Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Red Window ❯ Wishes ( Chapter 13 )

“What is the name of that one?”

 

Bulma jumped as someone leaned over her shoulder, finger prodding at one of the squares of her crossword. “Th-that's a…a `V,'” she stuttered, shaking. “A-and good morning.”

 

Vejata lingered for a moment before pulling back. “Yes.”

 

“You know, we're getting pretty close to New Namek,” Bulma motioned to the digital map. The symbol for their ship was hovering across a dotted line, and it was approaching a bright spot on the screen. “A day or two, maybe.”

 

Feeling an inexplicable and painful burning originating in her gut, Vejata took a seat and leaned forward to send Bulma a penetrating stare.

 

“Y…yes?”

 

“You're very foolish. Did you know that?” Vejata smirked.

 

“You're not the first person who's told me,” Bulma closed her eyes, trying to shake the look.

 

“I got the feeling that would be the case.” She let her gut tug her closer, and the burning shot up through her throat. Bulma's eyes opened again as she felt Vejata's nearness, and her face flushed slightly. She opened her mouth to speak, but Vejata held her finger to Bulma's lips. “Were you trying to give me permission? Is that it?” Bulma's eyes widened. “What is it that you want? You should decide before you try to tempt fate.”

 

Bulma grasped for words but could not coax them past her throat.

 

“Is it that you feel you deserve the both of us?”

 

“I…”

 

“I wouldn't complain, of course,” Vejata moved her finger from Bulma's lips to tilt her chin upward. “But I get the feeling that Vegeta's claimed you all for himself.”

 

Bulma blushed deeply, but leapt to her feet and jabbed her finger at Vejata's collarbone. “What I do isn't Vegeta's decision, and it sure as hell isn't yours! It's mine and mine alone!”

 

“How bold of you…but wouldn't he be heartbroken?” the Saiyajin mused smugly.

 

“Stop spouting such garbage. It's clear you've never been loved,” Bulma frowned, crossing her arms. “And that you've never loved anyone else.”

 

Vejata opened her mouth to snap back at her, but paused as she seemed to process Bulma's words. “I-it is not…the Saiyajin way…”

 

“Like hell it isn't,” she leaned forward, once more pressing her index finger against Vejata's sternum. “Listen here, you stupid bitch. Think about what you're saying! You're a cheap, second-rate copy of someone who loves more intensely than anyone else I've ever met.” Her brows furrowed. “Even if he doesn't say it.”

 

“I doubt it,” Vejata argued, but her quivering voice was uncertain.

 

“He died for us. Piccolo told me—Vegeta knew full well that he would almost certainly be cleansed of his memories in the afterlife and sent off to a new life.” Tears seemed to gather in her eyes as she thought of it. “Maybe if you'd have had one decent conversation with him before killing him, you'd understand.”

 

“You can't accuse me,” Vejata stepped back a few paces, “of being incapable of loving.” She took a defiant stance. “I just know better.”

 

Bulma snorted and turned away, reseating herself. “You keep your mouth shut until you can apologize to me for trying to force yourself on me.”

 

“I didn't do that.”

 

“You know what I'm talking about. Now shut up.”

 

“Last night…I thought…”

 

Bulma glanced up, hope sparkling into her anger-glazed eyes.

 

“You sounded like…” she stepped closer, and leaned down closer to Bulma, thought for a moment, and pulled back. “No one's ever said anything like that to me. I…don't know…what you meant by it…” Bulma smiled a bit, but didn't speak, so Vejata leaned in again. Carefully, she tilted her head and breathed in deeply. “Prince Vegeta chose well.”

 

“I'd like to think that I chose well myself,” Bulma answered quietly. “And when we bring Vegeta back, I hope you'll give him another chance.”

 

“I don't expect him to give me one.”

 

“I think he'll have to. After all, you're not the enemy anymore. You're welcome to join us on Earth.”

 

“I won't. I have a planet to rule.”

 

“I hope we'll be invited,” Bulma winked.

 

“I don't think I can stop you.” She smirked a little. “With that teleportation technique of Kakarrot's. Still, if these dragon balls do what you say they will, I owe you a visit. But the gravity is a bit higher than Earth's and you'll want to bring someone to protect you from hungry eyes…” Vejata seemed to demonstrate the expression to which she was referring, although Bulma couldn't decide whether it was purely for the purpose of demonstration.

 

She laughed nervously. “Yes…well…”

 

“Bulma,” Vejata made as if to brush some hair from the woman's face, to better see her eyes, but stopped just before her fingers touched Bulma's hair. “Did you mean it—what you said…?”

