Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Lab Monkey ❯ Reconciliation ( Chapter 37 )

Disclaimer: Disclaimer: DBZ was created by Akira Toriyama. I don't own DBZ, nor will I ever.

Thanks to LisaB who pushed and prodded until this chapter was perfect.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Reconciliation

Bulma stood facing a blank metal wall in an interrogation room. There were no windows, but she wasn't surprised. The air was damp and cool, and she guessed that they were far underground. She had no real concept of time, but she knew that it was in the middle of the night. They only allowed her an hour or so of sleep at a time, a tactic intended keep her on edge and vulnerable.

For the first time in weeks she felt refreshed. In the darkness of her cell she thought she had a vision of Vegeta standing over her naked, yet foreboding in a way that sent a thrill down her spine. The sensation had been so intense that desire coursed through her veins, heating her cold body from the inside out.

When she had opened her eyes to find herself abandoned and alone, she knew the truth. Her imagination was playing malicious tricks on her. She was slowly, but surely going insane. She had been a prisoner in this facility for weeks, shuttled between her small cell and this room where her captors droned on with endless questions. At first she had been outraged, but that had passed. As the weeks progressed she had gone from outraged to apathetic, then lethargic, and now she barely roused herself when they hustled her out of her cell for another session.

For a while she had meditated on the irony of it. After all, there she was, a prisoner, kept in a tiny cell for months on end, no respite except for her interrogations. She had tried to be smug and cocky like Vegeta would be, but she didn't have the energy or the practice to maintain the façade.

As she waited, she wondered if this session would be any different than the previous ones. They wanted information on Vegeta---who he was, what he was, where he had came from. How to stop him. Of course, she didn't answer them. She insulted their intelligence---told them to figure it out on their own. She had even tried to reason with them by telling them that Vegeta was gone. He would never return, and was no longer a threat.

And even though she believed that in her heart, that Vegeta was never coming back, and that there was no way that anyone would ever lay a hand on him, she never once answered their questions. She stonewalled, she lied, and eventually she just stopped speaking entirely. Not that she didn't enjoy their little Q & A sessions. After all, she did get bored all alone in her cell day in and day out.

No, what she was really curious about was how long her interrogators were going to allow her to continue the silent treatment. Hounding her wasn't working, and that left one last course of action. She wondered how she would handle it. What it would feel like to have her fingernails pulled out or to have a fist connect with her ribs repeatedly.

Zarbon had tortured her, but it had been relatively brief. She had already been here for months. More than likely, she would be here for many more. No one was coming to rescue her. The men who had captured her weren't going to release her. How long, she mused would she be able to withstand the torture before she cracked? How long would it be before they killed her?

She wondered all these things with a sense of detachment. She almost welcomed the change in her routine the torture would bring. The pain would give her something to think about long after they dumped her alone and shivering into her cell. It would give her something to do.

She ignored the small fissure of anger and betrayal that spiraled down her spine at the insult she had been dealt by Vegeta. He had threatened---no, he had promised so many times to kill her that she had accepted it as a fundamental truth. She had spent nearly two years completely dependent on him for her very survival. His ownership of her in exchange for his protection seemed natural. Now he was gone, and he had left her in the hands of monsters, unprotected, and uncared for.

That anger was nestled down in the pit of her stomach. She carried it in her like a deformed fetus created by a monstrous union. A union that she could not sever no matter how hard she tried. She was cleaved to Vegeta so completely, so irrationally, that even her rational mind knew it to be sick.

She was so deeply immersed in her thoughts that she almost didn't hear the commotion outside the door in the hallway. She was jerked into reality by the clatter of gunfire and shouted orders. Screams reverberated down the hall, and a loud crash shook the walls. She turned to face the door, a cold sense of certainty settling in her bones.

There was only one man in the universe that could invoke such utter chaos. Only one man who thought the words “rescue” and “kill” were synonymous.

The coldness in her bones gave way to a slow burn. It started in the marrow of her wrists, and she clenched her fists in response. It coursed through her veins, burning like acid in the pit of her stomach, heating her body, turning her vision red.

She turned away from the door, back to the cool, blank wall. She was at the far end of a long metal table, as far from the door as she could get. She braced her hips against the edge, folding her arms across her chest. She wasn't afraid of the commotion outside, though she should be. She was too angry--too hurt. She tried to piece her wavering image together in the mirror-shine of the metallic wall, but all she could see were smears of red. She folded her arms tighter, hunching her shoulders forward until her chin nearly touched her chest.

