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Wishes of the Fallen	By : SaiyanGirl Category: Dragon Ball Z > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 4331 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Title: Wishes of the Fallen

Author: SaiyanGirl (SaiyanGirl@Gmail.com)

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Goku/Vegeta, Vegeta/Goku, implied Goku/Chichi, implied Gohan/Videl, others are a surprise! ^_~

Warning: Language, Violence, a tiny bit OOC, Death, Angst, Yaoi, Graphic Lemon

Disclaimer: All copyrighted characters appearing in this story were created by Akira Toriyama, and appear without expressed permission. Any original characters appearing are the intellectual property of the author, SaiyanGirl.

Special Thanks: A HUGE Thank You goes to Katiefoolery for beta'ing this fic. She is absolutely amazing! Without her, this story would never have been worthy of posting!

Soundtrack for Chapter Five:

     Loreena McKennitt - Night Ride Across the Caucasus (The Book of Secrets, 1997)

     Massive Attack - Teardrop (Mezzanine, 1998)

All soundtrack selections are available on iTunes.

Please Note: For all Soundtrack Disclaimer information, please see The Prologue

Chapter Five - Reflection

     The warm air cooled Vegeta's face as his body flew mere feet above the trees, his familiar blue aura crackling around him. The trees washed by in a motionless blur of green and brown, their colors subtly changing as they bathed in sunlight. He barely noticed his own shadow as it swept across the changing landscape below, too quick to be seen by the unsuspecting eye. With the sun beating down upon his moistened back, the prince paid little mind to his surroundings, for the battle raging in his head had captured his full attention.
     'What in the fuck...?'
     Vegeta couldn't drag his thoughts away from his younger rival; his mind relentlessly replayed every detail of their encounter - taunting him, frustrating him. Through all the time he'd known him, Kakarott had always been full of surprises - but this morning had taken everything he'd known about the Saiyan and thrown it away. Time after time he'd been proven wrong by him, bested in power by him, been driven to the threshold of insanity by him - but now... now he had no idea what to think of Kakarott.
     He mindlessly blinked a drop of sweat out of his eyes, the trail going unnoticed as it coursed along his cheek before flying off into the morning sky. Instinct alone was guiding him back to the Capsule Corp. compound - his consciousness was too busy waging war with his mind to pay attention to anything else.
     Images floated and clashed within his memory - all of them surrounded by the sights and scents of Kakarott. His vicious attacks, liquid parries, the way he evaded his invisible foe with such grace - techniques so complex, yet brutally simple. They were hellacious, even for Saiyan combat, relentless in their onslaught - Kakarott was putting so much force into every move. And yet, all the while he looked as if he were dancing! His movements were light and serene - Hell, he was waging war. His efforts in their last true fight were nothing compared with what he saw - he was overflowing with energy. Such raw power and refined ki, mastered in what could only be described as moving... art.
     It was awe-inspiring.
     'How could he not know!?'
     At that moment, he could care less about Kakarott being able to defeat him in battle - the fact that the Saiyan couldn't remember any his actions was far more troubling. The very idea of a Saiyan that powerful not being in control of his actions was horrifying to say the least. He could tell Kakarott wasn't lying either - he was a pathetic liar to begin with. But the very sight of his body, the sound of his voice - even in the face of death had he hadn't looked so hopeless. Vegeta brought an image of Kakarott into focus, a pleading look on his face as he stood stricken with worry. It was almost as if Kakarott was scared...
     Scared?
     Vegeta frowned at the landscape passing under him as the thought echoed in his head. Scared of what? Scared of possessing such an amazing power? To be able to control and wield such power at will would be glorious! His fists clenched at the thought of being able to harness such power - the temptation was irresistible. He had to get to the bottom of this - if not for Kakarott's sanity, then for his own sake.
     And it all came down to that damned stance. The image of Kakarott standing defiantly as the sun washed over him was a sight Vegeta could not jar from his memory. He'd looked so determined, so damned proud of himself - as if he were demanding admiration from all who would look upon him. And yet, his face was without expression - he was as calm as he was still.

