Chains
of Affection
by Syldana
Part 3
"You ready, Vejiita?"
Drawn out of his quiet reverie, the prince immediately turned his attention to
the tall Saiyajin. Vejiita had already finished his warm-up routine, yet as
he'd approached the end of it, he had found himself suddenly thinking about
Bulma, remembering one of the numerous times she had interrupted their sparring
sessions, that time to verbally berate him for forgetting some boring corporate
luncheon. He had not, of course, forgotten the damned thing; he had merely
refused to acknowledge it. Bulma had been less than pleased, as her lashing
tongue had quickly informed him. His response had been deplorable; he had
simply chosen to ignore her. That had set the woman off on a rampaging tangent
with fists clenching and curses flying.
Oh, Kami, how he had loved her! Her beautiful face, set with those wondrous
blue eyes that always sparkled with every little thing she was feeling. Her
stubborn, obstinate will, wielded with masterful cunning and precision to
bulldoze her way first into his life and later into his heart. Her unquenchable
spirit… Kami, how had she ever been able to put up with him? That was
what always got him in the end, the fierce love she had felt for him. No one
had ever loved him before. The prince hadn't even known he'd needed it, until
Bulma had given it to him so freely. Even then it had taken a long time, and
much loss, for him to be able to admit to such, even to himself. Admitting it
to her had been nearly impossible. Yet he had done it, and not only that. He
had bonded with her.
It had been some months after Bura had been born, when it had finally
occurred to him that he wasn't going anywhere, that he wanted to remain with
Bulma for the rest of his life. She had already borne him two children, and to
all outward appearances was already his mate. He had just never claimed her as
such, not in the Saiyajin sense. Not even in the human sense, but that had been
Bulma's doing, as well. She had never wanted any official ceremony, either.
However, when he had finally gotten around to asking her, her sparkling eyes
had grown enormous and her reply had been a resounding 'Yes!'. Then he had made
her his, truly his, entwining their souls together through the power of the
Saiyajin bonding process. Vejiita had never once regretted it; not even now
could he really do so, for to have experienced her glorious spirit like that,
he would gladly suffer an eternity of misery. As he had suffered so before her,
so it appeared he would suffer afterward. His eyes narrowed incisively on the
man eagerly awaiting his reply. At least there were still a few small pleasures
left to him.
"Of course I'm ready, baka," he declared, his inflection heavy
with scorn. For Vejiita, the battle had already started. Actually, it had never
really ended. It had begun over thirty years ago, and every day was merely the
continuation, whether fought physically or verbally. The battle between the two
of them was always ongoing, psychologically or otherwise, whether Kakarotto
acknowledged or not.
The other warrior grinned in anticipation, his excitement, as always, plain
for the whole universe to see. The prince could not fault that, for he was
Saiyajin also; he felt exactly the same way. Battle was life, and life was
battle. Over the years that truth had expanded, yet never altered.
Taking the sudden initiative, Vejiita charged. The need to feel that which
had always sustained him in the past, the heady rush of combat, the pure joy of
fighting, intermingled with the need to just plain hit something—hard.
The prince gave in to both urges without vacillation, aiming his fist straight
toward Goku's frank, smiling visage. The lightning-quick warrior sidestepped
it, of course, which was why the prince had already prepared his foot, smashing
it into the other Saiyan's ribcage with bruising force. Goku took the hit with
a grunt, then whipped his hands out to grab hold of his leg and yank him toward
the ground. Vejiita slammed hard into the awaiting turf, leaving a large,
cracked indentation. He swiftly countered by raising his arm to deliver a
bright blast of ki into the warrior's stomach, not doing much damage, but
knocking him back far enough to free himself. He immediately charged again.
They continued on like that, both on the ground and in the air, exchanging
quick, mighty blows, brilliant flashes of ki energy, and weaving gracefully,
flawlessly, through the deadly dance of combat. Vejiita silently reveled in the
grand majesty of it all. He was glad he had made the decision yesterday to
start fighting again; his experience with the fish, however minor, had been
enough to reawaken his Saiyan bloodlust and give him the resolve needed to
fulfill the powerful cravings it inspired. Besides which, he was rapidly
finding this continual drubbing on Kakarotto to be particularly therapeutic. He
should have thought of it days ago.
