Warnings: This deals with life, death, and life after death. If such a subject is offensive or sensitive to you, think twice before reading further.
Notes: The action of this takes place in the Mirai Timeline.
Disclaimers: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or the song Every Breath You Take by Sting and the Police. These characters and lyrics are being used without the creators' permission and I am receiving no money. (Wow! I actually put a real disclaimer! Wahoo!)
Thanks: Big thank you to SiN for being a beta for me. ^__^
~~~Every Breath You Take~~~
He stared up into empty blue eyes and a cruel smile of satisfaction. The cold lips of his aggressor twisted into a sinister expression of sadistic joy. A creation of man, a concoction of science, stared down into the proud face of the Saiyan Prince and held him helpless in mid air. High over the streets of the battered city, Android 17 held one arm level and suspended the beaten man above the earth. Steel fingers tightened around his neck as Vegeta gripped savagely at the arm holding him hostage. He strained desperately against the murderous strength of the artificial human and fought to fill his lungs with air.
A machine, only a machine, held his life in its vice grip. The prince of all the saiyans, the pride of his people, the royal warrior who held the potential of all the nobility born before him, looked into the empty face of his death. It was not the strength of the hand at his throat that kept him suspended in the air; truthfully, he could have broken away from his attacker if he were to concentrate all his efforts to that task. It was not the scarcity of air in his lungs or the burning wounds down his body that prevented him from acting. Nothing held Vegeta in death's embrace other than his shame.
Shame--the realization that all his training could not prevent this course, the knowledge that every battle before had been meaningless, the truth of his own weaknesses, and the futility of continuing to fight--shame is what defeated him. With his pride in shambles, buried beneath the debris of the streets and buildings below, Vegeta had no further purpose in battle. He had failed, as he had failed so many times before, but in this loss, he could never regain his pride. So the last pureblooded saiyan, the prince of all the saiyans, closed his eyes, released his grip, and waited.
Android 17, seeing his prey was no longer willing to give him any sport, lost his smile. With a bitter sigh and a frown of resentment of the ending of his entertainment, let go of Vegeta's throat. His eyes were open and held no emotion as his energy ripped through the plummeting saiyan's armor. Vegeta was dead before he impacted with the pavement and crashed into the rubble to lay with his pride. The artificial human looked back to his passive sister, who watched in apathy from the side. Without even a word, the two moved off to find some new way to alleviate their boredom.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Every breath you
take,
And every move you
make,
Every bond you
break, every step you take,
I'll be watching
you.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
"No." Bulma whispered in agony and sank down to her knees on the living room floor.
Her breath came in quick bursts and made whimpering sounds of sorrow. Her heart was racing, threatening to pound straight out of her chest, and she felt a horrible tension in her throat from the overflow of emotion. Tears collected in her crystal eyes as she dropped her head. Short blue bangs fell in like a curtain, hiding the salty wetness that began to flow down her cheeks. Her fists balled as tightly as her body would allow as she brought her hands to her chest, ordering her heart to regulate its beating. Tremors coursed up and down her body like electricity. She was shaking violently as she tried to hold back the streaming tears to no avail. Every thought was scrambled and incoherent. Every sensation was painful and completely over powering.
She hated the newscaster and if she could, she would have rushed at the man and clenched his throat until he could never tell such lies ever again. He had the audacity to tell her they were dead. She hated the broadcasts and the video images she had seen. She wouldn't believe it. They were all lies; none of it was true. This was all some cruel joke and someone would pay for it. They couldn't be gone; he couldn't be gone. Their peace had shattered like a crystal glass so many times, but they had always come out all right in the end. It just wasn't true. She couldn't have lost them all. They couldn't be gone. He couldn't be gone.
The camera had shown the final moments, shown him fall down to the streets. She stared blankly at the screen, not moving her eyes from the heap of concrete and metal where he had vanished. She watched the screen, waiting to see him emerge, waiting to see his powerful body cast the rocks away and stand with strength greater than anyone else on earth could imagine. But the rocks didn't move and he didn't stand. Fearful thoughts ricocheted in her mind in short, indistinguishable bursts. Her mind was racing and her eyes were streaming as her mother wrapped her soft arms around her trembling shoulders.
