Chapter 11
Wake up you're dreaming and I can't stand your screamin'
Drowning out these prayers just some words without meanin'
Spare all the preachin' my secret's worth keepin'
No one understands like I do
It was early evening when Vegeta awoke, the bright lights glaring down on him as he blinked to adjust to the light. He looked around and for once found that he was alone. He took a deep breath and was pleased to find that it did not cause him much discomfort.
There were clean bandages on his wounds and his muscles were finally willing to obey his commands. He ripped the IV out of his arm and sat up in bed. He pulled the various electrodes off his body and ignored the alarmed squeals of the flat-lining machines behind him. Vegeta waited for someone to run in to check on him, but no one came. He shrugged, not upset in the least, and slid off the bed.
He ran out of the infirmary wing and upstairs to his guest room and took the paper hospital gown off before going into his bathroom for a shower. He pulled the bandages off and turned the hot water on. Only the deepest cuts were still visible, the others having disappeared completely, not even leaving scars behind. The burn on his shoulder was still sore, but mostly healed. The hot water irritated it, but he didn't care.
He noticed that when he moved his left leg, there was a pulling sensation on his calf. He saw that there were stitches on it, evidence that the small visible cut had once been very deep. At the edges there was pale scar tissue forming.
The dried sweat, blood, and dirt washed off, Vegeta got out of the shower and dried himself. When his stomach growled he remembered he had had nothing to eat since dinner the night before. He went into his room and pulled on a pair of dark gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt, covering the fading purple splotch where his ruptured spleen was nearly repaired.
Once dressed, the saiyan prince went downstairs and to the kitchen, where he could smell dinner cooking. As predicted, he found Mrs. Brief stirring food in several pots on the stove. She turned when she heard him come in.
"Oh, Mr. Vegeta dear, there you are," she chirped, her grin growing wider. "Bulma's looking for you since you left the infirmary. I know you wouldn't want to worry her, you're such a nice young man…" her cheerful voice droned on but Vegeta had long since stopped listening.
He grabbed the full bowl of fruit from the counter and a box of crackers from the cupboard above and left the kitchen. He turned down the hall and went to a set of large double doors. Pushing them open, he walked in and was greeted with the fresh scent of animals, running water, and foliage. He walked deep into the indoor garden and sat in his clearing to eat his snack.
Vegeta made quick work of the crackers and fruit, his stomach growling in frustration at being teased with a tiny snack not even substantial enough to curb the pangs of hunger. He had to wait a while longer before dinner would be ready.
The prince laid his tail in his lap and gently stroked it. As he had done so many times before, he sat and contentedly watched the light gleam off each individual hair. The glossy fur, softer than silk, ran smoothly under his calloused fingers. The gentle, repetitive motion never failed to calm his mind, which is what his agitated thoughts needed at the time. The woman's infernal questioning that day had reawakened a dormant part of his conscious and now it refused to be buried again.
There was almost total emptiness where there had once been perpetual liveliness. He had been connected to an entire race of people, able to feel the presence of millions at any given moment. But then, in one horrifying moment, they were gone. The stillness weighed heavily on his mind.
Vegeta was on a purging mission when he was eight years old. He had been sent alone, the inhabitants of the planet being of average strength. As usual, they underestimated the power of a boy and at first refused to fight him, but after he killed the society's elders, they took up arms against him.
For two days he traveled around the planet, wreaking havoc in their cities and destroying any spaceships so that none could escape with their lives. He laughed in the faces of mothers holding their children as he slaughtered them and mocked their greatest warriors as he defeated them with ease. There was no honor in his killing, and he knew it, but bloodlust was his only guide. He had already been working for Frieza for nearly three years. Whatever conscience he had was blackened, dead.
He was in the midst of battle with a group of strong warriors when he felt it. A sense of foreboding he could not place. He could feel the conscious of one saiyan soldier colliding with his, not demanding entry, but clearly agitated beyond the level expected in battle. Vegeta tried to ignore it, but it was persistent. Somehow he knew that it was warning him, of what he did not know.
Quickly dispatching the warriors, he threw their dead bodies into the heap he had been forming during his purge. Hundreds, thousands of bodies were piled in a circle around him. He checked his scouter to determine if there were any survivors, but found none. He was careful not to ever miss a single civilian since the purge where he had neglected some, deeming them unworthy of his efforts. The beating that followed taught him never to let a single person live.
