One: Expresssions of Love She stood at the window. The light filtering in through the curtains cast an eerie glow around and about her figure, rendering her almost angelic. As she stood there, her hands folded prayer-like over her heart and her face tilted slightly upwards, so that the sparkle in her blue eyes could clearly be caught by the fading light of the twilit sky. He watched her from the bed, her bed to be exact. He had never slept in her house, much less in her bed. His white cape, training weights and turban had been carefully discarded and placed in a corner of her closet. He really did not care about them as he could summon other clothing, if need be, in a matter of seconds.

But he noticed, it seemed to make her happy to put his things away for him so he allowed it. Clad only in a gauzy night shift, the female smiled at him from her place by the window. Piccolo had seen comely human females before but there was just something about this one. He wasn’t altogether sure of where the feeling was coming from., but he knew that he wanted this female…even if he wasn’t certain just what it was of her he actually desired.

“Are you going to come away from the window?” He asked her, his voice low, husky, like velvet over steel.

She just smiled softly, her eyes held a million stars within them as she stepped from the window and glided on bare feet towards the bed. She sat down on the edge of it, inches from him, their thighs touching. Suddenly shy, she crossed her arms over her breasts, the peaks of which could clearly be seen through the material of her gown, and nervously brushed a strand of her flaxen hair from her eyes. He did not speak or even breath for a fraction of a second. She took a ragged breath and turned to face him, afraid of what she would see. He looked at her from the corner of his dark eyes, his green skin seemed a shade darker and she thought she noticed his large hand shake just a little bit as he placed it over her own on the bed and squeezed it gently.

“Um…” He cleared his throat, tried again, looking away briefly, the antennae on his brow twitched with emotion. “I’m not certain where to go from here, do you…uh…?”

He’s just as nervous as I am! She realized with a shocked expression. She instantly felt a hundred times better and began to relax somewhat. They had known each other for so short a time if you counted by hours, days, months. But oh, so long if you counted by the length their spirits had always known each other, any place, any time.

Without thinking, without even considering the consequences of her actions, she pulled her hand out from under his strong green-hued one and ran her fingertips across the skin of his arm and worked her way up to his shoulder, feeling muscles tighten and relax under her feathery touch. She did not look at him as she stroked the side of his face with her other hand, finally lifting the lids of her eyes to see him gazing at her with an expression of awe mixed with desire. She brought her lips, parted and glistening damp from her own saliva when she drew her tongue across them nervously earlier, to his own and felt his breath leave his lungs and enter her through her waiting mouth. Piccolo could stand it no longer. He wrapped his arms around her delicate form and drew her somewhat roughly to him. With a small gasp, she felt her breasts pressed against the hardness of his chest, and her heart skipped several beats. He felt along the slender softness of her back, trailing his fingers down her spine and feeling her tense up at his touch. He felt the rounded contours of her shapely buttocks. She made an odd little squeak in her throat and bit down on his bottom lip, sucking experimentally. He growled under his breath and pushed his gray-blue tongue past the barrier of her teeth and into her mouth. She welcomed this intrusion and twirled her own pink tongue around and about his own, forcing him into an erotic battle of wills as their bodies continued to climb the star path towards a paradise neither had ever visited before. She jumped somewhat when one of his fangs, sharp as needles, accidentally punctured the fragile skin of her lip. She felt the drop of blood as it formed and wasn’t prepared for him to lick it up swiftly as if dripped down her chin. She felt herself tremble as he followed the path the droplet might have taken, had it been allowed to survive, with his lips and tongue.

His kisses were soft and sweet and un-trained. She knew he was as new to this as she. She also knew, because she had been around Nameks for some time now, that there was one thing he could not give her. One thing that males of her own species had that he lacked. That all his people lacked. Still, she did not thing he was any less for it. If anything, he was more of a man than any human male she’d ever encountered.

“Oh, Piccolo…” She sighed, her voice hardly audible. If he hadn’t had such keen hearing he may have never even heard her, so lost as he was in the hot saltiness of the flesh in the hollow of her throat. His own blood pounded in his ears and between his head, making him dizzy and rendering logical thought an impossibility, “I love you so much…”

He did not reply, unsure of what to say. He cared for her, that was clear. He had known her from some other time, some other place and felt that their souls were connected from the first moment he laid eyes on her. He had never vocalized his feelings for her, he did not know how, exactly. She had not, either, until this moment. Piccolo knew it was a moment that would forever be engraved across his mind, no matter how old or feeble he became. Instead of answering her aloud, he continued to explore her body. Without asking her permission, Piccolo pulled the thin straps of her gown off her shoulders and pushed the garment down so that it pooled in gossamer ripples at her waist, baring her chest and stomach to his ministrations. He looked at her for a moment, taking in the sight of faintly flushed skin and the shudder of her left breast as her heart pounded beneath it. He noticed her blue eyes, so very beautiful to him, were half-closed and the blue hidden by shadows of her own making. Piccolo kissed the hollow of her throat, working his way downward. He marveled in her small sighs and cries of pleasure as his fingers found the softness of her full breasts and ran a tentative finger across one nipple, feeling it’s peak strain upwards into his grasp, becoming hard and soft at the same time under him. Piccolo bent his head down and tasted the tiny bud, to which she arched her back in delight, almost unwillingly, and he passed his tongue around and around it, savoring her taste and the feel of her flesh under his mouth. He touched her thigh with one hand as he continued to discover the peaks and valleys of her skin with his lips and tongue. He bit her gently on the stomach, noticing the soft ripple of flesh as her hands fluttered in the air above him, seemingly unsure of what they were suppose to be doing. She moved them across his large, muscular shoulders, down wards towards his face. At last, she brought them to play tenderly with the tips of his tapered ears and with his quivering antennae.

Piccolo shuddered almost violently as she stroked his antennae, he could not explain the feelings coursing through him as she continued to fondle him in that way, but if asked, he would possibly compare the feelings to the first taste of cold, fresh water after a drought, the feeling of beating a foe in a battle everyone, including himself, had little hope that he would win. Almost like the exciting, euphoric sensation he got upon powering up. It was like those emotions, but different, richer, better. Piccolo knew, as he brought his head up once more to stare into her face, that this emotion, this feeling, this experience, was something he would treasure in his memories forever. This time, she growled, though it sounded cute coming out of her throat, not fierce and aggressive as if from his own, and she grabbed his shoulders, pulled him towards her and vehemently claimed his mouth with her own. Piccolo decided it was in his best course of action to allow her to have her way.

Two: Coffee and Grape Jam

The morning light was trickling in through the half-closed curtains. Neither of them had bothered to close the curtains all the way and the window itself was half-open. The cool breeze fluttered the thin, white swathe of clothe in it’s wake. Stirring gently, not wishing awaken her, Piccolo lifted her lithe body from his chest and moved her carefully to the side, slipping out of the bed which was actually too small for him. He summoned fresh garments and momentarily left the room.

“Alaura.” Piccolo had returned, balancing a tray with a steaming cup of hot coffee, with cream and sugar just the way he knew she liked it, a slice of toast with butter and jam and a bowl of the only cereal he could find in her kitchen. He wasn’t what one would call very Martha Stewerty, but he could handle just about any task, however pointless. He held the tray with one hand, and shook her lightly with his other. Finally, she began to rouse and opened her blue eyes. As he came into focus, she smiled timidly, sitting up and pulling the sheet upwards to cover nakedness. “I fixed you something.”

She accepted the tray and giggled as she traced a finger across his chest, coming away with a bit of jam stuck to the tip of her finger. “Grape, Piccolo?” She put her finger to her mouth and sucked the sticky sweetness off, “Perfect. You can hardly notice the stain.” He looked away for a moment and back to her, annoyingly, he said; “Well, I never said I was a cook, Alaura.”

“I am not asking you to be, Piccolo.” She said, as she took a sip of coffee and tried not to gag as she tasted the amount of sugar he’d shoveled in, she would have to teach him, later, that sometimes, less is more. Now was not the moment though. “I think it’s charming that you went to such trouble for me. And cocoa puffs as well!” She thought, I’m gonna be bouncing off the walls with all this sugar, but only grinned brighter and shoved a huge spoonful of the crunchy brown orbs into her mouth.

“Well, I have to get going, Alaura.” He said, awkwardly, shifting his weight on the edge of the bed, “Training and all that…”

She finished chewing and placed the tray to the side, crawling up to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I know what we should do.” She tickled his ear with her breath, “We should go dancing.” He jumped up from the bed so abruptly that she had to scramble to keep from falling in a heap onto the floor. She glared up at him, “What was that for?!” She cried, “Something bite you?”

“Let’s get one thing straight, Alaura.” Piccolo folded his arms across his chest and stared down at her, “Although I love you more than I can ever say…I DO NOT DANCE!”

“Nonsense!” She laughed, and stood up, the sheet twisted around her hips and dragging on the floor. She crossed her own arms under her breasts and looked up into his face. Piccolo wondered, briefly, if she were attempting to be intimidating, which would be comical since her head only reached the center of his chest. As it was, she had to stand on her tip-toes to look him in the eyes. It made her appear cute, not daunting; “You do martial arts don’t you?”

“That’s different…”

“No it isn’t. It’s just a series of movements, right? I mean basically, right? Well, so is dancing. I think you’d like it.”

He growled and sighed at the same time. A look of exasperation crossed his features, as if he did not know, exactly, how to deal with her. Finally, he said; “Probably not.”

“Piccolo…”

“But, if it’s so important to you, I’ll try it.” He couldn’t believe the words were actually passing over his mouth and into the air. Was this what being in love was about? Doing idiotic things just to please someone? As soon as he saw the soft smile pass over her lips and the light return to eyes, he had his answer. He shook his head and pulled her into his arms, savoring the feel of her against him as thoughts of last night played over in his mind.

She stood on her tip toes to kiss him and she tasted like coffee and grape jam.

Three: pas de Deux

The room was large. Alaura liked spaciousness and had decided to rent a house with the largest possible livingroom that her money could buy. She was what people would a ‘trust baby’, meaning that she was weathy through the money saved up and put into trust funds for her by her parents and grandparents. She had a desire for peace at times as well, and instead of buying a huge mansion of a place in the richest part of town, surrounded on all sides by those silver spoon type of people, she had had a medium sized house built for herself outside of town, surrounded on all sides by thick forest. She enjoyed the stillness of the wilderness at night and early morning, when all she heard were the birth calling and wind through the trees. It soothed her soul. The living room’s cherrywood and cream-colored furniture had been shoved against the walls and the large circular area rug rolled up against the sofa and loveseat. The two end tables and lamps had been pushed to the sides as well, though the lamps, with silvery rounded bases and white shades, had been left plugged in and case a soft glow about the room.

Alaura stood in her leotard. It didn’t fit her quite as well as it used to, she hadn’t practiced her dance steps and routines in almost ten years, but she was surprised that she could at least pull it on. It was too tight around her hips and breasts, but that was to be expected, after all, when she first wore it, she’d a teenager just coming into her womanhood. She could still move, though, and that was all that matters. Piccolo watched her as she stretched gracefully and stood on pointe to do a few steps. She did a series of pliers and and going into a pirouette as she stepped elegantly in a fast movement across the floor, spinning faster and faster as he watched. She came to a stop near to where he stood and bent herself into an arabesque pose, standing on one leg with the other extended out behind her, she leaned down and grinned at him from under the leg she held up; “Not bad for someone who’s hung up her toe shoes three years ago, huh, Green?”