As the fierce duel wore on, Vejiita's senses, slightly dulled after so many
days of disuse, grew keen and shrewd once again, with every frenetic attack.
His body pulsated with stimulating energy as his honing senses focused sharper,
clearer, on the Saiyajin warrior beneath his pummeling fists, his eyes following
every move of Goku's swift, robust form, his ears picking up the tiniest change
in the man's breathing pattern, his nostril's inhaling the heavy, alluring
scent of—
BAM! The blow struck him rough and hard across the jaw line, and suddenly he
was hurtling out of control through the air, only to crash violently into the
ground with a resounding crack of thunder. Kuso! It was his first and only
thought as his wits slowly returned to him, along with an acute awareness of
physical pain.
"You okay, Vejiita?" he heard Goku say from somewhere above him.
The prince carefully opened his eyes to see the other warrior's face peering
worriedly down at him, his concern splashed openly across his fair countenance.
Vejiita breathed in deeply. Yes, there it was again.
"What the hell is that?" he accused gruffly, ignoring both the
inquiry and his unwelcome concern. Then he pushed himself to his feet and added
the weight of his most vehement glare to the question. Goku, however, merely
returned it blankly.
"What is what?" he asked in confusion.
"That scent," Vejiita clarified, narrowing his eyes sharply.
"Don't tell me you can't smell that!" he went on angrily, when the
fool's blank expression didn't waver in the slightest. "I don't know what
it is, but it is all over you! What did you do, dump some sort of
sweet-smelling perfume on yourself in order to distract me?"
Goku stared at him for another curious moment, his eyes wide and his
eyebrows raised in bewilderment. He lifted the front of his bright orange gi,
pressed it deliberately to his nose and sniffed, but then right afterward he
frowned and shook his head. Then he stuck his nose out and sniffed the air
around them. His round, black eyes lit up a moment later in sudden dawning
comprehension.
"Oh, that's not me, Vejiita," he said with a burgeoning smile.
"That's you!" The prince blinked in startlement.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded brusquely, irritated by
the fool's complete lack of perception. "That smell is definitely coming
from you!" And with that the prince stepped forward to verify the
assertion. He leaned in close to draw the scent deep into his lungs…
A red, fuzzy haze abruptly washed over him, wholly engulfing all senses,
totally eclipsing all lingering thought.
When next he became aware, he was standing within a strong circumference of
warmth, his hands tightly clutching the vivid orange fabric stretched over a
wide, powerful chest. His lips were locked securely on the damp, salty skin of
a burly neck, his tongue swirling slow, intimate circles on the warm flesh
beneath. And oh, Kami, it tasted good…
Slowly, Vejiita opened his eyes… and then instantly halted all movement. His
lips fell away from the sweet, ambrosial warmth as he tilted his head back to
gaze up into the dark, blinking eyes of Kakarotto, which were brightly alight
with astonishment, wonder, delight, and the early kindling of desire. And still
the tantalizing scent spiraled through his head, beclouding his mind, urging
him to wrap his arms about the large Saiyan's muscular body, urging him to—
His breath hissed inwardly, sharply, as Vejiita abruptly inhaled it through
his teeth. Oh, Kami! What was this? WHAT WAS THIS?!! A look of
wild, almost panicked dismay blazed across his features.
"It's okay, Vejiita," Goku said, upon seeing the look. "I
don't mind at all if you want to taste me." Yet his words merely sent the
prince into an all-out panic as they instantly brought to mind the man's
remarks from several days ago.
You just looked really nice lying there. You know… all peaceful like.
And I was trying to decide if I should wake you up for dinner, 'cause I'm
pretty hungry. But then—I don't know—I guess you started looking really good,
and you smelled real good, and I… I guess I just wanted to see if you
tasted good, too. That's all.
