Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Red Window ❯ Identity ( Chapter 2 )

When she awoke in a hospital bed, but hours later, somehow she was not surprised to see him there, gazing through the window into the wing with an expression of quiet confusion. Dumbass. She clenched her teeth as she tried to sit up and shoot him a nasty look; she had not fully recovered and she felt an acute pain in her ribs at the attempt to shift position. What had happened? Ah, yes. The sudden increase in gravity. But—Vegeta was—

 

“Surprise, surprise,” the prince strolled up to the bed casually. “Conscious already. But then, I guess I should expect that of a Saiyajin such as yourself, hm?” He grinned a cold, calculating grin.

 

“You—nngh,” the woman winced once more as she raised her fist to swing for Vegeta.

 

“Ah—don't hurt yourself,” he responded smugly, and with utmost condescension grasped her fist and lowered her arm back down. She struggled, but Vegeta hardly noticed. “Now…” he crossed his arms and waited, gazing down at her expectantly.

 

“What—you want an apology?” she snarled. “Go to hell!”

 

“An apology? Ah, for interrupting my training. I'll let it slide.”

 

The woman growled, letting her tail thrash as she wished desperately to charge at the prince. Had she come so far for this? Vegeta's haughty, taunting air did not surprise her. But… “How is it that you're not in my position?” she questioned, giving a cursory glare to her bed, her bandages.

 

“I'm made of stronger stuff than you,” Vegeta smirked. “You seem to know who I am. You should have been expecting this.”

 

“Of course I know who you are!” she spat. “Now leave me. I mean to rest away these wounds as soon as I can. Unless you'd like to kill me now,” the woman added, apparently distinctly embittered as the last phrase wafted through the air. It was only fair, after all. However he'd survived that heightened gravity, he had every right to kill her. She grimaced at the thought.

 

“Maybe I should.” The prince paused at the doorway. “But I've better uses for my time.” He turned around and seemed to dig at his collarbone for a moment before fishing something from beneath his shirt. “Besides,” he held it up to gleam in the light, “I wouldn't want to kill you before you tell me where you got my father's royal medallion.” He slipped from the room, watching the woman carefully as her face moved smoothly and swiftly from shock to disbelief to fury.

 

 

 

…

“And you're sure she's not a threat?” Bulma crossed her arms. “Seems pretty short-tempered to me.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Vegeta waved the woman's concern away. “Quite the firecracker. You've no reason to concern yourself. Trunks could beat her in his sleep. You didn't notice it, of course, but the other night I quite nearly had to do so myself.”

 

“What?”

 

“Bitch snuck into the room, tried to kill me in my sleep. Doesn't know a damn thing about sensing ki, that's for sure, or she'd have known to suppress hers before she even got near.”

 

“She tried to kill you in your sleep, Vegeta?” Bulma threw her arms into the air. “And I'm the one covering her care in the hospital every time you beat her up?”

 

“I never told you to put her into the hospital.”

 

“I guess,” the woman huffed. “Still. Has she told you anything yet?”

 

“Won't tell me a thing. All she does is recover, show up thinking she's tough shit, tries to beat me, and leaves me no choice but to show her how stupid she is to keep trying.”

 

“Wait—if she's a Saiyajin, she gets stronger every time that happens.”

 

“Marginally. Don't worry, woman; she sure as hell is not a Super Saiyajin, or even close. Where she is now, she couldn't have even lasted five minutes against Freeza.”

 

Bulma crossed her arms, frowning and nonplussed. “You know that means next to nothing to me, Vegeta.”

 

“She's weak. Don't worry. If she's got any brains she'll tell me why she's here before I kill her out of sheer annoyance.” Vegeta shrugged and turned on his heel to pace down the hall to the kitchen. It was true: the woman, whoever she was, was irritating beyond belief in her brashness. But even more irritating was that nearly two weeks had passed and he still didn't know who she was. Every now and then, he'd reach up to his chest to brush his fingers against the medallion as it lay beneath his shirt. He'd not shown Bulma the thing, nor anyone else; they would laugh at his sentiment, anyway. They all found it eerie enough how easily she could be mistaken for the prince at a glance, or even at a double-take.

 

After such peaceful times, after Goku's return to life and the occasional sparring session against the man Vegeta still considered his rival (if more casually than before), his need to brood on the past was vanishing quickly. There was little reason to reminisce; up until his time on Earth, there was hardly anything good, anyway. The newly appeared Saiyajin dropped in a substantial ripple to this pattern. Vegeta deeply wanted to strangle out of her whatever she was, whoever she was. But the woman was just about as stubborn as he, so there was no use.

