Chapter 11: Gunning Down Romance

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em and I'm broke.

AN: Sorry it took so long for me to start writing again! I went through a couple of blocks and I haven't felt much like writing since the funeral. But I'm back! I'm even seriously contemplating making 'Desires of the Heart' a series at your requests! Plus, I'm re-starting Eden in the Springtime, because I was on a retardation binge when I started writing it!

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"'Geta? You're hurting me," Bulma whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes as she stared at him, fear and confusion switching places rapidly in her cerulean eyes. Her voice broke him out of his trance, and Vegeta released his grip, slumping down into a broken heap on the floor. Filled with apprehension, Bulma stayed back, wanting to comfort him, but too scared to approach him. A pitiful wail rose up and he looked up at her, pain, anger, and mystification written in his normally unreadable eyes. Looking away, he turned from her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry Bulma. I didn't mean to cause you pain, or worry. I'll be fine." He stood up shakily, and left quickly, tapping his Saiyajin speed. Bulma watched his retreating back head for his window. It took a minute to compose herself, but she walked slowly to the house, giving Vegeta a little to calm himself down. Not quite knowing what she was going to say, she rapped gently on his door, hoping he'd talk. After a moment of pause, a hoarse voice granted her the permission to enter.

The sight inside the room made Bulma feel sick as she felt her stomach drop to her toes. Vegeta had changed from his training outfit. Standing by the window, framed by the storm clouds outside, the lightning flashing, and the new-falling rain beating on the window, he was the perfect stereo type of the dark, dangerous prince every girl dreams of. His normally wild hair was positively disheveled, and his onyx eyes were emphasized by the pale of his face. With an intake of breath, Bulma steeled herself and took a seat on a small armchair in the corner.

"What's wrong Vegeta? You can talk to me. I won't tell anyone." He looked at her, studying her face as if he thought that her pleas were lies to lure him into pain. After a moment of consideration, he sighed and bowed his head, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"It seems no matter how hard I train, I can't get stronger than Kakarotto. I'm always one step behind that…fool."

"It's about Goku? Vegeta…"

"NO! You don't understand! You couldn't possibly ever understand! You don't know the whole story…"

"I would if you told me." Vegeta stopped, staring at her, not blinking. Finally he replied dully, no ardor in his voice.

"When I was a little boy, I was taken from my father and my world and put on Frieza's ship. While there I was beaten if I showed any weakness, any emotion other than rage and violence. I lived to kill, killed to live. That's how things were. Frieza degraded me, beat me to a bloody pulp, spit on me. He tried to break my spirit and mold me to a perfect servant. Completely shattered to his will. He just fueled my purpose though. I was going to rid the universe of him as soon as I was strong enough. That's all I lived for. Revenge. Revenge on my family, my world, me. The only reason I didn't give my life in some battle or another was to get back at Frieza for ruining me. He changed me. I was near the level I needed to be to destroy him when Kakarotto…I'll never forgive him. It was to be my final victory. Kakarotto doesn't even consider himself a Saiyajin, nor does he even care for the destroyed race. He grew up surrounded by love and warmth. And he was the hero of the day. While I was a supporting character, inconsequential in my own reprisal. No longer even a Prince, the title I clung to as all I had. A Prince of WHAT!?! Of NOTHING! My only subject doesn't even care for what he is, and he is stronger than I! How? What of the legends? I was to be the first to achieve the next level, but he took that from me too! I can't even get past 550 Gs, but he goes Super Saiyajin." Vegeta fell back, putting his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Bulma searched for something to say, but all she could do was wipe at the tears falling down her cheeks. After a few moments, Vegeta turned over onto his side and curled up, yawning. "I just wonder sometimes why I'm still here. I have no reason to live. Kakarotto will probably defeat all the androids as well, casting me into the shadows as his light shines stronger again. I all to often wish I could fall asleep and wake up somewhere else, where at least I'm welcome. Not that I care that the other fighters despise me, mind you, I just get lonely time to time. Or maybe I shouldn't wake up at all." Vegeta's shoulders started moving more rhythmically as he calmed to the point of falling sleep. Uncertainly, like approaching a dog known to bite, she crept over to the bedside and snuggled next to Vegeta, putting her arms around him.

