Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Another World ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

ANOTHER WORLD

AN: This fic begins on the day Radditz would have arrived on Earth. Warnings: Language, possible references to sex.

Disclaimer: I did not create DragonballZ. Although I've been offered millions, I refuse to make money on my stories.

Chapter 4

While Krillen didn't exactly "die" at the sight of his two friends flying over Kame House, his reaction was well worth the trip out there. Goku and Yamcha spent a quick hour teaching Krillen to fly before Goku announced he was heading home to ask Chi Chi if he could bring his brother home for dinner.

Yamcha waved goodbye to Krillen and headed back to Capsule Corporation alone. He'd been so psyched about showing Krillen his new skill that he didn't even realize until that moment that he had left Bulma alone with the aliens. He increased his speed as his head filled with visions of the king dangling technological gew-gaws in front of Bulma the way rich men dangle diamonds.

When he finally found her, underneath the suspended pod, wearing coveralls, tools in hand, directing the taller alien to "hold this while I-", he felt somewhat better. Working, she was just working, trying to fix something-her specialty. The situation was completely normal.

"No, not like that, Radditz!" Vegeta said, stomping over, taking the tool Radditz was holding. "She wants you to hold it like this."

"He was doing fine, but this is OK, too," Bulma said. "Just don't let it turn while I---" and she twisted the tool in her hands, loosening the fastener. "One more," she gritted out and twisted again. She dropped her tool onto the floor as she reached into the belly of the pod and retrieved her prize-a glowing sphere. She cradled it in two hands before raising her eyes to Vegeta. Yamcha saw a slow smile spread across her face as she met the king's gaze. He watched them stare at each other a moment and couldn't shake the feeling that he was intruding. No, the situation was not normal. It was completely out of control.

"Is this it?" he heard his wife ask.

"That's it," the king said.

"Kind of small," she said.

"It does what it needs to."

"Now what?"

"Now," Radditz said, stepping in to take the orb, "we adapt it to the cruiser." From the tone in his voice, Yamcha got the impression that he was not the only one who felt the draw between his wife and the king. Apparently, Radditz didn't approve either.

Bulma was grateful when Radditz's voice broke the spell she had fallen under gazing into Vegeta's eyes. They were so black, so deep; it was easy just to fall into them and . . . drown. She had to stop doing that! She was married, for goodness sakes! And her husband was taller, handsomer, and certainly more pleasant than this man who seemed to delight in pissing her off. Was it just because he was exotically alien? Because he was the king of another world who traveled in a bona fide spaceship? No, it was something intangible, something she couldn't quite pin down no matter how hard she tried. This man just pulled at her. It was baffling. It was exciting . . . it was wrong.

"So how do we do that?" she said, turning to Radditz.

"We need to get the housing for the energy cell from the cruiser and determine how to replace the burnt out cell with this smaller one."

"Well, let's get to it," she said, grabbing her tool kit. "Is it hard to get to?" she asked, leaving the lab with the larger Saiyan.

"Not too difficult if you're small," Radditz said, the rest of his comment was lost to the pair left in the lab.

Yamcha stared at Vegeta, who met his gaze without flinching. They stared at each other for some moments, a challenge and an understanding in their eyes.

You can't have her, Yamcha thought. He didn't have the courage to give voice to his irrational fears.

I know, filtered into his brain. Yamcha blinked and shook his head, clearing it. What the hell was that? His eyes met the king's gaze again. The black orbs were silent and expressionless until at last the king looked away and left the lab.

A few second later, Yamcha left as well. His imagination might be overactive today, but he still wasn't going to leave Bulma alone until he had to.

********************************************************* ***********************

Imagination or not, Yamcha spent the rest of the afternoon watching his wife fall in love with the alien king. It was difficult to say how he knew it was happening since all they appeared to do was fight. One would make a point of disagreeing with whatever the other had just said, usually following it with a derogatory remark. Insults would be traded and the spat would escalate until Radditz intervened, usually by distracting Bulma with a new question. Work would continue until there was another disagreement and the cycle would repeat itself.

"I'm telling you that it will work! Look at the numbers Dad ran. Once we increase the output by channeling the energy through a transformer, the cell will give you what you need," Bulma was saying to Vegeta. "Unless you're wrong about the power required for the hyperspace jump. And that seems highly probable considering the source."

"I'm not wrong," Vegeta snapped. "And I don't need to be schooled in hyperdrive mechanics by a woman who has never left her own planet!"

