Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ FROM BAD TO WORSE... ❯ Unfinished Business ( Chapter 18 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Last Chapter: Unwittingly creating a rapport with Bulma's mind, Vegeta reveals a
past full of violence, murder and rape. Yamcha arrives just at the pair are
trying to cope with what the Saiyan suffered under Frieza's perverted control.
-------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------
FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Eighteen


Strong arms cradled Bulma's shuddering form and carried her gently into
the bedroom, settling her upon the soft surface of the bed. Concerned fingers
brushed the hair away from her face and when that affectionate touch grazed her
cheek she cried out in pain.

"No-don't. My nose, it feels broken," she hitched in a faltering voice,
still struggling with tears.

There was a sharp intake of breath. "What did that bastard do you?" a male
voice rasped, sounding different to her grief-stricken mind.

"I-who? Wh-where's Vegeta?"

"Get some rest," that male presence soothed, covering her trembling form
with the bedspread.

"No! No...I have to talk to him! I have to say I-I-"

"Sleep, Bulma."

Clutching at the heavy fabric with panicked fingers, Bulma surrendered to
her shock and curled into a tight, little ball. Almost immediately she became
lost in dreams that were no longer her own; A place where long-maned giants
patrolled barren lands heavy with cinder-strewn winds. Where women screamed in
agony and violation and orphaned babes wailed for parents that were reduced to
cadavers.

In the background of all of that, barely audible, was the sound of a young
boy's voice begging for mercy.

>>>>>
There was practically a cloud of smoke hovering around Yamcha's head when
he emerged from the hallway and faced the lone Saiyan in the living room. Vegeta
barely heard the young humans' return, too lost in thought to pay much concern
to his presence. He was still brooding over Bulma's over-reaction to his
deliberate rapport. He hadn't even shown her the REAL disturbing parts and she
had freaked out, becoming utterly inconsolable. To make the situation even
worse, she had actually suffered psychic shock from the brief contact; feeling
the injuries the memory version of himself had suffered under Dodoria. Obviously
the fool woman could handle playing the observer in his memories but not an
actual participant.

He should have felt a gloating satisfaction for putting her in her place
as forcibly as he had. As little as two months ago he would have laughed at her
discomfiture. Now, he discovered her plaintive sobs obliterated all of his
enjoyment. Bulma was crying for him. For what had been done to him. Vegeta had
actually been frozen in place watching as her former lover carried her away, not
objecting. Not able to object. He had broken his promise to her.

'I hurt her,' he thought with genuine remorse and was at a loss as to how
to deal with it. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him shelve his
indecision and get back to the real problem at hand. Yamcha was brilliantly
pissed, far beyond anything the Saiyan had yet to see from him and required a
close watch.

Keeping to the far side of the room, Yamcha paced the room slowly as he
considered his strategy. Vegeta was notorious for becoming impulsive in a battle
when his emotions slipped their leash. He didn't want to make that same mistake.
"I actually went to the mat for you."

"That a fact."

"I went to Gokou and the others and came out looking like a fool in order
to make things right. It just turns out that I had you pegged right from day
one, after all."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Human, you don't know anything about me. Don't
strain your pathetic mind in the effort to try."

"I always knew you'd eventually hurt Bulma and I was right." He raised his
voice in an anguished shout, "You broke her nose, you little prick!"

Rather than try to explain the eccentricities involved with erecting
mental rapport's and their potential side effects, Vegeta dismissed her injury
with, "It's NOT broken. It'll pass."

Yamcha just assumed that the Saiyan was shrugging off an assault with his
customary arrogance. "I'd call the cops if there was anything they could do with
you. I'm glad that Piccolo finally gave up his vigil. There's not going to be
any bleeding hearts in this fight, Saiyan. I'm going to beat you within an inch
of your miserable life-"

Unable to contain himself any longer, Vegeta threw his head back and
laughed. "You? A Saibaman with a power rating of 1500 and an I.Q. of less than
fifty kicked your sorry ass!" he broke off snickering and shaking his head at
the same time. "You weren't worthy of my fighting you then. That hasn't changed
now."

Yamcha betrayed a stunned blink. "Since when have you ever turned down a
fight? You've become a pussy, Vegeta!"

"Ah, well... You are what you eat," Vegeta purred, his smirk turning into
a deliberate sneer. "From what I hear, you wouldn't understand that."

The human's flush of anger deepened into a more purple hue of indignation
over the intentional slight. Stammering out a response, Vegeta cut in with, "I
had a good laugh listening to the woman's tales of your efforts. Some athlete.
The only gold you deserve is at the Lake Flaccid Olympics."

