Chapter 7: Breaking Ranks

Through the gaping hole left in the gravity capsule's door, the sounds of the evening drifted softly; a lonely thing graced by the rustle of trees and the breath of crickets, whispering of vulnerability and leaving the Prince open to the nightly chill…

And any visitor that decided to step through it.

Vegeta was already well aware of Goku's presence before the Warrior appeared at his door. Having sensed his low class expatriate appear suddenly with little warning, the Prince had resigned himself to waiting for him. He took to sitting in the darkness, away from the door with his back to the centre console, leaning against it in cold apathy and knowing the other Saiyan would join him soon enough.

Their ki told him enough; the little harpy and him. A sharp dive in Bulma's mood had been obvious from the moment he'd cast her off of him, the annoying whine of her spirit faintly ringing in his bones to entertain a sense of frustration, mingled upon sadness and anxiety. It was all too easy for him to track the Woman's emotions, wearing them on her sleeve as she did, with no concept as to how she might steady her energy and hide them. Vegeta did not need to spy, nor eavesdrop on her phone call, to know that she was the one to bring Kakarot here. Her distress was tangible as it spiked not minutes before, dropping off sharply the moment her old friend had joined her. From that point onward, Vegeta had lost track of the Earth Woman's ki entirely, squashed as it was under the deep thrum of her lapdog, no doubt come to the rescue in an effort to placate her tantrum.

Floating casually in through the warped metal opening and setting bare feet upon the cold tile, a few silently padded steps inward saw the Earth-raised Saiyan make his uninvited entrance.

Picking up the fresh scent of the other Saiyan behind him easily as it filled the air, the Prince could guess he'd be readily chastised for obviously upsetting the Heiress, offended by the smell of him as it invaded the comforting musk his own toils had left here. He could practically taste Kakarot's tension as the Warrior gave off a prelude of what was to come in waves—a firm sense of conviction, subtle anger and most sickening of all, concern.

Refusing to look back at him, a calm tone slithered low to the Prince's ear as Goku spoke behind him, his gaze burning holes in the back of Vegeta's head. "…It's been a while, Vegeta. You're already a lot stronger than I'd expected you to be by now." It was so curtly given it almost pained one to hear it; the tiny spring of a leak before a dam burst and washed all else away. "I can tell you've improved way beyond what you were on Namek."

Vegeta recognised the timbre in his voice, the self same one Kakarot often used in battle, when underestimated or unimpressed with his opponent's conduct.

"Save it, Kakarot." He hissed back with venom, sneering to himself bitterly in the darkness and unwilling to even take in the sight of his rival, staring ahead to the port window instead and focussing upon the dim stars. "We both know you're leaps and bounds ahead of me. If it's all the same, I'll do without your conciliatory regards of sportsmanship." Leaning elbows upon his knees, the Prince's fists tightened silently, reining back his offence for such careless coaxing—it appeared the idiot still held firm to his hopes of camaraderie.

Just like the Woman, he thought then, scoffing for it privately; neither of them can take the hint and just leave well enough alone.

Deciding to maintain some distance between them for the surly sovereign's sake, Goku shifted with a sigh, tucking a thumb into the hem of his track pants and glancing over what he could see of the Saiyan from behind the console. Vegeta was as difficult as ever, he supposed, almost having forgotten how blunt the man could be—it was little wonder Bulma had reached her limits with him. The Heiress wasn't all that patient to begin with, and secretly, Goku marvelled at how much her character had improved with age. She'd taken more in stride from Vegeta than he'd ever seen her put up with before, and the warrior had a new found respect for his old friend in that. But then, he supposed, she was used to swallowing a few hardships when it came to men, and almost sad for it Goku knew that Yamcha's flirtatious behaviour had a lot to do with her maturing temperance.

Hardening from the slightly boyish charm his features usually held, a light frown betrayed the business at hand as Goku gave an uncaring roll of his shoulders. "Alright, Vegeta, have it your way… I'll get straight to the point." Inclining his head toward the Prince slowly, it was very faint, but a sliver of anger slipped into his tone with warning. "What exactly happened here today?"

