Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Kingdom Come ❯ Chapter 21: Restless ( Chapter 21 )

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

WARNING: See Chapter 1

Kingdom Come
~ Chapter 21She stood in her personal room aboard her father's ship, looking out over the ship bay. Having just watched Lord Kakarrot's ship depart, she knew it would only be a few more minutes before her father joined her and they could leave. She couldn't wait to get away from the Imperial home base.

A month in the company of the Trans-galactic Empire's ruling family was far too long.

Fidgeting like an electrocuted rodent, she nearly jumped out of her skin when her personal attendant suddenly entered the room. "You stupid cow!" she shrieked. "Always signal! Always signal! Is my father here yet? Can we leave?"

"No, milady," answered the other woman softly.

"Oh, my. Why isn't he here? Why isn't he here yet? I can't stand this place another second. I can't!" The severely distressed young lady abruptly burst into tears, her wails causing her attendant to grit her teeth as she went to comfort her ward. But her thoughtfulness was completely disregarded as the youth shoved her away. "I don't need the pity of a servant."

"Milady," calmly stated the attendant, "my one purpose in this life is to care for you and see to your needs. Won't you tell me what's wrong? Please?"

"This place, these people," she hissed, eyes wild. "Have you seen them? Seen the way they are, what they do?"

"No, milady," the other woman replied, shaking her head. "I'm afraid it quite escaped my notice."

"Of course a simpleton like you wouldn't see it. But you do recall the royal family, do you not? Or are you even too stupid to remember them?"

"Yes, of course, I remember the royal family members."

The young woman began pacing rapidly back and forth across the floor, wringing her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white. "Thank heavens the emperor has already gone. The worst of his kind, he is. Such a vile, obtuse man. Did you see how he handled his own soon-to-be bride? Like she was a mere piece of meat! Such a lady should not be handled like that. I spoke with her, of course. Nothing but the utmost in elegance and class. I cannot understand how she bears being with such a barbarian. Oh, and he -is- a barbarian. The way he paraded me and the other princesses in front of that wretched creature he calls his eldest son. The way he leered at us. You know, I heard he bedded some of those other girls. Mind you, I was not there, but I heard that. What kind of man does something so horrible? Perhaps he even threatened them. I just -know- that he'd kill a person just as soon as look at them. Terrible man!"

"Perhaps when someone is as powerful and handsome as Lord Kakarrot..." The seated attendant trailed off the moment she saw her mistress's eyes blaze in incredulity.

"Handsome? -Handsome-?! How could you call that brute handsome?" wailed the princess. "Well, you're not very intelligent, and surely I cannot truly fault you for that. Even -I- thought the emperor and his sons handsome upon first glance, and -I'm- a brilliant woman. Yes, yes, I forgive you. But still. Just one -tiny- moment with them is all it took for me to realize what disgusting creatures they are. Yet, I've had an entire -month- to observe their contemptible tendencies! Oh, the horror!"

"Milady, you'll do yourself harm if you do not calm down. You must -relax-," the other woman pointed out. Moving across the room, she pulled her charge to a seat, fanning her with a handkerchief. "Do not fret. Your father will be here soon."

"Oh, it can't be soon enough! If only he hadn't had to stay here to take care of business with the emperor." The princess's eyes glazed lightly, and she bent close to her attendant, her voice having lowered to a soft whisper. "I saw things here. Too much. They're all quite mad, I tell you."

"How so, milady?" asked the attendant just as quietly.

"There was Prince Gohan, you know," she began in the same hushed voice. "He was quite bored looking at all of us. He didn't care about seeing us, which I thought was odd since several of the princesses were even more beautiful than I am... and don't you dare tell another soul I said that. And I wondered why he was so rude and awful because he's certainly not -that- good-looking. But since we stayed so long, I heard all the talk of the court, rumors, gossip. And, of course, I witnessed a great deal of what I think could be classified as scandalous."

The other woman frowned a bit, leaning in. "Scandalous, milady? I don't believe I understand."

"It was rumored that Prince Gohan sleeps with both males and females, which I'm sure you've heard."

"Yes, of course."

"It's true! Or at least that he sleeps with males is true. Now, I did not -personally- see any such horrid acts, but I did see him chasing around a gentleman," confided the princess.

"A gentleman? Which one?" the other woman prompted.

