Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Wish For The Past ❯ That Night ( Chapter 29 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Disclaimer: Umm... do I really need to repeat myself? I don't own DBZ. Wish I did, but it'll only happen in my dreams and in alternate universes. *sighs* What a pity, huh? I'd probably make a great owner of DBZ. ^_^ (At least, that's what I think! *grins*)

Night time on the island was peaceful and serene, a cool breeze blowing gently and only the stars providing a faint ambiance. Everyone within the house was asleep, sharing blankets, pillows, and futons, or sprawled out on the couch snoring softly. The waves lapped softly against the sandy beach in the quiet lullaby of nature. The only thing that marred the beauty of the night was the inner chaos in Bardock's mind. Laying on his back on the roof of Kame house, he glared up at the twinkling stars as though they were the cause of all his problems.

He was angry with himself. Angry for showing so much emotion in front of his sons and his youngest son's friends and teacher. Spending so much time with only Goten, Trunks, Radditz, and Vegeta had damaged the hardened exterior that he had spent so many years cultivating. Under their influence, specifically his grandson's, the wall he had built up between himself and his emotions had been broken and he now found himself becoming soft, vulnerable, and completely unlike the cold warrior he had been before they came into his life. He didn't resent being emotional, didn't resent his grandson for crawling beneath the protective barrier he had placed around his heart, but it should not have gotten to the point where he would break down and cry when he met up with his son for the first time in six years. Nor should he have allowed himself to show any emotion when that old man had asked him why Goku had been abandoned. Emotions were something that should only be shared among close friends and family, and even then they should be held in check.

Laughing bitterly, he berated himself for his weakness. "I am Saiya-jin," he whispered harshly. "Warrior, killer, a mass murderer. One of the strongest Saiyans on the planet Vegeta. And here I am, openly displaying my feelings for all to see, playing with children who know nothing of their heritage, and grieving for a mate many years dead. Oh Sereri, how you must be laughing at me now. Toma, Celipa, Panboukin, Totepo... look how your great commander has fallen, outcast from our world for the rest of my life. I'll probably live the rest of my days here on this planet where, if the people knew what I am, I'll be shunned. Even as soft as I've become, they're softer still." Angry tears spilled out of his eyes as he recalled what had brought him to the realization of just how soft he had become, and yet how out of place he was on this peaceful world.

Why do you send children to other worlds? How is that supposed to make them stronger? Couldn't you just train the children yourselves?

The old man had a knack for asking questions that would, if answered, reveal the worst side of the Saiyan race. Bardock had squirmed uncomfortably under the man's piercing gaze as he thought seriously about the questions, an awkward silence filling the air. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? We send children out to worlds so they can clear them of all life in preparation for being sold to the highest bidder. The fighting makes them stronger. Yes, we could train them ourselves, but most of the fighters are busy destroying other, harder planets. He hadn't said any of those things, knowing somehow that if he spoke the truth in front of his youngest son and his companions, that they would despise him. Instead, he had muttered some nonsense about learning new techniques from alien races and had fled the house before they could press the matter, seeking the cool night air in hopes that it would clear his thoughts.

There was the problem right there. He had cared what the others thought about him, about his son, about his people. Why the hell do I care what they think?! he screamed furiously, clenching his fists tightly enough that he drew blood. I've never given a damn what anyone thought, except Sereri, but she was my mate, so that was different. Kuso! It never mattered to me whether anyone thought I was a planet murdering kono yaro or not. Anyone who didn't like what I did could go to hell, for all I cared. Now... I meet my grandson, come to this planet, Chikyuu-sei, meet the son I abandoned when Sereri died, and confront the people who have raised and trained him in my place, and suddenly I run like a coward if they ask about my past. Damn it! I'm such a weakling! He felt like pounding the roof with his fist, but he knew that he would end up leaving a hole in it, as well as waking the inhabitants of the house. Squeezing his eyes shut, he resisted the urge, settling instead on hissing in frustration through tightly clenched teeth. He was not prepared to face them again.

"Why am I so confused about this?" he hissed at the stars. "Only a couple of weeks ago, everything was clear and simple. Obey my orders, wipe out the population on a given planet, receive my pay, and promptly spend it at a bar. My teammates were the only friends I had, and even they weren't that close. I never had to worry about what anyone thought, never had to deal with these emotions, it was just so easy to block out anything that might bother me. Sereri was dead, and even that didn't bother me like it does now. Why? Why now?!" If he had been paying attention to himself, he would have noticed that his voice was trembling, threatening to crack. He blinked tears back furiously, determined to shut the anguish in his heart out through sheer force of will. His body shook slightly, though he didn't know if it was from the strength of his self loathing or from the grief he was trying to deny. "If I didn't cry then," he whispered, "why am I crying now?"

The memories returned again like the coals of a died out fire pressed against his skin, searing with their intensity and painful emotions. The last mission he and Sereri had gone on together. The day his world had ended. He recalled the feeling of being ripped and torn apart from within as the connection between himself and his mate was snapped, recoiling on him like a taut cord that had been cut in one clean stroke of a sharp knife. He couldn't remember what he had done then; everything became blurred around the edges and jumbled, distorted by the sudden loss of the presence in his mind that had been Sereri. All he knew was that, when he had regained control of himself, he was kneeling over the crater where he had last seen his mate, her murderer lying in bloody pieces not more than a few feet away from him. He had stared numbly into the open grave, drained of all emotion as he realized that he could not even cradle her broken body in his arms. The blast the alien had sent at her had apparently incinerated her body. He vaguely recalled tears trailing down his cheeks, or maybe it was just the rain that was pouring down from the sky, but he had not truly cried for Sereri. Something inside of him had died that day and he had been unable to mourn her, so, instead, he had shoved everything into a small corner of his mind and boarded it up, hoping never to see any of it again.

