Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Syntonic Memories of Dreams Repressed ❯ Syntonic Memories of Dreams Repressed ( Chapter 1 )

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The fine perfume of death permeated the air around a very young, very excited Vegeta. Having just returned from his third purging mission for Lord Frieza (not his lord, mind you, but a lord to those who wished to live past their introduction), he was absolutely rank with the scent of adrenaline. Around him stood several other warriors - if they could be called such, rather than murderers - all five of them far more experienced than the prince, but surprisingly no where near as thirsty for combat. The fight had just ended, yet he was already replaying it in his mind, letting his victims’ screams for mercy accompany the images in a musical score not rivaled by the finest composers in the universe, as far as the young royal’s taste was concerned.

Most of the group tensely awaited their seventh member, hoping to intercept the boy before he made his way into the ship’s check-in station. Vegeta was not one of them. Sure, he had been a part of his team, and the kid was a decent fighter. His name was Tulnitz. He was the same age as Vegeta and a little more than half as powerful, which was still pretty substantial for a Saiyan his age. But although he had attended some sparring sessions with the boy, he couldn’t be asked to wait around for him when it came to actual battle.

He knew it had been Tulnitz’s first real mission, and the few times they had sparred Vegeta could tell that he wasn’t really giving it his all. He didn’t have the usual killer instinct all Saiyans were supposed to possess. The prince had heard of such anomalies from his father, but it had still taken him by surprise when he had met Tulnitz. Their spar was short, Vegeta finding victory as quickly as he usually did. But by the end of the fight, he had known: Tulnitz was not meant to be a fighter.

That this fact had eluded the staff at the birthing complex was not a shock to the prince. After all, the boy had a bit higher power level than was average for his age, so there would be no reason to assume that he wouldn’t possess a warrior’s mind. Nevertheless, Tulnitz had so far shown no outward appearances one way or the other to anyone - except the young prince. Vegeta had promised himself the moment his father had finished his story about the rare, passive Saiyans that if he were ever to come in contact with such a pitiable creature he would do one of two things: kill him on the spot, or report him to the high council and have him sent off into space to die on some hostile planet.

But instead, when the fight was over and he had looked into the boy’s eyes and seen no hostility, he nodded dumbly once before taking his leave and returning to his quarters. Vegeta discounted his actions by convincing himself that the kid was not worth wasting the energy to kill, but somewhere in the back of his mind the fact that he might have proven himself anything less than a ruthless killer still gnawed at him.

It was for this reason Vegeta didn’t care to wait around for him after his first battle. Tulnitz was not a warrior, and the prince knew it. But for some reason he had still failed to report him to the council elders. He couldn’t be asked why, but Vegeta felt something other than disgust toward him. Perhaps it was something more along the lines of…sympathy. In any case, it didn’t look as though the prince would be reporting his comrade any time soon.

As he tossed the idea around in his mind, the group began to shuffle around the entrance to the bay. Good. That must mean that Tulnitz was back and they could finally be on their way. The fighting squad parted slightly so that Vegeta could finally see as the young combatant’s form pushed past the rest, struggling violently to get through.

“Out of my way!” The voice screeched, sounding more like that of a frightened child than a returning warrior.

Vegeta’s ears perked, and he glided across the ship’s floor to the next room where Tulnitz could be heard clattering about. The rest of the fighters stood dumbly together at the door, talking with one another about their first missions and ignoring what the young prince had noticed: something was terribly wrong with this one.

He entered the room Tulnitz had scurried into which connected their current one with the ship’s first level sick bay. It was a supply closet, mostly stocked with medical tools and supplies, but it had a mirror and a large sink which doctors used to wash their hands before tending to injured warriors. He found Tulnitz with his massive tangle of hair teasing the glass of the mirror, swishing this way and that as he scrubbed his small hands furiously together. Rivulets of crimson flowed from them as if it was his own blood pouring from his body. He was mumbling something over and over to himself, frantically, as if Vegeta wasn’t even there.

