Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Two Sides to a Story ❯ Piccolo's Worst Fear ( Chapter 12 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Two Sides To A Story
Chapter Twelve


"Hang on, Vegeta. Just...hang on."

Splitting the sound barrier with the acceleration of his flight,
Piccolo braved a glance at the bundle he was holding protectively in
his strong arms. He had wrapped Vegeta's motionless body in his cape
and derived no sense of calm at how the previously immaculate white
fabric was gradually turning scarlet. Behind him, Gohan had transformed
into his Super Saiyan form just to keep up with his great speed. He was
carrying Bulma and neither was talking, keeping their eyes trained
solely on the Namek and his precious burden. There was a bare hint of
ki that still clung to the Saiyan's battered frame, like a flickering
ember clinging tenaciously to the head of a matchstick. Piccolo
maintained his personal aura around them in an attempt to nurture that
fading spark of life but it was a race against time. Vegeta wasn't
breathing and his heart had beaten its last while in Bulma's arms. Who
knew how long the alien could last in that state without being
irreparably damaged?

At the airport, when he had first witnessed Bulma's grief over
the passing Saiyan, Piccolo's first reaction had been shock, followed
by remorse and then an odd kind of finality. Vegeta had obviously come
to the earth woman's rescue and sacrificed his life for her. The
circumstances of the conflict eluded him; there wasn't any indication
of a real firefight and the opponent seemed to just be an out of shape
human, but the result was the same. At long last, the troubled alien
had found his peace in the embrace of his beloved and passed on to the
afterlife. It was a worthy end for a warrior.

At the mere sight, Kami came to life in the back of his mind
where he still resided and began panicking for no good reason. Piccolo
couldn't understand what all of the fuss was about, but the old fool
was actually assuming control and forcing their body forward, against
his own will. The elder Namek was raving on about how it wasn't
Vegeta's destiny to pass on in this untimely manner; that he still had
a valuable role to fulfil in earth's future.

'What the hell are you talking about?' Piccolo snarled at the
other alien.

What he got back were vague images of a hall of mirrors and
Vegeta, as he walked slowly from one distorted image to another.
Obviously they were memories from Kami's past that he was sharing with
his reluctant double. All of a sudden, the Saiyan turned to him and
said coldly, "Eight years from now, maybe ten. I'm going to die again
anyway, aren't I?"

Sucking in breath as if he had been punched, Piccolo began to get
a sense of the urgency. Practically knocking Bulma aside, he unclasped
his cloak, covered up the Saiyan's body and took off while the grieving
woman wailed her anguish. "Take her with us, Gohan. Let's go!" Without
a second's hesitation, he plowed through the nearby wall and into open
air, racing away until his form was a mere blur.

'I hope you know what you're talking about', Piccolo directed to
the elder Namek in his mind. Damned if he didn't sense that Kami was
practically strutting with smug satisfaction. The pair had never gotten
along at the best of times and now the old bastard could finally boast
how he had manipulated his younger counterpart into doing his wishes.

Submerging his aggravation with difficulty, Piccolo thundered
with his mind: '!!DENDE!! You had better be waiting for us when we get
there, you little sprout! You hear me?!'

Almost immediately, the answer came back: 'I'm here for you,
Piccolo. Please hurry!'

Three minutes later, Dende's Lookout came into view on the
horizon. It was a mystical half moon shape anchored to the earth by a
cable of purest gold. Only those with ki could catch a glimpse of the
revered tower and only a scant handful were ever permitted to step near
its palatial grace. This had been Kami's home for over three hundred
years and during that time he had witnessed all sorts of struggles as
humankind evolved below his watchtower. He had played more roles than
that of an observer, to the humans he had been God, and the present
path that they traveled had more or less been dictated by his
benevolent actions. Since uniting with Piccolo, the mantle of Earth's
Guardian was now on Dende's young shoulders. Being no older than Gohan,
it was an enormous burden of responsibilities that one would think the
little Namek would be ill prepared to handle. Thanks in part to his own
surprising maturity and the wizened guidance of the ancient Mr. Popo,
it was a mantle that he wore with amazing ease.

He was waiting on the dais of the Lookout when Piccolo came to an
abrupt stop, quickly dropping down beside him. Without needing to be
told what to do, the young Namek unwrapped the grisly prize and his
features tightened at the sight of all of the blood that covered
Vegeta's body. Without hesitation, he pulled off the gore-soaked
sweater so his hands could touch the Saiyan's flesh directly. Nearby,
Gohan landed and Bulma staggered over on unsteady legs and practically
collapsed beside them. "Can you help him, Dende? Can you heal him?"

"Hush," Piccolo told her.

Absorbed in his task, Dende ignored the exchange as he ran his
glowing hands along the Saiyan's still body. His eyes were closed while
he mentally scrutinized every pore of Vegeta's wounded flesh. "He is
very far away from me but not lost. Not yet," the wise youth finally
murmured. "I can heal the recent wounds he sustained and the past
trauma of the projectile injuries-"

Bulma snapped her head up. "Projectile-? He was shot?! Where?"

Very gently and with Piccolo's help, Dende rolled Vegeta over on
his side and exposed the bullet wounds that peppered the Saiyan's broad
back. Bulma was still counting the scars when Dende returned him to his
prone position for healing purposes. "Ohmigod," she wailed, taking her
face into her shaking hands. "Who could have done that to him? For what
reason?"

