Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unlikely Bond ❯ Practice ( Chapter 52 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters! If I did, the anime would never end and GT would have never happened!

Story notes: This takes place ten years after the Buu saga. The only differences I can think of is that the whole thing with the world tournament in the last episode never happened and Goku didn't leave to train Uub. I wouldn't count on anything from the movies being part of this story's time line either, 'cause I haven't seen them all and they usually don't fit into the show's time line anyway. Especially that Broly crap. Vegeta cried through, like, that whole movie! That certainly didn't happen in this story....but, that's a different rant altogether. Hope you enjoy!

PLEASE heed warning in story description!! If you missed it, this story is not for children! It is also not for people who do not like stories that contain elements of violence, strong language, adult situations, references to sex and sexual activity between men and women, and men and other men. Oh, and fictional alien men having babies...'cause that's a'happen' here folks...

To my wonderful, wonderful beta-reader, Rowina: Thank you, thank you....thank you... ^-^

PLEASE be warned. This chapter contains a depiction of violent, non-consentual sex. If things of that nature bother you, you can skip the italicized portion in the middle of the chapter that is contained between the three astrisks. (***)


Goku lay uncomfortably on the table in Bulma’s office, staring up at the ceiling and willing away the pain in his lower back. He supposed he wasn’t actually in pain so much as severe discomfort, but at this point he was too exhausted to care for the difference.

In the several weeks following his baby shower, he was shocked to find that he could actually still be getting bigger. Almost all normal activities were becoming difficult, and he was beginning to feel as though the only activity he may ever have any interest in again was sleeping. Eating was even becoming less enjoyable as he was plagued with frequent bouts of killer heartburn.

On the other hand, he was having much better luck in his friendship with Vegeta. With some reluctance, Vegeta would participate in conversations with him, but by the time they would part ways for the day, the prince seemed rather at ease with his company. Vegeta still showed little desire to speak about himself, but he did comment on his general experiences and even questioned Goku about his own. All in all, Goku was far from wanting to complain about things.

“Looking good, Goku.” Bulma smiled at him, setting his chart on the side table. Goku grimaced.

“You mean that figuratively, I take it,” he grumbled, wearily rubbing his ever growing belly.

Bulma shook her head, giving his abdomen a soothing rub as well.

“You are beautiful,” she replied. “Impending parenthood always is.”

“Bulma, I’m the size of a bus.” Bulma laughed off his statement, helping him to sit. Goku gave a grunt of discomfort and continued to scowl.

“Our estimates tell us,” Daikkon spoke, “that you have 4 to 6 weeks remaining in your gestation.”

“It’s not long now,” Bulma added. Daikkon gave a nod of agreement. Goku was quiet as he considered that point.

“And... and then what?” he asked, unsure if he wanted the answer. “I mean, what is the plan?”

Bulma took a deep breath as she sat on the examining table at his side.

“We wait for you to go into labor,” she explained. Goku closed his eyes for a moment before opening them and continuing to listen. “Once you do, Daikkon and I will track your progress and closely monitor your vital signs.” Daikkon picked up the explanation from there.

“Once the labor process has progressed to the second stage, with the complete opening of the macogestum, we will make the incision through which your child will be born.”

Bulma couldn’t help but notice Goku’s skin had paled, but he was becoming better at sitting through these kinds of talks. She placed a hand on his knee.

“And then you finally get to hold your baby, Goku,” she said with a smile. “Finally.”

Goku managed a smile in return.

“Will there be anything you can do for the pain?” he asked. “I mean, I’ve been through worse, I suppose... When Piccolo shot me an’ Radditz through the chest, that was pretty painful...And when Vegeta was in Oozaru form, he crushed my ribs and broke my legs...” His tone was almost wistful. “So, yeah. I’ve seen pain, but that was in battle, pumped full of adrenaline, not strapped to a table in a cold lab.”

“It will be heated,” Bulma teased. Daikkon answered his question.

“You will probably have a lot of adrenaline in your system during the labor as well,” he spoke plainly. “And you will have far too much pain from the contractions to notice an incision through so little flesh. Remember, as the abdomen swells in the later weeks of labor, the muscle is pulled where it is separated by the mouth of the macogestular sack and the fatty tissue thins, allowing for a clean cut with very little blood loss. It will be nothing that you cannot handle, as a Saiyan.” Both Goku and Bulma looked disturbed by this answer.

“Uh... anyway,” Bulma added, “we’re not sure what side effects drugs might have, not only for the baby but also for the birthing process. So a spinal or something of that nature is right out. I can give you a local anesthetic, but I can’t guarantee that it will do much for you.”

Goku sighed heavily, but gave a nod of understanding.

“It’s nice to know that there is a plan,” he said.

“Of course there is!” Bulma exclaimed. “I told you I would take care of you! And I will!...” She stopped speaking a moment, a look of indecision crossing her face. Goku frowned.

“What?”

“Well...” she began again. “I... I don’t want to alarm you, but we need to talk about what we are going to do in the event that the delivery doesn’t go as smoothly as planned.”

Goku’s eyes widened considerably. Bulma held up her hands.

“No, don’t worry! Daikkon and I are both very competent doctors.” Goku turned to the younger Saiyan.

“I thought you just had basic medical training?” he asked in an accusatory manner. Daikkon appeared taken aback.

“Well, I have been studying, but her Highness does honor me with such confidence in my ability.”

Goku brought a hand to his eyes and groaned. Bulma was quick to continue.

“Listen, I do have a medical degree,” she assured him, but added in a slightly lower tone, “although I’ve never practiced.” Before Goku could react she continued: “Which is why I’d like your permission to partner with my obstetrician -- just in case.”

Her oldest friend looked weary, but nodded.

“I guess... your friends seem to be reliable so far. Are you sure you can trust him?”

Bulma nodded.

“Of course. Besides,” she continued, smiling in that self satisfied way she always had, “I have enough money to buy trust if I need to! It’s just a precaution. He might not even need to be involved, but if he does: he’s the best. An excellent doctor.”

Goku nodded again before sliding off the table. He wasn’t so sure he wanted an ‘outsider’ to touch his baby. Designing his clothes was one thing; this was something completely different.

“I haven’t told him anything yet,” Bulma told Goku. “But I’d like you to meet him at least once, and with your permission, I’ll bring him up to date on your condition.”

“Whatever you think is best for the baby, Bulma,” her friend replied somewhat tiredly. “That’s my main concern.”

“I do think it’s for the best,” she replied. “To have a doctor who is actually currently practicing and has experience with Saiyan hybrids, at least. He was there after Trunks was born, and he delivered Bulla.”

“If you trust him, I trust him,” he told her. “Like I said, your friends all seem pretty nice. Are we done for today?”

“All done.” She smiled. “What do you have planned for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Training,” he replied. “Watching Vegeta and the kids train... s'about it.”

“Sounds like fun.” she gave his arm a quick squeeze. “Have a good time.”

“I will. Bye. Bye, Daikkon.”

Daikkon gave a small incline of his head in reply before the tall Saiyan left the room.

Once the door was closed behind him, Bulma sighed.

“Problem, your Highness?” Daikkon asked, concerned.

“No.” Bulma collapsed into a nearby chair and pulled a cigarette pack from her pocket. She offered it to Daikkon, who declined, so she lit one up for herself. “I’m just worried about Goku.”