The prince watched with the distant curiosity of a cat - he wasn’t invested much, but was interested nonetheless. As he circled the boy’s quivering body, he came around to see his face which was splattered in blood. Tears streaked the red speckles, erasing the evidence of battle slowly. At this new discovery, the young prince’s eyebrows knit together with something resembling concern. He pushed the distraught boy suddenly and violently, throwing him off balance and causing him to grip the side of the sink for stability.

“What are you doing?” Vegeta’s voice was accusing and harsh. What he was seeing didn’t add up, and it frustrated him. Tulnitz hadn’t lost any limbs. He hadn’t even been injured. He knew the boy didn’t enjoy battle, but he had never seen anyone become upset in the least as long as they hadn’t taken serious damage. “Answer me, boy!” He shoved his shaking body once more, but Tulnitz was ready for it this time and braced himself against the white surface, continuing to scrub his hands.

“ ‘m washing my hands, Prince Vegeta,” the boy answered determinedly, without looking up.

“Why?” the prince asked forcefully, irritated at his lack of cooperation.

Tulnitz sniffed, but didn’t answer. The room was filled with the sound of rushing water as a moment passed, and Vegeta crossed his arms. “Hmph. Well you’d better pull yourself together. Frieza’s coming down here when we’ve completed check-in.”

Again, Tulnitz didn’t answer, but the news showed on his face and he made an effort to draw one hand up to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Unfortunately, he didn’t dry them first and the action only resulted in his face becoming more wet and drippy. Vegeta reached up into a cabinet and pulled down a towel, tossing it at the boy. “Hurry up,” he sneered, placing his hands on his hips in an outward display of annoyance. In reality, he was slowly growing more nervous than annoyed. The dark lord was expected to arrive any moment, and if Tulnitz was found in his current state, there was no telling what he would do.

“Ah, there you are, my little prince.”

Too late.

Tulnitz barely acknowledged the presence of the lizard, continuing in his futile attempt to wash the memories of battle down the sink. Maybe he couldn’t hear him over the water, or maybe he was just that focused on what he was doing. But either way, Frieza caught sight of the whole thing and immediately his attention to the prince was diverted.

“What have we, here? A fighter-ling washing off the remnants of his deeds?” Frieza’s chair scooted closer to the young Saiyan and he outstretched his hand to rest beneath the boy’s chin. “Why are you cleaning your hands, young one?” he asked in a voice which was deceivingly soft and gentle. To Vegeta it was a clear warning sign. To his comrade, it seemed an extension of kindness.

Vegeta watched as the little hands stopped moving beneath the stream of water. “I…I don’t like the blood, Lord Frieza.”

The reptile-looking creature narrowed its eyes just ever so slightly. “What’s not to like about blood, dear boy? It feels so nice…the way it squishes between your fingers.”

That was all it took for Tulnitz to drop to his knees, spewing bile into the corner of the room. Vegeta looked away, disgusted by the act. He might even have backed out the door if he hadn’t been wary of testing his boundaries around his new overlord. His people had only sent him to live with Frieza a few months prior, and he still wasn’t sure what the wise distance to push his patience was…yet. So he stood his ground and brought his eyes back to the scene once the retching had stopped.

“Am I to understand, then, that you do not enjoy ripping apart your enemies’ bodies?” Frieza didn’t seem fazed by the display, but his voice had raised just slightly and a hint of hostility tinged its edge.

Tulnitz stared straight forward, not looking him in the eyes. He opened his mouth, but no words found their way out so instead he clamped it shut again and shook his head. Frieza’s mouth turned downward into a thin grimace. “Well, then…” he turned his chair to face the small Saiyan straight-on. “You aren’t much use to me, are you?”

