Chapter 3

"Absolutely not."

"Please—"

"No."

That had been the first answer. A firm, absolute, irrefutable, 'No.'

No.

No, no, no, no.

Dende said, 'No.'

It had finally occurred to them what they needed to do, although it wasn't exactly an idea that had been really finalized and analyzed, mostly a notion more than it was a tangible solution, but they were desperate.

After those strange words Vejita had uttered, it was obvious that the problem was somewhere in his mind, and if they had tried to ask him about it, Vejita would have shut them down immediately, and violently.

So.

The issue lied in the past, and the past was obviously something that couldn't just be opened and closed like a book. Vejita's mind, however, might have another story. At least it would be, at any rate, if fuckin' Dende would cooperate. They had gone to him with the idea, Gohan and Piccolo, and Dende had sat and listened to the whole story with a furrowed brow of concentration. Dende had grown fond of Vejita after Buu, so it had surprised Gohan when he had stood up at the end and said, right off the bat, 'No.'

No?

It had shocked Gohan so much then that he hadn't even been able to argue, and had just floated down from the lookout with a heavy heart.

It wasn't until he told Bulma of the response that he had gotten some sense knocked into him.

Quite literally.

With an aching head and a bruise, he had gone back up to the lookout, and tried to sway Dende to his side.

'It won't hurt him, Dende, so I don't see why you won't! This might help him, you know. Don't you think we owe him a little effort? If we were going back in time and messing up whole dimensions, I could see you sayin' no, but all we wanna do is take a look through his memories, is all. Something in there is bound to help us figure out what's wrong with him.'

Dende had sent him a sharp look, and had asked, 'And if his past life is what's making him worse now, then how can you know that living through that yourselves won't make any of you crazy? And beyond that, don't you think that it's a little wrong to go rifling through people's memories? Would you like for someone to get inside your head and see every personal moment of your life?'

The obvious answer to that was no, and Dende could see in the sudden shuffling of his feet that he knew it was wrong.

He did know it was wrong.

A betrayal of the trust Vejita had put into them all, unspoken or not, and breaking that trust could very well have only made things worse. If Vejita were furious enough, he could easily have destroyed the entire planet, and them along with it.

It was a risk they had become willing to take.

Vejita was getting worse anyway. How could their interference have possibly done more harm that what was already there?

Didn't Dende see?

Babidi's intrusion into Vejita's mind had set him off balance—if they did it right, why couldn't their intrusion set the scale back? If nothing else, maybe they could understand Vejita more and try to shoulder some of the burden by enduring his life themselves.

Yet, no matter what flimsy reasoning he tried to muster (and, boy, was it ever flimsy), Dende refused.

Not an option this time.

Gohan came back every day, determined, but Dende held fast.

"Will you do it?"

"No."

The next day, the same.

"Will you do it?"

"No, I said."

Dende was as stubborn as Gohan was, and this time that wasn't a good thing.

Finally, his fragile patience began to fray, and his requests became more aggressive.

Less friendly.

"You ready to get off your ass and do it now?"

Dende sent him a foul look, and this time he said, "Get his consent, and I'll do it."

Bullshit.

"He would never let us, and you damn well know it!"

"Then," Dende shot back, "the answer is no!"

His irritation was growing, and so was Bulma's. She wouldn't let Gohan rest until he got Dende to go along with it.

Maybe Dende was right, and it might have been a terrible thing to do. It was still going to be done anyway, come hell or high water, and when he came back one day to Capsule Corporation and saw Bulma sobbing her eyes out at the kitchen table, Trunks hovering around her in concern, it lit a fire under him.

Dende was his friend. Always had been, and always would be.

But that didn't stop a frustrated Gohan from bolting up to the lookout and grabbing Dende by his collar, lifting him straight off the ground, and pulling him in so close that their noses nearly touched so he could hiss, dangerously, "Enough! You've wasted enough time! You're gonna do it whether you want to or not! You were there the whole time they fought! Vejita made those wishes, and he's the only reason we're all standin' here now! You think my dad coulda won without him? Guess again. Now you're gonna return the favor."

Dende wasn't really afraid of him, knowing that Gohan didn't have it in him to hurt his friend, but the shaming had worked all the same.