"Do you remember the tall, green fellow? He was at the party. Oh! And he wears a funny hat and a cape regularly. You've seen him?"

"Ah, yes. The... Demon Lord," asserted the attendant.

"Right, yes. Him," the princess nodded. "According to the gossip and rumors I've heard, Prince Gohan is -madly- in love with the Demon Lord and has been pursuing him these past several months while he's been a guest here. It is even rumored that the prince threw his fight in the tournament in order to win the other man's favor! Because, of course, no one could defeat a super saiyajin, you know."

"Yes, yes. Go on," pressed the other woman eagerly. "What else was said?"

"Well, apparently, the prince threw the match in order to prove his devotion to the Demon Lord, but he won't give in to the prince! There are many rumors about why he won't."

"Did you hear them?"

"Of course! Eavesdropping -is- one of my specialties, you know." The princess smoothed out a wrinkle in her dress and smiled as she continued quietly, eager to share the gossip. "Some say he is not interested in other males. Some say he is not sexual in any way. After all, the Demon Lord does keep company with Prince Goten."

"The Dark Prince? You've seen him?" the attendant inquired. "Have you learned anything about him?"

"Cold, silent... I will not perjure myself and say he does not frighten me like he frightens the rest of the galaxy. He terrifies me. His eyes..." Her eyes were wide and paranoid while she spoke. "When that one walks by, he never looks -at- you; he looks -through- you, like you're not even there. Speaks to no one, and no one speaks to him either."

"But you just said, milady, that the Demon Lord keeps company with him," corrected the other woman.

"Yes, I know. I almost feel sorry for the Demon Lord. First, look at him. Tall and green as a tree. I daresay he looks as frightening as Prince Goten -is-. Second, he spends most of his time keeping Prince Gohan at arm's length and further. And then there's his business with Prince Goten."

"Have you seen them together? The Dark Prince and the Demon Lord?" the attendant questioned. "Are they in cahoots?"

"No, no," the princess shook her head. "I've heard rumors why they are friends. Just gossip. I imagine none of them have seen what I've seen."

"What have you seen? I must know at once," implored the woman.

"Well, you've heard, of course, about how Prince Goten is never to marry nor produce any heirs, yes?"

"Yes, I've heard that."

"I believe," she said, taking her voice down so low that the attendant had to strain to hear it, "he does not have to marry because he is also in love with the Demon Lord."

"No!" the other woman breathed. "Both princes vying for the affections of the same -man-? Impossible!"

"It's true!" swore the princess. "But you're the only person I've told. The court, I've gathered, does not see the Dark Prince in a... sexual fashion. They would never believe him to have affection for anyone, not even his own family members, let alone this Demon Lord. I mean, all I'd heard was that they were friends because they were both asexual and had no interest in that sort of thing so they naturally gravitated towards friendship. But they've not seen what I've seen."

"What did you see?"

"A look," she smiled, her eyes glossing over. "Oh, my dear, sweet, ignorant cow, a look! It was... purely romantic. A lover's look. It almost makes the Dark Prince normal, now, when I think of it. Such a conundrum. Cares for no one, talks to no one, won't even look at anyone. Yet, he -sees- the Demon Lord. -Loves- him! Oh, if only you'd seen that look!"

The attendant sat back then, pleased she had been able to distract her ward by allowing her to gossip to her heart's content. "Ah, you do not speak of the royal family as being so awful now."

"Do not mistake me," hissed the princess. "They -are- awful creatures, all of them. Just because the Dark Prince can be seen in such a splendid light for only a moment does not change my opinion of them. Did you know Prince Gohan regularly forces others into his bed? Thoroughly destroys others in the arena? Do you know how many lives he's taken? How many lives that Prince -Goten- has taken? I've heard the screams from the dungeon where he resides. Those people must not have lived. I can't imagine anyone living through whatever punishment he metes out. Those screams... Oh! Where is my father?! I want to leave!"

Sighing deeply, the attendant patted her charge's hand and gave her a small smile, hoping to alleviate her return to her original state of distress. "He will arrive soon, I'm sure."

"I hope so," the princess whimpered. "What can be keeping him?"

"I don't know, milady," stated the other woman. "Just take comfort in the fact that Prince Gohan did not choose you to wed and that you'll never have to see him nor any of his family again for as long as you live."