Before Tulnitz could protest he was dropped to his knees by a piercing shot through the chest. The boy’s unruly hair whipped about his face as he flew downwards, landing with a dull thud on the metallic floor. The color drained from Vegeta’s face as he watched the first death of someone he had actually known. The effect confused him - why should he feel any differently about this boy than he did about the people he had killed himself?

The young prince felt tears begin to prick the corners of his eyes, and quickly blinked them away as Frieza passed, unceremoniously commanding him to attend dinner later that evening and exiting the room, still lounging in his chair. As soon as the lizard was gone, Vegeta returned his thoughts to his fallen comrade. The attendants in the sick bay were already making their way in to pick up the little body and dispose of it like trash, through the air lock and into cold space. He watched as they dropped him into a body bag and dragged him from the room, and he felt the nagging of emotion creep back into his mind. Why did he care if the stupid kid had revealed himself as a weakling? He had murdered thousands himself…the boy was of no more importance than they were.

And yet…he was. Because he had a name. He had a story. He had likes and dislikes, and he had spoken with Vegeta about them between sparring matches sometimes. He had a mother and a father, just like Vegeta did. And he had hopes and dreams for the future, just like the young prince planned for his own. Tulnitz was a real person - a kid. Just like him. That was the reason he felt the way that he did about it.

That was the reason he would never feel that way again. Vegeta wouldn’t allow himself to understand another person on such a level again. Ever. He would never show weakness, and he would never allow friends to matter to him. He would be invincible - never to be hurt again.


To show weakness is to give yourself up to death.


“What did you just say?”

Vegeta, without deviating from his chosen path, continued their conversation casually. “He’s a coward. My father is a weakling and a coward. Now am I going to have to repeat myself again, or are we going to make it to dinner before all the good food is-”

He was interrupted by a firm hand around his wrist, preventing him from walking any further toward his goal. Giving a slight snarl at the disrespectful gesture, he whirled on his unofficial body guard. He opted not to attack right away, however, as the young prince knew his attendant was still stronger than he was. For now.

“Vegeta, why do you think that your father’s a coward?” Nappa questioned him as he pulled him aside into a room just off the hall they had been occupying.

The little Saiyan’s posture was challenging - arms at his sides, fists clenched and ready for a fight. “I don’t think he is. I hate my father. Some king he turned out to be,” he sneered. “He’s a coward.”

Nappa resisted the urge to slap some sense into the little brat, and in a rare display attempted to use his words. “What coulda given you an idea like that?”

Quickly getting tired of the growing list of questions, Vegeta crossed his arms defiantly. “Only a coward would hand over his only son to Frieza. My father could have beaten him. He could have fought, like a true Saiyan! Instead, he gave up our entire race to work for that stupid purple freak.”

Not having the heart to tell the boy that his dad couldn’t have hoped to meet Frieza in battle, he sighed and dragged him over to sit on one of the bunk beds in the room. But Vegeta didn’t go quietly. “Nappa! What is the meaning of this? I’m hungry, and I demand-”

“Listen, Vegeta. This is more important than food, okay, kid? You need to know what really happened to make your dad do what he did. I was really hoping someone else would tell you eventually, but it looks like it’s going to have to be me,” the bulky Saiyan looked sternly at the little prince. “So sit down and shut up, ’cause this story’s gonna be a long one.”

Curiosity finally getting the best of him, Vegeta edged a little closer to his attendant and perked up a bit to listen.

“Now, the way you know it, you were born, and a year or so later, your mom died of some disease. After that, your dad was pretty distant from everyone and a few years after that, he gave you over to live with Frieza. That about right?”

Vegeta nodded, irritated. This story was quickly becoming boring. “Yes, I know all that already.”

Nappa shook his head. “That’s the problem. None of that is true.”

“What do you mean?” the young prince asked accusingly.

