Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Red Window ❯ Pendulum ( Chapter 16 )

They reached Earth less than a day later, and it wasn't a moment too soon for any of them—besides, perhaps, Goku.

 

“Aren't you getting off the ship?” Vejata questioned him as he spun around in the captain's chair. Everyone else had filed out.

 

“Yeah,” he answered, and stopped himself with his foot against the edge of the control panel.

 

“Doesn't look like it.”

 

“I'm just thinking,” and he leaned his head against his hand. “You're gonna come back, right?”

 

“Perhaps,” she shrugged. “We'll see.”

 

“I just…really wanted to train with you! Gohan never wants to fight, and Goten's always training with Trunks…”

 

“What about Prince Vegeta?”

 

“Oh. You know. Sometimes he wants to fight me, sometimes he doesn't even want to see me…” he swiveled back and forth a bit, still anchored to the control panel. “And you could probably get a lot stronger.”

 

“I'll work on my own.” She turned and started to exit the ship. “And you should continue to pursue your goals with Prince Vegeta.”

 

“My…goals?” Goku blinked.

 

“Your training goals,” she amended, but didn't say anything more for the return of the feeling of her innards jumping from her throat. “Now come on. Join the others outside.”

 

“I want to go on another adventure,” he pouted, standing up and sauntering over to the door. “I wanna fight some more strong guys.”

 

“I'll come back stronger,” she muttered. Goku glanced over to her and grinned, and, perhaps satisfied with this, hopped out the door. Vejata paused to look out the window from which she'd seen the debris of her destroyed planet, fingering the medallion she still wore around her neck. Everything is back…everything is back to normal. Her fingers caught her interest, and she let the medallion fall back to her chest in favor of inspecting them. She'd spent so long plotting to kill the prince, fretting over securing her position of power, even after killing the king, that she'd forgotten what she'd intended for her people upon her return.

 

She hadn't planned on meeting anyone but the prince himself—getting the job done, and leaving his dead body as the only mark she'd ever been there. It would have been simple enough.

 

Dammit, Kakarrot. Her fingernails pressed against her palms, leaving deep prints in them. How could such an unthreatening individual affect her so? But he is threatening. Anyone who can kill me is threatening. Her fists loosened a bit. I don't feel nearly as threatened as I should. I need to get out of here before they pollute my instincts further. And with that, she left the ship. She followed the fuzzy ki signatures of the others into Capsule Corp. and found them circled around a dining room table, discussing something animatedly. Only Vegeta seemed to be avoiding the conversation, and Bulma kept glancing back toward him as she spoke.

 

But as Vejata neared the area, Piccolo looked toward her, followed shortly by the others, and all conversation ceased.

 

“I'm leaving soon,” she announced, as if she hadn't noticed that they'd been discussing anything in particular.

 

“Let me…get to making you that improved scouter,” Bulma scooted from the room.

 

Vejata stalked after her, trying to ignore Vegeta's eyes as they bored into the back of her head. “Don't you worry,” she finally hissed back at him, before she rounded a corner behind Bulma. She didn't look back at Vejata, but her shoulders stiffened as they proceeded down a staircase and toward one of Bulma's labs. By the time they reached the doorway, Vejata could nearly hear the woman's teeth as they gritted together. Bulma's arm extended stiffly to open the door.

 

When they finally entered, Bulma whipped around to face Vejata with an icy glare. “Don't do anything stupid,” she warned.

 

“Have I given you a reason to be so afraid?” Vejata tried to soften her voice, but it only bit harder. She shut the door behind her.

 

“Why did you follow me down here?”

 

“I deserve an explanation.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Ever since Prince Vegeta's return, you've hardly even acknowledged my presence. I couldn't care less,” she snorted, “but you should at least tell me: did you actually…feel for me?”

 

Bulma opened her mouth to snap something back, but paused as she registered the wording.

 

“I don't give a shit if you didn't. But at least be consistent.” Her voice quivered, but she furrowed her eyebrows so that it might seem that anger was the cause. “In fact, I hope you didn't. I don't need another excuse to return to this backwater mudball of a planet.”

 

“You're…not coming back?” Bulma's blank expression gave way to surprise.

 

“Not for you,” she growled, “not at this rate.” As she leaned forward to look Bulma in the eye, her medallion swung like a pendulum between them.

 

“I'm sorry,” Bulma took in a deep breath, watching the object swing. “But nothing is worth giving up Vegeta.”

 

“A pastime while he was dead, then. I see,” she stepped back. “That's…fine.”

 

“I never meant for anything to come of it.”

 

“Things never do work that way.” She paced over to one of the counters, littered with half-finished machines.

 

“I hope…I haven't…”

 

“Just get to work on the damn scouter.”

 

Bulma stepped over to a different counter, gathering up some tools. “You probably don't need it,” she spoke quietly.

 

Vejata picked up one of the half-finished devices and tossed it into the air a few times, looking past it to Bulma's back. She set it gently back in its place. “I know.”

 

“So why am I making it?”

 

“So that I know when to leave.”

Bulma nodded at this, nimbly crafting the beginnings of scouter. “Okay.” She

turned to look Vejata in the eye, and her expression was soft as it had been during much of their time alone together. “Should I work on it faster, or slower?”

 

“As you please,” Vejata murmured. “I'll return shortly.” She ducked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her before Bulma could protest.

 

 

…

 

 

As Vejata entered the dining area once more, she nodded to Piccolo, Goten, and Trunks, who still stood there conversing with Goku, and now, Vegeta.