"Well, if you know everything, Your Highness, then you know I'm right! Math doesn't lie! Re-routing the power is the only way."

"Actually, Sire," Radditz's voice cut in, "I'm inclined to agree with her. If the Earth transformer performs as she claims, there won't be a compromise in the radon field around the cell. It should act just like a larger cell once it's charged."

Vegeta pressed his lips together, looking away. "Whatever," he said. "I'm bored with it."

Another hour passed and the adapted cell was ready to be installed in the cruiser. They were carrying the housing out the back door when Goku arrived on Kintouen. Bulma almost asked why he wasn't flying on his own like before, but then she saw Gohan's face behind Goku's. Of course! Chi Chi wouldn't trust Goku to fly with Gohan on his own.

"Hi, Goku. Hi, Gohan," she called. "Did you bring Gohan to see the spaceship?"

"No" he said. "I came to ask Radditz to come to my house for dinner. Gohan, this is your Uncle Radditz."

Gohan bravely walked up to the huge Saiyan and held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Raddtiz knelt down to shake Gohan's hand, his huge hand engulfing the smaller one. "Hello, Gohan," he said. "You know, you really shouldn't leave your tail out like that."

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Wrap it around your waist like this," Radditz said, standing up to display his own tail. He uncoiled it from his waist, gave it a shake, and then wrapped it tightly back. "That way no one can grab it and use it against you."

Gohan tried to duplicate Radditz's deft tail wrap, but his tail wouldn't cooperate. Finally he grabbed it in his hands and manually wrapped it around his waist. "Like this?"

Radditz shrugged. "Close enough. Practice and you'll get better."

"So how about it, Radditz? Chi Chi is cooking all of my favorites. You don't want to miss her dumplings," Goku said.

Radditz looked at Vegeta. "Sire?"

"Go on. We can't leave until the cell's charged anyway. I can make sure the woman doesn't screw anything up," Vegeta said.

"Oh please! Like-" but Goku's "Great!" interrupted the rest of Bulma's outburst. "Come on!" He grabbed Gohan and settled back on Kintouen. "Maybe you can convince Chi Chi to let me train Gohan!"

Bulma watched the trio disappear into the sky, then looked at her watch. "Goodness, it is dinnertime! Hey Yamcha, will you ask Mom to give you a couple of plates for Vegeta and me? We need to get this installed as soon as possible so the cell can start to charge. Thanks!" she said, and without waiting for an answer, trotted off toward the cruiser. He caught Vegeta's eye for one moment before he too went to the ship, leaving Yamcha alone in the coming twilight. Torn between doing what Bulma asked and abandoning her to the king, he finally went into the house to talk to Mrs. Briefs about dinner "to go".

********************************************************* ******************

Reinstalling the energy cell wasn't as easy as Bulma had hoped. The new transformer had been attached in a position that collided with another device near the cell's location. It took her another hour to remove and reconnect the transformer in a position that didn't conflict with the existing machinery in the cruiser. It was tough work, cramped in the underbelly with barely enough room for one, but Vegeta had insisted crawling down there as well to make sure she didn't "make things worse." When Yamcha finally brought out their dinner, she was so constricted it hurt to unbend her body.

"How's it going?" Yamcha asked.

"OK. I've almost got it back together," Bulma said. "It's a good thing I know how to improvise otherwise we'd be back at the drawing board."

"So you'll be able to leave as soon as it's fixed?" Yamcha said to Vegeta.

"As soon as it's charged, yes," Vegeta said. He couldn't help adding, "but that could be hours, maybe days."

Yamcha's eyes hardened. "Or minutes. As my wife is so fond of saying, 'you don't know'."

Bulma glanced from her husband to Vegeta and her eyebrows drew together. What the hell was that all about? she wondered. With everything else going on, she didn't need a fight as well. "Yamcha, don't you need to pack?"

Yamcha pulled his eyes away from Vegeta to look at this wife. "Eventually."

"Well, go do it and let us eat. I've still got quite a bit to do here and I need to get back to it."

Yamcha hesitated. His stomach churned and he found the courage to say, "Shouldn't Vegeta come inside and let you work? You're always telling me you don't like people poking over your shoulder while you're working. You'd probably get done faster that way." He was rather proud of the detached, practical note in his voice. His suggestion made perfect sense. Reasonable. Logical. Surely Bulma could see he was right?

