Last Day
Vegeta woke before dawn as usual even though he only managed to get to sleep two hours earlier. He yawned and rolled onto his back. He felt the need to be grateful for every single comfort he had at the compound. The softness of his bed, the privacy of his room, the hot water for his showers (or baths), the endless supply of food, the acceptance from the Briefs, even the carpet that tickled his bare feet. He could relax and not worry about being attacked, and when he made a mistake he wasn't beaten to within an inch of his life. He didn't have to kill anyone without honor, and his worst humiliation was being subjected to the human educational system. He could train on his own and never had to listen to the taunting of stronger warriors. All in all, life was pretty good on the mudball. He didn't want to leave.
He got out of bed for the last time and put on shorts and a t-shirt for his morning training. He went downstairs and strolled through the halls, noticing for the first time the simple decorations, photographs on the wall, and clean smell on his way to the indoor garden. He closed the door behind him and breathed in the odors of animals and nature. The trickling water calmed his mind as he moved through the trees to his regular training spot.
As he started his kata he felt an abnormal lack of motivation. After only a few minutes he landed on the ground and raked his fingers through his hair. He didn't care about training. What could he really gain in one hour? It wasn't worth it. He walked out of the forest, petting the dogs, cats, and squirrels that approached him as he went. He left the garden and wandered through the halls for a while before going upstairs. Vegeta stopped when he reached the door to Bulma's room. The stupid girl. The reason he came to stay at Capsule Corporation in the first place. He opened the door and went inside quietly.
Vegeta padded over to the side of her bed and watched her sleep. She was twisted up in her covers and her hair – the first thing about her that he ever noticed – was splayed out on her pillow. Her arms were spread and her head turned to the side. A dribble of saliva was trickling from the corner of her mouth, ending in a growing wet spot on her pillowcase. He smirked. Stupid, stupid girl. His most precious pack mate. He sat on the edge of the bed and tangled his fingers in her silky strands of hair.
'I don't want to leave you.' The thought entered his mind before he could stop it. He could never stop the truth.
He jerked his hand away from her when she stirred in her sleep. He thought he heard her murmur his name, but he couldn't be sure. He stood up and practically ran out of her room. He was revolted by his own sentimentality. He had to break himself free of his attachments. They would tear him apart inside when he left if he didn't. He had to be cold-hearted, emotionless, and detached. They would get him killed if he tried to hold onto them.
Vegeta went to his own room to take a long, hot bath. He filled his bathtub before easing into the steaming hot water. All the tension in his body melted away as he relaxed and allowed himself to sink deeper into the soothing water. He cleared away all thoughts from his mind, not to meditate, but to disengage the foolish emotions warring inside.
He didn't know how much time had passed when he let thoughts invade his conscious again, but the water was lukewarm and he could hear the telltale sounds of the Briefs going about the daily rituals. Pots and pans were clattering in the kitchen downstairs and there was the muted thumping of dresser drawers slamming shut in the room next to his. He got out of the bath and dried himself with a fluffy white towel. He paid close attention to how every gentle fiber lightly caressed his skin.
'I don't want to leave.' He dismissed the thought as soon as it crossed his mind.
"Vegeta, honey, are you in there?" he heard the sing-song voice call to him from the hall. "Breakfast is ready."
The saiyan grabbed a t-shirt and jeans from his dresser and got dressed. He noticed that his pants were getting short. Even when he was standing they barely covered his ankles. He was still growing. There was no time to think about that now. He went downstairs to the kitchen and stood in the doorway when he saw the Briefs all seated at the table. Mrs. Brief was serving breakfast, Dr. Brief was reading his newspaper, and Bulma was struggling to stay awake in her chair. It was a wonderful, familiar scene, but it cut him deeply to see it played out without him taking part. As it would every day from there on out. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the air spiced with the sweetness of French toast, warm maple syrup, and freshly cut strawberries sprinkled with powdered sugar.
'I can't do this.'
Vegeta slowly walked to his usual seat and sat down. The cushion on his chair wasn't as comfortable as it used to be. Previous to his stay, no one ever occupied his chair. It was yet another reminder of the time he'd spent with the Briefs. The cushion used to be thick and squishy, but now it was flattened and had much less bounce to it. He wiggled a little to get comfortable as he had taken to doing at every meal held in the Capsule Corporation kitchen.
He knew he should eat as much as he could. This would be the last day he would have meals with plentiful portions of nourishing food. But he had no appetite. There was a tightness in his chest and his stomach felt like it was twisting and turning. He stared at his plate of food. It was so wonderful, so delicious, but he couldn't bring himself to indulge in it. He watched the maple syrup dripping slowly off the edge of the top piece of toast, forming a sticky puddle on the plate.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Time seemed to pass in slow motion. Though his eyes were locked on the meal in front of him, he could feel the gaze of each of the Briefs on him. It was undoubtedly the first time they had seen him come to the table and not dig into his food as soon as the meal started. As he usually ate with such voracity, they were concerned by his behavior. He refused to acknowledge their concern even if it wasn't voiced outright. He had nothing to say. He was so upset he couldn't eat. He wasn't hungry. His shoulders slumped forward.
"Sweetie, aren't you going to eat? You'll need plenty of energy for school today," Mrs. Brief said. She smiled and nodded encouragingly to Vegeta.
The saiyan picked up his fork and poked at his French toast with an obvious lack of enthusiasm. His stomach seemed to turn more violently at the idea of putting anything into it. He swallowed back the rising bile in his throat. He shook his head slowly and dropped his fork, not having taken one bite. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood up.
