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Mind Rape	By : MutantPoptart Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 18435 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own or intend to profit from any of the themes or characters taken from the Dragonball Z franchise and used in this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
A Decision to be made.
The Dragonballs.
Vegeta turned to the far wall of the room and sure enough, there shone the bright orange gleam of a Dragon Ball.
There shouldn't be Dragonballs.
He remembered at once that he had searched this area before and noticed the cave but had not bothered checking it after he learned that the Dragon Radar's coordinates were off. He had missed it. That explained why it was there. But it didn't explain why it wasn't dormant. With the Earth's Guardian gone, it should have turned to stone.
Vegeta crossed the dim cave over to the corner where the gleaming orb sat winking at him and he saw that it most certainly was not made of stone.
He picked it up. It had a satisfying heaviness to it and it was as solid and smooth as anything Vegeta had ever touched. It was real! Real, and in its true form!
That could only mean...
Vegeta did an impossible calculation.
It had to mean...
“Vegeta.”
The prince whirled around, more than half expecting to see The Guardian standing all flesh and blood behind him, a knowing smile on his serene yet lively face and arms outstretched in offering of a warm hug. And Vegeta would be damned if he did not collapse straight into those healing arms.
But Dende wasn't there. The cave was as empty and hollow as he thought it had been before he noticed the Dragonball.
Had he imagined it?
He looked back at the ball and back around at the cave.
“Dende,” he said and surprised himself with how small and hollow his own voice sounded. Was he himself right now? He wouldn't be surprised if he was imagining things after all.
But then he heard it again.
“Vegeta.”
He looked down at the Dragonball in his hands. Hesitantly, he leaned in as if the voice had come from within the mystical orb.
“Hello,” he said like he was testing a microphone. He waited until he felt ridiculous and then suddenly there came a response.
“Vegeta, are you alright?” It was definitely Dende but the voice was not coming from the Dragonball.
“Dende...where are you?” He called out.
“We're safe, Vegeta." The voice was now rosounding clearly in his mind.
“Who's we? Who's there with you? Is Bulma there?”
“Yes, Bulma is safe. Her parents as well.”
Vegeta felt a wave of relief.
“And who else-- Krillin, Yamcha?”
“Yes, and Chi-Chi and Mr. Popo, Yajirobe...” Dende went on, “all fine.”
“And the people, the children?” Vegeta ignored what sounded like a hopeful tone in his own tired, cracked voice.
“I took as many as I could,” Dende said, and Vegeta did not miss the tinge of regret.
A stab of guilt pierced the prince in his already beaten and punctured chest. Somehow it blossomed and overrode the physical pain he felt there.
“It's alright Vegeta,” Dende said after the prince had fallen silent, “there was nothing you could do. We saved as many as we could. Rejoice that we did at least save some. And all is not lost. You are alive as well.”
Despite The Guardian's reassuring words, Vegeta felt anything but at ease. He backed stiffly against the cave wall and slid down to the ground. He set the ball aside and stared at the ground, his eyes focusing on nothing.
So many had died-- because of him, he knew. And as terrible as that was, what stung him most was what he felt now, more than grief over the lost, was relief and joy at hearing the Guardian's voice again.
He'd thought he had lost the Namekian, along with all of the survivors, and not long after that, he'd been ready to lay down his life to join them, ready to... The Saiyan flushed, thinking back on what he had done.
“Why did you wait until now to tell me that you lived?” he choked out, his whole frame beginning to shake, “I could have died! Had I known you lived I would not have been so...” he struggled for the words, shame trapping them in his throat.
“I had to wait, Vegeta.”
“Wait for what!” he spat, “I would have trudged straight into my death! I would have—had I--” his voice broke off and he felt warm streams running down his face.
“Vegeta, you must understand,” Dende persisted calmly, “I had to wait to let you know we lived. It was the only way.”
“I thought...I thought I'd killed you.” Vegeta's voice was a breathy whisper. By “you,” the Saiyan had meant everyone of course but of everyone he'd left in the temple, the loss of Dende, who had become his friend and source of comfort, pained him the very most.
Dende seemed to read his thoughts.
“I know,” the healer said softly, “Vegeta. I knew that if you thought we had died, you would resort to the one thing you had refused to do, the one thing that might truly save us all.” he paused. “And you did it.”
Vegeta didn't have to ask. The thought made him grimace and flush. He tightly shut his eyes as if it would block out the shameful memory.