"Actually, no. He's been quite helpful, and he's been patiently answering all my questions about space travel. It's not like I get to quiz someone from another planet every day!" She smiled at Vegeta who didn't smile back. Instead he looked at Yamcha and raised an eyebrow in victory. Yamcha's heart sank.

"I'll go pack," he said and left the ship.

********************************************************* **********

"You never finished your story," Bulma said. She and Vegeta had eaten in silence for several minutes after Yamcha left, but her curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to know more about this man.

"Story?" Vegeta asked.

"At lunch you started telling me about the revolution and why you don't send babies off-world any more. You just told the part about Goku's father telling you his vision and that you deserted, but we got interrupted. So what happened after you deserted?"

"I went home and tried to convince my father that Frieza did not wish us well, that we were not "partners" in a business enterprise, but were being used and would not outlive our usefulness. He didn't believe me any more than he believed Bardock."

"That must have been tough to take," she said. "What did you do?"

"I started a civil war," he said. "If my father was going to lead the Saiyan people to destruction, he had to die."

The matter of fact tone Vegeta used sent chills down Bulma's spine. She couldn't imagine speaking so coldly of killing anyone, much less her own father.

"Wow," was all she could think of to say.

"You disapprove?" he asked.

"Well, I . . . it's not something I would do, no," she said.

He gave her a harsh smile. "Then your people would be dead. It was this war that ultimately saved us from Frieza. It amused him to watch us try to wipe each other out, so even though we had outlived our usefulness, he stayed his hand. He watched our fight and sold intelligence to my father about my forces. By that time, it wasn't only Saiyans fighting; other races joined my fight because they knew if I won I would fight Frieza." He fell silent, but Bulma wanted the rest of the story.

"And did you? Fight Frieza?"

"Yes. After my father was dead, he decided to finish us off." He looked away for a minute and then back at her. "So I killed him," he said flatly.

Bulma waited for him to elaborate, but Vegeta had clearly said all he was going to. Talk about your Reader's Digest version of events, she thought. "So you became king. Then what?"

Vegeta put down his fork. "You're a nosey thing, aren't you?" he said, but he answered her question anyway. "We worked to rebuild Vegeta-sei. In the final assault, much was destroyed. Centuries of records were lost. That is how we lost your friend. So many Saiyans were killed during the revolution that we tried to bring home those sent out in infant pods. Bardock's mate was especially persistent about locating her second son, but without records, we didn't know where---Ha! Kakarrot!"

"What?"

"Kakarrot. That's Goku's true name. I knew I would remember it eventually. Chirabara repeated it often enough."

"Chirabara?"

"Kakarrot's mother. She was adamant that we find her other son, but there were no records to even prove he existed, much less where his pod had been sent."

"Chirabara," she repeated. "Goku has a mother. All those years with no one and he had a family all along. I don't think he missed it; I'm not even sure he thought about it, but all along there was someone asking about him, looking for him. You'll have to tell her that he's all grown up now and that she's a grandmother!" A new thought struck her. "Wait a sec---you're not thinking about taking him back are you? 'Cause you can't; Goku belongs here now! I won't let you---

Vegeta held up a hand. "Trust me. Kakarrot you can have." Vegeta had known the imbecile for less than a day and he'd already wrecked Vegeta's space cruiser. Kakarrot wasn't going to get with ten parsecs of Vegeta-sei if he could help it!

"Ok then," Bulma said. "Just so we're clear on that. Now let's finish up so the cell can start charging." She put aside her plate and crawled back under the deck. Vegeta watched her with some amusement. The weak female apparently thought she had some control over his actions. And does she? he wondered. If he wanted to take Kakarrot back, would he do so over her objections? Bulma interrupted his thoughts before he could answer his own question.

"Are you coming?"

"I'm not finished yet," he said, reaching for Bulma's half-full plate. "Just don't touch anything until I'm down there to make sure you're doing it right."

"Oh, please! I could rebuild this in my sleep now!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "And with one hand tied behind your back as well, I suppose?"

"You got it, buster!"

Vegeta grinned at her use of the unknown word. He knew it was somehow derogatory and being treated with such disrespect should have infuriated him. Her total inability to let him have the last word should have infuriated him. But somehow, he wasn't infuriated, he was infatuated. The qualities that repulsed him in others somehow attracted him to her. He couldn't explain it and he sure as hell couldn't stop it or even control it. The most disturbing part of it was he didn't really want to.