“Not bad at all.” He said, “Is this what you’re going to teach me? This kind of dancing?”

She giggled, crossed her arms over her the chest of her low-cut black uniform and said; “No. I’m just using this to warm up my muscles. We’ll be doing some much easier dances, My Love. Though a pas de Deux would be interesting. ” She added with a special gleam in her eyes. Piccolo would never stop learning something new about her, he thought, as she crossed the room in a move called a chassé where one foot slid across the floor to meet her other and she repeated the step until she was at the stereo in the corner. He hadn't known, beforehand, that she was a dancer. Though that would account for her gracefulness. Bending down, she opened the cabinet beneath and selected a recond. His eyes widened as he realized that she did not keep any c.ds, just old fashioned vinyl reconds that most would say were too out of date to play. She placed it on the turn table and held the recond player’s needle poised above it for a moment before letting it drop carefully.

“Here we go.” She said, as she pushed the button and music from the speakers she had placed all around the room, boomed into the room. It was a waltz, Piccolo recognized. She seemed to float across the room towards him and took his hands in her own.

“This is the easiest dance to learn.” She said, showing him how to hold her, “It’s also the most basis. Once you know how to waltz, everything else will be pie.”

It took a few tries before he stopped stepping on her toes. “Piccolo.” She said, gravely, with emotion, placing her hand on his chest, “You can’t just follow me, you have to feel the music. Feel the dance. In here.” “Close your eyes.” She commanded, “Breath. Can you feel it? The beat of the music becomes the beat of your heart. Now, try again. No. Keep your eyes closed. Use your inner senses, not just your eyes and ears.”

He did as she said and felt a change come over him. He couldn’t explain it, but it felt as everything around him had vanished and he was left with just the music and the woman in his arms. Nothing else mattered. The feeling coursed through his entire body and he realized that he could do this. With renewed confidance, he stepped across the floor in short circles with her as she smiled up at him. Soon, the music had ceased and the needle had found it’s way back onto it’s base. Piccolo was staring down into Alaura’s light blue eyes and still dancing with her. He heard the music in his head and heart and did not need to hear it with his ears any longer. After a moment, Alaura pushed herself away from him, he stopped and stood in the center of the room, an expression of expectation and pleasant surprise on his face as she twirled about and ran into his arms. She leapt up just a bit so that he had to catch her before she knocked him off balance, his hands under her buttocks, holding her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Not bad, Green.” She whispered in his ear before kissing him soundly, "Not bad at all."

Part Four: Can't Get Enough

He returned her kiss with as much ardor as she had shown, learning the rules of the game swiftly, running his tongue across her teeth as she giggled against his mouth. His hands explored the delicate arch of back and buttocks as she pushed her breasts flat against his chest and moaned deep in her throat. He lowered them down to the floor and she stopped him for a moment; “I need to get rid of this.” She said softly, her eyes dark with need, as she peeled the black leotard from her shoulders and pulled it off. Her gossamer lavender tights came off with the leotard and she tossed the whole outfit to the side of them. The turn table’s needle whirred automatically and the melodious sounds of the waltz they had been dancing to filled the room once more.

Alaura sat on her knees, looking up at him as he gazed at her in all her naked glory. Her hair took the appearance of spun gold in the soft glow of the lamps and the little bit of sunlight that was coming into the room via the two windows she had on opposite sides of the room with the shades drawn. Alaura did not like too much sunlight, he knew, her skin was so fair that she burned easily and the brightness hurt her eyes. Out of habit, she kept all the windows in her house covered during the day. He thought that he had seen all her beauty last night, but as he gazed at her he realized that she was even more beautiful to him right at this moment than any other moment before. She looked away, suddenly shy, and when she looked back at him what he saw in her blue eyes almost frightened him. She practically threw herself into his arms, running her tongue down the side of neck. Suddenly, without warning she bite him lightly, experimentally, and felt him tremble in her embrace. Feeling his way down her body, he felt her soft start and sigh as his fingers found their way into the wetness at the juncture of her slightly parted thighs. He followed the sounds of her low sighs and small, high-pitched whimpers and the feel of her body quaking at his touch to take her to the highest point of pleasure that he was able to give.

“Oh!” She cried out, unable to find the right words to express what she was feeling, what Piccolo was doing to her was just too much for her handle. She grasped at his shoulders and dug her fingernails into his flesh. She heard him wince in pain, but he ignored it and continued to stroke the small, hard button, feeling her pulse beat faster against the slickness of his fingers.

She bucked against his hand as a million stars and velvety night skies exploded in a shower of sensation behind her eyes and called out his name too many times for either of them to count. Breathing in shuddering breaths, she said, in a voice that shook with emotion and more than a little surprise; “P-piccolo...How did you know…how to…?” She couldn’t finish the sentence, falling backwards onto the floor in exhaustion, her face and body glowing from inside out. He smiled and felt oddly proud of himself. She continued to recover inches from him on the floor, from his attentions.

Part Five: Kindred Spirits

They stayed on the floor of her living room, the hardwood beneath them warm from their extrusion. After a moment, Alaura stood up shakily and leaned on Piccolo as she steadied herself. “You’re completely exhausting, do you realize that, Green?” She whispered, still not quite recovered, “I can’t even stand up on my own and I have a class in less than an hour.” Piccolo had nearly forgotten about that. She had mentioned something, earlier in the week about holding a dance class for poor children who wanted to dance but whose parents couldn’t afford to put them into an expensive class. Alaura did not dance professionally and never had, she had a love of the dance that came from within and, when she danced, it was only for herself or someone very special. But, she could teach. He thought it was a very kind and noble thing for her to venture into. And who, knows, One of those children in her class may end up having some serious talent that the world would be deprived not to know of it.

“I have to go get ready for the class.” She said, kissing him on the cheek and stroking his ear playfully, yet lovingly, “Why don’t you go for a walk in the forest for a bit and meditate, Mon vert chéri un ?” (My green cherished one.)

Nodding, Piccolo, kissed her softly on her ear and left her, floating from her towards the thick mahogany door that lead to the thick, dark peacefulness of the wilderness outdoors. His heart ached to leave her, even if it were only for a few hours. He’d never felt this way before about anyone. This sensation that he would die if he did not have her in his arms at all times, he felt as if he needed her as he needed water and sunlight to survive. He came to his favorite place in the forest. It was a few miles from Alaura’s house, though he was able to get there quickly by flying rather than walking, easily missing the densely growing trees by phasing in and out, thus avoiding a collision. He landed soundly on the ground, feeling his feet sink a bit into the soft forest loam. The sight of the small crystal clear pool of water and gently trickling waterfall always brought a smile to his lips. It was the perfect place for meditating. Piccolo floated upwards, over the sparkling water, feeling the sunlight as it streamed in a cross-hatch pattern through the trees and drinking in the warmth thoughout his entire being. He folded his long, powerfully built legs under himself and closed his eyes, beginning the initial deep breathing of his inward reflection. His breathing slowly became softer and more even as he passed into the alpha state of consciousness, swiftly everything around him faded into the background. Even as his surroundings seemed to dissolve around him, Piccolo kept a tiny part of himself alert to any dangers that may present themselves and an internal warning sense would rouse him instantly from whatever altered state he may be in in the event something was not right.

He wondered, with a smile and a pang in his chest that he came to understand was the feeling of yearning for someone, for Alaura, Just how her class was going.

Alaura greeted the children and their parents and or guardians as they arrived at the door. She lead them to the large, walk-in closet, which had been made especially for the children in her class, in the hallway across from her room. She had them shed their coats and hang them up on the hooks that had been placed low enough for children of five and six years old to easily reach. The parents and guardians kissed their children good-bye and made their way outside. The sound of cars and the ruckety- coughing sound of pickup trucks outside her house filled the area for a while, assaulting the peacefulness of the forest for a while. Alaura was glad when they finally left and the bird’s outside began their songs once more.

“Okay, Children, come downstairs with me to the studio.” She said as she lead them past the living room, her heart jumped a bit in her chest and she gasped as she thought of what that room had seen not too long ago. She smiled inwardly, all ready wishing for this class to be over and done with. Well, she thought to herself, time enough for that later. Right now I’ve got work to do, so focus, Alaura.

The children were polite, probably a product of some heavy handling in their rearing by parents who followed the old ‘spare the rod’ adage with a passion. She frowned at the thought of anyone hurting any of these little ones who followed her so eagerly. She knew that if she had a child and anyone laid a hand on him or her, they wouldn’t be long for this world. They came to the studio and Alaura instructed them to sit on the floor in a circle. “We’ll start with introductions.” She smiled as she walked around the room, adjusting the four tall black lamps in each corner of the room so that the children had light enough to see and work yet not so bright that her eyes and head began to ache.

“Miss. Flaxen?” A small girl, hair like midnight and eyes just as dark and wide, asked, holding up her hand as she sat down on the floor of the room that had been constructed into a spacious dance studio, complete with hard wood floors, a long barre placed against one wall and mirrors behind it. Since she did not play the piano, she had a record player sitting on a shelf filled with ballet records of all styles just waiting to be played and fill the room with the music that just begged to be danced to.

“Yes…April?” She looked down at the girl’s nametag and smiled at her, “Is something wrong, Dear?”

“I forgot to ask my Mommy to buy me new dance shoes…” She sniffled and her face screwed up into the sure sign that tears were about to flow. “I-I don’t have…have any to wear, M-Miss Flaxen.” She hiccupped, trying to keep from crying. She knew how the other kids would laugh at her and poke fun if she started to bawl on her first day of dance class! Since her cousin, Gabbie was also in the class, it wouldn’t be long before it got back to her family and then her older brothers would have a hey-day!

A few of the children snickered, but Alaura shot them all; Hush-up-right-now-if- you- know -what’s good- for- you looks and they quieted down. “It’s all right, April.” She said in a voice she hoped was assuring and smiled at the girl, willing her to be comfortable and most of all, not to cry, “I keep spares in the changing room right over there.” She held up one small, delicate hand to point to the other end of the room where there was a small door off to the side and the other’s followed where she was gesturing. “Find a pair that will fit you.”

“T-Thank you, Miss Flaxen.” She said, shyly, folding her small hands in her lap.

After the introductions; There were seven children in her class this year, six girls and one..well, one Namek, she was pleasantly surprised to see, They changed into their uniforms, (leotards and toe shoes) and did warm up stretches and exercises at the barre for a while. Alaura walked back and forth in front of them, her own black leotard felt sticky against her skin and the long, loose dark floral skirt she’d donned after Piccolo had left over her leotard fluttered in the wake of her movements, as she instructed them in series of plies (knee bends) as she counted off in French. After the class, which lasted longer than her classes normally did, but that was to be expected as this was the first class of the year, She knew she had a lot a work to do with them over the course of the next three months and looked forward to every minute of it, The diminutive Namek child approached her as she was in the kitchen fixing the children some orange juice and sliced bananas for a snack as they relaxed in her the living room she had quickly put back together before they had arrived. She heard the sound of their high-pitched voices chattering away like squirrel talk and smiled to herself.

“Tae?” She asked, recalling his name with ease. The little one had been a joy to watch. She sensed that he had an inner need to learn the dance just as she did when she was young. Watching his tiny face twist in concentration as he struggled to learn some of the steps she tried to teach them made her feel as if he were serious about the class and wasn’t just there to get out of someone’s hair, as many of the girls’ there were. She knew that in less than a month, she would be surprise if were more than two, she knew her class would dwindle down to just a few as those who took this class as a fun way to get out of doing chores at home lost interest. Alaura did not mind. She’d rather teach those who sincerely wished to learn.

