Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Something In Common ❯ A Conversation ( Chapter 3 )

A Conversation

The thick metal door to the bar swung open with a bang as Vegeta stormed out onto the sidewalk, a half-empty bottle of J&B in hand. Several startled pedestrians quickly sidestepped the angry man, a few gawking over their shoulders at this guy that was blatantly carrying alcohol around in plain sight. Yamcha was out before the door closed behind him, and he followed the Saiyan as he rounded the corner down an alley next to the bar.

"You blasted him from the air, didn't you?" Vegeta snarled, his back to Yamcha as he stalked some distance down the alley and away from the main street. "You opened fired on him like he was some animal!"

Yamcha was right on his heels. "He basically was! He was dangerous!"

"Huh. He must have been if he lost control of his ki and still managed to kill your sorry ass," he shot back as he turned to face him.

"Hey I didn't say he didn't manage to tap into his ki again!" Vegeta frowned, silently permitting Yamcha to continue. The former bandit shook his head at the memory. "I never saw anything like it before. His body went completely dark, his ki was ice-cold. He sucked my life away with a touch."

Vegeta expertly schooled his features when he recalled the haunting memories of his own experience with that attack. "That's how you died, then," he said grimly, suddenly much more empathetic with Yamcha.

"No," he said quietly, his expression darkening. "He bit me in the neck and tore my throat out."

Vegeta stared at him, speechless. Then he threw his head back in great, braying laughter.

Yamcha gaped in disbelief, completely flummoxed over the Saiyan's reaction. "What the HELL is so funny about that?!"

"HA HA HA! Killed like a little rabbit!? I didn't think it possible to suffer a more humiliating death than being blown up by a Saibaman. Fuck, I was wrong," he laughed, ignoring Yamcha seething at him as he took a swig. "Hn, should have asked the guy if you tasted like chicken," he shot at Yamcha.

"HEY, ASSHOLE!"

Yamcha's back was slammed up against the side of the building, a powerful forearm buried against his throat before the bottle of scotch even hit the pavement. "You're a coward," Vegeta asserted with deadly calm. "You're a coward and a weakling, and that's why you died again. Liquid courage is the only reason you dare speak to me like that."

Yamcha gasped, terror crawling through his veins at the sight of Vegeta's still slightly pointed canines; The demon was there, just beneath the surface, and he was facing him again. It was all Yamcha could do not to piss himself.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Drop the noble act. You thought I walked out on them, didn't you? A goddamn year went by and you had gotten pretty comfortable with me being out of the picture. I returned, and that fucked up your little plans." Vegeta's gaze drilled into Yamcha, and he nodded to himself. "You wanted my woman."

"I, NO!-"

"You wanted ME dead!"

"NO!" Yamcha choked out desperately. "Are you listening to yourself right now?! That wasn't you that came back, it was a demon!"

"Perhaps YOU should listen to yourself. Are you actually buying into your own bullshit? That was me. Transformed, yes, but me nonetheless. This was the one shot you had at overpowering me, and you rationalized the shit out of your decision to kill me."

"What the?! Rationalized?! He killed Goku! I reacted!"

"You decided."

"…."

"Kakarot was dead already. Your decision was made well before you ever fired."

"Ok, yes." He gasped. "I told you, he was unpredictable. I was ready to take him out. I didn't trust him not to attack us."

"You two idiots, maybe!" Vegeta snapped. "I was in there somewhere. Bulma wasn't afraid of him - he couldn't have given her a reason to be! Do you really think he'd hurt HER?!"

"Yes," Yamcha choked out. "Because he did."

"Wha?-" Vegeta blinked, his forearm lowering from Yamcha's throat.

Yamcha angrily shoved Vegeta away. The Saiyan didn't react, too blindsided by what he had just heard. "He hurt her at the Lookout. He cut her up, tore up her clothes. Earlier he attacked everyone there - totally unprovoked. He just went ape-shit!"

Vegeta's brows drew together. He was brought back to that night he finally saw Bulma again after being liberated from that place. The coldness in her eyes…

"Did…did he rape you?"

"No, Vegeta. Nothing like that."

Did he try? Vegeta stepped back, looking away as he visibly grappled with his guilt before giving Yamcha his back. He ran a hand through his hair. He didn't do that to her, yet that was him. Zhernobog's words suddenly tore through his mind:

"We are doing nothing but drawing out that which is already there."

Absolutely appalled, his hand went to his mouth. Vegeta started to feel sick, and it wasn't from the booze. He stared at the litter-strewn pavement. He felt like he was free-falling.