Behind her the door to the room flew open, and the sound of gunfire intensified. She could hear a man give the order to draw a perimeter and over the din a shout for backup echoed down the hall. The door slammed shut, sealing out the chaos, but not the danger. She could feel the room swell with it. The walls expanded, nearly bursting apart at the bolted seams as the larger than life aura of the man who had stepped inside with her filled the room.

Briefly she closed her eyes, but the backs of her lids held no respite from the crimson haze that coated her vision. A shudder ran through her body, but she wrestled it under control with iron will. She was not going to fold. She was not going to crack.

“Come to rescue me?” Her voice was shocking even to her. She hadn't meant to speak, but the words slipped out, velvet smooth and deceptively soft.

“Seems that's all I do.”

He glared at the back of Bulma's head, annoyed that she was slumped against a metal table that sat lengthwise between them instead of leaping happily into his arms.

“You haven't cornered the market. I seem to remember doing the same for you.”

Vegeta stiffened, a familiar sneer forming on his lips.

“I didn't ask you to,” he spat.

“I don't seem to recall asking you to either.” Bulma's tone was still smooth and even. There were no hysterical highs or moody lows. They could be discussing the weather for all the inflection she conveyed.

Vegeta's face hardened into a contemptuous mask. He felt anger pierce his chest, and he took a moment to savor the sweet sharpness of it. For so many weeks he had been empty and barren inside, but as he had marched through the corridors, eliminating threats as they came, he had felt a shimmer of what he could only describe as anticipation.

After so long, he was going to see Bulma again. He was going to see her face light up, and her eyes shine. He was going to be the recipient of one of her blinding smiles that banished darkness in the dead of night.

Instead what he got was apathy. Derision. Disrespect. She didn't even bother to turn and face him, the self-righteous, egotistical bitch!

“I came here thinking that I should kill you, but now I know you aren't worth the effort. You're pathetic and disgusting. I should leave you here to be raped and tortured until you are nothing more than a shivering mass of blood and puss on the cement.” He turned on his heel, his face thunderous as he wondered if ripping apart every single soul in the installation would make him feel even a little bit better.

“You bastard.” The hissed words were barely discernable over the din in the hallway, but Vegeta heard them. He always heard every single word out of her mouth, even when he didn't want to.

“What did you say to me?” He turned his head to look at her, black eyes veiled by shadowy lashes. He was angry, deep-down bone angry, but he was also aware of the fission of excitement that skittered down his spine. The puppet that he had left behind would never spit hateful words at him, but the woman he had fucked endlessly in the far-reaches of space would have.

Bulma whipped around with a wordless scream that pierced his sensitive ears, her face twisted into rage. Vegeta watched stunned as the small four foot three woman wrapped her hands around the corner of the steel table, tipping it over on its side.

“I'm sick of you treating me like shit! Like I don't deserve any respect. I saved you. I did everything you ever asked of me.” She crossed the room to him in quick strides, and he whirled to face her head on. She jabbed her small finger into his chest, emphasizing her words with sharp pokes.

He swiped her hand away, towering over her. She allowed him to bat her hand away, but in its wake she flung out her other arm, her jagged, broken nails, tearing bloody grooves down his cheek.

He flinched back, surprised at her attack. He never raised his ki when he was in the room with her, never dreaming that she could actually harm him. He let out an enraged growl and drove her back against the steel leg of the table. His thick fingers were wrapped around her throat and he tried to intimate her into backing down, but she bravely held her ground. There was no fear in her eyes only rage.

“You went behind my back,” he seethed. “I didn't need saving.”

Both her hands came up, and she shoved him hard. She thrust against him with so much force that if he had resisted she would have injured her wrists. He took a step back to compensate, not giving way to her, but matching her step for step.

“Oh, fucking well, Vegeta! That's what people do when they care for someone. You're just going to have to get over it, because I'm not going to be your whipping dog anymore.”

“I never asked you to be. I never asked you to be a weak sniveling brat. You did that all on your own.”

He circled around her in an unconscious desire to stalk her---to make her into his prey. She matched him, her blue eyes locked with his.

“You're absolutely right. I made a decision and I have to live with the consequences. And you know what?”

“What?” he bellowed out, breathing heavily through his nose.

