Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Borrowed Redemption ❯ IV ( Chapter 4 )

Borrowed Redemption ::

Chapter 4

 

 

“Goku, dear, would you like another helping of pancakes?”

 

“Of course, Chi,” Goku smiled, facial muscles twitching slightly

at the unwelcome sensation.

 

“It's so nice to know you're getting your appetite back. I wonder what was wrong with you?”

 

As if it weren't obvious. Goku wondered if Chi-Chi had purposely ignored the reason for his general melancholy the past month; maybe she was afraid to accept the fact that Vegeta meant so much to him. Or maybe she really didn't know. It would be unbelievable to anyone that the bottomless pit of a Saiyajin could lose his appetite - in fact, it had nearly gotten to the point at which he was eating a meal no larger than what a human would - so perhaps it was just an incredibly far-fetched idea for her, that anything would affect him so deeply.

 

Nonetheless, he had to play along. It was acceptable for him to mourn Vegeta's death for a while, but now it was important that he let the others know that things were fine. After all, there was peace; what reason had he to remain in sorrow?

 

Only one, really.

 

 

***

 

 

But much as he missed Vegeta, he also loathed him, loathed him like none other. More than anything, it was for ruining their chances by running into Bulma. Bulma had just been an innocent bystander; he felt no rage toward his childhood friend. But Vegeta…hadn't he known that Goku was interested in him?

 

However…perhaps when he and Bulma had gotten involved, he hadn't known. Yes, perhaps he should give Vegeta the benefit of the doubt; there was no way for him to have known anything for sure until that kiss. But Vegeta had done it despite Bulma—making Goku wonder just how much he cared for her. He'd mislead Goku.

 

Of course, there was no getting around the permanent reminder of the fact that someone who was not himself had gotten to Vegeta first.

 

Trunks.

 

The boy was supposed to be his child, his and Vegeta's. But he knew his mistake now; misunderstanding the teen from the future, taking it to heart and mind and then taking it too far. But despite its impossibilities, it seemed so believable, and his interest in Vegeta had been piqued. The idea that there could be something there, growing between them, intrigued him.

 

But it wasn't there.

 

And he knew now that what had meant more than anything to Vegeta was not him, Goku, but the prince's family. It all made sense; Vegeta had not given his life to Goku out of kindness or as a loving endeavor…no, Vegeta knew that Goku would be the only one who had a chance of winning, and had given up his life to save his family from Cell. The proud prince was secretly so fond of the two he had gathered around himself, was so wrapped up in their affection.

 

And why, why did Vegeta have to give up his life?

 

He probably knew how much it would hurt Goku, and did it just to spite him, to mock him, did it just for the joy of watching the Saiyajin suffer of unparalleled loneliness.

 

Full of grief and anger that he'd never known he'd had, Goku collapsed onto the couch, tucking his arms around his head as he wept.

 

 

***

 

 

“Dad!” Gohan shook his father awake. “Dad, you need to get Mom to the hospital right now!”

 

Goku shook his head, awakening from his musing. “Right,” he gave a small smile, which seemed to be getting harder and harder as time passed, rather than the other way around, as it should. “I can't believe the day's already here.” Perhaps a little light on the enthusiasm. He grinned just in case Gohan had noticed the lack of excitement in his tone.

 

It wasn't that the idea of a new baby boy displeased him; far from it. He merely lacked the energy to care right then. His mind was distracted by other things - like the very near day at which he would be able to wish Vegeta back. He was happy, oh yes. Oh yes. But…

 

Perhaps he was a bit bitter that the baby would have only half the parentage he'd wished for. That wasn't the cause of his gloominess, though.

 

He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

 

 

***

 

 

Vegeta hung his head. It was time to give up.

 

Even in the worst of cases, a ship could have reached New Namek by now; he should have been wished back.

 

That settled it, then. He didn't mean as much to Kakarrot as he'd thought.

