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Even Though Our Love is Doomed	By : Froglady15 Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 501 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just my Husband, laptop, my 3 dogs and a very overactive imagination… Dragon Ball Z and Wuthering Heights characters and DO NOT belong to me. I MAKE NO MONEY/PROFIT!!

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just my Husband, laptop, my 3 dogs and a very overactive imagination… Dragon Ball Z and Wuthering Heights characters and DO NOT belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for my own twisted amusement.
Even Though Our Love is Doomed
Chapter 3
Krillin got up again the next morning at a normal time. He hadn’t slept any better, having not being able to think about anything else other than the wild tale he’d been told the previous day. He had stayed up late into the night writing his article; it was as though this story had consumed him and not in a good way.
In any case, he was determined to finally meet Vegeta. The man was a complete enigma to him. He had heard stories about him over the years of his tactical genius on the battle field both on land and sea. He’d heard the man was the picture of collected and calm. He also made wise trading and financial decisions to benefit himself. The last thing he had pictured in his mind would have been him being involved with such a complicated and scandalous love triangle.
It was late morning when he decided to leave the house and head out. Baba would not tell him anymore, insisting that he needed to meet Vegeta first before she would relate anything else to him. This only made him that much more curious.
Because it was sunny and not all that cold out, he decided to walk to Westerly Heights instead of riding his horse. The snow was deep, he discovered once he had made it onto the main road and he regretted not taking his horse then, however he had gone too far on foot to turn back at this point.
He paused as he finally approached the property and saw a large, stone built home. It looked run down and shabby, desperately in need of maintenance, as though at one time it may have been grand. There were three very large, shaggy grey dogs that resembled Irish Wolfhounds standing at the porch as sentries and he was wary of their appearance, remembering Baba’s warning that Vegeta would be more likely to send the dogs to run him off the property than actually sit down and do an interview with him.
Krillin paused, wondering if he should proceed or not. Deciding that it was perhaps better for him to return another time on his horse, he turned to leave, but noticed a smaller black and fawn brindle colored Shepherd-looking dog close behind him, blocking him from where he’d come.
“Great,” he groaned to himself, unsure if the dog was friendly or not. He decided it wasn’t when he took a step forward and the dog cured his top lip at him, exposing a perfect set of teeth.
“Who are you and what are you doing here?” a harsh voice from the left asked, though it did not sound friendly.
Krillin turned in the direction from where it had come and saw a man standing at the door of the stable and immediately he knew it was Vegeta, despite the fair distance away he was. The thick, flame shaped hair and dark eyes gave him away. He remembered the drawing in the journal and noted that Bulma had drawn a fairly accurate picture of him. However, he was not clean shaven, he had a few days’ growth and his hair was fairy unruly.
“I’m.. I’m Krillin,” he stammered, afraid of the dog, as the shepherd had not moved but the three hounds were approaching him cautiously, looking as though they were ready to pounce on him at any given moment should their master command them to.
“And?” the man shrugged, not making an indication to call his dogs off.
“I am here to interview you,” he said boldly, ignoring the dogs. “I was sent by-”
“I remember,” he cut him off curtly. He had been avoiding journalists for years. The only reason he had agreed to meet with this one was because the messenger that had been sent had bothered him incessantly until he agreed, which he had only accepted in the first place so as to be left alone again. He supposed it was only a matter of time before the journalist showed up for the interview. “You’ve wasted your time coming here, I have nothing to say.”
“But you agreed,” Krillin pressed somewhat. “I’m renting the plantation and everything. We don’t have to discuss it all now, I’ll be staying a few mon-”
“Good, because I am terribly busy,” he said, turning to go back into the barn.
“Can I keep you company?” Krillin called back.
He reappeared a moment later. “I do not like company,”
That’s obvious, Krillin thought to himself. “I won’t get in your way, I promise. Maybe I can help?”
“Doubtful,” he snorted.
“Well can you at least call your dogs off?” he asked, beginning to feel annoyed and very uneasy as the shepherd had creeped up closer to him and was looking at him intently while panting lightly.
Vegeta snorted, but snapped his fingers. The three grey, shaggy hounds slinked back to the front porch lazily and the dark shepherd trotted back to the barn towards Vegeta.
“Impressive,” he muttered under his breath, hesitating a moment before he decided to follow the dog towards the barn.
Vegeta watched him warily as he approached. “Hmmn,” he grunted as he turned away and headed back into the barn where there were several horses being housed.
Krillin followed him not too closely, making sure to give him his space as he already suspected his invitation was limited to how much he annoyed Vegeta, so he decided to just keep his distance and not do anything that may annoy him.
Vegeta went into a stall where there was a white horse lying on its side in the straw and sounding like it was having difficulty breathing properly. He bent down next to it in concern, stroking its neck gently before getting back up and walking to the fire and removing a kettle and pouring the hot water into a bucket.
Krillin watched him quietly as he worked. He supposed he would consider him a handsome man despite his stern look and unapproachable demeanor. He looked unkempt, but it was apparent that he had sharp, distinguished features. He wasn’t overly tall, but Krillin could tell he was in good shape.
“Grab me several of those blankets over there,” he demanded, not even looking at him, hastily heading back into the horse’s stall.
He went to the wall where there were a bunch of blankets folded on a shelf against a wall, however he hesitated as the shepherd followed him and placed himself between the wall and himself. “Uhh, your dog...”
“He’s fine,” Vegeta grunted.
“His mouth is open and he’s panting a bit,”
“If his mouth is open, he will not bite,” he replied irritably. “If he closes his mouth as he approaches you, then you should be concerned.”
“Alright then,” he sighed, uneasily, reaching to grab blankets, trying to move slowly so as to not trigger the dog. He didn’t agree or trust Vegeta’s explanation, but so far the dog had not attempted to bite him, was only doing a fantastic job of intimidating him. “Here,” he said, placing the blankets down next to Vegeta, who was trying to spoon feed the horse.
“Well make yourself useful and cover her,” he snipped irritably at him.
