[ D E C I P H E R ]
Chester was depressed.
He didn't know what was wrong
with him. He wasn't usually like this at all. It was because of Montgomery. All
Montgomery's fault. It had started about three years ago, when Montgomery,
caught in an uncharacteristic reflective mood, had let his mind wander to
Vejiita's past, and to his own creation. Mont had let his musings seep into
Vejiita and the other's psyches, therefore freeing himself of depression and
denying he ever was. He's no better than Vejiita, Chester concluded. Denying and
hiding from what they don't like. He was always doing this, whether he knew or
not. But rarely had Chester been so impacted by one emotion. That was what was
bothering him.
He sighed and tried not to think of it, swiveling in his
desk chair instead. He had been trying to write but found he was too distracted
to concentrate on the characters. He was an artist and an author, something in
which they all had an interested -- even Mont, believe it or not. Together, he
and Vejiita had already completed two books, the most recent of which Craigie
had already stolen. Chester had wanted to color more of it, to make it more
exciting and lively, but Vejiita preferred things in black and white. He chose
to leave it how it was. Vejiita would be very freaked out if he came to finding
the whole book was colored when he had already decided to leave it in grayscale.
Vejiita's uneasiness with their existence bothered Chester. He wished it
wouldn't so much; it couldn't blame the guy for it since he didn't even
know they existed. But if Vejiita would only stop being so nervous,
Chester would be free to do more things without the foresight of Vejiita tearing
it all down. That was the main reason he let Vejiita work on the manga book with
him -- he's be working on it with him. It was the only time Vejiita ever
worked with him. At least he was a good artist and decent story teller.
Chester was starting to get dizzy so he stopped. His eyes fell on the
light sketch of a girl on the paper. He almost smiled for the first time in
days. Looking at this sketch, still dizzy, he understood why Craigie
really like his work. "It's porn, Vejiita," he had told him. "I like your
porn." Chester would always give an exasperated sigh when he told him that. It
was not porn. The story Chester had developed just happened to call for
women in it, and he just happened to be good at drawing women. "Maybe if you
could read," he'd say to Craig, "you'd know it wasn't porn, dumbass." It was a
futile argument. Craig was a perv and there was nothing he could do about it.
The ghost of a smile suddenly faded, inexplicably remembering about
which he was thinking just a few seconds ago. He hissed and slumped in his seat.
Vejiita was lucky that Mont had come out when he had. Chester certainly
wouldn't have. That wasn't what he was here for. He didn't come into existence
the same way Mont had, either. Mont saved Vejiita's life but picking his body
out of the pool of blood and washing up. Chester had been around for years
before that, ever since Rafe died. Vejiita hadn't been a whole person since he
was three. Just because he didn't become dominant and enter the world until a
few years after Mont, didn't mean that he wasn't always watching. After his and
Lars' discussion, Chester felt as though he had made his mark in the world, and
started appearing more often.
He picked up the pencil and doodle an
angular figure with dark, bold lines. Contemplating his fragile existence wasn't
making him feel better. It was too quiet. He'd like to get up and go play with
Craig, but Montgomery had gotten out of control the other day while on a
mission. He silently snickered at another seemingly similarity between Mont and
Vejiita. When the situations became beyond their command, they lost their own
selves, and someone else appeared instead of blacking out with them. Rob,
Chester knew, had come out, and made short work of the planet, howling and
laughing all the way. Mont was pissed because Rob had managed to suppress him,
and Mont hated to be suppressed. Chester had watched, laughing with Rob,
but without the sadistic mirth, but now how he wished he had stopped Rob right
away. But he hadn't and he was paying.
He was about the get up
and see if Craig or anyone else would like to just hang and not fight or race,
when his eyes caught the green digital numbers of the clock Mont had made. He
had a frightening obsession with electronics. 1539 hours. He frowned. He was
required to go to an assembly at eight; he resolved to go to very assembly
scheduled since the last one, after which he had been brutally informed that he
had missed out on. And it wasn't even his fault! Craig had noted Vejiita's
depression and in an effort to help had gotten him drunk. At times, Chester
understood Montgomery's occasional distasteful feelings towards Craig. Craig's
intentions were good, but he usually just got him hurt.
