Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What Dreams May Come ❯ Nerves of Steal ( Chapter 5 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Jessibelle67 
Is anyone even reading these anymore? I know I'm not.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 10.21.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 4.9K | Visits: 734 | Status: Work In Progress
Is anyone even reading these anymore? I know I'm not.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Angst | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 10.21.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 4.9K | Visits: 734 | Status: Work In Progress
Author's Note: Just to make sure we're all on the same page. In the year that Vegeta has been staying at Capsule Corp. he and Bulma don't interact at all. They don't talk, they don't argue, nothing, nada, zip, zero, zilch. Bulma doesn't know about Vegeta's past and being brought up in Freeza's army. And Bulma is afraid of Vegeta. Don't worry she gets braver. ~_^ I think that's all. ^_^
I hope I don't confuse anyone but there is a lot of stream of consciousness thinking in this chapter. Thoughts are shown as being surrounded by <These. >
And I named Bulma's mom Bunny, because it seems to fit.
Last Time: Bulma slips into one of Vegeta's dreams of his past. The two share a chaste kiss in Bulma's attempt to comfort our troubled saiyan. Upon waking she feels guilty and doesn't know why.
Chapter Five
"Nerves of Steal"
< He's nothing.
He's not even real.
What the hell is wrong with you?
I don't know.
Maybe I'm losing my mind.
Or maybe…. I don't know. >
"Bulma? Bulma are you ok?"
"Huh?" Bulma slipped out of her internal monologue to see her mother looking at her suspiciously.
"You've barely touched your dinner. You've been distracted all day. You're not sick, are you?" Bunny raised her palm to feel her daughter's forehead for a sign of fever.
"No, mom, I'm all right. Just a little tired is all." She yawned. The skin under Bulma's eyes were purple from lack of sleep. In the course of two short weeks her life was beginning to crumble. Work was falling behind; her father was all ready riding her to catch up. She had missed three dates with Yamcha, too drained to go out. He had suggested coming over and staying at her place for a few days but she declined on the grounds that she was too tired even for, well, his idea of recreation.
In truth, she was tired, but there was something else. Lately the thought of being with Yamcha that way seemed kind of tedious. Interest in their usual dates and activities suddenly held little appeal for her. All relationships had ruts, maybe this was just one of those. At least that's what she told her self.
At night she went to bed, tossing and turning for hours, unable to sleep. And when she finally did fall into some state of slumber, it didn't help. She woke every morning more drained then the one before. This all seemed to start after the night of her last dream. It truly was the last dream she had had, because since that night her sleep had been blank and void of images. The image of that small boy lying broken and bleeding against a wall had stayed with her. As well as the misty picture of the man he grew up to be. But that dream was the last she'd seen of him since.
Her mother opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of the back door slamming. He had come in from training. According to her mother, who insisted on interacting with the irate saiyan, Vegeta had become more irritable then usual. Even though she saw him very rarely, even Bulma could tell that his training schedule was off. The family had grown accustomed to the saiyan leaving the house before dawn to train well past nightfall. As of late he'd been spending days at a time locked away in the gravity simulator. Bulma didn't know what had thrown him into such a fever of training, but he couldn't be sleeping but a few hours every couple days. Alien or not, it wasn't a healthy way to live. But she had enough problems of her own with out having to figure out his.
Mrs. Briefs rose from the dinning room table to greet the prince in the kitchen. Bulma could hear her mother's perky banter from her seat. "Vegeta, you poor thing." She cooed. "You look terrible."
Vegeta didn't reply but Bulma could imagine the 'go to hell' look he was giving her. Mrs. Briefs, no matter how many times she was instructed to leave the saiyan alone for her own good, never quite grasped the concept that Vegeta was in fact capable of killing them all if he wanted. Instead she chose to mother him like another child. As a testament to his self-control he tolerated the woman's actions and for the most part ignored her. Bulma wasn't sure that even she could resist the urge to throttle her mother if she had the physical power to. He allowed the woman's fussing with surprisingly veiled disdain. Deep down maybe he enjoyed it. Not knowing much about his past, Bulma guessed that he had never been smother with maternal love in his life. Who knows, perhaps Bunny's insistent coddling was just what the harsh warrior needed. Either that or he would eventually tire of being treated as a weak little boy and blow the entire Capsule Corp. compound away. Right now Bulma was far too tired to really care either way.
"Well, I made plenty of food," Bunny went on. "I know what a healthy appetite you have." Still no response from the disgruntled house guest. "Well just let me know if you need anything." Bunny finally took the hint that he wasn't going to answer, so she left and came back into the dinning room. "You should see that poor boy," She told her daughter.
Bulma rolled her eyes, "And why should I care what condition that 'poor boy' is in?" She was all too aware that he could hear her in the next room. The little taste of defiance against him was enough to make the skin on the back of her neck prickle. Little warnings always ran through her brain whenever he was near, but her dislike of the saiyan over-road her sense of better judgment. She was afraid of him, but not enough to hide her hatred towards him. True that when he went off to space in her father's ship, she had been worried to hear the he was running out of fuel. But once he returned and started ordering her around like a servant she had quickly gotten over her momentary infatuation. To think she had even had a dream where they had kissed. The mere thought made her sick now. Still, a part of her mused, he had been a good kisser.