“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Flaxen.” He said and she smiled at his precise, slightly clipped accent as if he were trying hard to speak properly and like an adult. She found it charming and had the overwhelming urge to pull him into her arms and cuddle him against her. She did nothing of the sort, of course, keeping her poise as she looked down at him kindly, “But I Wanted to ask you…Would you consider allowing me to take private lessons?”

“Well, Tae, don’t you like your classmates?” She asked, “No one’s being cruel to you, are they?”

He shook his head, the robes he had changed back into were customary for the people of his race on his own planet of Namek, rustled a bit when he moved, “No, nothing like that. All the girls are very nice to me.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. She knew how horrid children could be to someone who was different than they and boy! Where Nameks ever different! She was glad that little Tae was getting along well with them, so far. At least she hoped so.

“I want to learn more, Miss Flaxen.” He continued, his small green hands folded gently in front of him as he glazed up at her, “I want to be a dancer…like you.” The adoration in his eyes touched her deeply and she couldn’t resist any longer. She bent down on one knee and opened her arms to him, hugging him tightly when he came willingly into her embrace. She kissed his nose lightly before letting him go and standing up once more. “I think we can arrange something, Tae.” She said at last, “And take my word, you will be a dancer.”

He grinned at her and jumped a little in the air, clapping his hands together, “Yay! Thank you, Miss Flaxen!”

She stopped him before he could run out the door of the kitchen and held out a cup of water for him. “Don’t spill it!” She warned laughingly as he walked carefully out the kitchen. She had the sudden feeling, deep inside her heart, that that little Namek was a kindred spirit, she knew her feeling to be honest and true. That little one felt the dance deep inside just as she did. She knew they would get along well and she looked forward to watching him blossom and grow into the fine dancer she knew he would someday be.

Six: Paradise Under The Waterfall

After all the children had gone, Alaura sighed and the feelings she’d been having the hardest time keeping shoved down inside her shoved their way up and out once more. Piccolo. She missed him terribly and they’d only been apart for a few hours. It took her half a moment to make up her mind. She changed into her favorite light blue gown, it’s color brought out the sky blue in her own eyes and the material was transparent enough, being made from real silk, that in the right light, her body beneath could easily be seen. She slipped into the matching, silk wrap but did not secure the thin belt about her narrow waist. She allowed the wrap to flutter softly outwards at her sides and back. Still wearing her toe shoes, though she’d removed her leotard and leggings, of course, Alaura found her darkest pair of sunglasses and placed them on her nose, over her eyes and grabbed her wide-brimmed floppy hat from the hat rack near the front door and planting it on her head before she walked out the door into the forest. The hat and glasses, she knew took away from the alluring effect, but she knew that she needed her protection from the sunlight or she would have a horrid headache in a few hours.

It’s odd, she thought as she practically ran to where she knew he would be, he had shown her the pool and waterfall a few weeks ago and liked to go there to meditate, He gains strength from the sun while I can’t stand it. She shrugged inwardly, not really caring that it was odd and just feeling a sweet warm ache in her nether regions as she thought of being with her vert chéri un once more. Piccolo felt her approach before she’d even crossed the clearing into the densely packed area of wilderness where he floated peacefully above the ground. He landed on the ground and waited for her to come to him, ignoring his desire to run, fly, to her and tell her how much he’d missed her, after only a few hours, and that he was never going to allow them to apart for another minute…ever. But, he knew how irrational that would sound and even though he loved and wanted her with all his being, he also knew her fierce need of freedom and would not take that from her. He would just have to get used to their times apart, however painful they were. As she walked towards him and the waterfall she noticed with half-interest that he had removed his weighted cape and turban and wore just his traditional dark purple gi.

“How beautiful.” She said, gazing at the strong, well-built shoulders and arms of her love, the planes and angles of his face as he watched something to the side of her filled her heart with tenderness. She adored the way he looked, he was beyond handsome to her..

She off her glasses and dropped the hat on the ground in a pile of dried and dead leaves, It was dark enough under the cover of the trees, just a bit of afternoon sun streaming through the leaves and branches, and took his strong hand in her own as she stepped up beside him. He looked down at her with a warmth in his dark eyes that could easily be brought to a flaming burn given time. She knew she had the time. She also knew it wouldn’t take all that much time.

“Come with me, Alaura.” He said, suddenly pulling her tight against his side, his hand holding her waist, she let out a soft squeal of surprise as he lifted them both into the air so swiftly that she heard a shoosh of air in their wake. “Piccolo! What are you…?”

She held onto to him as he floated them both downward, her gossamer nightie, short past her knees, flew up and he chuckled softly as she tried to use one hand to keep it from flying up over her head and hold onto him at the same time. “Don’t fear, Alaura, I would never let you fall.” She looked down and realized where he was taking them. She cried out; “Piccolo! We’re going to land in the water! I have no desire to be cold and wet…”

“Trust me, My love.” He whispered against her ear.

When they landed in the water, it was shallow and only came up to her waist, and not even that high for Piccolo, she smiled in surprise. She’d never been to this side of the pool before. “It’s warm!” She cried happily, “Wonderful!”

“Yes.” He said, his voice not really interested in what he was saying, “There’s a hidden spring that heats the water below the rock.”

“Oh.” She said softly, not caring either anymore, as he stood before her, looking down at her with a familiar gleam in his black eyes. Piccolo could see the tips of sweetly rounded breasts through the material of her gown and the dark apex, which hide her womanhood. She did not move, but stood basking in the adoration of his gaze.

A moment longer, no longer than that, and he could contain himself to no further extent. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her roughly into his chest, burying his face into her thick, silken gold hair, which he thought smelled like dandelions and the peachy scent of the shampoo she used. He shoved it aside and found her delicate throat. He nuzzled her there, on the nape of her neck where was most sensitive and she felt a surge of inner electricity course through her body. As he kissed her lightly on her throat, the outside of her ear, flicking his damp, hot tongue into her ear for a moment just to feel her writhe against him, and both closed eyes, he lead them slowly towards the gently falling water. He tasted her lips, teasing them with his tongue so that she had no choice but to par them. His hands wandered over her body, trailing sensations she could find no words for everywhere he touched. They were under the waterfall now and her hair was plastered to her head, falling in wet ringlets down her back and over her shoulders. She tilted her head back and gasped in pleasure as the water fell on her most sensitive areas. The gown she wore was clinging to her body and left absolutely nothing to the imagination…not that it did anyway, Piccolo smirked at her hardly hidden brazenness. She knew exactly what she was doing when she put that thing on.

He did not allow her any more time to enjoy the shower before he continued where he left off and parted her lips with his tongue and tasted her deeply. She had her hands moving up and down his powerful shoulders in small, tender strokes of passion. She reached upwards to the top of his head and ran played with the tips of his ears. She had always loved his ears.

He guided her down into the water. She realized that it was even shallower under the falling water, she had been so caught up in the moment and the sensations he was bringing alive in her once more that she failed to notice the water actually only came a little past her calves. Falling onto his knees in front of her, she pulled him forward onto her body, her thighs spread and legs up over his back.

He growled deeply and shoved nuzzled her the hollow of her throat, kissing and gently nibbling a path downward. She gasped and quivered beneath him as his arms, one braced behind her so that he wasn’t placing all of his weight on her, and the other roaming almost desperately over her body. He found a breast and made magic where his fingers touched and tweaked and teased. She lifted herself up in reflex and pushed herself longingly into his hand. She opened her eyes and thought for a moment how beautiful he was. She loved everything about him, from his deep, rumbling voice, which put a particularly sweet throbbing deep inside her womanhood, to the way he always seemed to know exactly when to take control and when to let her have the upper hand, to the green tone of his flesh as it felt hot against her own soft, paleness. As he leaned into her heaving chest, licking and nibbling each hard nubbin on the peaks of her breasts in turn, and kissing the receptive area between them, she felt his antennae dangle just below her chin. With a mischievous half-smile, she inclined her head forward just a bit and easily slipped the tip of one into her mouth. He jumped with surprise at her action and moaned under his breath as he felt the hot, warm, wetness of her mouth as she circled her tongue around and around him, enjoying his pleasure as he pulled her tight to him and made odd whimpering sounds as she sucked harder. She caressed his other antennae with one hand at the same time as her mouth paid tribute to the other. She felt his breathing increase and his hands dug into her shoulders, not enough to hurt, but enough that she knew that she was affecting him in a way that she hadn’t thus far, and the feeling of, she could think of no other word for it, power over him, for this, their very private, cherished moment at least, made her desire him even more. “Alaura…stop…I can’t…”

She took his antennae all the way into her mouth, feeling it twitch against the roof of her mouth as she pushed herself forward and felt the tip of it against the back of throat. She slid her mouth back over it again, her lips wet from her own saliva as she slipped them tight over him, again and again she repeated her movements, enjoying the feel of his mounting pleasure and almost screaming scorching desire. At last, when he could take no more, Piccolo pulled himself away from her and took her mouth under his own in a kiss that was hungry and primal and deliciously rough. She felt his antennae tremble against the top of her head as he demanded all of her attention and more.

Seven: Walking and Talking

“How did the class go, Alaura?” Piccolo asked as they walked, her hand held securely within his own, through the trees back towards the house. Piccolo knew they could get there faster if he flew them, but she seemed to enjoy the leisurely pace and he wasn’t about to complain about being in her presence for that much longer. Every moment with her, it seemed to him, felt sweeter than the one before. The love they shared, the passion that flowed between them like an invisible current was too strong for either of them to deny.

“As well as a first class can be expect to go.” She answered, still feeling a bit light-headed from their lovemaking not too long ago. They both wore dry clothing, Piccolo having summoned them with his powers, and her hair was quickly drying in the cool, late afternoon May breeze into cute white-gold spirals down her back and across her brow. She reached up and shoved a tendril of her flyaway hair from her eyes, “Not many this year. Only seven.”

“Seven?” He asked, “Last year, you had seventeen. I remember because they were so noisy after class.”

She grinned, recalling those days last year, It was her August through October classes rather than the ones she taught May through July, (She took November, December and January off). She remembered her late August classes, when the children would be anxious to play out of doors in the warm sunshine and run around like the children they were after a good hour at the barre doing series of plies (knee bends) and cambers (bending at the waist) and another hour an a half practicing jetés, both petit and grand depending on the level of the student.

Note: (jeté basically means “thrown” and is long, usually forward leap starting on one leg and landing on the other, in the middle of the jump the dancer may be doing a split in midair and the dancer seems to float in midair as a result of his shift of gravity from the split. Grand jeté means: “Big Thrown (step)” and Petit jeté means ‘Little Thrown (step), they are smaller jumps, from one foot to the other, throwing the working leg out.)

Alaura had allowed them to go outside to explore the area just around her house, warning them not to wander off too far. She’d heard a series of shrieks from her students, all seventeen little six year girls in pigtails and ribbons, and for a moment her heart leapt into her throat as all images of horrible things popped into her often-times overworked imagination. She rushed outside, not prepared for what she saw. The shrieks had turned to giggles as she rounded the corner of her house, she had forgotten that Piccolo was soppose to be coming by to talk with her about something or other, she couldn’t remember exactly what, and broke out into a fit of laughter after she breathed a sigh of relief that no monter had come and eaten her students.