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(AN: I'm not going to do a lemon. As much as I enjoy reading some of them (Hey, I've got hormones too!) I can't write them without cracking up and claiming dorkdom.)

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Pale light from the sun filtered in through the royal blue curtains, illuminating slightly the woman Vegeta held in his arms. Looking down at her apathetically, he studied her features. His stomach rumbled a little and he cursed it as Bulma stretched and took a deep breath. With sleepy eyes, she looked up at him and gave a sweet smile, cuddling against his body.

"Well, well, what have we here?" Vegeta whispered quietly, his expression perpetual stone. "What ogre has snuck between my sheets?"

Bulma paled visibly, her entire body tensing up. Tears were already welling up in her eyes as she stood, wrapping the quilt around her naked form. She left wordlessly after analyzing his face for a few moments, retreating to her own room. After she left, Vegeta broke his mask, sitting up and putting his head in his hands. "It's for the best…the best," he said softly. Her voice came back to him, haunting. "You are going to be one of those people with a lonely life and an even lonelier death. No woman would want to be with a monster like you." He sighed. "That is what she said. She could never really want me. It was the loneliness. That's all. You're on your own, Vegeta. You always were." Dressing, he high tailed it to the gravity room, starting his rigorous exercises.

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In her room, Bulma plopped down on her bed, feeling more tired than she had ever in her life. Laying in her own bed, she tossed and turned. It wasn't the same. Somehow, she couldn't sleep well on her own when she had been so comfortable in his arms a few minutes earlier. (AN: *sarcastically* Poor Bulma! MWAHAHA!) Turning over onto her side, she finally got rid of the feeling of being against his chest and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Bulma woke up in a familiar room, one she hadn't visited in a while. She looked around, sitting up and pushing the black silk sheets down past her feet. Standing on the cherry wood floor, she looked down. Wearing a dark green evening dress, Bulma walked in a small circle fascinated with the effects the purple lighting gave the fabrics. She walked over to the black leather couch, and opened the small fridge at it's side. After retrieving a pear she sat back and bit into the fruit, wondering why she was back here. The sweet juice flowed down her throat and she savored the gritty flesh as she munched, staring straight ahead at the black wall. "Beginning of the End" played, Systematic's heavy sound beating around her as her memories floated.

"'Well done. I knew that you would make a suitable meeting place.'

'What?' She sat up straighter, trying to make sense of his words.

'This shall be the site of our game, my dear, and quite a fitting one at that.'"

What game what Vegeta playing her at, though. He didn't answer that question for her last time either, she remembered. Bulma bit into the pear again, and juice ran down the side of her hand. She looked at it, dismayed, then turned her attention to find something to wipe it off with. However, she didn't have to do anything because her hand was caught up in a strong grip. Her head snapped to the side and she found herself staring straight into the eyes of the Saiyajin Prince himself. He took Bulma's small hand and licked the juice from her fingertips, then kissed her, letting her taste the sweet fluid on him. When he broke away, Bulma remembered that she needed to breathe to survive. Not being able to say anything, but feeling crushed again, his cruel words of earlier ringing through her head, she burst into tears. Vegeta took her in his arms, not letting her go when she fought him.

"Bulma, listen to me. I'm sorry. But you don't love me and I CAN'T love you. You're better off forgetting it. I'm here to train. To fight. Not love. I wish you happiness. With all the crap Yamcha put you through, you deserve it." He stood and was gone.

"If this is the game, Vegeta, it's not entertaining…" she whispered into the solitude.

Waking from her dream, Bulma sat up straight. "The strange room again." She shook her head and laid back down. She didn't feel like doing anything at the time, and sleep was the only thing that was appealing to her at the current moment. Risking more dreams, she fell back asleep, unaware of the Saiyajin no Ouji in the corner of her room, who raised his hand, gathering a small trace of chi. After his hand started glowing, Vegeta walked over to Bulma's sleeping form and lowered his hand to her midsection, his hand frozen in air. His brow furrowed. "Now's my chance…but could I risk it?"