Chapter 48: The Bond Strengthens.
Authors Notes: I'm back! No, I didnt die in Mexico. I told you, didn't I? I told you I'd finish this story. Here is some good news for all of you who are still (amazingly) reading this story: I've been hit with a massive brainwave; a very nice way to end the story. I have new ideas, that I'm sure will make most of you very happy...and yes! I'm out of my writers block! Where have I been? Well...my computer crashed, one of my friends died, and I have a full time job. Hopefully those explain my lack of updates.
~J. J
Bulma cradled her injured hand against her chest, tears of rage and sorrow coursing down her flushed cheeks. Vegeta's words echoed through her head, as dull and lifeless as her body felt.
"Coming from you, he won't be worth it anyway!"
Bulma's hand clenched, shaking, around her belly that was not yet swollen, but harbored the genes of a man who had wounded her with words more than anyone else in her entire life. She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood as she dug her fingers into her belly and shook with supressed fear at the thought: did she want to give birth to a child as malicious as Vegeta?
But no, her child was half of herself, too. It would be a balance. A balance the world had never quite seen. As different as Black and White, she and Vegeta were. Hopefully, that balance would be enough to make her child, male or female, a good person.
"Bastard." She hissed, pressing her face into the pillow. She had thought, days ago, that perhaps Vegeta was a good person. She had foolishly let herself be lulled into a sense of security by her false hopes, and now look where it had left her: full of child and sorrow. Bulma winced as she relaxed her hand from her chest; it was obviously broken. She could already see it bruising when she held it up to the light in her room, watching as it hung useless from her wrist, needles of pain jarring through her arm when she attempted to move her fingers.
It had felt good to hit him, and that frightened her. Didn't she love this man? Didn't he love her? You didn't hurt the one you loved, did you? Or perhaps, even if you did, were you supposed to take pleasure in it?
She sniffled, turning onto her back, as she made her final decision. They would repair the ship and return to Earth, together, but no longer lovers.
She would not let such a man raise her child.
___________
Vegeta sat at the controls of the ship, watching as the lights flickered uncertainly and then burst into brilliancy as the control pannel lit up. He was shaken in his seat as the ship rumbled to life, vibrating through the corridors as the mechanics within cheered at being of use once more. Good. The ship worked, which meant they didn't have to spend any more unecessary time on this forsaken planet. The pleasant though dissipated quickly, however, as Vegeta remembered his words to Bulma from earlier. Closing his eyes in silent fury and pain, he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.
How could he have been so stupid? Just when things were starting to work out, he had started them back at sqaure one. And for what? Pride?
He remembered his father's words from a Kingdom long ago. "Men can break you, Vegeta. They can rape you of your thoughts, your anger, and your soul. They can throw you down the deepest hole and darken your sanity with fear you've never felt. But there is always one thing a man cannot take from you, my son, and that is your Pride."
Once, Pride had been Vegeta's everything. He had been thrown down that deep hole, his mind darkened and his thoughts torn from him. He had been beaten, abused, and discarded, and all the while he had found solace, in that far away corner where he'd locked the door and thrown away the key. His pride had hidden there, safely. He'd called upon it at every crucial and insignificant moment in his life. What it had given him was a recklessness not born of this world. No battle was too difficult, no opponent too strong. The odds were there for him to be in his favor or to be his enemy, and he cared for naught but victory.
Now, it had ruined something he had not realized was so precious.
"Pride is often the maker of fools." Vegeta mumbled aloud to himself as he stood from the Captain's seat and moved to head to the back of the ship. Be he a proud fool or a man already too late, they had to leave. ___________
Bulma's eyes shot open at the knock on her door.
"We're leaving." Vegeta's muffled voice said from the other side of the door. "Get ready."
Bulma had heard the ship rumble to life. She had known Vegeta was angry, but she had not suspected he was angry enough to simply take off without even telling her. Suddenly, her thoughts were filled with Koru and Arden, of Strifelon and Stogie. She couldn't leave without saying goodbye to them. She simply couldn't.
Wincing, and holding her wounded hand to her chest, she got up and walked toward the door. Leaning against it, she considered her words.