 

But—

 

Shouldn't Bulma have wished him back? Goodness knew she cared about him.

 

So maybe it wasn't Kakarrot's fault…maybe there was something else wrong.

 

There was just too much he didn't know.

 

 

***

 

 

The impending sense of doom was inexplicable, but Goku ignored it as he summoned the dragon. He had already decided on his three wishes:

 

First and foremost, for Vegeta's life to be returned to him.

 

As per Puar's request - and, of course, because he was his friend - Yamcha's life, as well.

 

“And finally,” he dictated to the dragon, “I want all the cabbages on this planet to be destroyed.”

 

 

***

 

 

Vegeta rubbed his eyes, confused. He'd gone to sleep a confused, depressed dead man, and woken up a confused, depressed, living one. His heart pounded wildly as he realized what must have happened, before he was transported to a foreign, cabbageless planet.

 

 

***

 

 

Goku whipped around, feeling a ferocious throbbing in his chest as he locked eyes with Vegeta.

 

“Kakarrotto?” Vegeta spoke softly, stepping toward Goku. He leaned in, and for a moment, their lips brushed together.

 

“Vegeta.”

 

“I…I missed you,” he uttered with sincerity that hurt.

 

Goku tilted his head forward, nuzzling the prince lightly, before backing away with wide eyes that signaled a reconnection with the rest of his mind.

 

“…What is it?”

 

“You'd best get back to your family,” the other Saiyajin answered coldly.

 

“I—but you—”

 

“Stop playing with me, Vegeta.”

 

“I—”

 

“Bulma misses you. Don't you miss her? And don't you miss your baby boy?”

 

“But it's you th…”

 

“I've had enough of you. Come on, time to get you back to the people you belong with.”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

“Stop making fun of me.”

 

“What?”

 

“I know how hilarious it must be to see me like this,” Goku muttered venomously. “But really. I thought you had more dignity.”

 

“I…”

 

“Never thought you'd lower yourself to laughing over the goody-two-shoes who's always had the good life, finally getting what he deserves?”

 

“You…”

 

“Always wondered how horrible it was to be constantly lonely, just like you, and now I've finally found out? I thought you had more pride than to mock me for that.”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

“Welcome to reality. Neither do I.”

 

Vegeta backed away slowly, pressing a hand to his mouth. This was not Kakarrotto; this was not the loving, forgiving optimist he'd left behind. Who was the cynic before him? In Goku's eyes, he was beginning to see slivers of himself. He shivered. “O-okay then. Let's just go home. We'll sort this out later.”

 

“There's nothing to sort out.”

 

“We'll sort this out later,” Vegeta reasserted.

 

Goku merely snorted, grabbing Vegeta roughly by the shoulder and teleporting them back to Earth.

 

 

***

 

 

Vegeta dangled his feet over the countertop, watching the sun sink beneath the ground through the window on the other side of the kitchen. Once he'd returned to the living world, he'd been so ready to start anew with Goku - to figure everything out, decide just how much he hated him, just how much he wanted to beat him up, and just how much he wanted to sit down and talk with him. Instead, the other Saiyajin had left him with no choice; he couldn't do any of these.

 

Visions of Goku's eyes haunted him. The other man was never meant to wear that look of hopelessness and…scorn. He was too close a reflection for Vegeta's taste.

 

I need to find him and ask what happened. What I need more than anything else now is to understand.

 

“Daddyblah!” Trunks cooed out mixes of words and noises from Vegeta's lap.

 

“Silly child,” Vegeta chortled. The joys in life were few and far between, but so simple. He poked Trunks' nose.

 

“Gyah!” the baby snatched Vegeta's finger, some of his Saiyajin strength already making itself known. “Kraoaowowpickulshoom!”

 

“Of course you are,” Vegeta nodded absently, bemused. He needed to find Kakarrot.

 

 

***

 

 

“Goku, hun, Vegeta's at the door for you!” Chi-Chi called out brightly.

