Chapter 59

Zarbon left the room with his heart feeling like it was a block of concrete lodged in his ribcage. He couldn’t believe Vegeta had said those things. No, he could believe Vegeta had said those things; what he was having difficulty with was the fact that Vegeta had meant them. He had seen some sort of blazing emotion in Vegeta’s eyes when the Prince flew out the window. What else could it have been but hatred? He sighed to himself, pressing down the sorrow that threatened to rise up in his chest and strangle him. His own footsteps sounded particularly hollow to him as he walked slowly down the hall, wondering vaguely where his purpose was. He felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, his chest feeling the same sort of constriction.

He wandered around the building for some time under the pretense of making sure the place was secure. After half an hour of aimless walking he decided to give up and go to his own quarters. He turned down the hallway that led eventually to his quarters, passing a window on the way. Stopping, he rested his hands lightly on the sill, studying the pitted sandstone beneath his fingers. Like most Arlian structures, the window was devoid of glass, relying on shutters to keep out the elements. The shutters of the window in which he stood were flung wide open and he found that he looked into a courtyard. A small smile touched the corner of his mouth as he thought that the owners of the house must be important indeed to have such a space in their home. He closed his eyes as the warm, dry wind from outside blew into the corridor. The breeze still carried the faint scent of burning flesh and dust and he hastily pushed aside the thoughts the smell stirred within him. It had smelled the same way, when he had found her. Eyes still closed, he reached out a hand and felt the breeze blow between his fingers, the sensation of the motion of against his skin almost an imitation of a caress. “Bethsena,” he whispered into the night.

He forced his eyes to open and turned them skyward, watching clouds of dust rise in the wind. The airborne particles, leftover from the day’s destruction, collected high in the air and made the twin moons appear ruddy, as if stained with old blood. He sighed and leaned forward against the sill. The wind rose suddenly, whipping the clouds of dust even higher in the air, and the illusion of the bloody moons was dispersed, their natural steely-blue color returning once more. Zarbon smiled wanly and continued to stare at the sky. “I must be getting old,” he whispered to himself. “I’m actually reflecting on my existence.”

He tried, for a moment, to imagine what his life would have been like if his homeworld hadn’t been destroyed, if Bethsena had lived. They would have had children, he was sure of that. He attempted to visualize his golden eyes and Bethsena’s midnight-blue hair on a youngster. It had been years since he had given in to such thoughts. “It has just been so long, Bethsena,” he murmured to the wind. He could barely even recall the features of her face. Most of his memories of his time with her were blurry impressions and feelings rather than distinct images or thoughts. He closed his eyes again. He couldn’t remember how she smelled, could no longer recall how it felt to have her pressed against him.

“Who’s Bethsena?” a deep voice said behind him, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

He quickly suppressed his startlement and composed himself, turning to face the speaker. “Oh, it’s you,” he said with a slight scowl, then returned to his gazing at the moons.

“Fine way to treat a fellow warrior,” the man said, settling his huge frame on the sill next to Zarbon.

“Shut up, Radditz. I’m not in a mood to be trifled with,” Zarbon snapped, embarrassed he had been caught unaware.

“I’m not trying to trifle. I honestly want to know. Who is Bethsena?” Radditz asked again, fixing black eyes on Zarbon’s face.

“That was my wife’s name,” Zarbon replied stiffly. He didn’t feel like talking at the moment, especially to someone like Radditz. After all, Saiyans weren’t known for their empathy and sensitivity.

“Is she the woman you spoke of before?”

“How many wives do you think I had?” Zarbon spat, scowling in earnest.

“Considering with how many females you’ve slept with since I’ve known you, I think it’s a perfectly valid question,” Radditz said, easing his weight off the sill and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Zarbon growled, mightily annoyed.

“Goku’s with her and Gohan as well. I felt in the way.”

“I thought Bulma was supposed to get some rest.”

“Have you ever known her to take advice?” Radditz said with a tight smile.