“His test results are all very good,” Daikkon assured her, looking down at Goku’s chart. “Mr. Goku is very resilient...”

Bulma smiled at him.

“I know that. I’m not worried about the physical part so much as the emotional part,” she clarified. “He’s exhausted and uncomfortable, not to mention worried about how much this will change his life. I mean, I remember when I had Trunks. As much as I wanted him, I was not prepared to be so worn out by the demands of such a small being... not to mention all of the feedings...” She shook her head. “I can’t think of anything that would make him feel like less like a man.”

Daikkon considered those words before speaking.

“I suppose. But that part of child rearing is such a small fraction of the total experience... I know I am not an authority on the subject, having no children myself -- let alone bearing any -- but I know Mr. Goku will find great comfort just in the child itself.”

“Of course he will,” she agreed. “Trunks was a great source of comfort for me in uncertain times...”

Daikkon smiled, but his expression contained a hint of sadness.

“My mother used to tell me, after my father died, that I was one of the only two things in the universe that gave her comfort. I was still a young child when he died, but I do remember that I resemble him a great deal.”

“That’s sweet,” Bulma remarked, “You two sound like you were very close.” Daikkon nodded but did not reply. Bulma cocked her head to one side. “What was the second thing?”

It was with reluctance that the young Saiyan spoke.

“That the rumors of Prince Vegeta’s escape from Frieza’s command might be true... even among so many reports of his demise... My mother never gave up hope that the Saiyan people would once again return to their former glory.”

Bulma was speechless. She stamped her cigarette out into a nearby tray before quickly lighting another.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, my lady,” he said quietly. Bulma shook her head, exhaling a puff of smoke so she could speak.

“It’s not that, really,” she began. “It’s just... weird hearing someone talking about Vegeta in a... I don’t know... I’m sorry for what your people have been through... I’m sorry that your planet is gone...”

Daikkon nodded in agreement.

“Yes. I would have loved to see our home world, but the Saiyan people are not extinct yet. There is hope in the children and the possibility that there are some Saiyans Horenz didn’t get to...”

Bulma looked out the lab window at the household section of the compound. Her children were the last of the Saiyan royal blood, except now, for Goku’s baby.

Was it possible that the Saiyan people could be revived? That Vegeta, or perhaps one of his children, would be called upon to rule once again?

Bulma sighed, rubbing a hand wearily across her eyes. No, she didn’t want to think about what it would take for Vegeta to assume that kind of responsibility. She wanted to focus instead on whether he could rise to the tasks of being the father that this new baby needed. She hoped that any remnants of his rivalry with Goku wouldn’t stand in his way of being the dad he knew he should have been for his older children, and that he could let go of the guilt he had because of the father he hadn’t been.

She had always known deep down under all of his venom and bravado, he was a decent man who had just been through too much. She accepted the fact that most sane and rational women would have abandoned him and given up under his abuse, but she didn’t want to be one more personwho let him down, one more person to validate the reasons for his anti-social behavior. The only person who never questioned her decision was her oldest friend. Maybe she was stupid to do so much in the name of ‘love,’ but someday the effort that she and Goku put into restoring Vegeta’s soul would certainly pay off.

“Your Highness?”

Daikkon’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she smiled at him, crushing her now expired cigarette into the tray.

“I’m sorry, Daikkon. I spaced out there for a bit.”

Daikkon smiled in return.

“Is there anything further you require of me?” he asked.

“No. Enjoy your afternoon.”

The Saiyan gave a bow before leaving her.

Bulma pulled herself from her chair and crossed the lab, stopping at the window to look out upon the compound. She was beginning to feel the jitters of expectant parenthood herself in these last few weeks. There really wasn’t much time left before the baby's birth.

How that event might change the world at Capsule Corp. was still uncertain.



“Stop! Stop, stop...”

Trunks and Goten halted in their battle, turning to where Vegeta was standing on the sidelines calling to them.

“Something wrong, Papa?” Trunks asked as Vegeta approached them.

“Not if you are fighting humans,” his father replied dryly. “But fighting humans will ever be a problem for even an untrained Saiyan.”

He pulled Goten aside.

“When you are fighting an opponent of superior strength --a Saiyan, Kolar, Zereph -- “ Goten and Trunks smiled at each other. Vegeta frowned. “You never know,” he said impatiently. “You have to account for their superior bone strength as well, and determine how to most effectively disable them.” He took hold of Trunks’ arm and positioned it in a defensive posture, pointing to a place on his joint. “A blow here, at this angle --” He mimicked a hit. “-- will shatter the elbow.”

The boys flinched.

“I don’t want to break his elbow!” Goten groaned.

“Every time you engage in battle with someone, you must fight as if you intend to completely incapacitate them. You do not worry about a spar escalating out of control. I will take care of that.”

Goten and Trunks still looked mortified by the thought of attacking each other so savagely.

“But what if I do shatter his elbow?” Goten asked.

Vegeta gave him a supportive clap on the back.

“That is what regen tanks are for,” he said. “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt as bad as it sounds.”

Trunks grimaced.

“You don’t say?”

Vegeta continued, ignoring the sarcasm.

“Remember the points of contact that we’ve talked about?”

Goten nodded, chanting:

“Jaw. Shoulder. Elbow. Knee and shin.”

“Right. Fight to win. It is the difference between the loss of your life and something that could be worse.”

“Like the loss of my manhood if I fight with Bulla!” the youngest teen exclaimed. Vegeta nodded gravely.

“Now, once more,” he instructed, turning to head back off the field. “You have to relearn what it was like to fight without being afraid of getting hurt.”

“Hey, Trunks,” Goten laughed as the two settled back into attack poses. “I know what you can make for your engineering class.”

“What’s that?” his friend inquired.

“A hovering bot that zooms in and dispenses morphine as needed!”

Vegeta shook his head, partially in amusement, partially in amazement at the boys' behavior. So unlike the exhilarating battles he used to share with Kakkarot.

As he approached the Saiyan, who was setting on the grass by the edge of the field, he felt a nostalgic pang for those old spars. He stopped at Goku’s side and turned toward the battle, but his eyes drifted down to the younger Saiyan who was writing in a book.

“What is that?” he asked casually, so as not to sound too interested. He could tell by the book’s design that it had something to do with babies.

“I’m writing in the baby book,” Goku replied. “There are spaces in here for things like: who was at the shower, what they brought...when I first felt a kick...how we met...”

Vegeta frowned, staring down at him.

“You’re going to write that?” he asked, stunned.

Goku shrugged, giving a wistful smile.

“It was one of my favorite battles...”

Vegeta gave a smirking smile at the response. It had been a life changing event. And now, looking back and with all things considered, there was no doubt it was a change for the better.

“There is also a place to write the names that you had picked out before the birth,” Goku continued, closing the book. “If it’s a girl, I like the name Lilia. But I’ll call her Lilly.”

Vegeta grimaced.

“Why not just name her Lilly?” he asked.

“Because I like both names,” the younger man replied. Vegeta shook his head and kept to himself that he felt the response was very female in nature. “But right now, I am writing about my checkup today. Bulma and Daikkon told me the final details about the delivery, and I’m feeling... anticipation...to put it lightly.”