"Yes, that is a comfort," she nodded. "I pity anyone who has to put up with these monsters on a daily basis. That poor Demon Lord. To think that he, who does not have any interest in the Golden Heir, must endure being the object of that vile creature's affection."

"And Prince Goten's."

"Well, I daresay he enjoys -his- affections."

"Enjoys them?" the attendant queried. "I know you said the younger prince looked at -him- with affection. You did not say it was returned."

"Did I not? You must not have heard me clearly then," covered the princess, despite the fact that she knew perfectly well she probably had not stated that they each looked upon the other identically. "I said that they -exchanged- a lover's look. I think it must be quite the secret, though. I'm sure no one would see a match between Prince Goten and the Demon Lord as favorable, especially not Prince Gohan, since he also wants him."

"Well," started the attendant, "we'd do well to keep it to ourselves, milady. If they caught wind that we knew..."

The princess gasped, tears welling in her eyes. "I shudder to think what might be done to us. We could find -ourselves- in the dungeon... Oh, where is my father?"

"I'm right here, my dear," announced an old man from the opening doorway.

"Father!" grinned the princess. "What took you so long?"

"I just finished overseeing the packing of your belongings," he stated. "You brought entirely too many possessions."

"Hmmph. Do not."

"Whatever you say, my dear. Now, take care to strap yourself in for the flight. Take-offs are always bumpy."

"Of course, father," she nodded. Once the old man left, the attendant took care to buckle the princess and herself into their seats, and her charge leaned over to whisper, "See now? We're finally leaving. I don't know how anyone could stay here willingly for longer."

"Perhaps they have no choice, milady," suggested the attendant.

"Maybe. Regardless, I've never been more pleased to leave a place in my life. Good riddance."

***

Bulma sighed as the warm water rushed over her raw skin. She had just scrubbed herself clean for the third time, having been unable to bathe for the past four days. Lord Kakarrot had wanted to take as much pleasure as he could from her before he went away again. The fact that she had been so long without bathing seemed to only excite the ogre even more, as he said that he enjoyed her musky scent. Especially after sex, when his scent was mixed with hers. She rather thought he was out of his mind.

"Are you going to be finished with your shower any time today?" Zarbon inquired from where he leaned against the door, watching her.

"Not until I can't feel his hands on me anymore," Bulma said as she began to lather her body again.

"When you marry him..." Zarbon began, his voice thickening in anger and regret and disgust to the point that he was almost unable to say what was on his mind. After a moment, he cleared his throat and tried again, "When you marry him, you will be sleeping with him every night, almost. Before, you were merely his mistress, and he still had a wife to keep him amused. Now, you will be performing her job as well as yours. I doubt he is going to allow you the chance to forget what his hands feel like on you."

"You know, you don't have to remind me," Bulma muttered. "I'm just glad I get this little reprieve. I wish I could figure a way out of this mess."

Zarbon grinned. "You know, I'm sure there are many out there who would love to be empress."

"And they can have it," Bulma replied. With another sigh, she turned off the water. She smiled as Zarbon handed her a towel. "I'd personally prefer to be a peasant somewhere, far away, with you."

It was the closest they had ever come to any kind of verbal declaration of love. They had never allowed themselves to voice their emotions before. They hadn't dared. But... things were swiftly changing. Their situation was becoming something terrifyingly new. Their lives as they knew them were coming to an end, and it scared them. Like any creature, though, once scared, they both wanted to fight back. They just didn't know how. Zarbon looked at his mistress, his golden eyes filling with sadness, like water into a cup. "You could never be a peasant. Not in character. Or in my eyes. You will always be a lady."

Bulma blushed, turning to look at her feet. She wiggled her toes against the cool tile floor of the bathroom, even as water dripped down to the ground around them.

"Though, I wouldn't mind being your... what is the earth custom? Your White Knight, I think it is," Zarbon smiled, trying to get lighten his lady's mood.

"Hmm. Come to sweep me off my feet, and carry me away on your white steed to parts and places unknown," Bulma grinned. She muffled a yelp of surprised delight as Zarbon impulsively grabbed her in his arms and twirled her around the bathroom. She giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck resting her head on his chest, very much aware that she was only wearing a fluffy bath towel. "Oh, my Prince Charming, please, take me away from here!"

Zarbon grinned at her before the smile dimmed to something a bit more somber. "I would if I could, m'lady. I would if I could."