     'What the hell was he doing?'
     The sight had stirred feelings within him which he couldn't explain - some hidden instinct had called him towards the younger Saiyan, drawing him forward. His powerful scent had wrapped around him, flowed over his skin and lit his senses ablaze. The sight of his glistening body alone was arousing enough, but the form in which he stood made Vegeta's heart jump into his throat. Never had he felt such a force of attraction to anything or anyone...
     And then there was the vision that had overtaken him - the image he swore he'd been led to as Kakarott embraced him. But why? Why had he recognized a piece of black armour he'd never seen before?
     'What the fuck could be so important about armor?'
     He was adamant that he'd never seen such a thing before. The armor worn by Saiyans seldom had wrist bracers which protected the forearm, but he'd never seen anything designed so... elegantly. Not even elites, the best of the best had anything like that. The most prestigious of armor was reserved for them and it was accented by whites and golds - there were no glossy blacks or silvers.
     But... if he'd remembered it, then he must have seen it before. Somewhere... but where? And when? When could he possibly have been such a beautiful piece of material? Before his home had been destroyed? Before he'd been marooned on this planet?
     "Fuck!" The word rolled off Vegeta's tongue as his confusion mixed with his growing frustration, the never-ending cycle of recent memories beginning to manifest itself as anger.
     'Why now? Why suddenly today? What the fuck is so important about today?'
     His voice took command of his mind as question after question bounced off the walls of his skull. Why did things always have to revolve around Kakarott? The Gods were mocking him, just as they had since first bringing him to this godsforsaken rock. They'd made him kill the last Saiyan he'd known from his home, and brought him to his knees in the face of third class inferiority as punishment. Why else would they empower his rival with unimaginable strength and ki, making him irresistible in the eyes of others, if not simply to mock him? They wouldn't be satisfied until Kakarott defeated him in every way imaginable.
     "Godsdamn you, Kakarott... Why must you do this to me?"
     The confession was barely above a whisper, but the passing winds failed to scatter the sound into silence. He couldn't fly fast enough to escape the words; just hearing them was enough to silence the chaos in his mind.
     Kakarott... He had been awe-inspiring - sparring violently the wind, twisting, bending, refusing to stop or even slow down. Had he even been aware of how he looked? How Saiyan he was as he threw himself into his training? His pathetic human friends would have fled from him, fearing for their lives, if only they had seen him. The power, the lack of compassion, the ferocity, the scent - oh Gods, that scent! He burned with the need to feel it course through him once more...
     Even if he was an idiot most of the time, he was a fine example of the Saiya-jin race. Tall, a strong build without being too bulky and hair as wild as his own - Kakarott was fast as the winds and tough as stone. It was as if his young rival had burst forth from mythology - the way the sun highlighted the contours of his rigid curves, the way his enticing scent wreaked pleasuring havoc on Vegeta's senses, the touch of his soft skin, the feeling of his hard body pressed against his own...
     "Fuck!!" How could he possibly think such things right now? His own disgust stabbed him in the gut at the thought Kakarott might have noticed what had happened - he would never look at him with respect for as long as they lived. The very fact that he'd lost control in the first place infuriated him. It was bad enough to be forced to resist that which was irresistible... Gods - after the morning he'd had, he'd need one hell of a cold shower to cleanse him of his weakness.
     As the farmers' fields gave way to small housing clusters and the lifeless grays of the city streets, Vegeta could tell he was almost home. Home - he didn't know where home was. He was marooned on a planet of weaklings, denied the palace he so rightfully deserved. When the woman had invited him to live with her in her compound, his acceptance had been based partly on the size and prestige of the complex itself - it was the nearest thing to a palace this planet had to offer. But it wasn't his home... his home didn't exist any more.
     He slowed as he spotted the Capsule Corp compound, the main building shining like the crown jewel of the company's empire. Some distance away stood his newly expanded gravity room, complete with a modestly sized sphere adjacent to the intimidating dome - his present for saving the world. When his son became old enough to attend schooling, he'd moved out of her home to allow the woman the freedom she deserved, but had remained close by to ensure his son's proper upbringing.
     Descending quickly as to avoid rousing any unwanted attention, Vegeta's boots met the manicured grounds with a subtle thud. The courtyard was lined with various flowers and shrubs, their bright colors brought to life as the sun illumined the expansive fields of finely cut grass. The care and effort taken in such menial tasks was a lasting testament to his son's grandmother. She'd always been out in the gardens while her husband and daughter slaved away in their laboratories - the least they could do was ensure her efforts were preserved upon her passing. As he neared a doorway into the main house, Vegeta glanced to nod at the marble memorial stones of Bulma's parents, a sign of respect his pride demanded he honor every time he passed.
     Vegeta pushed the glass door as he stepped in, sighing as he felt the familiar rush of cold air wash over his heated skin. He passed through the vacant room, padding past casual leather furniture against brightened walls, his footsteps cushioned by the navy carpeting. Entering the hallway, the quiet hum of the air conditioning provided a background to the much louder step of his boots on the darkened hardwood.
     Following the hallway as it curved to the left, Vegeta emerged in the kitchen of the Briefs' home. The mundane whites of the hallway quickly gave way to the accented blues of the kitchen walls, highlighted by the sunny glare reflecting off the chrome trim of the appliances. The kitchen seamlessly flowed into the main living area of the house, the transition from blue kitchen flooring into white carpet being the only indication. Plush couches arranged around an in-wall stereo cabinet and a wall-mounted TV left the room open for easy access - advantageous for when parties went south of the sobriety line.

