The Battle Is Over
"No! It can't be!"
Vegeta leaned heavily on the bathroom counter. Sweat ran down his face and dripped into the sink. His whole body shook, causing the delicate, glass containers lining the counter to rattle against each other. Fear oozed from every pore, tainting his skin with an acrid aroma that only worked to heighten his panic.
"No! It can't end like this!"
He tipped his head up to look at his reflection in the mirror. His complexion was waxy white beneath unusually wide eyes. His mouth hung open as he gasped for breath to accommodate his increased heart rate - his lips an alarming tint of blue.
Another round of pain ran through him like a cold, steely hand gripping his heart. His stomach felt like stone and his head felt like it was going to explode from the pressure. Great black splotches swam before his eyes. He squeezed them shut, not liking the way they blotted out his reflection like an omen of what would soon come to pass.
"No."
The whispered plea was directed to any being that possessed the power to stop the inevitable. Vegeta was forced down to his elbows, one hand clutching at his chest. He held his breath until the worst of the pain passed to keep himself from screaming. The last thing he wanted was for Bulma to suspect anything was wrong. He knew she'd insist on rushing him to a hospital for tests which would be more demeaning than the fact his body was betraying him.
After what seemed an eternity, the grip of pain eased enough to allow him to breathe once more. Slowly and carefully, he sank to the floor, sitting with his back against the cool porcelain of the tub, his forehead resting on his knees. Through sheer force of will, he was able to coax his heart to once more return to its normal rhythm, pumping blood around his body as if nothing happened.
"Damn it!" he cursed and let his head fall back onto the side of the tub.
His hand still shook slightly as he attempted to wipe the sweat from his eyes. At least it happened before his shower so he'd be able to wash the stench of pain and fear from his skin. Then he'd be able to forget it and convince himself nothing was wrong. Again.
And, again, he wondered how much longer he'd be able to effectively fool himself. Sooner or later, someone would find out his secret. The shame would be worse than the pain he suffered in silence. A Saiyan shouldn't have to be afflicted like this. It just wasn't normal.
"Vegeta? Are you done yet?"
Bulma's voice through the bathroom door was like a dousing of ice water, bringing Vegeta back from wallowing in self pity.
"I'll be done when I'm done, woman!" he shouted, relieved he was able to control his voice and sound normal. "Just leave me alone!"
"Fine! I'll go use Trunks' bathroom then," she snapped back.
When he was sure she'd left their bedroom, Vegeta got himself up off the floor and started the water running for his shower. He stripped off the sweat pants he used as pajamas and paused to look at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door.
"There should never be such a thing as an 'old' Saiyan," he muttered as he examined his body's reflection.
Although nearing the earth age of 90, Vegeta knew he looked much younger than any earthling of the same year. But to his critical eye, he saw every flaw that made him unfit to be called a warrior.
His hair was still thick, yet graying more and more each year. His face was thinner and permanently creased with frown lines around his forehead, eyes, and mouth. His once granite physique was now softer from decreased activity and he ached more often than not. His proud stance seemed more forced than before and he no longer strutted about, silently daring anyone to defy him.
"Maybe it's good my eyesight isn't as sharp as it used to be," he said as he eased himself under the warm water. "I'd probably find more wrong with me."
By the time he was clean and dressed, he felt more like his old self again. The thought of the chest pains was pushed to the farthest reaches of his mind as he enjoyed his breakfast in the warm sunlight coming through the kitchen window.
"You do remember Trunks is coming home today, don't you?" Bulma asked, struggling to open a small medicine bottle.
"I remember." Vegeta sighed and grabbed the bottle out of her hand. With one quick twist, he had the cap off and handed it back to her.
"So I need you to run to the store for a few things."
"Why do I have to go?" he complained. His loathing for the busy city hadn't changed since first coming to live on the planet. "Why can't you do it?"
"I can't get around as good as you do," she reminded him. She popped one of the pills into her mouth and washed it down with her juice. "And if I go, I'll be too tired this afternoon."
"Fine," he grumbled, pushing himself from the table. "Just give me the list so I can get this over with."