Zarbon felt his face stretch in a grudging grin. “True, true. Still, I’m surprised you didn’t stay with them. They’re your family. I notice you don’t call Goku by his Saiyan name anymore.”

“They are my family. But they’re far older friends with one another and I felt an intruder. Besides, Goku’s no Saiyan. Not by culture, not by behavior. And you’re trying to change the subject. Don’t think I didn’t notice. I want to know about her.”

“Who?”

“Come on, Zarbon, I know you’re not stupid. Bethsena.”

Zarbon sighed and hung his head, wondering if he felt wretched because he actually missed her or because he wished he missed her still. Perhaps he felt sad because of neither. Perhaps he felt sad because he suspected he was about to lose someone else important to him. “What would you know, Saiyan?”

“What will you tell me?” Radditz said, turning his eyes toward the moon. “You’ve seen my first experience with love. I didn’t have the option of revealing it to you. It was there for all to see, as painful as it was, as it is. I want to know about yours.”

“There’s nothing to know,” Zarbon muttered.

“No, I want the whole story. From the moment you first saw one another until the last.”

Zarbon turned and planted a hand on the window sill, leaning his weight on that arm as he stared at Radditz through narrowed eyes. “Why?”

Radditz exhaled sharply through his nose and glanced at Zarbon. “Let’s just say I like to know the people I go to face my death with. It’s the Saiyan way- we rarely face death alone.”

Zarbon raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. In the next few days we set off to take on Freeza. That’s if we make it past the Ginyu Force. Our chances of living through this are slim to none.”

“My, my, so negative.”

“I’m done playing games, Zarbon. Are you going to tell me or not?”

Zarbon narrowed his eyes even further, studying Radditz’s face carefully. The Saiyan’s sharp features remained composed, but something flickered deep within his dark eyes. “I don’t understand, Radditz.”

“Think of what I’m offering you.”

Slowly comprehension broke over him. “You know what he said to me, then.”

“I heard him. Half the building must have heard him. I don’t know if he means what he says, but I do know that you can’t go into this alone, especially since this isn’t really even your fight. This is, after all, about a Saiyan grudge. You’re not Saiyan; it’s not your problem.”

Zarbon smiled and shook his head. “Wrong, my boy. Very wrong. My life is forfeit if Freeza wins. I accepted that and threw in my lot with all of you a long time ago. If I don’t fight with you I die. At least with you Saiyans I stand a chance, although certainly not much of one.”

Radditz nodded once. “Understood. Now, Bethsena.”

Zarbon bowed his head and sighed, strands of hair coming loose from his braid in the wind. “We met at a life festival when we were young. My people held life festivals twice a year, with food, dancing, performers, et cetera. The young men would hold a tournament to see who would get to dance with the Honored Maiden, who was a young female who had proven her ability to survive alone in the wilds over a period of months. The dance of the Honored Maiden was the most important event of the festival. It represented the hardiness and capability of our planet joined with the dedication of our people in tending it. The Maiden was never revealed until the dance was finished, and because the dance was ceremonial, the partners felt it a little taboo to know one another after it was finished, even though it was a great honor to have partaken in the ritual. It’s just the way things worked. However, the year that I was eligible to compete in the tournament I also happened to win it, and became my people’s representative in joining with the planet. When the dance was over, the Maiden removed her wrappings, just like life springing from the union of my people cultivating our planet’s soil, and she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Her skin was such a pale green it almost seemed silvery, and she had thick, indigo-blue hair that fell to her knees in waves. Her eyes were a light lavender. She was breathtaking, and she approached me the day after the festival, commending me on my win. She took my hand, and suddenly I knew I wanted her worse than anything ever before in my entire existence. Of course, I was far younger than you or Vegeta are now and therefore extremely impetuous. We married shortly after, and then our planet experienced cataclysmic climate changes. I lost her and my future with her. I was picked up by Freeza’s troops a few days later, the sole survivor of the cataclysm. I worked for him from that day forth.”

“Do you still miss her?” Radditz whispered.

“If you’re asking me because you want to know if you’ll always love Bulma then I can’t answer.”