Slightly taken back by his clipped tone, he did as he was asked and it dawned on him that this was quite possibly Bulma’s horse. He carefully laid all three blankets on the horse, tucking her in the best he could and then sat back as he watched Vegeta desperately trying to make it eat, talking soothingly to it in encouragement as it finally relented and accepted sustenance. It was so strange to him that this cold, indifferent man could be so caring towards an animal and he remembered Baba’s account of the stark difference in him of how he was with Bulma verses everyone else. Especially at her end.
He looked around and noticed a black horse in the next stall, looking over the best he could into the stall they were in, nickering at them as though wanting to remind them that he was there too.
“Is she going to be okay?” Krillin asked hesitantly, knowing that if his instincts were correct and this was Bulma’s horse, that it would be hard for him if the horse passed on.
Vegeta did not reply for a long moment and Krillin wondered if he was ignoring him or maybe he hadn’t heard him. “I do not know,” he answered finally, in a quiet tone that betrayed the stony expression on his face. “She has not been well for some time now. I can only do the best that I can,”
“How old is she?” he asked, doing the math in his head, if this horse was the horse he had a feeling it was, it would be around twenty three years old he estimated. He needed to know!
“Twenty six,” he replied.
Krillin’s stomach did a flip as his suspicions were confirmed. This was Bulma’s horse! He wasn’t sure if it was admirable or sad that he was taking such diligent care of it. Although he supposed it would be the only thing he had left of Bulma at this point in time.
“She’s really pretty,” Krillin said.
“Hmmn,” he grunted.
“How long has she been sick?” he asked.
“On and off for about a year, but recently only the past few days,” he replied. “I have spent the last two nights with her in here, but it is not looking good. Enough with the idle chit chat, however. You may leave now,”
Krillin could not help but feel disappointed that he had already seemingly closed the door on an interview. “I came a long way,” he pointed out. “We can stay here and can I just ask you a few questions and then I will leave you alone.”
Vegeta was quiet for a while and Krillin could tell that he was beginning to get irritated with his presence.
“It is cold,” he conceited. “Come inside, have something warm to drink and perhaps I will answer a question or two, depending on what it is.”
Krillin nearly laughed he was so glad Vegeta had relented, just a little. “Sounds fair,” he nodded, standing up.
Vegeta looked at the horse in concern for another moment before exiting the stall and the barn, shutting it so the warmth from the fire would not escape.
The dark shepherd followed them, not taking his eyes off Krillin. “That’s quite the dog,” he commented, still very leery of it. “What is it?”
“Dutch Shepherd,” Vegeta replied.
“I’ve never seen or heard of one,” Krillin commented. “He looks like a dark Belgian Shepherd.”
“That’s essentially what he is,” he confirmed in a disinterested tone as they entered the house. “Woman, make something warm!” he bellowed as soon as they walked into the house.
“Make it yourself!” a feminine voice sharply replied.
“Do I need to remind you of your place around here?” he growled in reply as a beautiful, young, blue haired girl came into view.
Wow, Krillin thought to himself as he looked at her. She was a bit young for him, in his opinion, but he could understand if he’d taken a girl like this as his wife. She was absolutely stunning!
Taking Baba’s account to mind, apparently Bulma had been beautiful; Lazuli too. This girl was definitely not Lazuli. Not only was she too young, but he could have sworn Baba had mentioned that Lazuli was blonde. So with such a foul demeanor, how did Vegeta keep getting all these beautiful women, he wondered? He himself was in his mid-thirties and had yet to find a suitable wife for himself. He thought of himself as considerate and a gentleman and yet he had to work for female attention. Vegeta was clearly better looking than him, but what were looks when one had the disposition of a cactus?
He wondered then what had happened to Lazuli. Baba had said she would get around to telling him and never had.
“You do not have to put your wife out if she has other things to do,” Krillin said graciously, not wanting to cause trouble.
“Wife?!” the girl snorted in disgust. “I am most certainly not his wife!”
“Oh,” he replied awkwardly, now feeling embarrassed for making assumptions, however it had also been his way of fishing for an answer. “I’m sorry,”
“Don’t be!” she snipped. “He’s obsessed with my mother. I’m sure he wishes I was his wife.”
“Do not flatter yourself,” Vegeta retorted nastily. “You are nothing like your mother.”
Krillin blinked blankly a few times for a moment as he let the information process. So this girl was Bulma and Lapis’ daughter, he realized in shock, wondering what on earth she was doing here!
“That’s right, you keep telling yourself that,” she snapped and he was shocked by her disrespectful tone. She was not the least bit afraid of him. “He’s not obsessed with my mother, yet he’s spent more time and concern out there over a horse that once belonged to her than his own sick son while on his death bed!” she accused.
“Get out if you are going to be unhelpful,” he snarled, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. He held up the bottle to Krillin, his way of offering him a glass without having to courteously ask if he wanted a glass.
It was a bit early in the day for him, but he accepted anyway; sometimes all it took to get a conversation going was a few drinks.
The girl, had Baba said her name was Bra? He could not remember. She left the room with a string of very colorful, unladylike curses under her breath.
“Bothersome wench,” Vegeta growled, handing him a glass with a bit more liquor in it than he would have poured himself. “It was peaceful here for a whole eighteen years without constant female simpering and nagging.”
Krillin wasn’t sure what to say. He knew he was not supposed to know anything about Bulma. He tried to think of what he would ask him if he didn’t know about her, but unfortunately that was all that interested him at this point. Now there was the added intrigue that Vegeta had a son as well!
“So you don’t have a wife I assume?” he asked carefully.
“No,” he replied, sitting in a worn out chair. He indicated for him to follow suit on the couch across from him and he did. “You?” he asked, sounding strained as though it took great effort on his part to carry on a civil conversation.
“No, no wife,” Krillin shook his head. “With my line of work and constantly travelling around for stories, it’s difficult to settle down.”
“Better for you,” he said in a cautionary tone. “I advise against it; and should you fall in love, I would pity you rather than congratulate you.”
“You speak from experience?” Krillin asked, hoping this would open a door to find out his side of the story.