********************************************************* ************************

At the Son house, Radditz was relaxing with a full stomach, very much enjoying the drink Goku referred to as a beer. His brother's wife had hustled his nephew outside after dinner for a bath. She had been oddly uptight during the dinner. He wasn't sure if she was upset by the fact that Goku had brought his brother home for dinner or that Goku had a brother at all. She had waxed and waned in her attitude towards him. At times she was pleasant and even inquisitive about his life on Vegeta-sei. Do you have a wife? At other times, she was defensive, perhaps even hostile. He noted that the topics during her negative outbursts tended to deal with Gohan's studies and fighting. He mentally shook his head at her foolishness. Gohan was part Saiyan---he would fight whether she approved or not. It was in his nature, his very blood. She would be wise to let Gohan indulge his Saiyan side with guidance; otherwise she might wake up one day to a very unpleasant surprise.

"So how strong are you on that machine-thingy?" Goku's voice broke through his reverie.

"Thingy?" Radditz asked, picking up his scouter. "This?"

"Yeah."

"1200." He waited for the next question. Goku was Saiyan, after all.

"What do I measure?"

"425."

Goku sat back and absorbed this information. "I can get stronger, right?"

"Certainly, that's what makes Saiyans such feared fighters. Our injuries only make us stronger when healed."

"So I need to get hurt a lot to get stronger? I don't think Chi Chi would like that."

Radditz's lips lifted. No, Chi Chi wouldn't like that at all. "No, any training will increase your strength, but the more aggressive the training, the more your strength will increase. Unfortunately, the gravity on your planet is very weak. Greater gravity would boost your results."

Goku thought about that for a moment before saying, "I bet Bulma could build something! She's really smart, always inventing stuff."

Radditz couldn't disagree. The blue-haired human's genius had been in evidence all afternoon as they had struggled to modify the cell housing. It was everything else about her that was a problem. His eyebrows drew together as he recalled his king's bizarre behavior that afternoon. Vegeta had always been hot-headed and impulsive, but watching him deliberately bait the woman for no other reason than entertainment was mystifying. And there was that bizarre undercurrent to it. They couldn't leave the planet soon enough as far as Radditz was concerned.

As if thinking of Vegeta had brought the king forward into Goku's mind, Goku asked, "So how strong is Vegeta? He's stronger than you, I can tell."

"The king is Super Saiyan," Radditz said.

"Super Saiyan? What does that mean?"

"Among the Saiyan race there has been a legend handed down of a Super Saiyan. Once every thousand years, a Saiyan will be born so powerful that he would be unstoppable."

"Wow," Goku breathed. "How hard do you have to train to become Super Saiyan?"

Radditz looked out of the window at Gohan playing the wooden tub. He was splashing his mother and, surprisingly, she was laughing. He thought about Goku's obvious affection for his child. He spoke without turning away from the scene in front of him.

"I don't think you want to know what it takes to become Super Saiyan. The cost is very high."

Goku followed his brother eyes out the window and looked at his wife and child. He swallowed. "I don't understand. What 'cost'?"

Radditz turned to his brother. "Let's just say that Prince Vegeta may be the king's heir, but not his first son."

Goku's mind tried to understand. Older children always inherited titles before younger children. The only time younger children got to inherit titles was when the older child . . . died. "Oh," he said softly. "What happened?"

"Frieza happened. The fight to save our world was not easy or short. After Vegeta ascended to the throne, he took a Queen. The first child was born soon after, but he was sent off world to a secret location to ensure the succession should the worst befall our king. We assumed that Vegeta would be his primary target." Radditz paused at this point and shifted his body. "Frieza discovered the planet's location and destroyed the planet."

"That's terrible," Goku said.

Radditz gave a grim smile. "Like I said, you don't want to pay the cost."

There was an awkward silence since there was really nothing else to say. Goku could sense that sympathy would be unwelcome. For whatever reason, his brother and the king seemed to disdain shows of emotion. Perhaps it was a Saiyan thing, something he was glad he didn't inherit. It seemed the only things Saiyan about him were eating and fighting. They had already eaten, so . . . .

"So do you want to show me that Shock Blast technique you were telling me about?" Goku asked, standing.

Radditz took a final sip of his beer and stood as well, stretching. "Good idea. After a meal like that, I need some exercise or I will fall asleep flying back."

Chi Chi and Gohan came back inside, Gohan wrapped in a fluffy white towel.