"Vegeta's dead." She mumbled with clenched fists. Just saying the words sent a new set of tremors throughout her body.
"No!" She screamed into the air, making her mother flinch and tighten her embrace. "I don't want him to be dead!"
She bent over and sank down in a sobbing mass. Mrs. Briefs settled on the floor and guided her daughter's face to her lap, letting Bulma cry against her legs. All she could do was gently stroke her daughter's shoulders and watch silently, unable to do anything to take away from her pain.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Every single day,
And every word you
say,
Every game you
play, every night you stay,
I'll be watching
you.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Darkness—a black void was all there was. It was everything and nothing at all. But an image flashed for a moment and broke the inky void and was gone almost before it had appeared, once again leaving only the darkness. It flashed again, and then again; each instance only lasting the time it takes to blink an eye. Although brief, somehow that moment seemed to linger; the split second was clear and long, as if an entire lifetime had passed in it. The black broke once more for another eternal moment. It was the form of a woman. She held a tiny child against her chest. She had run out of tears long before, obvious from the burning red of her eyes, glaringly vivid against the crystal blue irises. Her trembling frame hugged the child, holding on to him as if her life was held in him. Then the image flashed away again.
In the emptiness, a voice—if one could even call it a voice as either there was no one to hear it, or no one could, and it came as easily as thought, at first it seemed to belong to no one. Like the empty surroundings, it was merely present, not seeming to have any purpose or owner.
"Bulma." It spoke with a silent echo.
With the word, there was a feeling. There was a feeling of restraint, an apprehension of the beautiful figure that caused a need to be far away from the images, and was almost like a choking sensation. But there was also tenderness and a desire to be nearer to her, a burning emotion battling with the need to leave. Yes, the emotions were consuming, and because of them, the voice grew, becoming something higher. Simple words of recognition evolved into coherent thought and a higher awareness of being. However, with only the black emptiness as a reality, the mind could only look back to the instantaneous flash that had broken the vast nothingness.
A sound broke through the emptiness, a soft sob that called the mind to attention. It was soft, hardly audible at all, but in the utter absence of any other sound, it might as well have been an explosion in the night.
"What is this?" The mind asked. "Where is this crying?"
Like a child blinking his eyes open after a long night's sleep, the darkness faded away and the form of the woman appeared again. Unlike the previous moments, it was bright, the colors were vivid and impossible to miss, but most importantly, the image did not fade. The darkness passed away, for the moment at least, and left only the glowing image of the blue haired woman and the miniscule being in her arms.
They seemed so distant and yet, at the same time, they seemed only an arm's length away. The curve of her cheeks, red and swollen, every lock of her hair, and each jagged breath, remnants of sobs when she could no longer form tears: all took a new level of clarity. The colors were brighter, the sounds were clearer, and the images were sharper than they had ever been before. The intensity of the images and the echoing of the sounds, like the clanging of bells, were totally inescapable. They seemed so close.
"My son." The voice said with epiphany, as images of the child became the main focus.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Oh, can't you see
You belong to me?
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
'My son.' The words sounded again and again as the sight of the boy filled his senses.
The child had made him aware of himself; his son forced him to remember himself. The young prince, the new pride of all the saiyans, rested against his mother's chest, felt her emotional pain, and shifted uneasily as a result. Bulma stroked him gently across his small back trying to soothe the tiny creature as her breathing continued in short breaths.
He knew himself, or at least what he had been. He was still Vegeta, yet Vegeta no longer existed. He had died—no he was vanquished—but this was not the death he had known only a few years before, after the deathblow on Namek when he passed immediately into hell. But this was not hell; this was home. She stood directly in front of him, indeed the only thing he could see.
"What is this, woman?" His voice seemed hollow.
When she did not answer, in fact did not respond in the slightest, Vegeta moved to touch her. As he tried to raise his arm, he became aware that no sight of the appendage appeared in front of him. He could not see his hands, could not see his arms. He looked down and found no trace of his legs and feet either. There was only empty space, and he was part of it. Vegeta's thoughts swirled and again he tried to reach for Bulma and the child.
