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Mind Rape	By : MutantPoptart Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 18434 -:- 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.

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Chipping Away

Vegeta tasted the bitterness of the words long after they’d left his mouth.

It had taken a few days to plot out a course of action, and a few more still to build himself up to act on it.

It was late in the evening and he and Buu were sitting in the window.

“Why, Vegeta?” The mutant asked at last. He didn’t seem upset by Vegeta’s request, more confused.

“I…” Vegeta looked at the ground between them. He’d known he would have to explain himself and had planned for it. Still it didn’t make it any easier. “You were right. When you said…when you said we had something, Kakarot and I.” His words were slow and clunky, and he still couldn’t meet Buu’s eyes. “We…we were the last full-blooded Saiyans. W-we only had ...each other.”

Vegeta glanced up briefly to find Buu’s quantifying eyes only on him, measuring his words. There was no rush in the look. Vegeta had all the time in the world. Yet he felt a crushing weight on him. He couldn’t lie to Buu. The mutant knew him too well, his vocal vairiations, his mannerisms. Buu would see through any illusion, he was sure. Or maybe it was that Vegeta’s walls had been worn so thin that he’d lost the ability to hide anymore. Either way, Vegeta had to speak carefully and say enough to gain Buu’s trust, but not so much that he’d be caught.

The trouble was, Vegeta wasn’t sure any of it was a lie.

“We… bonded in a way. S-since he’s been gone, I feel…that I’ve lost something in myself.”

He waited. There was nothing more to say, at least he couldn’t think of anything.

Finally, he looked up to see how his explanation was received, but Buu was looking toward the other side of the room. Vegeta followed the tired gaze, and saw that it seemed to be directed at the curled seat on which Bow used to perch.

How ridiculous. Of course he hadn’t been convincing. Buu had surely seen right through every word. Did he honestly think he could ask Buu such a thing and not sound suspicious? Oh Buu, before I forget, would you mind transforming into Kakarot for while? No reason, just for kicks. Certainly not trying anything underhanded. Certainly not trying to overthrow you.

He wished, not for the first time, that Dende were there to guide him through this, and cursed himself again for shutting the Namekian out.

The anchoring presence in his mind seemed to grow heavier though, steadying him.

“Is this what you want?”

Vegeta, who had been lost in his torrential thoughts, turned to see, not Buu glowering down at him in his gleaming pink form, but the gentle features of Goku, whole and complete, with his orange gi and muddled hair, and dark eyes looking down at him, almost sympathetically.

Vegeta’s swallowed hard, feeling an ache in his chest. Although he opened his mouth to respond, he only managed a nod.

To say the least, Buu was uncomfortable. The disguised mutant moved with a wariness of someone waiting to step on a land mind. It wasn’t that he was awkward in Goku’s body, not at all. In fact, he reacted fluidly and with an instinct that suggested he’d never been more at home. Vegeta even caught him doing some trademark Goku gestures without seeming to realize it. If he had to guess, Vegeta would say that the reason Buu was uneasy was the very fact that he was so comfortable in this form.

When the mutant’s shoulders began rising in a dopey shrug or his arm started moving upward to scratch the back of his unruly head, he stopped them, eyes darting sheepishly to Vegeta, an act which ironically only made him look more like the moronic Earth Saiyan. Buu couldn’t seem to control it and Vegeta was transfixed by his struggle. He found himself in the unnatural position of trying to make conversation with Buu, if only to take the mutant’s mind off of whatever was happening to him. He’d never thought he’d be grasping to speak with Buu.

For the most part, Buu seemed too occupied with fighting off his Goku mannerisms to contribute meaningfully to any topic, and fortunately for Vegeta, didn’t seem to notice the clumsiness of the Saiyan’s attempts at conversation.

All of a sudden, it became clear to Vegeta why Buu never sparred with him. It wasn’t that he was afraid of hurting him, as Vegeta had always assumed, but that it made him feel too much like Goku.

Later in the evening, as they approached the hut, Buu transformed again. Although he sighed in relief as he assumed his true form, Vegeta couldn’t help noticing the tense strain that never left his shoulders.

A few days later, Vegeta approached Buu again with the request. He didn’t know what gave him the gall, but he did it and Buu, once again, responded with a sudden heavy silence that made Vegeta fear he’d crossed a line. Then, as miraculously as the first time, Goku emerged from the mutant flesh.

They walked together along the same path and Buu, in his Saiyan form, seemed only a little less tense than the time before. Still, it was enough for Vegeta to catch a few more of Goku’s quirks slip past the mutant’s guard.

Buu was more willing to speak this time, but Vegeta wasn’t sure it was an improvement. When he heard Kakarot’s gentle, curious voice come out, a chill ran down Vegeta’s spine and every muscle in his body went rigid to brace himself.

It was too normal. From the outside, he knew they looked like the two Saiyans taking a casual stroll in the woods, maybe on their way to a routine spar. It was so convincing. The man’s hair was too frazzled, his eyes too black, his stare too coaxing and genuine. Not that Vegeta ever forgot that it was really Buu beneath the false body and voice.