"Say goodnight to your Uncle Radditz, Gohan," she instructed.

"Good-"

"Chi Chi," Goku said, looking at the clock. "It's an hour until Gohan's bedtime. Radditz and I were just going to go outside and spar a bit. I know Gohan would like to watch, wouldn't you, Gohan?"

"Sure!" said Gohan. He looked at this mother. "Can I, Mom?"

Chi Chi pursed her lips together and looked at Goku. "Goku, we've discussed this. I don't want Gohan---"

"Son Chi Chi," Radditz said, interrupting, "Goku has told me that you insist that Gohan should not be trained. Is there a reason for this?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she said primly, "but my Gohan is going to be a scholar, not a fighter."

"Why can he not be both? Is he not smart enough?"

"Absolutely not! Gohan is the brightest four year-old in school. His teacher says so."

"Is he so physically weak that he is incapable of exercise?"

"Of course not! My Gohan is as healthy as a horse!"

"So he is capable of doing both," Radditz continued, "but you hold him back."

"I do no such thing!"

"Yes, you do." Radditz took a step toward her, filling her vision with his large frame. "You are making a mistake. Your son is half-Saiyan. He will fight whether you want him to or not. He can train with his father or pick fights at school with kids, but he will fight. He is Saiyan. You need to decide whether you will control how and when he fights or whether he runs wild behind your back. Do you understand?"

Chi Chi's eyes grew bigger as the Radditz continued speaking. She almost backed away as the Saiyan seemed to grow larger with every word. When he stopped, she nodded her head once and said, "I understand" in a voice so soft that Goku wasn't sure it came from her lips. Whether what prompted Chi Chi's agreement was the idea of further control over Gohan, frantic phone calls from the school's principal or the intimidating Saiyan in front of her, Goku couldn't say. All he knew was that he didn't think he was going to have a problem training Gohan anymore.

"Come on, Gohan," Chi Chi said, once more in control of her voice. "Let's get some clothes on you so you can watch your father." She steered Gohan into a bedroom. Before the little head disappeared into the room, however, Gohan looked back over his shoulder and threw his Uncle Radditz a big grin.

"Wow!" Goku said. "Thanks!"

Radditz shrugged. "It only made sense."

********************************************************* *************

Back at Capsule Corporation, the new energy cell's installation was complete. If the current rate of charging continued, the cell would be fully charged by tomorrow morning. The Saiyans could leave.

Yamcha was extremely gratified to hear this. The Saiyans couldn't leave soon enough as far as he was concerned. Bulma had looked at him oddly after his overly joyous "that's great!" when she told him of the projected departure date, but she didn't say anything.

When he had finished packing and was ready to leave, he found his wife in the living room, where Bulma's mother was serving coffee and cakes to her father and Vegeta. It would have been nice to say goodbye to his wife without the alien's piercing eyes, but a part of him was glad to have an opportunity to "stake his claim" so to speak. Bulma was his wife, no one else's.

Yamcha couldn't help but smile at the king's helpless expression as his mother-in-law chattered. He wondered how long she'd been going at it. Bulma was generally good at interrupting her mother and breaking the constant flow of words, but she was unusually silent, letting her mother continue unabated. When she turned to look at him as he entered the room, he could see the fatigue in her eyes. Of course. After all the work she'd done today, she needed some rest.

"Babe, I'm off to the airport," he announced, heading for the door. He walked slowly, making sure Bulma had an opportunity to . . . .

"Hold on, let me give you a kiss," she said, getting up and heading over. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a sweet, if not deep kiss.

"Take care of yourself," she said, pulling away. "I'll miss you."

"It's just for one night, babe," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow night." He took the opportunity to stroke her cheek and leaned forward to speak softly. "You're not inviting those aliens to sleep inside are you? I know you think they're OK because we saved the king's son, but I'd feel better knowing they weren't."

"No, they're not, but not because I didn't offer; I did. Vegeta just preferred to sleep near his son in the ship."

"That's good then," he said. "Everybody's happy." In a louder voice he added, "You look tired, babe. You've worked really hard today. I want you to go to bed and get some sleep."

"I can't go yet: Vegeta-"

"I don't think the king will mind your excusing yourself for some much needed rest," he said, looking directly at Vegeta. "Not after all your hard work fixing his little spaceship."

There was a pause as the two men's eyes met.

"Of course not," the king answered. "Your husband is right. You look terrible."

