Chapter Text
Where was he going anyway? It was the wee hours of the morning, and Vegeta was about halfway out of the city now. The prince halted in the air and slowly descended to rest on the roof of a closed office building, its domed top similar to Capsule Corp’s, and the myriad of other domed structures that dotted the West City landscape.
He rested there, seating himself Indian-style as his eyes moved over the horizon, and he felt the approach of the sunrise, about two hours away. His night had been full of words, both dreamed and then exchanged heatedly with the woman. Everything heard and said, washed and crashed over his mind in waves of jumbled emotions.
Gods, but he was a cruel son of a bitch!
Well, and that certainly wasn’t any surprise. All he’d known, all his life, was cruelty, until meeting up with this lot of naive, generous, kind, and vexing people from planet Earth. Especially her… Bulma, who seemed to know just how to handle his unpredictable outbursts, and how to put him in his place when he unloaded his worst, most vile emotions on her.
Her, apologizing to him, after all he’d said so cruelly to her that very night? What the actual hell was that all about? He had often called her weak. But she only ever showed him strength. Strength of character. Strength of spirit. Strength of…
He felt his heart clench painfully, and he grit his teeth with a “Tsk” as he shut his eyes and scowled at no one. He felt his frustration mounting as he couldn’t decide what the hell to do with himself now! Here he was, running away again…away from her, away from the creature comforts that had both saved him and softened him, over the past few years.
Softened—how infuriating!
Soft should never be a word to describe The Prince of All Saiyans! Vegeta, the loving father, the family man, the softie! It made him feel sick! And yet there was a part of him that longed for it. A part of him that needed to feel the way his heart swole in his chest when the boy looked at him with such adoration, the way the woman’s friends looked at him sometimes like he was one of them and not their enemy. And mostly, the way Bulma looked at him with such intense love and desire.
Gods, but the way his heart rattled so uncomfortably, and yet so wonderfully, in his chest during those moments. He hated it, he loved it, he had to make it stop or it would alter him so fundamentally, that there would be no going back to anything he knew of himself. He would become a wholly different man. A new man that he couldn’t recognize nor understand!
But, how could he avoid it? Right now, in this very moment, seated on this cold cement roof with the brisk, nighttime breezes washing over him, and the light of a myriad of stars shining down on him, he only wanted one thing…to return ‘home’ to that aggravating woman’s domed house. To her soft bed, and soft body.
There seemed no way to save himself from this mundane and cushy future.
***
Vegeta was back!
Bulma was making her way through the house after a long day in the lab when she heard that distinctive sound of the Gravity Chamber vibrating through the walls. She almost didn’t register it, being so used to the low background noise, since Vegeta spent so much time in there. But, he’d been gone for nearly a week now, and things had remained quieter than usual during that time, so the noise was a welcome return to her home’s version of normalcy and a great relief that he hadn’t stayed gone for too long this time.
Her heart raced as she moved to the chamber door. She wouldn’t interrupt him, but she so wanted to see him! It hit her that he might decide not to return to their room once he was done with his training. So, she stuck her hand in her pocket and dug out a little sticky note. She always kept post-it notes in her pocket, since she was constantly leaving notes here and there, both around the lab, and in the house. A pin hung from her neck, so she wrote, “Please come see me when you’re done. I’ll be in our room.” Then she stuck the note over the break between the door and the frame, just at eye level, so that when he opened it, the note would either fall or hang there and hopefully be visible to him.
With a sigh, Bulma left to go shower, feeling her whole body vibrating in anticipation of seeing her husband again soon, and hopefully smoothing things over with him again. At least she would have time to prepare herself. If he was still in a cold, shut-off mood, then her approach would need to be different than if he was calm and more receptive. She would prepare for both—as she’d become very good at doing over their last few years together.
She truly was overjoyed to see that he’d returned so soon, but she never could know what his mood would be. He was always unpredictable, but more so than ever these days, and he sure did keep her on her toes. It made for constant adventure in her unique life, and as much as she wanted him to finally settle down and relax, she had to admit that she found his unpredictable moods, and grumpy ways, to be exhilarating sometimes. Well, not when he was reliving some old trauma, or anguish from his past—or causing her emotional, or unintentional physical pain, of course. But she liked it when they sparred with words, and she got the impression that he liked it, too. Maybe that was one reason why he stuck around, despite always insisting he hated this cushy life so much.
She felt that when she expressed her candid thoughts to him, in her attempts to help him think differently about things and to accept the changes she knew would bring him happiness if only he’d let them—that it was like planting seeds. And to some degree, a few of those seeds had seemed to take root and were germinating. He had changed in small ways over time. Though he fought it constantly and used it as a point of contention between them. It seems he hated those changes as much as he liked them. She had witnessed this dichotomy many times, and she guessed that some of his nightmares came from his resistance to these positive changes.