Piccolo stood there, a mixture of annoyance and helplessness on his face, which just made her laugh harder, the little girls had somehow climbed up him and attached themselves to him as if he were a living jungle gym. Actually, only seven of them were hanging off of him, two from each arm, one had her tiny hands around his head and kept trying to cover his eyes, finding her little game hysterically funny in her own way, and two were tugging at his waist, looking up at him and grinning huge, lopsided, missing-tooth grins. The other ten little girls were jumping around them, shouting and giggling.

“You didn’t have to laugh so much, you know.” He brought her back to the presence, glancing askance at her, “It wasn’t funny.”

“Oh, yes it was!” She snickered, remembering, “It was one of the funniest things I’ve seen in a long time.”

“Now you know why I don’t stick around for any of your classes any more, Alaura.” Piccolo growled, “I’d rather not have that episode repeated.”

“Oh, come on.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, linking her arm through his, and looked up at him, “They adored you. Are you telling me you weren’t just a teeny bit flattered?”

“No.” He said, sternly, with that old tradmark Piccolo stubbornness she knew so well, “It was an extremely embarracing waste of time.”

They were silent for a while, just walking, being close to each other. Alaura was still grinning, remembering the past, and Piccolo enjoyed the quiet.

“Alaura?” He turned to her, “While I was meditating…I felt something..”

“I know you did, my dear.” She said, matter-of-factly, “I have a Namek for a student this year.”

“Yes.” He nodded, “I felt another Namek, but a child. I wondered if he were a student of yours.”

“Yes, his name is Tae and he’s by far the best in my class.” She said seriously, “I believe he will go far with this if he kept it up. He’s even asked me to see him privately.”

“He sounds determined.” Piccolo replied.

“I need him to be dedicated as well as determined, you know that, Piccolo.” She said; “You remember…”

“The Three D’s of Miss Alaura Flaxen’s School of Dance for Underprivileged children?” He grinned at her, “Of course. Determination, Dedication and Desire.”

“Very good!” She said in her teacher tone, but ruined the effect by smiling too broadly, “You get three gold stars!”

“I’d rather just have this.” He said, and pulled her close, capturing her mouth in a tender, gentle kiss.

“I love you, Piccolo.” She whispered against his mouth a moment before he broke the kiss, “I don’t understand how…or why…but…I do.”

He nodded. He understood what she was trying to say. It seemed as if this sensation, this all-consuming need to be with and please just each other, it was as if love had crept up on them unawares and attacked them in the night, beating them senseless so they had no hope of escaping it’s effect. He didn’t know how or why he felt they way he did about her, only that he did and he thought it best to leave it at that. No use ever came of asking questions no one could answer, anyway. They came to the house and walked up the walkway to the front door. Piccolo paused suddenly and looked upwards, as if he were looking at something she could not see.

“Did the little Namek go home?” He asked at last, turning to her as she stood just inside the doorway, the door wide open.

“I believe so. He went home with another girl’s family and a few of the others whose parents were car-pooling.” She said, “He said he would be here on saterday morning, though, why, what is it?”

“I don’t..I don’t know.” He said, at last, “I could have sworn I felt something. But it was slight, like the fluttering of a moth’s wing against my senses. It…seems to be gone now, though.”

“Odd.” She said, “Let’s go inside.”

He caught the barely concealed fear in her voice; “Alaura,” He said, as he followed her into the house, “You have no reason to fear anything. I’d never let anything happen to you. I’d much rather end my own life.”

“I know, Piccolo.” She said, “My mind knows this, now I just it explained to my body.” She held up shaking hands and laughed a short, mirthless laugh, “It’s hard getting over some things, you know…”

“Shh.” He pulled her into his arms, kissed her trembling hands, “You don’t have to remember it. Nothing like that will ever happen to you again. I promise.” He held her tight in his arms, silently, while the she recovered from her sudden memories of that time…that horrible time in her life, holding her until her trembling ceased and he sensed that she was back to normal once more.

He’s seen it happen on a few other occasions, something will trigger the memory of that night and she will start shaking, sometimes sobbing and turning inward into her fear until she was almost in a catatonic-like state. He was thankful that he had been able to pull her back from it before it overtook her fully.

He knew, someday, that she would have stand and face her demons head-on, that she really could not progress very far in her life, now their life, until this was taken care of. But, he decided today was not the day to mention it to her. But someday, he knew, she would have no choice. He vowed to be next to her, when and if that day ever came, to lend her all his strength and love.

Part Eight, Nightmares of the Past

It had been three years ago. She hadn’t even known Piccolo existed back then. She had been 27 years old and dancing on stage in front of a willing, cheering audience. The applause, the red roses thrown at her feet, the adulation of the crowd all wooed her in heart and mind and she thought that nothing, not even love, could be better than what she felt when she were on that stage, everyone’s sweetheart for the duration of the dance.

She still lived with her parents, Gregory Allan Flaxen and her mother; Patrice, at that time in her past, in a six bedroom house that was not as large as some of the mansions she had seen, yet not a bungalow by any means. Her parents never understood the desire she had to dance nor her dream of one day becoming the word’s most famous prima ballerina. At the time, they had high hopes that she would soon forget her dream, all of it’s hard work, and settle into something more stable, such as helping her mother in her various pursuits to save certain wildlife and or participating in her sewing clubs.

They did not understand, having gained a lifetime of wealth already, why she would want to work so hard for something with so little monetary value. Her parents just never understood that one could find pleasure and pride of oneself by doing what they loved, regardless of the rewards. It was even harder for them to accept that their own daughter, their only child, wasn’t going to turn out exactly like them. It had been a wonderful show. She had danced lead in her favorite ballet of all time, Swan Lake, and stood on the stage, the footlights hot on her skin and sweat from her exertion beading and falling in rivulets down the sides of her breasts and cool on the back of neck.

The feathers from her costume tickled her face and underarms as she bowed gracefully to the cheering people, loving every second of the special moment she spent on stage after a show, that special, almost intimate moment she had with her audience as she accepted any cards, flowers or, yes, hotel keys, though she took the other things home with her, she always left the keys back stage with the other girls. She had been dancing with this troupe for five years now, since she turned 22 on May 5th. She had had her first ballet class at age five and never looked back. At 27 everyone, including her instructor, Mademoiselle Kalenski , knew that Alaura’s talent was going to take her places. They all knew that Alaura knew it as well.

She did not see him down there, out there in the crowd, mingled with the sea of faces and bodies, at least she told herself, years later, that she hadn’t seen him, but she wondered, when the memories came back, just before the fear could claim her once more, if that were really the truth she was telling herself or was she merely choosing to see what she wanted to see in her memory? She blew her last kiss at the people, stepping back for the curtains to fall into place and turned as the other girls and boys in her dance troupe embraced her like the family they thought of themselves as being after five years together, congratulating each other on a perfect performance.

“Let’s hope this one makes the papers, Flaxen.” Dudley Rynheart, a mediocre dancer with a face to match, squeezed her left buttock quickly. She spun around and landed a hard punch to his shoulder but hejust laughed it off, like it was nothing, and said; “Lighten up, Alaura, I was only kidding.” And walked away laughing his annoying half-snort chortle.

“Don’t worry, Alaura.” Sissy Burke patted her shoulder, “We’ll make the papers. At least you will. You were fabu!”

“Thanks, Sissy.” She kissed the other girl’s cheek softly and they parted, “You go on ahead to the cast party...I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Sissy looked thoughtful, her shoulder-length strawberry curls catching the light from the ceiling, “Okay. Just don’t hang around here long after people have gone home.” She shuddered, “It’s creepy enough as it is.”

Alaura didn’t think so. She liked every place they had preformed at and had developed the habit, more like a religious rite, now, after so many years, of walking throughout the building they had just danced in, on stage, and say a small prayer of gratefulness in every room of the building. She felt she owed it to whatever gods or goddesses of the dance that were watching out for her.

She had been in one particular room for quite some time, how long, she couldn’t say, moments, hours, they both felt about the same. She had found the room were they kept all these framed photographs of the dance troupes who had preformed on their stage, dating back so far the photographs in some frames were black and white and cracking along the sides and some of the faces were hard to see. The photographs were lined up along the walls, rows and rows of them, and there were also photo albums, most rather old with peeling leather and binding held in place by string tied and about to fall apart if one tugged too hard on it. She sat down on the floor, crossed her long legs up herself and lost herself in albums of old photographs of dancers long ago.

Suddenly, without warning, it sounded as if the entire building were falling down around her and she dropped the book she’d been reading as she pulled herself to her feet. She still wore her peach-toned leotard and white tights, her toe shoes dangled from a hook inside her dressing room. She thought she would fetch them before she left the place. Without thinking, Alaura jerked open the door and stepped out into the hallway. Without warning, she heard a voice cry out for her to get down and the corridor, well, really, the corridor was gone, she saw, briefly, a huge, gaping hole in the ceiling and the night’s star filled sky outside and above, before someone yelled something she didn’t understand or a least didn’t hear properly and the immediate area was filled with light so bright that she screamed and threw her arms up over her face, realizing that even as did so, she was too late.

Blind, her head feeling like someone had taken a hammer to it and played chopsticks on her skull, she stumbled backwards back into the photograph room. She didn’t know what was happening or who it was that shouted or how the building fell apart, or what in God’s name all those explosions just outside the door, or at least what sounded like explosions, were from, but she knew she had to get out of there. Alaura felt around the room, hoping that maybe she’d missed another exit or something, knocking over picture frames and tripping over the carpeting in her blind haste to escape.

In her fear she knocked over a table that had been the place of honor for a particularly pretty silver and gold jewelry box that she had been admiring earlier. As the box fell something heavy landed on her floor and she cried out in renewed pain. She leaned down and felt along the floor for whatever it was that had fallen out of the box. It can’t be a broach, she thought, it was too large when it hit her foot and she could have sworn she heard it rolling.

Just as her fingers clutched it, she realized that she did not hear the loud noise any longer and wondered if whatever it had been, whoever it had been, had decided it wasn’t worth it to tear up a rickety old building and had gone home for tea and cakes or whatever they did. She heard and felt the door being blasted from it’s hinges, rather than saw it. She held the odd, smooth, somewhat warm spherical object that had fallen from the jewelry box in both hands waist high, as she heard a gust of air and cast about, her sight worthless and her head still throbbing with pain, trying to find out who was there.

Laughter. Cold, heartless, sent a chill up her spine and she had the sensation, though she did not know where this thought came from, it just popped in her head at that moment, that she was facing evil. She spun about to where she thought he was, but found it odd…why did it sound as if he were right above her? That can’t be possible…can it?

“I see you’ve found something that belongs to me, little bitch.” She shook her head, unable to see or to comprehend what he was talking about, and backed away until she felt the coolness of the wall stopping her, “Give that to me!”

Alaura had forgotten what she held for just a moment, then , thinking back she realizes it wasn’t the smartest thing she could have done that night, she gauged the distance from the exit and where he was according to the sound of his voice and, without warning, threw the ball as hard as she could towards where she thought the hole where the door used to be was.

They were on the third floor. She knew the walls had been blown up so that there was a straight drop, a few feet from the doorway to the room they were in, and guessed that if she threw it hard enough, it just may go over the edge and if his guy wanted it so bad he’d go after it and leave her alone…right?

“I can’t believe you just did that!” He screamed at her, and suddenly he grabbed her roughly by her shoulders and landed a stinging back handed slap across her face. She tasted blood as she sprawled on the floor where she’d fallen, tears in her eyes, and wishing she had just gone to the cast party like she should have instead of hanging around here to do her stupid after-performance ritual.