 

He pulled out the medallion to inspect it, as if he might find his father's fingerprints there, or the ones that he as a child had left on it, reaching for it, eager to one day bear it. That it should come back to him was baffling. The woman, he was almost certain, was no older than her mid-thirties; she would not have even been alive yet to meet King Vegeta before he had been killed by Freeza. She wouldn't have seen Planet Vegeta, either… Vegeta pondered. So is she some remnant half-breed? Or perhaps the fruit of a lucky pair of Saiyajin who did not fall to the same fate as the planet? Which was more likely? They both seemed far-fetched. But perhaps Freeza had missed a few Saiyajin here or there. They couldn't have all been on-planet at once, after all.

 

She's probably conscious by now, Vegeta decided. He was done waiting.

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

“Stop pretending to sleep,” Vegeta rumbled. “Your ki suggests you are very much awake. I could tell from all the way across the building.”

 

Reluctantly, she let her eyes slide open. “I see you've gone mad during your time here on Earth. Stop spouting nonsense. It was a lucky guess.” Her voice was raspy from alternate screaming and disuse, and this rasp adequately conveyed her feelings anytime she was in contact with the prince. This time was minimal, as it never took him long to beat her back down anytime she attacked, but she knew she was stronger; leaps and bounds ahead of where she had been just weeks ago. With the prince's strength, doubtless he was the Super Saiyajin. If she could only get beaten down a few more times…she smirked to herself.

 

“You're as much a fool as I was when I got here,” Vegeta retorted, noting the slight smirk that had crept onto her face with interest as he paced across the room. “Doubtless you'll have to learn the hard way as well.”

 

“Learn what?” she spat. “I'm not staying here. I came here to kill you, nothing more.”

 

“Yes,” Vegeta agreed, and his tone became smug. “Let's talk about that, shall we?”

 

She turned her nose up, then leaned against the headboard and pretended to fall asleep again.

 

“You're a damn nuisance. I'm losing patience for this game you're trying to play. Anyway, you'll never come close to my strength—not like that, at least.”

 

“I see being the legendary Super Saiyajin has gone to your head,” she noted, the small smirk returning. “I'm gaining strength faster than I ever have before.”

 

“Legendary Super Saiyajin?” Vegeta laughed brazenly. “Please. What do you know of the Super Saiyajin?”

 

“You know what they say. You were uncommonly strong at birth, could've overpowered your father in late childhood if you'd had the chance.” She paused, narrowing her eyes in thought. “I'm no weaker, and see my condition. No Saiyajin has achieved such power before. My scouter blew up before I even entered your gravity chamber.”

 

“You're no weaker, huh?” Vegeta repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Who do you think you are? Pretty big secret you're carrying on your shoulders, isn't it?” Once more, he retrieved the medallion from around his neck, holding it up to let it swing before his eyes. “I suppose you never served under Freeza.”

 

“I suppose not. He blew up the planet, didn't he? Why would I show my face to him?” She bit her lip and let her brows knit. Every minute she spent in conversation with this man she could be trying to kill him. But her wounds were too recent; she could hardly even lift herself from her bed. Of course Vegeta had chosen this moment to speak to her.

 

“But I do suppose you have a name.”

 

“I suppose I do.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

“No.”

 

Vegeta snarled. “What's your secret, you worthless bitch?” He gripped the medallion and shook it in his fist before her. “Where'd you get this?” Exhaling slowly to regain his posture, he added quietly, “And why won't you tell me?”

 

“It's not worth my time to explain it,” she growled. “You're dense enough, anyway. You should know. Some legendary warrior you are.”

 

He narrowed his eyes. “You have no right to throw around accusations of denseness. You see, as I stand right now, I am no Super Saiyajin.” She waited. “But if I show you, just promise it won't break your poor little heart. We can't have that.”

 

Bristling at his words, she spoke through clenched teeth, cursing her inability to dislocate his jaw. “Fine. Show me.”

 

In not half a second, golden light flooded the room. Smirking, Vegeta replaced the medallion around his neck and leaned in to whisper into her ear. “Give up this foolishness, and bow to the Prince of the Saiyajin.”

 

“I bow to no one, and especially not you!” With all the strength she could muster, the woman swung her fist up into Vegeta's jaw. He waited, completely unmoving, and with terror she let her balled fist fall to her side.

 

“And why `especially not' me?” Vegeta questioned, his voice just as quietly threatening as before. He saw his reflection in her eyes. He saw his eyes in her eyes. He saw his face in her face. His iron will, her iron will. He shuddered. At the wave of panic that shivered through his spine, he raised his voice and roared through gold sparks, “WHY?”

 

“Goddamnit!” She grabbed the collar of his shirt. “I am you! A goddamn copy of you!”

 

His body still, Vegeta dropped out of his transformed state, his eyes locked on hers. His voice quivered. “B…bullshit.” And he left.