"Not hungry," he mumbled as he trudged out of the kitchen.
Vegeta went to his room and sat in the chair at his desk. He picked up his scouter and turned it over in his hands. He would have to let the nearest base planet know that he would be on his way. He would wait to send the message until right before he left. Then they would contact the team sent to get him and they would turn back and be assigned a different mission. That would keep the mudball safe. No use putting it in danger by having any of Frieza's men coming and noting that it might be worth purging. It was a nice enough planet. The natives were worthless, but the planet itself had many natural resources and it was pleasant to look at. Probably it could get a moderate profit in the planet trade.
He set aside the scouter for later and rapped his fingers against the desk. He couldn't decide if he wanted to spend more or less time with the Briefs. It would hurt him more if he spent extra time with them, but it would also hurt them more if he left after avoiding them. He sighed. Either way someone was going to be hurt because of his abrupt departure from Earth. Why not put all the pain on himself? After all, he was the one accustomed to pain. He was the one who always shouldered the responsibility.
Vegeta raked his hand through his mane and scratched the back of his neck. He closed his eyes for a moment before standing and going downstairs. The elder Briefs were still in the kitchen. He halted in front of the door and braced himself against the doorframe. He could go in, but Mrs. Brief would probably try to get him to eat. His stomach felt upset when he thought about food. He shook his head and took a step back from the door. He was still undecided on what to do when the door opened and Dr. Brief came out of the kitchen with his newspaper tucked under his arm.
"Oh, hello there Vegeta," he said. He stopped in his tracks and stuffed his hand in his pocket.
The saiyan took another uneasy step back. "What?"
Dr. Brief rocked forward on the balls of his feet and back on his heels. He gave a shrug and waited for Vegeta to speak for himself.
Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest and averted his eyes. "I'm leaving."
"Where will you go?"
"Back," Vegeta whispered. "Back to where I came from."
"Son, I don't think that's a good idea. Why don't you just stay here with us?"
Vegeta winced at the familial term the old man sometimes used with him. It hurt him even more to know they considered him one of them. He almost blurted out that he wanted to stay with them, but in order to protect them and himself he had to go.
"I can't stay," he said. "I have to go back. If I don't…"
Dr. Brief dipped his head in a half nod. He understood the boy felt obligated to go home, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea that Vegeta would willingly subject himself to further abuse when he and his family had opened their home to him. They were more than able to provide for him, and they were perfectly willing to do so. They had grown to care for him on a deep level. The old doctor's heart felt like it was being crushed. He honestly did feel like he was losing a son. But far be it from him to ever stop Vegeta from doing what he thought he had to do.
"When will you be going?" Dr. Brief's voice cracked.
"Tonight."
"Are you going to tell the others?" The scientist asked, gesturing with his head to the kitchen behind him. They could hear Mrs. Brief humming through the door as she washed the dishes.
Vegeta swallowed the lump building in his throat and nodded slowly. He didn't dare speak. He was afraid his voice would quiver and reveal his feelings. The feelings he was trying desperately to bury underneath stoicism. His fists clenched at his sides until his knuckles turned white.
Dr. Brief moved closer to Vegeta and rested his right hand on the boy's head. He gave him a sad smile. "Then do what you must, son. Just remember you will always be welcome here if you ever decide to come back."
'I want to stay.'
"Thank you, sir." Vegeta bowed his head respectfully and turned when he heard Bulma running toward him with her backpack bouncing with each stride. She slowed down when she saw him and her father standing together.
Dr. Brief patted Vegeta's shoulder and shuffled away to his laboratory. He knew better than to stick around when Vegeta broke the news to Bulma. She would throw a fit, sure, but he was more worried about Vegeta wanting to tell her in private. He pulled a handkerchief from his lab coat pocket and dabbed at his eyes. He would miss that boy.
Bulma walked the last few steps toward Vegeta. He seemed more interested in studying the texture of the carpet than acknowledging her as she approached. She reached out and lightly touched his arm. Her slender fingers felt cool and gentle on his skin. "Hey, Veggie, what's up? Are you feeling ok?"
Vegeta shrugged one shoulder and lifted his chin to meet her gaze. He was struck by the depth of her azure eyes. They were like the purest pools of cool water on a still day. Inviting, comforting. He was unable to maintain eye contact for long. "I'm fine, girl."
"You sure?"
"Do you really care?" he asked sincerely.
"Course I do, Veggie. I wouldn't ask if I didn't."
He exhaled slowly through his nose and started for the door. No use making her late for school. She hadn't had a single tardy since he was enrolled, but if he remembered from earlier that year she had quite a bit of difficulty making it to school on time on her own. She walked next to him, but her eyes were fixed on him, looking for even the slightest display of emotion.
"I have to leave."
'I don't want to though.'
"You say that a lot, Veggie."
He shook his head and turned his eyes to her. "I'm leaving tonight."
"W-what? Tonight?" Bulma felt a surge of panic explode in her chest. She shook her head furiously, refusing to believe what he said. "No. No, Veggie, you can't go. Not yet."
"I have to," he snapped.
"No! No you don't!" Bulma choked on a sob and hid her face in her hands. She didn't care if she tripped and fell because she couldn't see where she was going, she wasn't going to let him see her tears.
Vegeta didn't have to see them to know they were there. He could smell the salty tears before they started falling. It made the tightness in his chest clench tighter. He gasped for air. He felt like he couldn't get any oxygen into his lungs. He was being crushed by some invisible force.
"You can't go, Veggie," Bulma whispered, "You're my only friend. I need you."