Finally, after weeks of pressing, Dende furrowed his brow, pursed his lips, and gritted out, "Fine."

Gohan set him down, gently.

"Thank you."

Dende just sent him a testy look, and didn't respond. Didn't matter, as long as he helped.

A short silence hung over them, and then Dende said, "Tomorrow. I'll do it tomorrow. Sleep on it, won't you? And I hope that by the time I come down you'll have realized that you're making a mistake."

Gohan neatly cast aside the warnings, and repeated, firmly, "Tomorrow."

Dende very nearly glowered at him.

As he lifted into the air and meant to descend, Gohan cast one final look at Dende and added, "Don't make me come get you."

With that, he shot off, and his heart hammered the whole way back.

From relief or guilt, he didn't know.

Vejita just assumed it was another one of their now frequent gatherings. Why wouldn't he have? They had (although unknowingly) been setting the stage for their own move for over a year now.

Kinda funny, in a sad way.

When the word had been spread that Dende had consented, they came over to dutifully await his arrival, and Vejita just saw them pooling in like ants and moved about the shadows without a second thought. He couldn't have known what they were planning.

And, as Dende had wanted, Gohan had slept on it long and hard. He hadn't changed his mind, and neither had Bulma. The others had been present for the talks and the discussions on the potential risks, so whoever showed up now was fully aware of what they were embarking on.

Their choice.

Gohan was rather disappointed to see his father was the first one to show up. He had been hoping—perhaps unfairly—that Goku would have just forgotten, like he forgot everything else. Not this time. So, he just gave his father a curt nod, and Goku nodded back, and that was the extent of their conversation.

Krillin and Piccolo showed up next. Gohan had expected them.

Eighteen didn't come. He had expected that too; she was too distant to be interested in such endeavors, and would rather keep watch from the outside.

No one had ever expected Tien. They didn't even know where he was, and he hadn't been privy to anything going on lately, and even if he had, he wouldn't have shown up anyway. The only one who had never truly accepted Vejita on this planet.

What really surprised Gohan was the arrival of his mother. He hadn't really anticipated that Chichi would have had a great care to be put in the mind of man like Vejita, but...

Here she was. Well. She knew what she was getting into. He wouldn't try to talk her out of it.

Yamcha's arrival had surprised him more than any other, honestly. Maybe it had all been in his head when he had assumed that Yamcha and Vejita were not on speaking terms, and that there was certainly no affection between them. To be fair, he had never really bothered to find out.

When Yamcha walked in, that strained smile on his face and his coat slung over his shoulder, he saw Gohan's look of surprise and just said, casually, "You were expecting me to dress better?"

For a moment there, Gohan had almost laughed. A strange feeling as of late. Still, he managed a smile, and let his hands fall loose as he teased back, "I guess I was expecting formal wear."

They both knew what Gohan had been thinking, but neither of them addressed it.

A question no one (expect perhaps Goku) would have ever been tactless enough to ask.

'Why are you here? Don't you hate Vejita?'

Yamcha just shut the door behind him, tense smile falling a little as he said, in a softer voice, "Well, we all can't dress like superintendents, Gohan."

"So I've been told."

That half-hearted attempt at regaining a long-lost sense of normalcy faded as quickly as it had come, and they all hung around here and there, waiting for one last guest.

Gohan wondered if Dende would really show up at all.

The part of Gohan that still cared about wrong from right certainly wouldn't have blamed him; the other part would have blasted up to the lookout and dragged Dende down by his robe. That would be the least of Dende's problems if Bulma got a hold of him after a no-show.

They waited.

Again, just waiting.

As he sat there on the couch, fist holding up his weary head, Gohan glanced at the window from time to time.

It was in times like these that he kinda missed Videl. She would have been excited and eager to jump into a risk like this, with that little smirk of confidence on her face.

...maybe he should have tried harder to make it work with her.

She had always reminded him a little of Vejita. Stubborn and hard-headed. Determined. Not afraid to tell you exactly what she thought about something and more than happy to correct you when you did something wrong. Likely to give you a punch you'd never forget if you pressed too far. But still attractive, in both body and soul.