Vegeta snorted bitterly and shrugged before downing the rest of his drink. “Love makes you ruthless, weak, desperate and cruel and once it has you deep within its clutches, it dies.” he bitterly, looking intently into his glass, avoiding eye contact with Krillin.
Krillin nodded, unable to think of an appropriate response as he watched him refill his glass. Vegeta turned to see if he wanted a refill, but he’d barely touched his drink and so Vegeta took his seat again.
“So why are you so interested in writing an article about me?” he asked. “It was twenty years ago that I had anything to do with the navy and I have had nothing to do with it after serving for only a mere three years.”
“True, but you were very influential,” Krillin said, slightly taken aback by both the abrupt change in topic and his modesty. “Everyone still talks about you and your accomplishments.”
“Hmmn,” he grunted. “They do, do they?”
“You wouldn’t consider returning?” Krillin asked, taking a few sips of his drink.
“No,”
“Even if you have no ties here?” he pressed.
“No,” he said again. “I have no interest.”
“But you still hold influence with the British East India Company, I understand?”
“That is not your business,” Vegeta replied.
Krillin back peddled a little, going back on discussing Vegeta’s victories and highlights from the war. Before he knew it, an hour or more had passed and he was at least three drinks in, beginning to feel the liquor influencing him.
“So why do you live here instead of the plantation?” he asked, feeling that was a safe topic. “It’s much nicer and you could easily lease this place out if you wanted.”
“What did the maid tell you?” Vegeta asked pointedly, still completely sober. It occurred to Krillin then that either he had not consumed as much as he’d thought or the man was able to hold his liquor much better than he could. “Baba?”
“Nothing,” he lied.
“She likes to tell stories,” he said knowingly. “Did she not tell you anything?”
“Nothing of any importance,” he replied carefully. “Just that this place holds sentimental value to you and the other does not.”
“Hmmmn,” he grunted, not completely buying his answer. He knew Baba well. She was a gossip and loved telling everyone the worst things about him. He had not seen her for eighteen years after Bulma’s death. Only recently had he seen her. A few months back, when Bra had come to live with him. It had not been a pleasant encounter to say the least.
It seemed that she blamed him for Bulma’s death as much as he blamed her for certain things that had taken place.
“I cannot rent this place out to a tenant,” he said.
“Why not?” Krillin asked. Sure it was a bit run down looking and could use some sprucing up, but you could tell that at one time, this had been a beautiful home.
“It is haunted,” he replied.
“Haunted?” Krillin repeated, wondering if he had heard him right and if maybe Vegeta was as tipsy as he was. “Haunted by what?”
“A woman,” he answered quietly. “A woman that I used to be well acquainted with. She haunts this place.”
Okay, Krillin thought, unsure of how to respond. Vegeta looked quite serious, not like he was pulling his leg. “Your wife?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
“No,” he replied, frowning intently at his drink as if waiting for something to happen.
An awkward silence took over them as Vegeta didn’t elaborate and Krillin was unsure of what to ask him next, the liquor beginning to hit him hard now.
“Is it Bulma?” he asked stupidly in his impaired state before his mind could catch up with his mouth.
Vegeta looked up at him sharply. No, he was definitely not impaired Krillin decided. “And how do you know that name?” he asked in a tone that made the hairs on the back of Krillin’s neck stand on end.
“I… I don’t know…” he stuttered. “I saw the name at the house. There was a journal of hers…”
“A journal?” Vegeta asked, tipping his head to the side with great interest. “What journal?”
“I don’t know… a journal,” he replied awkwardly. “Her name was on it and it was in the room I was given.”
Vegeta sat back in the chair, seemingly in deep thought. He was never aware that Bulma had even kept a journal ever and the thought intrigued him. “Did you read it?”
Krillin hesitated a moment before nodding.
“Bring it here,” he demanded. “I want to see it.”
“Oh, no,” he shook his head and waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s childish and wouldn’t interest you.”
“Let me be the judge of that,” he said, standing up. “Come on then, go! Bring it to me.”
Krillin shook his head and glared at him. “No,” he replied firmly, standing up to him. “Why should you have it?”
“That is not your business,” Vegeta snarled, taking the glass from Krillin’s hand, turning him around and escorting him to the door after tossing his overcoat to him. “Bring the journal here,”
Krillin gaped at the outside and the whiteout that was now happening. It would seem that another storm had come in while he had been visiting with Vegeta and he couldn’t see more than three or four feet in front of him. “No,” he said. “You cannot send me back in this!”
“Watch me,” he said indifferently, shoving him out the door. Vegeta grabbed a thick overcoat for himself and for a moment, Krillin was relieved that maybe he was going to accompany him, however Vegeta had no intention of that. “Bring it here, I will be in the stable.”
“Are you serious?” he exclaimed. “I’ll never even make it back to the plantation in this!”
“Then you had better hurry on before it gets dark and you lose your way,” Vegeta shrugged. “Be back in the morning, however.” Was all he said, leaving him there at his front porch and headed back into the barn to check on the horse again.
He’s absolutely serious, Krillin realized in horror. Why did I mentioned the journal, he asked himself, shaking his head as he took a few wobbly steps on his way out. He needed to sober up, that much was obvious.
It was windy and snowy, almost as bad as the night he’d come here; except he was not as warmly dressed as he had been and he was on foot, not on his horse. He stumbled down where he hoped the main road was. He could not tell at this point.
What could Vegeta possibly want with an old journal belonging to Bulma? It wasn’t like it would change anything. She was long since passed away. He scoffed at recalling Vegeta’s claim that the home was haunted and remembered Baba’s claim that he had possibly gone mad. That was quite likely! After all, the man had sent him out, pissed drunk, in the middle of a severe snow storm no less to go and get the journal of a girl he had once loved while he nursed her dying horse. It was really quite pathetic, now that he thought about it.
Vegeta was obviously mad; Baba was correct.
He collapsed as an overwhelming gust of wind hit him. He lay there a moment as he felt the world beginning to spin. He was so tired, and it really wasn’t all that cold. He decided that he would just lay there a moment until the vertigo passed. Maybe the storm would too? He closed his eyes and before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep.
