Freedom
It was a strange sensation to wake up knowing he would never have to serve a monster again. Stranger still was the feeling of freedom that came with it. It wasn't a passing wisp of a feeling gained from flying through a thunderstorm or imagining a life that could have been. For the first time in his life he was truly free, no longer the servant of an intergalactic space tyrant, no longer the heir to a throne, no longer burdened with expectations, obligations, and regulations. This foreign feeling was what he longed for his entire life, but it was surreal, as if he was living in a dream he would wake from at any moment. It filled him with a sense of unease and suspicion, and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet.
Cracking his eyes open, Vegeta surveyed his unfamiliar surroundings. He was in a bed not unlike the one he slept in at Capsule Corporation except it was softer and his blankets did not carry his scent. Reaching up, he rubbed his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair, wincing when the simple movement sent a burst of pain shooting through his sore muscles. He sighed, but his sigh turned into a yawn as he sat up and folded his hands in his lap. The room was lit by the early morning rays of the sun streaming in the open door. There were no windows. The room was small, but not confining; he tried to think of a word to describe it, finally settling on cozy. Still, he had no idea where he was, and that put him on edge. He pushed off the covers, noting that the blanket was an old quilt with slightly frayed edges. Old, worn, but warm and comfortable.
He slid over to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor. Cool, smooth tile. The walls were plain white, lacking homey decorations. The only aesthetically pleasing object in the room was a single red flower in a glass vase sitting on the bedside table. Simple. Everything was simple. Nothing at all like Capsule Corporation. Standing, he stretched his arms over his head, a low growl sounding in his chest. Along with his growl, his stomach rumbled hungrily. Vegeta looked down at himself and saw that he wasn't wearing his armor anymore. In fact, he had been stripped down to his boxers. He wrapped his tail around his waist as he searched around the small room for his clothes, finding them clean and folded on a plain wood chair in the corner. Not liking the feeling of vulnerability, he snatched his bodysuit and armor off the chair and dressed himself quickly.
'Where the hell am I?' Growing more agitated by his ignorance, he stepped through the doorway, squinting as the sunlight washed over him fully. He held his arm up, blocking out the light as he looked around. He was standing in some sort of external corridor supported by ornate columns on the outside edge. From his standpoint, he could see the white stone wall of another building straight ahead, and off to the side was a sort of courtyard with white tile. There were evenly spaced beds of flowers and trees dotted around the open space, not unlike the one at Kami's Lookout.
He took a step back, pressing himself against the door jamb. With wide eyes he looked around again, this time sure of what he was seeing. He was on the Lookout, but it had somehow been restored. Just how long had he been unconscious? And where was everyone else? Where was Kakarrot? More importantly, where was Nappa with his woman and his surrogate father? Closing his eyes, he reined in his reeling thoughts and calmed himself, using his mind to sense the nearby ki of the other warriors. They were all close: Kakarrot, his brat, Nappa, the Namekian, Baldy, the guy with three eyes, the scar-faced weakling, and the doll thing. He stepped out again and this time followed the ki of the others until he found himself in a room he had been in before, a sort of dining hall with a long table set up in the middle covered with foods of all sorts. The others were sitting around the table eating already, but the majority of the food was being consumed by the full-blooded saiyans.
Vegeta stopped in the doorway, his long shadow stretching across the floor. Not sure if this was a celebration feast and not really caring, he wasn't sure he wanted to join. He would be content to eat alone in private, far from the company of all these warriors, most of whom he barely got along with, some he outright hated. Some of them turned when they felt his ki, but other than Goku and Nappa, they returned to their conversations as if he wasn't there. Vegeta gave a small sigh of relief when their attention passed, rolling his eyes when Goku waved dumbly to beckon him over to the table.
It was strange knowing that, if he wanted, he could live amongst people like this for the rest of his life without the worry of being hunted down by his former master. Even now he wasn't sure his battle against Frieza hadn't been a dream. The only solid evidence he had that it occurred was the deep and persistent soreness in his muscles. Still, as he stiffly walked over to the table, he half-expected Frieza to jump out at him to punish him for his military insurrection. His gaze shifted around the warriors seated at the table, finally landing on Nappa as he took the empty chair next to his old bodyguard.