The sight of the injuries intensified Piccolo's dour expression
and he struggled to maintain his composure. He had never cared much for
humans at the best of times and although Gohan had managed to temper
him, that animosity still hadn't changed. For unknown reasons, Vegeta
had been shot in the back and the cowardice behind the action unnerved
him beyond words. "Dende?" he prompted when the younger alien lapsed
into remorseful silence.

The small healer had his hand on Vegeta's forehead and was
visibly trembling. When he finally looked up, his huge eyes were
actually brimming with tears. "Piccolo-"

"Out with it!"

"He... has been poisoned," the Namek rasped out. "It is terrible,
it's been feasting on the part of his brain where the ki resides. Even
now, it devours what precious little remains."

"...oh god..." All of this was too much for Bulma to bear. She
slumped backward into Gohan's arms, her features pale and waxy from
delayed shock. The boy held her awkwardly as she greyed out and looked
helplessly between the two Namek's. "Can you heal him?" he asked as
their silence stretched on.

Instinctively, Dende looked up to his older kinsman for
direction. "The physical injuries are of no consequence," he told
Piccolo. "It's the mental trauma that worries me. This has been
progressing for months unchecked and now the damage to his mind is...
extensive. I might only be healing a shell."

Readying a response, both Namek's felt that imperceptible flicker
of ki start to fade from Vegeta's essence. "There's no more time for
debate, Dende. Do what you can," Piccolo told him in a voice very
different from his usual rough manner. It was almost a comforting purr.

Offering no resistance, only a curt nod, Dende closed his eyes
again and concentrated all of his body and soul on healing the tortured
Saiyan. Standing possessively over the pair, Piccolo betrayed a rare
look of remorse to Gohan before glowering out at the azure sky.
Cradling Bulma's insensate body, the boy could only swallow and watch
Dende's glowing form as he silently prayed Vegeta to get better.

>>>>>

Standing with his arms crossed over his chest, Piccolo didn't
move from his place next to Vegeta's bedside. Dende's thorough healing
had taken all of the resources the little alien could spare and it
still hadn't been enough. All of the Saiyan's physical wounds and
recent scars had been erased, as if his past suffering had never
happened but he had not roused despite their attempts to wake him.
There was damage to his mind that Dende admitted he couldn't reach. It
was unknown how far that impairment went, or to what extent it might
cripple the proud alien when he actually woke up.

IF he woke up, the Namek corrected himself and felt a curious
sensation that resembled grief.

After the healing, Vegeta's heart started beating and he was
breathing on his own, which should have been a good sign. It was the
lack of his stoic presence that seemed to worry Piccolo and, to a
lesser extent, Gohan. In the body that lay on the marble ground of the
Lookout, they could sense no essence of the Saiyan they had reluctantly
grown to accept. It was as Dende as said; It appeared to be only a
soulless shell.

With unusual care, Piccolo picked him up and carried him into the
Palace, settling him into the master bedroom where the Saiyan could
rest in better comfort. It was where Bulma was now, sitting on the edge
of the bed. She was holding one of his hands and stroking the short
bristles along his scalp while she examined his features for any sign
of consciousness. Vegeta's face was relaxed and that only seemed to
worry her more. Even in sleep, his face usually contained some degree
of tension but right now, it was alarmingly slack. He looked young and
defenseless, his small frame almost lost in the king sized bed and it's
affluent covers.

In a voice very different from her usual excited rush, the
heiress said bleakly; "He should have woken up by now."

At a loss as to what degree of comfort was expected from him, the
huge alien could only offer; "He was dead. I think his condition is an
improvement, don't you?"

"Something's wrong," Bulma insisted, raising her clear blue eyes
to the brooding figure standing over her. "I don't have any powers and
even I can sense that much. What aren't you telling me, Piccolo?"

"Bulma-"

"What do you know?"

"I don't know anything!" Piccolo snapped. "But, I have
suspicions..."

"Please tell me."

"Part of Dende's training to replace Kami requires extensive
study into Earth's composition. That includes all aspects of geography,
geology, chemistry- Basically imagine an entire repository of knowledge
housed in one singular being- That is the role that Kami plays to this
world."

"I didn't know that. Go on," Bulma urged.

"Dende has developed a powerful symbiotic relationship to the
essence that this world radiates. If something is foreign or alien, he
can sense it almost immediately." Staring down at the Saiyan's still
form, Piccolo collected his thoughts on the matter for a long moment.
"Whatever it was that poisoned Vegeta, it was not some naturally
occurring chemical. Dende said that it reeked of alien tampering."

Bulma's eyes grew very wide. "Could he identify it at all?"

Piccolo's face grew as hard as stone. Finally, he decided to drop
the bombshell; "Dende said that the taint reminded him of Frieza."

Sucking in a quick breath, Bulma appeared about to scream before
the Namek cut in, "He couldn't be specific. It could be nothing-"

"Nothing?! Look at him! Do you honestly think something on Earth
could cripple him this badly?"

Casting a darting glance at Vegeta, Piccolo said nothing. He
didn't have to.

"Frieza," Bulma hissed. That one name was the epitome of
everything wrong that had happened between her and Vegeta up to this
very point. The tyrant was responsible for torturing the Saiyan until
he was a nightmarish copy of his tormentor. He had erased a personality
that might have been open to concepts of love and friendship and family
and replaced it with only cruelty and hatred. Even from hell, the
creature haunted Vegeta's dreams and dictated his actions, nearly
driving the Saiyan mad from the strain of trying to cope. Now, it
seemed as if he had managed to find a way to bring his favorite toy
back into his perverted embrace...

"Even from the grave, he's found a way to get back at you," she
whispered, caressing Vegeta's pale cheek as she struggled with tears.

