Warning: Though the language is somewhat mild, some of the content on this fic such as strong violence, sex, & even a rape scene are not suitable for younger readers. Read with care!
Debts Unpaid
By: Yashy22m
Part I
Chapter I
C
She walked back to the brimming desk of mechanical parts and tools. In the center of it all laid her newest invention—something that could be the ultimate scientific breakthrough of all time. At least, she hoped it would be. Its appearance showed that of a regular biker's helmet with long clustered wires dangling on either of its side. But the potential this new device held could be the manipulation of time itself. Time . . . was the key to everything. Inspecting the device, Bulma flipped open a small panel hidden deep inside the helmet's cover revealing the tiny circuitry that engraved the structures of its metal skeleton. She made sure each link functioned properly. After finishing her task, she let out a sigh of exhaustion. She had been slaving away day by day slowly putting together the pieces of a puzzle that were still not clear to her mind's eye yet in her sixth sense she knew exactly what must be done. It was not more the matter of the how, but of the why. This simple piece of machinery was made for a far greater purpose than anyone could ever understand.
Kami, when in his pose as the guardian of Chikyuu once had told her, "There would always be a double layer to everything we see, to everything we do. It's just not visible from plain surface. Things run more complex and meaningful than you'll ever expect. Open your eyes and really "see" what stands before you. Who knows, you'll be surprised at what you'll find." The words echoed in her mind, almost in sync to the beat blowing against the windowsill like the tempo to a small child's nursery rhyme. Midday winds grew in speed and strength.
But Bulma didn't see, didn't infer anything other than what it was—an old plastic helmet tangled in wiring. Aside that it could transport people to their choice of destination without the passing of time. Well, whatever its real significance, let it actually work, she pleaded. She plugged in the helmet's wiring to the computers' mainframe. Over her head she placed the helmet turning the power knob a few degrees feeling the thrill she received after every device, every machine ever created by her hand stir as it gained power. The helmet's visor lowered itself her view blurring over to shadows. The words "select destination" blinked before her left eye. Damn! She had forgotten that part. The computers needed to have a set of coordinates programmed at the same time she was being transported, a task physically impossible unless she could be in two places at once. An idea came to her. Removing the heap of wires from her head, Bulma skidded out the lab in a light jog. She rode down the elevator to the living quarters. Crossing the hall to the gravity room, a small smile began to play on the corner of her lips.
"Oh, Vegeta!" she almost singsong his name as she knocked on the room's entrance. There was no answer only the sound of rampant blasts and the hum of the gravity machine. She banged harder. "I know you can hear me!" Even from the other side of the metal door she could hear the muffled growl emitted from Vegeta's annoyance, as all other sound died out. The metal door slid open to reveal a very irritated and worn-out Vegeta. He crossed his arms over a bare chest, the highly toned muscles deepening the fine lines of his torso. A white shirt lay draped over one shoulder.
"What?" He was already in bad humor and hated disruptions from his training. His tone did not faze her, not one bit.
"I want you to try something for me," she elated with keenness of seeing her creation at work. He stared at her, his brows arching deeper downward.
"This better be important. I am not in the mood for your petty problems," his temper rested on thin threads of ice. Not waiting for another retort, she led him by the arm giddily guiding their way to the lab. Once there, Bulma began untangling the mess of wiring on the helmet.
She extended the helmet to Vegeta, who just eyed it quizzically. "Here, put this on. It's a transport device that will send you to any place you want to be in an instant. I want you to see how it works."
"I'm not your damn guinea pig, woman," his voice was pure ice.
"It's just for a sec—"
"Is it your means to tell me that you interrupt my training, training that could be of use to surpassing Kakarott's strength, all for the test of headwear! This is a waste of my time!" He began for the door.
"Wait! I can send you back to the gravity room and there won't be any more interruptions from your training. Just this one try, please," Bulma held her breath.
"I can get there myself." Distant chatter ascended from below their feet followed by hollow steps. It became louder trailing nearer and nearer until their ruckus reached outside the lab's door. Her parents had taken their son, Trunks, out for the day and were now audibly home much to the greater distress of Vegeta. He opened the door seeing Mrs. Brief dart straight in his direction. He cursed under his breath. There was no force in hell that would make him cross paths with that. The blond Chikyuu-jin woman was nearly impossible to get rid of. He still wondered how in all creation could someone as ingenious and agile minded as Bulma could share kinship to someone so…eccentric. "Fine, I will try your stupid machine but only if you send me straight to the gravity room." He locked the door behind him. Bulma held back a laugh. She knew how much Vegeta hated to associate with her parents, especially her ditzy mother.