He heaved a sigh, shifting in agitation.

Bulma was pacing the kitchen so furiously that Gohan was surprised the tile didn't just give out beneath her.

Trunks and Goten had been let loose outside, in an attempt to distract them from what was going on. Goten was easy to divert, but sneaky and observant Trunks was far harder to trick, and the fact that they had wanted them to cause a ruckus on the grounds had certainly put him on guard. Gohan caught glimpses of him from time to time, trying to peer in through the window. Too much like his father sometimes.

Finally, after what felt like a damn eternity of waiting, there was a soft knock on the door.

They all leapt up at the same time, and Vejita looked up from his corner at their strange reaction. When the door opened and it was Dende who stood there in the frame, Vejita had taken a few steps forward, clearly curious about this unusual visitation. Maybe he had gotten a little suspicious. Even distant as he was now, Vejita was not a man that was easily fooled, and nothing so unusual would ever slip by his quick mind.

Keen on Vejita's caution, they tried to play it off as best they could, greeting Dende with cheer and false pleasantries. Dende wasn't smiling, so the act was hard to pull off.

Gohan looked at him, trying to convey gratitude, but Dende only gave a short sigh and looked a little foul. As if he had really expected them all to change their minds. Sorry. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

It was the ultimate betrayal of trust, the ultimate gamble of something dear, but what else could they do? The only hope to figure out what was wrong with Vejita was to figure out Vejita, and that could only be done by delving into the most scared of privacies :

Memories.

Dende was here now. It was going into action. For all of the stress and worry in the planning of it, it was actually easy enough. Downright simple, in fact.

Dende took a great, reluctant breath, and walked up to Vejita, saying, amicably, "Hi, Vejita. Long time, no see, huh?"

Vejita looked startled, more than anything else, that someone was speaking to him, more so that it was Dende.

Staring between them, and then Vejita just said, quietly, "Yeah."

Dende edged closer, and Vejita suddenly looked so tired.

Sad.

Dende saw it, too, and seemed to gather up the resolve that he had needed now that he was actually faced with it.

"It'll be alright," he whispered, and Vejita sent him a look of confusion.

Vulnerability. Suspicion.

Too late.

A careless hand on Vejita's arm, and Dende put him out like a light. When had he learned how to do that?

As they set Vejita up against the wall, Dende looked back at all of them, clearly still so reluctant, and said, "If anyone wants out, now's the time. This isn't going to be some vacation."

Chichi, agitated, snitted, "That's obvious!"

Gohan sent her a look of warning.

They moved forward only on Dende's good graces. Let him speak all he wanted, if it would serve them in the end.

Foundering under her son's gaze, Chichi clamped her mouth shut and let Dende carry on. He did so, with a rather steely voice.

"It'll only be an hour or so out here, maybe two, but it's going to be an entire lifetime in your head. You'll feel every year, every day, every minute. Once you're in, you've got to ride it out until the end. I doubt that I'll have enough control to come in and pull one of you out at the first sign of trouble. I don't know if we'll be able to talk to each other. I'll try to keep up together, but this isn't exactly a tested thing. So, if anyone wants out..."

A plea, more than a warning.

Dende didn't want to do this, but it had gone too far.

Gohan was the first to reach out and grab Dende's hand.

Dende's face fell a little.

Bulma's hand wrapped around his own. Goku took hers. Piccolo, and then Krillin, and then Yamcha, with a beleaguered sigh, said, "Well! Can't turn on him now, can we?" and then grabbed a hold.

Chichi took hold, and Goku was the one to finally say, "You don't have to go. You...you shouldn't go."

She sent her husband a stern look, and said, "He's my friend, too."

Friend.

They must have all been thinking the same thing, for conversation fell still for a moment, as they raised their eyes up to each other's. Friend, they called him. This man had come to kill them, once. Strange, how things worked out.

Gohan wondered, briefly, if Vejita had ever even heard that word in his entire life. If anyone had ever called him 'friend'.

Well—he was about to find out, wasn't he?

"Hey!" came a sudden interruption from behind, "You're not going anywhere without us!"

Behind them, Trunks and Goten, appearing out of thin air, were suddenly trying very hard to wriggle in, and Gohan cursed under his breath. Nosy little bastards.