-0-0-0-
Krillin stirred from the feeling of being hoisted up and dragged. He wanted to wake up, but sleep was still calling to him. He felt warm and cold all at the same time.
“Come on,” a male voice he did not recognize said to him. “You need to wake up and get back before you freeze to death out here.”
“Hmm,” he muttered, still feeling inebriated and somewhat nauseous at the same time, though he forced his legs to walk. One in front of the other… that was it.
It felt like forever, but they finally made it back to the plantation. He had no idea who this young man was, but he was too exhausted to thank him.
Baba was in a stir when they showed up. It was dark out already.
“He was drunk and passed out on the road during the storm,” the young man said to Baba as they both carried him up the stairs.
“He let him out in this weather!” Baba exclaimed in horror.
“Yea,” the young man grunted.
Baba made a disgusted sound as they made it back into Krillin’s room and began to undress him and put him in warm, dry clothes.
He heard Baba speaking to him and asking about Bra but he couldn’t stay awake long enough to hear the full nature of their conversation and quickly fell asleep again.
The next morning he woke up with a pounding headache and his chest felt like there was a ton of bricks weighing down on him.
As he came to, he noticed Vegeta sitting in the chair beside his bed and he wondered why he was there. He was well dressed and clean shaven this time. His hair was neatened up somewhat, but still stood straight up. He had a strong jawline and his brows were set in a scowl, which he decided was permanent.
Krillin could understand why women were drawn to him; he was dark, handsome and mysterious. Even he found himself wanting to know more about him and figure him out. And look where that just got me, he thought in dismay.
“Apparently the storm was worse than I had thought,” Vegeta said to him and Krillin knew that was the closest thing to an apology that he would ever get from him.
“I could have died!” he pointed out, though he barely had a voice.
“Still could,” Vegeta shrugged nonchalantly. “You are pretty sick from that little adventure; you may not recover.”
Krillin felt himself over come with anger, but was too exhausted to even form a reply at the moment.
Vegeta stood up and walked around the room casually. It was the room that had been Bulma’s, where he had last seen her. It had not changed throughout the years and he wasn’t sure if he found that comforting or if he resented it. He did resent that Baba had placed him in this room and that this man was in Bulma’s bed.
“I have not set foot in this house in over eighteen years,” he said, looking out the window. Even being in this room made him feel claustrophobic as the memories and raw emotion of his last moments with Bulma assaulted him with an intensity that even surprised him.
“So then why are you here?” he asked.
“To get the journal you claimed to have in your possession,” he said. “Where is it?”
Krillin shook his head. To think he thought that the man was here out of concern to check on him! In that moment, an idea came to him. Apparently it was very important to Vegeta to have this journal. Perhaps he could use it as a bargaining chip. “I will not tell you unless you agree to sit for an interview with me,”
Vegeta regarded him coolly for a moment. “Do I need to remind you of what happened the last time you tried to fool me?”
“Fool you?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “I knew you knew more than what you had let on. I knew the moment you set eyes on that horse that you knew of its origins and who it belonged to. You are not here to discuss my war achievements; you already know them and we discussed them during your poor attempt of small talk already. You are here to delve into my private life, which I know Baba would have already been far too happy to tell you of.”
“Actually, I was here to discuss that and interview you about it and what you had been up to since then,” he admitted. “That was the point in the interview. I just happened to stumble on a back story far more interesting than anything you accomplished on the battlefield.”
“So what do you want to know?” Vegeta asked, narrowing his eyes at the other man, not liking that he was not just giving him what he wanted. “That I lost the only person who ever meant anything to me? That I was married once and was a terrible husband to the unfortunate girl? Stupid girl, but unfortunate all the same. You know that I have a dead son as well from your visit yesterday. What else do you feel the need to know? I feel that is sufficient enough.”
Krillin shrugged in response; while he was aching to hear the details of everything from Vegeta’s point of view, he knew he was not going to get it from him and so he relented with a heavy sigh which turned into a nasty coughing fit. “It’s in the top drawer of the night stand,”
Vegeta strode across the room in two steps and opened the drawer and grinned triumphantly when he saw it and took it out immediately. Krillin observed him and it was almost as though he were mesmerized by it. He looked it over carefully, handling it as though it were breakable, opening it gently, not too wide; it was apparent the binding was old and worn and likely to be easily cracked.
Baba strode into the room then, breaking the spell the old journal had on Vegeta. “He’s awake!” she exclaimed. “And what are you doing with that?” she asked, trying to yank the journal from Vegeta’s hands, however he was quicker than her and stepped out of her line of reach.
“Why have you kept this from me?” he asked accusingly, waving it around.
“Because it belonged to my lady and her private thoughts are none of your business, that’s why,”
“You always were meddling in things you had no business meddling over where Bulma was concerned.” he said nastily to her.
“Says the man who singlehandedly destroyed her out of his own selfishness!” she shot back venomously. “You are nothing more than a degenerate!” she ranted at him. “I curse the day Mr. Briefs brought you into our lives. All you know how to do is destroy! You should be hanged or imprisoned for your actions!”
“My goodness, I seem to have offended her a great deal,” he snorted in amusement, looking innocently at Krillin who was becoming very uncomfortable with the intensity of their arguing. “And what, exactly, have I done to merit such a terrible judgement against me, woman?”
She pursed her lips in exasperation at him. Even when he was mocking her, it seemed he could still be charming. “You really wish for me to say in front of the guest?”
Vegeta snorted and shrugged. “You are going to tell him anyway once I leave. May as well be in my presence so that I may refute your ridiculous claims. I’m sure your memory is not as sharp as it once was, given your age. I can set straight the discrepancies as they really happened.”
Baba glared at him. “It must expend so much energy, being so cruel,”
“Go on, what are my charges?” he demanded in a teasing tone, clearly amused by their banter over his supposed bad behavior.
“Adultery and covetousness,” she started. “Maybe not physically, or at least not to my knowledge, but it would not surprise me in the least the way you and the misses conducted yourselves even in my presence. I do not want to know what you got up to when you two were off on your own, but I know you tried to steal another man’s wife with no shame or care about your actions. You destroyed three lives over your obsession.”