“Bulma is performing the procedure?” Vegeta asked.

“So she says... with Daikkon’s help. And also the doctor that delivered Bulla, if the need arises.”

Vegeta grimaced.

“I don’t know who I trust less: Daikkon or that kook.”

Goku frowned, looking up at the prince.

“Why wouldn’t you trust Daikkon?” he asked. Vegeta was quiet a moment before responding.

“I don’t trust anyone,” he mumbled, staring out at the sparring field. “Except for a select few -- very, very few -- who have proven themselves worthy.”

“Well, I trust him,” Goku stated firmly. “You need to learn to tru -- ah!”

Vegeta felt every muscle in his body tense at the younger Saiyan’s exclamation of pain.

“What?” he asked, watching Goku sit stone still, a hand on his belly.

“It... it hurt for a second...” Goku said, sounding slightly stunned. “Not... bad pain but -- ow!” He scrambled to his feet, Vegeta assisting.

“Maybe it’s a muscle cramp?” Vegeta suggested, watching the look of concern on the other man’s face. Goku was silent, his hands on his stomach, waiting. Vegeta could have sworn his heart had ceased to beat in the stretch of silence.

“Oh!” Goku squatted down as another pulsing pain seized him. “Vegeta,” he said, his tone laced with panic, “it’s here. It hurts here.” He indicated his rounded stomach. “What should I do?”

“You are panicking,” Vegeta spoke seriously, squatting down at his side. “I’m sure it hurts less then you are imagining.” Goku was stunned by Vegeta’s words, and he looked at him in disbelief.

“What?!”

“It is only natural you would associate this pain so closely with fear. Don’t.” He turned to the field and barked at Trunks: “Boy! Come here!”

Goten and Trunks halted immediately, concern quick to register on their faces as they turned their attention to the sidelines. Both ran to Goku’s side.

“Dad! Are you okay?” Goten exclaimed, worried.

Goku was too occupied with the next pain to answer. Vegeta spoke to Trunks.

“Go to your mother and have her meet us at the lab.”

Trunks nodded in understanding before taking off to the sky, speeding in the direction of Capsule Corp.

“What can I do?” Goten addressed Vegeta this time.

“Stay close,” Vegeta advised. “Kakkarot, we’re going to the lab. Do you want to walk or to fly?”

The question got Goku’s attention.

“Um... “ He winced in pain before replying. “Fly... fly. I want to get there fast.”

Vegeta pulled Goku’s arm around his shoulders.

“Goten, stay on his right. Match my speed.”

“Gotcha.”

Goten did as instructed, supporting Goku on his right side as the three set to follow Trunks.

“I’m not ready for this...” Goku lamented. Goten looked over at Vegeta for some kind of reaction. The prince’s face showed nothing but determination, his eyes straight ahead.

“You're gonna be fine, Dad,” Goten spoke. “Just fine.”


Bulma looked down at her watch as the last few seconds ticked off to pass an hour. She looked up at Goku and raised an eyebrow.

“Still nothing.”

Goku frowned sheepishly, shaking his head.

“No...” he replied.

Daikkon wrote something down on Goku’s chart and handed it to Bulma. Bulma added her own notes before setting it aside.

“Well, my official declaration is Braxton Hicks contractions,” she said.

“What?” Goku asked, frowning. “That sounds familiar...”

“False labor,” she explained. “It can happen as early as the seventh month. It might happen several more times before you actually go into labor.”

“The Saiyan term for it is ‘sader,’” Daikkon stated.

Vegeta, who had been sitting silently by the window, turned to them.

“Practice?” he asked. “To rehearse?” Daikkon nodded.

“Yes, sire,” he replied. “The ‘herra sader’, or ‘labor rehearsal’ by the closet translation, is when the body begins readying itself for the birthing process or the ‘herra na’dan’.”

Vegeta frowned upon hearing this. The reaction intrigued Bulma and Goku.

“’Na’dan’ is a performance. A play,” he said testily. Daikkon answered in earnest.

“Yes, sire.” He turned to address the other two as well, as he explained. “Na’dan is taken from the Saiyan words ‘Nagar’ or great and ‘dan’ from a tale or story. Na’dans were performances, productions of clan history.”

“Like the Amek dan?” Bulma asked. Daikkon’s expression registered true joy at her interest.

“Yes! In Saiyan society, the Na-”

“If Kakkarot is well, we should let the boys know so they can stop pacing the hall,” Vegeta snapped, crossing to the door.

Bulma smiled apologetically at Daikkon before helping Goku to his feet.

“I would love to hear more about it when you have time, Daikkon,” she said.

“My knowledge is at your disposal,” he replied. “My time is yours to command.”

“I wish I could speak Saiyan,” Goku said, as Goten and Trunks rushed into the lab.

“Dad, are you okay?!” Goten asked, rushing to his father’s side.

“Yeah,” Goku assured, smiling at the young man, though his eyes moved to Vegeta. “I’m fine. Just muscle cramps.” Goten gave a great sigh of relief, dropping onto the table where his father had been.

“Well, that’s good to know!” He grinned. “I was kinda excited, thinking that the baby would come. But it’s early. I’ll be fine waiting.”

“Me, too!” Goku agreed.

“Well, the more time he stays in there, the better,” Bulma told them both. “Don’t worry, Goten; he’ll be here before you know it. Now, Goku, go home and rest. Get off your feet.”

“You want me to take you home, Dad?” Goten asked him. Before Goku could answer, Vegeta replied.

“Now that the pain has ceased, your father can travel under his own power. But I will see him safely there.”

Goten nodded before giving Goku a hug.

“See ya at home.”

“Okay.” Goku turned to Bulma and Daikkon. “Thanks for your concern... even though it was nothing.”

“No problem,” Bulma answered. “I foresee you being in here a few more times for the same thing.”

Goku grimaced at the idea.

“I hope not...” He said goodbye to them and followed Vegeta out of the building. The two men walked in silence until they were off of the Capsule Corp grounds.

“Why do you always interrupt Daikkon’s stories?” Goku asked abruptly, startling Vegeta with the topic.

“What?” the prince snapped automatically, even though he had heard him clearly.

“Daikkon’s stories,” Goku repeated. “Every time he starts to tell something interesting about Saiyan history or culture, you cut him off. I can’t place which irritates you most: the story or the man telling it.”

Vegeta scowled and remained silent as they walked. He had several answers, all along the same lines as: ‘Daikkon is not worthy to talk about the Saiyan people!’ or ‘It pains me to hear of the great Saiyan kind spoken of by someone who doesn’t know what it is to be a true Saiyan’...but none of them were true.

“It’s frustrating,” he admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked. “Neither Daikkon nor I were raised on our home planet, yet he knows so much more of our culture.” He could feel Kakkarot’s eyes on him, but he focused on the path ahead. “I am supposed to be the Saiyan leader, yet I am ignorant of our own kind because my father gave me away.”

Goku stopped in his tracks.

“He gave you away?” He balked at the very idea.

Vegeta sighed, stopping only to motion for Goku to continue with him.

“I am sure the exchange was a political decision. A show of trust between allies.” He shook his head. “Nappa used to try and tell me there was more to it than that, but I don’t believe it...”

“I’m sure there was, Vegeta,” Goku told him. “No parent would give away their child.”