"!!GODDAMN YOU!!" Yamcha roared and launched himself over the chesterfield
at the mocking Saiyan. Vegeta stepped quickly aside, his arms still crossed but
the contact had been very close. Even the younger fighter noticed that, despite
his great rage. He allowed himself a small smile of realization. "It's been
awhile since you've trained, I can see that now. Why has Piccolo been acting so
protective of you lately? Why was Dr. Briefs having the rest of us searching for
you?"

He wasn't really expecting any kind of an acknowledgement to his
questions. All of the good humor abruptly went out of the Saiyan and his former
resentment returned with a vengeance, making his dark eyes blaze with hatred. It
was answer enough.

"You were hurt," Yamcha concluded, his posture assuming its former
confidence with each word that he spoke. "Maybe even worse than the gravity
simulator explosion. Whatever happened I can see the differences in you. You've
lost a lot of muscle-tone; you're out of practice. You wouldn't have stayed in
this hotel for so long a time without your precious training if you had been
capable of doing it."

"I'm just enjoying a well-deserved vacation screwing your former lover,"
Vegeta stated in an off-hand manner. "The woman is quite skilled in her
technique. I credit it to a good book. Not to you."

Yamcha wasn't going to be baited this time. "I think you're scared of me."

"Of YOU?! You must be insane!"

"You know that this fight will be a lot closer than you want it to be. We
have unfinished business, you and I."

"That we do," Vegeta admitted.

"Then let's get on with it."

"Here?"

"Of course not! You know damned well where I'm talking about, Saiyan."

Actually, Vegeta had to think for a minute before he realized what the
idiot human was talking about. He allowed himself one brief nod. "Fine. Let's
get this over with."

Eagerly vaulting over the railing, Yamcha took to the air and waited for
the brash alien to follow. To his surprise, Vegeta visibly hesitated, staring
off in the direction of the bedroom where Bulma was resting.

"If you go near her again, I'll kill you," Yamcha cautioned, his voice
dripping with malice.

Snapping his head around, the Saiyan looked at him directly, his face
guarded and betraying absolutely no emotion. The younger fighter recognized the
neutral expression at once; it meant that Vegeta had finally accepted him as a
threat and was not going to betray anymore valuable facial cues to aid in his
defense. Wordlessly, he joined the human and the pair left the Western Capital
to travel to their chosen destination.

>>>>>
Todd the tour guide looked at his watch for perhaps the fifth time in an
hour not giving a damn if he was being obvious about it or not. This was his
last tour of the day and he was eager to knock off early if he could, get home
and plan his strategy on how to get to second base with his frigid girlfriend
tonight. He was escorting the usual entourage of tourists; bored out-of-towners,
wheezing geezers and the usual Asian shutterbugs. All during the tour, a young
Japanese couple kept looking at him and muttering the word, "Bakayaro". He had
finally come to the conclusion that it was NOT meant as a compliment.

"Awright, everyone gather over here," he instructed the group, motioning
them over to the railing that encircled the entire area. "Yes, just like that.
Now, if you'll look off to the east you'll see the crater that was created
during the climax of the battle against the invaders. At this point, the smaller
alien took over the combat when her companion was killed and the circumference
of the blast she created is almost half of a mile across."

There were appreciative "Ohs" and "Ahs" from the crowd and the usual
"Baka" from the Japanese couple in the back. Fixing them with an irritated look,
Todd led the tourists over to the large exhibit where all of the Earth's Special
Forces members present during the Saiyan conflict were depicted in life-size
replicas. Krillin would have been ecstatic to see his double was a foot taller.

"At the beginning of the battle, the Earth lost several of its greatest
warriors. Starting with baseball phenom, Yamcha and quickly followed by Tien and
his life-partner Chiaotzu." On the other side of the walkway, a huge lifelike
statue of Nappa was poised over the cringing spectators. His mouth was open in a
fearsome expression and whenever someone stepped too close to the sensor at the
base, his voice came roaring out: "I'm gonna GET'CHA!" Todd always got a chuckle
when some little toddler wet his pants in reaction.

"The alien known only as Nappa was responsible for the loss of East City,
the Defensive Naval Force and many of the ZTV staff. He was initially considered
the more powerful of the two until his inexplicable demise." At this point, Todd
paused and considered the smaller replica positioned beside its companion.

