Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unconditional Bonds (revamped) ❯ Musings of a Prince ( Chapter 11 )

Chapter Eleven: Musings of a Prince

The day drifted by lazily, the heat of mid summer cooling as evening approached. The two warriors went their separate ways for a time; the Saiyan off to find food, the Namek to meditate in seclusion in a field to the east of the mountainside.

The tall warrior floated cross-legged a few feet above the rustling grass, his cape fluttering out behind him like a bloodless phantom. Twilight cast her shadows across his sharp features, masking part of his face in the darkness while the other glowed in the soft hues of the setting sun.

Vegeta, who had pushed his ki down, watched him with steadfast interest and more than a little wonderment. He had returned, now that his stomach was full, intending to tell Piccolo that it was time to return to the Lookout. Dende was having trouble with one of the boundaries, or some such nonsense; he had only listened with half an ear.

But now he stood transfixed, unable to deliver his message. His mind was still in a state of utter bewilderment. The entire day he had pushed the feelings aside and been successful, but now it was time to face reality.

He simply couldn't believe it, Piccolo of all people; he hadn't a clue. Sure, he was a comrade. All right, let's be honest, the only person Vegeta would openly admit was a close friend. All the others were Bulma's. His only role was to be civil and not beat the living shit out of them if they got on his nerves. He liked them mildly he supposed, but he'd never admit to it, why would he? They were happy-go-lucky freeloaders in his mind. Yet, he was the one seen as the freeloader, `using' poor Bulma for her technology and home and whatever else you care to insert here. Stupid fools! But they were good people who had good intentions with nary a worry or care. He often wondered what it would be like to be so insouciant; he imagined he'd float away from being so air headed.

Over the years they had learned to accept him. It had been a hard and arduous journey but he managed to `fit in' more or less. And he had to admit, it was a more peaceful life, certainly more welcome than the brutal lifestyle he had lived before.

He chuckled at the memory of everyone's initial fear of him. Krillen had been terrified of him. He'd say jump, Krillen would ask how high, how fast, and what would you like me to sing while I'm doing it? But now, just a few weeks ago, the once timid monk had told the terrifying Saiyan to remove the stick from his butt, relax, and enjoy the show when they had all gone to one of those silly baseball games. Vegeta grinned despite himself; Krillen had finally gained a spine after so many years. The prince suspected it had something to do with that wife of his. Yes, Krillen was a good guy. Yamcha wasn't so bad if you could overlook his licentious behavior; this also went for the talking pig and that dirty perv Roshi. Gohan was a nice kid and good-natured like his father, but, as his son would so eloquently put it, he had turned out to be an utter `dweeb'.

Nonetheless, he found himself looking after him here and there during Kakarott's seven year absence. This also went for Goten, whom he considered a second son. The boy was over at Capsule Corporation all the time. So much in fact, that Vegeta took it upon himself to train him further than what his mother initially taught him.

Then there was Kakarott himself; the idiotic fool he would someday defeat, the stupid bastard he would one day make bow before him, the asinine moron he would continually risk his life to save. Among the feelings of rivalry, jealousy, hatred, indifference, and admiration, there was a shred of what could be called friendship. But Vegeta would die a thousand deaths before admitting to it.

Kakarott was so simple, in every way, shape, and form. Regardless, he believed the Earth-raised Saiyan wasn't as dumb as he let on; somehow, his idiotic behavior was all a front. Of course, he would then do something so outlandishly stupid that Vegeta mentally slapped himself for ever thinking the thought. Apart from his lack of intelligence, Kakarott was the most pure-hearted, good-intentioned person he had ever met. All of them were in their own way.

He could understand them to a degree but they never were able to grasp him; well all except one. Piccolo. Now there was someone he could relate to. He had heard stories of the Namek's hell-bent quest to kill Kakarott and his intention to take over the world to rule supreme. Understandable, Vegeta could associate with this, but Piccolo had gone down his own onerous path and ended up one of the good guys. Yet, he had done so alone without anyone supporting him or giving him advice. Vegeta admired him greatly for this. He had Bulma holding his hand the entire time, and the Namek was always available to listen to complaints and give him counsel. Sure, he had people doubting him along the way-still did for that matter- but Piccolo had the entire world against him. Well, all but for one young boy.