"Alright," she motioned for him to step closer. Placing the helmet over his head, she turned the knob to its right settings as the visor closed for a second time. She entered a few coordinates into the computer. Seconds later, surging burst of light surrounded Vegeta's body radiating into visible waves of power. The image where Vegeta stood faded into nothingness. He'd disappeared faster than a blink of an eye.
Before his eyes, Vegeta saw the outlines of the gravity room blur into focus. He was no longer in the confinement of the lab. Over his head, the helmet lay glued to his scalp softly beeping by the side of his ear, its course finished. Now, how did he turn off this thing? The helmet began to beep more constantly, louder and harder than before. Vegeta felt his high sensitive ears throbbing almost as if wanting to explode. His hands rose over his ears as he let escape, a piercing cry of agony. Again, surging waves of power surrounded his form. The beeps stopped. The lab's pale steel walls encircled him once more. What the…?
She raised the helmet's visor. "Did you reach the gravity room? It took several minutes to bring you back. I was staring to think something had gone wrong."
Vegeta felt dazed from the swirl ride. After a moment he answered, "Minutes? I was only gone for a few seconds until your stupid gadget started going wild." Damn, his ears were still ringing. He removed the helmet rubbing the side of his head.
"What do you mean?"
"About what?" He noticed his shirt still rested over his shoulder; he pulled it on.
"You just said you were in the gravity room for a few seconds. Vegeta, look at the clock! It's been five minutes since I sent you over there." He arched his neck around to the old mahogany clock that hung from the far wall of the lab. It struck 12 past two. Five minutes!
"How—there's no way…" Vegeta stood muffled. The transport had been a quick swift ride, almost as quick as he moved against the speed of light combating with those opponents who were fast enough to keep his pace. If it weren't for the fact that he'd seen the gravity room with his own eyes, he would've not believed he was even there. Then, how could five minutes have passed by? Bulma reevaluated the coordinates to the transporting helmet.
"Why would the time while you were transported be slower than the actual time here?" Strange . . . she covered Vegeta's head with the helmet.
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing? I'm through being your lab rat." Ignoring his protest, she lowered the visor and turned the knob before he could remove the plastic from his head. She removed her watch strapping it quickly onto his wrist. Waves of power surrounded his body. But a sudden spark trailed from the tip of the wires. They began to sizzle, conducting small volts of electricity at the head of the computer. Electrical charges made their way through the wiring, releasing burst of sparks around the helmet head. Bulma shrieked in horror, the terrifying stench of burnt plastic swelling around her.
He felt a sharp volt of pain flood through his skull. The feeling spread over his entire body making its way over to every layer of vein, bone, and muscle within his skin. His body wouldn't budge. He'd gone numb losing all sense of feel, touch, and smell, unaware of where he was and how long he'd been lying stagnant. Excluding the sharp inner pain, sensitivity was gone. The air lay hollow, silent, and undisturbed. Overwhelmed in pain heaved him to unconsciousness.