Vegeta didn't miss it either, though it brought a cynical curve to his lips—Kakarot was in no mood to be dismissed without answers. At that, his head finally turned, a sidelong glance sent across the way to meet the Warrior's gaze evenly; perhaps even daringly. "So you are here to rescue the damsel in distress... how noble of you." He sniped back, the barest hint of a chuckle rumbling from his throat as he shifted, moving slowly to stand and lifting himself up from the console. Toned arms crossed casually over his chest, hiding a few scars as bare hands all but vanished from sight.

Expecting as much, Goku held his ground firmly, the lightest grimace ghosting across his mouth. Remarkably though, as his eyes narrowed upon the Prince's visage in the darkness, they seemed dulled and without their usual warmth. A strangely belligerent cock of his head was given to his supposed superior, and in that moment perhaps, the pair truly were two Saiyans facing each other down as the air thickened around them with tension.

"She's my friend, Vegeta. I don't like seeing her upset at the best of times…" Goku offered it slowly, a simple truth shared quietly between them, though when he continued, a note of spite twisted it into something else entirely. "…and I definitely don't like the bruises you left on her." He saw the Prince's eyes widen a fraction for it, and Goku chanced a low growl, chasing down the reaction he wanted. "I was under the impression you were better than that… you might be a lot of bad things, Vegeta, but I never pegged you for a liar."

It shot through the space between them like a flaming arrow, heated and precisely aimed to draw the Prince out of his evasion and into defence—Goku was not one to be bitter or taunt others in anger, but he knew well where Vegeta's triggers were. One did not insult his heritage or his ranking, or call negative attention to either his height or his strength, and certainly not his lost tail without instigating his ire…

But the Prince's sense of honour was a strange and flexible thing when backed into a corner by pride, and Goku intended on taking full advantage of it.

"What was that!?" the Saiyan snapped fiercely, affronted by such a statement, least of all from Kakarot himself. It was certainly no mild accusation, in the face of his agreement with the Woman… perhaps, within himself, he could admit that he did bend it some when casting her aside, but he knew for a fact that it held. He'd brought no harm to her other than a bump on the arse, and seeing as it was a response to her pathetic attempt to be violent, she should be counting her lucky stars that it was all she endured.

The very audacity that she or Kakarot had, to call his honour into question over something so ridiculously trivial, left him furious. Wide eyed with a hateful glare, his arms were quick to his sides, fists shaking with the want to smack the very words from the Warrior's mouth as he roared back.

"I barely touched her, you insipid charlatan! How dare you try to spit that at me; she was the one trying to strike me, she should be grateful to know such clemency! I suppose you'll next be telling me that I'm to simply accept it, and let her have a free slap every once in a while in generosity!?"

Tensing up at the sight of such aggression, Goku took a step forward, thrusting out a hand and gesturing with some authority to yell—he knew this could quickly turn into blows.

"Cool it, Vegeta!" he returned firmly, his volume rising to match that of the Prince, a strange scowl darkening his features in turn. "The deal was not to touch her at all, if you really wanna play it that way! You can't keep creeping over these lines! Don't grab her by the wrists, don't push her out of your way, don't invade her personal space and don't keep making these threats when you've sworn you wouldn't hurt her! You can't just keep running her down like this, Vegeta, all she wants to do is help you!"

"She doesn't want to help me; she wants to control me, just like she does the rest of you spineless idiots!" Like a shockwave built of his fury, a swirl of ki flared about tanned skin and rushed outward with the volume of it, bringing hair to stand on end with a static tingle and rattling the port windows with the force.

"You're a disgrace, Kakarot! Ordered about by a woman whose power level couldn't be more than five…! She's nothing but a spoiled and disrespectful sow, requiring the worship of everyone around her without doing a damned thing to earn it for her self! Look at you; come running to her beck and call like some miserable errand boy, conned by a few tears into fighting her battles for her! Have you no shame at all?! She's no better than a Tuffle, using us Saiyans for their hard labours and thinking nothing more of us than slaves and pets, too primitive to survive without the grace of their technology! I won't have it, damn you, I bow to no one!"

Taken aback to see the Prince so incensed—over what seemed like just sticking up for a friend—so much so that a burst of his own energy escaped his control, gave Goku pause. He might not have any idea what a Tuffle really was, though he was certain he'd heard it mentioned before—King Kai sounded about right for it, and in the back of Goku's mind he vaguely recalled that a war between Tuffles and Saiyans apparently took place before he was born. Whatever the case, the Prince didn't care for them and it sounded as if he was justified in his sour opinion… but for some reason he seemed to be drawing rather vindictive parallels between the Bulma and this old enemy race. Loathe as he was to admit it, in a startling turn, the Heiress seemed to be spot on the money when she'd worried for the danger posed by her houseguest. This kind of slipped ki control wasn't like Vegeta at all, and forced to step back when the brunt of energy had hit him, the Warrior could only stare in concern for it as he realised how bad a risk the Prince had actually become.