If he could only let go and enjoy his life. If they could get past his over-the-top angst, and just have fun with their spunky word wars, instead of ending their sparring with such heartbreaking cruelty, culminating in him darting off to who knew where for who knew how long!
One thing Bulma knew for sure was that her friends were baffled as to why she was putting up with so much from the eternally grumpy prince. They worried about her and often expressed their concerns over her emotional well-being. But what they didn’t understand, even when she tried to allay their fears in her attempts to explain it, was that she had to do this.
Bulma was driven. Driven in a way that she never had been before. And when she tried to explain that drive to others, she always struggled to find the right words, which was quite unusual for her. Bulma always had words! Well, almost always.
Essentially, she knew that Vegeta needed her, and she was integral to saving him from himself. His very soul was at stake, and Bulma knew, that for some reason she didn’t fully understand herself, her love, devotion, and patience would play a vital role in saving Vegeta. She loved him in a way she never imagined she could love another. It was a love strong enough to stick by him through the very worst of times. And she was tough! Tough enough not to allow his cruelest words to cause her any lasting damage.
The prince could never tear her down with his mean defensive attacks. She knew they were a part of his evolution, and while any other woman would dump his haughty ass for being a royal jerk to them, Bulma would instead pay him back with words just as strong, and yet from a place of love, and fierce determination. Determination few possessed and Bulma Briefs had in spades!
Turning a first-class villain around to good was not a mission most people would take on. Goku had accepted it as a part of his drive, and sometimes it worked, while other times it failed. But Goku was not enough to get Vegeta to make those profound changes. It was Bulma who would take up the challenge, and who somehow knew that her words, her patience, and her love would eventually do the trick. It was working! She could see it—she could feel it, and she knew that all of the heartache, heartbreak, and pain would someday bear fruit.
***
As Bulma stepped out of the shower, she heard her bedroom door grind a little, as it always did when it slid open. She’d intended to oil it, to get rid of that annoying noise, but she was glad now that she hadn’t gotten to it. Her heart sped up as she pulled her oversized towel around herself, and her hand hovered over the door controls. With a deep breath to steady her nerves against whatever she might face, she pressed the button, the door slid open, and she stepped out into the bedroom proper.
Their eyes locked instantly, and the look on his face eased her mind right away. “Hey there.” She broke the silence softly, and with a little smile.
There it was, Vegeta thought to himself with an inward shake of his head, that warm welcome, despite his meanness before leaving. He’d never understand that woman!
Vegeta had come back sooner than he had after previous escapes. He’d gotten sick of being without a proper roof over his head, having good food, and … having his wife by his side. His mental struggles had waned quickly, and he had essentially given up fighting, at least for the moment.
As he had spent the past few days away, reflecting on his life, his struggles, and his persistent concerns—and had replayed all of the words that had influenced his actions, and that had been exchanged between him and his wife over the past few years—he could see no opportunities possible to return to the darkness that continued to beckon to him. On this planet, with these people, and the luxuries that surrounded him, why was he fighting so hard, trying to force something that simply was not possible?
“You okay?” Bulma continued when he didn’t immediately respond to her.
“I’m fine.” There was no emotion in his voice, no angst, and yet no warmth either.
“Are you still, angry?” She tried to sound calm, and not show too much concern in her voice, but it was a question that she needed to ask.
He shook his head but said nothing. No, he wasn’t particularly angry, and certainly not angry at her. But he was struggling, though he just wanted to return back to his normal family life and try to let go of his anguish.
“I’m glad.” Bulma smiled. She shifted on her feet, not sure what to do next. She wanted to go to him—to touch him, and to feel his hands on her. Was he ready for that, though? Or was she feeling entirely the wrong urges at that moment?
As if in answer to her thoughts, the prince’s eyes left hers and roamed slowly down her body. She was standing still, holding the large towel up and around herself. Her hair was wet and dripping, but not tied up in another towel. Seeing the look he was giving her, she shifted to rest on one leg, allowing her hip to curve out with a little sass, in order to gauge his reaction to that.
Vegeta drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly before giving her a little smirk... “I see you’re in the mood.” His voice, deep and gravely, sent little shivers down her spine.
“Are you?” She asked with that familiar glint in her bright blue eyes.
Without a word, he moved toward her. Taking that as a yes, Bulma allowed the towel to drop, and pool around her ankles, just as he reached out and slid his hands around her tiny waist. “You’re always in the mood, vulgar woman.”