- - - - - - - Thundering bursts of energy filled the night air seeming to rise above all other sound. The skies flashed bright with blinding lights as more explosions erupted from the city square. High piercing shrieks echoed throughout the chaos of the town's people scrambling away from the immense forces ripping and tearing everything to shreds. Flesh, blood, and debris mixed in one among the dusted char grounds. Work of unmerciful, ruthless killing machines—the hands of warriors sent in to blow everything in sight knowing only one thing,
A few that remained clustered behind the half granite wall that still stood mighty and strong despite its wrecked surroundings. Fear was the one dominant feature present on their grime-smeared faces. The remaining two men stood protectively over the woman and child spared from the upcoming devastation. For their short refuge was numbered. One lone soldier wandered the deserted field meters from the group's hideout sniffing out his prey. He was a towering of a man, a dark brown beard framing his hard-set face. The peak of his hair stood high giving more to his greater height. The dents on his worn armor told the tale of a thousand battles, his cape lashed out behind him giving impression of his nobility, high of a monarch. He crept passed the stoned wall, their existence undetected. The mother clutched her young boy tighter releasing a short sigh of relief. It was enough to alarm the neared soldier. With a powering blast, the large man disintegrated the remaining rubbish leaving the sought group out in the open. This had caught the attention of the rest of his men. Cornered, the group held what they knew would be their last breaths. The man who'd exposed them—evidently the squad's leader gave a final order. A lower soldier stepped forward, yanking the young boy out from the shrieking mother's arms. She pleaded for her son's life to be spared not hearing any other sound. One soldier kicked her in the stomach, sending her down to her knees in vain. Raising her head, upon the cape's shield of the leader, she saw something so out of place among these savages—a child, even younger than her own. A mirror image of the man that towered over him, his small face carved identically to his, obviously the man's kin. He looked back with a cold glare. So much hate, so young . . . her heart ached for him. The older man raised his palm, a ball of energy awaiting its target. The world before her flashed in a vast heated wave. In a split second, along with the other two remaining men they crumbled to ash. The young boy let out a heart-piercing wail thrusting his arms and legs at the man who held him captive. He then became notice of the smaller child. They locked eyes both with piercing stares that told more than what could be said. An adversary at first sight. A crushing blow fell upon the boy's head knocking him out cold. The smaller boy only looked on, unfazed to all.
- - - - - - - - -
The sharp agonizing pain had left his body remaining a numbing throb to his temples. Smooth pools of serene coolness overcame him. Vegeta rose himself to a sitting position his elbows propelling him up in support. Feeling began to pour into his body as he took in the scene around him. It was pitch-black, except for a dim glow outlining the eerie shadows from the planks stacked overhead. Where the hell was he? Vegeta took in a deep steady breath, his lungs filling with thick soggy air. His view adjusted to the darkened space. It appeared he'd been stored in a crawlspace of some sort. No, it was a type of draining pipe. He'd been laying in a puddle of . . . mud! Water poured into the sewage line leaking from the open holes between the metal planks. The water level began to rise. In a matter of minutes, it swelled high enough to reach his waist. He stood weakly panic stirring form within him. There were no openings large enough for him to squeeze through only small round drains on the side of the pipeline. They were shut tight. He swung over his head striking at the planks above him. The pipeline was already flooded over his shoulders as the water flow increased. The planks stood hard as stones not budging to the blows Vegeta struck at them. He felt his strength drained. Repeatedly, he struck the planks, the rising water covering his chin. Vegeta noticed a small crack not dispensing any water. As close as he could get, he took sharp quick breaths before the water reached over his head and engulfed him deep underneath his watery grave.
He could hold his breath long enough for him to escape unfortunate circumstances, which had left him a blink away from ghastly deaths. In a slow torturous gasp for breath, Vegeta waited, waited until he no longer needed that breath. His fingers gripped between the openings on one of the planks. He wasn't afraid to die, had come close to it many times not to have been. In fact, he had even experienced it at one point. But he had preferred it to be on the battlefield, profound in the course of combat where his lust for battle ran thicker than blood. Dying in honor, not this, slow slithering demise. His thoughts ran together as one, slipping away in a light daze as his lungs pleaded for breath.
One thought, he saw clear and dazzling—Bulma.
With all his might, he thrust the hinges off the metal planks forward. They shot through the streaming water and landed with a large clunk. Vegeta lifted himself out of the pipeline and onto dry ground, panting, his lungs inhaling the cool scent of sweet air. He rolled onto his knees smirking in relief. The roaring of the water stream had gone silent. He raised his head staring at his surroundings. He looked over to where the pipeline had been, and saw—it was gone. So too was the streaming water, which had almost granted his end just moments before. Nothingness surrounded him only a dim glow that illuminated a dark endless walkway. The ground reflected a pool in waves of murky water though the ground remained solid.
