(somewhat AU)
"Trunks? Have you seen your father?"
"No. Not since he left to go spar with Goku." The lavender haired teen returned to his video game.
Bulma turned back to the phone. "He left to spar with you, Goku. Oh, I'm not sure." She raised her voice, "Trunks, when was that?"
"What?"
"When did Vegeta leave?"
"Yesterday morning."
"Trunks said he left yesterday, Goku!" A hint of unease crept into her voice. "Didn't he get there?" A smile at the answer. "So, he's probably just gone off to sulk again. No, it's just like him. He calls it training, I call it sulking. Yes, I'll let him know you called. And send him over to spar again, if he's up to it. Okay, Goku. I'll talk to you later."
Vegeta moaned softly, aware at first of nothing more than pain. He couldn't remember why he would hurt. Had he been in a fight? Blown up the gravity chamber again? His stomach roiled. Was he sick? He was never sick!
His head, that was where it hurt most. Throbbing, in fact. A shaking hand pressed against his temple. No wound. He slowly explored the most painful spots. No cuts, but… had he had a sparring match against Kakarot? That would certainly explain things. His eyes opened. He blinked.
This was not his room.
Vegeta had found his clothing scattered across the floor. A look in the mirror showed more bruises than he'd had for a long time… the last real match he'd had against Kakarot, in fact. He'd found and used the shower, though he couldn't say he felt any better. He'd also managed to establish that wherever he was, he'd never been there before.
He was still so tired! And his stomach – he didn't think he'd be able to keep anything down. If he could find anything, that was. Maybe it would just be best to lie down for a bit longer. He stared in surprise at his hands when he reached for the blanket. Trembling? What was wrong with him? What had happened?
There was blood on the sheets.
He remembered fighting this time, but not what he'd fought. More bruises, more blood, and his clothes were gone. He tried the door, found it locked, and again couldn't summon the strength to knock it down. He'd already been sick twice, the food he'd found on the small table that morning – evening? – hadn't lasted very long. There was water, and he'd not been able to keep that down.
Vegeta curled on the bed, wrapping his fingers around his knees to try and stop the shaking. He leaned forward, resting his head, trying to understand what had happened. He couldn't remember coming here. He didn't know how long it had been. He was sick, and he was weak. He didn't appear to be out of shape, yet when he tried to train, he was exhausted within a few minutes. And he couldn't summon his power!
Come to think of it, he couldn't sense anyone, either.
Vegeta lay on the bed. He hadn't been able to get up, even to get the food that still sat on the small table. His eyes were half-open, his chest rising and falling as he panted. Sweat beaded on his body. Something had changed. He recognized the change, but couldn't react to it. And then the pain started again.
"… so bad?" Goku walked past Chi-Chi, on the phone with Bulma, and headed for the refrigerator. "It's not like he's ever treated you well. Or Trunks, for that matter." Goku paused in the act of preparing a large snack, his interest caught. "Well, if Vegeta does come back…" the rest was lost as Goten burst into the room, intent on getting some food.
Vegeta still hadn't gone home? Odd. Goku saved his snack from his youngest son, and carried it outside. No, Vegeta wasn't at home. He was off to the west, same as he had been whenever Goku had thought to check in on him. But, it didn't feel like Vegeta was training. His energy signal was far too weak. Something was wrong. Goku put two fingers to his forehead, and vanished.
"Vegeta?" It was dark here! "Vegeta?" Goku banged into a table. "I need some light." A second later, golden light filled the small room. "Vegeta! No!"
His grandfather's house. He hadn't been here since… well, since he'd met Bulma. Goku carried his burden carefully inside. The small cot he'd slept on as a boy was too small for the Prince, Goku had to lay him on the floor. The blankets were old, but warm, he tucked them around the unconscious form carefully. Food and water. He'd have to get both. Maybe the well hadn't gone dry.
It hadn't. Goku pulled up a bucketful of fresh water and carried it back inside. He dipped out a cupful, and carefully propped Vegeta up. He managed to get a little of the water down the prince. Most of it trailed from between the battered lips and down to soak the dried blood on his chest. Goku found a soft cloth, and set to work gently. "They won't find you here, Vegeta. I doubt even Bulma remembers this place exists. You're safe."
Not until later did he think that that was a silly thing to tell the proud, independent prince.
Broken.
Vegeta lay silent, trying not to tremble. Trying to appear as if he were still asleep. He wasn't as disoriented as he had been. But so weak! If they found out he was awake, they'd come. And he wouldn't be able to stop them. He tensed involuntarily as the door opened.
Water being poured. Lighter steps – longer stride. A hand against his head, and he barely managed to control the urge to flinch away. He felt the blankets being moved, whimpered without meaning to. "It's alright, Vegeta. I've got to change the bandages. Your fever's gone down, and these wounds look better than they did."