     A lone vase filled with red flowers sat upon one of the limestone countertops, immediately seizing Vegeta's attention.
     'Feh... another one...'
     Dragging his eyes away from the card which sat ruffled within the bouquet, Vegeta lazily reached for a door of the fridge. He grabbed an unopened bottle of water, twisting the cap off as he pushed the door shut with his tail. Bringing the bottle to his lips, he closed his eyes as the water flowed down his throat, cooling his heated muscles.
     As Vegeta turned to head back down the hallway, he was stopped by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. A nearby clock read 7:52am - still too early for his son to be leaving for school. Smirking to himself, Vegeta leaned quietly against the fridge, listening to the sounds traveling down the hall from the front entryway.
     He almost laughed at the pathetic attempts made by the two Humans as they tried to remain subtle - the nervous shuffling of their feet, muffled laughs and voices on the stairs. Hearing the front door slip open, he noted how it wasn't closing nearly as fast as it should have.
     "Mmm... have a good day, dear!" Her voice was intentionally quiet, but remained light and cheerful.
     "Heh, you too, sweets."
     'What a loser...' Vegeta rolled his eyes as he heard the deeper voice - the guy sounded about as smart as some of his son's friends from school; the shy awkwardness in his voice was impossible to miss.
     And that's when he heard it - the unmistakable sound of lips touching and quickly separating.
     'Tch. At least he's got one thing right...'
     Vegeta remained leaning against the fridge as he heard the door close, swallowing another mouthful of water before she'd find him. He could hear her footsteps softly make their way down the hall, easily sensing lightness in her step. Eyeing a slender leg as it came into view, he didn't waste any time.
     "Another late meeting?"
     Bulma shrieked, jumping backwards as she stared wide-eyed at him. He smirked, satisfied at her reaction.
     "Shit, Vegeta! Don't do that!" She yelled at him with an embarrassed look on her face, playfully pressing her hands on the damp fabric covering his thick chest - vainly attempting to push him away.

     He raised the bottle again, swallowing more of the cold liquid as he walked towards the flowers sitting on the counter.
     "I'll never understand you women and your obsession with these things," he said, dismissively rolling a stem between his fingers.
     Bulma threw herself between him and her new flowers, placing a protective hand on the white glove of the Saiyan prince. "Hey! Be careful! These are nice ones..."
     Vegeta scoffed. Releasing the stem, he turned his attention to the half-naked beauty before him. Long flowing hair accented her crystal-blue eyes, cascading over a light pink night robe covering slender shoulders. The sash at her waist hung lazily, the untied bands continuing to her knees while the robe barely covered the sexy curves of her ass. The outfit left very little to fantasy, the fabric barely able to cover the breasts it so desperately tried to hide.
     "So what's this one's story?" He subtly eyed her line of cleavage as the words escaped his throat. He'd learned some time ago that whenever this happened, he'd have to take control of the conversation or risk listening to her drone on about every meaningless detail - it annoyed the hell out of him.
     "Oh, come on, Vegeta." She turned to face him, her brow shifting in annoyance. "Give me a little credit."
     "Tch, you used to date that pussy Scar-boy. Do you really expect anyone to give you credit after that?"
     "I used to date you too."
     Damn - she was in a fiery mood today. The smirk on her face was to die for. She could fight like no woman on the planet, never showing fear, never faltering in the face of his verbal lashings - she had the fire and passion of a Saiyan. It was that fire that led him to choose her as the mother of his first born - an honor of which no other Human woman would have been worthy. But a Saiyan she was not, and that made it impossible for him to love her as she deserved.