Bulma sighed into Zarbon's neck, a sound filled with remorse and exhaustion. After a moment, she murmured, "I guess you should put me down, now. Even with Kakarrot gone, I don't trust this place. You could be killed if he found out you were holding me like this."

Instead of releasing her, though, Zarbon tightened his hold, savoring the feel of her body pressed against his. He closed his eyes as he confessed, "I would rather him kill me than to have to suffer through him claiming you night after night as his. Death of flesh is easier, I imagine, than that form of torture."

To that, Bulma had nothing to say. So instead of trying to, she tightened her arms around her guard's neck, saying without words her agreement.

"Would you go away with me?" Zarbon asked, whisper soft, in the blue haired woman's ear. "Would you take the chance of escaping this place with me even though it would be dangerous and there's no guarantee that we'd make it to safety?"

"Zarbon, with you, I'd willingly fly into the heart of a supernova," Bulma replied. She knew that it was time, and for a moment she didn't know if she were brave enough to tell him what was in her heart. Gathering up her courage, she managed to actually voice something that had both known for a very long time. "I love you."

Zarbon nearly fell to his knees at that, but managed by some miracle to remain standing. She loved him. He had known, of course, but he had never dared to hope that he would ever hear those words outside of his dreams. He felt suddenly stronger, yet weaker at the same time. Strange, to have something he wanted for so long, and never thought to actually obtain. Very strange. "You love me? Truly?

"With all my heart," Bulma answered, tears beginning to well in her eyes at the admission. It seemed that a large weight was suddenly lifted from her, and she felt freer in that moment than she had in ages.

"Then let's do it. Let's leave this place," Zarbon suggested anxiously, adrenaline already pulsing through his system, and his heart beating fast.

"And go where?" Bulma asked, pulling her head away to stare up at her azure skinned fantasy. "And how?"

"Let's steal a ship and... just leave," Zarbon responded, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, causing his lady to sit across his lap. He had to sit down, otherwise he was going to start pacing, still carrying her.

Her brow wrinkled and she pursed her lips, trying to figure out a plan. After a moments pause, time enough to think that perhaps she was refusing his request, she replied, "We'd have to do it closer to the time of the wedding, when there are more people coming and going, and we could get lost in the chaos of it. There'll be more ships to chose from then, too."

"Hmm. True. Very true," Zarbon said, his eyes darting around the room though he wasn't really seeing what was there. "This will take some planning."

"Yes. It will," Bulma stated quietly. But then she smiled, laughing a little. "But it will be worth it."

"Yes, it will," Zarbon echoed, his own smiling chasing some of his fear away. Together, they would make it work. That thought caused him to frown. "What of your son? Should we take him with us?"

"Trunks." Bulma nodded, her mind racing at paces it hadn't really gone at since the resistance crumbled. Thinking aloud, she began to strategize. "I... He's with 17 right now and protected. I would love to take him with us; I don't think he'd want to, though. It would be an entirely foreign environment, no familiar place to hide, and if we did manage to make it out of system, it'd still be more dangerous for him to be aboard the ship with us being hunted than it would be for him to be hiding within his shadow ways here."

"So, he shall remain here," Zarbon acknowledged. "Wise. But, how will you tell him?"

"I don't know, but it will be soon. There isn't that much time."

***

The music was slowly driving him insane. Vegeta glared up at the ceiling, wondering if perhaps he should just end everyone's torment and blast the intercom to charred bits. Granted, it was past midnight, and there wasn't anyone else in the store other than him, and about two people who worked at the store, but that was beside the point. Sighing, he shook his head and decided against it. He doubted the grocery store would approve of such actions, and he knew he didn't want to waste his money trying to replace it.

He was standing in the middle of an isle, staring at row upon row of pasta. Macaroni, linguini, fettucine, fusilli, capellini, and more. 'What the hell is wrong with Italians?' he briefly wondered. He wasn't really in the mood to be shopping, but there wasn't anything left at the house, and he knew he needed to eat. Behind him, he already had a cart and a half filled. He was almost done, and he couldn't wait to leave.