"I don't understand how that's possible," Piccolo muttered.

"A microscopic pellet implanted in his brain. A manufactured DNA
sequence timed to release at a certain date. Who knows? What's done is
done..." Bulma said forlornly. "I want to be left alone with him."

"Bulma, if-when he wakes up, he might not-"

"Please. Just for a little while."

Struggling between his duty and friendship, Piccolo found himself
unable to look away from the entreaty etched in those wide, cerulean
eyes. The emotion visible there was huge and inexpressible, the
sensation he felt was similar to drowning.

All of her soul is exposed to the world without hesitation, with
no thought of consequence, Piccolo realized in that instant. This is
what draws Vegeta to her like a moth to a flame. She replaces what he
lacks, making them complete in virtually all aspects. Her, the passion.
He, the power. Together, they are an unstoppable union of wills and
strengths. All this time, I thought Gohan was the sole person capable
of keeping Vegeta in check. Little did I know that person was Bulma all
along...

"I'll be right outside," the Namek said at last.

Bulma watched the huge alien leave the room and close the door.
Through burning eyes, she maintained her bedside vigil and kept all of
her attention trained solely on the person beside her. "None of this
makes any sense," she said raggedly. "You've been suffering for months
and you never told a soul. I don't understand why, Vegeta? Is your
pride so important that you would die before asking for help from me?
Do you hate me that much?"

She scrubbed at the tears on her face with a tattered Kleenex.
"But you came to help Trunks when no one asked you to. You rescued me
from that horrible man! Actions have always meant more to you than
words. You wouldn't have helped us if you didn't care."

Leaning over him, she examined every pore of his face. "I know
that you love me, Vegeta," she whispered, as if sharing a deep secret.
"You think that admitting it will make you weak but it's already your
greatest strength. I wish I could make you understand that. When you
wake up, we're going to have a long talk. Can you wake up for me now?
Please? You're scaring me."

Encouraged by past fairytales where perhaps she could rouse her
sleeping Prince, Bulma placed her lips over his own and kissed him.
There was no miraculous reaction to the innocuous gesture. No change in
his slow breathing. With a sob, she laid her forehead against his and
let her tears fall on his pale cheeks. "Come back to me, Vegeta," she
whispered. "This can't be how it ends for us, I won't allow it. You
have to come back. Please-" She lost her battle with her grief and
succumbed to heart-wrenching sobs that shook her entire body. Burrowing
her face into the blankets, her tears soaked the fabric while the
Saiyan prince slumbered on, oblivious.

Watching all of this through a crack in the door, Piccolo pulled
it closed and gave the pair their privacy. He was a conflicted mess of
emotions and was genuinely at a loss as to how to cope with them. Kami
had endowed the younger Namek with very few personal traits when he had
chosen to divide his essence and give his double the burden of his own
negativity. All that Piccolo had known were darkness and evil. It
wasn't until decades later that Gohan had managed to break through that
wall of rage and open it to more honorable assets. Combining with Nail
on Namek had reinforced that sense of honor and dedication and his
final reuniting with Kami had brought everything full circle. Gone was
the Namek dedicated to destruction and in his place was a being that
was the repository of three completely different souls. The tender
scene between Bulma and Vegeta invoked sensations of inexplicable
sadness and vulnerability that he was ill prepared to handle. There was
only one person he could turn to for guidance.

As he stepped out of the palace to look for Gohan, his sharp
senses caught traces of familiar ki. He submerged a grumble of
displeasure when he opened the doors and saw that Yamcha and Tien had
joined the boy, Dende and Mr. Popo at the foot of the stairs. There was
no doubt that Vegeta's agonizing transformation into Super Saiyan had
tripped everybody's mental radar and made them come running.

"Is it true?" Yamcha asked as Piccolo walked down the stairs.
"Vegeta was poisoned?"

"It appears so," the Namek said neutrally. "Bulma is with him
now."

The young warrior immediately turned to enter the palace and the
alien snatched hold of his upper arm with a grip of steel. "I don't
need to remind you what happened the last time you interfered between
those two," Piccolo was almost snarling and Yamcha's face went visibly
pale at the sight. "Be a friend to her in this crisis, if you must, but
try nothing more. I'm warning you."

Sputtering with embarrassment, Yamcha tried to get his arm free
with no success. "I'm not going to try and seduce her! I've made my
peace with their relationship. I just want to comfort my friend, that's
all."

Glowering down at him, Piccolo finally released his hold and
stepped back. Casting him one more wary look, Yamcha briefly massaged
his arm and then went into the palace without another word. Before any
of the others could make any comment, the Namek spoke up; "Gohan, you
have to go home and confront your mother. Tell her and the Briefs what
has happened and return here, if she'll let you."

"Not much luck there," the boy muttered distinctly. By the time
he returned to Capsule Corporation, his raging mother would probably
wrap him in chains. "But I'll try get back as soon as I can."

Offering one curt nod of acknowledgement, Piccolo watched his
protégé take to the air and speed off in a westward course. His solemn
gaze then slid over to Tien, who had been steadily glaring at him ever
since he had stepped outside. "What's on your mind?"

"Vegeta was dead," the immense human retorted. "Why didn't the
two of you let him stay that way?" Tien turned his accusing gaze to
Dende, who recoiled in shock.

"He was not yet lost to the afterlife," the little Namek was
trying to explain. "There was still a salvageable essence for me to
work with-"

"That's not what he's talking about," Piccolo cut in. He directed
his ebony regard to the human and asked, "You still hate Vegeta that
much?"

"Yes," Tien responded, there was no denying it.

