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To Mourn a Race	By : Jeannine Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 733 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z (and other Cartoons/Animes I may end up using in this story) does not belong to me. I earn no money, only happiness, from writing these fics (I'll leave it to you to decide who got the short end of that stick).

Chapter List
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            In
an unexpected show of strength and agility Vegeta shot a punch to his cheek
that laid him flat on his back.

            �I
chose to stay there.� The muscles of his neck and shoulders
were held taut and what could be seen of his jaw clenched before grinding out the
words, �Of course there are others, boy.� Vegeta�s dark eyes flashed over his
shoulder before the glare sought out some distant forward target.

            There
was a silence where Vegeta could hear the boy�s mind churning. It was surprising. He could only make assumptions, but the
boy�s mother seemed to pour the entirety of her efforts into brainwashing her
children and it left a mysterious gap to ponder between the boy�s education and
his actual intelligence. His thoughts strayed for a moment to the father, but
his mind clamped down, redirecting him past the warrior and back to the pale
brat probably still rubbing his cheek.

            �But
you are the Prince of Saiyans.� It made him spin on the balls of his feet. The boy looked surprised enough for the
both of them.

            He
should have pressed the attack then, firing off demanding, unanswerable
questions that would leave the too intelligent youth too far off balance to
sort through them all. He should
have taken those few steps that would leave him towering over the half-prone
boy, glaring into the shy half-breed�s eyes and menacing him with the subtle,
deadly language of muscle, stance, and teeth all warriors read as easily as
this one tore through text.

            But
the boy said it.

            The
boy scrambled when he half knelt, but Vegeta had a fast hand in the front of
the purple gi before he�d caught any traction. Gohan�s eyes blinked at him, eyes too wide and too open set
in a face too soft. Even the boy�s
short-cropped hair looked like a human masquerading as a...

            �Again.�
It was a demand.

            And
the boy�s partially opened mouth shut as he swallowed dryly, his adam�s apple
bobbing in a motion that brought a moment of Vegeta�s attention to the hard
lines of the boy�s near delicate, chiseled neck.

            �You...
are...� And Vegeta could tell the boy�s nervousness would ruin it before he
ever gave it breath. He was half
standing when the boy�s hand fisted in the front of his navy blue tank. And Gohan�s eyes had closed and his
eyebrows were drawn together and he let out a long, slow breath that Vegeta
felt on the skin of his neck and upper chest.

            �You�re
the Prince of Saiyans.� And those eyes challenged him in a way no human could
ever replicate, in a way none but the boy�s idiot father had ever dared.

            And
it was all he could manage to only snap
his teeth at the boy�s face, before tearing himself away and shoving the boy
back to the ground. Every muscle
was on edge, every hair standing on end, and he closed his eyes and snarled at
the boy, �I am the Prince of
Saiyans.� And he opened his eyes far too early, with all the pain and rage
pouring out into the pale, tailless, half-human�s captive, far-too-intelligent
stare.

            �I
am the Prince of Saiyans.� He hissed at
the teenage powerhouse whose face was only human and who saw the grief and pain
and hatred and should be dead. The golden light that should have never existed but instead outshone his nation, race, and father. Who
out shone his Prince.

            And
all Vegeta could do was laugh bitterly and taste the bile.

            But
the boy didn�t tremble at his laugh like so many species before him.

            He
looked at Vegeta, and maybe he saw it all.

            �Get
up, boy.� as the alkaline chuckles died away.

            He
stared over the strange, hostile landscape cutting jagged edges in the horizon.

            He
murmured his mantra, too quiet for the other to hear, as he ran a thumb over
the surface of an alien orb, its sphere practically radiating power.

            And
he knew behind his back Gohan was watching him with the same ancient Saiyan
eyes he�d inherited from his father.

            Seeing
him through Kakarotto�s eyes.

            Trunks�
stance was guarded as he tapped down in front of the cold-eyed Saiyan.

            Vegeta�s
gaze bore into him for a moment, measuring him on the scales of his mind. Trunks had already passed this test,
but waited for his father to reconfirm the truth to himself. In almost two decades the child he�d
sired could have been this.
Vegeta�s mouth softened and his brow relaxed marginally.

            Trunks
uncrossed his arms, a hand revealing one of the small green orbs they sought in
the haggard crevices of this dead planet.
Vegeta�s lips tilted up in approval and Trunks held back the words of
explanation. They were dead weight
here, so he kept his mouth closed and turned his gaze in the direction of
Gohan�s distant ki.

            His
eyes roamed over the crags and juts of the barren landscape. It amazed him how a single race�s
absence could mould the surface of a planet. How long had they been gone? He�d pushed the machine�s limits,
edging the theoretical end of everything, and he�d supposed- known humanity wouldn�t last that long, at least not in a
form he understood or recognized.
But the landscape, disregarding colour, was familiar enough to make him
queasy.