He hadn't been getting any sleep recently, and it was beginning to wear on him. Dreams. Damn dreams that left him angry and lonely and disgusted with himself. Wishing for things he had never thought to truly want before, truly desire. But now he felt desire all too easily, all too readily. Every night, the dreams returned to him. Sometimes, there wasn't any sex, only action and talk, though he could rarely ever remember what was said. But other times there was sex. Passionate, fulfilling, heated sex. For a while, there was sex every night! Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed to slake his hunger, as if the only time he was allowed to climax was while he was there, living in his dreams. The one he wanted wasn't there, wasn't accessible to him, only his damn scent was there to haunt him.

He had even thought of bringing home someone else, someone he could pick up from his bar. But that didn't work, as he could never bring himself to find interest in anyone he saw. He knew who he wanted, what he wanted, and how he wanted it. It was just... there wasn't any way he could see to -get- what he wanted. Besides, sometimes he found the human's smell to be comforting. Familiar, almost.

He had decided against going to work on this particular night, as he hadn't been able to sleep for entire past week. He hadn't had the drive to go workout, either, which was something that was almost unbelievable. Instead, he had become distracted. He had discovered several home movies and had been watching them for the better part of the day. Some were old, well before he sent Raditz to fetch Kakarrot. Some were newer, such as Gohan's bachelor party. There were several, and they spanned decades. The small prince had been devouring the sights and sounds of them, learning them as if his very existence depended upon him knowing every slightest thing about them. He had just finished watching one video that was divided between one of Gohan's birthdays, and a day at the beach for Yamcha and a few of his baseball teammates and their families.

The image of Yamcha lying on the sandy shore of a blue-green ocean, his shorts soaked and water dripping off of him was stuck in his head. There was a nasty, new scar very visible to the camera's unforgiving eye. The human had his head tossed back, laughing, propped up on his elbows. He had told the person behind the camera that it was from helping his ex-girlfriend move some stuff around. Vegeta knew otherwise, though. HE had given Yamcha that scar, marred tanned flesh to prove a point. He had wanted the human to remember something that would last as long as his flesh did... but it was a lesson the short prince had already forgotten. And it shamed the prince to realize that he had hurt the human, for a useless show of dominance, as if Yamcha would ever really threaten to overpower him. A slight frown began to form as his mind flashed upon a recent dream, where he had marked the human's back with his family crest. A slight shiver raced up his spine as he remembered Yamcha -asking- to be branded in the traditional fashion, his voice husky and full of sweetly dark promises.

The royal saiyajin shook his head as if to dispel such thoughts, and reached for a package. He was pulled up short by a voice calling to him, and he turned around to greet the intruder with a dark scowl. "Hello, brat."

"Hey, Vegeta!" Gohan grinned, a pint of ice cream in his hand. He looked the shorter man over, noticing that Vegeta seemed a bit... haggard. "Damn, you look like death warmed over. What happened?"

"What an astute observation," Vegeta growled, heading back down the aisle with his carts. One reason he was shopping at night was so that no one would bother him. Apparently, that tactic failed.

"Well, I mean, you -do- kinda look like shit," Gohan responded, following him. He hadn't seen the other male in a while and was curious as to how Vegeta was doing after his 'divorce' with Bulma. Who knew that they had never been formally married? He certainly hadn't. "So, do you always go grocery shopping in the middle of the night?"

"I could ask you the same," Vegeta remarked, his eyes scanning the stacks of frozen food behind their glass doors. He rather hoped that the demi-saiyajin would take the hint and just leave, but it didn't seem as if he was -that- observant. Of course, if the home movies were any indication, Gohan hadn't been aware of too many things in his life.

"Well... Just... wanted some ice cream," Gohan replied, his voice sounding a bit uncertain.

"In the middle of the night," Vegeta scoffed, one eyebrow arched as he turned to look at the other male. He was aware that they were in plain sight of anyone who wanted ice cream of their own.

"Only time I can get away, really, aside from work and stuff," Gohan noted carelessly.

"Hn." He turned to look at the younger man, actually seeing him for the first time. Gohan had always been powerful. He had a family that adored him, and friends who respected him. He had grown up on this mud ball planet, with excursions elsewhere, but then it was mainly to save 'Mr. Piccolo'.