Dende was the one to send them a stern tell-off.

"This isn't for children. I refuse to let you come along."

Trunks, as much his father as he was, put his hands on his hips and squared his feet.

"It's my dad!"

Goten opened his mouth and began, "Yeah!" before falling short, covering his mouth quickly with his hands as he gawped at Gohan guiltily.

Well. Who could be mad at him?

Goku's eyes fell down to the floor, but he didn't say a word. Gohan knew that he had understood Goten's sentiment. Vejita may as well have been Goten's father, not exactly literally but perhaps in a small way. To Goten, maybe, Goku was still rather otherworldly; too much of a hero to really be thought of as a father. In Goten's eyes, Goku was more of a god, not so much a father. Vejita, after all, was a father to Trunks, and Goten was always with Trunks, so it must have felt to Goten in some way that Vejita was his as well.

"Absolutely not," Bulma said, and her voice was sharp and strict.

Chichi sent Goten that look.

Finally, irritably, they crossed their arms and pushed out their bottom lips in defeat, but they couldn't be shooed off.

Attention returned to Dende.

"What are we in for? How's this work, exactly?" Yamcha asked, squirming in apprehension, and, by Dende's words, he was right to do so.

"Well, I'm not exactly an expert on this. I don't typically go poking through people's memories unless my hand is forced." A testy look in Gohan's direction. "But I imagine it won't be anything pretty, considering who we're dealing with here. As for how it works, well... I suppose it's kind of like watching a movie. Only you'll be playing the role of Vejita. As literally as I can mean that, too. You'll be spared no detail, and as far as I know, everything he feels, you'll feel. Pain, emotions, thoughts and all that whatnot. You'll be a spectator only. No one can see or hear you. Maybe not even any of us if I can't keep us together. My control in this matter is rather untested."

Dende was clearly trying to make this sound as unpleasant as possible in the hopes he would scare them into changing their minds.

Didn't work.

"So," Goku said, a bit wistfully, "Living a whole life as Vejita... This is gonna hurt, huh?"

"I presume so," was the droll response.

Dende sure did have a way of making them feel like dumb children.

Gohan, although quite undeterred himself, began to doubt Bulma and Chichi's involvement in this venture, but they cut him off when he sent them a look.

"We're going."

"Think we can't handle a little pain?"

Gohan furrowed his brow, knowing they were making light of the situation, but he could hardly stop them. As long as they knew what they were getting into, it was their choice. He wouldn't belittle them by trying to talk them out of it as if they were just silly girls. It wasn't any physical pain that had him worried, at any rate. Psychological damage was his main concern. Each of them would have a different threshold, and they were leaping into something so vague and unknown that it was quite horrifying to really think about it.

To be painfully honest with himself, Gohan couldn't help but contemplate whether he was doing this for Vejita or for himself.

He wouldn't lie and say that he wasn't curious about the past of a man who refused to speak about it.

Curious.

Maybe that was selfish.

His own desire to understand Vejita on the basest of levels might have very well been clouding his judgment. Not a problem for him, no, but it would certainly be a great guilt upon his shoulders if something happened to one of the others just because he wanted to sneak a peek at something private.

Still...

He pushed it away, and convinced himself that it was for the best.

It was for Vejita's sake. It had to be done.

And whether or not he truly believed that had no longer become a concern, for Dende had finally heaved a great sigh of defeat and was clearly ready to move forward.

A final warning.

"If this doesn't give you what you want, then you're on your own. Ask me for nothing else. And when we're done, you're going to look him in the eye and tell him what you did. Don't pretend it didn't happen. I won't let you. Deal?"

"Deal," Gohan said, and Dende nodded his head.

His heart was racing with anxiety. Second-guessing.

No time.

"Alright!" Dende said, as he closed his eyes and put his free hand upon Vejita's forehead. "Here we go!"

And that was that.

For Vejita, not himself. Help, not curiosity. He repeated it to himself over and over and over again.

Dizziness.

The last thing Gohan saw was a blur, as Trunks and Goten leapt forward at the last second to grab them.

Oh. Shit.

Too late to stop them.

Everything went dark.