“I don’t have all day, but I have a little time to linger, girl.” She half ran, half crawled away from him, screaming for him to please leave her alone, when she felt him grasp a handful of her hair and pull her to her feet. “I guess I can make time for such a pretty thing. Too bad that will leave nasty bruise.” He clucked his tongue in mock sympathy, referring to her face were he had slapped her.

She reacted with elemental terror, raising her hands and raking her nails down were she knew his face was looming above her’s, turning about and kicking and flailing wildly, in a panic to get away, by any means possible. She felt a wet stickiness under her nails and over her hands and knew she had hurt him, just a tiny bit, but instead of crying out in pain and anger, he seemed pleased at her efforts to try and fight. She did not realize this, but Alaura was the mouse in his game of cat and mouse during those moments. He hadn’t gone straight after the dragonball because he had every confidence that it would be waiting there for him when he was through playing. He advanced on her, she was caught between two bookshelves and grasped one of her legs. Roughly, with no struggle what-so-ever, as if she were a mere rag doll in his grip, he pulled her out and sat on top of her, pinning her to the ground beneath him as he laughed cruelly down into her hair, his breath hot on her throat.

She thrashed about, desperate to get away, to get him away from her, but every time she moved, he just held her tighter, her hands, folded into tight, tiny fists pounded in a panic his shoulders and chest, but they were as insignificant as flies buzzing around an elephant’s back, he just ignored her attempts at trying to stop him.

“Stop this…please…stop this…stop…” She cried and her cries turned to sobs as he took ahold of her leotard at the front and ripped it from her chest, exposing her breasts to his hands and eyes. He bit her roughly, drawing blood from the side of her breast and she screamed with agony. He chuckled when she screamed and seemed to enjoy feeling her move in pain and fear beneath him.

When his hands ripped the rest of the leotard easily off her body and ripped a gaping hole in her leggings, she felt his hand between her legs and her fear quickened, she knew no matter what happened, she must not allow him to touch her…there. She screamed and whipped about beneath him, frantically reviving her attempts at getting him off of her so she could finally run away. She thought, in some irrational part of her mind, that if she could only get him off of her that she could get away from him.

“You can fight me all you want, you little slut.” He said, punching her hard in her face, she felt the bones in her cheek right below her eye crack and the pain was so much that she couldn’t even cry out, just a whimper left her, as the air was forced out of her lungs by the sheer force of the pain. Her right cheek still hurt from the slap he’d paid her a few minutes before, now the other side of her face was horribly damaged and felt that way as well. “It won’t do you any good…though, it is fun for me.”

He had split the material around the hole he had made in her leggings farther down her leg until he was able to just pull aside the tattered garment, despite her kicking and thrashing, and crying out for him not to hurt her, he found what he was looking for a proved it by shoving his fingers up inside her roughly, feeling her tightness. She became suddenly still, he thought she finally realized that she had no hope of escaping him and had decided to play along, at last, though it would be less entertaining.

Alaura did not understand what was happening to her. One moment she was fighting for her life, the next she felt as if she were floating, high above the room, looking down on herself and this stranger she had never seen before as he continued to hurt her. She felt as if she did not even know the poor girl on the floor there, oh, she felt a small connection, but she did not acknowledge it. She thought to herself as she watched him position himself between her legs, that that girl on the floor could have nothing to do with her.

She felt no pain where she was, high above them, watching, observing her own defilement with empty, emotionless eyes, as if she were watching an image on a screen. It wasn’t real, she told herself as she watched him thrust deeply and roughly inside of her, it wasn’t real. She saw the tears fall from her eyes silently, mingling with the blood on her face as he forced her body to move with his beneath him. It wasn’t real, she kept repeating over and over to herself even as she felt herself being pulled back into her body, reluctantly, she screamed in her mind and tried to float back up, away, to where it was safe, away from what was happening to her there on the floor of the photograph room.

Alaura let out a deafening, terror-and-pain-filled shriek as she realized she was once again, back in the center of torment. She saw his fist above her face for a heartbeat of a moment before her world fell apart into blackness and her mind felt as if it were a mirror that had been viciously shattered.

Alaura gasped and sat up in bed. Her heart was racing and her body shook, she felt her face and felt the wetness of tears she’d been crying in her sleep. The sheets were all twisted around her body and she fell forward, sobbing into her hands.

Piccolo, she knew, had held her until she fell asleep and then left her to meditate outside in the darkness of the forest. She knew his ways, though at the moment she wanted him here with her to keep her safe, if only from her own nightmares of the past.

The memories she had of that night had always been just bits and pieces, like fragments of a photograph in a broken glass case, picture and glass mixed and both damaged beyond repair. She never remembered the entire rape, but certain feelings would bring back one or two images.

She realized, as she slowly recovered from the dream, that she had seen the face of her attacker. Her blindness had worn off sometime during the attack, and she struggled to hold onto that memory, but like ice melting under a hot water tap, they faded from her mind to swiftly for her to grasp and she beat the bed beside her with the flat of her hands in frustration.

Piccolo had known what happened to her, but only as much as she told him and what he could feel from her, which was enough to understand her fear and pain but not enough to go after whoever it was since she said she could not remember if she had seen his face or not or if she had, then she had blocked the image from her mind so severely that not even he had been able to reach into her mind and help extract it for her.

He sensed her terror from where he was in the middle of the dense forest and flew back to her, unaware that he would arrive too late to save her from the dream, but just in time to hold her as she clung to him in her need for security and comfort. If only she could remember more of what happened to her instead of just rubble here and there. He did not know how to truly help her, so he just kissed her face, rubbed her arms and shoulders and encircled his arms around her as he waited for her sobs to fade and her body to stop it violently shaking.

“Shh…” She heard him say, “You’re safe, Alaura. Your safe, now.”

Nine: Unexpected Visitor

Alaura sat on the sofa, her slender legs folded beneath her as she absently folded a powder blue blouse in her lap and placed it in a steady growing pile on the sofa next to her. The turn-table was on and soft classical music played, barely audible, in the background. She paused in her work, rubbed the area between her eyes and sighed. Her head was hurting again this morning, as it always did after she’d had a rough night with the same nightmare that has haunted her for three years. She remembered waking up sobbing and Piccolo coming into the room to wrap his arms around her and dry her tears as she clung to him in desperation, like a woman who’s hanging over the precipice into complete terror.

She was so thankful that Piccolo had come into her life. After her parents were killed in a plane crash Alaura had slipped more and more into her self. She had been pleasantly surprised when Piccolo, having just shown up on day out of the blue claiming that he had been a little curious as to who lived in this house so far from anywhere and surrounded by thick forest, kept coming back to see her. He never told her that she was the reason he came back, day after day, but instead told her that he saw she needed some things taken care of outside around her house. and that, because of her sensitivity to too much bright light, he knew she could not take care of certain things outside during the day very well. It was only recently, a few months at the most, that she’d started talking with him and realized that she enjoyed his company.

Thinking back over the year an a half they had known each other, Alaura could not honestly pick the exact moment she felt she was falling in love with him, but at the thought, now, her eyes clouded over with emotion and her hands shook just a bit as she lowered them from her head to her lap, sighing deeply. She wondered, quietly, if she was in his thoughts as much as he was in her’s and if she distracted him from his work as he distracted her. She thought she knew the answer to that and held a small hand over her lips as she felt the tiny smile spread beneath her fingers. Oh, how she missed him when he was gone. She knew that he had another life, other responsibilities away from her safe and secluded haven and did not begrudge him that part of himself.

Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door and she jumped a bit at the sound. She knew it couldn’t be her dance class students as she held her classes only twice a week, on Mondays and Thursdays and it was Sunday today. She had slept past noon having been up most of the night in fear of falling back to sleep in case her nightmares were waiting. She also knew that it was Piccolo. He never knocked on her door anymore, not since that first time when she’d made it clear that she thought of her house as his as well and would broke no quarrel about that. She stood up and felt the warmth in the air, making her neck hot and sticky to the touch. On her way to the door she lifted her hair up and pulled it into a loose bun on the back of her head, securing the hastily made style with a few pencils from the holder on the small table next to her telephone. She knew that she probably looked ridiculous but she didn’t care, after all, there was only one person in the entire universe she wanted to look good for and he was off training somewhere at the moments.

Besides, she thought, I could wear bunny ears and a guinea sack and he’s still find me attractive. She came to the door and grasped the handle, pulling it open swiftly. She saw the young man who stood on the front porch in faded jeans and white tee shirt. His dark hair fell a bit into his equally dark eyes and he brushed it away with one hand

“Gohan.” She smiled past her headache and opened the door wider, “Piccolo’s mentioned you on a few occasions…” Actually, Piccolo seemed quietly proud of the young man who stood at her door whenever he spoke to her about him. “Please, come on inside.”

She cringed as the light from the sun through the trees flashed past his shoulder for a brief moment and turned away from him as he closed the door softly behind them, holding one hand to her bowed head. “Excuse, Miss?” He began, she told him her name quickly, not wishing to be rude, and as started to place his hands on her narrow shoulders and then letting them drop back at his sides, uncertain, “Is there something…?”

“No.” She said, turning back around and smiling up at him, “It’s nothing, Gohan. I’m just very sensitive to bright light, hurts my eyes and makes my head hurt.” She motioned to the dimness of the room, “Hence all the soft bulb lighting in my lamps.”

She led him into the living room where he took a seat on her settee, which was opposite her overstuffed black sofa and she asked him what brought him all the way out here in the boonies. Surely it wasn’t to pay her a visit, as far as she knew he didn’t even know she existed. She was fairly certain that Piccolo did not share with his friends what went on between them privately.

Gohan took a strange device from his pocket and held it up, showing it to her and her eyes widened as it made a series of beeping noises when he panned it around him. “I am looking for something, a small orange ball with some stars on it. This thing helps me find it and it looks as if it’s somewhere in your house.”

Alaura shrugged, knowing that she’d never seen anything like what he just described but that if he wished, she would grant her permission for him to search her house, after all, she thought, if the thing were here she’d have no use for it and she knew that it was Piccolo’s, he wasn’t much the one for material possessions. Besides, she thought as he began slowly moving around her house, following the beeps as he did so, if he wanted it so badly that he traipsed all the way out here to find it he was welcome to it.

She stood up and carried a pile of clothing passed him into her bedroom, to put the folded laundry away. Gohan glanced at her briefly as she passed him, noticing her long, slender neck and the gentle, graceful sway of her hips beneath the loose fabric of her long dark gypsy skirt. She moves like someone who was born into refinement, he thought to himself returning to the machine in his hand which had started making louder noises.

“What’s down there?” He asked, pausing before the closed door to the basement as she came around the corner, sans laundry.

“My dance studio.” She replied, brushing past him. He felt the brush of her breasts against his back for half a moment and stiffened in place until she was beyond him once more, “I teach ballet twice a week to a group of five and six year olds.” Well, she thought to herself, most are five and six, she did not know exactly how old Tae was. Much older than her other students, she felt almost certain of that.

“Oh, you’re a dancer.” He said, almost to himself, as if he were agreeing with some inner decision he had made.

“Well, I used to be.” She said, sitting back down on the sofa, the laundry basket near her small, bare feet, “I haven’t danced on stage in a while, but what is that old saying? Those who can’t, teach?”

“Something like that.” He said, “Though it’s never made much sense to me. How can you teach something you can’t do yourself?”

She did not answer but said instead; “If you’d like to check my studio out, Gohan, you may.”

“Thank you, Alaura.” He said, opening the door to the basement and stepping down. She knew that he would have to duck to avoid banging his head into the low ceiling of the stairwell.

