Pandora's Box – Second Arc
by Felix McKraken     More by this Writer
This is the second arc of Pandora Box

Warning : Mention of suicide and death



Chapter 03 : Conflicts of Interest
"Here is something you can't understand/
How I could just kill a man/"
-Rage Against the Machine "How I Could Just Kill a Man"
The whiskey burned his throat and he thought that he'd only have enough if his ki would make him spontaneously combust from the blood-alcohol ratio.

A swirling miasma of anger pitted itself in his stomach, flared by the notion that they cared about an asshole like Wohrdin. It wasn't as if he was the only connection to Pandora's Box. Marky had other associates, and the old man had given them the galaxy name. Besides, Wohrdin.. deserved what he got.

How dare they ruin the satisfaction, the sense of relief, the feeling of closure!? Was this criminal piece-of-shit worth so much to Kakarot? Did it threaten his view of the universe so much he'd force the Prince of Saiyans into submission!?

Another couple gulps made his insides burn.

Not his right to judge, huh... Then whose right was it? Was Kakarot so naive to think he was never wrong? Had he encouraged this elitist behavior by letting the younger man conquer his heart? The BASTARD...

God, how he loved him.

..He loved him, right? That feeling that came from some place inside of him was elusive as it was powerful. Like an air bubble trapped beneath wallpaper, you could push it away, but never eradicate it. Kakarot always knew where to push, what buttons to press...

"Shit," he thought to himself, "I should stop drinking."

Yet, he still brought the bottle to his lips.

..He wondered what the others were doing at the moment. He imagined them trying to tidy up the remains. Blood stained so easily.

OK, Vegeta granted, Maybe I acted like a dick. Killing someone out of the blue without giving justification was a piss poor plan, and he should have told them ahead of time of his intentions. The Namek had picked up on it since the beginning, but how easy was it to tell them about Wohrdin Ruzf and his previous life in the Frieza empire? He didn't want to see their expressions. Sure, he was at fault. And it was so easy to chalk it up either direction – that he'd be weak to tell them and weak not to, but.. he didn't want to see Kakarot's face when the truth was revealed. Hell, he wasn't sure how he felt about it at the moment. A part of him wanted to make Kakarot suffer and he was aware that is was terribly selfish. It was also very stupid, and thankfully he wasn't ruled by that particular childish notion. He didn't want to make his lover feel guilty about something he lacked control over.

He didn't particularly enjoy playing with people's emotions. "Yet, you did, didn't you?" he reminded himself, "That was the best part, wasn't it? Was that Wohrdin's favorite part too?" His hand clenched the bottle and it fractured the glass. The smell of fear, the rush of excitement, that hedonistic feeling of domination – like touching immortality... "It's hollow," the prince redirected his thoughts, "You know that." He did know it.. didn't he?

Damnit! Why did it have to be Wohrdin? It could have been any thug, a regular, typical lackey, a nameless face.. anyone but that man. Yet, he wouldn't have wanted it any other way. There wasn't regret for his actions, not in the typical sense. In fact, the kill was much cleaner than it could have been. It also was practically instantaneous and therefore painless. Wohrdin wasn't even worthy of such a death.

He lit a cigarette and sat broiling in the early evening sun. Perspiration dotted his forehead while he wondered if his head was dizzy from the heat or the drink. "Probably both," the brunette thought with some amusement. At least it lessened the pain. A drop of sweat tickled his brow so he wiped it away, but he was surprised when he saw crimson.

"Fuck," he said, reaching up and wiping more blood away. He found the tender spot of a gash and applied pressure with his sleeve. He'd be sore tomorrow with bruises no doubt.

He smoked. He sat.

He thought about apologizing to Kakarot.

He wanted the other Saiyan to understand. Maybe not know, but to understand why he'd done what he'd done. After all Kakarot had been through, how could he not believe that execution was a proper punishment? He had seen one of the worst beings in the universe threaten everything that the younger man held dear. How did Kakarot's ideals persevere through such blatant attacks? How could his standards be unaffected by the reality and nature of evil? Should it not be acceptable to destroy such an evil for the greater good?

His blood turned brown as it dried on his hands, and Vegeta wasn't sure how he felt, but it wasn't pleasant. He uncoiled his tail and stretched it out, relaxing as it popped out the kinks.

The time trickled by until he noticed the whiskey was gone. He turned his attention to a second bottle – this one of bourbon.

