Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Waiting (revised) ❯ Part 2 ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of the characters seen in the show, manga, movies, etc. But in the twisted world of my mind…well, that's a different story.

Part 2

Despite the burning sensation on his skin, Vegeta was beginning to relax amidst the swirling liquid of the regen tank. Sleep was not coming easily to him though. Every time he came close, that familiar shock of blue hair and the image of that wonderfully soft, lithe body assailed his mind and prevented him from reaching that peaceful state of rest. Much to his discontent, Bulma had been on his mind throughout the whole battle with Frieza. He usually prided himself on keeping a clear head during combat, but it had been nearly impossible to go through battle with Frieza and not be reminiscent of the first time he'd laid eyes on her. She was his reason for fighting. Whenever his resolve began to crumble, a pair of lovely blue eyes and a beautiful, tantalizing smile would remind him of what his true purposes were.

His first meeting with Bulma had been one of the most memorable events in his life. He hadn't had a clue as to what he'd involved himself in when he initially decided to take up the desert king's offer, granting him and his squad use of Yamcha's royal harem. They had been sent by Frieza to Kuraji in order to make a deal with the desert king for the precious Taji energy crystals that were reported to contain considerably potent energy. Two of Frieza's more loyal soldiers, Dodoria and Zarbon were acting as Frieza's spokesmen and conducting the negotiations.

Shortly after arriving, they had been informed that King Yamcha extended his most hospitable salutations and that, along with anything else they might need, they were allowed access to his well-renowned harem. The men had sounded their approval and appreciation, but Vegeta hadn't been particularly enthused. It was usually beneath him to take part in the spoils of women; he would never condemn another man for taking up such pleasure, but given his depressing circumstances with Frieza, Vegeta had chosen to bury his misery by concentrating his energies on his purging missions. It was only after he heard a group of his squad-mates discussing the talents and alluring charms that the women in Yamcha's harem were rumored to possess, did he even considered going there himself.

"He gets them from all over," one enthusiastic man divulged to the rapt audience of soldiers surrounding him. "They say every planet he visits, he almost always finds another one add to his collection. And only the most beautiful and skillful women. All for our enjoyment, gentlemen."

"How beautiful?" asked one skeptical man.

"It is said that whenever he wants to make a deal turn in his favor with a visiting dignitary, he sends them to his harem, and he almost always gets his way. I bet the only reason he's giving us permission is because he's scared shitless of Frieza. Frieza's only use for this planet is to get those energy crystals they seem to have an abundance of here. Better to keep Frieza and his men happy, or else the boss might just get rid of him and this dusty planet. But I'm not complaining. I plan to make good use of what's offered." The talkative soldier gave a knowing smile and the small crowd of men murmured their agreement.

"I heard there's one that Yamcha keeps for himself, though," another soldier piped in above the buzz of voices. "One that's rumored to be the most beautiful of them all."

"Yes," the first soldier replied thoughtfully, nodding his head. "The desert flower, they call her. Supposedly the most beautiful and desirable creature amongst his entire collection. He won't let another man go near her. I hear that she even sleeps in his bed. But not to worry men. There will be plenty enough to go around for us all. And we're permitted to use them for as long as we're here. Let's just hope Dodoria and Zarbon take their time with negotiations." The conversation soon turned raunchy when the soldiers began discussing their previous exploits, and Vegeta turned away, disinterested by the no-doubt exaggerated stories and hooting laughter of the other men. The conversation he had just overheard had somewhat intrigued him though. If the women of Yamcha's harem were as good as the rumors suggested, then maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to indulge a little.

Although it had been midday when they arrived, Vegeta had taken the time to rest in the barracks provided for him and his squad before he wandered down the hallways in search of the harem. The barracks had been blessedly empty and Vegeta was spared the collective clatters of the boisterous soldiers. Evidently, the soldiers had been so eager to sample the feminine pleasures Yamcha had provided, they had decided to put off resting from the long trip and went straight to the harem instead. Vegeta was not so impatient. He had made up his mind to at least have a look at what was available, but if it didn't suit him, he would leave with at least his curiosity appeased.

The hallways of the desert palace were wide and airy. Most of the passageways aligning the immense stone courtyard in the center of the palace were open on one side, and a constant breeze stirred the air and fluttered into the connecting corridors. The effect was pleasant and kept the marble hallways from becoming as stifling as the heat outside. Stone and marble pillars lined most of the hallways and there were an abundance of tropical plants and trees scattered sporadically along the walls. Vegeta took his time roaming, allowing his mind to briefly drift back to the time when he had once walked the hallways of his own palace at such a leisurely pace.

It had been four years since he had first been inducted by his father into Frieza's service. His mind would never forget the day his perception of his father slipped irreversibly, after the king of Vegeta-sei informed him that the Saiyan-jin Empire was no match for Frieza and his army, and that they were to submit to any request Frieza gave them. Vegeta had seen the folly in his father's decision. Second only to Frieza, the Saiyan-jin empire had become one of the most powerful forces in the universe. Frieza realized their potential to overthrow him, and had threatened to attack Vegeta-sei if they did not swear fealty to him and follow his command. His father had let the size of Frieza's army overwhelm and blind him to the real truth that made their submission imprudent: Frieza only needed the Saiya-jin's strength to secure his position as ruler of the known universe. After he had conquered the universe completely-which would not take long with their help-he would have no use of the Saiya-jin.

Vegeta's father ignored his appeal to resist Frieza and surprise him with an attack of their own; instead he agreed to Frieza's request for Saiya-jin soldiers to add to his ranks. And after a few days consideration, he agreed to an additional request made by Frieza: to have the crown prince of the Saiya-jin Empire serve under him as a common soldier. It was the ultimate act of submission to Frieza and would be the final testimony to the Saiya-jin's lost power and pride. When Vegeta had first heard Frieza's stipulation, he had laughed at the incredulous demand. But his laughter ended abruptly when he noticed his father was not laughing with him. In fact, his father's grave expression sparked an uncontrollable anger within him. He could not believe his father was actually considering the white lizard's demand. It was ludicrous and almost guaranteed betrayal. But his father had not wanted to incur Frieza's anger and Vegeta now wondered bitterly if Frieza's order had been to take his life, would the king have complied just as willingly. Vegeta did not see much difference; handing him over to Frieza would be the same as ending his life immediately. He had been unable to change his father's mind, and within a week of Frieza's request, Vegeta had been sent to Frieza.

