| What is Jealousy, But an Insecure Plea for Love? Chapter 4 |
| Author: Valeyard Rating: R Disclaimer: She doesn't own, so don't even bother. |
| "Yeast infection!" Bulma cried in complete shock. The doctor looked up from Trunks’ neck, hardly disturbed by her reaction. "That’s right." "How?" Bulma asked, completely perplexed. "Not surprising." The doctor replied unconcerned. "Milk is always dribbling down and getting trapped under the skin at the throat. If it is left there, it can fester into an infection." "Are you sure it is an infection?" Bulma said, giving into the memory of her dream. "It looks like his throat was cut!" The doctor shook his head firmly, lifting Trunks head up slightly for her to see. "You notice how this causes no pain? If this was a laceration, your baby would be bawling his head off. What you have is a common yeast infection." "I don’t understand." Bulma shook her head confused. "I bathe him every day. How could he get such an awful infection like that?" The doctor lowered his head, giving a Bulma a sober look from over his glasses. "Have you ever had a yeast infection?" Bulma blushed slightly. "Of course!" She replied almost defensively. "Well, when you had one, did bathing get rid of it?" Bulma looked at the doctor slightly embarrassed. "Oh, I see what you mean. No, bathing only made it worse." "Exactly," the doctor replied, turning toward Trunks. "The only thing that will get rid of it, is yeast infection medicine." "You mean the same stuff I use for . . ." She broke off, now openly turning red. "Yes, the same stuff you use for . . . " the doctor replied, openly amused at her embarrassment. "Just buy some over the counter and follow the package directions–only use the medicine on his throat." He walked around the table. "I think you will find it will clear up in a few days." "What I’m a little more concerned about, are these hives on his chest." The doctor pointed to the small bumps peaking out from Trunks’ undershirt. "Hives?" Bulma became alarmed, again, as she moved in to examine Trunks’ chest. Sure enough, there were small, slightly pinkish bumps on his chest. "I’ve noticed them." Bulma replied. "But, I’ve always thought they were pimples. My doctor said it was normal." "Hives are never normal." The doctor replied gravely. He lifted Trunks’ undershirt to peer closer at the small bumps trailing down to his stomach. He lifted his glasses to get a better look. "Do you own a dog or a cat?" He queried. "Oh!" Bulma squeaked. "My parents own LOTS of animals, but they keep them in the sanctuary. The only animal in the rest of the house, is my Dad’s cat and even he doesn’t bring him into Trunks’ room." "Hmmmmm," the doctor mussed. "Have you noticed any kind of symptoms? Distress in breathing? Sneezing? Running nose or watering eyes?" "No," Bulma said firmly. "Trunks is never sick. He’s a very healthy boy." Bulma stepped closer to give Trunks an affectionate pat. "He sure keeps me on my toes. Very healthy set of lungs. I should know! He cries half the night, every night!" "Cries?" The doctor said alarmed. "Every night?" "Yes!" Bulma said, picking up on the doctor’s alarm. "Is that bad?" "Do you breast feed?" The Doctor asked, pointedly. "Of course!" Bulma replied defensively, feeling again her mothering capabilities were being questioned. "Well, I want you to stop right now and get a soy-based formula. You can find them in any grocery store." "Stop breast feeding!" Bulma cried in disbelief. "But, breast feeding is the best for a baby! My doctor says it’s the only way you should feed a baby." "Have you discussed his crying with your doctor?" The doctor looked at her more gravely. "Yes," Bulma replied. "He said it was just cholic and it will get better as he gets older. But, it has been two months now, and he still cries!" Bulma said the last despondently. "You should change doctors." The doctor said frankly. "If he didn’t consider the possibility, he is not the doctor you want for this child." "What possibility?" Bulma almost squeaked. "Lactose intolerance." The doctor stated flatly. "Lactose intolerance?" Bulma’s face turned pinker and pinker at each new surprise this doctor gave her. "What is that?" "Simply put," the doctor replied. "Your baby can’t break down the lactose, the predominant sugar in milk. Therefore, it makes him sick. That is most likely, why your baby is crying." The Doctor brusquely stepped away from the examining table and scribbled something down on his prescription pad. ‘ Ripping the note off the pad, he handed it to Bulma. "This is a good brand to buy. You can find it just about anywhere. Buy this and start feeding your baby this right away, but under no circumstances, until further notice should you breast feed or feed your baby milk-based formula." "My poor baby!" Bulma looked at Trunks dismayed. "I’ve been making him sick!" "We don’t know that." The doctor patted her hand. "It might not be lactose intolerance. If you don’t see improvement in your child, take him to a new doctor. If you haven’t found one by then, just bring him back here." Bulma was glad her parents had come along to drive. It gave her time to think and she felt she needed that. Bulma thought about many things on the way home ‘Lactose intolerance? Trunks?’ She thought. ‘How? He seems so healthy?’ She looked at Trunks sleeping in his child seat. ‘Could it be something I have done? Something Trunks inherited from me?’ ‘Or is it something he really inherited from me?’ She thought about Vegeta and Goku. How they were both one-man demolition teams when it came to the refrigerator. There were times, when Vegeta first moved in, when he left not a crumb of food in the refrigerator. ‘That is,’ Bulma gasped with the shock of the memory, ‘except the milk!’ She remembered, Vegeta eyeing the jug of milk suspiciously. "What the hell is this?" Vegeta demanded in his usually surely way. "It’s milk, silly!" Bulma had replied cheerily. "Haven’t you ever drank milk before?" "Human milk?" Vegeta had practically dropped the jug in revulsion. "Of course not!" Bulma said, angered at such a suggestion. "It’s milk from a cow! You know cows?" Vegeta truly did look sickened at this revelation. "That’s disgusting!" This time, he did drop the jug which exploded, sending milk everywhere. "You expect someone like me to drink that?" Bulma remembered her fury! Vegeta arrogantly stomped away saying something over his shoulder about this being another example of human inferiority. He didn’t even make an attempt to clean up his own mess! How she screamed at him, as he walked away! Bulma shook her head with all the flooding memories. ‘Vegeta! He can be such a complete asshole!’ Bulma remembered how he used to go out of his way to provoke fights between them. He was always making the most unreasonable demands of her, or making cutting remarks about the "inferiority" of human beings. How it outraged her! Here she went out of her way to take him in when she could have left him to fend for himself! Vegeta seemed to have no appreciation for her kindness at all! It had taken her a few fights to realize, Vegeta *was* going out of his way to provoke fights with her. She had begun to wonder. ‘Is this Vegeta’s way of getting my attention?’ Vegeta was a warrior after all! All he knew was fighting. The budding realization that cold SOB might really like her, but didn’t know how to show it. Bulma smiled inwardly. She couldn’t help finding it cute in a way. The great Prince and warrior, acting like a spoiled kid with his first crush. ‘Maybe it was his first crush!’ Bulma thought with a shock. Even if he has raped and pillaged his way across the universe, she doubted he had ever taken time to truly romance a woman. ‘Vegeta a rapist?’ She doubted that to be true. He didn’t seem the type. In fact, of all the damage he bragged about inflicting on the universe, he seemed to suffer the worst. He never smiled, above a smirk that spoke clearly of a very hard life and a stolen youth. He was aloof to the point of shying away from being touched. Further, his interest in sex was a complete question mark to her. Despite his body always being on display, in the tightest clothing possible, seeming to express an overtly sexual attitude, he never spoke of anything but battle, strength, and Saiya-jin superiority. If he knew anything of women, Vegeta made no outward sign, at all. Bulma remembered finally coming to a decision to test out her theory. The next time he came strolling in arrogantly making unreasonable demands, she coolly complied without rising to the bait. How she remembered her delight with the results! The small hesitation and doubt she saw in Vegeta’s usually over confident exterior. The small glint of dismay she caught in his eyes. It would have been imperceptible to anyone else--but Bulma knew. He had stalked off sullenly after she complied with his demands, looking truly disappointed. It was then she knew for sure. She had hurt his feelings! Why that would make her happy she wasn’t sure, except for her discovery he did have feelings! He truly did crave her attention. He liked her! That cold SOB really did like her! From then on Bulma went out of her way to rise to Vegeta’s bait, and Vegeta embraced their arguments with relish. She would get red in the face and sometimes find it hard not to really get mad at Vegeta’s arrogant smirks and condescending attitude, but deep down she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. She wondered if he really ever had a real friend before in his life. This was really the only way he knew to interact with anyone other than fighting and killing. Bulma found a deep sympathy growing for Vegeta, and before she knew it had happened, she knew it had grown into love–a love that grew deeper with each fight. It all came to a head one night, when Bulma couldn’t take it anymore. She had been screaming at Vegeta for the past half hour when she suddenly threw herself at him and kissed him. She half-expected Vegeta to push her away shouting at her in disgust, but to her surprise and delight he not only didn’t, he kissed her back. She remembered the smile that graced his arrogant features. "What took you so long?" He asked in a gloating voice. ‘Oh, the asshole!’ She had thought. ‘If I didn’t love him, I would kill him! So, he has conquered me?’ "Just shut the hell up for once in your life, and kiss me, you asshole!" Bulma said breathlessly as she pushed into him again. "All you had to do was ask, nicely." Vegeta replied smugly. "Can you never stop being a warrior? There are other things, two people can do besides fight." Bulma gasped between harder and harder kisses. Vegeta’s breathing became heavier and heavier as he moved his body in closer. She felt something, very hard, pressed against her hip, making it obvious he was supremely aroused. Vegeta kisses became more and more voracious. Even kissing was a battle to him! "Perhaps you should show me." Vegeta teased darkly, wrapping an arm around her and firmly leading her toward his bedroom. The rest was history and lead to many a pleasantly, good-natured (or as good-natured as Vegeta could come) argument afterwards as to who conquered whom. She pulled back from her pleasant revery as a tear slid down her eye. The pleasantness of the memories only made the pain of Vegeta’s abandonment even worse. She couldn’t help missing him, even when he was being completely unreasonable. She needed him. Bulma hung her head wishing she knew where he was right at that moment and if he was all right. Did he really believe she was cheating on him and would that push him into the arms of someone else? Someone else! She just couldn’t imagine it. She refused to imagine it. ‘Besides,’ she told herself guiltily, ‘this is not the time for this. Trunks needs me!’ She brought her mind back to the problem at hand. It was true. Vegeta never touched milk. Not ever! Bulma tried to think back to all the times she saw Goku eat, and eat and eat. She couldn’t recall at any time Goku drinking milk. Or was it that she never noticed! She wasn’t sure! She wished she were. Maybe she should ask Chi Chi! She looked over at Trunks sympathetically. She knew Gohan drank milk. He had been over to the Capsule Corporation enough times and Bulma had witnessed him drink large quantities of milk with relish. Perhaps he inherited from Chi Chi the ability to tolerate milk. After all, he was half human! ‘Or maybe it is a deficiency peculiar to Vegeta!’ She thought with a shock. It wasn’t unusual. After all, he was royalty! Royals on Earth were famous for having deficiencies such as hemophilia. Maybe this was a deficiency peculiar to the Royals on Bejita-sei. Bulma shook her head. If it was that kind of deficiency, she would never know. All the rest of Vegeta’s family were dead and Vegeta, even if he knew of such a possibility, would never admit such a possibility to her. His pride! As far as he was concerned he was perfect! It was everyone else that had a problem. She knew better than to ever broach the subject with Vegeta. If she knew Vegeta, and she did, he would become defensive to the point of outrage. She sighed. No! She would not be able to discuss the matter with Vegeta. ‘My poor baby!’ She thought. ‘Maybe it was I that didn’t give you something that Chi Chi gave Gohan.’ Problems she never considered, assaulted her thoughts in a churning ball of confusion. She had never contemplated such problems when she took up with Vegeta. ‘He is an alien!’ Bulma thought ‘Even if the only reminder of that is his freaky hair that always stands on end and the cute scar where his tail used to be! My baby is half alien!’ Bulma looked over at Trunks again with a look of love and sympathy. ‘How can I explain that to any doctor?’ She hugged herself as she considered all the problems there might be in the future, because of her choice to love Vegeta. Vegeta found himself in a pitch black cell, for which there seemed no escape. Although, groping blindly every crevice of the cell, he had found no recess, no chink, and absolutely no sign there was any way out. He knew this cell, only too well. This cell was at the heart that made up the midnight of his soul. It only fueled his already stoked anger. Memories were something he seldom wished to indulge. They were never pleasant, and rarely about anything he was willing to confess. The hunger! How he remembered the hunger. Three days or was it four, he had been left in that cell with no food, no light, and very little water. Three days left in that cell waiting for an audience with Furiza-sama. The memory of finally, being let