Gohan was the first to break the Demon Lord's obstinate defenses. He had given him a reason to start to give a damn about the people who dared to breathe the same air as he. Vegeta wondered if he and Nappa hadn't decided to come to Earth, if Piccolo would have remained the villain he once was. He shook the thought; he had never really been able to picture the Namek as a cold-hearted monster.

He watched the green warrior now, one half shadowed and one half glowing from the rays of the setting sun. Darkness claiming one side, light the other. Although Piccolo had a sharp tongue and a cagey personality, in the end he always did what was right. Yet another reason to favor him. Piccolo was one of the few he knew on this planet who was reasonable. He thought things through before acting in battle and otherwise.

This morning, however, he got a completely different impression. The Namek had been the picture of malevolence, arming himself with cruel words and even crueler intentions. Vegeta knew that this was a façade. Piccolo had taken what he had said the wrong way and was trying to scrape his dignity together while throwing up his defenses. However, it was a damn good façade. If the Saiyan hadn't known him as long as he had he would have been fooled by it.

Yet, this whole situation confused the hell out of him. He knew Piccolo considered him a friend, but he never came off as anything but. Why had Piccolo done what he had done, and why did the Prince allow him to do it? Why did he not regret it? He couldn't fathom it. Piccolo? True, gender or even species were never an issue with the Saiyan Prince. He had grown up without the bigotries of planet Earth. Your mate was whomever you felt close to, whomever you wanted to share your existence with. Granted they were worthy of you, of course.

Not that he had any previous experience before Bulma; Frieza's rules were strict on this matter. He believed love, lust, and sentimentality in general were distracting. Vegeta had, at the time, fully agreed with him. In his youth he considered romance a bunch of bullshit; a weakness whose useless deceptions only guaranteed procreation. And he had thought Piccolo felt the same way about it.

Seemingly, he had guessed wrong but what of his own feelings? Yes, his feelings; his lip curled in a display of self-disgust. How soft was he getting? He blamed the planet out of habit. Certainly, Piccolo was indeed a good friend, the best in fact. He was always there to be trusted and relied upon. He had just recently brought him back from the brink of death, and last night he had eased his pain…considerably.

Vegeta thought he was going to die from the anguish. Nothing would ever make life worth living again. Bulma was the world to him, how could he possibly go on without her? But Piccolo-physical actions aside- had done something to him that changed his very core.

He felt at complete ease, something he never had experienced before. And his eyes were open and focused, not clouded by anxiety as they had been. He wasn't going to fool himself; it still hurt. But the pain was steadly receding and Bulma was… fading. He still cared about her, very much so, but she was slipping from his heart. And to be honest, he was ready to let her go. This serene feeling that had descended upon him was euphoric in its newness. Ease, in all its simplicity, was a luxury he hadn't experienced often.

Ease perhaps, but an awkward one. His feelings for the Namek that were once cut and dried were now jumbled. Needless to say his regard for him had risen substantially. But how much? Naturally, he felt closer to him, but what were the intentions behind it? And now that we're asking, how did he know what he was doing? He seemed to know exactly where he was going and took great steps of care along the way. More importantly, the greatest question of all; why did he care? Why in the hell did the Prince of the Saiyan race concern himself with any of this?

If he had any wits left he would pack up his belongings and get the hell off of this infernal planet once and for all. Damn them all, they could go to hell in a hand-basket for all he cared. Fuck `em. However, this was his arrogance speaking. He had ties here other than Bulma; his son, for instance. A matter all in itself, but one that would have to be dealt with later. No, he couldn't just leave, that would be running away and he had gone down the coward's path once, he wasn't about to go down it again. Besides, he honestly didn't want to leave. He liked Earth...sort of. And he was a bit more than curious to see what the hell was going on between himself and the meditating warrior before him.

He shook his head, this was giving him a headache and it was only going to get worse unless he did something about it. Piccolo had gracefully dodged the question earlier, but it wasn't going to happen again. So, without further hesitation;

"Why?"

The Namek jerked, startled at the sudden intrusion. He scolded himself for not sensing the elite. It was then he noticed Vegeta's ki was pushed down. So he was being spied on and now he was asking that damn question he had feared all day. One he knew had to be answered, but one he couldn't think of a response to.

