Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Anaugust Gold ❯ 04 ( Chapter 4 )

She stirred slightly, eyes flicking open for only a moment before she pressed them shut again. Her head was aching to tell her something, but Vejata pressed back its urgent call, for her mind was surely swirling still from distant visions while she slept. Even in this state, she knew such lapses were dangerous—but—she'd recover with just a moment's more rest. Besides, her sleeping area was the most secure in the castle—on the planet, even, and for these reasons.

 

Shifting a bit, Vejata noted with displeasure the way the seams of the furniture beneath her had dug into her skin. Wait. She could feel all her skin on itself—she was wearing nothing. Eyes still closed, she brought one hand to her face to rub at them, but when she caught the scent of her hand, her body straightened, rigid in alarm. Her heel slammed against something—the bedpost? No, it was softer...it was...

 

Her eyes snapped open. Kakarrot.

 

Bursts of her most recent hours of consciousness flooded her mind, dangerously blurry. Past fumbling and confusion and—what was it, about her voice? And the tail, she'd had to keep it hidden somehow, but even when he found it...

 

Her muscles ached; some in dull pain, others sharply. What had—what was— Then...it happened. It had worked—something had worked—gods!—that was it. Vejata's hand snapped to just below her belly and her chest swelled with hope. If it really did work—her eyes widened, mad, as she smirked—the child would be a pastime, of course—but most importantly, when he can fend for himself—if I can wait that long—I will leave these godforsaken people to their godforsaken planet...my duty will be done.

 

Worries itched at her, but as she tried to grasp them they made little sense, were hardly relevant to this victory. A quiet mumbling from behind her tore them away from them, anyway, and her thoughts were dragged back to the man who lay not far from her, his breathing shallow and his feet dangled over the edge of the furniture. He was strong, to be sure—she twisted to lie on her back and winced at the sharp pain—he had been the only real option, and she'd known it all along. What would he have been like if he had not damaged his brain and lost his Saiyajin memory, so long ago? Vejata smirked to herself. He would not have been so shaken by something like the prince's rejection, of course—would not have succumbed to her trickery so easily, either, she was certain. With amusement, she recalled that the only time he had faltered during her deception—really faltered, truly questioned what was happening, those hours ago—throughout the entire act—was when she'd failed to ascend to the second level as he'd expected of Vegeta. Her smirk widened. And what ever would the prince think if he found out—

 

Her heart seemed to pause for a moment before doubling its efforts.

 

Kakarrot can teleport.

 

He can teleport away and tell everyone he knows.

 

And unless she could stop them from finding out, she was a dead woman. He had boasted that he stood among the gods—would they intervene, if they knew? She would have to risk it. Vejata could hardly hear over the blood that pounded through her ears, but quietly as she could she turned onto her side to face Goku. What a shame, she mused, and with all the dexterity she could muster climbed over the man, taking care to keep her thighs from brushing against his chest as she positioned her hands on the sides of his head. At the contact, the man's eyes fluttered open and he greeted her with a sleepy smile. "Ve..."

 

The syllable hung in the air alongside the gruesome crack of bones, and she pulled her hands from his twisted and broken neck. She pushed away, bare feet padding against the floor as she stepped back, and turned to reach for her shirt.

 

 

...

 

 

Vegeta settled into the couch silently next to his son.

 

"Dad?" the boy glanced up from his schoolwork, and Vegeta noticed with a small smirk that his notes were littered with what appeared to be sketches of attacks he was planning on developing. Since he'd first fused with Goten several years ago, Trunks had developed an obsession with creating new techniques, both for use with Goten and against him. Vegeta was pleased to see his son's interest in fighting interfering with his academics to a healthy extent, for a boy of Saiyajin heritage. "Dad?" Trunks waved a hand in front of his father.

 

"What is it, boy?" he grumbled, hoping too much approval hadn't leaked into his expression.

 

"I was gonna ask you," he frowned. "What's with you?" Vegeta shrugged, and Trunks considered mentioning his own theory when his father didn't answer. Instead, he took the indirect route. "Son's been gone for a while, hasn't he?"

 

The prince blinked a few times in surprise at hearing Trunks refer to the man using this name. He'd always been "Goten's dad"...well, for the three or so years since he'd come back, at least. Kid must've picked it up from Bulma, Vegeta decided. When did that happen?