“Well,” Nappa scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “It didn’t exactly happen like that, and no one ever told you because, well, your father didn’t think it was right to burden you with the truth until later, after he could get you back. But since it’s looking more and more like that’s not going to happen anytime soon…” He avoided the betrayed and aggravated gaze coming from below. “Anyway…your dad didn’t really hand you over or sell us all into slavery because of any of the reasons you’ve probably been hearing. It wasn’t to make a quick buck, and it definitely wasn’t because he was scared for his life.”

“So why was it, then?” Vegeta interrupted angrily. “Just tell me!”

Still apprehensive about going against his orders, Nappa finally gave in. “Well, it was more like…he was scared for yours.”
Vegeta didn’t quite know how to respond to this. Nappa wasn’t making any sense. Why would his father give into Frieza out of his son’s fears?

Nappa heaved another big sigh and continued. “See, even though your mom did get sick a little while after having you, she did get better after a while, and she turned out to be fine. It wasn’t till about three years ago that she died. And it wasn’t because of a disease. It was…it was Frieza who did it.”

The young prince’s mind was shaken. His mother was alive? She had raised him for a time? So…so all the times he had dreamed about her feeding him, nursing his wounds, giving him new playthings - they were memories. She had been alive! And Frieza was the one who had taken her away from him. This was just too much.

Nappa gave him a moment to fully comprehend what he had said before going on. “The thing is, when Frieza first got in contact with us, King Vegeta didn‘t give up right away. When Frieza threatened to attack us, your dad put up a hell of a fight. But as soon as Frieza’s men got onto our planet, they didn’t attack any of the soldiers. Frieza himself went straight for the royal chamber of the palace and grabbed your mom. The guards tried to stop him, of course, but they were dead before they knew what hit them.

“That was when your dad got there. But as soon as he walked in, Frieza told him to stop or he would kill her. The king didn’t have a choice but to watch while that lizard walked right over to your bed and pulled you out of it. That was when your dad lost it. He tried to attack Frieza, but instead of blocking him, Frieza just put his arm out and shot your mom right through the heart. She dropped dead on the spot, and your dad couldn’t do a thing about it.”

The young prince at Nappa’s side stared at him through wide eyes, disbelieving. Could this horror story really be true?

“Well, that first kill was just to show the king that he meant business. After that, Frieza threatened to kill you next if your dad didn’t do exactly what he asked. And he didn’t just mean in that room, at that time, either. King Vegeta knew that if he didn’t obey Frieza, he could easily overpower him and slip right back into the palace to kill you.

“So, their deal worked just fine for a while. It wasn’t until a year or so later that Frieza finally demanded for you to be handed over to him. I guess it was a way to keep you close in case he needed to kill you, or threaten your dad with your life. Anyway, you know where the story goes from there. Your dad didn’t really have a choice. It was either handing you over to live with Frieza, or watching you get killed by him.”

Nappa reached out a hand to lay on the now-distraught child next to him, but retracted it, knowing Vegeta would only push him away. Dropping his hand onto the blanket instead, he tried to force more words out. “You know, I really wasn’t supposed to tell you any of this. I’m one of the only people who really know what happened with you, and it was the king’s orders that no one was supposed to tell. He didn’t want you to feel guilty, I guess.” Standing up, he finally willed himself to place one hand on Vegeta’s back. “But…well, I just thought you had a right to know, kid. That’s all.”

He hesitated for one more moment, then finally left the room in silence.

Was this all true? Was everything Vegeta had ever been taught in his young life a lie? His entire race enslaved…all because of his own weakness. Yes. If he grew strong enough to defend himself from Frieza, his father would finally be able to defeat him without worry for his son.

But…no. His father wouldn’t risk his life no matter what. He had learned that now. The king had taken a noble path to defend his son, and in doing so, he had given himself as well as his people up for slavery. What a frustrating prospect. If only Frieza had killed him when he had the chance all those years ago, his race would be free. It was all his fault.

That night, Vegeta wept. He cried out for the death of the soul of his people. He cried for fate’s cruel abandonment of his mother. He cried for the noble deeds of his father. But most of all, he cried for his terrible burden and for the loss of true innocence.