The melodic sound of music and laughter forced Vegeta to adjourn his dark thoughts, and judging by the considerable distance away from the main halls of the palace and the faint aroma of perfumed air, he presumed he was getting close to the harem. He had almost reached the source of the mirthful noise, when suddenly a flash of blue, passing directly in front of him in an adjoining, perpendicular hallway, caught his immediate attention. He paused momentarily, his mind trying to register what he had just seen. His exceptional Saiyan vision had caught sight of a slender figure, obviously female, with what appeared to be a mass of blue curls trailing almost ethereally behind her as she hurried down the corridor. He had only caught a glimpse of her face, but he was sure the eyes that had flashed briefly in his direction had been blue as well. Without giving conscious thought to what he was doing, he made a sharp left turn, away from the raucous noise of the harem, and followed the mystifying creature.

He trailed stealthily behind her as she moved through the corridor, watching her hair whip about as she kept up her brisk pace. He detected an almost frantic air about her as she hastily turned corners, but when she reached what looked to be a garden of a sorts, amid prickly desert plants blooming with vibrantly colored flowers, she slowed, and with a sigh, dropped down onto a stone bench placed in the middle of the enclosed area.

Vegeta watched her for a few minutes from behind one of the large tropical trees bordering the garden, stunned by what he had not been able to see while he followed behind her. She was an exquisite creature, a shocking combination of cerulean and cream, with smooth, flawless skin covering the elegant curve of her neck and shoulders, and long, blue tresses, partially pinned up so that the bottom portion flowed freely. At that moment, she reached a slim arm up and removed the combs that suspended her hair, shaking her head and allowing the now unbound curls to tumble down over her shoulders. Her full lips pouted ever so slightly, almost demanding amorous attention, and her eyes…he had never known such a vivid shade of blue existed; they were like two translucent sapphires, wide and thickly lashed.

He never remembered exactly what thought had crept into his mind then, but somehow he had begun walking towards her, as if his legs and body were sure of what they wanted even if he did not. Her startled gasp gave him pause, immediately captivated by the clear reservoirs of blue that stared up at him in surprise. Her voice, soft and melodious, brought him out of his daze.

"What are you doing here in my garden?" Her brows were knitted into a frown, her eyes questioning.

"Your garden? I was under the impression that this entire palace and its grounds belonged to the king of this planet."

"It does. But King Yamcha is generous with his possessions. He has allowed me this little plot of dirt to grow whatever I choose." Vegeta cast an amused glance at his surroundings as he lowered himself down onto the edge of the stone bench.

"It seems that you have a fancy for a particular type of plant. Why plant a whole garden of the same kind of flower?" He quirked an eyebrow at her suddenly annoyed expression. This little one has spirit, he thought as she crossed her arms in front of her irritably.

"It didn't start out that way," she said with surprising vehemence. "In the beginning, I planted all kinds of flowers, even rare flowers that Yamcha acquired from my home planet. That prickly desert weed that you see now has all but strangled every other flowering plant growing around it until there was nothing left. Now it thrives and lives off of the decaying remains of my once beautiful roses. They were my favorite flower."

Vegeta felt the corners of his mouth twitch, but successfully kept the smile threatening to spread on his lips at bay. Her anger was highly amusing. "All is not lost, little one. Just uproot the weed and start fresh. Or have your generous king grant you another plot of land."

"I suppose. Though this place does serve its purpose," she said with a sigh, her anger seemingly forgotten as her eyes scanned over the enclosed terrain.

"Which is what exactly?"

"A quiet place in which one can be alone with one's thoughts. It's strange, but I really haven't gotten to come out here often. There is always some duty I must perform that keeps me from coming. The most I've been able to do is occasionally tend the garden, but after that cancerous plant destroyed everything, I gave up and haven't bothered since."

"What brought you out here today?" he asked gently, and the woman glanced over at him, blinking absently, then narrowing her eyes at him as if she were seeing him for the first time.

"Who are you?" She tilted her head at him curiously. "Are you a visiting dignitary? You carry yourself like a prince." Vegeta snorted at her choice of words, but ignored the question by asking one of his own.

"What is your name?" She stared at him suspiciously for a moment, obviously aware that he'd avoided her question.

"Bulma."

"You live here at the palace? Are you a servant to the king?"

"Of a sorts," she said slowly. "The king uses my services on occasion." Her evasive answer sparked Vegeta's curiosity. His mind began to register what her cryptic meaning might be, though he wasn't surprised. Any man with a creature like her in his household, especially a man such as Yamcha, who exalted feminine beauty, would be crazy to let her slip by unappreciated. He decided to refrain from asking the obvious question and instead focused on a more pertinent one.

"What were you trying to escape by coming out here?" He watched her move her hands to her lap, fidgeting as she chose her words carefully.

"I was trying to escape the monotony of everyday life, I guess," she said with her gaze centered squarely on the flagstone pathway in front of her. "Just for a moment," she added quietly. "Life, it seems, holds little promise of improving when every day is the same as the next. I just needed a break from my duties."

"That is understandable. That is something we all wish to do from time to time. Boredom can be a cruel foe when we are burdened inescapable responsibilities."

"I am beginning to understand that sentiment. I know it sounds ridiculous to wish for more obstacles, but sometimes I feel like there is so much more out there that life has to offer, and I'm stuck here watching it pass me by. It's frustrating." Her statement surprised Vegeta. It spoke so much of his own frustrations, his own distress that he was trapped within this parody of a life, that he would live and die under Frieza's oppressive control and never become the leader he'd been raised to be.

"That is the way life usually goes. We catch glimpses of the things we desire, but rarely are we allowed the chance to obtain it. And when you do get a chance at it, you sometimes find that the object of your desire has been tainted beyond recovery." Vegeta tried to push away the bitter thoughts of his father's betrayal, but he couldn't seem to block out the angry emotion they triggered. His life had become a farce of mockery and servitude all because of his father's weaknesses. The life he should have had, the prospect of becoming a great and powerful king, had been taken away from him. "It is the same as dangling a skin of water in front of a thirsty man, then pouring it out onto the desert sand. The thirsty man is forced to eat wet sand because he has nothing else. Life is usually like wet sand; unfulfilling, yet all you have."