Footsteps echoed through the bass emptiness. It'd stopped some place behind him. He turned to see a large aquatic creature standing over his kneeling form. Large pale green fins swung at its sides. They did not move, waiting for either one to make the first beat, a signal to strike. Beneath Vegeta's stomach, a beam of Ki laid readied in his hand. A water drop echoed in the distant silence. In the same instant, Vegeta threw the burning burst of Ki at the luring creature. It dodged snapping its sharp fangs where Vegeta laid. He rolled onto his back, and levitated off to the side of the creature's jaw. He threw another blast. The creature dodged again, swigging its tail inches passed Vegeta's head as he too dodged the coming assault. Jumping a few steps back, Vegeta readied a large blast at the tip of his hands aiming his palms outward preparing to send the vexing sea creature into dust. The alarmed creature lashed out its tail at Vegeta's side. Vegeta leaped over the tail, Ki still in hand. One giant fin struck him from behind sailing him over the path of the creature's opened mouth. Right siding himself, he kicked the creature's jaw chattering its mouth closed. It let out a cacophonous snarl, holding its jaw on both sides, its nostrils flaring in anger. He shot a final blast, point-blank at the creature's belly. Before the blast made impact, the creature vanished into the dark void.
"You fight rather impressive, for a mortal," its voice seemed everywhere at once though its presence was untraceable. "Usually with the snap of the chops and they're lunch meat." It appeared before Vegeta taking the form of man. A set of gills remained at the side of his neck fluttering with each word. He beckoned with a wave of his hand. The lining of the ground wavered until it shattered into shards dropping down the dark space below their feet. No sound perceived as everything around him cracked to tiny pieces sinking down as if being absorbed by a giant vacuum. Vegeta could almost hear the sound of breaking glass. He wasn't floating but more in suspension, hanging in the middle of nothing. It was becoming harder for him to breathe, as he became aware of his changed surroundings. There was very little air.
"Who are…what are, y-you?" Vegeta felt short of breath.
The gills had disappeared. The man had short choppy dark brown hair, which lay limply on the back of his neck giving him the impression of a young man. But the deep-set lines on his features told he was much older in his time.
"Well, it's kind of hard to explain who I am. But I'm known as Maijuh. I keep track of the walkway to every mortal's fate. Or at least it's something of that notion. Like I said, it's kind of hard to explain . . ." He noticed Vegeta was having difficulty breathing, he was panting heavily. "Are you alright?"
Vegeta tried answering gasping for air, but the lack of oxygen was making him feel as if he were choking. Maijuh still couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.
"Uh."
Vegeta began making gagging noises.
"OH! How could I forget you still have to breathe?" Maijuh waved his hand sprinkling thousands of air particles all around them. Finally, Vegeta breathed easier.
"What . . . what the hell is this place?" Vegeta spun around to hit the face of a giant clock.
There were endless rows of clocks suspended in midair, the handles slowly rotating to the time of eternity's flow. "Well, you're in a time-space continuum. It's a gap between the planes of your world's time sequence and its reality." They lowered to a transparent glass floor, the ticking of the clocks echoing in the background. A wooden desk appeared before them, stacked in piles of paper. Maijuh fished through one of the stacks losing interest on Vegeta's presence. Vegeta scowled at him in puzzlement. Time continuum?
"Explain yourself, now!" He threatened with a waving fist.
"Demanding, aren't we?"
Vegeta gave him a death stare grunting in annoyance. Maijuh ignored the gesture and continued looking over the pile. It only angered Vegeta even more. No one ignored the Saiyan no Oji.
"Demanding! I can show you what demanding is!" He slammed his fist on the polished surface—a tad harder than he intended as the wood buckled beneath the blow. His fist caught in the splintered desk, he summoned his Ki preparing to disintegrate it. But something was wrong. He couldn't reach it, the place where his Ki rested. The center of his inner strength, which had become almost second natured to him, it was gone. His Ki was gone. He masked the thought away for the moment. Vegeta decided to smash the wreckage onto the neighboring clocks. The mass piles of papers scattered about vanishing to the touch of the glass floor. A chunk of wood remained on his fist. He slammed it onto the ground, hard, forming a large angry crack beneath them.
Maijuh shook his head slightly. Mortals—they're so temperamental. His tone calmed, "Alright, I'll explain if you would not break any more of my furniture. Please, sit." A metal chair appeared behind Vegeta.
He crossed his arms over his chest, "I'll stand."
Maijuh raised his hands in truce, "Ok, you know when you experience déjà vu. It feels like you've already seen or heard something before but you know for a fact you never have. There are certain points where the planes between your world and this world meet. By walking through these points, you're walking through a continuum of time, which could make you go back in time for a few seconds. In truth, you really are experiencing it over again or something similar to what you experienced. The experience never stays the same."
