Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Another Lifetime ❯ Vegeta's Guilt...and Revenge ( Chapter 4 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Another Lifetime
 
By QueenSaiyajin
 
Rated NC-17
 
 
Chapter Four
Vegeta's Guilt…and Revenge
 
 
 
 
When Gohan showed up that morning refreshed and anxious to spar, Vegeta wished he hadn't made the promise to the boy. He was worn out, both physically and emotionally. He had barely slept, holding Bulma tightly in his arms as his mind sought resolution to his dilemma. He wasn't sorry for what had transpired last night, yet at the same time things were now that much more awkward between them. Trunks had bounded into the room shortly after dawn, putting an end to any more serious conversation. He was glad. He didn't want to talk anymore. There was too much to be done.
 
Not wanting to think about his personal concerns, he had focused instead on the tasks at hand in this timeline. 18 was still alive, and would seek retribution for her brother. Vegeta remembered the humiliation of the first time he had faced her. He'd gone at her as a Super Saiyan, and gotten his ass totally kicked. Not to mention that broken arm. He hadn't liked her very much after that, even after Krillin had shocked them all by marrying her. He would nod a greeting to her whenever necessary, but any further conversation was out. After three decades his defeat to her still stung. And though he was much more powerful now than he had been, and had easily dispatched her stronger brother, the thought of facing her again was…unpleasant.
 
Then, there was the matter of Cell. Once the Androids had been destroyed, he could seek out Gero's laboratory and destroy it, taking special care to find that secret chamber where that abomination had lain dormant. Then, it would be over. This world could return to its peace.
 
And he could return to his dying world, with or without a cure.
 
He had to admit a real admiration for his woman and her integrity. She knew damn well that finding the cure would be like sending him a one-way ticket back to his own time. He knew she didn't want him to go. But she was trying her best to do what he'd asked of her. He didn't know if he would be so selfless in her place.
 
“So Vegeta, you think you could teach me that attack you used on 17?” Gohan asked excitedly, drawing him from his musings.
 
“I don't know if you're ready for a Final Flash,” Vegeta told him, taking a sip of his coffee. “Maybe a Galick Gun.”
 
“Me wanna do Gawik Gun!” Trunks bubbled excitedly from his high chair, almost knocking over his breakfast.
 
“I don't think so, Trunks-kun,” Bulma interjected as she set huge plates of eggs, sausage and bacon in front of the two Saiyan men. “You're making enough of a mess with those little ki balls. I don't need you destroying this house.”
 
Trunks frowned, his bottom lip curling. “Pease, Mama!” He turned to his father for help. “Papa!”
 
“Your mother is right, Trunks. Energy attacks like that are not for little boys to perform.”
He watched the boy sulk for a moment, then added confidentially, “Maybe when you're four.”
 
Trunks grinned broadly, but Bulma's face showed more than disapproval, and he realized why.
 
He wasn't planning on being here when Trunks turned four. That was pretty fucking stupid, he chastised himself. Bulma looked up at him strangely, and he wondered if she had heard him.
 
He had no time to ponder it further. Suddenly an explosion rocked the grounds, and the acrid smell of smoke filled his sensitive olfactory sense. Another blast made the foundations of the house shake, and in fury he jumped up from his chair. “Gohan! Take Trunks and Bulma away to safety. I'll take care of 18!”
 
“Vegeta!” Bulma cried out frightened, picking up her son.
 
“Go, Bulma, now!”
 
Suddenly the kitchen wall was gone, and the slim figure of Android 18 stood in the sunlight pouring down through the gaping hole in their home.
 
“You!” she cried, her lifeless eyes focused on Vegeta. “You killed my brother!”
 
“And you interrupted my breakfast,” he replied mirthlessly. “Does that make us even?”
 
She raised her hand to blast him, but then looked at him more closely, her eyes opening wide. “Where the hell did you come from? 17 killed you!”
 
Vegeta powered up, bursting into super Saiyan. “Then I suppose he and I have evened the score!”
 
“Why you…” A blast of energy barely tickled him, knocking out the other side of the kitchen.
 
“Maybe you'd like to join him,” he offered, standing there unscathed.
 
“Papa!”
 
Both Vegeta and 18 turned to see Trunks struggling in his mother's arms, terrified by the blast that had been aimed at his father.
 
“Gohan! I told you to get them out of here!” he yelled at the younger Saiyan. Then he realized the problem. Gohan had tried to pull Bulma and Trunks from the room, but the boy was struggling violently to stay with his father.
 