Vegeta took off in the aircar, reveling in the morning air blowing against his face. He hadn't flown for so long, he didn't realize how much he missed the feel. Without anywhere to go or anyone to battle, he had no reason to fly.
The list he'd been given was long, but Bulma assured him everything could be obtained in one place. For this, he was thankful. The faster he could get back home, the better. He parked in the ramp outside the enormous building and braced himself for the insanity of shopping.
"It will be just a few minutes," the druggist told him after reading through the list of Bulma's prescriptions. "I'll call you when they're ready."
Vegeta wandered aimlessly around the pharmacy area, marveling at the amount of medicines the people on this planet consumed. There were bottles and boxes for every ailment or complaint he could imagine, and a few he'd never heard of. A muscle pain medication tempted him, but he stubbornly refused to give in. A display of reading glasses also caught his attention, but after trying one on and seeing - in perfect clarity - how idiotic he looked in the mirror, he decided it wasn't worth it. He didn't read that much anyway.
The bag of medicine in hand, he continued to hunt down the other items on this wife's list. All went well until he was on his way back to his vehicle.
"Oh, hey there, Vegeta."
He turned toward the voice and his heart skipped a beat in shock. The bags slipped from his numb fingers. Just as they were about to crash on the pavement, spilling the contents along the walk, they were rescued by quick, sure hands.
"Kakarot?" Vegeta whispered, squinting to see clearer.
"Oops. Watch it there. Maybe you'd better let me carry those for you."
"Goten! It's you. I thought..." he trailed off, not wanting to sound as old and senile as he was feeling right at that moment.
"That I looked like Dad?" Goten finished for him. "I know. I get that a lot. Everyone tells me I'm a dead ringer for that statue they made of him. So where were you headed? I can take these back to your car for you."
Vegeta held back a growl of indignation. He wanted to tell Goten he didn't need his help; that he was perfectly capable of carrying the aircar home if he chose to. But just seeing the smiling, eager face of his only friend's son was more calming than he was even willing to admit to himself.
"Suit yourself," Vegeta said with a regal lift of his chin. He led the way, his back as straight and proud as ever it used to be.
"Trunks is coming home today, isn't he?" Goten asked, following the older Saiyan through the parking ramp. "I can't wait for the party tomorrow. It's going to be great seeing him again."
"Hmph." Vegeta didn't want to admit he knew nothing of a party. He wondered if he hadn't listened when Bulma told him, or if the get-together was only for the younger set. He reached into his pocket for his keys, but a sudden numbness caused them to slip from his grasp to the ground. He stared at them a moment, then at the hand that had betrayed him. The fingers obeyed when he clenched them into a fist, but could barely feel the pressure of being pressed together.
"Here, let me get that for you." Goten easily juggled the bags as he bent to scoop the keys off the pavement. "Do you want me to unlock it for you?"
"No." Vegeta snatched the keys back with his other hand and pressed the button that unlocked and opened the aircar's doors. "Just put that in the seat so I can get going."
The younger man complied, but paused before shutting the door. "Are you sure you're all right, Vegeta? You don't look like yourself. It would be no trouble for me to drive..."
"I just don't like shopping!" he snapped back and started the motor.
Goten took the hint and pushed the door closed. Taking a step back, he gave a wave as Vegeta backed out of the parking place and sped out of the ramp.
Vegeta looked in the rear-view mirror and shook his head sadly. The man looked exactly like Kakarot did all those years ago. Same spiky hair, same goofy smile, same muscular build, same desire to help people. The little boy he remembered was now one of earth's leading warriors, even stronger than he and Kakarot had been at that age.
As he drove home, Vegeta thought about his friend and former foe. It had been so many years since he'd disappeared with that dragon. Since then, peace had reigned on this planet and there were very few battles. And all of them had been easily handled by the younger generation. No place for a life-long warrior. Even one who had come to terms with his limited destiny.
"Dad? What are you doing out here?"
Vegeta didn't answer or even turn to look at his son. He continued to stare out across the barren desert at the blood-red sunset.
"Dad?" Trunks approached him hesitantly. "Is everything all right?"
"Why are you here?"