"Because," her mother answered, "He looks terrible. When was the last time he came in from training?" She asked as if Bulma should know.
"Three days ago, 'round noon." The answer was automatic and it startled her that she had taken notice of such a thing.
Bunny shook her head in a disapproving manner, "He really shouldn't train so much. Can't be healthy."
Her mother's ignorance to the glaringly obvious astounded her. "Mom," She said patiently. "He's an alien. Saiyans are weird like that. I'm mean come on," she laughed as she rose from the table and went to the kitchen to clear her plate, "You've met Goku."
Bunny blinked back cluelessly, "Goku's an alien?"
* * *
Vegeta stood leaning against the sink shoveling food into his mouth straight from the pot. They did their best to ignore each other as Bulma stood next to him cleaning her plate into the garbage disposal. Vegeta continued to stare forward, taking no notice of her presence. She placed her dishes in the dishwasher and walked out of the room with out a single glance or word spoken between the two.
"I'm going to go lay down," she told her mom passing back through the dinning room.
"Try and get some rest, dear. You look like you could use it."
Bunny was still clearing the table when Vegeta walked though, "Where are you going, Vegeta?" She tried one last attempt to talk to him.
"Sleep," he clipped out.
Bunny sighed, watching him walk away. At least he had responded this time, she thought, it was a start.
* * *
Lying on her bed, Bulma could not fall asleep. The sounds of the door on the next room over closing caught her attention. So Vegeta did rest eventually. She had begun to think that he would keep training until he either passed out or died. Not that she would be all that upset if he did. Then she could have her house back and not have to live in fear of crossing the alien monarch.
<No, that's not true. > A pesky voice in the back of her head answered. She frowned at her thoughts. <If Vegeta died I might be a little sad. I mean he's been here for almost a year and hasn't killed anyone. That has to count for something. And he stopped ordering me around like some personal slave. >
< Well, actually I don't see him at all so he can't order me around. >
<Still, > she argued back. <He can't be exactly the same as he was when he first came to earth. If he was the same then he would have killed my entire family by now for not giving him enough respect or simply because he thought we were too weak or something like that. When he stayed here with the namekians he behaved him self. Well, mostly because he never came out of his room, but still no action is better then a murderous rampage. >
<I wonder just how many people he has killed? > A morbid thought to cross her mind out of nowhere, but it posed a good question. Vegeta has originally come to earth with plans to eradicate the human race. How many other planets had suffered the same fate? Exactly how many billions of people had died at his hands? It all went to reaffirm her disgust towards the short alien.
<He's not that short, he an inch taller then me.
Doesn't matter, he's a hideous murderer.
He's not really hideous either.
Shut up! That's Vegeta you're thinking about.
He doesn't act like an intergalactic murderer.
How is an intergalactic murderer supposed to act?
I don't know but not like him.
Why do I care!?!
I don't, I'm going to sleep. >
She rolled onto her side and snuggled deeper into a pillow. Deprived of a good night's sleep for nearly two weeks, hopefully now she could get some rest.
<But why did he kill so many people? >
Bulma growled in frustration and threw a pillow over her head,
<I don't know, maybe he liked his job.
Why don't I just ask him?
'Cause he'd probably kill me.
Do I really think he'd kill me over something so small?
Yes.
No. >
"How about this," she huffed aloud, "It doesn't matter!"
Tearing the blankets off her body, she threw her jeans back on and stomped out of the room. At this rate she would never get any rest so she might as well catch up on some work.
* * *
At only ten o'clock at night the house was dark and deserted. Bulma's parents usually went to bed around nine, unless her dad had a new project in the works. Sometimes he would stay awake all night working on some world changing invention. Dr. Briefs had always frowned on Bulma's inventions because they we're usually made in the hopes of benefiting her friends rather then the public at large. Never mind that they helped her friends save the world, to her father that was just a minor detail.
Stepping lightly down the hallway, she had just left her office to break from the tedious paper work. Rounding on the kitchen doorway, she gave an involuntary gasp of fright. A dark silhouette stood leaning against the kitchen sink. For one insane moment her mind flew back to the image of her dark "dream man" hidden in the shadows of her memory. Groping blindly on the wall she found the light switch and flooded the room with blinding white light.
Vegeta blinked against the harsh assault to his eyes. His pupils contracted and quickly adjusted to the light. Bulma was standing in the doorway, hand still on the light switch, looking at him with an expression halfway between surprise and disappointment. He was fully aware of the degree of dislike the human held for him and her fear ever time he was around was so apparent it was almost tangible. He took no exceptional pleasure in her fear. It was no great feet for a warrior like him to strike terror in the heart of one lowly human female. It was almost annoying the way she jumped every time he was round. She should be used to his presence by now. A year had passed since he had returned to earth, not to mention the time he spent here after Namek's destruction. Hell, it was her idea he stay there in the first place.