"You can't touch them." A foreign voice whispered.
"Who is there?" He called, almost frantically, as once again his vision of Bulma and Trunks vanished and only the empty darkness remained. He tried to look around in the darkness for the voice, but it made no difference which way he looked, as everything was the same vacant black. "What the hell is happening to me?"
"I think you know, Vegeta." It said.
"No!" Vegeta screamed, his anger rising violently. "You will tell me what I want to know immediately, do you hear? Tell me what is going on! "
"You are dead, Vegeta." The tone was oddly familiar.
"Yes, so why am I here?" He asked, frustration imbued in every word.
"Because you aren't ready to leave yet." If he could see the person speaking, the tone made Vegeta imagine the speaker was smiling.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
How my poor heart
aches,
With every step
you take.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Vegeta searched the emptiness frantically. He hated the massive void that surrounded him, and he longed for any sort of change from the uniform black. He heard a small chuckle, which, although soft and quiet, echoed all around him and gave no indication of direction or distance.
'This baka is laughing at me.' He thought. 'This
fool has the nerve to mock the prince of the saiyans!'
"But you aren't a prince anymore, Vegeta." It spoke again, knowing his thoughts.
"How—how did you hear that?" He stuttered out.
"You have died, Vegeta." It said. "You know this; you can feel it. Everything that you once were is gone. You are no longer the prince of the saiyans. That is why you cannot see your body. Your body is dead, and you aren't ready to see that yet."
"I can't see anything, baka!" He snapped. "Why is there only black?"
"Because that is all you are willing to see." The voice was much quieter, yet it filled the air completely. "You looked away from her, Vegeta. If you find her again, the darkness will fade."
"How the hell do you know that?" He screamed. "What do you know of her?"
"She is the reason you have stayed, Vegeta." The words were as soft as a breath of wind, until it faded away completely and he was alone.
He was alone—alone in nothingness. She was the reason he stayed; what did that mean? He had made no decision to not pass away. It had not been his decision to stay, but somehow he had. It was all he was willing to see—No. No, that was a lie. Vegeta longed to end the darkness. He needed answers; he needed to know why this was happening.
'I will not allow this to defeat me.' He thought.
"I want to see something!" He screamed in frustration and every moment that the void remained, his frustrations multiplied. When he could no longer stand it, the words he could not force himself to say—the thoughts he could not allow himself to consider—flowed from his weary soul. "Let me see! Let me see them! Let me see her!" And his mind went blank.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Every move you
make,
Every vow you
break,
Every smile you
fake, every claim you stake,
I'll be watching
you.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
A hazy, blue light eased into the bottom of his line of vision. His mind moved slowly, at first not even recognizing the long anticipated change in scenery, but gradually, his thoughts came back to him, and Vegeta blinked his eyes open slowly, allowing the misty light fill his senses. The haze lifted and revealed her svelte figure beneath tangled sheets.
Her hair twisted all about on the pillow as she moved in a feverish sleep. Somehow, her image seemed more real to him then than it had ever been in life. The curves of her cheek were more defined, the color of her skin against the pale fabric was more vivid, and every lock of her hair, tangled from tossing in the night, was more defined than he had ever seen before. She was all he could see and he discovered he could not look away. Vegeta felt as though he was lying flat on his back, yet by what he could see, he seemed to be gazing down at her. She was directly in front of his eyes, as though he watched her from above. Vegeta lost all sense of direction as he looked at her, not able to decide whether he was truly laying flat and her image floated above him or if he actually floated over her.
He could not move, no matter how he willed it. He could not move his eyes from her. He could do nothing but watch her there, and the helplessness he had never known before in his existence was overpowering, but he could not escape it. He could not escape her.
"Woman!" He called, but of course she did not hear him.
"What is this?" Whether these words thought or spoken, he could not be sure.
"You have to face her, Vegeta." The words whispered in his mind. "This time you can't look away from her. Your soul won't allow you to look away."
"Who are you?" He whispered, never taking his eyes from Bulma.
"I came to help you." It said softly. "You have to let her go."
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Vegeta snapped.
