Last time:
Her precious little world seemed to crumble out from under her as she crawled into bed. Tomorrow she would find out, though something in the back of her mind told her that tomorrow could very well mean the end of everything she held dear.
She closed her eyes and forced sleep.
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It only made sense that with luck like Bulma's, the hours would tick by at alarming turtle-speed as she waited for Vegeta to return from the ship. It was already well past lunchtime, and still he was nowhere to be seen. Several times she'd gone outside in the hotter-than-usual weather and looked for him or his fast approaching form in the sky. Jemalin too was keeping her distance from others, and especially Furto, giving Bulma all the more reason to suspect the absolute worst, though she didn't know quite what that was.
Now she sat alone in the home's library, reading any book she could find with Fewskm or Japanese writing; all others she only flipped through and looked at illustrations if there were any. Her goal was to keep her mind off a certain Saiyan Prince, though her thoughts inevitably veered straight for him.
She sighed deeply, bringing her legs to her chest, the book she was reading perched on her knees. Her pale blue sundress road into her lap, giving anyone who entered the room a perfect view of her white cotton panties, though she didn't care in the least. She was more focused on focusing her attention on the Fewskm words before her, telling her an old Fewskm folktale. She got halfway through it before she realized it was a love story, and slammed the tattered book shut. The next book she reached for was sort of like a medical journal and she dove right into it, always having somewhat of a fascination with medical science, though her field was in mechanics.
"Interesting," she hummed to herself, coming across diagrams of a male and female Fewsk. She let her legs drop to Indian style and held the book in her lap. "So Fewsks' lungs are in their lower back, and they have two hearts; one regular and one backup." She pondered this for a moment, then said, "Wow. I guess you learn something knew everyday."
"Hello Bulma." She turned her head at the sound of her name and smiled as Furto entered the room, his face forcing a smile.
"Hey there," she said. She patted the place next to her on the bench she sat on and he obliged. "So, what have you been doing all day?" He smiled weakly at her; he knew the meaning that lay behind her question. She wanted to know how he was keeping himself occupied and his mind off of Jemalin as she clearly hadn't confronted him yet.
"Potions, salves, tea," he sighed. "And I came to a conclusion about our mates."
"Yes?" She tried to make herself not appear too desperate to know.
"One," he said, turning to look at the ground, "they are royalty. They are used to particular lifestyles and nothing we can do, no matter how strong our love is, can change who they are. They love us because they always had the capability to love, only lacking someone to show them how."
"Enter us."
"Exactly. We can't even begin to understand their take on the simplest things, because we've never lived their strict lives. You will never know what it's like to be a Princess, and I shall never know the feeling of being a Prince. They are different from us in so many ways." He paused for a moment and switched his gaze back to Bulma. "They are aliens to us. I am a Fewsk and my love is a Doonso, two completely different races. And you are an Earthling while Vegeta is a Saiyan. Again, two different races. Peaceful verses brutal. Humble verses lavish." He shook his head as if he'd been rambling. "The point is we will never be able to know what it's like to be like our mates, feel what they feel, know what they know, understand what they're been through, because it's simply impossible."
"I knew all this before, Furto," Bulma said solemnly, feeling down right callous for blowing up his great discovery. He only smiled.
"Yes," he sighed. "But did you really think about it? Of course Vegeta is a Saiyan, and of course he is a Prince, and a highly respected one, but did you ever stop and think just what makes him do what he does? Or think what he thinks?" Bulma was about to answer when he cut her off. "Think about this: Vegeta walks into a room full of beings he knows. They all look at him, want to greet him, but don't, and continue doing what they were before he entered the room. So he walks to the corner furthest away from the others and sits alone without saying a word…..Did you ever analyze something as simple as that?"
Bulma narrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Furto continued.
"If you had, you might have picked up a pattern with him. Sure he's mean and distant and self-involved, but maybe it's not for all the reasons we might think. He was beaten and held prisoner and forced to commit horrendous crimes. We usually take souls such as Vegeta and write them off as criminal, but could it actually be that his cruelty is only a mask hiding his true emotions that he can't even begin to understand how to express—"
"Until someone shows him how." Furto smiled.
"Exactly." He stood and placed his hand on Bulma's shoulder. "We need to leave our soul mates to themselves with their demons, until they're ready to let us help fight them. Otherwise we can only force the wedge further."
"I know," Bulma said with a heavy sigh. "I've always known not to intrude upon Vegeta's emotions, though usually I corner him selfishly. You're right; I need to learn to understand that not everyone can simply cry when they're hurt or sad. Thanks Furto."
"Your welcome." He went to exit the room, then stopped in the doorway and turned to face her. "You know I've grown to love you, Bulma. I shall never forget the gifts you've given me."
"I love you too, Furto," she laughed happily. "You're one in a million."
****************************************************************
Bulma quietly crept out of the home on her tiptoes, so not to wake anyone. It was well into the night and she found herself unable to sleep. She carefully closed the heavy door behind her and took a deep, full breath of warm night air. Kami she was going to miss these nights.
She found a rather large boulder not far from the entrance and perched herself atop it, taking in as much as she could in the darkness. There was a stick-tree forest to her right, just next to a pond, that she didn't remember ever seeing before. To her left was a path that lead to the technology center she'd visited and several other Fewsk homes. In what little light there was she could make out some more boulders and rocks, and a few puddles in the waxy blue sand. She slipped her plain white tennis shoes off and dug her feet deep into the sand, rather liking its waxy feel and the warmth that was baked in from long hours in the intense sunlight.
Her arms were wrapped protectively around her abdomen, and she smiled despite her horrible mood and tiredness. If nothing else was going her way, at least she had a wonderful little child forming inside of her, two halves of a great love circle. Well, more like a circular love saw with razor sharp teeth.
"You know Vegeta," she said into the night, sliding off her boulder and leaning up against it, "one of these days I'm going to tell you exactly how much grief you've put me through."
"How about tonight?"
Bulma nearly smacked her head against the boulder as she jumped to her feet and searched for the owner of the sudden voice. Her heart raced at an alarming rate, though after only a few seconds of panic she realized the voice belonged to Vegeta and that it was in her mind. Then on closer inspection, she found that the voice hadn't been so faded, and noticed a shadowed figure some ten feet away from her, almost invisible in the thick blanket called night.
