I was reading a fanfic where Gokou got beaten up really bad, and senzu beans didn't work, so he had to be taken to the hospital. Right before the sedatives kicked in, he screamed Vegeta's name. That scene inspired me to write this little vignette.
I don't know where Gokou disappeared to in this, he just did. I've only seen the NA dubbed DBZ, so I know next to nothing after they defeat Freeza. I know Gokou dies before Goten is born, and doesn't come back for, like, seven years. Well, he isn't dead in this, even though I kinda imagined Goten being about five.
The first part of this story is third person, limited to Bulma's musings. The second part is first person, Vegeta. It gets kinda confusing to read from there on out. If you've ever pretended to talk to someone in your mind, you'll know it just kind of bounces from one subject to the next and back again. What? Oh, that's just me. Well, anyway, you'll figure it out eventually. I just thought it was something sweet to write about Vegeta, and still keep him at least slightly in character. Tell me if I succeeded (hint, hint!). I've found I like feedback, so give me lots, even if it's -constructive- criticism. I hate flamers. They're kuso-atamas.
DISCLAIMER-None of the characters I portray or mention in the following short story belong to me, or anyone I know personally. Toriyama Akira created them, and I am merely borrowing them to entertain others, and myself and to express my feelings toward the human (Saiya-jin) psyche.
--Deep, ne? I wish I did own Vegeta-san, though... ;D
Bulma watched as her husband stared into space at the table. He'd been like that for two weeks: barely eating anything, not training, not doing ANYTHING except staring ahead of him.
Ever since Gokou-san had disappeared.
No one knew where he was, not even Chichi or Gohan. Poor Chichi. Bulma had gone to visit her, and, although she had been a perfectly good host, Bulma had seen the toll her husband's disappearance had taken on her, emotionally and physically. Her eyes had deep shadows under them, and her voice had sounded slightly hoarse. As if she'd been crying all night.
Bulma took a quick account of her husband's appearance. His eyes were slightly bloodshot from the lack of sleep she knew he was getting. Bags under his eyes confirmed that thought. His face was looking a little gaunt, although since he wasn't training, his body wasn't going through his reserves as quickly. But if he didn't start eating more, he wouldn't be able to get around. He looked physically sick. But Bulma knew it was only a sickness of the heart.
Vegeta missed Son Gokou. His sparring partner. His companion. His friend. The only other full Saiya-jin still alive. Bulma knew that secretly, Vegeta looked up to Gokou, much as one looks up to an older brother. She doubted even Vegeta knew he did it, and he sure as hell wouldn't admit it, but she saw it when he would talk, or more frequently argue with Gokou-san. That look in his intense black eyes that said ^I trust you. ^
Kakarott. Where the hell are you?
Kakarott? WHERE ARE YOU!!!
Don't you get it, you stupid excuse for a third class Saiya-jin? DON'T YOU???!!!!
Of course not. I have to spell everything out for you. You are so naïve; I wonder how on Dende's green Chikyuu you had one son, let alone two brats.
I'm not sparring anymore, you know. Who do I have to spar with? Any of the others, even my son, is no real match for me, and I end up holding back, afraid to hurt him. The gravity room seems dull and lifeless after the endless sparring sessions we've had together.
Your head's so dense, I wonder if you even have a brain in there. And if you do, I would like to know how small it is. You pea-brained MORON!!!
I won't say it. The prince of Saiya-jins will not say this thing that feels so... disgraceful.
Bulma is worried about me. She says I need to eat more. She's right, damn her. But even your wife's cooking isn't appealing to me at this time. For the first time in my life, I know what it feels like not to be hungry.
I hate it. So if you'd just come back, I could eat, and start training again, and all would be right on this forsaken rock of a planet.
I hate you, Kakarott. I hope you know that. How could you not? I tell you every chance I get. But that can't be the reason you left, or you would have done it far sooner than now. Right?
I know you're made of tougher stuff than that, ne, Kakarott? So just come back, and I'll forgive you.
I WILL NOT say it!!! I CANNOT!!!
^Sigh^ Kakarott? Can you hear me? Dear Dende, I feel so foolish right now. I hope this makes you happy, Kakarott. I'm whispering in my own mind. I HAVE gone insane. I thought you would drive me there, Kakarott. Quite a few times you nearly succeeded. But it is your absence that is getting to me more than a thousand of your innocent questions and silly conversations.
Please. Don't make me do this, Kakarott. This thing that I truly despise. I have done it only in the direst of circumstances, all when Bulma was threatening to kick me out of the house. Kakarott? Please?
Damn. I've already started; I might as well finish the freakin' thing.
Kakarott, please come back. No conditions, no restrictions. I am only asking you to come back to your family and friends who love you.
Yes, dammit, somehow, I came to care for you, you baka! Much as it chagrins me.
We miss you, Kakarott. No, I shouldn't say that. I am not speaking for the others right now.
I miss you, and I want you to come back. Please come back.
Or, if you don't want other people to see what you have to say, or you just want to say HI, e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org
--Eirian, Silver Princess