Special thanks to BluEydMnstr for beta-ing!
Chapter Seven
"This is not something that was taken lightly by our people, Kakarotto. You do realize what will happen once I am within your mind?" Vegeta questioned solemnly after resuming his position sitting across from his full-blooded counterpart.
"Yeah," Goku affirmed with a knowing grin. "But like I said before, once you've seen the memory of my conversation with our King, you will help me understand what's happening to me. Deal?"
Vegeta searched the normally playful countenance for any signs of deception or misunderstanding. Once he was assured there were none, he scowled. "I said I would, did I not? I will keep my end of the bargain."
"Then let's get started," Goku urged as he stilled himself. "I wanna get back to looking for Bulma as soon as possible." The taller Saiyajin then rested his arms on the top of his crossed legs and closed his eyes, forcing his mind to clear so the prince would be as unhindered as possible during his quest.
Despite his internal turmoil, Vegeta mirrored Goku's actions, closing his eyes as he tugged the battle-worn white glove off his right hand, pushing all of his own thoughts aside so that he would be able to focus solely on the task at hand. He would have enough emotional garbage to deal with within the Earth-raised Saiyajin's mind without adding his own annoying nervousness to it. Besides, he was the Saiyajin King, he did not require justification for his actions regarding the third-class before him. It was his right to do what he wished since the son of a bitch had spoken with their king - with his father! He was simply claiming what should have been his to begin with.
Again.
After several deep, cleansing breaths, Vegeta lifted his hand to Goku's face, resting his palm on the man's forehead, his fingers finding a handhold among the unkempt raven spikes. Vegeta allowed Goku another moment to change his mind, but his fellow Saiyajin nodded almost imperceptibly to verify his wish to continue; Vegeta took his cue and slowly pushed his consciousness outward, tentatively searching for the link that would be the doorway to the inner workings of the man's previously unfathomable mind.
Vegeta found himself bathed in light brighter than the sun that beamed down on Earth, feelings of total peace and contentment encompassing him like a thick blanket. It was impossible... The man's spirit couldn't actually be so pure, so honest... Kakarotto was Saiyajin! Albeit a low-level, brain-damaged Saiyajin, but intrinsically Saiyajin none the less...
Are you surprised, Vegeta?
Vegeta's awareness jerked at Kakarotto?
But... it wasn't supposed to be possible! A mind-touch was one-way... he shouldn't be able to... How-?
I'm not sure, Goku responded. My telepathic abilities have grown a lot over the years. To be honest, I wasn't sure if I would be able to communicate with you at all until I felt your presence.
Vegeta growled mentally. Bastard, if this is a trick -
You know better than that, Goku admonished gently. You are in my mind and can feel my intentions. You know that I have no more access to your feelings than normal. Quit letting your pride get in the way of what you know to be true.
Of course the man was right, though Vegeta would be damned if he would admit it, even mentally. Knowing his fellow Saiyajin had always possessed the ability to read into people's intentions, even during his life, was vexing enough. Instead he forced back his annoyance in favor of concentrating on his goal. Fine. I should be grateful to have you guide me so that I do not have to waste any more time in your warped head than necessary.
A hearty laugh. As you wish.
Vegeta felt more of his awareness being pulled into the maze of Goku's mind as images flashed periodically across his vision, the snippets of time like snapshots in an album that chronicled the man's rather unique existence. The prince ignored all of them for the time being as he followed the path laid out for him by his rival until, suddenly, everything came to a halt. The feelings revolving around this particular remembrance were almost overwhelming to Vegeta. There was shock, eagerness, excitement, anger, regret, sadness, pride...
Goku answered the unspoken question. It was an interesting conversation. Your father is truly the ruler of our people, even in death.
What did you expect? Vegeta questioned sharply in an effort to conceal as much as possible his own raging emotions. He is the king of Vegeta-sei.
Yes he is. A pause. Are you ready?
Of course I am! I am not some helpless brat, Kakarotto. Now get on with it!