"She still defended him," Yamcha continued accusingly. "Even after that. Bulma's smart as hell but she wasn't thinking rationally where that creature was concerned. So are you gonna let me finish? He dodged my blasts and jumped up into the trees where he could reach us. He knocked us out of the sky. Bulma knew I died. I told her to run but for all I know she saw it happen." Yamcha narrowed his eyes and he took a step towards the Saiyan. "Maybe you should ask her if she thinks it's funny to see a guy get his throat torn out."

Vegeta's brow furrowed. His hand lowered from his mouth and he swallowed. His stomach was tying up in knots. He finally found his voice. "No way of knowing what happened to her after you were killed, I suppose," he asked quietly.

Yamcha's hard expression softened at the implications in that question. He shoved his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "No," he admitted quietly. "You'll have to get the information from her."

There was silence between them for several moments before Vegeta hazarded to speak again, his lowered head turning slightly. "At the Lookout. How…Was she hurt badly?" He asked softly.

Yamcha was caught off guard by the prince's wounded tone. "No," he admitted quietly. "It was alarming to see but…" He took in the prince's rigid posture and lowered head, and he found himself trying to take the weight off Vegeta's shoulders. "The strap of her dress was broken and she had a few scratches on her shoulder," he finished truthfully. "Bulma wasn't even phased by it. But, you know - heh, Bulma," he snorted with a shrug of his shoulder. "She didn't even want to bug Dende about it."

The tension in Vegeta's hunched shoulders didn't lessen. That shouldn't have happened to her at all. None of this should have happened to his family. When Vegeta spoke again it was almost to himself. "There were times, in that place, that I thought she'd get tired of waiting for me. Sometimes I considered that she might move on."

Yamcha hesitated. He wasn't the most perceptive guy on the planet, but he knew jealousy when he saw it. He knew it very well now. "Move onto me?"

Vegeta bristled. "Don't flatter yourself," he growled. His eyes dropped down. There were indeed times that thought threatened to manifest in his mind. It was a completely faithless thought. He fought against that notion, but he didn't know if it was a fight he could have kept up forever. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "…Maybe," he admitted. "I don't…" he trailed off and tried again. "I don't tell her. I don't tell her how…" Shit. He was regretting dropping that bottle now. He ran a hand through his hair again before dropping his arm to his side with a defeated huff. "You treat her with proper respect."

Yamcha's shoulders sagged. "Naw," he said softly. "I mean, now I do. I didn't back then, when we were still together. I took her for granted. Didn't realize what I had until I lost it."

Vegeta grunted. "Well. That may be something we have in common."

"While you were in that…place," Yamcha began hesitantly. "You thought I'd make a move on her?"

Vegeta's answer was resolute. "Yes."

"Vegeta," he began slowly, "you mentioned that everyone has darkness in them." Vegeta looked over his shoulder, one eyebrow arching up in a silent demand to continue. "Now, please don't kill me-"

"I won't kill you," Vegeta snapped, suddenly annoyed. He turned to face Yamcha. "Are you fucking joking? You've always been beneath my notice, and I've honestly never given a shit whether you lived or died. But…I wouldn't kill you. I wouldn't do that to Bulma, because I know she cares about her asinine friends. I won't upset the stable life that my family has here over someone as unworthy as you, understand?"

That was as close to reassurance that Yamcha would get from the likes of Vegeta. "Uh, ok. The truth is, I uh, I did think you walked out on them. I didn't think you…I mean, that demon…deserved to have them back." Yamcha paused and took a deep breath. "He accused me of something, right before he killed me. He said he could…'smell my lust for her'."

In spite of Vegeta's assurances, the Saiyan felt himself tensing up, his fists tightening at his sides as he willed himself to hear the guy out. He wouldn't kill Yamcha, but he didn't say he wouldn't break every bone in his body. That's what senzus were for, right? "And?" He drawled, his voice dangerous.

"You're not going to beat me up, are you?"

Vegeta grit his teeth, reasoning that he'd have to go for a senzu run if he busted the guy's face in. Either that or he'd have to haul Yamcha's incapacitated ass up to see Dende. "Fine. I won't," he growled. "Speak already."

Yamcha collected his thoughts. "I think he was right. He could pick up on things I wasn't even aware of. Maybe I was even in denial. But, Bulma and I, we have a history, you know? You can't just…shut something like that off. But listen, it's our actions that count. If it's true that my…body doesn't recognize that we're through, so what? It's not something I'd ever act on. I wouldn't do that to her or her family. You're a part of her family, Vegeta. You know that, right?"

Vegeta processed this. "You didn't believe I was a part of her family anymore when I became that demon, did you?"

