Duty
By Elbereth in April
Copyright 2002
I am not the owner of DBZ. (Sob Sob) Hand me a tissue, please.
___________ __________
Bulma went to lock up before she went to bed and found Vegeta sitting on the back steps, staring at the stars. She smiled and opened the door. "Vegeta?"
He didn't seem to hear her. She reached back inside and switched on the porch light. His head slowly turned to face her. She looked him over and gasped.
He was bleeding from a wound running from the bottom of his ribs all the way down to his opposite side above his stomach. His hand and arm was pressed against it, but he was still covered in blood.
"Vegeta! What happened?" she shrieked.
His gaze was feverishly bright and had trouble focusing on her. Sweat stood out on his pale, pale face.
"I was sparring with Kakkarot."
"That was hours ago! Didn't you get fixed up like you normally do afterwards?" She began to tug at his arm, determined to get him to the doctor's.
She couldn't budge him.
"I lost again," he whispered.
She sat down next to him abruptly, her knees feeling weak.
He was staring at her intensely. "Do you know why I never killed myself?"
"What?"
"Do you think life under Frieza was pleasant? Do you think it never occurred to me?"
She swallowed, frowning in dismay. "I--why didn't you?"
"It was my duty as the strongest Saiyan to stay alive and keep the Saiyan race going. But now--there's Kakkarot. He's even started already. He's got a son." He smiled bitterly, with absolutely no humor. His eyes burned her. "Don't you see? I have to beat him. I have to be the strongest. The weak die, the strongest live. Only the strongest Saiyan is needed. Only one. If I'm not the strongest. . . I could have killed myself long ago and spared everybody a lot of misery!"
Bulma tried not to shed her tears. "Vegeta. . ."
His eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he passed out.
_________ ________
When Vegeta woke up, the first thing he saw was a pair of long, gorgeous legs crossed in front of him. He followed the legs up: short shorts, tight T-shirt, lovely face, blue hair. Bulma was sitting on a cabinet at the end of the bed, one dainty foot on the bed itself. She was smiling at him.
"You know, Vegeta," she purred, "genetics is a funny business. According to the tests I ran on your DNA, if you had the right mate, your offspring could potentially be stronger than-say--Kakkarot's."
He stared at her, blinking.
"Certainly you're close to Super Saiyan. And your children would be Super Saiyan, too."
The smirk started. "Really."
"Besides, would you want to take the chance that the whole Saiyan race would be as ignorant as Kakkarot?"
"No!" He shuddered.
She lowered herself from the cabinet to sit on the bed. "And what would he be able to teach them of their Saiyan heritage? He can't even speak the language!"
He frowned. "True."
"And what would your race be without the blood of Kings flowing through its veins?"
She leaned down, propping her head on her elbow, next to his shoulder. She fit perfectly lying next to him.
"Another good point." He smirked again. "But what kind of mate would be fit to mix her genes with mine?"
She pulled on her bottom lip, appearing to ponder this. "I know!" Her face lit up. She pointed to herself. "Me!"
They stared into each other's eyes.
"Then. . . I guess it's our obligation," Vegeta said.
"Our responsibility."
"Our duty." He suddenly turned serious. "The thing is--Saiyans mate for life. I can't just--procreate and move on."
Bulma grinned in delight. "I didn't know that!"
He nodded.
She smirked at him in a most suggestive and wicked manner. "Then you're all mine now. Let's do the mating so we can get to the procreating." Then she laughed. "Why, Vegeta! Was that a blush?"
"Nonsense, woman! I'm just--still woozy from blood loss. You know I was out of my head last night. Maybe I still am."
"Oh no! You can't back out now!"
He reached over and pulled her up against him. "I wasn't going to. Princes never forsake their duty."
"Neither do women."
It was a long and satisfying kiss before their genes mixed.
By Elbereth in April
Copyright 2002
I am not the owner of DBZ. (Sob Sob) Hand me a tissue, please.
___________ __________
Bulma went to lock up before she went to bed and found Vegeta sitting on the back steps, staring at the stars. She smiled and opened the door. "Vegeta?"
He didn't seem to hear her. She reached back inside and switched on the porch light. His head slowly turned to face her. She looked him over and gasped.
He was bleeding from a wound running from the bottom of his ribs all the way down to his opposite side above his stomach. His hand and arm was pressed against it, but he was still covered in blood.
"Vegeta! What happened?" she shrieked.
His gaze was feverishly bright and had trouble focusing on her. Sweat stood out on his pale, pale face.
"I was sparring with Kakkarot."
"That was hours ago! Didn't you get fixed up like you normally do afterwards?" She began to tug at his arm, determined to get him to the doctor's.
She couldn't budge him.
"I lost again," he whispered.
She sat down next to him abruptly, her knees feeling weak.
He was staring at her intensely. "Do you know why I never killed myself?"
"What?"
"Do you think life under Frieza was pleasant? Do you think it never occurred to me?"
She swallowed, frowning in dismay. "I--why didn't you?"
"It was my duty as the strongest Saiyan to stay alive and keep the Saiyan race going. But now--there's Kakkarot. He's even started already. He's got a son." He smiled bitterly, with absolutely no humor. His eyes burned her. "Don't you see? I have to beat him. I have to be the strongest. The weak die, the strongest live. Only the strongest Saiyan is needed. Only one. If I'm not the strongest. . . I could have killed myself long ago and spared everybody a lot of misery!"
Bulma tried not to shed her tears. "Vegeta. . ."
His eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he passed out.
_________ ________
When Vegeta woke up, the first thing he saw was a pair of long, gorgeous legs crossed in front of him. He followed the legs up: short shorts, tight T-shirt, lovely face, blue hair. Bulma was sitting on a cabinet at the end of the bed, one dainty foot on the bed itself. She was smiling at him.
"You know, Vegeta," she purred, "genetics is a funny business. According to the tests I ran on your DNA, if you had the right mate, your offspring could potentially be stronger than-say--Kakkarot's."
He stared at her, blinking.
"Certainly you're close to Super Saiyan. And your children would be Super Saiyan, too."
The smirk started. "Really."
"Besides, would you want to take the chance that the whole Saiyan race would be as ignorant as Kakkarot?"
"No!" He shuddered.
She lowered herself from the cabinet to sit on the bed. "And what would he be able to teach them of their Saiyan heritage? He can't even speak the language!"
He frowned. "True."
"And what would your race be without the blood of Kings flowing through its veins?"
She leaned down, propping her head on her elbow, next to his shoulder. She fit perfectly lying next to him.
"Another good point." He smirked again. "But what kind of mate would be fit to mix her genes with mine?"
She pulled on her bottom lip, appearing to ponder this. "I know!" Her face lit up. She pointed to herself. "Me!"
They stared into each other's eyes.
"Then. . . I guess it's our obligation," Vegeta said.
"Our responsibility."
"Our duty." He suddenly turned serious. "The thing is--Saiyans mate for life. I can't just--procreate and move on."
Bulma grinned in delight. "I didn't know that!"
He nodded.
She smirked at him in a most suggestive and wicked manner. "Then you're all mine now. Let's do the mating so we can get to the procreating." Then she laughed. "Why, Vegeta! Was that a blush?"
"Nonsense, woman! I'm just--still woozy from blood loss. You know I was out of my head last night. Maybe I still am."
"Oh no! You can't back out now!"
He reached over and pulled her up against him. "I wasn't going to. Princes never forsake their duty."
"Neither do women."
It was a long and satisfying kiss before their genes mixed.