She sank into his embrace, not complaining this time about him being sweaty from his training, and not caring that she was freshly clean from her shower. “Who can blame me with you around, mister sexy Saiyan prince.”
“Sexy, huh?” Vegeta let his hands roam her incredibly soft and silky skin. His keen Saiyan senses overwhelmed by her scent, and the feel of her silky warmth under his rough fingers. So, she thought he was sexy, did she? He’d never even considered himself to be attractive in that way. He’d rarely entertained such things as attraction before mixing with Bulma and her Earthly way of looking at things.
“Hell yeah!” She sighed in his ear between feathery kisses all over his neck, his cheek, and his jawline. “Why does that surprise you? With a body like that, those dark intense eyes, that mane of thick dark hair. You’re a dreamboat, buddy.”
“That’s a new one. Dreamboat. I don’t get that reference, though.” He sighed as he nuzzled her neck and shoulder and breathed deeply of her sweet scent.
Bulma laughed. “I don’t get it either, but it’s an old saying. Way out of date, actually.” She pulled back to look into his flushed face, then pressed her lips to his gently, humming happily as they kissed with patience, just enjoying each other in a way that surprised her after their last altercation. Was this his way of apology?
This slow and tender exchange was just what Vegeta needed. It made it easier for him to forget his struggle, and to empty his mind of everything that was eating at him. Whatever the future held, he would bide his time and simply do what was best for him at the moment. He would take each day as it came, and he would wait. Wait for any opportunity that may present itself to him. And if allowing himself to enjoy this intimacy, to play the husband and the father figure, was a part of that wait, then that was fine by him.
***
Screams
It was those desperate and terrified screams that initially made Vegeta aware that something was amiss. Then, there were the harsh sounds of multiple explosions. He knew those sounds all too well. It was the distinct whirring and final concussion of ki blasts!
The still and quiet darkness that surrounded Vegeta slowly parted, as a veil from his perception, revealing a world of terror and utter chaos. His stirring mind struggled to figure out what was going on as he stumbled forward, his feet adjusting to the uneven ground beneath him.
The Capsule Corp facilities were a complete shambles—piles of rubble surrounded him. Employees were scurrying, panicked, and gibbering, in all directions. Hundreds of mangled, unmoving bodies lay dispersed among the rubble. Long, deep gashes streaked the landscape like terrible wounds. And those incessant screaming voices filled the air as the morbid soundtrack to all of this pain and devastation.
A fresh burst of energy streaked over his head. Vegeta locked onto it with his eyes and turned to follow its trajectory, only to find a group of weak and trembling humans, huddled together and shivering, not far from him. The frazzled and broken cluster of humans slowly backed away from him, sheer terror in their tear-filled eyes.
But why did they fear him?
The prince looked down at himself to find that he was donning his full Saiyan armor. His mind shifted into its new reality in that instant, and he recalled that he hadn’t bothered to put on a scouter for this mission since there would be no one on this pitiful rock with enough power to challenge him. The purge would be one of his easiest jobs in a long time.
But… this was Earth, and he never recalled purging this worthless mud ball before.
“Prince Vegeta!”
With a jolt, Vegeta spun around to find Nappa and Raditz approaching him. What the hell were they doing here? Weren’t they supposed to be dead? Hadn’t he blown that big oaf, Nappa, up himself?
“Why such a look of shock?” Raditz followed up after the older Saiyan had caught the prince’s attention. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He smirked knowingly.
Vegeta scowled. “You two…” But he trailed off as they moved closer and he noticed something strange. Across Nappa’s forehead, was the word Ramik, and across Raditz forehead was the word Intoduom. They were scrawled there in strange, black, pointy script. The words were Saiyan, meaning Evil and Destruction, respectively.
“Where is it, Prince Vegeta? Where is your power? Your strength? Your evil?” The men’s voices rang in his mind, but their mouths did not move. Their expressions morphed from mirth to utter cruelty, the intensity sending sharp unnerving energy through Vegeta’s whole body. Its intensity was all the more disturbing due to the fact that they were directing those threatening emotions at him!
“What are you two idiots up to?” He ground out, his temper rising at their audacity at showing him such brazen arrogance.
The pair laughed haughtily and with unbridled cruelly. “So, you want to destroy me again, do you? Little prince?” Nappa cackled. He turned to glance at Raditz, as if they were sharing an inside joke with each other, about their prince. Then the giant Saiyan turned his taunting gaze back to Vegeta with a sneer. “As if you could!”
“What?!” Vegeta growled. “Of fucking course I can! I’ll blast you two useless morons to pieces, you arrogant…” But then he froze, his words stuck in the sudden moment of realization that struck him like a blow to the gut.