"I'm not going without saying goodbye to them." she said simply, struggling to regain her dignity and discard her tears. They were useless, now. No sense crying over a wasted hope.
No sound. Was he still standing there?
Bulma decided she had no time to waste. Didn't care. She yanked open the doorknob to see Vegeta's face on the other side. At the sight of him, her heart sang and sank at the same time.
Vegeta's eyes flickered uncertainly toward Bulma's hand. Noticing his gaze, she raised her chin and let the hand fall to her side, supressing a cringe of pain. "Your hand is broken." he said.
"I hope it wasn't for nothing." She replied cooly, fixing her gaze on his jaw, and the hardly perceptible bruise on his smooth, tanned skin.
He ignored her comment; knowing how well-deserved it was. "You cannot ignore it. Let me." he moved to take her hand, and she stepped back instantly, pressing her back against the door.
The hurt in his eyes, be it only noticable for a split second, didn't prevent her from releasing her venom. "Don't touch me." she whispered, moving her head to the side where she stared with watering eyes down the hall. "Don't ever touch me again." her voice hitched.
Something inside of Vegeta flickered at that moment. Something that he hadn't known was there, but had secretly treasured nonetheless. His eyes sought hers, sought the bond between them, but were denied. She would not meet his gaze.
"Bulma." He steadied his voice. Why was he being so foolish? "There is a bond between us. You cannot pretend it doesn't exist." he paused, watching as bitter tears spilled down her cheeks. "You may hate me, and you may regret me, but the bond will always be there. It cannot be broken."
Bulma sniffed loudly in the uncomfortable silence that followed his words. "I won't let you raise our son." she said, trying desperately to sound resolute. "I won't let you make him a murderous bastard."
Vegeta steadied himself where he stood. Before him, a world of difference stood. A new and unchartered land begged him to tread upon it, and he realized that he felt fear. Where Pride was his companion, Fear was his enemy, and now Vegeta knew he must face it. He had a son. A hier, if a useless one. For what was the point of carrying on a legacy to a Kingdom many years dead? His choices were both difficult ones, and riddled with anxiety. He adored Bulma, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he didn't, and now she held both his love and his son. Could he show her that he did indeed acknowledege that? Could he unlock the door and pocket the key, forsaking his pride for a lifetime of nusiances and pleasantries he knew nothing of?
"You won't kill him." He said it firmly. "You don't have it in you. I knew you were bluffing."
Bulma's crying stopped abruptly, and Vegeta wondered if he had again gone too far. He had been wrong to say the words to her, he knew, but the Ki inside of Bulma was part of him, and he had a say, no matter how little.
She turned to him and at last met his gaze. Her beautiful, tortured eyes locked on his and he unconciously held his breath. "You're right." she said quietly. "I'm not like you."
Vegeta's eyes flashed. "I'm not the man I used to be." his brow furrowed.
Bulma raised her hand and held it to her chest once more. She sighed, letting out a shaky breath. "You scare the shit out of me, Vegeta. You've scared me since the moment I met you, and not in the way you always want to frighten others." She paused, mulling over her next words. "You scare me because I wonder, how can I love a man such as you? How can I love at all, when you've done the things you've done, and said the things you've said? But, most of all. . .how can I give birth to a child that is part of your past? A child whose mind treads upon the same waters that your own does?"
"He is my son." Vegeta said softly, his eyes narrowed. "But he will be his own person."
Bulma swallowed back a cry. She was done with crying. She was done with this man who stood before her, daring to make assumptions after the terrible things he had said to her. She was done with disease, and death. She was done with anger, and sorrow, and frustration. She was done with the aches, the pains, and the confusion. She'd had enough, and if he wouldn't apologise to her now, then it was over.
"I need you to apologise, Vegeta." She whispered, fighting to stop the tears that would not be denied. "I need you to say something nice, to find it deep within you to admit you were wrong. I -need- that, Vegeta, and if you can't give it to me, then I will birth -our- son, but let you have naught to do with his life, nor mine."
Vegeta looked away. "A threat, then. Is that what you offer me?"
Too far. Again.