Standing on its base, the statue was almost eye-level with the majority of
the crowd, clad in a distinctive blue and white ensemble and standing in an arms
crossed posture that appeared both arrogant and condescending. No one had been
able to supply the company responsible for the replicas with a decent photograph
of Vegeta. It was for this reason that he was depicted as a female brunette with
a generous bosom and beautiful eyes. Todd thought that she was an absolute
hottie and entertained himself with some pretty raunchy daydreams every chance
he got. "In terms of sheer power, the female invader was virtually without equal
and may have been successful in her mission to destroy the earth if not for our
mightiest hero-"

The guide dramatically swept his arm to the figure standing on the raised
dais at the end of the path. The larger-than-life relief stood with his legs
wide apart and his hands loosely clenched at his sides. He was staring up at the
azure sky as if expecting another invasion and prepared to face it bravely.

"-YAJIROBI!" Todd cried enthusiastically. As they always did at this part
of the tour, the cameras began clicking and flashing as fast as fingers could
press the buttons to get a decent shot of the pudgy samurai. "If not for his
expert swordmanship and subterfuge skills, our beautiful planet might have been
lost for-"

There was a muted explosion quite close-by and heads turned in time to
watch a surviving rock formation crumble to the ground in a great pall of smoke
and dust.

"What the hell was THAT?!" Todd yelled to no one in particular. This was
followed buy a responsive outburst of, "Nani?" from the Japanese couple.

"Oh, kewl," remarked one punk who had several miniature barbells shoved
through his nose and both eyebrows. "Dude, why didn't you say that there was
gonna be a reenactment of the battle?"

"This isn't any reenactment, you idiot!" Todd screamed into his face.
Before he could say more, there was the screeching wail of what sounded like an
approaching missile. "Incoming!" he bellowed and dove behind a replica of
Piccolo who, because of a shortage of green paint, had a noticeably purple hue
to his features.

An object fell out of the sky, snapping off of the head of the Son Gokou
statue and plowing into the replica of Nappa. Sputtering and cursing, Vegeta
tried to shake off Yamcha's Wolf Fang punch as he absorbed his surroundings.
When he saw Nappa's face leering into his own he had a moment of fear that he
had fallen prey to the V'Nhar again and it didn't help when the figure bellowed
at him: "I'm gonna GET'CHA!" Holding his breath he poked the lifeless creation
curiously, feeling firm resistance.

"Hnh," he grunted in relief. When he got to his feet he nearly tripped
over Gokou's head and picked it up to stare resentfully into the wide eyes. As
ever, the expression on the replica's face mirrored the younger Saiyan's
smiling, easy-going nature to perfection. "Damn, I wish you were the real
thing," Vegeta snarled. He gave the head a kick that propelled it into the next
state.

Yamcha landed on the well-used path, inwardly wincing that he had placed
innocents in danger with a badly aimed punch. "Everybody get out of here! It
isn't safe!"

"No shit, Sherlock," the punk retorted but didn't waste time as he hauled
ass to get out of there. He never even bothered to see if his parents were
following. Keeping close to his heels, the Japanese couple had changed tunes and
were now saying, "Shimatta!" over and over as they sprinted to safety.

Todd peered out from behind Piccolo's poly-resin cape and saw the little
guy who had single-handedly destroyed the exhibit get to his feet and glance at
the statue next to him. For some reason he appear thunderstruck at the sight of
the bodacious alien chick.

Vegeta damn near choked on his tongue when he finally recognized who he
was looking at. It was him! Rather, it was a version of himself if his father
had supplied another X chromosome instead of the Y. "What the FUCK-?!" he
managed to get out. The supposed replica was wearing make-up and displaying an
ample cleavage above the crossed arms. With a livid curse he drew his fist back
and punched the offensive statue so hard that it literally exploded.

Releasing a wail of loss, Todd stared at the rubble of his dream woman and
confronted the seething stranger with, "Why did you have to go and do that for?
She was gorgeous!"

It was definitely the wrong thing to say, he realized belatedly as the man
raised his hand palm-up in his direction. The blast that followed was virtually
instantaneous. Mercifully, so was the tackle that propelled him clear of the
explosion that obliterated the statue he had been using for cover. Piccolo would
have taken one look at the gaudy recreation of himself and called the
destruction of it a necessary thing.

"Aw, shee-YIT!!" Todd howled in dismay. "All of that's gonna end up coming
outta my salary, d'you realize that?!"

For perhaps the first and only time in his entire life, Yamcha felt the
vaguest sensation of disgust that Vegeta probably grappled with every single
time he laid eyes on such a pathetic specimen of earthling. It didn't stop him
from throwing the idiot clear of the Saiyan's enraged fire but it didn't mean he
was overly gentle, either. The luckless guide was sent rolling over to a
stationary dumpster where he immediately climbed inside, burrowing for cover
underneath of a layer of garbage. A stray ki blast flipped the large container
completely over onto its top. It would be two days later before Todd would be
pulled free, stinking to high heaven.

