#cheely

Figuring she wasn’t going to get any sleep until she had investigated, Cheelai pushed off her blankets with a sigh and got up. She fetched her boots and weapon satchel and pulled out her gun, cracking open the front door. The cave was dark, only the faintest illumination from the moon filtering in. So it was nighttime, and chillier than it had been during the day. She could just make out the other capsule house next door where the boys were sleeping.

The banging continued, significantly louder outside.

She turned towards it. Against the light of the cave opening, a familiar silhouette rose his massive arms up into the air and brought them back down.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

Cheelai put her gun back in her satchel and headed out to meet him.

Broly was pummeling a long-dead mite with a boulder. His name died in her throat before it could be voiced. The area was a mess. Dozens of fresh carcasses littered the ground, smashed beyond recognition. Talk about overkill. Was Broly… okay? Stable? She liked the guy but it would be foolish to ignore that he could be — on occasion — a bit unpredictable. If he was having an episode, the last thing she wanted to do was attract his attention.

The decision was taken out of her hands. He must have heard or sensed her approach because he suddenly stopped and glanced at her over his shoulder. Their eyes met, and she blessedly saw the intelligence in his.

And his pain. It was written clear as day across the lines of his face. “Oh, Broly.” She hurried over and touched his arm before she could think better of it. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

His eyes wavered, swimming with emotion. His brow creased in distress and he turned away, raising his rock to continue smashing. He let out a broken roar that made her skin break out in bumps.

Bug juice splattered out. She shielded her face against it but refused to be pushed away. “Stop! Broly, stop it. It’s dead. It’s not coming back.”

A ripple ran down his powerful frame at her words. His arms froze in their next swing, and after a moment he let the boulder drop. He stood there motionless, hunched forward, his labored breath harsh in the issuing silence.

Cheelai felt her heart bleed for the guy. She took his big hand in hers and gently tugged on his arm. “C’mon, big guy. Let’s sit down.”

He followed obediently. She led them to a rock where they could sit away from the gory mess of his latest rampage. She pulled out a cloth from her satchel and started wiping off the mite ooze from his massive mitts. He allowed it, as meek and quiet as when she and Lemo first arrived back on the planet and had bandaged him up.

His anguish was still visible on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked, smoothing the cloth along his calloused palms.

He watched her work, mesmerized by her actions. “…Talk?”

Ah, right. She should have known Paragus wouldn’t have encouraged that. At least Broly would be free of his dad’s influence from now on. Like, seriously. Talk about toxic parenting.

“You’re upset about something, right?” she asked. “Sometimes it helps to talk about it.”

She watched him struggle to sort his feelings into words. More than likely it was the first time he had ever been encouraged to do so.

“I…” He scowled and looked down, unable to verbalize what was going on behind his dark wounded eyes.

Poor thing. He was going to need some help. She finished cleaning his hands as best as she could, dropping the irreparably ruined cloth on the ground before clasping his hand in both of hers. She tilted her head to better catch his eyes in the pale moonlight, and asked, “Why were you smashing bugs? I thought you were asleep.”

“Couldn’t. I was angry.”

“At the bugs?”

He opened his mouth but hesitated. “Yes… No… I don’t know. My father hated them.”

And there it was. The real reason he was upset. Being back on Vampa must have brought back a lot of memories. The poor guy hadn’t really had a chance to mourn his old man’s loss. As shitty as Paragus was at the role, he had still been Broly’s father. That loss was going to leave a hole.

She squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry about your father.”

Broly’s face contorted. He looked down and swallowed thickly several times, trying hard not to fall apart. He lifted her hand and pressed it over his heart. “It hurts, here,” he confessed, looking up at her with imploring eyes.

It was as much as her heart could take. She sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him. “I’m so, so sorry, big guy.”

He was stiff at first, unused to the affection. But little by little his muscles eased until he buried his face against her shoulder and tentatively wrapped his arms about her frame. He let out a shaky breath that skittered over her neck.

“How do I make it stop hurting?” he asked miserably.

 She squeezed him tighter. “You can’t, exactly. But it will get easier with time. You can cry if you want. Sometimes that helps.”

“Saiyans don’t cry,” he replied too automatically for her liking. A mantra drilled in. “They fight.”

“Everybody cries, Broly.”

He tensed and she decided not to press the matter further; there would be time later to rectify all the brainwashing Paragus had put him through. His arms dropped away and she pulled back, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. She couldn’t see his eyes from under his long bangs. 

A silence befell them. Broly looked away over the barren landscape, appearing so much older than when they’d first met. If she could have taken his hurt and bore it for him, she would have.

“Hey,” she said, getting an idea. “We could have a funeral.”

He looked back her at her, cocking his head to the side like he had when first seeing her eat a snack. “Fu-ne-ral?”

