Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ It's Time I Cared ❯ Save Regret for Another Day ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Dragonball Z or any related characters or trademarks. This plot is © ErieDragon 2002.

Author's Note: This was actually inspired by a dream I had. It was a bit different, of course, but the main idea remains. Inspiration really hit me with this one. Anyways, enjoy and tell me what you think.

Save Regret for Another Day.

Stupid woman! Who did she think she was, ordering him around like that? Vegeta growled, stomping purposefully down the street. He had no idea where he was going, but he wasn't in the mood to hang around town. Bulma had thrown him out, for the last time!

The sun had almost completely set, and the streetlamps were all that kept his way lit. As he walked, the houses slowly began to disappear, the cement walkway becoming broken and cracked. Vegeta furrowed his brow, sure he had been this way before when Bulma forced him to get his own food once.

The road began to get darker and darker, the path becoming a thin, dirt road. He looked back, the lights of the city completely shrouded in darkness.

Vegeta shrugged, continuing carelessly on his way. Suddenly, his forward motion was hindered by bumping into a wooden fencepost. He didn't remember this being here.. Glancing up, Vegeta's eyes widened as a single lamppost turned on, casting a yellow light across the small enclosure.

Various tall, gray headstones decorated the square, a moldy, rotting fence weaving its way around it. Raising an eyebrow, the Saiyan moved cautiously into the graveyard, having only seen one of it's kind before. He sighed, remembering his visit to Goku's tombstone. But that was a long time ago. He's not dead now, he's happily off training with some punk kid.

Vegeta made his way through the various graves, making sure not to step in any wrong places. Finally coming to the other end, he glanced back and sighed. There's no reason for this. Vegeta glanced around, looking for the reason he even entered the sacred area in the first place.

Sitting atop a gravestone was a small, black object, lying flat. Raising an eyebrow, Vegeta walked cautiously towards it, in case the owner was around. If he disturbed some stupid human while they were mourning, Bulma would probably never let him back into the bed.

At a full glance, the object turned out to be a thick, leather book. Vegeta, now brimming with uncharacteristic curiosity, opened the front cover.

The first page had two photographs on it, tucked beneath what appeared to be a plastic sheath. Peering closer, Vegeta dropped the book in shock.

The first picture was unfamiliar to him, but the face was unmistakable. Bulma, probably no less than five years old, was pictured with her much younger father and mother in the backyard. The second picture, a bit torn at the edges, had images of a very angry-looking, baby Goku, an old man attempting to calm him. They were outside, mountains rising over them, a small shrine in the background.

Vegeta slowly reached for the book again, opening it to the second page. Keeping it steady in his quivering hands, he was greeted by two pictures, one of Bulma, fourteen, and Goku, seven. They were in their bathing suits, hurling water at each other on what appeared to be Kame island. The second picture was of Bulma again, but this time she was screaming, being carried off by a laughing Yamcha.

Vegeta tore his eyes away for a moment, rubbing his temples with one free hand. His hair was shorter now, and his recently grown mustache was beginning to really itch. Bulma had never approved of it, but then again, she couldn't stop him from doing anything if he really wanted to.

He flipped the page once more, greeted by a different set of images. One was a very professional-looking shot, apparently of Goku and Chichi's wedding. She was smiling happily, leaning on the shy man's shoulder. His eyes were wide, but a goofy grin was splayed across his face. Below, Krillin was attempting to hold back a spitting mad Bulma as Yamcha cowered behind his short friend. Vegeta snickered and turned the page.

Jumping in surprise, but still keeping both hands on the leather covers, Vegeta peered closer at the photograph. It was of himself, hovering in the air with Nappa, his hair a bright ebony and a ridiculous-looking scouter adorning his left ear and eye. The second picture was obviously taken on Namek, of Bulma, Krillin, Yamcha, and Dende eating dinner. Vegeta cleared his head, still staring with wide eyes, and turned the page.

The picture was of the boy from the future, Super Saiyan, slicing an unsuspecting Frieza in half. Blinking incredulously, Vegeta shifted his gaze to the lower picture. It was of him, standing with both arms crossed, while a white hoverplane headed straight for the ground. Mirai Trunks was flying towards it, ready to save the blue-haired woman inside and her baby at any time.

Vegeta looked up from the book, his constantly scowling eyebrows lifting, almost sorely. He hadn't been there, he would have let his wife and child die.

Shaking off the short lament, he looked back to the book and flipped the page. The next two photographs were equally surprising; the first pictured him and Bulma, shouting viciously at each other while a five year old Trunks watched in--Vegeta tilted his head, trying to get a better look--fear. That's what it was. The younger, more irate Vegeta in the picture had his fists in the air, Bulma glaring menacingly at him. Vegeta shifted his gaze to the lower picture, which was of Chichi, sitting at her table, watching Gohan and a young Goten play like crazy lunatics. She was obviously tired, her head propped on one palm.

Vegeta turned the page once more, confusion running amuck. Who took all these pictures? Not him, not Bulma, not Goku or Chichi.. He sighed, deciding against worrying about it.

The next set of pictures greeted him. The first was of Bulma, her eyes wide in shock, a hand on her heart. Below, Vegeta saw himself, golden hair standing up valiantly, one arm stretched out. He recognized the surroundings instantly as the stadium, smoke billowing from a large cavernous hole in the bleachers.