The prince shrugged.

“It matters little now.”

“It obviously matters a lot, to affect you so much still,” Goku replied. “Enough to make you not want to hear about our history.”

Vegeta gave the taller Saiyan a sideways look. He wanted to deny that statement, but he could not.

“You carry such burdens, Vegeta,” Goku said softly. “I want you to know that I am here to listen if you need to talk about it.”

“What good does talking do?” Vegeta asked. “It cannot change the past.”

“Sometimes it helps to ease the hurt, and it helps bring people closer together...I don’t know...If you would just talk, you’d see it helps...”

The men walked in silence after that statement, neither heading in the direction of Goku's home and neither questioning that fact.

When they arrived at the cool, dark cave on the outskirts of their regular sparring field, they went inside and assumed their usual spots: Goku on the floor near the fire pit and Vegeta leaning against the wall by the entrance.

Goku broke the silence first.

“How old were you?” he asked, drawing Vegeta’s gaze. “...When he...gave you...”

Vegeta remained quiet a moment, a small voice in his head demanding that he stay that way, but he answered.

“About seven...maybe,” he replied, turning back to look out of the cave. “At least that is the way that it seems.”

“So young,” Goku remarked. “What did you do?”

“I went,” the older Saiyan retorted. “What could I do?”

Goku didn’t want to pry, but he wanted to know. And he truly felt being able to talk about the past would be good for Vegeta.

“Did you start working for Frieza right away?” he asked, somewhat cautiously.

Vegeta stared at him a moment, either taking the time to remember or debating whether or not to reply. Finally, he shook his head.

“No. Not right away,” he said, turning back to the cave entrance. “At first I was merely a trophy. I was given a room and was required to do nothing but stand at Frieza’s side when he had audiences with my father.”

Goku frowned.

“That must have been hard.”

Vegeta gave a snort of amusement.

“Not really... or maybe, I guess... I hated the man for using me as a gift for political gain. Yet at the same time respecting him for the very same damn thing! To be able to turn off emotion in favor of strategic planning...”

“But Vegeta, you were just a boy, a child. Didn’t you miss them?” Goku asked.

Vegeta was silent for several long minutes. The cave seemed to amplify the quiet, causing Vegeta’s voice to carry even at its low tone.

“Yes...” he sighed. “Children are strange creatures, as my own have taught me... even hideous, uncaring parents are better than no parents...I wonder why that is?”

“You are a great father,” Goku assured him. “Look how well Trunks and Bulla turned out.”

“They have an amazing mother,” the prince replied. “She has no reservations about being nurturing or loving... It’s an appropriate balance, I suppose.”

Goku closed his eyes in frustration, taking a deep breath to clear his mind.

“Don’t worry, Kakkarot,” Vegeta smirked, looking back at the younger man. “So long as the child is taught to fight, I won’t interfere otherwise.” Goku opened his eyes.

“But I want you involved,” he stressed. “Vegeta, don’t you see that life is constantly giving you opportunities to grow and to learn and to heal?”

“You and Bulma are more upset about my past than I am,” the prince observed.

“Because it keeps you trapped!” the other Saiyan replied in exasperation. “And you keep it all to yourself. Talking about our problems with our friends helps us work through them. Have you ever considered therapy?”

Vegeta gave a hollow laugh at the idea.

“Hardly. Why would I talk to a self absorbed human stranger about what I wouldn’t bother to share with my wife or... or you?”

“Because something is better than nothing,” Goku stated.

Vegeta sighed again, but his exasperation with the younger man didn’t have the same intensity as it would have years ago. He felt it odd that he would just rather Kakkarot not worry so much over him.

“Kakkarot,” he said, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms. “You are so easily trusting that I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I do!” Goku retorted. “Trust makes you vulnerable! But that’s also the beauty of it. Those whom you trust with your problems, your thoughts and feelings, they know how important you condsiderthem to extend such trust.”

“Big words, my friend,” Vegeta teased. “But you can lecture me about that when you actually have problems.”

“I have problems!” he replied, his face flushing pink. Vegeta raised an eyebrow in interest. Goku felt his skin heat up, and his pulse quicken. Who was he to lecture Vegeta. He hadn’t trusted the prince enough to risk vulnerability by asking for opinions and advice. Vegeta had never objected to listening to Goku and had even offered encouragement. Goku looked down at his hands, folded in front of his belly.

“Vegeta...” he began slowly, waiting for the courage to fill him. “I... I’ve been having dreams about... close... domestic... situations... with you.”

Vegeta’s look of interest morphed into one of surprise. Goku didn’t look up, but kept talking.

“I was afraid if I said anything, you would think I was weird, but I’m not; I’m just confused. I mean, since we have this baby, I want to raise it together. I want you to be a part of my life, but... I know I don’t... I mean... It’s nice to be around you...your scent...” His blush deepened.

“Kakkarot.”

Goku looked up, stunned by the gentle quality in Vegeta’s voice that he never heard before. The prince was looking down at him, his arms still crossed over his chest but his expression neutral.

“...Yes?”

“If that is all you have weighing on your mind, you should thank the deity of your choice.” Goku grimaced. “You are being fooled by science and biological instinct. You are carrying my child, so naturally my scent attracts you. It is the way animals secure their survival: one trying to keep a mate from selecting another partner and ensure the continuation of their line, the other keeping the sire close for protection, provisions and rearing of the child once it is born. It is nothing but that.” Vegeta ached making such an admission, that Goku’s own scent drew on his protective instinct. Goku shook his head, slightly embarrassed.

“You’re so much smarter then I am...” He sighed.

Vegeta felt a bit sad, not taking advantage of that statement. Instead he replied.

“I merely have more experience.” He gave a weak laugh then. “Don’t fault yourself for that.” He leaned back against the cave wall and stared evenly at the expecting Saiyan. “That had to be very difficult to say to me, given my penchant for attack. I suppose I should feel grateful that you have extended such trust to me.”

Goku looked back down at his stomach.

“We’ve known each other more then twenty years... I’d like to think we’ve been friends for at least ten of those, if not more... Sometimes I just wish I could tell you that... Don’t you envy the relationship our sons have? I doubt there is anything they couldn’t tell each other.”

Vegeta knew one thing he wasn’t going to tell Kakkarot was that he oftentimes wondered about the close nature of their boys’ friendship. Although he had no proof of it being anything more, the relationship seemed too good to be mere friendship. He couldn’t fathom feeling as close to a ‘friend’ as he was to his wife, and he still had moments of disbelief that he ever let her in so far.

“The boys have never known betrayal. Their world is limited by what we have protected them from. Such connections are easier for them. I, on the other had, have known betrayal...”

Goku was thoughtful a moment before replying.

“... I would never betray you.”

Vegeta gave a grim smile.

“I would have difficulty doubting that. But I believe this world has an expression: ‘once bitten, twice shy’... I’ve been bitten too many times...”

“And you don’t think it would help to talk about it?” Goku asked him.

“I really don’t see how. What’s done is done.”

Goku shrugged.

“You might be surprised. I mean, finally telling you how I’ve been feeling and hearing your view...I know I feel better now.” Vegeta raised an eyebrow and Goku continued. “I know it’s not really the same thing...”

