FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Eighteen - Unfinished Business
Strong arms cradled Bulma's shuddering form and carried her gently into the bedroom, settling her upon the soft surface of the bed. Concerned fingers brushed the hair away from her face and when that affectionate touch grazed her cheek she cried out in pain.
"No-don't. My nose, it feels broken," she hitched in a faltering voice, still struggling with tears.
There was a sharp intake of breath. "What did that bastard do you?" a male voice rasped, sounding different to her grief-stricken mind.
"I-who? Wh-where's Vegeta?"
"Get some rest," that male presence soothed, covering her trembling form with the bedspread.
"No! No...I have to talk to him! I have to say I-I-"
"Sleep, Bulma."
Clutching at the heavy fabric with panicked fingers, Bulma surrendered to her shock and curled into a tight, little ball. Almost immediately she became lost in dreams that were no longer her own; A place where long-maned giants patrolled barren lands heavy with cinder-strewn winds. Where women screamed in agony and violation and orphaned babes wailed for parents that were reduced to cadavers.
In the background of all of that, barely audible, was the sound of a little boy's voice begging for mercy.
There was practically a cloud of smoke hovering around Yamcha's head when he emerged from the hallway and faced the lone Saiyan in the living room. Vegeta barely heard the young humans' return, too lost in thought to pay much concern to his presence. He was still brooding over Bulma's over-reaction to his deliberate rapport. He hadn't even shown her the REAL disturbing parts and she had freaked out, becoming utterly inconsolable. To make the situation even worse, she had actually suffered psychic shock from the brief contact; feeling the injuries the memory version of himself had suffered under Dodoria. Obviously the fool woman could handle playing the observer in his memories but not an actual participant.
He should have felt a gloating satisfaction for putting her in her place as forcibly as he had. As little as two months ago he would have laughed at her discomfiture. Now, he discovered her plaintive sobs obliterated all of his enjoyment. Bulma was crying for him. For what had been done to him. Vegeta had actually been frozen in place watching as her former lover carried her away, not objecting. Not able to object. He had broken his promise to her.
'I hurt her,' he thought with genuine remorse and was at a loss as to how to deal with it. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him shelve his indecision and get back to the real problem at hand. Yamcha was brilliantly pissed, far beyond anything the Saiyan had yet to see from him and required a close watch.
Keeping to the far side of the room, Yamcha paced the room slowly as he considered his strategy. Vegeta was notorious for becoming impulsive in a battle when his emotions slipped their leash. He didn't want to make that same mistake. "I actually went to the mat for you."
"That a fact."
"I went to Gokou and the others and came out looking like a fool in order to make things right. It just turns out that I had you pegged right from day one, after all."
Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Human, you don't know anything about me. Don't strain your pathetic mind in the effort to try."
"I always knew you'd eventually hurt Bulma and I was right." He raised his voice in an anguished shout, "You broke her nose, you little prick!"
Rather than try to explain the eccentricities involved with erecting mental rapport's and their potential side effects, Vegeta dismissed her injury with, "It's NOT broken. It'll pass."
Yamcha just assumed that the Saiyan was shrugging off an assault with his customary arrogance. "I'd call the cops if there was anything they could do with you. I'm glad that Piccolo finally gave up his vigil. There's not going to be any bleeding hearts in this fight, Saiyan. I'm going to beat you within an inch of your miserable life-"
Unable to contain himself any longer, Vegeta threw his head back and laughed. "You? A Saibaman with a power rating of 1500 and an I.Q. of less than fifty kicked your sorry ass!" he broke off snickering and shaking his head at the same time. "You weren't worthy of my fighting you then. That hasn't changed now."
Yamcha betrayed a stunned blink. "Since when have you ever turned down a fight? You've become a pussy, Vegeta!"
"Ah, well... You are what you eat," Vegeta purred, his smirk turning into a deliberate sneer. "From what I hear, you wouldn't understand that."
The human's flush of anger deepened into a more purple hue of indignation over the intentional slight. Stammering out a response, Vegeta cut in with, "I had a good laugh listening to the woman's tales of your efforts. Some athlete. The only gold you deserve is at the Lake Flaccid Olympics."
"!!GODDAMN YOU!!" Yamcha roared and launched himself over the chesterfield at the mocking Saiyan. Vegeta stepped quickly aside, his arms still crossed but the contact had been very close. Even the younger fighter noticed that, despite his great rage. He allowed himself a small smile of realization. "It's been awhile since you've trained, I can see that now. Why has Piccolo been acting so protective of you lately? Why was Dr. Briefs having the rest of us searching for you?"
He wasn't really expecting any kind of an acknowledgement to his questions. All of the good humor abruptly went out of the Saiyan and his former resentment returned with a vengeance, making his dark eyes blaze with hatred. It was answer enough.
"You were hurt," Yamcha concluded, his posture assuming its former confidence with each word that he spoke. "Maybe even worse than the gravity simulator explosion. Whatever happened I can see the differences in you. You've lost a lot of muscle-tone; you're out of practice. You wouldn't have stayed in this hotel for so long a time without your precious training if you had been capable of doing it."
"I'm just enjoying a well-deserved vacation screwing your former lover," Vegeta stated in an off-hand manner. "The woman is quite skilled in her technique. I credit it to a good book. Not to you."
Yamcha wasn't going to be baited this time. "I think you're scared of me."
"Of YOU?! You must be insane!"
"You know that this fight will be a lot closer than you want it to be. We have unfinished business, you and I."
"That we do," Vegeta admitted.
"Then let's get on with it."
"Here?"
"Of course not! You know damned well where I'm talking about, Saiyan."
Actually, Vegeta had to think for a minute before he realized what the idiot human was talking about. He allowed himself one brief nod. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
Eagerly vaulting over the railing, Yamcha took to the air and waited for the brash alien to follow. To his surprise, Vegeta visibly hesitated, staring off in the direction of the bedroom where Bulma was resting.
"If you go near her again, I'll kill you," Yamcha cautioned, his voice dripping with malice.
Snapping his head around, the Saiyan looked at him directly, his face guarded and betraying absolutely no emotion. The younger fighter recognized the neutral expression at once; it meant that Vegeta had finally accepted him as a threat and was not going to betray anymore valuable facial cues to aid in his defense. Wordlessly, he joined the human and the pair left the Western Capital to travel to their chosen destination.
Todd the tour guide looked at his watch for perhaps the fifth time in an hour not giving a damn if he was being obvious about it or not. This was his last tour of the day and he was eager to knock off early if he could, get home and plan his strategy on how to get to second base with his frigid girlfriend tonight. He was escorting the usual entourage of tourists; bored out-of-towners, wheezing geezers and the usual Asian shutterbugs. All during the tour, a young Japanese couple kept looking at him and muttering the word, "Bakayaro". He had finally come to the conclusion that it was NOT meant as a compliment.
"Awright, everyone gather over here," he instructed the group, motioning them over to the railing that encircled the entire area. "Yes, just like that. Now, if you'll look off to the east you'll see the crater that was created during the climax of the battle against the invaders. At this point, the smaller alien took over the combat when her companion was killed and the circumference of the blast she created is almost half of a mile across."
There were appreciative "Ohs" and "Ahs" from the crowd and the usual "Baka" from the Japanese couple in the back. Fixing them with an irritated look, Todd led the tourists over to the large exhibit where all of the Earth's Special Forces members present during the Saiyan conflict were depicted in life-size replicas. Krillin would have been ecstatic to see his double was a foot taller.
"At the beginning of the battle, the Earth lost several of its greatest warriors. Starting with baseball phenom, Yamcha and quickly followed by Tien and his life-partner Chiaotzu." On the other side of the walkway, a huge lifelike statue of Nappa was poised over the cringing spectators. His mouth was open in a fearsome expression and whenever someone stepped too close to the sensor at the base, his voice came roaring out: "I'm gonna GET'CHA!" Todd always got a chuckle when some little toddler wet his pants in reaction.
"The alien known only as Nappa was responsible for the loss of East City, the Defensive Naval Force and many of the ZTV staff. He was initially considered the more powerful of the two until his inexplicable demise." At this point, Todd paused and considered the smaller replica positioned beside its companion.
Standing on its base, the statue was almost eye-level with the majority of the crowd, clad in a distinctive blue and white ensemble and standing in an arms crossed posture that appeared both arrogant and condescending. No one had been able to supply the company responsible for the replicas with a decent photograph of Vegeta. It was for this reason that he was depicted as a female brunette with a generous bosom and beautiful eyes. Todd thought that she was an absolute hottie and entertained himself with some pretty raunchy daydreams every chance he got. "In terms of sheer power, the female invader was virtually without equal and may have been successful in her mission to destroy the earth if not for our mightiest hero-"
The guide dramatically swept his arm to the figure standing on the raised dais at the end of the path. The larger-than-life relief stood with his legs wide apart and his hands loosely clenched at his sides. He was staring up at the azure sky as if expecting another invasion and prepared to face it bravely.