I really shouldn't be drinking, he berated himself, Not like this...

Suddenly, he felt so small, so tiny and insignificant. It was suffocating. He took a drink and nearly spilt it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and focused on breathing.

I don't need this, Vegeta thought, not now.

If I ignore it, maybe it'll go away.

Maybe it'll stop.

---

Wohrdin's body was neatly wrapped inside several layers of plastic trash bags, and the bits and pieces that were detached from him were cautiously collected by Piccolo. His intervention had prevented some arguments, but he refused to keep interrupting simply because he was tired of taking responsibility. So instead he picked up little chunks of brain and bone from the furniture. The issue at hand was: What should they do with the body? Leave it there? Drop it somewhere? Destroy it? Turn it in to the authorities?

All things considered, Piccolo thought any viable option was one that couldn't be traced back to them. They had more important things to worry about than the proper disposal of this simpleton. For instance, tracing the path Wohrdin had outlined, or finding out why Vegeta was so inclined to murder. "Look at this mess," the Namek thought to himself as he knelt down, "That stupid Saiyan couldn't make a clean kill, could he? Oh no, that would be too easy..." As he reached out to pick up another fleshy bit, his gaze refocused and he changed targets. His hand met a small lock box under the bed and he pulled it out to examine it. The item was old and rusting slightly, and the lock was too difficult to pick, but easy enough to break if you knew how. He went to crack it and a hand was placed on top of his.

"This isn't meant for you," Shin said quietly, "This was his."

"Well, I'm curious," Piccolo retaliated. The hand tightened its grasp.

"Then don't be." He slowly pulled the box away from the green-skinned man.

Piccolo let him take it and he told the god why. "You know what's inside." It wasn't a question. Shin carefully wrapped the small box with a rag and deposited the bundle inside a trash bag which he tied to his belt.

"Leverage," Shin finally said, "That's what's inside. Leverage."

The rest of the clean-up proceeded with a lethargic, tedious, methodical rhythm.

After the group did what they could, the remains were moved into the bathroom and set inside the tub. The room was cramped with an overabundance of occupants, but no one seemed inclined to think much of it, choosing instead to maneuver around one another. It was solemnly quiet.

"I suppose we should say something," Shin declared before deciding to take the action upon himself, "Wohrdin led an estranged life. We barely knew him. May he make amends and rest peacefully."

"Amen," Yamcha said in all seriousness.

Then the god took himself to his knees and placed his hands over the body. A stream of white light encompassed the remains and it grew in intensity till it started to become painful. A brief burst later, Wohrdin no longer existed, and the only evidence that was left was a burnt shell of a bath tub. It was rather anti-climatic. "We should leave," Shin said as he stood, "Now."

---

The wall was made out of brick and it was a dirty sort of brown that he particularly didn't want to look at, but nonetheless suddenly found himself leaning against. A chuckle gurgled up his throat at the silliness of it all, and he didn't know why his legs kept bumping into one another. He tripped on himself and met the asphalt. It still had warmth lingering from sunset and in the confined space he smelt his own breath. Vegeta managed to get back upon his feet after three tries mostly due to the fact that he found a dumpster for support. He was laughing about the whole ordeal by this point. There was some difficulty in picking his feet up off the ground, but the problem was more entertaining than anything else.

Goddamn...

He felt good.

His head was tingling and fuzzy, almost like he was detached from himself. It caused no concern because there was no danger. He stumbled on for awhile. He got lost so many times that he eventually realized he had only gotten lost once and therefore hadn't escaped that state yet.

After some time, his head cleared just enough that he stopped wandering in circles and began making his way back to the ship. The prince began to sober up a bit at the thought, but it was more artificial than anything else.

"You should laugh at it," he told himself, "You should just get over it. Go home." Then the confusion set in because he wasn't even sure what he meant by his words. He let the entire train of thought ease out of his head like water through a colander, and, besides, he could only focus on so much at one time. He opted to construct of some type of an apology rather than turn philosophical with himself.