He stood and
undressed. Montgomery was usually the one to attend these things, but Chester
was restless despite his injuries, and didn't want to stand around listening to
some veteran idiot soldier prattle on about battle tactics. Too add to his
irritability, Montgomery always dressed in full apparel: armor, boots, gloves,
the whole nine yards, as was required for any formal assemblage. He sighed; what
a hassle. He was so much more comfortable shirtless and shoeless with nothing
but some old pants on. And if he was cold and had to wear clothes, he always
made sure they were roomy and shoes unlaced. This uniform crap made him want to
yell ugly words at the universe.
Chester smacked his head
against the wall.
"Those were the four most boring hours of my life," he
muttered.
"Hi, Vejiita," said Craig hopefully. He nodded distractedly to
him, accepting the name Vejiita as his own so not to cause confusion, and slid
down next to him. They liked sitting on the floor.
Craig leaned over and
studied his face. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing's the matter."
"Yes there is," he insisted. "You've been so quiet. You're never quiet
unless your drugged, intoxicated, or if something's bothering you. Tell me," he
said.
Chester grumbled and pushed him away.
"You know what you
need, pal?" he continued. "A blow-job." He stared at him with shock. "Yeah. You
know I'm right."
"Uh huh." Craig patted his leg.
"We should go
on a trip," he told him. He had Chester's attention now. "I know you go out on
those purging mission to different planets all the time. That's work, right?"
Chester nodded. "Work isn't fun. Let's go somewhere fun."
"Okay, sure."
Craig grinned. He was glad he had gotten Vejiita when he was such a good mood.
"Where?"
"Who the hell cares. Anywhere."
They didn't
manage to get away until a few months later. It turned out that Vejiita had
another mission lined up only a few days after the last one, and it had been a
rough one too, so he had to spend a few days in the recovery room. And then
Vejiita had to schedule a time to leave. That was tricky; people didn't consider
the two Saiyajin, both at the age of sixteen, old enough or or had worked enough
to take authorized leave. Especially since Craig didn't do a damn thing on a
good day. They finally won the argument when it was pointed out that Vejiita had
been working since he was a young child, and had only had breaks between
missions for the regulated recovery periods granted to every soldier.
Vejiita said, "We still haven't decided where." The other
Saiyajin gave him a funny look. They were in their room, Craig standing on the
bed with just his shorts and shoes on, looking around the room for anything they
may have missed. An over-stuffed duffel bag hung from his hand.
"I said
I don't care."
Vejiita fell silent and looked back to the sketchbook on
his knee. "Well, we still need a location to set the course," he finally said,
looking back up at his half-naked roommate, who was appreciatively pulling a
shirt over his head.
"Why?"
Vejiita gave him a dirty look. "Why
do you think? Space is big. If you're not careful, you'll get lost. And no one
will help you."
Finally.
They were leaving headquarters
and off to a planet that was not destined to be destroyed by his hands. The
realization had a strange elating effect on Vejiita. He inhaled deeply, for once
not minding the stale, stuffy air of the diminutive space pod. He was off to a
strange world and there was not the distress and deeply buried contradiction
that was usually threatening to numb his brain. Craigie was right: work is no
fun. He needed this vacation. He needed to get away from the smothering
environment and stiff behavior of Freeza's Army. With Craig was the only time he
allowed himself to unfold, and then there was always the underlying anxiety of
knowing he might not be there the next minute.
I will not
black out, he ordered himself. Just concentrate, and you'll stay awake.
Relax.
He dreaded the blank spaces, where he did not exist. It was
the fear of not knowing. And the fear of the unknown becoming the known. He knew
he did bad things. The people he had unwittingly pissed off had assured him of
it.
The dormancy mode light blinked a warning: gaseous anesthetic would
fill the small area within the minute. Vejiita leaned back and got as
comfortable as possible. It wasn't that long of a trip to the unnamed planet,
but just long enough for someone to go crazy from the boredom and confinement of
a long trip alone in the small sphere.
He didn't remember what he
dreamed about. He was sure he dreamed, though, because when he stepped out of
the pod and sank his feet into the springy, alien grass of the planet known only
as CV013, he felt different, somehow. He felt refreshed. It wasn't that strong
of a feeling, but after three years of on-and-off depression, it was like being
born again.
He turned to Craig, smiling. "Great place, eh, Vejiita?
Randomness.. what a thing.." Vejiita nodded. That supported the elated feeling:
the total randomness and lack of foresight on this trip. The lack of
responsibility. He laughed. He felt like a teenager.