"So, what you're saying is, we constantly travel back in time and we don't even realize it?" Vegeta gradually sat down as he let the depth of his words sink in. Bulma's machine, that contraption had skipped him forward through time not backwards. It made no sense unless…
"Well, yes, if you put it that way. It doesn't happen very often."
"Then how would I tell the difference from something that's really happening from something that already happened before?" One of the giant clocks collided with the back of the metal chair. Vegeta knocked it out of his way.
"That's where I come in. Because of the crossing points between the planes, there's a possibility someone might get stuck in these points making them repeat a few moments of time over and over again. It's the worse thing to be stuck reliving the past and the present forever. But I make sure that doesn't happen. Another plane exists in conjunction to the time sequence—the plane of reality. After returning to your original time, reality sets in. You would feel the difference right away. Along with it, fate sets in as well." Maijuh pushed away a wandering clock heading in his direction. "The actions we do, the decisions we make. They all lead to what is destined to be our fate. There are endless possibilities to what our fate might be. A mortal's life is planned out from the day he is given birth. It has different routes and outcomes depending on the path they take. But once a path is chosen, there's no guarantee there's a way out. Certain paths, no matter how hard you try and change them, it leads to the same outcome." Maijuh stared decisively for Vegeta's next reaction. Then and there, he would make a pact with him.
Upon searching through the records of Vegeta's past, Maijuh had made an unpleasant discovery—the outcome of his fate. It was known for greater accounts that the man was no saint. Vegeta had destroyed infinite worlds around the galaxy, eliminating them to a point that what lingered was a speck of dust drifting in the wroth of space. The innumerable amounts of lives slaughtered in one swift strike all by the feat of his hands alone. And this appalling course of deeds done before he'd even reached the stage of manhood.
And yet, it wasn't all of his choosing.
In the realm of Vegeta-sei, from the day a Saiyan infant took its first breath, they were taught nothing but to fight and kill. To a Saiyan, strength was everything. Their violent overpowering nature had always been the base of their ideology. Imperialism had great influence in most parts of its galactic system. As Vegeta-sei conquered its way across the galaxy, another world even more bloodthirsty roamed in the crossfire, the Ice World— Aisu-sei.
Its ruler was an extremely powerful tyrant known as Frieza. By the sheer use of brute strength and a twisted delight for malicious mockery and cruelty, he swayed over half the galaxy in his control, casting terror and mayhem in just the mentioning of his name. The Saiya-jins and their way of life had sparked an interest to Frieza's hunger for power—more specifically a certain Saiyan prince. But fear of being overpowered brought the Saiyan race to their well-deserved misfortune. Frieza destroyed Vegeta-sei along with all its inhabitants. Vegeta and a very few others of his kind remained. For most of his life, he served Frieza as one of his mercenaries.
"I have seen the outcome of what is to become of you. A dark eternal road leading to a bottomless pit of anguish and despair so crucial the essence of your being cannot withstand the course of its damnation. Forget about dignity. Forget about your pride. It will be stripped from your core only to be left to become another soul of the damned."
Something in Maijuh's words, Vegeta couldn't oppose to. He couldn't even bring himself to think on what to say next. He leaned back on the metal chair causing it to creak against his weight. A thousand images peeked to the surface, many of which were old memories from his past life he had buried long ago. They had always haunted him even throughout his youth. As time resumed, he'd learned to conceal them to cope with the inexplicable stench of death and devastation that had clouded over most of his existence.
He'd never cared before . . . the endless faces, the burnt odor of rubble and gore. Why now? After so long, why did it matter now? He swallowed, hard. His insides went numb.
"There is a possible alternative. I shouldn't be saying this but soon you'll meet one of the strongest of foes. It'll take many efforts and sacrifices to bring down this particular creature. What you make them to be will be entirely up to you. But you'll have to make an important choice. How big a sacrifice are you willing to make in order to win?" Maijuh grabbed a clock from the air and began winding it.
Vegeta thought for a moment. If it's me the Kais want to yield, I've already done that. It's not like it made a difference. "What kind of sacrifice?"
"Well, it involves, a life," he said hesitantly.
"But Yemma said it wasn't necessary for me to—"
"I wasn't talking about yours," Maijuh answered vaguely.