Once seated, he rested his hands in his lap and stared down at the porcelain plate on the table in front of him. He could fill it with all the delicacies covering the table and gorge himself, but despite his hunger, he had little appetite. More than a meal he wanted to know it was real, that he had fought Frieza and come out victorious. But he didn't want to look foolish, especially not in front of Kakarrot's friends. If he asked about the fight, he would be ridiculed no matter the answer; if it happened as he thought it did, they would think him so mentally handicapped he forgot his own victory, but if it didn't happen, they would think he lived in foolish daydreams. Why he suddenly cared about their acceptance and respect he didn't know, but it was a nagging feeling that came along with his freedom. Now that he had no greater goal and purpose to live for, the people surrounding him suddenly mattered to some degree. They weren't pawns for him to use in his quest for freedom, they were sentient beings with lives of their own.
Strange how freedom brought its own set of guidelines to live by. Shouldn't it mean he could now do as he pleased, whether that meant slaughtering millions for entertainment or settling down with his woman and raising a pack of saiyan-human hybrids? As much time as he spent striving for freedom, which he had now attained, he almost never thought about what he would do with it. What now, when he was free from the lizard's grasp? Would he take over the universe in his place, taking his rightful place as emperor of the universe? Would he stay on Earth with his pack, mating with his woman and raising his own offspring? Before, there was only one road for him to take, and that was the road that would lead to Frieza's demise. But he came to the end of that road and now it was forking in an infinite number of directions, all of which were equally feasible for the saiyan prince. Having choices – real choices – was unsettling. He was a master tactician, an expert strategist, but right now he had no plan for his future, no goal to work toward. This freedom left him feeling empty, lost.
Maybe it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Maybe life was better with a master issuing commands, barking orders, running his life for him. He sighed despondently as he again glanced around the table. Celebration. Everyone else was thrilled that the fight was over, done. Frieza was gone forever, his men were killed, the Earth was safe again. That was all they cared about. They were content to fight the fight and go on with life once the battle was won. But unlike these earthlings, Vegeta didn't know how to return to life. Not for the first time he felt he had never truly lived before. Struggling for survival and obeying a monstrous tyrant as a slave was hardly what he could consider living. Life. He was thrown into it with no idea what he was supposed to do. He felt overwhelmed, perhaps even timid. Freedom was supposed to be sweet, welcoming, but all it did was make him want to curl into a shell and hide from it.
He watched passively as the genie came over and poured him a cup of tea. The steam rose and curled in the air, wafting on a slight breeze that blew in the open door. How many times in his life had he witnessed something so mundane and unremarkable and wished he, too, could float away on a breeze, unbound by the chains of his duty as the prince of a dead race and a soldier among millions in a tyrant's army? Even as a young boy he wished to break free from his bondage and live without oppression, but now he was beginning to think he had been foolish to want such a thing as freedom all his life. What did he know about freedom? Only that it was unattainable, always just out of reach. Now he had it and he hadn't the faintest clue what to do with it.
Beside him, Nappa quietly cleared his throat, subtly inquiring why he wasn't eating anything. Vegeta's shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly as he became further disheartened. He couldn't explain what he felt to Nappa. He couldn't even be sure Frieza was gone. Memories flashed through his mind of the battle, of the pain and anger, of the power surging through his body in crashing waves. Slowly shaking his head, Vegeta reached out with his mind to his bodyguard, the man he trusted most.
"Nappa, what happened?"
The large saiyan paused briefly in his eating, sparing a short glance at the prince before taking another bite of food. "What do you mean? Don't you remember? You defeated Frieza, Vegeta, after you ascended to the legendary." Accompanying his words came a flood of mental images. Vegeta saw himself kneeling on the Lookout, his hair a brilliant gold and eyes a cold, piercing teal. Not far from him, sprawled on the ground, was the dead body of Mrs. Brief. In front of him stood Frieza, finger still pointed at her body after firing a death beam.
Vegeta swallowed, his dry tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. So it was real, every one of his memories was real. A fresh wave of guilt and sorrow swept through him as he looked at Mrs. Brief's body through Nappa's eyes. He saw himself kneeling there, accepting his death like a coward, when Mrs. Brief ran over and shoved him out of the way a split second before Frieza's fired his death beam. It shot through her chest, instantly killing her in his place. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands balling into fists in his lap as the memory replayed over and over in his mind. How could he have ever allowed her to sacrifice herself for him? Why hadn't he sensed her coming and stopped her?
