Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Another Lifetime ❯ Her True Wishes ( Chapter 6 )

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

Another Lifetime

A DBZ story by QueenSaiyajin

Chapter Six

Her True Wishes

“Papa! Wake up!”

Vegeta blinked in the sunlight to see the wide-eyed face of Trunks just inches from his own. What a balm to his soul after a night of troubled dreams! Trunks! My son! Alive! He pulled himself to a sitting position, instinctively catching the boy in his arms as he plopped into his lap. Vegeta swallowed back the lump that caught in his throat, not sure if grief or pure joy had put it there.

“Papa, come! Mama made bwekfast, and Mama said me can twain with you today!”

He could not help but be taken aback by the child's words. Surely he must have misunderstood. Bulma had made it clear that she didn't want Vegeta anywhere near the boy. But even the hope that he could spend some time with him before he returned to his own time made his heart pound with excitement.

He rose into the air, his lips curled into a smile as he released Trunks to float in the air beside him. “Let's race, then. The first one to fly to the house wins.”

Bulma was not at all sure she had done the right thing in telling Trunks that he could train with his father. But if Gohan had convinced her of one thing last night, it had been that her son deserved to take advantage of every moment he could spend with Vegeta. In truth, she wanted to do the same. But he had made it clear that he had only one purpose in being here, and she wouldn't submit herself to his rejection again.

No matter how much it hurt to see him and not be able to be with him as she wanted to.

She had placed large platters of eggs, bacon, ham and rare steak on the table when Trunks came literally flying through the front door.

“Beat you, Papa!” he cried as Vegeta followed him in. Vegeta smirked at his son.

“That you did. I supposed I'm getting old.” His smile faded as he looked up to see Bulma, and he seemed at a loss for words.

“I thought you'd like something to eat,” she said neutrally, pouring coffee for herself and for him, and milk for Trunks.

“I should shower first,” he replied, though she knew it was more for her than for himself.

“It's okay,” she assured him. “You must be starved.”

He nodded quietly, taking a seat across from her at the small table, and beginning to eat his steak. It frightened her to see how weary he did look. He was absolutely haggard, in need of a shave and probably a comfortable sleep. He'd spent two nights in the garden, and she couldn't imagine that he'd found much peace amongst his disturbing memories. The bags under his eyes spoke volumes. He was a wreck, and no matter how much he had hurt her, she felt sorry for him. How could she not?

“Papa, me and you play now?” Trunks bubbled excitedly as he dropped his fork into his empty plate with a clink.

“A warrior needs his energy,” Vegeta explained to him as he helped himself to more rare steak. “Are you sure you've had your fill? We have a lot of demanding work ahead of us.”

“Let Papa eat his breakfast, Trunks. You've got plenty of time.”

Trunks curled his lip in a sulk, but said nothing. She knew Vegeta was looking at her curiously, wondering what had caused her change of heart. But he refused to voice the question in her mind, and his stubborn resistance to acknowledge their connection angered her. But two could play at this game. She consciously tried to push her feelings for him from her mind, lest he catch an errant thought. She stood from the table.

“I'd better get back to work on that virus,” she said, then paused, looking into the eyes she'd been avoiding. “You'll be okay with him for the day?” she asked cautiously.

“I think I can take care of my own son,” he snapped, as if it had been an insult to ask.

“I'm sure someday he'll appreciate every minute you were kind enough to give him,” she shot back, her biting words making him flinch. Good. He deserved it. She fought back the urge to tell him to go now and make it easier on all of them. But she knew he could feel her fury through the tenuous connection that still bound them together despite both of their best efforts to ignore it.

Kissing Trunks on the cheek with a forced smile, she left them alone, not sure anymore if that was really the best thing to do.