He couldn’t feel one ounce of that power inside of himself now. At the moment, all of that great power that he was boasting so confidently about, was completely nonexistent. He felt as worthless as an Earthling; weak, and defenseless, and fodder for the purge.
Suddenly the scene shifted, and Vegeta found himself on the ground, covered in blood and dirt. His armor was long gone, and he was wearing jeans and that damned pink ‘Badman’ shirt that Bulma had given to him years ago.
The two giant Saiyans had now halted within a foot of their prince, looming over him with matching smirks, and matching murderous intent. “You’ve lost your edge, tiny prince.” Nappa taunted. “You’re a family man now, all soft, and compassionate, and weak.” He lifted up his huge foot and stomped on Vegeta’s back with all of his might, causing the prince to slam hard into the filthy earth, a loud crack accompanying the immense pain that followed.
Raditz spat at Vegeta with pure disdain. “How could you let everything go like that? I thought you were going to rule the universe! I thought you would avenge our people! I believed in you! I died…for our cause, your cause.” His words were punctuated by energy blast after energy blast, smashing into Vegeta at point-blank range, tearing his body up more and more with each hit.
Nappa cackled again. “Heck, I died by your hand and I accepted it because I deserved it. If my prince wanted me dead, then hell, I should be dead!” He continued to slam his foot into the prince, between his biting words, and his companion's never-ending blasts. ‘You were the most powerful being I’d ever known, Vegeta, and the only one who could destroy Freeza. But, you didn’t destroy that fucking bastard, did you? No, you lost your life by his hand, you lost your power for… Shit, I can’t even say it! For a weakling Earth woman and a halfbreed brat?! What the bloody hell, Vegeta?! I mean WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?!—“ He increased the speed and strength of his stomping to match his surging rage.
“I’ve achieved… the power.. of the Legendary… Super Saiyan, you.. insolent.. bastards!” Vegeta hollered with what little strength he had, as his rage surged uselessly within him. But he felt none of that legendary power surging inside of himself. Normally, such a rise in anger would have drawn his Super Saiyan power out immediately, but he felt utterly barren inside…hollow…impotent.
Nappa cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, really. Super Saiyan, huh? Nah, I don’t buy it.”
He could hear Nappa and Raditz laughing maniacally, but beneath their loud, raucous noises, he began to hear familiar voices that drifted to his addled mind as soft whimpers and anguished cries…
The prince struggled to his feet, the pain coursing like fire through his entire body. Broken bones, ruined flesh, strained muscles, all trying to keep him down and unmoving in that bed of gory mud beneath him. He found it was impossible to stand up straight, the agony, and the damage, were far too severe. So he turned, bent over like some god’s damned supplicant, and peered through bloodshot, hollow eyes at the scene mere yards away from him.
Then a body was thrown at him, as limp as a rag doll, and broken even more severely than he was. She landed with a splash at his feet, her dull, wide blue eyes staring up at him blankly.
Bulma
Vegeta trembled so badly that he couldn’t remain on his feet. His heart clenched so tightly that he could hardly breathe. His knees hit the mud, splashing him and his wife’s body, with its filthy gore. He was dizzy. The Earth was spinning…He could hear Trunks crying from somewhere, and felt himself crumbling, inside and out, as he toppled forward, and slumped over his dead wife—his damaged body feeling like the most pitiful form of useless protection. She was gone. What was there to protect? And yet it was all he could do, to put himself between her and her killers.
Her body, utterly still and soulless, was so very cold against his as he lay over her. Her warmth, the very thing that had changed him so profoundly, pulled him into his peaceful and debilitating Earth life—the very heat that had drawn him to her in the first place, was long gone now. And as he lay there, his whole body shaking uncontrollably, the frigid cold of her ruined corpse slowly drew the last vestiges of his own warmth out of him.
Everything slipped into a dark tunnel. His surroundings seemed to condense and lay heavily against him, pressing him on all sides. The haunting sounds of those incessant screams, the crashing and burning everywhere, and the constant explosions, all took on a tinny and hollow sound in his slowly faltering mind.
“Take it baack, Vegetaaa!” Nappa’s deep, gruff voice broke through it all, as if from a great distance.
“Don’t let it come to this! Take back your pooweerr!” Raditz then called in a kind of desperation, an urgency that sent a profound shock through Vegeta’s prone form.
My power! My strength! My…EEEVIIIL!
***
With a gasp, Vegeta shot up in bed. He was hyperventilating, and trembling just as fiercely as he had been in his dream. His rigid body was drenched in perspiration, his eyes wide and wild as they stared blankly at the dark room around him.
He felt Bulma stir beside him, her small, delicate fingers finding his arm and gently, tentatively resting there to give him reassurance.
