My English teacher once told me never to make excuses for your writing. It tends to leave people with a sense of foreboding. Of course this has no practical application regarding MY story, I just noticed a lot of other people here didn't get that sort of advice from THEIR English teachers. So let me say it again: Never make excuses for your writing.
The last and final act is upon us folks. I hope you enjoyed my little story.
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Vegeta awoke with a pounding headache. Light was streaming in from a window alerting him to the fact that it was morning. For a moment he wondered if he had blown up the gravity room again, but then he remembered. Conversations, sensations and emotions returned in snippets to his mind, and then full memories wriggled their way into his consciousness.
He almost doubted his memories, half wanting to forget how he had bared his soul, half disbelieving that he actually had a soul. After all this time he had considered it lost, sold off to buy his continued existence and power. Doubts were thrown helter-skelter to the wind, though when he saw the blue-haired figure nestled in the crook of his arm. The urge to flee gripped him, but he fought it.
His head still hurt like the blazes. With his free hand he reached up and pressed lightly on a spot at the base of his skull. An old trick he had been taught by an old, but powerful, catlike female warrior that had served Frieza. To be used, she had told him, when one had no time for hangovers. He remembered the way that old woman's tufted feline ears had twitched in amusement whenever he spoke to her. He never did find out what she found so funny about him. It had been a long, long time since he'd thought about that time in his life.
The headache gradually cleared off, leaving Vegeta clear headed enough to sort through his mixed up memories from the night before. He decided that he had talked far too much and had gotten far too drunk and he felt somewhat ashamed of both. But it had been a pleasurable experience nonetheless. A crushing weight had descended on him the day his planet and his people had been destroyed, the weight of responsibility. It was the responsibility to avenge his people, to keep his proud heritage alive, to remember what had been forgotten by all but three people. All of that weight had disappeared last night, and for a while, a very short while, he had been... content. He couldn't remember if he had ever been content before.
His eyes drifted to the woman sleeping in his arms. She was content. Humans like her could sleep with clear consciences. Humans like her had no crushing responsibilities. No, he corrected himself; even humans have their troubles. It was wrong to say they didn't.
As if on cue, Bulma opened her eyes. She shut them again twice as fast. "God!
Someone turn off the damn sun! It's too early for the sun to be out. My head hurts too
much for the sun to be out!" she moaned, throwing one arm across her eyes.
Vegeta raised an eyebrow. Apparently she was suffering the same misery he had when he had woken up. For a moment he debated whether or not to relieve her headache, feeling tempted to let her suffer for a while, but eventually he came decided to get rid of her pain. "Sit up, woman," he ordered gruffly.
Bulma did as he said, muttering feebly, "Don't call me 'woman'."
A little bit of pressure point magic relieved Bulma's headache. She blinked in surprise. "Oh, hey wow!" she said, sounding much happier than before, "Where'd you learn that?"
Vegeta stared at the opposite wall. "Pain can be a hindrance to a warrior. Either you learn to ignore it or you learn to get rid of it."
"I figured you'd say something like that." Bulma stretched and slid out of bed. Walking over to pull some clothes out of her dresser she added, "It's kind of late, why don't you get dressed, or something and head down for some breakfast." She dressed quickly and left.
Bemused, Vegeta got up, put his shorts back on, and headed downstairs. He arrived in the kitchen just as Bulma finished pouring food into the cat's bowl.
By some sort of silent agreement they didn't speak about the events of the night before. It just worked better that way.
"I don't know if I'll be able to figure out what's wrong with the gravity generator until Daddy gets back, but you could train on the lawn," Bulma said and she fixed herself a bowl of cold cereal. She proffered the box to Vegeta, "Want some?"
Vegeta shook his head.
"I figure," she continued, "that the control panel must have shorted out..."
"There's nothing wrong with the machine, woman," Vegeta muttered as he sat down.
"What?" Bulma demanded frowning at him.
Vegeta looked away from her. "I pressed one too many buttons," he said.
"You pressed one too many buttons?"