“Only one by my count, but alright,” he sighed, waving his hand in dismissal. “Bra was raised to be even more spoilt than her mother ever was, her life was far from ruined and Lapis did not suffer enough, as far as I am concerned, but I will take responsibility for supposedly ruining his life as you claim.”
“And Bulma?” she asked, sounding near enough close to tears. “You had damned well better take responsibility for her!”
“Such language,” he scolded her mockingly before taking on a dark tone and look. “Bulma ruined her own life all on her own without my help.”
“And how do you figure that!”
“Because nothing on this earth could have kept us apart but her,” he replied in a hurt tone. “She ripped us apart of her own doing and free will because if it had been within my power not heaven or hell or the devil himself could have kept us from being together! In the end, she was the one who ultimately kept us apart. Do not put that solely on me; I carry enough regrets already but her death is on her and her alone.”
His statement seemed to calm Baba down somewhat as she seemed to take some satisfaction in knowing that he blamed himself somewhat and was still obviously very deeply affected by the whole ordeal.
“What else?” he asked a moment later, his eyes still blazing.
“You kidnapped Bra!” she said accusingly.
“I did not,” he scoffed. “She came willingly and on her own accord,”
“You lured and tricked her!”
Vegeta shrugged, though did not deny her accusation. “You say lured, I say persuaded; I saw an opportunity to get back at Lapis and took it. That is all; do not embelish,”
“Exactly, you evil man!” she spat. “And what of poor Lazuli?”
Vegeta snorted in response.
“Do not be so dismissive of her! You destroyed and ruined that poor girl and you know it!”
“Why is it always poor Lazuli, poor Lapis or poor Bulma with you?” he asked viciously. “Never is it poor Vegeta for any of the sufferings and troubles I have endured in my lifetime.”
“Oh, believe me, at one time I felt those sentiments towards you. I will admit that Tien treated you horribly after Mr. Briefs’ passing, however instead of it shaping you into a strong, honorable or reasonable man, you let it poison your soul.
“You took a poor, blameless girl and ruined her for your own amusement as part of your twisted game of revenge against Lapis and Bulma. I could not believe my eyes when I saw and spoke with her the last time I saw her, poor little thing! You are nothing more than a monster!” Baba vented, uninhibited by feeling the need to be proper and polite now that her pent up emotion had been released.
“She was nothing more than a nuisance,” he sighed. “I rejoiced the day she left,”
“Not that I can blame her for all you did to her!”
“I never did anything to her,” he insisted, putting his hands up in surrender; though his tone went back to mocking. “Nothing that she did not welcome, anyway.”
“I do not believe you,”
“What did she tell you?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Baba snipped. “She did not have to say a word and I knew you had abused her beyond reason.”
Vegeta puffed out his cheeks as he let out a deep exhale, looking around the room as though trying to remember the events that had taken place. After what felt like a long silence, he nodded somewhat, but his tone remained amused. “I suppose I gave her a rather bad time, given the nature of our union and frame of mind I was in with Bulma’s passing, yes I was rather unfair to her. However, anything I inflicted on her was not outside the parameters of the law. I never struck her, I never forced myself on her. However it became apparent rather quickly that there was not anything I could do to make her happy either and so when she left, it brought me great relief. For I should have known that she could never make me happy. I blame you for that.”
“Me? I did not tell you to marry the girl!”
“You insisted I find another, and if it had not been for you, I’d have never set my sights on the foolish little thing,” he said almost casually.
“Naïve and innocent, not foolish,” Baba corrected him.
“Foolish,” he insisted. “I warned her I was no, what was it she called me again… Ah, dark prince. I advised her that I was a man with no name to pass on and that I was only out for my own selfish interests, which at that time were the complete destruction and demise of Tien and her dear brother Lapis. She chose to be intrigued and see some nonexistent positive quality there. Bulma even warned her and advised her not pursue me,”
“Really? When?” Baba asked.
“During one of my visits,” he insisted. “Bulma got agitated because she was acting like a helpless twit so as to garner my attention on herself rather than on Bulma. It was then that Bulma told me of Lazuli’s ridiculous infatuation for me.
“She told her that I was a dishonorable man not worthy of her affections and it started a quarrel between them because Lazuli accused Bulma of being unfaithful to her brother. Which, to give you answer to you previous charge, no, I never touched Bulma. Kissed and embraced, yes; but never did we cross a line. I would have gladly taken her with me should she have allowed it and scandal or not, I would have taken her as my wife, but never did we consummate our true affections for one another. I valued her more than to ruin her reputation.”
Baba shook her head in disgust. “The intent was still there so therefore you still committed the crime.”
“Then Bulma is as guilty because had she not been pregnant, she told me she would have left with me.”
“I remember,” Baba nodded. “However she is long since gone and it is up to god to hold her accountable for her conduct.”
Vegeta looked at the floor and nodded as though in deep thought before sighing heavily. “Yes, well I must be going now. I trust you will care for the guest and get him whatever he needs and I have humored him well enough for him to complete his work,” Vegeta said, walking brusquely to where his coat was hanging. “It would seem your presence was beneficial to me after all,” he finished, waving the journal before exiting the room and seeing himself out of the home.
Krillin looked at Baba in shock and shook his head as they heard the door close.
“I told you he was a wretch,” Baba said knowingly.
Krillin was only able to nod before he was caught in a violent coughing fit.
“I will get you some tea, but you must rest,” Baba said to him. “I will tell you the rest later on at supper f you still wish to know.”
“Yes,” he nodded, settling himself in comfortable in his bed.
-0-0-0-
As he rode back to the Heights, Vegeta’s mind began to wander and he began to think of Lazuli. He truthfully hadn’t given her much thought since the day she left him. He admitted to himself that he had been a terrible husband to her, however what was done was done. He was better off on his own.
However, he did have to admit that to her credit, she had tried to make the best out of their situation even after she had realized the mistake she’d made. He had been in no mental state to even notice or acknowledge that.
.
.
