Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Coda ❯ Chapter Two ( Chapter 2 )

CODA

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z. Bigger, better and richer folks do.

Warnings: V/G yaoi with no Bulma or Chi Chi bashing.

AN: This story concludes the story told in “And Then There Were Three” and “Coercing Kakarrot.” You probably should read those first, otherwise you will be a little lost.

Acknowledgments: Gutterball, of course, for her story “Coercing Kakarrot.” A thank you to Orchideater and Pixelgoddess for their thoughtful feedback on ATTWT which got me thinking about Goku.

Of course debbiechan for everything, and Ember for being the more wonder beta of All-Time.

******************************************************** *********

Chapter Two


The gravity machine is running. A glance inside reveals no one. I look more closely.

There’s Vegeta, lying on the floor against the wall. He’s not asleep, just staring at the ceiling. I’m tempted to go into the house and leave the note somewhere. It wouldn’t be difficult. But I didn’t come here for the note, not really. I came to see Vegeta.

I lift the cover to the emergency shutdown control and enter the code I remember. It hasn’t changed. I hear the machine power down, hear the auto-lock on the door disengage. I expect the door to fly open before I can open it myself, a fuming Vegeta in the doorway. That doesn’t happen.

I open the door. Vegeta hasn’t moved; he hasn’t even looked toward the door to see who is interrupting his training, well, his lying down.

“What?” he asks in a voice filled with boredom and fatigue. No anger, no irritation. Just a sad weariness, as if life was an inevitable intrusion on whatever it was he was doing.

“Um, Vegeta . . .”

My voice catches his attention. He doesn’t jump or startle. He slowly sits up and then turns his face to me. He stares at me and doesn’t say anything, his black eyes burning into me and making me wish I had just left the note and vanished.

“I . . . Bulma sent me this to give to you.” I hold up the letter.

He gets up then, uncurls from his sitting position and walks over to me and looks at the letter in my hand.

“Bulma sent this?” he asks.

“Yes. Her lawyers just sent it to me. She wanted me to give it to you.”

His hand raises tentatively, as if he’s afraid of taking the note. Then he snatches it from my hand, pushes past me and vanishes into the house.

Shock. I don’t know what I expected, but not this. I’m actually a little angry. I haven’t seen the man in years; I come all this way to deliver a letter from his dead wife and he can’t even say “thank you?”

I turn and follow him into the house. He’s vanished. I search for his ki. It’s upstairs, probably in their bedroom. There’s a little part of me that’s screaming this is wrong; I shouldn’t go trailing after a man who’s clearly still grieving and has just been given a letter from beyond the grave, but I don’t care. After all these years, after everything, I refuse to be blown off.

The bedroom is empty. I can feel him strongly, but I can’t see him. He’s not in the bathroom. Then I notice the door to Bulma’s closet is ajar. Shit, he’s in her closet?

I walk over to the door and push it further open. The enormous closet is packed with clothes and shoes, but I can find Vegeta sitting on the floor against a suitcase. He looks up as I enter, then looks away. He doesn’t look sad, only resigned. So at odds with the Vegeta I’m familiar with --- the one certain he could rule the world.

“What are you doing in the closet, Vegeta?”

He looks at me again. I can see him deciding between a real answer and smartass comment. He looks away again before he answers, his eyes gliding around the room. “Smell,” he says.

I step inside and breathe. Bulma’s scent assaults my senses. It’s like she were in the room next to me. Like she never died.

“It’s like she’s here,” I say.

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at the limp dresses, waiting to be filled by a body long dead in her grave. I swallow and shift my feet. I have no idea what to say. “I’m sorry” doesn’t cover this.

“I didn’t think I’d miss her.” His voice breaks the silence. “Not like this. Death is so final, so absolute. It seemed pointless to miss what you cannot have . . . .”

“Of course you miss her,” I say. “It’s only natural. You lived beside her for forty years. She was --- “

“Do you still miss Chi-Chi?”

His quiet question shocks me, not because it’s personal, but because I don’t think he has ever referred to Chi-Chi by name. He never approved of Chi-Chi. He thought she was too shrill, too domineering to be a life mate. He never understood her the way I did. I figured out early on in our marriage that more than anything, Chi Chi needed to be needed. She liked to fix things for people, make things right. She got a little crazy over it sometimes, but usually it was just her fear that she might not be needed anymore that was popping up. So I let her feel needed, taught Gohan how to let her feel needed. We were a family and that’s what families do for each other. I smile. Somehow in Bulma’s death Vegeta finally can give Chi-Chi some dignity.