Vegeta sat down on a severed leg in the middle of the carnage to eat after completing the purge. As he pulled a ration bar out of his pocket, he felt it. The pain of his people, the terror. He felt his flesh burning, his eyes were blinded with a fiery orange blast. The minds of his people had collectively forced their way into his, screaming for a savior, for vengeance. In an instant it was over, and all that followed was absolute silence. Sickening, deadly silence. He was alone.
He started to eat his ration bar, his mind desperately searching for the missing saiyans. It could not accept that they were gone. Minutes turned into hours as his mind would not relent in its mission. A chill fell over him as the planet's sun set, but the coldness inside was much more real. Vegeta felt numb. It had to be true, but it couldn't be! Vegeta's people were all killed together in an instant. And he had a good idea about how.
His scouter crackled to life. "Prince Vegeta, do you copy, sir?" a man's voice demanded.
"I'm here." Vegeta remembered his unfinished ration bar and took another bite of it.
"Sir, unfortunate news from Lord Frieza. Planet Vegeta was struck by a large asteroid today, and-and destroyed."
"And? You're sure?"
"Affirmative, sir. Lord Frieza sends his sympathy and regrets. As of now, you are the only known survivor."
"Oh. Really?"He finished his ration bar, swallowing hard.
"Would you like to send a reply, sir?"
"No, no reply."
"Very well, sir. Over and out." The connection cut off. Vegeta sat in silence, his suspicions finally confirmed. The only known survivor. He knew that all the saiyans had been back on Vegeta-sei as dictated by the lizard. No doubt he had planned on killing them that day, and sent the prince away on a solo purge so he could keep him as a slave forever.
It was a long time before Vegeta could feel again, the numbness in his mind having infected his body. When feeling came back, a flood of emotions overwhelmed him. Anger, despair, hopelessness, but most of all, sorrow, the deepest grief one could ever feel. He had lost everything. Everything. His home, his kingdom, his parents, his race. The single surviving saiyan.
That was the last day he had his sanity for many years.
Vegeta remembered that moment of his life as clear as day, as if it had just happened. He could smell the rotting corpses around him, the spilled blood. He could taste the bland ration bar, filled with nutrients but little else. The coldness he had felt, both inside and out, washed over him and his ears were filled with the deafening silence.
"Damn you, Frieza," he muttered under his breath, "What you did to me, to my people. It still haunts me. You stole my destiny, you took my life from me." He clenched his fists so tightly his nails drew blood from his palms. "Damn you!" he roared, followed by an earth-shaking howl of rage, grief, and hatred. Vegeta screamed, howling his agony that had only grown over time. His fists slammed down on the ground over and over, shaking the compound and cracking the floor of the room.
The animals in the garden all ran from the prince and the birds in the trees took to the air, desperately searching for a better hiding place. The noise that surrounded the prince only made him scream louder, demanding the world listen to his pain.
In the living room, Goku and Gohan jumped to their feet, sensing the uneven flares of the prince's ki. They ran through the compound to the epicenter of the small quake, throwing the doors of the indoor garden open. The feral roar that erupted from the trees was nearly deafening to their sensitive ears as they stepped into the room, unsure of what to do. They didn't have time to think about it before Bulma came racing down the hall and nearly collided with them.
"What's going on?" she yelled over the noise, holding onto Goku's arm to keep from falling over.
Goku turned to her, worry written on his normally carefree features. "I don't know, Bulma. Something's wrong with Vegeta." That was the last thing he said before a wave of pain pierced through his mind and he collapsed to the floor, burying his head in his arms. He screamed in pain and writhed on the floor, unable to stop it.
"Oh no, Vegeta," Bulma whispered before running into the trees.
Gohan knelt next to his father, but found him inconsolable. "What's wrong, Daddy? What's happening to you?" The fear in his voice did not help matters any.
Bulma leapt into the clearing and found Vegeta still pounding on the ground, his knuckles bleeding again and his eyes clamped shut as he screamed. His voice was hoarse, his chest heaving with the effort, but he did not stop. He could not stop. He fell to the ground and scratched at the soil around him, trying to get a grip on something, anything, to pull himself out of the bottomless depths of his suffering. His tail flailed around in his distress, looking for all the world like it wanted to escape the pain even if it meant separating itself from his body.
"Vegeta," she shouted, trying to get his attention, "Vegeta, it's ok! I'm here, please, can you hear me Vegeta?" She lowered herself to her knees to plead with him, but he wasn't looking in her direction and wouldn't have been able to see her anyway since his eyes were closed. She held her arms out to him but had to retract them to avoid him hitting her in his uncontrolled movements.