Her words felt like a physical blow to Vegeta. They stung as they seeped through his mind. "Stupid girl," he grumbled. His tail uncurled from his waist and wrapped around her.
Bulma gasped when she felt the furry appendage around her waist. He never allowed her to touch it before, much less have it wrapped protectively around her. The corners of her lips turned up, though her tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. By the time they reached their school her face was red and blotchy and she was continuously wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. She laughed at herself humorlessly. How embarrassing to be seen crying in public.
They went to the second floor to their lockers to get their books, then went back downstairs to their algebra room for homeroom. Bulma was sniffling every few seconds by the time they reached their seats. At first the noise irritated Vegeta, but after a while he was oddly flattered by it. She was crying for him, crying because he was leaving. It was the only time he had ever known someone to be truly distressed when he was going. Most people in the universe would cry if they knew he was coming. He listened to each sniffle with new appreciation for the girl and her air-headed parents. They were insane, but they were his pack. He cared for them in a way he never cared for anyone other than his own parents before he was taken away from them.
'I want to be with them.'
Vegeta wrapped his tail around her waist again when he heard her quiet hiccup as she tried to hold back another sob. He knew no other way to console her. As his tail tightened around her he was amazed by how frail her tiny body was. She felt as if there was no muscle on her bones at all. No wonder she was so weak. He was filled with an instinctual need to protect her. He needed to be with her. He had to stay with her and make sure no harm ever came to her. Pathetic girl, she was so helpless. Unfortunately, she could easily end up dead if he didn't leave. He had no choice. He had to go.
'I don't want to go.'
Bulma didn't talk much through class. Vegeta would occasionally feel her take a particularly deep breath by the expansion of her chest. This was followed by a long, shaky exhalation and a sniffle. He tried to reassure himself that she would get over it soon and easily. She was one of the most resilient people he had ever met. She was depressed now, but surely in a few days she would be fine. He hoped so, at least.
When the bell rang, Vegeta packed up his materials in his backpack and stood up. Bulma was slower to get up when she felt his tail gently tugging her to stand. She wiped her nose with her sleeve, an act that would normally disgust Vegeta. Today, though, her childish behavior was tearing him to pieces. He pulled her close to him with his tail and led her from the classroom. In the hall they were surrounded by students bustling around to get to their next class. Despite the volume of the noise of lockers slamming shut, people talking, laughing, and shouting, footsteps on the tile floor, books being dropped, zippers of backpacks, and rustling papers, the only sound Vegeta really heard was the shallow panting of the blue-haired girl.
"Idiot girl," he grumbled, not unkindly. "You knew it would happen eventually."
She looked at him with a brokenness he hadn't faced since his days of killing. How many times had he seen that same expression of despair, grief, and helplessness when he killed a person's loved ones? Had he not been trained to hide his own emotions he would have worn the same expression too often. Her puffy, cerulean eyes glistened with unshed tears.
"I didn't want to believe it."
Vegeta frowned and shrugged one shoulder. He'd given her fair warning. There wasn't much he could do if she simply chose not to believe him. His tail unwrapped from her waist and coiled snugly around his own. "Go to class, girl."
He saw her nostrils flare as she inhaled deeply through her nose. No doubt fighting another bout of sobbing. He was sure by now she was out of tears to shed. Her face was streaked with the salty remains of them. He could still smell them and it made his heart ache. How could he abandon this fragile little creature? More importantly, why did he care? How did she worm herself so deeply into his life? He'd never cared about weaklings before. They were abhorrent to him. Disgraces. He saw them as unworthy of living. Why, why, why then did he care so much about this one?
When her bottom lip started trembling he turned on his heel and stalked to his next class. He had to get away from her. He couldn't stand to see her like this. He heard her choke out his name, but he had already blended into the thinning crowd of humans. He hurried to class and sank into his seat. Literature passed slowly for him. His mind was not on his studies, but on the conversation he would eventually have to have with Mrs. Brief that evening. He couldn't leave without telling her he was going. But how was he to tell her that he was walking out of the compound never to return? He dreaded telling her more than he did telling Dr. Brief or even Bulma. They were strong people. Mrs. Brief was so soft, so easily hurt. He couldn't bear to do that to her, but he had to. After a while he shook thoughts of the blonde woman out of his head. He would worry about that later, when the time came to tell her.
Purely to distract himself from his upcoming voyage, Vegeta pulled his notebook out of his backpack and started copying the literary terms Mrs. McGuire was writing on the board. The class period seemed to pass even slower now that he was listening to the lecture. Mrs. McGuire's words were sometimes hard to understand and when she couldn't think of the next word she would pause midsentence, raise her hands in the air and wiggle her fingers while thinking of the word she wanted, fill it in, and continue as if there had never been a break in her speech. Her disjointed sentences irritated Vegeta, but at least wondering how far past her expiration date as a teacher she was kept his thoughts from returning to Bulma and her parents.
Unfortunately, the senility of his literature teacher could only captivate the saiyan's attention for a few minutes. After that, he figured his best method to avoid thinking of the Briefs, Frieza, and a little saiyan boy was to meditate. It took him longer than usual to clear his mind, but eventually he managed. He sank so deep into his meditative state that he didn't notice the bell ringing, marking the end of class. The noise of chairs screeching as they slid across the tile floor and the loud voices of students coming in from the hall was what finally broke his trance.
Vegeta stuffed his notebook in his backpack and rushed out the door to get to his next class on time. He barely made it into the science classroom before the bell rang again. He collapsed in his chair next to Bulma and scooted it a few inches farther away from her. Had he not hurried he would have been late, which would have earned a verbal reprimand from Ms. Beketov. He shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. It made no difference. He was surprised that Bulma didn't say anything to him when he came in. Her silence was more unnerving than her crying. He didn't know how to explain it. Had she already forgotten him?