“Around dinnertime I miss her a lot!” I say. Vegeta doesn’t smile at my joke. He’s serious; he wants an answer to his question. He doesn’t want to feel this way, and he’s hoping I’ll say something to give him hope that this feeling will all be over soon. I take his question as an invitation to stay, so I cross my legs and sit down.

“Yeah, I still miss her. I miss the way she used to make the clean clothes smell. I miss being able to surprise her with wildflowers and watch her smile because I did something nice for her. I wish she were around every time I visit my grandkids because I know she’d get such a kick out of them. I think she would enjoy them in a way different from her own. All the fun and none of the work!

“But I don’t miss her often the way you are missing Bulma right now. Life moves on and carries you with it. You fill in the hole in your heart with odds and ends.” I think back on the months after Chi Chi died, the feeling of being lost. It didn’t stop until . . .Vegeta and I started. “If you’re lucky, someone may invite you into their heart.”

I shouldn’t say this next part, but I do anyway. “If you’re really lucky, they let you stay.”

His eyes dart to mine and there’s a flash of anger there. He doesn’t mistake what I’m referring to. The anger fades quickly though, and when he speaks it’s with a sarcastic edge.

“I wouldn’t take you for the type to hold a grudge, Kakarrot.”

I really should leave because all the old anger and hurt comes bubbling to the surface. This encounter has been too long in coming though, so I sit and let my anger have its way.

“Do I have a reason to have a grudge, Vegeta?”

The anger in his eyes returns, and this time it doesn’t fade. “I spent the rest of my life making it up to Bulma,” he spits. Then softer, “you wouldn’t let me make it up to you.”

“How were you going to make it up to me, Vegeta? Fuck me? Suck my cock?” He looks away. Yes, that appears to have been his plan. “That was never what I wanted, and you know it.”

He refuses to meet my eyes and after a moment he gives a one-shouldered shrug to tell me he couldn’t care less.

But then, he didn’t have to care, did he? He had Bulma, his family, his life still intact. He’s lived in the same place, done the same things. He hasn’t wandered from place to place, killing time, waiting---

Shit.

Waiting. Have I really been doing that? Has my entire life been spent waiting for this moment, for Vegeta?

. . .something holding me back . . . .

Maali knew. She didn’t know who or why, but somehow she knew there was something not finished in my life, something keeping me apart . . . waiting.

Waiting to find out if Vegeta would ever let go, see me as something other than competition. To let me be a friend, a partner.

Holy shit.

How could I have not known this? And now that I know, what do I do?

I look at Vegeta again. He’s not looking at anything in particular, certainly not me. I don’t know what to say. Sympathies would be unwelcome. I look around the closet, amazed. There’s hundreds of dresses in here. A few still have price tags on them. Did she die before she could wear them or did she just change her mind? A bit of yellow and white catches my eye.

“I remember that dress,” I say. “She wore it to Gohan’s college graduation.”

Vegeta looks up at the dress. “Hn.”

I lick my lips. “She looked great in it. So fresh and spring-y. She was like a butterfly in the crowd in that dress.” I’m not sure where I’m going with this, but I can’t sit here silent. I have to know where I stand. I have to get on with my life, with or without Vegeta.

His lips twist and he gets an amused glint in his eye. “No,” he says and points near my shoulder. “That’s the dress.”

“This?” I twist and reach behind toward a piece of navy. At my gentle touch, the garment slides off its hanger and onto my hand. I hold it up with both hands and examine it. It’s silky soft, with large bits of fabric strategically placed to cover the important parts. The rest is as substantial as dental floss.

“I never saw her wear this.”

A chuckle. “That’s because she never made it out of the house once she put it on.” His eyebrows waggled. “She never wore it very long either.”

I smile. It’s good to see him smile too. I can’t remember the last time he smiled at me. Years certainly. I have missed it.

“I don’t suppose you have pictures?” I ask.

Snort. “Who do I look like? Roshi?”

I take his joke as progress, and I wrack my brain for something else to say.

“Who did you think I was? When I stopped the gravity room?”

His face takes on an amused expression again. “Tanga. Bra sends her over if she doesn’t hear from me every week. She thinks I need company.” He rolls his eyes, but I can tell he’s pleased that Bra worries about him.

“Do you?”