He panted and sweat poured down his face, his dirty hands smearing mud across his features as he clawed at his head, wanting to pull the painful thoughts out.
Back at the entrance to the garden Goku was still rolling on the ground, clutching his head between his hands and screaming. Gohan kept trying to get his attention, but there was no breaking him out of whatever had trapped him in its cruel grip. "Please, Daddy, stop, you have to stop," Gohan begged, shaking his father's shoulders. It was hopeless.
"Vegeta! Vegeta, please, listen to me, please, please," Bulma sobbed as she tried to get through to the prince. Finally, his howling stopped when his voice would no longer work, leaving him whimpering like an abused pup. He curled into a ball, his tail still flailing about. Bulma took a deep breath and inched closer to him, hand raised. "Vegeta? It's me, Bulma," she told him softly as she laid her hand on his back. He flinched away violently.
She strained her ears to hear when she thought she heard him murmuring "Help…me…p-please, help…" It was spoken so softly she thought perhaps she had imagined it. It didn't seem like something Vegeta would say, after all.
Bulma placed her hand on his back again and this time he didn't flinch away, but his body did start quivering as if he were deathly afraid of her touch. Her heart broke for him and tears started falling for him. "Vegeta, it's me, your friend. Bulma."
There was a pause. "Bulma?"
"Yes, Vegeta, I'm Bulma. I'm not going to hurt you. Are you ok?"
"They're gone. Every one of them, gone."
"Who, Vegeta?"
His quivering intensified, and if it were possible, he drew himself into a tighter ball. Even his tail curled tightly around him, its hold around his waist unbreakable. "I could feel them all before. They were… there, near my mind, but they're gone now. All gone." Bulma's heart sank.
"No, Vegeta, they're not all gone. There's one left," she said, trying anything to help him come back to reality. "There's Kakarrot."
Vegeta fell silent. In his mind he frantically searched for the one consciousn left to fill the void. One mind that would brush against him, taking away the devastating loneliness. He probed and prodded for many minutes before finally finding what he was searching for. An invisible thread linking him to another being. Kakarrot.
"He's…he's there."
'Kakarrot, are you there?'
'Vegeta, what's going on? Why can I hear you in my head?'
'You're alive. That is all I needed to know.' The mental link cut off.
Vegeta opened his eyes and looked around. The first thing he laid eyes on was the blue-haired woman kneeling in front of him, crying. He wondered why she was always crying when she was around him. He mentally shrugged.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," he echoed snidely.
"How do you feel?"
"Like my brain just exploded."
Bulma smiled. He never was one to sugar coat things. That was one thing she really appreciated about him. His honesty. Blunt and to the point. "What happened?"
He looked at her for a moment, deciding whether or not to explain. While it was in a way her fault it happened, he did not want to place blame on her. His mind had lost contact with the real world, returning him to the time and place where he had lost his people and subsequently his sanity. He was lucky the episode had not lasted longer than it did.
"Memories."
"Oh, Vegeta, it must have been awful," she said as she pulled him into an embrace. For once he let her without even thinking about pulling away.
"The worst," he agreed, resting his head against her chest.
An unshakable feeling of guilt spread through her heart as she held him. "Was it because of what I made you remember this morning?"
Vegeta sighed, his breath hot against her skin. "Yes, Woman."
"I must be the world's worst friend," she whispered.
"I wouldn't know." He laid down on his side, pulling her down with him since she wouldn't let him out of her embrace. He nuzzled into her chest, smudging her blouse with mud. Bulma stroked his hair, careful not to scratch too much behind his ears. Her other hand rubbed his side. Behind him, his tail curled at the tip and beat against the ground every few seconds.
There was a noise from the woods. Neither Bulma nor Vegeta moved to acknowledge it before a man in an orange gi joined them in the clearing. "Hey, guys, what's going on?"
'Leave us, Kakarrot.'
"Huh? Vegeta was that you?" Goku frowned in confusion and scratched his head.
"Hn."
Goku finally seemed to realize the compromising position his friends were in and a thought struck him across the head. 'Trunks! Maybe they're finally falling for each other!' Discreetly, or at least quickly, Goku made his way back through the forest to leave Bulma and Vegeta alone. He swung his arm around Gohan's shoulders and led him out of the garden.
"Third class fool," Vegeta grumbled.
"Yeah, but at least he's a saiyan," Bulma reminded him, knowing that it was his connection with Goku that had finally brought him back to his senses.
"Barely."
"Enough."