Vegeta watched her go, once again utterly frustrated by the woman's erratic behavior. Only last night she had implored him to stay away from the child, saying she wished he had never returned. This morning, she had put the boy in his care, and agreed to let Vegeta train him. Why doesn't she make up her fucking mind?! he thought as his eyes followed her down the hallway. She seemed to hesitate in her step, and he cursed himself for having most likely projected his thought to her. But if she had heard his rant in her mind, she was choosing to ignore it. The door closed behind her and his attention was drawn back to the toddler who was watching him expectantly. His face softened as the boy's eyes met his, and he had to fight to keep the smile from crossing his lips. At that moment, it didn't matter what had caused Bulma's change of heart. His son was alive, a boy again, and this was his second chance. He wouldn't question the irrationality of his woman anyway. It was part of the mystique that had drawn him to her in the first place.

They'd flown to the mountains, Vegeta leading the way but looking over his shoulder every few moments to make sure that Trunks was following him. He'd started out slowly, concerned the toddler would not be able to keep up, but the boy's speed was incredible, as great as the powerful energy that emanated from his small body. In that other lifetime, it had never even occurred to him to train his son at such an early age. The time he had wasted! Out of pure ignorance and arrogant pride, refusing to acknowledge that a half-breed child could possess such power…

“Papa? We there yet?”

Trunks had caught up to him, and was looking at him with those wide blue eyes. Bulma's eyes.

He nodded, motioning the boy to follow him as he lowered himself to the ground. They were sufficiently far from the city to avoid drawing attention. There were enough mountains to blast without causing real damage, and the discovery of any change in the landscape could easily be attributed to the Androids who had been carrying out a wonton spree of destruction for the last two years. It was a perfect spot for him to train the boy, to teach him all he could before…

A lump caught in his throat. How would he tell this child that he was leaving him forever? Or would he take the coward's way out, and slip away without a goodbye, leaving it to Bulma to explain, to deal with?

Bulma… In his mind he cried out to her, though he prayed she would not hear him. That she would not know how much the thought of leaving her was tearing him apart…

“What're we gonna do today, Papa? More Gawik Gun?”

“No,” Vegeta said hoarsely, though smirking at the boy's mispronunciation. “Today I'm going to teach you something even more powerful. It's called a Big Bang Attack.”

“Big Bang?” Trunks asked excitedly. At least he could say this one.

Vegeta couldn't wait to see if he could master doing it with just as much ease.

Bulma! His voice filled her thoughts, as clearly as if he had called her from the same room. She closed her eyes, whispering his name in her mind, but hearing nothing more. Had it been her imagination? Or had he reached out to her with that bond that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day?

Shaking her head back to reality, she looked at the computer screen before her, trying to make sense of the blood tests she had just run. The antidote she had synthesized by genetically combining the sample of Vegeta's blood with some of her own had had little effect on the virus. She'd hoped that pure Saiyan DNA held the key to a cure, but had had no luck whatsoever in isolating the genes that had protected Vegeta from the virus. She'd even compared Vegeta's blood to Trunks', trying to isolate the genes Vegeta's held that their son's did not. In the future, Trunks had succumbed to the virus, but she was still at a loss to find the chromosomes responsible for sparing his father. If only she had more time. But it could take months to completely analyze Vegeta's DNA. She knew that his patience would run out very soon, so she had tried working from her future self's notes rather than repeat the same steps. But despite all her efforts, in her heart she knew what the other Bulma had known.

There most likely was no cure.

The problem would be telling Vegeta that.

“Now, stand like this,” Vegeta said, poising for the attack.

Trunks tried to mimic his father, but his stance was off. Vegeta dropped to his knees beside the boy, pulling back his right foot and then holding his arms in the right position.

“Gather your energy here,” he told him, holding the tiny hands close and motioning to the space between his palms. “Concentrate. Bring it all to this point, until it gathers into the biggest ball of light you've ever held. Until you feel all your energy focused into the palms of your hands. Then draw back, and throw it as far as you can. Right at that mountain in front of us.”

The boy did as he was told, shaking his lavender locks from his face as his brow furrowed in concentration. The ki ball in his hands grew bright as the sun, and as big as one of those honeydew melons that Bulma liked so much. Vegeta could feel Trunks' energy reach its peak, and gently pulled his elbow back. “Now!”