"You took off from the party without telling anyone. Mom was worried about you. So I told her I'd bring you back." He stood beside his father to watch the sun sink on the horizon with him.
"Your mother knows more than she lets on," Vegeta said and Trunks puzzled over the cryptic statement. "You know more, too."
Trunks sighed and bowed his head. "You mean about mom? I guess I do. I felt it the instant I hugged her. But we've been expecting this ever since the treatments ended." He paused. "There's something wrong with you, too...isn't there?" He choked out the last words in what was barely a whisper.
Vegeta gave a short nod. They stood in silence for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts. Although an old man by human standards himself, Trunks looked like a child again – wanting to talk to his father, yet not knowing the words to use.
"I want you to know the truth, Trunks," Vegeta said finally.
"About what?"
"I told you about my home planet, didn't I?"
"Planet Vegeta?" Trunks asked. "It was destroyed by a guy named Freeza, right?"
Vegeta nodded. "And the reason I wasn't on the planet when it was destroyed...?"
"Because you were working for Freeza even though you were only a child," Trunks finished for him. "I know all of this already. He destroyed the planet because the Saiyans were becoming too strong."
"What I didn't tell you was what I did for Freeza."
Trunks stood in frozen shock as his father revealed his days before coming to earth. All the shame of doing the bidding of a maniacal tyrant, the unspeakable acts performed against countless races of people, entire planets completely destroyed for fun. Vegeta's voice remained even and emotionless as if retelling someone else's history instead of his own.
"So when Freeza killed me, it not only freed me from my past, it opened my eyes to what kind of a person he'd made of me. Although the Saiyans were a warrior race, the complete blood-lust I experienced was a result of what I was forced to do more than a hereditary trait. Without Freeza, I would be able to reinvent myself as a power to be reckoned with, not just a hired killer."
"And you did that," Trunks pointed out. "You settled down on earth and fought for the good guys."
"It wasn't that simple," he said. "It was the hardest thing I ever had to do, living on the same planet as the only other being in the universe stronger than myself. Deep down, I fought alongside him only to make up for all the atrocities I committed under Freeza. A kind of balancing act. Lately, I've been thinking that scale is as even as it's ever going to get."
"I don't understand," Trunks said. "What are you trying to say?"
"Trunks, I want you to do something for me. You know I never ask anyone for anything, so you'd better not refuse."
"Sure. What is it?"
He turned to face his son. "Kill me."
Trunks stood completely frozen. Vegeta knew it wasn't what he expected to hear, but hoped he would have enough Saiyan blood in him to understand the request.
"What? I...I can't do that!" he stammered. "You're my father!"
"Saiyan sons have been killing their fathers for thousands of years. A warrior, body beyond repair from battle, would have their offspring send them to the next dimension to end their suffering. It wasn't as honorable as dying in the battle itself, but it was close."
"But that was in battle," Trunks argued. "I can't just come right out and kill you. And don't go saying it was a royal duty for a prince to challenge the king either. This isn't Planet Vegeta."
"Don't you think I know that?" Vegeta roared, his carefully hidden fears and emotions finally breaking though. "If my home planet was still there I would have died happily a long time ago! A respectable death in the field of battle is all any true Saiyan wants! I would've been content to remain dead the last time, even if it was meaningless! Saiyans weren't meant to live this long!"
"But what about us?" Trunks demanded. "What about mom? What about Bra and your grandchildren? Am I just supposed to go back to the party and announce that I killed you just because you were old? That's not how things work, dad! If you look forward to dying, do it like the rest of us – a quiet death, asleep in your bed. Not everything has to be done like a warrior. Not everything has to be done like a Saiyan!"
Vegeta was impressed with Trunks' speech, but disagreed with the reasoning. It was hard to explain old ways to a generation surrounded by peace. It was hard to explain the old ways to someone who only shared half his race.
"Kakarot would understand," he said. "Kakarot wouldn't make me live with the pain; make me suffer the indignity of losing control of a failing body. Can't you understand? I don't want to die like an earthling!"
When Trunks didn't answer, Vegeta walked over and clamped his hand down hard on his son's shoulder. Trunks was mildly surprised at first, then horribly shocked. It had been a long time since he had touched Trunks, knowing the contact would allow his secret to be felt.