It was the prince’s turn to shrug, and he turned to looked out upon the surrounding forest. As much as the third class wanted to understand, he probably never could. The horror and shame of his past was better kept to himself, wasn’t it? Even if it could help those who loved him understand him a bit better?

But it was hard to share. Even with his new attitude and attempts at openness, it was painful to offer himself - to expose himself - to further hurt! He had been betrayed by his family and even by one he once called a friend. The act of betrayal itself ripped at his heart harder than the consequences of it.

But how could he compare those in his past to Bulma and Trunks or even Kakkarot? Who openly accepted him and loved him so much?

Another human saying clicked in his mind:

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Hadn’t he already taken that first step? How could he let fear stop him before reaching his destination?

Vegeta’s voice was so quiet and unfamiliar sounding that Goku was surprised when the prince began speaking.

“Within the year after I made Frieza’s ship my home, I was put into his army. He began training me, teaching me how to fulfill his plan for me. I didn’t mind...The thoughtless destruction and senseless killing became easy and helped satisfy my rage. I hated the world and everyone in it...but my fate was about to change.”

Goku narrowed his eyes, staring at Vegeta’s back.

“Vegeta,” he said softly, “I don’t understand.”

Vegeta ignored the interruption and continued.

“Frieza was pleased with my performance.” He gave a disgusted, grunt of laughter. “He treated me as one of his favored pets. I was pampered and indulged ...and I enjoyed the attention -- the respect -- or so I was a fool enough to think it was...As I began to leave the years of childhood behind, Frieza told me that I was to be groomed to be one of his ‘special class’...his highest ranking soldiers...those he treated with the most generosity and favor for doing his bidding; for giving my complete allegiance. To be an example of a powerful prince who chose to serve an even more powerful lord...I refused...as if I had a choice...I told him that I would continue to train and to learn and to complete his assigned tasks, but I did soonly by my own will.” A shiver ran up the prince’s spine as he recalled the memory. “...He used to smile at my words...smile and tell me I would change my mind one day...” He shook his head, clearing his throat and continued the tale.

“I was befriended, you could say, by one of Frieza’s highest ranking elites when I was halfway into my teens. I hated him, too, but in time I began to tolerate his company...let my guard down. We would train together...he knew well how to play to my vanity...It took years, but I eventually let him in...even when Nappa warned me not to, that the lizard’s men were loyal to no one but him . But I refused to listen. I was a prince! I was smarter! I was respected and feared!” He gave a bitter laugh. “I was stupid.”

Goku sat mesmerized by the very sound of Vegeta’s voice as he spoke, the emotion clear. He had a feeling what was being told to him was of great importance. He wanted to speak himself, but he felt he shouldn’t interrupt again, even if it meant getting the clarification he was looking for.

Vegeta stopped to take a deep breath, but pressed through the emotional discomfort to continue.

“My new ‘friend’ told me he respected my refusal of Frieza’s demands. That I was brave for speaking out, even with the prospect of certain punishment for such insolence...When I look back now, I can hear his reverence for the snake in his words...but back then, I was too young, too stupid...too naive...”

Vegeta’s hands clenched into fists, his tail pulling tightly to his waist from the memory.

“And then I made the worst tactical mistake,” he said, his voice thick with disgust. “I let him convince me that we were friends, confidants...that we could help each other... I let my pride and my ego make decisions when I should have been using my common sense and my brain.” The prince brought a hand to his forehead, embarrassment and shame burning in his stomach. “and I...I..I let him into my bed and...I let him take me into his...” His tone dropped to a whisper as he spoke. “I was such a fool.”




***

The young Saiyan prince strode into Frieza’s chamber, his jaw set and his head held high in regal defiance. He ignored the pale skinned warrior at the Aisujin’s side and stared evenly at his commander.

“You summoned me, Lord Frieza?” Vegeta asked disinterestedly.

Frieza’s dark lips stretched into a smile.

“Why, Mister Vegeta, you act as though there is somewhere you would rather be.”

Vegeta didn’t reply, merely continuing to stare.

“You have been quite a while in my service,” Frieza continued, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. “You have grown into quite a young man of potential...I have offered you a place at my side, and you have refused. I grow weary of catering to your vanity, my dear. But I will make the offer once more.” Frieza’s voice retained the casual, conversational tone even as he spoke with serious intent. “Devote yourself to me and serve at my side. You will be taken care of and spoiled as only one of my pets can be. Denounce this silly claim to the Saiyan throne.”

Vegeta felt the anger rise in him, warming his skin.

“Never,” he seethed. “I belong to no man.”

Frieza’s eyes became cold as ice.

“Now, now, my dear,” he cooed venomously. “Maybe you should consider your position.”

The young prince gave an arrogant toss of his head.

“Maybe you should,” he stated. “I am the prince of Saiyans. I am the Legendary! I will not willingly stand at anyone’s side when I am destined to lead.”

Frieza’s mocking laughter confused and angered Vegeta, and he leveled his gaze with the Aisujin’s.

“My father is dead, Frieza. Any alliance you had with the Saiyans died with him!” he announced. “I stay because I have use of your training facility, for which you are more than compensated by my work on your behalf. But I have no desire to continue this arrangement. It is time for a change.”

Frieza cackled, amused, turning to the soldier at his side.

“Did you hear that, Mister Zarbon? Our young prince would like a change! Delightful!” Zarbon's lips curved in a smile as Vegeta finally acknowledged his presence with a look. Frieza continued, his eyes glittering with perverse enjoyment. “Very well, Mister Vegeta. You don’t want to be a soldier for my empire? I hear you have talents off the battle field that we might make use of. Maybe the ‘postition’ you desire is not at my side, hm?” he leered. Vegeta’s features darkened.

“What is your meaning?!” the young Saiyan demanded.

“Oh, my dear,” Frieza replied, leaning back in his hovering chair, “I have heard plenty about your extracurricular activities between assignments.”

Vegeta’s eyes once again turned to Zarbon, his gaze speaking in quiet intensity, but he said nothing.

'Traitor!'

Frieza laughed again, seeing the look upon the young man’s face.

“Now, now, Mister Vegeta, you cannot blame Mister Zarbon for not keeping your confidences. He is, after all, loyal to me.”

Vegeta could feel the mix of anger, dread and fear swirling within him. Nappa had been right. This was a set up. An elaborate plan to crush him if he refused. His mind searched frantically for an escape.

“Your people are nothing but filthy liars and trash, Frieza!” Vegeta snapped, folding his arms across his chest to keep them from trembling at his sides.

“Well,” Frieza said lightly. “Mister Zarbon’s reports were extremely detailed. Let us conduct a little test and see who the liar is, shall we?...Mister Zarbon...?”

Vegeta took a step back as the tall, blue skinned warrior approached him. Zarbon stopped in front of him, towering over the young Saiyan. He gave a small smile of amusement, raising his hand toward Vegeta’s face.

Vegeta slapped his hand away, taking another step back.

“What are you playing at?!” he snapped. “Keep you damn hands off me!”

“Fine time to start complaining,” Zarbon remarked in his velvety smooth voice. “With my honor on the line.”

Vegeta’s eyes flashed with rage.

“You have no honor!” he hissed. In those same angry, black eyes burned the question:

'How could you do this to me?'

