Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Finding Venus ❯ Blame ( Chapter 14 )

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

Finding Venus

Chapter XIV - Blame

*****

Did you think it's cool

To walk right up,

To take my life

And fuck it up?

~Orgy, Slept So Long

*****

When Vegeta awoke the next morning, he was unsure of where he was. His mind registered the early, pre-dawn light filtering through the window, his nudity, the cool comfort of silken sheets, and the warmth of a soft, feminine body pressed against his. Body? he though groggily. Looking to his right, he saw a cascade of pale, blue hair, and the previous night came flooding back to him in hot, broken memories.

The heated passion, the breathless caresses, the satisfying ecstasy of having what he'd craved for months, the pure, intense joy of being one with another soul.

And then the cold, stark reality hit him that it hadn't meant one, single, godsdamned thing.

"Fuck!" he muttered under his breath. He ran his free hand through his thick, upswept hair and closed his eyes in concentration, trying to clear his foggy mind.

What the hell happened? The events leading up to his and Bulma's liaison were sketchy at best. He'd been busy wallowing in his own self-pity and sexual frustration, trying to drown both of them in drink. No heed had been given to his surroundings, but he was fairly certain that she'd only had one glass of dragonsblood. While the heady liquid didn't sit well with her, it shouldn't have turned her into a nymphomaniac.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," he hissed, gently extricating himself from Bulma's body, as much as he didn't want to. Swinging his muscular legs over the edge of the bed, he groaned and buried his head in his hands.

The only explanation for Bulma's incredible change of mind was that she had been drugged, and the only thing she'd consumed at the Festival had come from Len'ah. These two thoughts raced endlessly through his mind, as if his subconscious refused to allow him to absorb them and acknowledge the actual truth. How the hell did she do it? he thought. And more importantly, why?

Comangi root was the quickest, most effective way to increase a person's desire to mate, and when mixed into a drink, it went straight into the bloodstream, affecting him or her almost immediately. Bulma was doomed the moment the last drop of tainted dragonsblood had passed her lips. The only reason Vegeta had been the recipient of her affections was because he was the closest available body. She would have fucked Frieza had the alien lizard breathed in her direction first.

Len'ah knew that. She knew that Bulma would have been unable to control the need, and his mother also had to have known that he would have been powerless to resist her. It didn't matter that Vegeta and the King had consumed dragonsblood from the same batch as Bulma. Comangi had no effects on Saiya-jin ardor. His race was more than lustful enough to ever need their appetites enhanced.

Figuring out how his woman had been drugged was easy enough. The question of why was more difficult to answer. He didn't want to think of his mother as a devious person, but he had learned first hand in the past few months the depths to which her hatred could sink. She may have drugged Bulma in hopes that he would lose so much of his control that he'd mark her as his mate. Such an action would have wounded his father's cowardly pride at best and torn the Saiya-jin Empire in two at worst. Of course, the matter could also have been Len'ah's warped attempt at playing matchmaker.

Vegeta groaned again. He'd stayed away from Court all this time in a deliberate attempt to avoid intrigues and schemes like this one, and now he simply did not know what to do.

A heavy, sinking feeling settled into his stomach as another thought burst into his mind. How will she react? Even though he'd had no hand in her being drugged, Vegeta couldn't stifle the growing sense of dread creeping up on him. He'd tried as hard he could to create something more than antagonism between them these last few months, and this situation would not help.

But he also felt incredibly ashamed at having taken advantage of her situation. True, he had been drunk the night before. However, even if he had been stone-cold sober, he still would have slept with her.

Godsdammit! he snarled inwardly. I am the fucking Saiya-jin no Ouji! He didn't have to feel guilty about anything. Bulma was his concubine, and it was his right to have her. She had even been the one to come on to to him! It didn't matter how it had happened...