Well, if she wasn't going to say anything, then he wasn't either. It was safer to distance himself. He propped his elbow on the desk and rested his cheek in his hand. He wondered what was going on in the girl's mind. Was she actually paying attention to the lecture? He doubted that. Was she thinking about him? About him leaving? Probably.
"I can't believe you won't even stay long enough for my birthday," Bulma hissed. Vegeta turned his head slightly to see her better. She wasn't facing him and her hands were clenched into fists in her lap. She was angry? Why?
"I don't have a choice."
She finally turned to him, eyes burning with fury. "Yes you do. You don't have to go at all!"
He scoffed and faced the front of the room. "Stupid girl, I've told you a thousand times that I have to go back."
"Why now?"
"It is better for me to leave as soon as possible."
"It's not fair!"
"I know."
"What am I supposed to do without you?"
"Same as you did before I came."
Bulma was not satisfied. He had no idea what it was like for her at school before he came into her life. He didn't know how much harder it was to get through the day without getting into some sort of verbal scuffle with other students. He didn't know how much people were leaving her alone because of him. He was like a shield for her. He was her protector. She needed him. She would return to the loneliness she dealt with every day if he went away. She resented him for going, especially on such short notice. She had no time to prepare herself for his leave.
"I don't want you to go."
'Neither do I.'
Vegeta didn't answer her. What could he say to make it better? Surely she knew he had no real desire to go back to his old life. She had seen glimpses of how much he hated it over the past few months. Who would willingly leave comfort for that? He wasn't leaving so soon to hurt her. He was leaving sooner to hurt her less. Less time with her meant less attachment. Neither said another word for the rest of the class period.
Vegeta trudged to his next class, parting ways with Bulma when he reached his history classroom. He grunted when she gave her usual goodbye. Of course it was less cheerful than usual, but that could only be expected given the circumstances. He went in and took his seat. He rested his forehead on his desk and covered his head with his hands, fingers weaved together. His nose wrinkled as he smelled the myriad scents lingering on the desk from anyone who had sat there or brushed their hands against it. Most of the scents were faded, but to him they were easily noticeable. Disgusting humans. He wasn't fond of their individual scents, for the most part. Actually, the only humans whose scents he could say he liked in any way were the Briefs.
He tuned out the voice of his teacher as she began her lecture. His mind was jumping from one thought to another almost too fast for him to keep up. Memories of Frieza flashed, then images of the Briefs, then the saiyan child whose pod was either his salvation or demise. He thought of how Nappa and Raditz were depending on him to return. He imagined the severity of his unfair punishment. He could hear the laughter of the lizard and his minions as they mocked him. He could almost feel the ki whip lashing into his skin, shredding his muscles, breaking down his pride. And he could smell blood. His own blood, poured out from his broken body. He gagged.
"Vegeta? Are you sick? Do you need to go to the nurse?"
The saiyan opened his eyes and raised his head. He saw Mrs. Bonilla looking at him with concern. He felt a trickle of sweat run down from his temple to his chin. He shook his head, which only made him dizzy. 'What is wrong with me?' He looked down at his hands, now folded on the desk and trembling. His skin was a sickly pallor. He swallowed with difficulty, his dry tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.
"Just go to the nurse if you don't feel well," Mrs. Bonilla said. She went back to lecturing and the attention of the other students shifted from him to the board where she was writing the timeline of the next unit of world history.
Vegeta heard his pulse throbbing in his ears and his breathing quickened. Maybe he wasn't fine. He sneered at his own weakness. Of course he was fine! He was just experiencing the adverse effects of skipping breakfast. Right? He clutched his head when he heard the hideous cackle of the lizard echoing through his mind. He groaned and banged his forehead against his desk. The loud crack drew attention back to him.
Mrs. Bonilla rushed to his desk and laid her hand on his back as she knelt down next to him. He growled at her touch. "Vegeta, go to the nurse. It's ok, I'll excuse you from class. Do you need help getting there?"
"No." Vegeta sat back in his chair and groaned again when he couldn't focus his vision. He stood up, but his knees buckled under his weight and he crumpled on the floor. Loud whispering broke out through the class, but he hardly noticed. All he could hear was his blood rushing and Frieza's laughter. He felt himself being pushed onto his back. His eyes closed and all he could see was bright red. He felt an overwhelming sense of dread closing in on him. His heart raced.
"Lie down, Vegeta," Mrs. Bonilla said. Her voice was strangely distant and muffled. "I'll call the nurse to come get you."
He felt cold. Sweat was breaking out all over his body and he was on his back on a frigid tile floor. He didn't want to go see the nurse. He wasn't sick. He was hungry, and maybe a little stressed. Nothing to worry about. He draped his left arm over his eyes. The bright red turned black as the fluorescent lights were blocked out. He heard a loud voice over the intercom. Mrs. Bonilla said something, but by then her words were so slurred together he couldn't understand them. He tried to take a deep breath but it hitched in his throat.
What could have been minutes or hours later Vegeta felt someone's cool hand pressed against his forehead. He moved his arm and squinted to see who was there. A woman with graying brown hair and crow's feet around her eyes. He didn't immediately recognize her. He wasn't given a chance to demand she identify herself before she was hauling him up to his feet. She put her arm around him and helped him stumble out of the classroom. Before long he had put much of his weight on her as they walked.