Remembering that particular moment with self-loathing, the second picture brought a little spirit. It was of Goku and Chichi, the former cowering in fear of his pan-wielding wife. Gohan was standing off to one side, arm over Videl's shoulders. Goten and Trunks were laughing, pointing at the poor older Saiyan.

Turning the page once more, the next two pictures were a surprise. The first was of him, holding a tiny, baby Bra in his arms, peering around the room guiltily as if he were doing a dirty deed by being with his daughter. How did someone get a picture of this?

The second picture showed Bulma, arms folded in front of her on the kitchen table. Her hair was cut the same way he remembered it being today, and... she was wearing the same clothes! Looking at her surroundings, Vegeta instantly recognized the empty box of chocolate on the counter, which he had forgotten to dispose of after robbing from his wife's hidden stash (which was not so hidden anymore, but she didn't have to know that!) that very day.

Almost dropping the book, Vegeta looked up. His eyes were clouded with confusion, his eye twitching. Finally, against his better judgment, he glanced back to the second picture.

It was of Chichi, standing in the middle of a dark field. She was watching the stars, completely alone. Vegeta almost felt sorry for the woman, abandoned time after time by her husband. He closed his eyes and turned the page.

The next set of pictures were completely new to him. His mustache was gone, and his hair was a little more grown out than it was now. He was watching the sky, the area around him consisting of toppled buildings and crushed cement. Everyone stood around him; Krillin, 18, Marron, Chichi, Gohan, Goten, Trunks, Bra, and Bulma. Bulma, rather than keeping her eyes on the sky, was fixated on Vegeta. He, of course, had no idea.

The bottom picture was of him, his hair fully grown out and his moustache returning in the form of a goatee. It looked very much like his father's, a bit disturbing to Vegeta. He had his arms, crossed, eyes closed, back to his wife. Bulma was collapsed on the table, obviously in a fit of tears. She had longer hair now, speckled with lines of gray. A much older looking Trunks stood to one side, a little blue-haired boy pulling at his pantleg. Bra was comforting her mother, and Vegeta still couldn't make out what exactly was going on.

As he flipped the page again, time seemed to progress quicker. The first page was of him, a few lines of--gray?--running through his proud hair, his face now bare. He was lying on his side in bed, his back to his much older wife. She had a full head of silvery gray hair, but her eyes were as bright and blue as ever. Bulma was speaking to him frantically, but he paid her no attention.

Furrowing his brow, Vegeta glanced at the second picture. It was of him, holding Bulma's hand tightly. His face was contorted in both sadness and anger, his wife lying in a stark white bed, various tubes poking out of her body. A fully grown, middle-aged Bra stood off to one side, the familiar blue-haired boy now grown into a young man. They watched with downcast eyes, Vegeta's heart beginning to beat faster. What was going on?! How.. these were pictures of him.. in the future!

He turned the page, and was greeted by a full-sized photo. It was of himself, hair full of gray lines, standing in the darkness with his hands linked in front of him. His eyes were downcast, focused on a tall, gray tombstone. Vegeta could barely make out the engraving of "Bulma Briefs, beloved mother, wife, and daughter." His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he turned the page again.

There was nothing. The next page was blank, followed by the next, and the next. Vegeta closed the book reverently, placing it back on the tombstone where he found it. Letting out a sigh, he turned back to the graveyard's entrance.

He almost yelled in surprise. Standing not far away was a short, flame-haired man, his hands crossed in front of him, his head downcast. He stood in front of a familiar tombstone, unlocking his hands and tracing the lettering with one finger.

Vegeta made his way through the tombstones, clearing his throat. He hoped his eyes were deceiving him.. Hoped. Never had they done it before.

The man turned, his face bathed in the yellowy light of the nearby lamppost. His eyes were a dark black, his eyebrows released from their normal scowl in a hopeless expression. Vegeta recognized himself instantly, taking in a sharp breath.

"You know... The last thing she said to me was, 'Make your own damn dinner!'" The man said, chuckling genuinely. Vegeta's eyes widened in surprise. "I never got to say goodbye. But I'm sure she knows... she knows, though I never could tell her." Vegeta peered at the man, who was rambling somewhat. His eyes were closed, his hands still locked together.

"...Tell her what?" Vegeta asked at last, taking in the older version of himself one gulp at a time.

"That I loved her. I really did. I... I just never told her." The man gave him a weak smile and turned back to the gravestone. Vegeta, awestruck, made no move when the man walked straight through the grave and disappeared into thin air.

Vegeta turned, making his way through the cemetery and out the front entryway. He sighed, closing his eyes to reflect on what he had just witnessed.

A sudden honk pulled him back from the recesses of his mind. Lights glared all around him, and the honking of a nearby car startled him into trotting onto the sidewalk. Muttering an obscenity under his breath, Vegeta began the walk home.

"I told you I didn't want you back here," Bulma snarled, covering her head with a pillow as Vegeta climbed into bed.

"I heard you," he replied, his voice tinged with an eerie calmness. Bulma turned to him in surprise as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tightly.

Vegeta buried his face in her hair, holding her for everything he was worth.

"Vegeta... Vegeta, what's wrong?" she asked, her voice filled with confusion at his sudden change in heart.

"Absolutely nothing." Turning her to face him, he planted a deep kiss on her soft lips and turned out the light.