"-YAJIROBI!" Todd cried enthusiastically. As they always did at this part of the tour, the cameras began clicking and flashing as fast as fingers could press the buttons to get a decent shot of the pudgy samurai. "If not for his expert swordmanship and subterfuge skills, our beautiful planet might have been lost for-"
There was a muted explosion quite close-by and heads turned in time to watch a surviving rock formation crumble to the ground in a great pall of smoke and dust.
"What the hell was THAT?!" Todd yelled to no one in particular. This was followed buy a responsive outburst of, "Nani?" from the Japanese couple.
"Oh, kewl," remarked one punk who had several miniature barbells shoved through his nose and both eyebrows. "Dude, why didn't you say that there was gonna be a reenactment of the battle?"
"This isn't any reenactment, you idiot!" Todd screamed into his face. Before he could say more, there was the screeching wail of what sounded like an approaching missile. "Incoming!" he bellowed and dove behind a replica of Piccolo who, because of a shortage of green paint, had a noticeably purple hue to his features.
An object fell out of the sky, snapping off of the head of the Son Gokou statue and plowing into the replica of Nappa. Sputtering and cursing, Vegeta tried to shake off Yamcha's Wolf Fang punch as he absorbed his surroundings. When he saw Nappa's face leering into his own he had a moment of fear that he had fallen prey to the V'Nhar again and it didn't help when the figure bellowed at him: "I'm gonna GET'CHA!" Holding his breath he poked the lifeless creation curiously, feeling firm resistance.
"Hnh," he grunted in relief. When he got to his feet he nearly tripped over Gokou's head and picked it up to stare resentfully into the wide eyes. As ever, the expression on the replica's face mirrored the younger Saiyan's smiling, easy-going nature to perfection. "Damn, I wish you were the real thing," Vegeta snarled. He gave the head a kick that propelled it into the next state.
Yamcha landed on the well-used path, inwardly wincing that he had placed innocents in danger with a badly aimed punch. "Everybody get out of here! It isn't safe!"
"No shit, Sherlock," the punk retorted but didn't waste time as he hauled ass to get out of there. He never even bothered to see if his parents were following. Keeping close to his heels, the Japanese couple had changed tunes and were now saying, "Shimatta!" over and over as they sprinted to safety.
Todd peered out from behind Piccolo's poly-resin cape and saw the little guy who had single-handedly destroyed the exhibit get to his feet and glance at the statue next to him. For some reason he appear thunderstruck at the sight of the bodacious alien chick.
Vegeta damn near choked on his tongue when he finally recognized who he was looking at. It was him! Rather, it was a version of himself if his father had supplied another X chromosome instead of the Y. "What the FUCK-?!" he managed to get out. The supposed replica was wearing make-up and displaying an ample cleavage above the crossed arms. With a livid curse he drew his fist back and punched the offensive statue so hard that it literally exploded.
Releasing a wail of loss, Todd stared at the rubble of his dream woman and confronted the seething stranger with, "Why did you have to go and do that for? She was gorgeous!"
It was definitely the wrong thing to say, he realized belatedly as the man raised his hand palm-up in his direction. The blast that followed was virtually instantaneous. Mercifully, so was the tackle that propelled him clear of the explosion that obliterated the statue he had been using for cover. Piccolo would have taken one look at the gaudy recreation of himself and called the destruction of it a necessary thing.
"Aw, shee-YIT!!" Todd howled in dismay. "All of that's gonna end up coming outta my salary, d'you realize that?!"
For perhaps the first and only time in his entire life, Yamcha felt the vaguest sensation of disgust that Vegeta probably grappled with every single time he laid eyes on such a pathetic specimen of earthling. It didn't stop him from throwing the idiot clear of the Saiyan's enraged fire but it didn't mean he was overly gentle, either. The luckless guide was sent rolling over to a stationary dumpster where he immediately climbed inside, burrowing for cover underneath of a layer of garbage. A stray ki blast flipped the large container completely over onto its top. It would be two days later before Todd would be pulled free, stinking to high heaven.
Vegeta released a rapid-fire barrage of ki missiles that sliced through the air and had Yamcha dancing for an escape. Sliding up beside a perforated statue of Tien, he glanced at the replica's third eye and muttered an apology as he plucked it out of the double's forehead. He gripped it experimentally, testing its weight. It was larger than a ping-pong ball, smaller than a baseball and deceptively heavy. He immediately leapt to his feet and pitched it at the Saiyan as hard as he possibly could. Vegeta was expecting a retaliatory strike as he kept his senses trained on the human's personal ki signature, but he wasn't expecting a thrown projectile traveling at over 150 miles an hour. The object hit him just below the right temple in a fine spray of blood and he fell backwards over the railing, cursing the whole way to the ground.
Sprinting across the pathway and gathering the energies in his fist for another Wolf Fang attack, Yamcha cautiously peered over the railing. There was no sign of the wounded Saiyan.
"Oh, crap," he muttered as he jumped over the metal bar and landed lithely on the ground. He could feel eyes watching him and advanced very carefully across the terrain fully aware of who, more importantly what, he was up against. Honestly, Yamcha hadn't expected for the battle to go on this long but he wasn't knocking his good fortune. Whatever it was that had laid Vegeta down in the hotel room, it had obviously been something serious. The Saiyan was severely off of his usual game.
No one was more aware of this than Vegeta himself. At the moment he was crouched beside a demolished butte watching the human walk away from his position, trying to get his breathing and his indignation under control. Whatever the damned thing was that had impacted with his face, it had done some major damage. His right eye socket was broken and the retina had become detached from the rest of his eye, rendering him blind on that side. It was déjà vu all over again and the irony of the situation was not lost on him, considering this was the precise area where he had met his first humiliating defeat not all that long ago. Gather the rest of the meat-beating losers that made up the Earth's Special Forces and they could have a good old-fashioned reunion. The only thing that could top that would be for the mongrel brat to turn Oozaru and sit on him again. The way things were going, Vegeta wasn't even going to discount the possibility.
Wiping stinging sweat out of his one good eye, Vegeta acutely regretted that he had wasted so much precious energy gallivanting around the skies like some smitten teenager. He had traveled the equivalent of three circumferences around the earth hardly even aware of it; too lost in thought on matters far and beyond his usual self-centeredness. Bulma and her actions of the last week and a half had been the only things on his mind and he was paying dearly for that lapse now. It only served to justify his reasoning that such intimate attachments were a warrior's downfall.
'It ends now', he brooded. 'If-WHEN I get done with this inconvenience my involvement with the woman will be over. The bitch has made me weak.'
His face tightened with resolve even as his heart gave an enigmatic shudder he purposely ignored. Getting to his feet, he raised his hand in that Big Bang gesture ready to shoot the human in the back and be done with him once and for all. It would be pathetically easy. Yamcha was clear in his sight and oblivious to his presence. A brutal flashback came to mind; one where a tail was wrapped around his neck holding him off of the ground and a lightening flurry of blows pounded into his back, destroying his spine and internal organs in a span of mere seconds. Vegeta shook off the vision and lowered his hand. No, he concluded. There was no honor in such an attack.
He fazed out of sight and re-materialized behind Yamcha who whirled in surprise. The human clearly saw the damage his makeshift baseball had done and betrayed a smile of accomplishment. The right side of the Saiyan's face was a mask of blood and his eye was almost swollen closed. That smug satisfaction faded when he realized he was now facing the equivalent of a wounded, rabid pit-bull that had no owner or leash in sight.
Vegeta saw that look of unease on the other fighter's face and he broke out into a cold grin that was devoid of any humor. "The games end now," he said in a deceptively level voice and was a sudden blur as he propelled himself into the other man, driving them both through a pile of rubble with his momentum. All of the wind was knocked out of Yamcha from the impact and he became dimly aware of various blows that ravaged his body even before he could call up a desperate defensive. If he had the element of surprise before, that advantage was lost now as a fist plowed into his solar plexus and drove him skidding backwards into the rough dirt. He was vaguely aware of being hauled up by the front of his shirt and he looked into the calm face of the attacking Saiyan, realizing his mistake. Unlike other fighters he was used to confronting, Vegeta absorbed pain and anger and was capable of using it to empower his abilities where a human fighter would be rendered debilitated.
"I suppose now you're going to whimper out that you want a truce," Vegeta said in a bored tone of voice.
