Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Decoding the Saiyan ❯ Interlude: In which the Saiyan Begins to Decode his Heart ( Chapter 24 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.
A/N: This is chapter is from Vegeta's POV. The prompt is `love' from the Earth Customs Challenge. Thank you to everyone leaving reviews or putting this story in the favourites :) I really appreciate the support!
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Interlude: In which the Saiyan Begins to Decode his Heart
Damn you, Kakarot.
The curses continued in an endless stream through his head. Damn you. Damn you and your son. Damn it all.
All of that training. All of his power. It was all a fucking waste.
He had been cheated, cheated out of his birthright by that low-class clown, cheated out of his revenge when the idiot decided to go and kill himself. “Fool!” he bellowed, his voice echoing in the desolate canyon below. “Fool! Blast you Kakarot, I hope you rot in Hell!”
He was supposed to defeat Kakarot. His pride demanded it, for fuck's sake. “How dare you die like that, you bastard! I am your Prince! You should have bowed to me!” he cried, snarling, clenching and unclenching his fists, wishing fervently that it could have been him that dealt the final blow; feeling utterly frustrated by the fact that he knew, deep down, that Kakarot would have beaten him anyway. “You fucking bastard!”
Fuck. Would he ever fight again? He felt as if he were turned to stone, frozen in place on this blasted rock in the middle of goddamned nowhere on this fucking shithole of a planet.
What to do? Kakarot was gone, his vengeance against that clown no longer possible. The idiot's son… but no, the idiot's son was stronger than him- had ascended, had reached a pinnacle he had not thought possible. He was now weaker than that blasted child. He had even been saved by the boy.
He pulled his hands down over his face, growling low in his throat, breathing heavily, willing himself to stay in some sort of control. He was exhausted- his body needed rest, needed food- but at the same time he was filled with a fire that charred him to the core. He wanted to scream, the blood in his veins turned to molten lava. He wanted to fly, and keep on going forever, away from all of his shame. He wanted to kill something. He wanted, he wanted…
“You need to relax, Vegeta,” her voice echoed, unbidden, in his head. He remembered the day she had told him that, not long after he had first lain with her.
“You're always so keyed up,” she whispered, planting a kiss on his chest. He had pulled her hair loose from its ties, and it hung in blue waves that curled over his skin. He curled a lock of her strange hair around his finger, hissed as her teeth grazed his nipple, and allowed her to push him backwards until he lay flat on the bed.
Her lips had continued down, her tongue darting quick into his navel, down further again…
“Woman,” he groaned; in wanting or warning, he did not know.
“It's okay,” she whispered, kissing his hip, her eyes- so blue- staring at him with a reverent passion that startled him. “Let me do this for you.”
And he had. He'd let her do it many times since then.
“Oh, fuck off,” he hissed, turning around as if she were there, watching him turn his back on her. “She means nothing to me,” he told the world around him, but his voice sounded half-hearted to his ears. “She is nothing!” he screamed, blasting the nearest rock formation for the hell of it. It crumbled into the valley below, sending a cloud of dust flying high into the sky, and he watched as the wind bore the particles away, the cloud vanishing into thin air.
He needed no one. He wanted no one.
“I want you. You can live here, with me, and this can be your home," she had said. And if he did, he would be trapped here forever on this useless planet filled with useless people who knew nothing of him, nothing of the greatness of Saiyans, nothing of his battles, nothing of his victories! A planet filled with ignorant imbeciles… he couldn't think of anything worse.
Decision made, he pulled the capsule out from under his armour. He would leave this planet, with its memories of humiliating defeats, behind. He would not return for anything, or anyone.
“Do you think it's a girl or a boy?” she asked, her hand smoothing over the slight mound of her belly. “I'd love a little girl.”
She looked at him, her eyes smiling in the dim light of the moon. “Although a little boy would be cute, with a good looking guy like you for the father.”
Her gaze turned inward suddenly, seeing something he could not. “As long as it's healthy,” she whispered, her hand rubbing the mound lovingly.
He sat up, pushing her legs open, ignoring her surprised “Again!” Silencing her with a kiss, he rode her hard, watching her swollen breasts bounce as he did his best to ignore the child's ki and the ever-growing evidence of its presence. He didn't give a fuck about her child…
The memory of the child, pointing at him and babbling incoherently, staring at him with those huge blue eyes- her eyes- flashed through his mind, and he hissed in annoyance, locking the door of the capsule ship behind him. He didn't give a shit about the child. He didn't give a shit about his son, or the woman.
Trunks, lying broken on the ground, the gaping hole in the boy's chest almost black with blood, each wracking cough piercing him as if he were the one whose chest lay open.
He set the coordinates for the closest trade planet- he needed to pick up supplies before he carried on- and pushed all thoughts of his son aside. The boy was alive again- he'd sensed his ki. He ignored that image of his dying son, ignored the odd Why? in his mind, ignored the thoughts that questioned his motives for attacking Cell.
To avenge your son.
Bullshit. He's not even my son- he's from a different timeline.
He is still yours. You know damn well he is.
Regardless, he was leaving all of that behind. The ship's engine hummed, and he braced himself, leaning against the controls as the ship shot into the air, the sudden velocity making his stomach churn and his head swim for an instant.
He shook the nausea off, glancing out the window at the planet he was leaving behind. The land around West City lay shrouded in darkness- night had fallen there- but the lights of the city itself burned brightly, as brightly as the boy's ki suddenly burned in his brain.
Bulma. He could sense her too; her ki was miniscule, and yet it was unique from every other ki on the planet, ringing clear in his mind.
She was holding the child. He could sense it; their ki so close that they almost intertwined, the infant's dwarfing that of its mother. It struck him suddenly, that she could have easily died while carrying that power within her. She was so fragile.
“I will love you, and give you everything I can,” she told him, her eyes burning with passion, brimming with tears. Her face was fierce with determination, and he saw, truly saw, the strength within her.
The ship was rising higher and higher; soon he would be out of the planet's atmosphere. Her ki tugged at him, as did their sons', and he felt sick.
He hesitated, looked down at the controls, then back at the lights of the cities below.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “They're just useless Earthlings!” And yet his fingers moved across the controls.
“Override of current command not permitted during ascent,” the ship told him, and he screamed incoherently, knowing he had get out before he left the Earth's atmosphere.
Powering up, her charged at the wall of the ship, tearing through the metal, hoping he had enough ki left to make it. He flew through the air, felt the heat of the exploding ship behind him, and drew all the power he had, propelling himself forward, angling towards the glowing lights of West City, holding his breath, feeling his lungs burn with the strain of it all.
He passed through the clouds, felt his ki running dry, and let himself free fall, watching the Earth rush towards him, taking great, gasping breaths, thinking You're insane over and over again.
He drew the last of his ki forth in the last thousand feet, forced himself to keep going, to keep flying over the fields and lakes and mountains of this planet that he had come to know, growing closer and closer to Capsule Corporation.
He landed, unsteadily, on the lawn within the compound. Too exhausted to move any further, he sank to the ground and lay flat on his back with the great yellow dome looming over him, wheezing with the effort of breathing, feeling pain in his arms and legs, his head pounding, his chest… Fuck, he was becoming soft.
He looked up at the stars, watched them burning brightly, and snorted, realizing that they held nothing of any importance anymore. Who gave a shit about conquering planets, anyway? They'd all be imbeciles out there, too.
He closed his eyes, feeling odd, as if a great weight- one he had never noticed before today- had been lifted from him.
He had chosen.