Vegeta released a rapid-fire barrage of ki missiles that sliced through
the air and had Yamcha dancing for an escape. Sliding up beside a perforated
statue of Tien, he glanced at the replica's third eye and muttered an apology as
he plucked it out of the double's forehead. He gripped it experimentally,
testing its weight. It was larger than a ping-pong ball, smaller than a baseball
and deceptively heavy. He immediately leapt to his feet and pitched it at the
Saiyan as hard as he possibly could. Vegeta was expecting a retaliatory strike
as he kept his senses trained on the human's personal ki signature, but he
wasn't expecting a thrown projectile traveling at over 150 miles an hour. The
object hit him just below the right temple in a fine spray of blood and he fell
backwards over the railing, cursing the whole way to the ground.

Sprinting across the pathway and gathering the energies in his fist for
another Wolf Fang attack, Yamcha cautiously peered over the railing. There was
no sign of the wounded Saiyan.

"Oh, crap," he muttered as he jumped over the metal bar and landed lithely
on the ground. He could feel eyes watching him and advanced very carefully
across the terrain fully aware of who, more importantly what, he was up against.
Honestly, Yamcha hadn't expected for the battle to go on this long but he wasn't
knocking his good fortune. Whatever it was that had laid Vegeta down in the
hotel room, it had obviously been something serious. The Saiyan was severely off
of his usual game.

No one was more aware of this than Vegeta himself. At the moment he was
crouched beside a demolished butte watching the human walk away from his
position, trying to get his breathing and his indignation under control.
Whatever the damned thing was that had impacted with his face, it had done some
major damage. His right eye socket was broken and the retina had become detached
from the rest of his eye, rendering him blind on that side. It was déjà vu all
over again and the irony of the situation was not lost on him, considering this
was the precise area where he had met his first humiliating defeat not all that
long ago. Gather the rest of the meat-beating losers that made up the Earth's
Special Forces and they could have a good old-fashioned reunion. The only thing
that could top that would be for the mongrel brat to turn Oozaru and sit on him
again. The way things were going, Vegeta wasn't even going to discount the
possibility.

Wiping stinging sweat out of his one good eye, Vegeta acutely regretted
that he had wasted so much precious energy gallivanting around the skies like
some smitten teenager. He had traveled the equivalent of three circumferences
around the earth hardly even aware of it; too lost in thought on matters far and
beyond his usual self-centeredness. Bulma and her actions of the last week and a
half had been the only things on his mind and he was paying dearly for that
lapse now. It only served to justify his reasoning that such intimate
attachments were a warrior's downfall.

'It ends now', he brooded. 'If-WHEN I get done with this inconvenience my
involvement with the woman will be over. The bitch has made me weak.'

His face tightened with resolve even as his heart gave an enigmatic
shudder he purposely ignored. Getting to his feet, he raised his hand in that
Big Bang gesture ready to shoot the human in the back and be done with him once
and for all. It would be pathetically easy. Yamcha was clear in his sight and
oblivious to his presence. A brutal flashback came to mind; one where a tail was
wrapped around his neck holding him off of the ground and a lightening flurry of
blows pounded into his back, destroying his spine and internal organs in a span
of mere seconds. Vegeta shook off the vision and lowered his hand. No, he
concluded. There was no honor in such an attack.

He fazed out of sight and re-materialized behind Yamcha who whirled in
surprise. The human clearly saw the damage his makeshift baseball had done and
betrayed a smile of accomplishment. The right side of the Saiyan's face was a
mask of blood and his eye was almost swollen closed. That smug satisfaction
faded when he realized he was now facing the equivalent of a wounded, rabid pit-
bull that had no owner or leash in sight.

Vegeta saw that look of unease on the other fighter's face and he broke
out into a cold grin that was devoid of any humor. "The games end now," he said
in a deceptively level voice and was a sudden blur as he propelled himself into
the other man, driving them both through a pile of rubble with his momentum. All
of the wind was knocked out of Yamcha from the impact and he became dimly aware
of various blows that ravaged his body even before he could call up a desperate
defensive. If he had the element of surprise before, that advantage was lost now
as a fist plowed into his solar plexus and drove him skidding backwards into the
rough dirt. He was vaguely aware of being hauled up by the front of his shirt
and he looked into the calm face of the attacking Saiyan, realizing his mistake.
Unlike other fighters he was used to confronting, Vegeta absorbed pain and anger
and was capable of using it to empower his abilities where a human fighter would
be rendered debilitated.

"I suppose now you're going to whimper out that you want a truce," Vegeta
said in a bored tone of voice.