He reminded himself regularly throughout their journey that this wasn’t too different from the situation in which he’d found himself on the day that the other Saiyan had been absorbed: Buu in Kakarot’s form, convincing and genuine. Even the trees of the surrounding woods seemed to crane overhead to engulf them in shadow, mirroring the dense dark of The Grove.

He kept on his guard, maintaining a wary distance between them. How odd it was that Vegeta was now more comfortable in Buu’s presence than in Kakarot’s.

Vegeta didn’t need to worry that his distance would seem inconspicuous; The mutant seem reluctant to be too near him as well and shrunk away when Vegeta accidentally swerved into his personal space or when a narrow passage forced them to squeeze nearer to get through.

This was a strange reaction from Buu, who had forced physical contact on Vegeta more times than the Saiyan could recall now. Vegeta thought on it as they walked along the trail. They came upon a grassy clearing that opened out into a large view of the night sky, so they decided to sit and watch the stars for a while.

They talked deep into the night, not about anything important. They talked about the neighboring galaxies, the distant ones. Vegeta was reminded of an old story from his early raiding days with Napa and Raditz, and shared it with Buu. He’d never shared it with anyone, although it was one of the few truly happy memories he had from that period in his life. They were both laughing by the end of the story.

Buu looked more relaxed than Vegeta had yet seen him in this form. He held his middle as the joyous sound came rolling out, and seemed unable to stop it. Vegeta’s own laughter was dying down and Buu was still roaring, but the laugh was starting to come rougher, and seemed to be more of a cough. It became hoarse and appeared painful. Buu curled in on himself, trying to stifle it.

Vegeta sat up, concerned, but Buu held up a hand to stop him as the coughing slowed.

Leaning back finally, Buu took a deep breath.

Vegeta watched him. It was late and he’d been running out of things to say before the coughing episode, but now had gone completely blank. Still, he felt a need to keep going, to keep Buu in this form for as long as he could. Something compelled him and he felt it was the right thing to do.

But Buu was already rising to his feet. After a last silent glance to the stars, he looked contentedly down at Vegeta, his eyes drooping slightly. Vegeta had never known the mutant to be tired, and until then, had assumed the only reason Buu slept was because Vegeta did. Yet here he was, looking exhausted, albeit it was Goku’s body. Still it was strange.

“I think I’m ready.” He said and Vegeta couldn’t argue. It was late.

They walked back to the camp. Vegeta was surprised that Buu kept Goku’s form all the while.

As they approached the hut, Buu still hadn’t transformed, but gave a broad yawn, just as the Earth Saiyan would.

Vegeta followed Buu inside warily and watched him climb the steps to the bedroom.

Buu turned to look at him and said, in Goku’s voice, “What?”

Vegeta’s eyes swam up and down the mutant’s body before looking away.

Buu looked down at himself and seemed genuinely surprised at what he saw.

“Oh,” he said and within seconds, the surface of his body was rippling away to revealing it’s natural shape. When he was done, Buu-- actually Buu now—looked at the Saiyan watching him. “Are you not going to sleep?”

Vegeta took a moment to gather his voice.

“No. I’m going to train.” He mumbled. “Not tired.”

Buu nodded, but his eyes lingered on him a moment before he continued up the stairs.

Vegeta waited a few seconds after Buu’s legs vanished from his sight, before sprinting out the door. He didn’t know why he-- it wasn’t as if it would give him better reception. Still he stood there, fists clenched, face to the sky and eyes clamped shut. He reached with all his will-- for what, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t his gift, he knew but maybe, if Dende was receptive, he could signal him somehow.

He needed to reach him, needed to alert him to what was happening here. Buu was changing, Buu was tired, Buu was forgetting to transform out of Kakarot’s body. This was something. This was significant.

His tongue darted out across dry lips and he tried to steady his breathing. He’d never been one to meditate, but he thought, if he pushed hard enough, he might be able to force his mind into the calm state it would take to communicate across galaxies. Dende, Dende, Dende, he urged, and might have even whispered aloud.

There were so many things he needed to say to the Namekian. Buu was changing. There was hope. What should he do next?

For about an hour Vegeta stood out there, trying to force his mind to do something that it either lacked the capacity or tranquility to do. With a curse, he resigned in frustration.

Upon opening his eyes, he saw that the moon was high in the sky.

What if the others were dead and that’s why he couldn’t reach them. What if he’d been too late and all of this was in vein.

The weighty presence in his mind made itself known again and Vegeta honed in on it.

It was warm and comforting and solid. He couldn’t be certain, but he felt deep down that it was a kind of answer.

A/N: Coming up on the home stretch. Just a few more chapters to go! Thank you for the reviews and dedication.

Sara- Not many readers leave a reason to an author for why they stop reading a fic. Most just stop reading. So I really appreciate you taking the time to leave such a thoughtful message. It's been a few years since that first chapter and I've changed in that time, so I'm sure that that change has reflected in my writing. Still, the end goal is the same, though I might have taken a few detours on the way. There's no telling if you'll read this, but just in case you do, that fear that you expressed to me about the ending-- that's not going to happen.
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Mind Rape