 

"Dad?"

 

"A while, yes," Vegeta agreed. It had been a month—no, almost two—and after a week or two of expecting the man to come back any day, the prince had resigned himself to the idea that Goku might be gone for longer than anyone had thought. He was sure the other Saiyajin had gone to visit New Vegeta—had been itching to go back for a while, and he supposed this was the perfect excuse. Vegeta had let Bulma in on this idea, and he was sure it had made its way back to the Son family since, along with the cause for Goku's absence. The man's wife had visited on multiple occasions, and Vegeta wasn't sure if she hated her husband more for leaving again, or him for being the apparent cause of Goku's leaving (each time she brought it up, with a sneer Vegeta mentioned that she'd be equally miserable if he'd been inclined to take the man up on his offer). He himself couldn't sense Goku on that planet, but it was too distant for him to expect to be able to. He wasn't even sure of its direction from Earth.

 

"Are you angry?" Trunks fiddled with his pencil, holding his eyes on his father.

 

"What?" he snapped out of thought.

 

"About what he did," he clarified, and half heartedly scribbled some numbers onto a sheet of paper. When silence ensued, Trunks glanced up to find his father staring at him with wide, alarmed eyes. "What? How could I not have heard?" he set his pencil down and locked eyes with his father. "Besides, Son wouldn't just up and leave from you being mean to him. He left 'cause you turned him down," he watched his father's eye twitch slightly, "and you did that 'cause he kissed you." Vegeta nodded blankly. "So, are you angry about it?"

 

Vegeta's brows knit as he clenched his teeth, apparently replaying the memory. "Angry would be an understatement," he started, balled fists quivering.. "That he would be so presumptuous as to..." Vegeta trailed off. When Trunks seemed baffled by this response, the prince growled out, "You wouldn't understand, of course."

 

Trunks' lip curled up in displeasure at this response. "I'm not stupid." When his father seemed to drift off in thought again, Trunks added, "But at least he's better than a girl," and his features pinched up as he stuck his tongue out.

 

"What?" Vegeta blinked.

 

"Girls are gross," he shivered, apparently trying not to think about it. "And weird."

 

Vegeta chortled. "Your mother included?"

 

"She doesn't count."

 

The prince leaned back, a faint smirk playing across his features. "Of course."

 

Trunks nodded and resumed his work before he remembered the purpose of his original line of questioning. Surely enough, the next time he looked up his father seemed to have retired back into himself, deep in thought. "Dad, does it bother you that he's been gone this long?"

 

"No," he growled. What would happen when Goku came back, anyway? Would he be different—better, fixed, rid of his ridiculous ambitions? Would he continue to pursue them, or perhaps return more reserved, more wrapped up in himself? Vegeta rapped his fingers against the arm of the couch. If Kakarrot comes back any different than he's always been... In his mind the words were a threat, but wasn't sure what he would do if this was indeed the case. Perhaps it would depend on how long the man was gone—but after this much time, it was tough to guess how long that would be.

 

"It has been quite a while though," Trunks began, and Vegeta glanced up to him with a questioning gaze—had his son heard his thoughts? "I mean, a while since he's been gone for a big long stretch of time." Vegeta dipped his chin down to his chest. Trunks remembered well seeing his father in this mood—these were of his first memories. As he'd gotten older, and started showing promise as a warrior, his father had resumed training again, bringing him along and teaching him about fighting, about ki, about everything he knew. But there were still those distant thoughts from the youngest he could ever remember being, of a time when the grating screech of the door to the gravity room was not a daily occurrence.

 

And now, his father was returning to that state. He could see that Vegeta had caught his hint—was glaring at him defensively in an attempt to hide the guilty bobbing of his adam's apple. "But Dad," Trunks spoke again, "I'm sure he'll come back. Y'know? That was...that was different. Right?"

 

Vegeta nodded, swallowing again.

 

"Hey," the boy leapt up, catching his homework as it toppled from his lap. "I'm gonna go train." When Vegeta nodded mutely and didn't move, Trunks crossed his arms. "Dad!"

 

"What?"

 

"Teach me how to do your Big Bang attack." He grinned as his father stood, adjusted his gloves, and headed toward the door.

 

"Let's to find some empty space," Vegeta suggested, and smirked at his son's excitement. "Lots of it."