With an evil grin the Android seized her opportunity. In a flash she had snatched the child from Bulma's arms, holding him tightly in her grip while Bulma screamed.
 
“PUT HIM DOWN!” Vegeta roared ferociously. He knew any shot he fired would kill the boy as well.
 
“He's just a little boy, you sick bitch!” Bulma shot out.
 
“So it seems you have a little family,” 18 said with mock sweetness. “What a cute little boy. It's a shame I'm going to have to kill him. And you get to watch—“
 
The sight of his son fighting against the Android's grasp enraged him beyond reason. The death of his son and daughter had ripped his heart to shreds, and the pain wrenched at him anew as the prospect of losing this little boy too loomed before him. With a fury greater than even Frieza had ever engendered in him, he felt his power levels soaring to new levels, beyond Super Saiyan, beyond Super Saiyan 2…
 
“I SAID TO PUT HIM DOWN!” His voice boomed like thunder as the wind of his ki swept through the room, shattering glass and throwing debris in all directions. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gohan holding on to Bulma, both to keep her from being strewn into the air, and from attacking 18 herself. The Android's eyes opened wide in amazement as Vegeta seemed to transform into something totally different than any of them had ever seen.
 
“Papa!” Trunks' own terror was escalating as he thrashed about violently to free himself from the Android's grasp. Suddenly he turned to 18, more angry than afraid, and shot a ki blast right to her face.
 
Stunned, the Android released him. “You little brat!” she cried, reaching up to her cheek, to find it smoking.
 
Vegeta saw his chance. Grabbing the boy with his left hand, he fired at the Android with his right.
 
18 didn't even have time to be afraid. She was swept into the energy of the attack, and dissipated into nothingness.
 
He breathed deeply in relief, looking down at the boy and hugging him to him. Bulma ran over in tears of relief, and as she put her arms around their son he took her into his embrace. “It's over,” he told her. “It's over.”
 
“I can't believe it,” she whispered, kissing Trunks on the head, then kissing Vegeta on the lips. “Finally…”
 
“You did it, Vegeta! Now they're both gone!” Gohan exclaimed. The teen was trying his hardest to hold back his own emotions, but was failing miserably. Vegeta couldn't blame him. After two years of a solitary struggle, Gohan has just seen his world liberated at last.
 
“Papa, me helped get bad lady!” Trunks said proudly.
 
Vegeta smiled at him. “Yes you did. You did very well, my son.”
 
“Now you teach me Gawik gun? Pease?”
 
He looked at Bulma, and she nodded. “You might as well. There's not much left of the house to destroy anyway.”
 
“Yay!” Trunks cried happily. Then he reached out to Vegeta's face, puzzled. “Papa. What happened to you? Your hair is wong!”
 
Bulma agreed, though she seemed less surprised. “It's longer than mine, and for some reason your eyebrows are gone.”
 
Vegeta smirked. Super Saiyan 3. He hoped that somewhere from Other World Kakarot could see this.
 
“Vegeta! You've ascended again!” Gohan said in disbelief. “Wow, you've gotta teach me how to do that!”
 
Vegeta powered down to his normal state. As soon as he figured out how himself, he would.
 
 
 
The main residence area had been all but destroyed, no less a result of Vegeta's blasts than those of the Androids. Even the bedrooms where they had slept last night had collapsed, to become part of the rubble that had been their home. Bulma was glad that Papa had insisted on finishing off the smaller house on the eastern side of the complex. Miraculously, it was untouched, and would be more than sufficient living space. There were four bedrooms and a lab which Bulma had hoped to make her own someday. Today would be that day. Luckily, her old lab was in a part of the house that had been relatively unscathed, though structural damage made it dangerous at the moment. She was at least able to rescue her laptop and the data that her future self had sent. As soon as Trunks was settled into his new home, she'd promised Vegeta that she would return to her quest for a cure.
 
Stuffing all the capsules they would need into a satchel that she fastened around her waist, she led the way to their new residence. As they stepped inside, she noticed Vegeta's face grow suddenly pale. “What's the matter? Don't you like it? I think it's kind of cozy.”
 
“It was,” he said quietly, then looked at her. “This is the house we moved into…after we were married. We lived here for the next ten years.” He paused, as if uncomfortable telling her, “Until your parents died. Then we moved into the main house.”
 
“Oh,” she said simply, feeling a chill go through her. “Then…they lived much longer in your time. That's good. Here they were killed in one of the first attacks.”
 