He meandered out of the twisted, interconnecting alleys and into a street. It was more than that though, and the noise and din made it obvious. It was a market bustling with shoppers and bursting with smells and sights that did nothing to distract him from his inner turmoil. "Kakarot," he said aloud, "I'm sorry that you didn't want me to kill him." His sub-standard footwork caused him to bump into a bystander, and while he used their figure to correct his stance and posture, he continued to prattle to himself and move onward, "Kakarot, I'm sorry I pissed you off." He wandered through the throng of consumers, trying yet again to conjure the right words, "Kakarot, I'm sorry we have different views about things." The prince moved amicably with no real purpose, instead letting the flow of the crowd direct his movement. "Kakarot," he sighed and bunched his tail around his waist, which bristled as his brain derailed, "You have no idea how much I... I..."

The end of his sentence couldn't be achieved on the basis that it had too many endings. Then, that odd feeling came over him again. It was as if it was so intense he had no idea how to control it; the desperately intoxicating emotion that tried to wrestle logic and reason from his grasp. He didn't comprehend why, but at that moment he wanted to cry although he felt no sadness. That's when it happened.

Oh god, he realized, I'm free.

Wohrdin's dead.

Wohrdin. Is. Dead.

Gone.

Eradicated.

No more.

Wohrdin's dead.
And I killed him. It was me. Isn't this what they called poetic justice? The apprehension leaked out of him like sand from a sieve. A sweeping sense of calmness seized him and he ceased walking to just stand. His body swayed – a little from the alcohol, and a little from the crowd. Glorious rapture was bestowed upon him, and he knew it was due to the retribution he had delivered upon Wohrdin. This kill was so unlike the others. Yes, it was selfish, but.. it wasn't unwarranted. Wohrdin was not a stranger. Wohdrin was not an innocent. And Vegeta hadn't done it for Freiza, but rather for himself.

He was free.

And he was laughing. Fantastically satisfying rolls of laughter were exhaled deeply from his chest steadily and boisterously. Onlookers were completely ignored as he lived in this moment.

He wasn't sure of when he had started moving again, but it wasn't long before the ship came into view. He paused to consider what to say when he would walk through that door. Vegeta wasn't satisfied with anything preassembled. It made his words seem.. artificial. "Forget it," he thought to himself, "just go in and say it. Just say 'I'm sorry' and go from there."

He leaned against the doorframe so he could properly enter the pass code, and when he was admitted entrance, the first thing revealed to him was Kakarot. Vegeta was greeted to the sight of his lover standing up from the couch from whence he had been sternly sitting with arms crossed.

"What.. the hell.. is wrong with you!?" Goku hissed lowly, obviously trying to give consideration to anyone trying to sleep. "Did you enjoy making a mockery of my values?" the younger man growled with his fists clenched into two angry, white balls, "Is it as if your position gives you privilege to do as you damn well please? If anything, I hold a higher expectation for you! We had agreed that you were past all this.. senselessness, Vegeta. I don't like it when you purposely destroy what I try so hard to protect."

He let the other man rant and rave. It was probably better that these things were said.

"Do you have any idea how much this hurts me?" Goku asked – no, pleaded – with surprisingly clear and lucid eyes. It struck the prince inside and his chest tightened, but Vegeta stood rooted, simply taking the barrage. After awhile, however, this had a negative effect because Goku noticed that he was inebriated and assumed that the older man wasn't paying attention, regardless that the opposite was true. "You went drinking," Goku stated, "You know.. how I hate that."

I do? thought Vegeta with confusion.

The younger Saiyan was far from finished. Even if Vegeta was drunk, he was going to have his say and get it off his chest. He couldn't pretend that everything was okay. It wasn't just that the prince literally took matters into his own hands; it was that his actions felt like a personal attack. Goku refused to return to the point where Vegeta denied sensibility and spoke with his fists rather than his mouth. He simply would not allow it to happen. He loved Vegeta too much to let him lead them both down a path of destruction.

Trying desperately to push away the anger, Goku spoke more slowly and in a softer tone, "Why, Vegeta? Why aren't you even answering me?"

That was easy.
Because he was scared.

Scared of Kakarot's retaliation and because of the truth he was hiding. Every moment that passed made the black-haired Saiyan's expression deepen in disappointment. What could Vegeta possibly say that would appease his lover? Sorry wasn't near enough. Instead, he accepted the defeat. He accepted the fact that he didn't know what to say and that he couldn't bring himself to speak the words he had promised himself to declare. In the place of the apology, he came forward and took Kakarot in his arms. Goku stiffened at first, but soon relaxed. He withheld a response because he expected Vegeta to say something. Anything.

The words did not come. The silence stretched, and Goku began to resign himself to the fate presented.