"I missed you," she said finally, sitting back on her perch. "What have you been doing?"
"Thinking," he replied, not moving an inch. She had expected him to say training.
"About?" The Andriods, she thought. Training. Getting back to Earth. Becoming Super Saiyan—
"Us." Now he chose to come forward and into the pale light, his clothes seemingly carefully chosen: black dress pants, black dress shoes—which she had no idea he even owned—and a plain white button up dress shirt, the buttons undone halfway. Bulma nearly forgot about the incident the previous day, so inviting was the picture Vegeta presented to her. "I don't want you to fear me," he said, and suddenly swept her up into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. "What I did—"
"What you did saved all our lives," she interrupted, pulling back from his warm embrace. "I would watch it a thousand times over if it meant I could be safe in your arms for the rest of my life." She caught his darting eyes and held them as she continued. "You make me feel as if nothing else can touch me when I'm around you. Just the mere thought of you makes me feel as if nothing can ever go wrong. I've seen people die before, Vegeta. I know death very well, and I've always known of your past in that regards. You have killed millions. You were a murderer before I loved you, and there's no one I'd rather share my life with."
"I AM a murderer, Bulma," he said, not noticing the giddy smile spread across her face; he'd just called her by her name. "I killed six men yesterday—" He pointed almost frantically at the home. "—in front of your eyes without weighing the consequences." He took a deep breath, unsure if he wanted to continue. "You were never supposed to see me like that."
"Oh Vegeta," she laughed, now completely understanding his distance after the Doonso confrontation. He'd been worried about what she would think of him! A great wave of relief passed over her body and she hugged her lover tightly. "I saw you kill before. It was nothing knew to me. On Namek—"
"No," he said sternly, as if scolding a child. "I made a promise to myself after we mated to never subject you to such horrors. I dishonored myself not twenty-four hours later."
"I don't think any less of you because of it," she said. "I've always known who you were, and still I fell in love with you. I don't think there's a thing you can do to change that."
"I want to show you something," he said somberly, holding her out at arms' length.
"Alright." She wasn't quite sure what he was getting at.
"Come here." He sat on the ground right where he was standing and pulled her down gently with him. "Lay down."
"What?"
"Lay down." She arched an eyebrow at him, though did as he requested, settling her head in his lap. He placed his hands on the sides of her head and took a deep breath. "Close your eyes. I'm going to show you how the Princess and myself disposed of the Doonso last night." Another deep breath, more ragged than the first. His hands trembled at her temples. "Tell me when you want me to stop."
She nodded, completely unprepared for the rush of images at bombarded her mind; a tornado of Vegeta's personal memories. She caught a glimpse of Frieza laughing, a fragment of Goku rather roughed up, and a few others she didn't have time to focus on. Finally the images came to a halt, and Vegeta and Jemalin stood looking down at the eight Doonso bodies on the soft blue ground.
"You are a warrior too, correct?" Vegeta asked, not looking up at the Princess that stood beside him.
"Yes," she replied. "What Princess isn't these days?"
He only shrugged.
"What are you suggesting?"
"A Skondos-cun Burial."
Jemalin smiled and looked up at Vegeta. "Exactly what I was thinking."
"Alright. I'll have your wretched brother and those three," he said, pointing to three soldiers.
"My brother? Why?"
"He threatened my mate," he said shortly. "Besides, you got to kill him. I want this."
"Fine. Fair enough."
Then, as if they were savage cave people, Jemalin and Vegeta dropped to their knees, grabbed the first body their hands found, and proceeded to literally rip them apart. First came the unfortunate victim's head, then their arms, then their legs, until soon the two royal warriors were frantically tearing flesh, digging their nails into it, and not caring about sprays and splatters of blood and body fluids. No sacred part seemed to be spared; flesh was ripped, bones were crushed into dust in their bare hands, hair was tore out, and innards were carelessly tossed aside upon disembowelment.
Bulma held her breath as she watched the brutal scene unfold, very aware of the fact that she was lying on a murderer. She was about to open her eyes and demand the images stop, when she realized that the deceased's heads, hands, and—gulp—hearts were placed in three separate piles away from the other bodily "riff-raff".
Vegeta suddenly stopped his frenzied post-death slaughter and looked down at his workmanship. Jemalin noticed this almost immediately, though it seemed she was reluctant to stop snapping her mother's ribs into tiny pieces.
"What?" she asked, her breathing slightly labored, her face speckled with fresh blood. "You think we're done?"
"Can you recognize the bodies?" he laughed. Bulma felt a cold shiver climb her spine; such acidic, cruel laughter. And this was the man she loved?
"I suppose not."
At the same time they turned to the three piles of body parts; Vegeta to the heads, where he plucked out the eyes as if they were grapes in a jell-o mold, and Jemalin to the hands, breaking off any wrists that were still attached.
"Do you need kindling?" Jemalin asked, searching around for dried leaves or sticks.
Vegeta shook his head and reached for a handful of soiled rags, the clothing the Doonso had been wearing. He set the rags on the ground before him and the Princess, then with a small amount of kai, set them ablaze. She turned to him, a gentle smile on her lips, then preceded to recite what Bulma could only describe as a ritualistic chant.
"Into the fire we send the Three Sacreds of the Ignoble Warrior." She collected all sixteen blooded hands and tossed them one by one into the tiny fire. "The Hands, used to kill and never to help, shall not accompany these warriors to their final resting place." Next she took the sixteen juicy eyeballs from Vegeta and dumped them all at once into the fire, saying, "The Eyes, seeing only evil and never beauty, shall not accompany these warriors to their final resting place." She sighed deeply, almost as though she were exhausted, then together she and Vegeta placed the eight plump and dripping hearts into the crackling fire. "And The Hearts, bearers of all your wicked burdens, shall not save your souls, and we leave you barren and full of petty sin on your journey to your final resting place!"
She collapsed into Vegeta's arms upon screaming her final words, completely spent, though thoroughly intoxicated with utter happiness and relief. She was free at last from her mother's bondage and could now live out her life with Furto in peace.
"Do we tell them?" she whispered, picking herself up. Vegeta was all too contented to step away from her.