With all his might the child threw the energy ball, jumping up in the air in delight as the mountain was completely toppled by that one blast. Vegeta's eyes opened wide in surprise. Trunks' power rivaled his own at that age. Was there any limit to the heights the boy might reach? At this rate, he could go Super Saiyan by the time he was five! Trunks had been eight when he had surprised his father with what he had been able to achieve on his own. With proper training….

Vegeta's blood ran cold as the train of his own thoughts hit him head on. Had he actually indulged in the fantasy of reliving his son's childhood with him? What makes me think I even deserve a second chance?

“Papa, look!” In midair Trunks had positioned himself to destroy another mountain. “Again!”

“No, Trunks, you have to power up first—“ Vegeta began to explain, but Trunks' enthusiasm made his father's admonition fall on deaf ears. The result was a volley of imprecise energy blasts that chipped boulders haphazardly from the mountain without bringing it down completely.

In frustration he turned back to his father, his bottom lip curled. “Why can't I do another Big Bang?” he whined.

Vegeta smirked. “You've expended all your power. You need to build it up again. Come,” he said, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder. “I'll show you how.”

Hours later, Vegeta landed softly outside the small house, careful not to wake the toddler that had fallen asleep in his arms. The workout had been rigorous, and the boy had finally admitted reluctantly that he was tired. Only the bright red-orange tint of the western sky told Vegeta that they had been gone for most of the day. No wonder Trunks had been utterly exhausted, and asked to be carried home. In another lifetime, he would have chided the boy for his lack of endurance, and that thought alone made him ashamed. What he would give to make up for the arrogance of his youth! He'd thought once that being a tough taskmaster would strengthen the boy, give him the arrogance and self-motivation to be a powerful warrior. But had he sacrificed something in the process? Why had it taken him so long to tell the boy how proud he was of him? And how often after that had he shown his son what he really meant to him? Had it been enough? Could it ever be enough?

“Is he okay?” Bulma's worried voice drew him from his thoughts and he realized that she had come to the door when she'd seen them arrive.

He nodded lightly, making a shhhhh motion with his lips, and Bulma nodded with relief as she realized that her son was only asleep. She stepped aside as he took the boy inside, laying him down on his bed and pulling off his boots. Trunks snuggled into the pillow, clearly set for the night. He expected Bulma to complain that the child had neither eaten nor bathed all day, but she merely pulled the sheet over him silently, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

She looked at him as she turned to leave, but her eyes were devoid of the anger he would have expected. “Did he have fun?” she asked unexpectedly. Her voice was so calm. So…sad.

He nodded, not sure what else to say.

“Good,” she said simply, and left the room.

He stared after her for a long moment, then followed her, trying to form in his mind the question he wanted to ask. How easy it would be to simply speak to her through their bond, rather than depend on insufficient words…but he would not. He could not. His resolve to distance himself from her emotionally was all that was giving him any sense of control over this absurd situation. She could sense him behind her and stopped short, turning towards him and almost causing him to run in to her. Inches from her wide blue eyes, all he could muster was, “Why?”

That one word held so many meanings, and she seemed aware of each one of them.

“I wanted him to know you,” she said softly. “You won't be here much longer. Today…might have been his last chance.”

Vegeta felt the blood drain from his face. “You've found something?” he asked hoarsely, a strange mix of hope and dread rising within him.

She seemed to hesitate, as if afraid to tell him. In truth, he was just as scared as she was. For any answer to that question would mean anguish, pure anguish, for the woman he'd left behind, or the woman who stood before him now. Seeing either of them suffer was more than he could bear. “Tell me, woman!” he hissed impatiently when she seemed to show reluctance to answer him.

She sighed deeply, her eyes closing as if to hold back the emotion swirling within her. “No, Vegeta. I'm sorry,” she said finally, looking back into his eyes with real regret. “There's just one more thing I want to try tonight…but it doesn't look too promising.”

For a long moment he could not respond. He knew this woman as well as he knew himself. She had never given up on anything, and would rather work herself to exhaustion than ever capitulate that any problem was beyond her ability to solve. She had always given him hope when things seemed most hopeless, and yet now she was on the verge of admitting defeat. Emotional strength had always been her virtue, never his. How could she simply give up? “You're obviously not trying hard enough,” he said without even thinking, and with a harsh accusation he had not intended.