"Enough to let your hatred ruin a family and doom the future?"

While the large fighter visibly faltered with that cryptic
statement, Piccolo chose to hammer away at his indecision. "Vegeta was
not the Saiyan who killed either you or Chiaotzu. Your battle is with
Nappa but because he's dead, your rage is focused on his companion.
It's a senseless feud that has to end right here and now."

"Vegeta ordered him to-to-"

"Vegeta gave Nappa free rein to do what he wanted. For the most
part, he stood back and just watched the fighting. Chiaotzu sacrificed
himself in a poorly orchestrated move that only made Nappa angrier. You
died because you retaliated out of grief. Vegeta had nothing to do with
your incompetence or either of your deaths."

Tien's eyes narrowed into spiteful slits. "I see that you aliens
all have some sort of support group. Isn't that cozy. Since when did
you become Vegeta's advocate?"

"That's not an easy question to answer. However, Mirai Trunks
has returned to his timeline and Bulma has no ki for a proper defense.
I guess that leaves me. You're going to have to deal with it."

"One murderous alien bent on the destruction of Earth, protecting
another," Tien ground out from between clenched teeth. "I shouldn't be
surprised."

"I thought that you had forgiven me for my past sins."

"... I have but-"

"But Vegeta is not worthy of the same respect?"

"He's different."

"In what way? How many times did I fight you as the Demon King?
How much damage did I cause over all of those years? Vegeta was on
Earth less than three hours the first time he came here. After that, he
fought along side of us as an ally."

"Is that what you call it!?!" Tien shouted back in frustration.
"On Namek, he only allied with you so that he could take Frieza's place
and get his damned immortality. He never fought with us against the
Androids; it was just him showing off his stupid Super Saiyan
transformation. He even let Cell reach his complete state to satisfy
his own morbid curiosity. He's always caused more harm than good. You
should have made sure he stayed dead, Piccolo!"

"It's not so cut and dry as that and you know it!" The Namek
growled, on the edge of serious anger now. "He repented just before he
died on Namek. If he hadn't implanted the concept of the Super Saiyan
into Gokou's psyche, Gokou might never have made that ascension to
defeat Frieza. If he hadn't come back to Earth and fathered Trunks,
this debate would be moot because we would all be dead by now! Vegeta
has made many mistakes but he tries in his own way to make up for them.
He ultimately aided Gohan to finally destroy Cell when the rest of us
were powerless. How convenient that you should ignore that truth!"

Tien appeared to absorb that information and Piccolo felt a
glimmer of hope that his words had been accepted until the fighter
grumbled peevishly, "He should have died during the Cell Games instead
of Gokou."

"Gokou had the option of coming back. He declined. Vegeta's own
time is coming but this was not it, Tien."

Catching a hidden double meaning behind those words, the human
frowned at him. "What are you trying to say?"

"I was content to let him pass into the afterlife but it was Kami
who roused me to the potential consequences if he were to die
prematurely. Apparently, Vegeta has a destiny that has not yet been
fulfilled."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tien yelled.

Crossing his arms, Piccolo submerged his growing displacency
towards the human with difficulty. "Your mind is closed to everything
but your own hate. Think on what we've said and maybe, just maybe, we
will talk when you are more receptive."

"Piccolo, I want to know what you meant- Piccolo!" Before Tien's
eyes, the Namek tucked his legs underneath of him and assumed a
meditative pose, purposely tuning him out. Not appreciating the slight,
the fighter turned to Dende for guidance only to find that that little
alien was quickly walking away with Mr. Popo, trying not to be too
obvious about it.

Releasing an exhale of breath, Tien walked to the edge of the
Lookout and stared out at the faultless sky. The words that Piccolo had
spoken weighed heavily on his mind. He closed his eyes and reluctantly
started to sort through some of the mess as best that he could. None of
it was easy. When he had sensed Vegeta's transformation four hours ago,
the only thought that came to mind was that the Saiyan was up to no
good. It had never even dawned on him that there could be another
reason for it. Even when he had witnessed the alien's sacrifice to his
stricken son, he had figured some darker motive behind the act.

'It's a senseless feud that has to end right here and now',
Piccolo cautioned him.

Yes, Tien mused sensibly. Perhaps it does.

>>>>>

As urgent as the news was that he had to relate to his mother and
the Briefs, Gohan was not rushing himself. He was, in fact, taking his
sweet time as he tried desperately to come up with some excuse that
might possibly placate his mother's chronic instability. "Look, mom, it
was dark and I don't like to travel at night so I thought that I'd
crash at- at-" Vegeta's place? That would only incense her further! "I
was lonely and wanted to go visit Vegeta-" Heck, at that rate he might
as well just break down and tell her the truth; "Mom, I was getting
woodies in my sleep and scared until Vegeta showed me some porn and
told me how to jerk off. I'm feeling much better now, really-"

Nothing like giving your pregnant mother a major heart attack!

All of this was preying heavily on the youth's mind. So much, in
fact, that he almost collided with Krillin who was hovering midair,
obviously waiting for him.

"Whoa!" The small fighter cried, barely ducking to the side as
the boy rushed past. "Hey Gohan! What's going on?"

"Oh Krillin, it's a mess," Gohan said, coming back to the other
man's side. "I ran away from home to go visit Vegeta and things have
just gone downhill from there..." He wiped his eyes with the back of
his sleeve and looked away, embarrassed to show his tears.

Very gently, his friend reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
"Tell me," he urged. He could see that the son of his best friend was
terribly distraught but he was unprepared for the story that followed,
or its tragic conclusion. "Vegeta really died?!"