He took a moment to study her as she moved to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. If he recalled correctly he once described her as gorgeous. (AN: I'm not making that part up. He really did. ^_^*) She really was quite lovely. Too bad she could barley control her trembling every time he walked in the room, and her taste in men was deplorable. The mere sight of that idiot she called a mate was a disgrace to the art of fighting. He wasn't a fighter, he was better suited to be cleaning armor or licking Vegeta's boots. Whatever she found appealing in that weakling, he hoped never to find out.
Bulma twisted the cap off her water and reached for an apple out of a basket on the counter. The skin along her entire body prickled with nervousness. Everything about him set her off. His presence was daunting and could fill the whole room with negative energy. He just stood there silent and staring like some kind of hunting beast. The only movement exhibited was the raising of a glass of water to his lips. He drank the water in one long gulp. The glass just barely moved from his mouth before it shattered in his hand. Bulma heard him swear softly under his breath. Working up a good amount of courage and keeping her eyes down cast to the half eaten apple in her hand, she spoke up to reprimand him, "Would you mind not breaking every dish in the house."
With Vegeta training constantly under such high gravity, the broken glass was not an uncommon occurrence. "It not my fault this shit breaks so easily," he sneered. He crossed his arms over his chest and ignored the shards of glass littered over his bare feet.
"Well, maybe if you tried a little more self control." She trembled with the early on sets of terror. Whispers in her head were telling her to shut up and leave it well enough alone.
Vegeta held back an evil chuckle. She was shaking with the effort to control her own fear and yet scolding him any way. The air stank of her fear, he breathed it in with slight relish. For such a weak being, he had to admit that it took some courage to talk back to him. If she could just work up the nerve to look at him she would see that he was leaning more towards amused then murderous at her sudden burst of vigor. He schooled his face into a harsh scowl and made his voice hard. "And why should I care?" he baited.
Her fear was starting to be over run by anger. This was her house and her belongings he was breaking. "Maybe because this is my house not yours. You’re a guest here, so maybe you should be a little more considerate." She gritted through her teeth and finally worked up the will to look at him.
It took restraint not to smirk. She was reacting just as he hoped she would. He had seen glimpses of a fiery temper in her before but she had yet to turned that sharpened wit on him of fear of his temper. It'd been a while since he'd had a good fight, whether physical or verbal, so he would take what he could get. "Why should a member of royalty, such as myself, give a damn about you or your house. You should be bowing at my feet." He took a step towards her making the glass on the floor crunch.
An angry flush crept up her neck to her cheeks. How dare he? She stepped towards him and met his glare with one of her own. "Listen here buddy, I don't care how strong or scary you are, I'll not have you intimidating me in my own home. I demand that you start treating this family with a little more respect, I don't care what you’re the prince of." She raised a finger and poked him in the chest.
"Demand, do you?" Ever so slowly he dragged his gaze down to her offending digit before going back to her eyes, letting it dawn on her that she had made a big mistake. He brushed her hand aside and watched her carefully constructed courage crumble as she swallowed audibly. He let her worry for a moment before giving a slightly evil chuckle. "Calm down, Woman. Killing you would be a waste of my energy." He left her trembling in the middle of the kitchen and walked out the back door to go train.
The shaking continued until she was forced to reach a hand out to the counter to steady herself. What had gotten into her to talk to him like that? Maybe because he deserved it. She regarded her actions with an air of disgust. Not for standing up to him, but because she couldn't control her shaking as she did it. Yeah, she must have come off real tough.
<Woman? Does he even know my name? Probably not. >
Taking a drink of cool water she threw the remnants of her apple in the garbage and grabbed the broom to sweep up the bits of glass Vegeta had so kindly left for her to clean up.
* * *
The lights dimmed from white to red, alerting anyone who cared that the gravity was increasing. There were no training robots flying about since he has broken then all earlier in the day. As the numbers on the control panel rounded on three hundred and fifty, even Vegeta had to pause and wonder how his hair stayed erect under such extreme pressure when his body was struggling to remain standing. He had managed a few hours of dreamless sleep, but his body craved more rest. Rest that his mind was not willing to give. In the weeks since he dreamed of that woman he rested as little as possible. Not quite able to rationalize his actions, he simply let his body work it's self into such a state of exhaustion that dreams were not possible. So far it was successful, but for how long? Even his indomitable will could not keep this pace forever.
He started his work out with a series of push-ups and other warm-up exercises before working into a routine of shadow fighting. He kept it up while sweat ran down his body in deep rivets. The air in the room was humid and thick with the smell of sweat and blood. His senses caught the scent, reminding him of so many memories past.
~ Flashback ~ (AN: sorry the special effects team is on vacation. :P)
Vegeta lay on the floor in a puddle of his own blood; eyes heavily lidded as his mind sat blurred between the lines of consciousness and unconsciousness. Even at the tender age of five he was no stranger to this degree of pain, but that didn't mean that he could handle it.
A large man with spiky red/brown hair walked up to the damaged figure. He gave the boy a shove with the toe of his boot. "Get up, brat," he ordered.
A tear escaped from the child's eye. "Father... please," he whimpered.
The man bent down and backhanded his son. The blow sent the boy's body rolling across the floor, into the wall. The child let out a sharp cry of pain. "Stop, please," he sobbed.