Vegeta had certainly gotten stronger. His progress was almost surprising, but it was all too clear why—as Goku remembered where they stood—the meticulous technique and energy management Vegeta usually commanded wasn't there to back it up… in such a hurry to attain his new strength as he pushed himself in the gravity, the Prince was going for broke and gaining raw power too quickly. Suddenly getting far more return for his efforts than ever before, he had not yet acclimatised to it, and probably didn't even realise how much might he'd gained. It was also very likely that he'd been neglecting his mental exercise in favour of physical, making it even harder to temper his new strength and conversely, much easier to misjudge it. It was making more sense now—Bulma somehow knew it already, but Vegeta hadn't yet realised just how much stronger he was swiftly becoming, and as Goku knew very well, one's feel for levels of restraint were based on trial, error and habit-forming.

Vegeta would've had no idea how hard he'd actually thrown her, and for that, Goku had to give him the benefit of the doubt.

As the Prince snarled the last of it, the spikes of his hair bristling and his hackles raised near ready to launch himself at the other warrior, Goku seemed to soften, drawing back to tuck hands in his pockets in a point of dismissing any violence to come. A long sigh left him, rolling slowly from his lips as the Saiyan shook his head, closing his eyes to the scowling image of Vegeta and taking on a surprisingly fatherly tone. "Listen, Vegeta, I don't know about all that Tuffle stuff, but whatever it is, you've got to let it go."

"Tch… No, of course you wouldn't…" allowing his rage to devolve back into its poisonous spite, Vegeta visibly relaxed some, though kept sharp teeth bared toward his rival to mutter sneeringly. "Only a true Saiyan would remember such a thing… the mightiest warriors in the Galaxy, and yet it seems somebody is always trying to rule us. No sooner had my Father freed us of one tyranny did the Arcosians deliver us another…. Never again. I won't be ordered about like a child; not by you, not by the Namek, not by that punk from the future and especially not by the Woman!"

"Why do you have to be like that!?" the Warrior cried in a fit of pique, gritting his teeth in frustration for how stubborn the Prince could be and raising his shoulders defensively.

With a flash of an old and unabated hatred that both men knew to be well justified, Vegeta would level a calloused finger toward his rival, a deathly hiss seething out of him. "Mark me, Kakarot. I spent my entire life under Frieza's heel, only to have my rightful vengeance snatched away from me by a tail-less, Earthbound low class—with no more idea of his origins than a rock thrown into a riverbed—whose pitiful sense of mercy not only led to an unfinished job, but the mockery of our race's most respected and feared form!" distain tainting his regal features to twist them into something feral and wild, he withdrew his hand sharply, lifting his head high as if weathering a great insult. "I will not come away from that a whipping boy to some overly pampered, blue haired tramp who can't even summon the enthusiasm to clean her damned room!"

Largely unaffected by the belittling of his own claim to such heritage, Goku stifled a pained grimace to settle the Prince with a patient though weary look, groaning in the back of his throat. He toyed with the thought of bringing up the Prince's final wish that a Saiyan defeat Frieza, but tucked it back into the less used and dark corner of his head—a part of him sincerely regretted not finishing off the tyrant, especially when he had promised Vegeta that much, but there was simply no helping that now.

He had empathy enough to understand where the Prince was coming from, certainly, left without a satisfying sense of closure. Goku could recall the sense of loss at Krillin's death clearly, and that awful snapping point of wanting so badly to take revenge for it—he could only imagine how much more Vegeta must feel of that, having lost all that he had ever held important. Pride was, indeed, the only thing that remained for him to inherit, alongside the hope that one day he would become a Super Saiyan; Goku had already wounded his pride. It was only natural that Vegeta would feel compelled to take Super Saiyan back.

The both of them knew that he was meant to die there on Namek, basically ripped from the grave on a technicality, and if Goku could do nothing else, he would endure Vegeta's grudge for the simple fact that the man needed something to transfer his hatred onto until it dissipated with time. The Prince could not be without something to drive him and compete against, an opponent or an oppressor to blame, a goal set and struggled to in anger and agony, for he had never known to live without it.