            He
opened his mouth to disrupt the growing void of silence but realized he had
nothing other than his half formed discomfort to fill it with.

            This
last apocalypse had to have been recent.
In his flight he�d already made out recovering greenery. That, at least, had been the same. And he�d witnessed a number of
monkey-like organisms darting beneath the patchy foliage. Earth was recovering from something and
a few persistent strands of DNA had made it through the disaster. Life hadn�t yet given up on this planet
yet.

            He
smiled a bit then. He hoped
humanity had been just as persistent, letting up a silent wish that they�d
migrated or evolved.

            Here
he thought he could understand some of what his father felt. Humanity�s time would come- had already
come, and there would be a moment, screaming or sighing, when his race would
simply die.

            And
this dreary, jagged landscape echoed clearly what his father�s eyes said back
on �Present� earth, reflecting one night�s cold, glittering stars.

            Here
they were last.

            And
they were alone.

            Gohan
flew instead of teleporting, his eyes scanning the ground below with
noncommittal interest. He rarely
glanced at the small scanner Trunks had given him, only often enough to stay
within the general area the Dragon-Radar-like device indicated.

            He
was cutting it close, he knew.
Though, desperate as he was to save his father, this plan nagged at him,
irritating his instincts in a way he couldn�t simply ignore.

            Of
the near-hundred Seeds that Dende had planted almost all of them remained. His eyes were drawn to the dull-metal
horizon. Seeds that could have- should have -been used by the last Guardians of
earth to prevent what-ever-it-was that caused this apocalypse.

            Why
hadn�t they?

            He
didn�t doubt their ability: one jump forward to what they�d found to be Dende�s
aging apprentice and his tales of how he�d recently turned to the
just-germinated Seeds during times where the dimensions had split unkindly put
those doubts to rest.

            So
why had most been left untouched, in almost the exact same places Dende had set
them?

            He
set down on the stone above one of the Seeds.

            There
was a distinct possibility that one of the Guardians hadn�t passed his blessing
to the next or that the Seeds had been forgotten much like the returned Dragon
Balls had been. But that
simplistic reasoning made his brain itch.
He�d studied enough magic to know there were a few ways around the
Guardian Blessing Dende had thought up.
And he�d fought enough evil to know that it would find a way to take
advantage of the Seeds, inert or not.

            He
bit his lip as he began setting off soft ki blasts against the stone.

            He
hoped that the last Guardian hadn�t died alone. Dende had made sure the Seeds had to be used by at least three willing people. He�d probably known that sooner or
later someone with a twisted idea of �what�s best for the universe� would get
their hands on the Seeds.

            He
shivered involuntarily at the thought that disaster had struck so soon after
their visit with Dende�s apprentice.
Trunks had asked most of the questions but from what he heard it seemed
like earth was at peace. And that
Guardian�s apprentice apparently had enough of a knack at divination to
reliably report most disasters ahead of time.

            He
cleared away the last of the stone by hand, twitching at the feel of the Seed
when his fingers finally brushed against it. He stared down at the orb. It had seemed brighter, somehow, when Dende had first shown
it to them, blushing purple at his own success. The orbs then hadn�t felt like much at all, maybe a little
prickly to bare skin, but this one was dark, near black, and sparks jumped from
it to his hand, sending jolts of energy, almost ki, running through his arm.

            You�d
think a stone like this would have garnered at least passing attention as a
scientific curiousity.

            He
grabbed it firmly and waited for the sparks behind his eyes to die down before
he took to the air.

            They
had all the time in the world to make their decision, but Gohan felt pressed
for it. Much like Cell�s deadline,
his father�s fate hung heavy over his head.

            He
knew what the other�s reactions would be when he ran his thoughts past
them. And it would be a run,
Vegeta�s impatience and excitement had been building like a field of static
from the moment he heard Dende�s solution. The Saiyan had already decided on what his branch would
be. Trunks had kept his thoughts
to himself, but it wasn�t terribly hard to figure out, at least not for
Gohan. Even if he�d needed what
amounted to a confession, long ago though it had been, for Trunks� current
desire to spring into focus.

            All
of us wouldn�t hesitate at the risks, especially if the power promised by the
orbs could grant us, even by proxy, what the Dragon Balls hadn�t the power to
give.

            He
let out a low chuckle then.

            Would
it be enough? To know that
somewhere their deepest desires were being fulfilled, but that they would have
to stay to right the fuck ups in their own universe?

            Dende
had made it abundantly clear just how the Seeds managed what they did, but
Gohan knew they secretly hoped for something different. His eyes flashed black,
a smirk melting across his lips as he let out a yell and a burst of speed.

            It
made him wonder just how selfless an act they were putting on.

            How
dark would each of them prove to be, deep down inside?
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To Mourn a Race