The noblest path is usually the one leading to your doom.


“Well, this is it.” The teenaged prince unveiled his latest obsession for all the world to see. Okay, maybe not the world, but his world, which currently consisted of his fellow warrior, Radditz and his still unofficial body guard, Nappa. Yanking the sheet unceremoniously from his creation, he stood proudly to the side and awaited their reactions. The prince would never admit it, but he based most of what he did on their approval nowadays. He treated them harshly, of course, and littered them with insults on a daily basis. But as his universe currently stood, Radditz was the closest thing to what he could call a friend, and Nappa, a role model.

Nappa, hands on hips, twisted his mouth in thought. “What’s it supposed to be, Vegeta?”

Radditz was a little quicker to catch on, and he began circling the ship to inspect it. After a moment, he raised his eyes to his prince’s. “You built this?”

Attempting to seem more adult in their eyes, Vegeta waved his hand nonchalantly. “It was nothing. I’ve been collecting the good pieces from the pods that come back here destroyed. It has taken me almost two years, but I think it’s finally ready for a test run.”

That snapped Nappa out of his stupor. “What? Vegeta, you can’t really be thinking of taking that thing on a mission. Frieza would kill you if he found out you’ve been stealing scraps from his ships!”

Rolling his eyes, Radditz waited for Vegeta to respond, which he did. “I don’t intend to take it on a mission. Once I test it, I’ll be taking it into deep space, away from this prison, to train. Since I’ve built this ship myself, it won’t be listed on Frieza’s scanners. Once I find a planet to suit my needs, I’ll be able to train on my own without him ever finding me. Or at least, not for a long time. And by the time he does, I’ll be stronger than he is.”

Radditz shook his head in disbelief. “Vegeta, I always knew you had guts, but…don’t you think this whole plan is a little ridiculous? What if Frieza notices you leaving? You won’t get far, and you’ll be dead before you can even explain yourself. Why not just train here?”

Vegeta sighed. “You know that none of us can reach our full potential here. We’re not allowed to train in high gravity. We’re not allowed to fight anyone close to our fighting strength. We’re not even allowed to spar with each other! Frieza is afraid of what we could become. It’s why he keeps us so close all the time. And we all know what is going to happen when he catches on to any of us rivaling his power.”

The room grew eerily silent. All three Saiyans knew that they would be dead on the spot the moment any of them showed signs of their true strength. Frieza would kill them before they reached half his power level.

“So you’re just gonna run away, Vegeta?” Nappa let more of the worry escape in his voice than he would have liked.

The prince nodded. “For the time being. But when I return, I’ll be stronger than Frieza ever thought of becoming, and our race will finally rise to a place of power.” He looked sternly at his two comrades. “Until I return, I can trust the two of you to keep this plan a secret?”

They both nodded reluctantly, and Radditz gave him a saddened look as Vegeta began to cover up the haphazard creation. He had known that Vegeta wanted to escape. They all did. But this…was just too dangerous. Vegeta switched off the light, and all three Saiyans left the room in silence, retreating to their quarters for the night.

The next morning, Vegeta awoke early. Before anyone else would be up, he crept across the room to dress and slipped out into the hallway toward his precious ship. After two years of painstaking work, today was finally the day he would see if his plans would come to fruition. Just as he turned the corner to the stairs that would lead him below, he saw that his path was blocked by none other than Frieza himself.

Quickly, his mind flew into a panic. What could he possibly be doing down here, in the workers’ quarters? Let alone at this time of the morning. He tried to muster up some of his usual attitude, and strode up confidently to the reptilian-looking creature. Bowing, he dropped his eyes to the floor in an effort to hide his nervousness as he greeted him. “Lord Frieza.”

Frieza grinned demonically. “So here is our naughty little princeling, hm?”