Her eyes blazed suddenly with anger. “Excuse me? I've done everything I can, short of breaking down every strand of your DNA to figure out why you're still alive! Something like that could take months!”

“Maybe that's your plan, woman,” he snapped. “To keep me here long enough for me to grow so attached to you and that child that I won't want to leave!”

For a moment her face paled with…something, but she recovered quickly. “Don't flatter yourself, baka! We were perfectly happy before you came here, and the sooner you leave us the better!”

He blinked at her words, infuriated with himself for having even slightly intimated the conflicting emotions within him. “Fine,” he replied. “Then I will leave tomorrow.”

“Go ahead,” she said evenly, her eyes growing red even as she glared at him. “Leaving us is what you seem to do best.”

The reality of her words was like a knife twisting in his heart. That was, truly, all she had ever known of him. Abandonment. Rejection. Denial. “Bulma…” he began, though he didn't know what to say.

“Baka desu!” she swore at him, her expression betraying her own conflict. She had turned and run off to her lab before he could even react.

For a moment he merely watched her go, stunned at how quickly their tempers had flared, a clear indication that they were both at the end of their ropes. He hadn't meant to be so harsh, and yet it was too painful to have her near. And she had made it painfully clear that his presence was nothing more than a reminder of the arrogant son of a bitch who had brought her nothing but hurt and disappointment.

He would leave in the morning. It was better this way. He didn't belong here. He never had, and never would.

Bulma collapsed into her computer chair, burying her face in her hands and sobbing uncontrollably. She didn't want him to go. Gods, she couldn't bear the thought! Yet she couldn't keep him here any longer, not while she knew in her heart that there would never be a cure.

She had tried. She really had. But her future self had made it clear that the virus was incurable. Vegeta had to know that too. Just as he had nearly guessed the real reason why Bulma—the other Bulma—had sent him here.

She wondered guiltily if she hadn't hoped that it would happen, that he would want to stay with them rather than return to the dying woman who had given him this chance to live his life with her again. She couldn't lie to herself. A part of her had kept that hope alive, even when it had become clear that he had no intention of letting her and Trunks replace the family he had lost. But that didn't mean she hadn't tried to do what he'd asked of her…

Bulma wiped away her tears resolutely and turned to the computer, powering it on. She'd stay here all night and continue to search for an answer, even until the moment he stepped into the time machine and left her forever. She'd prove to him that she had made a real effort. Anyway, it was a lot better than facing him right now—or facing her empty bed.

He stared up at the ceiling in the darkness, reaching out with his senses. No, she had still not returned to her room. He'd taken the room next door, the one that had been Bra's, closing his eyes against the memory of the absurdly girly pink décor that he remembered, replete with every doll and stuffed animal ever made. How many nights had he spent looking down at the miracle of his little princess as she slept peacefully under the ridiculously frilly pink lace canopy? The sudden memory of his daughter's last moments on Earth made his breath nearly stop. Even opening his eyes to see the simple furnishings that held no hint of the child who had lain here in another time could not keep him from thinking of her…from missing her. He breathed deeply, straining to suppress the anguish that had risen within him. Even the thought of returning to Bulma—his Bulma— in the morning, brought him no comfort. For he had failed her, and would return only to watch her die.

The injustice of it all was maddening! In every timeline, fate or the gods, or perhaps both, had condemned his family to suffering. The thirty years he had spent with Bulma and their children would be consigned to memory, while in this time it was he who had left them prematurely. Before they could truly know him. Before they could know the depth of his love for them.

He hadn't been fair to Bulma. Each effort he'd made to make up for what he had done to her in this lifetime had only resulted in greater torment than she had already suffered. He had given both her and Trunks a taste of what a life with him would have been like…but just a taste. For after tomorrow, he would be gone. He could only wonder if they would be better or worse off for his having been with them for this short time. He had wanted to believe that he had given them something to ease their pain, but instead, he knew now that he had only made things worse.

