Warnings: slavery, abuse, rape, mpregs, kawaiiness, LEMON, angst...

Rating: NC17

Disclaimers: I do not own DBZ. I do not own Turles, Kakkarott, Vegeta or any of the other Saiyjins. Any alien species you happen to recognize I probably didn’t make up, any you DON’T belong to ME. Miju and Herself are the property of my most beloved tsuin, *gets thwacked* and Sage belongs to ME. As does this twisted little universe. So don’t steal him, or my universe, ne?

Yes, I know it’s been awhile, but rest assured, I have already started the next chapter, okay? Anyone wanting to watch some lovely Sagey fun is welcome to visit my blogger and watch the RP going on in my chatterbox.

http://sagebriefs.blogspot.com/

It’s a delightful sort of crossover with BOAP Sage, and Joules’ Alliance Chronicles http://www.wordwrights.co.uk/ as well as some other crossover characters in a neutral territory. It can be confusing, but it is hilarious fun. So come join us at the Lemon Tree restaurant, have a drink at the Liquid Rodent Bar, and feel free to leave a comment in the chatbox…they don’t disrupt, and we like to know if anyone is actually reading the insanity currently brewing.

As always, for my beloved tsuin who has threatened me with death and dismemberment if I don’t “fix this, and be damned quick about it too…”

Special thanks to my devoted danglemate for finding time in her busy (frantic) schedule to beta this so I could get it out to the frothing masses.

Special, special thanks to the frothing masses for being there. *smirks*

Restraints and Liberations

By Talon

Chapter 10

Growth

Turles scowled at the read-out in front of him for no particular reason. Behind him, where Sage had planted himself, curled up on the bed, he could hear the faint scratching of Sage’s pencil on his sketchpad. Several long conversations the day before had led to Sage agreeing to speak with his family the next time they called. Turles had had to call out his best negotiating skills to convince Sage without coercing the child. Sage was still prone to being somewhat sulky about it. Added to which, some ki-control exercises had gone better than others. Turles rubbed a scorch mark on his arm ruefully...yesterday it had been a full, blistering burn. He would have grinned at the memory, but Sage’s reaction to it had been anything but funny. He had been very seriously afraid of Turles’ retribution for injuring him. Turles had been cheered, however, by the fact it only took him a couple of hours to calm the boy down, and perhaps another hour after that to completely convince him he wasn’t angry, and Turles wasn’t going to punish him. That he had been able to do it at all was a vast improvement, and something Turles attributed fully to their developing bond.

Behind him, the slight scratching stopped, and he heard Sage stretch, yawn and slide off the bed. A few seconds later...

“Turles-sama?”

Turles swiveled his chair around to face the cub. Sage looked...uncomfortable. “I...” Apparently losing his nerve, Sage shook his head and mumbled, “Never mind…sorry...” and made as though to walk back to the bed. Turles reached out and snagged an arm, halting the brat in his tracks.

“If you have something to say or to ask me, please do so,” said Turles quietly. “Remember, you are no longer a slave, subject to your Master’s whim. You have the right to ask questions, even to ask for something, or to complain.” He smirked slightly. “You DO remember how to complain, don’t you?”

Sage colored and shifted nervously. “I...I just...” He stammered slightly, then stopped, took a breath and said quickly, as though he were trying to get it out before he lost his courage, “I feel...cooped up...there’s not enough room to move.” As he finished he flinched as though expecting a blow. When it didn’t come, he turned his eyes back towards Turles who was looking thoughtful.

“What is it you wish to do that requires more room?” he asked.

Sage was silent for a moment, and Turles caught his chin and gently turned his head, encouraging him to meet his eyes. “Don’t be afraid, child,...tell me.”

Sage gathered up all his courage and spoke. “I’ve been feeling...better. And I feel kind of…itchy,” he gestured vaguely, “inside. And I want to stretch and move a bit. I thought I could do a krys’dia(1)...one of the slower ones, I was just drawing parts of it...I think I remember it...but there’s not enough room to move around to do it.” He dropped his eyes, not being able to lower his head as Turles still held his chin in a gentle clasp of finger and thumb.

“One concentrating on control and breathing, rather than one focusing on power, speed and such?”