It was late into the night when Lazuli decided to go to Vegeta. It had been nearly three weeks since Bulma’s death and Vegeta had been so broken when he returned home that despite her intense dislike for him already, Lazuli was moved to go to him to offer him some form of comfort… if he would allow it.
She knocked softly on the door of his room; they had taken to sleeping in separate bedrooms as soon as they had returned and she preferred it that way despite her loneliness and lingering desire to please him. He was a monster and she had vowed to herself to never let him touch her again. However with Bulma having deceased, maybe this was the opportunity they both were given to try again.
Lazuli felt no joy or elation at the knowledge that her sister in law had perished. She felt empty inside, her heart broke for her poor brother and she wished now more than ever that she could have been there for him but unfortunately, she couldn’t be. Her own choices had alienated her from what was left of her family and she knew she had no one to blame but herself. Vegeta was all she had now and if the distraction of Bulma being removed permanently was possibly all he needed to see her. Perhaps now he would be willing to let her in and see that she as just as appealing than Bulma was, if not more so.
She was still only eighteen years old. She was thin and lithe, very delicate and feminine in build. Her beautiful blonde hair complemented her fair, porcelain, nearly flawless complexion and her blue eyes popped, making her look like a some sort of Greek siren or goddess that there were songs and stories written about such beauty as hers. In appearance, Lazuli was picture perfect and she knew it. She had been the talk of the town and the desire of every man she had ever come across, all waiting for her to come of age. Yes, she could have chosen any one of them, but she had chosen him. And had lived to regret it mere hours after she had bound herself to him.
He treated her with such cool distain that she could not believe she had been so naïve to believe that he was decent at any point. Even their wedding night had been unpleasant to say the least. He had been hasty in consummating their union, ensuring she had no legal or spiritual loophole to leave him.
He had been flirtatious with her on their way to the Chapel, had acted as though he could not keep his hands off of her despite his verbal warnings that he was not what she truly wanted. She had been so confused!
The way the man had touched her and kissed her had been the exact opposite of his words and shouldn’t that have meant something? Didn’t actions usually speak louder than words?
He had been tender and affectionate with her until the moment after they had been together the first time. She recalled it now, and brushed away her tears. She supposed he had not been that terrible, she amended. However it hadn’t been her name he had cried out at his completion. She had thought it odd that he simply had refused to look at her or make eye contact with her while making love to her, if that was what it could be called, she scoffed bitterly to herself.
He had been more or less considerate of her untouched condition in the beginning and she had not minded too much his harshness. It had turned her on… until he had cried out Bulma’s name.
She had cried the rest of the night, feeling cheap and dirty, knowing he had only used her and now she was stuck with him. Of course, he had berated and had been put out by her emotional display, completely unfeeling, unapologetic and unsympathetic towards her. It had definitely not been the wedding night she had always dreamed about.
The following night he had her again and his roughness again had been a turn on despite her desire for gentleness and affection from him. She had hoped that if she gave into him easily, letting him do what he wanted with her, he would grow to love her. She had been wrong.
He’d bent her over and had his way with her hard and fast. His hands pinching her instead of delicately kneading the way she would have liked. However she still felt herself being pushed towards the edge of pleasure despite the roughness he inflicted upon her. She had come almost violently that time and yet he continued to pound into her relentlessly until his own completion took over. She had climaxed twice in the time it had taken him to finally spend himself.
The next day she had felt like she had been hit by a freight train, but did not utter a single complaint. He did not touch her that evening however.
The evening after that, they had found themselves staying at an expensive inn in a beautiful town with a romantic, picturesque backdrop. She had come to him, trying to instigate a romantic interlude only to have him cruelly reject her. He had left the room and she had cried herself to sleep. He had returned a few hours later, drunk, and came on to her, she had thought by way of apology because he had been so tender and gentle with her in a way had not been previously.
She had accepted him willingly, letting him touch and caress her into such a frenzy she had truly believed that he had been sorry for his previous actions and treatment of her. His mouth and hands doing things to her she would not have even dreamed of. Even now, thinking of that night made her shiver. Just knowing he was capable of such passion and tenderness made her determined to not give up hope on him.
He had kissed and stroked her and had made her climax before he had even removed his own clothing. Afterwards, he had held her and kissed her, keeping her simmering before proceeding. That was the kind of love and physical intimacy she had always dreamed of having in a husband.
When she finally cried out his name, it was like the spell had been broken. He sobered up and realized who he was with. He halted his movements and looked down at her with a look that had made her feel unworthy.
She’d reached for him, determined to not allow him to ruin the night. Despite her efforts, he withdrew from her immediately and got dressed hastily, without a word or glance at her. For a second time that night, she cried herself to sleep.
The next morning, she awoke to find him sitting quietly on the other side of the room, facing the large, open window. He was deep in thought and did not move to acknowledge her when she stirred, but she knew that he knew she was awake.
“I cannot love you,” he said quietly in an ice, calm tone that made her shiver and not in a good way. “I have tried and I simply cannot.”
Anger instead of grief flared up inside of her at his rejection. He had not even the decency to look at her when he said what he had!
“And why do you all of a sudden find me so detestable to you when before you could not keep your hands or eyes off of me?” she demanded, wrapping herself in a sheet and marching up to him.
He shrugged in response.
“No, you don’t!” she snarled at him. “I deserve some kind of explanation! Do you have any idea what I gave up for you? I left my home, I left my brother, the only family I have left for you!”
“I am aware of all of that and it was obviously a foolish error on your part.” he said nonchalantly as though it were no big deal.
“I thought you cared for me!”
“You thought wrong,” he replied coolly. “Your foolish naïve, girlish notions clouded your judgement.”
“What about everything you said to me?” she objected as she began to cry again.
“I told you that I was undesirable, a selfish man out for my own best interests, a man lacking honor that you would be wise to steer clear of,” he reminded her. “Yet you chose to ignore my warnings and find them amusing rather than seeing the truth. I never hid my true nature from you, you only chose not to see it. Even Bulma warned you to stay away from me and you did not listen.”
“Bulma,” she sneered bitterly. “The one you want but cannot have. At least she was smart enough to see that you are no good and made a better choice,”
In the blink of an eye he had her by the throat and slammed her into the wall. “You will never speak of her again,” he growled between grit teeth.