Bulma turned her head quickly at the king's remark and drew breath, but all that came out was a decidedly weak, "I must be tired because I can't summon the energy to cut you down like you deserve. Fine, I'll go to bed," she promised Yamcha.

"Excellent," Yamcha said, thrilled with the added bonus of separating his wife from Vegeta. "See you tomorrow then. I love you."

"I love you too," Bulma answered and saw him out the door. She turned back to the room. "Well, I'll take my terrible looks and go to bed. Mother, don't keep Vegeta up too long. He's probably tired as well-"

"Actually," Vegeta said, seizing the opportunity to leave the chatty blonde's company, "I should check on my son. So I will bid you all good night." He turned and left the room, leaving Bulma's mother momentarily speechless.

"Well," Mrs. Briefs said finally, "and I was just about to pull out the photo albums too. I asked him if he had any pictures of darling Vegeta as a baby and he had no idea what I was talking about."

"Now I know I'm tired," Bulma said, "because somehow you said the two words that are certain to make my ears perk up and I didn't hear them. I can't believe you were about to show him my baby pictures!"

"Bulma, those are the most adorable pictures! That one on the bear skin rug---"

Bulma rolled her eyes and left the room. "Good night, Mother," she said through a yawn.

********************************************************* *********************

Despite her fatigue, Bulma couldn't sleep. She could never sleep well when Yamcha was out of town anyway, but her heart was so unsettled by Vegeta. How could she feel so strongly about someone she just met? It made no sense. Every time her eyes met his though, she felt a connection, as if her heart recognized him. She thought he felt something too; she couldn't be sure. Surely something this strong couldn't be one-sided.

Could it?

So after a couple of hours lying awake in bed, she threw on some clothes and went to her mother's rose garden and sat on the cold bench. She looked up into the night sky, breathed in the scent of roses and grass, and looked at the stars. Dozens filled the sky, but she knew there were hundreds more she couldn't see in the city. So many, she thought. I wonder which one is his?

As if thinking of him had conjured him, he appeared there and silently sat on the bench, turning his gaze to the stars as well. The silence was comfortable, but Bulma had too many questions to keep quiet.

"Do you feel it too?" she asked.

"Yes."

She gave a small nod of her head as she considered the implications of this . . .thing between them.

"I guess the universe is a pretty big place," she said, still looking at the sky.

"Enormous," he answered.

"With hundreds of stars in this galaxy alone."

"Thousands."

"And millions of planets?"

"Yes."

Silence.

"So I guess it's kind of a miracle you came here," she said.

He looked sharply at her, frustrated disbelief in his eyes. "More like a curse, you mean!" He stood up and turned away.

"No! You don't mean that!" she said.

He spun to face her. "Don't I? To know that you exist and I cannot have you with honor . . . ." He looked at the sky and sighed. "Don't you feel cheated? Don't you feel like fate has just played some kind of cosmic joke on you?"

"No," she said and stood and walked to him. "I feel . . . relieved. It makes so much sense now. I knew something was missing. I knew something wasn't right. And now I know--it's you. I don't know why or how, but when I'm with you everything falls into place. I just feel . . . right." She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know how else to describe it."

"But I didn't know anything was missing," he spat. "I was content with my life. I fought so hard for what I have; it's everything I wanted -- till you. You've opened a door I didn't even know I had. Forty-three thousand light years won't change," he gestured between them,"this. I don't know how I can ever be content again."

"But you must! Please, you must be happy! I need to look at the sky and know you're happy. The universe is a huge place. Do you know how few people have ever found what we have? How many people waltz through life waiting for the perfect person, the one who's made just for them? Do you know how many people die waiting? Don't you see? We're different because we know. Even if you're forty-three million light years away, you can know that I'm here looking right back through those same stars at you. Wanting you to be happy . . . because I couldn't bear it if you were sad. I need you to be happy. Because, dammit, I'm going to be. I'm going to be happy having children and inventing things and doing dozens of other things I haven't even thought of yet. I'll have it and I'll know it's the best I can have. And I won't wonder why it's not perfect anymore. I won't have this . . . hole somewhere inside."

She stopped and rubbed a hand against her temple, turning and walking a few steps away. "None of this makes sense, I know. You're standing there looking at me like I'm crazy. You're all upset because we can't 'have each other,' but . . . we do have each other. Maybe not in the perfect, forever kind of way we might if things were different, but somehow I know things would have to be a lot different for that to happen. You said so yourself, there's no reason for you to even be in my region of space. Your son's crash is the only reason you even came. So you had to have him to bring you here. You had to marry to have a son." She paused. "She must be very special, your queen."