Bulma rounded on him, her face a mask of incredulous shock and fury. "I offer you a chance!" She cried. "I offer you a chance to allow yourself a glimpse of the beauty you have! For the first time in your life, you have something -really- worth fighting for, and you're a bloody idiot if you can't see that, Vegeta! I offer you a son, a wife, and a long forever with both of them, and still you stand here and hurt me!"
"Bulma, I---"
"You hurt me, Vegeta! You hurt me and you love me, but the problem is, you're so much better at hurting. All you do is hurt! You hurt everything you touch!"
Forgetting her hand, Vegeta took Bulma's wrists gently in his hands and pulled her too him. She went with bitter resistance, but still he held her, as she struggled and hated and loved all at the same, rushing moment. He crushed his face into her hair, struggling to hold onto the one rock in the middle of his torrential river of new emotions. "I know I do." He said through clenched teeth. "Don't you know that's why I warned you? Why I've always been alone?"
Bulma's eyes shot open at his words. "What. . . ?" she whispered, terrified that what she had heard was simply a hope.
Vegeta gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tightly. His father stood before him, a looming, terrible figure of fury and loathing. "You're a disapointment, Vegeta. Nothing but a pathetic, weak shell of a man." his lips curled into a sneer. "And you call yourself a Sayajin."
Vegeta's hands tightened on Bulma's shirt. "I'm not! I'm the Prince! Just let me show you, let me prove to you, Father!"
"Vegeta?" Bulma tried to turn in his embrace, but he held her tight. "What. . . ?" but she couldn't finish her sentence.
A searing pain tore through her body and flayed every nerve in her being, and suddenly Bulma found herself at the mercy of something truly dark and terrible, something Vegeta had hidden from everyone for many bitter, lonely years, and she could only hold on and gasp for air as it took her on a ride through a current of terrible memories and deep, black water.
It was his Soul.
____________
Vegeta scrambled to his feet, a boy of only eight years, but already so full of hate. Blood dribbled from a wound in his lip, and his arm hung broken from his side, but he ignored them and raised his chin, all defiance and pride. Already, at only eight years of age, Vegeta's body had been moulded into corded muscle and strength. Across the room a looming figure stood before him, arms crossed over an impossibly huge frame.
"Weak!" the figure screamed, and Bulma watched from her standpoint in his Soul, as young Vegeta inwardly flinched, though it was hardly a noticable reaction. "Look at you! Pathetic!" the figure spat in Vegeta's direction.
"One more time." Vegeta said quietly. It was not a question, it was an order. "I will prove it to you, Father."
"Prove?" The figure, Vegeta's father, laughed. It was an awful sound, devoid of amusement. "You have proved all you have, my son." he spread armored hands wide before him. "You stand before me a weak, worn out puppet. I will gladly sell you to Lord Freiza."
Vegeta looked down at the floor for a fleeting moment, then raised his head of unruly hair and gave his father a long, hard gaze. "You will not." he said softly, but there was no mistaking the warning in his voice.
"How dare you presume to tell me what I will and will not do!" King Vegeta screamed, stepping forward from where he stood. Bulma jumped, hugging herself as she watched the awful scene unfold. She wanted it to stop, wanted to reach out and take the small, terrified Vegeta into her arms and whisper in his ear, wanted to whisper that somebody -did- love him, and he didn't have to be alone. Yet she was helpless to stand and simply observe, as was her role in this dark tale.
"One more time." Vegeta repeated, shifting his stance to his left foot. His arm swung uselessly from it's socket, the armor torn at the shoulder and hanging in tattered leather rags.
"I will oblige." The King said, and the cruelty in his words chilled Bulma to the very center of her heart.
The battle was over within moments, as Bulma knew it would be. She shuddered as she looked upon the man she loved, only a boy, struggling to regain his footing in a slippery pool of his own blood. He could no longer stand, and it was a wonder that he was even alive. The King had shown him no mercy, yet for all that he had given him, the young Vegeta managed by a miracle of his own willpower, to brace himself and lift his unwilling legs into a standing position.
Blood pooled from his mouth as he struggled to speak around a mouthful of fluids, and no words would come. Bulma sobbed at the brutality of the situation, screaming, for she could do nothing.