Remember Bulma as she curled up into a miserable little ball of
desolation, Yamcha gathered his waning strength. "Not this time," he said and
drove his forehead into the Saiyan's injured face, driving both fists into his
stomach at the same time.

Vegeta doubled forward and received a knee directly into his left kidney,
driving him down into the dirt. Struggling to rise, a boot connected squarely
where his tail had been severed and he betrayed a scream of agony at the
contact. Purposely digging his heel into the sore scar, Yamcha applied pressure
until the Saiyan was actually writhing under him in misery. "Who's going to call
for a truce now?" he said, leaning over him with a smile.

Clenching his teeth to keep the screams at bay, Vegeta's hands spasmed in
the dirt and he released a wail of rage and pain as he expanded his ki outwards.
He unleashed a concussive pressure wave that drove Yamcha into the air and
scrubbed the ground clear of any rubble or obstacles for several hundred meters.
The ground was smoldering when he clambered to his feet, barely able to
straighten up completely as his lower back rebelled to the movement. Yamcha
dropped easily to the ground nearby ready to resume the fight.

"Fuck this shit," Vegeta hissed. He cupped his hands to his side and began
to power up. Yamcha's eyes widened in instant recognition even as the Saiyan
called out, "GALLIC-"

"Uh-oh," the human muttered, watching the bright blue ball form in
Vegeta's hands. He immediately started backing away.

"-GUN-"

Gokou and Piccolo suddenly appeared between the two combatants, sensing
the release of the fighters' energies and easily homing in on their battle site.
The ground was shuddering, a precursor to the building of power Vegeta was
collecting for his trademark attack that would obliterate Yamcha and, depending
on the angle of the blast, a goodly portion of the earth itself.

"WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!?!" Piccolo roared. He stared first at the livid
Saiyan and then turned to look at Yamcha, his glare intensifying.

"Three birds with one stone," Vegeta growled through bared teeth.
"Excellent."

"Power down, Vegeta," Gokou cautioned wondering if he had the time to
collect the energy for a hasty Kamehameha.

"Screw you, Kakarrot! I should have known that you'd come to that
weakling's defense!"

While the two Saiyan's argued, Piccolo took advantage of the lapse and
confronted the only human standing on the battlefield. "Give me one good reason
why I shouldn't just step out of the way of Vegeta's blast," the tall Namek
asked him in a rough tone.

"I just got back from that hotel the two were holed up in," Yamcha said
quickly. He was relieved beyond words that the cavalry had shown up just in the
nick of time. With the combined might of all three of them, Vegeta didn't have a
prayer of surviving the combat to follow. "I had to put Bulma to bed. That
little prick beat her!"

Swinging his head around, Piccolo regarded the Saiyan coolly. "Is that
true?"

"Of course it's not, you vomit-colored cretin!" Vegeta roared.

"You broke her nose!" Yamcha yelled back.

Looking very much like a father exasperated by the actions of two brawling
children, Piccolo cast an unfathomable look to Gokou who immediately nodded and
winked out of sight with his ability of instant transmission. "Consider this a
time-out until we get to the root of the problem," he instructed the two
antagonists.

"The problem is right over there!" Yamcha told him in exasperation,
pointing an urgent finger at the Saiyan.

Vegeta was grappling with the energies of his Gallic Gun and was a bare
silhouette against the pulsing energy he was containing. He was nearing critical
mass and no longer cared who was in the path of the devastating blast. "I'm
going to dance in your ashes," he snarled.

"Both of you- SHUT UP!!" Piccolo bellowed in a fearsome roar. Both
combatants' fell silent glaring at one another on opposite sides of the huge
Namek.

>>>>>
Paur was hovering nearby, keeping a cautious eye on her charge who was
sitting at the edge of the bed, staring at the far wall through red-rimmed eyes.
Before leaving the bedroom, Yamcha had instructed her to keep a close eye over
Bulma and defend her incase his fight with Vegeta ended badly. The little
changeling was utterly terrified with the prospect of confronting the Saiyan.
She was smart enough to know that her life-long friend, while a gifted fighter,
had a very small chance of vanquishing his alien foe but he had ignored her
advice too many times for her logic to penetrate his anger now. For all of his
flaws, Yamcha genuinely loved Bulma, even if it was now more of protectiveness
reserved for a sister than for a lover. He had a lot of pride of his own to deal
with and losing Bulma to Vegeta was something he just couldn't deal with. Paur
kept a nervous eye trained on the door and her fur ruffled in agitation when she
sensed a new presence in the living room.

"Bulma?!" a voice called out.