Remember Bulma as she curled up into a miserable little ball of desolation, Yamcha gathered his waning strength. "Not this time," he said and drove his forehead into the Saiyan's injured face, driving both fists into his stomach at the same time.
Vegeta doubled forward and received a knee directly into his left kidney, driving him down into the dirt. Struggling to rise, a boot connected squarely where his tail had been severed and he betrayed a scream of agony at the contact. Purposely digging his heel into the sore scar, Yamcha applied pressure until the Saiyan was actually writhing under him in misery. "Who's going to call for a truce now?" he said, leaning over him with a smile.
Clenching his teeth to keep the screams at bay, Vegeta's hands spasmed in the dirt and he released a wail of rage and pain as he expanded his ki outwards. He unleashed a concussive pressure wave that drove Yamcha into the air and scrubbed the ground clear of any rubble or obstacles for several hundred meters. The ground was smoldering when he clambered to his feet, barely able to straighten up completely as his lower back rebelled to the movement. Yamcha dropped easily to the ground nearby ready to resume the fight.
"Fuck this shit," Vegeta hissed. He cupped his hands to his side and began to power up. Yamcha's eyes widened in instant recognition even as the Saiyan called out, "GALLIC-"
"Uh-oh," the human muttered, watching the bright blue ball form in Vegeta's hands. He immediately started backing away.
"-GUN-"
Gokou and Piccolo suddenly appeared between the two combatants, sensing the release of the fighters' energies and easily homing in on their battle site. The ground was shuddering, a precursor to the building of power Vegeta was collecting for his trademark attack that would obliterate Yamcha and, depending on the angle of the blast, a goodly portion of the earth itself.
"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!?!" Piccolo roared. He stared first at the livid Saiyan and then turned to look at Yamcha, his glare intensifying.
"Three birds with one stone," Vegeta growled through bared teeth. "Excellent."
"Power down, Vegeta," Gokou cautioned wondering if he had the time to collect the energy for a hasty Kamehameha.
"Screw you, Kakarrot! I should have known that you'd come to that weakling's defense!"
While the two Saiyan's argued, Piccolo took advantage of the lapse and confronted the only human standing on the battlefield. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just step out of the way of Vegeta's blast," the tall Namek asked him in a rough tone.
"I just got back from that hotel the two were holed up in," Yamcha said quickly. He was relieved beyond words that the cavalry had shown up just in the nick of time. With the combined might of all three of them, Vegeta didn't have a prayer of surviving the combat to follow. "I had to put Bulma to bed. That little prick beat her!"
Swinging his head around, Piccolo regarded the Saiyan coolly. "Is that true?"
"Of course it's not, you vomit-colored cretin!" Vegeta roared.
"You broke her nose!" Yamcha yelled back.
Looking very much like a father exasperated by the actions of two brawling children, Piccolo cast an unfathomable look to Gokou who immediately nodded and winked out of sight with his ability of instant transmission. "Consider this a time-out until we get to the root of the problem," he instructed the two antagonists.
"The problem is right over there!" Yamcha told him in exasperation, pointing an urgent finger at the Saiyan.
Vegeta was grappling with the energies of his Gallic Gun and was a bare silhouette against the pulsing energy he was containing. He was nearing critical mass and no longer cared who was in the path of the devastating blast. "I'm going to dance in your ashes," he snarled.
"Both of you- SHUT UP!!" Piccolo bellowed in a fearsome roar. Both combatants' fell silent glaring at one another on opposite sides of the huge Namek.
Paur was hovering nearby, keeping a cautious eye on her charge who was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the far wall through red-rimmed eyes. Before leaving the bedroom, Yamcha had instructed her to keep a close eye over Bulma and defend her incase his fight with Vegeta ended badly. The little changeling was utterly terrified with the prospect of confronting the Saiyan. She was smart enough to know that her life-long friend, while a gifted fighter, had a very small chance of vanquishing his alien foe but he had ignored her advice too many times for her logic to penetrate his anger now. For all of his flaws, Yamcha genuinely loved Bulma, even if it was now more of protectiveness reserved for a sister than for a lover. He had a lot of pride of his own to deal with and losing Bulma to Vegeta was something he just couldn't deal with. Paur kept a nervous eye trained on the door and her fur ruffled in agitation when she sensed a new presence in the living room.
"Bulma?!" a voice called out.
Bulma had been deep in thought until the familiar voice interrupted her brooding and she rose from the bed and walked out into the corridor to meet the new arrival. "Gokou! If you're here than something's happened! Where's Vegeta?"
"He and Yamcha are duking it out at the old battle site," her friend told her urgently. "It's getting pretty serious. Yamcha claims that Vegeta beat up on you."
"Do I look beat up to you?" Bulma snapped at him.
"Well...your eyes are a little puffy-"
"-Vegeta was sharing a memory with me when Yamcha barged in. I wanted to stop him but I was too out of it at the time. I-I think I was in shock."
Gokou's eyes trained on hers in concern. "What happened, Bulma?"
Trying to hold up her face to his, Bulma's bottom lip trembled and she looked away, feeling a profound grief that was not her own. "...I've been receiving thoughts from Vegeta, memories of his past. He showed me what Frieza did to him when he was a child to keep him under control. Oh, Gokou, it was HORRIBLE!"
"Yeah, I know," Gokou admitted in a low voice.
Bulma's eyes widened. "You know?"
"Vegeta shared thoughts with me when I was fighting against Frieza. I saw more than I wanted to," the younger man said quietly.
"He-he raped him," Bulma whispered in a shaky voice. When her dearest friend admitted to a halting nod of consent, she burst into fresh tears and clung onto him, sobbing against his chest. Gokou held onto her, unable to come up with words that could possibly soothe over this terrible realization and decided to let her cry herself out. That was until he remembered the standoff back at the battle site. "Bulma, I have to bring you back with me to try and reason with-"
"No!" Bulma said, pushing herself away from him with a violent shove.
"Things are really tense," Gokou tried to reason with her, which was an exercise he really had little skill in using. "You have to talk to Vegeta and get him to cool down. He's going to kill Yamcha."
"If I show up with you, he'll kill Yamcha for sure, just to prove to me that he can," Bulma told him. "I'm serious, Gokou. If he so much as catches sight of me he'll think I'm there for Yamcha's sake and literally explode. You don't know what he-we've been through these last few weeks. I've seen into his mind. He actually wants an excuse not to trust me so he can go back to being his prior, hateful self. I'm not going to give that to him."
"But, Bulma...Yamcha-"
"-Yamcha knew what he got himself into," Bulma choked in a hoarse voice. "I love him, Gokou. Don't get me wrong. But I love Vegeta more and he's caused so much trouble for us both already. He needs to learn to mind his own business." She scrubbed her eyes with both hands as she added in a near-whisper, "One way or another..."
Swallowing, Gokou was at a loss as to what to do next. Her logic made sense. If she went with him, Vegeta would naturally assume she was there for Yamcha's sake and attack without a second's hesitation. Not for the first time, the young fighter wished that the teenager from the future hadn't been so purposely vague in relating the details between his parents that had led to his unique conception. It was a near impossibility to predict what the correct course of action was on his part but Gokou was reasonably sure that it didn't involve putting Bulma in the path of an incoming Gallic Gun attack. He was prepared to return empty handed when he spotted Paur hovering in the bedroom entranceway. He wondered uneasily just how much the creature had overheard but now was not the time to ask. "Let's go, Paur. Maybe you can reason with Yamcha."
Releasing a nervous trill, the changeling feline went immediately over to him. Before they both disappeared, Bulma passed Gokou a longing, emotional glance that could not quite hide her despair.
On the battlefield, trapped between a furious ex-lover and an enraged Saiyan, Piccolo felt a large sweat-drop trickle down the side of his face as he maintained his dour composure. Silently he was cursing for Gokou to hurry the hell up; hoping the fighter hadn't gotten sidetracked by a dessert cart in the hotel room. He was taking too damn long retrieving Bulma and both Yamcha and Vegeta were beginning to hurl threats back and forth, which wasn't helping the tension. Vegeta had powered down a little on his energy ball but the air was still crackling with the increased static his power was creating. It was at such ill-timed moments like these that the Namek was relieved that the smaller Saiyan wasn't able to achieve a Super-powered state like Gokou. Vegeta was already immensely powerful and his sanity was a tenuous thing at best. He was only cowed at the moment because he knew that Gokou was capable of over-powering him if he chose to cross the line and attack. Piccolo mused that if Vegeta ever successfully evolved into a Super Saiyan they might as well all kiss their asses good-bye. There would be no restraining an ego like that.