That's all. As if it was nothing, a simple breach of etiquette. Vejiita had
completely missed the significance of that plain, artless statement. Sometimes
it was easy to forget that Son Goku was Saiyajin, because he so rarely acted
the part. Yet now, the Saiyajin prince found himself all-too aware.
How can this be? he wondered in mute horror, still staring
dumbfounded into the luminous eyes of his longtime rival. How could he possibly
be having such a strong physical reaction to the man's presence? To Kakarotto's
presence? Rarely had he felt such a potent sexual craving as this. And that had
been for his mate, Bulma, and even then only after they had…
Vejiita's mind froze abruptly upon that terrible, straying thought. Then,
with a shiver of apprehensive dread, he sent his awareness desperately questing
into his own soul. Even as he did so, the memory of the past week paraded
wantonly through his mind, and this time the prince saw things in a different,
more illuminated light, things he had blindly disregarded before. Goku's
sudden, unnatural understanding of his feelings. His own far-too-hasty
acceptance of the larger man's invitation. The atypical ease the prince had
felt just being around him. And that kiss… oh, Kami, his reaction to that kiss!
And now this! He had practically hurled himself into the man's arms!
Still, it could not possibly be…
And then he felt it. Although, 'recognized it' would probably be a far more
accurate term. It was warm and pure and brighter than the sun, itself, and familiar—oh,
Kami, so damn familiar—and at the moment it was experiencing a giddy rush of
profoundly excited happiness. Vejiita's face went as white as death at the
unwelcome, inconceivable, and categorically appalling discovery. Oh, Kami-sama,
this was not happening…
"Vejiita?" the man queried with a frown, as his gaze roamed over
the smaller Saiyan's bloodless visage. "What's wrong?"
What was wrong? The prince nearly laughed aloud as a mad, irrational
hysteria threatened to bubble to the surface. THIS COULD NOT BE HAPPENING!!!
"K-K-K…" He faltered, then attempted to steady the sudden
turbulence that was vibrating through his body, shaking his vocal cords.
"K-Kakarotto," he managed finally. "C-can you feel… can you literally
feel, what I am feeling?" The larger Saiyan's head tilted sideways at the
question.
"Well… sure," he answered matter-of-factly, as if it was the most
natural thing in the whole world. Vejiita felt his body flush cold.
"Since when?" he whispered, his voice now utterly lost to him.
"Well…" Goku's eyes turned up to the sky a moment as he
thoughtfully pondered the question. "I guess since that day in the desert,
just after I saved your life."
"After y-you… what?" Vejiita blinked in absolute bewilderment. The
quaking in his bones was becoming more and more convulsive.
"After I saved your life," he repeated. "Don't you remember?
It happened just after Bulma died; you lost control and went Super Saiyajin
level three. Then, all of the sudden, your power-level just dropped, and then
your heart stopped. You were gonna die, too, if I hadn't pulled you back."
"Pulled me back?"
"Yeah. It was real bad, too. There was so much pain and hurt
surrounding you that it was all I could do just to reach you. I know that you
really wanted to die back then, Vejiita, but I just couldn't let you do
it."
The prince just gaped at him soundlessly for a long, contemplating minute.
Then, "Y-you… you reached for me… with your mind?"
"Yeah," he acknowledged with a nod. "I hoped that if I could
reach your spirit and hold you here, at the same time giving your body some of
my own ki, you might live. You resisted my attempt at first, but then you just
sort of drew me in. I'm just glad it worked," he said with a smile,
lifting his fingers to lightly caress Vejiita's cheek.
The prince was numb. Horribly, wretchedly, numb. Yet his insides were still
violently shuddering, screaming, screeching, that this was all some
dreadful, terrible mistake. Which it was. The only problem was, he
didn't seem to know how to make it disappear, how to undo it. He wasn't
even sure such a thing was possible. These things were… these things were
always… Kuso! There was no way to undo it! Kakarotto and he were… were…
"What have you done?" Vejiita whispered in quivering shock. The
hand fell away from his face as Goku's smile instantly evaporated. "Oh,
Kami, what have you done?!"