“No, I really want to know if you still do.”

“I don’t think so. I loved her deeply, but it was an immature love based mostly on our physical relationship. We didn’t have much time together, so our feelings never had the opportunity to deepen.” Zarbon turned his head toward the courtyard, noticing the moons had already moved a small distance across the sky.

“That’s why you’re so worried now, then,” Radditz said slowly, head cocked to the side as if he was thinking.

“What? Where did that come from?” Zarbon said sharply, his scowl returning.

“Well, that explains why you had such a change of heart about Bulma. You don’t want her to feel what you’ve felt, even if you don’t think her and Vegeta are necessarily right for one another.”

“Think what you like,” Zarbon replied coldly, but he knew his cheeks were beginning to darken with a guilty flush. “I’m surprised you’re bothering to think about this at all. Isn’t this behavior contrary to your Saiyan pride or some other such nonsense?”

“I told you before, I like to know the people I go to face my death with. It’s not the Saiyan way to die alone.”

“I don’t follow you.”

“Well, you were there at the destruction of my planet, so you should have seen it.”

“I wasn’t privy to Freeza’s plans and you know it. Dodoria and I could do nothing but stand by the porthole and watch as that monster destroyed your people. We’ve already had this fight.”

“I’m not fighting this time. Let me finish, will you?” Radditz snapped.

“I’m sorry, I’m just a little raw and a little suspicious of you and the way you’re acting,” Zarbon replied with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, I’m asking you to trust me, dammit, so hear me out,” the Saiyan said roughly.

“Fine. Go on,” Zarbon prompted.

“Take my father, for example. He was the leader of a small squad. I know you think Saiyans are heartless bastard loners, but squads were more closely knit than families. They looked out for one another. It’s that sort of loyalty and sense of duty that we Saiyans honored. My father would have died for any one of his squad member, just as they would have died for him. They cared deeply about each other. Abandoning your squad was the worst thing you could do.”

“And?” Zarbon prompted as Radditz fell silent.

“And my race is gone, as is yours. Yet here we are, forming, for all intents and purposes, a squad. I’m honor-bound to know the people whose lives I will be defending, for whose lives I would give my own. That, Zarbon, is the Saiyan way. I’m old enough to remember that. In fact, I’m probably the only one who does. Vegeta and Nappa are both elites, and served as officers rather than in the squads. But they still would have gone down for the kingdom, so perhaps they’re not so different after all. I don’t think they cared about closeness like we squad members do, though. I guess that’s partially why I don’t hate you anymore. You’re an elite and an officer, but you act like a squad member. Squad members never hate their own, no matter what.”

Zarbon took his weight from the sill and exhaled slowly, mulling over everything Radditz had said. He sifted the words through his mind carefully, listening to the words Radditz did not utter just as studiously as the ones he did. He was silent for several moments, looking at the large Saiyan levelly with his glittering golden eyes. “Goku had no small part in this,” he said.

A small smile passed across Radditz’s lips. “Goku said I should try to make more friends. He thinks quite a lot of you. You’re a good soldier. You might be a bit of a sissy primper sometimes, but underneath it all you’re a good warrior. I know you’d do anything for Vegeta, just like I would. I think in that we’re alike.”

Zarbon remained quiet, studying the Saiyan’s sharp face. “Ah,” he finally said. “I agree. You, too, are a good soldier. I wouldn’t have taken the actions I have with you if I didn’t know that you were. Well met, Radditz.”

“Well met, Zarbon. We really both should get some rest now.”

Zarbon watched as Radditz heaved himself away from the wall and began to stalk down the hallway. “Radditz,” he called after him suddenly. The Saiyan stopped and turned slightly. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me this night.”

A wry smile crossed Radditz’s face and he gave a Saiyan salute, then disappeared down the hallway.

“Thank you very much,” Zarbon whispered softly, oddly touched by the Saiyan’s gesture. Radditz had saluted him as if he were another Saiyan, as if they were members of the same squad. After so many decades of rigorous training and commanding others, he realized it was the first time since the death of Bethsena that he felt like he belonged.