"All those times I came close to death were both a blessing and a curse," Vegeta said in a low voice. "Not only did it make me stronger each time, it also put more strain on my heart. Now that my muscles are deteriorating with age, my heart is literally disintegrating."
"Dad..." Trunks looked as if he could cry out from the pain he felt in his father's body, but didn't want to admit how bad it really was. To admit it would be to accept the fact that both his parents were very near death.
"I don't want your sympathy," Vegeta said, removing his hand.
Trunks nearly collapsed with relief as he took deep breaths to calm himself. "I know."
"So are you going to help me? Or do I have to leave the planet to find a worthy adversary to do the job?"
"You can't just leave! Think of mom! It would kill her if you suddenly disappeared!"
"Then do what I ask! Give us both the peace of mind we need! Be a man and just kill me!"
Vegeta flew at Trunks, but his punch was easily deflected. He tried to change course and hit him with a kick, but the younger man quickly stepped out of range making Vegeta stumble to keep himself from falling onto the rocky ground.
"Stop it, dad," Trunks warned.
Vegeta recovered his balance and ran at his son again, intending to hit Trunks in the stomach with all his might. It was like punching a solid, steel wall. Trunks didn't even attempt to block it.
"Stop before you hurt yourself." Trunks grabbed Vegeta's wrist and shoved him away. The gentleness of the push was meant to protect Vegeta, but only worked to make him angrier.
"Don't patronize me!" he growled. "I'm a Saiyan! I demand you fight me!"
"No." There were tears in Trunks' eyes as he shook his head and backed away from his father. "I won't fight you and I definitely won't kill you. I'm going back now. I'd really like it if you came with me, but not if you still insist on dying. Mom shouldn't see you like that. I'll just tell her I didn't find you and take a chance that she won't worry herself sicker."
Trunks turned and began to walk away. Vegeta considered sending a ki blast after him, but knew it would only be a fruitless attempt that would embarrass himself even more than his pathetic fighting. He'd deteriorated even more than he thought. With this low energy, he probably wouldn't be able to power up even a small attack.
Vegeta dropped to his knees in utter despair. The one person he confided in and entrusted with the precious task of ending his miserable life - his only son - denied him the peace he'd yearned for ever since treading his last step on his home planet. The only option left now was to leave the planet and hope to find someone worthy enough to kill him. Preferably someone who knew what it meant to be a Saiyan.
He wouldn't even consider suicide as one of his options. It's true he'd already done it once, but it was during battle. So, technically, it was an honorable death. A Saiyan who killed himself was considered the lowest of the low, dishonoring not only himself, but his descendants. Which accounted for the Saiyan euthanasia tradition.
Vegeta was about to get to his feet when his chest contracted. His breath was stolen from him as invisible bands attempted to strangle him. The dusk light dimmed to the point of blackness in his oxygen depraved eyes. His mouth opened to call out to his departing son, but no amount of willpower could overcome his body's descent into unconsciousness.
"Dad! Dad!"
The voice sounded so far away and Vegeta imagined himself running toward it and the spark of light it represented. But no matter how hard he tried, the spark wouldn't get any bigger. He then tried to fly, hoping to reach it faster, but it only resulted in making him winded and he had to stop and gasp for air.
"Dad!"
Vegeta struggled to open his eyes and was instantly flooded with pain. The gasping breath in his vision was just a reflection of the sad reality. This had been the worst pain so far...and it wasn't even his own.
"Son," he croaked through his parched throat. "Help me up. We've got to...to get home. Your mother...Bulma..."
He gave up talking and concentrated all his energy into forcing his body to stand. Even with Trunks' strong hands, it was more of a struggle than he was willing to admit. Swallowing his pride in favor of speed, he allowed his son to carry him the short flight back. The constant contact was almost more than Trunks could bear and a cold sweat covered his face by the time he landed from the deep pain sensed throughout his father's body.
"Let me down," Vegeta demanded as soon as they were on the ground. Although he sensed the party guests had left, he felt the need to enter his own house under his own power. "I can walk from here. Go see your mother. I'll be there soon."
