I can't guarantee steady updates. Life is weird, and my muse is fickle. But I just love this idea, and I want to continue developing it. The conversations won't be chronological; I'm giving my strange little brain some freedom to work. Tell me how I'm doing, please! Thanks in advance.
-Abigail
He hears the rustle of fabric, the soft whump of a body slipping into a folding chair, and can't help but turn his head. He finds Krillin sitting next to him. He wonders why he didn't sense him coming, and realizes with some shame that he'd let his mind wander to other things. It happens often now in days of peace—something he doesn't like at all. The old Vegeta would have scowled at this thought and snapped at the bald man to leave him to his solitude. Instead, Vegeta leans back in his chair, lifts a can of beer to his lips, and takes a swig. Like it or not, he's stuck with these strange Earthlings. He can feel Krillin's eyes on him as he basks in the coolness of the evening.
And then, suddenly: "You're a reformed person, right? Not a bad guy anymore."
Vegeta halts mid-swig.
The monk ducks his head a little, blushing. "That's—I mean—you know. You've got a family and you're not . . . err. . ."
"Killing people?" Vegeta supplies with a wry half-smirk. "No, I'm not. Why do you ask?" Turning his dark, watchful gaze on Krillin, he expects him to bolt. But the little man meets his eyes for a full few seconds and then breaks away in thought.
"I don't know. I've just been thinking."
Vegeta stays quiet. The soft hum of crickets starts up a few feet away.
"I, uh. This last battle has really made me stop and think, you know? It was rough on all of us, on the kids, too, and it feels so weird to be sitting here. We're just sitting here—nobody to fight, no more creeps attacking Earth—no offense—"
Vegeta hides his smirk against the cold metal lid of his can.
"And I've really started thinking. My most important memories are of the battles I've fought. There are other memories, too—the friends I've made, and such. The peace times when we all talk and be friends. But the battles are so much a part of my identity. Heck, my wife is one of the androids!"
During Krillin's monologue, the Saiyan fiddles with the tab on the beer can and silently agrees with his—friend? Ally? Acquaintance?—on the battle thing. He has learned that lesson the hard way.
"And I know now that I'm not as young as I used to be. Compared to you and Goku, I'm a weakling. I get in the way. I have a wife now, a daughter, and I don't want to lose them. I figure that it's best if I let you guys do the fighting next time, if there is one. I have a better chance of survival that way, you know?"
"Why are you talking to me about this?" Vegeta asks.
Krillin shrugs. "I don't know. You're just sitting here."
The prince doesn't reply and looks off into a line of clouds along the horizon. He can hear his son and Goten laughing; Trunks has turned on the garden hose and is chasing his friend across the yard. Gohan yelps when the spray comes a little too close to him and his girlfriend. Videl just laughs.
In the garden, Bulma is busy checking the string of tea lights for faulty bulbs. Chi-Chi walks beside her, gesticulating angrily about something or other—probably Kakarrot. The ghost of a smile tugs at Vegeta's lips, but he doesn't let it form. The notion of freely showing his emotions is something he's still not quite comfortable with.
"When do you think Goku is going to come?" Krillin asks.
It's Vegeta's turn to shrug. "It could be anyone's guess," he says.
A beat of silence, and then: "Hey, Vegeta?"
"Yes?" He inclines his head at Krillin, cradling the can of beer in his lap.
"Can I ask you something?"
Vegeta shrugs again, but doesn't say anything.
"Yeah," Krillin says, "um, I was wondering—what's it like?"
This conversation is just too weird, Vegeta thinks. "What's what like?"
"Oh. I mean, what's it like for you, being on Earth with a family and everything? It must be kind of weird, right? Since you were—" Krillin halts, stutters, and falls silent, scrutinizing the label on his beer can.
Vegeta sucks on the inside of his cheek softly as he mulls over his response. A pregnant silence stretches between them, and then: "I'll admit that it's . . . a new experience . . . for me." That's an understatement. After a pause, he continues, "It has taken a while for me to get used to Earth. I'm still getting used to it."
"Yeah," Krillin says, chuckling—probably out of nervousness, Vegeta figures.
"Believe it or not, it's actually quite rare in the universe for a planet's skies to be blue."
"Really?" asks Krillin. A strange look crosses his face. "I guess the only other planet I've been to is Namek, and it was kind of the opposite of Earth, so. . ."
"Vegetasei had red skies," Vegeta supplies. He watches as the first streaks of red nibble at the fringes of the horizon, and imagines, for a brief moment, a blood-red sky overlooking a vast desert. A mountain ridge thrusts itself like a dark shadow over the villages that huddle beneath its wings. This was Vegetasei centuries before Frieza came in and destroyed everything. This was Vegetasei as it should have been, raw and real, without—
"I guess you would know," Krillin says, breaking into his thoughts. "About the sky and all." He watches the sun slide beneath the tops of the trees for a moment and then: "How—how many planets have you been to?"
A raspy, humorless chuckle. "Not sure. They all tend to bleed together after a while."
"Oh."
This time, the silence is not uncomfortable. Vegeta nurses his beer, relishing the cold drink. Beside him, Krillin shifts in his seat. They linger for a while longer on the lawn of Capsule Corporation, not saying a word, until Vegeta breaks the silence one last time.
"Out of all the planets I've been to, though, Earth is one of the prettiest."