Seven hundred forty-three laps thus far…pacing on Kaio-sama's planet was only remotely satisfying if one kept count.

Stalking past the gleaming car for the seven hundred forty-fourth time, Goten growled softly to himself. He was beginning to question why he'd even come here in the first place; certainly he'd been of little help. That wretched dream of his had come again, only stronger and a bit more personal, somehow: Moreviv, barely more than a name…Takira, weeping blood tears for Kakarot…and, barely a whisper in the background, his father's voice.

Goten had gone so far as to interfere, attempting to call his father, speaking with Takira. Goku's voice had immediately stilled, but Takira had, if anything, become worse as Goten drew nearer…

"Takira, what's wrong?"

A faint groan, blood still trickling down her face; no answer.

"It's me, Takira…what are you doing here?"

"Go," she hissed. "You don't belong here."

"But my father's somewhere here, I heard him. Where is he?" A choked sob.

"You cannot reach him. Get out before she sees you."

"She?" He came a little closer, reaching out to Takira, trying to comfort her…she looked so tortured. She jerked back, twisting her head away and clenching her teeth.

"Don't…don't…you don't know…"

"Know what, Takira?" He lightly touched her face, trying to brush the blood from her cheek…a harmless gesture, so it seemed to him.

Evidently, Takira felt otherwise.

With an ungodly shriek she suddenly had him by the neck, face twisted into a terrible mask of pain, her eyes red, soaked in blood. The hand clutched at his throat was cold as death and shaking uncontrollably as she struggled to grip with blood-slick fingers, nails gauging his skin. Every instinct in him cried out to fight, to strike back, to pull away…

He couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't do a thing but stare, confused, unsettled, but against all reason…not truly afraid. Whatever vague physical pain she was causing was plainly nothing to what she herself was suffering. There was no anger in those bloody eyes, none of that murderous look he'd seen more than once…there was only thinly-veiled pain, desperation, and an absolute urgency.

"Please," she whispered. "Go. Get out. Don't return. You only draw attention to yourself…and to him."

"Is that dangerous?" he managed to rasp through her death-grip on his windpipe.

"It could be. I don't know. Do not ask me questions. However the hell you got here, take that way back and do not seek it again. Forget what you have seen here. There is nothing you can do." She shoved him roughly away, trying to ignore his last, pleading look.

"Takira…" She flinched, lightly touching her face with trembling hands.

"Just go. Before it gets worse."

"Worse?"

"GO!"

No longer any say in it, Goten lurched back, staggering under an onslaught of…something…he could not fight. Before he could catch himself, the twilight dream-world shattered and he awoke, sweaty and gasping, back on the Kaio's tiny planet.

Seven hundred forty-five.

That was only the most recent time that Takira had spoken to him. It was the fist time he'd been able to remember more than just a few names and images. None of it conflicted with what little Kaio-sama had told him, and it actually seemed to back up what Vegeta had been snarling about. Goten smiled wanly; it wasn't really eavesdropping…after all, he couldn't help it if Vegeta's voice carried so well, could he?

Goten wondered what Vegeta would have to say about his dream. Not that it mattered …it did not look like he had any plans to return. The very fact that he found that disappointing was a bit disturbing to Goten. He'd in the past made a habit of staying away from the prince; personally, he'd always wondered at Trunks' apparently misplaced devotion toward that man. Father or not, Vegeta was not the sort one could easily approach…about anything.

Now Goten found himself wanting to do just that; as if it were so simple. He sighed and shook his head to clear it of these absurd ideas, to no avail. He'd been sitting idle too long. He had not, to the best of his knowledge, ever sat in one place this long when he was alive, for gods' sake. He saw no particular reason to do so now. He had to do something.

But what to do? Vegeta made it look easy, drifting through heaven, hell, and anything else that pleased him, but it was definitely a talent exclusive to him. Goten dared not attempt it; even if he managed to summon the strength, he might get lost in or between worlds and then…he shuddered briefly and kept walking. Some things were best not thought about.

Goten sighed. Logic(what grasp of it he had)would dictate that he ask Kaio-sama for advice or assistance, but Goten shied away from that for two reasons. One, Kaio-sama was, technically, bound by rules of no interference, and helping shuttle Goten around would no doubt attract some disapproving attention from the higher powers.

Two, Goten had not yet told Kaio-sama about his conversation with Takira.

Seven hundred forty-six.

Twinges of guilt, usually an emotion all but foreign to Goten; he really couldn't say what kept him from telling Kaio-sama about it. It wasn't anything specific, certainly…Takira hadn't said anything about keeping it a secret…and yet, it didn't feel right, somehow, to tell.