He had matured as far as he would ever get and decided to marry, though his choice of partners was more his mother's decision than his own. Vegeta remembered the recording of Gohan's bachelor party, and how the youth had kept his eyes more on the door than on the stripper who was quite obviously trying to get the guest of honor into a better mood than he had been. At his own wedding, he was constantly fidgeting, nervously looking around, as if trying to see if everyone was there. The unrelenting eye of the camera caught every smile and every laugh of the day, but it managed to catch what wasn't there as well. The laughter and smiles never reached Gohan's innocent eyes. Vegeta had spotted a vague figure at the wedding, and had played that particular part backwards and then forwards in slow motion to discover who it was. Piccolo had attended the wedding ceremony, though no one had ever discovered him there. Vegeta understood, just from one stilled frame of the show, why the visitation remained a mystery. The look of outright pain on the Namek's face would have caused the saiyajin prince a few good laughs at another time in his life. But now, he found that same image staring back at him in the human's dresser mirror every morning he woke up in his borrowed bed.

As if sensing Vegeta's train of thought, Gohan tried to venture into the topic in which he was most interested. "So... I understand you're living at Yamcha's condo now."

"I understand your marriage is going to shit. Oh, wait. It always -has- been shit," Vegeta snapped back. He didn't want the kid poking into his affairs, or lack thereof in this case. Especially since he was all confused on the matter. Gohan had had everything practically handed to him. All he would ever have had to do was actually announce to his family his connection with Piccolo, and no one would have cared, well, other than that shrew of a mother he had.

"Well..." Gohan began, but found that he couldn't bring himself to lie to the older man.

"Why are you -really- here? Couldn't wait to get away from that ridiculous human female you call a 'wife'?" Vegeta snorted. Yes, Gohan had had every opportunity. And what did he do with it? He married someone he didn't even care for in order to please his mother. Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the demi-saiyajin, annoyed beyond words at the audacity of the brat.

"Sheesh! You're in a mood. What jumped up your ass and died?" Gohan quipped, stepping back as if to ward off a blow. He didn't know what had brought on the attack, but he soon found that Vegeta wasn't about to let it go.

"Seen your tall, green friend -- and I use that term loosely -- lately?" Vegeta hissed, all too aware that they were in a public place. If they had been alone, Vegeta rather felt that he would've already taken a swing at the more powerful, yet less experienced fighter. He was getting more and more aggravated the more he thought of Gohan's refusal of Piccolo. It was so -unfair-! Yet, so like the wanting he felt for Yamcha at night, lying awake, too afraid to go to sleep while at the same time wanting those dreams more than he wanted to wake up.

"That's not fair," Gohan replied, stopping his retreat to stand still and tall. Just mentioning Piccolo was enough to cause a stirring in his blood, and he didn't like the idea that Vegeta might be slurring the name of his... What could he really call him now?

"Really. How so? Have you given him one thought since he... disappeared?" Vegeta asked, crossing his arms over his chest, while silently mocking his opponent.

"Of course I have!" Gohan replied in a shout, before quieting his voice and repeating himself. "Of course I have."

"Somehow I doubt that. He has been missing for nearly a -year-. But I suppose you're too busy with your wife and family to really notice," Vegeta said with narrowed eyes, taking perverse pleasure in tormenting the spawn of his rival with echoes of his thoughts about himself.

"There isn't a day that goes by that I -don't- think about Piccolo," Gohan scowled, taking a menacing step forward.

"You've had such a good little life, us evildoers trying to kill you notwithstanding. Doting parents. Loyal sibling. You get to play the average human with your wife and daughter and happily get to string along the namek," Vegeta stated, outlining his train of thought. He was disgusted, both at the demi-saiyajin and at himself. Because, for a while, that had been similar to his life. Content 'wife', loving son, and he got to play the part of a royal prince since his wife was rich. But things changed. He had never been happy with it, anyway. Just as he knew Gohan wasn't happy with his life either.

"I do -not- string Piccolo along!" Gohan snarl, the ice cream carton crumbling in his hands as his temper, and his chi flared momentarily, resulting in a chocolate puddle on the floor.

"Sure you don't. You know that no matter what happens, he'll always love you. Always be there for you. He's your... What's that stupid human phrase? He's your... your rock. Anchor. Constant." He noticed the use of present tense in Gohan's denial. Bits and pieces of Vegeta's dreams flickered in his mind. He didn't remember too much of his dreams, outside of the parts that haunted him, but there were images and voices that remained. Such as Krillin's voice, the pesky little runt of a monk, mockingly singing that Piccolo was in love... with someone other than Gohan. Smirking, the prince used that to his advantage, trying to test the sudden anger he had awoken like a silly human child with a stick poking at an ant mound. "You know, I wonder something. How would you feel if he moved on? If he... loved someone else that -wasn't- you."