Goku could never let Bulma become the target of such an ill obsession, regardless of Trunks' being born.

Furrowing his brows disapprovingly, the Warrior tightened his fists to grip the sides of his track pants, subtly releasing some of his stress there. "Well, whatever you think, the fact is Bulma doesn't 'require' anything from you other than a 'thank you' here and there. She's not trying to make a slave out of you, or lord anything over you… she's not using you as a weapon to fight the androids on her behalf, either, so give it a break, Vegeta. The truth is she'd be more comfortable not letting you use her equipment at all, because she's terrified that once the androids are gone, you'll turn around and become the next big threat."

Perceptive little gnat, when the mood strikes her, Vegeta mused internally, unsurprised—then again, he had fed her so many threats that way inclined, the Woman probably assumed it was a given thing; his destroying the Androids only to replace them. Indeed, at the very least, he had every intention of going after Kakarot when that time came… whether the others were foolish enough to step in and get themselves killed was none of his concern.

Still, he was slightly incredulous of the claim that she was 'terrified'—because who in their right mind, when scared of somebody, comes storming into their room screeching like a banshee and then tries to hit them?

If Bulma had one redeemable feature the Prince had noticed, it was courage.

Vegeta would scoff distastefully, turning his head away in some disgust for his statement and waving a dismissive hand. "Yes, because Frieza descending upon this rock with the intention to kill everything on it had her running for the hills." He spat sarcastically, not fond of the irony as his arms folded themselves over his chest once more. "If she were fearful of me in the slightest, she'd have sewn her lips shut by now, knowing what's good for her… and let's not forget that she did attempt to strike me today. It's all part of her games, but unfortunately for her, the one that wins is the one that hits the hardest. She'd have been begging to be rid of me if she held to such trepidations, truly, instead of sending around one of her sycophants to try and get me to play nicely. Too bad I'm in no mood to let her win."

"She is begging to be rid of you." He could stand no more of it; holding it in as Vegeta continued to berate and deride, and suddenly coming out with it, Goku watched the Prince's form seize. It was subtle, but with his keen eyes in the darkness, he caught it anyway—stillness took him over, frozen in place as if royal blood ran cold with the revelation. Softening some, Goku continued quietly, a lazy swing of his hands giving a lack lustre shrug. "That's why she called me tonight. She wanted my help in making you leave, because she didn't think you'd take her seriously and actually go if she told you to."

A strange silence settled upon them then, the truth lingering around them as a chilled breeze floated through, bringing with it the distant sounds of the rustling trees once more. It was an awkward thing, as Vegeta glanced back toward Goku with an odd sense of disbelief ghosting faintly in his eye, the lightest twitch of his brow holding back the bemusement from his scowling features. Though the Prince seemed to search him, silently demanding an answer for it, the Warrior found comforting distraction in tracing the cracks upon the tiles beneath; bare toes curling autonomously.

As the sovereign stood lost for words, questions flashing briefly across his visage and then disappearing as Vegeta's own mind answered them reluctantly, Goku modestly placed a hand on his bicep and let his fingers drum there with a withdrawn sense of conclusion. "…Look, I get it. Things obviously got heated, and you're both as feisty as ever; we've all got a lot on our plates right now, and a long way to go. You didn't intend on harming her, but the fact is you did… When I said you'd gotten stronger, I meant it, Vegeta. I know you're gaining a lot of power pretty quickly, and that's great, but you have to keep it in check."

The Prince's gaze fell away from him quickly as Vegeta turned away, taking a few absent steps as his arms crossed more tightly, like a barrier to ward off the world. Staring down at the console controls, he thought back on all he'd done thus far, and again, unwanted flashes of memory haunted him. Again he saw her face; long lashes barely hiding the darkness about her eyes from how long she'd spent awake at his bedside. He heard the metallic twang as the droids redirected his attacks back to him, an ever present hum from the gravity generator vibrating through the floor beneath. The blinding flash, and the smoke; the smell of his own burnt flesh and stale blood… sweat, twisted metal and sharp rubble slicing through even the thickest of his skin. Fumes from the thankfully empty fuel tanks as they hung heavy about the ruins with that pungent chemical scent, and the desperate worry in her voice as it pierced the tainted air to find him in it.