     "Bah." Vegeta rolled his eyes, glancing at the ceiling for a second before his attention was once again snared by the vibrant reds perched atop the vase.
     But that was as far as their relationship went - hell, it was as far as it could go. He had never wanted to hurt her, but he never wanted to lie to her, either. After the first time they'd made love, he'd told her it'd be impossible for him to love another like he would a Saiyan mate. The barriers between their species were too great to overcome. It was as impossible for him to become her husband as for her to become his mate. And yet, she allowed him to remain, holding almost no animosity towards him. She was the mother of his son, which made her an important part of his life. He would always care for her, watch over her - he would never show it, but she knew... he made sure she was safe.
     "For your information," her voice was saturated with attitude, a hand instantly shooting to rest upon her hip, "I have a good feeling about this one..."
     "Tch." He gazed at her, unimpressed to say the least. Ever since she'd started seeing people, she'd failed to find anyone he'd approved of. Movie stars, business owners, sports players; if they weren't in it just to get a piece of ass, all they wanted was the fame of being attached to the most powerful woman on the planet. "Another one of your millionaire pool-boys?"

     She eyed him with discontent, the snide tone in his voice achieving what he desired. "Kiss my ass, Vegeta."
     "Gladly."
     A laugh forced its way from within her as she smirked back at him. Turning her back, she walked over to the fridge and pulled out a large blue container. "Make yourself useful and grab me a glass, would you?" Vegeta mentally rolled his eyes as he reached for a nearby cupboard, pulling a tall one from a collection of expensive glassware. She took it from him, quickly filling it with a thick pinkish liquid smelling sweetly of strawberries and exotic fruits.
     "His name is Darien." Her voice trailed off as she returned the container to the fridge.
     "Mmhmm..."
     "He saves people's lives." The pride in her voice was unmistakable.

     "Uh huh. How? By sitting behind a desk while his company makes pills for them to eat?" He loved toying with her - it was one of the few forms of amusement he had on this planet.
     "No, you idiot!" She always toyed right back. "He flies an emergency medical helicopter! When the ambulances can't get to people fast enough, he flies in and gets them to a hospital."
     "... And you bought that shit?" He was on the verge of laughing in her face. She hadn't fallen for any of that 'sick puppy' routine bullshit yet, but this was damned close.
     "Oh bite me, Vegeta. You don't think I'd check up on a guy before letting him into my house?"
     "Do I need to answer that?"
     "You didn't count." The snap in her voice was almost ferocious - it only added to his amusement.
     "Damn right I didn't," Vegeta snorted, eyeing her milky skin. Fifteen years - it hadn't changed one bit since the day he'd first wanted to fuck her. "A prince's title would be more than you'd need."
     "Mmmhmm..." Her eyes rolled as her smirk intensified, intentionally copying his earlier response. He hadn't seen her in such a good mood for months - she was almost glowing just standing there with a drink in her hands. She was as smug and defiant as ever - he was almost impressed by the display. Perhaps he'd need to meet this one...
     "How could you have possibly met a guy who flies around all d--" He snapped out the question, too late to take the words back. Now he'd done it - he'd asked the one question he knew never to ask. There would be no shutting her up now.
     "Oh my god! It was the weirdest thing!" She practically slammed the glass to the counter, freeing her hands to act as she talked. "I was out for lunch the other week, and while I was on the phone yelling at that dumbass Phelps for fucking up the last batch of product quality tests, I went into this -"
     Vegeta finished off the last of the water in his hands and placed the bottle on the counter, having stopped listening after all three seconds. Raising his arms above his head, he locked his fingers as he stretched his cooling body, cracking his neck to one side. He couldn't help but smirk as the sound of her voice disappeared, the look on her face quickly becoming one he cherished. His training outfit intentionally fit him like a second skin for stability reasons, but he knew the tight fabric showed off his physique almost perfectly - even more so as he stretched.
     As he returned his arms to his sides, he could see her composure slowly returning. She'd quickly raised her glass to her face - he could have sworn she was trying to hide a blush. He hid a sly smirk, noticing distinct change in color in her face as she lowered the glass from her lips - she was hiding her reaction.
     "Vegeta, you need a freaking shower!"
     A growl rumbled through his chest - he'd managed to put Kakarott to the back of his mind for a few minutes, but her words had completely destroyed that effort; his mood along with it. He snatched up the empty bottle and walked over to the recycling machine, ignoring her pronounced sigh.
     "God, do you have to work out so hard in the morning? You better not have busted the generator again..."
      "Bah - check the logs, woman. I wasn't in there for long."
     "Yeah right! Then when the hell did that happen?"
     He wasn't in the mood for her attitude anymore. Turning to face her accusing stare, he narrowed his eyes. "Can't you figure that one out for yourself?" he sneered. "I was outside. It's actually hot for once. See a connection there?"
     She dismissed his insult as she finished the last of her juice. Watching as she set her glass down, he could tell she was about to fire right back at him, but suddenly stopped herself. He'd recently sensed his son's approach, but now they could both hear his voice traveling from atop the stairs in the entryway.
     "Ugh, damnit. Why did I ever buy that thing for him?"