“You’re awake now. You’re safe.” She said softly, making Vegeta’s heart flutter, as his breathing began to calm and he slowly allowed the tension to drop out of his shoulders. He closed his eyes, not responding immediately to his wife’s concerns. He needed several minutes to process that dream and the lingering emotions that continued to rage through him.
My power! My strength! My…EVIL!
He took in a deep, steadying breath. Awake now, and returned to his normal existence, it felt a bit odd to think in such dramatic terms. Vegeta took the dream’s meaning as simply another episode of his mind working out his anxieties. He had given up on trying to hold onto his evil now. What was the point? Sure, he could continue to train, to keep his power levels up, but his dream of universal domination? That was over. His desires to be feared, to subjugate, to rule—he had traded all of those in, in exchange for a wife, a child, and a mostly quiet life on a distant, worthless rock.
“You okay?” Bulma’s soft voice broke Vegeta’s thought process.
He let out a long sigh. “I’m fine.” After a couple more moments of sitting in silence, Vegeta opened his eyes and turned to look down at his woman. His damned heart lurched at the sight of her, so beautiful, so deeply concerned about him. It was tearing him apart, looking at her, alive and well—she was the very antithesis of his true self.
Bulma smiled sweetly. “Good.” They stared at one another for a long moment, his mind lost in its turmoil, her mind wondering what exactly he was thinking about. “If you wanna talk about it, I’m here. But no pressure, okay?”
He simply nodded.
The dream, or more precisely, the emotions from that dream, and the images, and the feel of Bulma’s lifeless body laying cold and dead beneath him, refused to leave his thoughts. The horrible feelings of helplessness. weakness, worthlessness—the sick truth that he hadn’t been able to stand up to his former subordinates—when he should have been the most powerful and destructive force in the universe…Sure, it was only a dream, but…
Vegeta never ever wanted to feel that way again!
***
Who were those two men?
Those big, menacing human fighters with the letter ‘M’ scrawled on their foreheads. There was something so very familiar about them….
Then it hit him! The reason why he seemed to recognize those odd forehead markings! It was that damned dream!
Suddenly, he saw Nappa and Raditz standing there, and across their foreheads were those two words, now superimposed over the brute’s foreheads, as his old companions faded away from his mind’s eye.
Ramik and Intoduom. Evil and Destruction.
Vegeta’s heart began to race madly, but he kept his outward demeanor calm and collected.
Then, as if in answer to his rush of excitement, a strange power signature washed over him from the arena, and he turned his dark gaze back to the battle at hand with a deep frown. As Spopovitch fought with Satan’s daughter, that odd power surged over the entire area in waves, and it was like nothing the prince had ever felt before.
“I don’t know how he’s doing it,” Kakarot growled. “But, somehow, Spopovich is using powers he’s never had before.”
Vegeta listened intently as Kakarot talked about how those two fighters had been at a previous tournament, and they had not been nearly as strong then, nor were they able to fly, or throw energy attacks, the way they were doing in this tournament. Reaching those new and astounding power levels, especially in such a short time, seemed impossible, and unnatural.
Instinctually, Vegeta knew in that moment, that the markings on their foreheads had something to do with their hugely-increased power levels. He felt another surge of excitement shoot through him, that he carefully contained. Whatever it meant, he would get to the bottom of it. The possibilities of what this could mean for him were not worth getting worked up over just yet. Even though something inside of him, that dark part that he had been trying so hard to suppress, began to bubble up in his core, and that feeling was like bliss, euphoric…indescribable!
Maybe, just maybe, through those two big goons, he would find that long-desired opportunity—to gain his freedom—to finally surpass Kakarot, and to return to his true self again…
***
Had her instinct finally been proven wrong? How could this be happening? How could Vegeta be doing this now? After everything they’d been through, after bringing a child into this world, after finally appearing to settle down and be a father and a husband? Over the past few months, Bulma had found a sense of peace and contentment that she never would have dreamed possible with the fiery prince. Despite his continued nightmares, which were a constant reminder of his past, and of the man he used to be, he had been much more receptive to her, and to Trunks lately. It had seemed to her that he was finally accepting his new life, and shocker of shockers, he even seemed to enjoy it…sometimes.
But now…this…this was simply beyond explanation. It was as if the man that she had seen evolving over the past few years, had gone and died, and all that was left was that sinister tyrant that she had feared so deeply on Nameck. A man she didn’t know. A man she would never choose to know.