"How long was I out?"
"Two days. Kakarrot woke up a couple hours before you. The transformation must have taken a lot out of the both of you."
Vegeta nodded once, not in the mood to communicate further with anyone. Ignoring his cup of tea and the copious amount of food still on the table, Vegeta pushed his chair back from the table and stood. He lifted his chin as he walked out of the room and back out into the sunlight, stopping only when he reached the edge of the Lookout. There he sat down with his legs hanging over the edge to watch the sun rise fully over the clouds below. It was a glorious sight, but he took little pleasure in it. For over an hour he sat there, wondering what his reason for living was now that Frieza was gone. He had always assumed he would want to take over the Cold Empire, but he found he had little desire to become an emperor. No, he was content to remain the Prince of all Saiyans, the only title he ever held, the only one that had any meaning for him.
Freedom left him wanting comfort and security, two things he always lived without and never considered much. They were luxuries he could not afford. They meant little to him. Just words. Any comfort he ever had, any sense of security, was all before he was taken from his home planet by Frieza. He had memories of the feelings, but only vaguely. The memories were so stale he couldn't remember how it felt to be safe, comfortable. But still, now that he was a free man, he desperately wanted to know what they felt like again. While asking himself where he might find such feelings, he suddenly realized it didn't matter where he was, but rather who he was with.
Clearing his mind, he sensed the one ki that mattered most to him. He found it not far away, straight below. It was low, steady, at peace. As it should be. Finding the ki signature awakened a yearning deep in his heart, a yearning he could not quite explain or identify. What he was yearning for he didn't know; all he knew was that he had to satisfy it lest it drive him mad. Following his instincts, he pushed himself off the Lookout, turning head over heels as he fell ungracefully without the aid of ki to steady him or slow his descent. He felt so weak, so hungry, thirsty, but not in the physical sense. He wanted something so deeply it was weakening him.
Reaching out, he gripped the rail of the stairs leading from the lower portion of Korin's Tower to the higher level. He grunted as his aching muscles strained with his weight pulling him down, his momentum jerking his shoulders painfully as he suddenly stopped himself from falling. Swinging himself over the rail, he continued his search for his blue-haired woman, the answer to his hunger, his need. He jumped down the flight of stairs and hurtled into the room below, barely able to stop himself from knocking Bulma over when he ran to her.
"Vegeta?"
She saw little more than a blur of motion before she was held in his arms so tightly she could hardly breathe. He did not speak, did not kiss her, but silently he held her for many long minutes. Her touch brought him peace like never before. There was no longer the fear lingering in the back of his mind that he might lose her or the guilt of putting her in danger by leading Frieza to her doorstep. Now he was free – free to bask in the solace she could give him, free to love her without reserve. She was the reason he sought freedom all his life, the reason freedom was so coveted by the enslaved. Freedom was intimidating, uncertain, and volatile, but when he was with his woman, his mate, he knew he could live as a free man without apprehension. With her there were no worries, no concerns, no anxiety. She was his grounding and the light that would guide him down the right path.
Feeling her small, frail frame in his arms gave him a renewed sense of purpose, a new goal in life: to protect and support her. He didn't consider it fickle human sentimentality, but rather saw it as it truly was. For lack of a better word, he loved her. What more did he need in his life than this woman? Freedom brought uncertainty and left him wondering what to do with himself, but she answered his questions simply enough. With his freedom he would mate with her, live by her side, protect and defend her, respect and cherish her. When she needed, he would provide; when she wanted, he would give. Never before in his life had he been so ready and willing to invest in someone else, never expecting anything in return. Perhaps it was because he knew that Bulma, even though he didn't expect rewards, would give them in return. From her he could expect nothing but unconditional love and devotion. That was all a free man needed, he decided. Not galactic domination, not the fear of millions or billions, not even power.
"I was beginning to worry about you," she murmured into his shoulder. "Everyone else went home, but I stayed here to be close to you when you woke."