Craigie was
hollering for him to follow him. "Come on!"
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Vejiita
sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. He couldn't see. He could
barely hear the voices coming from the other side of the bedroom door. He
wondered for a while if he had caught the same virus the woman had. But he
didn't, he knew that. It wasn't contagious. And he hadn't spent a great amount
of time with here, either. This was no sickness. There was just something wrong
with him.
There was a sharp banging sound - Vejiita nearly jumped out of
his skin. He stared at the door for a moment before he found his voice. "What?"
"Vejiita, are you in there?" He frowned and didn't answer. He learned
back on the bed and threw his arm over his eyes. The female voice continued but
he didn't hear a word. She would just be trying to reassure him that Bulma was
doing okay. He didn't want to hear about it - he cared, but... It was just too
much right now.
He heard her leave and relaxed, sliding his arm off his
face.
He was alone in this room. He had never had a room all to himself
before he came to Earth. Well.. when he was much younger - still living on
Vejiitasei - he had a room to himself, but he usually slept with Rafe anyway.
And then when he was shipped to Freeza, he always wound up with a roommate. He
had slept with Bulma for the past few years. And now he was confined to the
guest room while she was quarantined.
With a sigh, he picked himself off
the bed and stalked towards the door. His back was horribly sore but he was so
restless. He wanted to stay in this room, away from everybody else, but he
couldn't forever.
He paused, resting his hand on the doorknob. On and
off, on and off. In and out, here and gone. The fucking story of his life. One
minute he was exhausted, listless, then he felt, like now, like he couldn't hold
still for the life of him. He hadn't been able to claim two successive days
completely as his own for a while now. He still didn't know why he blanked out
all the time. He would have asked someone on this planet - they seemed friendly
enough - but they always stopped talking when he approached them. It seemed he
had made a horrible first impression with them, too.
He shook his head
and pulled the door open. He found himself pacing the hallway aimlessly before
he made his way to the staircase. The kitchen was empty. The others - Vejiita
didn't note who - were in another room and didn't notice them. Good; he didn't
want to get to know them if they didn't want to know him. He eyed the six-pack
of beer for a moment in the refrigerator It reminded him of Craig. He hadn't
seen him in a while; they had a sort of falling out after six or seven years of
living with each other. He missed him terribly, but sometimes he was glad he was
out of his hair. Craig hated to see him sad and did what he could to help him,
but Vejiita wasn't happy drunk. It made things worse.
He shut the fridge
and poured himself a glass of water instead.
It was six years
after the Cell games. Kakarotto was gone and things had been quiet. Earlier this
year Bulma had gotten sick. The doctor said that it was just the flu, but after
a few months and any progress quickly relapsing, it was confirmed that it was
more than just the flu. Her illness didn't have a proper name, as it was a
"fluke", and the doctors just told her to ride it out.
When Bulma was
sick she was terribly moody. Vejiita couldn't handle both her moodiness and the
stress of trying to take care of her, and found himself blacking out all the
time. The others had remarked off-handedly about Vejiita's aloofness one minute
and hyperactivity or energy the next. He knew what they were hinting about and
made no comment. He avoided their stares and kept his mouth shut. He had nothing
to say, after all, and even if he did... Well, he never spoke when he was
accused of doing something of which he had no memory. The discomfort he had of
the subject hadn't changed a bit since he was a teenager.
He was
bewildered, worse than he ever was back under Freeza's command. He tried to
"ride it out" like Bulma was with her illness, but it was harder for him. He was
surrounded by strangers who hadn't taken kindly to him and badgered him about
his alleged behavior, stuck on a planet that was unfamiliar, regardless of all
the time he'd spent on it, and worst of all, no Craigie.
He wasn't lost,
he was just wandering.
And today, on the outer territory of the Capsule
Corp complex, he ran into a familiar face.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Their
trip was over far too fast. They hadn't spent too much time together; they
seemed to have come to a silent agreement that this vacation was as much as a
break from work as it was from each other. On the twelfth day on the planet they
met up again. Craig was elated, having thoroughly enjoyed his days of screwing
around with no Lars to holler at him. Vejiita was feeling almost as well; he had
stayed awake for most of the time, and he hadn't run into hostile natives, which
meant nothing got out of control.
Or, not much got out of control.