When Gokou appeared beside him, he resisted the urge to release a lungful of breath in relief. His visible tension doubled when he saw that the young fighter had returned with the wrong female. "What the hell did you bring THAT here for?" the Namek snarled, pointing a taloned finger at Paur. The small creature made a frightened squeal and quickly flew over to Yamcha and wrapped her fuzzy arms around his neck, speaking urgently into his ear. The human protested at first and then went suddenly quiet as he listened.
Gokou didn't answer right away. He cast a sidelong glance at Vegeta who had tightened down into a wary crouch at his arrival and began powering up his attack again in preparation for the battle to come. Yes, that rage that Bulma had described was plainly visible as well as that desire to distrust. Vegeta was just itching for an excuse to attack them all. Like Bulma, Gokou resolved not to be the one to give it to him. It was an enormous gamble but just spiriting Yamcha to safety would not be the end of it. This issue had to reach a conclusion all on its own. "Let's go, Piccolo. This isn't our fight."
"What-" was all the Namek was able to get out before Gokou reached for him and took them back home.
"Hey!" Yamcha yelled in frustration. Paur tugged on a lock of his hair to get his attention and continued her frenzied whispers.
Vegeta burst out laughing. "Where did your buddies go?" he taunted, pleased beyond words that the pair had wisely taken the hint and left where they weren't wanted. He had no feelings for Piccolo one way or the other, unaware that he shared the Namek's reluctant affinity in their kindred dispositions and past ambitions. The person he absolutely abhorred most in the universe was Gokou for achieving the very goal that should have been his birthright and destiny to boast; The status of the legendary Super Saiyan. Vegeta wanted that younger man's heart in his hand he hated him so much but he also feared him, thanks to stupid, superstitious Saiyan bullshit he had heard since he was young boy. It was hard to shake a thousand years of heritage and genetics predisposed to respect the tales of the Chosen One. Now Vegeta was stuck on the planet where that revered Saiyan lived and forced to interact with his fellows. One of whom was cowering directly in front of him.
"They'll be back," Yamcha tried to say in a level voice. "They went to get reinforcements."
"Somehow I doubt that," Vegeta sneered. The air between them was supercharged with electricity as the Saiyan gathered the last of the energy that he needed. "And they'll be too late if they did."
"I realize now that I was wrong. You didn't hurt Bulma."
Vegeta lifted an eyebrow but didn't bother to respond. The blue aura of ki fire began to radiate from his compact form in steady waves, growing in intensity.
Backpedaling, Yamcha said quickly, "I didn't know that the both of you were so close-"
"Gallic Gun-"
"-You love her-"
"!!FIRE!!" Vegeta screamed, unleashing all of his gathered energy in a terrifying discharge that made the ground shake with it's violence. The blast wave closed in on Yamcha in the blink of an eye with the concessive force of a thousand Hiroshima bombs. It gouged out a massive trench a quarter of a mile wide before arcing up and punching through the atmosphere, slicing into cold space like a laser of purest blue light. The following report of the devastating explosion actually reverberated through the clouds in the area like recurring thunder until silence fell on the stark landscape where only ragged breathing could be heard.
Rubbing the small of his back, Vegeta felt his exhaustion begin to close in and fought the sensation as he considered the sight before him. Standing dead center at the start of the blast crater he had created, Yamcha was looking down at his feet in amazement. Damned if, at the last possible instant, Vegeta hadn't parted the huge discharge to go around him and continue its course uninterrupted just to give him the scare of his entire life. It was testimony to the sheer strength of the Saiyan's will; to control a power so huge and be able to forcibly manipulate it to do his bidding. The younger man was unable to betray a look of reluctant respect when he was finally able to raise his eyes.
"You...didn't kill me," Yamcha wheezed, when he was finally able to find his voice. Peeking out from behind the neckline of his shirt, Paur spared a petrified glance at her surroundings. There was a noticeably darker patch that ran down the front of Yamcha's orange shirt but he hadn't noticed the moisture yet. Or the smell.
"Consider it a gift," Vegeta said shortly, raising into the air. "For HER. It'll be the only one I'll ever give."
Without another word, he turned his back and sped off. Yamcha let him go without quarrel even though he knew that the Saiyan had expended virtually all of his power in that dramatic release and would be defenseless now. He had no more reason to fight; Paur had explained the exchange back at the hotel between Gokou and Bulma. He had grossly misinterpreted what he had seen and almost paid the ultimate price for his ignorance. From that day on he resolved to keep his distance from the pair and it was a promise that he kept.
It was early in the morning when Vegeta finally reached his destination and settled down onto the balcony where Bulma was waiting. He took one look at the relief on her face and knew that he had made the right choice in returning even if it was against his better judgement. It felt good to have someone actually worry about him and even better to have someone welcome him back. Perhaps if he weren't so tired and sore, he would have pushed her away, sticking to his earlier resolve of putting an end to this farce of a relationship. At the moment however, he tolerated her fussing over his injuries and allowed her to forcibly lead him into the bedroom without quarrel. He fell asleep on the soft surface even before he could tell her how the battle went, lulled into a dreamless, comforting slumber by her pleasant scent and soft words. There was none of that lingering regret of past actions to pester him this time. For perhaps the first time in his existence, he had actually done the right thing by sparing Yamcha's life.
'A gift', he had said. In the background of those words were ones he knew he would never be able to say out loud, 'For the woman I love'.
Unknown hours passed before he woke up again. He was lying on his stomach with an icepack successfully numbing his lower back and a bandage over his right eye. Raising his head, he saw that the woman was lying beside him on the bed. She was awake and staring at his face, her expression unreadable.
"You never asked me the question," Vegeta said at last.
"Which one is that?"
"Whether I killed that idiot ex-lover of yours."
"I know you didn't," she responded with a smile.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you wouldn't have come back here, if you had."
It was dismaying how well she knew him. Vegeta was actually at a loss for words against her unflappable logic and he crossed his arms over the pillow and rested his chin on them to stare at the headboard. He continued his solitary deliberations until her hand settled lightly on the back of his neck and he swung his head around to look at her again. She was right beside him, her lips parted in unmistakable invitation. "Vegeta..."
He pulled away from her and sat up. "I should never have showed you what happened with Frieza."
"I'm glad that you felt you could share that memory with me, Vegeta," she told him sincerely. "I needed to understand what happened to you."
"You pity me now," he accused. "I don't need to be an empath to sense that from you."
She came up alongside of him and studied his face. "I can't easily forget what happened-"
"I won't be pitied," he snapped, getting to his feet. He was bare-chested and she could easily make out the bruises on his back. The scar from where his tail had been severed was pink and swollen but if the old wound pained him, he betrayed no sign of it. He was too lost in thought on other matters. "I don't need this place anymore. It's time to resume my training."
Bulma had been anticipating that request but her heart still sank at the sound of it. She nodded slowly. "I'll start packing. Dad says that he's made some improvements on the gravity simulator that he thinks you'll like."
Pulling on a clean shirt, Vegeta stared at her with his left eye, hearing the sorrow in her voice. They looked at one another for one lingering moment, the silence between them burning with a thousand unspoken questions, desires and entreaties. Finally, Vegeta's face tightened into that cold mask that Bulma immediately recognized. It was like watching a sheet of black ice form over a drowning victim and the effect, once complete was dramatic. She was confronting a stranger now. Gone was the Saiyan who had been so gentle with her in the dark of the night, pleasuring her with a touch that was tender and generous and speaking words in a hushed voice that actually comforted her. In his place was the Saiyan no Ouji of Vegetasei; Cold, remorseless, spiteful. Attached to no one.
"I'll see you back at Capsule Corp." she said in an even voice.
Vegeta only grunted and headed for the balcony. Without so much as a backward glance, he was gone from her sight. In his wake, Bulma released a forlorn sigh before donning her own mask and began to pack all of the belongings she had collected in her prolonged stay here. The neutrality and isolation of the hotel room had been a pleasant diversion as long as Vegeta had been here to share it with her but now the vacation was finally over.
It was time to go home.
Diverting in his course from his route to Capsule Corp. Vegeta traveled to the Capital's wealthy north quarter and landed in the backyard of an affluent three story townhouse. It was early afternoon and taking advantage of the sun, the person lying topless on the nearby lounge was none other than Dorothy Pereaux. Vegeta stood over her, casting a deliberate shadow over her immaculate form and she pulled out of her semi-doze to raise her sunglasses. She squinted up at him in annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here? Carmilla!"
"There's only enough room in this city for one of our ego's-" he said directly.
Her housekeeper came running outside with her trusty broom. Grabbing her towel, Dorothy covered herself as she stared at him. "I want you to get the hell out of here!"
Vegeta extended his hand towards the house and finished, "-And that ego is mine."
He fired.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Nineteen: THE FINAL CHAPTER!
(You knew it had to happen sooner or later, folks.)