He had been wrong. One misspoken wish in the future and a boy had dropped into his life and turned it upside down. Between Goten and Goku, the shield that he had thought as solid as concrete had become as fragile as spun glass, shattering under their gentle touch and flinging its shards into his heart, slashing his soul to ribbons. How could two boys do so much to him? How could they unearth things that had been buried for years? How was he supposed to live with himself, torn between this new, softer side of him that was so weak, and the cold, heartless, yet undeniably strong side that had sustained him for most of his life?

Completely indifferent to the inner conflict and turmoil within the man who stared blankly at them, the stars sparkled silently, refusing to give him an answer.

Upon waking up for the third time in less than an hour, Goten finally rolled onto his side and prodded Trunks awake. The nine year old boy groaned in his sleep and flipped over so he faced away from Goten. Undeterred, he poked his friend again. "Trunks? Are you awake?"

"Nnnnn..." Trunks mumbled irritably. "I am now, baka."

"Trunks?"

"What?"

"Did you notice how sad grandpa was earlier?" Goten propped his head on one hand and tugged his blankets closer.

"Yeah. What about it?" Rolling over so he could see Goten, the purple haired demi-saiyan noted the concerned look on his best friend's face.

"Well, I was wondering if maybe there was something we could do. You know, to make him feel better." Toying with his tail absentmindedly, the eight year old boy stared at Trunks hopefully.

"Well, if you want to make him feel better, maybe we could find some black or brown hair dye. He keeps asking everyone for it, so I bet he'd be happy if you got him some," Trunks yawned, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"I bet Bulma-san knows where you can get stuff like that," a third voice piped in. Awakened by their conversation, Goku had sat up and listened to them. "She's always doing weird things to her hair."

"Hey, that's a great idea!" Goten grinned at his twin and gave him a hug in thanks. "But how do we ask her?"

"Goten, you baka," Trunks laughed, the trace of a smirk gracing his lips. "I know Bulma's phone number, remember?"

"Oh, yeah! That's right! Bulma's your mpphhh!!" Goten glared angrily at his friend as Trunks covered the younger boy's mouth. While everyone couldn't help but know that Goten was related to Goku, they had still managed to keep Trunks's parentage a secret. Trunks was not about to let his friend ruin his chances of being born into this timeline! Fortunately for both of them, Goku was naive enough that he didn't notice the exchange.

"Say, um, Goku? Do you think you could ask Bulma for the hair dye? She doesn't really know me or Goten, but she knows you," the oldest of the three suggested hopefully. After all, it would seem pretty weird to Bulma to have some kid she didn't know ask her for hair dye and to come to Master Roshi's island with it.

"Sure!" Goku chirped amiably. He was always willing to help other people, especially if they asked.

Now wide awake and filled with excitement, Trunks jumped up and pulled Goku towards the phone. "Great! Let's call her now, so she can have time to get over here by morning, and then we can surprise your dad when he wakes up!" It conveniently slipped his mind that it was the middle of the night and that most normal people were asleep at this time. Picking up the phone, he dialed in his mother's phone number, then handed it to Goku, making sure he was holding it correctly.

After several minutes of ringing - "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU CALLING ME AT THIS HOUR, YOU BAKAYARO!?!?!" All three boys winced and covered their ears protectively as Bulma's banshee voice screeched at them over the phone.

"Ossu, Bulma-san!" Goku greeted cheerily when she paused to take a breath. "It's me, Goku!"

"Goku, do you have any idea what time it is?" Bulma's voice was considerably less angry and a lot quieter than before, though still clearly audible to the sensitive hearing of the other two boys in the room, but there was an obvious note of displeasure in it. Obvious to anyone, unless they were Son Goku.

"Well, I was wondering if you have any black or brown hair dye. My dad and my brother kinda need some, 'cause someone put pink dye in their hair. It looks really funny!" he laughed, picturing the pink streaks and spots in Bardock's and Radditz's hair.

"..... did you just say your dad and your brother?"

"Uh huh! I met them today! Dad's so cool, he can fly, Bulma! He promised to teach me how to fly, too! Isn't that neat? Radditz can fly, too, and so can Goten and Trunks and Vegeta! And they don't need a magic cloud or one of your car thingies, either." Chattering away like a magpie, Goku flitted from one topic to another faster than Bulma could keep up. "And you know what? They can all eat as much as me! I told you that you don't eat enough! They-"

"Whoa! Slow down, Son-kun! You're giving me a headache just trying to figure out what the hell you're talking about. Why don't I just come over to wherever you are in the morning, and you can tell me all about it. Okay?"

"Okay, Bulma!" Goku readily agreed, excited at the prospect of seeing his first friend again. "I'm at Master Roshi's house."

"You're with that perverted old man again?" Bulma sounded less than pleased at this. A sigh, and then, "Okay. I'll bring the dye over when I come visit. What colors did you need again?"

"Brown, like my tail. And black."

"Okay. Got it. I'll see you in the morning, Goku. Good night!"

"Good night, Bulma!" Goku hung up the phone and flashed a victory sign at his two friends. "Yatta! Bulma's gonna come over in the morning, and she says she'll bring some dye." Goku and Goten hugged each other in celebration while Trunks grinned triumphantly. Satisfied that they had done all they could for the night, they crawled back into their blankets and fell asleep within moments.

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