He didn't answer, seemingly caught in a wave of memories. Bulma couldn't help but be jealous that they were memories she would never have. Whether they were all happy or not didn't matter. It was another lifetime, one that he had lived without her.
 
Trunks was running around the house so excitedly he had begun to hover in the air. “Where my room, Mama?!” he asked, anxious to check it out.
 
Bulma hadn't even thought of that, and she looked at Vegeta with a slight smile. “Maybe you should tell us,” she said.
 
Vegeta walked over to the hallway that led from the main living area. “Here,” he told Trunks, pointing to the first door. Trunks bounded in, jumping on the bed and trying it out.
 
“Which room do you want?” Bulma asked him. Would he want to stay by himself while he was here? She dared not think that last night had been a promise of anything more.
 
He motioned to the room across from Trunks'. “That's our room—“ he began, suddenly seeming as awkward as she felt.
 
She stepped inside what must have been designed as the Master Bedroom, a blue-carpeted room with a King Sized bed and light wooden dressers. She set her capsules on the nightstand as she peered into the bathroom, with its blue tiled walls, huge porcelain sink and toilet, and enormous bathtub. To the right was a stall shower, not unlike the one in the main house. “Let me guess. You use the shower, and I like the tub, right?” she asked knowingly.
 
He sighed deeply, still caught in his past. “Actually, we used one or the other. When I was alone I usually showered, and when we were together…” He didn't finish his statement, and his cheeks reddened as he realized what he was saying. He hadn't meant to, she knew.
 
Bulma just looked at the luxurious tub, thinking how wonderful it must have been to lie in there with him, making love in a bubblebath late into the night, then taking their passion to that spacious bed, where she would fall asleep in his arms every night…
 
She started as his hand touched her arm, and she knew that with his senses he could detect the moist warmth that had settled between her legs. She leaned back against him, closing her eyes, wishing that she had lived that life with him, and cursing the gods that she had not. His arms wrapped around her from behind, and for a long while he held her there, his breath warm against her neck as he kissed her lightly. The hardness at her rear told her that she wasn't the only one affected by these thoughts, and that, at least, gave her some comfort. But she knew that as much as he would hold her and kiss her, there was a limit to what he would allow, a point at which his guilt would override his desire. She couldn't fault him for that. His loyalty, after all, was to her. And yet knowing the strength of his love only made her want him more…
 
 
 
Holding her against him like this as he thought back to the years they had spent here was wearing away at his restraint. How many times had they made love late into the night in this very tub? Walking into this house, with her, was like stepping into his past. It was taking every ounce of control not to take her right now. The scent of her arousal was not helping matters. Even in those rare moments when he hadn't wanted her simply because she was near, the delicious aroma of her sex would drive him insane with desire. Especially after last night, his need for her was irrepressible.
 
She turned in his embrace, her cheeks flushed, her nipples as erect as he was. He crushed his lips against hers, tasting her hungrily, one hand moving up to cup her breast, the other tangling itself in her hair. She moaned softly as his thumb flicked against her hardened nub, and he deepened his kiss as a wave of heat coursed through his body, not sure if it was his arousal or her own that he was feeling through their bond. Their bond? If this was not his bonded mate, then why was he able to feel every beat of her heart, every emotion, as if she were? If this was not his Bulma…
 
Of course I'm your Bulma, you baka… her thoughts rang out in his mind.
 
Stunned, he released her, taking a step back and looking her in the eyes. He found more than her desire and frustration there. There was a sudden amazement at something they had only both realized just now. Bulma, can you hear my thoughts? he projected at her.
 
She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a finger on her lips. Think your answer, woman. Don't speak.
 
Yes…I can hear you in my head… she whispered in his mind. But how?
 
He breathed deeply, trying to understand it himself. He had never consciously bonded with her, as he had so many years ago with his Bulma, when he had finally accepted her love, and his own for her, after so much denial. The connection that had been slowly evolving between them had at once blossomed into a more powerful bond than he could imagine sharing with anyone. It had been their unique union, their secret from the world, and had brought them closer than any ridiculous marriage vows ever could. How could it be then that he would feel that tie with this woman?
 
Because we're the same woman, she told him silently. It unnerved him that she had followed the complex train of his confused thoughts. Guilt suddenly overwhelmed him, as he realized that he was sharing something with her more intimate than even sex. His sense of having betrayed his woman was overpowering.
 
“This…should not be happening,” he said, consciously willing his body to cease its response to her.
 
Why not? Her voice in his mind was a tremulous whisper.
 
“Stop it,” he commanded, refusing to communicate with her in any other way. “You are not her. And I did not come here…for this.”
 