Vegeta grunted his assent and exhaled slowly, emptying all of the air out of his lungs before taking another breath. The woman's scent was strong and comforting to him. It represented something that he was beginning to realize would be a rock for him to hold onto while the storms in his psyche raged. 'That,' he thought, 'must be what a friend is.'
He listened to her steady heartbeat for some time, its rhythm matching his own. He put his arm around her waist, the cast preventing him from feeling her warmth beneath his arm. Bulma smiled and resumed stroking his thick flame of hair. She decided that she would enjoy this moment for all it was worth, knowing that once his body was in good shape again, he would spend all of his time training and she would hardly see him around. She began to wonder if there was any way she could get him to do something with her regularly. He probably wouldn't be willing to do anything unless it was some physical activity, but she could hardly spar with him. She tucked that thought away to ponder another time.
Vegeta's mind was still stuck on the anomaly he was faced with. Where he had least expected it, from one whom it was most unlikely, he had gained something he had never even considered before. A friend. Someone who would stand by his side through anything, not because of his royal status, but because she cared about him for him. She was his friend. His. Subconsciously he pulled her closer and his tail wrapped possessively around her thigh, earning a confused and surprised mewling, but nothing more.
Time passed slowly for Bulma. She tried to ignore the fact that she really enjoyed feeling the weight of his arm around her, the protective way he held her. With him, she felt safe, knowing nothing could ever harm her if he was with her. Being with him felt different than being with any other man. Goku was like a younger brother to her; she loved him dearly and knew that he would always try to save her, but it seemed more out of duty than anything. With Yamcha, she just knew that he would do his best to protect her, but his protection could be so oppressive, like instead of defending her from what she got into, he wanted to just keep her from doing anything to avoid the hassle. All she really knew about Vegeta was that he would protect her from himself and anything else if it suited his purposes. She wasn't sure how reliable he was, but that didn't bother her very much. It was enough to have what she had from him.
"Vegeta?"
"Hn."
"I want to know everything about you."
She was met with silence. She knew that he was ignoring her, and it bothered her. Furrowing her brows, she elaborated, "I want to know what makes you tick. How you think."
"You would not be able to handle the truth, Woman."
"Like how I couldn't handle the answer to my question today. I know, I get it. I might not like the answers, but I don't care. I'm glad you shared with me what you did, even if it hurt like fucking hell."
"Trust me, it hurt worse than hell."
Bulma was silenced. She never even thought about how he had died on Namek or where he had gone when he died. She found the idea highly unpleasant and tried to push it out of her mind before it took root and refused to let her push it away.
"Well, whatever. The point is, I want to learn everything about you, Vegeta."
"Here's lesson number one," he said and waited until he had her undivided attention before continuing, keeping his expression deadpan. "I hate talking about myself."
Bulma frowned and opened her mouth to yell something at him in response, but stopped when he started chuckling lightly. "Vegeta," she whined, "I'm serious."
"As am I." He rolled them so that he was on top of her and his face was just above hers, their noses touching. The intensity in his eyes was powerful, holding her captive as he continued, "What is there to know, Woman? I am evil. A killer. An animal. I have destroyed hundreds of civilizations, killing millions, billions of sentient creatures. With the flick of a wrist I decimated dozens of planets and ruthlessly murdered countless members of Frieza's army. I am the plague of the universe, what more could you possibly want to know about me?"
Bulma let out the breath she had been holding as he spoke and slowly moved her head from side to side. She already knew that about him, and it didn't really give her any idea of who he was. All she knew about him was what he used to do. "That's not what I mean, Vegeta. I know what you used to do when you worked for Frieza. But that doesn't tell me anything about you."
Vegeta cocked his head as he began his slightly overused spiel, "I am Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, last prince of the Royal House of Vegeta of Vegeta-sei, most powerful being in all the universe."
Bulma rolled her eyes, much to his chagrin. "Yes, Vegeta (how many times can you use Vegeta in once sentence, anyway?), that's what you are. But who are you?"
"What is the difference?"
She thought about that for a moment. "Well, that's your title, but who is it the title of? What's behind all the fancy words?"
"That, Woman," he said slowly, "would take years to discover."
"How do I know I have that much time?"
"You don't."
Bulma had nothing to say to that. He was just being honest, not giving her any false hope that he would stick around after the androids were defeated. For all she knew he would stick to his original plan and kill Goku before blowing the planet up. Something told her that he wouldn't, but as usual, there was no telling what his motives were and what he would do.