"Tell who you will," he sighed, then grabbed up the shovels he'd found in Furto's shed, handing one to Jemalin. "But first, we need to bury this junk."
Bulma's eyes shot open and she scrambled to her feet. Vegeta stayed sitting on the ground, though stretched out his legs as they were becoming quite stiff and uncomfortable. She trembled in her spot a few feet away from her mate, not being able to meet his gaze, let alone speak.
Flash of a severed head with no eyes.
"Now do you see what I mean?" he asked. No matter how badly he wanted to cradle her in his arms, he stayed put, knowing full well that she would need time to comprehend what he'd just showed her. And maybe pride played a small role there as well.
"Next time I'll take your word for it," she breathed in a low, shaky voice. It took all her feasible will power to keep from bursting into tears. Her eyes misted but she didn't let them free. How the hell was she supposed to feel after seeing something like that? She grabbed her head suddenly and dropped to her knees, pulling at her hair as if she meant to tear it out; the ghastly images shown to her by Vegeta were now carved into her brain. It was all she could do to keep from screaming like a madwoman.
Vegeta was at her side before she hit the ground, his arms wrapped protectively around her, unsure of how to act when his mate tried so desperately to be free from him. She hissed and clawed and kicked and even bit at him, her energy draining with each hysterical gesture.
With a heavy, painful sigh he realized he had just given his worst fears the perfect window of opportunity. But he'd had to show her.
Moments later she passed out in his arms.
"…I did it for you…"
**********************************************************
Bulma tumbled out of bed and nearly crashed into the wall as she made her way to find Furto. All through the night her dreams would not shield her from the horrors her so-called lover had shown her; crushed skulls, chunks of dripping flesh, a hand, a foot, an ear, and her Vegeta, grunting and clawing at these defenseless bodies, his face a cold, heartless mask of rage and determination.
"Furto! Furto, open the door!" she cried, turning the locked handle frantically, her entire body shaking violently. "Furto," she whimpered. She sunk to her knees, her fingers still clutching the doorknob, and vomited.
"Bulma!" Furto wrapped his arms around her toppled over body and pulled her into his room. "What's happened?" He shook his head and cradled her in his lap, which may have looked odd if anyone happened to enter the room at that moment, Bulma being much bigger and all. "Are you alright, Miss? Are you ill? Here." He handed her a clothe from his robe pocket. "Wipe your mouth."
A good ten minutes passed before Bulma was calm enough to keep her breathing at normal. She was still shaky and nauseous, though she kept the bile down in her empty stomach and just tried to breath.
"What if he snaps and kills me and my baby?" she suddenly whispered, wiping furiously at her eyes and nose with her sweater sleeve. She still wore the blue sundress from the day before, but didn't remember putting a sweater on, and hated the way her knobby knees stuck out. Her sickness had really taken a toll on her physically, and quite possibly mentally as well.
Furto didn't need to ask who or what she meant, though it seemed the thought had come out of nowhere. If he was going to help her, he needed some answers.
"What happened last night?" he ventured, his arms still securely around her.
But it was no use. When she thought her voice was stable enough to speak, she found her nerve was shot and reverted back to violent shudders and vomiting. For a moment Furto feared she was having a seizure, though when she hoarsely squeezed out, "Skondos-cun," he understood completely.
Right before she lost consciousness he'd managed to get her safely into bed. When he was sure she was out cold, he burst into tears and collapsed on the floor.
*********************************************************
"What are we going to do!" Jemalin demanded, shoving Vegeta back a few steps. If she hadn't been so distraught he would have threatened her. "Furto knows! Bulma knows! You fucking showed her what we did! How can we live with them when they fear us?" She was now to tears and barely able to stand on her own. The love she had for Furto coursed through her entire being. "Why did you show her?" she sobbed. She picked up a rock and threw it back down in frustration.
"You agreed with me two days ago," Vegeta spat remorselessly. "You smiled and nodded and did just as much as I."
"But you didn't have to—"
"I told her because I needed to tell her! I could not live with myself if she didn't know the truth about me, that I can still kill and would in the blink of an eye to save her! I won't have her live in fear, but I sure as hell won't let her live a lie!" He gave an exasperated sigh. "Did you honestly think they wouldn't find out? We walked into that fucking room covered in Doonso blood from head to toe! They're not blind and they're not stupid, Princess."
"Then what do we do?" she sighed. "I went to Furto's room this morning and he would barely open the door a crack, let alone utter two words. Bulma was in there with him. She told him and now he's terrified of me. I can't face him anymore. We were barbaric with our passion two days ago. How can you just stand there and think everything will be fine? Don't you want her to feel safe with you? Don't you want her to love you without regret!?"
"Of course I do!" he snapped. "But I can't change who I am for her just because of that. It's not possible—"
"No, Vegeta. You WON'T change for her. There's a difference." She stepped forward boldly and caught his shifting eyes. "She needed to see those images because you needed her to know that you aren't going to change, even for her, and that's why she's so scared." She turned sharply on her heels and went to go inside, though paused at the door and said, "You lost her already, Vegeta. And there's no one left to blame."
"You're wrong!" he cried, but she was already gone. "You're wrong! I did it…I did it because…because I love her…" He plopped down unceremoniously in the sand. "…but I don't know how…"
Angrily he snatched up a large rock and crushed it to dust in his palm, letting loose a string of foreign curses.
"And I hate her for it."
***********************************************************
"So this is how it's going to be forever, huh?" Bulma hummed, stirring her tea in its brightly painted wooden mug. She was beyond exhausted and emotionally drained; the nightmares hadn't left her alone that night either, and she found it increasingly difficult to think about Vegeta without cringing. Luckily he hadn't tried approaching her since their last encounter. In fact, he hadn't been around at all.
"What do you mean?" Furto asked, his own mug left abandoned on the kitchen table they sat at. Bulma liked this room best of all the rooms in Furto's home—well, the library was tied—for it made her feel completely at home and comforted, as if her mother were behind her cooking at the stove and humming her annoying little songs.
"Me and Vegeta," she sighed. She took a sip of the tea, not sure if it was more minty or more spicy. Either way, she liked it. "We're never going to be good. It's always going to be rocky. We'll get a little sunshine, bask in it for maybe, oh, five seconds, and then he'll open his big arrogant mouth or kill a few dozen people!"
