"But first," Montidulein says, "let's clear the board." He points his hand at me, and I watch in horror as it glows briefly with chi before flaring out at me in a fiery column of death. I close my eyes, not wanting that to be the last thing I see.
But I misjudge my friends. Arms encircle me, wrapping me up tight as a warm body slides between death and my frail body. The explosion booms around us, but the warm body, so familiar that I know who it must be, keeps me safe.
"Yamcha," I whisper as I open my eyes, expecting to be smiling up at my boyfriend. Fiery black eyes meet mine, and I see something flash through them; rage or perhaps pain. Maybe Montidulein hurt him badly; maybe he's mad that I didn't realize that was him by the sudden flare of pain in my proverbial butt. Who really knows with Vegeta?
Then he's shoving me away, sending me tumbling backwards. "The board's clean, Montidulein," I hear him growl as I pick myself up. I have tumbled for quite some distance; my arms and legs are throbbing from all the things that I must have smacked against, and the fighters are now circling each other about twenty feet away.
"This looks like a good seat," Yamcha mutters next to me. I glance down, surprised that Vegeta landed me so close to him as he continues, "I wish I had some popcorn."
"You pig, Vegeta could get hurt!" I snarl and turn back to the fight. Indeed, Vegeta has disappeared into a blast; I have to shield my eyes from it, but when I look again, he is standing tall in the smoldering path.
"That almost hurt," Vegeta snarls, curling his hands into fists and powering up. He launches himself at Montidulein, and they disappear into a blur that my eye can't follow. A tree to my left explodes; when the sawdust and wood fragments settle, I see that there is a body-shaped impression in the tree. Who ever it was didn't seem badly hurt – no blood – but that poor oak is never going to be the same.
And so the unseen fight goes; all I can see are the effects that it's having on the area. A fireball explodes to my right, followed a stand of trees behind me bursting into flame. But the area that Yamcha and I are in stays strangely safe, as if something is protecting us. Yamcha seems to be following the fight at least; occasionally he flinches or grins and his eyes are following something I can't see. "What's happening?" I finally ask. I'm careful to keep my tone brisk; I don't want him to think that I've forgiven him for a second.
"They're fighting," Yamcha answers with a shrug. Guess he caught my tone and decided to meet it with his favorite weapon: indifference.
"Duh, genius, I know that!" I snap, stomping my foot for emphasis. "Who's winning?"
"Vegeta would be, if he wasn't burning himself at both ends," Yamcha sighs, climbing to his feet. "Looks like our chance to run is coming up though; get ready."
"Burning himself?" I gasp, visions of a crispy Vegeta dominating my vision. "What is he doing?"
"He's fighting Montidulein, but he's also stopping everything that would be within fifteen feet of us," Yamcha answers, sounding concerned. "He's taken some hits for us, and its going to be the death of him."
"We have to do something!" I yelp and look around, never feeling more helpless than I do right now. "We have to run so he doesn't need to split his efforts, or you need to team up on Montidulein with him! Something! Anything!"
"It doesn't matter; he's coming down," Yamcha says, grabbing my arm. "Look, when he hits the ground, run. Montidulein is going stop to kill him, and we'll make good our escape."
"No!" I shout. "He's come back with the Dragonballs once; we can't bring him back again!" Tears rise in my eyes, and my throat closes with fear and distress. Vegeta, dead, gone? It was something I had once hoped for, but not now. Not ever again.
Something slams into the ground behind us, and I spin to see Vegeta lying on his side, bleeding and broken. I choke on my tears at this horrible sight; there is no way he's alive!
Then his eyes open; he sees us and mouths, run. I think that he's starting to say more, but Montidulein lands between us, his back to Yamcha and I, and I can't see the Saiyan anymore. "Time to say good-bye, Monkey Prince," Montidulein says and raises a hand that begins to glow with energy.
No time to think, to second-guess what I'm doing; I snatch up a nearby branch and wrench my arm from Yamcha's grip. I dash the ten feet to Montidulein and wind up with the branch like if it were a bat. He sees me, and starts to turn, but I'm already swinging. My eye is on the back of his head, like my coach in high school said, and I put everything into it.
