Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Free My Soul ❯ Chapter Eleven ( Chapter 11 )

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Free My Soul

Chapter Eleven

Lyedra appeared before Vegeta. The pale skin on her forearms had sloughed off leaving behind thin wrists and narrow clawed hands covered with emerald scales. Vegeta had her by the neck before she could breathe. She smiled up at him, her pink lips stretching morbidly at the corners.

“It was worth it.”

The sound of her neck cracking echoed across the green valley. He dropped her like the trash she was, spinning towards Bulma. She was staring sightlessly up at the grand dragon in the sky. In her chest was a gaping hole, the size of a fist, but she still held the first fringes of a smile on her lips.

Vegeta dropped to his knees, devastated. Death was commonplace in his world. Everyone died. Not only died, but died suddenly. Rarely did they linger. One moment they breathed, and the next they didn't. That was the way of things. Death long ago had ceased to impact him. But why did he feel like howling? Why did he feel something warm extinguish in his chest? Even now he felt the coldness wash over him.

He stroked her face, uncomprehending as to why his hand shook. Her cheek was warm and smooth beneath his fingertips, but there was no strumming of life. She didn't look right. Her was beautiful, but there was something unpolished about her. She wasn't bright. Wasn't warm. Wasn't full of the light he loved so much. Loved. What an awful human word. What did it mean anyways? To have done or maybe felt something unthinkable in the past? What was at its root? Just a word. Like planet, or sun, or flower or Legendary. Meaningless sounds strung together, meant to mean something, meant to make you feel.

Movement edged his vision, and Vegeta withdrew his hand from Bulma's cooling cheek.

“You have a choice now, Vegeta.”

The boy's voice sounded older than it should. Bloodshed aged a boy into a man. Vegeta knew that to be a fact. But there was something familiar in the comforting tones. Hardened, Vegeta rose to his feet to stare challengingly at the dragon.

“What choice? I will resurrect her. After all there seems to be wishes in need of squandering on such useless things as that.”

“Of course.”

Vegeta felt more chastened by his own words, than by the vague disapproval in the boy's reply. Treating Bulma so casually seemed like a betrayal. But that was how it would have to be. He was going to be ruler of galaxies. There wouldn't always be a wish granting dragon nearby. If his enemies knew of his attachment to Bulma they would use her and Bunny against him. He intended to resurrect her. He intended to keep her. If pushing her away was what he needed to do to keep her safe, then so be it.

“She'll never quite recover, you know. From the loss of her people, her failure. It will rot inside her, festering her soul until she dims and dies. You know something of that kind of failure don't you, Vegeta?”

“I will keep her safe.”

“Safe, yes. And what will that safety cost you both? You presence will subside her pain for a while, but what about when you are not there? What about when you protect her from your enemies by turning your back on her? Perhaps it would be kinder to leave her dead.”

Vegeta turned on the small boy, his teeth bared, his tail furled menacingly. Unaffected, the child shrugged, patting his slender belly. The eyes that beheld Vegeta's were not a child's eyes. They were older, darker, deeper.

“It would be more fulfilling for you. You wouldn't have to watch her wither before your eyes. You wouldn't have to pretend to care. You could still honor Bulma. Find her daughter and make her your princess. That way a part of Bulma would be nearby to comfort you. Besides there are other women for you to hold, to touch. They may not compare, or carry Bulma's heat, but they'll warm you for a night.”

Vegeta squeezed his fists at his sides. Above him he could feel the shadows shift and gather. Darkness was calling to him. The sinister allure of `having it all'. Wishes were dangerous things. After all, they gave you exactly what you asked for.

“The nights are dark,” Vegeta muttered, glancing first at Lyedra's body then Bulma's.

“True. Bulma is your light. But as our myth tells, you can live in darkness. And in that darkness you will be the most feared. You're rule will be legendary.”

Vegeta snarled in frustration, stalking away from the death. No matter where he went the shadow of the dragon cast itself over him. He stopped after a few feet, threw his head back, and roared to the darkened sky. Gold light sparked off his body, and died with pitiful, fizzling pops. Angry he turned on the child.

“What would have me do? Wish us back so we might relive the whole sorted thing over and over again. Return me back to that despicable day, and I'll be as I was. Powerless. Rotten. Alone.”

Dende carefully seated himself on the gray boulder.