Never really having had premonitions before, Goten came to the tentative conclusion that this must be one. After all, much of what his father had done had been on instinct; perhaps this was one of those "gut feelings" he'd heard about. He glanced down at his stomach. His gut seemed to be primarily concerned with its next meal. Guts were, to Saiyajin, really not ideal for thinking, it seemed.

Bubbles raced past in his characteristic rapid shuffle, nearly tripping Goten. Half an instant later Gregory careened through, mallet in hand. Goten ducked and watched him disappear quickly over the horizon without breaking step. All was well in this corner of the heavens…so why did it feel wrong for him to be here?

Unless…he was supposed to be someplace else.

That only left him back where he'd started. Wherever this Rabadoth place was, he was pretty sure that simply dreaming wouldn't really get him there…not in the way he needed to be. Vegeta evidently knew a way to get there; he'd certainly seemed to imply that he'd been there before.

Why had Kaio-sama looked so surprised at that? Goten shrugged it off.

Plainly it could be done. The question was how…inexplicably Goten found himself thinking back to the days when Takira had been living at Capsule Corp.; one day in particular. She'd been hiding deep in the forest, as was her wont. Trunks had said not to bother her, and truly Goten had little intention of bothering, per se…he'd just wanted to see what she did in all that time she spent alone.

She hadn't noticed him approaching, which was unique in itself. As a rule, nothing caught Takira by surprise. Her attention, however, had been focused elsewhere. She'd been sitting cross-legged on the ground, a dagger in her hand. Goten could have sworn he'd seen her cut herself with it, but thankfully, there was no blood on blade or flesh. Her expression certainly hadn't communicated anything in the way of pain…in fact, he couldn't remember a time she'd looked that relaxed. Her head had been tilted back slightly, eyes closed, lips parted slightly, a faint bluish glow suffusing her skin. She'd looked beautiful…and very peaceful. Not at all how she'd appeared in his dream; so why was he thinking about it now?

Seven hundred forty-seven.

It made his head hurt to think about it. He suddenly felt very important, somehow. It was up to him to go find his father. Maybe Takira needed him, too; maybe that's why she'd been crying. Of course, she'd told him to keep away, but she was always saying things like that, usually when she really needed help. The more Goten thought about it the more sense it made.

Even so, he'd reached seven hundred fifty before he halted and sat, launching into the first of many attempts to locate the bridge.

* * * * *

"What do you mean you can't see any more? We only have six!" Bulma tried to ignore Chichi's ranting, choosing instead to focus on the apparently dysfunctional dragon radar. It seemed convinced that there were no more dragonballs; Chichi had taken explosive exception to that idea. Yamcha restrained her despite her protests, while Bulma painstakingly took the device apart, poking and fiddling with practiced ease. After all, it shouldn't be too difficult to fix…were something wrong with it.

"I don't understand it," she sighed, "but it doesn't look broken to me."

"The hell it's not broken!" Chichi snapped. "You just don't know how to fix it!" Bulma glared, then turned back to her work, stubbing out her cigarette, lighting another and snorting at Yamcha's disapproving look.

"I'll fix it," she grumbled. "Just have a little patience once in a while." Muttering to herself, she tweaked something and reassembled the unit. No good…the screen still showed nothing.

"You're doing it wrong," Chichi said snippily. "Let me try." Bulma almost cracked a smile.

"And what are you going to do to make it work? These electronics are worse than finicky."

"Just let me try."

"You'll break it."

"It's already broken. Let go of me, for kami's sake!" she growled, elbowing Yamcha hard in the gut.

"It's not 'broken', it's malfunctioning, and leave Yamcha alone."

"Well, if he'd stop grabbing me…" At that, Yamcha abruptly let her go. He and Bulma had engaged in enough arguments over him "grabbing" other women without Chichi making accusations. Chichi seized both the opportunity and the radar, shaking it furiously before Bulma managed to swat it out of her hands to clatter on the ground

"Great, just great!" Bulma fumed, snatching it up. "If it wasn't broken before, it is now!" She glared accusingly at the blank screen and gave it a disgusted shake. The device emitted a confused bleep and began to glow. Bulma stared, holding her breath and for the moment unaware of the scuffle as Yamcha tried to restrain Chichi again, encountering considerable resistance.

Six dragonballs together…yes, that was their current position…

And one more, off to the northeast. Bulma broke into her widest smile in days.

"Knock it off, you two, we're back in business! Let's go!" She wasn't sure if it was a blessing or not, but the end, for better or for worse, seemed to be in sight.