Zarbon reached for Vegeta’s arm, but the young soldier pulled away, twisting his torso to deliver a punch with the opposite hand. The tall elite parried the attack, letting Vegeta’s momentum carry him past before locking an arm around his throat.

Vegeta growled, using his smaller height to his advantage, pulling his legs up and swinging them down to deliver a crushing blow to Zarbon’s knees.

Zarbon gave a howl of pain as he dropped Vegeta to the floor. The prince scrambled to his feet and turned to attack, but the other man recovered quickly, launching himself at the Saiyan.

Vegeta let himself fall back, reaching out to grab Zarbon’s chest plate and using a well placed boot to the gut to send the taller man sailing overhead. But Zarbon had grabbed onto a handful of Vegeta’s training suit, and the force pulled the prince awkwardly from the floor. He landed in a heap at Zarbon’s side.

Zarbon rolled over and delivered a punch to the insolent prince’s spine, shocking his nervous system and causing his tail to slip limply from his waist. It gave the pretty fighter enough time to stand and pull young Vegeta to his feet before tossing him angrily across the room.

Vegeta collided with a view screen, and as he tumbled to the floor, he heard the panel snap and hiss with the electricity from exposed circuitry. He didn’t have a second to recover before Zarbon was back on him, sending him careening in the opposite direction with a kick.

Vegeta could feel the adrenaline and sheer panic pulsing through him as he moved quickly to stand, snapping off a ki blast before fully regaining his footing.

Zarbon deflected the attack easily, sending the sphere of energy upward to explode against the domed metal ceiling. A shower of sparks rained down, and the lights flickered from the impact.

“Damn monkey!” Frieza exclaimed, sending his own blast of energy that engulfed the prince’s body, shaking him and zapping his strength. He fell twitching to the floor as the hum of Frieza’s hover chair moved close to him.

Vegeta gave a pained gasp when he felt the Aisujin’s cold, smooth tail glide around his throat and pull him from the ground.

“That damage will come out of your pay, my dear,” Frieza told him in a mocking tone. “Now be a good boy and prove your case.”

Vegeta’s fingers clawed at the thick appendage around his neck as he helplessly watched the tall, elegant elite cross to him. Zarbon tossed his long braided hair over his shoulder, a look of displeasure on his handsome face.

Vegeta struggled frantically, caught in Frieza’s grip, as Zarbon deactivated the closures on Vegeta’s plate armor. The metal fell to the deck with a thud. Zarbon’s hands were next at Vegeta’s throat, gripping the navy training suit and ripping the one piece garment down the middle with the help of his ki, sending the stench of singed synthetic alloys into the air. The elite pulled on the fabric, leaving the remains of the suit to hang uselessly from Vegeta’s calves.

“Get the fuck away from me!” Vegeta croaked, lashing out to strike, but finding letting go of Frieza’s tail made it impossible to brace himself as his boots barely scraped the floor.

Zarbon gave Vegeta a maliciously seductive grin, drawing his fingers down the prince’s chest, teasing the dark nipples into erect peaks as the younger man fought for breath and freedom. Vegeta’s eyes narrowed in pure hate as he struggled, swear words and threats escaping from him in grunts and growls. Vegeta held out one of his hands, gathering ki and aiming for Zarbon’s head.

Zarbon smacked Vegeta’s arm to the side before delivering two concentrated punches to the prince’s shoulders. There were loud snapping sounds, and Vegeta’s arms dropped lifelessly at his sides.

Frieza watched in interest, his chin again resting on his hands, his body hardly feeling the prince’s fight.

Zarbon’s smooth hands moved down across Vegeta’s tight abdomen before his long fingers wrapped around the younger man’s shaft, and he began to stroke him.

A guttural cry of anguish wrenched from within the shorter fighter. Vegeta kicked at his assailant, trying to force him away. He succeeded in nothing but allowing Zarbon to trap one of his legs under his bicep and he pulled Vegeta roughly upward.

The prince hung suspended and trapped between the two, his hands now useless and his leg trapped under Zarbon’s bulging arm. He could do nothing but continue to resist, but unable to get enough leverage to attempt a kick.

With his opponent nearly immobile, Zarbon continued to coax the prince’s flaccid length, massaging and stroking. Vegeta’s eyes promised murder.

“Feeling uncooperative tonight?” the elite asked, irritated by the Saiyan’s fight. “Then I will hurry things along.”

He brought a hand to Vegeta’s face, pressing his fingers into the prince’s mouth. Vegeta fought the urge to gag and bit, causing Zarbon to utter a swear before quickly pulling his hand away and delivering a stinging slap across the prince’s face.

Unfazed by Vegeta’s resistance, Zarbon brought his fingers to his own mouth, wetting them thoroughly in an obscene display before dropping his hand down between himself and the struggling Saiyan.

Fire burned behind Vegeta’s eyes and tears stung his vision as he felt his body invaded. His muscles tightened spasmatically, and he renewed his fight for escape.

Zarbon sought out Vegeta’s prostate, pushing into the taut bundle of nerves and massaging him purposefully. Vegeta let out an involuntary moan, his body jerking in response and his manhood twitching from the jolts of pleasure. Tears of anger and grief rolled unbidden down the prince’s cheeks as he could do nothing but writhe helplessly as his body reacted in the only way it knew how. He was surprised that he could feel anything other than pain.

Despite the prince’s struggle, Zarbon held tightly to the younger man’s thigh, his fingers working to bring pleasure to the Saiyan even against his will. The look in his eyes told Vegeta that, while he may have enjoyed their encounters when Vegeta had permitted them, the traitorous bastard got more pleasure out of taking him with resistance. Vegeta tried fruitlessly to twist his hips away from the intrusion, his body trembling from the slow, deliberate stroking that Zarbon had learned -- through much time and effort -- that the prince found pleasing.

Frieza gave a soft clicking sound of admonishment with his tongue as he observed the way Vegeta’s skin had flushed and the occasional, involuntary moan that escaped him amidst the curses and threats.

“Now we see who the filthy liar is amongst us, Mister Vegeta.” The Aisujin’s tail tightened at Vegeta’s throat as he spoke. “I don’t know if I want such trash in my ranks. I was so hoping you would change your mind and serve me willingly...Maybe you will get one more chance...after I find a suitable punishment.” The lizard lord’s voice became sickeningly sweet, yet coated in evil as he whispered. “But if this is what you want, then you shall have it.”

Vegeta gave a shout of alarm as the tail at his neck gave a sharp jerk upward before shoving his head violently into the floor. The prince saw stars, his vision fading in and out as a warm pool of liquid began forming beneath his skull.

Frieza’s floating throne backed a few feet away to give him a better view of the sight before he addressed the half-conscious Saiyan.

“After all...I can be a very giving, rewarding master...Mister Zarbon,” he finished with a hint of gloating, “take him as he pleases.”

Vegeta could barely feel anything other than the pain radiating from the back of his head, but he could hear the rustling of fabric before he was turned unceremoniously onto his stomach and pulled to his knees. His cheek smeared the pool of blood across the glossy steel floor and mixed with the saliva that dripped from his slack mouth.

The pain in his skull was so intense, his brain barely registered that his body was being penetrated by something much larger than Zarbon’s fingers. He barely felt the pounding of each thrust.

“How could I let this happen?”