“Oh, but you can speak her name while in the throws of passion with me!” she boldly shot back at him, wincing in anticipation that he may strike her. “How hypocritical of you!”
He let her go before his anger got the better of him and he did something stupid.
“I do not know what she sees in you as a friend but I suspect you’ve made her question her loyalties to Lapis. I’ve noticed the way you both look at each other!” she continued on, not realizing that he had been very close to seriously injuring her. “She holed herself up in her own room for days, keeping herself away from my brother, her husband, because of you! If you tried to get her to leave, she didn’t. She stayed but I chose you! This is the treatment I get in return?”
“Get dressed,” he said coldly to her, walking towards the door. “We leave shortly,”
Too angry to cry, she got herself dressed and ready to leave as quickly as possible. The rest of their four month trip was spent in cold silence between them while Vegeta dragged her all over the place, conducting business and checking on his many investments while Lazuli remained depressed and alone, regretting her choice and missing her brother and Bulma terribly. He did not attempt to touch her again.
They had returned to the news of Bulma’s severe illness and within a few days Vegeta managed to visit her, and she had finally passed away. Since her funeral, he had kept himself away from everyone.
Lazuli picked the lock and stepped into the dark room, making sure to lock it again behind her, keeping Tien’s warning in mind. He had told her in one of his drunken ramblings that he carried a pistol on him and checked Vegeta’s door every night in the hopes that he might once leave his door unlocked so that he could end him for all he had put his family through. She wasn’t entirely sure he would be capable in the state he kept himself in, but she did not doubt his intentions.
It was dark and eerie in the room. The drapes were drawn and she knew this had been Bulma’s room while growing up. She ignored her jealousy and cautiously approached him. He was in her bed, asleep seemingly.
“Vegeta,” she said softly, sitting next to him and placing a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. “Vegeta I am so sorry,”
“Why?” he asked hoarsely and she could tell then that he’d been weeping. “Why have you left me, Bulma?”
Lazuli grit her teeth at the mention of the other girl’s name. Why was it that she could not escape her? She chose not to reply, even though she had a thousand cutting remarks for him. She knew, however that it would not make any difference. Nothing she could say to him would hurt him or bring him down lower than he possibly already was. Nor would it give her any satisfaction to hurt him or take pleasure in his pain. She had lost a sister as well. She may have been jealous of the emotional hold Bulma had over him, but that wasn’t Bulma’s fault. He was obsessed, and only he could change that.
“I told you to not leave me here,” he said harshly. “Our souls are the same and you are the other half of my soul. How can I go on without half of my soul?”
She shush-ed him as she took him in her arms, a bit unnerved that he was so lost in grief that he had not figured out that he was not speaking to Bulma or a reincarnation of her.
“I knew you would haunt me,” he said after several minutes, her hair began to stand on end at his current mental state. “You said that I broke your heart and killed you. Please, haunt me every hour of every day until it is my time to join you.”
“No,” she said softly, trying to think of something Bulma would say; she had no idea what to do and was frightened he would be enraged if she made her true identity known to him in the state he was in. “You must live your life. That is what I want for you. Not to haunt you.”
“I insist,” he said, touching her face.
She felt her stomach flutter with desire at his touch, innocent as it was, and she drew his face towards hers, kissing him lightly. She half expected him to balk at her and strike her, but he didn’t. He kissed her back. Slowly at first, savoring the feel and taste of her lips on his. “Make love to me, Vegeta,” she said to him against his mouth, not caring that it wasn’t her he would be making love to. She just needed to feel loved from him. Even if it was once and under this pretense. “Make love to me the way we never had the chance to.”
He growled affirmatively at her request, moving away from her to remove his trousers and she quickly removed her clothes before he practically pounced on her. His mouth dominated hers, kissing her more deeply than she’d ever been kissed in her life.
She gasped for air as his mouth left hers and began to travel down her neck and collar bone, nipping, kissing and licking a trail down to her left breast. He took the nipple into his mouth and began flicking it with his tongue as he sucked on it until it was swollen and standing erect. He moved on to the other one to do the same as he parted her legs and stroked her gently a few times before inserting a finger inside her and began playing with her.
She mewled in pleasure as he continued this pleasurable assault on her body, eventually inserting a second finger as he covered her mouth with his own again, swallowing her moans of pleasure and taking delight in the way her body moved against his own.
Lazuli was too lost in pleasure to care about the origin of it and could scarcely believe that the man who was currently on top of her was the same angry man she had married and had taken to her bed. It was like he was a different man completely at the moment but she didn’t care.
She cried out finally as she came on his hand. She ran her fingers through his thick hair as she bucked her hips against his hand, wanting to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible.
As the waves began to subside, she reached down to grip him and slowly pulled on him. She sat up, pushing on his shoulder with her other hand until he leaned back. “Your turn,” she said as she began to pleasure him with slow strokes.
He grunted as she continued, his breaths becoming shallow. He threw his head back as he revelled in her ministrations. By this point he had caught himself in mind and he was very well aware that it was Lazuli he was with, but he closed his eyes and thought of Bulma anyway. He thought of every time they had kissed and touched and the number of times they had very nearly crossed the line of propriety and wished now more than anything that they had. Even if he could have had her just once.
He took her hand away from his manhood and lifted her a little, settling her on his lap, filling her up slowly, inch by inch until he was buried deep inside of her. He held her there, close to him a moment before letting her go and she began to rock her hips into his.
She bent down and kissed him as she moved with him, loving the way his hands gently caressed over her back and shoulders soothingly.
He finally wrapped an arm firmly around her waist as he moved to lay her back down on the mattress and moved slowly and deeply inside of her.
They took their time with one another, both equally taking and giving, making love slowly and sensually until they were both satiated.
To her delight, he did not utter Bulma’s name once and for the first time since they had been married not only did she fell asleep in his arms, but she felt content.
She woke up the next day with his arms still around her, holding her close. He was awake she realized as she felt him absent mindedly stroking her arm. She turned in his arms and her smile faded as she noticed the sullen look on his face and she knew despite her best intentions, last night had been a mistake.