I expected to buy a few seconds for Vegeta to pull himself together, or maybe I thought I would shock Yamcha into action. I didn't expect to have an effect on Montidulein directly. The branch slams into him with a sickening crunch, and alien, white blood sprays over me. I gape wordlessly up at the creature who's skull I've just shattered, disbelieving.
"Never focus all your shields to one side," Vegeta growls from the ground. "You left your back open, Montidulein."
The alien collapses with a shudder, and his skull cracks open further with the impact. Something whitish-blue and slightly lacey peeks out; my stomach twists as I realize that it is his brain. Heat rushes up my body as I drop the branch, and then I'm vomiting, emptying my stomach on the ground as hot tears scorch my face.
"Woman?" Vegeta's voice is like an anchor, calming me. "Are you hurt, or do you always throw up after a fight?"
"I killed him," I rasp, raising my head to see the Saiyan rolling onto his side, gathering himself. "I stopped a life. I beat his head open and spilled—" My stomach rolls again and I hunch over my first pile, but my stomach is empty, and bile just burns my throat.
Yamcha stumbles over to us, his head down, his hands in his pocket. "We should get both of you to the hospital," he mumbles, looking ashamed. Good, he should; he's the one that should kill things not me! "Vegeta, can you fly?"
"I'm not a weakling," Vegeta growls as he struggles to his feet. "That fight barely tested me." But his chest is still heaving, and he is bleeding from numerous wounds.
"I feel fine," I answer shakily as I stand up. Seeing my hands shake, I revise my statement to, "Well, I will be fine as soon as I calm down a little."
Yamcha picks me up, and I give him a little smile. I think it's as tight and uncertain as the one he gives me in return.
Vegeta leads the way, flying just ahead of us. I'm glad; we'll see immediately if he has any problems, and be in a position to help him. I'm trying to not think about today, about what happened, but I see flashes of it, or hear a phantom crunch of bone.
"You were very brave," Yamcha says suddenly. I glance up at him, but his face is expressionless.
"Incredibly stupid, more like," I sigh uneasily, my mind recovering from its shock enough to start to question the events of the evening. "Yamcha, how did I do that? How did I kill him?"
"I don't know," Yamcha answers softly, his voice tired and empty.
"Don't you want to know?" I ask imperiously. "How did I squish his head like that?" My unfortunate choice of words makes my stomach churn again, but I swallow it back. It was time to face the facts and accept what I did, and stop puking over it like a squeamish pre-teen.
"He's a Calcastian," Vegeta hollers from ahead. "They come from a low-gravity world, but make up for their physical weakness by becoming masters of chi. That's how he was able to fight in Earth's gravity; like Goku and I, he has adapted and strengthened his chi by fighting in higher gravities. I couldn't get enough power through his force field, but you came up behind him, and caught him where he wasn't shielded."
"I still don't get it," Yamcha replies.
"That's alright, I wasn't talking to you," Vegeta growls, tossing Yamcha a sneer.
"Play nice, boys," I snap and then explain to Yamcha. "Creatures from a low-gravity world like Calicos—"
"Calcastians," Vegeta butts in to correct me.
"Whatever," I roll my eyes as I continue my lecture, "low-gravity planets produce creatures that are tall and thin and very fragile." A thought occurs to me, and I continue with a touch of awe in my voice, "Depending on how low-gravity that their planet is, then to them the weakest human may be as physically powerful, exponentially of course, as the weakest Saiyan would be to the strongest human. His bones would naturally be far weaker than mine, and added to the momentum of the swing…" I let my voice trail off. Think of it scientifically, I tell myself, and think of it objectively, and it's just a curious observation of the rules of physics now, not a memory of murder.
The Capsule Compound comes into view them, and we are all silent in our own thoughts. For some reason, I keep sneaking peeks at Vegeta floating ahead of us. There is something missing in the puzzle of the past few days' events, and it is related to the Saiyan, somehow. Someone clue that I don't have, or I've missed, or something. But I'll figure it out, for the last few days have taught me the value my strange Saiyan friend.
* * *
I shift on the examination bed, waiting for someone to come get me. I've been poked and prodded – other than some bruises and scrapes, I'm fine. I'm sure that patching up Yamcha and Vegeta has kept the doctors busy, and I try to remember that as I wait impatiently.