His eyes meet mine, but there is no answer there. He gives a non-committal shrug. “She brings cookies.”

I’m proud of Bra. Did Bulma teach her how to deal with Vegeta or did she figure it out on her own? Nothing too overt, nothing too demanding. Sweeten the pot with something you know he wants anyway so his pride won’t say no. Brilliant, but then I would expect no less from Bulma’s daughter.

We fall silent. The closet seems close now, and I know it’s time for me to leave. I don’t want to leave though. Once I walk through that door, there’s no reason to return. I try to think of something else to say, some neutral topic that won’t sound awkward, but I can’t think of anything else. Conversation was never Vegeta’s and my strong suit, fighting was. An idea forms.

“So would you want to spar sometime?” I sound like Goten asking a girl out on a date.

His eyebrows raise.

“I could use a real workout. Been getting out of shape training humans.”

“That’s right. Goten said you’d taken to training human fighters,” Vegeta says. There is disapproval in his voice.

“Pays the bills,” I say.

“Waste of your skill,” he says.

“I don’t think so,” I say. And because I really want him to accept, I add, “And it looks like a better workout than your current training routine. What do you call that technique you were doing when I showed up?” His eyes flash. The old Vegeta is still in there, and I’m relieved. I get up. I think I’ve done enough. If he never shows, I’ll have my answer.

“Come find me if you want to spar.”

***************************************************** *********

I had all but given up hope when I feel him coming.

It’s been three weeks since I gave him Bulma’s letter. I figured if he was going to accept my invitation to spar he would do it quickly---he doesn’t dwell on things---and as the days went by without seeing him I figured I had my answer.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. There was disappointment surely, for I now know just how much I’ve been counting on some resolution between us, whatever shape it took. We’ve been through too much to be strangers, and I don’t mean just Bulma. The battles, the fusion, the sex. There’s always been something between us. The thought of nothing leaves me empty.

I come outside as he lands on the sand and walk towards him.

“Hey, Vegeta,” I say in greeting.

He looks around the island. I can see him thinking that this is not a good environment for serious training, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m glad you came.”

He shrugs. “Can’t have you getting out of shape.”

I smile. “The training room is this way.” Jeordie’s gone today with his parents. They’re buying him a new air car for his birthday next month.

We enter the training room and Vegeta immediately takes off his shirt, dropping it in a corner. He looks sleek and hard and the memory of running my tongue over the smooth surface of his chest surfaces. I swallow and push it back down.

He turns to me and crouches into a ready position. “I’m going to go easy on you because you’ve been fighting humans,” he announces.

I smirk and stand ready. “Suit yourself. I can’t wait until you reveal that new “lying down” technique.”

That does it. I barely see him move, but my jaw is ripped to one side as his fist connects with my chin, knocking my head to the side. Kami, that felt good. I look back at him with a grin, feint to the left, then kick with the right leg. He dodges it easily.

His eyebrows raise. “You’ll have to do better than that.”

I charge. The rest is a blur–literally. It’s fast-paced and furious. We’ve both been too long without a challenge, and it’s clear we’re ready for one. Our spar outgrows the training room quickly and we’re outside in the air. Blasts and blows fill the sky. I know I’m grinning throughout it all.

It feels good, dammit. So very good.

Finally, it’s enough, and we collapse onto the beach, close enough to the shoreline that the larger waves reach us, soaking our clothes with saltwater. After a few moments, Vegeta raises up to his elbows. He’s almost smiling.

“Kami, I’ve missed pounding you,” he says.

I know how he means it, but images flash through my mind. Memories.

“I’ve missed it too, Vegeta,” I say. I mean it the way he does, but I mean it another way as well.

“You shouldn’t have stayed gone,” he says. His almost smile is gone. He’s serious. I’m shocked that he wants to talk about it after all these years. Vegeta is not the kind of guy to “air things out” or “work through things”. The past is the past to him. Over. Finished. Pointless.

“It was easier,” I say.

“For you maybe. It was hard as hell on Bulma.”

Ah. I should have realized it was for Bulma he would bring this up.

I wince. “I . . . never intended for her to feel guilty about what happened. I didn’t think she would feel that way. I thought everyone would be relieved if I stayed away. Seeing you both . . . it was . . . painful. I just assumed she would feel the same way.”

He looks away as he digests my words, and watches the waves come in. He looks down and plays with the sand. “She blamed herself, you know. She said if only she’d just said “no” to you that first day everything would be . . . . “ His voice trails off.