"You can't expect him to change completely for your sake, Bulma. How many years has he been living his life according to his rules? He's only just begun to learn yours and they're confusing to him. There are no rules for love in the Saiyan world. He's making them up as he goes along. He doesn't understand basic human regulations and he certainly doesn't understand sympathy. Look." He reached over and took Bulma's hand. "You watched him kill those men and you didn't bat an eyelash. You were happy they were gone and that Vegeta had protected you. What he did to those bodies was after they were dead. They don't know what he did to them. They—"
"Then I assume you're completely fine with Jemalin's hand in the burial process."
Furto's face paled. Of course he wasn't.
"As I thought. I have every right to be iffy about a man who ripped dead bodies to shreds with his bare hands. And you don't even know the half of it. I saw the smile on his face, saw his enjoyment. He loves to kill, Furto! Loves it! How can he share his heart with me when it harbors such destructive passions?"
"When was the last time he killed? Besides on Fewskm."
"Geranoma," she spat, startling him. He let go of her hand.
"Fine. Besides on your trip."
"Namek."
"And how long ago was that?"
"I don't know. What are you getting at?"
"The two times he killed since Namek were both to save your life."
"That's not what I'm concerned about, Furto!" she yelled, slapping her hands on the table. "I know he'll kill again, and again, and—Kami, what have I gotten myself into?" She shook her head. "I know he'll kill again," she sighed, "but what bothers me most is that he enjoys it. How can I live with a man like that? How can I raise our child with a father like him? How can I put our lives in danger?"
"Do you truly believe he would harm you or your child?"
She didn't answer.
"I think it's best that you seek him out and discuss this. Otherwise you will never be happy," he said, standing from the table. "He willingly showed you a side of himself that he would have rather left dead and buried. Think about that."
"And what about you and Jemalin?"
"Where do you think I'm headed?" He gave her a genuine smile, then left the room.
The next move was hers.
*************************************************************
Bulma sat at the entrance of the ship, her knees drawn to her chest, head bowed, eyes sore from excessive crying. She'd been sitting on that uncomfortable ramp for over an hour now, her rear end beginning to feel the effects. Several times she'd stood, raised her hand, touché the first button to the code on the keypad, only to sit right back down and burst into a whole new wave of tears.
She knew Vegeta could sense her presence, and he was wise to allow her time. But as the minutes ticked by, she wasn't so sure her resolve was intact anymore.
Suddenly the door opened and Vegeta stood looming above her, his face an unreadable mask. She tried not to look into his eyes, and her body gave way to an uncontrollable shudder.
"Come in before you lose your nerve completely," he said, then turned and walked out of view. She knew he was headed for his room, and also that his actions had been for her sake; he wasn't ready yet to deal with what had occurred.
Bulma stood and walked slowly into the kitchen, her body shaking all over, palms almost dripping with sweat. She wanted to scold herself for being so afraid, but wasn't she entitled to it, just this once, after being so brave and carefree for so long? Of course she knew in the back of her mind that Vegeta would befriend Goku before he let a hair on her head get disturbed, but her motherly instincts had taken over.
Finally she reached Vegeta's open door and peered in. He sat calm and collected, Indian style, on his bed. His eyes were open and starring ahead at the black wall, though she knew he had been watching the doorway intently just seconds before.
She took one last heroic breath before entering his room. He didn't look up at her right away, but when he did, his face devoid of all arrogance, her heart melted and she charged into his arms. Who was she kidding? There was no place in the universe safer than Vegeta's arms.
Her actions were almost too quick for him to react, and completely unexpected. He thought for sure that she would want to talk at a distance in a love unsteady voice, then go back to her solitude, leaving them both emotionally confused and unsatisfied. Instead, she'd abandoned all logical fear and apprehension—which he left she was completely entitled to—and rushed into his arms, burying her face in his bare chest. He was so bewildered by her change in mood that he almost didn't hear her speak.
"I'm so sorry," she whimpered, to his complete surprise. What had she to be sorry about? It was he who should be— "I should never have doubted you for a second. You love me, I know you do. You tell me with every breath in your body, because there's no way a love as strong as mine could live unreturned. You wouldn't do all you've done for me if you didn't."
"I wouldn't put up with you if I didn't," he whispered, but in her sobs, his voice was unheard. Oh well, she didn't need to hear it from him; the genius had figured it out on her own.
"I know that you would never hurt me," she continued, her voice choked with sobs. "Or our baby. It's not possible. I don't know what I was thinking before. I was being stupid and rash. I'm more safe with you than I am with myself."
"Of course," Vegeta scoffed, bringing a genuine smile to Bulma's lips. She sighed into his chest. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed him until now. "You know I did what I did…"
"For me." She lifted her head and looked unbridled into his deep onyx eyes. "I know. You do everything for me."
He stiffened in her embrace.
"What?"
"It was—" He swallowed hard. "—wrong of me to show you what I did."
"No. I understand why you did, though I don't pretend to know how your warrior's mind works. And I never will. You possess passions that I couldn't possibly grasp." She leaned up and kissed the under side of his chin. "I don't need closure on this Vegeta. Just holding you is enough for me."
"No questions?" He was beyond baffled. And strangely unsure if that was a good thing or not.
"Nope."
"Woman," he sighed. "You never cease to amaze me."
"Perfect," she laughed, the natural feeling of happiness flooding her veins. "It's good to know that this fire will never go out."
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---Chapter 32!!! I'm really cruising here, huh? :P See? The drama wasn't so bad. I mean, who wouldn't be scared? Well, me, 'cause Vegeta's too sexy to run from. Ok! Fine! The story is a complete flop! I hate my life! Kill me now! LOL! Yeah right, my story rocks and you know it, heehee. And you should tell me how much it rocks :D Sorry if it was a bit too angsty though, but their recent problem was something that had to be dealt with. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and I'm the Queen of Sooner :P
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)
Next time: Yes, there is a next time (of course), but I haven't the faintest idea of what's going to happen.