She flashed him a curious glance, then her gaze suddenly returned to his, and he felt himself trapped within the intensity of her eyes. They were lit with understanding, and something else that he could not place, but he didn't have time to ponder it because she leaned in closer to him, close enough so that he could inhale her delicate fragrance, and whispered an inquiry. "Who are you?"

"I am Vegeta."

"Just Vegeta? No title? I was sure you were nobility of some kind. Your clothing might not be as refined as most, but you definitely have an air about you. King Yamcha never dresses in clothing appropriate for his station," she added as an afterthought.

As far as Vegeta was concerned, to consider himself royalty after his father, the king of one of the most powerful race of warriors in the known galaxy, handed him over to Frieza was a joke. His admiration for his father and the throne had been all but crushed by Frieza's mocking and painfully accurate taunts about his father's weakness and disregard for his only son's life. Besides, admitting that he was royalty brought up the infuriating circumstances of his father's submission, which was something he did not want to discuss with anyone. "No, I am just Vegeta."

"So, what brings you to Kuraji?"

"I am here with my squad while your king makes negotiations with Frieza's spokesmen." He briefly explained the situation and Bulma nodded her head in comprehension.

"Yes, I know of all that. Yamcha told me about it a while ago. So, you're one of Frieza's men then?"

Vegeta looked away with distaste, unable to bear saying the words that made his blood simmer every time he thought of them. He nodded reluctantly but she didn't seem to notice.

"Shouldn't you be joining the other soldiers in the harem?" She gazed off into the distance, an unidentifiable emotion passing into those blue depths. "It's said that King Yamcha has the best selection in the galaxy."

"I don't think any could compare to my present company," he said softly and watched her face flush as she turned towards him, slightly surprised by his comment. He was just as stunned. What had caused him to say such a thing? It was a little unnerving to think that her presence was stealing away the stony control that he usually prided himself in.

"Well…I thank you, but I'm guessing that you haven't seen the selection."

"I don't think I need to see it," Vegeta replied huskily, unconsciously shifting closer to her. Her scent was so enticing, her hair shimmering in the dusky light of the receding day. When she tilted her face upwards to look at him, he realized that he had moved close enough to kiss her. And gods, he wanted to, staring down at those soft, slightly parted lips he wanted to more than anything. As he met her gaze, he recognized something heated and potent within her azure eyes that excited him and baffled him at the same time. It was almost as if she were trying to decide whether or not to throw caution to the wind or stem the almost electric, mutual desire that seemed to be suddenly coursing between them. Vegeta hoped she decided soon, because her close proximity was making him want to assist her decision with a few pleasurably persuasive techniques.

He was so caught up in his heated thoughts that he was completely caught off guard when he felt her lips touch lightly against his. They were as soft and smooth as the petals of a flower. She pulled back, searching his eyes for a reaction, and what she found must have been enough to satisfy her, because after only a moment's pause, she pressed her lips back to his more firmly. Vegeta pulled her closer to him and deepened the kiss, plunging deeper still when he felt her tongue exploring his with the same vigor. Her arms moved to encircle his neck as he pilfered her mouth of its delectable taste and he nearly moaned into her mouth when he felt her soft curves press against his chest.

Vegeta knew he should be fighting this. To allow a mere woman to strip him so thoroughly of his control was ludicrous. But he already felt himself pushing her body down onto the bench, his mind already beginning to disregard cognizant thought as his hands roamed her clothed body for openings in the tight satiny fabric to fully access that creamy silk he knew was waiting beneath. Her hands were just as frenzied; one threaded in his hair while the other had already found its way under the hem of his shirt, smoothing over the hard, warm flesh of his abdomen.

How did something so fierce and passionate escalate between them in so short a time, Vegeta briefly wondered, reveling in the sound of her low moan as his hand dipped beneath the material of her dress and stroked the smooth skin of her thigh. He quickly dismissed the thought when her hands found his tail, and with a curious hesitancy, stroked the soft fur with delicate fingers. It didn't matter how or why the passion between them had become so intense. All that did matter was this beautiful female lying beneath him.

He was startled when he felt her slender body suddenly stiffen in his arms, and he was vaguely aware of a voice calling out to them from what seemed like miles away in his passion-hazed mind. The feel of her small hands pushing at his chest brought him back to reality. Reluctantly, he let her up and watched her smooth down her clothing and hair as she stood before the common servant girl waiting tentatively in front of them. He was pleased to see that she had not completely recovered from his caresses, the rosy flush tinting her skin evidence enough of her previous arousal.

"Mistress Bulma, I apologize, but King Yamcha requests your presence immediately. He was most distressed to find that you were not in his chambers as he originally asked."

Bulma sighed in obvious frustration. "Fine. I shall be right behind you, Tyra. Please go and inform the king of my coming." The girl hurried out of the garden as Bulma turned to Vegeta, regret radiating from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Vegeta, but…" Vegeta cut her off with a restricting hand on her arm.

"When can I see you again?"

"I'm not sure that's possible. I stretched the truth when I said Yamcha was generous with his possessions. He will not be willing to share me. I am thankful that my servant girl is extremely loyal to me. Otherwise, I would not know how to explain myself to Yamcha. " He felt her trying to reclaim her arm, but his grip was steady, determined.

"Then we can meet in secret." Vegeta knew he wasn't thinking very clearly, but the possibility of never seeing her again was clouding his mind against all rational thought.

Bulma stared at him for a moment, her blue gaze narrowing slightly as she mulled over his suggestion. "It will have to be tomorrow then, at twilight," she said quickly, throwing a look over her shoulder as if there were an interloper listening behind her, "after the king has his evening meal. He usually goes to bed then and will be dead to the world once he falls asleep. I will try to be here. But I must go now," she said, pulling away from him. And before he had a chance to respond to her, in a flash of blue hair and rustle of silk, she glided out of the garden and disappeared from sight.