Chapter Eighteen - Unfinished Business
Strong arms cradled Bulma's shuddering form and carried her gently into the bedroom, settling her upon the soft surface of the bed. Concerned fingers brushed the hair away from her face and when that affectionate touch grazed her cheek she cried out in pain.
"No-don't. My nose, it feels broken," she hitched in a faltering voice, still struggling with tears.
There was a sharp intake of breath. "What did that bastard do you?" a male voice rasped, sounding different to her grief-stricken mind.
"I-who? Wh-where's Vegeta?"
"Get some rest," that male presence soothed, covering her trembling form with the bedspread.
"No! No...I have to talk to him! I have to say I-I-"
"Sleep, Bulma."
Clutching at the heavy fabric with panicked fingers, Bulma surrendered to her shock and curled into a tight, little ball. Almost immediately she became lost in dreams that were no longer her own; A place where long-maned giants patrolled barren lands heavy with cinder-strewn winds. Where women screamed in agony and violation and orphaned babes wailed for parents that were reduced to cadavers.
In the background of all of that, barely audible, was the sound of a little boy's voice begging for mercy.
There was practically a cloud of smoke hovering around Yamcha's head when he emerged from the hallway and faced the lone Saiyan in the living room. Vegeta barely heard the young humans' return, too lost in thought to pay much concern to his presence. He was still brooding over Bulma's over-reaction to his deliberate rapport. He hadn't even shown her the REAL disturbing parts and she had freaked out, becoming utterly inconsolable. To make the situation even worse, she had actually suffered psychic shock from the brief contact; feeling the injuries the memory version of himself had suffered under Dodoria. Obviously the fool woman could handle playing the observer in his memories but not an actual participant.
He should have felt a gloating satisfaction for putting her in her place as forcibly as he had. As little as two months ago he would have laughed at her discomfiture. Now, he discovered her plaintive sobs obliterated all of his enjoyment. Bulma was crying for him. For what had been done to him. Vegeta had actually been frozen in place watching as her former lover carried her away, not objecting. Not able to object. He had broken his promise to her.
'I hurt her,' he thought with genuine remorse and was at a loss as to how to deal with it. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him shelve his indecision and get back to the real problem at hand. Yamcha was brilliantly pissed, far beyond anything the Saiyan had yet to see from him and required a close watch.
Keeping to the far side of the room, Yamcha paced the room slowly as he considered his strategy. Vegeta was notorious for becoming impulsive in a battle when his emotions slipped their leash. He didn't want to make that same mistake. "I actually went to the mat for you."
"That a fact."
"I went to Gokou and the others and came out looking like a fool in order to make things right. It just turns out that I had you pegged right from day one, after all."
Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Human, you don't know anything about me. Don't strain your pathetic mind in the effort to try."
"I always knew you'd eventually hurt Bulma and I was right." He raised his voice in an anguished shout, "You broke her nose, you little prick!"
Rather than try to explain the eccentricities involved with erecting mental rapport's and their potential side effects, Vegeta dismissed her injury with, "It's NOT broken. It'll pass."
Yamcha just assumed that the Saiyan was shrugging off an assault with his customary arrogance. "I'd call the cops if there was anything they could do with you. I'm glad that Piccolo finally gave up his vigil. There's not going to be any bleeding hearts in this fight, Saiyan. I'm going to beat you within an inch of your miserable life-"
Unable to contain himself any longer, Vegeta threw his head back and laughed. "You? A Saibaman with a power rating of 1500 and an I.Q. of less than fifty kicked your sorry ass!" he broke off snickering and shaking his head at the same time. "You weren't worthy of my fighting you then. That hasn't changed now."
Yamcha betrayed a stunned blink. "Since when have you ever turned down a fight? You've become a pussy, Vegeta!"
"Ah, well... You are what you eat," Vegeta purred, his smirk turning into a deliberate sneer. "From what I hear, you wouldn't understand that."
The human's flush of anger deepened into a more purple hue of indignation over the intentional slight. Stammering out a response, Vegeta cut in with, "I had a good laugh listening to the woman's tales of your efforts. Some athlete. The only gold you deserve is at the Lake Flaccid Olympics."
"!!GODDAMN YOU!!" Yamcha roared and launched himself over the chesterfield at the mocking Saiyan. Vegeta stepped quickly aside, his arms still crossed but the contact had been very close. Even the younger fighter noticed that, despite his great rage. He allowed himself a small smile of realization. "It's been awhile since you've trained, I can see that now. Why has Piccolo been acting so protective of you lately? Why was Dr. Briefs having the rest of us searching for you?"
He wasn't really expecting any kind of an acknowledgement to his questions. All of the good humor abruptly went out of the Saiyan and his former resentment returned with a vengeance, making his dark eyes blaze with hatred. It was answer enough.
"You were hurt," Yamcha concluded, his posture assuming its former confidence with each word that he spoke. "Maybe even worse than the gravity simulator explosion. Whatever happened I can see the differences in you. You've lost a lot of muscle-tone; you're out of practice. You wouldn't have stayed in this hotel for so long a time without your precious training if you had been capable of doing it."
"I'm just enjoying a well-deserved vacation screwing your former lover," Vegeta stated in an off-hand manner. "The woman is quite skilled in her technique. I credit it to a good book. Not to you."
Yamcha wasn't going to be baited this time. "I think you're scared of me."
"Of YOU?! You must be insane!"
"You know that this fight will be a lot closer than you want it to be. We have unfinished business, you and I."
"That we do," Vegeta admitted.
"Then let's get on with it."
"Here?"
"Of course not! You know damned well where I'm talking about, Saiyan."
Actually, Vegeta had to think for a minute before he realized what the idiot human was talking about. He allowed himself one brief nod. "Fine. Let's get this over with."
Eagerly vaulting over the railing, Yamcha took to the air and waited for the brash alien to follow. To his surprise, Vegeta visibly hesitated, staring off in the direction of the bedroom where Bulma was resting.
"If you go near her again, I'll kill you," Yamcha cautioned, his voice dripping with malice.
Snapping his head around, the Saiyan looked at him directly, his face guarded and betraying absolutely no emotion. The younger fighter recognized the neutral expression at once; it meant that Vegeta had finally accepted him as a threat and was not going to betray anymore valuable facial cues to aid in his defense. Wordlessly, he joined the human and the pair left the Western Capital to travel to their chosen destination.
Todd the tour guide looked at his watch for perhaps the fifth time in an hour not giving a damn if he was being obvious about it or not. This was his last tour of the day and he was eager to knock off early if he could, get home and plan his strategy on how to get to second base with his frigid girlfriend tonight. He was escorting the usual entourage of tourists; bored out-of-towners, wheezing geezers and the usual Asian shutterbugs. All during the tour, a young Japanese couple kept looking at him and muttering the word, "Bakayaro". He had finally come to the conclusion that it was NOT meant as a compliment.
"Awright, everyone gather over here," he instructed the group, motioning them over to the railing that encircled the entire area. "Yes, just like that. Now, if you'll look off to the east you'll see the crater that was created during the climax of the battle against the invaders. At this point, the smaller alien took over the combat when her companion was killed and the circumference of the blast she created is almost half of a mile across."
There were appreciative "Ohs" and "Ahs" from the crowd and the usual "Baka" from the Japanese couple in the back. Fixing them with an irritated look, Todd led the tourists over to the large exhibit where all of the Earth's Special Forces members present during the Saiyan conflict were depicted in life-size replicas. Krillin would have been ecstatic to see his double was a foot taller.
"At the beginning of the battle, the Earth lost several of its greatest warriors. Starting with baseball phenom, Yamcha and quickly followed by Tien and his life-partner Chiaotzu." On the other side of the walkway, a huge lifelike statue of Nappa was poised over the cringing spectators. His mouth was open in a fearsome expression and whenever someone stepped too close to the sensor at the base, his voice came roaring out: "I'm gonna GET'CHA!" Todd always got a chuckle when some little toddler wet his pants in reaction.
"The alien known only as Nappa was responsible for the loss of East City, the Defensive Naval Force and many of the ZTV staff. He was initially considered the more powerful of the two until his inexplicable demise." At this point, Todd paused and considered the smaller replica positioned beside its companion.
Standing on its base, the statue was almost eye-level with the majority of the crowd, clad in a distinctive blue and white ensemble and standing in an arms crossed posture that appeared both arrogant and condescending. No one had been able to supply the company responsible for the replicas with a decent photograph of Vegeta. It was for this reason that he was depicted as a female brunette with a generous bosom and beautiful eyes. Todd thought that she was an absolute hottie and entertained himself with some pretty raunchy daydreams every chance he got. "In terms of sheer power, the female invader was virtually without equal and may have been successful in her mission to destroy the earth if not for our mightiest hero-"
The guide dramatically swept his arm to the figure standing on the raised dais at the end of the path. The larger-than-life relief stood with his legs wide apart and his hands loosely clenched at his sides. He was staring up at the azure sky as if expecting another invasion and prepared to face it bravely.