Yamcha's brows furrowed. "I…I reacted-"

"Yes, you did," Vegeta interrupted. He crossed his arms and sighed, giving Yamcha a conceding nod. "…As a warrior should. You're right. I would have done the same as you. If I felt the woman was threatened I'd eliminate that threat without hesitation. In fact, were I you I would have killed him much sooner." After a moment Vegeta spoke again, his expression neutral. "Answer me truthfully. If I was dead, would you try again with her?"

Yamcha swallowed heavily, and he summoned his courage. "If she was interested…yes. I'd try one more time."

"Hm. Well, I'm back now." He regarded Yamcha appraisingly. "You're braver than I gave you credit for, human. Or maybe that's just the alcohol again," he smirked. His wry smile melted away and he gave Yamcha a begrudging look. "Thank you for looking out for my family while I was gone." Shoving his hands in his pockets, Vegeta turned and began walking away.

Yamcha stood blinking for a moment before taking quick strides towards the prince. He grabbed him by the shoulder, getting Vegeta's attention. "Hey, you're right too. She never gave up on you. She was doing everything she could to find you when you went missing. When she had no luck she began gathering the Dragon Balls - she was afraid you were dead. She wanted you back. She loves you, man. It's you she chose."

Vegeta looked up at him warily. After a moment he gave a terse nod and made to leave again.

"Well hang on." Yamcha stopped him again, and Vegeta huffed in annoyance. "Don't you need to go close your tab?"

Vegeta's hands unconsciously went to the pockets of his jeans. Shit. His credit card was indeed still back at the bar. "Fine."

They walked back into the tavern and Yamcha sat down as Vegeta closed his tab. Yamcha felt as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Now, he wanted to continue to imbibe for reason A. He looked over to the Saiyan who was signing his receipt. He wouldn't ever call the guy a friend, but he wasn't exactly a stranger either. "Hey uh, - one more before you hit the road?"

Vegeta was sliding his wallet into his back pocket when he stopped, an eyebrow quirking up in bewilderment. "I wouldn't start punching the pavement unless I had a good reason."

Yamcha blinked. "Uh, no I mean do you want to grab one more drink before leaving?" Vegeta blushed with some embarrassment. He didn't think he'd ever remember all these stupid Earth expressions. "Drink's on me," Yamcha offered. "After all, you let me mooch off of yours."

Vegeta deliberated a moment before shrugging. "You're right, I did. Fine." He took a seat as the bartender poured out a couple shots.

Yamcha raised his glass. "To Bulma?"

Vegeta suddenly wasn't just humoring him. He nodded, his expression one of respect as he likewise raised his glass. "Bulma."

They downed their shots and Vegeta got up to leave. Yamcha however was loosening up more by the second, that owing partially to the fact that he felt as though he had dodged death yet again. "Aw, what? Sure you want to leave now? The night is young, man!" Yamcha said affably, his speech now slurring a little.

"Yes, I am sure," Vegeta sneered as he made to leave.

"Oh come on! Schwanz auf dem tisch!"

Vegeta stopped and stared at Yamcha. Now what was this guy blabbering about? "You sure you need another drink? You may not have noticed, but I lost my tail some time ago. And why the hell would I put it on the table?"

Yamcha put a hand behind his head and laughed. "Oh, you know some German, huh? Ha ha, no, it's a saying I picked up during Oktoberfest. 'tail' is slang. It actually means 'put your dick on the table.'" Vegeta stared at him in abject revulsion. "Well no, it's a challenge!" Yamcha sputtered, his entire face turning red. "You know, a test of manliness! It's not, like literal-"

"Enough already!" Vegeta held up his hand in exasperation. "If a test of manliness means whipping your dick out around a bunch of other men then count me out!" He turned and left, shaking his head in disgust. Humans were just filthy, vulgar animals.

___________________________________________________________________

Bulma was dozing lightly, having fallen asleep not a half hour ago. Her eyes cracked open when she heard the balcony door to their bedroom slide open. She listened to Vegeta pull his work boots off, dropping each to the floor with a heavy thud before shrugging out of his leather jacket next. He made his way over to the bathroom and a moment later there was the sound of his body connecting with a closed door. There was a soft curse followed by the mumbled words "dark in here" as she heard him fumbling around for the doorknob. Finally he entered, closing the door behind him.

Vegeta filled a glass from the tap and chugged it down thirstily. Ok, so he overdid it a little this time. At worst he'd feel a bit light-headed in the morning. He smirked to himself. He could only imagine how Yamcha was going to feel. That fool was still going by the time he left. He was probably barfing in an alley this moment. No, if Vegeta was going to regret anything in the morning it would be that he had an unguarded conversation with the scarfaced human.