Note: Blarg! My beta-read didn't revise this chapter either. *grumble grumble*
Her precious little world seemed to crumble out from under her as she crawled into bed. Tomorrow she would find out, though something in the back of her mind told her that tomorrow could very well mean the end of everything she held dear.
She closed her eyes and forced sleep.
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It only made sense that with luck like Bulma's, the hours would tick by at alarming turtle-speed as she waited for Vegeta to return from the ship. It was already well past lunchtime, and still he was nowhere to be seen. Several times she'd gone outside in the hotter-than-usual weather and looked for him or his fast approaching form in the sky. Jemalin too was keeping her distance from others, and especially Furto, giving Bulma all the more reason to suspect the absolute worst, though she didn't know quite what that was.
Now she sat alone in the home's library, reading any book she could find with Fewskm or Japanese writing; all others she only flipped through and looked at illustrations if there were any. Her goal was to keep her mind off a certain Saiyan Prince, though her thoughts inevitably veered straight for him.
She sighed deeply, bringing her legs to her chest, the book she was reading perched on her knees. Her pale blue sundress road into her lap, giving anyone who entered the room a perfect view of her white cotton panties, though she didn't care in the least. She was more focused on focusing her attention on the Fewskm words before her, telling her an old Fewskm folktale. She got halfway through it before she realized it was a love story, and slammed the tattered book shut. The next book she reached for was sort of like a medical journal and she dove right into it, always having somewhat of a fascination with medical science, though her field was in mechanics.
"Interesting," she hummed to herself, coming across diagrams of a male and female Fewsk. She let her legs drop to Indian style and held the book in her lap. "So Fewsks' lungs are in their lower back, and they have two hearts; one regular and one backup." She pondered this for a moment, then said, "Wow. I guess you learn something knew everyday."
"Hello Bulma." She turned her head at the sound of her name and smiled as Furto entered the room, his face forcing a smile.
"Hey there," she said. She patted the place next to her on the bench she sat on and he obliged. "So, what have you been doing all day?" He smiled weakly at her; he knew the meaning that lay behind her question. She wanted to know how he was keeping himself occupied and his mind off of Jemalin as she clearly hadn't confronted him yet.
"Potions, salves, tea," he sighed. "And I came to a conclusion about our mates."
"Yes?" She tried to make herself not appear too desperate to know.
"One," he said, turning to look at the ground, "they are royalty. They are used to particular lifestyles and nothing we can do, no matter how strong our love is, can change who they are. They love us because they always had the capability to love, only lacking someone to show them how."
"Enter us."
"Exactly. We can't even begin to understand their take on the simplest things, because we've never lived their strict lives. You will never know what it's like to be a Princess, and I shall never know the feeling of being a Prince. They are different from us in so many ways." He paused for a moment and switched his gaze back to Bulma. "They are aliens to us. I am a Fewsk and my love is a Doonso, two completely different races. And you are an Earthling while Vegeta is a Saiyan. Again, two different races. Peaceful verses brutal. Humble verses lavish." He shook his head as if he'd been rambling. "The point is we will never be able to know what it's like to be like our mates, feel what they feel, know what they know, understand what they're been through, because it's simply impossible."
"I knew all this before, Furto," Bulma said solemnly, feeling down right callous for blowing up his great discovery. He only smiled.
"Yes," he sighed. "But did you really think about it? Of course Vegeta is a Saiyan, and of course he is a Prince, and a highly respected one, but did you ever stop and think just what makes him do what he does? Or think what he thinks?" Bulma was about to answer when he cut her off. "Think about this: Vegeta walks into a room full of beings he knows. They all look at him, want to greet him, but don't, and continue doing what they were before he entered the room. So he walks to the corner furthest away from the others and sits alone without saying a word…..Did you ever analyze something as simple as that?"
Bulma narrowed her eyebrows in confusion. Furto continued.
"If you had, you might have picked up a pattern with him. Sure he's mean and distant and self-involved, but maybe it's not for all the reasons we might think. He was beaten and held prisoner and forced to commit horrendous crimes. We usually take souls such as Vegeta and write them off as criminal, but could it actually be that his cruelty is only a mask hiding his true emotions that he can't even begin to understand how to express—"
"Until someone shows him how." Furto smiled.
"Exactly." He stood and placed his hand on Bulma's shoulder. "We need to leave our soul mates to themselves with their demons, until they're ready to let us help fight them. Otherwise we can only force the wedge further."
"I know," Bulma said with a heavy sigh. "I've always known not to intrude upon Vegeta's emotions, though usually I corner him selfishly. You're right; I need to learn to understand that not everyone can simply cry when they're hurt or sad. Thanks Furto."
"Your welcome." He went to exit the room, then stopped in the doorway and turned to face her. "You know I've grown to love you, Bulma. I shall never forget the gifts you've given me."
"I love you too, Furto," she laughed happily. "You're one in a million."
****************************************************************
Bulma quietly crept out of the home on her tiptoes, so not to wake anyone. It was well into the night and she found herself unable to sleep. She carefully closed the heavy door behind her and took a deep, full breath of warm night air. Kami she was going to miss these nights.
She found a rather large boulder not far from the entrance and perched herself atop it, taking in as much as she could in the darkness. There was a stick-tree forest to her right, just next to a pond, that she didn't remember ever seeing before. To her left was a path that lead to the technology center she'd visited and several other Fewsk homes. In what little light there was she could make out some more boulders and rocks, and a few puddles in the waxy blue sand. She slipped her plain white tennis shoes off and dug her feet deep into the sand, rather liking its waxy feel and the warmth that was baked in from long hours in the intense sunlight.
Her arms were wrapped protectively around her abdomen, and she smiled despite her horrible mood and tiredness. If nothing else was going her way, at least she had a wonderful little child forming inside of her, two halves of a great love circle. Well, more like a circular love saw with razor sharp teeth.
"You know Vegeta," she said into the night, sliding off her boulder and leaning up against it, "one of these days I'm going to tell you exactly how much grief you've put me through."
"How about tonight?"
Bulma nearly smacked her head against the boulder as she jumped to her feet and searched for the owner of the sudden voice. Her heart raced at an alarming rate, though after only a few seconds of panic she realized the voice belonged to Vegeta and that it was in her mind. Then on closer inspection, she found that the voice hadn't been so faded, and noticed a shadowed figure some ten feet away from her, almost invisible in the thick blanket called night.