Figuring she was done bothering him for the time being, Vegeta rested his head on her chest and laid down on her, careful not to put too much of his weight on her fragile body. She gasped as she felt his weight and couldn't stop her mind from racing to fearful questions about what he was doing. Why had he put them in this position? He said he wouldn't hurt her, but would he…?
Minutes later Bulma had decided that he had no shady intentions, so she wrapped her arms around him again and rubbed his back gently. She listened to the birds chirping in the trees, the still air occasionally shaken by the cry of a peacock hiding in the trees. She wasn't sure whether Vegeta was awake or not, his breathing was so steady and he had not uttered a word for some time.
"Bulma, Vegeta! Come get your dinner before it gets cold!" a high, cheerful voice rang out through the garden.
The moment broken, Bulma sighed and let go of the saiyan prince, stretching her hands over her head as she said, "Guess we should go eat, huh?"
Vegeta sat up so that he was straddling her legs and crossed his arms over his chest while his tail curled around his waist. "I suppose," he grumbled as he rose to his feet. He walked out of the small forest with Bulma on his heels.
He was pleased to note that Kakarrot had taken his brat and the Namekian back home. Their presence had a way of grating on his nerves, even more than the woman's ridiculous mother and her scatter-brained father. He tolerated them for the services they provided him, but little else.
Sitting down at the kitchen table, Vegeta started eating before the table was finished being set. The Briefs were used to his lack of manners, excusing him because of his alien nature. It was rude, in their opinion, to try forcing trivial Earth customs on a man from another planet who was likely showing them respect in his own way. If only they knew the truth. Bulma knew better, but she held her tongue for the sake of avoiding confrontation over something she had no hope of changing.
When Bulma sat down across from Vegeta, she felt something warm and furry wrap around her thigh under the table. She looked across the table at the saiyan questioningly, but he did not so much as acknowledge her, his attention being focused on the food in front of him. She shrugged and started eating.
As soon as Vegeta finished and pushed his plate away, Bulma spoke up, "Hey, 'Geta, do you want to watch a movie with me tonight?"
He looked like he was seriously considering it before he answering shortly, "No."
Bulma frowned. She hadn't realized how much she was hoping he would say yes before he denied her offer. "Why not? You're the one who took me to the movies the other night. I thought maybe you had decided they're not so bad."
Vegeta smirked. "They are a foolish waste of time. I have better things to do."
"Like what?" Bulma raised her eyebrow at him and crossed her arms. It's not like he could train in his condition.
"Like…" Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll watch a stupid movie with you, Woman."
Bulma grinned at him. "Great. Meet me in the recreation room in fifteen minutes."
"Hn."
She watched his receding back as he left the kitchen, excited that he had agreed to waste his time with her. Hopefully, he wouldn't want to watch a movie as disgusting as the one they had seen in the theater.
Fifteen minutes later, Bulma walked into the rec. room and found Vegeta sitting on the couch in front of the TV, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. She had chosen this room because of the superior sound system over that in the living room. She moved over to the couch, her bare feet silent on the fluffy white carpet.
"So, what do you want to watch?" she asked after sitting down next to him, carefully choosing a safe distance that wasn't so far it was insulting and not so close it was awkward.
He shrugged. "How should I know? You choose, Woman."
Bulma mentally slapped herself for asking such a stupid question. As if he would know the names of any movies! She got up off the couch and opened the door of the cabinet the DVDs were kept in. Figuring he would want something with at least some violence, she was quickly able to narrow her options. She figured the dragon slaying in "Sleeping Beauty" wouldn't count as violence. Still, it had to be something tasteful enough for her to be able to watch without feeling nauseous.
Finally, she pulled a DVD out of the cabinet and handed it to Vegeta for approval. "Here, what do you think of this one?"
Vegeta took the case and raised an eyebrow in interest. "V for Vendetta. It sounds like it may be only mildly boring." He handed it back to her and she smiled, knowing that was the closest she was going to get to an admittance that it looked good.
Bulma popped the disc into the DVD player and flipped the TV on. She sat back down on the couch and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Vegeta uncrossed his arms, letting them fall to his sides as he watched the movie with interest. When she didn't hear him laughing during the torture, short as it was, she thought that maybe he had fallen asleep out of boredom. She turned to look at him and saw that he was actually leaning forward slightly, completely enthralled. She smiled and turned back to the movie, feeling giddy because of his reaction.
When it ended, Bulma stood up and stretched as she asked, "So, did you like it?"
"Hn."