 

“Is there any way we can get you to stay?” Goku piped up as soon as she entered.

 

“Please don't ask me that,” Vejata growled, pained. She turned to Piccolo. “My thanks to you for allowing me to use that room.”

 

Piccolo nodded. “I'm…glad you did. I think we all are.”

 

“I don't wish to return to my home in this garb,” she motioned to the pink shirt. “Is it possible, with your technique…”

 

Before she could finish, Piccolo extended his arm and granted her the best rendition of her old armor that he could muster.

 

“Miss Vejata,” Goten tugged on her. “Please, can you stay and teach Trunks and me some new moves?”

 

“No,” she began to reach down to pat his head, but thought better of it and crossed her arms. “I'm afraid I can't. Anything that I can teach you, your fathers likely already have.” She scanned over the occupants of the room, shifting her weight.

 

“You know, you seemed like a real bitch,” Trunks started, and Vegeta hit him over the head.

 

“Your mother,” he warned.

 

“Fine,” Trunks started again. “You seemed like a jerk. You still seem like a jerk. You killed my dad! And it's your fault…” he trailed off, glancing at his arms. He steeled himself and looked back to her. “And it was your fault we died.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But you also helped get rid of them,” Trunks finished, and he stepped up to Vejata. He extended his hand. “Thanks.”

 

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his grasp, and looked at him for what to do. He clutched her hand and shook it, and as she caught on, she reciprocated.

 

“I hope you come back.”

 

As Vejata smirked at the boy, Vegeta shot her a glare. “Come with me,” he muttered, and left the room. She followed him wordlessly, and Goku followed at Vegeta's heels. “Kakarrot,” Vegeta whipped around. “Leave.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I'm going to have a private conversation.”

 

“You can't make me leave,” Goku blew a raspberry at him. “I'm following you.”

 

“Kakarrot,” Vejata stepped up to him, and grabbed his shoulder to turn him to face her. Her voice was dangerous. “Leave.”

 

“Well…” Goku glanced toward the ceiling. “What're you guys talking about?”

 

“I don't know,” she answered quietly, and Goku caught the hint of warning in her voice this time.

 

“Okay,” Goku answered simply. “I'll wait out here. Promise I won't listen in,” he smiled.

 

Vegeta opened the door and left it ajar just long enough for Vejata to squeeze in. She took in her surroundings quickly: a dresser with a pair of gloves tossed carelessly onto it, a few pieces of jewelry scattered near them. The covers of the bed were in disarray, and littered with underthings. Her nose wrinkled and she turned her focus elsewhere: in the closet were rows of identical sets of Vegeta's training outfit, sprinkled with tees and dress shirts that he probably never wore. She remembered that she had been here before—once when she had tried to kill Vegeta in his sleep. It was an odd notion; she still felt the tension carving a deep ridge between them, but even at this opportune moment she was not itching to kill him. Perhaps it was because there was no need—perhaps it was because she knew that he would stop her before she could do a thing. Perhaps it was something else.

 

“Well?” she finally spoke. “What do you want?”

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Vegeta asked quietly, narrowed eyes piercing into her.

 

“We didn't talk so long ago. I thought you knew,” she answered, voice thick with sarcasm. “At least, you didn't ask me then.”

 

“Goddammit, you know that's not what I mean.” He jerked his head toward the door. “It's been scarcely a month. My son wants you to say, Kakarrot wants you to stay—Bulma wants you to stay. I think even the fucking Namekian is half fond of you.”

 

“I doubt it,” she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, taking a step back.

 

“Look,” Vegeta grabbed the necklace that held her medallion and pulled her closer, threatening to snap it. “Just tell me what the hell you did.”

 

“You saw,” she tried to shrug him off, but he kept a tight grip. “At least, if what you say is true.” Vejata grabbed the prince's hand tightly, trying to pry it from the necklace.

 

“You fused with Bulma.”

 

“I also fused with you.” She raised an eyebrow. “Feel any different?”

 

“Hardly,” his mouth twitched.

 

“Well, what the fuck is wrong, then?” she raised her voice.

 

“You're…” he faltered, dropping the medallion.

 

“They chose you,” Vejata's voice was quiet again. “They always chose you. You don't have a thing to worry about.” She took a few steps back until she brushed against the dresser.

 

“Are you going to come back?” he asked so quietly that Vejata wasn't sure if he asked it aloud, or if it had echoed though her head.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Hell if I know,” she breathed, but Vegeta saw her eyes dart toward the door.

 

“Leave him be.”

“I'll never beat you. You needn't worry,” but her determined features spoke otherwise.

 

“Good,” Vegeta threatened.

 

A knock rattled the door. “You guys almost done talking?” Goku's voice rang. Vegeta turned on his heel and exited, turning to look at Goku, and Vejata followed.

 

“Vejata,” Bulma intercepted them on their way back to the dining area. She held out her hand to give something to Vejata. “Scouter's done. It's in this box.”

 

She took the small box and nodded to Bulma. “I'll be off, then.”

 

“Can I come visit?” Goku grinned.

 

“Give me some time,” she considered shoving him away, but decided against it.

 

“We'll be seeing you,” Bulma smiled, laying a hand against her shoulder for just a moment. Vejata inclined her head and then glanced toward Vegeta, who watched silently. As she stepped out the door, she looked back one last time. Vegeta raised one hand above his crossed arms in acknowledgement.

 

And she was gone.