Bulma shifted again below him and Vegeta felt an urge to reach out and touch her that that he could not seem to suppress. Without averting his eyes, he tried to move his hand forwards, only to discover once again he could not see his own arm.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Since you've gone
I've been lost without a trace.
I dream at night,
I can only see your face.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
"You never told her you cared about her, did you?" The voice asked.
"Silence." Vegeta commanded coldly. "Do not dare to speak of that to me."
"You were not ready to die were you?" It persisted.
Vegeta was growing to despise that voice. He hated it because its owner had the answers he wanted--he was sure of that--yet persisted in questioning him. Always asking questions and never answering his, he hated the voice. If he only could, he would have torn the speaker to shreds, but he had never seen who was speaking to him. He could not even see his own body, nor could he escape the likeness of Bulma's sleeping figure, no matter how desperately he commanded his mind to do so.
"Who is ever ready to die?" He whispered.
The words felt like fire as he uttered them, but once said,
Vegeta felt a sudden relief.
"You're smiling, Vegeta." The voice spoke again.
Wrenched from his thoughts, his eyes darted from side to side.
"What?" He cried. "How can you see me?"
"I can see you perfectly." The voice chuckled; this insolent fool dared to laugh at him. But as Vegeta's anger rose, the voice added in a much more serious tone, "Why are you not ready to see yourself? All you can see is Bulma, isn't it, Vegeta?"
"Why?" He mumbled, realizing at last that there was no purpose in denying the truth to one that already knew it, but then hardened his tone. "But I guess you are just going to ask another question or say I already know or have to find out, right?"
Silence was his answer.
"I thought as much." He growled.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
I look around, but
it's you I can't replace.
I feel so cold,
and I long for your embrace.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
The scenes faded from night to day, and from day to night, in cycles that lasted only the blink of an eye, and all Vegeta could do was watch. In the night, he always looked down on her sleeping form without choice. During the day, he stood close to her, usually transfixed in one location helpless to change his perceptions. She would pass so close to him that he was tempted beyond his control to touch her; but nothing he could do would ever break whatever held him in place. Nothing had ever trapped him in such a way. All his strength, all his years of training, and all his pride as a warrior were completely useless to him.
"What are you doing to me, woman?" He whispered against her ear as she unknowingly stepped close to him one afternoon in the workshop.
"Do you think you've beaten me?" He asked.
He watched her push sweaty bangs away from her face and smudge the already smeared grease on her dirty face. Even with her face hidden behind grime and grease from hours upon hours of working with machines, he could not help but see her beauty. The brown and grays of the dirt only made the blue of her eyes shine more brilliantly.
"Never woman." He said. "You have no power over me. Never forget that you belong to me, yet I belong to no one."
Bulma's eyes flashed for a moment and he saw uncertainty hanging over her face. He could hear her breath become quick and uneven and saw his opportunity in an instant.
"That's right, woman." His tone was low and feral and quite close to a growl. "You belong to me. You are still mine. Do not forget that."
Her eyes flashed a brilliant blue as crystal tears collected in them. The last thing he saw, as image faded like burning paper, was the dazzling sapphire blue shining and a diamond tear escape and roll down her cheek.
'You are mine.' His words sounded in his mind. They were hard and loud, clanging like iron bells about to break from their own pitch. 'Do not forget that you are mine.'
"When will it end?" He asked the emptiness, but the voice would not come to him again. "Why won't it end?"
'You belong to me.' He could not escape the words. 'Yet I belong to no one.'
"I spoke only the truth." He said, but with no one other than himself to convince. "The woman does belong to me. I do not need to be here! I have nothing to settle with the woman. She has no hold over me. I would never allow it."
'What have I done to call her my own?' Something
inside him asked and Vegeta wondered from where the thought had come. 'What
have I ever done in my life to deserve anything?'
"No." He whispered almost in pain.
.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
I keep crying
baby, baby please.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
'I, who have prided myself on countless battles—what have
I done worthy of honor?' The thoughts he had never allowed himself to
entertain forced themselves into his mind. 'I am nothing. Failure—I am
nothing more than a failure.'
"Stop this!" He screamed in agony. "Stop it now!"