And even as his thoughts trailed, he knew he would never convince himself, or Bulma, of those lies. He'd promised never to take her against her will again, and her will certainly had not been free. It couldn't even recognize that she had a choice, and he'd given her no time to think, especially when he'd unceremoniously slammed her into the wall. She'd had to practically beg him to remove her slave bracelets for the second go-round. The final, convincing argument had not been because she'd wanted him to, but because her tight, warm sheathe encasing him in indescribable pleasure had driven away all logic and pride.

Vegeta was many things, but a fool was not one of them. He knew that he'd never have Bulma's love until he not only removed her shackles permanently, but also until he had the desire to do so. The fact that she'd been able to overcome her comangi-induced passion in order to demand he take off her bracelets proved how strong was her will to be free.

Len'ah knew that.

He had neither the ability nor the desire to set her free, yet.

Len'ah had to know that, too.

Thus, the Prince returned to his original confounded state of mind.

Sighing with more disgust, he rose from the bed, carefully so as not to wake Bulma, and grabbed his rumpled training suit from the floor. Struggling into the black garment, he stalked into the main living area of his quarters. His eyes alighted upon the crack trailing from the wall from his and Bulma's activities, and he winced, knowing that he should summon a medic to examine her for any injuries.

"Did you sleep well, my Prince?"

He jumped slightly, flushing when he realized he hadn't even noticed someone else in the room. "What the hell are you doing here, Radditz?" he hissed.

From his perch on a wooden chair, the other Saiya-jin did not falter in his gaze at the Prince. However, he did slowly stand out of deference to Vegeta. "You have ordered me to watch over the Lady Bulma," he answered calmly. "I am merely doing your bidding."

"Bullshit!" Vegeta snorted. "You are here to ensure that I did not hurt her."

"I must admit, my lord, that your...abrupt...departure did raise a few eyebrows last night," Radditz replied diplomatically.

"Including your own, I'm sure."

"Yes. I too am curious."

"Humph," was all that Vegeta responded. He should have been outraged at the other man's persistent and insubordinate interest. Three months ago, he would have been. However, just as Bulma had ensnared the Prince, so too had she Radditz, if only to a fatherly degree. He had grown bolder in his comments and demands about how the woman was treated, and for some reason, Vegeta tolerated this behavior.

So, giving into resignation, he said, "That which has plagued me and been my obsession for so long relented last night, and I partook of her favor."

"Congratulations!" Radditz beamed. Though he did have some reservations about how Vegeta treated Bulma, he had come to fervently believe that they were good for one another.

"Do not be happy," the Prince warned, "for her affections only warmed due to the effects of comangi root."

Silence was his only answer for several long minutes. Finally, Radditz whispered, "Was it you?"

The Prince stiffened. "And what if it was?"

"I would be reminded of your father," came the cold reply.

"Dammit, man!" he growled. "How many times must I tell you that I am nothing like him!"

"I know, my Prince," his vassal answered. "That is why I would be reminded of the King and know that you could not do such a thing. It reeks too much of him."

Unsure of how to respond to such unwavering loyalty, Vegeta could only mumble, "Thank you."

"You are welcome," Radditz answered with a dignified nod. Bringing them back to the subject at hand, he then asked, "Who was it?"

Sighing, Vegeta allowed his shoulders to slump, not caring that his haggard exhaustion was shown to his inferior guard. "I'm about to go find that out for myself," he answered tiredly. "She only had one drink last night, and it was from the King's own serving."

Radditz' eyes widened. "But that was prepared by Len'ah herself. Surely she wouldn't have..." his voice trailed off in disbelief.

"I don't know. Nothing about my mother surprises me anymore. If she was capable of loving Nappa, in my mind she's capable of anything."

The other Saiya-jin was silent again for a few minutes. This was the first time he'd heard Vegeta voice an opinion concerning his mother in months, and he found himself more than a little disheartened to that his Prince's view of Len'ah had dimmed. All throughout his captivity under Frieza's 'care', Vegeta had seen Len'ah as a reason to survive. Though he hadn't shown much affection to her since his return to Vegetasei, that didn't mean he admired her any less.

"My Prince, surely this is some kind of mistake..." Radditz began.