“I'm fine with that. I'm fine with murdering Zarbon and all those soldiers. I would do it again in a heartbeat. I would do it to save you, no matter how much it hurts you to be rescued by little, pathetic me. But I won't have you treat me like this anymore. As if I'm worthless. Like I should be punished. I'm the only one who gets to punish me, and I'm not going to do it anymore. I'm not going to punish myself, and I'm not going to allow anyone else to do it either. You are just going to have to get over it, Vegeta. All of it. Zarbon, your tail, the explosion. All of it! Do you hear me?”

She screamed the last, flushed and out of breath. Her pupils were blown, leaving a thin line of blue on the outer edges. Her lips were parted as she dragged in breath, and her entire body was shuddering with her emotions.

Never in his life, had Vegeta seen anything so beautiful as the emergence of his woman from her self-imposed cocoon of regret. He wanted to smile. He wanted to stretch his lips in a great, big genuine smile of relief, but it wasn't in his nature, so instead he growled at her.

“Fine…I'm over it.” He slashed his hand between them as if severing an invisible tie that linked them to the painful past.

She blinked at him, swaying a bit as if his answer knocked her off balance. She felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, and she could feel the energy that had been snapping around them fizzle and die. She quickly recovered and glared at him.

“Great!” she snapped agreeably, unable to form any other reply in the face of his effortless concession to her ultimatum.

“Get ready to breach,” filtered in from outside the door, and Vegeta reacted on instinct. He grabbed up the steel table with one hand, flinging it into the door. A blast of flickering blue ki followed quickly behind it, melting the metal over the doorway in an impromptu barrier.

“I'm speaking to my woman right now,” he shouted through the door, seriously offended that they had attempted to interrupt them.

Bulma watched the door with unfathomable fear, listening to the chatter of men behind it. When Vegeta turned back to look at her, their eyes collided, ice blue meeting hard obsidian.

“Don't you dare leave me here,” she whispered through tight lips.

Vegeta cocked an eye at her, his full lips curling up into an arrogant sneer.

“Afraid?”

“No.” Her denial was heavy and hard. “I'm feeling pissed. Betrayed. Abandoned.”

With every word, Vegeta's mouth straightened until it formed a firm line. Her words struck him hard in the chest, splashing across his heart like an acid burn.

“And you know what else, Vegeta?” A little of her heat returned to her voice, but mostly she sounded exhausted.

“What?” he asked gruffly.

“I'm tired. I'm tired of you threatening to kill me every time I turn around. I'm not some scared, mousy scientist that is going to quake in my boots whenever you're feeling pissy. And, frankly, I just don't believe you anymore. We both know now that you're not going to kill me.”

“Is that so?” Vegeta growled, his shoulders drawing back imposingly.

She glared back at him, her perfect ruby lips curling up into sneer.

“Yes, that's so. But that's not why I'm tired. I'm tired, because you left. You just got up one morning, and left me. I didn't know where you were or if you were coming back.”

Bulma closed the distance between them, lifting her small white hand and placing it over his throbbing heart.

“If you are done with me Vegeta, if you no longer want me, then I have to accept that. There is nothing more that I can do or say that is going to make you change your mind. If you want to chase your destiny across the stars then do it, but don't leave me with some desperate hope that someday you might come back. Don't leave me alone and empty, with something fundamental carved out of my soul.” Her voice caught and hitched on her breath. Tears formed in her wide eyes, barely kept at bay by sheer force of will. “If you are going to leave, then stay gone. Don't come back.”

Vegeta stepped away from her so fast that he displaced the air in the room. Her hand was left outstretched between them, and after an eternity of silence she let it fall back to her side, but she refused to break eye contact with him.

His vow to kill her echoed in his mind, along with the hundreds of other voices that hounded him daily. Alone in space those voices had cascaded over him like a tidal wave, crushing him beneath their weight. He had welcomed them in the same way he welcomed a painful wound in battle. The agony kept him sharp and focused even though it drained the strength from his body.

Early on in their twisted relationship Vegeta had recognized that there was something about Bulma's presence that pushed the voices to the fringes of his mind. Being around her made him calmer, clarifying his thoughts and allowing him to make more rational choices. Without her he was prone to violence and destruction, but with her there was always the echo of a questioning voice that reminded him that maybe he shouldn't blow up that building or murder a hapless bystander.

“I know when I'm not wanted.” Vegeta stiffly set his shoulders, his implacable, emotionless mask falling into place. He turned away to face the door, his hands fisted angrily at his sides.

