Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Sing No Songs ❯ Playing favourites ( Chapter 21 )

Chapter 21

 

Asdef was in his room, watching the prisoner on the screen. Vegeta was completely still, but a small graph on the bottom of the screen shrank and expanded in time with his heart. The heartbeat was slow and uneven. The poison had finally run its course. The dose so high, it was a wonder Vegeta had lasted as long as he had.

 

Asdef was very much aware of the fact that just outside his door, down the elevator and beyond the corridor, Vegeta lay.

 

He will get praised for this. To have his name associated with the capture and sentence of Vegeta. But Asdef knew he had little to do with it. The Galaxy could have sent anyone, and Vegeta would still have done what he had done.

 

What Vegeta had done…

 

It might seem like an act of desperation, but no, there were other ways Vegeta could have protected his adopted home planet. He could have negotiated, he could have come to the Galaxy and still refused to put the collar on. He could have escaped, he could have taken the fight with him to another planet. Instead he had surrendered, flat out surrendered. Asdef thought he would spend the rest of his life wondering why.

 

---

 

“How is my father doing?” Bra pointedly interrupted a long, involved conversation between the Readers and the Earth president concerning by what right the Galaxy could interfere in the affairs of planets that hadn’t even heard of the Galaxy, let alone signed any treatises or made any promises.

 

It seemed at first they were going to ignore her, but her question left a stillness in its wake, an ominous silence, as everything shifted and she was suddenly the center of attention.

 

The spokesperson gestured for the furry Reader to step forward. He had been standing a bit apart, not participating in the conversations. Bra saw that he was holing a flat device which contained the image of her father, this public shaming or whatever it was. She did not like the way his paws clutched the disc, did not like the sad angles of his brows. She did not like the way the spokesperson hesitated and looked at Bra like she was likely to fall apart by whatever they were going to tell her.

 

She shared a fleeting look with Trunks and she looked behind her at Levi only to find air. Bra turned around full circle and he wasn’t here. Levi was nowhere to be seen, but then she saw him, not among the crowd but all the way across the roof just entering the Capsule ship. His distant figure climbed the stairs and disappeared through the open door.

 

Trunks had followed her gaze. “That’s Levi.” His voice turned dark with foreboding. “What’s he doing?”

 

“I’ll catch up with him,” Bra said. “Stay here.”

 

She took to the air. There were a few astonished shouts and a lot of upturned faces as she sped over their heads, like she was taking a great jump. For all she knew, it might have been the first time they saw someone fly.

 

She ran the last steps through the door, and then she slowed down. The inside of the capsule was silent and dim. Almost on reflex she reached out and closed the door behind her. Levi was standing with his back to her, as far away from her as he could get.

 

“So,” Bra said. She didn’t like the edge in her own voice, and she tried to gentle it. “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Levi -”

 

“You’re just standing there!”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You and Dad! I thought you would… I thought you would do something.”

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

“You think I don’t know that! I’ve been here all the time, remember?” Levi turned around to glare at her. “I used to think you were really something. You and Dad, all of you. This should be easy for you, if you really tried.”

 

“Levi…”

 

&ldq uo;I can’t stop thinking about Grandfather,” Levi said. “When we saw him in that room. It was like he wasn’t a prisoner. Like he could leave any time he wanted to.”

 

“He can’t,” she whispered.

 

“But why? Is he punishing himself, is that it?”

“Don’t know,” Bra said. “Maybe.”

 

Maybe. Maybe he felt guilty, she didn’t know. But it was horrible to imagine, her father full of guilt. Because. Because – how had she managed not to see? It would crush him. The things he had done, it would crush anybody, she was sure. And he had told her and Levi to go away.

 

Go home.

 

“He didn’t want us to interfere,” she said. “I think maybe he just wanted to protect us. Maybe he thought we were in over our heads.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “And of course we were. But we tried anyway. We talked to the people in charge, we did what we could to make them listen.”

 

“You did that.”

 

“No, we. You and me. But what I mean to say is… we really tried. But maybe this is it. Maybe now it’s too late to do anything else. It’s just too late.”

 

---

 

Vegeta was fighting. He forced his lungs to keep breathing while inside his head he ceaselessly, relentlessly scratched and battered against the wall that kept him from his power. A drop would do, a drop and he would be able to take another and another and drink deep from power and might. He was Vegeta. No poison should be able to keep him from what he was.