He had no warning before everything around him seemed to shift and morph wildly, finally solidifying into a bleak gray landscape. Jagged rocks jutted from the ground sporadically and the grass that covered the rest seemed beaten down and dying. The sky was blue, but it wasn't the clear sky he was used to. It was much blander, faded to a dull shade with no sun to provide any type of added illumination. An unpleasant smell assaulted his senses, though he had no nose to crinkle in disgust. Vegeta noticed he was moving along a worn dirt path towards what looked like an opening to a cave within a rocky cliff in the distance. Is that where we are going?
Yes.
There was the eagerness and excitement he felt earlier, and Vegeta snorted indignantly at the juvenile reaction even as his own apprehension grew at the thought of seeing the man he had most looked up to so many years ago...
The outside movement ceased, and Vegeta's entire being froze along with it as his objective came into view. The tall, flame-haired royal's back was to them, just as erect and proud as the younger Vegeta remembered from the earliest days of his youth, the long violet cape whipping lightly in the unnatural breeze. He was surprised to find the other Saiyajin, Bardock, sitting on rock before the king, speaking in hushed tones; it was his attention that was caught first apparently, for the man suddenly quieted and stood up, a mixture of confusion and awe on his bronze features.
Vegeta smirked mentally. At least some of their people still knew how to react when seeing their prince...
Vegeta, came the soft warning, don't forget where you are.
He had forgotten for a moment since the emotions surrounding him from the other man's mind were so strangely similar to his own. The scarred warrior wasn't looking at him, he was seeing his youngest son for the first time. Vegeta marveled for a moment at the tremor of panic, though slight in comparison to the curiosity and wonder, he felt through the link with Goku. He never knew the man even felt such things, considering his seemingly carefree attitude even in the face of the gravest danger. It was something that had always bothered Vegeta, that he, the prince of all Saiyajins, had felt fear in situations when the lower-class soldier had not.
Vegeta?
What? he barked in annoyance.
You've always sold yourself short. Quit worrying about my accomplishments so much, eh? Focus on what's happening.
The perturbed prince was prepared to tell Goku where he could shove his little piece of foolish advice when a voice stopped him in his tracks, allowing his full attention to be drawn into the memory unfolding before him.
The king of his unknown homeworld was studying him carefully. "You are the tailless Saiyajin known as Goku?"
"Yes," Goku replied respectfully, offering a small bow. "But I was told my birthname was Kakarotto. You may call me that if you prefer."
Bardock had moved closer and was looking him up and down in stark amazement. "Then you... you're my son?" he questioned, his gruff voice softened by disbelief.
Goku nodded once before returning his gaze to the sovereign, realizing immediately why this man was a king. Everything about him screamed of royal breeding.
Experienced onyx eyes narrowed marginally. "For years I have heard the tales of the Saiyajin from Earth with no tail that destroyed the Icejin tyrants Frieza and Cooler. They say this Saiyajin is the legendary of our race. Are those stories true, Kakarotto?"
"Well," Goku began, scratching the back of his head nervously, "I am a Super Saiyajin, and I did defeat Frieza and Cooler, though I wasn't able to destroy either of them completely on my own."
"But... you said you're the legendary, the very pinnacle of our people!" Bardock interrupted. "How could you not kill them if you are what you claim to be?"
"Indeed," the king agreed angrily. "The Super Saiyajin is the most powerful-"
"I'm afraid your legend was a bit overrated, my king," Goku cut in as politely as possible, earning him looks that seemed to go between confounded and enraged from both his father and his king. "I mean you no disrespect, but the fact is that the Saiyajins who have lived on Earth and defended her have both gained and fought powers beyond anything either of you could have imagined possible."
The Saiyajin King seemed to consider the words. "You are no legendary," the man announced after a significant pause. "You are a fraud, a dishonor to your race. You come here and attempt to deceive your king -"
Vegeta knew what was about to happen. Kakarotto reacted as any honorable Saiyajin worth his salt would under such a blatant accusation, even if the reprimand fell from the lips of the king himself. The pride of all that remained who had obtained the coveted status of Super Saiyajin demanded no less, though Vegeta was rather surprised that the notoriously dimwitted man understood that. Yet the proof was undeniable as he felt the man's anger build quickly, and along with it came the incredible power the gentle giant was known throughout countless galaxies for.