Bulma had been deep in thought until the familiar voice interrupted her
brooding and she rose from the bed and walked out into the corridor to meet the
new arrival. "Gokou! If you're here than something's happened! Where's Vegeta?"

"He and Yamcha are duking it out at the old battle site," her friend told
her urgently. "It's getting pretty serious. Yamcha claims that Vegeta beat up on
you."

"Do I look beat up to you?" Bulma snapped at him.

"Well...your eyes are a little puffy-"

"-Vegeta was sharing a memory with me when Yamcha barged in. I wanted to
stop him but I was too out of it at the time. I-I think I was in shock."

Gokou's eyes trained on hers in concern. "What happened, Bulma?"

Trying to hold up her face to his, Bulma's bottom lip trembled and she
looked away, feeling a profound grief that was not her own. "...I've been
receiving thoughts from Vegeta, memories of his past. He showed me what Frieza
did to him when he was a child to keep him under control. Oh, Gokou, it was
HORRIBLE!"

"Yeah, I know," Gokou admitted in a low voice.

Bulma's eyes widened. "You know?"

"Vegeta shared thoughts with me when I was fighting against Frieza. I saw
more than I wanted to," the younger man said quietly.

"He-he raped him," Bulma whispered in a shaky voice. When her dearest
friend admitted to a halting nod of consent, she burst into fresh tears and
clung onto him, sobbing against his chest. Gokou held onto her, unable to come
up with words that could possibly soothe over this terrible realization and
decided to let her cry herself out. That was until he remembered the standoff
back at the battle site. "Bulma, I have to bring you back with me to try and
reason with-"

"No!" Bulma said, pushing herself away from him with a violent shove.

"Things are really tense," Gokou tried to reason with her, which was an
exercise he really had little skill in using. "You have to talk to Vegeta and
get him to cool down. He's going to kill Yamcha."

"If I show up with you, he'll kill Yamcha for sure, just to prove to me
that he can," Bulma told him. "I'm serious, Gokou. If he so much as catches
sight of me he'll think I'm there for Yamcha's sake and literally explode. You
don't know what he-we've been through these last few weeks. I've seen into his
mind. He actually wants an excuse not to trust me so he can go back to being his
prior, hateful self. I'm not going to give that to him."

"But, Bulma...Yamcha-"

"-Yamcha knew what he got himself into," Bulma choked in a hoarse voice.
"I love him, Gokou. Don't get me wrong. But I love Vegeta more and he's caused
so much trouble for us both already. He needs to learn to mind his own
business." She scrubbed her eyes with both hands as she added in a near-whisper,
"One way or another..."

Swallowing, Gokou was at a loss as to what to do next. Her logic made
sense. If she went with him, Vegeta would naturally assume she was there for
Yamcha's sake and attack without a second's hesitation. Not for the first time,
the young fighter wished that the teenager from the future hadn't been so
purposely vague in relating the details between his parents that had led to his
unique conception. It was a near impossibility to predict what the correct
course of action was on his part but Gokou was reasonably sure that it didn't
involve putting Bulma in the path of an incoming Gallic Gun attack. He was
prepared to return empty handed when he spotted Paur hovering in the bedroom
entranceway. He wondered uneasily just how much the creature had overheard but
now was not the time to ask. "Let's go, Paur. Maybe you can reason with Yamcha."

Releasing a nervous trill, the changeling feline went immediately over to
him. Before they both disappeared, Bulma passed Gokou a longing, emotional
glance that could not quite hide her despair.

>>>>>
On the battlefield, trapped between a furious ex-lover and an enraged
Saiyan, Piccolo felt a large sweat-drop trickle down the side of his face as he
maintained his dour composure. Silently he was cursing for Gokou to hurry the
hell up; hoping the fighter hadn't gotten sidetracked by a dessert cart in the
hotel room. He was taking too damn long retrieving Bulma and both Yamcha and
Vegeta were beginning to hurl threats back and forth, which wasn't helping the
tension. Vegeta had powered down a little on his energy ball but the air was
still crackling with the increased static his power was creating. It was at such
ill-timed moments like these that the Namek was relieved that the smaller Saiyan
wasn't able to achieve a Super-powered state like Gokou. Vegeta was already
immensely powerful and his sanity was a tenuous thing at best. He was only cowed
at the moment because he knew that Gokou was capable of over-powering him if he
chose to cross the line and attack. Piccolo mused that if Vegeta ever
successfully evolved into a Super Saiyan they might as well all kiss their asses
good-bye. There would be no restraining an ego like that.

