on the steering wheel. They had gotten past it however, and today was the next step.

A lot of things were different now Sage was pregnant...they drove instead of flying, Sage’s nosebleeds, once merely a nuisance were now a cause for concern, making sure he ate right and rested and was kept fairly calm took up most of Trunks’ days. But it was all worth it, as they both watched the swelling grow, the ultrasound pictures showing a healthy baby, tail and all, and no sign whatsoever of what sex the baby was, though Sage was quietly convinced it was a boy.

Sage’s tail slipped around his wrist as he pulled into the visitor’s parking lot and parked the car. They sat for a few moments, Sage visibly gathering his courage, and trust in Trunks before turning to his koibito and nodding once. “All right, Trunks. I’m ready.”

Hand in hand, they walked together up the walkway to the mental hospital where their mother now lived, to give her the news of the imminent birth of her first grandchild.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Owari