Bulma watched him, and something cracked and softened inside of her. This was the man she had befriended in the middle of space. The one she had come to rely on, to trust, and to love.

She wouldn't be able to survive if he left her again. It wasn't normal. It wasn't nice or pretty. It was insane and pathetic, but it was their reality. No one could change that or take it away from them.

She walked up behind him, resting her hand gently in the valley between his shoulders. He stiffened, but didn't move away from her touch.

“Once again, Vegeta, you're not listening to me. I said `if you wanted to leave me.' I don't want you to go, Vegeta. I want this,” she curled her fingers in his back, scraping her nails down his spine, “whatever this is to work between us. I understand that you'll have to leave sometimes, but give me just a word, a nod, a silent vow that you'll return to me. That's all I need from you. That's all I want. You have to give something. I know it's not in your nature. I know you can't say the words. But I need this from you, Vegeta.”

He remained silent, and the room echoed with it. Outside the clatter of frantic movement tried to siege them, but they withstood, remaining in their own world.

“You know what, Vegeta?”

“What?” he asked softly. He turned to face her, his dark eyes boring down into watery ones.

He heard the change in her voice, but he was unprepared for her expression of adoration.

“I love you. There it is. No holds barred. Out on the table. You can return it or not, but that's how I feel and I'm not going to tip toe around it anymore. I. Love. You.”

Vegeta shifted his weight. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't disrespect her like that. Not right at this moment, when everything was so raw inside them.

“I can't---“

She held up a hand shushing him.

“I know, Vegeta. But you came back and that says everything. So I want you to know that I'm going to keep saying it, and maybe in twenty years you'll say it back to me.”

“I came back to kill you.” His tone was gruff and unapologetic.

He met and held her eyes, his dark gaze steady. He had beautiful eyes, terrifying eyes. She knew now that she was the only one who could see beyond them into the soul residing beneath. He claimed to be soulless, but he wasn't. She knew because with every breath, every word, he touched her with it. It was feather soft, barely discernable in the light, but it was there, glowing just beneath the surface.

Bulma lifted her chin, and Vegeta recognized the motion. She was baring her throat to him, recognizing him as the alpha male to her bitch. She was daring him, taunting him to do his worse.

“We agreed long ago that my life belonged to you. So take it in any form that you want. Take me dead or alive, but I am yours, Vegeta. Always.”

Vegeta dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to comprehend the flood of emotion that was drowning him.

“What makes you think that I'll stilll come back twenty years from now?”

“Say the words. Four little words. Say them to me right now, and you'll never have to say them again. I'll always remember, and I know you keep your word no matter what. So two years or twenty years. I know you may come and go, but you will always return to me.” She stepped closer, placing one small hand on his muscled forearm. He looked down at her hand, marveling at how delicate it was compared to his immense strength. Fragile, but unbreakable.

“Why do you think so?”

She stepped closer, edging into his shadow, bringing herself within inches of the beast. She placed her other hand on his chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic pounding of his heart that whispered to her that he was just a man.

“Because, you could never break my heart as completely as you did when you left me. You would never do that to me again. Just say the words,” she whispered up at him, almost desperately.

Her words weren't a threat, a promise or even an enticement. They just were---the utter and complete conviction that he would never hurt her in that way again. That he would protect her from every threat in the universe, including from himself. If he didn't kill her now, then he would never. This was it, there was no going back. No more threats, no more murderous promises. If he chose to say the words, then he would have to abide by that decision with all his tattered, princely honor.

He stared down at her. Felt the draw and pull of her bottomless eyes, saw the awareness of him strumming in every cell of her body. He felt it because he reciprocated it at the same elemental level. The monster he was wanted to rip out the part of her that had such unfathomable faith in him, but the man inside him was stronger. The man in him wanted this woman forever and always. For him, there could not be any in between.

“I will come back.”

Something that had been strung rubber band taut inside of him for years snapped, and there was a great ripping pain in his chest followed by an overwhelming sense of relief.

He lowered his head, keeping their unblinking eyes locked. His mouth brushed over hers, and he felt the familiar electricity arch between them. There was a shift and tug in his chest, the feeling of something locking together and tightening to an unbreakable hold.