 

Yes, he had done this to himself. He had put it on, this tether that had torn away great pieces of his body and his self. It wasn’t that he couldn’t bear the indignity, it was that right now he’d rather not. He’d rather live. He’d rather Bra, the good girl, had broken the glass and set him free.

 

So he fought and struggled as if the force of wanting alone could tear through his limits. Like he could make new paths, make the force of his wanting a battling ram, a thief turning stones and building bridges.

 

He fought and searched until he found a handhold, a handle and a door.

 

Turned it over.

 

(life)

 

It felt like waking up.

 

Vegeta stood up. Or dreamed that he stood up. Breathing came easy and standing was effortless. But he was still a prisoner, still in his head he was in the black room, still behind glass, still the glass wall for people to stare and gawk.

 

Next to him, he wasn’t alone. A giant dog was by his side, not menacing, just sitting there with an expectant stare. An easy presence, since he had let it run free.

 

On the other side of the glass gleamed a dragonball.

 

It hovered chest high, a bubble fixed firm, a solid ethereal glow, not bright but something in there was gleaming on its own. A turning center contained like stars.

 

Vegeta stood there looking at it. This thing that didn’t belong.

 

One by one they appeared the dragonballs and with them another presence, vague and unformed before Vegeta could see him standing there, clearly on the other side of the glowing light. Like the last time Vegeta had seen him, the forth or the fifth time Kakarott had come back from the dead, he was in the guise of a child. Blue clothes, his black hair in disarray, his small face wide-eyed and open.

 

It hadn’t seemed all that incongruous all those years ago when Kakarott had turned himself into a child. He had done the impossible all too often, and now here he was, in this place between life and death. Preserved by whatever powers had decided to keep him around for some time more.

 

“You were looking for me,” the boy smiled.

 

“I did no such thing.”

 

The boy blinked, a baffled look on his face. And then he grinned in easy dismissal. He looked at the floor and the walls and the glass wall and the dog and a puzzled frown appeared on his little-boy face.

 

Vegeta made the dog disappear, just tore it down and made it disappear. It was all him after all, and he’d rather not have this boy gawking. All that remained was the flat surfaces, a cube of a room, giving away nothing.

 

“Oh,” the boy said, and seemed to settle, his face grim and his stance still. They were facing each other, echoes of old battles in the way they were standing.

 

“Vegeta, what’s going on?”

 

“Bulma is dead.” He hadn’t meant to say that. It came out harsh and sudden, like a challenge.

 

“Dead?” The boy blinked, his expression blank before he straightened with grim determination, his fists clenched. “Who killed her?”

 

“Age.”

 

“Oh. Oh.” The boy put one hand behind his head and laughed, embarrassed. “That’s all right then.”

 

Vegeta punched the glass wall, right in front of the boy’s face. A crack, diagonal from roof to floor split the glass but didn’t shatter. The boy stood motionless, no surprise at the violence that didn’t touch him. Yet something moved on the other side, deep and slow spinning in the dark like Vegeta had disturbed a great presence. He lifted his eyes form the boy who now seemed like little more than a mask and a lie.

 

As Vegeta watched one of the orbs floated towards the boy, touched his brow and disappeared right into him, like a magic trick.

 

“You’re not Kakarott.” Was it the sense of betrayal that led him to that conclusion? Vegeta didn’t know. Everything was unclear suddenly. He didn’t know, and somewhere, elsewhere, his body was struggling.

 

“I’m not? Who am I then?” The boy looked thoughtful. He crocked his head to the side, waiting.

 

“Shenlong. Dragon,” Vegeta said, naming him.

 

The floor shook, a single deep shudder. Vegeta put a hand to his chest. He could feel his heart, but then he couldn’t.

 

“You have one, Vegeta.”

 

“One?”

 

&ldquo ;Wish.”

 

Said the dragon.

 

Bulma was dead and he grieved for her. Kakarott, who had never properly died, had finally managed to transform into something that wasn’t himself.

 

Vegeta chortled. The world shook. He was on his knees, for the shaking of it.

 

“What’s going on? Are you in trouble, Vegeta?”

 

“Death,” he said. He didn’t have air to breathe. Why did he say death?

 

“I can’t bring her back,” Vegeta heard someone say. “It was a natural death, you know the rules.”

 

“Bull. Shit.” He was talking without air. He didn’t know what he was talking to or what the point was, but he knew that much. “All deaths are natural.” All he’d ever seen were powers playing favorites.

 

“Vegeta?”

 

Ever ything went dark. Vegeta couldn’t see, but he thought… he thought the boy had changed. No longer a boy, but a man. Again transformed.