The cavern, which had only a moment earlier been dim and foreboding, was suddenly flooded with light. Golden waves of energy pounded against the walls and roof, smaller rocks vaporizing upon contact with the fiery aura while larger stones flew through the air haphazardly. Both of hell's Saiyajin residents stood transfixed as they gaped at the source of the commotion in unmitigated bafflement and absolute terror.
"As you can see, I have not misrepresented myself to you," Goku began, his customarily lighthearted tone dropping to a lower, infinitely more dangerous and warning timbre; it left no doubt that the next person who wished to dispute him would pay the debt to his honor, as well as those he represented, with blood. "This power did not come easy for me, or any of the others. All of us who have ascended have endured unparalleled training and immeasurable hardships to get where we are. I became a Super Saiyajin after watching my lifelong friend and closest comrade die in front of my eyes at the hands of Frieza. Your own son became a Super Saiyajin at the cost of his body, his mind, his spirit... everything he valued most. Vegeta's fierce pride and arrogance were pummeled to attain the legendary power you taught him he was born to claim. His son, Trunks, had to see his entire world be systematically destroyed and everyone he cared for killed to transform. And the youngest Super Saiyajin, my son, a twelve-year old child, has witnessed more brutality and sadistic atrocities in his youth than most seasoned fighters will in a lifetime, and all to protect his family, his friends, and his home planet. We have all paid our dues with blood, sweat and tears. I will not allow you or anyone else to belittle our sacrifices just to appease you and your foolish concept of Saiyajin superiority."
Confident that he had the two elders' full attention, Goku let his energy drop to a more appropriate level for the confined space they were in while still maintaining the fair hair and eyes that accompanied his increased power. He regarded each man evenly, noting the open curiosity that graced the monarch's angled features. "You died shortly after you gave Vegeta over to Frieza," he stated more to himself than to anyone in the small enclosure, "so you aren't aware of what he's been through since then."
"No, I was not," the haughty king replied, "but I am proud to know that he both produced a powerful heir and obtained his birthright as a Super Saiyajin. He will reclaim the glory of our race, and -"
Goku snorted. "You still don't understand," he admonished angrily. "There is no 'old glory' to reclaim. I remember the day I learned from Radditz that I was one of you, and I was disgusted by it. I wanted no part of any group so inherently evil, and I renounced everything that was Saiyajin. Vegeta was the one that changed that. Vegeta has single-handedly redefined what it means to be a Saiyajin warrior - in strength and in character. For the last three years, he has used his strength to protect rather than conquer, just as I have my whole life. He has earned the admiration and respect of those who have fought beside him, and whether he will ever admit it to himself or not, he has found a planet that will welcome him for as long as he wants to stay rather than fear and loathe him. He has made it possible for me to stand before you now and say that I am proud to be a Saiyajin. Vegeta is truly worthy of his title as the Saiyajin Prince, and I'm honored to have been given the chance to fight alongside him."
King Vegeta cocked his head slightly and stroked the perfectly manicured goatee several times, an all-too familiar smirk creeping onto his angled features. "If the Icejin tyrant had not destroyed Vegeta-sei, you would have been revered for your strength and skill by all of our people, and you would have been granted all of the rights and privileges of the highest nobility. Your name would have been known and feared throughout the universe, stories of glorious victory in battle recounted to every child, passed down through generations..."
"As good as that all sounds," Goku replied, a hint of sarcasm staining his benevolent tone, "I've never cared much about status. As my prince has reminded me many times, I was born a low-level soldier, and I am eternally grateful for that now since that is the reason I was sent to Earth in the first place. And despite my third-class standing, I became a Super Saiyajin. That alone seems to point to a flaw in the Saiyajin idea of individual worth, don't you think?" Goku didn't wait for a reply before continuing. "And as for the notoriety you speak so highly of, I'd prefer to be forgotten in a day for protecting a planet than be remembered for years for destroying one."