He was gentle, so incredibly gentle that his lips could have been butterfly wings over hers. Always in the past she had been the one to give the soft kisses of comfort, of love, while his had always been hungry and demanding. But now he was giving her the love that she needed without words, and for Vegeta that was monumental. He was a man of action. Words to him were a weapon, they could be twisted and turned to suite any occasion, but actions were the measure of a man.

Behind them, a battering ram pounded on the door, but they ignored it, lost in the sensation of each other. Vegeta cupped her face in his palms, eyes still peering into hers. His fingers brushed over her skin, retracing lines that could have never been forgotten. She leaned into him, melding her soft body over his hard one.

The tips of his fingers pressed lightly into the hollows of her jaw and her mouth parted as his tongue licked her lower lip. Her breath feathered out, as her body trembled at the sparks of awareness that shot through her, originating from where their mouths met. Tentatively she flicked the tip of her tongue against his, nearly staggering under the tidal wave of sensation her simple action wrought.

Vegeta pressed into her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to explore every velvety inch of her, to ferret out ever secret that lay hidden in her soul. Her eyes drifted shut and her heart beat heavy and full with the love that she felt at that moment.

He devoured her, tasted her, delighted in her. For the first time in months he felt something other than numbness. He felt alive with excitement. Electricity infused the cells in his body, tingling his nerve endings until it felt like he could leap right out of his skin. He wanted to crawl inside of her, to live and breathe her.

Metal shrieked behind them, and he knew that the door was being breached. He flung out his arm, ready to defend them, while refusing to end their kiss. He felt a small hand twine around his arm that was aimed behind him, and she pulled her mouth away, tongue and teeth receding until only their lips were touching. They breathed each other in, panting at the intensity.

“No,” she whispered, moving her lips against his, before surrendering to the temptation of his mouth once again.

He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her palms against his chest so no part of her was exposed. He delved his hands into her silky blue hair, holding her in place as he ravished her mouth. He hunched his shoulders around them, hearing the sheenk of bullets being loaded. He pulled her closer, bracing his legs apart, drowning himself into he satin perfection of her mouth.

He didn't feel the first kiss of bullets as they struck his back or the second volley after they reloaded. At the first crack of the guns, Bulma jerked in his arms, but she didn't pull her mouth away, trusting him to take the blunt of the attack---trusting him to deflect the bullets away from her human body. They kissed fervently, standing in the middle of a bullet-riddled, steel room, a melted metal table thrust to the side, a contingent of soldiers shooting at them with deadly accuracy. None of it mattered. Only they existed. Only the sensation of holding each other in their arms.

Finally Bulma had to breathe, and their lips parted. For endless moments they stared into each other's eyes, Bulma glowing up at him while he bestowed upon her a genuine smile that only she was ever privy to.

“Let's go home, Vegeta.”

He inhaled deeply, uncertain of the feelings that bloomed in his chest. It was a little bit of happiness, a little bit of loss. Home was still such a foreign concept to him. To him the only image of home that he could bring to mind was Isis, their ship, but maybe he could learn to expand on that. Perhaps, home was anywhere that Bulma was. He braced his forehead against hers, closing his eyes briefly before nodding.

“As it pleases you, bitchess.” He breathed into her mouth, kissing her reverently one last time before he gathered her up against his chest. Bulma felt a thrill of homecoming shoot through her. Finally, Vegeta had forgiven her, accepted her back as his lover, his partner---his bitchess.

He waited for a lull in the gunfire, knowing that they would have to reload. He erected a shield of ki around them. It wouldn't fend off bullets, but it would keep Bulma safe against the rushing air as he moved with preternatural speed, barreling through the soldiers and racing down the corridor.

He burst out through the door leading to the surface, leaving the ground in one leap rising through the air until they hovered far about the facility. Bulma clung to him tightly; terrified that one slip would have her falling to her death. Below them the world was encased in gray, dawn's light having barely pierced the early morning mist. Men raced around in the compound, scrambling for more weapons, most not realizing that Vegeta and Bulma had already escaped.

He reached out one arm, intent on keeping his promise to Hallows to raze the entire facility to the ground. Bulma wiggled around, bravely unwinding one arm from his neck to reach out her hand.

“Don't hurt anyone.”

“They need to be taught a lesson or they will continue to hound me.” You. Us. His words were unspoken but she heard them.

“They are just soldiers obeying orders.”

He ground his teeth, and he couldn't stop the shame her words evoked. He had been just a soldier, following the orders of a monster, but that still didn't absolve him of his guilt.