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He was having very little success sleeping. He lay in his bed, staring at the fabric canopy with his arms tucked behind his head. His conversation with Radditz had brought his past even more vividly to life. It had been so long since he had thought about what had gone before. He had a difficult time believing just how long it had been. Being a soldier, and a high-ranking one at that, had consumed so many years of his life and concentration that he had nearly forgotten that he had once been something different. Of course he would have become a warrior anyway, but not one of the level and discipline that he was at present. He had shown odd fighting potential for one of his peaceful race, one of the few of his kind able to manipulate his ki, and he had definitely been the strongest in his use of energy. When the cataclysm had struck he had instinctively thrown up a shield, which was apparently what had allowed him, and only him, to survive. Gone were the long lakes and winding rivers, vanished were the secret ponds his people would soak themselves in. Even if they had remained he would have been the only one of his race to shift into saurian form and slip into those waters, enjoying the ancestral privelage of being amphibious that the saurian form allowed. Gone, gone, all gone. . .

The soft tapping at his door disturbed his thoughts and he sat up in bed. He eyed the wooden door suspiciously, thinking again of how wealthy the house’s owner must have been to be able to use such a material as wood for something as large as a door. He also wondered who it could possibly be. The tapping began again and he stood, wrapping himself in a soft robe made of cotton-like cloth before going to the door and opening it. As soon as he had the door slightly ajar, slender fingers curled around the edge of the wood and threw the door open more quickly. His visitor forced her way inside the room and shut the door tightly behind her. Blue eyes looked up at him, the same blue eyes that had tormented Vegeta for so many months and nearly driven him to his death. “Yes?” Zarbon said, not bothering to keep his annoyance from his voice.

“May I speak with you?” Bulma asked softly.

“Do I have a choice?” Zarbon groaned, turning and walking the few steps to his bed, on which he immediately sat down heavily.

“Hey,” Bulma said with a scowl.

Zarbon was not put off by her attitude. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed? Isn’t Vegeta there waiting for you?” he snapped.

“I’m not ‘supposed’ to do anything,” she replied tartly. “And your second question is why I’m here. Where did he go?”

Zarbon frowned and narrowed his eyes. “How in the hell am I supposed to know?” he said coldly. “He doesn’t answer to me.”

“Well, he should,” she said. “If he had any brains he’d do exactly what you tell him to.” She made a little angry noise and stomped over to him. The bed bounced slightly under her weight as she plopped down beside him.

“I dare you to tell him that.”

“I don’t need to. He already knows it but he just won’t admit it. He needs you more than he’s ever needed anyone, and I think it scares him.”

“So you’re a Vegeta expert now?” Zarbon sneered.

“Don’t take it out on me, buster,” Bulma said sharply. “Radditz told me that you two had a falling out and that Vegeta said some things he shouldn’t have.”

“Did he tell you what Vegeta said?”

“No,” she replied haltingly. “But I don’t think he needs to. I think the damage has been done, and it worries me.”

“Well, don’t be worried. Vegeta’s going to do whatever he wants.”

“That’s another thing that worries me.”

“You’re strange,” Zarbon said suddenly, looking at her askance.

“So are you . Maybe that’s why we get along.”

Zarbon smiled in spite of himself. “Maybe so. We both care about that man more than is sane.”

Bulma’s blue eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “You love him like a brother, don’t you,” she said, and her tone told him it was not a question.

Zarbon sighed and ran a hand through his unbound hair. “I suppose I do, for all the good that it does me.”

“Well, it does him a ton of good, and for that I owe you big time,” Bulma said, putting a hand on Zarbon’s muscular shoulder. “So what are we going to do?”

“Whatever you want,” Zarbon growled. “I’m through playing his damn games, Bulma.”

“You think you’re the only one that feels that way?” Bulma snarled, standing suddenly. Her face was flushed and her fists were clenched tightly at her sides as she glared down at him. “You think you’re the only one that feels the sting of his words?”