The depth of his cruelty, the fierceness of his anger, and the pure evil of his intent were laid bare…plain for everyone to see, and Bulma was overcome with the most unbelievable, gut-wrenching pain. Nothing Vegeta had ever said to her in his cruelest moments, nothing he had ever done, even in his moments of gross neglect and uncaring, could prepare her for this disgusting, super-villain display, playing out before her distraught, unbelieving eyes.
He had just killed hundreds of innocent people in those stands, knowing his long-suffering wife would witness it. Hundreds, a mere pinprick compared to the number of lives he’d taken in his villainous career, surely. A career she thought he had left far behind! Now that the bad guy was back in action, he would certainly attempt to kill Goku, if he got his way. And it seemed, if given the chance, in the terrible state he was in, that he just might not hesitate to kill her, or gods forbid Trunks!
Suddenly, Bulma’s vision began to tunnel, and the world tilted dramatically. She felt someone grab hold of her, preventing her from crumbling into a helpless, devastated, unconscious heap at their feet. Never had she felt more insecure! Never had she felt so helpless, and hapless, and wrong! She had always trusted her instinct implicitly. Never had she doubted what her heart and her mind told her, before today. Now? Everything she ever thought and believed was called into question. How could she ever trust herself again about anything after this profound disappointment, and the terrible heartbreak it was creating inside her?
The tears came hot and heavy as the close friends around her attempted to comfort her. But there was no comfort. No. There was only pain.
Then, as suddenly and shockingly as he had appeared, he was gone again, along with Goku and the rest. Vanished, as if they had never even been there. Nothing to show but the destruction left in their wake. Devastation not only of the structure that surrounded them, or of the lives now blown into smoldering dust, but of her heart, and her very soul. Hope…all of the hope she ever felt about anything was flown away with him when he left. It had vanished along with her wayward husband, and she just wanted to die.
But no, she would not die from this. She had her wonderful boy to think about, and her family, and friends. She would find a way to survive her shredded heart, if only for their sake, and she was far stronger than this! She would dig deep and survive this. As terribly broken as her heart was, she would not allow this to finally and utterly break her. She would not give that terrible villain that kind of power over her!
Surviving, it was all she could do, as she sank down onto her seat again, her friends gathered closely around her, speaking loving and kind words, trying to comfort her. But she was barely registering them. Their gentle concerns and worried eyes seemed to reach her through a thick filter of shock and pain. A seemingly endless stream of tears trailed down Bulma’s cheeks, but she was feeling quite numb. Surviving this would take time, a very long time.
***
Husband and wife stood across from each other in Bulma’s quiet bedroom, their eyes locked onto each other as Vegeta gathered the strength he needed for his apology. Giving apologies was not something Vegeta was accustomed to, but this one was, for him, probably the most important bid for forgiveness he had, and would, ever make.
Those big, indigo orbs did not leave his dark ones for even an instant, and he didn’t want them to. He wanted to hold onto those shining eyes, because they gave him strength, and reminded him of why he had, and was, making profound changes to everything he had ever understood about himself, and his life. Holding his woman’s gaze firmly, and feeling her own strength holding onto his, Vegeta slowly stepped up closer to her, then dropped to his knees, his face turned up to her, his hands finding hers and grasping both in his fist with gentle strength.
“Bulma, I…” His voice cracked, but he didn’t feel embarrassed by it this time. He knew what he needed to say. He had run through the words in his head multiple times before this moment—endlessly repeating every version of his apology night and day, for days on end—causing him to lose sleep, and distracting him from all of his normal activities. And yet now, now he faltered? “Firstly I, uh, I’d like to say…” Damn it, he couldn’t get his thoughts right, his head was feeling jumbled, being so close to the woman that the still could hardly believe took him back to the woman he loved…
His wife smiled down at him and tightened her own grasp of his hands. “Thank you, Vegeta.”
What? She was thanking him?! What the hell? “Woman, what the blazes are you thanking me for?” He scowled up at her, but his eyes were filled with wonder.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She shrugged and smiled widely down into his handsome, bewildered face. “Just for finally realizing you’re a good guy I guess? For coming home. For finally allowing yourself to be the man you were always meant to be—a husband and a father—a good man.”
The prince sighed long and deeply. “No, no no no… Bulma! I don’t deserve your thanks. I put you through so much, too much! I’m… I can hardly believe I’m here right now! And I certainly cannot believe you just thanked me for anything at all! You should hate me. You are truly nuts, you know!” He chuckled goodheartedly, but there was a stinging sensation behind his dark eyes.
The truth of his words soothed Bulma’s soul, and she laughed before bending down and kissing his forehead. “Vegeta, it’s precisely because of those things you put me through, and Trunks, and everyone you tried to reject, that I’m thanking you. I know it wasn’t easy, coming from that dark place. I realize, for you, that the darkness felt like home, and that it was very hard for you to let it go. I also realize that there will always be a dark side within you, and I’m good with that. I just needed you to know that I appreciate your ultimate choice to join us, and especially to return to me.”