"You're going to get up and finish training," his father growled as he stalked over to where his son's body lay. "Look at you, begging for mercy. Pathetic." He gave the boy a harsh kick. "Mercy is for the weak," he yelled down. "You are a saiyan prince, you beg from no one!" He kicked his son again. "Now get up!"
Amazingly, Vegeta managed to stumble to his feet. Breathing hard, his legs trembled. His left eye was swollen shut and blood was seeping out of the corner of his mouth, as well as from various other cuts on his small body.
The king looked him over. "Pathetic," he repeated. "You are Prince Vegeta, the prophesied one destined to become a super saiyan, and you can barely even fight me. Truly pathetic."
Vegeta stared at the floor in shame. He mumbled something too soft for his father to hear.
"What did you say, brat?" the king demanded.
Vegeta looked up at him with his one good eye. "I said, what if I can't?"
"Can't what?" his father was obviously irritated
"What if I can't become a super saiyan?" the boy asked innocently.
He never had time to move out of the way of his father's powerful fist. The king's knuckles connected with his son's jaw, resounding in a sickening crack. Vegeta's body fell to the ground again.
"Never let me hear you say that EVER AGAIN!" the king screamed. "Never, you hear me!"
King Vegeta walked away leaving his bruised and broken son on the training room floor.
Before he fell into total darkness, Vegeta could hear his father in the distance. "Get this weak piece of filth into one of the regeneration tanks. We'll continue this later."
~ End of flashback ~
Vegeta blinked back the last of his memory. All training session before that one had been painful, as fighting often is, but never had they been so brutal. At the time he found his father's actions to be cruel and completely out of character. Yes, he remembered that day well. That was the same day he learned of his fate; that he was to be given over to Freeza. It wasn't until many years later that Vegeta understood exactly what the king had been doing. His father knew what kind of hell living under Freeza's rule would be. The faster Vegeta became a super saiyan the better it would be for all. But no amount of screaming or beating on the king's part could push his son over that barrier. Here Vegeta was many, many years later still trying to reach that goal that had been promised to him since the day of his birth.
If only he could have reached it sooner. If only he could have been the one to destroy Freeza with his bare hands. Not only would he reach his life long goal and avenge his people, but he would have finally repaid the androgynous lizard for all the pain and suffering he inflicted on Vegeta's mind and body over the years. Technically it was that purple haired boy that dealt Freeza the killing blow, but Kakorrot was the one to truly destroy the galactic warlord. Kakorrot was the one who brought defeat upon Freeza's head; after that death was a mercy.
Anger towards the younger saiyan boiled up in his veins bringing even greater fury and passion to his work out. The gravity meter had gradually risen to four hundred and fifty. He took little notice as his thoughts raged on. One thought always came to him when looking back on the events on Namek.
Kakorrot had no right to be there.
While he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, Vegeta was just plain happy to see Freeza dead, but it was still not enough. The death that Freeza received, whether at Kakorrot's hands or at the boy from the future's, it was not a fitting defeat for such a monster. During Freeza's rein billions of lives had either been lost, ruined, destroyed or enslaved. Billions of souls, dead and living, cried out for his blood. Freeza was responsible for killing husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, friends, enemies, lovers, whole civilizations and planets. Many people, Vegeta included, had lost every thing and everyone that mattered to them. The only thing that has kept them going, the only reason to keep on living had been the dream, the hope, that one day one of their own would rise to take the life of their brutal enslaver.
Years spent waiting, training, praying, hoping that that day would come, and what happened when it finally did? An outsider came and took it all away. A man who had not suffered to the full extent at Freeza's hands. An innocent who would never know the true pain that a monster like Freeza could inflict. Kakorrot had come and destroyed the tyrant all because he lost one bald headed midget. And to add insult to injury, Kakorrot, a saiyan who did not even remember his own proud heritage, rose to claim the pinnacle of his race. A position that Vegeta had bled, sweat and literally died to achieve and in an instant it was gone. His reason for living was gone. What would he do now that there was no Freeza to defeat? For the first time since he was five, Vegeta was free, only to become Kakorrot's slave. His pride would not let him rest until he defeated the one who surpassed him and stole his dream. He would repay Kakorrot for killing Freeza when he had no right, he would also make him pay for achieving a place among the ancestors that he did not even remember when it was not his to take.
Incensed in his anger, Vegeta threw blast after blast around the domed room. He dodged and weaved between energy beams as his thoughts boiled around the idea of Kakorrot's power. Becoming distracted for a moment's time he was hit in the shoulder and sent crashing to the floor. The weight of the air pinned him for a few precious seconds as a large beam headed straight for him. The energy was too great and his body too weak to take the blow. In a last desperate attempt he pushed all the energy and will left in his body into one attack. Meeting the offending beam head on the energy mingled and grew, becoming too large for the room to hold. The sounds of tearing metal pierced the air. Wires sparked and crackled in the computer's main control. A tinny electronic voice could be heard faintly repeating "Warning, warning" but was soon silenced at the entire structure blew apart.