Vegeta sat down heavily on the bench, disappointed by her departure but anxious for their next meeting. There was nothing for him to do except go back to the barracks. Any thoughts of visiting the harem had left his mind once he'd seen Bulma. But who exactly was she? Could she be the desert flower he had overheard the soldiers discussing? If she was, he would have to tread carefully with her, but that would by no means stop him from meeting her the following night. As long as she was willing that was all that mattered. And she had definitely been willing. Vegeta suppressed a shudder as he remembered the feel of her hands on his tail and the gentle inviting kiss she had placed on his lips. He already knew he would have little sleep that night with the memory of her body pressed against his in his mind.

How was it that such a lovely creature existed? He had never seen anything like her before in all his travels in Frieza's service. She had to be Yamcha's desert flower; Vegeta couldn't imagine a woman more beautiful. The fact that she belonged to Yamcha infuriated him but did not deter him. Obviously, her devotion for the desert king did not run deep.

But another thought troubled him. If she was, in fact, Yamcha's desert flower, she was nothing but a trained concubine. Was her reaction to him purely an act? It would bother him to think that she was merely playing with him, using him as a much-needed break from bedding solely Yamcha. But it didn't seem that way, Vegeta thought. They'd had a connection, and he had seen the desire stirring within him mirrored in the depths of the eyes. It couldn't have been an act.

That night, when he was finally able to drift off to sleep, his dreams were colored in sapphire and cream.

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Bulma tensed at the sound of the light knock on the door. She stood anxiously, imagining Vegeta on the other side of the door, his face set with determined brows, prepared to ignore her protests and entreaties to stop trying to win her over, but then it suddenly dawned on her that Vegeta would never knock on the door to his own chamber. She found the voice that had unexpectedly withered away in her anxiety, and bid the person on the other side entry.

A tawny-haired servant girl entered the room carrying a silver tray laden with food, and Bulma took a calming breath and sat back down. The girl was only doing her duty; it was common knowledge that Saiya-jin had sizable appetites and the servants were constantly coming to replenish the quickly emptying trays set about the room. The servants were probably unaware that Vegeta had not come to his chambers yet. After setting the tray down, Bulma expected the girl to leave, but instead she stood nervously before her mistress, waiting for permission to speak.

"What is it, Seria?" Bulma had made a point of learning all of the names of the servants who attended her.

"Well, mistress, I have a message for you."

"Is it from the prince?" She was aware that her voice was barely above a whisper, but surprisingly, the girl heard it.

"No, mistress, it's from Yamcha." Bulma stood up so suddenly, the servant took a quick step back. Seria seemed to wait for some cue to continue, since the shock of her statement had frozen Bulma's body and tongue. The girl began a bit hesitantly. "I was one of the servants ordered to clean him up before his interrogation. He was very weak from his injuries and someone had cut up his face very badly. I don't think it was our Saiyan masters, mistress, because I overheard the guards say he was unconscious when they found him and stayed that way for most of the trip. He's probably being interrogated as we speak. While I tended to his wounds, he slipped me this letter and told me to give it to you if I was able. He said he had been carrying it with him for a long while." The girl pulled out a cream colored envelope stained with crimson fingerprints.

Bulma didn't move. She stared at the girl's outstretched hand that supposedly clutched a letter from a dead man. For a moment her mind stayed in that frozen state of shock, trying to comprehend, but after a long silence, Bulma finally broke from her paralysis. Yamcha was alive? "Did he say anything else?" She hadn't reached for the letter yet. She needed conformation that it was indeed from a man whose death she had grieved whole-heartedly just a few days ago.

"He began to speak, but the guards came in to interrogate him and I was forced to leave."

Another long, uncomfortable silence punctuated Seria's comments as Bulma's mind reeled from the information she had just received. Yamcha, the man whom she had once cared for then hated, then cared for again, was alive and now would be sentenced to death. Of course, he could possibly have a trial first, but not even the most lenient judge would overlook his unmistakable association with Frieza. He had openly joined Frieza and declared war on Vegeta-sei and her allies. And all because of her. The heavy weight of her conscience caused her to sit down. Seria must have sensed her mistress' distress, because she set the envelope on the arm of the chair, and after giving a respectful bow, left the room just as quietly as she'd entered. Bulma barely noticed her departure, still thinking about the handsome desert king who had abandoned his people to a monster just to possess her. In essence, his crimes were her crimes because she was the sole reason he had sold his soul and his people to Frieza. And now he would die because of her.

Bulma sat numbly in the silence, staring down at the bloodstained envelope with Kuraji's royal seal. She drew in a deep breath, then snatched up the letter and ripped the envelope in her haste to open it. The two-page letter was neatly folded inside, and as she opened it, Yamcha's perfect calligraphy filled the page. She let out the breath she had been holding in and began to read.

My dearest Bulma,

If you are reading this now, then one of two things has happened. I could be sitting beside you as you read, holding you close after bringing you safely back to me. Or I'm rotting away in Hell, or at least on my way there. Either way, I'm a condemned man. If I'm dead, there is no way to ever repair the suffering I've caused you. And if I'm alive, then I have to face the fact that you may never want to speak to me again. I have lied to you, Bulma. At the time, I felt I had reason. I let greed rule my actions, and I didn't ever think about the consequence until it was too late, and you were snatched from my arms.

I have spent this lonesome year doing things that I never thought I would ever do. I've joined with a monster, and in the process I have become a monster myself. I have watched as Frieza's men destroyed planet after planet with the help of the Taji crystals I supplied them. I saw children, Bulma, shot down like criminals in the streets of there own home world. If I live a hundred years, I think I'll never see anything as horrific as that which I witnessed on my trips with Frieza. It was worse than what I described to you, Bulma, much worse.

It's seemed like Frieza appeared from thin air when I was grieving your loss. I knew I had no chance of getting you back, although I promise you, Bulma. I went through every resource I had trying. So many men lost their lives doing my bidding to try and sneak you out. All were found out and killed before they even reached you. I even came myself, but barely got out alive. I doubt you were even told. Then Frieza showed up. I should have known by the crafty smile and empty condolences that he was up to something, but I was so caught up in my hatred for the Saiyan bastard who stole you from me that I didn't listen to my instincts. I let Frieza use me because he promised to destroyed the Saiyans and bring you back to me. I knew it was dangerous to strike a deal with him, but I ignored all precautions and gave him all the energy crystals he wanted.