"I missed you," she said finally, sitting back on her perch. "What have you been doing?"
"Thinking," he replied, not moving an inch. She had expected him to say training.
"About?" The Andriods, she thought. Training. Getting back to Earth. Becoming Super Saiyan—
"Us." Now he chose to come forward and into the pale light, his clothes seemingly carefully chosen: black dress pants, black dress shoes—which she had no idea he even owned—and a plain white button up dress shirt, the buttons undone halfway. Bulma nearly forgot about the incident the previous day, so inviting was the picture Vegeta presented to her. "I don't want you to fear me," he said, and suddenly swept her up into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. "What I did—"
"What you did saved all our lives," she interrupted, pulling back from his warm embrace. "I would watch it a thousand times over if it meant I could be safe in your arms for the rest of my life." She caught his darting eyes and held them as she continued. "You make me feel as if nothing else can touch me when I'm around you. Just the mere thought of you makes me feel as if nothing can ever go wrong. I've seen people die before, Vegeta. I know death very well, and I've always known of your past in that regards. You have killed millions. You were a murderer before I loved you, and there's no one I'd rather share my life with."
"I AM a murderer, Bulma," he said, not noticing the giddy smile spread across her face; he'd just called her by her name. "I killed six men yesterday—" He pointed almost frantically at the home. "—in front of your eyes without weighing the consequences." He took a deep breath, unsure if he wanted to continue. "You were never supposed to see me like that."
"Oh Vegeta," she laughed, now completely understanding his distance after the Doonso confrontation. He'd been worried about what she would think of him! A great wave of relief passed over her body and she hugged her lover tightly. "I saw you kill before. It was nothing knew to me. On Namek—"
"No," he said sternly, as if scolding a child. "I made a promise to myself after we mated to never subject you to such horrors. I dishonored myself not twenty-four hours later."
"I don't think any less of you because of it," she said. "I've always known who you were, and still I fell in love with you. I don't think there's a thing you can do to change that."
"I want to show you something," he said somberly, holding her out at arms' length.
"Alright." She wasn't quite sure what he was getting at.
"Come here." He sat on the ground right where he was standing and pulled her down gently with him. "Lay down."
"What?"
"Lay down." She arched an eyebrow at him, though did as he requested, settling her head in his lap. He placed his hands on the sides of her head and took a deep breath. "Close your eyes. I'm going to show you how the Princess and myself disposed of the Doonso last night." Another deep breath, more ragged than the first. His hands trembled at her temples. "Tell me when you want me to stop."
She nodded, completely unprepared for the rush of images at bombarded her mind; a tornado of Vegeta's personal memories. She caught a glimpse of Frieza laughing, a fragment of Goku rather roughed up, and a few others she didn't have time to focus on. Finally the images came to a halt, and Vegeta and Jemalin stood looking down at the eight Doonso bodies on the soft blue ground.
"You are a warrior too, correct?" Vegeta asked, not looking up at the Princess that stood beside him.
"Yes," she replied. "What Princess isn't these days?"
He only shrugged.
"What are you suggesting?"
"A Skondos-cun Burial."
Jemalin smiled and looked up at Vegeta. "Exactly what I was thinking."
"Alright. I'll have your wretched brother and those three," he said, pointing to three soldiers.
"My brother? Why?"
"He threatened my mate," he said shortly. "Besides, you got to kill him. I want this."
"Fine. Fair enough."
Then, as if they were savage cave people, Jemalin and Vegeta dropped to their knees, grabbed the first body their hands found, and proceeded to literally rip them apart. First came the unfortunate victim's head, then their arms, then their legs, until soon the two royal warriors were frantically tearing flesh, digging their nails into it, and not caring about sprays and splatters of blood and body fluids. No sacred part seemed to be spared; flesh was ripped, bones were crushed into dust in their bare hands, hair was tore out, and innards were carelessly tossed aside upon disembowelment.
Bulma held her breath as she watched the brutal scene unfold, very aware of the fact that she was lying on a murderer. She was about to open her eyes and demand the images stop, when she realized that the deceased's heads, hands, and—gulp—hearts were placed in three separate piles away from the other bodily "riff-raff".
Vegeta suddenly stopped his frenzied post-death slaughter and looked down at his workmanship. Jemalin noticed this almost immediately, though it seemed she was reluctant to stop snapping her mother's ribs into tiny pieces.
"What?" she asked, her breathing slightly labored, her face speckled with fresh blood. "You think we're done?"
"Can you recognize the bodies?" he laughed. Bulma felt a cold shiver climb her spine; such acidic, cruel laughter. And this was the man she loved?
"I suppose not."
At the same time they turned to the three piles of body parts; Vegeta to the heads, where he plucked out the eyes as if they were grapes in a jell-o mold, and Jemalin to the hands, breaking off any wrists that were still attached.
"Do you need kindling?" Jemalin asked, searching around for dried leaves or sticks.
Vegeta shook his head and reached for a handful of soiled rags, the clothing the Doonso had been wearing. He set the rags on the ground before him and the Princess, then with a small amount of kai, set them ablaze. She turned to him, a gentle smile on her lips, then preceded to recite what Bulma could only describe as a ritualistic chant.
"Into the fire we send the Three Sacreds of the Ignoble Warrior." She collected all sixteen blooded hands and tossed them one by one into the tiny fire. "The Hands, used to kill and never to help, shall not accompany these warriors to their final resting place." Next she took the sixteen juicy eyeballs from Vegeta and dumped them all at once into the fire, saying, "The Eyes, seeing only evil and never beauty, shall not accompany these warriors to their final resting place." She sighed deeply, almost as though she were exhausted, then together she and Vegeta placed the eight plump and dripping hearts into the crackling fire. "And The Hearts, bearers of all your wicked burdens, shall not save your souls, and we leave you barren and full of petty sin on your journey to your final resting place!"
She collapsed into Vegeta's arms upon screaming her final words, completely spent, though thoroughly intoxicated with utter happiness and relief. She was free at last from her mother's bondage and could now live out her life with Furto in peace.
"Do we tell them?" she whispered, picking herself up. Vegeta was all too contented to step away from her.