Trunks hurried inside and Vegeta slowly followed. Once through the door, he took a minute to look around the house that had become his home. Very little of it reflected his own personality, but shouted 'Bulma' everywhere he turned. Although he never admitted it – even to himself – he was more comforted being surrounded by her possessions than anything he could have wished from his own planet. Only in this place could he forget about his past and live for the moment...live for himself...live for others.
But it wouldn't be worth living without her and her life was quickly slipping away just down the hallway.
"Oh, Daddy!" Bra cried, running down the hall. She threw her arms around Vegeta and would have knocked him off his feet if there hadn't been a wall behind him. "Mama's...mama's..."
"I know." He patted his daughter's back and let her tears soak into his shirt.
She truly was her mother's daughter in looks, but she always had her father's spirit. Maybe that's why she'd been able to wrap him around her little finger since the day she was born. Gently, he pushed her back to look seriously into her eyes.
"I want you to take the children into the front room and wait for Trunks."
"But why?" she asked with a sniffle.
"Just do it...please."
The gruff command ended in a plea and Bra stepped back to study her father. It was the first time she'd ever heard him use that word in anything other than sarcasm.
"Daddy?"
Vegeta gave her a sad smile but didn't offer any further explanation as he walked passed her and stood in the doorway of the bedroom he and Bulma had shared for so many years. A room that now reeked of pain...and death.
"Dad's here," Trunks told the small figure on the bed he knelt beside.
As Trunks stood and moved aside, Vegeta's breath was frozen in his lungs. Although she looked so tiny in the large bed and her face was pinched and white from the pain, his wife was still the most beautiful being he'd ever encountered.
"Trunks, take everyone and leave as soon as you can," Vegeta said in a low, calm voice.
"But we have to call the doctor," he protested. "We have to get her to the hospital."
"Do what he says, Trunks." Bulma's order was weak and soft, but the meaning behind it was loud and clear.
Trunks wiped away his tears and leaned down to kiss his mother one last time. When he stood, Vegeta was right behind him. He wanted to say something...anything...but no words in the world could convey what he was feeling in the short time he had to say it. Instead, he gave his father a quick hug and hurried from the room.
"Do you remember the first time we met?" Bulma whispered as Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed.
"Yes. And you're just as big a nuisance as you were back then."
"And just as beautiful," she added with a weak laugh that turned into a grimace of pain.
Vegeta shook his head and ran his hand over her forehead. "More beautiful."
The doctor had been right. The disease that laid dormant for so long had only been waiting to strike out with a vengeance. And this time they both knew treatment was no longer an option. The only thing a hospital could offer her now was a drawn out period of limbo – a series of drugs that would only torture the entire family until she finally slipped into a coma of blissful, pain-free unconsciousness and withered away altogether.
"I guess it's time...for both of us," she said as he crawled under the covers. As carefully as possible, he slid his arm under her head and cradling her to him.
"You're still as sharp as ever," Vegeta sighed and placed a kiss on top of her head.
"You're being too nice. This must really be the end," she whispered. She didn't even have enough energy to look up at him.
"My son refused my request to kill me, then had to carry me home...I have no pride left."
"I'm glad he didn't. I couldn't live without you." Her last words trailed off as she slowly sank into the darkness that would soon claim them both. He could barely sense her heart still beating weakly in her chest.
"Neither could I," he whispered back. "Rest now. Our battles are almost over."
Trunks stopped the aircar just on the other side of the hill. With Bra following close behind, he walked back to the top just in time to see the Capsule Corp. house explode in a burst of light. His sister clung to his arm, but said nothing as the sound of the enormous ki blast arrived moments later.
"I can't believe he did it," Bra said, tears streaming down her face. "I mean, I understand why...I just can't believe he went through with it."
Trunks took a minute to sense around the building he called home even if he hadn't lived there for a long time. Through the rubble and fire, he found no energy levels, no life signs...but most importantly, no pain.
The siblings watched until the wail of sirens heralded the arrival of the fire engines. Trunks knew they would find no traces of their parents. But these extraordinary people didn't need a proper funeral burial. Their children didn't need closure. They lived and died as they should have – a Saiyan prince and his princess.