 

Immediately, Goku's chest dropped through his stomach. “What's he want?”

 

“I don't know! Do you want me to ask him?”

 

“Yes please!” As long as he didn't have to go out there and look at the prince. The thought conjured a sense of dread, stinging eyes and clumsy hands.

 

“He says he just wants to speak with you for a moment,” Chi-Chi finally responded.

 

“I'm busy, then,” Goku answered in a quiet tone.

 

“What's that?”

 

“Tell him I…tell him…that I was just getting ready to pay Krillin a visit, and maybe he can come back later!”

 

 

***

 

 

“Chromedome? Well, fine, then,” Vegeta snorted. But he'd heard Goku. Perhaps he ought to spend the day on the turtle hermit's island and wait for the Saiyajin - odds were, he'd be waiting a long time.

 

“Feel free to check back later, though.”

 

“I will,” Vegeta nodded curtly, and then turned on his heel to fly off.

 

 

***

 

 

“Kakarrot.” He had him now—caught Goku in the middle of a fishing excursion. He stood with his back turned toward the other man, feeling the need to exercise his manners - and keep his face free of any telltale red tinges - at realizing that Goku was naked.

 

“Vegeta,” Goku responded tonelessly.

 

“I'd like to talk to you.”

 

“I'm going to take these fish to Chi-Chi now; it's almost dinnertime,” he responded bluntly.

 

“Along the way, then.”

 

“Teleporting. Then dinnertime. Later, Vegeta.”

 

 

***

 

 

He was almost ready to give up hope - Goku evaded him with such utter brusqueness that Vegeta knew he didn't want him around. The prince tried not to linger on the idea; his mood had the tendency to dip back down to the depths he'd thought he'd escaped after Trunks' birth. Although the idea of a half-breed, lavender-haired son had almost scared him away from Bulma - the Earth entirely, even - at first, he'd come to adore the little boy. He obviously had some prince-like qualities already.

 

“Dah! Dahdy!” the child demanded. He half-waddled, half-scooted across the floor to his father. “Wachis.”

 

“All right, I'll watch you.” Trunks and Bulma - but especially the former - were such a pleasant distraction from the issue that would otherwise be tearing at his mind every waking hour, and then some. Bulma was impressed - and surprised - at his fatherly nature. And he enjoyed watching his son's development from baby to toddler, relishing in the childhood that he'd never had and eager to ensure a good future for his offspring.

 

Trunks carefully pulled himself to his feet, standing precariously in an awkward position, before tumbling forward. “Ryar!”

 

“Very impressive,” Vegeta applauded politely. “We'll make a warrior of you yet.”

 

“Thaykyi!”

 

Vegeta smirked softly, but he stood up because he knew he had to. He hadn't given up on Goku yet - and perhaps it wasn't because of hope, but pride. It wouldn't do to accept this sort of defeat. Kakarrot hadn't outdone him yet.

 

 

***

 

 

This time he would make sure, make sure that Goku would speak with him. He would get him at a time he couldn't be busy, simply wouldn't be able to make excuses and leave.

 

“Good morning, Kakarrotto,” Vegeta muttered, hovering over Goku's previously sleeping form. He grinned an almost malicious grin, gloating his victory. “We need to converse a bit.”

 

Goku took in a deep breath to bark at the prince, but snapped his mouth shut as he remembered the other occupants of the house.

 

“Come, now. Let's go outside.”

 

Goku pressed a hand against his chest, pushing upward, as if perhaps that would lift his heart back up. “No, Vegeta.”

 

“The hard way, then.” The other Saiyajin swiftly swept an arm around Goku's waist, and when Goku threatened to struggle free, Vegeta lightly struck the back of his neck.

 

 

***

 

 

“Okay. What do you want from me, Vegeta?” Goku growled. Attempts at indifference had given way to rage at the prince's recent actions.

 

“I want you to tell me why you're acting like this.”

 

“Why do you think?”

 

“There's a reason I'm asking you.”