Vegeta’s head snapped up a little more quickly than he intended. What did he mean by that?

Taking his reaction as a means of posing that very question, Frieza leered at him. “You didn’t think you could hide your little secrets from me forever, did you?”

The pang in his gut told Vegeta that it was time to tread very, very lightly. “What do you mean, my Lord?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“I mean…” Frieza narrowed his eyes and circled the teenaged royal. “…exactly what you think I mean.”

Emotion threatened to flood into his eyes, but Vegeta tried his best to keep them cold and unfeeling. “I will not pretend to understand the affairs of my master. If it pleases your lordship, enlighten me.”

Without warning, Frieza struck him across the face, sending him flying into the adjacent wall. “Don’t play dumb with me, boy!”

Vegeta struggled against himself to show no signs of pain or weakness. His hand threatened to rise up to touch the heated bruise forming on his face, but he restrained himself before slipping up. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” he responded evenly, as if he wasn’t addressing a being of unimaginable evil.

“Perhaps you’d be more cooperative if your friends were here to answer for you. They’ve been so helpful thus far,” Frieza’s voice returned to its normal, icy tone.

To Vegeta’s horror, Nappa stepped out from behind the tyrant, followed by Radditz. They both gave him a helpless look before dropping their eyes to the floor. So Frieza knew. It hadn’t even been 24 hours, and already they had betrayed his secret to the lizard.

“I’ve taken the liberty of disposing of our little…problem. And from now on, Nappa will not only be guarding you from others, but from coming up with any more of these feeble attempts at escape,” Frieza continued, motioning for Nappa to join his prince on the other side of the hallway, which he promptly did. The reptilian lord then brought his chair closer and outstretched his hand to caress the swollen skin below Vegeta’s eye. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson, young prince. You should thank your friends for giving you away before it was too late. Had you actually tried to escape, I would have had no choice but to kill you,” he smiled disgustingly. “And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Vegeta did his best to remain rigid when every fiber of his being was screaming for him to attack the putrid creature before him. He waited for Frieza to release his touch and glide effortlessly back down the hallway, until he turned the corner and was gone. He couldn’t bear to look at either of his so-called friends at that moment, and instead stood up to walk sullenly toward the room where his pride and joy had been. Nappa and Radditz followed him into the dark room, both wincing when the prince turned on the light to reveal the wreckage. Every piece was charred. Nothing remained but a lump of blackened metal and a few still-sparking wires. Vegeta turned off the light.

As he walked back to his room, Nappa followed him attempting to blurt out an explanation. “You have to understand, Vegeta. He found out about the missing pieces from all those ships. He was going to kill Radditz if I didn’t tell him! Vegeta-”

He slammed the door in Nappa’s face, collapsing onto the bed. Two years. It had taken him two years to put together. He had obsessed over it. Sometimes, the idea of the ship had been the only thing keeping him sane. For two years he had worked like a man possessed. And all it had taken was two “friends” to ruin it for him.

He didn’t care what the excuse for their actions were. Most likely it was a lie. The odds of Frieza finding out about the missing ship parts on that very day after two years of secrecy? Highly unlikely. Most probably, the two bastards had decided they had found a way to get ahead, and they took it. Pitiful - selling out your own kind to save your own skin…or to get ahead in the space piracy business. It didn’t really matter the reason. As far as Vegeta was concerned, neither of them could be considered members of the proud Saiyan race any longer. He was the only one left, now. The last true Saiyan.


Trust no one, no matter how…no, especially if they are close to you.


He hit Vegeta again, and this time he could barely even feel it. His life was slipping away, and the prince knew it.

Frieza’s cackling penetrated every facet of his mind as he hung there, from his tail, like a rag doll. A play thing. Ironic that he should liken it to that, Vegeta thought, since that’s all he really had been all his life, anyway. He had been Frieza’s plaything. A pawn and nothing more. And now, it was end game.