Gohan paused halfway down the stairs. Piccolo? He wondered, sensing the Namek approaching, What would he be doing here? Unless the dragonball is his, but then, why hadn’t he just taken it and gone, rather than leave it here in the first place? Gohan reluctantly had to admit that he did not know everything there was to know about the large, stoic Namek.

He followed the beeps and came to a place in the studio, in the changing room actually, where there was a loose brick in the floor in the corner under the small bench. On his hands and knees, he worked the brick loose and noticed the large hole beneath it.

He shined a small penlight he had with him into the hole and saw a glint of numerous objects, a hairpin, a half-empty bottle of evian, a black feather than shined purple and blue hightlights, a small matchbox car and a bouquet of flowers made from rainbow hues of brightly colored construction paper, like some chipmunks hurried treasure.

He saw the ball resting just beneath the paper flowers and reached down to pick it up, smiling to himself. Now, he thought, only four more to go. He still wondered if the dragonball were Piccolo’s and decided to ask if he would like to help him find the others and compromise on the wish when he saw him.

Alaura heard the door open and close softly behind her. She stood up and made her way to the door, greeting him with a kiss in the foyer. “Piccolo.” She said, breaking the kiss, her eyes filled with love as she looked into his small, dark eyes, “Thank you for being here for me…” Thank you for loving me, she thought.

“I will always be here for you, Alaura.” He said, pulling her close to him. He smelled of sweat and the outside, a heady mixture that assailed her senses.

“We have company.” She said, as his hand cupped one breast, kneading it gently and bringing a small sigh of pleasure for her.

“I know.” He said, his eyes half-closed as he drank her in, “Gohan is here.”

“Yes.” She agreed, as he turned her around to lift her up off the floor, her back braced against the wall and ran his hands up her thighs, pushing the material of her skirt higher, exposing her creamy flesh to his touch, “He is in the basement right now with his little toy..looking…for something…”

She cut off as he began placing tiny, butterfly-wing kisses down her neck and into the hollow of her throat. She wore a loose-fitting peasant blouse and he easily pulled the elastic of the shoulders down, licking the area between her breasts as she sighed once more. “He can wait.” He said, his mouth hot against her skin.

His chest felt hard and burning against her and she relished in the wonder that she fit so perfectly, soft curves to hard angles, against him.

Ten: Revelations

Gohan had made his way back up the stairs, holding the dragonball in one hand, his now machine in the other as glanced around the living for any sign of either the woman or Piccolo.

“Hello! Guys?” He asked, knowing that the Namek could sense his presence as he did with him. He also knew it wasn’t like Piccolo to just ignore him. Well, this is kinda rude, he thought, rounding the corner to the foyer where he stopped in his tracks a smirk replacing the shocked look in less than three seconds.

“Hello, Gohan.” Piccolo said, lifting his face from Alaura’s neck. He carefully set her down on her feet and turned around to greet his former student properly. Gohan peered behind Piccolo but only caught a brief flash of white skin before Piccolo turned in such a way as to shield her with his body while she hurriedly pulled her skirt back down and straightened the creases and pulled up the shoulders of her blouse. “Good to see you, again.”

“Oh, Gohan?” Alaura asked, peeking over Piccolo’s shoulder at him. He noticed that the pencils weren’t sticking up in her hair anymore and were lying scattered on the floor next to them. He thought the way the pale tendrils fell and framed her face looked cute. He was beginning to understand why Piccolo spends so much time here. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Yep.” He held up the small orange ball, “Thank you giving it to me. You still want to give it to me, right?”

She glanced at Piccolo, who shrugged, “I have no use for it.” It had crossed his mind, for a split second that maybe he could get the other dragonballs together and make a wish that Alaura’s memory blocks be removed finally so that she could tell him what her attacker had looked like so he could go destroy him. But he realized that would be a wish more aimed at

Making him feel better, not her. So, he kept silent.

“Can I see that for a moment?” Alaura asked, stepping out from behind Piccolo, a little more put-together.

“Sure.” He handed it to her and as she felt it’s smooth roundness and soft warmth she was overcome with a series of bits and pieces of imagery, and feelings to go with them. Bits and pieces and emotions she did not want. With a sound like a cry of pain, she shoved the dragonball towards Gohan and ran from the room. They heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

“What was that all about?” Gohan asked, still staring after her. Instead of answering Gohan’s question, Piccolo said, intead; “I think we need to find out how a dragonball got into Alaura’s house.”

“In her dance studio.” Gohan put in, “Under a brick in the corner in a small hole, there were other stuff there too as well, just worthless junk.”

“So, it appears as if someone had hidden it and probably means to retrieve it someday soon.”

“Well, we could put it back and wait.” Gohan said reluctantly, he really wanted the dragonball.

Piccolo took the ball from Gohan and said, “I’ll do it. You should go now.”

“But, Piccolo, what if something happens?”

“I’ll take care of it.” He said, “Now, I know your mother worries about you.”

“Right.” Gohan said, sighing, “Let me know what happens, okay, Piccolo?”

Piccolo nodded briefly an Gohan made his way to the door. He started to open it but paused, turned his head and said; “Say good bye to Alaura for me and thank her for letting me look around.”

Again Piccolo nodded and Gohan shut the door behind himself.

He stood in the hallway a moment, the dragonball in his hand, his ears twitched slightly at the sound of soft sobbing coming from down the hall. He walked towards the sound, his not so clean white cape billowed out behind him as he turned the corner and opened the door to the dark green and cream colored bedroom and saw Alaura sitting on the bed, her bare legs dangled over the edge and her hands were over her face as her hair hung down like a canopy to hide her eyes and emotions.

“Alaura?” He asked, quickly placing the dragonball into one of her dresser drawers and shutting it softly so that it was out of sight, for now, he would put it back where Gohan had found it later, right now, at least, he had more pressing matters. Such as the woman he loved about to fall to pieces in front of him and holding on by a slender thread. “I think it’s time we talked about this…”

“No!” She raised her head, her blue eyes, which had always reminded him of a cloudless summer sky, flashed angrily, “How can you ask me to do that, Piccolo? You of all people? You know what I…”

“What you went through?” He asked, kneeling on the floor and taking her hands in his own. Her hands were swallowed up by his larger ones, For once, he had to look up into her face, “No, My Love, I only know what you have told me, and it’s not enough. I don’t say this to be cruel. I say this to help you. I can see it eating away at you, bit by bit. Every time something happens to remind you, you fall apart in front of me and I am tired of not being able to do anything about it!”

“Piccolo.” She said, sniffing, pulling one of her hands away to run it under nose and across her eyes, “Even if I wanted to tell you everything that happened that night, I cannot. There are…gapes…holes…” She motioned at her head, “I don’t know what I am thinking, teaching dance when I’m such a mess myself.” She laughed bitterly, “And that strange ball…Piccolo…where did it come from?”

“The dragonball.” He said, suddenly, as if an idea just crossed his mind, “What happened when you touched it? I could sense the fear and rage inside you when you held it in your hands.”

She was silent for a moment, uncertain how to to explain what she had felt, what she had seen. Finally she she sighed and said; “It was like it was happening to me all over again. I felt as if I were back there…in that place…with all the noise and explosions and then I couldn’t see and he was there…” She paused, her heart starting to beat faster as the memories flooded back, like a dam that had been held in place for too long, and over her as she spoke.

He did not speak as she took a few deep breaths and tried to regain some semblance of control. He knew how difficult it was for her to willingly try to remember and talk about it with him. With anyone. “He was there and he was hurting me, Piccolo.” She went on, “I couldn’t see his face while I…while he was…”

He nodded, understanding and not asking her to go into graphic detail for him, and she went on, sniffling forlornly, “But, something strange happened.” She said, looking straight ahead, away from him, all the way into the past, “I seemed to leave my body and float above, near the ceiling and I looked down and saw…saw myself and I felt…I felt nothing, Piccolo. It was so wonderful. I could be there, floating, away from all of it, all the horror, the pain, the humiliation and I never wanted to go back down into that soiled and tattered body again!”

The tears were streaming, silently down her cheeks as she talked, it seemed, more to herself than to him. “I never realized it before…but while I was looking down I could see not only myself but him as well.”

He waited, holding his breath, he did not want to break whatever spell had come over her, not at this crucial moment. “What did he look like, Alaura?” He asked in hardly a whisper, a whisper of bottled rage, “Who was he?”

“I...I don’t…” She dropped her head and rubbed her eyes, “It’s all mixed up, Piccolo. I remember flashes of his clothing…dark blues and whites…a lock of black hair falling onto my face as he bit me…” She held one hand to her right breast, where Piccolo knew she still had the scar. He had kissed it tenderly before, as if his touch had the power to heal. Never before had Piccolo wished he’d been born a healer like Dende. “And his eyes…I remember his eyes most of all…my blindness must have been fading gradually by then. I remember those hard, cold eyes looking down at me as if I were something to be used and then thrown out with yesterday’s newspaper…trash.”

Piccolo brought his hands to her waist and pulled her off the bed into his lap, rocking her gently as she laid her head against his shoulder, her tears soaking his white cape. As his hand smoothed her hair his eyes narrowed as what she had told him clicked into place in his own mind and he put the missing pieces of the puzzle together himself.

“Vegeta.” He said under his breath, filling his heart fill with more than just anger…he felt rage.

Eleven: Nightmares Revisited

She did not hear him, he realized as her steady breathing told him she had cried herself to sleep against him. Gently, as he lifted a fragile flower that may wither and die if he did not use care, he lifted her to the bed and smoothed her coverlet up over her body to her chin. Instinctively she curled her knees up to her chest and sighed raggedly. He stood back and looked down at her and thought she looked so small, so vulnerable there all tucked in and curled into herself.

How could anyone even think of harming someone like her? He thought as his anger continued to boil. Alaura never asked for any of this, he shook with rage, all she ever wanted was to be a dancer. All. How could anyone hurt her so much? Why? He spun around and stormed from the room, not stopping even when he’d crossed her livingroom and opened the front door. Taking off into the dark beauty of the early evening sky, Piccolo was a sight against the natural setting of the sun’s fading light. He meant to get his answer and then some.

Alaura awoke sometime near ten o’clock. Her eyes felt gritty from crying and she’d slept in her clothes, which were now wrinkled to her body. Wearily, she sat on the edge of her bed for a moment, trying to rouse herself to the day. The day. She thought, uncertain, What day is it? With a horrified pang she realized she did not know. She looked down onto the floor by her bed and saw a track of dirty shoe-prints. Her eyes followed the trail out of her room. Piccolo. She thought, and last night came rushing back like it was happy not to have been forgotten. She sighed and realized as she did so that a heavy weight had been lifted from her.

Before she could enjoy the feeling a bit longer, someone rang her doorbell. She heard the soft chimes of some piece of ballet music fill the house and smiled. She’d always loved that belll. She stood up and tried to straighten her skirt and fix her blouse. She knew her hair must look a fright, but there was nothing to do for that until she had a shower and re-combed it. For now, she just pulled it back into a hastily made ponytail as she walked to the door.

“Tae!” She cried, looking happy and confused all at the same time. The little Namek smiled up at her, his duffle bag with his dance clothes within over one shoulder. “Is it time for the class already?”

“No, Miss. Flaxen.” He said, seriously, his tiny antennae twitching a bit, “You promised me private lessons, remember?”

“Oh, oh yes.” She waved her hand, motioning him inside and closed the door behind him, “Have a seat in the livingroom, won’t you, Tae. I just woke up, sorry.”