"I don't know what you're talking about. Piccolo will always be my best friend and mentor, and... and that's it," Gohan stammered, trying to set things straight. He had never allowed himself to actually say that he felt anything of a romantic nature towards the green fighter, despite the fact that there had been moments between them that were certainly more than just... That didn't mean that those feelings weren't there, but it was his secret. His dream. His fantasy. He allowed himself to undergo the torment of life, living in a nightmare of marital boredom and PTA meetings, because... he didn't know why, really. It was just something he had to do.

"Do you think I'm a fool? -Do- you?!" Vegeta asked, both eyebrows raised upward. He couldn't believe that the boy had just insulted him in such a way.

"No!" Gohan replied quickly, trying to avoid any trouble. He sighed as he looked down at the mess he had made. If there was a fool here, it most definitely wasn't Vegeta. "No. Of course not."

"Then save that bullshit for someone who -doesn't- know better. Like your insipid little wife," Vegeta retorted.

"Leave her out of this," Gohan barked back. He was beginning to realize that approaching Vegeta had been a mistake. A BIG mistake.

"Fine. Whatever." Vegeta sighed. He was growing weary of this. Still, he couldn't let it go, as if one of the ants had managed to bite him, leaving an abrasive itch that he just -had- to scratch. "But don't lie and say that's all he is to you. I've seen you. I know your little secret. Have for years."

"Fine," Gohan answered softly, trying not to dig himself into a deeper hole than he was already in. The idea that someone else might -know- of his love for Piccolo... That was frightening, yet, at the same time it also felt as if a great burden had been lifted from him. He felt lighter inside.

Vegeta watched for a moment as various emotions played themselves out over Gohan's all too telling face. When relief shone forth, he couldn't help the evil smirk that formed across his own features. "Heh. So, tell me. How would you feel?"

"Feel about what?" Gohan asked, having forgotten for a moment that Vegeta was still there, as was the rest of the world. Dimly, he heard the intercom ring for 'clean up'. As if there were enough people in the store to actually spare someone to clean up the mess he'd made in the aisle. Then again, there wasn't an -army- out there that could clean up the mess he'd made of his life.

"Do you -ever- listen?" Vegeta nearly shouted in renewed vexation. He took a deep breath of the stale store air before continuing again. "I asked it already. If he didn't love you anymore. If he found someone better than you. Someone who... deserved him."

Thinking about it, the entire idea seemed not only impossible, but rather ridiculous. As far as anyone else was concerned, Piccolo was asexual, which he'd said himself, yet that didn't necessarily mean he -couldn't- be... sexual. Nevertheless, since it was Vegeta asking him, he took the time to think about it. Seriously. He'd feel... rejected. Hurt. Unloved. Abused. But... he had a wife and child, and he knew that to feel those things after a friend had found a loving partner was almost a form of betrayal. He just didn't know who he was betraying. Blinking, he gave forth his very honest answer. "... I don't know."

"You should prepare yourself for that. No one waits forever," Vegeta stated softly, dangerously. Gohan blinked at him a few more moments, and then silently walked away. Grateful for the reprieve, Vegeta grabbed his two carts and headed straight for the check out. He wanted to get away before anyone else decided they wanted to have a chat with him.

He was already to the door with his white wings of plastic bags by the time Gohan made it to the register. Vegeta didn't bother looking back as he slipped into the night. He took a running start and jumped into the air, the plastic whipping noisily as he flew. Fortunately, he didn't have far to go, as Yamcha's apartment was close by. He settled on the roof and then climbed the stairs a few floors down, grateful that the humans were usually to lazy to even bother with the stairwell, preferring to take the slow elevator.

He put the groceries away efficiently and quickly. Afterwards, when all the bags were bundled up and stashed away, he began looking around for something else to do. He didn't want to go to sleep yet. He didn't want to dream, especially after the exchange in the market. Vegeta glanced at the spare room's door. Tilting his head to the side, he proceeded towards it. Inside, there was a complete absence of the aroma that seemed embedded in the rest of the house. There were also a lot of boxes and... things. Vegeta noticed that there was also a twin bed tucked into the far corner. Raising an eyebrow, he began to think.