"I see," the king acknowledged coolly after a considerable pause. "You are quite the enigma, son of Bardock. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, I cannot help but regret that our race did not survive to see such an admirable warrior born among us. You should also know-"
Vegeta growled as everything suddenly sped up once again, and the memory seemed to fade away. Kakarotto, what the hell are you doing? He wasn't finished.
The rest isn't important, Vegeta, came the reply.
The older Saiyajin snorted. The fool forgot that while inside his mind, his reactions, both past and present, were an open book, and Vegeta felt very keenly the sudden anxiety within the other warrior. What are you hiding? I demand to know!
No answer.
Feh. Fine, if you won't tell me, then I will find out on my own.
Vegeta!
No! I am not my father - I will not allow a low-class bastard like you to deceive me. If my father said anything else about me, I demand to know it!
Damn it, Vegeta, not everything is about you! Goku retorted in annoyance.
Vegeta felt it out and knew that the man spoke the truth, and yet... I can feel your attempts to keep something from me. Why? I'm not one of those pathetic humans you always watch over!
A soft sigh. I know that, Vegeta.
Then quit acting like it! I will not allow you to pity me, damn you!
Alright, but after this, we rest. Then you will help me, no matter what. Agreed?
I already said I would, Vegeta barked impatiently. What the hell was Kakarotto so worried about? No matter what? What was that supposed to mean? Before he could consider it further, everything shifted again, bringing his awareness back to the moment that had been withheld from him.
"I see," the king acknowledged coolly after a considerable pause. "You are quite the enigma, son of Bardock. Despite your lack of enthusiasm, I cannot help but regret that our race did not survive to see such an admirable warrior born among us. You should also know, though I am aware of your feelings concerning status, that you were never a third-class soldier."
Goku was taken aback by the statement. "Huh? But I thought-"
"You see, your father was about to be reevaluated when Vegeta-sei was destroyed," the king explained solemnly. "He was easily a first-class by then, and possibly even an elite. And as for you, it was brought to our attention after you were sent away that your power reading at birth had been inaccurate, so when I began hearing the rumors of a Super Saiyajin who had been raised on Earth..."
"But... I don't understand..." Goku stuttered uneasily. Sure he didn't care about the ranking system on his lost homeworld, but if what elder royal said was true...
"I have been told you can detect an enemy's energy without any type of device, and that you can hide your power level as well," KIng Vegeta continued. "Have you always had those abilities?"
"I... I guess so... sort of... though I didn't really know how to control my power very well until I started training..."
The king nodded negligibly. "But those abilities were there nonetheless. After your departure, someone noticed great fluctuations in your power level data. It seemed that every time someone was present, you would detect their energy and yours would drop drastically, but when you were alone and, I assume, felt unthreatened..."
Bardock stepped forward. "It seems your battle instinct was strong, even then, my son."
Goku looked from one man to the other for several moments. "So that means..."
The elder Vegeta nodded. "You were born a Saiyajin elite, Kakarotto. The only other of our race whose power was comparable to yours, ironically, was the Saiyajin Prince himself."
Vegeta pulled himself back. Of course, he had insisted that the overgrown asshole show this to him...
I'm sorry, Vegeta...
Shut the fuck up, Kakarotto. Your babbling is unnecessary.
With that, Vegeta withdrew himself the rest of the way from the larger Saiyajin's mind so that he could consider all that he had learned within the privacy of his own.
Eyes of endless midnight slowly opened against the warm liquid surroundings and blinked several times in an instinctive effort to adjust to the annoying foreign substance. How he hated regen tanks! Still, Kakarotto had to grudgingly admit that, for the first time in over a year, the contraption seemed to have accomplished what it was designed to do. He flexed his fingers tentatively as if to confirm what his mind was telling him, but he was still somewhat surprised when the increased strength surged throughout his body with barely a conscious thought. It was true after all; he was indeed stronger than he had been before, just as the woman had predicted.
Damn! The woman!