Vegeta rose from his chair knocking it over with great force. He narrowed his eyes and asked in a low deadly tone, "Who?" It'd better not be who I think it is.
"I knew this was a bad idea. I've revealed too much. I don't know. I don't know anything. I should—"
Vegeta grabbed him by the collar. "Who is it?"
"I can't tell you that. You'll have to decide on your own."
Vegeta placed both hands around his neck. "You brought me into this Kami forsaken nut hole. You're the one that started this little game." He tightened his grip on his neck, "And now you're going to finish it."
"Are you always this moody?" The aquatic man declared unfazed by the Saiyan's threat.
Vegeta grunted in frustration tossing the aquatic man into the rows of clocks causing them to tumble like an alignment of dominoes. He'd planned on blasting the man to smithereens, but the world's plane was having some kind of effect on his Ki. He felt a sudden chill, which brought him to unease.
Maijuh rose from the piles of clocks, unharmed. "Look. I honestly can't say whose life is going to be sacrificed. All I can say is that whoever is chosen, there's a price to pay. It's either a new beginning or the end for us all."
"Bastard," Vegeta fumed crossing his arms over his chest.
"Ah, um, there is one more thing you must do or in this case mustn't do. No matter what, you're not allowed to kill anyone and I mean ANYONE even if they're evil."
"What!? Are you kidding me? You want me to not kill? That's like telling me not to breathe. Besides, if the occasion calls for it, then a kill must be made."
"If you want your slate to stay cleared, it's the only way."
Vegeta let out a derisive laugh, "I guess I'm screwed, then."
Maijuh materialized a miniature hourglass, "No need to rush into any decisions now. I'll give you some time to think. Once you digest all this, you'll have a better perspective on things."
An eerie fog spread across Vegeta's vision. The thousands of clocks, the glass floor along with Maijuh vanished into nothing but darkness.
"That's impossible! Out of necessity even that goody-goody baka, Kakarott has been forced to kill before."
"Sorry, time's up." Maijuh's voice echoed in the darkness.
"Hey, wait!" Suddenly, Vegeta blackouts completely, dropping down the dark void in a slow senseless blur.
- - - -
He lay in a weary mist of confusion lost to a haze of irrational thought and mystery. Everything was dark as far as the eye could see. Beneath his eyelids, streaks of light threaten to break through the dimness causing his eyes to sting. A soft hum vibrated throughout his eardrums. Something began stirring him, the humming converting into a gentle voice. There was a slight plea in its tone. What was the voice saying? He couldn't comprehend the voice's words. The gentlest of touches stroked the side of his face. Fingertips sent tingling warmth beneath his skin. The touch, the voice . . . he had heard it somewhere, had felt those hands before. Recognition settled in. Vegeta sat up gasping for air. He took in short quick breaths, his chest heaving in pain.
"Oh, thank goodness, you're alright!" There, leaning over him stood Bulma, a worried expression on her face. He then realized he was lying on their bed.
"W-What . . . ?" Vegeta rose to his feet only to stumble forward. Luckily, several arms broke his fall. "Oh," a sharp inner pain throbbed at his temples making him a bit light-headed.
"Take it easy. You took quite a shock. The wires to the helmet must have gotten crossed somehow. It nearly blackout the whole compound." Bulma helped steady his teetering form.
On his other side, Trunks helped him down on the bed. He barely felt the shift in positions as his cognizance whirl-pooled in chaos throughout his brain. When did he get here?
"Yeah, dad, you should have seen it. All the light bulbs burst and a shower of sparks began to fall. It looked like a bunch of fireworks had been set off. It was awesome!" The lavender headed boy bounced animatedly over the recalling of the tale.
What had happened? That place, was it real or was it all a dream? Vegeta felt the sudden throbbing in his head intensify to violent sharp stabs of pain. He rubbed at his temples trying to sooth down his ache.
"What's wrong? Is it your head? Does it hurt? Honey, can you go get me a wet cloth?" Bulma began fussing over him, noticing the burn marks on both sides of his face and hands.
"Sure, mom." Trunks went for the door stopping in mid stride at Vegeta's sudden outburst.
"NO! I'm fine! I don't need your aid. I've been hurt worst than this before. It is nothing. I feel fine." Vegeta freed himself from Bulma's grasp clumsily making his way to the bathroom. He closed the door behind him leaving them in bewilderment.