The capsule rocked and tipped as the top was blown off. Vegeta was thrown under a mountain of rubble, barely conscious from the numerous blows. He remembered feeling a dull pain encase his entire body and the feel of metal ripping into his skin. The world spun once before diving into endless black.
* ~ *
Author's Note: OK, I know I said no blowing up of the gravity room, but come one, you got to give me one because it actually did happen on the show. This is the last time, I promise.
Next Time: Bulma tends to Vegeta's wounds. ^_^
I hope I don't confuse anyone but there is a lot of stream of consciousness thinking in this chapter. Thoughts are shown as being surrounded by <These. >
And I named Bulma's mom Bunny, because it seems to fit.
Last Time: Bulma slips into one of Vegeta's dreams of his past. The two share a chaste kiss in Bulma's attempt to comfort our troubled saiyan. Upon waking she feels guilty and doesn't know why.
Chapter Five
"Nerves of Steal"
< He's nothing.
He's not even real.
What the hell is wrong with you?
I don't know.
Maybe I'm losing my mind.
Or maybe…. I don't know. >
"Bulma? Bulma are you ok?"
"Huh?" Bulma slipped out of her internal monologue to see her mother looking at her suspiciously.
"You've barely touched your dinner. You've been distracted all day. You're not sick, are you?" Bunny raised her palm to feel her daughter's forehead for a sign of fever.
"No, mom, I'm all right. Just a little tired is all." She yawned. The skin under Bulma's eyes were purple from lack of sleep. In the course of two short weeks her life was beginning to crumble. Work was falling behind; her father was all ready riding her to catch up. She had missed three dates with Yamcha, too drained to go out. He had suggested coming over and staying at her place for a few days but she declined on the grounds that she was too tired even for, well, his idea of recreation.
In truth, she was tired, but there was something else. Lately the thought of being with Yamcha that way seemed kind of tedious. Interest in their usual dates and activities suddenly held little appeal for her. All relationships had ruts, maybe this was just one of those. At least that's what she told her self.
At night she went to bed, tossing and turning for hours, unable to sleep. And when she finally did fall into some state of slumber, it didn't help. She woke every morning more drained then the one before. This all seemed to start after the night of her last dream. It truly was the last dream she had had, because since that night her sleep had been blank and void of images. The image of that small boy lying broken and bleeding against a wall had stayed with her. As well as the misty picture of the man he grew up to be. But that dream was the last she'd seen of him since.
Her mother opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the sound of the back door slamming. He had come in from training. According to her mother, who insisted on interacting with the irate saiyan, Vegeta had become more irritable then usual. Even though she saw him very rarely, even Bulma could tell that his training schedule was off. The family had grown accustomed to the saiyan leaving the house before dawn to train well past nightfall. As of late he'd been spending days at a time locked away in the gravity simulator. Bulma didn't know what had thrown him into such a fever of training, but he couldn't be sleeping but a few hours every couple days. Alien or not, it wasn't a healthy way to live. But she had enough problems of her own with out having to figure out his.
Mrs. Briefs rose from the dinning room table to greet the prince in the kitchen. Bulma could hear her mother's perky banter from her seat. "Vegeta, you poor thing." She cooed. "You look terrible."
Vegeta didn't reply but Bulma could imagine the 'go to hell' look he was giving her. Mrs. Briefs, no matter how many times she was instructed to leave the saiyan alone for her own good, never quite grasped the concept that Vegeta was in fact capable of killing them all if he wanted. Instead she chose to mother him like another child. As a testament to his self-control he tolerated the woman's actions and for the most part ignored her. Bulma wasn't sure that even she could resist the urge to throttle her mother if she had the physical power to. He allowed the woman's fussing with surprisingly veiled disdain. Deep down maybe he enjoyed it. Not knowing much about his past, Bulma guessed that he had never been smother with maternal love in his life. Who knows, perhaps Bunny's insistent coddling was just what the harsh warrior needed. Either that or he would eventually tire of being treated as a weak little boy and blow the entire Capsule Corp. compound away. Right now Bulma was far too tired to really care either way.
"Well, I made plenty of food," Bunny went on. "I know what a healthy appetite you have." Still no response from the disgruntled house guest. "Well just let me know if you need anything." Bunny finally took the hint that he wasn't going to answer, so she left and came back into the dinning room. "You should see that poor boy," She told her daughter.
Bulma rolled her eyes, "And why should I care what condition that 'poor boy' is in?" She was all too aware that he could hear her in the next room. The little taste of defiance against him was enough to make the skin on the back of her neck prickle. Little warnings always ran through her brain whenever he was near, but her dislike of the saiyan over-road her sense of better judgment. She was afraid of him, but not enough to hide her hatred towards him. True that when he went off to space in her father's ship, she had been worried to hear the he was running out of fuel. But once he returned and started ordering her around like a servant she had quickly gotten over her momentary infatuation. To think she had even had a dream where they had kissed. The mere thought made her sick now. Still, a part of her mused, he had been a good kisser.
"Because," her mother answered, "He looks terrible. When was the last time he came in from training?" She asked as if Bulma should know.
"Three days ago, 'round noon." The answer was automatic and it startled her that she had taken notice of such a thing.
Bunny shook her head in a disapproving manner, "He really shouldn't train so much. Can't be healthy."