“Insane.“ He chuckled. “And here I am, on my knees, with so damned much to say, yet you’re the one doing all of the talking.”
Bulma rolled her eyes. “As usual, huh? I just can’t shut up.” She chided herself with the flourish of an eye roll.
“Bulma.” Vegeta released her hands and wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her stomach. “I wanted to look in your eyes to say these things, but I…”
This made the heiress pull away from him and descend to her knees as the couple’s arms rested around each other. Their eyes locked again. “So, go ahead.” She urged him with a little smile.
“Promise you won’t interrupt me. Please, let me just get all of this off my chest. Alright?”
“I promise.” She made a button-lip motion with her fingers over her tightly closed lips.
He sighed to gather his words again. “Bulma, forgive me, please. For all of the cruel things I’ve said—“
“You think you cause damage with your fists, but whew, mister, that mouth of yours can hurt like the dickens!” Bulma blurted out, then threw her hand over her mouth. “Oops, sorry.”
Vegeta laughed. “I expected no less. You truly cannot shut up.” He shook his head before continuing. “Anyway, I cannot ever make up for the things I’ve done. And I’m not talking about all of the crap I did prior to making your acquaintance. I’m only talking about what I’ve done to you, and to Trunks. I can’t take that stuff back, and I am not going to try, because figuring that out only makes me feel hopeless, and I just want to move forward. But, I will take care of you, and our family, forever. I will do my best to be good to you—a good husband, and a good father. I truly am sorry for everything, and… I …I love you.”
The couple grew silent, a silence that hung with anticipation between them. It took a moment for Bulma to truly register what her husband had just said. Had he finally uttered the words that she had so longed to hear from him, for so very long?
“Hold up. What did you just say?” She gasped.
He smirked, his eyes stern, but dancing playfully as they bored hard into her own wide-eyed expression. “I love you, Bulma Briefs.”
“Vegeta!” Her eyes burned as his statement finally sunk in—at everything he had just said…at those three immensely important words as they settled warmly into her soul. That earnest look in his dark eyes, a look she wondered if she’d ever see so openly displayed, just for her. “I love you, too.” She pulled him to her, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as he chuckled against her.
“Boy, I tell ya! Reforming a big bad supervillain like you?” She spoke into the curve of his neck. “I knew it would take time and patience. Boyyyy did it require patience! But, I knew I could handle it, and I knew you had it in you, too. I always believed in you, Vegeta.”
He pulled back briefly and gave her a wary expression, the most humble look she’d ever witnessed on his proud, handsome face, “I was wrong about so many things, Bulma. About myself, most of all.” Then he pulled her back into his strong arms, sighed heavily, and took a deep breath, grasping her even more tightly to himself. “I’ll never understand why, but I’m grateful for your tenacity, and your craziness.”
They both laughed as they held embraced in silence for a long time, before finally sitting back and smiling tiredly at each other. “It’s sure been a wild ride since you showed up, leaning on that tree and looking all brooding and so cute.” Bulma nudged his chest with her hand, causing him to rock back on his haunches and give her a skeptical look.
“Cute.” He shook his head and laughed with self-deprecation. “That is not a word I’d ever have thought would be used to describe me.”
“I suppose cute is in the eye of the beholder.” She winked and kissed his cheek, paused, then kissed it again several times in quick succession.
Vegeta laughed and wondered, how and why this love and warmth and caring had happened to him. His mind went back to that first instance when Kakarot had begged that bald, former monk, Krillin, not to kill him. Then, after his death at Freeza’s hand, he’d been revived, per Kakarot’s wishes. That never made a lick of sense to him. Then, to top it all off, the woman had flirted with him, and invited him into her home—him…the enemy! Surely as much an enemy in that moment by that tree as he was on Nameck, at least in his mind. And the endless times she had taken him back, and comforted him when he in no way deserved it! And finally, the pas de resistance, the fact that the fates saw fit to revive him yet again, this time as a ‘good person’… a ‘hero’ deserving to be returned to life along with all of the ‘not bad people’ of the earth!
He sighed brokenly as he felt tears tumble out of his eyes. Bulma tightened her embrace. “You okay, badman?” She whispered in his ear.
“Couldn’t be better.” He whispered as he nuzzled her neck contentedly.
***
One thing that the woman continually insisted on was that she was capable of handling him and all of his…complications. And despite initially thinking of Bulma as a weak, emotionally fragile, overbearing, insufferable, human female without even an ounce of power to match his own, she had proven herself to be precisely what he needed. She had proved her ability to know just what to do to reach him. Proved herself capable of bouncing back when things got rough between them. She had understood him in a way no other being ever had, and not only understood but cared to understand.
