"Who are you?" The chains rattled.
"Come now," the voice teased as the footsteps grew closer. "Surely you've seen a mirror before, Ouji." His grin was wide. His eyes were green and inviting.
"That doesn't make sense."
"Then why don't you let it? You're a curious person. Let me show you that hidden truth." The cuffs dug into his wrists but he looked up. Up at the stranger that looked just like him. Except he did not have poisonous green eyes.
Tendrils of shadows twisted up out of the cold floor, and wrapped around his body. He didn't seem to mind much, even as they began to pull him through the ground.
Everything went silent. Then the stranger spoke again.
"Let me show you the face of your brother's killer."
…
Earlier that night…
He looked down at the surrounding police cars with contempt. The lights were still flashing, their guns leveled at the building, and demands being made for him to step out with his hands up. He glanced briefly at the bodies surrounding him, sighing. He was getting frustrated.
"I suppose I should have thought this through a bit more thoroughly. Still, I did make a wonderful entrance…"
He stepped out of the room and into the hall, hands in his pockets. "Fantastic. It's only a matter of time before they decide to raid this damn place. And speaking of time, I only have about four hours left, and even that's a stretch. What's been making it so hard to get control lately?"
He stopped and kicked down the door to a different room. He was on the top floor. There was a shape on the roof of the building across the alley way. Looking more closely, he saw that it was a woman. He ducked out of sight as she aimed some type of projectile.
He peeked around the corner, and found a small harpoon attached to a cable imbedded in the brick wall. The clothing lines would conceal him from the law enforcement. The woman stood.
"Are you coming or what, asshole?"
As he stepped out onto the wire like a relaxed tight-rope walker, that cocky grin eased back into place. "Ah, so you came. Sorry to disappoint, but he's not back yet. Most likely not for a few hours."
"That's fine. I need you right now anyway." Bulma retracted the cord and started walking for the exit.
He was glad that her back was to him, because she didn't see the genuine surprise on his face. Reluctantly, he followed. "What's your angle?"
"I want answers. You have them."
"And you believe I will give them up so easily?"
She unlocked her car, shaking her head at the morons that were just deciding that they should go up after him. "I figured that you owe me."
He laughed as he slid into the passenger's seat. "Owe you?! I owe you nothing!"
"Well then," she said evenly. She pulled the gun out of her purse and aimed it at him. "I guess I'll just have to force it out of you."
"You think that will do anything? I'm immortal. That won't do shit." She pulled the trigger. Suddenly, he felt very drowsy.
"I think it'll just put kitty down for a nap."
When he woke up, he was still Prince. That much she could tell from his eyes. He was sitting on her couch while she sipped some tea in the armchair across from him. His vision slowly adjusted, and he found himself incredibly agitated, but also very calm. "You're not the same."
She set her cup down. "You're right. I'm not…" She took a breath. "I won't lie, I was terrified. But honestly, that's what motivated me. Vegeta has to live with you. I can't even imagine what you do to him."
He scoffed.
"Answer my questions."
Prince glared at her. "I'm curious. Why do you care so much? Really, neither of us are that impressive. We're just broken. Two halves that can't ever be whole – especially when one of those halves was never truly meant to exist in the first place."
"I love him."
He looked not doubtful, but unaffected. "Really," he drawled.
"Yes." He looked at her through squinted eyes, as if he were prying into her mind.
"Now I'm really interested. Go on. Let's see where this goes."
"What happened? Why are you immortal?" He seemed to pause for a moment, examining her cold, determined stare as she frowned.
"I believe it was a slimy lizard. Frieza." She urged him on. "Vegeta does not possess the memories of that day. The day that I was born. But I do. His brother and parents were out, and his father's business associate decided to drop in for a surprise visit. Of course, things didn't go well, and Frieza didn't play fair. One stab wound, and an injection containing the essence of the fabled "Dragon Balls" as he called them. He said I was his test subject. When it entered the bloodstream, the negative energy split us apart, but contributed much to my existence, which is why I am not wholly a part of Vegeta. Frieza gave it to himself as well, but for some reason suffered none of the same effects. Just what he wanted. There's your answer."
"What are Dragon Balls?"
"How the hell should I know?"
Bulma seethed. She slammed her hands on the coffee table and stood abruptly. How could anyone do such a thing to him? To anyone? "So that's it? You're made of evil, negative energy, right? Is that why you slaughtered people like some heartless monster?! Is that why you torture Vegeta like this?!"
His eyes widened. And then, he was very angry. He rose to his feet as well, though in a much more threatening manner. "SHUT UP! What the fuck would you know about me anyway?! He gets all of the emotions! He gets to remember what things were like before! The good things! And yet all he does is pout and whine about how fucking bad everything is! How it's so horrible to be alone! I have to listen to him day in and day out. He has no idea what real solitude is! He can remember what it was like before! I have none of that! Only carnage and blood."
"Prince," she gasped.