Her mother's ignorance to the glaringly obvious astounded her. "Mom," She said patiently. "He's an alien. Saiyans are weird like that. I'm mean come on," she laughed as she rose from the table and went to the kitchen to clear her plate, "You've met Goku."
Bunny blinked back cluelessly, "Goku's an alien?"
* * *
Vegeta stood leaning against the sink shoveling food into his mouth straight from the pot. They did their best to ignore each other as Bulma stood next to him cleaning her plate into the garbage disposal. Vegeta continued to stare forward, taking no notice of her presence. She placed her dishes in the dishwasher and walked out of the room with out a single glance or word spoken between the two.
"I'm going to go lay down," she told her mom passing back through the dinning room.
"Try and get some rest, dear. You look like you could use it."
Bunny was still clearing the table when Vegeta walked though, "Where are you going, Vegeta?" She tried one last attempt to talk to him.
"Sleep," he clipped out.
Bunny sighed, watching him walk away. At least he had responded this time, she thought, it was a start.
* * *
Lying on her bed, Bulma could not fall asleep. The sounds of the door on the next room over closing caught her attention. So Vegeta did rest eventually. She had begun to think that he would keep training until he either passed out or died. Not that she would be all that upset if he did. Then she could have her house back and not have to live in fear of crossing the alien monarch.
<No, that's not true. > A pesky voice in the back of her head answered. She frowned at her thoughts. <If Vegeta died I might be a little sad. I mean he's been here for almost a year and hasn't killed anyone. That has to count for something. And he stopped ordering me around like some personal slave. >
< Well, actually I don't see him at all so he can't order me around. >
<Still, > she argued back. <He can't be exactly the same as he was when he first came to earth. If he was the same then he would have killed my entire family by now for not giving him enough respect or simply because he thought we were too weak or something like that. When he stayed here with the namekians he behaved him self. Well, mostly because he never came out of his room, but still no action is better then a murderous rampage. >
<I wonder just how many people he has killed? > A morbid thought to cross her mind out of nowhere, but it posed a good question. Vegeta has originally come to earth with plans to eradicate the human race. How many other planets had suffered the same fate? Exactly how many billions of people had died at his hands? It all went to reaffirm her disgust towards the short alien.
<He's not that short, he an inch taller then me.
Doesn't matter, he's a hideous murderer.
He's not really hideous either.
Shut up! That's Vegeta you're thinking about.
He doesn't act like an intergalactic murderer.
How is an intergalactic murderer supposed to act?
I don't know but not like him.
Why do I care!?!
I don't, I'm going to sleep. >
She rolled onto her side and snuggled deeper into a pillow. Deprived of a good night's sleep for nearly two weeks, hopefully now she could get some rest.
<But why did he kill so many people? >
Bulma growled in frustration and threw a pillow over her head,
<I don't know, maybe he liked his job.
Why don't I just ask him?
'Cause he'd probably kill me.
Do I really think he'd kill me over something so small?
Yes.
No. >
"How about this," she huffed aloud, "It doesn't matter!"
Tearing the blankets off her body, she threw her jeans back on and stomped out of the room. At this rate she would never get any rest so she might as well catch up on some work.
* * *
At only ten o'clock at night the house was dark and deserted. Bulma's parents usually went to bed around nine, unless her dad had a new project in the works. Sometimes he would stay awake all night working on some world changing invention. Dr. Briefs had always frowned on Bulma's inventions because they we're usually made in the hopes of benefiting her friends rather then the public at large. Never mind that they helped her friends save the world, to her father that was just a minor detail.
Stepping lightly down the hallway, she had just left her office to break from the tedious paper work. Rounding on the kitchen doorway, she gave an involuntary gasp of fright. A dark silhouette stood leaning against the kitchen sink. For one insane moment her mind flew back to the image of her dark "dream man" hidden in the shadows of her memory. Groping blindly on the wall she found the light switch and flooded the room with blinding white light.
Vegeta blinked against the harsh assault to his eyes. His pupils contracted and quickly adjusted to the light. Bulma was standing in the doorway, hand still on the light switch, looking at him with an expression halfway between surprise and disappointment. He was fully aware of the degree of dislike the human held for him and her fear ever time he was around was so apparent it was almost tangible. He took no exceptional pleasure in her fear. It was no great feet for a warrior like him to strike terror in the heart of one lowly human female. It was almost annoying the way she jumped every time he was round. She should be used to his presence by now. A year had passed since he had returned to earth, not to mention the time he spent here after Namek's destruction. Hell, it was her idea he stay there in the first place.
He took a moment to study her as she moved to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water. If he recalled correctly he once described her as gorgeous. (AN: I'm not making that part up. He really did. ^_^*) She really was quite lovely. Too bad she could barley control her trembling every time he walked in the room, and her taste in men was deplorable. The mere sight of that idiot she called a mate was a disgrace to the art of fighting. He wasn't a fighter, he was better suited to be cleaning armor or licking Vegeta's boots. Whatever she found appealing in that weakling, he hoped never to find out.