“Bulma-”

“Shut up!” Bulma snapped. “I know exactly how you feel. I’m stupid, Zarbon. I walked into this with my eyes wide open and I still got hurt. I-I love him, Zarbon. I don’t know why, or when it happened, but when I’m around him it’s like nothing else in the universe matters. I need him because I love him. He’s touched me somehow. He sets my entire being on fire, and I need that heat.”

He looked into her eyes and sighed. “He’s passion, Bulma. You and I can’t understand him fully. We never will. I’ve come to realize that he’s more than a little insane. Rage and hate drive him more than anything else. He lives off of those feelings rather than air and water. I sometimes wonder if we’re nothing to him. You and I would both die for him, and yet we can do nothing. He doesn’t consider us, and I don’t know what it would take to change that.”

“You’re wrong. You have to be wrong,” Bulma stammered, blue eyes wide.

“Am I?”

“Goku told me he was worried sick when he thought I was buried in the rubble!” she protested.

“He was. But if he truly cared he would have looked after your safety first before dashing off to kill enemies. He didn’t think of you primarily, Bulma. He thought of satisfying his hate and bloodlust.”

“Stop it!” she cried. “I came to you for comfort!”

Zarbon stared at her coldly until she calmed herself, her eyes seeming empty and frantic. “You’re bonded to him, Bulma, whether you know what that means or not. In some strange way your minds and souls speak to one another. That’s why you love him, and only his madness prevents him from loving you in return. So, Queen of the Saiyans, you comfort me. You should know him more intimately than anyone. You tell me why he hates me so much, why he hates his existence so much. You let me know, for once.”

Bulma shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. “How can you say these things?” she said, voice thick with unshed tears.

“How can you come in here?” he hissed, rising from the bed to tower over her. “How dare you come in here uninvited, wanting me to fix all your goddamned problems! I have my own set of troubles. Tell me, woman, when has Vegeta struck you? When has he told you he hated you with everything in his soul after you have done everything you could for him for nearly a year? You’re a perfect match for him, Bulma. You’re every bit as obsessed and selfish as he is. Now get out.”

Suddenly she reached out and grabbed his wrist, yanking him down to her eye level. “No, you listen to me, Zarbon,” she said, her eyes gleaming strangely. “You are the only person on this godforsaken planet that’s actually important to him. He doesn’t even care enough about the rest of us to tell us he hates us. He feels nothing for us. You are the one he goes to for help, for guidance, you’re the one he listens to, as much as he listens to anyone. I’m his wife, for heaven’s sake, and still all he talks of is you! What I wouldn’t give to have a fraction of his heart that you do!”

Zarbon yanked his wrist away and stared at her coldly. “Get out of here, you heartless bitch. I can’t believe you’re warping the situation so.”

Bulma pulled back her hand and slapped him as hard as she could. Zarbon’s eyes widened in surprise but he did not flinch. “You’re the heartless bitch! Can’t you see how many others are drying up for want of his love?”

Zarbon felt something inside of him begin to tear and shake. “Out,” he whispered.

“Tell me where he is. Tell me where my husband is.”

“No. I can’t. Go ask the other Saiyans. They’ll be able to sense him.”

Bulma scowled at him for several moments. “It’s killing you,” she whispered. “It’s killing you.”

Zarbon’s eyes flew open in surprise. “What?”

“It’s the first time you can’t do anything for him. That knowledge is tearing you apart inside,” she said flatly.

He stared at her in shock. “I-”

“Let me finish. I know you’re not a mean man, Zarbon, despite that icy exterior you show to so many. You’re the cold, disciplined warrior that so many fear. You’re the incorrigible womanizer who cares for no one person. But you love him, love him like one of your own blood. You’re a gentle, kind, intelligent man deep inside. You’re still the man that Bethsena married, no matter how you might try to hide him.”

“How do you know her name?” he murmured so softly that his words were nearly inaudible. A strange numbness traveled through his limbs as he stared at her upturned face, suddenly afraid of the mind that lay within her.