Vegeta’s eyes closed as his consciousness began to slip, darkness overtaking him, disconnecting him from the world.

“Father...What did I do wrong?...”



Vegeta had begun to regain consciousness feeling that he couldn’t move, his body held tightly between warm skin and cold metal. He attempted to break free, but achieved nothing but a moan of agony from the throbbing in his head.

A familiar, deep voice spoke quietly to him in his Saiyan tongue.

“Don’t move, sire. Lord Frieza said I couldn’t take you to medical, and I don’t want you to lose any more blood before I dress your wounds.”

Nappa.

Gods, how must he have looked when his fellow Saiyan was allowed to retrieve him from Frieza’s chamber.

He was in and out of consciousness on the way back to his quarters, hearing only fragments of conversation.

“What the hell did they do to him?!”

Radditz. What was he doing there?

“I don’t know...” Nappa replied, gently lifting his prince’s head to examine the damage through the blood soaked hair. “Don’t ask questions! Run his bath.”

Radditz muttered a string of obscenities, but obediently moved from the room.

Vegeta could vaguely feel the water and the soft cloth as he was bathed. His eyes refused to open, and the only sounds he could utter were groans of pain.

“Those rat-fucking sons of a cattle-whore!” Radditz was grumbling, somewhere close to the prince. “I swear on the soul of my mother, I will plant my boot so far up that pansy-fuckoff's ass, he will have to open his mouth to check my shoe size!”

“Shut it, Radditz,” Nappa growled. “You know we can’t defy Frieza or his elites. Not now.”

There was the sound of water running briefly before Vegeta felt himself being moved again.

“Get more towels,” Nappa instructed the younger Saiyan. “And see what kind of med kit we have in the battle trunk.”

“Those cold-blooded gutter-slags! I swear it, Nappa! I swear!” Sounds of trunks locks activating punctuated Radditz’s cursing. “If my father were alive...”

Vegeta gave a long moan of agony as he felt pressure being applied to the back of his head.

“Forgive me, Vegeta,” Nappa mumbled as he pressed the towel against the prince’s head, soaking up the water and blood. Vegeta could make no reply as his wound was inspected.

There was a sharp intake of breath when the damage was clear.

“That’s it!” Radditz’s voice announced and there was the sound of movement. “I’m taking him to the regen tanks! If that shit-eating cunt-swine thinks he can treat the Saiyans this way --”

“By the Gods, Raddtiz!” Nappa exclaimed. “There is nothing we can do at this moment but attend to the prince. Frieza forbade me to take him to the tanks! What punishment do you think Vegeta will pay for our disobedience?!”

‘Damnit, Nappa, you weakling...’ Vegeta thought. ‘Disobey. Fight. Go out like a Saiyan.’

“Look what they’ve already done to him?!” Radditz retorted hotly. “What more can they do?”

There was the sound of impact and a small struggle. Nappa was obviously holding Radditz in his place.

“They can do it again,” the taller Saiyan hissed. “Now get me some fucking anesthetic, or you will have my boot.”

‘Don’t try and protect me, you second class fool.’ Vegeta inwardly groaned. ‘Don’t take pity on me...’

There was a loss of time after Nappa began stitching the prince’s flesh closed, and Vegeta woke later, lying in his bed. He was still impossibly weak, his arm in a sling and his head pounding. The room was dark and there was no sound, other than the steady hum of the ship.

Vegeta felt the incredible weight of self-pity upon him. How could he have made such an error in judgment? How could he have been so dumb? Not only did Frieza show him how weak he was, how incompetent for letting his guard down, but he humiliated the prince in front of his men. Nappa had to carry him back to their quarters and then see to cleaning him and dressing him and his wounds. How was he ever to rise above this?

The prince’s attention was pulled to a commotion in the next room. He could hear raised voices, Nappa’s and Radditz’s, and the brief sound of a struggle before the door to his chamber hissed open.

“Sleeping well?” Zarbon spoke to Vegeta’s motionless form.

Vegeta made a grunt of protest, but settled for growling when he couldn’t produce anything else.

“I see your lackeys have taken good care of you.”

Radditz made a move toward the elite, but Nappa held him back.

“You can get the fuck out of here, before I take care of you!” Radditz warned.

“Please,” Zarbon addressed him, waving him off. “You should be thanking me for gracing your monkey cage. After all, I convinced our Lord Frieza to allow little Vegeta the use of a regen tank.” Radditz gave a snort of disbelief.

“Why the hell should we believe you would do that?” he asked.

“Because,” Zarbon replied, smiling as he looked upon the sleeping prince, “it was Vegeta’s first time playing the game, and he wasn’t aware of all of the rules. Frieza is gracious in his rewards.” The pale-skinned elite reached out to brush his fingertips across Vegeta’s cheek. Vegeta summoned all of the energy he had to pull his cheek from Zarbon’s touch.

“Fuck off, Zarbon,” he croaked, his throat horribly dry.

“There, there now...” Zarbon crooned. “You can’t blame me for playing the game, little Vegeta. And it’s not as though we didn’t enjoy it up until today. Play along...and there will be many more and greater rewards than punishments.”

Vegeta felt his skin crawl, hearing Radditz’s disgusted grunt at Zarbon’s words.

“Leave him alone, Zarbon,” Nappa demanded. “Let us take him to the medical bay, if that is what you have come for.”

Vegeta groaned. How could the fools treat him like a helpless infant in front of an enemy?

“Get out,” the prince spoke, his voice no more than a rasp.

“Very well, young prince,” Zarbon purred. “But I advise you to consider your place wisely. You are Lord Frieza’s precious gift. He wants you to serve him willingly. Be a good boy and give in to his will, and you will be treated like the royalty you feel you are.”

“Vegeta is the prince of Saiyans!” Radditz shouted, being blocked again by Nappa’s meaty arm.

“Indeed,” Zarbon remarked with amusement before turning back to the young Saiyan. “We can still work together in this, Vegeta. It is far more pleasant than the alternative.”

Vegeta managed a low, steady growl in response.

“I will see you dead,” he warned.

Zarbon gave a mocking laugh.

“We shall see, little Vegeta...we shall see.”

The elite strode from the room, his cape billowing behind him. Nappa and Radditz quickly moved to their leader’s side. Nappa placed a hand beneath his shoulders to help him sit.

“Let’s get you to the medical-”

“Get your hands off me, fool!” Vegeta rasped, the heat of anger and embarrassment warming his skin. “I don’t need your help!”

Nappa backed away, pulling Radditz with him.

“Vegeta, we just thought --”

“No, you didn’t! You don’t think!” Vegeta swooned from the pain as he struggled to sit, but his arms still refused to obey him, and he lay seething, forced to abandon his fruitless efforts. “I will go to the medical bay when I feel like it! Now get out of my sight!”

The two subordinate Saiyans bowed out of the room, leaving the prince alone in the dark once again. Things would change, after today. Frieza would no longer take his refusal and his attitude lightly. But the prince would be damned before he let that lizard-freak see him come willingly to his side. Regardless of the consequences, regardless of the pain.

He would rather die.

***


“But I didn’t die...”

Vegeta’s voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, ignoring the tears that now blurred his vision.