“Everything would be what, Vegeta?”

He looks at me and works his jaw as he tries to come up with the word. “Fine,” he says at last. “Everything would be fine.”

Kami, I wish so badly Bulma were alive so I could tell her how wrong she was. Sooner or later, something would have happened. I don’t know what, but that situation was too intense to have sustained itself for long. I eventually would have figured out the things I learned that first afternoon in Bulma’s bedroom. I would have felt just as used, just as manipulated. What went on between Vegeta and me was sex --- great sex, yes --- but always on Vegeta’s terms. I would’ve wanted more. I’ve never wanted Vegeta to see me as an enemy, and I thought that the fact that he wanted me meant that he saw me as a friend and maybe more. No, it would have come crashing down eventually. Things most definitely wouldn’t be “fine.”

“Do you believe that, Vegeta?” I ask. “Would everything be ‘fine’?”

He looks at the ocean again. “No. But maybe you would only blame me.”

I blink slowly and open my eyes. It’s almost as if a stranger were before me. I can’t believe that he’s speaking like this and to me. I know Bulma’s death affected him greatly, but there’s no reason for him to reveal these things to me. To be so open, so . . . needy. There’s no other word for it.

And then it hits me. I know what has changed for Vegeta. I’ve seen it in myself.

He’s learned to lose.

He’s learned there are battles you cannot win, fights you cannot sway. He’s learned that wanting something badly enough won’t change the way things are. It’s a humbling experience.

Suddenly I’m very sorry for the lost years, the time away. I want to hug Vegeta. I want to kiss Bulma and tell her how sorry I am. I know what Bulma’s letter was about now. Regret. So much time, so much loss. It didn’t need to be. We only had to have the courage to reach out, take a chance. Beyond the pain, the love was there.

“I didn’t blame Bulma, and I don’t blame you, Vegeta. I should never have taken what was offered. It was wrong, I know that now, but I was so lonely, so lost. You and Bulma were like a lifeline. But it was your life. I should have been making my own, not living yours.”

My words sink in, and I don’t know why I sense it, but it feels like a burden has been lifted from his shoulders. I think I’ve just given him some kind of absolution. He doesn’t say anything though, just stares at the waves, enjoying the feeling. Then he turns to me with a lopsided grin and snorts. “As if you could resist once Bulma started working on you. I watched on the monitor in the gravity room. You never had a chance.”

“You watched?”

He catches himself. I guess he didn’t know what he was saying and his face colors. “I had to know the right time to come in,” he says evasively. I want to tease him about it, but he’s uncomfortable, and I know it’s too soon. This time I’m going to be sure of what I want.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I never had a chance,” I say and look at the ocean. We sit in silence together, watching the waves, the gulls. I don’t even hear Jeordie return until he’s almost upon us.

“Goku, I’m back,” he says and looks at Vegeta. There’s a glint in his eyes I don’t like. It looks suspiciously like jealously. “Who’s your friend?”

I stand and Vegeta does the same. “Jeordie, this is Vegeta. Vegeta, this is my student, Jeordie.” Vegeta gives a curt nod in greeting. Jeordie, usually a polite person, gives his own nod in return.

“Vegeta and I are old friends,” I say. “He just came by for a spar. He’s a great fighter.”

“Really?” Jeordie asks. “What tournaments have you fought in?”

Vegeta opens his mouth to answer something I’m sure I don’t want him to say, so I jump in. “Vegeta doesn’t fight in competition anymore. But ask Uub about him next time you see him. He’ll tell you.”

Jeordie gives another nod and then he turns to me. “I’m wound up tighter than a spring from being with my parents all day. I really need a good workout. I’ll be in the training room.” He turns and leaves without waiting for my answer. Bitch.

Vegeta didn’t miss the undercurrent in that exchange because the first words out of his mouth after Jeordie leaves are “Sleeping with him?”

I think about denying it for about two seconds, but then I decide there’s no point. “Sometimes.”

Vegeta’s eyebrows raise. “Choosing them kind of young, aren’t you?”

“He’s older than he looks. He’s twenty-one,” I say. “And I didn’t choose him. He chose me. They always choose me,” I add softly.

Vegeta doesn’t understand the tone in my voice. “What’s the difference?” he scoffs.

“Spoken like someone who’s always done the choosing,” I say. His brows draw together but I change the subject before he can comment. “So, do you want to do this again?”