Vejiita didn't mention what he had done to Craig until they had gotten
home. He didn't want him laughing at him, joking. Craig had always teased him
about how sexually delayed Vejiita was. Vejiita shrugged it off nonchalantly,
even though it did bother him a bit. It was hard for him to say if Craig was
right or not, all the guys he grew up with were sexually active quite early,
having no parents to keep an eye out for them or to explain the differences
between right and wrong. And Vejiita never had that much of an interest in
people 'that' way, anyway. He did take an interest in people sexually from time
to time, but this time.. it was different.
Craig and Vejiita knew most
of the people they slept with. People their age were scarce, so they stuck
together. Vejiita, unlike Craig, had his morals and principles. This girl just
made him turn his back on the ethnic code that separated him from the rest of
his peers.
He met her on the fifth day. He hadn't even caught her name
until the end. He was wandering humbly through the small city she lived in, not
quite blending in with the natives, but not a threat nevertheless. Night came,
he ran into her... She reminded him like Leki, talkative, laughed a lot, sweet.
And she seemed to like him, which always put Vejiita in a go-get and trusting
mood.
He knew it was her first time, and was flattered that she would do
it with him. Of course, he didn't know much about this planet's culture or what
sex meant them. Adding to that was that it wasn't a rape of any kind - she
wanted it, he wanted it, mutual.
Her name was Jugatsu and she had
beautiful eyes.
About a year later, Vejiita was informed of his
next morbid mission. Vejiita-San-- on the nineteenth day of this month at
precisely 0900 hours you are to report to the departure hangar. Your destination
is CV013 of the FR156 star. You will be accompanied by three teammates. You have
one week to clear off all resistant life forms. It was disgusting how light
and cheery the computerized male voiced sounded in his ear. He was being
assigned to murder the population of an entire planet and they made it seem like
it was just an insignificant errand job to buy the groceries for the week.
His disgust quickly turned into shock. He grabbed an old notebook and
flipped through the pages of his journal. Shit. He was scheduled to wipe out the
life of the one planet on which he had relaxed. As he boarded the pod, he felt
mournfully that he was betraying this planet that had once been trusting enough
to let him spend his holiday on it. His and Craig's vacationing on the amicable
world could have very well attracted whoever assigned the mission's attention.
Don't want us to get attached to the damn thing, he thought
bitterly.
Vejiita instantly separated from his "teammates" and headed in
the direction where he had met that girl. It was a stupid idea, he knew; one of
them followed him, curious as to why he had set off in this direction without
waiting for any sort of directions. Vejiita didn't really know what happened
then; it was a blur. He traveled from consciousness to blankness several times
in the few minutes he and his pursuer argued. All he knew was that he found
himself staring into two big glittering eyes.
He came to awhile later,
sitting in the middle of rubble. He gazed around, bemused, and spotted his old
pursuer standing on a collapsed building, looking pretty self-satisfied. He was
saying, "I don't know what is with you. Just kill that boy, and let's move on.
I'm done here. Go on - kill him!"
Becoming more and more confused by the
second, Vejiita finally looked in front of him. He murmured an "oh" of
realization. The two glittering eyes belonged to the boy he was being ordered to
kill. "You want me to kill this one?" he asked.
"Yes," said the other,
getting annoyed.
"But he's not resistant..." He recalled the exact
orders that were cited in their assignment.
"Don't twist words around!"
he screamed. "Get rid of it and let's go!"
Vejiita gazed down at
the bright-eyed boy. "I think I'll keep him."
The other man huffed.
"Whatever." He blasted off into the distance. Vejiita stayed put, mesmerized and
perplexed by the boy.
This child had the same eyes as Jugatsu. On the
girl they had been beautiful, but on the kid they were disturbing. Vejiita shook
his head, mostly at his softness towards the child rather than the bright eyes.
He took the boy with him, ignoring the scoffing of the others when he held the
boy down on his lap in the pod when they were ready to leave. He ignored them.
Not like he'd ever see them again.
Unsurprisingly, he was summoned to
see Freeza the moment he landed. A personal servant of Freeza ran up to him and
delivered his message while Vejiita was stretching his cramped limbs. He
concluded, "And Freeza-Sama wants you to bring the alien with you." He glanced
at the little kid who was still sitting in the pod. Vejiita gestured and
followed the messenger with the boy at his heels.
Vejiita had swallowed
his pride, and lifted the boy in his arms, deciding not to assume Freeza was in
a good mood and would not kill the boy the minute he stepped foot into the vast
room.