"Dende brought him back but there's still something wrong," Gohan
managed to get out between sniffs. "It was much worse then we thought,
Krillin. We all figured that Vegeta just got into a fight-"

"-Golly, how could we ever have made that mistake?" The bald
fighter teased, rolling his eyes dramatically.

"Krillin!"

"Sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood."

"... Vegeta had a bunch of scars on his back from gunfire," Gohan
said bluntly. "There was a poison in his system that was feeding off of
his ki. He's been in agony for the last few months. It's no time for
jokes!"

"Sorry, Gohan," he said again. "So, how's he doing now?"

"He won't wake up. Nobody knows what to do."

"Has anyone gone to see Korin?" Krillin asked. When Gohan blinked
at him, he continued, "Well, Vegeta can get down a Senzu bean now.
Maybe that will finish up the healing that he needs."

Very slowly, the boy shook his head. "We used the last ones at
the Cell Games, remember? It takes a year for Korin to grow a new crop
and it's only been six months."

Lost in thought for a moment, Krillin shrugged, "It wouldn't hurt
to go check anyway. You heading home?"

"Yeah," the boy admitted. "I'd sooner battle Cell again then face
my mom right now. She's gonna be pissed."

Krillin did a double take. "She's -what?!"

This time it was Gohan's turn to apologize. "Sorry. I spent the
night listening to Vegeta talk. The swearing... sort of rubs off on
you."

"You better watch it or your mother is going to have the entire
soap aisle in your mouth," the bald fighter said with bewilderment. He
wasn't sure what was odder; that the boy was adopting the
characteristics of his father's nemesis or the fact that Vegeta had
actually entertained the youth.

"I don't doubt it," Gohan said. "I have to get going. Every
minute I spend stalling just makes it worse."

"Sure, Gohan. I'll go check with Korin and then I'll go see how
Vegeta is doing. You coming back?"

The boy nodded. "If I'm still alive."

Krillin burst out laughing and, at the infectious sound, the boy
had to betray a small smile. "Just be humble, tell the truth and don't
give Chi Chi any back-talk. Remember, I've known her longer than you
have. Just let her scream herself out, she'll quickly come around."

"Right! Thanks Krillin." The boy started powering up for a hasty
flight home.

Tapping his bottom lips with his finger, the smaller fighter
added, "Of course, it might help to duck..."

"Why?"

"I used to be six feet tall until I went up against your mother,"
Krillin said and added a quick wink to the joke.

Laughing out loud, Gohan passed him a wave and sped off, heading
back to the Western Capital. The expression of good humor quickly left
Krillin's youthful features once the boy was out of sight. Like the
others, he had felt the blazing wave of pain rip through his mind that
carried Vegeta's ki signature and was compelled to see what all of the
fuss was about. He couldn't believe how badly things had gotten; first
Trunks, now this. Bulma was probably in hysterics over the situation
and needed her friends support in this crisis. Without a second's
hesitation, he powered up his ki and headed for Korin's Place.

Behind him, carefully maintaining a distance of several
kilometers, another individual was in deliberate pursuit.

>>>>>

Shifting his weight on his feet, Yamcha tried to submerge a yawn
and had to bite down on it before he was detected. Beside him, Bulma
was concentrating all of her attention on the comatose Saiyan and
completely ignoring the fighter. Several times, Yamcha had tried to
engage her in conversation and got back only monosyllabic responses. It
wasn't what he had expected with his arrival. There was always a part
of him that hoped for some miraculous reunion between them. Bulma's
fling with Vegeta had been well over a year ago but damned if she still
wasn't pining away for him, struggling with tears over a masochistic
alien who couldn't be bothered to give her the time of day.

It really WAS true, Yamcha brooded. Nice guys DID finish last.

The reasons behind his animosity towards the alien were different
than Tien's but by no means less potent. Until the Saiyans had come to
Earth, he had never lost a fight before. By his side, had been the most
beautiful, richest and smartest woman on the entire planet and she had
loved him with all of her heart and soul. He had been one of the
strongest fighters alive. Within three years, he had lost his life, his
love and his dignity and it was all because of Vegeta. How could he NOT
hate the man?

Sure, he had made his piece with the situation. If he didn't want
to die again, he pretty much had to. Vegeta could kill him with his
little finger if he so desired and the both of them knew it. The real
question was; would he? Everyone had feared that once the Saiyan made
the ascension to Super Saiyan he would become as credible a threat as
Cell. For a short while, it actually seemed possible that would happen.
Then Cell had killed Mirai Trunks and Vegeta had gone berserk from
grief, displaying a side of his personality that none of them could
have fathomed. Years earlier, Yamcha had caught a glimpse of that
emotion when he had been on the receiving end of a Gallic Gun blast. He
had been spared and had never forgotten the reason why.

'Consider it a gift. For HER. It'll be the only one I'll ever
give', Vegeta had told him.

At the time, Yamcha had considered it a fluke. The Saiyan had
been hurt, weakened for some unknown reason and the sole recipient of
Bulma's affections. The fighter knew intimately how infectious her love
could be; it was almost like a drug that addicted every pore until she
was the only thing that mattered in the entire universe. Even now,
there was a part of Yamcha that yearned for her, and probably always
would. They had both lost their virginity in each others embrace and
had dated exclusively for over ten years. He still loved her but now he
had to have the maturity to step back and let her love another.

But he didn't have to like it.

"Bulma," he said at last. "It's getting late. You should go home
and get some rest."

Managing a numb shake of her head, Bulma mumbled, "I'm not
leaving him."