He didn't wait for her response as he turned away and went back to the living room. He didn't need to. Her sorrow hung as heavily upon his soul as his own.
 
 
 
 
Bulma's entire being trembled uncontrollably as he withdrew from her, physically and emotionally. It wasn't just sexual frustration. It wasn't the sting of his rejection. It was the sudden loss of something she hadn't even realized was there until now. The sense of him that had pervaded her being since he'd been here, the warm comfort of his essence wrapped around hers, was gone. This bond, as he called it, had been intensifying since the moment he'd arrived, and only now that he had consciously pulled away from her did she recognize it by its sudden absence. The stray thoughts, the emotions, that she had felt from him, had been the beginning. But this ability to read his thoughts, to feel his emotions as if they were her own—this was new. And only once he'd disengaged his spirit from hers did she realize how he had filled the emptiness that her life had become since she'd lost him. She was empty again. Alone. And this time, she didn't know if she could bear the anguish of that loss.
 
She went after him, ready to lay into him for doing this to her, but Gohan had already arrived after checking in with his mother, and Trunks was flying around the two older Saiyans begging to spar with them. This would not be the time to settle this with him. In any case, he'd made it clear what he wanted, and it wasn't to stay here with her. Bitterness welled within her, but the promise she had made had to be fulfilled no matter what the turnout.
 
“I'm going to the lab,” she said coolly, not even giving him the satisfaction of seeing how upset she was. “Vegeta, I need you to watch Trunks.”
 
“Fine,” he said without looking at her, only serving to infuriate her further.
 
She left them all and retreated to her work, the only thing that could ever take her mind off her pain. It had always done so, and it would again.
 
 
 
 
 
Vegeta couldn't look at her. If he did, he would want her. His entire being would surrender to hers once again, and he would be lost in her.
 
He refused to let that happen.
 
“Papa! Papa! Gawik gun, okay?” Trunks nagged, suspended in the air next to him and pulling at his arm.
 
“Not to be like a little kid, Vegeta, but I'd really like to learn how to do it too.” Gohan seemed more relaxed than ever, and the fact that their enemies had been defeated had not dimmed his enthusiasm to expand his power. Good. The Saiyan instinct in him was even stronger than in the kid Vegeta had watched grow up.
 
“Come outside, both of you,” he instructed, heading towards the door. “You can work on destroying the rest of this rubble before Bulma has the crew come to repair it tomorrow.”
 
For the next hour he taught them, explaining in adult terms to Gohan, while bending on one knee beside Trunks to hold his hands in the proper position. He lost himself in the way of the warrior, training the two as if he were their Sensei. In a way, he was, he supposed. He was the only seasoned warrior they would ever know, and he was determined to impart as much of his experience and knowledge on them as possible. He watched with interest as Gohan tried the attack; he was an adept learner, and his training with the Namek had made him a focused student. Within an hour he had mastered it, and was begging Vegeta to teach him more.
 
“How about that Final flash move, Vegeta? That was awesome.”
 
Vegeta smirked. “I don't think we should rip up any more of the landscape here. For that we would need to go out in the wilderness.”
 
“Papa! Watch!”
 
He turned to his son, who even at three could imitate the stance of a warrior. Closing his eyes first to concentrate, then holding his hands exactly as his father had taught him, he let loose a red blast of energy that ripped apart what was left of the main house. Bulma would not be pleased, but Vegeta was overjoyed.
 
“Good boy, Trunks! That was excellent!” he said, patting him on the back.
 
“See, Papa, I tole you I could do Gawik Gun!”
 
“You certainly did,” Vegeta told him, amused that he was so adept at an attack he couldn't even pronounce.
 
Gohan nodded his agreement. He was duly impressed. “Wow, Vegeta, if he's doing that at three I can't imagine how strong he'll be when he's grown up.”
 
Vegeta didn't have to imagine. He knew. He had seen Trunks as a young man in two different worlds, and in each one he was a powerful fighter. Future Trunks had done exceptionally well for having never trained under his father. Vegeta was confident that with this head start he was giving him, he would reach even greater levels.
 
Gohan's face grew serious as he continued too quietly for the toddler to hear, “Don't you see how much he needs you, Vegeta? Can you really walk away from him?”
 
“If I want your advice, I'll ask for it,” he replied sharply. Gohan said no more, and Vegeta regretted his harsh response. But there was nothing else to say. He knew damn well what it would do to Trunks when he disappeared again. For that very reason he was determined to do everything possible for him while he could.
 