The King turned to leave. "Get out of my sight. If you are not dead by morning, I may come for you again." he waved his hand in a haughty manner.
Vegeta lifted his head, a swollen mass of bruises and savage wounds. His shoulders heaved with his laboured breaths, and he coughed, dislodging a clot of bloody tissue from his mouth. Wiping his mouth with his good arm, he stepped forward and, amazingly, started to follow the King. "Wait." he said, his voice hoarse.
The King tensed, turning only slightly. "What do you want." he sounded exapserated, though there was a slight hint of perverse curiosity in his voice.
Vegeta stopped, only inches from his Fathers back. Shuddering, he drew his body up into a full standing position, and raised his head, his entire form quivering from the excruciating pain that it took to hold his posture. "One. . . more. . . time." he said, his breath wheezing from bruised, battered lungs.
The King turned, a smile more chilling than anything Bulma had ever seen plastered to his face. He brought up his hands and undid the clasps on his cape, letting it fall to the floor. He reached out and took hold of Vegeta's face, violently yanking it forward to stare into his son's cold, unforgiving eyes.
"That's my boy." He whispered through clenched teeth.
Bulma screamed.
* * *
Vegeta collapsed onto the floor of the ship, letting go of whoever he had been holding onto. His back slid down the wall and he panted, staring ahead fixedly at a vision only he could see. Bulma lay crumpled in his arms, her fingers clenched around his thick neck, digging into his hair.
"I didn't know." She whispered. Tears coursed down her cheeks. "I. . . had no idea."
It took a full twenty mineuts for Vegeta to return to the current plain of existance. There had been many more similar visions, some so terrible Bulma was almost angry for him showing her. He had been in a afaraway place, a place that he had not returned to for many years. His door had been unlocked, and all for Bulma. It was his way of explanation, and it was more than explanation enough. She clung to him and sobbed, saying that she was sorry over and over, not caring if it was pity he wanted or not. No child, Sayajin or Human, deserved such brutality.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, her face pressed against his chest.
"It is part of the bond." He replied, his voice strained. "You can see into my Soul, Bulma. As I can see the pain in yours, as well."
She lifted her head. "You can see into. . . my soul?" she asked, her voice alive with sudden wonder. "What do you see?"
Vegeta looked into her eyes for a moment, then looked away. Bulma could almost see the barrier reconstructing itself before her very eyes. He had presented himself to her fully, never before had he been so vulnerable. It was the first time that she understood why. The first time that she did not become angry with him for being cold.
And he had done it all for her. She fought back tears of joy.
"I will see only if you choose to show me." He replied, stroking her hair without realizing he was doing it.
"Vegeta." She touched his chest lightly. "Thank you."
Vegeta's suspicion flare anew. Bulma could see what he was unconciously asking. "What you did to me was wrong, Vegeta. You hurt me very badly, and I'm not sure if I can forgive you, yet. But. . . what you just did for me, here. . ." she looked up into his face. "It means a lot to me."
Vegeta couldn't say he was disapointed. He knew Bulma wouldn't forgive him, at least not yet. Instead, he took her injured hand in his.
"We can talk about it later, woman." He said. "Right now, there are things to be done. You should see Strifelon about this." he said, lightly holding her wrist with a tenderness she hadn't thought possible. Bulma recognized the wounded look in his eyes that she had seen only a sparse few times. It vanished quickly, but she knew what it meant.
"I hit you of my own accord, Vegeta." She said softly. "It's not your fault my hand is broken." She said wryly.
Vegeta stood, and moved to help her up off the floor. "Come on" he said gently. "I can't have you walking around all day with a broken hand. Who will cook for me?"
Bulma found herself smiling, in spite of the traumatic events that had transpired. "Shut up!" She countered. "I thought you hated my cooking, anyway."
Vegeta shrugged. "I suppose it's not that bad. If you like rat poision."
Bulma laughed. It was a good sound, and a good feeling. She leaned into Vegeta as they walked down the hall. His arm snaked around her middle, and she felt his fingers resting on her belly. A feeling swelled within her, and she smiled at it's meaning.
Everything would be OK.