“Powerless? The dragon can grant two more wishes, and in every contract there is an addendum. Rotten? You will have your memories. After all, what makes us is nothing more than life experiences.”

“Bulma will not!”

“Won't what?” Dende asked mildly.

“Remember.” Vegeta stared at the green grass between his bare feet. Already he could smell the taint of decomposition in the air. He couldn't bear to look at her. By now all the blood would have finished draining, and her skin would have taken on a gray pallor.

“Ah. Alone. Yes, that is a crux, isn't it?”

Vegeta rumbled, but didn't reply. His tail swayed behind him listlessly.

“She won't remember your daughter, but the loss will still echo inside her.”

Vegeta shot a look at the masquerading boy. Dende tilted his head to the side, his antennae twitching.

“You will remember. Can you live with that?”

Vegeta scowled at the ridiculous question. Of course he could live with that. He had only seen the child for a few minutes, and the entire time he was seething with betrayal. Her fierce blue eyes so like Bulma's. Her tiny little growls as she reacted with Saiyan instinct to protect her mother. Had betrayal been the only thing he felt when he looked at her? Her angelic face was burned into a part of his brain that would never be scoured.

Dende stared at the man for a long time. When Vegeta didn't reply, he sighed, one antenna drooping.

“Love isn't spontaneous. It isn't just chances, and maybe's, and he was there, and she was there. Love has to have a foundation to grow in. Everything else is just circumstantial.”

Vegeta turned his head slowly to stare at the boy. His body strummed with tension. His muscles were strung so tight over his bones he felt like he was going to pop out of existence like the tiny flits of light that flickered off him from time to time.

“Love is nothing but a word. I have no idea what you are talking about, old man. None of this matters,” Vegeta stated with finality as he turned to the dragon to make his wish.

“Soulless and loveless is no way to go through life, son.”

“I have power. I will rule the universe.”

“You will fulfill your father's destiny.”

“My destiny!” Vegeta turned on the boy, his teeth bared. “This is my life. Not anyone else's.” He thrust his thumb to his chest, his chin angled proudly.

The boy stat unaffected on the cool, gray rock.

“And you will have Bulma.”

“Yes.” Vegeta nodded stiffly in agreement.

“And Bulma will have Bunny.”

Vegeta nodded again.

“And you will live happily ever after. You, the vicious, tyrant warlord. Her, the submissive, understanding queen always in need of protection. Bunny, the dainty, half-breed princess who will never be good enough to be your heir.”

Vegeta stalked the boy, his tail snapping to and fro angrily. “It wouldn't be like that!” He grabbed Dende by his white robe, hauling him up to eye level.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, but deep down you know the truth. Your duty to your father's memory would eventually quash Bulma's light, and you will be left in the darkness. Perhaps you will even erect a monument to her memory like the Second Brother did for the First.”

Vegeta tossed the boy away, huffing in disgust. He caught a glance of Bulma from the corner of his eye, and it stopped dead in his tracks. She didn't even look like the woman she once was. The grayness of her skin was dulling the color of her hair. Even the bright red of her blood was darkening to sepia on the green grass.

Vegeta growled as he opened his mouth to speak. The words to resurrect Bulma, and retake his life were frozen in his throat.

“Speak the words in your heart,” the boy whispered, sounding like the conscience he never had.

He formed the words to shut the old man up on his tongue, but something all together different spilled out.

“Turn back time, and return us to the day of Frieza's arrival on Earth.” Appalled, Vegeta stumbled back. An invisible weight melted off his chest.

“And,” Dende prompted.

“And allow me to retain all my power.”

More weight lifted off Vegeta, and for the first time he felt like he could fly without the aid of his ki. He was as light as the wind, and just as free. Not just free from the guilt of ruining Bulma's life, but free from the dead expectation of his father.

“Those are two separate wishes. Do you wish this will to be done?”

There it was. The backdoor. He could still slip out. He could walk away. He could leave her to rot, and reclaim his birthright as ruler of the universe without her. If he continued down this path he would be nothing more than a lapdog to a memory that never happened. Once he made his wishes then he would never leave Bulma again, whether she choose to love him or not. What if she never loved him again? What if he ruined it? Was he merely condemning himself to another prison of his own making? Was he making a mistake?

“This is my will,” Vegeta answered boldly.