The door slides open, and Vegeta walks in, in his street clothes; he has some bandages, but he's already on the mend. I blush and fight for some dignity for a second; I'm still in my hospital gown. "Yes?" I demand, determined to act with some poise even if I'm half-naked with the Saiyan Prince.
"I was checking to see that no-good doctor was in here," Vegeta says, his eyes raking around the room with a completely false glower.
"I'm fine," I answer him, and I spot a hint of surprise before he covers it with disdain. "Thanks for asking, Vegeta."
He shrugs, as if it doesn't matter. But we both knew that he cared, even if he refused to admit it. "Whatever," he finally growls. "If you see that lazy medic, send him to see me."
"Vegeta," I snap in my bossiest tone as I sit up, half-pulling the sheets out of the bed in my haste to get vertical and stay decent. He turns toward me, a glower firmly on his face, but I sense no displeasure at being called back. I had heard that volatile situations can create a sense of relationship between people, and I knew that was what was going on here. It would fade, as we all got back to our old lives, but I wanted to enjoy it while I could. "Why can't you admit that you like me?"
"I don't like you," he snaps, but I see the first hint of pleasure in his eyes. Was the prince enjoying a bit of verbal sparring? Fine, I can do that!
"You know what the classic follow-up line to that is, don't you?" I laugh at him as I pull the sheets out of the bed completely and wrap them around me for some decency. He's staring distrustfully at me, but there is a sense of anticipation flowing from him as well, and it's that brittle edge of emotion that gives me the courage to walk up to him and finish my little joke.
Reaching him, I wrap my left arm over his shoulders, and sweep myself into a classic dip, careful to keep my leg under me to support me, since Vegeta wasn't going to. I fling my hand out as I finish dramatically, "You don't like me, Vegeta; you love me!"
I hold myself in place for a second, expecting a snort of contempt or some verbal jab. When he remains silent, I lift my head so that I can peek up at him. He's frozen in place, his body in the exact position that it was when I started. But his eyes have rolled down to me, and there is a mixture of hope and fear in his face. When he sees me looking at him, he moves; his arm slides upward, past and around all the sheets and hospital gowns to touch my back. I shiver at the feel of his bare skin against mine as he gently and firmly pulls me up out of the dip.
"Vegeta?" I ask, but the rest of the question, what's wrong, dies on my lips. I know what's wrong, as all the hints and clues of the past days – hell, the past months – suddenly click together. "Do you, do you…" I gasp, struggling to say the impossible.
He puts a finger to my lips. "Shush, woman," he murmurs. "Don't embarrass yourself by asking." His hands stay for a heartbeat longer, and then he drops them, and I see that he's beginning to pull away from me, just like he always does.
My hand is still on his warm neck; with a sudden sense of ownership I slide it up into his hair feeling the stiff, smooth hair rub my hand as I caress his scalp. "You do, and you didn't tell me," I state, still unable to complete the full statement, to say aloud the impossible thought that I might have reached past the shielding that the Prince had erected. I hesitate before asking, "Why?" searching his eyes for answers.
He steps back from me, pulling out of my arms. I fight not to hold onto him, letting him slide away if that is what he wants; I'm not the type of girl to go where I'm not welcome. "You love Yamcha," he answers me, then turns and walks quickly from the room, as if he doesn't trust himself anymore.
I pull myself back to my bed, shaking slightly with mad thoughts whirling my head. But there is one thought that I keep coming back to, time after time, and I finally utter it, to see if it sounds real. "No, I don't, not anymore," I murmur, and discover that it sounds right.
I pull myself to my feet. I have to find Yamcha and talk to him. No, I have to find Yamcha and tell him.
* * *
Two days isn't enough time for anything important, but some things have a termination date. Some things you'll never have enough time for, but that's the point to life; figuring out how to do it anyway.
I wait for him outside of the G.R., fighting the urge to run. The hum that signals activation ceases and I bite my lip to keep from running. The door hisses open, and it's too late to run; Vegeta's face jumps with surprise before hiding in a neutral position again. "Hi," I squeak out, feeling silly that I put make-up and a dress on to talk to him. It's Vegeta – it's not like he's impressed by this sort of thing!
He just looks at me, and I'm dismayed to find that he's closed his face off already, that the bond forged by all the stress and pain is already weakened. Did I imagine the conversation in the hospital? There's only one way to know. "Can we talk?" I ask, forcing my voice into evenness.