 

“Vegeta, what’s going on?” Sounded like genuine worry. Would the real Kakarott sound like that? He forgot.

 

Vegeta lay on the floor in his cell, not dreaming. Just a body struggling on the floor.

 

---

 

Asdef leaned closer to the screen. The image didn’t allow for a lot of details and for that he was grateful. He could imagine the pain on Vegeta’s face, it was a good thing that the spectators couldn’t see it. But they did see him shaking. They saw his fingers scratch at the floor. Was there fear? There had to be. It lasted for a long time, the unsteady heartbeat, stuttering, failing.

 

There. It stopped. Everyone could see it. Vegeta had stopped, and he wasn’t starting again.

 

Asdef let out a slow breath. He still waited, for the sake of all the people who were watching, for them to be sure too. And then he turned the camera off.

 

The screen turned blank, all the screens watching Vegeta turned blank. It was done, just like that. And Asdef was on his feet, struck by trepidation. That he had been so soon, so abrupt. As if Vegeta would just die. Asdef gave in to whatever instinct propelled him, out the door, to the elevator, he ran down the corridor and fumbled open the cell to see with his own eyes, he had to make sure.

 

---

 

“No,” Levi said. And then louder, “No.”

 

There was power in his voice, power all around. Bra squinted. Something was going on with the light. Darkness, a moving, twisting darkness had entered the ship to shield the light. What was this? Levi was talking, but she couldn’t see his face.

 

“We haven’t tried enough.” Levi said. Hadn’t he noticed that everything had gone dark? “All of you just left him. It’s always been like this. I used to go and visit him back home, but then Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me see him. And he never asked to see me. I don’t get it. We can’t just leave him. He’s my grandfather, and I miss him.”

 

Bra turned around in a slow circle, and it was all dark. She couldn’t see the door. She wasn’t scared, not much. She had seen a darkness like this before, in the memory of a dream.

 

“Levi… make a wish.”

 

“What?”

 

“Wha t do you want? Say it.”

 

“I have said it. I miss him. I don’t want him to die. I wish he was here.”

 

She tried to see in the dark, and there was someone there, someone besides her and Levi. The lights came back, all at once, and she saw Vegeta, lying on the middle of the floor. He wasn’t breathing.

 

She didn’t remember moving. She was kneeling beside her father, her hand on his chest and pouring, pouring into him her life-force. Her energy flowed through her palm into his chest, his dead, death, and she pushed harder, trying to get movement, to get life in there. It should be life. If she could only get it started.

 

--

 

The cell was empty. On the floor lay the silver collar, still unopened, and Vegeta was gone.

 

---

 

It was his grandfather. Bra was touching him, so he had to be there. Levi hadn’t done that, had he, just by asking for it? No, how could that be possible? But something had moved in the dark, Levi had felt it. Something calm and large and listening. And now everything was bright and real and Vegeta was here.

 

“Help me.”

 

Bra wasn’t loud. She sounded distracted, and Levi noticed that she was doing… that thing with her power. He stepped closer, and there was a resistance in the air, a soft sting. Vegeta was lying on his back, arms sprawled, wearing black jeans and a t-shirt that was faded and thin and mostly gray, with no shoes or socks. A very pale face, with deep shadows under the eyes. Levi knelt and put his hand next to Bra’s. Touching his grandfather for the first time in years.

 

He tried to picture energy flowing through his hand into Vegeta, and then it did. It felt like his arm, neither large nor powerful, was made powerful by being a line, a direction for the power to flow. Bra looked up and nodded. She was setting an example, walking where he could follow. He was just like her, both of them a line for the power to flow. Both of them filled with life.

 

As Vegeta was not. He could see it now, that the light they channeled went into him and stayed there, absorbed without a trace, without an answering flicker. Vegeta was very still, but they kept pouring and pouring. They were trying to put a flame to a candle that wouldn’t light.

 

Then Vegeta’s eyes opened. Wide open eyes and a gaze that looked into nothing.

 

And honestly? It was the scariest thing Levi had ever seen. No resonance, no answer, but still Vegeta moved, opening his eyes. And he was sitting up, unsteady but… but dead, still nothing inside to reverberate the light.

 

“Tshe,” Vegeta said, a sound like that. And then he lit the flame.

 

That was how it seemed. Levi and Bra were lines of light, all flowing and ease. Vegeta was lurching, tearing, impossible control. Jerking away the foundations, turning the power inside out, and creating light where there was none.