He wasn't sure what was more demeaning - the fact that the strange interloper had apparently witnessed his moment of weakness when he lost all control over his power, or the fact that she had been forced to pretend to be his dead mate to comfort him during his confused delirium. The second also meant that she knew who she had been to him in this time. And what had happened to her.
He cursed himself for only a moment before deciding that getting out of the restrictive chamber took priority over berating himself. Self-loathing was something he did often enough and would surely do again very soon; there was no need to dwell on it while still encased in the God-forsaken contraption.
Kakarotto hit the manual release button within the tank before the buzzer could go off in an effort to avoid drawing unwanted attention to his presence in the medical bay. He knew that Laresk and Serori would both keep his whereabouts to themselves, as would his son, but if someone else were to learn of his 'episode'... Kakarotto was not so naive as to think that there would be no one that might find information about a possible medical condition quite interesting, perhaps even profitable. He pushed the disturbing thoughts away quickly, focusing only on getting out and returning to his bedchamber. He would deal with any complications that arose from the unfortunate incident later. With that decision made, he turned his attention to the substance that was quickly draining from the tank as he worked to replace the fluid he had been using to breathe during his stasis with fresh oxygen. He was in the process of drying himself with his ki when the door gave an audible click and began its slow ascent, allowing his much-appreciated release. He stepped out of the metal encasement and scanned the brightly-lit bay, fully expecting to find Laresk, and possibly his son, waiting for him.
There was nothing that could have adequately prepared Kakarotto for the poignant scene that greeted the powerful warrior's stunned gaze as his eyes fell on the small medical bed across the room.
The dumbstruck Saiyajin levitated a few inches off the squeaky tile floor and crossed the large room soundlessly, his wide eyes never moving from the form of the fragile blue-haired onna. Her delicate visage was angelic as she slept, pale skin perfectly smooth even as a tiny smile graced her lips while both slender arms cradled his young son who was curled up beside her, his head resting in the crook of her neck, his russet-hued tail wound securely around the woman's forearm. It was an image hauntingly similar to ones he thought on often within his most painful memories; his mate had always had a soft spot for the pleas to be held on nights when their young offspring couldn't sleep.
Deep down, Kakarotto's rational mind demanded that he rouse the boy at once and lecture him on confusing reality with fantasy, but... something wholly illogical stayed his hand. He simply couldn't do it. Perhaps it was the waves of contentment he sensed from his son for the first time since the youth's mother had died, or maybe it was the way Bulma held him so protectively, as if she was shielding him from the world.
Perhaps I have simply missed her too damned much to care anymore.
He forced his musings aside, focusing instead on how best to move them to a more private place without drawing unwanted attention when his searching eyes landed on the large double-doors at the end of the room that led to the outer courtyard. He knew, because of the midnight hour, that the grounds would be deserted, and the balcony to his room was only a short flight up and across; it would be better than braving countless hallways to get to the other side of the compound, he reasoned, both because of the sleeping pair and his current state of undress. With the decision made, he allowed himself one more long look at his fare before carefully maneuvering his arms underneath them and picking both up, using Bulma to hold onto while Isaka lie wedged between the woman and his own chest. He adjusted his grasp subtly so that neither would be unsupported while he mentally thanked the gods that both his son and Bulma were relatively small in comparison to himself before gliding to the exit.
He pushed his ki forward to open the doors and took to the air, making sure to put his body between the gusts of wind and the sleeping pair in his arms. He hoped that if he flew cautiously, he could avoid either of them waking. Unfortunately, he wasn't so lucky as he heard the soft whimpering from Bulma only a few seconds after leaving the ground. He lowered his gaze to meet the wide cerulean eyes that were fixed intently on him, and the man smirked ever so slightly.
"Do not tell me you're afraid," he taunted flatly, his grin growing marginally wider at the woman's indignant huff.
"Of course not," Bulma countered as she tightened her grip on the boy in her arms without realizing it, "but I am cold, and I'm pretty sure Isaka is too, judging by the way he's shivering."