He rose from the bed, following the soft whisper of her ki to the lab where she had spent most of the night. He slipped in quietly, figuring she would sense him, only to find her with her head face down on her desk, where she'd fallen asleep in the midst of her work. He glanced at the computer screen—meaningless formulae to him—and realized that she had been working to the last to find a cure. To prove wrong the accusations he should never have made. He whispered her name, but she did not stir, and he reached tentatively to gently caress the blue hair that covered her face in sleep.

I am sorry, Bulma. I truly am. He didn't consciously send his thought to her, but as she lifted her head to look at him in sleepy surprise he knew that she had heard him. What troubled him most was that she seemed more shocked by the admission itself than the way he had expressed it to her. Thinking back, he couldn't remember the last time he had told her he was sorry for anything. At least not in this time. For a long moment she looked into his eyes as if trying to read them, then finally looked away, as if what she saw within him was too much to bear.

“I'd better…get back to this…” she stammered, but he put his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it affectionately.

“No. You're too tired. You might as well get some sleep. You've done…everything you can.”

She looked at him wide-eyed, knowing that was the closest he could come verbally to an apology. The confusion he sensed in her was akin to his own. Hadn't he just accused her of not trying hard enough? What had changed?

“It is…my failure. Not yours. I know…you tried,” he ground out with difficulty. She stood to face him and his hand went to her cheek. He felt his defenses failing even as he said, “I failed you—her—“ he corrected himself shakily. “There is nothing more to be done.” But go home… The image of her dying in her arms flooded him with such emotion that he began to shake, and he struggled to push it from his mind lest she see it.

Suddenly, her eyes were filled with tears. Had she seen his thoughts? Did he know what losing her would mean to him? Did she know it would be the end of him…literally? “No, Vegeta. You didn't fail her,” she began, but he shook his head.

“She trusted me to find a cure,” he said matter-of-factly. “And now she will die because I failed her…” All his power, and yet the ability to save her was beyond even a Super Saiyan's grasp…

“No, Vegeta!” she cried, breaking into his misery with something that he suddenly realized was more than just an effort to spare his guilt. “She knew there was no cure! She was right all along, and all I did was confirm her findings. She never expected you to come back with a cure!”

The blood drained from his face. “Then what—?”

“She wanted to give you hope!” she told him passionately. “And a second chance!”

“A second chance? He whispered shakily. She couldn't possibly mean…

“Yes,” she told him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “To live your life again. With me. With Trunks…”

His face hardened, not sure which Bulma was infuriating him more. “How do you know this?!” he demanded. She seemed to hesitate and he asked again, “How?!”

“The disk she sent me. Along with her data, she sent a private message telling me that if I couldn't find a cure, then she wanted me to convince you to stay—“

Fury welled within him. “You knew all along there was no cure. Yet you said nothing!”

“It's not as if I didn't try!” she shot back. “I thought maybe there was something she missed, something she hadn't known about in your time—“

“This has all been a farce! You deceived me, woman, both of you!”

“We're the same person,” she reminded him hotly. “She and I are the same, and I would have done the same thing if I were in her place! But that doesn't mean I didn't do my best to find a cure! If you don't believe that, Vegeta, then you don't know me at all, and you're a bigger baka than I thought you were!”

He did know her better. In his heart he had no doubt that she had tried to do as she had promised. But the mere thought that he had been sent here on a ruse, to play into the woman's ridiculous plan to live out his life with this replacement family, made him feel like a complete fool.

A fool who had done exactly as she'd expected him to. Grown attached to this woman and child who were his, and yet not his…

He breathed deeply to calm himself. He wanted to tell Bulma he knew she had done her best, and yet he didn't trust himself to open his mouth without screaming in a frustrated rage. She saved him the awkwardness of speaking by handing him another small computer disk.

“She sent this, too,” she said quietly. He examined the metallic disk to see words written in permanent marker in the handwriting he knew all too well. It read, For Vegeta, in the event that no cure is found. He stared at it for a long moment, then looked up at her.

“Have you seen this?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. I assume it's private.” She motioned to the computer. “I'll leave you alone to watch it.”

“Why? It's you, isn't it?” he asked, his tone sounding mocking even to himself.