Sage’s tail made an affirming motion. Turles smiled and released his hold. He stood, walking over to the round table and grabbing both chairs he stacked them on the bed. What he did next fascinated Sage. He grasped the table around the edges, pushed it down slightly and then turned it, pulling back a second later. Most of the table came with him. He carried that over to the bed, set it down, upside down, and telescoped the part of the stand into the top of the table. That left a slightly risen round platform on the floor which disappeared when Turles pressed a button on the light panel, causing it to sink a bit, a cover hissing into place over it. Suddenly a large, empty space was in the middle of the living area of the ship. Sage simply stood and stared for a few moments.

Turles caught his disbelieving stare and grinned at him. “Did you really think I could stand weeks upon weeks cooped up in this ship with no way of getting the kinks out?” He gestured to the empty space, more than ample now, for what Sage wished to do. “Let’s see how much you remember, then.”

Slowly, Sage stepped into the middle of the space, adjusting to the sudden change, and closing his eyes, remembering with his kinesthetic memory, how it felt to move just…so. Taking a deep breath, he began the opening moves, warming his muscles as his body naturally fell into the unforgotten pattern of Balance-Focus.

Turles watched, smiling slightly. Sage’s movements were slightly hesitant, slow, and not all together focused, but it was clear his body remembered the movements. Gradually, his breathing pattern adjusted to what the krys’dia called for, and his motions began to smooth out. Weak as he still was, Turles could see the play of muscles under Sage’s tunic. The slight scent of sweat began to permeate the air, and Sage’s skin flushed a healthier pink. The exercise was clearly agreeing with him. He berated himself slightly; he ought to have thought of this before, when Sage stopped in the middle of a particularly extended movement.

The look on his face was peculiar, and Turles hastened to his side. “What is it, chukra?” Sage turned puzzled eyes at him. “It…hurt,” he said slowly.

“Hn...well, your body isn’t used to moving that way, it’s bound to be uncomfortable for awhile...keep going, and we’ll see if it hurts again, ne?” It didn’t occur to the older man to inquire what exactly hurt, and after a moment’s pause in which he could see Sage gather his thoughts, remembering where he had been in the pattern, he started again. After a few minutes more, he stopped again, his left leg extended, his eyes puzzled. He regained a normal stance and shrugged his shoulders repeatedly, an arm going over and across to rub at a spot he didn’t quite seem to be able to reach. Turles didn’t interfere this time, simply watching the boy work it out. After a few more minutes, Sage removed his tunic and continued the krys’dia bare-torso’d.

He was nearly finished with the slow, stretching pattern, when Turles suddenly scented blood, and Sage stopped his eyes wide with barely suppressed fear. Rushing over to the boy, he looked him over, finding the blood running down his back in streaming, crimson rivulets.

“How did this happen,” murmured Turles curiously.

“Something tore,” said Sage quietly. “At least...that’s what it felt like, Turles-sama.”

Looking closer, Turles could see Sage was indeed correct. One of his larger scars had torn, resulting in the bleeding. But how had that happened?

“Come over into the light,” he said quietly. Sage obeyed, and Turles looked over the scars on his back carefully, noting several of them seemed to be...stressed. Turles frowned. But how was that possible?

“Take your clothes off,” he said shortly, in his concern, not noticing Sage’s widened eyes. Shaking slightly, the cub obeyed, and Turles examined him closely. Most of the newer scaring seemed fine, the scar tissue was still somewhat flexible. But the old, healed puckered scars...he noted several of them had turned an angry red, and more than one was bleeding. Running a hand along the inside of Sage’s thigh, feeling the pull of the scarred skin, he suddenly registered the boy’s shaking, and scent. Damn me, he thought angrily. He tried to speak calmly and quietly. “It’s all right, chibi, I’m only checking your scars, I’m not sure why...” he stood up to face the boy directly and stopped. Eying him, he measured the boy against his own height...”Chukra, can you stand over at that wall, please?” The child obeyed without hesitation, and Turles sighed. He had fucked up in a major way and needed to remedy the situation, but it would have to wait just a minute. Walking over to the cockpit consul, he keyed up the ship’s security and ran a body scan on the boy. The results came up on the screen and he frowned, running it twice more. The results were the same. He couldn’t help himself. He turned to Sage, still standing naked against the wall with a huge smile on his face.

“Sage, according to this, you’ve grown a full two inches since we removed the restraint collar! No wonder your scars are stretching and tearing!!”

Sage’s eyes were blank, as though he hadn’t heard the older man. He stood straight against the wall...waiting...waiting for what Turles knew too well.