Authors Notes: I'm back! No, I didnt die in Mexico. I told you, didn't I? I told you I'd finish this story. Here is some good news for all of you who are still (amazingly) reading this story: I've been hit with a massive brainwave; a very nice way to end the story. I have new ideas, that I'm sure will make most of you very happy...and yes! I'm out of my writers block! Where have I been? Well...my computer crashed, one of my friends died, and I have a full time job. Hopefully those explain my lack of updates.
~J. J
Bulma cradled her injured hand against her chest, tears of rage and sorrow coursing down her flushed cheeks. Vegeta's words echoed through her head, as dull and lifeless as her body felt.
"Coming from you, he won't be worth it anyway!"
Bulma's hand clenched, shaking, around her belly that was not yet swollen, but harbored the genes of a man who had wounded her with words more than anyone else in her entire life. She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood as she dug her fingers into her belly and shook with supressed fear at the thought: did she want to give birth to a child as malicious as Vegeta?
But no, her child was half of herself, too. It would be a balance. A balance the world had never quite seen. As different as Black and White, she and Vegeta were. Hopefully, that balance would be enough to make her child, male or female, a good person.
"Bastard." She hissed, pressing her face into the pillow. She had thought, days ago, that perhaps Vegeta was a good person. She had foolishly let herself be lulled into a sense of security by her false hopes, and now look where it had left her: full of child and sorrow. Bulma winced as she relaxed her hand from her chest; it was obviously broken. She could already see it bruising when she held it up to the light in her room, watching as it hung useless from her wrist, needles of pain jarring through her arm when she attempted to move her fingers.
It had felt good to hit him, and that frightened her. Didn't she love this man? Didn't he love her? You didn't hurt the one you loved, did you? Or perhaps, even if you did, were you supposed to take pleasure in it?
She sniffled, turning onto her back, as she made her final decision. They would repair the ship and return to Earth, together, but no longer lovers.
She would not let such a man raise her child.
___________
Vegeta sat at the controls of the ship, watching as the lights flickered uncertainly and then burst into brilliancy as the control pannel lit up. He was shaken in his seat as the ship rumbled to life, vibrating through the corridors as the mechanics within cheered at being of use once more. Good. The ship worked, which meant they didn't have to spend any more unecessary time on this forsaken planet. The pleasant though dissipated quickly, however, as Vegeta remembered his words to Bulma from earlier. Closing his eyes in silent fury and pain, he leaned forward and put his head in his hands.
How could he have been so stupid? Just when things were starting to work out, he had started them back at sqaure one. And for what? Pride?
He remembered his father's words from a Kingdom long ago. "Men can break you, Vegeta. They can rape you of your thoughts, your anger, and your soul. They can throw you down the deepest hole and darken your sanity with fear you've never felt. But there is always one thing a man cannot take from you, my son, and that is your Pride."
Once, Pride had been Vegeta's everything. He had been thrown down that deep hole, his mind darkened and his thoughts torn from him. He had been beaten, abused, and discarded, and all the while he had found solace, in that far away corner where he'd locked the door and thrown away the key. His pride had hidden there, safely. He'd called upon it at every crucial and insignificant moment in his life. What it had given him was a recklessness not born of this world. No battle was too difficult, no opponent too strong. The odds were there for him to be in his favor or to be his enemy, and he cared for naught but victory.
Now, it had ruined something he had not realized was so precious.
"Pride is often the maker of fools." Vegeta mumbled aloud to himself as he stood from the Captain's seat and moved to head to the back of the ship. Be he a proud fool or a man already too late, they had to leave. ___________
Bulma's eyes shot open at the knock on her door.
"We're leaving." Vegeta's muffled voice said from the other side of the door. "Get ready."
Bulma had heard the ship rumble to life. She had known Vegeta was angry, but she had not suspected he was angry enough to simply take off without even telling her. Suddenly, her thoughts were filled with Koru and Arden, of Strifelon and Stogie. She couldn't leave without saying goodbye to them. She simply couldn't.
Wincing, and holding her wounded hand to her chest, she got up and walked toward the door. Leaning against it, she considered her words.