When Gokou appeared beside him, he resisted the urge to release a lungful
of breath in relief. His visible tension doubled when he saw that the young
fighter had returned with the wrong female. "What the hell did you bring THAT
here for?" the Namek snarled, pointing a taloned finger at Paur. The small
creature made a frightened squeal and quickly flew over to Yamcha and wrapped
her fuzzy arms around his neck, speaking urgently into his ear. The human
protested at first and then went suddenly quiet as he listened.

Gokou didn't answer right away. He cast a sidelong glance at Vegeta who
had tightened down into a wary crouch at his arrival and began powering up his
attack again in preparation for the battle to come. Yes, that rage that Bulma
had described was plainly visible as well as that desire to distrust. Vegeta was
just itching for an excuse to attack them all. Like Bulma, Gokou resolved not to
be the one to give it to him. It was an enormous gamble but just spiriting
Yamcha to safety would not be the end of it. This issue had to reach a
conclusion all on its own. "Let's go, Piccolo. This isn't our fight."

"What-" was all the Namek was able to get out before Gokou reached for him
and took them back home.

"Hey!" Yamcha yelled in frustration. Paur tugged on a lock of his hair to
get his attention and continued her frenzied whispers.

Vegeta burst out laughing. "Where did your buddies go?" he taunted,
pleased beyond words that the pair had wisely taken the hint and left where they
weren't wanted. He had no feelings for Piccolo one way or the other, unaware
that he shared the Namek's reluctant affinity in their kindred dispositions and
past ambitions. The person he absolutely abhorred most in the universe was Gokou
for achieving the very goal that should have been his birthright and destiny to
boast; The status of the legendary Super Saiyan. Vegeta wanted that younger
man's heart in his hand he hated him so much but he also feared him, thanks to
stupid, superstitious Saiyan bullshit he had heard since he was young boy. It
was hard to shake a thousand years of heritage and genetics predisposed to
respect the tales of the Chosen One. Now Vegeta was stuck on the planet where
that revered Saiyan lived and forced to interact with his fellows. One of whom
was cowering directly in front of him.

"They'll be back," Yamcha tried to say in a level voice. "They went to get
reinforcements."

"Somehow I doubt that," Vegeta sneered. The air between them was
supercharged with electricity as the Saiyan gathered the last of the energy that
he needed. "And they'll be too late if they did."

"I realize now that I was wrong. You didn't hurt Bulma."

Vegeta lifted an eyebrow but didn't bother to respond. The blue aura of ki
fire began to radiate from his compact form in steady waves, growing in
intensity.

Backpedaling, Yamcha said quickly, "I didn't know that the both of you
were so close-"

"Gallic Gun-"

"-You love her-"

"!!FIRE!!" Vegeta screamed, unleashing all of his gathered energy in a
terrifying discharge that made the ground shake with it's violence. The blast
wave closed in on Yamcha in the blink of an eye with the concessive force of a
thousand Hiroshima bombs. It gouged out a massive trench a quarter of a mile
wide before arcing up and punching through the atmosphere, slicing into cold
space like a laser of purest blue light. The following report of the devastating
explosion actually reverberated through the clouds in the area like recurring
thunder until silence fell on the stark landscape where only ragged breathing
could be heard.

Rubbing the small of his back, Vegeta felt his exhaustion begin to close
in and fought the sensation as he considered the sight before him. Standing dead
center at the start of the blast crater he had created, Yamcha was looking down
at his feet in amazement. Damned if, at the last possible instant, Vegeta hadn't
parted the huge discharge to go around him and continue its course uninterrupted
just to give him the scare of his entire life. It was testimony to the sheer
strength of the Saiyan's will; to control a power so huge and be able to
forcibly manipulate it to do his bidding. The younger man was unable to betray a
look of reluctant respect when he was finally able to raise his eyes.

"You...didn't kill me," Yamcha wheezed, when he was finally able to find
his voice. Peeking out of the neckline of his shirt, Paur spared a petrified
glance at her surroundings. There was a noticeably darker patch that ran down
the front of his orange shirt but he hadn't noticed the moisture yet. Or the
smell.

"Consider it a gift," Vegeta said shortly, raising into the air. "For HER.
It'll be the only one I'll ever give."

Without another word, he turned his back and sped off. Yamcha let him go
without quarrel even though he knew that the Saiyan had expended virtually all
of his power in that dramatic release and would be defenseless now. He had no
more reason to fight; Paur had explained the exchange back at the hotel between
Gokou and Bulma. He had grossly misinterpreted what he had seen and almost paid
the ultimate price for his ignorance. From that day on he resolved to keep his
distance from the pair and it was a promise that he kept.