"Don't!" Vegeta snapped, cutting him off. "Speculation is unnecessary and useless. I will simply ask her myself. Stay here. The woman shouldn't awaken before I return."

"And if she does?"

"Handle her. You two seem to have some type of bond," he said testily. "I'm also sending Perla down."

"Why?"

"She's the best medic on this godsforsaken planet!"

"No, not why Perla. Why a medic?"

"Just to be sure."

Confusion crossed Radditz' face. "Of what?"

"That she's uninjured," Vegeta replied even more crossly. "Now shut the fuck up so that I can leave."

He was walking out of the door before the other man could even form a response, leaving Radditz in his perplexed state. It was watching his Prince exit that he noticed the subtle spider web of cracks in the wall. Being himself very familiar with flashes of sudden, uncontrollable passion, he couldn't suppress the toothy grin that flitted across his face despite the very serious circumstances surrounding the two most important people in his life.

He couldn't help but be pleased that they'd finally gotten it on.

*****

When Bulma awoke, it was to a dull, throbbing ache in her arm. She groaned, and only half-conscious, sat up in the bed, looking at the small, white bandage wrapped around the crook of her arm. Gods, what happened? she thought fuzzily. Weak sunlight permeated the room, and as she looked around, she saw clothing and bed sheets scattered haphazardly about the floor, and her breath was caught violently in her throat.

"Oh gods! What have I done?" she moaned as visions of her tangled in Vegeta's embrace flashed through her mind.

A blush crept across her entire body as she remembered the wanton, desperate way she'd clung to him. It was almost as if she'd been another woman entirely; that the Bulma who'd held him at arm's length all these months had finally let go and allowed her passionate, reckless side take over for a few hours. She felt as if it hadn't been her at all, and yet, while she was embarrassed by her behavior, Vegeta hadn't been exactly patient and gentle either. He'd been as wild as her, and she knew instinctively that he'd taken as much pleasure as he'd given.

What have I done? she asked herself again. She reclined back onto the bed and curled into a ball. All the resistance and will power she'd exercised was now reduced to nothing. And she couldn't even think of a good excuse as to why. At least Vegeta could say he'd been drunk, but she'd only had one glass of dragonsblood. It put her to sleep usually; it didn't make her horny.

Vegeta's disappearance also worried her. If what they'd shared the previous night had meant anything to him, surely he wouldn't have left her. What if he's angry? He's always the dominant one, and I made the moves on him last night. The surly Prince could very well be enraged that he was the one who had given into her. His pride was a fragile thing, and she'd worked so hard in the three months she'd known him to try to break down the walls between them as best she knew how.

"And I still have no fucking clue why I've got this!" she muttered, raising her bandaged arm above her head and glaring at the appendage, as if it were to blame for all her problems.

But if Bulma were completely honest with herself, she would admit that her true frustration stemmed not from having slept with Vegeta, but because she did not feel true regret by her actions. She was concerned about how things might change between them, but she also knew that it was about time something had happened. A person can live in intense, unresolved sexual tension for only so long before she becomes desperate for anything to occur to alter it.

"Well, something certainly happened last night," she mumbled to herself, feeling sort of cynically ironic.

She'd known for some awhile now that things were going to come to a head between her and Vegeta. It was so close, she could practically taste it. Their personalities attracted to each other like magnets, and they both had iron wills that refused to bend or yield. Credit had to be given to the Prince, too, for his behavior towards her recently. He'd been patient and almost understanding, two qualities she would never have thought to attribute to him.

But, like her, Vegeta had been through traumatic emotional upheaval. She'd taught herself to read his expressions and body language, as he rarely discussed his feelings. They'd never once since that night three months ago talked about what happened between his father, Len'ah, and Nappa, and yet, Bulma knew by his very silence that the matter weighed heavily on his mind quite often. His entire way of thinking had been challenged, and he was still trying to make sense of it all.