"No! You listen to me, you bitch! You may claim to love him, but he's weak! I'm the one who carries all of the rage and sadness and pain! I'm the one who holds all of the bad memories! So don't you go around saying that I torture him! I'm the only reason he's not a walking corpse!"
"I-I…"
He was panting, staring at the floor. And then, Bulma knew she had done something terrible.
Because he started to laugh. He laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed. He threw his head back and roared with the humor he found.
"You know what?" She didn't like it. He wasn't sane in that moment. Maybe it was that crooked glint in his eyes, or the way his voice raised an octave, but he was insane.
"You're right! I am a monster! I'm everything bad and ugly and cruel in this world! And you know what else?!" She didn't answer. She was too stunned. He laughed some more. "I don't deserve that love! That weak disgusting thing you offer him! I don't deserve anything nice or pretty! I'll just burn it to the ground! Make it scream! I am just a beast!"
She sank to her knees. "Prince, please…I didn't mean that. You're not bad." She had to calm him, make him think clearly. She hoped playing the pitiful girl in desperation would make her seem less threatening, but that wasn't the problem.
He snickered. "Bulma," he sang. "I have a secret." An orange glow enveloped him. He kneeled in front of her, and took her chin in his hand. He leaned in close enough so that his lips grazed her ear when he whispered.
"I killed Tarble." He leaned back, and the green began to fade from his eyes. "I think I should tell him, since I'm nothing but a monster."
"NO! Prince! Don't!" But it was too late. As she shook his shoulders, he fell limp, and she knew she had just guaranteed Vegeta the worst imaginable pain possible. "Oh Kami, no…"
…
"Let me show you the face of your brother's killer."
…
It was light out. Their father's funeral had come and gone. It was just them. The Ouji boys. They were trying to ingrain some sense of normalcy back into their daily lives. Trying to act like their parents hadn't just died. Like Mom hadn't been murdered, and Dad hadn't killed himself.
It was working, but not. Vegeta set down his book with a heavy sigh. Tarble was sitting at the fountain, just staring into the water like he hoped to be pulled down.
"What are you doing?"
He shook his head. "Vegeta, we'll be all right, won't we?"
He crossed his arms and scoffed. "That's a ridiculous question. We're not children anymore. Of course we will."
He smiled, and nodded. "Hey, you remember that girl I was telling you about? After that burglar stabbed you while we were at that dumb party?"
"Yeah…"
"I think I like her."
"That short pale one? Gure?"
He blushed lightly. "Uh huh."
Tarble looked pained for a moment before he composed himself. Vegeta watched with interest, waiting patiently. "I… I saw the papers in your room. You're trying to figure out who killed Mom, aren't you?"
He frowned. "Tell me that you honestly haven't had the same thoughts."
Tarble furrowed his brows and stood. He shook his head. "No. I haven't."
"Really?" His voice trembled slightly. And it rose steadily as he spoke. "You haven't once thought of making that bastard pay? You haven't once wanted to find them, and make them suffer for doing that to her? Tarble, you saw it. They didn't just kill her. She was barely recognizable!"
His lower lip trembled, and Vegeta thought that the collar of his brother's shirt looked much too tight. "Of course I have!" His eyes were wet, but he did not cry. "You think I don't want justice?! I do! But she wouldn't have wanted us to waste our lives on the loss of hers! Not like Dad!"
"Don't you dare compare me to him!"
"Why not?! Isn't it the same thing? Either way it's a loss of life, Vegeta!"
"Well, tell me what's left then. Now that they're gone, I have to run the family business. I have to take care of damage control. At least there's someone for you to live for." He looked away, and watched his distorted reflection in the water.
"That's not true. You have me. And you'll find someone too. But not if you start pursuing revenge and conspiracies. Life's short. I just don't want you getting wrapped up in something you'll regret later."
"Short? Then why are the days getting longer and longer?" His frown was gone, replaced with a bittersweet, yet grateful smile.
"This will pass. It's just us now. I say we enjoy it." They crossed their forearms in brotherly salute. Vegeta went inside to nap, his heart slightly lighter in his chest.
…
"What have I done?" She had dragged his body to the couch, waiting for him to wake up screaming or crying. Tensing with every moment that passed. "Prince wasn't evil… He was just…angry. And I went and said that to him…"
She ran a hand through Vegeta's hair.
"You're kind, sad, gentle… Prince is mad, frustrated, loud… I can't believe I didn't see it sooner. I'm sorry. You two need to be whole again. Otherwise…"
She pulled out some books, some above college level psychology, others, ones she hadn't seen since she was a little girl, sitting on her father's knee while he told her fairy tales.
"I'll make this right. Now that I know what's wrong, I can fix it. But you're going to have to pull it together too. No more sitting around waiting."
His eyes shifted beneath his lids.
"You're going to be so upset when you wake up… He shouldn't be showing you like this, but I can't blame him. He's only ever gotten the bad things. You're lucky, Vegeta. Someone to take all of those hits for you. It's time for you to take some of those hits on your own though."