 

“Of course,” she turned away, and her voice was tinged with nervousness.

 

“I'm not…not unfair,” Vejata hesitated, and reached out to turn Bulma's head back toward her. “I'd like to…return your favor…”

 

“You've complimented me enough—really.”

 

“That's not what I mean, moron,” she responded, her voice husky. The Saiyajin pressed her lips against Bulma's, and as she pulled away she nipped at Bulma's lower lip.

 

Bulma's face reddened and she immediately brought her hand to her mouth.

 

“Now everything's even.” She quirked an eyebrow at Bulma's expression and smirked. “What?”

 

The woman's face slowly broadened to a grin. “Oh, it's just that you are so much easier to get to than Vegeta.”

 

“Whatever,” Vejata answered, scowling, but her mouth was still turned upward in a smirk. Bulma laughed.

 

“You still haven't apologized.”

“I don't intend to.”

 

 

…

 

 

“Shouldn't they be there by now?” Goku furrowed his brow, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against his biceps impatiently. “And where are Trunks and Goten?”

 

“I don't know for the former, but I would guess that our sons are still in line to enter the check-in station.”

“You think they're okay still?”

 

“If Bulma had died, I would know,” Vegeta answered softly.

 

“You would? How?”

 

“I just would.”

 

“Well, okay. But I still think they should be there by now. Let's go find Kaio, and we can talk to them through him!”

 

Vegeta shrugged. “I suppose I'm done here, anyway,” and his gaze was directed toward a horde of spirits crowded around an unconscious Freeza.

 

“Great!” Goku grinned. “I haven't seen him in a while!” He rested his hand against Vegeta's shoulder for a moment to capture the prince's attention and then pointed. “The exit from Hell is this-a-way!”

 

 

…

 

 

“Looks like we're almost there!” Bulma stretched, pulling a shirt over her head. She turned to Vejata. “Say, you've been wearing that same getup since Piccolo zapped it onto you. You want to borrow something of mine—y'know now that we're actually going to be around people? We're about the same height…”

 

Vejata shrugged.

 

“Honestly, the thing looks gross,” she motioned to Vejata's outfit. “I know you haven't been training too intensely, to avoid reminding the other Vegetas of our existence, and all, but,” she lifted her hand and plugged her nose for effect, “it still smells. And look at those stains!”

 

“Whatever,” she crossed her arms. “Just don't try to squeeze me into one of those `brassiere' contraptions.”

 

“Please. Your chest is too small to even bother,” Bulma grinned, wagging her finger.

 

“Exactly,” Vejata answered, apparently mildly confused as to why the woman seemed to think she was taunting her.

 

Bulma blushed a little, feeling foolish. “Actually, I might have something of Vegeta's in here.”

 

“That might be best. At least I know then that it won't be all…” she waved her hand in Bulma's general direction, “frilly and lacey and…”

 

“Girly?” an odd noise seemed to be caught in Bulma's throat.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Right…I told him I'd destroyed it, but I hid it in here…I hoped he'd find it one of these days, and think it was funny, but he always took that other ship that you and Goku abandoned, instead of this one.” She paced over to a nearby closet and extracted an ensemble. “Here it is. It's this or one of my `girly' outfits,” Bulma laughed.

 

Vejata glanced it over. “Well. All right. Hand it here.”

 

“These pants are not comfortable enough to wear without underwear, unlike that baggy gi,” Bulma suggested, cheeks tinged with red as she gave Vejata the pants and shirt. “Take one of my clean pairs,” she motioned to her room, and Vejata paced away to retrieve and don the suggested undergarment, taking the outfit with her to put it on.

 

Moments later, she returned. “This is hardly suitable for fighting,” Vejata grumbled, looking herself over.

 

“Well, it'll have to do—sorry,” Bulma raised her hands to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her giggling.

 

Vejata shrugged the strange noises off and explained, “These pants are far too restrictive.”

 

“I thought you guys always wore that tight stuff.”

 

“That is flexible material. This is thick…and…it bunches up,” she demonstrated by trying to lift her leg in a high kick, “I can hardly move it at all.”

 

“I've got an idea,” Bulma perked up. “Here, take off the pants for a second.”

 

“Ever the brilliant scientist,” Vejata rolled her eyes, but she sent Bulma a smug grin. “Is that your solution to everything?”

 

Bulma turned her nose up indignantly, taking the pants from Vejata and walking across the room to pull a pair of scissors from a drawer. After a series of snipping sounds, Bulma handed the clothing back to Vejata.

 

“It's…a lot smaller,” she stared, blinking.

