Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Project: Vegeta ❯ Finale. Finally. ( Chapter 13 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: Me not own Vegeta.


Chapter 13:
Finale. Finally.


One would think that the immeasurable expanse of space would be relatively safe, that the odds of running into something dangerous in the midst of so much nothing would be infinitely small. Perhaps it was an example of the undeniable law of attraction at work, perhaps it was simply an outward manifestation of the turmoil of his own soul, but when Vegeta found himself in the middle of a terrific lighting storm, he was not surprised. In fact, he felt as though he’d found the very thing he was searching for.
After several weeks of wandering aimlessly through the endless expanse of darkness and silence, he had finally found the danger he knew would be waiting for him. He’d trained ceaselessly since leaving Earth. The gravity simulator in the space craft maxed out at 450 G’s, but he made up for the lack of resistance by pushing the boundaries of his endurance. He didn’t pause to sleep or eat, not once did he give distraction a chance to creep in. His escape seemed complete, his focus so impenetrable he felt himself sliding into an altered state of consciousness and being.
The only pause he’d made in his grueling stretch of training was to land the ship on a small, uninhabited planetoid. When he had submitted himself, once again, to the merciless taskmaster of his ego and the drill sergeant of his drive for ascension, he slipped easily back into that other place in his mind. Time had no meaning for him. He WAS the arch of his foot, reaching for the face of an imagined foe. He was outside the kick, analyzing from a distance every imperfection in angle of force or movement from point to point, seeing almost in slow motion as it was executed again and again until it felt right and looked right. Then he would do it a few hundred more times.
He did not know how long he had been there. Suddenly, without warning, he was brought back to himself as his last ounce of energy was spent. That feeling of beingness was sucked from him as the final vestiges of his strength were burned up. He stopped, his breath ragged and every cell in his body screaming from misuse. He moved to the console and shut down the simulator just as the shield of energy protecting him from the extra force fizzled out. He’d held that shield so long it was like a part of him and he felt the loss of it as he would a missing limb. Sagging to his knees, he concentrated on keeping his heart beating. It was reckless for him to have driven himself to such a point. An outsider might have called him suicidal, but that was far from the truth. It was, in fact, his clinging to Self that had driven him into space and into this frenzied abuse in the first place.
As he lay back onto the metal panels and forced his diaphragm to continue expanding and retracting, every bone on the brink of snapping, every muscle fiber seconds from tearing, he felt Cleansed. Any confusion as to his mission in life, about who he was had been incinerated in the intensity of his workout. He was a warrior, a killing machine. His purpose was to conquer, to command, to be the strongest. It was who he was, with every particle of essence within him. There was no room for anything else.
His mind blurred slightly with light-headed ness. His clarity was momentarily shattered as the utterly overwhelming weakness threatened to take over completely. Vegeta had thought he had understood what it meant to reach ones limits, to feel exhaustion and pain. He’d never know the half of it. Never had he had to put so much thought into just staying alive. Never had he hurt so much. Never had he longed for sleep more.
Vegeta smiled.