The Namek cracked opened an eye, Vegeta stood there looking at him expectantly. He looked unusually more, the only word Piccolo could think of was human. Perhaps human was the wrong word. Relaxed? Not the ready to leap at any moment and break your neck overbearing Saiyan demeanor. The white t-shirt, faded jeans, and sneakers he wore certainly added to the whole `earthling' persona. Apparently, when he returned to the Lookout he had changed along with obtaining something to eat.

His black eyes swept over him once more, taking in more detail. His arms were crossed over his powerful chest, but this was the usual. It was his face, or more appropriately, his eyes that looked different. They were soft and full of something Piccolo couldn't name if his life depended on it.

His musings were cut short when the man before him raised a questioning brow. With a heavy sigh he floated down to the ground and settling himself on grass.

"I was hoping you wouldn't ask that question of me today."

Vegeta walked closer and took a seat next to him. Piccolo, perhaps hoping to dodge the question again, muttered something about a fire and gathering wood and started to get up. The prince narrowed his eyes and unfolded his arms. Without breaking his gaze from the Namek he pointed a finger at a small patch of bramble; a thin beam quickly shot from his fingertip and caught. Soon, a fire was blazing cheerfully between them. Piccolo cursed under his breath and sat back down.

"Just answer it."

The tall warrior growled. He scowled at the prince. Flatly,

"I don't know."

Vegeta cocked his head.

"You don't know?" he repeated slowly. "What? Did the mood just strike you?" he asked derisively.

Piccolo narrowed his eyes slightly, his lips pursing.

"Why did you let me?" he asked throwing the question.

Vegeta waved a hand in the air dismissively, "Quit running from the question. I asked you first. Answer me then, perhaps," he added, "I'll answer you."

A snort.

"How convenient."

"Isn't it? Now answer the question."

Piccolo shook his head in frustration. He didn't know what to say, his feelings were muddled, and what he did know of them he would never admit. What could he say? That he's in love with him? How preposterous, inane even.

"Look," he said shortly, "I don't know what to tell you. I can't give you a reason why I did it, because I don't know myself. I've been asking myself this question all day. I haven't found the answer yet."

The prince knew the green warrior was withholding information. Fine then, he'd root him out. Psychological games were his forte.

"Fair enough, but let me ask you this," he said, leaning forward. "You thought I was going to kill you earlier today, didn't you?"

"Yes," he said indifferently, stating a fact.

"And you weren't going to do anything to stop me, were you?" he asked in admonishment.

"No."

"And why not?" he scolded.

Piccolo shook his head, he felt like he was being chided like a little kid. He suddenly developed a new empathy for Trunks. Apparently Vegeta was in dad mode. It was a tad insulting. He rolled his eyes.

"Hmm," he pondered bringing his hand to his chin, "because I felt the world was simply too much to bear. I can't handle the pressures of society; I'll never fit in with all the other kids." In an over dramatic tone; "I just felt that I had to end it all! I can't even afford to support my alcohol problem anymore."

"Asshole!" Vegeta spat at him.

"I'm not your son, Vegeta. Quit speaking to me as if I were."

It was then he realized the tone of voice he'd been using. He wasn't used to wheedling things out of adults. He shook his head a little embarrassed.

"Sorry, habit."

Piccolo grunted.

"Why were you going to let me finish you without a fight? That's not like you at all."

"Because...because," his voice grew agitated. "I deserved it!" Frustration and anger seeped into his voice, "What I did was unacceptable. I let my emotions get the better of me and I lost control." He seethed, absolutely furious with himself, "It shouldn't have happened."

Vegeta's black eyes shot up. He didn't like that statement, not one bit. Why? Because it hurt. He was extremely pissed at himself, since when did he become such an idealistic fool? He was a prince, such behavior was unseemly; he had never been so easily swayed with Bulma. The next question popped out of his mouth without thought, and he instantly regretted it. But it wasn't going to do him a lick of good, what was said was said.

"Are you saying you regret it?"

Piccolo's eyes narrowed in confusion, was that a hint of desperation in Vegeta's tone?

"Do you?"

Vegeta blinked; the Namek kept throwing his questions back at him, it was unnerving.

`Fine,' he thought uncharitably, `if this is the way he wants to play, so be it.'