The larger Saiyajin was completely taken aback. "Well, I-I just—"
"You what?!" And just like that, the prince had regained
the full use of his vocal cords.
"I-I was trying to save your life!"
"By bonding me?!!" Vejiita shrieked in incredulous
disbelief. "Have you gone completely insane?!!"
"What—I don't—"
"You don't what?!" he roared, rage exploding like an
erupting volcano within him, blazing, blasting, churning, and totally out of
control. "You don't understand?! You stupid, brainless
bakayaro!!" With that, the prince shoved him away with as much force as
his trembling arms would permit. Goku landed several yards away,
unceremoniously on his backside. "You are Saiyajin!! You don't go mucking
around in another Saiyan's mind! Not without their permission! Not ever!!
Do you have any idea at all what you've done?! What you've done to me?!!"
His fury mounted with every blistering word. "Bonding is permanent,
you lame-brained freak!! I am the Prince of all Saiyajin, and you are a
third-class nobody!! How dare you claim me, kisama!! How dare you steal
what was only mine to give!! What I would never in a million years have
given to you!!!"
Vejiita's power burst into a flame of burning gold around him, his dark hair
paling to match, his eyes metamorphosing from unfathomable black to seething
teal. It was all the warning he gave the thieving bastard before launching
himself toward him like a rabid, angry animal intent only on ripping the man's
throat out. The truth was, Vejiita did know of one way to destroy the
bond…
The other Saiyajin was still sitting flat on the ground, gaping up at him
dumbly, when the prince spitefully buried his enraged fist in the man's
clueless face. Blood spurted and bones cracked under the brutal impact, and
Goku went flying backward from the tremendous force of the blow.
Goku lay upright, with the back half of his body embedded in the side of the
rocky mountainside located just a few miles from his home, and several hundred
yards away from where the prince had just punched him. The typically
good-natured Saiyajin was absolutely stunned, and not from the force of the
impact. Vejiita's emotions roiled around him with insurmountable fury, with a savagery
and severity that zealously quested for blood—his blood. What had
happened? He didn't understand at all. One minute they were sparring—which had
truly been exciting—the next, the prince was accusing him of wearing perfume,
when it was clearly Vejiita's scent that smelled so good it made Goku
want to nuzzle the other Saiyan just as he'd done that day on the sofa. And
then, out of the blue, Vejiita was nuzzling him, pressing his exquisite
body up against his own, his mouth and tongue doing such a marvelous dance
across the skin of his neck…
Oh, Kami, that had felt so good! His arms had gone round that firm,
sinewy body without even thinking, encompassing him thoroughly, pulling him
closer, closer; the need to… to… to just hold him, to submerge
himself in Vejiita's arms had been extraordinarily powerful.
But then, all of a sudden, there was this anger, this ferocious,
unholy wrath, that was searing out of Vejiita's gleaming eyes, out of his every
pore, and lashing out violently toward himself with malicious, murderous
intent. And it hurt. Oh, Kami-sama, it HURT! The hot, hate-filled rage,
besieging him from all angles, twisting sharply, excruciatingly, deep into his
soul. It was a torturous, mind-splitting offensive that Goku did not know how
to counter, for he had never experienced anything so painfully terrible before.
No mere physical attack could compare; the blow to his face that had sent him
smashing into the mountainside was nothing in comparison.
Goku did not understand it. He did not understand the words Vejiita had
flung at him so viciously. What was this bonding? What was—
Vejiita's fist struck again, without mercy, driving ruthlessly into his gut,
pounding his body deeper into the hard, stony mountainside. All the air rushed
out of his lungs. Kuso! He really meant to kill him! That staggering
realization carried with it a pain so harrowing, so horribly aggrieving, that
it began to tear into the very fiber of his being—ripping, shredding,
mutilating—completely obliterating all will to fight back. The Saiyajin prince
wanted to utterly destroy him… yet Goku could not find it within his heart to
harm him in return, could not find the strength of will to even defend himself.
"Vejiita…" he moaned, anguish permeating his voice, his eyes
lifting to wordlessly plead with the prince. His head snapped sideways as
another stinging blow descended to cut brutally across his cheekbone.