Perhaps that's why I feel more connected to him now, she thought to herself as she rose from the bed. Wrapping the sheet tightly about her, she crossed the room to the balcony, stepping onto the smooth marble ledge and leaning against the railing. It was still early morning, and she didn't think she was wrong in assuming most Saiya-jins and their households were still asleep, exhausted from the previous night's festivities. Bulma longed to feel the heat of Vegetasei's sun on her bare shoulders, but thick tufts of clouds blocked its rays. A southerly breeze whisked by her, blowing through her hair, carrying with it the scent of rain.

Guess it's going to storm later, she mused, grinning wryly at the thought of the other storm that had raged a few hours before between her and Vegeta. On a purely intellectual level, she knew she should be angry with herself, but she could find no regret in her actions, save for being drunk.

On the other hand, things were going to be different between them now. Her own feelings towards him had become more intense, and she found herself actually caring about him at times. She just didn't know what to call the relationship between her and the Prince. They certainly weren't lovers, but they were closer, more intimate than friends.

The first few weeks on this planet had been dark. Her days were filled with anguish and dread about the tumultuous future she faced. But then she'd seen Vegeta's hard exterior crack, and he had reached out to her, expecting rejection and maybe even deserving it. But she couldn't, for some reason, just leave him dangling in the wind without someone who cared for him, even if only a little bit.

And so, from the darkness of her shadows, she had begun to move past Yamcha's death, her abduction, and their first sexual encounter simply because she couldn't hold onto them. Not if she wanted to survive. Forgiveness was still a part of her, and Vegeta had apologized, at least for killing her friend and forcing himself upon her. Current Chikyuu-jin psychology would term her reaction as unhealthy and twisted, perhaps, but Bulma had very little choice. To hang onto the past have been to drown herself in hatred and rage, and then she would have become like Len'ah, a woman so torn inside that she'd sacrifice her son for the sake of revenge.

Bulma knew herself well enough to know that she couldn't, wouldn't, live like that.

Shuddering a little at the thought, she turned and ventured back into the bedroom, letting the sheet fall and seeking her clothing. When she found it, her 'uniform' proved to be useless. Vegeta, in his haste to claim what he saw as his, had rendered the filmy garment to pieces. So much for getting dressed, she concluded, bending to pick up the sheet once again. Bulma rewrapped the silky material about her body, resigning herself to confinement within the bedroom until the Prince returned. His jealousy was not a thing to be toyed with, as Bulma knew from frequent past experience. While he did not pressure her to do anything she didn't want to, he also made it very clear that she belonged to no one but him.

But Vegeta had changed, too, from the hard, cold man she had first met. Len'ah's deception had affected him greatly, and he was beginning to learn to think and feel for himself, rather than let others dictate to him that pain and rage and hatred was all there was to the universe. Granted, he was still hard and cold, perhaps even harsher in judgment than ever before, but Bulma liked to think that his edge was perhaps a little softer, a little less jagged. He now understood what it was like to have your world crash down around your feet, and so he could empathize with her.

He did, however, still view her a possession (though a highly valued one), and this demarcation caused the greatest rift between them.

Bulma's pride simply would not allow her to fall in love with a man who did not consider her his equal.

Suddenly, she looked up, her thoughts interrupted by the soft murmur of voices coming from the next room. Her eyes narrowed as they flitted upon the door to the main living quarters. Bulma knew it wasn't Vegeta; she didn't feel him anywhere near. She frowned in confusion. Gathering the sheet tighter about her nude body, she crept quietly towards the cracked door.

"...finished the preliminary tests..." spoke an unfamiliar voice.

"What were the results?" asked another, though it sounded very much like Radditz.

She pushed the door open a little further and clearly saw her guard and an unknown, female Saiya-jin standing in the central living area of the apartments. What are Radditz and some stranger doing in Vegeta's private chambers? she thought with a frown. The female wore a lab coat of some sorts, and Bulma immediately thought of a medical technician. However, her musings were put on hold as she struggled to follow their conversation.

"They're not good," said the woman with a grimace.

A frown pursed Radditz' lips, and he crossed his hands across his chest. "What were they, Perla?" he asked again.