He saw the tile moving below him as he fought to put one foot solidly in front of the other as they journeyed down the hall of the school to the nurse's office. They stopped in front of a door, which she opened. He winced as the bottom hinge squeaked miserably. She guided him into the office that had a dingy orange carpet. The room smelled of sweat, blood, and the rancid odor of stale vomit. No human could smell these things, but it made Vegeta recoil in disgust as soon as he stepped into it.
"Now Vegeta," the nurse said, "Take it easy. You can sit here." She took him over to a sort of bed similar to the one he sat on at the doctor's office. It was ugly brown vinyl and there was a tear in it on the side revealing spongy material that looked as though countless fingernails had picked at it over the years.
Vegeta heaved himself onto the sepia bed and laid on his side facing the wall. His tail tightened around his waist until he was nearly squeezing out his own breath. He clamped his eyes shut and held his head in his hands. The feeling of doom was subsiding as his mind cleared. How had he lost control so badly?
"How are you feeling?" the nurse asked. She laid a damp cloth on his forehead and soothingly rubbed his back. She could see that his skin was darker than when she first saw him and his breathing was more even.
"Fine."
"Do you want me to call your parents?"
Vegeta shook his head slowly to avoid dizzying himself again. "No."
"Alright. If you need anything give me a holler. I'd like you to stay here a while until you're up to speed." The nurse left her charge in the small room. The lights were dim and the air was warm, much to his relief. His head was throbbing and he was plagued with chills.
His mind drifted in and out of hazy thoughts. His memories were disjointed and incomplete as they continued to flash through his mind. He saw Bulma holding her hand out to him the first time they met. He saw Zarbon drawing his fist back to deliver a punch during a 'training' session. He heard Mrs. Brief humming to herself as she paced around the kitchen preparing an enormous meal to satisfy his appetite. Underneath it all he could still hear the echoing cackles of Frieza.
'I don't want to go.' All other thoughts faded as this one, the one he had been shoving from his mind all day, rose again and refused to be dismissed anymore. He had to come face to face with it. He wanted to stay on Earth. He wanted to live with the Briefs and have a happy, peaceful life like the saiyan boy he saw. He wanted to be free of Frieza's rule. Revenge be damned, he wanted a real life, one lived for the sake of living, not killing. He heard the bell ring. He didn't move. He was thinking about how upset Bulma had been in science. She was upset that he was leaving. Was that a bad thing?
Of course it was. He felt himself dying inside when he saw her anguish.
What was worse? Being attached to her, or her being attached to him?
He pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed and took a few deep breaths before sliding to his feet. His legs were considerably less shaky than before, so he crossed the room and slipped out the door. The halls were filled with students rushing from one class to the next. He had no desire to get caught up in the current, so he stood next to the wall waiting for the larger part of the crowd to disperse into classrooms before he dragged himself to his art class. He took a few steps, but when his balance faltered and he nearly crashed to the floor, he decided it might be better to stay in the nurse's office until he was feeling better. He sighed, embarrassed by his own weakness, and dragged himself into the office and rested on the ugly brown bed all the way through the next period.
At lunch Bulma sat down at an empty table and took her lunch capsule out of her backpack. When she opened it she realized why Vegeta hadn't eaten any breakfast. The idea of eating was not appealing. Her stomach twisted and she felt as though she might be sick. She capsulated her lunch and rested her head in her arms on the table. It was a few more minutes before she saw Vegeta sit down across from her. He dropped his backpack on the floor next to his seat and mimicked her position with his head on his arms.
"Aren't you going to eat, Veggie?" she asked.
"No." The smells of food hanging in the air were enough to make him nauseous even without having it in front of him, ready to be eaten. He was hungry. His stomach even growled, but bile rose in his throat if he so much as contemplated feeding it. No, he definitely wasn't going to eat anything. So what if it was the last day he could expect to receive a full, nourishing meal for over a year? He was afraid that if he managed to choke anything down it would come up with a vengeance.
Again they sat in silence. They had nothing more to say to each other. They heard the loud noise of dozens of lively conversations going on around them, but they had no interest in having one of their own. Not anymore. Bulma, for once in her life, was left without words. Her best friend, her only friend was leaving her and maybe never coming back. He didn't even seem to care that he was leaving her on her own. The bell rang and the students started to file out of the cafeteria.
"I'll see you in gym," Bulma mumbled as she slung her backpack over her shoulders.
"Hn."
He saw her again in gym class two periods later. After changing in the locker room, Bulma found Vegeta leaning against the wall in the gym and approached him. He seemed more closed off than usual despite being in the same arms-crossed position with stoic expression he always assumed. She nudged him with her shoulder when she leaned against the wall next to him.
"How about if you stay until my birthday then I won't try to stop you?"
He snorted and raised his eyes to the ceiling. "No, girl. I'm leaving tonight."
"Can't you at least wait until after the banquet?"
"No."
"At least stay for the weekend."
"No."
"But Vegeta…"
"I'm leaving tonight."
"I almost think you want to go."
"Stupid girl."
He pushed off from the wall when the gym teachers walked in. They would take attendance and then tell them what they were going to do that day. Vegeta went to the side of the gym where the boys gathered while Bulma went to where the girls were.
"Alright people, we're going to be playing dodgeball today. You know the rules," Mr. Lee shouted above the chattering of students.
Another brilliant waste of time. Vegeta stood to the side of the gym, not at all interested in participating in the foolish game. Besides, the last time he tried playing he knocked a boy out with a foam ball. Pathetic, weak humans. Even if the game weren't so stupid he couldn't play at a level that would be entertaining for him because he would inadvertently hurt someone. Bulma was on the other side of the gym, having been put on the other team by Mrs. Boracci. She leaned against the back wall, ignoring the shouts of her teammates and the teachers who insisted she at least try to play.