"-YAJIROBI!" Todd cried enthusiastically. As they always did at this part of the tour, the cameras began clicking and flashing as fast as fingers could press the buttons to get a decent shot of the pudgy samurai. "If not for his expert swordmanship and subterfuge skills, our beautiful planet might have been lost for-"
There was a muted explosion quite close-by and heads turned in time to watch a surviving rock formation crumble to the ground in a great pall of smoke and dust.
"What the hell was THAT?!" Todd yelled to no one in particular. This was followed buy a responsive outburst of, "Nani?" from the Japanese couple.
"Oh, kewl," remarked one punk who had several miniature barbells shoved through his nose and both eyebrows. "Dude, why didn't you say that there was gonna be a reenactment of the battle?"
"This isn't any reenactment, you idiot!" Todd screamed into his face. Before he could say more, there was the screeching wail of what sounded like an approaching missile. "Incoming!" he bellowed and dove behind a replica of Piccolo who, because of a shortage of green paint, had a noticeably purple hue to his features.
An object fell out of the sky, snapping off of the head of the Son Gokou statue and plowing into the replica of Nappa. Sputtering and cursing, Vegeta tried to shake off Yamcha's Wolf Fang punch as he absorbed his surroundings. When he saw Nappa's face leering into his own he had a moment of fear that he had fallen prey to the V'Nhar again and it didn't help when the figure bellowed at him: "I'm gonna GET'CHA!" Holding his breath he poked the lifeless creation curiously, feeling firm resistance.
"Hnh," he grunted in relief. When he got to his feet he nearly tripped over Gokou's head and picked it up to stare resentfully into the wide eyes. As ever, the expression on the replica's face mirrored the younger Saiyan's smiling, easy-going nature to perfection. "Damn, I wish you were the real thing," Vegeta snarled. He gave the head a kick that propelled it into the next state.
Yamcha landed on the well-used path, inwardly wincing that he had placed innocents in danger with a badly aimed punch. "Everybody get out of here! It isn't safe!"
"No shit, Sherlock," the punk retorted but didn't waste time as he hauled ass to get out of there. He never even bothered to see if his parents were following. Keeping close to his heels, the Japanese couple had changed tunes and were now saying, "Shimatta!" over and over as they sprinted to safety.
Todd peered out from behind Piccolo's poly-resin cape and saw the little guy who had single-handedly destroyed the exhibit get to his feet and glance at the statue next to him. For some reason he appear thunderstruck at the sight of the bodacious alien chick.
Vegeta damn near choked on his tongue when he finally recognized who he was looking at. It was him! Rather, it was a version of himself if his father had supplied another X chromosome instead of the Y. "What the FUCK-?!" he managed to get out. The supposed replica was wearing make-up and displaying an ample cleavage above the crossed arms. With a livid curse he drew his fist back and punched the offensive statue so hard that it literally exploded.
Releasing a wail of loss, Todd stared at the rubble of his dream woman and confronted the seething stranger with, "Why did you have to go and do that for? She was gorgeous!"
It was definitely the wrong thing to say, he realized belatedly as the man raised his hand palm-up in his direction. The blast that followed was virtually instantaneous. Mercifully, so was the tackle that propelled him clear of the explosion that obliterated the statue he had been using for cover. Piccolo would have taken one look at the gaudy recreation of himself and called the destruction of it a necessary thing.
"Aw, shee-YIT!!" Todd howled in dismay. "All of that's gonna end up coming outta my salary, d'you realize that?!"
For perhaps the first and only time in his entire life, Yamcha felt the vaguest sensation of disgust that Vegeta probably grappled with every single time he laid eyes on such a pathetic specimen of earthling. It didn't stop him from throwing the idiot clear of the Saiyan's enraged fire but it didn't mean he was overly gentle, either. The luckless guide was sent rolling over to a stationary dumpster where he immediately climbed inside, burrowing for cover underneath of a layer of garbage. A stray ki blast flipped the large container completely over onto its top. It would be two days later before Todd would be pulled free, stinking to high heaven.
Vegeta released a rapid-fire barrage of ki missiles that sliced through the air and had Yamcha dancing for an escape. Sliding up beside a perforated statue of Tien, he glanced at the replica's third eye and muttered an apology as he plucked it out of the double's forehead. He gripped it experimentally, testing its weight. It was larger than a ping-pong ball, smaller than a baseball and deceptively heavy. He immediately leapt to his feet and pitched it at the Saiyan as hard as he possibly could. Vegeta was expecting a retaliatory strike as he kept his senses trained on the human's personal ki signature, but he wasn't expecting a thrown projectile traveling at over 150 miles an hour. The object hit him just below the right temple in a fine spray of blood and he fell backwards over the railing, cursing the whole way to the ground.
Sprinting across the pathway and gathering the energies in his fist for another Wolf Fang attack, Yamcha cautiously peered over the railing. There was no sign of the wounded Saiyan.
"Oh, crap," he muttered as he jumped over the metal bar and landed lithely on the ground. He could feel eyes watching him and advanced very carefully across the terrain fully aware of who, more importantly what, he was up against. Honestly, Yamcha hadn't expected for the battle to go on this long but he wasn't knocking his good fortune. Whatever it was that had laid Vegeta down in the hotel room, it had obviously been something serious. The Saiyan was severely off of his usual game.
No one was more aware of this than Vegeta himself. At the moment he was crouched beside a demolished butte watching the human walk away from his position, trying to get his breathing and his indignation under control. Whatever the damned thing was that had impacted with his face, it had done some major damage. His right eye socket was broken and the retina had become detached from the rest of his eye, rendering him blind on that side. It was déjà vu all over again and the irony of the situation was not lost on him, considering this was the precise area where he had met his first humiliating defeat not all that long ago. Gather the rest of the meat-beating losers that made up the Earth's Special Forces and they could have a good old-fashioned reunion. The only thing that could top that would be for the mongrel brat to turn Oozaru and sit on him again. The way things were going, Vegeta wasn't even going to discount the possibility.
Wiping stinging sweat out of his one good eye, Vegeta acutely regretted that he had wasted so much precious energy gallivanting around the skies like some smitten teenager. He had traveled the equivalent of three circumferences around the earth hardly even aware of it; too lost in thought on matters far and beyond his usual self-centeredness. Bulma and her actions of the last week and a half had been the only things on his mind and he was paying dearly for that lapse now. It only served to justify his reasoning that such intimate attachments were a warrior's downfall.
'It ends now', he brooded. 'If-WHEN I get done with this inconvenience my involvement with the woman will be over. The bitch has made me weak.'
His face tightened with resolve even as his heart gave an enigmatic shudder he purposely ignored. Getting to his feet, he raised his hand in that Big Bang gesture ready to shoot the human in the back and be done with him once and for all. It would be pathetically easy. Yamcha was clear in his sight and oblivious to his presence. A brutal flashback came to mind; one where a tail was wrapped around his neck holding him off of the ground and a lightening flurry of blows pounded into his back, destroying his spine and internal organs in a span of mere seconds. Vegeta shook off the vision and lowered his hand. No, he concluded. There was no honor in such an attack.
He fazed out of sight and re-materialized behind Yamcha who whirled in surprise. The human clearly saw the damage his makeshift baseball had done and betrayed a smile of accomplishment. The right side of the Saiyan's face was a mask of blood and his eye was almost swollen closed. That smug satisfaction faded when he realized he was now facing the equivalent of a wounded, rabid pit-bull that had no owner or leash in sight.
Vegeta saw that look of unease on the other fighter's face and he broke out into a cold grin that was devoid of any humor. "The games end now," he said in a deceptively level voice and was a sudden blur as he propelled himself into the other man, driving them both through a pile of rubble with his momentum. All of the wind was knocked out of Yamcha from the impact and he became dimly aware of various blows that ravaged his body even before he could call up a desperate defensive. If he had the element of surprise before, that advantage was lost now as a fist plowed into his solar plexus and drove him skidding backwards into the rough dirt. He was vaguely aware of being hauled up by the front of his shirt and he looked into the calm face of the attacking Saiyan, realizing his mistake. Unlike other fighters he was used to confronting, Vegeta absorbed pain and anger and was capable of using it to empower his abilities where a human fighter would be rendered debilitated.
"I suppose now you're going to whimper out that you want a truce," Vegeta said in a bored tone of voice.