“Radditz told me. He tells me anything I want to know,” she replied. She went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “A part of me hates you, too, probably for the same reason he does. I hate that you take up such a large part of his heart. I’m sure he hates that as well. I hate that you’re often the only one that knows what’s going on, that you are the only one truly equipped to deal with it fully. I hate having to rely on you, especially since it makes me feel so helpless. Don’t you see, Zarbon? That you’re the only one that can save us all? Vegeta may have the power, but he doesn’t have the strength.”

Something inside Zarbon shattered, sharp shards of pain sliding down his insides. His chest constricted painfully, and he was abnormally aware of her soft skin against his bare waist. Her smooth, vulnerable flesh was pressed against his own hard stomach. A thousand images assailed him: Bethsena’s hair wrapped around his wrists as he gently tilted her head back to kiss her, the faces of his long-dead parents smiling down at him, the reproachful, frustrated black glare of a young Prince Vegeta, the first time Vegeta’s stern face cracked in an honest smile. He began to tremble, feeling something odd on his face. His fingertips lightly traced his cheeks and encountered dampness. He was crying. After decades of feeling nothing, of not allowing his emotions to surface, he was finally breaking. A sob escaped his chest and he choked on his own tears, his body going limp and sliding to the floor, taking Bulma with him. It was too difficult to be strong; he just couldn’t keep the world outside any longer. The weeping seemed to permeate every cell of his body and he felt as if he was dissolving. The cool stones of the floor pressed into his skin and he stared at the ceiling, eyes open but seeing nothing as the tears rolled down his pale green cheeks. Slowly gentle arms wrapped around him, cradling his head.

“I’m sorry,” Bulma whispered into his ear. “I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean to do this to you.”

He couldn’t respond for long moments, shamed to his core to have broken down in front of anyone but unable to cease his crying. “You should be sorry,” he croaked.

She flushed and a scowl creased her brow, but then her expression softened and she shook her head. “Well, I am. I’m jealous. I’ve never loved anyone like I love him, and I didn’t even realize it until the stones of the palace were raining down on my head. The thought of never seeing his proud face again, of feeling my fingers run down his body...”

He sighed as her voice trailed off into silence. He lay in her lap for several minutes longer, getting his breathing under control once again and listening to the wind rattling the shutters of his room. “I know, I know,” he whispered. “I felt the same after my fight with Dodoria, when I wasn’t sure if he was all right.” He fell silent, pondering. “Well, I felt the same except for the running my fingers down his body part,” he said with a weak smile.

Bulma managed an insincere smile of her own and gently released him. “I don’t know what to do or say,” she said as she brushed off her clothing.

“Hmm?” Zarbon said, rising himself and tidying his hair.

She lowered her eyes. “Everything I told you was true,” she replied. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I didn’t want to hurt you, but every word I said, I meant.”

He sighed and put his hand on her shoulder. “Through it all, we feel the same. Jealousy between us will be dangerous, Bulma, and we can’t afford danger.” He paused, feeling the pain well up in him once again and battling it down deep inside him with every iota of self-control he could muster. When he felt in full command of himself he looked at her again. “We both want his love, but we want different aspects of it. I see no conflict there. If he has love to give at all, there should be enough for both of us. I think we should see him as the problem and not one another. It’s his heartlessness that truly pains us, not envy.”

“I don’t know what to say,” she said softly. “You’re right, but I am too.”

He removed his hand from her shoulder. “You and I could be friends, but that he stands between us,” he replied solemnly. “It’s a shame.”

“That, Zarbon, I can agree with.” She shook her head and turned to leave the room. Putting her hand on the door, she paused and turned. “Do you want me to ask him to come see you when he gets back?” she asked gently.

He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed. “No.”

She nodded and closed the door behind her. Zarbon stared at the closed door for a long time, then put his head in his hands and cried once more for all the things that meant something to him, for all the things that he had let slip away from him into forever.

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58 / Bulma’s Hideout / 60