His ki lit up the palm of his hand, and Bulma inhaled quickly. She placed a pacifying hand on his arm, but he shook her off.

“I won't hurt anyone,” he growled. She searched his eyes for a moment before wrapping her arm trustingly around his neck again.

He volleyed a few balls of ki down into the compound being sure to hit empty buildings and made a few harmless craters. He was annoyed at the lack of bloodshed, and he took off towards Capsule Corp. faster than he intended to. Bulma struggled against him, and he realized that the whipping wind, even with his ki shield erected was hurting her.

“Vegeta!” she cried out breathlessly.

He stopped abruptly, suppressing the urge to sigh. She huddled into his body, shuddering a little as she pressed her hot face against his throat. Panic shot into his stomach as her body trembled against his.

“Don't.” Don't cry

She didn't answer, but she didn't start sobbing either. He did sigh in relief then, thankful that he had misinterpreted her body language. Sometimes it was hard for him to remember how delicate she was, how fragile. He realized now that being so far above the world, with nothing between her and the elements would be terrifying. He needed to show her that there was nothing to be afraid of. That he would protect her, even from this.

He tried to pull her away, but she clung to him, her sharp fingernails digging into his shoulders. He tried again, and she shook her head vehemently, while somehow managing to keep her face pressed into the hollow of his throat.

“No, I'll fall.”

“I won't let you.”

She hesitated. He sounded so sure and strong, so absolute in his conviction that nothing bad could ever happen to her. She wanted to believe him, but they were so high above the ground, and all they could see below them was a swirling blanket of gray mist that only seemed to make the distance that much greater.

“Bulma,” he whispered softly, and she couldn't deny him.

She felt the warmth of his ki as it surrounded her, cradling and caressing her body. She allowed him to hold her at arm's length, allowed her toes to dangle in mid air. She locked her eyes with his, refusing to look anywhere but at him.

“We never danced at the ball.”

Bulma snorted. It was very unlady-like and not at all becoming of a princess, but it was so completely true. There was no way Vegeta was going to convince her that he could dance.

Vegeta's black eyes narrowed, and where someone else would have seen a threat, Bulma only saw laughter.

“Of course, we wouldn't have, even if we had the chance. There is no way that I would allow myself to put on display like sort of court jester.”

She laughed at that, her eyes and face lighting up. She was an arm's length away from him, barely realizing that only their hands were touching. His ki extended out into a bubble around them, holding her in place until it seemed as though she was standing on the air itself.

Without warning he swept he in a full circling, twirling her in mid air. A breathless gasp escaped her constricted throat, and her fingers scrabbled for purchase around his wrist. Her eyes shot towards the ground, and she felt the panic clench her entire body.

“Bulma, look at me,” Vegeta ordered, and she obeyed without question. Their eyes collided and locked, and she felt some of the tightness in her chest abate.

“Trust me.”

She inhaled sharply at his simply spoken words. Never had she imagined hearing something so profound coming from Vegeta. It had taken nearly three years, but they had finally come full circle in their life. They had grown and changed, twining into each other like trees planted in the same fertile soil.

No longer were they a lab experiment and a scientist, a killer and a victim. No longer were they a prisoner and a kidnapper, a slave and a soldier. They were only Vegeta and Bulma two lovers waltzing in the morning sky.

She released his wrist, trailing her hand away until only their fingertips touched. She threw back her head and laughed, her light blue hair streaming behind her as they twirled through the clouds. They danced until she was breathless, until her cheeks were flushed and her sapphire eyes glittered in the morning sunlight.

“Promise me something.”

“Not this again,” he groaned, and she chuckled at his discomfort.

“Promise me that we will do this again sometime.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking her against his chest, as he made their way back home at a more leisurely pace.

“Maybe…In twenty years.”

She jabbed him in the ribs, and he grunted.

“Sooner than that, Vegeta,” she demanded with all the petulance of a woman who knows she is loved.

“You are such a spoiled little brat.”

“Yah, well, you are arrogant and overbearing.”

And we are perfect for each other.

~Finished~

 

A/N: This is it folks. I would say that I might be tempted to do a sequel, but that would be a lie. I'm old and tired, and I think that I'm done with this fandom. I want to thank everyone who has read and reviewed throughout the years as this story progressed. I know that it took a long time, but you guys hung in there. I send you my love, and wishes for happy reading.

Thank you so much,

Tempest