The moonlight that fell across the room was twisted and tormented by the fluttering of her drapes. It stretched it’s menacing fingers across the open expanse of carpet and then skittered up over the dust ruffle and onto the sheets. Oblivious the silent stalking of the lunar rays, Bulma slept on unrestfully. Her dreams were liquid shards and silken fragments that contracted and expanded in meaningless patterns that were, for no apparent reason, mentally uncomfortable.
Almost gratefully, she was startled awake by a distressed squawk that poured out of the baby monitor next to her bed. Anxious dreams and haunting moonlight forgotten, she slid from bed and pushed the sheets aside.
“Trunks?” she called, as she walked from her room, down the hall to the nursery. “What’s wrong, baby?” she yawned, her eyes falling on the screaming infant. Concern folded her features as she raised her son from his crib and cradled him lovingly in her arms. “Shhhh...” She whispered. “Mommy’s here now.” She checked her son’s diaper, but it wasn’t even wet. She grabbed a bottle from the mini-fridge in his room, but he just twisted his head away when she tried to put the nipple in his mouth, crying even louder. “Trunks? What’s the matter? Did you have a bad dream?” She set the bottle down and cuddled him against her shoulder, rubbing his back in soothing circles and kissing his head and face and neck gently. His screams quieted, but he continued to cry.
After an hour or checking every possible cause of his discomfort from his ears to changing his dry diaper and pajamas, little Trunks was still crying. Exhausted and frustrated, Bulma held him and bounced him rhythmically on her arm. Tired of pacing in the confines of the nursery she walked into the hallway. As she passed her doorway she glanced longingly at her empty bed, but continued down the hallway whispering and cooing to the still bawling babe.
She didn’t want to wake her parents, but part of her wondered if she was going to need some help with this one. She didn’t understand why he was crying. She checked every possible thing that she knew to check. Nothing seemed to be physically wrong with her son. “I wish you could talk to me, Trunks.”
His crying quieted to a whimper. “Thank Kami,” she sighed and turned around and headed back towards the nursery. Instantly his crying got louder again. “Oh no...” she cursed quietly and turned back around. “Okay, sorry! I’m sorry.” She walked back a few steps and then he lowered his voice again. Bulma wouldn’t be fooled again. She’d make sure he was asleep before she tried to take him back to his room.
She continued down the hallway on her path, but, after a few feet, Trunks started to wail again. Bulma scoffed. “I guess it doesn’t really matter what I do, does it?” She felt like laughing. “You are too much like your father, Trunks...” Bulma’s voice trailed off as she glanced over her shoulder. “Your father...” she paused and then walked backwards a few feet. Sure enough Trunks hushed again. She was standing in front of Vegeta’s room.
Operating on a desperate hunch Bulma opened the door and stepped into Vegeta’s room. Trunks whimpering slowed. Bulma felt her heart nearly bursting. “You miss your daddy, Trunks? Is that it?” She carried the now mewling infant into the center of the room and looked around. She felt like crying, too. “Yeah, kiddo, I know. She carefully opened the closet and reached inside. Pulling one of the identical training suits off a hanger she held it to Trunks.
The silent baby reached out and grabbed onto the slippery fabric for all he was worth. Shaking his arms up and down he waved the suit like an oversized flag. Trunks smiled. Bulma felt a warm flood edge over the corner of her eyes. Holding her son close she laid on the bed Vegeta had once used and, while her son cooed and waved the only piece of his father left behind, Bulma cried herself to sleep.