 

---

 

Bra was supporting her father, one arm across his back. Vegeta leaned against her, not quite steady enough to sit up on his own. At the same time she could feel the energy work through him, could feel it go through his muscles and bones. She felt her support become unnecessary, his presence against her side self-contained, yet she couldn’t stop touching him. She grabbed her father’s arm and shook him in abrupt celebration.

 

“You’re here, you’re here.”

 

Levi was kneeling in front of them, a stunned look on his face. As well as it should be. She laughed and he joined her, his young face happier than she had seen it in a long time.

 

The whoosh of the door opening caused her head to jerk up in alarm, but it was only Trunks. Trunks stepped inside, the door closed behind him. His eyes fixed on Vegeta, and Vegeta looked back, bland and inscrutable. Just then they were each other's mirrors, father and son.

 

“Dad,” Trunks said. It was a greeting, polite and formal. He looked at her, eyes wide. “What did you do?”

 

“Not me.” She was smiling, giddy and still holding on to Vegeta. “It was Levi. He did it. He made a wish.”

 

“A wish.” Trunks’ voice was flat. “The dragon? It was here?”

 

“Yes.” And yes and yes. She hadn’t even thought to hope for the possibility. So long since there had been dragonballs, she had forgotten what it was like to have a wish-fulfilling dragon on your side. But it had happened. Levi had spoken and the world had disappeared and appeared in a different shape.

 

“Amazing,” Trunks said, and finally he smiled.

 

Vegeta started to stand up and she helped him without thinking. It disturbed her to see how unwell he was still. He wobbled and she resisted a compulsion to hold on to him and relaxed when he stood steady. It was the power holding him up, pouring stability into his muscles. He looked different. Both bigger and smaller that she was used to. Older maybe, with a tired, haggard face.

 

His shirt was too large on him now.

 

Vegeta met her eyes and tilted his head in a familiar half-shrug, both acknowledging and dismissing his weakness. It centered her like nothing else would.

 

He walked, slow and measured, past Trunks to lean on the wall next to the doorway. A casual leaning with no obvious weakness visible. And that was a funny kind of relief, so typical her father’s posture, arrogant and young-looking and setting himself apart. And of course he would turn to Trunks with that look.

 

“What’s the situation out there?” Curt and demanding.

 

“Not good,” Trunks said. Slightly sullen, like no time had passed at all. “Crowded with people. Armed and anxious. They’re under the impression that you’re dead or at least close to it. I’m not sure myself what just happened. But you have to take the ship right now, leave before they know you’re here.”

 

Vegeta nodded, looking like it was only what he expected.

 

“You can’t go alone,” Bra said. “You’re not well.”

 

“Well enough. The hand will take the most time to heal, assuming it ever will.” He lifted one of his hands, making it the focus of everyone’s attention. She hadn’t even noticed, but the fingers were still curled up on themselves, still immobilized. He folded his arms, hiding his crippled hand in the process.

 

“I agree with Bra,” Trunks said. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

 

Bra winced. It was an inconceivable thing to say to their father, she could hear it now. Though Vegeta didn’t seem bothered, he just shrugged.

 

“I’ll take the boy,” he said. A sideways nod at Levi, not looking at him.

 

“Yes!” Levis hissed. He clenched his fist, a contained movement of victory.

 

“Forget it.” Trunks glared at Vegeta. “I’ll go.”

 

“We’ll all go.” Bra put steel in her voice to make it final. “We know there are places the Galaxy can’t reach, but whatever happens we can decide later. I’ll just go out and tell them we’re leaving, and then we’re off.”

 

There was a knock on the door.

 

Before she could do anything except freeze in apprehension, Trunks stalked up to the door and slapped his hand against the plaque and the door opened to two grim-faced guards. The tight knot in her stomach relaxed when Trunks walked right out forcing the two soldiers to back away. Trunks backed them all the way down the stairs.

 

Vegeta kept leaning against the wall, only the angle of the open doorway hiding him from being seen by the people outside. She snorted at him as she brushed past him, at his casual dismissal of danger.

 

Outside they were waiting. A few Readers together with the spokesperson stood in front of the crowd, a respectful distance from the ship. Everyone fell silent when she and Trunks came out. She saw nervous movement, but no suspicion as far as she could tell.

 

She and Trunks walked up to the group of Readers. They were looking at her with such solemn sympathy. Reader Rok walked right up to her, standing close. She would easily read his unspoken message. Be calm, he seemed to be saying. Be nice and peaceful.

 

“Bra Monique. Trunks.” The spokesperson looked at them both, wary and slightly faltering. “I’m sorry to tell you. Your father is dead.”