'I could not defeat Freeza.' His mind would not obey
him. 'I could not defeat the androids. I died because I was too weak to
destroy my enemy and I gave up. I could not defeat Kakarott. I am nothing: not
a prince, not a warrior, not anything of worth.'
Only in the emptiness of his surroundings could Vegeta see the emptiness of his own life. All that he had once held to be so strong, everything he had always believed to be right, had crumbled at his feet when he had fallen to the earth in defeat. His pride was worthless and he was dead; the prince of the saiyans was dead.
'I don't belong here.' He thought, and finally understood this simple fact, but with this comprehension, Vegeta imagined he could hear muted footsteps.
He searched the darkness, more out of habit than true
expectation of finding anything. Yes, he was sure of the sound.
Forgetting the brightness for a moment, he held his hands in front of his eyes, allowing the light to stream past his fingers. He had never appreciated his own hands so much. Through his stretched fingers, Vegeta caught sight of a black silhouette coming towards him, but with the light at the figures back, and stinging his eyes at the same moment, he could not see the face of the man in front of him.
"Can you see yours arms now, Vegeta?" It was that same voice.
"Yes." He said with terse irritation, analyzing the voice that seemed so unmistakably familiar.
"So, you finally learned to see yourself as you were in life." It said, and then with sympathy, "Have you let her go?"
"Why do you hide?" Vegeta asked with anger in his words. "You aren't fooling anyone anymore, Kakarott."
"You weren't ready to see anything past your own world." He said gently, giving a small smile. "I wasn't hiding at all. You just couldn't recognize me."
"Well I see you now, idiot." Vegeta huffed.
He turned and walked back into the light. Vegeta quickly paced after him, but only could go a few steps before his body refused to move any farther. Kakarott turned halfway to him and shook his head.
"You still aren't ready." He said. "You have to let her go. You can't go anywhere until you face her. I think you know that."
"Where is she?" Vegeta asked, all the pride gone from his voice.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Oh, can't you see
You belong to me?
How my poor heart
aches,
With every step
you take.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
"She is right there." Goku said and pointed back over Vegeta's shoulder. He turned, but saw only the yellow light fading off into oblivion.
"Don't toy with me, Kakarott." He snarled.
"She is sleeping right behind you, Vegeta." He said again. "You can't see her?"
"Of course not, shimatta." Vegeta said. "Because there is nothing to see. There is nothing there."
"You could not see your body before now. You first had to see yourself as you truly were." Kakarott said softly. "If you want this to end, Vegeta, you have to face her. You have to set her free, but you can't even do that if you won't allow yourself to see her."
Vegeta made no response.
"You still won't admit it." Kakarott said. It was apparent in his voice that he was tired. "Then you will never leave this place. You do realize she is the only reason you are not in hell now, don't you? You can't lie to yourself forever."
"I am not lying to myself. She is nothing to me." He gave his voice no emotion. "I have nothing to admit."
"Then you wouldn't be here," Kakarott responded. "And you would have no problems leaving this place. You can't and you know it. You have already tried."
Again, he made no answer.
"Go to her, Vegeta." Kakarott said, stepping away from him. "You will have to make your choice alone. I can't help you any further. If you ever decide to admit what you have to, we will meet again. But now, you are on your own."
Vegeta watched as the light swallowed the other man, leaving him once again alone in oblivion. Go to her--but he didn't know how. He didn't understand why his visions of her came when they did, or why they came at all. He did not know how to force them to come, if indeed he could force them at all. He was not in control, and nothing he did seemed to make any difference. But there was something--he could not force anything, could not demand any action to take place. In fact, the images had only come when he hadn't really wanted them, and once--yes, once when he could no longer stand the emptiness--the image had appeared when he had asked.
"Let me see her." He whispered. "I want to go to her."
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Every move you
make,
Every vow you
break,
Every smile you
fake, every claim you stake,
I'll be watching
you.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
His eyes opened cautiously, unsure of what he might see; part of him expected, and dreaded, to see the empty void, but he was not truly surprised to see the same hazy, cool light flowing over him into the familiar bedroom. However, instead of the perspective to which he had become accustomed, staring helplessly at her from a distance, she was close. She was directly across from him and only inches from his face; shooting his glance from side to side, Vegeta realized that he was once again lying in their bed.