Kakarot? Kakarot was here now? "Don't tense up." A warm, wet cloth sponging at his belly. "Time for the medicine. It stings a little, well, a lot, actually. There aren't any senzu beans ripe now." Vegeta thought he tried to scream.
Goku sat down at the table, where his share of dinner waited. Vegeta was healing. And finally starting to respond. But the scent of fear that had struck him when the door opened, that had redoubled when he'd moved the blankets to take care of those gashes, bothered him. He knew the prince had been tortured, but he'd lived through so much! What had happened to terrorize him so badly? Or maybe, what had awakened old terrors long suppressed? Goku pushed the dirty plates away. If that was what had happened, it might be awhile before Vegeta healed. If he did.
He sighed, and went to sleep next to his patient.
The scent of absolute terror woke him. Vegeta, whom he'd spooned in his sleep, was whimpering, making tiny motions to escape the arm Goku had wrapped around him. He went still when Goku moved his arm and leaned over him. "Vegeta? Did I hurt you? Let me get the light on." A bit of groping in the dark, and Goku got the lamp turned on. Vegeta's face was chalk white, eyes clenched shut, his teeth through his bottom lip as he tried to suppress the whimpering. "Vegeta! It's all right. You're safe. You're with me. It's Goku. I found you. You're safe, Vegeta. You're safe. You're with me. Oh, I did hurt you! I must have ripped the bandage while I was sleeping!"
The scent of fear hadn't abated any by the time Goku got the water warmed and the medicine ready. He pulled the blanket away, and the old bandage. "Vegeta, just relax. I've got to clean up the blood." After a moment's thought, Goku grabbed Vegeta's hand. "Here. Hold on to me." He began the delicate task of cleaning the blood from the gashes he'd inadvertently reopened. "There's five gashes, Vegeta, pretty deep. Most of the rest of them are healed up." He wasn't sure if his babbling was helping or not, but Vegeta didn't seem quite as tense.
"We all thought that you'd gone to do more training, and that you wouldn't want to be bothered. I knew where you were, from your energy. I just wasn't thinking of you being in any kind of trouble. That's more Yamcha's line, and only with pretty girls." The gashes were still bleeding sluggishly, but the medicine would help. "Just, Bulma and Chi-Chi were talking, and I realized that you'd been gone a long time. With no fluctuations like I usually feel when you're training. I knew you were still wherever you'd gone, and then I realized that your energy was a lot lower. Too low. So, I used Instant Transmission."
His grip on Vegeta's hand tightened, and he grabbed at the medicine. "I blew the place up getting you out of there. And I brought you here. It's been… I was about ten years old, I guess, the last time I was here. We've been here two weeks now. I've got the medicine ready, here goes."
This time, Vegeta did scream. He didn't have the control not to. Whatever it was Kakarot was using felt as bad as getting the marks had in the first place. His back arced off the floor; the hand Kakarot didn't hold trying to stop the agony. It was captured, and the pain spread before his entire gut numbed. "There, Vegeta, that's the worst of it. Now I'll just bandage you back up, and we can go back to sleep."
Goku did go to sleep, one hand resting on Vegeta's shoulder. Vegeta didn't. His mind scrambled madly, trying to piece together the new turn of events. He wasn't being drugged anymore, because Kakarot had found him and taken him someplace. Kakarot was touching him. No, no! No. No. Kakarot didn't hurt anyone. He was safe with Kakarot. Kakarot would take care of him. He was safe. He had to use the bathroom.
Vegeta recovered much more slowly than Goku had thought he would. The stomach wounds hadn't been the worst wounds Vegeta had received, and as he began to get his strength back, he fought against having the others taken care of, though he couldn't manage the care himself. The struggles, which Goku didn't have any trouble winning, only prolonged the healing. Finally, Goku decided to take what he considered a drastic measure – using the prince's weakness against him.
He caught Vegeta from behind, pinning the man's arms, and pulled him firmly back against him. "This is me, Vegeta. Stop fighting. Listen, feel. You know me. I'm not going to hurt you." He continued soothing the injured prince, until Vegeta finally stopped struggling. Even then, he didn't let go until Vegeta had relaxed. "There. That's better. You can't take care of some of these injuries, I have to do it. Every time you fight me, they rip again, and don't heal like they should. Do you understand?"
Ever so slowly, Vegeta nodded. Goku sighed, and released his arms, though he still held the battered prince. Vegeta seemed to shrink into himself, and Goku was surprised at how much the other trembled. "Vegeta?" He felt a drop against his own arm, then another. Vegeta – crying?