Vegeta looks at the ocean as he mulls his answer. “Yes. But come to Capsule Corporation next time. He glances at the training room. “It’s less crowded.”

He blasts off without a word of farewell, but I don’t mind.

I have a date.

************************************************************ ***

“Kakarrot, can you teach me shunken idou?”

My fork stops halfway to my mouth. It’s been a month since I gave Vegeta Bulma’s letter, and since then we’ve met at least twice a week to spar. Mostly at Capsule Corporation, but sometimes I’ve just felt him flying near, an old way he used to let me know he wanted to fight. I join him, and we fly to the Waste Lands and break mountains. It’s familiar, but entirely new at the same time. It’s almost like we’re meeting for the first time.

He’s different, yet the same. He’s still the king of the smart-ass comeback, still wants to win. It’s tough to pin down where he’s changed really. He hasn’t called me “idiot” once – that I’ve noticed. He still gets in his jibes, but the heat is gone. If he ever believed them, he doesn’t anymore. I think he enjoys being with someone who knows him, like I enjoy being with Vegeta because he knows me. I . . . I think he’s my friend, and for once maybe he think I am his friend.

He hasn’t made any reference to our past relationship since that day on the beach. I don’t bring it up either. There seems to be an unspoken truce about it. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I feel more myself when I’m around Vegeta, more comfortable, more at home. When I head back to the island, it burns in my gut because I don’t want to go. I want to stay. I’d rather be with Vegeta.

Sometimes I wonder what he’d do if I kissed him. Just grabbed his face and pressed my mouth to his, slid my tongue inside to find his tongue. Would he push me away or would he kiss me back? I don’t know. I’m afraid to find out. I like being with Vegeta. I don’t want to screw it up. And kissing him . . . that would change everything. I might win, but I might lose too. I don’t want to go back to nothing. So I keep my lips to myself. We fight, and most of the time we head back to Capsule Corporation to eat. Neither Trunks’s nor Bra’s family live at Capsule Corporation. It’s old. They’ve built new places in upscale neighborhoods. Bulma set up some kind of regular delivery of groceries, so the pantry is always full.

“You want to learn instant transmission?” I ask. “Why?”

He shrugs. “It’s a useful technique, don’t you think?”

“Sure, but---“

“Don’t you think I can learn it?”

There’s an intensity to his tone as he asks this, and I realize he really wants to learn shunken idou. It’s not academic curiousity. He’s got a purpose for it. I wonder what?

I put my food in my mouth and chew, making him wait. I already know my answer – I can teach him the technique – but it’s fun watching Vegeta squirm.

“So?” he asks as I swallow. “Will you teach me or not?”

“Will you let me teach you, Vegeta?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? I asked, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but if you want to learn shunken idou, you’re going to have to let me teach you. Can you do that?”

I think he finally understands what my point is. In the past, Vegeta would do the exact opposite of anything I said, just to be on the other side of what I wanted. As a student, he can’t do that. He’ll have to do as I say, how I say.

He licks his lips and takes a breath. “Yes, I will let you teach me.”

******************************************************* **********

“No, Vegeta, you’ve got to pull your ki toward the other ki.”

I place his hand on my shoulder, put two fingers to my forehead, and we vanish. We reappear in Gohan’s backyard, shocking Videl into dropping her laundry.

“Sorry, Videl!” I say. “Vegeta’s trying to learn shunken idou.” I grin, and she grumbles something about “giving her a heart attack” as she scoops her laundry back into the basket and heads back into the house. “Did you feel that?”

“I feel it, Kakarrot; I just can’t do it!” He’s getting frustrated. We’ve been at this two weeks now. I’ve startled virtually every member of our families and even a few strangers. I’ve run out of ways to explain it to him.

Vegeta has been true to his word. He works hard, and he tries to do everything I say. He’s not patient with himself though, and he has never been as adept at sensing ki as I have. Sometimes I feel the old resentment surging in him, but he never lets it go. He pushes it down and refocuses on trying again.

“Do you want to ---“

“I’m hungry. Let’s eat,” he says and takes off. I follow him as he heads back to Capsule Corporation. When we get there, he leaves me in the kitchen and goes off into another part of the house. I’m not hurt exactly; I know he just wants to be alone right now. He’ll come back down when he’s calmer.