"There's Trunks to consider. He needs his mother."

"I-I don't-" Bulma suddenly remembered how receptive the babe had
been to Vegeta's thoughts and sat up with a gasp. How had Trunks
reacted to his father's death? What was he doing now? "Oh god!" She
cried and dug into her purse for her portable vidphone, dialing the
numbers for home with a trembling finger. It barely rang once before it
was picked up.

"!!BULMA!!" Her mother screamed into the tiny screen. The
blonde's face was a mess of smeared mascara where haphazard tracks down
either cheek. For the first time in her life, she actually looked her
age. "Gohan just got here and told us the news- It's horrible! Just
horrible!"

Bulma was wincing but it wasn't just from listening to her
distraught mother babble on. In the background, Chi Chi was yelling at
Gohan and behind that racket was another sound that the heiress
immediately recognized. As she suspected, Trunks was reacting to all of
the stress the only way that he could and his voice contained an almost
hysterical pitch. He was actually screeching. It wasn't a sound that
Bulma had ever heard before. "Mom, what's wrong with Trunks? I can hear
him crying!"

Dazed, the usually good-natured woman blinked in confusion as she
listened to the infant's distress. "He's been like this for hours,
Bulma. I-I don't know what to do!"

"I'm coming home, mom. Everything's going to be alright..."

"Vegeta?"

"He-he hasn't woken up yet."

Mrs. Briefs resumed her weeping and scrubbed her eyes with her
manicured hands. When she raised her face again, she looked like a
bewildered raccoon. "Oh, that poor, poor man! Hasn't he suffered enough
already?"

"I'll be home soon," Bulma managed to get out between the woman's
hysterical sobs and shut off the phone. She got to her feet and paused
long enough to run her fingers along the short spikes of the Saiyan's
hair. "I have to leave. I'm sorry," she whispered and kissed Vegeta's
cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"I'll take you," Yamcha offered. "You shouldn't pilot a hoverjet
in your condition."

Distracted by her feelings for the Saiyan and her duty to her
child, Bulma said vacantly, "Someone has to watch him-"

"Piccolo and Tien are here. They can take turns. He won't be left
alone."

The heiress didn't budge. It worried her that if Vegeta woke up,
his first sight would be one of the immense fighters looming over him.
He would probably be disorientated and didn't need anymore excitation
then what he had already endured. "He might panic if he sees either of
them standing over his bed. He and Tien have a mutual loathing and
Piccolo well, he's intimidating at the best of times," she reasoned.
"Gohan is still at Capsule Corporation, so that doesn't leave anyone
else-"

"How about me?" Krillin piped up, poking his head through the
door.

Yamcha's face brightened. He had been about to reluctantly
volunteer to baby-sit the Saiyan, for Bulma's piece of mind and now saw
a way out of that responsibility. "You heard what happened?"

"Yeah, I ran into Gohan on my way over here," the former-monk
responded. He walked over to Bulma and took one of her hands, "I'm
sorry that this happened. I stopped off at Korin's Place hoping that he
had a new crop of Senzu beans ready. No luck. There were two that were
nearing maturity but Yajirobi ate them because he had really bad gas."

"It's alright, Krillin," she said absently, doubting that it
would have made any difference anyway. If Frieza had truly been the
source of the debilitating poison, she figured that the tyrant would
have made the affliction immune to terrestrial healing methods. "I have
to get home. Can you watch Vegeta while I'm gone? It won't be for very
long."

"Sure, no prob," the small fighter said with an easy grin. He sat
himself down in the chair beside the bed and laced his fingers behind
his bald head. "Should I just talk about stuff or sing for him?"

At first, the question didn't dawn on Bulma. She was too
distracted and had to puzzle it out for a moment while Yamcha actually
groaned. Krillin's off-pitch singing could make dogs run for cover. The
thought of Vegeta waking up to that racket brought a well-deserved
smile to her pale features. "I just want him to recover- Not be deaf!
Just go ahead and talk."

"Like you need any help with that," Yamcha quipped as the pair
headed for the door and let themselves out.

With a wounded expression on his face, Krillin sniffed and looked
away. "Nobody appreciates my talents," he said aloofly.

>>>>>

The Headquarters building was utter pandemonium by the time
Yamcha touched down on the third floor balcony with Bulma in his arms.
Through the partially closed patio doors, they could hear Chi Chi still
raving on about Gohan's poor conduct and Trunks' inconsolable
screaming. When they stepped into the living room, Mrs. Briefs was
sprawled out on the sofa in a grey faint and Chi Chi had cornered her
son and was brandishing an erect finger in his face like a dagger. In
the center of the room, Trunks was in his playpen while Dr. Briefs was
trying to console him by waving a stuffed toy in his face. The old
man's hair was completely disheveled and when he spotted Bulma, he
actually appeared close to tears. "Thank God you're here, daughter-"

"Bulma's here?" Mrs. Briefs threw off the magazine that covered
her face and struggled to sit up. On the far side of the room, Gohan
was visibly grateful for the timely diversion as his mother paused to
catch her breath.

Ignoring all of them, Bulma swept her son up in her arms and
pulled him close. Grabbing fistfuls of blue hair in his tiny fists,
Trunks' wails became fretful sobs as he shuddered against his mother.
"Ow! Veh-Vehta...Ow!" He whimpered forlornly. "OwOwVetaOwOwOwwww-!"

"I know, hon, I know. It's going to be okay now. I'm here," Bulma
soothed as best she could.

"That's all he's said for hours!" Her father said. "The same
thing: 'Vegeta-Ow', over and over."