He sat up straight and tilted his head to look at the dark sky, becoming positively regal in that one swift motion. Then without warning he looked Piccolo dead in the eye.

"No," he said with conviction, "I don't."

He could have laughed at the look on his companion's face. The Namek looked as if he had swallowed a bird. He considered just leaving the statement hanging, but he wanted answers. So he generously provided a further explanation.

"You kept your promise to me. You made the pain go away." His eyes didn't waver as they bored into the taller man across from him, "That is why I allowed it. Not only that," he paused, "but it opened my eyes at the same time. So no, I don't regret it."

Piccolo was completely thrown off guard. He hadn't expected that, not in a million years. He anticipated some off hand comment that would lead to another off hand comment and so on and so forth, not a point blank answer. Vegeta was breaking the rules of the little game he had been playing. He was hoping to see who could frustrate the other into giving up and leaving.

So much for games. The answer itself was beyond his reasoning. He stared at him, dumbfounded.

Finally, the prince spoke; his voice steady, his expression unreadable.

"I answered your question, Piccolo. Both of them. Now answer mine."

The Namek looked away, the ground suddenly becoming very interesting. He shut his eyes. This was the most difficult conversation he had ever had. After what seemed an endless time, he spoke in a soft whisper. Vegeta had to lean forward just to hear him.

"No, is the answer. I would only regret it if you did. As for why?" He paused, steeling his nerves. "I couldn't stand seeing you like that. It was wrong and unfair. You didn't deserve that, no one does. You were suffering so much… and it was killing me." His voice faltered, sticking in his throat before finally emerging even quieter than before, "I…I couldn't handle seeing you in so much pain… so much anguish. I had to do something, I'm your friend, aren't I?" The question was rhetorical apparently because he went on, his words all but stumbling out of his mouth, "I had to make it better some way, and...that was the first way that came to mind. Perhaps because it wasn't only you I was trying to comfort, but myself. I felt so helpless, I hated it, the pain was unbearable. My emotions got the best of me, and I did what I did. And when you didn't protest...it...it overjoyed…" He stopped, not daring to look up and see the expression on the Saiyan's face. "I just let my emotions take over for once in my life and that's what happened, Vegeta, that is why."

Vegeta stared at the Namek, mouth hanging open. He didn't know what to say or how to feel. He had no idea, no clue, it was this deep. He matched Piccolo's soft tone.

"How long have you felt-?"

"A long time. I think I'm just now beginning to realize how long."

Vegeta followed the Namek's example and stared at the ground. He hadn't expected this, he didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this. Suddenly, Piccolo stood up and began to walk away.

The Prince spoke quickly, unchecked;

"You don't have to go."

"I need to."

"Don't run…" he trailed off.

Piccolo chanced a glance over his shoulder, Vegeta was on his feet looking at him with an unreadable expression.

"I'm not," he assured, "I just need to think alone for awhile. Besides," he murmured, "I'm sure you have your own thoughts to sort through."

Vegeta nodded, relieved that the Namek would be back.

Piccolo turned, intent on his previous path, but the prince spoke halting his steps once again.

"You know," Vegeta's voice floated quietly on the wind. The younger warrior found it wondrous that he was even more captivating when he spoke softly like this. He stopped and turned to face him. The elite was looking at the ground, his fists curled to his sides as if he was having difficulty coming to terms with what ever it was he was about to say.

Finally, he raised his head and looked at him humbly, then, unexpectedly, flashed him a weak smile.

"I was going to ask you to join us. I never told you that, but it's true. I was going to ask you to join Nappa and I. I was impressed with you," he confessed. "True, you weren't as strong as us at the time, but I admired your sharp tongue." His face darkened, "But when he fired that blast I didn't expect you to run in front of Gohan like that." He paused, a look of remorse flickering across his features, "I'm sorry that it happened, I'm sorry for all of it."

Piccolo returned his wan smile. Vegeta never spoke of their first encounter; it was a forbidden subject. Besides, he wasn't that person anymore. And now was the first time he had ever apologized for his attack on Earth.

"Vegeta," he said, his voice warming, "if it wasn't for Gohan, I would have jumped at your invitation. And as for your apology," he inclined his head, "I accept."

Vegeta's smile broadened, and he nodded in thanks.

Piccolo turned once more and walked off into the distance.