A foam ball rolled past Vegeta's feet. He bent over and picked it up. He tossed the ball as lightly as he could toward Bulma. It struck her leg and harmlessly bounced off and rolled away. She hadn't even seen who threw the ball. She moved over to the side of the gym where the students who were out sat on the first row of bleachers to wait for the next round or a 'jail break.' Vegeta watched her so intently he didn't see a yellow ball flying toward him until it was too late to dodge. It hit him in the side of the head. He suppressed the urge to fire back with a ki blast and went to the side of the gym. He sat next to Bulma and stared straight forward.
"You shouldn't go back to someone who's going to abuse you."
"I have to."
"No, Veggie, you don't. You have a home here."
"You don't understand."
"So enlighten me!"
"I can't."
"Please, Vegeta, stay. Stay with me."
'I want to.' Vegeta shook his head and stood up when the whistle blew as the first round of dodgeball ended. He walked to his side of the gym and waited impatiently for the class to be over. He wanted to be at the Capsule Corporation compound. He wanted to believe he could stay there forever and never have to worry about the lizard again. He wanted to deny reality and live in a dream. But he couldn't. He heard the shrill whistle as the game restarted.
Vegeta was the last one standing in the second game. When the whistle blew the teachers told their students to go change and shower. Vegeta slowly walked out of the gym and went to the locker room to change. He didn't bother with a shower. He threw his backpack over his right shoulder and sat on one of the benches to wait for the dismissal bell. School was over. His last day of school was finished. He did feel some degree of guilt for leaving Bulma to go through the rest of the school year without him, but he shook it off. She could handle it.
Vegeta left the locker room and made his way to the main entrance of the school. He allowed himself to be jostled around as larger students bumped into him and shoved past. Normally he would have avoided any physical contact with the humans, but this time he didn't care. His clothes would reek with their stench by the time he made it out of the school, but it made no difference to him.
Bulma met him at the doors and walked outside with him. She noticed that he still had his backpack. She'd never seen him take it home before. She wondered why he chose not to leave it in his locker. He wouldn't be needing it anymore. As they started the walk home Vegeta once again wrapped his tail around her waist. It was hard to hold on to his steely resolve to depart that night. He knew he was only making it harder on himself by lowering the barrier he erected around himself. Touching her so intimately made the realization that he considered her as close as family more obvious – and painful. He pulled her closer with his tail and put his arm around her shoulders. There was little affection in his touch; rather, it was possessive, protective.
"You told my parents?"
"Your father."
"Going to tell my mom?"
"Tonight."
"She'll be even more upset than me."
"Maybe."
Vegeta sank into his own thoughts, so he didn't hear what else Bulma said to him. He didn't want to go. He had to go. He could stay longer. It would be harder to leave later. He could wait for the retrieval squad. What if they decided to destroy the planet? What about Nappa and Raditz? He had to leave.
They reached the border between the business district and the residential area where Capsule Corporation was located. The leaves of the trees had recently turned from emerald green to vibrant yellows, reds, and oranges. They were like fire burning without consuming the trees. Vegeta thought it was strange how the leaves changed. One day they were green and the next they were dying and falling from their branches.
A breeze blew up and fallen leaves danced around their feet and crunched underfoot as they walked. Vegeta liked the sound of them skittering across the pavement. It was as if they were still alive, perhaps more alive than they had ever been when they were feeding off the trees that gave them life. They were finally free as they glided on the wind. Perhaps death was the only freedom the universe offered.
The two kids walked to the front gate of the compound where Bulma swiped her ID card. The gates opened with a protesting creak and they went inside and crossed the front yard. Leaves crunched and rustled with each step they took.
"Are you going to be here for dinner?" Bulma asked once they reached the front door of the compound.
"Yes." Not that he wanted to eat despite his hunger.
Bulma went inside and kicked her shoes off. "I guess you should pack then."
"I'm not taking anything with me."
"But you'll need clothes and stuff!"
He shook his head. "I only need what I had with me when I came."
"If you're worried about taking stuff from us, it's yours. We got it for you."
"I don't need it where I'm going."
"If you say so."
Vegeta didn't reply. Instead he went upstairs to his guestroom and changed into his old bodysuit and armor before going down to the kitchen where Mrs. Brief was busy preparing dinner. His eyes followed her as she darted from the stove to the counter to the sink and back to the stove. She was, as usual, humming a happy tune as she worked.
"Oh, Vegeta, when did you come in?" she asked when she noticed him standing near the door.
His tail twitched a little. "A minute ago."
"Are you hungry, dear? You didn't eat any breakfast. I hope I packed enough for your lunch. How was school today?"
His shoulders slumped as he walked to the counter. He pulled himself up to sit on the only spot not covered with food or dishes. "Not hungry. I'm leaving tonight."
Mrs. Brief paused in her stirring. "Leaving? What do you mean?"
"I have to go back to where I came from. I'm leaving tonight."
"Oh, honey, don't be silly. You live here now. This is your home."
"I have to go," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I don't want to, but I must."
Mrs. Brief turned to him and set her mixing bowl on the counter next to him. The sweet smell of chocolate cake batter reached his nose. His mouth watered, but not from a desire to eat. He felt like throwing up. He tried to snort the scent out of his nose, but it kept returning. He sighed.
"Vegeta, sweetie, you can't go back to that awful place. I don't know where it is but I won't let you be hurt again."