"I'm not going without saying goodbye to them." she said simply, struggling to regain her dignity and discard her tears. They were useless, now. No sense crying over a wasted hope.
No sound. Was he still standing there?
Bulma decided she had no time to waste. Didn't care. She yanked open the doorknob to see Vegeta's face on the other side. At the sight of him, her heart sang and sank at the same time.
Vegeta's eyes flickered uncertainly toward Bulma's hand. Noticing his gaze, she raised her chin and let the hand fall to her side, supressing a cringe of pain. "Your hand is broken." he said.
"I hope it wasn't for nothing." She replied cooly, fixing her gaze on his jaw, and the hardly perceptible bruise on his smooth, tanned skin.
He ignored her comment; knowing how well-deserved it was. "You cannot ignore it. Let me." he moved to take her hand, and she stepped back instantly, pressing her back against the door.
The hurt in his eyes, be it only noticable for a split second, didn't prevent her from releasing her venom. "Don't touch me." she whispered, moving her head to the side where she stared with watering eyes down the hall. "Don't ever touch me again." her voice hitched.
Something inside of Vegeta flickered at that moment. Something that he hadn't known was there, but had secretly treasured nonetheless. His eyes sought hers, sought the bond between them, but were denied. She would not meet his gaze.
"Bulma." He steadied his voice. Why was he being so foolish? "There is a bond between us. You cannot pretend it doesn't exist." he paused, watching as bitter tears spilled down her cheeks. "You may hate me, and you may regret me, but the bond will always be there. It cannot be broken."
Bulma sniffed loudly in the uncomfortable silence that followed his words. "I won't let you raise our son." she said, trying desperately to sound resolute. "I won't let you make him a murderous bastard."
Vegeta steadied himself where he stood. Before him, a world of difference stood. A new and unchartered land begged him to tread upon it, and he realized that he felt fear. Where Pride was his companion, Fear was his enemy, and now Vegeta knew he must face it. He had a son. A hier, if a useless one. For what was the point of carrying on a legacy to a Kingdom many years dead? His choices were both difficult ones, and riddled with anxiety. He adored Bulma, no matter how hard he tried to pretend he didn't, and now she held both his love and his son. Could he show her that he did indeed acknowledege that? Could he unlock the door and pocket the key, forsaking his pride for a lifetime of nusiances and pleasantries he knew nothing of?
"You won't kill him." He said it firmly. "You don't have it in you. I knew you were bluffing."
Bulma's crying stopped abruptly, and Vegeta wondered if he had again gone too far. He had been wrong to say the words to her, he knew, but the Ki inside of Bulma was part of him, and he had a say, no matter how little.
She turned to him and at last met his gaze. Her beautiful, tortured eyes locked on his and he unconciously held his breath. "You're right." she said quietly. "I'm not like you."
Vegeta's eyes flashed. "I'm not the man I used to be." his brow furrowed.
Bulma raised her hand and held it to her chest once more. She sighed, letting out a shaky breath. "You scare the shit out of me, Vegeta. You've scared me since the moment I met you, and not in the way you always want to frighten others." She paused, mulling over her next words. "You scare me because I wonder, how can I love a man such as you? How can I love at all, when you've done the things you've done, and said the things you've said? But, most of all. . .how can I give birth to a child that is part of your past? A child whose mind treads upon the same waters that your own does?"
"He is my son." Vegeta said softly, his eyes narrowed. "But he will be his own person."
Bulma swallowed back a cry. She was done with crying. She was done with this man who stood before her, daring to make assumptions after the terrible things he had said to her. She was done with disease, and death. She was done with anger, and sorrow, and frustration. She was done with the aches, the pains, and the confusion. She'd had enough, and if he wouldn't apologise to her now, then it was over.
"I need you to apologise, Vegeta." She whispered, fighting to stop the tears that would not be denied. "I need you to say something nice, to find it deep within you to admit you were wrong. I -need- that, Vegeta, and if you can't give it to me, then I will birth -our- son, but let you have naught to do with his life, nor mine."
Vegeta looked away. "A threat, then. Is that what you offer me?"
Too far. Again.