out. His refusing to blink, after being left in the dark so long, as the light practically blinded him. Mechanically walking behind his escort as if nothing was wrong, when he could barely see anything besides bright stabbing light. Feeling he would faint from the hunger. Vegeta had known it had all been done to humble him before Furiza, and let his only six-year-old self know, who was in charge. But Vegeta, in his stubborn pride, would be damned if he would have let either the guards or Furiza know he was in the slightest distress. Vegeta had behaved regally but respectfully before Furiza. He was given his new assignments and told his planet had been destroyed by "meteor shower," that his father was dead, and that he would be staying with Furiza for now. Vegeta stiffly left Furiza’s presence knowing Furiza was lying, but also knew he had no choice but to do Furiza’s will. Vegeta may not have shown any sign of it, but he got the message. He owed his existence to Furiza from that point on, and he forgot that at his peril. No food was provided Vegeta. Furiza called it a "work incentive." Not only was Vegeta required to kill for Furiza, but for food. If he didn’t kill, he didn’t eat. Vegeta had killed well, many times over. So, he was confused why he was back in that hated cell. After moments of searching for escape and giving into the shadows of his black past, his mind resolved into one clear memory. He was no longer a child! Vegeta could blast his way out of there–and blast his way out he did. His freedom had not assuaged Vegeta’s anger. It had only fueled his desire for revenge. Whoever, had put him back in that cell, was going to pay and pay dearly. Vegeta marched out, rasping his fingers, with his sincere desire for blood and more blood. Vegeta stopped in a gantry way in the prison section, feeling as solid as stone. His eyes the only thing that moved as they darted this way and that, daring anything that breathed to challenge him. He finally relaxed enough to turn his head. No one! He saw absolutely no one. Not that it mattered to Vegeta! If he saw anyone, they wouldn’t be around long. Vegeta smirked evilly. Not long at all! He walked up another gantry way toward the upper levels of Furiza’s ship. It didn’t make sense. Vegeta had no reckoning of why he was there, which only made him that much angrier. Someone had to pay for his anger, Vegeta reasoned. Someone very soon, or the entire ship would pay. As he stalked the upper levels of Furiza’s ship, a feeling of malaise came upon him. A feeling like he was swimming against a strong current. Vegeta tried to identify the source of his difficulty, becoming alarmed at the realization the difficulty was coming from his own body. He never permitted or wanted to permit any loss of control over himself, but this was simply beyond his control. Hunger! Overwhelming, all consuming, hunger! He had been so long without food, his entire body ached with hunger. Vegeta’ felt like his stomach had collapsed against his spine. He didn’t think he could feel any leaner. Part of Vegeta’s mind understood. Hunger! That was why he was dreaming he was back on Furiza’s ship. Because hunger reminded him of being deliberately starved on Furiza’s ship. This understanding didn’t keep Vegeta from becoming completely submerged in his dream. He was too weak from hunger to do little else. He was so hungry, Vegeta swore he would eat the next person he came across. Anything just to have some food. Vegeta’s spirits rose when he heard a voice. ‘So there is someone here!’ He picked up his pace, feeling absolutely no pity toward his intended victim. ‘Just one of Furiza’s trash!’ He told himself coldly. Vegeta had always held them in complete contempt. He took great enjoyment in killing them after Furiza was dead. This would be no different, he assured himself. His heart sank as he came into the room where he heard the voice and found it was Bulma in bed, asleep. ‘Oh shit!’ Vegeta thought in dismay. ‘Why did it have to be her?’ Vegeta looked at her sickened by the fact that he now had two kinds of hunger for her. He shook all over in disgust at the chasms of evil and madness that yawned before him. That he could ever sink as low, again, as what Furiza had forced upon him! He lowered his head sadly and turned to go. He didn’t even want to speak with her, afraid of what he might do at that moment. To his dismay, Bulma stirred, turned over and looked at him. "Oh!" Bulma said, surprised. "I thought you had left." "Woman." Vegeta turned toward her desperately. "I’m so hungry. Do you have anything? I’m so very hungry!" "Vegeta!" She said with irritation. "We’ve already had this fight!" "No, woman!" Vegeta said weakly. "I’m not talking about that this time. I mean food. Do you have any food? I’m so hungry, woman. I’m so hungry, I could even eat you!" Bulma smiled innocently. This