I finish my lunch. Vegeta still hasn’t come back down. I wonder if I should go find him? Or just leave? I don’t want to leave yet. After a few more minutes of indecision, I decide I will go find him and tell him I’m leaving. I can tell if he really wants me to go.

I turn toward the doorway to find Vegeta and take a step---

And walk right into Vegeta.

He lowers his fingers from his forehead. He grins an absolutely beautiful grin, and I can’t help myself. My hands cradle his face, and I lean down and kiss him.

I press my lips against his, and he doesn’t push me away. I part my lips, brush his lips with my tongue, and I feel his mouth open and let me inside. I sweep inside, brush his tongue, his teeth. He doesn’t give in to the kiss, but he doesn’t fight it either. He just lets me kiss him. Which is okay, because that’s really what I want – to kiss him.

Finally, I pull my mouth from his, drop my hands and meet his gaze. I can’t read what’s written there – curiosity, interest? I have his attention, that’s for sure.

“What was that for?” he asks.

The heat rises to my face, and I feel as inexperienced as I did so long ago.

“I . . . I just wanted to kiss you . . . again.” The last part is almost a whisper. I’ve broken the truce.

He drops his gaze, and I can tell he’s very uncertain about what he’s going to say.

“So have I,” he’s almost whispering too, “have I ‘let go’ of enough bullshit?”

I inhale sharply as I hear my own words out of his mouth. Part of me wants to laugh – had there ever been two people so frightened of each other? But most of me just feels relief and a hint of sadness at so much lost time.

I tuck my fingers under his chin and pull him to face me.

“Maybe I didn’t mind the bullshit,” I say, “Maybe I was just afraid that bullshit was all there was.”

“Never,” he breathes. ”It was never all bullshit.”

His words pull me to him, and this time he kisses me back. His tongue battles with mine, and he tastes so like I remember, yet so new. I pull my lips from his and kiss across his cheek, his jaw, down to his throat. He throws his head back, opening all of his throat to me. I lick, tasting the salty essence of his skin and feel his throat vibrate against my mouth as he moans. His hands clutch my head as my mouth moves on his throat. I nip his skin, tasting his blood. My cock swells, and I slide one hand down his back to pull his hips into mine. I grind my cock against his, moaning his name against his neck.

Fingers tugs at clothing as we collapse to the floor. What cannot be removed is ripped away. His naked legs slide against mine, an ankle curls around my shin. His lips find my chest; his teeth test my nipple’s hardness and I shiver at the tingle I feel down my spine. His hands cup my ass, squeezing, testing and I feel his fingers reach between.

“Kakarrot,” he breathes against my chest as his finger glide against me. “Kakarrot.”

There is only one coherent word in my mind and I speak it now. “Yes.”

His fingers leave and his hardness find me, takes me. There should be pain, but all I feel is yes, yes, yes as he fills me, stokes me inside, makes me feel. So long . . . .

My hands pull his hair; my lips find his. We move together in desperation, almost as if we stop, the moment will vanish. He moans his ecstasy in my mouth, and that feeling alone makes me cum for him. Yes. . . .

He falls against me, his cheek is wet against my chest. There is a hitch in his breathing, and I wonder if he could be crying. I wrap an arm around his back and hold him against me. He is warm against my chest, comfortable, familiar. I could stay like this forever.

Finally he lifts his head and looks at me. There is grief there and gratitude, both of which are nice, but not what I was hoping for. Then he leans down and kisses me, softly, lovingly. His lips and tongue play upon mine with much more than mere gratitude. He pulls back and looks at me, a small smile on his lips.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” he says, getting to his feet and pulling me to mine. We leave our tattered clothes on the floor and head upstairs. He leads me to the shower, but then he announces he’s hungry and goes to get something to eat. I’m disappointed that he’s leaving. Is he uncomfortable with what just happened?

The hot water courses over my body, helping me to forget all the questions that are burning in my mind. I close my eyes and lean back, wetting my hair, then I lean forward and brace myself against the wall, letting the water drum against my back. The water from my hair glides into my face, down my cheeks and nose to drip down in a steady rhythm that matches my heart.

Hands touch my back and startle me out of my trance. I turn, and Vegeta is there in the shower with me. He must have transmitted himself there. I smile.

“You’re going to being doing that all the time now, aren’t you?” I say.

His soapy hands find my chest. “Not all the time,” he says. His hands sweep around my back, pulling him closer. “I have to leave some time for other activities.” He kisses me.