Bulma rounded on him, her face a mask of incredulous shock and fury. "I offer you a chance!" She cried. "I offer you a chance to allow yourself a glimpse of the beauty you have! For the first time in your life, you have something -really- worth fighting for, and you're a bloody idiot if you can't see that, Vegeta! I offer you a son, a wife, and a long forever with both of them, and still you stand here and hurt me!"
"Bulma, I---"
"You hurt me, Vegeta! You hurt me and you love me, but the problem is, you're so much better at hurting. All you do is hurt! You hurt everything you touch!"
Forgetting her hand, Vegeta took Bulma's wrists gently in his hands and pulled her too him. She went with bitter resistance, but still he held her, as she struggled and hated and loved all at the same, rushing moment. He crushed his face into her hair, struggling to hold onto the one rock in the middle of his torrential river of new emotions. "I know I do." He said through clenched teeth. "Don't you know that's why I warned you? Why I've always been alone?"
Bulma's eyes shot open at his words. "What. . . ?" she whispered, terrified that what she had heard was simply a hope.
Vegeta gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tightly. His father stood before him, a looming, terrible figure of fury and loathing. "You're a disapointment, Vegeta. Nothing but a pathetic, weak shell of a man." his lips curled into a sneer. "And you call yourself a Sayajin."
Vegeta's hands tightened on Bulma's shirt. "I'm not! I'm the Prince! Just let me show you, let me prove to you, Father!"
"Vegeta?" Bulma tried to turn in his embrace, but he held her tight. "What. . . ?" but she couldn't finish her sentence.
A searing pain tore through her body and flayed every nerve in her being, and suddenly Bulma found herself at the mercy of something truly dark and terrible, something Vegeta had hidden from everyone for many bitter, lonely years, and she could only hold on and gasp for air as it took her on a ride through a current of terrible memories and deep, black water.
It was his Soul.
____________
Vegeta scrambled to his feet, a boy of only eight years, but already so full of hate. Blood dribbled from a wound in his lip, and his arm hung broken from his side, but he ignored them and raised his chin, all defiance and pride. Already, at only eight years of age, Vegeta's body had been moulded into corded muscle and strength. Across the room a looming figure stood before him, arms crossed over an impossibly huge frame.
"Weak!" the figure screamed, and Bulma watched from her standpoint in his Soul, as young Vegeta inwardly flinched, though it was hardly a noticable reaction. "Look at you! Pathetic!" the figure spat in Vegeta's direction.
"One more time." Vegeta said quietly. It was not a question, it was an order. "I will prove it to you, Father."
"Prove?" The figure, Vegeta's father, laughed. It was an awful sound, devoid of amusement. "You have proved all you have, my son." he spread armored hands wide before him. "You stand before me a weak, worn out puppet. I will gladly sell you to Lord Freiza."
Vegeta looked down at the floor for a fleeting moment, then raised his head of unruly hair and gave his father a long, hard gaze. "You will not." he said softly, but there was no mistaking the warning in his voice.
"How dare you presume to tell me what I will and will not do!" King Vegeta screamed, stepping forward from where he stood. Bulma jumped, hugging herself as she watched the awful scene unfold. She wanted it to stop, wanted to reach out and take the small, terrified Vegeta into her arms and whisper in his ear, wanted to whisper that somebody -did- love him, and he didn't have to be alone. Yet she was helpless to stand and simply observe, as was her role in this dark tale.
"One more time." Vegeta repeated, shifting his stance to his left foot. His arm swung uselessly from it's socket, the armor torn at the shoulder and hanging in tattered leather rags.
"I will oblige." The King said, and the cruelty in his words chilled Bulma to the very center of her heart.
The battle was over within moments, as Bulma knew it would be. She shuddered as she looked upon the man she loved, only a boy, struggling to regain his footing in a slippery pool of his own blood. He could no longer stand, and it was a wonder that he was even alive. The King had shown him no mercy, yet for all that he had given him, the young Vegeta managed by a miracle of his own willpower, to brace himself and lift his unwilling legs into a standing position.
Blood pooled from his mouth as he struggled to speak around a mouthful of fluids, and no words would come. Bulma sobbed at the brutality of the situation, screaming, for she could do nothing.