It had been a mind blowing, pleasurable, beautiful mistake, but a mistake nonetheless.
“I was only trying to help,” she said quietly, fearful now that he would be angry with her for deceiving him in the deplorable mental condition he had been in the previous evening.
“I knew it was you,” he replied blandly. “I am not so stupid as to have not noticed.”
“Then last night, did it mean anything?” she asked, letting hope bloom in her heart that maybe last night had been the start of something positive for them. It had been too good to have not meant anything. “I initially thought you had been making love to her.”
“I was,” he answered, his face stony. “I did.”
She nodded as she swallowed what felt like a lump of sand scratching its way down her throat.
“You were a willing vessel. I merely took what you were willing to give,” he said cruelly. “I will not say last night was not good, however do not ever pretend to be her again and no not come in here again without my permission.”
Lazuli bolted out of his bed as though she had been physically burned by him. “Why can you not appreciate and see what it is you have right in front of you!” she cried, trying to not become borderline hysterical in her hurt state. “You would rather make love to a ghost? Look at me!”
He scoffed cruelly at her as he looked at the picture on the wall of Bulma. She’d have been about seventeen years old when it would have been painted. He had studied it for hours since he had returned here. The likeness to Bulma was very close and was all he had left of her. To anyone else, it was a perfect portrait; the artist had nicely portrayed the slight point of her nose and got the shape of her top lip perfect. To him however, they had missed the mischievous slight upturn on the sides of her mouth when she smiled and they had not been able to capture the fire in her eyes that was so apparent to anyone who had ever met her. Even the shade of blue they had used was slightly off from what her true hair color had been, but at least they had gotten her skin and eye color correct and all in all, it was an excellent portrait of her.
“I said look at me!” Lazuli cried again. “Not at that stupid painting!” she spat, walking over to the wall with every intent of taking it off the wall and destroying it.
“Don’t you dare!” he snarled, vaulting out of bed and across the room so quickly, it was almost in one fluid movement. He grabbed her around her waist and tossed her onto the floor with little care if he hurt her or not.
“You’re sick!” she screamed at him. “Sick and twisted and disgusting!”
“That was not the impression I got from you last night when you came to my bed like a needy whore,” he said nastily, bearing down on her.
“I only wanted to comfort you,” she explained as she began to sob. Her anger at this point replaced by fear. “I thought…”
“What? You thought now that she is gone that maybe I would forget about her and replace her with you?” he sneered.
“Not forget, no,” she shook her head as she cried. “Just give me a chance!”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“Because we could be so good together if you would just let me in!” she insisted. “If you loved as deeply as you hate, and I know you are capable of love; I felt it last night, Vegeta. You can love so much more than you hate and it could be so beautiful instead of this ugliness. Just give me a chance, give us a try! ”
“You could never come close to her,” he snorted, getting up and away from her as though being close to her in the nude was now appalling to him.
“Then why?” she asked as she cried. “Why would you marry me if you knew you could never he happy with me!”
“Because marrying you was the only thing I could think of doing at the time to hurt your damned brother!” he admitted. “I cannot torture him, so I will have to settle on torturing you!”
“Me?” she asked, pausing a moment to grab the bed sheet to cover herself from his view. She felt ashamed and very self-conscious now in front of him. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this? I was nothing but kind to you. I was kind while Bulma flaunted Lapis in your face and yet you fawn all over her! Why do you treat me this way? You loved her, so be angry at them!”
“You share the same ghostly facial features, I cannot look at you without seeing him!” he admitted. “Therefore you are close enough.”
“Well, if you recall, Baba said that you broke Bulma’s heart by marrying me. Blame yourself and remember that had you not seduced me, she might be alive today!”
He took a glass ornament off the nearest shelf and threw it at the wall in a fit of rage and she winced as it shattered all over the place, thankful that he had not thrown it at her. “Get out,” he said finally without looking at her.
He didn’t have to tell her twice. Lazuli had never felt so dirty and degraded in her life. She wrapped herself firmly in the loose bedsheet, grabbed her clothes and exited the room as quickly as humanly possible in her need to get as far away from him as quickly as possible.
She locked herself in her own room down the hall from his and went straight to bed to cry.
-0-0-0-
Vegeta sighed heavily at the memory of their very brief union. If he had known it would upset Bulma to the point of putting her own life at risk, he would have never gone to that extreme to get back at Lapis.
From what he recalled, Lazuli had left him later on that day or the next day; he did not know. Not only did he not care, but he had not been in the state to notice. Lapis had still refused to take her in and so she had relocated herself to London where she had birthed his son.
Apparently he had gotten her pregnant that night. He had not known where she had gone or that he’d even had a son until seventeen years later, when he had heard through local gossip that Lapis had a sickly orphaned nephew who had moved in with him a few weeks prior.
Doing some homework, it turned out that Lazuli remained on her own the rest of her days, raising and caring for her son, Tarble until she caught a case of the flu and passed. She’d had the foresight to write to Lapis before her death and begged him to take the boy in, which he had.
Of course, not wanting to miss an opportunity to pick on the poor man, Vegeta insisted he have full custody of his own son, whom he never knew existed.
The boy was a disappointment to say the least. He was weak and sickly and terribly coddled by his mother all his life.
Vegeta snorted in disgust that his own son would turn out to have more of his uncle in him than his own father. From what he’d been able to tell, the only thing the boy had inherited from him had been his good looks and nothing else.
He had arrived back at the heights by this time and out his old, cantankerous black horse away before going to check on Bulma’s horse, who did not seem to have improved much, if at all. Grabbing a lantern for light and warmth, he sat down next to the horse and took the journal out of his pocket.
He inspected in carefully before opening it up and gazing on the drawing she’d made of them; his mouth cracking in a small grin as he studied it, lightly tracing his fingers on the page, remembering the look of her handwriting; this was truly written by her and he saw it as a gift she had meant for him to find.
A moment later, he turned to the first page and began to read.
- 2
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Even Though Our Love is Doomed