Can everything swell at once? Can your mind, heart and cock suddenly get so full you feel you’re going to burst? I don’t know. All I know is as I touch his soap-slicked body is that I feel open, as if there’s end to what I can feel or do. When I touch Vegeta, I touch parts of myself that have been empty and closed for so long. Maybe the word I’m looking for is free. Yes, I feel free.

************************************************************ *****************************

I wake alone in the bed that I once spent so much time in. Not that I haven’t been spending time there again. I haven’t been back to the island in a week.

I suppose I need to. I’m not sure what all this means. He didn’t ask me to stay; I just stayed. We spar, eat, make love. I’ve stopped calling it “fucking” in my mind. I think we’re making love.

I wonder if everything hadn’t happened, would I still be here now? Would Vegeta and I have naturally come to this point on our own? As those we loved died, would we have pulled together, the last two who remember? The last two who understood everything the Earth had been through? The last two Saiyans? Maybe. Vegeta and I have always shared a bond. I think it means more this way though. Now I know that Vegeta has changed to be with me, that he thought enough of me to change.

I think I understand some of what Bulma was saying now. I can be patient. I think it’s worth it.

I get dressed and go look for Vegeta. He’s not at Capsule Corporation, but somewhere else in town. I put my fingers to my forehead and transmit myself there.

Bulma’s grave . . . .

He’s sitting cross-legged at Bulma’s graveside. I sit down next to him and silently tell Bulma I love her and miss her. I tell her thank you for her letter. I tell her Vegeta and I are getting along. I hope that’s what she wanted. I wonder if Vegeta’s doing the same.

The marble marker, large but not ostentatious, sternly announces all that visitors are supposed to know:

Bulma Briefs

Beloved Wife and Mother

Born: 733
Died: 801

Underneath there are other characters, some language I know is not from Earth. I noticed it before, at the funeral, but Vegeta didn’t attend the funeral. I don’t think I would have had the nerve to ask him about the letters then. Now I do.

I point. “What are those?”

He doesn’t look at me as he answers. “That’s Saiya-go.”

“Will you tell me what it says?”

He looks at me then. His eyes search my face, and I can see him deciding how to answer. His lips lift slightly as he turns back to the headstone and reads:

“In the many centuries I may have lived or may live, you are the only soul that had so much faith in me.”

I’m stunned. “That’s beautiful, Vegeta.”

He looks back toward me and looks away again.

“But you’re wrong. Bulma isn’t the only one who has a lot of faith in you.” His eyes meet mine–hope, grief? “I have a lot of faith in you. I always have.”

He looks away again, but I feel him lighten again as I did on the beach. I’ve said the right thing again and silently thank Kami. A second later I feel him lean toward me until his shoulder brushes mine. It’s a brief touch, but its message is clear: thank you.

We sit silently. The sun warms my face and a peace settles over me. This is good. It’s almost like the three of us are together again. I wonder how often Vegeta comes here.

“Do you visit Bulma often?”

“No.” There’s a tone in his voice that makes me wonder if he visits her at all. I wonder why he’s here today. Is it something to do with us?

“What made you visit today?”

“I’m not visiting.”

Blink.

“I’m saying goodbye.”

My stomach starts to churn at the tone of his voice. “Goodbye?”

He looks at me. “I’m leaving Earth, Kakarrot. My life here is over. It ended when Bulma died.”

I feel like I’ve been punched. Leaving? But, then why . . .?

“You’re leaving? But what about Bra and Trunks? Your grandchildren?” Me? What about me?

“Bra and Trunks are grown with lives of their own. I’ve discussed this with them. They understand.”

“But they’ll miss you!” I’ll miss you.

“I never said I wasn’t coming back. Why do you think I wanted to learn shunken idou?”

So that was his plan! I knew he had a purpose for it. That means he’s known he was leaving for a long time. He knew before we . . . and still he let me . . . . Suddenly I’m angry. I keep it out of my voice though, but I say something hurtful anyway.

“Vegeta, you can’t sense ki that well. You can’t bring yourself home from lightyears away.”

No bluster comes. No vehement insistence that his skills are more than adequate to accomplish his plan. Instead he says pointedly:

“I know. But you can.”

Blink. Me? What the hell is he talking about?

“Come with me, Kakarrot. There is nothing for you here. Uub and our children are more than capable of defending this planet. Come with me. Let me show you the galaxy. Let me take you places like you’ve never dreamed.”