Frieza has turned on me. Now that he has what he wants, he is no longer the cordial associate he once professed to be. When I threatened to cut off his supply of crystals, he laughed at me and told me that once this war with the Saiya-jins was won, I would be lucky if he didn't decide to destroy me and my planet. I can't let him kill my people, Bulma. So I am forced to wait this out, but I have a plan. I will kill Frieza myself. While he is occupied with the Saiya-jin, I will ambush him and destroy him with his very own Taji-powered weapon. I know it seems dubious, but I have confidence that I will be able to save my people from a monster like Frieza. I have to.

As it gets closer and closer to the battle with the Saiya-jin, I can no longer justify my actions, no matter what the reason behind it. I have joined with the one being who is responsible for the death of hundreds of worlds, yours included, and sat back and did nothing while he destroyed more with my help. You should hate me, Bulma, for all I have done, and I wouldn't be surprised if you did already. But I haven't yet explained to you what I did before all of this began, something you will probably despise me for to your grave.

Chikyuu wasn't destroyed six years ago. It was destroyed eight years ago, approximately fifteen days after you came to Kuraji. I took you with me, knowing its fate. I had a few contacts who were keeping an eye on Frieza, knowing that he had his sights set on my crystals. That's how I found out that Chikyuu was to be purged. I went there to tie up some business connections that I knew would be undeniably severed when Frieza purged Chikyuu so that I would come out on top. I was a selfish man back then, Bulma. But I believe you have changed me. When I found you, I knew I couldn't leave you to die with the rest of your planet.

I know you must wonder why I didn't warn the people of Chikyuu of their destruction. At the time, I didn't know how to, and I knew that even if they knew, they would still perish. So I surmised that ignorance was bliss. I was very wrong in my judgment, and now I can add Chikyuu to my growing list of evil deeds. I hadn't been strong enough to tell you before because I feared your hatred. I knew you would see me for the coward I was, so I delayed in telling you until I couldn't bear it on my conscious any longer. And even then, I didn't tell you the whole truth.

There is still yet another untruth that I can be accounted for, although this time it was not my doing, and as bad as it sounds, I am less sorry for it. It is about what I told you of that bastard monkey prince, Vegeta. I'm sure you remember that fateful night. That night I told you that about Chikyuu, and then later I told you that Vegeta had been part of the purging squad that destroyed it. Frieza informed me later, after his betrayal, that he lied to me in that respect. He thought it would be amusing to cause the Saiyan more grief, and didn't care what he did to do it. I doubt this information will make much of a difference to you. Vegeta is still responsible for the destruction of many other worlds. He is still the murderer I warned you of, Bulma, and I pray to the gods everyday that he has not harmed you.

So I have made it my duty to right the wrongs I have caused. My soul has already been sullied by Frieza, but maybe if I kill him and I free you, I'll have a chance at redemption. I do not expect you to come running back into my arms. As much as I know you are suffering with that bastard now, I will not force you to stay with me and hate me, as I'm sure you must hate Vegeta.

I love you, Bulma. Even though I remember saying that often, I'm not sure it was enough. I know that your feelings don't run as deep as mine, but I had hoped time would change that. If I am able to free you, you need never look on my face again if it is not your wish. But if you can find it in you heart to forgive me, I swear I will try to be the man you deserve, and I will use your goodness to cleanse my soul. I am truly sorry for everything I have done. I hope this letter finds you, even if I am dead, because then you will know what's in my mind, heart and soul. There is nothing more precious to me in the world than you, my love.

Yamcha

The letter fell from Bulma's trembling fingers. What did this mean? Yamcha had lied to her about Chikyuu. And although she wanted to hate him for not telling her sooner, her mind could not dwell on his dishonesty with her for long. No, it was the misinformation he had relayed to her that demanded her immediate attention. Yamcha said Vegeta hadn't destroyed Chikyuu. Vegeta, the man she had resisted and scorned for so long hadn't been the one to destroy her planet. Which meant that everything she had been doing for the past year had been unwarranted and based on a lie. It was almost too much to handle.

Bulma had been reluctant to believe that Frieza had forced Vegeta to purge worlds, after Yamcha had planted so many doubts in her mind. Eventually, after he waged war against Frieza, she began to accept that maybe he was just as unhappy as he professed to be in Frieza's service. But that still hadn't changed the fact that he had purged Chikyuu. She had told him that she would never forgive him for that fact. And Vegeta never denied her accusations. He had tried to make amends, but she had been stubborn in her un-acceptance. She had let her anger rule her, and had refused to even listen to Vegeta's entreaties to put the past behind them. She had let him know that she would never forget what he had done. And now it had all been meaningless. Because of Yamcha, she had rejected the feelings she had for Vegeta.

If Yamcha had helped Frieza, then maybe he was just as bad as she had accused Vegeta of being. His people were dead because he had ignored the fact that Frieza was one of the most hated and feared tyrants in the universe.Yamcha's jealousy had spawned a war just barely won by Vegeta's extraordinary battle skills and Bulma's unusual photographic memory. She had been sure that Yamcha's alliance with Frieza had given the tyrant what he needed to strike down the Saiyans for good. Vegeta had been extremely lucky that she had managed to remember the plans and schematics for the negative energy absorbers that Yamcha had had his scientists working on to counter the effects of the Taji crystals. She had been able to take a glimpse of the plans only because Yamcha indulged her in the one diversion that had always given her peace of mind: electronics. Back on Chikyuu, when she'd had the time between foraging and scraping for a living, she spent her time trying to find old, broken radios in the trash and repairing them for her younger brothers and sisters to enjoy. Granted, her knowledge had been limited as a child, since most of it came from a torn and tattered book on radio repair she had found lying in a gutter; but Yamcha's scientists had bedazzled her with new inventions and electronic gizmos that she would had never have dreamed of living in the dirty back alleys of Chikyuu, and she realized then that she had a knack for making things work. Because of her fascination with things of an electronical nature, Yamcha had allowed her to see the top secret plans for the energy absorbers. Yamcha had wanted to keep their existence quiet because if it were known that there was a way to disable a Taji-powered weapon, Taji crystal trade would have plummeted and put a serious dent in Kuraji's economy.