 

“You're only asking me for the satisfaction of hearing it from someone other than yourself.”

 

“Don't be a moron.”

 

“Fine.” Goku took his time, breathing in and out deeply several times before answering. When he spoke, it was almost like it ached to do so. “You hurt me.”

 

“What?”

 

“You don't care about me.”

 

“…What?”

 

“You only brought me back to life because I could save your family.”

 

“A Saiyajin does not slaughter his honor by forcing another to save his own blood! Fool!”

 

Goku's eyes pierced through Vegeta, but he remained silent, as if wondering if it would be injurious to himself to admit he'd thought wrong. “Then why did you do it?”

 

“Gah! Idiot, you're so incredibly dense!”

 

“That doesn't answer my question, Vegeta.”

 

“I'm the one asking questions, Kakarrot, so I think that's perfectly acceptable. Speaking of which, why did you avoid me? An extension of your rage? I doubt it. That wasn't fury I saw in your eyes whenever you turned away from me. It was fear.”

 

“What are you trying to say?”

 

“That you are a coward! Running away from your problems - absolutely pathetic, Kakarrotto, just like everything else about you!” He paused, brows pressing down. “Your total lack of dignity—you'd walk around nude if they'd let you, wouldn't you?—and your absence of Saiyan pride! You don't even know you are!” Vegeta shifted in his boots for a moment before beginning to pace around. “And don't get me started on those stupid little annoying things you do - scratching your head and laughing with that idiotic grin, shuffling your feet and rolling your shoulders when your woman scolds you! I remember you tilting your head to the side when someone said something confusing—and now you're none of that light, childish persona. You used to make imbecilic jokes and laugh at them yourself, and now all you can do is wallow in whatever this uncalled-for self-pity is! Do you remember who you were, Kakarrotto? You were stupid, and naïve, and charming, and simple, and you made me feel so—” he abruptly cut himself off, crossing his arms to show he was done speaking.

 

Goku blinked for a few moments, his slightly overwhelmed expression clouding with fury. “Cowardly? Pathetic? Stupid? It's all the same old stuff, isn't it, Vegeta? Always something wrong with me, right?” he approached the prince slowly, rounding his path to pace a half-circle around him. “I'm not going to put up with it anymore! Maybe you should open your eyes and look at yourself first!” Without another word, he took off.

 

Vegeta was unable to breath at first. When the air finally left his lungs, he buckled to his knees. Perhaps he shouldn't have cut himself off, after all. At least then Goku would've heard an ounce of—at least then he couldn't have only seen the negative.

 

Kakarrot only seeing the negative.

 

The prince sighed. Goku was no longer Goku. And Goku no longer wanted him—if he ever had in the first place. He let the leaden weight that coursed through his veins in the form of blood push him down to the ground, and he lay there staring at the sky, dark with twilight. Leaves swirled around him, got lodged in his hair and danced over his skin, and he felt their light tickling like the dried and worn out dreams that had played through his mind, only to be swept away by Kakarrot's chilling winter wind.

 

There was Bulma, and there was Trunks, and he cared for them deeply. But now he knew, and was forced to accept it—he cared for Kakarrot just as much, in a different way. Bulma and Trunks were his warm little family, Earthlings who accepted him and for the most part treated him kindly, who he showered with his own brand of quiet, subtle affection.

 

And then there was Kakarrot, to whom he did not extend that warming care, but instead found himself whipped up in a whirlwind of hatred and passion and all the things a sweeping romance held; standing in front of the forest fire plucking petals—he loves me, he loves me not—and waiting for the wind to settle down, before realizing it was just the eye. Kakarrot, who'd gingerly accepted him and tenderly taken him in, until the tempest struck and his life was left battered and worn as he lay there, tired and sunken while Kakarrot stopped the winds and the fires and threw away the daisies in a vase on the table. Kakarrot, eyes dulling over, brightness waning, left Vegeta alone to dream of storms.