Vegeta knew—within himself—it was his lack of control, a new well of strength unleashed too soon and too furiously in desperation, which had set off the explosion that day. It wasn't Bulma's handiwork, or her father's engineering, that were flawed. It was his own folly that had almost seen him killed. Now it seemed both Kakarot and the Woman were beginning to see the truth of why it had happened, where he had blinded himself to it in denial. He was cutting corners in his regime, a desperate bid for what he hoped would bridge the gap between himself and Super Saiyan status faster.

Of its own accord, his hand rose to brush calloused fingertips across the control panel, tracing the number pad which already had several buttons faded from how many times he had pressed them. Tilting his head slowly to one side to catch the other warrior from the corner of his eye, Vegeta steeled himself from such thoughts, schooling his features into a scowl bereft of any real emotion. Were Bulma here, she would've seen it and taken note—once again he was the shell, hollow and dulled as the fire left his gaze to let nothing through.

There were many acidic remarks he could've given then, a thousand of them whirling ready in his head like a hurricane, but not a single one of them—he thought—seemed more potent than a cold silence.

Through it all and much to his chagrin, innocent of the Prince's internal happenings yet somehow painfully aware, Goku continued on with all the semblance of an old friend passing on advice as he gestured humbly to himself. "I know how it feels… you think you've got a hold of it, and you don't realise you haven't until a glass shatters in your hand or a door comes of its hinges… or until you accidentally hurt somebody you shouldn't." he gave a weak shrug, knowing it couldn't really be helped if Vegeta did not respond, and flashed a slightly guilty look as he brought a hand up to ruffle his own spiked hair.

"She just doesn't want anybody to die, Vegeta. Not even you… but she can't take any more abuse; emotional or otherwise. I've gotten her to give you one last shot… and given this is her gravity machine," he waved a hand at there surrounds casually, looking upwards to the roof of the spherical design. "It really wouldn't kill you to be just a little bit nicer to her."

Though he endured the withering glare, cold and empty thing that it was, in the vague hope that he may have reached Vegeta enough for even a curt nod of dismissal, Goku waited a good moment or two for a response. Something, anything, a deliberate blink might have done well enough… but the hope was soon snuffed out as the Prince held his bitter reticence.

With a defeated sigh, knowing there was nothing more to say or do, the warrior relented. A private sense of pathos washed over him, as if Vegeta's eyes could suck the very life from his flesh if he remained, and quietly, Goku turned to take his leave of him. Bare feet made little noise as he made his way back toward the warped metal of the forced opening, but as he reached the threshold to lean his hand against the side, the warrior took pause, scanning the night sky above and offering one last thing with a solemn tone—he could only hope the stubborn Saiyan would listen.

"I know you've got your own way of training and all, but I'd really suggest you spend a week or so catching up on the mental side of things. You've got plenty of time to get stronger, Vegeta, but it won't mean a thing if you can't handle it properly. I shouldn't have to tell you that, and for your pride, I'm sorry… But I'm not going to be able to talk her around again. If she decides you're out, you're out… androids coming, or not."

Vegeta didn't look back when the words left him, unable to do so as a strange twist of shame clawed at his chest. "…Tell me first, Kakarot, before you leave…" Barely above a whisper, his voice almost completely lacked its gravelled timbre, a small and candid thing as it lilted between them. "…Am I even close?"

"The way you're going about it now… You'll never have it."

And with the rustling of the leaves, he was gone.

A/N:

Serious Goku is serious.

Now I just feel kinda bad for Vegeta, but it's for his own good, damn it. Sometimes he just needs to be told… But I feel for him all the same, and Goku's right. I'm glad I separated those chapters too, now that they're done. On one hand, we get to see the very Earthling side of Goku and his friendliness and bond with Bulma, with some of that boyish charm and innocence. In this one, he's the warrior and comrade, very much more the Saiyan in him that he's coming into.

I always hate (aside from humour stories of course) how many times I've seen Goku portrayed as a clueless and totally hapless idiot that bounces around like a kid on prozac and icecream. Sure he has his moments, but when it come to fighting he's a genius, and he's got a good sense for people as well—generally, Goku was always pretty cluey about the important things, and he was always serious if need be.

We could all use a friend like Goku.

Onwards to Glory!