- - - - - - - - - - -
Finishing a relaxing shower, Vegeta dragged himself to the bed not bothering to clothe. After drying off the sprinkles of water left in his hair, he tied a damped towel around his waist. He still had a splitting headache, the size of Kakarott's appetite. Something strange was beginning to surface at the tip of his senses. Ever since the strange incident with that aquatic creature, an eerie feeling had crept over his spine. He couldn't shake the plight the creature had revealed. The logical side of him refused to believe him, not accepting the fact that he really had no control over his fate, and that everything had been planned out since his beginning. But then . . . there was something in his words that made him see an indubitable truth. Something dreadful was coming and its arrival crept nearer. He sat at the edge of the bed lost in thought, unaware of the presence, which entered the room. Slim arms encircled his shoulders.
"Careful, think too hard and you might get wrinkles." Bulma gave him a peck on his frowning forehead knowing very well that Saiyans aged much slower than Earthlings did.
"Humph! I highly doubt it." Vegeta rolled onto his side of the bed. Bulma lay beside him resting her head on his chest. She began tracing the lines of his bare abdomen, his skin tingling by her caress.
"Bulma," he hoarse softly dozing off to a languorous state.
"Hmm?"
"Where did that machine of yours send me off to?"
She eyed him strangely. "That "machine" never sent you anywhere. After the explosion, the computer short-circuited and you were out cold for quite some time. I was scared half to death." She felt him tense up under her touch. "Are you sure you're ok?"
"I'm fine!" Anger began forming within him. Whether it was from the sympathy reflecting in her sapphire stare, her conviction for his brief brush of madness, or his disbelief for the wand of mystical paranoia, he couldn't decipher which irked him more. He didn't need her worrying over him.
"Positive?"
"Quit your pestering, woman. I don't need you fussing over me as if I were a helpless child," he snapped.
"Well, excuse me! Next time you stop breathing, give your damn self CPR." She sat up and turned away from him muttering, "Ungrateful prick," under her breath.
"What was that?" he said baiting at her anger his lips quirked up in a smirk.
"You heard me!"
He stopped, staring at her for a moment. Even after all these years, her beauty remained preserved like a blooming flower captured in a cryogenic state just as he remembered the first day he laid eyes on her. Observing the curves of her figure, the shifting features on her pleasingly esthetic face, he noticed the light tone of her skin, which contrasted with the slight blush on her puffing cheeks that rose from her anger. From the corner of her eyes, Bulma met Vegeta's stare. There, he saw the fire in her blue orbs. It intrigued him, melting away his anger.
On second thought, maybe he had been hallucinating. Maybe that electrical shock had altered his brainwaves and created his imagination's flight. However, its nightmarishly haunting reality was too great to ignore. Maybe . . . he needed relief from his thoughts. An exhilarating sensation dispersed throughout his veins. A corner of his lips faintly curled upward. He untied the towel wrapped around him, draping it around her waist. Vegeta lured her from behind molding her tight against his body.
"Is there a way to pay my debt to you?" he whispered huskily into her ear, descending upon her neck with a trail of kisses.
"Don't!" Bulma pushed him away. It only made Vegeta tighten his hold on her but not enough to harm her. He continued down her shoulder encountering the vexing straps of her nightgown, which he pushed aside with his hand. It wasn't until he began down her back that she gave in to his little seduction. Again, the nightgown blocked his path. Vegeta reached underneath the gown, tracing the curves of her body as he pulled it over her head and discarded it onto the floor. Along went all other clothing as well as the damp towel he had wrapped around her waist. She leaned against him, feeling her heart skip a few tones as his hands traced their way up to the swell of her breasts. She shivered in delighted pleasure as he gently caressed her breasts and nipped at her earlobe. Each touch ignited a scorching surge of heat.