     Vegeta leaned against the countertop, smirking as the woman frantically tied the sash around her waist; repeatedly checking to make sure no skin under her neck was visible. He could clearly hear his son's voice over his footsteps as he came down to the ground floor.
     "Yeah!... Oh, no way, babe!... Oh come on, you gotta be kidding me!"
     More women - the pitch of his voice was a dead giveaway. Vegeta mentally grit his teeth at the thought - his son was constantly surrounded and distracted by stupid little girls who had nothing better to do with their lives. He'd gotten even worse after his mother had bought him that godsdamned phone.
      "Oh, no way! Hahahaha! Are you serious? Damn, girl, that's sick!"

     He nearly seethed as the puerile vocabulary of Human adolescence assaulted his ears - he could swear the very sound made his head hurt.
     Trunks strutted into the kitchen with his backpack slung over one shoulder, a pair of sunglasses hanging over his nose. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his shorts, bunching up the buttoned shirt which draped over his teenage body - the white and green fabric had to be at least three sizes too big for him. The sandals on his feet clapped loudly against the tile floor while a small grey device with a flashing blue light was hanging off his ear. He looked more like he was off to waste his time at the beach, rather than going to the school as his mother wanted.
     It was bad enough he was abusing her wealth, but it was starting to go to the boy's head - and it pissed Vegeta off. He couldn't stand how his son was slowly becoming more Human with every passing day; neglecting his training, refusing to eat right, becoming lazier with every passing second...
     "Morning, dear..." His mother greeted him with her usual cheery smile while washing her glass out in the large sink.
     "Okay, now you're just being dramatic! Chill out, babe, it's all good!"

     And then there was the attitude.

     Vegeta seethed at his son's blatant dismissal of his mother's greeting, instantly pushing himself off the counter.
     "Brat!" His voice managed to stir his son's attention away from the mind-numbing clucking expressly connected to his young brain. Trunks looked over at him, and seemingly forgot just exactly whom he was looking at.
     "Give me a sec, I'm on the phone!"
     He acted as soon as the words entered his ears. Vegeta calmly approached his son and instantly removed the flashing device from his ear.

     "Hey! What the - " His voice was quickly silenced by the quiet electrical sizzle emitting from Vegeta's fist as he crushed the device in his hand. "What the fu- " He was lucky he stopped himself.
     Vegeta glared upon his son, refusing to allow such disobedience and disrespect. "'What the f- ,' what, brat? You think you can ignore your mother and then talk to me with such disrespect?" His voice was flat, but cold as ice, the underlying threat causing his son to visibly swallow whatever attitude he had from three seconds prior.
     "No, dad... I - I'm sorry." The stammer in his son's voice spoke louder than any words ever could.

     Turning, Vegeta moved away from his son and tossed the remains of the device into the recycler. "Feh. If you'd kept up your training, I wouldn't have been able to do that so easily now would I?" Trunks stood motionless, his face twisted in visible indecision between being defiant and allowing the point to sink in.
     When Vegeta turned to face his son again, he was almost surprised. Rummaging through his bag, his son pulled an identical device from a pocket and fixed it to his ear.
     'You've got to be fucking kidding me.'
     "Trunks, hurry up! I don't want you being late for school again!" Her voice made Trunks look at the clock, a teenage smirk quickly overwriting his alarm.
     "Oh come on, mom, I can still get there on time!"
     "I'd bet you can't." Vegeta's voice was much lighter; chastising, yet slightly supportive.
     Trunks beamed at him, the boy's eyes meeting his. "I'm not as old as you are, dad, I think I'll be fine." He didn't know whether to smack the kid or hug him. The boy was as defiant as he was, full of pride and audacity. It was an honor watching him grow up - it seemed as if he was becoming more like himself as he matured.
     "I expect you to be back here afterwards. I'm not letting you neglect your training anymore."

     As he turned to head towards the front entryway, his son raised his hand and waved over his shoulder. "Yeah, okay - I'll be here."
     He didn't get two feet down the hall before Vegeta heard the annoying sound of his son's cell phone.
     "Talk to me, babe!"
     He growled darkly, the sound failing to adequately express his annoyance. His son's mother rolled her eyes as he turned to face her, completely unphased by the glare he leveled at her.
     "What are you looking at me for?"
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Wishes of the Fallen