Vegeta's lips turned up as he thought of his wife. "Cilantra is . . . all I could hope for in a consort. She is strong and wise. Even-tempered-unlike you-which I think is necessary since I've been known to fly off the handle."

"No!" Bulma said with feigned amazement.

Vegeta smiled. "Yes. She keeps me in check with her calm ways. I've known you for ten hours and I've lost count of times I've heard you raise your voice. I think Cilantra's only done that three times in twelve years. She fought by my side during the revolution. It was only natural that I made her my queen."

"I'm so glad you have her," Bulma said. She felt no jealousy toward this woman who shared Vegeta's life in a way she never could, because she knew there was a part of Vegeta that Cilantra would never touch, a part that was exclusively hers. "She sounds perfect for you."

"No. I know perfect now. But she is," he paused, trying to think of the right word. He thought of Cilantra's strong face, beautiful in the way of Saiyan women, her strong heart, the heart that shared its strength during the long nights when he thought all was lost. No, not perfect, but beloved. "My queen," he said finally. There were no other words appropriate.

Bulma laid her hand lightly on the king's arm. "She's a part of this path too, Vegeta."

"I know. And you're right. My life . . ." He shook his head slightly. "I don't know what path I would have to have taken to bring me here under other circumstances, but I'm sure it would be very different. Maybe we lost to Frieza? Maybe . . ?" He shrugged, his imagination failing to conjure alternate futures. "I don't know, but different."

"Losing to Frieza would have been horrible. You said he was going to destroy your people and your planet. He could have done that. You would have had nothing-no people, no home." Bulma gave small smile. "I don't think meeting me would be able to compensate under those circumstances."

Vegeta thought about his world, his people. To lose them all, lose his heritage, his birthright-would he trade it all for this woman? His heart sang in her presence; he felt so alive, but to lose everything to have her? He shook off the choice. It was moot now anyway, there was no choice to be made and even on another path he wouldn't have been offered a choice. The path would have been set before him and if it led to her, so be it.

"I don't think you would want me under those circumstances anyway," he said instead.

"I don't like to lose and losing all that would bring out all my worst traits."

"You have worse traits?" Bulma said, putting her hands on her hips in mock outrage. "Worse than being an arrogant, disagreeable asshole?"

He shook his finger at her, a gesture so human that Bulma marveled at it. "Careful with the flattery, I'd hate to have to incinerate that smooth tongue of yours."

"I'm quaking with fear, your Highness," she said and then the fists on her hips relaxed and cradled her hips. She leaned forward coquettishly. "But I can promise my tongue is one thing you'd never want to incinerate." She finished with a playful lick of her lips. She realized her mistake immediately as Vegeta paled and stiffened.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," she said. "Flirting just comes second-nature to me."

"Not offended, just . . . reminded that perhaps I should go in now." He took a step back. "Before I begin to 'flirt' back."

"I'd like see that," she said and her lips smiled in invitation. Did she step forward or did the pull between them only make it feel that way?

Gods, he wanted to! The look in her eyes, it was so . . . overwhelming to his senses. The longer he stayed the more he wanted throw his honor to the wind and have her, steal her and hide her away, whether she wanted it or not. She seemed to accept their fate, but he was Saiyan and, as he told her earlier, he hated to lose.

"I cannot," he said with another step back, his honor winning finally. "I should go. Good night." He started up the path, then turned back. "These flowers, what are they called?"

"Roses. My mother grows them."

He stood in silence as he considered his words, then said, "they smell pleasant" before heading back up the path.

Bulma watched him disappear up the path and a panic clutched at her, a feeling that she would never see him again if she didn't do something. So she raced to catch up and caught his arm.

"You won't . . . leave without saying goodbye, will you?" she asked.

He looked at her small hand on his arm and reached with his own to gently lift it off. He held it briefly in his own, marveling at how two hands, separated by so much, could join so easily. He looked back into her eyes and answered.

"No. When the time to leave comes, I will tell you goodbye."

Then he dropped her hand and walked away. This time Bulma let him leave.

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Thank you to everyone who has taken a second to review. It means so much to know that someone is enjoying this story.

One chapter to go and it's mostly finished. Big thanks to Ember for her outstanding beta work and to debbiechan for creative consultation.