The King turned to leave. "Get out of my sight. If you are not dead by morning, I may come for you again." he waved his hand in a haughty manner.
Vegeta lifted his head, a swollen mass of bruises and savage wounds. His shoulders heaved with his laboured breaths, and he coughed, dislodging a clot of bloody tissue from his mouth. Wiping his mouth with his good arm, he stepped forward and, amazingly, started to follow the King. "Wait." he said, his voice hoarse.
The King tensed, turning only slightly. "What do you want." he sounded exapserated, though there was a slight hint of perverse curiosity in his voice.
Vegeta stopped, only inches from his Fathers back. Shuddering, he drew his body up into a full standing position, and raised his head, his entire form quivering from the excruciating pain that it took to hold his posture. "One. . . more. . . time." he said, his breath wheezing from bruised, battered lungs.
The King turned, a smile more chilling than anything Bulma had ever seen plastered to his face. He brought up his hands and undid the clasps on his cape, letting it fall to the floor. He reached out and took hold of Vegeta's face, violently yanking it forward to stare into his son's cold, unforgiving eyes.
"That's my boy." He whispered through clenched teeth.
Bulma screamed.
* * *
Vegeta collapsed onto the floor of the ship, letting go of whoever he had been holding onto. His back slid down the wall and he panted, staring ahead fixedly at a vision only he could see. Bulma lay crumpled in his arms, her fingers clenched around his thick neck, digging into his hair.
"I didn't know." She whispered. Tears coursed down her cheeks. "I. . . had no idea."
It took a full twenty mineuts for Vegeta to return to the current plain of existance. There had been many more similar visions, some so terrible Bulma was almost angry for him showing her. He had been in a afaraway place, a place that he had not returned to for many years. His door had been unlocked, and all for Bulma. It was his way of explanation, and it was more than explanation enough. She clung to him and sobbed, saying that she was sorry over and over, not caring if it was pity he wanted or not. No child, Sayajin or Human, deserved such brutality.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She asked, her face pressed against his chest.
"It is part of the bond." He replied, his voice strained. "You can see into my Soul, Bulma. As I can see the pain in yours, as well."
She lifted her head. "You can see into. . . my soul?" she asked, her voice alive with sudden wonder. "What do you see?"
Vegeta looked into her eyes for a moment, then looked away. Bulma could almost see the barrier reconstructing itself before her very eyes. He had presented himself to her fully, never before had he been so vulnerable. It was the first time that she understood why. The first time that she did not become angry with him for being cold.
And he had done it all for her. She fought back tears of joy.
"I will see only if you choose to show me." He replied, stroking her hair without realizing he was doing it.
"Vegeta." She touched his chest lightly. "Thank you."
Vegeta's suspicion flare anew. Bulma could see what he was unconciously asking. "What you did to me was wrong, Vegeta. You hurt me very badly, and I'm not sure if I can forgive you, yet. But. . . what you just did for me, here. . ." she looked up into his face. "It means a lot to me."
Vegeta couldn't say he was disapointed. He knew Bulma wouldn't forgive him, at least not yet. Instead, he took her injured hand in his.
"We can talk about it later, woman." He said. "Right now, there are things to be done. You should see Strifelon about this." he said, lightly holding her wrist with a tenderness she hadn't thought possible. Bulma recognized the wounded look in his eyes that she had seen only a sparse few times. It vanished quickly, but she knew what it meant.
"I hit you of my own accord, Vegeta." She said softly. "It's not your fault my hand is broken." She said wryly.
Vegeta stood, and moved to help her up off the floor. "Come on" he said gently. "I can't have you walking around all day with a broken hand. Who will cook for me?"
Bulma found herself smiling, in spite of the traumatic events that had transpired. "Shut up!" She countered. "I thought you hated my cooking, anyway."
Vegeta shrugged. "I suppose it's not that bad. If you like rat poision."
Bulma laughed. It was a good sound, and a good feeling. She leaned into Vegeta as they walked down the hall. His arm snaked around her middle, and she felt his fingers resting on her belly. A feeling swelled within her, and she smiled at it's meaning.
Everything would be OK.