Freeza studied them for a few moments before actually spoke.
"Vejiita, what were you thinking?"
He didn't answer. He was curious to
know that himself.
Freeza frowned. "I asked a question--"
Vejiita didn't hear the rest. It was silent, his blood pounding loudly
in his ears. His sight started to grow dark. He didn't know what happened – he
was just gone. Montgomery had taken over. This was a serious issue and if not
handled right, he'd be dead. Montgomery shifted the child and set him on the
ground, keeping a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Freeza-Sama," he said, his
voice fuller than usual, "I found this child and I saw something in him. I will
admit, it was unthinking of me to bring a native home without permission, but
you should understand that I knew what I was doing. I would have brought this to
your attention immediately, had you not been informed before my return first,
but I would very much like to keep this child and raise him--"
"Vejiita," Freeza cut him off, "I raised you and it is not something I'd
like to repeat. I don't want any more children around here. You may dispose of
it yourself. But do it promptly."
Montgomery struggled not to let his
fury show on his face. He went to all this trouble to save this brat from dying
with the others when they destroyed that city—! This was his boy, he was
not going to kill him! He calmed down; Freeza probably knew it was his
son, and thought Montgomery saw it as an heir. Well, he did, but that wasn't the
point. He had been in a great mood these days, due to Vejiita's more outgoing
disposition, and wanted to make him happy to show his gratification.
"Sire," he said, "may I instead place him on a safe planet somewhere in
your empire where he would be both safe and out of the way?"
Freeza said
after a moment of consideration, "I suppose, if you really want to keep
it alive. It doesn't matter to me - I just don't want the thing underfoot."
Montgomery beamed inside. "But don't think you'll be admitting free days all
time so you can.. visit it."
"Yes, Freeza-Sama."
He sneered. "Be
happy that I'm not killing both of you right now. You're lucky that I'm letting
you do this, Vejiita." He nodded curtly. "Don't do this ever again," he warned,
wrapping up the ordeal. "I don't know what you were thinking, but it couldn't
have possibly been anything sensible. After you send that thing off, I suggest
that you check into the medical ward for a few days. I don't need a nonsensical
soldier."
Montgomery bowed, turned and left, a sneer on his face. All
the same, he was quite pleased.
His job done, he turned the body over to
someone else. He didn't take note as to whom came out of the depths of Vejiita's
mind, he was basking in the glory of getting what he wanted. Otousan you
would have been proud. I got one up on the bastard.
It was Chester
who had come out, curious of this boy. Even though he was Vejiita's boy and he
had no relation, and didn't really like kids that much, the very fact that Mont
had gone to the trouble to keep him alive was something to heed.
Funny-looking kid, Chester thought, smiling. I think I'll keep him
around a bit longer.
^^^^^^^^^^^^
The boy was now a man. A
strong young man, with a wide grin and laughing eyes. Vejiita couldn't look away
from the eyes. Even after all this time, they just didn't look right on the boy.
The glittering gold eyes suddenly grew serious and bore into Vejiita. He shifted
uneasily. His son laughed.
"Yeah," he chuckled, purposely holding eye
contact with his father, "I thought you'd act like that."
"Shut up,"
Vejiita snarled, scowling. "Why are you here?"
He shrugged. "I met up
with a strange guy; called himself Craig. He recognized me and said he was an
old pal of yours." He shrugged again, winked, and reached into a bag slung
haphazardly over one shoulder. He withdrew an envelop that looked like it had
gone through hard times before ending up with the boy. "Said to give this to you
next time I saw ya." He held it out.
Vejiita scrutinized the envelope
skeptically before snatching them. He just barely deciphered his name scrawled
in the center of the envelop, horribly botched by Craig's terrible penmanship.
He looked at the boy sharply. "You came all the way here from God knows where
just to give me some dumb letter?"
"I was passing through," he replied
flippantly. Vejiita chose not to press further into the matter. He didn't recall
where he had shipped him off to when he was just a child; he didn't even
remember seeing him off. in fact.
Anyway, it didn't matter where his son
was going; just that he was staying out of trouble. This day was only the second
time they had been reunited since he was a baby. Vejiita had last seen him about
a year before he first came to Earth; he must have been thirteen or fourteen
then. It was a brief encounter and Vejiita had done his best to make it clear
that he would try to take care of him without saying anything or doing anything.