"Fight me, kisama!!" Vejiita snarled rancorously. "I am going
to grind you into dust and then blow you the hell out of my head!!" His
fist hammered into his stomach again, and again, and again, and again…
Blood began to fill the larger Saiyan's mouth, thick, warm, and
coppery-tasting. He tried to spit it out, but failed, gagging dreadfully, due
to the endless battering of Vejiita's powerful fists. The physical pain was
beginning to rival that of the intense mental agony. Oh, Kami… he was going to
die…
Vejiita… please…
His vision blurred, not only from the awful, biting pain, but from a sudden
wellspring of crystalline tears, his mind silently wailing in anguish and
mournful suffering. Then the tears broke free to trickle hot, bitter trails
down his cheeks…
The harsh pummeling stopped.
Slowly, Goku raised his dull, saturated eyes to see the prince glowering at
him with a fierce, sanguinary hatred, a single, gloved palm outstretched before
him, bloodstained, trembling, and locked stiffly into position for a lethal ki
blast.
Vejiita…
More tears spilled forth as he met the smaller Saiyan's dark, abominating
gaze with large, round eyes, eyes that silently begged for an end to it all.
Goku didn't even care how, he only wanted the monstrous pain and heartache to
come to an end. Now.
Please…
Vejiita glared in quaking fury as he stared down the arm pointed with deadly
accuracy at the blood-spattered Saiyajin crushed deep into the rock face before
him. The stupid bastard wasn't fighting back. That, of course, only pissed the
prince off even more, if that was possible.
"Fight me, damn you!!!" he roared again, his palm flaring with a
bright, malignant ball of death. Kakarotto merely looked at him with his wet,
glistening eyes that continually rained tears, that bore into his own with a
misery profound and unprecedented, that soundlessly, soulfully, pleaded with
him to stop. Then his head moved, slowly, agonizingly… no. He would not
fight.
The prince did not have to ask why. The answer was already thundering its
way through the bond—the damned, infuriating bond. Now that Vejiita recognized
it, the accursed thing was practically howling at him the hurt, confusion and
torment coursing through the wounded warrior before him. And worse… underlying
it all was a strong, unbreakable chain of affection. For Son Goku it was
already too late, he would not fight back because he could not. To a
Saiyajin, seriously assaulting a bonded mate was considered sheer madness, for
to hurt a bonded mate was to hurt oneself—literally. As Vejiita,
himself, was rapidly learning.
No!! He is not my mate!! He will never be my
mate!!! The ki energy in Vejiita's palm doubled, glowing even
brighter—reflecting brilliantly off the black, shimmering pools of Kakarotto's
anguished eyes…
Sheer madness.
The deadly, radiant energy dissipated into oblivion. For a long while, Vejiita
simply stared at the man, heaving great, quivering gulps of air into his lungs
as he wordlessly hovered before him.
"Damn you!" he cursed, his voice nothing more than a harsh,
grating whisper. "I will not accept this, kisama! Not ever! I will let you
live only because you are too stupid to defend yourself. Where is the challenge
in that? If you will not fight me, baka, then what is the point? Hn, there is
none. It is over. Do not ever come near me again." The prince held his
gaze for a moment, let his words sink in, let him read the finality that lay
indomitably within, and then turned to leave.
"Vejiita!" he cried out almost immediately. "Vejiita,
wait—"
"No, kisama!" he growled, rounding back on him. "I will not!
There is nothing more to say. There is nothing more between us."
"I don't understand!" he went on desperately, tearfully.
"What was I supposed to do? Just let you die?"
"Yes!!" Vejiita hissed. "You should have let me die!"
"But—"
"No!!" he cut him off. "No more! Hear what I say, Kakarotto:
It. Is. Over. There is no bond. This never happened. My feelings are my
own." And with that, Vejiita slammed the lid down on his mind with a
mental wrench of will, instantly damming the two-way channel of the bond as
best he could. It was not a clean, airtight seal—it never would be—yet it was
enough to halt the overwhelming flood of the other Saiyan's aching emotions.