 

“Are you sure?” Bra closed her mouth. That might have been the wrong thing to say, but really, how could they be sure? Still the sympathetic look didn’t waver. There was no suspicion there.

 

“The sensors in…” Alma Tsan touched her own throat, a subtle reminder of the collar her father had been wearing. “They felt him go.”

 

“We lost the image of Vegeta for some reason.” The furry Reader held up a black disc. “We’re in the process of contacting captain Asdef right now. But that is merely a formality.”

 

Bra didn’t like the sound of that.

 

The furry Reader made a sound in his throat and held up the flat disc again. A face appeared, the pale gaunt face of Asdef. Trunks stood behind Bra, looking over her shoulder.

 

“Captain,” Alma Tsan said. “We need you to confirm Vegeta’s death.”

 

Silence, a slow blink, and then Asdef spoke. “Vegeta is dead. I saw him die with my own eyes.” Asdef fell silent again, not saying anything more.

 

Was the captain covering for her father? Maybe it was just for himself. Bra was almost too confused to feel relief.

 

“So it is done.” The spokesperson looked sad and old. Bra could see the burden on her shoulders. She spoke formally, her voice unusually frail and stilted. “The body will be surrendered to the family, please arrange the formalities.”

 

Asdef’sface seemed to freeze. A still image.

 

“That won’t be necessary,” Bra hurried to add. “We trust you, captain Asdef to, to… um.”

 

“Right,” Trunks said. “Our father was a Saiyan. The place a Saiyan fall is the place where they are left. That’s the custom.” Trunks must have made the custom up on the spot, but he still managed to sound disapproving. Bra pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.

 

There was a long moment of silence. “A harsh custom,” the spokesperson finally said.

 

That sobered Bra, sobered her right up. For all their show of sympathy, she was still surrounded by her father’s judges and executioners. No wonder they were nervous.

 

“If that’s all?” Captain Asdef said, and without waiting for any clear acknowledgement, he disappeared from the screen.

 

“I’m sorry,” the spokesperson said, still looking at the blank disc.

 

Bra nodded. Not doubting the sincerity, still lingering on the guilt.

 

She heard a sound behind her, a door closing and then she knew. What had she been thinking? She spun around and ran, arms raised, no more than three steps as the capsule ship sank down on it legs, gathered power and leapt. Up and up, it shot in a flying jump, swift like a thought.

 

“Hey! Hey!” she shouted, wordless in anger and elation all mixed together. Her head leaned back, the ship was a white dot against the sky. It steered sideways fast, and just like that it was gone.

 

Everyone on the roof stood silent, staring at the empty sky.

 

“He did it again. That brat,” Trunks said. He sounded angry, but also proud. She looked back at him and in his face was a mirror of her own dismay and elation.

 

“Your son, young Levi,” Alma Tsan said hesitantly. “Do you want us to bring him back?”

 

“No,” Bra and Trunks said at the same time. “It’s alright,” Bra continued. “He’s old enough. He deserves some time alone. It’s fine. Not to worry.” She wasn’t even sure what she was saying, but it seemed to work.

 

“As you say.” The spokesperson turned to pass on the word.

 

Bra’s breathing calmed. Standing on a windy roof, the sky big and high. There was no urgency anymore. In her mind she kept seeing the white ship rise and speed off, rise and speed off. Her eyes returned to the empty sky. There they went, Levi and her father. Flying away.

 

“It’s what he wanted,” Trunks muttered to himself.

 

She thought she heard self-recrimination in his voice. Trunk’s son was gone and he wouldn’t come back, at least not for a long time. She took his arm and pulled it across her shoulder. Leaned up against him. Her brother had come. He had been a bit late, but he was here now.

 

All eyes were on them. Worried, of course they should be. She thought of Pan and Goten, how they had looked the last time she had seen them, ready for battle. The descendants of a warrior people, so long hidden from the big politics that were going on around them.

 

The president of Earth was among the gathered. Reader Rok, Alma Tsan, and all the others. She had seen them as individuals, sincere and scared, brave and impulsive and thoughtful and wise.

 

She looked down at the city. A small smile, she was glad suddenly that she was where she was. With a job to do.

 

She had been travelling all her life.

 

She looked back at the attentive faces. Braced herself for lots of talking and negotiating ahead.

 

“All right,” she said. “Let’s make some peace.”

 

 

 

---

 

The end. Yes. This is the last chapter. Thank you for reading. More thanks if you write a review :)