"I haven't even showered yet, woman," he rumbles at me, and some of the knots in my stomach relax as I realize that his voice still holds all the inflection for me that it did two days ago.
"It won't take long," I offer, flashing my best 'pretty-please' smile at him.
He sighs and crosses his arms, leaning against the GR. "What?"
"You were wrong, in the hospital," I say, cutting straight to the point. He narrows his eyes at me, hating to be called wrong on anything, but he doesn't interrupt me. "I loved Yamcha, but I don't anymore."
"Shouldn't you talk to the moron about this?" he snaps as he slides past me, striding for the house.
"I already did!" I huff in irritation and dash after him, grabbing his arm to slow him. "Are you going to ignore me? Because I can go to Goku's with food if that's what I want to experience."
"So why are you telling me?" he growls, but he's stopped and is looking at me, with a glare that shoots to my feet.
"You know why, you ass!" I hiss, leaning forward slightly.
"Say it, then," he smirks at me, and I realize that he's picking a fight. Damn it, why can't he just talk to me; why does he have to make this hard?
"Fine," I snarl, crossing my arms angrily. "Because I thought that you might want to know."
"I do," he murmurs, his sudden change in mood throwing me off. His hand moves, rises slightly before drops to his side again uncertainly.
I feel my face soften and lose its anger, but now I'm not sure what to do. He's talking to me, actually talking to me, and I'm not sure how to talk to him unless the world or someone I love is being threatened.
"So, I've told you," I hear myself state and I try not to flinch at the brisk tone. God, what was wrong with me? It's just Vegeta!
"Good," he answers awkwardly after a moment. His fingers are squeezing the towel over his shoulders now, and he looks like he wants to sink into the earth
"Great," I agree and search desperately for anything else to say. Don't you dare blow this!
"I need to shower," he says and turns and heads for the house.
"Vegeta!" I yelp, calling him back. He turns and scowls at me, but it's just so much show and I can see that he isn't upset. I rack my brain for something, anything to say. "Um… We're having roast tonight."
"Good," he says and starts to turn toward the house again. I'm just giving up on myself when he turns back and says, "You'll be at dinner?"
"Oh, yes!" I say enthusiastically as I kick myself for sounding like a dweeb.
"Good, you need some meat on your bones," he sneers, but he's unable to hide his pleasure at the prospect of me being at dinner.
"So you'll be there too?" I ask before he darts away again.
"Yes, of course," he state condescendingly. "Your mother cooks meat adequately."
"Good," I answer with a bubbly smile. My face is starting to hurt from all this desperate smiling.
"Great," he replies and, miracle of miracles, he gives me a ghost of a smile.
I'm moving forward without thinking; I stride up to him and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, for everything," I murmur, and he does smile this time.
"You're welcome, woman," he replies, his eyes caressing my face. Then he's striding into the house, before his face finishes turning red.
With a giggle, I spin and hug myself, warm from being in his presence. How long since I had felt like this around Yamcha? Never, I realize, and I now know that I have made the right choice. With a giddy smile, I turn and walk into the house to get ready for dinner – and for the future with the Prince of All Saiyans.
*----------*----------*
And so concludes the Prince of All. You have seemed to enjoy it, and I have enjoyed hearing about your enjoyment. I have had one person ask for The Grande Prix, so it will probably be next; though it will be a couple weeks (at best estimate) until it is ready for posting.
Finally, I'd like to thank a few people:
Rhapsody – I've admired your work (plug!), and to have you both review and take the time to write me personally made my week! Thanks so much!
Muffy – Thanks for all the great reviews. I half-think that you are my biggest fan, or at least my most vocal.
Marci – Thanks for being so tough on my other stories – you've forced me to assess my writing far more critically than I have before, and I think that Prince of All was a better story for it. I hope you're one of the people who reads this story – I'd like you to see what you're responsible for. ;^
To everyone who reviewed – Too many to name, but I've kept all your reviews, and read them when I'm down. My email account was been getting bombed with the Worm during the heart of Prince of All, and it was always so nice to see a review mixed in with the junk. You all have helped me keep my sanity during an otherwise hellish time in life. Blessings and thanks to you all.
Goodnight!