…
'I remember all of that…That was the last time I saw him…'
He was reaching the part. He was about to lay down, when a sudden pain flashed though his skull. This was Prince's first appearance.
He twisted his fingers in his hair and collapsed onto his knees by the bed, groaning and clenching his teeth. But it was different this time. This time, he didn't pass out. He was still conscious, but at the same time, he was not.
There was nothing. No thought. No plan. Just a burning rage, and a tightening. He had to move. The room was closing in on him. He had to kill.
Kill. Kill. Kill…
There was no order to what he did. He simply burst out the front door, running someone over.
"Vegeta! What's wrong?" He staggered back, clutching his head as the remaining pains dulled. He looked up, into Tarble's eyes. The younger took a step back, confusion and fear printing itself on him. "…Vegeta…'Geta. C'mon, what's wrong? Snap out of it." Prince began trudging towards him as he tried to bring his brother to his senses.
Kill…Kill…Kill.
Then they were running. The younger man was light on his feet as he ducked under bushes and through branches. But Vegeta was older. Faster. Stronger. He jumped up, and swung himself onto a large tree branch, and began climbing as high as he could. If he could reach the top before Vegeta, he could wait him out. It would only hold his weight.
However, Prince saw through him. He grabbed their father's axe from the tool shed, and started at the trunk. "Vegeta! Vegeta, stop! You're not yourself!"
He kept hacking away at it. Soon, the tall plant began to sway, and he lost his grip, plummeting to the ground. He smacked branch after branch, hitting the ground hard. He broke his wrist, and his ribs punctured a lung, causing him to cough up some of the substance.
Vegeta could only feel his blood rushing with adrenaline from the hunting of his own brother. It made him sick.
Prince, still pumped with primal blood lust, stood over him as he clutched his chest on the ground. He raised the axe. Tarble looked up at him, blood dribbling down his chin, face scratched. Vegeta saw that even though his body stood, ready to kill, there was love in his eyes.
Splat.
Inside the memory, Vegeta quaked, eyes wide. He was still living through Prince's eyes. It seemed then that the urge calmed, and his mind cleared.
"Oh…" Prince crouched down, tugging on his arm, prodding him. He then stood back up, and placed his palm over his chest, eyebrows furrowing with puzzlement. "What…is this? It's…warm." He glanced back down at Tarble and the blood soaked leaves surrounding him.
"There is affection for him." He picked him up, cradling his limp form. "If there is affection for him, then he should look nice." He set him down one he reached the shed, gathering twine.
He bound his appendages, one by one to the shed, ever so carefully. He took a step back to admire his work. "…Still missing something." The roses to his left caught his eye. He took their elegant blooms, and arranged them so beautifully around his wrists, neck, and arms. "There."
His brows furrowed once more, and again, he put his hand to his chest. "Why does it hurt?" His vision blurred, and Vegeta felt himself more familiar.
With one emerald, and one onyx eye, Prince Vegeta stared, not breathing. There was no sound. Then there was a roaring, building up from the back of his head.
It took him five minutes to realize that it was his screaming.
…
She looked up at him as she heard a sharp intake of breath, and his eyes opened. Black this time. Inwardly, she cringed, waiting for the panic or the yelling or the crying. But he just sat up, a hard and cold expression on him, and leaned his elbows on his knees, hands folded.
For a moment, she was hopeful that Prince had not shown him, but that hope was burned when he finally spoke. His tone, dead.
"Did you know that he was in love?" She said nothing. She just listened. "He kept talking about her after that night. He said that when he finished school and got a job, he was going to marry her. It made me happy. He was moving on, even though our parents were dead. Somehow, he just did it.
On the day he was murdered, we argued. I wanted revenge and justice. I was trying to find the person that killed her. I wanted them to hurt. He told me that he didn't want anyone else to die, and that if I devoted my existence to something like that, I'd be giving up my life for their deaths. He was right.
We were fine. We were getting better. But then I just got angry for no reason. When I came out of it, he looked like a piece of art. There were roses, and his blood looked like paint."
His voice cracked. He winced.
"I'm the artist."
Bulma remained quiet. She merely hugged him. She squeezed him so tightly, like she wanted to squeeze the unhappiness out of him. He didn't move. He was practically catatonic.
"It's okay. You never meant to. He doesn't hate you for it."
"No. He doesn't. And somehow that makes it worse." She kissed his temple. Whispering that everything would be okay. That he had to be strong. That he wasn't alone.
Vegeta took his hand, and gazed at it like it was foreign to him, before placing it on his chest. "It hurt him more."
"I know. He's been hurting too. But we'll patch both of you back up."
He smiled lightly.
A/N: Wow. And you guys really hated Prince, didn't you?
Oh my goodness that took so long! I love high school, but I have all honors classes and water polo practice, so I am super busy and super tired a lot. But it's fun! Almost done with another chap. for TSG.