Vegeta splashed some water on his face a few times and grabbed a towel, patting his face dry. He happened to glance up at the mirror over the sink, his face still half buried in the towel. Pulling the towel away from his face, he straightened. He glared at his reflection, taking in those damnable, faint markings that ran from beneath each eye. He suddenly recalled the new information Yamcha had given him earlier, the information he had swept aside in order to cling to his jealousy.

He actually destroyed Kakarot's soul…

A chill went up his spine. Kakarot was a formidable rival, but how could anyone come back from that? He saw that livid face again, felt that toxic blade held to his throat. He closed his eyes, and his brows drew together. He himself had been his judge and jury - and very nearly his executioner. His very soul would have been nullified. He opened his eyes and forced himself to look at his reflection. He'd continue to heal, but he knew full well there was more to recovery than just healing from physical wounds. It was a concern he held not for himself, but for his family.

Vegeta left the bedroom, flipping the light off on the way. He shed the rest of his clothes on his way over to the bed and slid under the covers next to Bulma. He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her close, relishing in the softness of her body and the smooth silk of her neglige against his bare skin. Closing his eyes, he sighed in contentment against the back of her neck.

"How much did you have to drink?" Bulma asked knowingly in the dark.

Vegeta's eyes cracked open. Enough to share FEELINGS with scarface. Shit. He grunted. "Saiyans do not get intoxicated nearly as easily as you weak humans. How long were you asleep?"

"Not long. Did you enjoy your outing?"

Vegeta scoffed at that. "I don't particularly enjoy being out among humans. Just…wanted to get out of my head for a time."

"I have to admit that's different from your usual approach. Usually you like to go off somewhere and use the land as a punching bag."

"Came close to using scarface as a punching bag," Vegeta snorted sarcastically.

Bulma looked over her shoulder a little. "Hm?"

"Just my luck that fool was there. He certainly has a penchant for conversing over drinks for some reason."

Bulma flipped over on the bed, now facing him. "Oh really?" A smile crept over her face when he rolled his eyes. "He actually managed to drag you into a conversation?"

"Well, there was alcohol involved," he replied blandly.

"So what did you talk about?"

His expression became serious, and his eyes softened. "We spoke of how much we value you."

Bulma's brows drew together in bemusement, and a small smile pulled at her lips. She placed a hand on the side of his face and kissed him deeply. She cuddled up against his chest with a sigh, her head beneath his chin. Vegeta relaxed, trailing his fingers up and down her back before he spoke again. "We also spoke of what you endured." Vegeta could feel her stiffen slightly in his embrace. She remained silent. Vegeta shook his head with a sigh. "Why did you do that?"

She looked up at him curiously. "Do what?"

"Why the hell did you and the others wish to have their memories wiped?"

"Well, we thought it was traumatizing, you know? She settled back against him. "Not so much for the people that were brought back to life, but for the people that saw their friends and family die."

"That didn't seem a concern of yours when the people Cell killed were brought back. As I recall their memories were kept intact."

Bulma sighed. "Yeah, and in retrospect I thought that was a mistake. I have friends and co-works who lost loved ones to that monster, and they were psychological wrecks. Watching those they care about be killed, seeing them brought back from the dead." She shook her head. "A person can only take so much of that before they lose their minds."

"You don't give them enough credit." Bulma blinked in surprise at this. She wouldn't have imagined Vegeta of all people giving humans credit for anything other than being weak. "It's not as though you wiped their memories of Cell as well," he continued. "They've already gone through this before. You don't think they'd be mentally stronger this time around?"

"Everyone's different, Vegeta. What can make one person stronger can break another. We just did what we thought was right by them."

"You took away their choice," he stated, his voice hardening. "It was hypocritical of you to erase their memories of trauma while keeping your own."

"You made it clear you didn't want your memories erased," Bulma asserted, an edge to her voice now.

It was true. He, like the other warriors, valued experience no matter how painful. How could they possibly be ready for the next inevitable challenge if they forgot what they had learned from the last? He pulled her closer against him and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I told you, woman. I don't want you and the boy in hell with me," he murmured into her hair.

"What, are you surprised that Trunks and I chose not to leave you alone in this?" She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparking with life even in the darkness of the room. "We're a family. We're in this together, buddy, got it?"