Kakarot tended his wounds, and he forced himself not to fight against the gentle ministrations. He was able to sit up now, even stand for short periods of time. Walking was still beyond his capabilities, and he couldn't focus his energy to fly. He couldn't focus his energy for anything. He was finally able to eat and drink with only the minimum of assistance. His hands sometimes still trembled so much he couldn't hold fork or cup, on those days, Kakarot fed him like a child.
And the other still slept right next to him. He was there when Vegeta woke screaming from nightmares he couldn't remember. He was there to add another blanket because the prince was shivering. He was always there, often close enough to touch.
And Vegeta sometimes reached out for him, for the comfort the other would offer. For the feeling of safety, because he couldn't save himself.
He still couldn't remember how he'd been caught. He blocked much of what he'd been through, refusing to confront what had happened. He was a broken shell of the man he had been. He had been strong, confident, arrogant, defiant. An elite, royal warrior, the prince of his race, destroyer of many worlds, a savior of this one. Now, shattered, broken, unsure. Dependent on a third-class clown, the only other surviving Saiyan, a man who could care less about his heritage and had never understood Vegeta's pride.
A man who did not need to understand, now, because he had no pride left.
Goku got Vegeta up, helping him walk around the small cabin. Vegeta leaned heavily on him, his steps slow and uncertain. A parody of the confident strut the prince had always used. Every day they did this, until Vegeta was finally able to walk with the cane that Goku provided. They went outside that day. Just a short excursion, down to the stream.
Goku swam while Vegeta rested against a tree. He breathed heavily, his elbows planted on his knees, head in his hands. Tears ran silently down his face. Such a short walk. But he had been so weak when they'd arrived that he had nearly fallen to the ground. Vestiges of his former self had refused to allow it, and he had managed to settle and arrange himself as if there was no problem. Now, that weakness overcame him. His head drooped as he fell into an exhausted slumber.
"Hey, Vegeta! Look what I…" Goku caught sight of the slumped form. The fish he had caught was released as he leapt from the water. It only took him a moment to realize the prince was asleep. He dropped to the ground, studying the other man.
Vegeta had always been small, slender. But looking at him now, in the sunlight, Goku wondered if he'd been right in not taking Vegeta to Capsule Corp. The trim, muscular form he remembered from sparring matches was gone, leaving a wasted, skeletal figure. Vegeta had never had extra fat to begin with, now he had none at all. His skin stretched tight across shrunken muscles and bone. His face was etched with pain, his hair dry and brittle instead of glossy and soft.
Had he made a mistake? Would the doctors at Capsule Corp. have been a better choice? He thought again of how panicked Vegeta had been when it was just him, someone he knew, and couldn't imagine having left him to be cared for by strangers and machines. No. He'd made the right decision. He had to keep Vegeta safe, help him recover.
Goku pulled the smaller man close, and carried him back to the cottage.
He was walking without the cane now. Sometimes, he swam in the stream. He had done a little fishing, some hunting. He could fly again, as a child just learning could. Control of his energy was sporadic, so he sometimes crashed. Kakarot trained everyday, Vegeta watching. His mind remembered the moves, his body seemed unable to make them. His training resembled the awkward first attempts of a toddler.
The last of the wounds healed. Slowly, he put on more flesh, built up his muscle. His control improved, his training becoming more fluid. His hair became luxurious again, and the trembling stopped. The lines of pain left his face.
The fear didn't leave his eyes, and the nightmares became more frequent. More often than not, he would wake to the sound of himself screaming, huddling against Kakarot like a frightened child, comforted by the strong arms and liquid voice. He found himself scooting close when the other lay down to sleep, sometimes not sleeping himself until Kakarot flung an arm over him.
And it worried Goku. Physically, the prince improved. But he wouldn't go anywhere unless Goku did, except the bathroom. His childlikeness, the fear of the dark, the nightmares, not wanting to be or sleep alone – these were nothing like Vegeta. And his silence, broken only by whimpers or screams when he slept, was unnerving. At last, Goku took him home.
They would find him if he screamed. Vegeta bit his lip hard, drawing blood. His terror filled gaze darted around the room. His room. The small one in the gravity chamber. He sat up, reached for the cup at the side of the bed. He dropped it, shaking too hard to hold on to it. They could find him here. They'd taken him from here. He wasn't safe… his power erupted as he screamed.
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'kay now. I've got two different versions of this. One has that odd thing known as a male pregnancy plot. I had a lot more fun writing something so weird. The other version is the first one modified. I think I got all the pregnancy references removed. So the question of the day is, which version do you want? Pregnant Saiyan, or no pregnant Saiyan?
Er, yes. This does get kinda yaoi/shounen-ai (did I spell that right?) It's thoroughly weird in both versions. J