Goku visibly flinched, then his visage paled and his tears began to fall even
more grievously.
"Do not ever come near me again," the prince repeated
coldly, then he turned once more and shot off like a rocket across the
cloudless morning sky. Through hot, scalding tears, Goku stared after Vejiita's
fading energy signature in paralyzed disbelief.
No… please…
Goku's eyelids scrolled painfully shut as the injured Saiyajin began to weep
even more profusely. His traumatized body, still jammed tightly within the
solid rock formation, began to shudder with the onset of deep, turbulent sobs.
Oh, Kami… Vejiita…
He was gone… oh, Kami, he was gone! Goku could hardly feel him anymore. The
strong, resonating emotions that had kept him constant company since that
fateful day in the desert, were gone, abruptly cut off by the infuriated
prince. And that was when Goku finally realized just what this bond was
that had enraged Vejiita so.
There is no bond. This never happened. My feelings are my own.
The prince had merely taken back what was rightfully his.
How dare you steal what was only mine to give!!
Had he done that? Had he stolen a part of Vejiita when he had so recklessly
tried to save him?
Do you have any idea at all what you've done?! What you've done to me?!!
What had he done to Vejiita? Had the prince been able to feel his
emotions? Had Vejiita retained a piece of him, as well? Not that it mattered
much anymore…
Bonding is permanent, you lame-brained freak!!
Permanent? Yes… he could still feel him, somewhat, if he truly concentrated
hard enough. It was way down there, deep within him; a slender, woven thread of
spiritual steel linked securely, immovably, to his own being.
I am the Prince of all Saiyajin, and you are a third-class nobody!! How
dare you claim me, kisama!! How dare you steal what was only mine
to give!! What I would never in a million years have given
to you!!!
A moan of insufferable agony rose up from the very core of his soul,
momentarily breaking through his gut-wrenching sobs, and was sent keening forth
into the lonely, desolate air around him.
Do not ever come near me again.
* * * * *
About a mile from the outskirts of the city, from the large, yellow-domed
rooftop of Capsule Corporation, Vejiita dropped from the sky to land hard on
the ground of a deserted hilltop. He immediately sank down to his knees, and
then his hands, his trembling fingers digging deep into the soft, grassy earth
beneath him. Kuso…
How? How could this have happened? How could Kakarotto—
A growl of unbounded fury churned raucously in his throat, as his lips
retracted over his teeth into a snarl of pure, unmitigated loathing. His hands
acrimoniously clenched the dirt into tight fists. Damn him! Damn him, damn
him, damn him, damn him!! He should have killed him! He should have torn
the bastard's fool head off, and then incinerated his stupid, mindless body so
the infernal gods could never, ever piece it back together again! He—
Vejiita groaned aloud, folded his arms across his middle and let his
forehead drop unceremoniously to the green, padded ground, as if doubled over
from pain. He couldn't do it. His rage had shattered all bounds, yet he could
not bring himself to kill the man. Damn him…
Kakarotto's pain had been excruciating in its severity. With hardly a
warning, Goku's mind-crushing distress had gone surging into the Saiyajin
prince with intolerable force, then had spiraled outward to every particle of
his being, making his nerve endings twitch as if Goku's pain had been his very
own. The aching reverberation had bounced ceaselessly through him, echoing
loudly throughout every seething chamber of his soul, until finally,
effortlessly, it had crumbled his lethal resolve, along with the luminous
instrument he had chosen for the man's death. The highly unwished-for sensation
had felt far-too familiar…
"Bulma," he whispered softly, miserably. She was his mate. She
was… and no other. Her pain had been his own, and he had helped her shoulder
that terrible burden with all the strength and love he'd possessed. Yet it had
not been enough to save her. In the end, he had been helpless to do anything but
watch her die. That moment—
A sharp, harrowing spike of agony rammed mercilessly into his heart,
instantly tearing a hoarse, lamenting cry from Vejiita's throat as the memory
burst forth to assault him violently.