Vegeta didn’t sleep. It was more like his body just shut down, leaving only the basest of life support running. There was no way to measure time in such a state. As such, he didn’t know if he’d been out for weeks or mere seconds when his eyes were suddenly open and his internal (and external) alarms were going off. The sphere of the ship was dark except for the intermittent flashes of light and the regular turn of the red warning light overhead.
He was surprised to find he had the strength to stand. The feeling of total and utter exhaustion had only faded slightly, but he had probably been out for a good long while to have recovered this much energy. He only stumbled a little as he made his way to the main console. The readout on the computer confirmed what he could see out the viewing screen. His little planet was in the midst of a terrible lightning storm.
Vegeta felt a strange joy seeping up from his primal core through the exhaustion and a familiar smirk slid across his face. He allowed that urge propel him across the room where he signaled the outer doors to open. When he stepped outside he felt the energy of the storm dancing in the air. It seemed to lend him it’s power as charged ions crashed violently from the sky.
Moving with renewed confidence he levitated to the rise of a rocky cliff. With every passing second he felt his strength returning his ki recharging merely from contact with the electrified air. He closed his eyes and breathed in the acrid scent of burning ozone.
He let all the emotion he kept buckled down deep inside his steely chest explode into the atmosphere. All his frustration at being surpassed by Kakarrot, all his rage at being unable to ascend despite his intense training and sheer desire to do so, even the longing he felt when he pictured pale exposed flesh and tumbling blue locks and the swelling of pride he felt when his son squeezed his finger with the incredible strength of a saiyan baby. All of it ripped from his body and expanded. He felt that strange altered consciousness return to him as he was suddenly aware of the planet and his body, linked as one, but completely separate from his mind all at the same time.
Feeling everything and nothing he watched as his emotions, the rage and the frustration, and the passion and the pride, as they melded with the lightning. Dancing their violent dance, they clashed against each other, warring just as they had in his soul. He felt empty as they fought for dominance, seemingly separate from himself. Calm and composed he stood while the planet raged around him.
Then the meteors started to fall. Somehow the fierceness of the storm had altered the planets gravitational field and had pulled the small orbiting moon into its own atmosphere. The force of it all was breaking the moon into chunks, fragments that were beginning to fall at an alarming rate.
Vegeta pulled himself together, breaking his link with the storm and leapt into the air. Without thinking he began to blast any rocks that were falling in the vicinity of his ship. Working ceaselessly for several minutes he cleared the air around him and his ride off this tortured rock from the lunar debris. The meteors began to thin, leaving the air open, but filled with swirling, abysmal looking clouds.
Vegeta began to feel the rush of victory just as the sky ripped open. The clouds evaporated in the burning path of the rest of the moon. The mother of all meteors was headed right for him. He grit his teeth and leveled a blast at the heart of the falling rock. The immense weight and force of it’s fall from the heavens pressed down on him and he was pushed back. He growled in his throat and reached deeper knowing he’d have to tap into his energy to get more strength. Only there wasn’t anything there.
In the wake of the storm and the meteor shower he’d completely forgotten his exhaustion, but it came crashing back on him now as he reached to his core for more ki. His reservoir was empty. He absolutely had nothing left.
“No!” he screamed and pushed with all he did have, straining his muscles which were already decreased from his extended lack of food, he glanced back at his ship. This was it. He was going to die alone in the emptiness of space, too weak to protect himself from one stupid rock. He would never get off this rock. Never return to Earth. He would never defeat Kakarrot, never be a super saiyan. He would never see his son grow to manhood, never see the strength he would undoubtable have. He would never see the Woman again, never feel her body wrapped around his, the warmth of her seeping into the cold hollow of his heart and soul, never hear her voice as it shrieked at him incessantly.
“Well, thank Kami for small favors,” he whispered sardonically as he felt the last of his strength exiting his palm and pressing at the object of his doom. He accepted his fate, but he refused to give up. He was a warrior and he would go out fighting. He screamed at the bitter irony.
Seconds before his heart gave out the massive meteor exploded in a shower of dust and a shockwave that sent him careening into the planet below. With no energy left to shield himself he felt the full force of every broken bone and lacerated inch of skin.
Crawling from the crater his own body had made in the planets surface he felt blood running over the back of his knuckles. He should be dead and he knew it. His vision blurred as he stared at his gloves, ripped into nearly nothing. His suit had sustained only a few minor rips and tears. He realized suddenly that it had been his suit, and probably the modifications that the woman had made to it, that had saved his life. Just when he thought the universe had gotten it’s fill of laughing at him it sent him one last merciless jab to his pride.
He had trained so hard, worked with everything in him to surpass Kakarrot and become a Super Saiyan and all it had done was made him so weak he’d nearly been done it by one lousy meteor. Only to be spared his life by the one person he had fought so hard to keep out of his life. It was ridiculous! Worse then ridiculous it was madness personified. How could he have allowed his existence to be reduced to such a cosmic joke!?
“That’s it!” he screamed. “I don’t care anymore!” Kneeling in the rubble he raised his fists to the sky, “Do you hear me?! I don’t care!”
Inside something snapped.
The air around him exploded in shards of gold.