 

“I cut off most of the pants legs, silly,” Bulma giggled. “You know, when Raditz came to Earth he seemed to wear something in this style. That big bald guy, Nappa, too.”

 

“A lot of standard issue Freeza armor was like that,” Vejata explained, “or so I understand.” She pulled on the pants—now shorts—and looked herself over. “Bizarre.”

 

“On Earth, women wear this style to show off their assets,” Bulma winked.

 

Vejata frowned. “Vulgar woman.”

 

“Oh, shut up.”

 

“The coloring is odd,” Vejata observed. “Very bright.”

 

Bulma shrugged, again attempting to stifle giggles.

 

“I noticed some text on it, too. Like those characters you put in the puzzle.”

 

“Oh, it's just gibberish. That's the thing nowadays.”

 

“Whatever you say,” Vejata turned away, focusing her attention on the pantries in the kitchen area. Bulma turned away from Vejata, back to working on her second version of the scouter lens, but glanced over her shoulder one last time and snickered at the so-called `gibberish' on Vejata's shirt: “BADMAN.”

 

 

…

 

 

“Hey! Kaio!” Goku grinned, waving to him. Vegeta approached, too, but stopped at a greater distance, crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow. “How's it going?”

 

“Not half bad,” he shrugged. “Hey, I've got a really funny joke for you…”

 

“Ah, hold on, maybe you should tell it to Vegeta instead!”

 

“Absolutely not!” the prince shouted, suddenly even farther away.

 

“Doesn't seem like he's the type who could appreciate my sense of humor, anyway,” Kaio whispered to Goku.

 

“I heard that!” Vegeta yelled. “…And it's true!”

 

“W-well, Kaio, we actually came to ask you a favor…”

 

“Patience! Is all you do ask me favors?” he huffed. “Let me tell my joke first! I promise, you'll love it…”

 

 

 

…

 

 

“Approaching surface. Please initiate manual control. Approaching surface…”

 

“Eek!” Bulma sprinted out to the main room, seating herself at the helm and keying in a series of codes. She turned to Vejata, who seemed to have entered the room straight from the shower, a towel covering her lower half. “Look, I know I said you don't have boobs but you should really cover up,” Bulma told her, swearing as loud beeping and flashing lights drew her focus back to the control panel. “Dammit, stop being so picky, there are only fifty billion places to land here…” she muttered to the machine. When she returned her attention to Vejata, the Saiyajin was already clothed and buttoning up the bright pink shirt. She had cut a hole through the backs of the yellow shorts for her tail, which twitched with either nervousness or excitement, or perhaps a combination thereof.

 

“Do you know how to gather these balls? Once we land?”

 

“So far as I know each of the village elders is responsible for caring for one,” Bulma answered, sighing with relief as the ship slowly lowered itself to the ground. “So we'll just have to go around and ask each of them. I have the radar to locate the dragon balls, but you can't just steal them. Hey, since you're so much faster than me, think you could just fly me around?”

 

“I'm not an aircraft-for-hire,” she crossed her arms.

 

“Please?” Bulma smiled sweetly.

 

“Only because your cause is my cause…this time.”

 

The blue-haired woman grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Well then, let's go!”

 

 

…

 

 

“They're all in one place!” Bulma exclaimed as she typed something into an outer keypad of the spacecraft with one hand and held the radar with the other. “This makes things easy!” Without warning, she leapt onto Vejata's back, weaving her arms around her neck. “That way!” Grumbling, Vejata took off.

 

Minutes later, they found themselves soaring over splotches of green—one or two Namekians here and there—all walking in the same direction. As they got closer to the source of the signal, the crowds became thicker.

 

“There!” Bulma shouted. “Down there! Hurry!”

 

Vejata alit in the center of a circle of Namekians, right beside the mystical orbs as their glowing auras pulsed in time.

 

“Excuse me?” one of the Namekians stepped forward, clearly restraining himself and acting as politely as he could. “Who do you think you are?”

 

“I recognize that one,” another stepped forward. “It's the tyrant Vegeta! We ran into him back on the old planet…”

 

“Hush, he's hardly a tyrant anymore, don't you remember…?”

 

“I am not he,” Vejata answered, brushing their comments aside.

 

“Look, I'm from Earth—one of Goku's friends,” Bulma pleaded. “You remember Dende? He's the god of Earth now.”

 

“Of course,” the largest Namekian spoke. “But what business have you, barging in like this? This is the largest regular gathering of the Namekian people, the wishing festival! We only do it once every ten years…”

 

“The universe is in danger…again,” Bulma explained, hesitant about her wording. “There are six—well these things are…”

 

“Vessels of pure destruction,” Vejata finished. “They destroyed my home planet, New Vegeta. I am its queen. And they have destroyed many other planets since.”