He jumped when he felt warmth spread across the shell of his ear, but the prince's body held him fast and the dark rumble that came from the brunette's throat hinted towards his intentions. "Vegeta," the younger man sighed in irritation, his hands pressing against pectorals. The intended effect was not achieved as the prince closed the gap between their bodies. Anger started to bubble up from within the black-haired Saiyan as he shoved at his lover with no avail. He simply would not let him go.

"Vegeta!" Goku barked out, louder and more terse. The prince nuzzled his face against the crook of his neck, inhaling the fragrance of the younger man. Goku wrestled for a brief second before the wind was suddenly knocked out of him. His back was grinding against the wall and the air became musty and charged. He opened his eyes from a wince to see a Super Saiyan smirking up at him. A pang of fear curled in his stomach as Goku stared into the inhuman, teal eyes, and he squirmed as Vegeta pressed a thigh between his legs. Hands smoothed from sides, to chest, to collar, to shoulders, where they finally reached their goal of the biceps and pinned them down. "Ve--ge--ta...!" he growled out now, the taste of condensed ki and alcohol assaulting him as he inhaled. Abruptly, his body was pulled away from the wall, spun, then lifted. Disoriented, it took him a moment to come to his senses and notice he had been slung over the prince's shoulder. Goku's hands went to find leverage to fight, but he was shocked when Vegeta's tail snapped at them when they touched the older male. An angry red line ran across his alabaster skin.

The door to their quarters opened with a near silent swish, and Vegeta closed and locked it before turning and tossing the other Saiyan face down onto the bed. It squeaked in protest and, infuriated, Goku pushed himself up only to be knocked down once more. The darkest of purrs rumbled lowly next to his ear, tickling it and sending shivers down his spine. Then a hot tongue lightly lapped at the back before teeth gently grabbed the lobe in order for it to be sucked upon. Goku tried futilely to pull himself out from under the other man. Vegeta felt impossibly heavy and his aggressive behavior was not helping the situation. Between his lungs being compressed because of the added weight and the attentive mouth on one of his erogenous zones, Goku's breaths soon became shallow and ragged. It's hopeless.. he thought to himself angrily, but with these words the resistance began to leave his body.

His neck was nuzzled again while hands secured his wrists against the mattress. Nips reddened the skin and sweeps of the tongue laved them away till Vegeta pulled back only to switch sides. A shudder coursed through Goku as the beginnings of an erection was ground against the sheets. Then the mouth was gone, and the weight on his back shifted which allowed for cool air to come rushing into his lungs. After a few, hasty breaths, he opened his eyes that he hadn't knowingly closed. He found himself looking at Vegeta's face intensively for the second time that night. The abnormal coloring of the prince seemed to accentuate his atypical actions, but did little in revealing his motives other than the obvious.

To Vegeta, there were no words. They weren't needed here. They had no place. He wanted to tell Kakarot how he felt – how Kakarot made him feel, but the words always got jumbled and tangled by the time they wanted to escape his head. Instead, he could speak with his lips with kisses. He could tell his regret and apology with each caress. He wanted to love Kakarot wholly, completely, with no restraint of anxiety. He wanted to make him quiver with desire and moan in bliss. Tonight, he wanted the roles reversed; Vegeta longed to please his lover till he was screaming and satisfied. He started with a kiss.

Goku was looking into a pair of deep, blue-green pupils that flawlessly matched their irises when Vegeta leaned in and captured his lips. Startled by the sudden transition, the younger Saiyan jolted before a hand wove into the hairs on the nape of his neck. He breathed haphazardly through his nose before calming down. It was amazing how few kisses it took from Vegeta before his lips started tingling. The lingering flavor of some alcoholic beverage caused him to frown however, and his reciprocation nearly came to a halt. With a gruff sigh, the prince resituated himself so that he was straddling Goku just above the knees. The black-haired Saiyan gave another attempt to sit up, but the hand on his neck insisted otherwise.

Fingertips raked down his back hard, yet not painfully so. They felt like some type of heated metal on the verge of branding him – strangely pleasant. His shirt was brushed upwards, crumpling around his chest and exposing his back. Nails dragged themselves like feathers along the curve of the spine, a welcome, though unanticipated, turn of an event. They traced across his only scar and a sharp hiss erupted from his mouth before he could even register what was occurring. An odd plethora of sensations and emotions exploded inside of his head – ranging from astonishment to pain to yearning. Apologetically, the hand removed itself, allowing Goku to breathe. Before he could truly recover, a hot mouth covered the pigmented flesh and an adoring tongue carefully swiped itself back and forth in lazy licks. "Unngh!" a harsh moan was torn from the younger man's throat as his hips automatically moved away from the stimulus. It was too much, but Vegeta did not relent as he continued his languid rotations.