“I lived. I got to live that humiliation many, many times. Frieza was only gracious enough to knock me unconscious once.” He took a deep breath before releasing it in a sigh. “But I survived. I trained, and I grew stronger....but there still wasn’t a damn thing I could do...” He turned then to the younger Saiyan who sat quietly, watching. “Until you, Kakkarot...misery couldn’t push me the way your kindness has.”

Goku stared at the prince, his large eyes full of concern. He realized what Vegeta had just shared with him was deeply personal and obviously painful to relate. And while the details of the story still greatly disturbed the strong, older Saiyan, Goku wished that he hadn’t chose to speak the entire tale in the Saiyan tongue.

But he understood the word ‘Frieza,’ and surely that was all that he needed to know. His own mind couldn’t create a fate as horrifying as his friend had actually lived.

“For whatever it was, Vegeta,” Goku said gently, “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve such pain.”

Vegeta sighed.

“If that is true, I can only conclude that I am paying for whatever were my father’s sins,” he replied, frowning as he wiped at his eyes with his shirt cuff. Goku frowned as well.

“That would be like saying Trunks and Bulla would have to pay for yours or Bulma’s mistakes. Or Goten and Gohan for mine and Chi Chi’s.” The prince scowled. “No, Vegeta, we pay for our own mistakes...in the Otherworld. We will also receive our compensation as well.”

Vegeta gave a huff in doubt.

Goku placed his hand over his belly where he could feel the active baby squirming and twisting.

“I think he’s upset because you’re upset,” he mused, pressing his palm against his abdomen. He spoke gently to the child. “You know that your father is a good man, don’t you?” he asked. “Yes, you do. I can tell! You’ll meet him pretty soon...”

Vegeta shook his head as he watched the younger Saiyan. Was this man too good to be true? How could one person hold so much goodness and positivity?

“You are a clown,” Vegeta told him. Goku laughed.

“Call me what you like,” he announced. “But I’m right on this point. You are too close to the actual events to see them clearly, maybe.” Vegeta’s brow furrowed in irritation. Goku continued. “You were hurt, Vegeta. In every way imaginable.”

“I was stupid!” Vegeta snapped, turning away from Goku’s kind eyes.

“No. Someone hurt you. You should be angry! But not at yourself. I’m not going to patronize you by saying that you never made mistakes that were all your own, but there comes a time when you need to place blame where it belongs. And I have news for you: not all of it belongs to you.And before you even say anything else, I don’t think badly of you for what happened. It doesn’t make you weak in my eyes. Frieza was freaking strong! If I had never been challenged by you, if I had never had to train the way I did on the way to Namek, if I had never known that there were power levels I could achieve beyond what I was, I never would have beaten Frieza. I had help, Vegeta! Help from the Kais, help from my enemies, help from you. It was the same with Cell and the same with Buu...we need each other...I mean, our friends, to get us through the hard times.” Goku braced his belly as he shifted his weight to get more comfortable. Vegeta turned back to him, watching the younger Saiyan with interest as he continued his tirade. “And I didn’t know much of Nappa, other than the short time we spent beating on each other, but he was right. There was something more to it, I bet you. Nothing is as simple as I once thought it to be. Nothing is simple...except this...except friendship...” He sighed. “Because it doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Vegeta folded his arms across his chest and smirked.

“Are you quite through?” he asked dryly.

Goku grinned.

“Maybe...maybe not.” He stared at the older man for a moment before smiling. “I respect you, Vegeta. I don’t always respect the things you do, but I respect you as a person, as my friend. And I hope, maybe, someday you can find respect for me, too. And maybe then you can tell me your stories and not feel the need to speak in a language that I don’t understand. But I did understand you, Vegeta. I understood what was important. You were hurt. And if I could go back and avenge that, I would.”

Vegeta tightened his jaw. Kakkarot’s kind words would not make him cry.

“Thank you,” he said tightly.

Goku blushed and looked down at his belly as he spoke.

“I mean, it’s only fitting. You said you would avenge me...and you did. You could have chosen to avenge yourself... but you did it for me.”

“Let’s not speak of the past any longer,” Vegeta said abruptly, pulling Goku’s eyes back to him. “You have more important things to consider. Meeting the woman’s silly baby doctor, for one.”

Goku smiled.

“Right. And I still haven’t decided on a name. For a boy, I mean.”

Vegeta nodded.

“So you’re naming --” He paused, not wanting to say ‘our daughter’, but not wanting to say ‘your daughter,’ either. “-- it Lilly, if it is a girl?”

Goku nodded.

“Yep....” He was thoughtful a moment. “How come you didn’t name Trunks ‘Vegeta’? In the book Daikkon gave me, it says that it was tradition to name the eldest male child of the king after his father. Your father’s name was Vegeta.”

“Bulma chose ‘Trunks’.” Vegeta said simply, shrugging. “Who was I to argue?”

Goku nodded absently, looking back down at his abdomen.

“What about...if it’s a boy...we name him ‘Vegeta’ ?” he asked tentatively.

“Absolutely not,” Vegeta stated. Goku frowned.

“Why not?!”

“Because I said, that’s why not,” the prince replied. “‘Vegeta’ is the name of the heir to the throne of our home planet. We have no home planet. There is no need to continue the tradition.”

Goku’s brow furrowed, and his expression almost looked like a pout.

“You’re not being reasonable!...Be reasonable!”

“Why do you want to name the child after me?” Vegeta questioned, with a grimace.

“Because...I like the meaning of the name. It’s a good name. What do you want to name him, if it’s a boy?”

Vegeta appeared visibly flustered.

“Ugh, I...I wouldn’t know what to name it...” he stammered.

“I can lend you the book,” Goku suggested helpfully.

“No! That’s...that’s not necessary. Name him whatever you wish -- just not ‘Vegeta’.”

Goku continued to frown, and he grumbled:

“Unreasonable.”

“I am too, reasonable,” Vegeta declared, placing his hands on his hips as he looked down upon the younger man. “I’ll tell you what. This child’s name shall be anything but Vegeta. However,” Goku watched the prince interestedly as he continued. “You may name any, or all, subsequent children, grandchildren or pets ‘Vegeta’ or any derivative thereof, if you so wish it.”

Goku gave a grunt of disgust.

“That’s not reasonable. That’s not even funny.”

“It is what you get. Come, Kakkarot.” He reached out his hand to help the mobility challenged Saiyan to his feet. “I promised to spend time with my daughter, and you need to rest as Bulma has instructed.”

Vegeta pushed the younger man in front of him and out of the cave.

“It’s really not fair,” Goku was grumbling as he walked ahead. “Chi Chi won’t let me have any pets!”

The prince shook his head in a mix of amusement of disbelief as he followed the taller man. It was amazing, how he had dredged up one of his darkest memories, yet didn’t feel its usual sting of guilt and depression for long. It was almost as if speaking it aloud, even in Saiyan, helped purge some of the poison from his heart. And it didn’t hurt to have someone to commiserate with him. Maybe it even...helped...a little...


A/N: Another chapter down. I’m sorry if there were any weird errors in this. I corrected the beta at 4:30 after only a nap earlier in the night, so I am a little loopy. I just wanted to get this posted for ya’ll and I have no patience! LOL! Anyway, I’m off to continue working on the next chapter, which I hope to have up for next weekend. *crosses finger*. Thanks for reading! -B