Despite how he fought it, Vegeta's mind went back to what had happened before he blacked out: The foggy image of Buu standing in the dust with his arms crossed as the prince dragged himself across the plane to meet him. The fledgling's blasts were falling all around him but Vegeta had to get to Buu. When he'd finally got there, he'd done something stupid and out of himself-- he must have been delirious from the fight and the dust. He had called for Kakarot. As if the Saiyan were somewhere in there just waiting to be summoned. How ridiculous. Vegeta scoffed at his own wild imagination. He must have been delirious. He didn't remember much after that.
He dragged his wrist across his nose, mopping up the snot that was beginning to run there.
“So what,” he said, snorting “it didn't work. Buu's still here. He still has Kakarot's power.” He let his head fall back against the rock wall.
“But Vegeta,” Dende said, “it did work.”
Vegeta sighed, body aching and exhausted.
“I know it's hard to believe from what has happened but by simply calling out to Goku, you've set something in motion. You'll see. Buu will start to crumble. You have awoken something within him, whether you see it or not. You have made a difference, Vegeta.”
Vegeta didn't see it. And he didn't want to think about it anymore. His mind was wearied and he was talking to a man he’d thought dead no more than an hour ago, a man he nearly died for.
“I'm alone here,” he said finally.
“This is good, Vegeta,”
“Despite how it looks,” Dende didn’t say but Vegeta thought.
“You must understand that it's for the best. Now that we're not there to distract him, Buu's attention is fully on you. He can't escape you now.”
“I think it's more the other way around.” Vegeta huffed.
“He doesn't want to confront you, Vegeta. I think if you look back, you'll realize that he's been avoiding you.”
“Yes, he’s very effective at that. Was he avoiding me when he send his little minion to kill me? Or when he blew up The Lookout, or when he tried to...” his voice trailed as his mind drifted to when the mutant had tried to kiss him at Capsule Corps. and to when he did it again earlier that day. In both instances, the mutant had done an especially poor job at avoiding the prince.
“Just relax, Vegeta. It will all be fine.”
Dende stayed with Vegeta into the night and his gentle voice lured the weary Saiyan safely into sleep. He had no battles in his dreams.
Vegeta awoke to an ache in his lower back where the rock wall jutted into him.
The entrance to the cave glowed with the orange light of the sun. Vegeta was disoriented for a moment.
He glanced around, slowly turning his stiff neck and saw the lone Dragonball gleaming with the little light in the space, as if it had absorbed all of it.
It hadn’t been a dream.
Vegeta had fought Buu's creation and fled to this cave after Buu destroyed The Lookout and killed...
Vegeta took in a breath and felt a huge crushing weight lifted from him.
That too surely had not been a dream.
As clear as the Dragonball sitting in the corner of the cave, the others were alive! Buu hadn't succeeded in killing them!
He had spoken to Dende and the Namekian had assured him that they were all, for the most part (Vegeta’s chest panged), alive and well.
Within second of his waking, Vegeta began calling out to The Guardian. He wasn't sure if there was some sort of rule to the communication lines. Did Vegeta only have to think of Dende in order to connect with him? Or did he have the power to do it at all? He had certainly never spoken with the Namekian this way before. After some strained minutes of trying to connect with The Guardian telepathically, the Saiyan decided that it must only work one way.
After the great comfort of the news from the previous night, Vegeta felt as close to at ease as he'd felt in a while. Starting languidly toward the cave opening, The Prince decided that a stretch would be refreshing and very called for.
Stepping out onto the rocky “porch” that look out over the canyons. The towering walls radiated with warmth and light from the morning sun. Stretching his arms out wide like a hawk spreading its wings, he took in a great breath. If he had to be the last man on Earth, it was a nice day for it.
“VEGETA!”
The thunderous shriek that broke in his head nearly startled the prince off the cliff.
“Vegeta, what are you doing? You have to collect the remaining Dragon Balls! There's no time to waste!”
Vegeta's hands instinctively flew to his pounding ears and he did his best to recoil from the shouting. He was horrified to learn that the screaming was exclusively in his head and there was nothing he could do to muffle it.
“Get that Dragon Radar and get to work, buster! Every day you go without assembling those Dragonballs is a day wasted! Get moving! The planet is in jeopardy!!”
“GAH!”
“Sorry, Vegeta,” chimed Dende solemnly, “I tried to tell her you needed more time to rest but she insisted.”
“I want my planet back!” Bulma boomed through The Guardian.
Vegeta growled deeply in annoyance.
“Bulma, please, there's no need to shout, he can hear us very well.”
Vegeta could imagine without seeing the brazen woman looming over the wincing Guardian, one hand clasping his shoulder painfully, the other balled into a fist ready to throw at anyone who dared deny her her justice.
“Well, I'm glad!” she hooted, “He's been sleeping for nearly 12 hours! Meanwhile, I don't even know what planet I'm on!”