Bulma twisted the cap off her water and reached for an apple out of a basket on the counter. The skin along her entire body prickled with nervousness. Everything about him set her off. His presence was daunting and could fill the whole room with negative energy. He just stood there silent and staring like some kind of hunting beast. The only movement exhibited was the raising of a glass of water to his lips. He drank the water in one long gulp. The glass just barely moved from his mouth before it shattered in his hand. Bulma heard him swear softly under his breath. Working up a good amount of courage and keeping her eyes down cast to the half eaten apple in her hand, she spoke up to reprimand him, "Would you mind not breaking every dish in the house."
With Vegeta training constantly under such high gravity, the broken glass was not an uncommon occurrence. "It not my fault this shit breaks so easily," he sneered. He crossed his arms over his chest and ignored the shards of glass littered over his bare feet.
"Well, maybe if you tried a little more self control." She trembled with the early on sets of terror. Whispers in her head were telling her to shut up and leave it well enough alone.
Vegeta held back an evil chuckle. She was shaking with the effort to control her own fear and yet scolding him any way. The air stank of her fear, he breathed it in with slight relish. For such a weak being, he had to admit that it took some courage to talk back to him. If she could just work up the nerve to look at him she would see that he was leaning more towards amused then murderous at her sudden burst of vigor. He schooled his face into a harsh scowl and made his voice hard. "And why should I care?" he baited.
Her fear was starting to be over run by anger. This was her house and her belongings he was breaking. "Maybe because this is my house not yours. You’re a guest here, so maybe you should be a little more considerate." She gritted through her teeth and finally worked up the will to look at him.
It took restraint not to smirk. She was reacting just as he hoped she would. He had seen glimpses of a fiery temper in her before but she had yet to turned that sharpened wit on him of fear of his temper. It'd been a while since he'd had a good fight, whether physical or verbal, so he would take what he could get. "Why should a member of royalty, such as myself, give a damn about you or your house. You should be bowing at my feet." He took a step towards her making the glass on the floor crunch.
An angry flush crept up her neck to her cheeks. How dare he? She stepped towards him and met his glare with one of her own. "Listen here buddy, I don't care how strong or scary you are, I'll not have you intimidating me in my own home. I demand that you start treating this family with a little more respect, I don't care what you’re the prince of." She raised a finger and poked him in the chest.
"Demand, do you?" Ever so slowly he dragged his gaze down to her offending digit before going back to her eyes, letting it dawn on her that she had made a big mistake. He brushed her hand aside and watched her carefully constructed courage crumble as she swallowed audibly. He let her worry for a moment before giving a slightly evil chuckle. "Calm down, Woman. Killing you would be a waste of my energy." He left her trembling in the middle of the kitchen and walked out the back door to go train.
The shaking continued until she was forced to reach a hand out to the counter to steady herself. What had gotten into her to talk to him like that? Maybe because he deserved it. She regarded her actions with an air of disgust. Not for standing up to him, but because she couldn't control her shaking as she did it. Yeah, she must have come off real tough.
<Woman? Does he even know my name? Probably not. >
Taking a drink of cool water she threw the remnants of her apple in the garbage and grabbed the broom to sweep up the bits of glass Vegeta had so kindly left for her to clean up.
* * *
The lights dimmed from white to red, alerting anyone who cared that the gravity was increasing. There were no training robots flying about since he has broken then all earlier in the day. As the numbers on the control panel rounded on three hundred and fifty, even Vegeta had to pause and wonder how his hair stayed erect under such extreme pressure when his body was struggling to remain standing. He had managed a few hours of dreamless sleep, but his body craved more rest. Rest that his mind was not willing to give. In the weeks since he dreamed of that woman he rested as little as possible. Not quite able to rationalize his actions, he simply let his body work it's self into such a state of exhaustion that dreams were not possible. So far it was successful, but for how long? Even his indomitable will could not keep this pace forever.
He started his work out with a series of push-ups and other warm-up exercises before working into a routine of shadow fighting. He kept it up while sweat ran down his body in deep rivets. The air in the room was humid and thick with the smell of sweat and blood. His senses caught the scent, reminding him of so many memories past.
~ Flashback ~ (AN: sorry the special effects team is on vacation. :P)
Vegeta lay on the floor in a puddle of his own blood; eyes heavily lidded as his mind sat blurred between the lines of consciousness and unconsciousness. Even at the tender age of five he was no stranger to this degree of pain, but that didn't mean that he could handle it.
A large man with spiky red/brown hair walked up to the damaged figure. He gave the boy a shove with the toe of his boot. "Get up, brat," he ordered.
A tear escaped from the child's eye. "Father... please," he whimpered.
The man bent down and backhanded his son. The blow sent the boy's body rolling across the floor, into the wall. The child let out a sharp cry of pain. "Stop, please," he sobbed.
"You're going to get up and finish training," his father growled as he stalked over to where his son's body lay. "Look at you, begging for mercy. Pathetic." He gave the boy a harsh kick. "Mercy is for the weak," he yelled down. "You are a saiyan prince, you beg from no one!" He kicked his son again. "Now get up!"
Amazingly, Vegeta managed to stumble to his feet. Breathing hard, his legs trembled. His left eye was swollen shut and blood was seeping out of the corner of his mouth, as well as from various other cuts on his small body.