Frieza's tail swung through the air and crashed into his chest. He heard his ribs snapping like twigs. He bit his tongue until he tasted his coppery blood to keep from crying out in agony. He fell to his knees and held his chest with one hand. His other arm was already broken and hung limply at his side.
Hurt. Mrs. Brief didn't want him to be hurt. How naïve. Pain was all he knew in his life. He shook the memory from his mind and refocused on the blonde woman standing in front of him. She wasn't smiling.
"I appreciate your concern," he admitted, "but I have obligations. Even if I thought it were safe for me to stay here, there are two others who need me to save them."
"There are others? Oh, my! But Vegeta, we could have someone else help them. It isn't safe for you to go alone."
'You have no idea.' Vegeta sighed heavily. Who would have thought she would put up such a fight against him going?
"No one else can go where I'm going. You have to trust me."
Mrs. Brief didn't miss the irony. How many times was it she trying to convince him he could trust her? Now the tables were turned. She wanted to trust his judgment. Really, she did. But how could she let him go into the clutches of a monster who found pleasure in Vegeta's pain? She felt her heart breaking as she nodded her assent.
"Promise me you'll take care of yourself."
Vegeta's stomach tied in knots. "I promise."
"Oh, Vegeta!" Mrs. Brief wailed. She pulled him into her arms and sobbed without restraint. He felt her hot tears rolling down his scalp. He didn't know what to say or do, so he returned her embrace. His tail twitched behind him before curling around her wrist. He smelled her grief seeping from her every pore. Cinnamon, sugar, and grief. He hated himself for doing this to her.
Vegeta clung to her and buried his face in her chest. He was surrounded by her scent, held in her loving arms, and washed in her tears of sorrow. She was more like a mother to him than he ever realized before. He didn't remember his own mother well, but he knew she used to hold him like this, and he would cling to her and seek comfort from her as he was doing now. How could he abandon this woman? She was so weak, so frail. His arms completely encircled her narrow waist. She was so weak she could be broken effortlessly. What if something happened to her and he wasn't there to protect her?
'I can't leave them!'
The saiyan extracted himself from her arms, though his tail did not immediately uncurl from her wrist. He frowned and slid off the counter. He could feel tears welling up, stinging his own eyes. He would not cry. He would be strong. He turned from her and fled from the kitchen. He didn't really know what to do with himself. He couldn't stand to be with the Briefs, yet he wanted to be with them. They were all hurting. He thought it would be cowardly to hide from them until it was time for him to leave, but what else could he do? He slinked into the living room and curled into the large recliner in the corner of the room, sinking into the shadows and cushions, trying desperately to make himself invisible. To wipe himself from existence.
The room grew progressively darker as the sun set, taking with it the only light shining in. Vegeta heard Mrs. Brief setting the table in the kitchen, but there was an eerie silence as she was no longer humming. Another wave of guilt swept over him. Why couldn't he just wait? He clawed at his temples until he could smell blood and his fingers felt sticky. He told himself over and over that he didn't have a choice. He was doing it because he had to. It was the only way. It was becoming harder to believe the more he thought it.
"Dinner is ready," Mrs. Brief's voice called through the compound. It sounded oddly hollow.
Vegeta opened his eyes and stared at the texture of the upholstery. His eyes easily adjusted to the dim light. He ran his fingertips over the suede fabric. It appeared a lighter shade of green when his fingers moved with the grain and a darker green when he drew his fingers up against the grain. Such a strange phenomenon. He wondered why he never noticed it before. Maybe because he never cared about anything earthling before.
His stomach growled, insisting he go to the kitchen and eat. He wasn't interested in food, but the Briefs would be gathered together and it was the last meal he would likely ever share with them. So, he climbed out of the oversized recliner and silently walked to the kitchen, his feet seeming to float across the thick shag carpet. He stopped outside the kitchen door and listened to the sounds coming from the other side. The soft clatter of dishes, a chair scraping across the tile floor, and a newspaper being folded up. Vegeta raked his hand through his mane and rolled his shoulders back before entering the kitchen one last time.
"Oh, there you are Vegeta," Mrs. Brief said, trying to sound cheerful. She failed miserably. Her husband and daughter didn't look any more cheerful than she sounded.
He sat down at the table and started another staring contest with his plate. This time it was empty, the glossy white surface reflecting the light from overhead. His eyes watered, but he told himself it was from the light. Only the light.
"Wouldn't you like something to eat, sweetie?"
Vegeta's stomach growled loudly. He cursed it. He may have been hungry, but he still didn't want to eat. Even so, he knew he really should eat something before he left the planet. There was no doubt one of his punishments for being gone so long would be starvation. Besides, he would be in stasis for at least four months. He would wake up hungry and there was no guaranteeing any available food on the base planet where he planned to stop on his way back to Frieza.
When he didn't answer Mrs. Brief started piling food onto his plate. Even if he didn't eat it all she wanted to see to it that he ate something before he left. She learned from Bulma that he not only didn't eat breakfast, but he also hadn't eaten any lunch. She was worried about him. She knew he was nervous about leaving; that much was more than obvious, but she wanted to send him off well-fed since she knew how much he needed. She had no idea where he was going, how long it would take to get there, and whether he would have food on the way. The least she could do for him was give him a good meal. He was like a son to her, after all. She would put her life on the line for him, but all she could do was let him go on a full stomach.
Vegeta picked at his food and raised some to his mouth. The smell, normally so enticing, made his stomach flop. He barely managed to shove it in his mouth without vomiting. All he could taste was the saltiness of the beef. It seemed to dry out his mouth and he nearly retched immediately after swallowing. Still, he forced himself to take another bite, and then another. Each bite of food was harder to keep down. By the time he had worked through half of the food on his plate he couldn't take any more. He set his fork down and dropped his hand in his lap.