“Ssssh, Bulma. I had to pick a system distant enough for us not to be traced. It had to appear that we were wiped from existence.”
Vegeta massaged his aching temples, the peaceful scenery suddenly doing nothing for him.
“Well I feel wiped from existence! Listen, Vegeta, the sooner you find those Dragonballs, the sooner we can get off this dead planet! There's nothing but ticks and sludge here!”
“Those aren't ticks!” Dende defended, “those are the inhabitants of this planet. And if you would just try the 'sludge' you would see it's very filling and full of nutrients.”
“Not happening.”
“Enough!” Vegeta howled into the canyon. Birds nesting in the rock walls took flight. He was through with being forced to play audience to the bickering pair. “You will attempt to send me errands now from the next galaxy over?” He barked, “Why don't you mind your own planet!”
Bulma huffed loudly and, to Vegeta's irritation, the vision of her tossing her bangs dismissively registered from across the galaxy.
“Oh! An errand! So saving the world is an errand'” she shot.
“Get out of my head, woman!”
The married couple's argument escalated while Dende did his best to mediate. Eventually, the passive guardian was forced to pry Bulma from the connection to prevent things from getting too far off topic.
“Vegeta,” Dende said. His voice was back to its gentle tone and Vegeta guessed that the peaceful Namekian had put some distance between himself and the fired-up woman. “The Dragon Balls are always available to aid,” he continued, “but I urge you to consider what we talked about. I know that with just a little time, the presence of Goku within Buu will have become too strong to contain and he will begin to destroy himself from the inside.”
“Do we even have time?”
Dende did not answer immediately.
“I don't know,” he said truthfully, “but I feel with all my being that it is our surest chance. Hey-- stop that! Bulma! Cut it out!”
Vegeta heard some rustling and it seemed like The Guardian was having a struggle of some kind.
“No-- Bulma! I mean it-- Vegeta, I gotta go.”
With that, The Guardian was gone again. Vegeta hadn't had time to say more. He didn't know what he would have said, but he knew that he didn't feel any less conflicted after that conversation.
The groggy prince receded back into the cave. The single Dragonball sat in the corner gleaming at him invitingly. He considered it a moment. He turned to look out the bright opening of the cave. He looked again to the Dragonball.
The Saiyan did a quick calculation:
Wish one: Wish Kakarot out of Buu.
Wish two: Wish all those killed by the Buu’s back to life.
Wish three: Wish the others back to Earth.
He envisioned this in his mind and weighed it.
He did another calculation:
Wish one: Immortality.
Wish two: Wish all those killed by the Buu’s back to life.
Wish three: Wish memories away.
Vegeta allowed himself the momentary indulgence. But Vegeta had witnessed and learned through the years that heroes could not be selfish. The weathered prince wondered before he could stop himself whether Kakarot had ever thought of wishing anything for himself. Then he shoved the thought away. The oaf had a way of creeping into his thoughts when he wasn't wanted.
You aren't helping, Kakarot.
Vegeta knew he could go one of two ways: He could either swallow his pride, summon the dragon and wish Kakarot out of Buu so that the mutant would be drastically weaker and therefore beatable. However, from what Vegeta understood, the mutant’s personality would also be drastically different and he would not be the same Buu that had drawn out the Saiyan's slow and terrible torture in the grove that day. That Buu will have 'gotten away' in a sense, never to return, and so Vegeta would never be able to have his vengeance; Or there was the other way: Vegeta could do what Dende had been urging him to do all along and destroy Buu from within using his relationship with Kakarot. The idea made Vegeta feel ill. His whole being recoiled from the idea of facing Buu in any way that was not hostile.
Vegeta would never understand The Guardian's unwavering certainly, but there was no doubt that the Saiyan was drawn to it. If Dende was right, then Buu was already crumbling, and Vegeta's mere existence was a daily assault to him. All Vegeta would need to do was give him a push.
But could he face Buu again? After all that had happened. Was it disgust and revulsion that kept him away? Or, when Vegeta looked deep into himself, would he see that it was fear. Fear of Buu? Fear of what Kakarot had changed in Buu? Why couldn't he just fight him like a normal foe? What scared Vegeta most was what every meeting with the tyrant did to his mind. Injuries could heal, no matter how deep, but Buu had a way of getting inside the Saiyan and tormenting him long after the physical damage was done.
The toughest part of the Dragonball rout was shoving his own pride aside. No small feat on its own. However, going into psychological warfare with Buu was another challenge entirely.
Vegeta had a decision to make.
- 12
- 13
- 14
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Mind Rape