He grinned at her, “It’s no problem, Miss. Flaxen.” He said, taking a seat in one of her lounge chairs, his feet did not even come close to touching the floor. She found it amusing that he and Piccolo were of the same race, with the one being so large and the other so small, “I understand. Humans have to sleep and then have to wake up.”

She smiled, “That does simplify it, Tae.”

How could I have forgotten Tae? She thought to herself as she stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to steam off her skin and run down her body as she turned and picked up the shampoo bottle, Has my mind been so far gone that I’ve forgotten my responsibilities?

She cursed herself and her weak mind, she needed to stop thinking about the past and concentrate on the future. She did not wish to let Tae, or any of her students, her children, down.

Tae looked around the living room and heard the water running in the bathroom. He knew that his dance instructor, Miss. Flaxen, was cleaning herself and decided that this was a good time to fetch something he’d left. He jumped lightly to the floor, hovering just a bit off the ground before lowing himself down. It was a good thing his guardian had taught him how to fly and how to do other things that would bring buildings down, well a small house maybe for him, Tae giggled a bit and subconsciously started to form a ki ball within his small, rounded hands.

Not now, he thought to himself as the ball dissipated into the air. He had to find something first. He walked to the basement door and opened it, walking down silently, not having to duck to avoid hitting the low ceiling. He flipped on the overhead light and saw that, yes, even down here in the studio, Miss. Flaxen used a soft bulb. He wondered, briefly, just how her eyes had become that way and then shrugged it off as no business of his.

He lifted the loose brick and froze in place. “What?” He cried, shoving aside the other treasure some other child, a human female by the look of what was collected, had placed there before him. “It’s gone! How can this be?”

He had put the dragonball there because he had not wanted to take it home and have his guardian find it on him and take it away and that is just what he would have done too. Tae hated him, but felt he was too little to fend for himself and he hadn’t asked anyone else to take him in. Besides, he had never known any other kind of life. So, he decided, one day after he was up in his attic room, nursing the bruises which came from talking too much out of turn, he would collect all the dragonballs and make a wish. He would wish himself a better family, if he was even worthy of a family. Tae wasn’t sure, but if not, he’d settle for a place where no body ever hit him again.

None of his friends in the dance class knew about his home life. Non of his wounds ever lasted long enough for anyone to see, at least not outwardly. But now the dragonball, the only one he’d found, so far, was gone! He felt tears well up in his eyes as the thought of it. He had taken great pains to bring it here and hide it, too!

He was still there, staring into the dark hole in the ground under the changing bench, sniffling, when she found him.

“Tae?” She asked, she was wearing her leotards and toe shoes, her hair was pulled back into a tight, pale bun on the top of her head and secured with a black ponytail holder that matched her leotard, “What are you doing down there? Are you all right?”

He turned to face her with tears wetting the green of his face, “No, I’m not all right, Miss. Flaxen.” He said, and hiccupped, “I’ve lost my dragonball.”

“Your…?” She paused as she remembered the orange ball with the stars on it that Gohan had found in her basement, she brightened, “Oh, don’t worry about that, Tae. It’s not lost.”

“I-it’s not?” He asked, hopeful, maybe he could have his wish after all, well, he would have to collect the other six, but what was that old human saying; Every journey starts with one step? “Where is it?”

“I think Piccolo put it upstairs in my room.” She said, “It’s in one of my dresser drawers. But, forgot about it for now, you said you wanted private lessons, well, let’s make the most of it.”

He nodded and she left him to change, waiting for him in the studio, stretching her muscles at the barre. She hoped that he was as willing to learn as he had been a few days ago. He came out and stood before her, apparently as ready as ever.

Her mind flashed on Piccolo for a moment and she wondered where he was. He hadn’t been there to kiss her awake this morning and her heart ached for him. She planned on showing him just how much she ached for him when she saw him again, but for now, she had a little Namek standing before her, like a sponge, waiting to soak up all she had to teach him about the dance. As it always happened when she threw herself into teaching or dancing, her mind lost all thought of anything save what she was doing and soon, both she and the little one were lost in the different exercises and routines.

“Very good, Tae.” She praised him after they had finished. She raised a towel to her face and dabbed the sweat from her brow, “Your turns still need some work, but your jumps are getting much better.”

Tae smiled. He knew he could jump higher, make himself lighter, if he used his ki, but he felt that would be like cheating and wanted to learn to dance the correct way, the way he’d seen her dance on stage in an old videotape of her he’d seen at the library one afternoon, he wanted to dance like Miss. Flaxen someday. “Thank you, Miss. Flaxen. I’ll keep practicing.”

She nodded, “Good. Practice…”

“Makes perfect.” He said with her and then she made him repeat the three Ds of ballet, “Desire, Determination and Dedication.”

“Wonderful, Tae.” She said, “Let’s go upstairs and have something to drink.”

No sooner than she’d said that than the doorbell rang. “Who could that…?”

But, Tae clutched at her tutu and she looked down to see fear cross his features, “Tae? What?”

“I think I’m in trouble, Miss. Flaxen.” He said, quietly, “It’s my guardian, he never comes looking for me unless I’m in for it.”

“Oh.” She did not understand the fear in the child’s eyes and wondered what kind of guardian he had. She’d read and heard stories of people who kept their children like possessions to hurt and abuse as their whims decreed and gave out bits of love and affection like scraps to the family dog, but had never encountered such a situation before. She wasn’t sure she knew how to handle it. “Don’t worry Tae, it will be all right.”

“No, it won’t, Miss. Flaxen.” He whispered, “I don’t mean to argue with you, but it won’t be all right.”

Just then, they heard the door crash open and a loud voice bellow though out the house. “Tae! Tae! Come on out! I know you’re here and hiding from me is only going to make me angrier!”

Alauara paused, her heart seemed to stop dead in her chest. She KNEW that voice. She knew it! She started to back away down the stairs, shoving Tae out of her way as she struggled to get away. How could this be? She asked herself, This was her home! She was suppose to be safe here! She was awake! This wasn’t some nightmare she was trapped in and forced to live until it’s bitter end, this was real! How could this be real?

“Tae?” His voice was getting louder as her searched for her little student, he came closer, “Tae, where…?” He stopped as he came to the top of the stairwell, looking down at Alaura and Tae looking up in fear at him, “Oh! How perfect! I remember you, little ballerina.”

Alaura turned around and covered her face with her hands. “Your not here. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Your not here. She trembled as she crawled into a corner and tried to tuck herself up as small as she could, “Your not here. This is just one of my dreams. Not real. Not real. Not real.”

“I am very real, little slut!” He screamed at her, reaching down to pull her to her to him. He hated being ignored and this bitch obviously did not know that about him. Which was just as well, it gavee him the opportunity to teach it to her. “I see you have forgotten just how real I can be.”

Tae saw his teacher about to be hurt and reacted without thinking. “No!!” He launched himself at Vegeta and screamed again; “Leave her alone!!”

Laughing, Vegeta easily deflected the little Namek without out even sparing him a backward glance. Alaura gasped as she saw him fly across the room and hit the wall, his head left a red stain that smeared as he slumped to the floor, unconscious if not dead.

“Tae!” She cried, hoping the little Namek was still breathing.

She saw the fist coming before it connected with her jaw and all at once she was back in the photograph room, reliving her past, except this time, she was terrified, he wouldn’t just let her live with shattered memories, but would kill her after he was done with her, this time.

Alaura screamed then.

Twelve: Chase And Drop

Piccolo heard the scream with all his senses, it seemed, not just his ears, and came to a halt in the air above the edge of the large city that Alaura had done all she could not be a part of. His heart caught in his throat as he recognized his beloved's cry of terror and cursed himself for ever leaving her alone. He had promised her that he would never leave her alone and now that he wasn't there, she may be in trouble and, once again, no one would be there to save her.

No! He would not, could not accept that. He spun about and flew as fast as he could back the way he had come. He would not allow her to come to harm. Ever.

** Alaura!** He tried to reach her mind with his own, not knowing if it would work having never attempted telepathy with her. They were close on so many other levels he never felt the need, until now, he felt a tiny glimmer, a fading star that tugged at the edge's of his conscienceness that he knew was her trying, amdist her terror and pain, to reach him. Her star of self was fading so swiftly it seemed, a put-away fragment of himself wondered, morbidly, if he would be in time to prevent that star from fading away into nothingness. ** I'm coming! I'm coming, my love! **

"Piccolo..." Alaura whispered, she tasted the blood on her lips, running down her chin, and her jaw ached were the strange man had hit her. Her eyes shone bright with hope for half a moment before he knocked her to the side once more with a hard kick to the side of head that sent her reeling. If she had had anything to eat that day, she would have thrown it all up by now.

"I grow weary of this game." He said, glancing over at the little Namek who now lay crouched in the corner, steadily healing from the damage inflected, "Pathetic. Now, Tae, Tell me where you've hidden that dragonball I know you have."

"Don't.." Alaura coughed and blood came out of her mouth, staining her clothing, "Tell him..Tae...!"

Vegeta spun around to face the woman, he could not believe, after all he'd done to cow her that she would talk like that. She looked up into his sneering face and he did not like what flashed in her eyes. "You are a bother, woman." He said, reaching down towards her, he grasped her by her upper arm and pulled her to his face, "I don't know why I waste my time."

She spat at him. The blood soaked saliva dripped down his cheek and off his chin, landing with a splat on the floor by his boots. He wondered where her newfound courage came from and then shrugged, as it did not really matter, she was dead anyway. She just did not realize it as yet.

** Alaura! ** She heard the scream inside her and the feeling was odd, it was as if she were hearing her own thoughts, thought they weren't her's at all. Piccolo raced through the house, flying down the stairs to Alaura's dance studio where he took in the little Namek child on the ground, the purple-ish blood on the wall and Alaura struggling in the vice-like grip of the man he knew had been the one to hurt her those years ago when he hadn't been around to save her.

"Vegeta." He said, his voice controlled though the rest of him fairly shook with rage...and fear, he feared for Alaura's life while she was held captive, "Let her go."

Vegeta turned about, still clutching Alaura in on hand, her smiled as if just now realizing that Piccolo had joined them, "Oh, Namek. It's been awhile."

He ignored him and focused on Alaura, she had passed out, her head falling back against Vegeta's muscular shoulder, hoping she was all right, "If you've hurt her..."

"Oh, how touching!" He laughed, cold and hard, like nails over bare skin, "Don't tell me you actually have FEELINGS for this weak little fool? Well, if you want her so badly, come and take her!"

Vegeta raised one hand and blasted a hole in the ceiling of her studio to the floor above, he did not have to do much to allow the blast to continue it's way past out the roof, making a horrid hole in Alaura's house that Piccolo knew no insurance agency would cover. Piccolo cried out in terror and anger as he followed Vegeta and Alaura out the gaping holes into the late afternoon sky.

He followed after Vegeta for what seemed a million miles, a few times he would slow down and seem to allow the incensed Namek to catch up, but then would speed up just a hair more and be past his reach. Piccolo shoved his turban and cape, along with the heavy weights off mid-flight and saw the breif flash of dark on white as they fell away toward the sparkling silver of the ocean they were now flying above.

Vegeta stopped suddenly and held held Alaura aloft by grasping her ankle and spinning her down so that her head and upper body floated in the air upside down. She had awoke some time during the flight and Piccolo felt a coldness, like ice coursing through his viens as she opened her mouth to scream and nothing came out. He knew that he was feeling what she did and sharing her sensations with her.