Her decision to tell Vegeta of the energy absorbers had been intuition; she would have done anything to stop the war and save as many lives as possible. But that step had another significance as well: she had chosen a side. She had helped Vegeta and thus secured his victory against Frieza and Yamcha. Yamcha must have known it, as well as Vegeta, and try as she might to dismiss the fact that she felt something for Vegeta, be it sympathy, caring, or something stronger, she knew that she could not remain neutral as she'd once intended to do. The hard truth of it was, she didn't want Vegeta to die, and in a sad, disparaging way, she knew that Yamcha deserved whatever fate he had created for himself. If you join the devil, she had once heard, expect to get burned.

Yamcha had let his emotions steer him down a path of destruction. But it wasn't as though he hadn't had a push in that direction. All of it, his jealousy, his anger, had been sparked by her actions. She remembered the day he had first become suspicious of her with overwhelming clarity. She and the desert king had just finished their evening meal together, and Yamcha, as always, was already yawning, anticipating his evening slumber. Her distraction must have shown, because he had repeatedly asked her throughout the meal if all was well with her. She had given him short, almost curt answers, distinctly aware that their meal had been a good half an hour past their normal dining hour. Vegeta was waiting for her in the garden, as he did almost every evening since their first encounter, and Yamcha was taking his own sweet time walking towards his chambers, with her in tow. Bulma tried hurrying him along, complaining that the chill of the evening was giving her a headache, but Yamcha, as usual, was not one to be rushed. Even as they entered the bedroom, Yamcha didn't seem to want to lie down right away. As he pulled off his clothing, he was tugging at hers as well, a small, devious smile curling the corner his mouth. Although it wasn't entirely unusual for Yamcha to want to make love before he went to sleep, Bulma had begun to become annoyed with his increasing attachment to her, and the more frequent lovemaking that accompanied it. It felt as though she was somehow cheating on Vegeta every time she lay with Yamcha, especially when she was forced to do so right before her rendezvous with the handsome Saiyan.

"Is there something wrong, Bulma?" His questioning voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and with a few absent blinks of cognition, she realized that he was staring down at her chest in puzzlement. She followed his gaze, and eventually comprehended his confusion. In her troubled thoughts about Vegeta, she had been gripping the flimsy edges of her wrap dress tightly, pulling the neck closed as if to ward off Yamcha's offending hands. She hadn't been aware she'd been doing so, but as she looked up at him, she recognized a slightly hurt expression cross his features.

"No," she said, trying to keep her voice light and casual as she released the edges of the dress. "Nothing's wrong." She realized that this would be her cue to prove to him that his touch didn't offend her by making love to him, but for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to do it. They stood there awkwardly for a moment until Yamcha turned away from her. He moved over to the bed and lay down, staring up at the high ceilings through the thin, transparent silk canopy draped over the huge four-poster bed.

"Are you coming to bed?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit more hollow than usual. Bulma knew she couldn't refuse to stay with him, or else he really would have a reason to be suspicious of her. She reluctantly stripped down to her underwear and joined him in the bed, mentally willing him to fall asleep so that she could leave and meet Vegeta. He pulled her closer to him as he shifted his weight into a more comfortable position, and she heard him give a sigh of contentment as he closed his eyes.

Within five minutes, Yamcha was snoring and oblivious to his surroundings. He didn't stir when Bulma extracted herself from his arms and moved across the room to redress. She didn't even bother closing the door to the small hidden side passage leading from the room, knowing that nothing short of Armageddon would wake the desert king from his slumber. The passage was meant to be an escape route for the king in case of danger, but she was sure Yamcha barely remembered its existence.

She traversed the narrow tunnel with familiar ease, quickly picking the appropriate pathways that would lead to the hallway just outside her garden. She hurried through the archway and stopped short at the image that greeted her.

Vegeta was standing directly in front of her in the entryway, arms crossed over his chest, waiting impatiently for her presence. He looked perturbed; she could tell as much from the slightly deepened slant of his eyebrows. He eyed her critically for a moment, taking in her somewhat mussed hair and the clothing that she had haphazardly thrown on in her rush to get to him. She self-consciously straightened them, but she knew he would not bring up what she was sure he suspected. "I was not sure if you were coming," he said softly over the gentle hum of the night insect's mating calls serenading them in the background. "This is the first time that you've been late."

"I know, and I apologize. Yamcha was late for dinner and there was nothing I could do but sit there and wait for him to finish. I came as soon as it was possible."

"I know," he said after a pause, and was silent as they walked over to the stone bench. She was tingling with anticipation when she seated herself next to him. Since a few days after their first encounter, they had made love almost every night under the emerging stars of twilight. She had expected as much after the intense passion at which they had come together during their first meeting, but she'd had no idea it would continue so long and still contain the same unrelenting fervor that had been almost impossible to resist when she had first touched her lips to his. It had been sheer luck that he had been able to stay on Kuraji so long; negotiations were going slower than expected, hindered by Frieza's greed and Yamcha's wariness of the tyrant. Maybe that was the reason they clung to each other each time they coupled, like at any moment it would be over and he would be gone forever. Looking at him now, she couldn't even imagine the emotions she would feel when he left her.

She felt his dark gaze on her and turned to meet it, instantly recognizing the desire that swelled within those dark depths. Her arms reached to encircle his neck and she felt herself being pressed against his hard chest with carefully restrained strength. Her mouth found his and after a breathless moment, when she was in the process of sliding down the shoulders of her dress to give him access to what was hidden beneath, he stopped her. His hands cupped her face with a gentleness she was still in awe of, his thumb sweeping over her bottom lip tenderly as he looked into her eyes. It was then that she realized that something was wrong. His eyes held an emotion she was unfamiliar with. In the time they had spent together, she had resigned herself to the task of trying to read emotions on that finely chiseled face of his, and now as she smoothed a finger over the hard line of his mouth, she could see that something was definitely bothering him. He suddenly pushed her away from him, gently, but soberly; he must have realized how well she was getting to know him. He sat forward and didn't look at her as he spoke.