It was just as she feared. The babe had sensed Vegeta's pain and
had channeled it through his tiny frame. It must have been terrifying.
"Mommy's here, Trunks. Please don't cry."

Everyone was standing around the stricken pair and it took long
moments for the infant to recover from the trauma and succumb to his
exhaustion. His sobbing passed into a fit of hiccups and he finally
fell into a troubled doze, his tiny frame shivering against her. Bulma
stroked the boy's head, much like she had with Vegeta earlier and
kissed his heated brow. "I'm going to put him to bed. I'll be back down
as soon as he's settled," she said wearily and began the slow ascent of
the staircase.

"Vegeta still hasn't reached consciousness," Yamcha told them in
a low voice. "Krillin is watching him-"

"The attack on the airport is all over the news," Chi Chi cut in.
"What happened?"

Once away from the Lookout, Bulma had been more receptive in
fielding Yamcha's endless stream of questions. To help pass the time,
she had told him everything that had happened. "Bulma was getting
letters from a blackmailer who was threatening to expose her
relationship with Vegeta to the public. It was the doctor from the
Hammorski Plaza. He had video tapes of them together."

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" Dr. Briefs thundered.

"Bulma wanted to handle it on her own. To be honest, we really
didn't take it all that seriously, at first-"

"Wait a minute," Chi Chi snapped. "You knew about this?"

Swallowing, Yamcha realized that he should have omitted that
little tidbit. "Uhm... yeah, but only the first letter. I didn't know
he had contacted her again. Bulma didn't tell anyone that she was going
to meet him face to face at the airport this morning."

"If she didn't say anything, how did Vegeta know?" Mrs. Briefs
asked in a hushed, excited voice.

"I don't know," Yamcha admitted and couldn't understand why Gohan
was wincing or why Chi Chi was glaring at him.

"That was my fault," the boy spoke up when the tense silence
stretched on. "I stole some papers from Bulma's secretary that had
Vegeta's new address in them. The letters from the blackmailer must
have been in the envelope, too."

"Running away, playing hooky and stealing," Chi Chi hissed. "You
are in sooo much trouble, young man!"

Passing the youth a sympathetic glance, Yamcha continued, "The
blackmailer had a gun drawn on Bulma when Vegeta intercepted them. He
killed the guy and then died in her arms."

That roused Mrs. Briefs into a fresh barrage of tears. "Like a
knight in shining armor rushing to a damsel's aid. That's just like
Vegeta-"

"How did he die? Was he shot?" Dr. Briefs asked soberly.

Not that time, Yamcha wanted to say but it would only create more
questions that he had no answers for. "From what I understand, he had
some sort of a brain hemorrhage. He died from a stroke."

Four faces stared back at him in stunned silence, their faces
slack with disbelief. Yamcha knew what they must have been thinking.
Vegeta, the prince of a warring race of aliens who had the power to rip
apart the very fabric of space, struck down by a mortal ailment.
"Apparently, a poison was in his system that's been feeding on his
brain. Dende said that it's been going on for months."

Absently rubbing his moustache, Dr. Briefs mused, "Bulma was
concerned by his prolonged disappearance. Could he have been captured
by someone?"

Chi Chi huffed, "I find that hard to-"

"There were a lot of bullet wounds on his back," Gohan
interrupted.

"Automatic gun fire? That's a soldiers weapon," Bulma's father
offered. "Didn't he assume the identity of a soldier?"

"Yeah, Corporal Garth Tucker," the youth said.

"It seems all too coincidental, doesn't it?" Yamcha mused. While
everybody started to debate the issue, Mrs. Briefs slipped away to go
check on her daughter. The direction of the conversation was really
over her head and nobody noticed it when she went upstairs.

Stepping down the corridor towards the nursery, she saw that the
door was partially open and the light was on. Peering inside, her
expression of tension finally gave way to one of relief.

Sitting in the rocking chair beside the crib, Bulma was fast
asleep with Trunks in her arms. The boy was dozing peacefully in the
protective embrace of his mother and there was a hint of a contented
smile on his chubby features. Loosely clasped in one hand, Bulma was
holding onto her small vidphone. Without hesitation, Mrs. Briefs gently
pulled the communicator out of her weak grip and slid it into her own
pocket.

"My babies need their sleep," she whispered, smiling down at them
with her heart surging with enormous love. After a few moments, she
left the room and closed the door on the sleeping pair.

>>>>>

"-Buh-Buh-Buh Bad to the Bone,
Buh-Buh-Buh Bad to the Bone,
Ohhhhhh, yeah, baby!
I'm Bad to the Bone!"

Krillin was air-guitaring at the foot of Vegeta's bed and
steadily working through his repertoire of barely remembered Rock n'
Roll songs. It was late at night, or early in the morning depending on
one's perspective, and the little fighter was bored.

In the beginning, he had sat beside Vegeta's bed and talked for
hours about inconsequential matters- His life as a monk, his friendship
with Gokou and their past adventures. Finally, he decided to broach the
subject that involved the both of them personally.

"You were out of control when you first showed up. I mean, sure,
at first you just stepped back and let Nappa have his fun beating the
crap out of us while you laughed your ass off. But when Gokou showed
up, that's when you showed your true colors." Krillin paused and
examined the Saiyan's face for any hint of expression. "Nothing stopped
you during that fight; not the Kamehameha or the Spirit Bomb. Even
Gohan falling on you and breaking every bone in your body didn't kill
you. You were unstoppable and if it hadn't been for Gokou, I would have
slit your throat for sure." Taking a deep breath, the small man
realized that he had been keeping that dark knowledge pent up for
years. "I was raised to respect all life and not make harsh judgements
on the actions of others. But I hated you, Vegeta. You caused so much
pain and suffering to my friends that I wanted to see you dead." He
looked sadly down at his hands, which were shaking. "It wouldn't have
made me any better than you. I've never killed anything in my life. But
I caught an insight into how you must think and it changed me forever.
For better or worse, I'm a different man because of it."