He turned around and went in search of a few spare capsule containers. He thought that it wouldn't take much to clean the room and use it as his own. It would be one way to dispel the nightly dreams. The prince pushed the slow burning ache that began to burn in his chest at the thought of NOT waking up to the human's smell and ghostly presence, as he knew that it was the only way to get at least one night's worth of sleep.

He found four spare capsule containers, though he wasn't sure if they were going to be the proper size to contain all that was in the room. They were rather small containers... With a shrug, Vegeta went about his chosen task. He worked quickly and mechanically, simply trying to clear space. He was making headway, almost three fourths of the room cleared, when he picked up a box that didn't have as strong a bottom as it seemed. The contents of the box spilled out onto the floor making an even larger mess than had been there before. With a disgusted sigh at himself, Vegeta knelt down to begin to clean it up.

But something caught his eyes, allowing him to momentarily forget what he was doing.

He eyed the large, bookish object amongst the other miscellaneous items then bent down to pick it up, assuming he'd find notes or newspaper clippings like the human had been prone to collect. Instead, several pairs of eyes stared back at him. The binder was a photo album, and the image on the first page was a full-page photograph of that ridiculous group of people into which the saiyajin had unfortunately been suckered.

Vegeta sneered at the picture. 'All of their stupid grins,' he thought, 'showing how completely naïve and ridiculous they all are.' With each page he turned, the prince found himself becoming more and more agitated as each happy face smiled sappily up at him. He found it all to be horrifyingly repulsive, worse than the home movies. Finally, he turned a page so hard that it snapped a photograph clean in two. 'Shit,' he cursed inwardly. His eyes focused on the two separate pieces: the one still in the album and the one in his hand.

It had been a photo of Goku and Yamcha, fairly close up to boot. Vegeta rolled his eyes at the shit-eating grin plastered across Goku's face. He would admit it to no one, but he kind of liked the younger saiyajin despite his occasional intellectual difficulties. Then he glanced over the half of the image in his hand. Yamcha.

Unlike the larger male, Yamcha wasn't wearing a stupid grin. Instead, he had a devious smirk, as if to say he knew something that no one else did. The saiyajin prince looked a bit closer at the picture, trying to remember where he had seen that look before. Vegeta's eyes narrowed, as the image on the small flat surface seemed to stare back at him, visibly reminding him of the dreams. Dark eyes widened as he realized that -that- was where he had seen that grin. In his dreams. Just before he claimed the human every night, the only act that ever wiped that smirk from his scarred face.

Adamant that he would -not- go back to thinking about the dreams, he allowed the torn photo to slip from his fingers, and he didn't bother to pick it back up, opting instead to go back to flipping through the photo album. Once he finally got to the last page, he fingered the edge of the one large photo on the page, a group picture. The tiniest hint of a smile played across his features as he studied each figure in the portrait.

Goku, as always, was right in the middle with a huge grin plastered on his face. Surrounded by his family and Gohan's. Vegeta smirked when he realized the eldest demi-saiyajin did not have his arm around his wife nor his daughter; it was around the namek. Letting his eyes drift across the photo, the moved to Goten and Trunks, then to Krillin and his family, and then at long last to Bulma, himself... and Yamcha. He stared at the taller male standing behind him with a grin that rivaled any from the Son family. A slight frown etched itself onto his face. Reaching a hand forward with his thumb angled straight out, he began to crop the picture to show just himself, sliding his hand over the image's surface. His hand stilled when he'd cut out everyone but him and the scarred human. 'If this had been all of the photograph taken,' he thought, 'we would've looked like a couple.'

That sudden thought jolted him back to reality, causing him to drop the book onto the floor. Quickly, he scooped up the items from the broken box and deposited them into a nearby open box, which was luckily not entirely full. He then placed the book and a few scraps that had fallen from it into the same box. The torn picture of Yamcha smirking found its way into Vegeta's pocket, though he was unaware of putting it there.

When the room was finally cleared, Vegeta made up his new bed, using a few extra blankets to keep the November chill away. Stripping down, he climbed under the covers and tried to fall asleep. He closed his eyes for a moment, intent on nothing but seeking unconsciousness. But even as he focused on it, he found his eyes snapping open. Leaning over the bed, he snatched the picture from his pocket. He looked at it for a few more moments before plucking his wallet out. Then carefully, he slipped the image into the space available for family photos.

It was the only picture in there.