He inhaled her scent as he nuzzled into her neck, wanting desperately to be closer to her. If only she was ready. "Why not stay at the Lookout?"
She smiled wryly, though he couldn't see it. "Atmosphere's too thin up there. It was okay for a while, but then I needed more air."
"Hn." Humans were so pathetic, only able to survive in the most specific conditions. Vulnerable to extreme temperature, lack of oxygen, famine and drought, it was a wonder their weak race managed to live as long as it did. Vegeta chased those thoughts away, no longer interested in condemning the race he chose to live with. He would never be converted to living as a human as Kakarrot was; he could never fully adopt their morals and ethics, never understand their cultural norms and idiosyncrasies. They would continue to irritate and confuse him, but he was willing to set aside his condescension to live with his chosen mate in peace. Never would he give up his fighting spirit and drive to excel, and he would never kick the habit of training obsessively or fully eradicate his innate bloodlust. He was a saiyan, the saiyan prince, and he would never forget or ignore his heritage. He was proud of his lineage, so even if it meant problems down the road as he adapted to life on Earth he would never reject what he was.
Bulma rubbed his back, wondering what he was thinking about. She was used to him not talking, but his current silence seemed to stem less from a lack of desire to talk than a burden of thoughts weighing him down. She pulled back from him as much as he would allow and looked him in the eye, imploring him to say what was on his mind.
Though he could see the request in her eyes, he still did not speak. She hardly noticed she was in the air until Vegeta dropped them through one of the circular holes in the floor. She held onto him tightly as they fell, the wind whipping her hair around her face. Not once did she scream, trusting Vegeta fully to prevent her from being hurt. Her heart raced as they descended, adrenaline pumping through her veins. Bulma kissed along his jaw until she reached his ear. There she whispered a simple question.
"Can you do it again?"
He frowned slightly, not sure if he could. Seeing they were nearing the ground, he started pushing his ki under him, slowing their fall. Then he closed his eyes, searching within himself for the trigger that would let loose a storm of power. It wasn't rage or frustration this time; now that the power was unlocked, he could access it without a torrent of emotions. He imagined himself flipping a switch as his power started to raise exponentially. His aura flared around him, first white, then darkening to blue. His eyes paled to teal as ki surged through him, then his hair flashed gold and his aura became blindingly bright, rivaling the rays of the sun.
Bulma shut her eyes, blocking out the brilliant light until it dimmed enough for her to see. She opened her eyes again, stunned at first when she looked into the strange eyes of a super saiyan. They seemed colder than when they were black; there was no softness in them, as if she could see no life within them. Swallowing back her fear, her gaze moved to the tip of his widow's peak and traced the high arch, eventually following the golden spikes of his flame-like hair. By then they were flying west, but she hardly noticed the change in direction. Biting her lip, she tentatively reached up and stroked his hair, burying her fingers in the feathery mane. The texture was the same as before, but she could feel tiny shocks as her fingers weaved through the golden strands.
Grinning, she moved her hand to the side of his head and scratched gently behind his ear, something she hadn't dared repeat since they were children. His cold gaze met hers, betraying no thoughts or emotion as she scratched. But then she felt a warm, furry snake coiling around her thigh and a low, soft rumble in his chest as he purred. She was blind to the destruction around them as they grew closer to West City, focused solely on her mate. She could feel sweat building on her chest from being pressed against his body. He always exuded warmth, but as a super saiyan his energy rolled off him in hot waves. Sighing contentedly, she closed her eyes and nuzzled into his chest, taking comfort in his strong arms.
…
Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at the reconstruction efforts in West City from his high vantage point. He stood in Bulma's office suite waiting for her to finish the business she needed to attend to after the invasion. His patience was running thin as she hung up the phone for what must have been the hundredth time in the past hour, only to pick up the receiver a few seconds later to make another call. Business was booming at Capsule Corporation as cities across the planet were in desperate need of their products to set up makeshift hospitals, obtain medical supplies, provides homes to the homeless, and order building materials to construct new buildings in place of the old. What may have been a close call for Earth turned out to be great for business at Capsule Corporation. Phones throughout the headquarters building were ringing off the hook and the entire staff was barely able to keep up with their work. Bulma would have been thrilled, but she was mostly irritated that she was forced to come into work at headquarters every day for hours on end with few – and short – breaks.