My mouth drops open. I’m speechless. That is probably the most eloquent invitation I have ever received. I wait for my brain to object --- what about Gohan and Goten? Pan? What about the Earth? But my brain is silent. There are no objections because Vegeta is right: there is nothing for me here. There hasn’t been for a long time. There was only Vegeta.

He takes my silence as indecision and tries to sweeten the pot by offering me things he thinks will sway me.

“There’s probably some petty despot who needs to be taken down out there, you know. Some downtrodden masses that need liberating.” He is trying to keep his voice light, but I can hear the plea inside. Don’t make me go alone.

I smile. “I would love to see the galaxy with you, Vegeta.”

He blinks once as his brain checks what his ears have just heard, and he smiles the most beautiful smile I have ever seen cross his face. It’s blinding in its pure beauty. It’s like staring into the sun. Kami, Bulma, you were right.

Thank you.

************************************************************* ************************************

Getting my things from Jeordie was ugly. It was only some pictures, but I wanted to have them to take with me. He followed me around like a whiney child, alternating between pleading and accusing. Finally I powered up to Super Saiyan --- something he’d never seen before --- and he fled the hut screaming. I felt a tad guilty about it, but it sure made getting my things easier.

I’m at Mt. Paozu now, and this is much harder. This place is full of so many memories, so many of them good. There’s dust everywhere – no one’s been here for years --- and I take a few minutes to wipe a few items free from the dusty chokehold of time. I wander through the few rooms, opening a cabinet here and there. There’s an empty box of laundry soap in one, and I put it to my nose, smelling, remembering. I lay on our old bed as long as I can. I can almost see Chi Chi brushing her hair in front of the mirror, catching my eyes and giving me a little smile. I can almost hear Gohan and Goten whispering in the next room, thinking they’re too quiet for me to hear.

I had thought saying goodbye to my family would be the hardest, yet somehow leaving this place is tearing me up inside. It doesn’t change my mind, but it reminds how much I’ve lived on this Earth, how many people I loved. It’s been mostly good and for that I’m thankful. I know that no matter where I go, this place will always be with me. Vegeta said we would come back, but I wonder if we will. Time will tell.

I am at Grandpa Gohan’s shrine when Vegeta arrives. He comes up behind me and places a hand on my shoulder.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

I take a final look around --- my house, the mountains, the lake, and the endless sky, then I look back on Vegeta. I know my answer.

“Yes,” I say, “let’s go.”

****

I am no supermanI have no answers for youI am no hero, oh that’s for sureBut I do know one thing Is where you are, is where I belongI do know where you go
Is where I want to be

***

Lyrics: Where Are You Going by Dave Matthews Band.

Words on Bulma’s tombstone are Yoko Ono’s, taken from the front cover of “Every Man Has a Woman Who Loves Him.”

I did write Bulma’s letter to Vegeta, but I couldn’t find a place to include it in the story, so I’m including it here:

My darling Vegeta,

Are you scowling? You have no idea how wonderful it feels to say that and not have to watch you pull a face. I’ll only do it that once though, so you can read without fear.

I just got back from Dr. Kaji’s office. The cancer has come back; it’s just a matter of time. I’ll keep fighting it; you know me, but I know I’ll lose in the end.

I’ve known all along that I would have to leave you–I’m only human, as you are always reminding me---yet even though I cannot control the manner or hour of my death, I know it will come too soon. A life shared with you can never be long enough.

I have loved you as well as I know how. If you ever had any doubts about the happiness you brought me, let me put them to rest here. Loving you has been the greatest joy of my life, that you loved me back has been my greatest victory. My one regret is that I must eventually leave you alone.

Which is the real purpose of this letter. I know you’re a big tough Saiyan, but it won’t kill you to let someone else give a damn about you. I would rest so much easier if I knew you weren’t alone. I’ve earned some rest, haven’t I? Putting up with you all these years? Consider it.

I’m starting work on a new ship design tomorrow. Somehow I don’t think the Earth will hold you forever. When it’s done I’ll put it in a capsule in the family vault for you. Try not to wreck it, okay? I won’t be around to fix it.

There are no words great enough to say how much I love you, and thank you seems inadequate for all you’ve given me, but I’ll say it anyway.

I love you. Thank you.

Bulma

Thank you for reading! Please let a review and let me know what you thought. All feedback is welcome.

Converting /tmp/phptU8fd0 to /dev/stdout