horrified Vegeta, first because of her naivete, and secondly, because he realized he had never been horrified before in his life. There was plenty of horror in his life, but he walled it away behind a mental wall of stone. He had always told himself that it was what a Saiya-jin did and dismissed the matter. But he couldn’t wall this away. There was part of him screaming this was impossible for him to do, and another part screaming a Saiya-jin survives and the weak were simply meant to die. Yet, this was his mate and he swore a vow he could not break! He grabbed his head as if in pain and screamed at her. "Woman! Stop it! Just give me some fucking food!" The covers over Bulma shifted, and Vegeta realized there was something under the covers besides Bulma. "Vegeta." ‘That voice!’ Vegeta recoiled. ‘That fucking voice! How I hate that voice!’ "Vegeta, there’s no food here." Vegeta heard Furiza chuckle in that mincing way he despised. "You know how I feed my troops. If you want food, get back to work!" Furiza’s head popped out from under the covers with Bulma. He stretched languorously as if he was enjoying himself thoroughly, smirking at Vegeta. Bulma got up from the bed, quite naked, as if none of the horror of this situation even disturbed her. She seemed blithely naive of the situation, to the even greater horror of Vegeta. She walked over to a crib that Vegeta hadn’t noticed until now. "Oh Vegeta." Bulma enthused as if nothing was wrong. "Isn’t Trunks beautiful?" She lifted Trunks up, and Vegeta saw a red slash across his throat that caused him to cry out, "What’s wrong with our son?" Bulma blinked innocently. "Nothing," Bulma laid Trunks back down putting the covers over him. "Nothing at all." Bulma walked back over to the bed and crawled under the covers with Vegeta’s worst enemy. Furiza continued as if he had never been interrupted. "But if you are really hungry," Furiza motioned over to the crib, "you can start with that one. Never say I’m an unreasonable master." Furiza laughed at his cruel joke, smiling cruelly at Vegeta. Vegeta looked at Bulma quite disillusioned. "Woman?" It was all he could think to say. Why wasn’t she upset about this? Bulma blinked innocently at Vegeta. "I thought you left," was all she had to say. <musical interlude> My Sacrifice by Creed Hello my friend, we meet again It's been awhile, where should we begin? Feels like forever Within my heart a memory A perfect love that you gave to me Oh, I remember When you are with me I'm free I'm careless, I believe Above all the others we'll fly This brings tears to my eyes My Sacrifice We've seen our share of ups and downs Oh how quickly life can turn around In an instant It feels so good to realize What's in yourself and within your mind Let's find peace there When you are with me I'm free I'm careless, I believe Above all the others we'll fly This brings tears to my eyes My Sacrifice I just want to say hello again I just want to say hello again When you are with me I'm free I'm careless, I believe Above all the others we'll fly This brings tears to my eyes Cause when you are with me I am free I'm careless, I believe Above all the others we'll fly This brings tears to my eyes My Sacrifice, My Sacrifice I just want to say hello again I just want to say hello again My Sacrifice. <end musical interlude> Vegeta opened his eyes to the sound of a violent thud. He was still lying on the floor of his spaceship, the fallen rice bowl from his last meal still laying on the floor. His response to finding he was still alive and in the present was typical for Vegeta. "What a stupid dream." Vegeta said, as he forced his eyes to focus. He tried to look around his surroundings, but everything kept coming in and going out of focus. It made him sick to his stomach, and Vegeta thought better of it. ‘Perhaps,’ he thought, ‘it’s just better to close my eyes and lie here on the floor.’ "Get the fuck up!" Vegeta’s eyes snapped open with a shock. That was a voice he had not heard since he was a child. The voice of one whose last words he could never forget and never forgive. "Stay there, you fucking brat!" King Vegeta boomed at him, when he had protested being locked in a cell. "You want to stay alive you won’t question my orders or Furiza’s! Stay there and do as you’re told!" Then came the part he could never forgive. He had lowered his voice and said, "Stay there. I will be back for you." He never saw his father, again. Vegeta never forgave him for that. It didn’t matter one bit to Vegeta that his father died with his planet and could not come back. No! The fact was he gave his word to Vegeta and didn’t do as he promised. To Vegeta, that was unforgivable. He should have found a way, somehow he should have been strong enough to find a way. Vegeta opened his eyes, forcing himself to ignore his queasy hunger, looking up at the owner of the