"The negotiations are nearly finished. I heard Jeice speaking of it today. He says they will be done in a few days." He left off there and Bulma slowly closed her eyes, trying to ignore the tightening feeling in her chest. If negotiations were finished, that meant he would be forced to leave with his squad when the time came. They would never see each other again.

"And you will have to leave. I understand," she said, but she really didn't understand. How could she understand the twisted reasoning of the gods who would allow her this small piece of happiness only to rip it away from her before she could even really enjoy it? Her nights with Vegeta had been like nothing she'd ever experienced before. They had seemed almost magical, her garden becoming something of an enchanted paradise where she and Vegeta could share their minds and bodies and the budding fondness beginning to grow between them. It had been almost four weeks; four weeks of getting passed the awkward silences following their love-making; four weeks of discovering the similarities and differences in their opinions of life and the world; and four weeks of beginning to understand each other's thoughts and emotions. Granted, it had been a hard route, trying to tear down a few of the walls Vegeta had thrust at her when she began to question his background and his past. But she had not let the underlying anger he had tried to shield himself with discourage her. She saw the man beneath the stone, the strong and noble person that he was meant to become under the mask of gruffness and resentment. He had never fully explained his circumstances or why his face seemed to darken every time she mentioned Frieza, but she had tried to gain his trust by telling him anything and everything he wanted to know about herself. She felt that if she could only have a little more time with him, he would eventually let her in, beyond the stony barrier of his past. But now she would never know.

She met his eyes once more and, as always, she felt as if she were being drawn to him by an intensity stronger than herself, as he studied her expression. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, but there was also a stronger, more dominant emotion shining from the midnight black: the look of fierce determination.

"I will come back for you," he said resolutely, setting his jaw.

"What?"

"You heard me, woman. I will not leave you here to rot on this desert planet. When I am able, I will take you from this life of servitude."

For a moment, Bulma was speechless. What kind of response could she give him? She could tell him `sure, why not?' It was all she'd dreamed about in the past four weeks, a place where they would both be free from the chains that bound them, free to love and give and take from each other as their minds and bodies demanded. But it had been an unfeasible dream. He could no more escape Frieza's command than she could Yamcha's doting affections. Yamcha had become close to obsessive with her, going nearly ballistic when he had witnessed one of the young guards giving her an appraising look. In the past, the admiration she received had pleased Yamcha because it reflected on his good taste and made his possession of her all the more rewarding for him. She wasn't sure when exactly that had turned into jealousy, but it had abruptly severed her privileges of freedom. The desert king made sure female servants always surrounded her whenever she was allowed to roam the halls. The unfortunate guard who had been caught ogling her was saved from a severe punishment by her quick intervention, but after that, word got around among the ranks of royal guards that they were to keep their gazes trained on the ground when Bulma passed them. It made the occasional bouts of freedom she was allowed a bit depressing, since none of the friendly guards she had made acquaintances with would meet her eye.

Yamcha's jealously increased more and more until, as he had done when Frieza's men arrived, he had her confined to his chambers while he was away dealing with visiting leaders and dignitaries, forbidding her to leave without proper escort. He seemed afraid that if given the chance, she would take every opportunity to betray him with another man. Well, she thought as she allowed her eyes to travel over the smooth olive skin and handsome features of her hard-faced lover, he must have seen something she hadn't. She couldn't barely comprehend the force that had brought her and Vegeta together, but she was sure a little of her willingness to submit to that force had come from Yamcha's jealousy.

Vegeta was studying her again, probably a little confused because she hadn't spoken yet or given him any sign of agreement. She took one of his large, calloused hands and brought it to her lips, kissing each knuckle. They were healed now, no longer cracked and bruised as they once were when she'd first met him. This short retreat he and his squad were being allowed during negotiations had done him good. She had learned from an old crone back on Chikyuu that you could always tell about a man's character through his hands. His hands were healed now, scarred but healed, and she'd like to think that she had a little to do with that. She released his hand and leaned against his shoulder, smiling as she felt his arm wrap around her and pull her closer. That was another change. He had seemed a bit ill at ease after their first few lovemaking sessions, and had looked a little confused when she had tried to snuggle up against him. Obviously, he was used to simply satisfying and leaving his partners as soon as the coupling was over. She had been subtly encouraging him to show a little affection towards her, and now, to her immense satisfaction, he needed no prompting at all. She drew in an unsteady breath before she spoke, trying to keep her voice even, knowing that if she cried she would just make things harder for him.

"Vegeta, we both know that would be nearly impossible. Frieza won't allow you, and Yamcha won't allow me."

"When I destroy Frieza, I will be free to do as I please, and the Kuraji king won't be able to stop me from taking you." Bulma looked up sharply at his mention of Frieza. When he destroyed Frieza? Did he really think he could defeat a monster like Frieza? What else did he think himself capable of?

"Yamcha's a king, Vegeta…" Her voice tapered off when she realized that he might reveal a little more of who he really was. She had always suspected that he was more than he admitted to, but whenever the conversation would drift over to his past, he would clam up and change the subject. He was a man who walked and talked with a conviction and confidence that would rival a king's. Would it be so surprising to find out that he really was a king, enslaved by Frieza against his will?

"I am Saiyan. If I so choose, I could destroy this planet with just a flick of my wrists. Frieza is the only one standing in my way and once I rid myself of him, there would be no one to defeat me." She saw the burning determination in his eyes, and at that moment, she really did believe that he could accomplish anything he set his mind to. She nodded slowly.

"When you do, Vegeta, I will be waiting for you." She lifted her head and kissed him, feeling that familiar rush of passion wash over her as he tightened his hold on her and kissed her back, thoroughly. "So these last few days aren't `goodbye'," she whispered against his neck as he held her, "They're just `see you later.'"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. And I will return for you, Bulma. Never doubt that. Only death would keep me from following through with my promise." She drew back from him now, and ran her fingers over an angular cheekbone.

"I know, Vegeta," she said softly. "I…I don't know what's in store for us once we get through this, but I know that if we can manage to stay together, everything will be okay." And with that she pulled him down on top of her, and embraced him fully, mind, body, and heart.