Barely fighting off her lust, Bulma gasped out, "They'll hear us," her breath hitched in her throat. She pulled away from him, reaching for the slightly ajar door. Vegeta could not contain himself. The growing need for her escalated shunning out all humane thought and reasoning he possessed. Driven only by his impulses, he roughly shoved her fragile body back against the door slamming it shut. Bulma squealed in surprise. He turned her to face him, kissing her feverishly at the crook of her neck lowering to the base of her throat. With a jerk of his knee, he spread her legs apart driving into her with maddening ferocity. He meant to take her with slow sweet strokes but the luscious taste of her soft skin, the rushing fervor building up inside him pushed him to the edge. Having no control, Vegeta thrust harder into her, increasing his speed with each rising scream emitting from her ecstasy. He moaned against her neck holding back a stirring cry threatening to break from his lips. He wanted more, needing to reach even deeper still. Lifting her off the door, he carried her back to the bed having better access to his need . . . penetrating deeper and harder within her. Bulma clung helplessly onto his broad back, her nails piercing into his tender flesh as a mixture of pleasure and pain overwhelmed her. Her pulse raced to the rhythm of a beating drum. She screamed out his name, arching her back as she drew closer and closer to the pinnacle of her climax.
Vegeta felt his own intensity of pleasure burst to its breaking point. He gave a hoarse cry, feeling his release erupt almost contiguously with hers. All his worries, doubts, and fears exceeded from his mind leaving only the feel of her being, the warm fulfillment of her essence consuming his very core. He continued to move within her slow and gentle, calming down his ragged breath detaining himself from ravishing her like a savage beast almost as he had moments earlier. Their ardor amplified to its brim, creating a vicious cycle of passion, which never seemed to exhaust until the dark lit room brighten from the break of day. Bulma collapsed beneath him a final time fatigue overtaking her aching body. She had surrendered everything to him, heart, body, mind, and soul. Yet, he still hesitated. He had pushed her limits, he knew, but was taken aback at the sudden stamina that had ceaselessly met up to satisfy his lustful demands and more . . .
It still awed him that someone so frail with scarcely any physical strength could subdue him in such a way that she had become more of a necessity than a simple pleasure of the flesh. Though the lust and solitude, which condemned him long ago, had been the reason for their tryst, their constant need for each other sprung forth an unbreakable bond. A bondage he thought was incapable of manifesting within him. Vegeta had scorned it then. Thinking the foreign emotions of affection, of his heart's ease from anger and hatred made him impotent to fight. That it would leave him vulnerable to the countless foes waiting to seek their vengeance upon him. He dreaded to think of his vulnerability to retaliation. A burdening weakness. He drew away from the softened feelings that began to squander his stone cold heart only to find he had left her in conception. The woman and child yield him in conflict with his warrior's code, his Saiyan heritage.
Protect that in which belongs to thee.
They were a distraction from his prime objective of surpassing his archrival, Kakarott, of being the strongest in the universe. Nevertheless, the greater accounts of his honor and pride lured him back to her side, the indiscernible fondness taking its toll. After pushing himself to the breaking point going beyond his limitations, he found he could not succeed in what had turned into an obsession over being the best. It didn't matter to her because in her eyes all the strength, all the powers of the world meant nothing compare to him simply being.
The lids of Bulma's eyes opened and closed wearily giving him a sleepy smile. She stroked his cheeks kissing the burn marks as if her touch were a remedy for his wounds. And in a way, they were. They were his remedy.
"Never . . . leave," she murmured incoherently, her voice fading in sleep.
Vegeta brushed the blue locks from her eyes clutching her hands off his face. "Never leave," he echoed nestling on her sleeping form.
Was he a fool to dwell on such things? The thought of her life in peril brought forth an intolerable course of fear. He had lost her once before during the plight of Majin Buu conjured up by that malign wizard Babidi. The dually destructive pair had been their reconciliation as well as their distress. For he had given up his soul to return to his wicked ways to free himself of all the conflicting emotions spiraling within because he had known no other way of being—cruel and ruthless. Vegeta tried to be rid of her and the peacefulness settling along his sentiments only to discover that his old ways were no longer his desires. It was the guilt, which finally broke him down. Regret of throwing everything away, everything he had built since settling on this Earth. Ever since he'd escaped Frieza's clasp being able to live his own life recreating the nearly extinct Saiyan race. He sacrificed his life in an attempt to bring down Majin Buu and made amends for his selfishness. That was nearly 5 years ago, yet the taste of its reminiscence lingered as if it had recently transpired. Things were different now…better, passive even.
Vegeta let drowsiness cloud over his thoughts as the warmth and comfort engulfed him into the world of slumber. The sun rose in greeting to a new day. He'll be damned if he ever had to render her now.
DBZ (c) Akira Toriyama
Maijuh (c) Yashy M.