He looked back at Bulma, begrudging admiration in his eyes. Honestly, what did he expect from them? Trunks was half-Saiyan, and Bulma had the spirit of one. His family wouldn't be broken so easily. If the others and their families could move forward together, their memories intact, then of course his family could do the same. His brows drew together. "If we're in this together as you claim, then why do you refuse to share the burden?"

Bulma's brow furrowed. "Vegeta, that…earlier…" she trailed off, her eyes dropping.

"Talk to me. I'm sick of being kept in the dark over this. Do you refuse to speak about it because you fear reliving it? Or are you trying to avoid hurting my feelings," he sneered, disgust dripping from the word. "Only weaklings are unable to face the truth, Bulma."

Bulma sighed in exasperation. "I don't believe you're weak, Vegeta. Not for one second."

"Prove it."

He could tell by the look on her face that she was preparing herself. She settled back against him in silence, and he waited for her to speak. When she did, her voice was the softest whisper. "I thought he was going to force himself on me." Vegeta stopped breathing, his grip on her tightening slightly. "First at the Lookout, after Goku brought him there. Then on the mountain, after he kil-"she broke off when she swallowed convulsively. Bulma could hear Vegeta's heart slamming against his chest. "He chased me. When he caught me I, I thought he was going to either rape me or kill me…or both."

Vegeta swallowed, his brow furrowing. "He finally made you fear for your life."

"I…yes."

"Tell me you defended yourself."

Bulma struggled for words. "I…I," her voice cracked. "I put a gun on him." To her surprise she felt Vegeta relax a bit and grunt in approval. "But, he took the Dragon Balls, and he threatened to kill Trunks if I didn't tell him how to summon Shenron. Then he…he kissed me so hard he tore my lip. I thought he was going to rape me, but he…" She trailed off again when she remembered his pained expression, as though he had just hurt himself. "He just stopped. He wished Frieza back and from there he kept making all the wrong decisions. What he set into motion…he got us all killed."

"Bastard," Vegeta hissed. Those were shades of the rampaging lunatic that finally met his end on Namek. "You should have shot him, Bulma."

"Bulma's head shot up. "What - Vegeta!"

"The moment you feared for your life you should have shot him. You hesitated, that's how he got the Dragon Balls. Look how far he got because of that!"

Bulma took his face in her hands. "Vegeta how can you say that? That was you in there! Do you think I would do that to you?"

Vegeta suddenly felt ashamed. "I…no. I'm only saying you should have."

Bulma shook her head. "I couldn't do that. Deep down I knew I wouldn't. It was all a bluff."

Vegeta scowled. "Gods woman, for a genius you are stupid."

She frowned angrily. "If he was killed you wouldn't be here now!"

Vegeta was rendered speechless before he could form another rebuke. He snapped his mouth shut, the muscles in his jaw flexing in consternation. She was right on that point. Ironically, if Touketsu hadn't appeared he would have still been shackled in that icy prison, destined to become the demon. And although the oni was inches away from destroying his very soul, he ultimately didn't. Why? He wasn't certain, but something told him it was because of the woman in his arms. He huffed a sigh of resignation through his nose. "What do you see in me?" He grumbled softly. It wasn't the first time he had asked her that question, but he could still never quite accept her answer.

Taking in his uncertain expression, she leaned in close. "I see you."

He looked at her very seriously. "Not a monster?"

Her eyes softened. "Our actions define who we are, Vegeta. Even a monster can make one very good decision."

"Hm. I suppose," Vegeta said softly, his eyes warming. The corner of his lip pulled into a smile. "I married you, didn't I?"

Vegeta could feel the smile on his wife's mouth as she kissed him deeply, and his eyes drifted closed. She pulled back a little. "Guess my genius rubbed off on you."

"I'll tell you what else you can rub off," he growled playfully as he hauled her on top of him. Bulma giggled before recapturing his lips, one hand going up to rub his muscular chest. Her fingers trailed downward, grazing over his chiseled abs and down his lower belly. Bulma broke their kiss, and Vegeta's breath hitched in his throat when her fingers hovered teasingly over his manhood. Bulma leaned over him, one thin strap of her neglige sliding off her shoulder. "Are you going to say please?" she asked sweetly with an arch of a fine eyebrow. Vegeta looked up at her and momentarily forgot how to speak.

"…No," he replied petulantly, his voice strained.

"Um hm," Bulma smiled knowingly as she gently gripped his growing length. She leaned forward, her body sliding up against his as she kissed him along the jaw. "Maybe if I slip into that little number I picked up at the store today you'll consider using your manners?" She whispered in his ear before nipping at his earlobe.

Vegeta shuddered with pleasure, a smile quirking his lips. "Well, there's a first time for everything," he chuckled.

THE END