—That moment Bulma's soul had been stripped from him had been horrendous,
horrifying, and the pain, utterly unendurable. Mindless in his grief, he had
called his power to him, attempting to fill the cold, infinite void, but there
just wasn't enough of it. There wasn't enough of anything! So he'd let go of it
all, surrendering himself and his power without a second thought to the dark
coils of death. He had reached for it with both hands…
…only to be yanked back by a bright barrier of light, arresting him,
encasing him, and then, finally, embracing him. And it had been so
gloriously warm…
It had offered him everything of itself, everything that it was, all its
luscious heat, all its brightness, all its ardent love and affection. So empty,
so horridly devastated, he had not even hesitated. He had eagerly drawn it
inside, deep into the inner core of his being, weaving it boldly into the
intricate pattern of his spirit, avidly filling the dark, cavernous void with
the pure, warm, blinding light of—
Vejiita sucked in a swift, shuddering breath. No… oh, Kami, no…
He had done it. HE had done it! Kakarotto had not stolen his soul; HE
had handed it over to the man on a silver platter—and with wholehearted relish!
In the attempt to save his life, Kakarotto had cluelessly offered him
everything he had, including his own soul, and Vejiita had quickly lapped up
that offering in his blind, overpowering need. Shimatta… this hidden truth was
as disturbing as it was humiliating.
No… no, no, no, no, no!! How could he have been so stupid, so
pitifully needy? How could he have wanted that low-class, brain-damaged idiot
inside his mind? Kuso! How could he have degraded himself like that? How? The
answer, however, was all-too painfully clear.
The prince inwardly cringed. How pathetic! To have been so weak, so obscenely
vulnerable, to have needed that fool to invade and uphold him, it was totally,
utterly, pathetic! And now he was bonded to the idiot…
"No," he groaned aloud. "Never. It means nothing. An
accident. Just a stupid, careless accident. It means nothing. Absolutely
nothing."
A flash of memory… Strong arms wrapped around his body. The magnetic,
maddening scent of intense power and raw masculinity. The taste and feel of his
hot, moist skin. Another memory… An image of his magnificent, unclad form
standing tall and triumphant before transfixed eyes, water dripping with
tantalizing leisure over hard, rippling muscles. Another… The caress of a warm,
wet tongue deep within his mouth, teasing him, tormenting him, adeptly whetting
his appetite. And another—
"No!! I do not want him!" he cried out desperately, determinedly,
uncurling his body to shoot a fierce glare into the sky. "Not him! Anyone
else! Anyone but him! Anyone at all!"
Anyone.
* * * * *
"Dad?"
He heard his son call to him, but Goku never moved from his position on the
bank of the wide river. His bare feet dangled listlessly in the chill river
water, as his eyes gazed almost sightlessly out across its sun-glittering
surface.
"Dad, are you all right?" Gohan spoke again, kneeling down beside
him, his inflection full of concern. Goku glanced down at himself, abstractedly
noting the bloodstains on his shirt.
"Don't worry, Gohan," he heard himself say. "This is nothing.
I'm sure it'll heal soon."
"Dad…" He could hear the troubled hesitancy in his older son's
voice. "Then why are you crying?" he asked.
Goku slowly lifted his fingers to his face and smeared one wet trail across
his cheek. "I don't know," he murmured softly. "I just can't
seem to stop."
There was a heavy pause after that. Then, "Well… can you tell me what
happened?"
Goku's head tilted to the side as he absently pondered the question.
"I… I guess I made a mistake," he said finally. "A really big
one, this time."
"What?" his son prompted gently. Goku merely shook his head.
"Okay," Gohan accepted after an elongated breath. "Um…
where's Vejiita?" he inquired carefully. "He wasn't at the house,
either. Did he finally decide to go home?"
"Yeah," the older man replied quietly. "He… he's gone."
"You two had a fight?" By the sound of his son's tone, it was more
of a statement than a question.
"Ah," he acknowledged with a slight nod. "I won't be seeing
him anymore."
"What?"
"I won't be seeing him anymore," Goku repeated matter-of-factly.
"He said never to come near him again."
There was another pause, longer this time. "Why, Dad?"