Kakarotto frowned thoughtfully as he realized she was right. He could feel the tremors in Isaka's small form against his chest, and he swore under his breath for not thinking to grab a blanket for them. Of course they would be cold; even though he was attempting to block the wind, it still whipped around them as he moved through the air. "My apologies, Bulma-san," he offered sincerely, making the woman he held blink in surprise, though he did not acknowledge it. "Close your eyes for a moment."
Her brow furrowed in confusion, but she complied without argument. Suddenly there was a bright flash accompanied by a strong gust of wind, though this new one that caressed her skin was much warmer than the night air that had assaulted them moments earlier. She had to admit that whatever he did would definitely make the journey more comfortable, and she cracked her eyes open tentatively to see what had changed only to have both cobalt orbs become wide in stark wonderment. Bulma had always been curious about what it was like for the Saiyajins she had known when their energy flared around them, making them look as though they were a pyre that stood in the middle of a bonfire.
"Wow..." she breathed in a perfect combination of fear and awe.
Exhilarating. It was the only way she could describe what she was feeling as an entranced smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. She craned her neck as much as possible so she could watch the tendrils of blue flame that danced frantically around them and giving everything she could see outside of their protective wall of fire an unearthly glow. "This is so cool!"
Kakarotto grinned despite himself. "Yes, I suppose it is."
Much to Bulma's disappointment, the ride ended all too soon; a minute later, Kakarotto was stepping onto his balcony, once again using an invisible burst of ki to open the doors for them without releasing his hold on the two smaller bodies in his arms. Bulma sighed dejectedly and snuggled into the warm comfort of the arms that braced her, earning a sharp intake of breath from the powerful warrior looking down on her.
Kakarotto cleared his throat to cover up his shock at her actions as he walked across the large chamber and moved towards the hallway that led to Isaka's room. Once he made it to his destination, Kakarotto laid both Bulma and the spiky-haired boy down gently onto the small bed before helping the woman untangle herself from his son's embrace, mainly the firmly-gripping tail.
Soon enough she was able to get up without disturbing the sleeping demi-Saiyajin, although, as strange as it seemed, she really didn't want to leave him. She allowed herself a long glance instead, her throat constricting slightly as she watched the young man grab his pillow to his chest and clutch it in with a vise-like grip as he muttered something unintelligible into it.
Kakarotto had made it back to the doorway before turning around to find the woman standing over the boy's bed, looking down on him affectionately and even pulling the blanket he laid under around the adolescent fighter's shoulders before she seemed to freeze, her sapphire gaze locked on a point close to the boy's face. He peered curiously at her trembling hand as it descended carefully next to Isaka's head and pulled back a second later, a small rectangular item between her finger and thumb. The mighty leader of Chikyuu moved back into the room and towards the living memory of his mate, his eyes fixed on her contemplative features as she studied the paper-thin object intently. With only a foot between them, he stopped.
"What is it?" he asked, wincing inwardly when he realized his voice came out a bit harsher than he intended, though he was somewhat relieved to see that Bulma gave no outward indication that she noticed anything.
The lovely Earthling remained silent, swallowing the growing lump in her throat before finally tearing her gaze away to focus on the man who stood before her, his very presence fiercely proud and implacable. Had it not been for the scene earlier that evening, Bulma was certain that she probably would never have known that this altered version of her best friend was any different than he had first appeared. She would not have known that the cold demeanor was a mask, a facade used to protect himself against a grief that she could strangely identify with.
"Fate's a funny thing, don't you think?" she whispered, her eyes moving between the picture in her hand and the small form of her newly-discovered offspring. She didn't have to look back up to know the question confused the tall Saiyajin; the soft sound of his bare feet shifting on the stone floor told her that. Hell, it confused her too, but she couldn't stop herself as the words tumbled unchecked from her lips even as glittering pools of liquid grief formed in the corners of her eyes. "I mean... how else do you explain this? When my time machine blew up, it could have sent me anywhere, or it could have killed me. Yet here I am, trapped in some warped reality where the Saiyajin version of my best friend and the man I've loved longer than I care to remember -"
She choked back a quiet sob, mindful not to disturb the slumbering child she was watching before finding enough control over herself to continue, however mindless her monologue must be sounding to the perplexed audience of one that was again closing the distance between them. The pad of her thumb traced over the tattered edge of the photograph in her grasp reverently, and her shimmering blue eyes became distant and unfocused. "You know, I refused to accept that I'd never see Goku again when he died this time. God, I can't even begin to count the number of times over the last few months that I've prayed, begged... even threatened the gods to find some way - any way - to bring him back. I know he has his own wife and son, not to mention that I have my own baby boy, but still... there will always be a part of him that's just for me, you know? And then he goes and gets himself killed - again! It's not fair! Why... why did he have to leave us? And now this..."