"That's what I said, woman."
Bulma turned back to her cereal. "You scared the crap out of me, you know. I
thought you were dead. It's nice to know that if you had died it wouldn't have been the fault of my poor engineering skills. And don't call me 'woman'."
Vegeta smirked. "Fine with me, woman."
Bulma set her spoon down and gave him a reproving look. For some reason she wasn't nearly as annoyed as she made herself out to be. Maybe it was because she didn't sense any hostility in Vegeta's use of that particular label anymore. It was funny what a night of booze and a little sex could do to a person.
"So I guess you're going to get back to training then?"
Vegeta nodded, wondering why he felt the need to answer all her questions. "Not here though. I need to get away from here."
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
There she goes with the questions again, Vegeta thought. "I'm getting nowhere here. I have to do something or my destiny will always be just out of my reach." There was a fire in his eyes, something that Bulma had never noticed before. Then again, she had never really looked into his eyes before. "I have to have it, what Kakarott and that boy from the future had." He had to bite his tongue to keep from saying more.
"Will you be back?"
"Of course, woman. I can't fight the androids from space. I can't defeat Kakarott from space either."
"You're set on beating him aren't you?"
"Yes." Vegeta's voice was unintentionally cold. He had slipped back into warrior mode.
"Why?"
"Because I have to. I don't expect you to understand."
"Well I don't. I don't think I want to either," Bulma said. She sort of did understand though. He had to prove that he had finally caught his destiny. And he had to show Goku who was boss. It was strange to be able to understand, even a little bit, the enigma that Vegeta. "When are you leaving?"
"As soon as I can. I can't waste time."
As if to break the rising tension, the cat leapt into Vegeta's lap, purring.
"I think the cat likes you," Bulma said, a faint smile gracing her lips.
"The cat has good taste," Vegeta replied deigning to pet the purring cat behind its ears.
"It's sort of funny, though. He never liked any other man but Daddy."
Bulma finished her meal in silence then put her bowl in the sink to be washed later. Vegeta sat the cat down on floor and shooed it away. He headed for the door.
"Are you leaving now?" Bulma asked, her voice catching. She wondered why she was so upset by the thought of Vegeta's departure. Only yesterday she would have liked to see him go.
"Yes."
Bulma nodded and sat back down at the kitchen table.
Vegeta got all the way to the spaceship before Bulma came bursting through the front door of the house. Vegeta stopped and watched her run toward him.
Bulma paused a foot or two in front of him, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, like a schoolgirl encountering her crush. Then in a moment of decisiveness, she leapt at him and kissed him passionately. "What was that term again? Tir'rral something-or-other?"
"Tir'rral torra," Vegeta supplied, curious. He noticed the anxious look in her eyes.
"Tir'rral Torra," Bulma murmured.
"It can have another meaning," Vegeta added.
"What?" Bulma asked, intrigued.
"When I get back I'll tell you. And you'd better have the accent right by then. A second ago you just said you wanted to be my fish sandwich."
Bulma laughed. "I'll work on it," she promised. She looked serious all of a sudden. "Hey, you take care of yourself, okay?"
"Of course I'll take care of myself, woman," Vegeta scoffed as he opened the door to the spaceship. He stepped inside. "Worrying about me is a waste of energy." He smirked.
Before Bulma could say anything more the door slid shut. Her eyes fixed on the place where she had last seen Vegeta, Bulma stepped away from the ship and watched as the circular craft took off.
"I'd better see you again, buddy," she muttered as the ship disappeared from sight. "So get your ass back here in one piece." She turned and walked back to the house. Despite the fact that she was the only person in the entire compound, she didn't feel in the least bit alone.
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Wait a minute, say the readers, this has been altered? Where are the changes? They're subtle, but I felt they were necessary to get rid of a little of the fluffiness that had invaded the last chapter. Anyhow, thanks for reading and please leave a review on your way out.
Also, stop asking for another chapter to this, because you're not going to get one. There is a sequel however, so if you feel the need, go read that.