 

“Where is Goku?” Muuri, the largest Namekian, spoke again.

 

“Dead,” they answered in unison, and Bulma continued, “They killed him. We're here to wish him back—along with Vegeta, and Piccolo, and Goten and Trunks…and we need to bring back the planets that were destroyed.”

 

“That seems a heavy wish,” Muuri mulled it over, “but I think Porunga can do it. I could never put our festival over the needs of the universe—we will hold it next year instead,” he seemed to announce this last part to all the Namekians present.

 

“Please,” Bulma bent in a small bow, “there's no time, we don't want them to find us and destroy your planet too!”

 

“Of course,” Muuri smiled, and in the Namekian tongue summoned forth the hulking dragon.

 

“What three wishes may I grant you?” he spoke, voice thundering.

 

“How should we word it?” Bulma muttered, mostly to herself. “Ohh, those guys killed Goku and Piccolo and Goten and Trunks, sure, but I'm sure the same one didn't kill all of them…” she thought aloud. “And there's the matter of the planets…we can't just wish people back onto empty space…”

 

“Let's take care of that, first, then,” Vejata suggested, carefully observing the process of Bulma relaying the wish to Muuri, and then the old Namekian speaking with Porunga.

 

“Easy,” Porunga almost seemed to wink. “All the planets which were destroyed by these beings have been restored to their physical condition prior to the time they were blown up or otherwise ruined.”

 

“All right…shit…” Bulma murmured. “If only Goku could tell us at least which one killed him…”

 

“You have two more wishes,” Porunga reminded them as time stretched out.

 

“Sorry, big guy! Still thinking! Thanks for being so patient!” Bulma blew a kiss his way, and Vejata swore she could see a blush across the dragon's intimidating face. She was having a hard time helping Bulma—it had seemed a joke, all along, that a giant, magical dragon could arise from seven orange spheres, and now she was in shock.

 

“Hey, guys!” a voice echoed from even higher up than Porunga's. “It's Son Goku! Remember me?” he laughed.

 

“Oh, thank god!” Bulma sighed, while Vejata madly searched the area for any nearby orange-clad Saiyajin.

 

“I'm speaking through Kaio!” Goku grinned, “Stop looking for me, Vejata! You won't find me!” She tilted her head downward to hide her flush of embarrassment, and swore she heard Vegeta laughing. “Are you guys about to wish us back, or what?”

 

“We're thinking!” Bulma answered. “But surely different people killed you than who killed the others, so I'm not sure how to word it…plus, Vejata is the one who killed Vegeta.”

 

“Hm,” Goku seemed thoughtful. “Any ideas, Vegeta?”

 

“Not yet,” the voice joined Goku's, echoing through the sky.

 

“You could try wishing back anyone who died in the past…how long ago did Vegeta die?”

 

“That has to be a lot of beings—throughout the whole universe? Are you sure the dragon could do that? It's pretty vague…” Bulma mused. “Still, if we could narrow the window to exactly between Vegeta's death and now…we'd have to translate from time on Earth to time here for Porunga I think…”

 

“Wait!” and Goku's grin was nearly audible. “At the check-in, Lord Enma listed off all the different Vegetas' misdoings under the same Vegeta!”

 

“Wish back everyone killed by Vegeta!” Bulma chimed in, catching on.

 

“Is that what you want?” Muuri asked. “I believe Porunga can only bring back those killed in the last one of our years.”

 

“Oh, that'll be plenty of time!” Bulma nodded vigorously. “That's our wish!”

 

Muuri relayed it to Porunga, who nodded. “This wish involves many beings,” Porunga boomed, “so I will need to use the power from both of your remaining wishes to grant it.”

 

“That's fine!” Bulma gushed.

 

After a few moments silence, Porunga's red eyes glowed. “Your wish has been granted. I'll even bring your friends here to you—my treat,” he spoke.

 

“Oh, what a sweetie!” Bulma blew him another kiss. “Thank you!”

 

“Fare thee well…”

 

And as each of the seven spheres changed to stone and sailed across the lands, Goku, Vegeta, Trunks, Goten, and Piccolo tumbled into the center of the circle, landing at Vejata and Bulma's feet. Bulma dove for Vegeta, but he had moved before she could reach him, and Piccolo caught her before she hit the ground. Vegeta had stepped near to Trunks, kneeling down to eye level and scooping him into a one-armed hug. “Trunks,” he murmured, and the others stepped back to give him room. Goku picked up his own son, whose eyes were despondent at best.