Again, she speaks of Goku...
Kakarotto winced inwardly at the all-too human name, one of many ghosts from his distant past that he preferred not to think about too often. Still, hearing it drop from the delicate lips of the woman during her mournful ramblings wiped any anger he may have felt otherwise completely away, replacing it with a complex mixture of curiosity, confusion, and an agonizing empathy. Could it really be possible, that this Bulma could have loved and lost a version of himself in her own time, just as he had treasured his own Bulma, even to the point of threatening his sanity when she died? It sure looked that way, he realized, and the realization brought forth a deeply-buried feeling of animosity towards whatever divine beings ruled over their lives. If it was actually true, if this Goku she spoke of was indeed an alternate form of himself in her reality, then Kakarotto would have to say that fate was anything but funny. The loss of his precious mate had already convinced the cynical warrior that providence was a cruel creature; there was once a time when he had been cold, cunning, and completely merciless in all his endeavors. The human concept of love had been laughable at best, an unforgivable weakness, and it was one thing Kakarotto had no desire to indulge in.
That was, until he had crossed paths with Bulma Brief.
It wasn't until he had been drawn in by the enigmatic female's vigorous spirit and conquered by her infallible trust and devotion that the once ruthless leader of Earth became who he was now, and though he would never trade even a moment of his life with the blue-haired genius or change what he had become through her influence, it didn't mean he had to be grateful for her loss. As a matter of fact, the notion that destiny had joined their paths only to take her away made the very idea of fate seem damn near sadistic in nature. Were it not for the compelling similarities of this alternate Bulma's circumstances to his own, he would have chalked this entire maddening situation up to being a case of holy revenge for the wrongs of his past. What better way to punish him than to thrust a living, breathing, walking image of the woman he had so shamefully and pitifully longed for over the past year into his life, and at the absolute worst possible time? He needed to be focused entirely on Frieza and the threat the tyrant posed to his planet, not on the unforgivable debility he suffered from. He wondered, only for the briefest moment, why he had not reverted back to the way he had been before she had stormed her way into his heart. It would definitely be easier, he knew, but... He had made her a promise the night he had claimed her, and until he drew his last breath, he would abide by it. He would not digress to the monster he had once been.
Her memory deserved no less. Neither did his son.
An unsteady hand landed tentatively on his arm. "Kakarotto?"
The formidable Saiyajin had to physically shake himself out of his reverie to focus on the voice that addressed him, his gaze clearing as it locked onto the shimmering depths of færie-fire blue that were fixed intently on his face. He looked away quickly, finding the sight of his son infinitely more comfortable than Bulma's after his musings. "Forgive me," he managed out, his normally melodic voice sounding forced and unnatural as it passed through the constricted muscles in his throat. "I did not mean to-" He instinctively attempted to move away from the warm touch by folding his arms over his bare chest and was surprised when her grip tightened on his forearm just enough to give him pause.
"It's okay," she assured him softly. "I'm the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn't have gone on a rant like that, especially since..." She swallowed audibly when his entire body became rigid and his bottomless onyx eyes jerked back to her as if daring her to continue. Unwilling to back down under the ardent scrutiny, she straightened her back defiantly and met his gaze evenly without releasing her hold on his wrist. "I know that it's hard for both you and Isaka having me here, reminding you of her. It's obvious she meant a great deal to you, and -" Faster than she could blink, the arm jerked out of her hold and fingers of steel were cupped around her chin, digging in painfully along her jawline. Her heart nearly stopped beating when the man's enraged countenance filled her panicked vision; in her shock, she dropped the picture she had been holding, which fell unnoticed to the floor beside the bed.