Right. His lack of knowledge was going to take some getting used to. “It’s like a um… ceremony to honor the dead. And say goodbye. It’s supposed to bring closure. You know, be cathartic.” 

The look he gave her told that he didn’t, in fact, know. 

She tried a different angle. “Is there anything of his you still have? Something that reminds you of your dad?”

He thought about that then nodded, pointing out into the distance.

She followed the line of his finger and made out the old weather-worn Frieza Force ship. Of course. There must be a few things there they could use as a memento to bury. She stood and dusted herself off. “Alright, let’s go take a look!”

He blinked at her before rising, looming at twice her height. He headed off and she had to take three steps for every one of his just to keep up. “Hey, wait for me you big lug!”

~xox~

Cheelai pinched her nose as she looked around the ship. Boy did it stink. Decades of rusting away under the planet’s sun, frequented by two sweaty saiyans who didn’t have access to water to bathe in, and the occasional inquisitive smelly bug, meant that the space was a little ripe. Out of respect for Broly’s mourning, she kept her disgust to herself as the two of them picked over the ship.

There wasn’t a lot left. Paragus had done a good job of stripping the ship bare. Broly found a ‘knife’ (a sharp bit of broken metal plating) that his father had sometimes used, and some old fabric torn from the cockpit chair used as a cloth. It was all so… cold. Militaristic. If it had value it was kept and repurposed. Everything else was disposed. There were no trinkets, no luxuries, no sentimentalities. It was hard to think a little boy had grown up here. Paragus had been single-minded, keeping himself and his son alive all these decades. Still, it only reinforced her belief that the older Saiyan had treated Broly as he did this ship: a tool to be used, not a person.

Broly didn’t appear to find fault with the sad remains of his upbringing. Why would he? This was the only life he knew.

“Didn’t you have any toys or games?” she asked, unable to let the matter go. She pinched her nose extra hard when she found a rotting mite egg at the back of the ship.

“Toys?” Broly repeated.

“Yeah, something you play with for fun. To relax. You know, in your free time.”

“Father didn’t like playing. There was training and there was resting before more training.”

“Seriously?” Would it have killed Paragus to paint two eyes on a rock and given it to Broly to play with?

Cheelai moved away from the egg, unable to stomach the smell. There wasn’t a lot of space in the ship and Broly took up most of it. She put a hand on his side to help navigated around him, easing herself closer to the door and its fresh air. Broly glanced down to the where she had touched him, then back up, his dark eyes considering her.

“Before… on the rock,” he started to say, then frowned and looked away. “Never mind.”

“You can ask me anything, Broly.” He was rarely verbal, a habit she was keen to break him of. “Was it something I said?”

Broly shook his head. “…That thing you did. With your arms.”

“With my arms?” she repeated, trying to puzzle out what he meant. “You mean a hug? When I hugged you?”

“Hug,” he repeated, trying the word out.

Cheelai watched with a mixture of pity and horror. “…Was that your first hug?”

“Yes.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her that he didn’t know what a hug was. Paragus really had a lot to answer for. Getting her temper under control, she asked, “Did you like it? When I hugged you?”

Broly looked at her, weighing the question seriously. “Yes.”

She laughed with relief, ruffling the hair at the back of her neck. “Okay good. Me too.”

He gave her a small pure smile which melted Cheelai right there on the spot.

Soon they had gathered a modest pile of Paragus’ knickknacks sufficient to replace an empty grave. Broly scooped up the items and they headed out, much to her nose’s relief. The wind outside had picked up.

“Did your pops have a favorite spot?” she asked, rubbing her arms to fight off the chill.

Broly considered that for a moment. “He would sit up there to instruct my training.” He indicated a large spiring rock. Cheelai grimaced. Of course it had to be an out-of-the-way place. Oh well, no point delaying the inevitable. 

She took a step forward but Broly blocked her before she could get going. The towering saiyan bent forward, holding out his arm for her.

Oh.

Fighting off a fluttering in her stomach, Cheelai climbed on, letting him scoop her up. “Thanks.” It wasn’t lost on her that his arm was almost bigger than she was.

He nodded and they were airborne, drifting up to the rock-spire. The wind bit into her arms. She wished she had grabbed her coat before heading out, but Broly was as hot as an engine. She pressed herself more snuggly against him, ignoring the wild rabbiting of her heart when he tightened his grip about her bare thighs.

The flight took only seconds. At the top, Broly took a moment to scan the area before deeming it safe to set her down. The wind was much colder here. Cheelai hugged herself as she led them to the middle of the spire’s platform, figuring it was a good a spot as any to hold the ceremony.

“What do you think? We can dig a hole here,” she suggested, hopping from foot to foot to try and stay warm.

Broly put down his items and eyed her curiously, cocking his head before doing the most curious thing. He untied Ba’s ear from his waist and stepped before her, draping the massive fur over her shoulders.