"I don't really think I should talk about this with you," she replied softly. "No disrespect, but shouldn't the Prince be the one to hear this first? After all, the woman is his Royal Concubine..."

Bulma's mind snapped onto this bit of information instantly. They're talking about me! But she hadn't had any medical tests performed on her, and then she looked down at her arm. She pulled the bandage away and saw that it was spotted with blood. On closer inspection, she saw that a small bruise had formed on her translucent skin, similar to those that occurred whenever she'd had blood drawn. But why would they perform a blood test on me?

And as she continued to listen to their conversation, she came to wish she'd just stayed in bed.

"Do you really want to be the one to tell Prince Vegeta the results?" Radditz asked.

Under his intense scrutiny, the young Saiya-jin medic paled. "I guess not," she answered.

"Then tell me, and I will tell him," Radditz reassured her. "I'm much more accustomed to dealing with his temper than you are."

Perla flashed a wry grin. "True, true," she agreed. Then, all humor disappeared as she continued. "The woman had an unusually high concentration of comangi root running through her system. It's not enough to be harmful, but it would have definitely, um, altered, her, ah, mood, last night..."

The conversation faded as blood pounded violently in Bulma's ears, building intensely sharp pressure in her forehead and behind her eyes. For a few moments, the world seemed to tilt, and she couldn't focus on any one thought or object. She staggered away from the door, sinking slowly to the bed.

Comangi...altered...mood...last night...last night......

Her eyes widened, and rage flashed through her, making her feel red hot, as her mind settled on the truth. She'd been uncontrollable last night because she'd been given comangi root, and she remembered very well that it was a potent aphrodisiac.

Nononononono...

Bulma began to shake as the only logical explanation tried to form in her mind. She didn't want to think that Vegeta had drugged her; he was too prideful to want to her unwilling, wasn't he? Surely he had to have known that she would be beyond angry if she ever discovered what he'd done. He wouldn't... And she knew for sure that the Vegeta he had become since Nappa's death couldn't.

But he'd reverted to his old self a bit last night, especially after their argument. The old Vegeta had no problems with simply taking what he wanted. She also remembered that Vegeta had always vowed he would use whatever means necessary to gain her submission.

It was then that she looked down at her hands and noticed that her bracelets were gone.

All the progress she and Vegeta had made seemed to melt away, and she could only remember him as selfish and cold and utterly ruthless as she felt her rage fully envelop her conscious. Her gut twisted as only one thought ran continuously through her mind.

Run...

*****

When Vegeta entered the Hall of Concubines, he noted wryly that the hole he'd blasted into the roof had been replaced with a gleaming glass dome. However, his smug grim turned into a slight frown as he saw the black clouds gathering in the morning sky. They were too dark for this early, signifying that one bitch of a storm was on her way. His frown deepened. Vegetasei's storms were not known for their kindness. The torrents of rain and fierce, lashing gusts of wind did more bad than good, and the damage to the landscape and architecture was always heavy.

It's not even the raining season, he thought. Why would a storm be brewing now?

"My lord," a voice said, breaking his attention from the outside world.

Vegeta lowered his gaze to the female Saiya-jin warrior posted as his mother's guard. "Is Lady Len'ah present?" he asked.

"Yes, my Prince," the guard answered, bowing low and extending her arm towards the doorway. "She has been expecting you."

"Hn," he responded gruffly as he brushed by the other warrior. He wasn't surprised that Len'ah had known he would be coming, and it only confirmed his worst fears that she had indeed been the one to drug Bulma.

As he stalked to her room, his ire grew rapidly, and he struggled to school his face into an expressionless, stony mask. His boot steps echoed hollowly against the vast marble floor as he stopped just right inside her entryway. He saw his mother, dressed only in a loose robe, sitting regally upon one of her chairs, looking blankly into the empty fire pit. Glancing about the rest of the room, he noted its general disarray. Most obvious was the bed. It's sheets and pillows were strewn violently everywhere.