"Listen very carefully," he snarled viciously through clenched teeth. "You know nothing. Not of me, not of my son, and especially not of my mate. You will be treated as a guest until you can return to your time, but while you are here, you are never to speak of her again. If you do, I will not hesitate to kill you. Is that understood?"
She nodded as much as his hold would allow, and she was rewarded with her freedom as he let her go and took several steps back, allowing her a clear path to the door. She drew in one ragged lungful of air before making her escape, heading for the room she had been shown earlier in a run.
Kakarotto closed his eyes, concentrating on the woman's ki until he was sure she had reached her chamber before taking in a steadying breath. He had not wished to frighten her, but it was the only way to get her away from him before he did something truly foolish. The combination of her identical appearance, the way she had spoken, even the way she carried herself with such fearlessness...
"What the hell is happening to me?" he growled as he turned to leave the room, glancing once more to the slumbering boy. He stopped when his eyes caught sight of the fallen object that had so thoroughly captured Bulma's interest and instigated her soulful outburst. He bent down and picked it up gingerly, fully intending to put the item back where she had originally found it on the bed.
Then he saw it. Then he realized.
Kakarotto loathed cameras. First of all, the whole idea of sentimentality had been, in his narrow-minded estimation, a ridiculous concept to begin with. Secondly, they were unnecessary when images could be digitized and stored in computers, yet Bulma had always been fond of the over-rated contraptions. He remembered vividly when she had made one herself, even though she only planned to use it once...
"So, what do you think?"
He raised a skeptical eyebrow at his excited mate before eyeing the device she waved in front of him. "What is it?" he asked, taking the palm-sized machine into his hand and studying it quizzically.
Bright blue eyes rolled in exaggerated impatience. "It's a camera. I want a picture of the three of us," she explained quickly, glancing at the small cradle next to their bed before giving him her best pleading look. "Please?"
"Begging doesn't suit you," he replied dryly.
"Alright then," she stated, taking the camera from his hands. She pulled him against her, wrapping both arms around his neck, the camera dangling behind him. "Sit your ass down so I can get Laresk to take our picture."
A soft chuckle. "Mmm, that's more like it," he breathed, brushing the tip of her nose lightly with his before gazing deeply into her eyes. A soft sigh escaped him as he felt the anticipation, the heartfelt desire of his acceptance through their bond. "This is important to you?"
"Yes," she confirmed with a small smile. "I know you still don't understand everything about human emotions, but... I want to be able to give it to Isaka. It's more meaningful than some image on a computer. A picture is something tangible he'll be able to hold in his hand..." The cerulean eyes clouded slightly. "I know it sounds silly, but-"
His finger covering her mouth silenced her. "Sh, it does not matter." The same tender touch traced her lips before falling away. "If it is what you want, then you shall have it."
Kakarotto had to blink several times to force back the moisture building in the corners of his eyes. The woman had apparently been right all those years ago. It was obvious by the numerous smudges that marred the glossy image - he and Bulma gazing admiringly at one another while the sleeping child rested across their laps - that his young son handled the picture quite often. Isaka had been keeping it under his pillow, the seasoned fighter reasoned, though he had never known about it. It suddenly occurred to the emotive Saiyajin that he had never actually seen the thing until today. She had asked him if he wanted to look at it, as he recalled, but he had declined, and she had simply let the issue go without another word.
He considered taking the photo with him but decided against it, choosing instead to ask Laresk if there was a way to create a duplicate for himself. He placed it just to the right of Isaka's ebony mane where Bulma had found it and finally took his leave, heading towards the training rooms rather than to bed. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to sleep after everything that had happened, and he rationalized it further by telling himself that he had to make up for lost time anyway.
The truth was that he simply didn't trust himself at that moment with just a doorway standing between him and the woman that was proving to be more and more like his Bulma with every minute he spent with her.
End Chapter Seven