>>>>>
It was early in the morning when Vegeta finally reached his destination
and settled down onto the balcony where Bulma was waiting. He took one look at
the relief on her face and knew that he had made the right choice in returning
even if it was against his better judgement. It felt good to have someone
actually worry about him and even better to have someone welcome him back.
Perhaps if he weren't so tired and sore, he would have pushed her away, sticking
to his earlier resolve of putting an end to this farce of a relationship. At the
moment however, he tolerated her fussing over his injuries and allowed her to
forcibly lead him into the bedroom without quarrel. He fell asleep on the soft
surface even before he could tell her how the battle went, lulled into a
dreamless, comforting slumber by her pleasant scent and soft words. There was
none of that lingering regret of past actions to pester him this time. For
perhaps the first time in his existence, he had actually done the right thing by
sparing Yamcha's life.

'A gift', he had said. In the background of those words were ones he knew
he would never be able to say out loud, 'For the woman I love'.

Unknown hours passed before he woke up again. He was lying on his stomach
with an icepack successfully numbing his lower back and a bandage over his right
eye. Raising his head, he saw that the woman was lying beside him on the bed.
She was awake and staring at his face, her expression unreadable.

"You never asked me the question," Vegeta said at last.

"Which one is that?"

"Whether I killed that idiot ex-lover of yours."

"I know you didn't," she responded with a smile.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you wouldn't have come back here, if you had."

It was dismaying how well she knew him. Vegeta was actually at a loss for
words against her unflappable logic and he crossed his arms over the pillow and
rested his chin on them to stare at the headboard. He continued his solitary
deliberations until her hand settled lightly on the back of his neck and he
swung his head around to look at her again. She was right beside him, her lips
parted in unmistakable invitation. "Vegeta..."

He pulled away from her and sat up. "I should never have showed you what
happened with Frieza."

"I'm glad that you felt you could share that memory with me, Vegeta," she
told him sincerely. "I needed to understand what happened to you."

"You pity me now," he accused. "I don't need to be an empath to sense that
from you."

She came up alongside of him and studied his face. "I can't easily forget
what happened-"

"I won't be pitied," he snapped, getting to his feet. He was bare-chested
and she could easily make out the bruises on his back. The scar from where his
tail had been severed was pink and swollen but if the old wound pained him, he
betrayed no sign of it. He was too lost in thought on other matters. "I don't
need this place anymore. It's time to resume my training."

Bulma had been anticipating that request but her heart still sank at the
sound of it. She nodded slowly. "I'll start packing. Dad says that he's made
some improvements on the gravity simulator that he thinks you'll like."

Pulling on a clean shirt, Vegeta stared at her with his left eye, hearing
the sorrow in her voice. They looked at one another for one lingering moment,
the silence between them burning with a thousand unspoken questions, desires and
entreaties. Finally, Vegeta's face tightened into that cold mask that Bulma
immediately recognized. It was like watching a sheet of black ice form over a
drowning victim and the effect, once complete was dramatic. She was confronting
a stranger now. Gone was the Saiyan who had been so gentle with her in the dark
of the night, pleasuring her with a touch that was tender and generous and
speaking words in a hushed voice that actually comforted her. In his place was
the Saiyan no Ouji of Vegetasei; Cold, remorseless, spiteful. Attached to no
one.

"I'll see you back at Capsule Corp." she said in an even voice.

Vegeta only grunted and headed for the balcony. Without so much as a
backward glance, he was gone from her sight. In his wake, Bulma released a
forlorn sigh before donning her own mask and began to pack all of the belongings
she had collected in her prolonged stay here. The neutrality and isolation of
the hotel room had been a pleasant diversion as long as Vegeta had been here to
share it with her but now the vacation was finally over.

It was time to go home.

>>>>>
Diverting in his course from his route to Capsule Corp. Vegeta traveled to
the Capital's wealthy north quarter and landed in the backyard of an affluent
three story townhouse. It was early afternoon and taking advantage of the sun,
the person lying topless on the nearby lounge was none other than Dorothy
Pereaux. Vegeta stood over her, casting a deliberate shadow over her immaculate
form and she pulled out of her semi-doze to raise her sunglasses. She squinted
up at him in annoyance. "What the hell are you doing here? Carmilla!"

"There's only enough room in this city for one of our ego's-" he said
directly.

Her housekeeper came running outside with her trusty broom. Grabbing her
towel, Dorothy covered herself as she stared at him. "I want you to get the hell
out of here!"

Vegeta extended his hand towards the house and finished, "-And that ego is
mine."

He fired.



------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------
Chapter Nineteen: THE FINAL CHAPTER!
(You knew it had to happen sooner or later, folks.)