Suddenly Vegeta felt unsure of himself for a moment. As he concentrated on his surroundings, he could faintly smell the remainders of sex and his father. He'd never visited his mother after she'd been with the King. It was easier that way. He did have to admit some degree of surprise that his father still fucked his mother after the truth had come out about Nappa, but the King probably chose to believe that Len'ah had never allowed Nappa to touch her. His nose wrinkled slightly in disgust at the blind depths that his father's infatuation sank to.

However, he was forced to rethink that opinion when Len'ah turned to face him. One of her eyes was swollen almost shut, and all though her dark skin didn't show them, he knew she was riddled with bruises all over. In the last months since he'd seen her, the King's obsession hadn't died, but it had evidently grown less tender and much more violent.

"Hello, my son," his mother said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. The croak-like quality to its timber told Vegeta that the King had probably tried to strangle her at some point during the night.

"Why did he beat you?" he asked by way of greeting.

The full force of Len'ah's silver-eyed gaze fell upon the Prince, and even though it was half-closed, it still pierced him to the core. "Why?" she asked with a bitterly ironic laugh. "Why does the King do anything?"

"If you are wanting sympathy from me, Lady, you will not find it."

"I want no sympathy."

"Then answer my question."

Her head bowed again. "For the same reason why you are here, my son," she replied. "To avenge his pride and his manhood."

"Then you did put comangi in the dragonsblood you served to Bulma?" he then asked, refusing to show mercy until he had satisfactory answers.

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"Why the hell would you do that?" Vegeta ground out, suddenly unable to control his rage in the face of her unflinching honesty.

"It was a mistake--"

"You're damned right it was!" he roared.

She turned in her chair to face him fully, her torso twisting with obvious pain. A hand extended towards him, trying to grasp something that was too far away, and her eyes beseeched him. "Please, Vegeta! It was a mistake! I thought you already gave her the root regularly," she pleaded.

"What!"

"I thought you gave it to her," Len'ah repeated, a little more calmly. "It's common practice to give the root to reluctant bedslaves. You know that."

Vegeta didn't know why, but he believed her. Maybe it was the earnest exhaustion seeping from her wilting frame, or it was simply because she was his mother, but he felt she was telling the truth. The irony of the situation hit him bitterly. He knew when Bulma awoke, she would automatically assume that he'd been the one to drug her, and here his mother was saying that she had presumed the same thing. He was damned either way.

Both the important women in his life thought him a monster.

"Why was there comangi in the King's drink?" he asked.

Len'ah sighed and sat back into her chair, facing away from her son again. "Because it has no effect on him, and yet it does me. It makes...being with him...easier."

"And I hazard to guess that he discovered your secret last night?"

"Your father is a coward and an unmitigated bastard, but he is not stupid. He knows you better than you think. He refused to believe that you would drug your concubine with comangi, and he decided that that was the only reason she would have turned from cold to hot so fast at the Festival," she said stiffly. Her voice projected away from her son, so to him it sounded hollow and defeated. "So it stood to reason," she continued, "that the only one to drug Bulma was me, and,in turn, that meant I was drugging myself."

She left the rest of her explanation unsaid. Vegeta knew the King's tremendous pride would never allow himself to bed a drugged female. He wasn't above rape, but he did want his bedmate's reaction to be genuine, whether it was fear or ecstasy. No one was permitted to see the King as anything less than a powerful, virile male, and thus the whole truth about Nappa had been squashed. His advisors and the Court were only told that Vegeta's old sensei was a traitor. No further explanation had been given, and none was needed. The people of Vegetasei did not question their king, at least not in public.

Suddenly, Vegeta knew he had to get away from his mother before he exploded. Bowing stiffly once again, he said formally, "Thank you for your time, Lady."

With that, he turned on his heel to leave.

"Vegeta!" Len'ah cried, rising rapidly from her chair to chase after him. "Please! Is there nothing more you have to say?"

He paused midstride and shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem indifferent. "What more is there to say, Mother?" he queried softly, his voice like ice.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "That's what I want you to tell me."