She hung up the phone once again, smiling apologetically to Vegeta when he turned to her expectantly, more than ready to leave. Her eyes dropped down to his tail, which was flicking, the only indicator that his temper was rising. With a sigh and a helpless shrug, she turned to her computer and started typing a message for the Capsule Corporation medical personnel. She really was sorry that Vegeta had to wait so long; he came over an hour ago to take her home to the compound. Since the near-destruction of the city, most of the roads were closed and all aerial vehicles were grounded. The only way to get to and from headquarters was on foot – or, in Bulma's case, flight without a vehicle. She could have walked, though she wouldn't have enjoyed it much, but Vegeta was unwilling to have her out alone. Not when there was still madness afoot.
The saiyan prince had rarely been to a planet after a recent purge, and when he went to one, it was for clean-up of a different sort. Usually, he and the other saiyans were sent to finish the job of purging when another squadron was either killed or were simply incompetent and failed to kill every living person on the planet. Never had he seen a planet post-purge being reconstructed. He was astounded by the resilience of the human race. He still pegged them as a weakling species, but he had to admit that they could bounce back from a crisis and get back to life as usual in a fairly short time. It had only been a week since he defeated Frieza and already the cities of the world were patching up nicely and the world government and economy were getting back on track.
"It's almost as if they've done this all before," he remarked the first time he flew over the city. Emergency vehicles were darting through the city, providing relief to the survivors.
Bulma looked up at him and shrugged one shoulder. "They have, though I don't think they've ever had to recover from devastation of this magnitude. But they'll get through it. Probably in a few years they'll forget any of this ever happened. That's the human way."
He snorted at the memory, unable to comprehend how the people could be so foolish. They should remember this forever, take action to prevent anything like it from ever happening again. But the humans were complacent and preferred reacting to offenses rather than being proactive to keep from having to deal with such crises. Then again, what was the likelihood of a purge ever happening to the little backwater planet again? Frieza was gone forever, locked in a void for eternity. The only others who – in this lifetime, anyway – would ever be capable of trying such an attack would be Frieza's brother and father, the other rulers of the Cold Empire.
Vegeta had only seen King Cold once, and Cooler not many times more than that. Frieza hated his brother and avoided him at all costs, and Frieza never took his lower ranking soldiers (those below Dodoria's rank) with him when he visited his home planet, which his father, King Cold, almost never left. King Cold was the supreme ruler of the Cold Empire, but it was his sons who conquered new planets, each given a portion of the empire to rule over under him. Mostly they were left to do as they pleased, but they still had to work within regulations he established.
Not for the first time since waking after his battle with Frieza, Vegeta felt a small wave of fear of losing his newly gained freedom when he thought of an invasion by King Cold or Cooler. Everyone in Frieza's empire knew he was the favored son, so there were good odds that his father would want to exact revenge for his death – as close to death as he could get, that is. And even if he didn't, Cooler would. Not because he cared for his brother, but because their family lived by a twisted honor code that would practically require Cooler to avenge Frieza. He was almost certain at least one of them would come, but he had no idea when. Probably they already received word that Frieza was unresponsive, his entire invading army destroyed.
He looked out the window again, watching a crane several blocks away lifting support beams to rebuild one of the many skyscrapers that were decimated in the attack. It really was a miracle Capsule Corporation hadn't been destroyed. It was an prime target, easily the largest building in the city. But for some reason it was left intact aside from some broken windows and minor vandalism, more likely the work of humans than aliens. Sighing, he turned away from the window and walked around the desk to sit in one of the leather chairs, still thinking about his threatened freedom and the possible danger the Earth would find itself in soon enough.
Probably the best way to prevent another invasion from happening would be to leave Earth and make the first move, attacking Cooler's empire, and then King Cold himself. There were no other heirs to take over the empire. The scattered remains of their armies might try to form some sort of replacement intergalactic government, probably just as tyrannical. Would that become a threat to Earth as well? Vegeta didn't want to leave Earth anyway. Earth was where his pack was; wasn't that the very reason he stayed for the past two years, even knowing he was putting them in danger by luring Frieza to their defenseless planet? How could he leave them now, when the threat was finally gone?