 

“Trunks,” Vegeta spoke again, and a tear rolled down his cheek, “I am sorry—sorry I could not…”

 

The boy seemed to collapse against his father, suddenly weeping.

 

“You are too young—you should not have…” the prince started again, cupping his son's head and pressing it into the crook of his shoulder. The others stared on solemnly, a number of Namekians turning away in respect—Piccolo among them.

 

“Are you okay? Goten?” Goku waved his hand in front of the boy.

 

“It hurt…Daddy…” he pressed his eyes closed.

 

“I'll make it up to you, kiddo,” and Goku seemed to become nearly as choked up as Vegeta, “I'll, I'll…make sure your mom lets you eat ice cream for dinner all week! And…you can…keep that pet lizard! And…” he buried his face against Goten. “I don't know, whatever you want…” Goten seemed to accept this, nuzzling against his father, and Goku turned his attention back to Vegeta and Trunks.

 

“I'm proud of you, son,” he looked him in the eyes, “but as long as I am here, you will not be fighting your father's battles. Come now,” he wiped one gloved thumb against Trunks' cheek, smudging the boy's tears away, “the faster you…ch-cheer up…the longer I'll let you stay at the amusement park…”

 

“Dad,” Trunks tried to wipe the tears from the other side of his face, “I d-didn't like that at all…I never wanna…do it again…they were…”

“I know. I saw.”

 

Bulma approached softly, setting one hand on Vegeta's shoulder, and the other on Trunks'. She knew Vegeta would fill her in later—maybe not tomorrow, but perhaps next week, or next year—and she hoped, at least, that she could comfort the two. “Bulma,” the prince spoke softly, and his voice alone was enough to convey the pain he had experienced. He leaned over to smell her deeply, touching her cheek softly and sending a glare toward Vejata, who took a few steps back, disarmed.

 

“Will you be okay, Goten?” Goku asked, and as the boy nodded quietly, he set him back down. Trunks shrugged from beneath Bulma's hand, and the two boys came together into an embrace. Suddenly conscious of the many onlookers, they stepped apart, but they exchanged an expression that made it clear that each believed the other was the only one who could truly heal him, a promise to meet in private later and talk.

 

“We should decide on a battle plan,” Piccolo finally spoke, and the boys looked up to him wish shining eyes—a sharer of their suffering, a dedicated mentor. “There's no time to lose.”

 

“Let's get on the ship and get away from here,” Bulma suggested. “We're all gathered together, so won't it be easier for them to find us? The last thing we want is them coming and destroying this place.” The others nodded in unison. “The ship is that way,” she pointed, and nuzzled against Vegeta, who scooped her up to carry her as they flew. Vejata kept her distance, not inviting another poisonous glare. They hadn't spoken one word to each other yet, and she knew it was for the best. Her people were back, her planet was back—she could leave for them, from here, but she felt responsible to at least assist in avenging the her people in any way she could.

 

She was afraid to look at Bulma, too.

 

 

…

 

 

“I think it's clear that fusion is key,” Piccolo spoke as they took off, waving goodbye to the Namekians after shouting endless thank-yous. “Goku and Vegeta, the two strongest people here, can use the dance. Bulma, Vejata—a little less cocky, a little more helpful, this time, please.”

 

“Like a fusion between mister I-saved-the-universe-a-thousand-times-over and mister-Prince-of-All-Saiyajin wouldn't be cocky,” Bulma muttered. Vegeta elbowed her.

 

“We could at least back up our talk,” he snorted.

 

“Obviously `Gogeta' would be enormously powerful,” Piccolo continued, speaking over them as if he hadn't heard them. “It's the surest option.”

 

“Wait one minute,” Goku spoke up. “Bulma's right. We'll probably be full of ourself.”

 

“Does it matter, if you can kill them?”

 

“What if we only play with them?” Goku pointed out.

 

“You don't exactly have the best record of `finishing him off when it makes sense,'” Piccolo considered, “Either of you.”

 

“Kakarrot would probably save one for an exciting fight later,” Vegeta huffed.

 

“Hey, that's the only reason you're still alive!” Goku blew him a raspberry.

 

“Well, whatever—two of me is more than enough!” he glared at Vejata. “Even that is pushing it.”

 

The group paused in silence for a few moments, deep in thought.

 

“If I may make a suggestion…”

 

They all glanced up to Vejata.

 

She stepped forward, somehow managing majesty in the bright pink shirt, medallion shining under the light. There was only one soul in the room who locked eyes with her. “Prince Vegeta will fuse—with me.”