"What do you think, Namek?" He laughed, swinging Alaura in the air a bit, "Shall we see if she can swim?"

"I'll kill you." Piccolo said. It wasn't a threat. It was a promise. Vegeta merely laughed and opened his hand, in an instant Alaura was tumbling, like a bird whose wing ceased to beat, toward the icy waves below.

"Oops."

Piccolo wanted blood in the worst way. He woud almost taste Vegeta's and some primal urge told him to claim it. But, the moment he released Alaura to her watery death he knew what choice he had to make. Leaving Vegeta, Piccolo raced to intercept the woman he loved before she could hit the water like a ton of bricks and break every bone in her body.

"Coward!" Vegeta smirked, "Always knew he was a weakling."

Piccolo caught Alaura just as she was inches from the water. The waves lapped at thier feet as he pulled her into his arms and she clutched at him in thankful desperation. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Vegeta waiting, a truimpant smile on his face. Piccolo ignored him and carried Alaura away towards the bone-white sandy beach. He carefully laid her down and kissed her brow, worried about what nightmares she would have now.

"Piccolo..." She whispered, looking up into his eyes, "I love you..."

He did not answer. Instead, he turned and took to the skies. Now that he knew Alaura was safe, he could devote all his energy to the task at hand. Vegeta was about to pay for hurting his woman and he was about to pay dearly. Of that, Piccolo would make certain.

Thirteen: Confrontation (A/N I am not very good at fight scenes...)

Alaura squinted, holding her hand over her eyes as she tried to make out the dark shapes against the early evening purple-red sky. She saw Piccolo, her love, her savior flying into the cruel dark haired man and attacking him with a series of kicks and punches that were nearly too fast for her to make out, one kick would not even be finished before he landed another.

She winced every time Vegeta got the upper hand and a cold hand clenched tight about her heart beneath her breast when she saw Vegeta send a series of strange, blasts at him. She had seen what he'd done to her house, the gaping hole he'd made in the floor and ceiling and feared the worst.

Piccolo gave as good as he got, She was extremely relieved to see as he recovered in no time from Vegeta's assault. As she watched, praying silently with all her being, he stood still in mid-air, the enegry around him seemed to crackle with power. She watched the light around her love grow brighter and brighter, his fists balled and tight at his sides, his face contorted in a grimace of concentration. She covered her eyes and looked away when the light of his inner power grew to great for her to look at without pain.

She did not see the powerful blast Piccolo had sent out towards Vegeta, but she heard and felt it. The ground shook and her ears rang afterward. She looked once more, hoping for an end to all this madness, and saw that, althought he was bruised and battered, Vegeta was far from defeated. In fact she saw him throw his head back and hear his chilling laughter even from where she sat on the beach below.

Piccolo did not respond to that mocking laughter with words. Instead, she saw him charge Vegeta, and this time the fighting was so fast and hard that she only saw what looked like a blur of motion against the setting sun. Suddenly, she gasped as Vegeta stopped Piccolo's fist in mid-punch and yanked hard on his fist. Vegeta ripped Piccolo's arm from his body like a malicious child would pull the legs off spiders and relish in the creature's pain.

Piccolo winced in pain but continued to fight, he knew that he could not spare a moment to regrow his lost limb, he must keep all his consentration on the fight at hand. He knew how powerful Vegeta was and he also knew how sneaky. It would not do to take his attention off of him for even a second. So, with sticky-warm purple-ish blood gushing from the hole where his arm used to be, soaking his gi, he bombarded Vegeta with a succession of kicks and one-handed punches that drove the Saiyan Prince backwards. Piccolo's upsurge in power gave him the advantage.

Alaura watched on the beach as the fight progressed in intensity. What seemed like a game to Vegeta moments before suddenly turned serious as his expression altered from mocking excitement to intense fury. She watched as he seemed to glow and realized that he was doing the same thing that Piccolo had done moments before.

"I did not power up right away, Namek," She heard him practically scream, "Because I wanted to give you a fighting chance. But, now that you've made me truely angry, I just don't care any more."

After that, Alaura could not make out anything as the two powerful beings took off in two blazing forms of light and she saw a series of explosions all over the sky that would rival any millionaire's fourth of July firework's spectacle. She continued to pray in her heart and aloud under her breath as she watched the sky light up with the outward show of thier internal strength.

It must have been hours, or days, she was not certain of the passage of time as she waited, after all the noise and explosions and light had faded from the skies and silence, as frightening as the fury of thier fight had been, decended upon the land and skies. She moved a bit and bit her lip as pain shot up her arm to her shoulder. She knew that Vegeta had broken it when he'd hauled her up through her ceiling and that was the reason she had passed out, from the searing pain.

Her ankle was hurt and bruised from where he'd held it, but it did not feel broken, she could still move it, just slightly. Her face, however, felt horribe. She knew that she would have a few nasty bruises for awhile. She would have to cancel the dance classes after this, she did not want to frighten the children and them run home with made-up stories to tell thier parents.

She watched and waited, her heart raced in her chest and she felt that if it did not slow down it would pound itself straight out of her ribcage, for something, anything, to happen. She knew, deep in her heart of hearts, that if she only saw Vegeta emerage that her life was forfeit. He would claim her as spoils of the battle and use her and kill her in the worst possible way. She shuddered as images forced thier way up to the forefront of her mind.

"No!" She said, through gritted teeth, she would think that! "Piccolo will survive. He will triumph! He has to!"

Fourteen: End of Shadows, Love Triumps

She let out the breath she hadn't even been aware she had been holding when she saw the small dark shape growing larger in the darkness of the sky. As it came closer she could make out the green of his skin and the purple of his tattered gi and smiled painfully at the welcome sight. One thing which surprised her, but in a pleasant way, was that he was not missing any limbs!

Piccolo's strength was nearly gone, it took all he had left just to continue on towards the beach where he knew awaited his reason for fighting in the first place, even though he would do the same all over again to save her if it came to that. He had not killed Vegeta as he had wanted, but instead left him almost as beat up as he, too much so to continue fighting. Piccolo had taken the unwilling victory but all he could think of was Alaura and being in her arms once more.

As he touched down on the sun-warmed sand, he heard her sharp intake of breath at her first sight of his bruised and battered body, his gi hanging in a tattered mess off his chest and legs. She raised her eyes to his and silently spoke her relief that he was still alive and her love for him was so real that he could almost touch it. He collapsed to his knees in front of her, taking her gently in his arms and felt her tears wet his shoulder.

"It's all right, now, Alaura." He said, huskily, so thankful to whatever Gods exsisted that she was with him now, "It's over now. It's over."

She did not speak but continued to hold him as tightly as she could. She felt the overwhelming urge to kiss his face, his throat, his chest, everywhere. Piccolo let her caress him with her lips and tongue, realizing that she needed to feel every part of him to make herself realize that he was really there with her and was alive and holding her. For how long she did not know, she had worried that she would never be able to touch him like this ever again.

So caught up in her own body's reaction to having her love with her once more, Alaura did not see that Piccolo was healing from his wounds and his breathing became less ragged and forced. His grip tighted around her waist and he stood up, quickly shifting her body so that he was carrying her, one arm under her knees and the other cradling her upper body. Carefully, aware of her own injuries, he took to the skies once more.

Alaura did not care if they were flying or on the ground, she was persistant in her almost frantic kisses. She had her arms wrapped about his neck and her lips covered his in an almost unbreakable, blistering kiss. Piccolo felt her tongue within his mouth, persuasive and vulnerable all at the same time as he continued to fly them home.

When they arrived home, Piccolo summoned a new set of clothing forself and offered to do the same for Alaura but she laughed and shook her head. "I have clothes in the house, My love."

Before they could open the front door and walk in, it was opened from the inside and Alaura cried out in relief; "Tae!" She ran to him and dropped to her knees to be on his level. She hugged him tightly, "Oh, Thank Heavens!"

"It's okay, Miss. Flaxen." He said, patting her shoulder, "I'm fine."

"Oh, Tae!" She cried, "It was just so aweful..."

He nodded, seeming so wise and solemn and said upon being released from her grasp, "Your hurt, Miss Flaxen."

"Yes, I know." She said, "But I am just so thankful the ones I love are still with me that I had forgotten my own pain."

"I can heal you, Miss. Flaxen." Tae said, a bit shyly as if he feared her rejection or shock, humans were odd about certain things.

"You can, Tae?" She asked, "How?"

"I don't know how." He answered, "I just know I can. If your a pure heart and I can feel you are. Come here."

She sat down in front of him on the ground near her porch step and allowed the little Namek to place his hands on her shoulder and knee. She watched as he closed his eyes and something seemed to happen between his flesh and her's as a sort of crackling energy engulfed them both and she felt a sudden growing warmth all through her body. She closed her eyes and sighed, the feeling was something she'd never encountered before and likened it to sinking slowly into a bath of warm water.

Piccolo stood at a distance, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing his white cape and turban with the training weights, watching the little Namek as he healed Alaura. His expression was grim and allowed none to see past into his heart. He waited until the little one moved away from Alaura and she opened her eyes once more.

He had seen healer Nameks before, Dende being one, but he had not encountered one on Earth in a long time, at least not since being with Alaura. He wondered, briefly, how little Tae had come to this planet so far from his own. Piccolo saw that Tae was looking at him with his head cocked to the side just a bit and felt a little uncomfortable with the young Namek's oblivious study of him.

"Thank you for healing Alaura, Tae," Piccolo said to him, nodding his head toward the younger Namek. Tae smiled and turned to Alaura, "I have something to ask of you, Miss. Flaxen..."

"Tae, please," Alaura said wearily, "Call me Alaura. You don't have to keep addressing me so formally, you know."

"Sorry," He looked remorseful and went on, "Alaura...I was just wondering if it would be all right if I stayed here...with you..."

Alaura and Piccolo shared a glance and she realized that Tae had no place to go, no place to live, now that Vegeta obviously did not want him living with him, Alaura was certain he had only kept the youngster around to physically and mentally abuse when he was bored or for whatever sick reason Alaura did not care to imagine.

Piccolo answered before she could say anything and she smiled at his words; "You may stay with us for as long as you want, Tae."

"Are you still going to teach your dance class, Miss...umm...Alaura?" Tae asked, turning to look at her with wide, expectant eyes.

Regretfully, Alaura shook her head. She had been though so much, too much, they had been, for her to concentrate on teaching anything to anyone anytime soon. She said; "I need time to recover, Tae," She added, "Inside."

Tae understood her meaning. He could heal her body but only she could begin the mending of her shorn mind and soul. But, he wanted to be here to help her in any way he could. He believed that they could help each other chase away the dark shadows within.

"The first thing we need to do," Alaura said, standing up with her hands on her hips, looking at the mess of her house, "Is find another place to live."

"Will that be hard to do?" Tae asked, and she giggled at the worry in his tone.

"Of course not, Tae," She patted his head and he moved closer to wrap his little hand in her's. Piccolo stepped to her other side and wrapped his arm about her waist, holding her close to his side, "Everything will be just fine. This little ballerina is a survivor."

With that, Piccolo and Tae took to the air, carrying Alaura along with them. Piccolo heard Alaura's soft laughter of pure joy and smiled at the sound he had grown to love so much. He turned his head and looked at her. She looked back as a message was passed from him to her and back to him.

** I love you. ***

** Always **

Tae giggled and they continued to fly, higher and higher, embracing the future and love and leaving the past and it's shadows far behind like the ruined house Alaura would not spare a backwards glance.

She was just thankful to be, once more, within Piccolo's embrace.