The last 4 months had been tough on Bulma. She’d gone from hopeful to depressed to angry in a matter of weeks. It wasn’t even because of herself either. It was because of poor Trunks. Every night since that first night she’d only managed to get him to sleep if he was wrapped in his fathers clothes. The thought that her son was so attached to the father that would probably never love him back broke her heart all over again. She could handle her own pain. That was easy. But how do you explain to a child what Vegeta was?
Eventually she’d figured out it was really just the familiar scent that Trunks seemed to need near him. It was probably some Saiyan thing, she had said to her father with a snort of disgust, but part of her was relieved that Trunks didn’t actually seem to be missing the ornery bastard himself.
Finally, Bulma had found acceptance and even a certain amount of contentment in with their screwed up little family. She decided that she wouldn’t want to change anything that would mean not having Trunks her smart, strong, special, little spirited boy.
On the morning of May 12th Bulma packed up baby Trunks in her fastest capsule car and headed for the rendevous with her friends, despite her parents objections. She wanted to show her son to all her friends before the had to go off and fight. And she was sure she would see Vegeta there as well. He hadn’t returned to Capsule Corps, but her father assured her that the space ship had landed a few hours before. He’d been casually tracking it’s progress through space and reported to her the second it had touched down.
She’d considered waiting to see if he’s show up there, but decided it was unlikely and didn’t want to risk it. She’d be damned if she was going to miss the androids. Her professional and intellectual curiosity would not be denied. Besides, she knew he wouldn’t miss this fight for anything in the world. He’d be there. Vegeta might not be glad to see her, but she felt an intense need to see him with her own eyes and make sure he was okay.Bulma sped off, her spirits soaring. She was going to see Goku and Gohan and Krillin! She was even looking forward to seeing Yamcha. They would beat these androids and then... and then they could all take a vacation. She pictured Vegeta in a bathing suit and sunshades and burst up laughing. Who knew what the future would hold. The possibilities were endless.
In the back seat baby Trunks waved his arms and joined his mother in laughing.




Vegeta hovered over the forest he’d landed in many hours earlier. He’d spent half the day meditating, calmly preparing his mind for the battle ahead. Over the last few months he’d managed to gain the focus he needed to be able to transform at will. Finding the trigger had helped. Not surprisingly, Vegeta’s trigger was rage, but he’d never admit at whom. It wasn’t Kakarrot or even himself. It was Her! It was her fault he’d been denied ascension until he’d suffered utter humiliation by her hands!
The air around him crackled and the tops of the closest trees began to smolder. He took a deep breath, suppressing that rage until it was needed. Even that was probably some kind of victory on her part. He had rested and healed and eaten his fill, and he had meditated in order to get a reign on the power.
The amount of energy produced by the transformation was still almost more then he could control. It taken him months to even get as far as he had. Now, however, he was out of time.
The alarm had gone off a week ago telling him it was time to return Earth in order to arrive in time for the androids arrival. So here he was. Waiting. He did not know the exact location of the androids arrival. He was still unfamiliar with most of the planet. True, he could have put the coordinates into the ships computer, but he wanted to make a better entrance.
As soon as the battle began, he would sense Kakarrot’s energy. And then he would... Ah, yes. There it was. Vegeta’s eyes snapped open.
“Time to play,” he smirked and took off.


The End



A/N: *puts hands in the air* Please! Show mercy! If you want to know what happens next just watch the series! There’s that whole thing with Goku getting sick, and the androids, and then Cell...
As some of you may have guessed from the chapter title this is the end of Project: Vegeta. Winter is my busy season and I won’t have time to write for a while, but this felt like a good ending. As soon as spring hits and things slow down I’ll be back, don’t you worry. I have some good ideas for future stories including a sequel to this starting right after the Cell games and covering the years between that and the world championship/Great Saiyaman saga, the sequel to Stormy Bond, a challenge piece that I started but never finished in time for the contest that I think is pretty interesting... as well as what will probably be my magnum opus. That’s right. Brewing in my brain almost constantly is an idea for an alternate reality piece that, I think, will be pretty freaking amazing. If I can ever get it written. I’ve also got some ideas for one shots that I might try and find time to squeeze in over the next few months or so. Here’s hoping!

In closing, I would like to thank all my faithful readers and especially those of you that reviewed with your suggestions and encouragement. You guys rock!

P.S. I know I took some pretty powerful liberties with the whole meteor/ascension scene. It doesn’t exactly match what Vegeta had described as what happened, but in my defense, he could have lied. In fact, I’m sure he would have if it meant saving face and he probably would have wanted to hide his true power level and whatnot when it came to his training G’s too. So there. *raspberry*


Bulmaveg_Otaku