“Fuck,” muttered Turles. “Good job asshole,” he said to himself as he gathered up Sage’s clothes and approached the boy slowly. “You’re supposed to be the one protecting him, remember, shithead? Obviously you don’t, otherwise you would have found another way to do this.” He stopped speaking as he neared the child, who, the closer he got, cringed, trying unsuccessfully to merge with the wall behind him.

“Sage,” he said, pitching his voice so it was low, and non-threatening. “Sage, chibi, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you...here...” He held out the tunic, but Sage made no move to take it. He wouldn’t meet Turles’ eyes, and while he made no motion to cover himself, he tried to make himself as small as possible. “Sage, please take the tunic...” he paused as Sage dropped to his knees, still shaking. Turles took a deep breath. It was difficult not to lose his temper or patience with the boy in some form or another. After all, he had never done anything that would remotely hurt the boy, well, not unless you count things that had been necessary...splinting his broken tail, removing the tail cuff, and the collar, ki-restraining him when he was so sick...it got frustrating when Sage, despite everything, reacted as though HE, Turles had been one of the ones abusing him. Damnit, he knew the boy couldn’t help it, but it was maddening. And...it hurt.

He shoved the self-pitying thoughts away. Lowering himself to kneel as well, he inched forward until he could touch the boy, but didn’t just yet. Speaking softly, he carefully pulled the tunic over the child’s head, not bothering with the arms just yet, simply covering bare skin. He sat back on his heels for a minute, watching the boy, who seemed certain something horrible was going to befall him. Not good. Not good at all. Turles checked his chrono, Kakkarott said he was going to call again, probably within the hour. Shit.

“Sage, Sage, baby, please, look at me,” he pleaded, coming closer again. Sage’s normally expressive ebon eyes blinked, slowly, though his face remained fixed on the floor. Encouraged by that, and the slight scent shift, Turles gently tilted Sage’s head up. “Please, please, Sage...I am so sorry...I didn’t mean to frighten you, honestly.” Sage blinked again, seeming confused.

“M..master?”

“NO…no,” he said more quietly. “Sage…” Cursing silently, he gave up trying to reach the brat from the outside, instead tapping the unfinished bond between them. What he felt, and saw made his stomach fill with ice.

It was almost as though Sage weren’t there at all. He had hidden himself so far away, concealing himself…though not very…neatly. As though in haste. There was an overwhelming sense of I-told-you-so, betrayal, and stark, cold fear. Struggling through some of the memory-roadblocks, Turles wasn’t surprised. It was horrible; his life the past three years…Turles couldn’t have possibly begun to imagine what he had been through. Just glimpses, flashes...but in stomach-turning color and detail, vivid in their brevity.

He found his sense of Sage, reaching out to him in comfort and safety, apologizing for scaring him, remorseful, please, baby, come back...

And Sage’s eyes were filled with tears. And Turles realized he could scent them, almost feel their crystalline warmth as they dripped down starved cheeks. “I am so sorry, Sage,” he whispered, afraid the child would retreat into himself again.

“No,” choked Sage, surprising him. “No, Turles-sama...it is NOT…NOT your fault.”

“But...”

“But nothing.” He forced himself to look squarely at Turles through his tears. “You have given me no reason to fear you, no reason to distrust you, and yet I do at every turn. I KNOW better. If you wished the services of my body, I would be happy to give them to you...freely. And yet...you touched me, with no thought save trying to HELP me, and I react as though...I react as a frightened child. It is I…I who should be begging your forgiveness.” He took a deep, hitching breath. “You saved me, even from myself...I would have lived in slavery, rather than try and return home, because of my fear. I can’t...I can’t make the fear go away...I am so frightened...terrified, always. I can’t even tell you...but...” His voice drifted off, his momentum lost. Turles regarded the child with critical eyes.

“Sage,” he said slowly. “Are you afraid of me?”

A tear-streaked whisper. “Yes.”

Turles felt physically ill. He had thought, after all this time, though, thinking back, it really had been only about two weeks...the boy had learned to trust him...he looked up blinking...