Remember Bulma as she curled up into a miserable little ball of desolation, Yamcha gathered his waning strength. "Not this time," he said and drove his forehead into the Saiyan's injured face, driving both fists into his stomach at the same time.
Vegeta doubled forward and received a knee directly into his left kidney, driving him down into the dirt. Struggling to rise, a boot connected squarely where his tail had been severed and he betrayed a scream of agony at the contact. Purposely digging his heel into the sore scar, Yamcha applied pressure until the Saiyan was actually writhing under him in misery. "Who's going to call for a truce now?" he said, leaning over him with a smile.
Clenching his teeth to keep the screams at bay, Vegeta's hands spasmed in the dirt and he released a wail of rage and pain as he expanded his ki outwards. He unleashed a concussive pressure wave that drove Yamcha into the air and scrubbed the ground clear of any rubble or obstacles for several hundred meters. The ground was smoldering when he clambered to his feet, barely able to straighten up completely as his lower back rebelled to the movement. Yamcha dropped easily to the ground nearby ready to resume the fight.
"Fuck this shit," Vegeta hissed. He cupped his hands to his side and began to power up. Yamcha's eyes widened in instant recognition even as the Saiyan called out, "GALLIC-"
"Uh-oh," the human muttered, watching the bright blue ball form in Vegeta's hands. He immediately started backing away.
"-GUN-"
Gokou and Piccolo suddenly appeared between the two combatants, sensing the release of the fighters' energies and easily homing in on their battle site. The ground was shuddering, a precursor to the building of power Vegeta was collecting for his trademark attack that would obliterate Yamcha and, depending on the angle of the blast, a goodly portion of the earth itself.
"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!?!" Piccolo roared. He stared first at the livid Saiyan and then turned to look at Yamcha, his glare intensifying.
"Three birds with one stone," Vegeta growled through bared teeth. "Excellent."
"Power down, Vegeta," Gokou cautioned wondering if he had the time to collect the energy for a hasty Kamehameha.
"Screw you, Kakarrot! I should have known that you'd come to that weakling's defense!"
While the two Saiyan's argued, Piccolo took advantage of the lapse and confronted the only human standing on the battlefield. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just step out of the way of Vegeta's blast," the tall Namek asked him in a rough tone.
"I just got back from that hotel the two were holed up in," Yamcha said quickly. He was relieved beyond words that the cavalry had shown up just in the nick of time. With the combined might of all three of them, Vegeta didn't have a prayer of surviving the combat to follow. "I had to put Bulma to bed. That little prick beat her!"
Swinging his head around, Piccolo regarded the Saiyan coolly. "Is that true?"
"Of course it's not, you vomit-colored cretin!" Vegeta roared.
"You broke her nose!" Yamcha yelled back.
Looking very much like a father exasperated by the actions of two brawling children, Piccolo cast an unfathomable look to Gokou who immediately nodded and winked out of sight with his ability of instant transmission. "Consider this a time-out until we get to the root of the problem," he instructed the two antagonists.
"The problem is right over there!" Yamcha told him in exasperation, pointing an urgent finger at the Saiyan.
Vegeta was grappling with the energies of his Gallic Gun and was a bare silhouette against the pulsing energy he was containing. He was nearing critical mass and no longer cared who was in the path of the devastating blast. "I'm going to dance in your ashes," he snarled.
"Both of you- SHUT UP!!" Piccolo bellowed in a fearsome roar. Both combatants' fell silent glaring at one another on opposite sides of the huge Namek.
Paur was hovering nearby, keeping a cautious eye on her charge who was sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the far wall through red-rimmed eyes. Before leaving the bedroom, Yamcha had instructed her to keep a close eye over Bulma and defend her incase his fight with Vegeta ended badly. The little changeling was utterly terrified with the prospect of confronting the Saiyan. She was smart enough to know that her life-long friend, while a gifted fighter, had a very small chance of vanquishing his alien foe but he had ignored her advice too many times for her logic to penetrate his anger now. For all of his flaws, Yamcha genuinely loved Bulma, even if it was now more of protectiveness reserved for a sister than for a lover. He had a lot of pride of his own to deal with and losing Bulma to Vegeta was something he just couldn't deal with. Paur kept a nervous eye trained on the door and her fur ruffled in agitation when she sensed a new presence in the living room.
"Bulma?!" a voice called out.
Bulma had been deep in thought until the familiar voice interrupted her brooding and she rose from the bed and walked out into the corridor to meet the new arrival. "Gokou! If you're here than something's happened! Where's Vegeta?"
"He and Yamcha are duking it out at the old battle site," her friend told her urgently. "It's getting pretty serious. Yamcha claims that Vegeta beat up on you."
"Do I look beat up to you?" Bulma snapped at him.
"Well...your eyes are a little puffy-"
"-Vegeta was sharing a memory with me when Yamcha barged in. I wanted to stop him but I was too out of it at the time. I-I think I was in shock."
Gokou's eyes trained on hers in concern. "What happened, Bulma?"
Trying to hold up her face to his, Bulma's bottom lip trembled and she looked away, feeling a profound grief that was not her own. "...I've been receiving thoughts from Vegeta, memories of his past. He showed me what Frieza did to him when he was a child to keep him under control. Oh, Gokou, it was HORRIBLE!"
"Yeah, I know," Gokou admitted in a low voice.
Bulma's eyes widened. "You know?"
"Vegeta shared thoughts with me when I was fighting against Frieza. I saw more than I wanted to," the younger man said quietly.
"He-he raped him," Bulma whispered in a shaky voice. When her dearest friend admitted to a halting nod of consent, she burst into fresh tears and clung onto him, sobbing against his chest. Gokou held onto her, unable to come up with words that could possibly soothe over this terrible realization and decided to let her cry herself out. That was until he remembered the standoff back at the battle site. "Bulma, I have to bring you back with me to try and reason with-"
"No!" Bulma said, pushing herself away from him with a violent shove.
"Things are really tense," Gokou tried to reason with her, which was an exercise he really had little skill in using. "You have to talk to Vegeta and get him to cool down. He's going to kill Yamcha."
"If I show up with you, he'll kill Yamcha for sure, just to prove to me that he can," Bulma told him. "I'm serious, Gokou. If he so much as catches sight of me he'll think I'm there for Yamcha's sake and literally explode. You don't know what he-we've been through these last few weeks. I've seen into his mind. He actually wants an excuse not to trust me so he can go back to being his prior, hateful self. I'm not going to give that to him."
"But, Bulma...Yamcha-"
"-Yamcha knew what he got himself into," Bulma choked in a hoarse voice. "I love him, Gokou. Don't get me wrong. But I love Vegeta more and he's caused so much trouble for us both already. He needs to learn to mind his own business." She scrubbed her eyes with both hands as she added in a near-whisper, "One way or another..."
Swallowing, Gokou was at a loss as to what to do next. Her logic made sense. If she went with him, Vegeta would naturally assume she was there for Yamcha's sake and attack without a second's hesitation. Not for the first time, the young fighter wished that the teenager from the future hadn't been so purposely vague in relating the details between his parents that had led to his unique conception. It was a near impossibility to predict what the correct course of action was on his part but Gokou was reasonably sure that it didn't involve putting Bulma in the path of an incoming Gallic Gun attack. He was prepared to return empty handed when he spotted Paur hovering in the bedroom entranceway. He wondered uneasily just how much the creature had overheard but now was not the time to ask. "Let's go, Paur. Maybe you can reason with Yamcha."
Releasing a nervous trill, the changeling feline went immediately over to him. Before they both disappeared, Bulma passed Gokou a longing, emotional glance that could not quite hide her despair.
On the battlefield, trapped between a furious ex-lover and an enraged Saiyan, Piccolo felt a large sweat-drop trickle down the side of his face as he maintained his dour composure. Silently he was cursing for Gokou to hurry the hell up; hoping the fighter hadn't gotten sidetracked by a dessert cart in the hotel room. He was taking too damn long retrieving Bulma and both Yamcha and Vegeta were beginning to hurl threats back and forth, which wasn't helping the tension. Vegeta had powered down a little on his energy ball but the air was still crackling with the increased static his power was creating. It was at such ill-timed moments like these that the Namek was relieved that the smaller Saiyan wasn't able to achieve a Super-powered state like Gokou. Vegeta was already immensely powerful and his sanity was a tenuous thing at best. He was only cowed at the moment because he knew that Gokou was capable of over-powering him if he chose to cross the line and attack. Piccolo mused that if Vegeta ever successfully evolved into a Super Saiyan they might as well all kiss their asses good-bye. There would be no restraining an ego like that.