The king looked him over. "Pathetic," he repeated. "You are Prince Vegeta, the prophesied one destined to become a super saiyan, and you can barely even fight me. Truly pathetic."
Vegeta stared at the floor in shame. He mumbled something too soft for his father to hear.
"What did you say, brat?" the king demanded.
Vegeta looked up at him with his one good eye. "I said, what if I can't?"
"Can't what?" his father was obviously irritated
"What if I can't become a super saiyan?" the boy asked innocently.
He never had time to move out of the way of his father's powerful fist. The king's knuckles connected with his son's jaw, resounding in a sickening crack. Vegeta's body fell to the ground again.
"Never let me hear you say that EVER AGAIN!" the king screamed. "Never, you hear me!"
King Vegeta walked away leaving his bruised and broken son on the training room floor.
Before he fell into total darkness, Vegeta could hear his father in the distance. "Get this weak piece of filth into one of the regeneration tanks. We'll continue this later."
~ End of flashback ~
Vegeta blinked back the last of his memory. All training session before that one had been painful, as fighting often is, but never had they been so brutal. At the time he found his father's actions to be cruel and completely out of character. Yes, he remembered that day well. That was the same day he learned of his fate; that he was to be given over to Freeza. It wasn't until many years later that Vegeta understood exactly what the king had been doing. His father knew what kind of hell living under Freeza's rule would be. The faster Vegeta became a super saiyan the better it would be for all. But no amount of screaming or beating on the king's part could push his son over that barrier. Here Vegeta was many, many years later still trying to reach that goal that had been promised to him since the day of his birth.
If only he could have reached it sooner. If only he could have been the one to destroy Freeza with his bare hands. Not only would he reach his life long goal and avenge his people, but he would have finally repaid the androgynous lizard for all the pain and suffering he inflicted on Vegeta's mind and body over the years. Technically it was that purple haired boy that dealt Freeza the killing blow, but Kakorrot was the one to truly destroy the galactic warlord. Kakorrot was the one who brought defeat upon Freeza's head; after that death was a mercy.
Anger towards the younger saiyan boiled up in his veins bringing even greater fury and passion to his work out. The gravity meter had gradually risen to four hundred and fifty. He took little notice as his thoughts raged on. One thought always came to him when looking back on the events on Namek.
Kakorrot had no right to be there.
While he wouldn't admit it to anyone but himself, Vegeta was just plain happy to see Freeza dead, but it was still not enough. The death that Freeza received, whether at Kakorrot's hands or at the boy from the future's, it was not a fitting defeat for such a monster. During Freeza's rein billions of lives had either been lost, ruined, destroyed or enslaved. Billions of souls, dead and living, cried out for his blood. Freeza was responsible for killing husbands, wives, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, friends, enemies, lovers, whole civilizations and planets. Many people, Vegeta included, had lost every thing and everyone that mattered to them. The only thing that has kept them going, the only reason to keep on living had been the dream, the hope, that one day one of their own would rise to take the life of their brutal enslaver.
Years spent waiting, training, praying, hoping that that day would come, and what happened when it finally did? An outsider came and took it all away. A man who had not suffered to the full extent at Freeza's hands. An innocent who would never know the true pain that a monster like Freeza could inflict. Kakorrot had come and destroyed the tyrant all because he lost one bald headed midget. And to add insult to injury, Kakorrot, a saiyan who did not even remember his own proud heritage, rose to claim the pinnacle of his race. A position that Vegeta had bled, sweat and literally died to achieve and in an instant it was gone. His reason for living was gone. What would he do now that there was no Freeza to defeat? For the first time since he was five, Vegeta was free, only to become Kakorrot's slave. His pride would not let him rest until he defeated the one who surpassed him and stole his dream. He would repay Kakorrot for killing Freeza when he had no right, he would also make him pay for achieving a place among the ancestors that he did not even remember when it was not his to take.
Incensed in his anger, Vegeta threw blast after blast around the domed room. He dodged and weaved between energy beams as his thoughts boiled around the idea of Kakorrot's power. Becoming distracted for a moment's time he was hit in the shoulder and sent crashing to the floor. The weight of the air pinned him for a few precious seconds as a large beam headed straight for him. The energy was too great and his body too weak to take the blow. In a last desperate attempt he pushed all the energy and will left in his body into one attack. Meeting the offending beam head on the energy mingled and grew, becoming too large for the room to hold. The sounds of tearing metal pierced the air. Wires sparked and crackled in the computer's main control. A tinny electronic voice could be heard faintly repeating "Warning, warning" but was soon silenced at the entire structure blew apart.
The capsule rocked and tipped as the top was blown off. Vegeta was thrown under a mountain of rubble, barely conscious from the numerous blows. He remembered feeling a dull pain encase his entire body and the feel of metal ripping into his skin. The world spun once before diving into endless black.
* ~ *
Author's Note: OK, I know I said no blowing up of the gravity room, but come one, you got to give me one because it actually did happen on the show. This is the last time, I promise.
Next Time: Bulma tends to Vegeta's wounds. ^_^