She was smiling, actually smiling like he had not seen from her in so long. She faced him, her cheek buried in the soft fabric of her pillow and strands of her hair falling over her eyes and shimmering in the soft light. Behind the curtain of blue, her eyes were peaceful, closed gently and lost in some beautiful dream. As he had been tempted before, Vegeta felt the longing to touch her welling again, and he quickly glanced down to his hand.
He gave a half smile at the sight of his hand and brought it close to her face, hesitant to actually touch her. He wasn't sure if he would wake her by doing so, but he also doubted whether or not he would actually be able to touch her. He simply held his hand close to her face, fighting with himself. Behind his fingers, she stirred. Her crystal eyes shone as they fluttered open. Vegeta froze. He watched her in anticipation for any reaction.
'Calm down fool.' He chastised himself. 'She can't possibly see me.'
Bulma was completely silent, even her breathing was slow and inaudible as she rested comfortably. But her eyes were fixed in his direction, making him rethink his idea of invisibility. He stared into her eyes again, finding he had forgotten how deep their color truly was. When she smiled gently at him in the night, he knew he had been wrong.
"Hello, Vegeta." Bulma whispered against her pillow.
"Hello, woman." He said, and blinked in confusion as she giggled softly.
"Why is it even in dreams you never call me by my name?" She sighed.
"Dreams?" His eyes jolted open and she giggled again. "So is that why you toss around while you sleep?" He added a little more gently.
"I dreamed you came back. You kept coming back and were looking down at me from above." Bulma whispered. "But you would always leave again. I knew you would, but--" her eyes sparkled and her smile was sweet, "but, I wanted you to stay."
"I am going to leave again, woman." He stated, and Bulma gave a tired nod.
"Yes, I know Vegeta." She said. "You are dead. You can't stay."
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Every move you
make, every step you take,
I'll be watching you.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
Bulma's breathing became slower and her eyes started to close. Afraid she would fall asleep before he had a chance to do what he needed, Vegeta searched his mind for words. He needed to know what about her was keeping him there, needed to understand what he was holding on to. He had been watching her for what seemed an eternity—simply watching her and his son powerless to do anything—and had come no closer to an answer than he had that first moment he remembered himself.
He had been watching—yes; he had been watching them. What he had never admitted, what he would never confess, what he would never for all the world reveal to her: he needed to watch over her and the child. It was the only way he would ever allow himself to show any affection to her, who so openly gave kindness to him. He could not leave her without knowing why he wanted to watch over her. His soul refused to leave that place until he could admit that he was wrong.
"Listen to me, woman." He commanded. "Hear this now."
She opened her eyes again lazily and smiled at him.
"Understand, woman, you belong to me." He said. "You are mine. The child is mine. I will have to leave you now, but I will not be far away. I will be watching you, and the boy. I will not let anything take what is mine."
"You're gone, Vegeta." She whispered. "What can you do?"
"I am not gone. I still exist and I will continue to watch you." He said, watching as her eyes. "For my part, I release you. You are mine, in all meanings of the word, but I give you leave to forget me."
"I wouldn't ever forget you, Vegeta." She yawned. "You know that."
"And you know that I do not, and will not, belong to you." He said, still holding that last shred of stubborn arrogance.
"You already do." She said against her pillow and closed her eyes. "Now shut up and go to sleep, Vegeta."
She was asleep in a moment and he looked at her with an expression she would never see—regret. He knew she was right, but could never say it to her. He knew it in his once black heart and no longer had the will to deny it. She had been the only reason he had not gone straight to hell, as Kakarott had told him. She had been the only goodness that could force its way into his dark heart. She had saved him and he would never do the same, but he would not leave her completely. He had released her, but had not released himself.
Vegeta closed his eyes, shutting out the surroundings he had memorized all over again. Far ahead of him, deep in the darkness, he saw the tiny white glow he had seen before, still shining like a star. Lost to her world, Vegeta moved towards the light, to where he knew he should be.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
I'll be watching
you.
~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~
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