“Celebrations are going to spring up everywhere when people realize the Androids are dead,” Gohan said, changing the subject. “I can hardly believe it myself. Thanks to you, Vegeta, everyone can live in peace now.”
 
“It's not completely over,” Vegeta replied darkly. At Gohan's concerned look, he continued. “Doctor Gero's lab is hidden in the Northern Mountains. Inside there is a creature being grown who will pose an even greater threat than 17 and 18. I have to destroy the lab, destroy him, before this is completely over.”
 
“I'll help you,” the teen offered.
 
Vegeta looked at him wryly. “You think I need help to destroy a laboratory?”
 
“Uh, no, but, uh—“
 
“I'll tell you what you can do,” he told him, getting an idea. “I'm anxious to see this done with. I need you to watch Trunks while I go to Gero's lab. Think you can handle that?”
 
Gohan looked dubiously at the toddler, who was blasting everything in sight.
 
Vegeta went over to his son, scooping him up into his arms. “All right, Trunks, you've done well. Now you have to stop blasting things. Mama will be very upset. You should only use your powers when you are training, or when you are in a fight with an enemy. You can't go around destroying everything in sight. That's bad.”
 
Trunks was watching him seriously, hanging on his every word as if it were Gospel. Vegeta couldn't help but think that he'd wished someone had told him as a child that it was `bad' to blast things indiscriminately. Instead, he had been taught to destroy for the simple joy of it.
 
“Okay, Papa. I pwomise,” Trunks said solemnly.
 
“Good. Now I want you to play with Gohan while I go take care of something.”
 
“Okay.”
 
As Vegeta flew away he had to smile as he saw Trunks and Gohan sparring on the ground. Trunks just might win. If only Kakarot could see this.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
If he lived to be two hundred he would never forget the battles that had raged in these mountains, and the way Gero's creations had thoroughly humiliated him. From the moment 18 had broken his arm and left him defeated and in pain, to the way in which Cell had deceived him, playing upon his pride to convince Vegeta to allow him to become complete rather than destroy him as he could have. The results of Vegeta's mistake had been catastrophic. Kakarot had been the hero with the self-sacrifice that had left him dead. Kakarot's son, a mere boy of eleven, had defeated the monster that Vegeta could not. And worst of all, Cell had murdered Future Trunks, his only son.
 
Trunks had been revived by the dragonballs, of course. But that could not erase the horror of his having let it happen. His greatest secret fear before he had ascended had been the inability to protect his woman and child from his enemies. That fear had caused him to push them away cruelly, pretending he didn't care. The death of Trunks had proven unequivocally that he was unfit to protect his own, even as a Super Saiyan. That knowledge of his weakness had sent him into a spiraling depression that had gone on for years.
 
Only after the Majin Buu affair had he overcome this anger at his own failings. Once he had chosen to sacrifice himself for the sake of his loved ones, he could openly show just how much they meant to him. He had done so with Trunks, when he'd embraced him for the first time. He'd shown Bulma his love when he'd returned, insane with private grief when he'd learned that Buu had consumed her. Only that had prompted him to fuse with his greatest rival, Kakarot. And only accepting finally that Kakarot was the best, and working with him to recover their world, had he been able to return to Bulma and Trunks with an open heart, and readiness to be the husband and father they had always deserved.
 
He smiled to himself as he thought of little Trunks and how in such a short time the boy had come to adore him. If only he had learned that lesson before Trunks had been eight years old. If only he could relive and reverse the mistakes of his past…
 
He stopped as he came to the hidden lair of Dr. Gero. The entrance was blasted open from the inside, where the Androids had escaped. With utter disgust he stepped into the laboratory itself, seeing the chambers which held Gero's other creations. One by one, he blasted them into oblivion.
 
But he knew that the greatest threat lay below. Finding the secret cavity where the monster lay developing, Vegeta stood face to face with a tiny fetus that would grow to be his biggest foe. Blasting the glass, he watched as the thing struggled for nourishment from its failing womb. With a hatred that had grown over decades, he seized the embryo from its safety and literally ripped it apart piece by piece, vaporizing the remains with one final blast of energy. Not a cell remained.
 
He turned to the computer that had nurtured it long after Dr. Gero's death, and blasted it into smithereens.
 
It was done. With a sigh of relief, he flew out of the cave, and with a furious round of ki blasts erased any evidence of the evil that had dwelled there.
 
It was done. Finally. He flew back home, satisfied that this time he had been the victor, and that he had finally brought peace and safety to those he loved.