He suddenly set Vegeta down gently, which took him by surprise. Then, seemed to decide against it and threw him violently into the face of a cliff…which didn’t take him by surprise at all.

“My, my. What do we have here? A fallen prince…oh dear,” Frieza’s mocking tone stung Vegeta’s ears, and he quivered with rage that his body could no longer express. He had been lied to his whole life by this scum that now stood over him, too strong to be overcome. When he was only a boy, Frieza had threatened to kill his father if he didn’t obey him, in an odd mirror image of the stunt he had pulled only a few years previously. Frieza hadn’t kept his promise. Vegeta had done everything in his power to obey the tyrant, and he had taken his father from him nonetheless.

And now, as he laid before him, taking what he knew to be his final breaths, Vegeta was vaguely aware of the fact that he was about to break the deal he had struck with his father so many years ago. He was about to kill the son of the king, and snuff out the last of the Saiyan race.

At that moment, as Frieza held him up by his collar, about to plunge his hand through his chest and end it all, Vegeta was reminded of a simple fact: he was mistaken. He wasn’t the last of a dead race. Kakarot was. Or…at least, he was about to be. As Vegeta recounted the trials their race had been through, as well as his own personal grudge against the dark lord, he felt the sting of tears in his eyes. Continuing in his efforts, he ignored the shame he felt as they began to flow freely down his face. Kakarot must understand. He would do anything in his power to see to that.

And then, it happened. A beam of light. A jolt of pain. An eternity of blackness pressing in all around him. He knew that this was the end. The end of his reign as prince of a race which he never truly ruled. And the end of a life which was never truly lived.


Life is unjust. For some, victory never comes. For those unlucky victims of fate, there can be no happiness.


Suddenly, Vegeta awoke. It was dim. The sun on this alien planet had yet to rise. But he didn’t need to be able to see to understand what was going on.

He felt her squirm in his grasp, and in an instant, he dropped her. Turquoise hair cascading over her face, she fell to the floor, her back sliding against the wall. Her perfect, beautiful face was marked with shock and fear, and as his gaze drifted downward he caught sight of a distinct red mark around her neck. It was his handprint. Judging by the shape she was in, Vegeta had been choking his mate within seconds of ending her life.

In all his years of torment; every day he spent living in fear and anger, he had never experienced such fear as he did at that moment.

Dropping to his knees, he inspected her thoroughly, making sure that her airways were open and that her breathing had been completely restored. He checked her arms and face for bruises, fearing the worst and being rewarded with a lack of results in his search. It was then that he finally dared to meet her eyes. To his surprise, they were wide with concern…for him.

Bulma reached out a hand to grasp his, and looked him squarely in the eyes to decipher what was wrong. She was still breathing heavily, but her panting had quieted. “Vegeta, are you okay?”

Looking down at her expression and seeing only love and concern, rather than hurt and betrayal, he gathered her in his arms and lifted her back to the bed. “I’m fine.” He stated simply, but he could not tear his gaze from hers. “Are you harmed in any way?”

She smiled at his concern for her and slipped an arm around his neck. “I’m just fine.” She stroked his hair and the side of his face, and he finally calmed down enough to sit next to her, arms protectively strewn around her waist. For all his knowledge about the universe, Vegeta was still completely dumbstruck at the idea that such a woman was his. After everything he had been through, the idea that one person - his wife and the mother of his children - could make his entire life worth living, still took him by surprise each and every day.

Perhaps…perhaps it hadn’t all been in vain. He had always thought that his true purpose in life was to be the strongest. Now, as he watched over his beautiful mate while she drifted back into a peaceful sleep, trusting the one who had assaulted her only moments ago to be her protector now, he realized that she was his everything. As long as he had her, nothing in his past mattered.

He rather liked that idea. In fact, he thought as he slid back into their bed beside her, he may very well love it.


Every bit of knowledge grasped in one lifetime can easily be shattered by one blue-haired girl.