voice. "Father." Vegeta’s voice had a moment of surprise and awe, before it turned surely with disgust. "What the fuck do you want?" "Get up!" His father commanded. "It is no place for a Prince on the floor." "It’s no place for a Prince to be locked in a cell, either, but you made sure of that." Vegeta replied bitterly. "Thanks to you, the floor isn’t the worst place I’ve been. Would you like to know about all of it?" Vegeta smirked defiantly up at his father’s visage. "You think I care how you have suffered?" The image of his father scoffed. "You are my son, and you will behave as such!" "Fuck the hell off and allow me to die in peace!" Vegeta yelled out with the force of his dying energy. "You want to discuss this further, don’t worry! I’ll be in hell, soon enough, thanks to you, and then we can discuss it for all eternity!" "You’re not going to die." His father replied. "I won’t permit it. You are going to get off that fucking floor, because you have to. If you don’t get off that floor now, you never will." "What do you care?" Vegeta replied closing his eyes. "You told me you would come back, remember? Do you know how long I waited for you to come back? Do you know how long I waited in that cell?" Vegeta found the strength to roll over and fully look at the ghost that cheated his eyes. "You know how much food it takes to keep a Saiya-jin child alive! I almost died in that cell, waiting. Waiting for you to keep your promise. You lied to me! I may honor you as my father, but I will never forgive you for breaking your promise. Leave me the fuck alone." "Maybe, I’ve finally returned for just that reason." A cagey smile stretched across King Vegeta’s face. "Maybe, I’ve paid hell itself to finally keep my promise." Vegeta huffed. "Yeah? Why bother now? I’m the one that survived, remember? You’re the one that died." He closed his eyes against this lying shadow. He was exactly like Vegeta remembered him. Stern, regal and arrogant. His phanton furled his cape around himself like it was mystery itself. "Because, maybe, my son needs me more now than he ever did in his life and I am not going to let him die uselessly, as I did." "Uselessly is right!" Vegeta screamed rising off the floor, taking a swing at the vaporous form of his father. "You should have been strong enough to take on Furiza, I should have been strong enough to surpass Kakarotto. My life has been nothing but goals that I can see, but never reach. I’m sick to death of it! Just shut the fuck up and leave me alone!" "You can’t hurt me, my son." King Vegeta laughed derisively. "I’m a ghost." "You’re not a ghost." Vegeta pulled back from the apparition in dismissal. "You’re just a hallucination from lack of food. I’ve been having them for two days." Vegeta turned his back on the specter crossing his arms, looking down at the floor at his discarded rice bowl. "I had plenty of them by the third day, on Furiza’s prison level. All of you returning triumphant from Furiza’s death. Returning me my freedom! All of them bullshit, just like you!" "You want to talk about bullshit!" His father’s image returned. "What about you lying on the floor like trash! Lying there and giving up, because you feel sorry for yourself! I won’t stand for it! I’ve paid every price even you could not imagine just to come back and pay my debt. And I find you wallowing in self pity! I could kick your ass!" Vegeta’s face hardened into the snarl of an enraged animal. "That’s a laugh!" Vegeta yelled derisively. "I was stronger than you, when I was six-years-old! You think you stand a chance against me now?" "Yes, my son. I am strong." King Vegeta’s form replied as the anger drained out of his face. "Strong enough to get you off the floor and make you willing to fight, again. My debt to you is paid." A glimmer of fear and shock ran over Vegeta’s face, as if for a second he doubted this was only a hallucination. He stretched out his arm to the visage’s face, hesitating for a brief, flashing instant, as if afraid of what he would touch. Before Vegeta gathered the courage to reach out more, his doubt was interrupted by another hard thud, like the one that had awoke him. Vegeta looked up at the hull of his ship in dismay, as he heard another thud, and another. "Oh fuck!" Vegeta cried out loud. "There’s never been a meteor storm this close to the ship. I chose this place, because it was more stable than the rest of the planet. It will tear the ship apart!" The image of King Vegeta started to dissipate. "I told you, you had to get up!" He gave his son a superior smirk. "Fuck off!" Vegeta yelled as he ran through his father’s image and out of the ship. The image should have disappeared with the exit of Vegeta, but it lingered for one more shining moment. A single tear slid down the image’s eye. "My debt is paid, my son!" Was all the dissipating image said, and was gone forever. |