When he heard Bulma hang up the phone, hopefully for the last time, he asked her, "Would it be possible for you to hack into the mainframe of Frieza's ship and get all the information about his army and bases?"
Bulma looked over at him and frowned slightly as she shut down her computer and packed her briefcase full of files she would have to read that night. "I suppose so. Why do you ask?"
For a fleeting moment he considered not telling her, instead gathering the information and slipping away in the spaceship Dr. Brief created to destroy the remaining Cold Empire. No sooner did he think about deceiving her than he dismissed the thought. "Frieza has a brother and a father, both of whom are likely to come here to avenge him when they learn of his defeat. I think it would be wise to take the offense and destroy their empire before they get the chance to come here."
Bulma walked over to the chair he was sitting in and rested her hand on his shoulder. "That freak had a brother?" She sighed, slowly shaking her head. "I don't want you to go back into space, Vegeta. Who knows how long it would take you to destroy an entire empire?"
"It could take years, perhaps even decades. Even I don't know how many galaxies the Cold Empire spans." His eyebrow twitched as he stood up. "But if Nappa and Raditz help me, it could be done more quickly. If we each had our own ship, we could split up and cover more territory."
"Why go, Vegeta?" she asked as she linked arms with him, ignoring his low growl of protest. "Even if they come, both you and Goku are super saiyans now. And what if Raditz ascended too? Or even Gohan? Is it possible for a half-saiyan to become a super saiyan?"
Disregarding her wandering thoughts, Vegeta directed the conversation back to the real issue. "We could wait here like sitting ducks or we could act," he replied tersely. "Do you think I want to go, woman? This is our best option. We will go and take down the entire empire so we can live in – in –"
"Peace?" Bulma smiled sadly as she pushed the down button of the elevator. She knew he had never known peace before. She doubted he really knew what it meant. But from her talks with him over the past week she realized that he was both confused and enraptured by the strange feeling of freedom, of finally being his own person. No doubt he considered the looming threat posed by Frieza's family an affront to that new sense of freedom. It wasn't any wonder he wanted to protect it. His nature was to be aggressive, but also defensive and protective over the things he cared about. Apparently freedom was one of those things now that he had it.
He turned away from her, suddenly finding the kitchenette extremely fascinating as he waited for the elevator door to open. "Yes."
"You're right, Vegeta," she conceded reluctantly. "You should destroy that empire. Nappa and Raditz can help. I think my dad actually has a spare spaceship, and now that there's likely pods all over the planet – not to mention Frieza's ship – he should be able to make another one. If you take me to Central City I'll see what I can get from the ship. I don't think the government has gotten around to confiscating it yet. It's probably not high on their to-do list."
Vegeta studied Bulma's face as they stepped onto the elevator, noting the tension around her lips as she tried not to frown. Her eyes held a sadness she couldn't hide, making him feel as though someone were stabbing him in the gut. He desperately wanted to stay on Earth with her, but he had to leave to protect her. Wasn't it always the same story? It was as if he was destined to either put Earth in danger or leave it forever, and with it leave his pack, his mate. No doubt she was thinking about what he told her: the fact that it may take decades to overthrow the empire. When would he return, if ever? Decades later? Would she even be alive?
It was almost a physical pain in his heart when he thought she might be dead the next time he set foot on Earth. Humans were so short-lived. Even if she were alive, she might be old and feeble, and maybe her mind would be gone and she wouldn't remember him at all. Without a word he pulled her into an embrace that he never wanted to end. He wanted to feel her small body pressed against his forever, feel her warmth, the peace she brought him. But he had to leave it for her own good. Was there no way to have both? He shook his head. No, it would be far too dangerous to take her into space with him. It seemed they were destined to be apart. And they hadn't even mated yet. When would she be ready? Not before his departure. He needed to leave right away. He needed to make sure the Colds weren't already heading for Earth. He had to keep her safe, even if it meant sacrificing their happiness.
A/N: Well, I just finished writing chapter 72, which means only one more to go! It's bittersweet. I've been working on this story so long it's sad to see it end, but at the same time I'm glad it's wrapping up and I can move on to other stories. I just want to remind you all to vote in my poll if you haven't already - I want to know what you want me to write next.
Beta'd by lilpumpkingirl
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