She had been smiling when she made her way back through the hidden passages to Yamcha's chamber. She stripped almost dreamily and made her way to the bed, thoughts and plans regarding her future whirling about in her head. Whatever happened, whatever stood in their way, she and Vegeta would work through it. Bulma smiled at the thought. She lay down next to Yamcha, her back to him and had to stifle a scream when she felt a strong arm settle on her waist and tighten. She held her breath, hoping that Yamcha was just stirring in his sleep, and when she finally felt his grip gradually loosening, she shifted carefully in his arms to sneak a peek at him.

Two narrowed black eyes stared back at her through the moonlit darkness. She felt a flicker of fear as Yamcha sat up, stiff and silent, but his eyes teeming suspicion.

"Yamcha, I thought you were asleep."

"I was Bulma-girl," he said with surprising coldness. It was a nickname he used when he was more than a little upset with her, which was usually not often. "But then I was disturbed by one of the guards. You see, the negotiations I'm doing with Frieza's spokesmen are coming to a close, and Frieza himself wanted to speak to me over vid-comm, and well, the pasty bastard just doesn't care how inconvenient the hour might be to his associates. But you can imagine my surprise when I discovered you missing. I was ready to send the guards searching for you, but then I noticed the door." He gestured over to the wall with the secret passage. "I kept Frieza on hold to look for you." His voice suddenly turned accusing and it held a note of forewarning menace. "I went to the garden, Bulma, and what do you think I saw?"

Her eyes widened at the sudden realization that it might not be just her who would be punished, but Vegeta as well. He had seen them and there was no way to deny it. She had to convince Yamcha that it was all her doing, that Vegeta had merely responded to her attentions. She would have to do anything, anything to keep Yamcha from trying to harm Vegeta and keep him from ending their plans for the future.

"You betrayed me, Bulma. You left my bed for that monkey, a Saiyan!"

"Please, Yamcha," she pleaded. "It was all my fault, I-" His hand gripped her arm painfully and she bit back a cry. Dread filled her as she realized that Yamcha might be beyond words. The rage in his eyes was overwhelming, and she wracked her brain for something she could say to him that would quell his anger.

"Why, Bulma? Haven't I given you everything you ever wanted? Haven't I kept you safe, and taken care of you? I brought you from the dirty streets of Chikyuu, got closer to you than a king should to his pleasure slave. Why have you done this? Did that filthy monkey force you into this?" He was gripping both of her arms now, shaking her, just on the brink of explosion…and her answer now would determine both her fate and Vegeta's, whether Vegeta lived to break free from Frieza and take her away from all this. Oh, how she wanted to just yell at Yamcha that his smothering affection wasn't enough for her, that any touch except Vegeta's close to sickened her now, and that living with him was like living in agony because now she had seen what it could have been like, should have been like. She might have had the possibility of real happiness if she had refused Yamcha on that fatefully day back on Chikyuu. Now all she had were handful of possible hopes and dreams, all of which would be shattered if she couldn't soothe Yamcha's anger.

"I-I thought," she faltered as she struggled for words. "I thought you didn't love me anymore, my lord." She dragged in a breath as Yamcha's grip lessened minutely. "I thought…I thought you viewed me as just your possession and nothing more." If she'd had a private moment alone, she would have sighed an enormous sigh of relief, because, after a moment's scrutiny, Yamcha's eyes softened a little, the angry fire dulling into something just above a low burn.

"Why would you think that, Bulma? I have tried to spend all of the time I have with you. I have nothing more precious in my life than you, Bulma. And to see you in the arms of that Saiyan beast…" The seething fire flared once more. "I'll make him pay for this. I can't have him punished myself because he's Frieza little plaything, but Frieza told me that he would highly enjoy actually having a reason to beat the little monkey prince this time." Bulma froze momentarily, digesting his words. Prince? She shouldn't be surprised. But she couldn't have Vegeta punished for something she'd done willingly, even if she was going to maintain her lie to Yamcha.

"Yamcha, it was all my fault. I sought him out. I saw him and I wanted to ease the pain I was feeling when I thought you'd abandoned me." She was surprised how easily the lies rolled off of her tongue. "He didn't know I was forbidden to him. I never told him."

"Did he tell you what he is? What he's done?" Before Bulma even had a chance to reply, Yamcha continued. "He's a murderer, Bulma. Every bit of a monster as Frieza is. He and his squad had just finished a purging mission before they came here."

Hesitantly, Bulma asked, "Purging mission?"

"It's when they clear a planet of all life-forms. They kill them, Bulma, kill the animals and the all of people, and then they sell the planet to the highest bidder."

"But that's Frieza's doing. He orders them to do it." She could hear her voice trembling slightly, and she tried to steel herself against Yamcha's ugly words. He's trying to make me hate Vegeta, she thought angrily.

"Bulma," he said softly, almost comfortingly, "the Saiyans in Frieza's ranks joined of their own free will, including their prince. Frieza told me all about it. But that little monkey prince is unruly. His own father sent him to be disciplined by Frieza. But I'm told he enjoys the purging missions immensely, due to the Saiya-jin's inherently violent and aggressive nature."

Bulma shut her eyes, trying to block out Yamcha's horrible accusations. This was not the Vegeta she knew. The Vegeta she knew was gruff, yet gentle and compassionate. He was not the merciless killer Yamcha was making him out to be.

"Bulma," he began, looking at her guiltily. Why was his face so grim all of a sudden? "I…there is something you should know. This isn't the right time to tell you this, and I have been thinking about how to break this to you for a long time. Chikyuu…Bulma, Frieza had Chikyuu purged. It was about three months ago. Chikyuu refused to join his alliance and he declared war on them. They were no match for him, I'm afraid."

His words were like a stunning punch in the stomach. She sat there, unmoving, staring up at him, searching his eyes for some hint of deception. There was none. It couldn't be true, Bulma thought. Her world, her family…gone? And Vegeta was one and the same as those killers. How could that be? Vegeta loved her, cared about her. He couldn't be like one of the monsters that destroyed her planet. How could he keep something like that from her? She couldn't remember when she had finally broken down, or when Yamcha's arms had wrapped around her in an attempt to console, but she did remember laying in his arms, exhausted from her tears, and hearing him whisper above her, "I forgive you, Bulma. I forgive you for everything. Just don't ever do this to me again." She fell asleep feeling shattered and dispirited, her final thoughts dwelling on the happiness that would never be hers.

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