He decided the boy got the point. He wasn't stupid. But.. then again, he didn't
know Vejiita that well, and certainly couldn't have picked up on Vejiita's
obscure facial expressions, which were the only link that interpreted how he was
feeling deep down. He had meant to contact him more often, but the older he got,
the more work he was expected to execute, and the less free time he had....
Vejiita was tempted to read the letter right then. It suddenly seemed
important. But the other spoke first.
"Well, I'll be going then."
Vejiita said, his voice oddly hoarse, "Why don't you stay awhile –
here... On this planet..."
The boy thought a moment. His uncanny eyes
glittered. A smile touched his mouth. "Alright," he said softly. "I guess I
will."
He stared blankly at the boy's chin. "Good." He didn't ask any
stupid questions: where will you stay, how did you get here, what did Craig say,
how's he doing? Finally the stupidest question came out: "What do they call you
these days?"
"Duh," he said. He stuck out his hand, as if to introduce
himself. Vejiita didn't move. "They call me Gold-Eye--" he winked "–No one calls
me by that other name."
"Other name?" Vejiita repeated.
Gold-Eye shrugged, "The place you sent me. They named me something there
but no one calls me that."
"You have a stupid name." Vejiita frowned.
"Easy to remember," was the reply, devoid of defensiveness or anger or
hurt.
"I guess..."
Gold-Eye flicked the paper in his hand. "You
read that, old man. And leave me alone." He winked. "Maybe I'll see you around."
Vejiita snorted. "I hope not."
Being cold was easier than trying
to care. Fortunately for them both, Gold-Eye felt the exact same way.
He slipped into the main building a few minutes later
undetected. Gold-Eye always had a positive effect on him. In his frantic flight
on Gold-Eye's long-gone home world, he had faced his pursuer on, and had stayed
conscious most of the time. He stay conscious up until he faced Freeza, where he
had blacked out again, but then had some enjoyable time with the little kid.
Craig even behaved himself around the child. During the two's chance encounter,
again felt a bit more elated. He didn't feel sick or dizzy or anything right
now. He even felt well enough to draw and write again. That something he hadn't
done since he and Craig separated; he was nineteen then. He blamed it on his
shoulder, claiming it had been sore since Craig had fallen on him and broken it.
He even went as far as to chew Craig out, saying he had destroyed his career
forever. But in reality, he just didn't have the heart to do it.
He
sketched for a few minutes before his mind started wandering again and he
couldn't concentrate. Annoyed at how quickly inspiration had burnt out, he
looked down at the paper. He had drawn random geometrical images. He raised an
eyebrow at it. The squares, triangles, and trapezoids' proportions were off, and
they looked very odd. He lifted the paper up and tilted it, trying to study it
without giving himself a headache. He shrugged and stood, wrinkling up the paper
and tossing it in the garbage. The spirit to draw had left him and was replaced
with only frustration.
The smudged envelope stared up from him from the
table. What was in it? Vejiita was sure there was more in there than Gold-Eye
let it seem. But Craig wasn't known for seriousness.
He frowned. He and
Craig split up years ago, after almost a decade of living in the same cramped
room together, he reminisced. He was moving to a different base entirely, as was
Craig. Craig had told him offhandedly that he wasn't going to take "this shit"
and Vejiita knew he meant it. He doubted Craig went to where he was assigned. He
had to admire his gall, Vejiita thought sadly. Vejiita did as he was told
without voicing any contradiction he had on the subject. He did so with a
reason; he, not Craig, was the one who went on missions, conditioned to kill and
destroy without hesitation. Craig didn't know the ruthlessness and
quick-thinking one had to develop to survive. Craig didn't know that opposition
and impudence could get you killed in verbosity as quickly as slowness and lack
of talent would in a physical fight.
He had imagined him dead.
....Was this a farewell, written as Craig lay dying somewhere, or with a
gun pointed out his head? Was this going to be something that'll make Vejiita
fall apart as he did when Rafe had done the same thing?
Or a cry for
help? Maybe Craig got in trouble somewhere and needed him to bail him out.
Vejiita frowned. That would be just like him.
Making a split-second
decision, he finally broke down and ripped open the letter. Better read fast and
not get upset. He might not fall asleep or black out if got this over with
quickly.
He sat down on the floor, set his jaw, and began to read.