“What? Oh, Broly, no, I can’t, it’s too special.”

He ignored her, tying the fur in a deft knot like a cape, his large fingers surprisingly nimble. “You are special too. Now Ba can hug you. Keep you warm.”

She was speechless. What could she say to such a sweet and innocent sentiment? Looking up, her knees went weak as their eyes met, a gentle smile on his handsome face he gave just for her.

Her throat choked up. “Broly…”

“Cover your eyes,” he instructed.

“What?”

He eased her behind him and extended his palm. A tiny blast of ki burst forth, blowing a hole into the earth.

Cheelai coughed from the falling dirt, brushing it off her hair. “Ack! We need to work on your subtlety.”

“What’s subtlety?”

“Exactly,” she deadpanned, shaking out the last of the dirt from Ba. “I’ll explain later. Let’s not get side-tracked,” she said, more to herself than to him, trying to reign in her emotions. This was supposed to be a funeral not a date.

Broly took her at face value and looked at the hole. “What now?”

“Well… Now you can say whatever’s on your mind. Maybe something you didn’t get to tell your father. Or just say goodbye.”

Broly tried to process that, his brow creasing. Cheelai let him have some time, but as the minutes progressed in silence she figured she might need to start things off.

“Mind if I go first?” She glanced at him and he nodded gratefully. Tugging Ba tighter about her shoulders, she tried to think of something nice to say of a man she didn’t care much for.

“Paragus. I didn’t know you for very long, and let’s be real, we didn’t like each other a lot. But you’re Broly’s dad. It can’t have been easy raising him on your own in a place like this. I might not agree with everything you did, but you taught him how to survive and protect the two of you, and in doing so, to protect others. Broly grew up kind, and strong, and loyal. I’m glad to have met him and call him my friend. Thanks for doing what you could to take care of him. Hope you don’t mind if I help watch over him for now. Wherever you are, I hope you find peace.”

She scuffed her boot in the dirt, feeling Broly’s gaze bear down on her but she didn’t dare look up just yet. Clearing her throat, she nudged him in the side with her elbow.

“Alright, your turn.”

Broly’s hands flexed at his sides. The wind whipped around them as he gathered his thoughts. 

“Father.” 

He paused, and from her side-eye she watched the conflicted emotions warring on his face. 

“You were my father,” he repeated, his voice thicker, conveying so much more than the individual words ever could. “But I couldn’t protect you. I… I failed. Forgive me…” His fists shook then went lax at his sides, his head bowed down. Cheelai felt her face crumple in sympathy, wanting to reach out and comfort him, but before she could Broly raised his palms up.

“Why couldn’t I have any friends?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t understand. All my life I listened to you, did what you wanted… but I would be dead now too if not for my new friends. I think… I think, father, you were wrong. About many things.

“And I think I won’t listen to you anymore. I am a person too… I am a person too.”

The wind pulled at his hair and at Ba’s ear. Cheelai ducked her head to wipe the tears from her eyes before she reached out and threaded her fingers with his hand. He looked down at her, his expression hard to read.

“Was that right?” he asked.

Cheelai gave him a watery smile. “Yeah. Just right. I’m really proud of you. You wanna bury his things now?”

Broly nodded and together they placed Paragus’ items in the hole and pushed loose dirt over the top. It felt a little bare, so Cheelai gathered some stones to encircle the site with while Broly sat cross-legged by the grave, losing himself in thought.

After she was done, she took a seat next to him and rested her head against his arm, feeling her exhaustion catch up to her. “How’re you doing, big guy?”

“I don’t know,” Broly confessed. “My father did everything before. Now I don’t know what to do or what my purpose is.”

“Mm. Welcome to the club,” she sighed. “But those sound like great tomorrow questions.”

“Tomorrow questions?”

“Yep. It means we’ll worry about them tomorrow,” she stifled a yawn behind her hand. “You just take all the time you need, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”

“Together,” he repeated.

She smiled and let her eyes fall closed, cozy in Ba’s ear. “Mm-hmm. I’m just gonna rest my eyes for a minute. Let me know when you want to go back down, okay?”

“Okay.”

She didn’t remember falling asleep, only coming awake as Broly laid her down in bed, back in her capsule house. “Oh, I fell asleep.”

“Yes.”

“Sorry.”

He smiled. “You are very easy to pick up.”

“No kidding,” she stammered, grateful for the dark that hid her blush. Broly stood. “Hey, wait a minute. Don’t forget Ba.” She started to untangle the ear from her shoulders, but his big hands reached out and covered hers, stilling them.

“That’s a tomorrow problem.”

Cheelai let out a soft laugh, adoring the way his smile widened in response, crinkling his eyes. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

He let her hands go and made his adorably awkward ‘ok’ gesture. “Thanks. For being my friend, Cheelai.”