Feeling his full rage beginning to become unleashed, Vegeta whirled around, eyes blazing white-hot heat. "What do you want me to say?" he ground out. "That I forgive you for sacrificing me, your son, to save that bumbling dumbass that you claim to have loved? That it's alright that you thought the worst of me and were justified in drugging the one person you know that I care about so that she'd sleep with me? That it's okay that you love me a little less than you hate my father? Is that what you want? Do you want me to tell you that I love you?"

"Yes! Yes, I do!" she pleaded. "Especially those last few words!"

He drew himself up to his full height, and his jaw locked in determined anger. The sight before him was absolutely pathetic. His mother's hair was straggled and dull, and her swollen, bruised face glistened with fresh tears. Inwardly, he winced, for his own pain was mirrored perfectly in her.

But he refused to show mercy. She wanted to know how he truly felt, and she'd know.

"I don't remember what love is, and that fact never bothered me. In fact, I reveled in my inability to love. It left more room to hate. But now everything has changed. Now that I want to know what love is, and to be able to express it, I can't," he said coldly.

"Vegeta…"

"Silence!" he shouted. Then, more softly, he said, "I'm not finished. The only thing that I held hope in was that maybe one day, Bulma would want to hear those words you so desperately long for, and now, because of you, she will NEVER want my love. But I guess that's not such a big problem. There was only a small chance that she'd ever want it."

"There's always hope, my son…"

"No, there isn't. There never was. Simple truth is, I can't love. I can't, Mother. And you were the one who made it so. Out of everyone I've ever known, you were the only one who showed me love, but your hatred outweighed your love, and so, it was useless. The Saiya-jin no Ouji has no need for useless things."

A low, keening sound escaped her lips as Vegeta's anger lashed about her harsher and more biting than any whip wielded by the cruelest master. She collapsed to the floor, unable to support herself any longer. Looking through watery eyes at her son, she saw the very image of his father, and in that moment, knew she had lost him.

Vegeta swallowed rapidly, trying to force the rising bile in his throat back down. He hadn't meant to reveal so much to this woman, but it was done. Her eyes told him she understood that she'd lost all ground with him, and so perhaps his emotional outburst, though uncharacteristic, had been worth it. Maybe it was all over now. Maybe he could get away with making her think he couldn't feel anymore. It would lessen his guilt considerably.

She opened her mouth as if to voice another question, but was interrupted as Radditz burst into the room. He was in such a rush that he didn't even seem to notice the violent tension filling the air.

"What is it, you fool?" the Prince asked harshly. "Why the fuck are you away from Bulma?"

Radditz held up a pair of golden bracelets. "She's gone, sire," he replied, panting. "I went into to check on her and found these laying on the bed. I thought at first someone had kidnapped her, but there was no sign of struggle, at least a new one." A low flush rose across his face as he referred to what obviously had been rough sex between Vegeta and Bulma the night before to have left the room in such a disheveled way.

Vegeta, however, had no time for the man's embarrassment. Marching across the room, he threw a resounding blow to Radditz' midsection. "I'll deal with you later," he said as the other Saiya-jin sank to the floor in pain. Turning back to the kneeling form of his mother, he said with another bow, "Once again, Lady, thank you for your time. I have now said all I came to say."

He quickly strode from the room, trying desperately to control the rising panic in him. As he passed into the domed receiving room, he saw that the coming storm was almost upon them, and he knew his time to find Bulma was limited.

He powered up and took flight, once again bursting through the roof of the Hall of Concubines. Fixating on her now-increased ki, Vegeta felt her heading south towards the desert caves of Egrat, straight into the heart of the approaching storm.

Godsdammit, woman! he snarled inwardly as he sped up. Can you never do things the easy way?

They were going to have a very long talk about appropriate times to try to runaway and how a storm was not a good place to find sanctuary. But that could wait. First, he was going to kill her. Second, he was going to wrap her in his arms and assure himself that she was safe and protected where she belonged. Then they'd talk.

And after that, he was going to kill her again.