The brash audacity in which he was being treated almost cleared Goku's head of the intense haze of indecision and complacency. He reminded himself to inhale before he tried to look back over his shoulder. "Vegeeeeta," his voice sounded thick and raspy, even to himself, "S...Sst-op..." It was almost like the words were hiccups due to the fragmentation. Yet, instead of relief, he was given the best kind of torture. A sharp gasp erupted from him before he fisted the covers in his hands. His erection positively throbbed as he grit his teeth together and squeezed his eyes shut. Instead of helping, this only made it worse. He could feel the hot flat of Vegeta's tongue as he licked, or the talented tip that outlined his tail spot with deliberate care. God.. if this was how it felt for one's tail to be touched.. it was no wonder that Vegeta was so protective over his.

Another particularly excruciatingly delicious swipe caused Goku to sob out brokenly, "Vehge-e-eeta..!" It stopped. Only now did Goku realize how harshly he was breathing and how painful the aches in his groin truly were. There was the shifting of weight, and suddenly his shoes were pulled off and tossed aside, clunking into the furniture. One hand pressed against the middle of his back, while the other roughly hooked itself into his belt loops and yanked. "Nnn!" Goku choked as more pressure was applied to his hardness. Finally, the seams gave and his pants met the same fate of his foot apparel. Hands gripped his legs and spread them apart with firm demand. Blushing, Goku resisted, but eventually yielded when he realized it was like fighting a losing battle.

He inhaled sharply as hands smoothed up from the back of his knees, his thighs, and across his backside in an outward motion. Vegeta's purr was suddenly apparent to his younger lover, and it sounded more deep and guttural than normal. Then, it seemed to change pitch.

"AHH! Hnngk..!" Goku threw his head back as his legs trembled around the prince. That beautifully talented tongue brushed across his sacs generously and without mercy. A prickling heart spiraled low in his belly while he tried to ignore the painful pulses that came across his erection in heady waves. Goku strained against the foreign sensation with uncertainty – it was borderline ticklish, but executed with such precision that it caused a desperate, burning desire for more. Moans spilled out of his throat between harsh pants for oxygen, and thoughts of escaping the Super Saiyan's grasp melted away with the heavenly delicate nibbles that made his blood boil.

He said the brunette's name till he felt a soft brush across his buttocks which then slithered down is cleft. Stunned, Goku's lungs refused to function as the velveteen gently swept across his entrance in beautifully torturous rotations. The purr returned, like a sensual language of its own that spoke only in erotic lullabies and ardent promises. The tail flicked once, twice, and then there was a mild force and pleasure. "Aahm!" the younger inhaled a moan as the tail slide inside. Thankfully, he was granted a moment before it began its slow pistoning. Though shallow and cautious, the sensation was unique and unprecedented. Goku squirmed in an attempt to somehow alleviate some of the ache in his groin, but his frustrations only mounted as Vegeta rotated the appendage and let him feel the bristle of his fur.

"Nnnh!.. aaah!" angry, little groans burst out of Goku's throat as he blushed hotly. He was mad at himself for not taking control of the situation as he should have. Growling, he fought to raise his face from the cushions. "Ss..sst-" he gasped at each clockwise and counter-clockwise movement till he finally was able to bark out, "STOP!"

Motionless. Then, the tail retreated and the stillness made the spots evaporate from the black-haired one's vision – spots he hadn't realized were there. Taking a deep breath, Goku was able to eventually lock his elbows in a push-up position. He wanted the prince to understand that he shouldn't use him as a means to satisfy his sexual cravings when the brunette was in this condition. He had hands, after all, and a tail to top it off with. When Goku had just begun to regain his senses, those hands lightly caressed his back, traced underneath his shoulder blades and rubbed down the edges of his spine till they deviated and firmly took hold of his hips. "Vegeta.." the younger Saiyan started to speak until something undeniably larger than a tail took its former place. Vegeta released a silky growl as he pulled his lover's body up to his own, sheathing himself in one smooth, yet measured, stroke.