Bulma constantly told him that she loved him, and he had constantly poopoo’d that sentiment as outlandish and utterly ridiculous. But, what, outside of love, would cause such unyielding devotion to him? It had gone beyond fixing him now. Beyond pet projects, motherly instincts, simple curiosity. It was nothing outside of madness, and he knew Bulma was anything but mad. Well, she certainly had her moments. But they were only moments.
And, well, hadn’t he always thought of love as a kind of madness? Not many would disagree with that sentiment. It certainly seemed like sheer insanity for the woman to have latched onto him as firmly as she had. To look at him the way she did. To…cry for him. For him! Yes, there certainly was a form of madness involved.
But, if Bulma was mad, what did that make him? He laughed inwardly.
He longed for her attention—for those heartfelt and earnest looks she gave him. Despise his insistence of her unworthiness—not being Saiyan, worthy of a Saiyan, or having an ounce of actual strength…well, physical strength anyway. Mental and emotional strength, that was a whole other story. That female was one of the strongest beings he had ever encountered!
Vegeta couldn’t suppress a smile thinking back on the many times she’d shocked the hell out of him with her lack of fear and fierce determination. Gods but she had annoyed the living hell out of him when they first interacted. He had wanted to strangle her on so many occasions. But, he never could have done it. He could admit that now. He blamed it on those eyes! Those blasted, shining, quivering, indigo eyes that peeled away all of his barriers and battered down his defenses—exposing those raw bits inside that he never wanted anyone else to see.
Then he’d gone and agreed to let her, and only her, see them—his deepest and darkest emotions, brought out by his terrible nightmares. If only to finally allow himself to feel, and to share, and to release them. They burned like fire. Those cruelly abraded emotions that had never been addressed, or treated. He could never imagine anything like the salve that she lovingly ministered to them and how he became almost addicted to it, once he had allowed her in!
Gods, but it made his chest tighten painfully thinking about it now. It brought up all of the nastiness he’d inflicted on her, all of the little, and the big, things that he’d done in his vain and stupid attempts to drive her, and his burgeoning new family life, away…finally culminating in his most disgusting display as the Majin.
But now, after all of that was over, as a proud husband, devoted father, and true family man, those Majin events embarrassed him even more than the deplorable things he’d done before becoming entangled with this incredible woman that he had made his mate… or wife.
Once upon a time, Vegeta had thought that love, compassion, and humility were all weaknesses. Now, having taken the most difficult path of profound change himself—all for her, and for their shared family—he saw the truth of it. The more difficult path, at least for him, required far more strength and power than all of the physical hurdles he had overcome.
For Kakarot, being kind and annoyingly compassionate came easy. But for Vegeta, at least in the beginning, it was immensely difficult to allow himself to embrace those feelings. It was far more natural now, though. He had since discovered in himself a strong sense of justice. It had always been there, but he had only applied it to himself. He had not extended those kinds of considerations to others before, probably due to his profound distrust of others, and his constant need for self-preservation.
Regardless of the imposed companionship of Nappa and Raditz, Vegeta had felt achingly alone after being given over to Freeza. He had walled up any and all feelings of devotion, or of bonding. He had built around himself, his heart, and his soul, a fortress of protection. No one would dare to penetrate the powerful bulwark that set him apart from others, and their pitiful, weak, ridiculous feelings. Feelings only ever led to pain and made one vulnerable, and easier to manipulate or to kill. He would have none of that!
Well, and now he knew, that way of thinking, and living, could now endure forever. If he hadn’t turned himself around and allowed himself to be the man that he was now, he would certainly be dead and rotting in hell forever.
All that these kinds of thoughts ever did, was bring him right back to the wonderment that always struck him like a battle ax. How his life could be filled with so much joy and kindness—love and caring—a stunningly beautiful wife, and children that adored him. Friends…ha! Vegeta with friends…dear friends who cared about his well-being. Cared whether he lived or died. Even after the stunts he’d pulled. After killing a few of them, even!
He marveled. Marveled, and wondered, and beat his head against the proverbial wall until he just had to let it all go—accept it, live it, and yes…love it.
Vegeta, the prince of a dead world, tyrant, and destroyer of vast numbers of beings across the galaxy, now had it all and he loved his life. He took nothing for granted! He never, not at any moment, believed something as delusional as to think he deserved any of it. But he loved it, and he was truly happy. Happier than anyone like him, even remotely, should ever be—deplorable past and lack of worthiness be damned!
***