“I trust you. But...yes, I am afraid of you...a little. I’m sorry,” he said, burying his face into the collar of his tunic. “I try not to be, honestly I do!!! But...” he rubbed his snubbed nose through the material. “I...you’re...big!! And part of me is always afraid you’re going to be like all the other males who’ve had me or owned me. Some of them were nice to begin with...but they always got mean in the end.” He sniffled, looking up at Turles with red-rimmed eyes. “I don’t WANT to be afraid of you, Turles-sama,” he said almost fiercely. “Please, make me not afraid,” he pleaded.

Turles couldn’t speak, he gathered the child into his arms, silently trying to convey his feelings through the encompassing embrace. I will NEVER betray you, he thought, NEVER harm you, NEVER HURT you in any way if it is in my power to not do so. Trust me, please, don’t fear me...don’t...

There was no telling how long they sat there, Sage, his arms still in the body of his tunic, his head firmly in Turles’ chest, sitting comfortably in his lap, Turles, his arms around Sage, nearly obscuring his slight form, but the beeping of the com, roused them both.

“Your parents,” he whispered into Sage’s ragged mane.

A sigh. Contentment? Apprehension? Perhaps a little of both. “Yes...I know.”

“You don’t have to...”

Sage’s voice was firm, though a slight tremor ran through his body. “I want to,” he said simply. Turles nodded.

“You may want to dress,” he said wryly.

Sage nodded and shoved his arms through the sleeves of his tunic, reaching for his briefs and pants.

“Get up, brat,” said Turles easily, as he made to answer the com. A hand on his arm stopped him.

“Thank you.”

Turles ran a tail-trace over the boy’s head and around his neck, a family sign of affection, marking him with the “protective-sort-of-musk” reserved for children who were family. “’Sall right, brat...get your pants on, and prepare to face your parents.”

“Um...”

“What is it?” Concern automatically crept into Turles’ tone.

Sage shrugged and blushed. “The gel...on my tail...it feels all...loose.”

Turles nodded. “I’ll take a look at it after the call,” he promised, then turned to give Sage a few minutes as he answered the insistently beeping com.

Keying up the acceptance code he wasn’t surprised to find Kakkarott’s worried face peering out from the depths of the vid screen.

“Hello, cousin,” he greeted respectfully enough.

“Turles,” nodded Kakkarott, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“What is it?”

“I told Vegeta...he’ll be here soon...he’s pretty upset.”

Turles nodded. “I’m certain he is...I rather know how he feels just now.”

Kakkarott cocked his head slightly to the side. “Oh? How is that?”

“I…” Turles’ explanation was cut off by the silent arrival of Sage. The child was shaking so hard, it was visible, though Turles doubted Kakkarott noticed. He stood up swiftly, guiding the child to sit in his chair before his knees gave way and he collapsed on the floor.

“Kakkarotto-san, I would like to introduce you to your son...Sage.”

There was total silence.

Turles took a second to grab one of the chairs from off his bunk and sat down in it beside Sage, who was still staring into the vid screen.

Kakkarott’s swallow was audible, though his whispered greeting was only just barely, “Baby…”

Sage’s voice was quivery as he answered in the same, whispered tone, “Mama...”

The silence was deafening.

Turles waited, preparing to say something to break the silence, but a choking sob from Sage did it for him. “I’m so sorry, Sebba...I’m...” Tears streamed freely down his cheeks, and unable to stand it anymore, he hid his face from his parent.

Turles was only slightly startled to find Sage’s face buried in his tunic once more, but he hid it well, and stroked the shaking back with a firmly gentle hand. “Shhh, it’s all right, Sage...no one’s angry with you, just calm down and take your time.”

Kakkarott seemed taken aback at Sage’s reaction, as well he would be, reminded Turles to himself. The Sage he remembers never cried...well, hardly ever cried, as a matter of principle.

Quietly to Kakkarott, “Give him a minute, cousin...he’ll be all right.” His expression shouted REASSURE HIM, though he said nothing more.

Kakkarott’s mouth worked, but no sound emerged, and suddenly Sage pulled his head up and fiercely rubbed his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m all right, Turles-sama,” he said and turned back to the screen. When he spoke, Turles barely recognized the voice as Sage’s.

“I am sorry, Sebba...I did not mean to distress you. It seems I’m still rather inclined to…hysterics.”

Kakkarott blinked. It seemed he didn’t recognize Sage’s voice or demeanor either.

“I...I...” Sage began, then sighed. “I can’t do this...I’m sorry.”

Kakkarott looked as though he might cry himself, but he managed to hold it at bay. “You cannot speak to me, son?”