The prince felt a shudder ripple through Goku's body, so he held him and purred in an enticement to relax. This role and style was unfamiliar to both of them, but Vegeta had faith that it would succeed in proving himself. The sounds that the younger Saiyan made were pleasantly new. Normally, it was Goku that initiated the foreplay, but Vegeta was determined to make him feel special and doted upon. That is why, when the younger requested for him to stop, he would not make him wait any longer.

"Mmh," the prince heard himself release a quiet sound of sexual contentment. The warmth of Kakarot's body was more pleasant and desirable than the vestiges of intoxication that alcohol offered. He ran his hands up across the younger's back and neck so that he could lightly pet his hair. He pulled the strands gently before replacing them to their previous position. Then he pulled back slowly with a shuddering breath and slight squeeze of the hips. Exercising the same careful motion, he slid forward till he was fully seated.

"Ve... Vege..." Goku's voice quietly whined between breaths. He felt confined pressed against the sheets, yet he couldn't summon the strength to maneuver himself elsewhere. Strangely, he felt euphorically dizzy, but it wasn't from lack of oxygen. "Ve..geta.." he tried again, though he wasn't sure what he was pleading for, only that he was begging for something that was withheld. Soft fur coiled around his neck and tickled his ear lavishly. Oddly, Goku felt a brief spike of panic as the tail wrapped across this throat, though a deep, powerful thrust made him instantly forget. Slow and hard, but not more than he could take. Every electric touch brought the younger Saiyan to the borderline of pain, yet somehow never actually threatened to push him over. It was uniquely disorienting, and only furthered the sensation that he was light-headed.

He lost all sense of time almost immediately. Instead of seconds and minutes, he focused on strokes and moans. Each time Vegeta sheathed himself, Goku exhaled what air he had managed to gather into his lungs – while each retraction caused his eyes to flutter. He had been with the prince many times, but this occasion seemed very different than the rest. Perhaps it was the rage that contested his heart, or Vegeta's unusual, assertive behavior coupled with the intensity of the act itself. It was as if Vegeta's inebriation was now his own, and it was aphrodisiac.

"Oh! Nhh!" the younger whined as the tail tightened briefly before retracting. It slithered down his back to wind around his waist while Vegeta rotated his hips. Panting harshly, Goku's hands fisted in the sheets as delicious torment cascaded up his spine. He heard himself moaning, hitting notes an alto or soprano would pride themselves on. They mirrored the deep, contented growls from his prince. Why did it have to feel so good? He wanted to tell Vegeta that this was enough, that they needed to stop, that everything about this was wrong-

"AUNNNGK!" Goku screamed into the covers as velveteen fur tickled the tip of his erection. Then he felt his eyes squeeze shut as he felt delirium approaching. The black-haired Saiyan attempted to concentrate, but Vegeta increased the pace as if anticipating his intentions. Half-bitten groans and choked sobs were wrung from the younger's throat, each thrust taking him closer to oblivion. Every succeeding second that passed made the air feel more saturated with ki, making it more difficult for Goku to breathe the humidity.

He reached out to the brunette's mind, but his message was smothered with another.

Sacrifice. "Uhn.k.." Goku's eyes rolled back.

Power. "Ooh! OH!" hands tore at the covers, shredding portions into ribbons.

Control. "Ahn.. Ve.. Veget-!" the cry died as he failed to breathe.

Pride. "VEGETA!" a call of desperation.

Kakarot.

Freedom. Silence.

The type of silence that recognized sound, but didn't hear it. It bypassed the pounding in his ears, the protest of the bed, and the soft sound of skin against skin. The kind of silence that had coiled deep within and sprang like fire across his body. The kind that numbed the pain in his heart and his mind. It was agonizingly delicious.

The malignant influence faded and was replaced with shame and disappointment. Shame for enjoying something he denied, and disappointment for failing the denial. Goku felt Vegeta's heavy weight shift and the pressure on his lungs was relieved. When he could muster the energy the younger turned his face to the prince, but Vegeta was already laying on his side unconscious from both the chemicals in his blood and his brief flirtation with ecstasy.

It was impossible for Goku to believe that everything was going to be okay. He also would not allow Vegeta to pretend that it was. The brunette had abandoned sensibility in favor for broken logic and fleeting gratification.

He loved Vegeta too much to let him lead them both down a path of destruction.

The Earth-raised Saiyan knew what he had to do.



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