She hadn't expected much more than that. She returned the disc to its case and put it away. Checking the clock on the VCR (someone had finally figured out how to set it, if only by trial and error) and saw that it was getting late.
Vegeta stood up and, for the first time, thoroughly took in his surroundings. There was a large table with green felt on the surface in the center of the room, a bookcase filled with board games, and a round table with five chairs around it. There was a balcony that overlooked the city on the far side of the room. In the corner, there was a small home gym that looked essentially new. Indeed, Bulma's parents' fitness kick hadn't lasted long a few years ago.
He walked over to the strange table and was surprised to find six holes with pockets along the edges. Turning to the woman, his expression demanded an explanation. Bulma grinned and told him, "That's a pool table. I should teach you how to play sometime. No one's ever beat me."
"Oh really?" he said, smirking, "Why don't you teach me now?"
Bulma checked the clock again. It was almost 10:00. "Well, ok, if you want." She went to the bookcase of games and picked up a triangular rack with fifteen balls and a plain white ball sitting on top and took it to the table. She grabbed two cues from the wall and handed one to Vegeta, who looked at it curiously.
"So this is how I play," she said as she put the rack on one end of the table. "One of us takes the cue ball," she held up the plain white ball, "and hits it from the opposite end of the table and breaks the rack." She demonstrated, sending the balls rolling around the table. "The object of the game is to get either all the solid colored balls or all the striped balls, excluding the eight ball and the cue ball, in the pockets. I didn't get any balls in the pockets, so it's your turn. You can only hit the cue ball to get the other balls in."
Vegeta, listening intently, nodded and moved around the table to get closer to the cue ball. Imitating how he had seen Bulma holding the cue stick, he regarded the position of all the balls and saw one that looked easy enough to pocket. He hit the cue ball and it went flying off the table and embedded in the wall. Bulma smacked her forehead and laughed. "You don't have to hit it that hard," she said between laughs.
She went over and retrieved the ball and put it back where it had been, telling him, "Since this is your first time I'll let you try again." She winked at him and stepped back to give him room.
He huffed haughtily and tried again, this time only tapping the cue ball. It slowly rolled across the table and bumped into the five ball, moving it a couple inches. It stopped precariously close to the pocket he was trying to get it into. "What the? You have got to be kidding me!" he growled angrily, fixing a death glare on the obstinate ball.
"Don't worry, 'Geta, you'll get the hang of it," Bulma said, mockingly patting him on the back. She decided to go after the same ball and hit it into the pocket. Smiling to herself she told Vegeta, "Since I got the five ball in, I have solids and you have stripes. It's still my turn until I either don't get another solid ball in or the cue ball or eight ball goes in a pocket."
The game progressed and Vegeta's frustration started to lessen as he figured out the force necessary to move the balls and physics of the balls bouncing off each other and the edge of the table. He soon caught up to her in number of balls pocketed, but she pulled ahead to take the win.
"Ha, ha, Vegeta, I can beat you at something!" she said smugly, grinning at the saiyan.
"Shut up, Woman. I could beat you in another game."
"You're on." They started a new game, Vegeta taking the break shot that time.
An hour later they were still playing, Bulma having won the first two games and Vegeta currently on a win streak of three games. They moved pretty quickly, each being able to calculate the exact angles and forces needed to pocket their balls. It was challenging trying to stay a step ahead of their opponents. When Bulma accidentally hit the eight ball into a pocket, ending the game early, she glanced at the clock and frowned.
"It's getting late, Vegeta," she said, holding back a yawn. "I need to go to bed."
"Hn." He set the rack on the table again, silently dismissing her.
She turned to go, figuring he would stay up practicing for a while longer. "I'll see you tomorrow, 'Geta. Maybe we can hang out again since you won't be training. Goodnight." She walked out of the room and down the hall to her room.
Vegeta broke the rack and started a game against himself. He kept playing until well after midnight when his eyes finally refused to stay open without a fight. Putting the balls and cue stick away, he left the room and went to his own room. He changed into his boxers before burying himself in his nest and soon fell asleep, dreaming about the past he wished he could forget as he so often did.
A/N: I really liked the thing with the telepathic…stuff with the saiyans, so I threw it in there again. Telepathy isn't going to play much of a role in the story, but this particular thing comes up a time or two. So Vegeta's learning what a friend is, but will his expectations for Bulma be a little too much? It might cause trouble in the near future…
And if you haven't seen V for Vendetta, you really should. :)
Song: "Lonely as You" by Foo Fighters