Sage shook his head listlessly. “No...I can’t pretend is all. I can’t...” he looked up, eyes still shimmering with tears. “I can’t make it easier on you, Sebba,” he said quietly. “I had wanted to...”

“Baby, no,” cried Kakkarott. “No, no no…NEVER pretend with us, chukra...NEVER. You don’t have to, I swear it. We LOVE you, we’ve been searching since you were taken, and we’ve missed you every second you’ve been gone from us. We NEED you, Sage...as much as you need us, my small one.”

Sage’s voice was thick. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “It’s my fault...”

“Now that is something I will not tolerate hearing.” Sage’s head jerked up, and his scent spiked sharply into fear, but still...longing. The conflict was intense as the face of the Saiyjin no Ouji filled the vid screen. For a moment, even Turles was taken aback at the resemblance between the two of them, even with Sage’s butchered hair, it was impossible to mistake him, and he wondered how he had ever been unsure of the boy’s identity.

“Papa…”

“Vegeta...” A pause. “My son...you don’t know how I’ve longed to see you again.”

“Papa...I...”

Vegeta cut him off. “Sage, you don’t need to say anything just now...only know I love you always, and I would never EVER hate you, no matter what.”

Sage’s entire face was quivering. He tried again. “Papa...I…I...” He paused and swallowed. “I’m...” His voice faltered, and Vegeta took over, calm, collected, his voice fairly throbbing with the undertone of a purr.

“You are my son. You are my first born child, my heir, my chukra. You are my mirror image. You are my pride and my heart. You are my surprise baby. Aisoku(3)…I’ve missed you so. Won’t you let us back...in?”

“Papa...” Sage’s voice was breathy, the scent of his fear overwhelmed by surprise, love, longing. “Papa...please...I can’t remember...”

“Relax, ouji-chan, we can still feel you, just enough to know you were alive all this time...it’s ok to let us back in...please, aisoku...”

Sage’s endless eyes were shimmering with tears. “Papa...can’t...not yet...the chibis...” He met his father’s gaze over the vid screen. “Papa, I can’t let them see what happened to me...they’re too young, and I can’t remember how to hide it. Please...I want to...I…I…miss you…but...”

Turles interrupted. “Ouji-sama,...I believe it would better to wait until you can make physical contact with him. It may make his transition back into the pack a bit easier, ne?”

The Saiyjin no Ouji looked disappointed, but nodded all the same and fixed his eyes again on his son. “Sage, you will be home in just a few days. I don’t know everything you’ve been through, and I don’t expect I will for awhile yet. But remember; please remember I will never hate you. Nothing that happened was your fault. NONE OF IT.” He paused. “I will be waiting for you, danabei. “ (1)

Sage could do nothing more than nod, his eyes never leaving his father. It was quiet for a few minutes before Turles cleared his throat. “We have a matter requiring discussion before we get in. And it is not a pleasant one.”

“Turles-sama, no, please...”

Turles caught Vegeta’s look of disapproval when he heard his son address Turles in that manner, but Turles didn’t quite care. “Sage, baby, I have no choice. They have to know. This must be dealt with, and it must be dealt with now.” He faced the screen, which was now filled with the concerned faces of both Sage’s parents. Turles took a deep breath and began.

“While we were refueling at space station Du’chvle...”

~*~*~*~

to be continued...

1) krys’dia: Translation literally “battle-dance” or “fighting forms” Like a kata…Saiyjin-o

2) danabei : precious one, small treasured thing, Saiyjin-o, often used as an endearment.

3) Aisoku: beloved son; cute boy, Japanese

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

Mijuku-muse-*genki and bouncy again* Thank you everybody for reviewing last time!!

Sage-muse: Hn….

Mijuku-muse: Afraid we’re gonna have to hit you up for reviews again minna-san…*whispers* See, Talon’s been in a bit of a slump, and keeps starting new fics and not working on the ones…

Talon: I am NOT in a slump, and I haven’t made a new fic ALL WEEK!!!!

Mijuku-muse: See what I mean?

Talon: Honest, I’m NOT in a slump, ask anyone!!!

Sage-muse: She really is…

Talon: SHUT UP THE BOTH OF YOU!!! *looks at readers* *blanches* Er…reviews and criticisms happily accepted…*slinks out*

Mijuku and Sage-muses: Slump.