Little was said at the dinner table that night. Vegeta couldn't remember a time when he was surrounded by more sadness. The Briefs, who never had a care in the world, were feeling an oppressive emotional weight, and it was all because of him. He wished he had never met them, never brought this on them. Too late to change that now. He glanced over at Mrs. Brief and saw her blinking back tears. Bulma was doing the same. Even Dr. Brief was downcast. Vegeta clenched his hands into fists and bit back the urge to scream. He didn't want to go. He wanted more than anything to stay with his pack.
'But I can't.'
Long after their dinner was finished they sat quietly around the table. No dishes were cleared off, no compliments were paid to the cook, no pleas for Vegeta to stay were voiced. They sat in heavy silence, each waiting for Vegeta to walk out the front door and never look back. It was almost nine o'clock when Vegeta pushed his chair from the table and stood up. He rubbed his forehead and slid his hand down across his face. "I'm sorry," he murmured before striding out of the kitchen, out of the compound, out of his temporary reprieve from his life. They heard his soft steps moving down the hall toward the front door. They heard the knob turn, the door open, and click shut behind him.
While Mrs. Brief instantly broke down in another fit of sobbing and Dr. Brief tried fruitlessly to comfort her, Bulma bounded of her chair, toppling it over in her haste to reach Vegeta before he was too far gone. She ran out of the kitchen and went outside. She barely caught Vegeta before he took off into the air. His communicator device was attached to his ear, the red screen displaying foreign symbols in front of his left eye.
"Vegeta, wait!" She sounded desperate, lost, as if her heart were being torn from her chest. Against his better judgment, he turned to face her.
"What is it, girl?"
"Promise me something before you go, Vegeta," she whispered. "Promise me you'll come back some day."
Vegeta gazed at her a few long moments, then swallowed and nodded. "I promise."
Only the tiniest bit satisfied, Bulma gave him as much of a smile as she could muster before she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him for all she was worth. "I'll miss you, Veggie. Please don't be gone long."
It took every ounce of his willpower to unhook her arms from his neck and step away from her. He glowered at the ground, as if the yellowing grass and dried, dead leaves were at fault for his fate. He tilted his head to look up at the sky, the orange glow of the city reflecting on the clouds, obscuring his view of the stars above. "Go inside, girl."
Bulma took a few steps backward before turning on her heel and running inside, determined to make sure he never saw her tear-streaked face before he left. As soon as the front door was closed she leaned against the wall and allowed her body to collapse to the floor as she was wracked with sobs so deep she couldn't breathe.
Vegeta shot into the air as soon as he heard the door close. He didn't need to see anyone else. He was afraid if he did he wouldn't be able to go through with it. He wouldn't be able to leave. He raised his ki and flew as fast as he could southeast. He had to get to the space pod before he changed his mind. His scouter beeped as the transmission he started went through and he was connected to base.
"Prince Vegeta, come in."
"Base 257, this is Prince Vegeta. I am leaving planet 1076XR tonight. I will arrive there in four absmonths."
"You're leaving? But your pod is broken!"
"I repaired it. Tell Lord Frieza I am on my way back. Call off the retrieval squad. They will not be needed."
"Yes, sir."
"Clear." Vegeta pushed the button of his scouter, cutting the connection. He dropped out of the sky soon after when he reached the rocky wilderness where the saiyan space pod was. It took him a few minutes to relocate it. When he did, he removed the infant life support system and activated the space pod. He used the manual override code to enter new coordinates after checking the system, fuel, and oxygen. Everything was ready to go. He pushed the button to close the hatch. It seemed to raise in slow motion, as if urging him to rethink his decision. He grit his teeth and exhaled through his nose when it finally latched shut. The pod was filled with a deafening silence as the bird calls, crickets chirping, distant roars of wild animals, and the wind were shut out. All he could hear was his own labored breathing.
'I have to do this.'
He double checked the coordinates on the screen and entered the command on the keypad to launch. He heard the boosters powering up and then felt the familiar pressure as the pod levitated off the ground and sped out of the planet's atmosphere, rapidly accelerating to speeds faster than light. When the mudball was no more than a memory, he pressed the button to drain the oxygen and pump in the gas that would hold him in stasis mode for the duration of his voyage. The last thoughts he had before sinking into his artificial sleep were of blue hair, off-key singing, and a twitching lavender mustache.
A/N: I personally think this is the best piece of work I have ever written. Agree or disagree, I want reviews. Originally I was going to say 40 minimum, but after the high number of reviews I've gotten on the past few chapters, I'm upping it to 50. I know you can do it. I will update as regularly scheduled as long as I get at least 50 reviews on this. I do this because I really, really want feedback on this particular chapter. Writing style, grammar, plot, characterization, emotions, descriptions, sensory details, you name it, I want your thoughts on it. Basically, if ever you were to leave a review, now would be the time to do it.
Concerning your reviews, I'm not answering a lot of your questions because they will be addressed later on. It's not that I'm ignoring them! I appreciate all of them and I try to answer everyone in a note, in the story, or in a private message. I just don't want to give you any spoilers.
Absmonths – short for "absolute months" because a month is not the same length on all planets. An absmonth is 35 Earth days, the length of a month on the Cold home planet.
Heads-up: This is a major turning point in the story (obviously). 'Til now it has been largely light-hearted, fun, even humorous at times. The next several chapters are going to be much darker.