Before he could betray his feelings further, the man jumped off
of the chair and from that point began singing. He had barely started
when Piccolo poked his head into the room and asked him just what the
hell he thought he was trying to accomplish. The small monk responded
that if his singing didn't wake up Vegeta, nothing could. Completely
flustered by the logic, the Namek left without another word.

That had been three hours ago and Krillin was showing no signs of
slowing down.

"For my next number, the Great Krillin is going to be singing a
selection of Celine Dion's popular songs, starting with the Titanic
soundtrack-" Krillin hesitated when he thought that he detected
movement out of the corner of his eye. "...Vegeta?"

Under the covers, the Saiyan's left foot twitched and he released
a low sound from his throat that resembled a moan. Rushing to his side,
Krillin watched as Vegeta's brows twitched and that indignant line
between his eyes returned with a vengeance.

"Vegeta! Can you hear me?" Krillin persisted. He wanted to get
Piccolo or Dende in here to witness this but didn't want to leave the
room for one second. He reached out to touch the Saiyan's forehead and
at the mere contact, Vegeta's eyes flew open and he sat up with a gasp.

"You're awake! Yippie!" Krillin began applauding and jumping up
and down in his excitement. "Oh man, this is great! Bulma's gonna freak
when she hears about this!"

Ignoring the raving midget, Vegeta looked down at himself in
shock, checking his arms and chest for wounds. The rich furnishings
around him were unfamiliar and he muttered under his breath, "Why
aren't I in my pod?" His eyes caught sight of his reflection in the
mirror on the far side of the room and his eyes widened almost
comically. "Son of a bitch!" He snarled, running his fingers through
the short spikes.

Still dancing, Krillin turned to look at him, his round face
flushed and beaming with happiness. "What was that, Vegeta? I didn't
catch what you said."

Baring his teeth in hatred, the Saiyan snarled out; "You should
have killed me with that sword when you had the chance, baldy."

The threat barely registered on the small fighter before the room
exploded.

>>>>>

I knew something like this might happen, Piccolo was thinking as
he rushed around the corner of the palace. Tien and Dende were
following close behind with Mr. Popo at the end, huffing and puffing
and gamely trying to keep up. The entire Lookout had shuddered with the
force of the explosion and the southern corner of the once-immaculate
palace was a smoldering ruin.

"Krillin!" Tien was shouting. "Damn it! That's what you get for
letting him sing, Piccolo!"

Flashing him a reproachful glare, the Namek made no comment. He
had feared that Vegeta's first seconds of consciousness might be
violent ones and it appeared as if poor Krillin had been on the
receiving end of it. Terrible singing voice aside, he didn't deserve to
be incinerated for the lapse.

The alien's fears were lessened when he caught sight of the
little monk struggling to rise from where the blast had thrown him out
of the palace. Singed clothing and a few scratches aside, he appeared
remarkably unscathed. Looking around in bewilderment, the man yelled at
the new arrivals in frustration; "Could somebody tell me what the heck
is going on?!"

Opening his mouth to speak, Piccolo turned sharply to confront
the other person stepping out of the smoke.

"Vegeta!" Tien started to step forward but Piccolo's arcane
senses began screaming cautions and he motioned the human back. "Just a
second, Tien. Something's not right..."

Bare chested, the Saiyan walked barefoot through the rubble of
the palace and haughtily examined the sparse surrounding features.
Blinking the smoke out of his stinging eyes, he looked up at the night
sky and frowned at the sight of unfamiliar constellations. As he
sniffed the air, he reflexively reached for the left-hand side of his
face, dropping his arm with a growl when he came away empty handed.

He was searching for a scouter, Piccolo realized, knowing full
well that the Saiyan hadn't worn one for years. "Vegeta!"

Swinging his head around, the Saiyan noticed them for the first
time and his eyes narrowed in immediate recognition. "The Namek and
Three-eyes... I thought Nappa finished off you losers for good."

"What the hell are you talking about-" This time Piccolo brought
an elbow back into Tien's solar plexus and silenced him for the moment.
"Vegeta, what's the last thing you remember?" The Namek called out in a
level voice.

Vegeta stared at Krillin and adopted a livid sneer on his tense
features. "I remember this little shit was going to cut my throat until
Kakarrot stopped him."

"Uh oh," Tien wheezed as he massaged his aching breastbone. The
reason for the Namek's concern was becoming brutally clear. "Piccolo,
does that mean what I think it does?"

Not taking his eyes off of the Saiyan, the huge alien offered one
curt nod. "The damage to his mind wasn't to his power but to his
memory. Tien, he believes that this is still his first visit to earth."
Piccolo had to submerge a tremor of apprehension that swept up his
spine. It was his absolute worst fear come true.

With the speed of a rattlesnake, Vegeta caught a hold of
Krillin's collar and hefted him up until they were eyelevel. "I told
you I'd be back to finish what I started, didn't I?"

"Veh-Vegeta-" Krillin stammered.

"This time, you're all going to die," Vegeta promised him and
threw his head back and started laughing.


--------------------------------------------------- -----
Chapter Thirteen: Vegeta decides to pick up where he last left off!