When Gokou appeared beside him, he resisted the urge to release a lungful of breath in relief. His visible tension doubled when he saw that the young fighter had returned with the wrong female. "What the hell did you bring THAT here for?" the Namek snarled, pointing a taloned finger at Paur. The small creature made a frightened squeal and quickly flew over to Yamcha and wrapped her fuzzy arms around his neck, speaking urgently into his ear. The human protested at first and then went suddenly quiet as he listened.
Gokou didn't answer right away. He cast a sidelong glance at Vegeta who had tightened down into a wary crouch at his arrival and began powering up his attack again in preparation for the battle to come. Yes, that rage that Bulma had described was plainly visible as well as that desire to distrust. Vegeta was just itching for an excuse to attack them all. Like Bulma, Gokou resolved not to be the one to give it to him. It was an enormous gamble but just spiriting Yamcha to safety would not be the end of it. This issue had to reach a conclusion all on its own. "Let's go, Piccolo. This isn't our fight."
"What-" was all the Namek was able to get out before Gokou reached for him and took them back home.
"Hey!" Yamcha yelled in frustration. Paur tugged on a lock of his hair to get his attention and continued her frenzied whispers.
Vegeta burst out laughing. "Where did your buddies go?" he taunted, pleased beyond words that the pair had wisely taken the hint and left where they weren't wanted. He had no feelings for Piccolo one way or the other, unaware that he shared the Namek's reluctant affinity in their kindred dispositions and past ambitions. The person he absolutely abhorred most in the universe was Gokou for achieving the very goal that should have been his birthright and destiny to boast; The status of the legendary Super Saiyan. Vegeta wanted that younger man's heart in his hand he hated him so much but he also feared him, thanks to stupid, superstitious Saiyan bullshit he had heard since he was young boy. It was hard to shake a thousand years of heritage and genetics predisposed to respect the tales of the Chosen One. Now Vegeta was stuck on the planet where that revered Saiyan lived and forced to interact with his fellows. One of whom was cowering directly in front of him.
"They'll be back," Yamcha tried to say in a level voice. "They went to get reinforcements."
"Somehow I doubt that," Vegeta sneered. The air between them was supercharged with electricity as the Saiyan gathered the last of the energy that he needed. "And they'll be too late if they did."
"I realize now that I was wrong. You didn't hurt Bulma."
Vegeta lifted an eyebrow but didn't bother to respond. The blue aura of ki fire began to radiate from his compact form in steady waves, growing in intensity.
Backpedaling, Yamcha said quickly, "I didn't know that the both of you were so close-"
"Gallic Gun-"
"-You love her-"
"!!FIRE!!" Vegeta screamed, unleashing all of his gathered energy in a terrifying discharge that made the ground shake with it's violence. The blast wave closed in on Yamcha in the blink of an eye with the concessive force of a thousand Hiroshima bombs. It gouged out a massive trench a quarter of a mile wide before arcing up and punching through the atmosphere, slicing into cold space like a laser of purest blue light. The following report of the devastating explosion actually reverberated through the clouds in the area like recurring thunder until silence fell on the stark landscape where only ragged breathing could be heard.
Rubbing the small of his back, Vegeta felt his exhaustion begin to close in and fought the sensation as he considered the sight before him. Standing dead center at the start of the blast crater he had created, Yamcha was looking down at his feet in amazement. Damned if, at the last possible instant, Vegeta hadn't parted the huge discharge to go around him and continue its course uninterrupted just to give him the scare of his entire life. It was testimony to the sheer strength of the Saiyan's will; to control a power so huge and be able to forcibly manipulate it to do his bidding. The younger man was unable to betray a look of reluctant respect when he was finally able to raise his eyes.
"You...didn't kill me," Yamcha wheezed, when he was finally able to find his voice. Peeking out from behind the neckline of his shirt, Paur spared a petrified glance at her surroundings. There was a noticeably darker patch that ran down the front of Yamcha's orange shirt but he hadn't noticed the moisture yet. Or the smell.
"Consider it a gift," Vegeta said shortly, raising into the air. "For HER. It'll be the only one I'll ever give."
Without another word, he turned his back and sped off. Yamcha let him go without quarrel even though he knew that the Saiyan had expended virtually all of his power in that dramatic release and would be defenseless now. He had no more reason to fight; Paur had explained the exchange back at the hotel between Gokou and Bulma. He had grossly misinterpreted what he had seen and almost paid the ultimate price for his ignorance. From that day on he resolved to keep his distance from the pair and it was a promise that he kept.
It was early in the morning when Vegeta finally reached his destination and settled down onto the balcony where Bulma was waiting. He took one look at the relief on her face and knew that he had made the right choice in returning even if it was against his better judgement. It felt good to have someone actually worry about him and even better to have someone welcome him back. Perhaps if he weren't so tired and sore, he would have pushed her away, sticking to his earlier resolve of putting an end to this farce of a relationship. At the moment however, he tolerated her fussing over his injuries and allowed her to forcibly lead him into the bedroom without quarrel. He fell asleep on the soft surface even before he could tell her how the battle went, lulled into a dreamless, comforting slumber by her pleasant scent and soft words. There was none of that lingering regret of past actions to pester him this time. For perhaps the first time in his existence, he had actually done the right thing by sparing Yamcha's life.
'A gift', he had said. In the background of those words were ones he knew he would never be able to say out loud, 'For the woman I love'.
Unknown hours passed before he woke up again. He was lying on his stomach with an icepack successfully numbing his lower back and a bandage over his right eye. Raising his head, he saw that the woman was lying beside him on the bed. She was awake and staring at his face, her expression unreadable.
"You never asked me the question," Vegeta said at last.
"Which one is that?"
"Whether I killed that idiot ex-lover of yours."
"I know you didn't," she responded with a smile.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you wouldn't have come back here, if you had."
It was dismaying how well she knew him. Vegeta was actually at a loss for words against her unflappable logic and he crossed his arms over the pillow and rested his chin on them to stare at the headboard. He continued his solitary deliberations until her hand settled lightly on the back of his neck and he swung his head around to look at her again. She was right beside him, her lips parted in unmistakable invitation. "Vegeta..."
He pulled away from her and sat up. "I should never have showed you what happened with Frieza."
"I'm glad that you felt you could share that memory with me, Vegeta," she told him sincerely. "I needed to understand what happened to you."
"You pity me now," he accused. "I don't need to be an empath to sense that from you."
She came up alongside of him and studied his face. "I can't easily forget what happened-"
"I won't be pitied," he snapped, getting to his feet. He was bare-chested and she could easily make out the bruises on his back. The scar from where his tail had been severed was pink and swollen but if the old wound pained him, he betrayed no sign of it. He was too lost in thought on other matters. "I don't need this place anymore. It's time to resume my training."
Bulma had been anticipating that request but her heart still sank at the sound of it. She nodded slowly. "I'll start packing. Dad says that he's made some improvements on the gravity simulator that he thinks you'll like."
Pulling on a clean shirt, Vegeta stared at her with his left eye, hearing the sorrow in her voice. They looked at one another for one lingering moment, the silence between them burning with a thousand unspoken questions, desires and entreaties. Finally, Vegeta's face tightened into that cold mask that Bulma immediately recognized. It was like watching a sheet of black ice form over a drowning victim and the effect, once complete was dramatic. She was confronting a stranger now. Gone was the Saiyan who had been so gentle with her in the dark of the night, pleasuring her with a touch that was tender and generous and speaking words in a hushed voice that actually comforted her. In his place was the Saiyan no Ouji of Vegetasei; Cold, remorseless, spiteful. Attached to no one.
"I'll see you back at Capsule Corp." she said in an even voice.
Vegeta only grunted and headed for the balcony. Without so much as a backward glance, he was gone from her sight. In his wake, Bulma released a forlorn sigh before donning her own mask and began to pack all of the belongings she had collected in her prolonged stay here. The neutrality and isolation of the hotel room had been a pleasant diversion as long as Vegeta had been here to share it with her but now the vacation was finally over.
It was time to go home.
Diverting in his course from his route to Capsule Corp. Vegeta traveled to the Capital's wealthy north quarter and landed in the backyard of an affluent three story townhouse. It was early afternoon and taking advantage of the sun, the person lying topless on the nearby lounge was none other than Dorothy Pereaux. Vegeta stood over her, casting a deliberate shadow over her immaculate form and she pulled out of her semi-doze to raise her sunglasses. She squinted up at him in annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here? Carmilla!"
"There's only enough room in this city for one of our ego's-" he said directly.
Her housekeeper came running outside with her trusty broom. Grabbing her towel, Dorothy covered herself as she stared at him. "I want you to get the hell out of here!"
Vegeta extended his hand towards the house and finished, "-And that ego is mine."
He fired.
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Chapter Nineteen: THE FINAL CHAPTER!
(You knew it had to happen sooner or later, folks.)