“Not in your eyes,” she replied dully, and turned to leave.

He thought to let her go, but something inside him needed her there. “Bulma, no.” She turned to him, her expression wary, and he said, “Please. Stay.”

She hesitated a moment, then came to stand beside him as he sat in her computer chair and placed the disk into the drive. The screen opened to the face of the woman he had loved for a lifetime. Bulma… Had she really looked that frail when he'd left? Or had he simply refused to see it, looking past the superficial veneer to the soul that was connected to his? Only now did he realize how much she had aged in the past few months, and yet she was still as beautiful as the day he'd met her on Namek. If only he could reach out and touch her.

Her eyes seemed to bore into his soul as she said, “Hi, Vegeta. If you're seeing this now, it means that I—I mean, the other me—hasn't been able to find a cure. I told her to give you this disk only when she'd tried everything possible. Because I know what you plan to do now. And I …” Her eyes began to redden as she paused, seeming to search for the right words. “I love you too much to let you.”

His face was like stone, and yet he felt his heart move into his throat as she went on.

“Vegeta, even if this plague had never happened, we both knew a long time ago that your life span is much longer than mine. You never made me feel as if it mattered to you, and yet here I am getting older by the day, while you still look the same as you did twenty years ago. I mean, I know I look great for my age,” she tried to joke with a slight smile. “But now…it doesn't even matter. I'm dying. And you have decades ahead of you.”

Not without you, I don't… he murmured silently, as if he could project the thought to her through their bond. Only when he heard Bulma gasp behind him did he realize that she had heard him. But he didn't have time to curse himself for his carelessness as his woman went on, and he watched, captivated by the image of her.

“If Bra and Trunks were here,” she said quietly, the grief still playing upon her features, “it would be different. You would want to live for them. But they're not the only ones who need you, Vegeta. It wasn't a mistake that I sent you back so far in time. To when Trunks was just a little boy, and I was young. When Trunks came to us from the future, he told me what his life had been like. How hard it had been for both of us without you. How he would hear me crying for you at night, and how he would wish that he had known his father. Vegeta, in this time, we had a wonderful life together. But in that other timeline, you died way too soon. I needed you. Trunks needed you. And now…you need us too.

“You always told me you wish you had done differently with Trunks. That you had given him the attention as a boy that you never did until you nearly lost us both. Well, this is your second chance. To live another lifetime. With them. With us.”

Her eyes were brimming with tears now, and it was a struggle to keep back his own. Was she really suggesting that this other family could replace the one he had lost? That this woman could replace her, and what she had been to him? It was insane! He didn't belong here! He belonged with her, at her side until death and beyond. Hadn't she convinced him years ago that he would no longer be consigned to Hell, but that they would have an eternity together in Other World? Didn't she believe that? Had it all been a lie to ease his guilt over his past and his fear of an eternity without her?

“We will be together again, my love,” she promised him, as if reading his thoughts. “Dende himself told me…that in Other World all of our alternate selves merge into one. One me, and one you. And we'll spend the rest of eternity together. The gods have granted you that for all that you've done for the Earth. So even if you spend another lifetime with me and Trunks on that other Earth…we'll still be together in Other World. But you will have the chance to do it all over again, and give them the part of you that only I was lucky enough to know.”

Bulma pushed her hair back from her face, and he could see the distant look in her eyes that Bra had had when she'd taken ill. “This is good bye, Vegeta. For now. “ Her voice began to crack with emotion as she whispered, “I love you, my Prince. I will always love you.”

And I love you, my Princess… He whispered in his mind.

The screen went blank. Time seemed to halt as he stared at the monitor where her face had been, trying desperately to push down the lump in his throat where his heart had fled to. Only the knowledge that the other Bulma was beside him, kept him from falling apart. He would not let her see him weaken. And he would not admit to her that her presence was all that was keeping him at this moment from going mad with grief.

Then, as she put a hand on his arm, he turned slowly towards her to see her face wet with tears…and it was over. He pulled her into his arms, crying silently into her shoulder and clinging to her as if he would never let her go.

But both of them knew that that was precisely what he planned to do.