"Tell who you will," he sighed, then grabbed up the shovels he'd found in Furto's shed, handing one to Jemalin. "But first, we need to bury this junk."
Bulma's eyes shot open and she scrambled to her feet. Vegeta stayed sitting on the ground, though stretched out his legs as they were becoming quite stiff and uncomfortable. She trembled in her spot a few feet away from her mate, not being able to meet his gaze, let alone speak.
Flash of a severed head with no eyes.
"Now do you see what I mean?" he asked. No matter how badly he wanted to cradle her in his arms, he stayed put, knowing full well that she would need time to comprehend what he'd just showed her. And maybe pride played a small role there as well.
"Next time I'll take your word for it," she breathed in a low, shaky voice. It took all her feasible will power to keep from bursting into tears. Her eyes misted but she didn't let them free. How the hell was she supposed to feel after seeing something like that? She grabbed her head suddenly and dropped to her knees, pulling at her hair as if she meant to tear it out; the ghastly images shown to her by Vegeta were now carved into her brain. It was all she could do to keep from screaming like a madwoman.
Vegeta was at her side before she hit the ground, his arms wrapped protectively around her, unsure of how to act when his mate tried so desperately to be free from him. She hissed and clawed and kicked and even bit at him, her energy draining with each hysterical gesture.
With a heavy, painful sigh he realized he had just given his worst fears the perfect window of opportunity. But he'd had to show her.
Moments later she passed out in his arms.
"…I did it for you…"
**********************************************************
Bulma tumbled out of bed and nearly crashed into the wall as she made her way to find Furto. All through the night her dreams would not shield her from the horrors her so-called lover had shown her; crushed skulls, chunks of dripping flesh, a hand, a foot, an ear, and her Vegeta, grunting and clawing at these defenseless bodies, his face a cold, heartless mask of rage and determination.
"Furto! Furto, open the door!" she cried, turning the locked handle frantically, her entire body shaking violently. "Furto," she whimpered. She sunk to her knees, her fingers still clutching the doorknob, and vomited.
"Bulma!" Furto wrapped his arms around her toppled over body and pulled her into his room. "What's happened?" He shook his head and cradled her in his lap, which may have looked odd if anyone happened to enter the room at that moment, Bulma being much bigger and all. "Are you alright, Miss? Are you ill? Here." He handed her a clothe from his robe pocket. "Wipe your mouth."
A good ten minutes passed before Bulma was calm enough to keep her breathing at normal. She was still shaky and nauseous, though she kept the bile down in her empty stomach and just tried to breath.
"What if he snaps and kills me and my baby?" she suddenly whispered, wiping furiously at her eyes and nose with her sweater sleeve. She still wore the blue sundress from the day before, but didn't remember putting a sweater on, and hated the way her knobby knees stuck out. Her sickness had really taken a toll on her physically, and quite possibly mentally as well.
Furto didn't need to ask who or what she meant, though it seemed the thought had come out of nowhere. If he was going to help her, he needed some answers.
"What happened last night?" he ventured, his arms still securely around her.
But it was no use. When she thought her voice was stable enough to speak, she found her nerve was shot and reverted back to violent shudders and vomiting. For a moment Furto feared she was having a seizure, though when she hoarsely squeezed out, "Skondos-cun," he understood completely.
Right before she lost consciousness he'd managed to get her safely into bed. When he was sure she was out cold, he burst into tears and collapsed on the floor.
*********************************************************
"What are we going to do!" Jemalin demanded, shoving Vegeta back a few steps. If she hadn't been so distraught he would have threatened her. "Furto knows! Bulma knows! You fucking showed her what we did! How can we live with them when they fear us?" She was now to tears and barely able to stand on her own. The love she had for Furto coursed through her entire being. "Why did you show her?" she sobbed. She picked up a rock and threw it back down in frustration.
"You agreed with me two days ago," Vegeta spat remorselessly. "You smiled and nodded and did just as much as I."
"But you didn't have to—"
"I told her because I needed to tell her! I could not live with myself if she didn't know the truth about me, that I can still kill and would in the blink of an eye to save her! I won't have her live in fear, but I sure as hell won't let her live a lie!" He gave an exasperated sigh. "Did you honestly think they wouldn't find out? We walked into that fucking room covered in Doonso blood from head to toe! They're not blind and they're not stupid, Princess."
"Then what do we do?" she sighed. "I went to Furto's room this morning and he would barely open the door a crack, let alone utter two words. Bulma was in there with him. She told him and now he's terrified of me. I can't face him anymore. We were barbaric with our passion two days ago. How can you just stand there and think everything will be fine? Don't you want her to feel safe with you? Don't you want her to love you without regret!?"
"Of course I do!" he snapped. "But I can't change who I am for her just because of that. It's not possible—"
"No, Vegeta. You WON'T change for her. There's a difference." She stepped forward boldly and caught his shifting eyes. "She needed to see those images because you needed her to know that you aren't going to change, even for her, and that's why she's so scared." She turned sharply on her heels and went to go inside, though paused at the door and said, "You lost her already, Vegeta. And there's no one left to blame."
"You're wrong!" he cried, but she was already gone. "You're wrong! I did it…I did it because…because I love her…" He plopped down unceremoniously in the sand. "…but I don't know how…"
Angrily he snatched up a large rock and crushed it to dust in his palm, letting loose a string of foreign curses.
"And I hate her for it."
***********************************************************
"So this is how it's going to be forever, huh?" Bulma hummed, stirring her tea in its brightly painted wooden mug. She was beyond exhausted and emotionally drained; the nightmares hadn't left her alone that night either, and she found it increasingly difficult to think about Vegeta without cringing. Luckily he hadn't tried approaching her since their last encounter. In fact, he hadn't been around at all.
"What do you mean?" Furto asked, his own mug left abandoned on the kitchen table they sat at. Bulma liked this room best of all the rooms in Furto's home—well, the library was tied—for it made her feel completely at home and comforted, as if her mother were behind her cooking at the stove and humming her annoying little songs.