His head tilted again. "Because…" he began, his eyes
half-mesmerized by the dancing light upon the water. "Because… I guess
because I'm a low-class baka," he said finally. The tears splattered like
raindrops on his shirt, incidentally intermingling with the blood.
"No, you're not, Dad," Gohan said in quiet, consoling response.
His son's arms wound around him, and his head came to a warm rest on his
shoulder. "If Vejiita still can't see that after all these years, then
just forget about him."
"I don't think I can," Goku whispered somberly, almost to himself.
"And I think… I think your mother would be very angry with me right
now."
His son said nothing in reply; he merely squeezed him tighter. What more
could the younger man say or do? Nothing, for that was virtually all that Gohan
knew. And Goku wasn't about to tell him more. Kami, if Vejiita hated him now…
Goku inwardly winced, and nearly whimpered aloud. Oh, Kami, what was going
to happen now? How was he supposed to just forget about Vejiita and go on with
his life? How was he supposed to pretend that the prince was not but an Instant
Transmission away? He had just spent all last week trying to pretend the man wasn't
in his own house, and that had nearly driven him crazy! But never—ever—to
see Vejiita again? Goku already knew he would never be able to accept that. But
what could he possibly do to mend the situation? The answer, unfortunately,
remained an absolute mystery.
* * * * *
"Papa?"
Vejiita clearly heard the boy speak, but he was not, as yet, ready to have
this conversation—hell, any conversation—and the thought of looking the
boy straight in his clear, blue eyes was still rather troubling. So the prince
chose to ignore him, instead, and walked past the living room as if he wasn't
even there.
"Papa, have you come home for good?" Trunks called out,
practically charging out of the room after him. The boy sounded extremely
anxious. Enough to halt him in his tracks.
"Yes," he flung back gruffly over his shoulder, then started
forward, once again.
"How is Goku-san?" he inquired, his intention obviously to hold
him there longer.
"Still breathing," the prince growled angrily, as he continued on
toward the staircase.
"Are you hungry?" the boy asked quickly, and again, the anxiety in
his son's voice halted his action.
Damn! "Perhaps a little," he conceded brusquely, after a momentary
pause. Then he mentally berated himself for being so easily swayed. Shimatta,
what the hell was happening to him?
"I ordered some pizzas for lunch," the boy swiftly informed him,
the pleased relief in his tone unmistakable. "There's still quite a few
left. I thought I'd eat them later, but I can always grab a bite when I go out.
Or… I guess since you're here, we can have dinner together." The last
sounded more like a question, and was liberally interlaced with hope.
"You don't have a date with one of your senseless, giggling
females?"
"Um… no, Papa," he replied, and the prince could almost hear the
boy's disconcerted blush.
"Hn." Vejiita turned his face forward again, his eyes wandering
absent-mindedly over the staircase before him, not really seeing anything. A
long, contemplating moment passed before he spoke again.
"Tell me something, Trunks," he began tentatively. "About
these… parties you're always running off to…"
"They're not that bad, Papa," the boy chimed in hastily.
"They're just fun, you know, dance clubs and such, places to unwind after
work… and most of the girls there are actually pretty nice."
"Hn." His eyes still stared unseeing at the staircase. "I'm
going to take a shower now," he stated finally. "Then I'll be down
for pizza. As for dinner later… we can eat whatever and wherever you like. But
afterward…" he tacked on casually, "afterward you will take me to one
of these parties of yours."
There was a sort of stunned silence that followed. "Uh… what? You… you
want to go to a party, Papa? But I… I thought you hated parties."
"Hn. I positively detest them," he avowed with a denigrating
snort.
"Then why, Papa?"
"Hn." This time the prince twisted his head all the way around to
finally meet his son's inquisitive gaze. "Why do you go?" he
countered with a bitter, knowing smirk.
Trunks opened his mouth to reply, and then abruptly froze, complete and
total shock registering broadly in his sparkling blue eyes.
"I'm going to get cleaned up now," Vejiita restated impassively,
then turned and mounted the stairs, leaving his only son to gape after him in
absolute astonishment.