"Me and Vegeta," she sighed. She took a sip of the tea, not sure if it was more minty or more spicy. Either way, she liked it. "We're never going to be good. It's always going to be rocky. We'll get a little sunshine, bask in it for maybe, oh, five seconds, and then he'll open his big arrogant mouth or kill a few dozen people!"
"You can't expect him to change completely for your sake, Bulma. How many years has he been living his life according to his rules? He's only just begun to learn yours and they're confusing to him. There are no rules for love in the Saiyan world. He's making them up as he goes along. He doesn't understand basic human regulations and he certainly doesn't understand sympathy. Look." He reached over and took Bulma's hand. "You watched him kill those men and you didn't bat an eyelash. You were happy they were gone and that Vegeta had protected you. What he did to those bodies was after they were dead. They don't know what he did to them. They—"
"Then I assume you're completely fine with Jemalin's hand in the burial process."
Furto's face paled. Of course he wasn't.
"As I thought. I have every right to be iffy about a man who ripped dead bodies to shreds with his bare hands. And you don't even know the half of it. I saw the smile on his face, saw his enjoyment. He loves to kill, Furto! Loves it! How can he share his heart with me when it harbors such destructive passions?"
"When was the last time he killed? Besides on Fewskm."
"Geranoma," she spat, startling him. He let go of her hand.
"Fine. Besides on your trip."
"Namek."
"And how long ago was that?"
"I don't know. What are you getting at?"
"The two times he killed since Namek were both to save your life."
"That's not what I'm concerned about, Furto!" she yelled, slapping her hands on the table. "I know he'll kill again, and again, and—Kami, what have I gotten myself into?" She shook her head. "I know he'll kill again," she sighed, "but what bothers me most is that he enjoys it. How can I live with a man like that? How can I raise our child with a father like him? How can I put our lives in danger?"
"Do you truly believe he would harm you or your child?"
She didn't answer.
"I think it's best that you seek him out and discuss this. Otherwise you will never be happy," he said, standing from the table. "He willingly showed you a side of himself that he would have rather left dead and buried. Think about that."
"And what about you and Jemalin?"
"Where do you think I'm headed?" He gave her a genuine smile, then left the room.
The next move was hers.
*************************************************************
Bulma sat at the entrance of the ship, her knees drawn to her chest, head bowed, eyes sore from excessive crying. She'd been sitting on that uncomfortable ramp for over an hour now, her rear end beginning to feel the effects. Several times she'd stood, raised her hand, touché the first button to the code on the keypad, only to sit right back down and burst into a whole new wave of tears.
She knew Vegeta could sense her presence, and he was wise to allow her time. But as the minutes ticked by, she wasn't so sure her resolve was intact anymore.
Suddenly the door opened and Vegeta stood looming above her, his face an unreadable mask. She tried not to look into his eyes, and her body gave way to an uncontrollable shudder.
"Come in before you lose your nerve completely," he said, then turned and walked out of view. She knew he was headed for his room, and also that his actions had been for her sake; he wasn't ready yet to deal with what had occurred.
Bulma stood and walked slowly into the kitchen, her body shaking all over, palms almost dripping with sweat. She wanted to scold herself for being so afraid, but wasn't she entitled to it, just this once, after being so brave and carefree for so long? Of course she knew in the back of her mind that Vegeta would befriend Goku before he let a hair on her head get disturbed, but her motherly instincts had taken over.
Finally she reached Vegeta's open door and peered in. He sat calm and collected, Indian style, on his bed. His eyes were open and starring ahead at the black wall, though she knew he had been watching the doorway intently just seconds before.
She took one last heroic breath before entering his room. He didn't look up at her right away, but when he did, his face devoid of all arrogance, her heart melted and she charged into his arms. Who was she kidding? There was no place in the universe safer than Vegeta's arms.
Her actions were almost too quick for him to react, and completely unexpected. He thought for sure that she would want to talk at a distance in a love unsteady voice, then go back to her solitude, leaving them both emotionally confused and unsatisfied. Instead, she'd abandoned all logical fear and apprehension—which he left she was completely entitled to—and rushed into his arms, burying her face in his bare chest. He was so bewildered by her change in mood that he almost didn't hear her speak.
"I'm so sorry," she whimpered, to his complete surprise. What had she to be sorry about? It was he who should be— "I should never have doubted you for a second. You love me, I know you do. You tell me with every breath in your body, because there's no way a love as strong as mine could live unreturned. You wouldn't do all you've done for me if you didn't."
"I wouldn't put up with you if I didn't," he whispered, but in her sobs, his voice was unheard. Oh well, she didn't need to hear it from him; the genius had figured it out on her own.
"I know that you would never hurt me," she continued, her voice choked with sobs. "Or our baby. It's not possible. I don't know what I was thinking before. I was being stupid and rash. I'm more safe with you than I am with myself."
"Of course," Vegeta scoffed, bringing a genuine smile to Bulma's lips. She sighed into his chest. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed him until now. "You know I did what I did…"
"For me." She lifted her head and looked unbridled into his deep onyx eyes. "I know. You do everything for me."
He stiffened in her embrace.
"What?"
"It was—" He swallowed hard. "—wrong of me to show you what I did."
"No. I understand why you did, though I don't pretend to know how your warrior's mind works. And I never will. You possess passions that I couldn't possibly grasp." She leaned up and kissed the under side of his chin. "I don't need closure on this Vegeta. Just holding you is enough for me."
"No questions?" He was beyond baffled. And strangely unsure if that was a good thing or not.
"Nope."
"Woman," he sighed. "You never cease to amaze me."
"Perfect," she laughed, the natural feeling of happiness flooding her veins. "It's good to know that this fire will never go out."
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---Chapter 32!!! I'm really cruising here, huh? :P See? The drama wasn't so bad. I mean, who wouldn't be scared? Well, me, 'cause Vegeta's too sexy to run from. Ok! Fine! The story is a complete flop! I hate my life! Kill me now! LOL! Yeah right, my story rocks and you know it, heehee. And you should tell me how much it rocks :D Sorry if it was a bit too angsty though, but their recent problem was something that had to be dealt with. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and I'm the Queen of Sooner :P
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)
Next time: Yes, there is a next time (of course), but I haven't the faintest idea of what's going to happen.
Note: Blarg! My beta-read didn't revise this chapter either. *grumble grumble*