Check Mate

A "Not In A Million Years" Side-Story by Shinsun

X

I didn't have a choice. A hundred -a thousand – times, I beat myself up in my mind for what I had to do. But I forced myself to do it; my only comfort was that my mate trusted me. Trusted me to make sure he got out alive. I'm sorry Vegeta…

X

At first it was like ChiChi all over again; when this whole labor thing started. I felt helpless, like I couldn't do anything to help. And every time my mate's voice cracked when he screamed, I wanted to hurt myself just to get the horrific sound out of my head. I could feel his fear and confusion and agony as if it were mine, and the sight of blood scared me senseless. I was afraid he'd die. I was afraid my nightmare would become real.

The ordeal went on for hours; I was up all night at his side, trying to give him strength and courage and praying to every god I'd ever met - and a few that I hadn't - that he'd be alright.

When Bulma informed me that something was going wrong, my careful balance of calmness broke and I panicked, shouting at her and accusing her of being useless. Then the full scale of what might happen; that I might lose my mate, sunk in and I begged her, I pleaded for her to do something, anything, to help him. When she suggested cutting the baby out of him, I wanted to hurt her for even suggesting it; but what choice did I have? What choice did he have?

There wasn't time to think, much less administer a painkiller. I winced to imagine how much it would hurt if Vegeta were awake during the… and the word makes me waver with my fear of hospitals… surgery. There was only one thing I could do to help. I could make sure he wasn't aware of anything happening to him.

Hitting him was like hitting myself, it was painful for me too, but I grit my teeth and cuffed my exhausted mate over the head with a good deal of my strength; enough to knock out a rhinoceros. If I used my full strength I would have killed him, and even the thought that it was possible to do so scared me. I was scared of myself.

So while I called myself a coward countless times in my head, Bulma bustled around hectically; grabbing equipment and disinfecting things. She turned and asked if I wanted to leave. Yes, I wanted to go as far away as I physically could and hide forever; but I couldn't leave my mate like that.

So I shook my head and further proved my conviction by staying near the woman, asking how I could help. The thought of cutting someone –anyone – open appalled me, but if that someone happened to be linked to me by an unbreakable bond – as Vegeta was – I had to question how I was going to make myself stay calm and not whack the various sharp tools out of Bulma's hands. For Vegeta. Stay for Vegeta. At least she's not making you do it yourself.

Turns out, there wasn't a lot I could do without getting in the way. I forced myself not to look away when Bulma sterilized the skin of the prince's stomach and marked a line down it in black marker.

Though I knew it was about as effective and useful as comforting the bedside table, I kneeled next to my mate and took his hand in mine; whispering the sweet, soothing things I used to tell him when he was upset beneath my breath, knowing he couldn't hear me. I wasn't sure whether I'd rather be unaware of what was happening or need to know every detail to stay sane, but I kept my eyes on the prince's face. The furrow of discomfort and fear he had been feeling a minute ago was still etched between his eyebrows and every inch of his skin was still drenched in sweat.

I literally felt the scalpel penetrate the taut skin of my mate's convex belly. It was like it was cutting me as well. I almost heard the imperceptible slitting sound and flinched as the woman's hands were stained with blood. I knew the red would be staining me as well before long, but I couldn't make myself look at it. I was conscious that I was shaking, practically crushing Vegeta's limp hand between my own.

I couldn't wrench my gaze from the woman's work, much as I wanted to. Even when I did close my eyes, the image stayed burned behind my eyelids. A long, deep gash being forcibly cut down my lover's abdomen, so deep that I could see every minute detail of tissue and muscle, clean lines of slit flesh and sinew, glistening rubicund blood dripping on the stainless white sheet covering the table. I had a pretty good guess what my nightmares would be of after today.

X

The woman worked at a brutally slow pace, and I was damn near losing my mind by the time she drew away, extracting something solid and bloodstained from the incision she'd made. Hesitantly, she wrapped the object in a white towel and handed it to me before returning to her work; unease and bottled fear still written on her face, along with the rigid determination of a scientist.

I looked at the bundle in my arms, and nearly jumped out of my skin when it looked back with cloudy, black eyes. A baby, a little person with matted, almost black hair, its seashell-pink skin sodden and crusted with its mother's blood. It was damn strange for the words "mother" and "Vegeta" to mean the same thing… but that's what he was now.

The little creature was shivering and making thin, gurgled wails of discomfort. I held it – him – close and toweled off as much of the drying blood as I could; my thoughts fragmented and devoid of pattern. As I dried the infant that I was gradually accepting as a son, my gaze drifted back to my unconscious mate. I barely got a glimpse of the rough cavity that Bulma had gouged into him – how did she even have the willpower to do such a thing? – before the woman obscured my vision, her hands busy. I thought better of getting a closer look and sat down unsteadily, returning my attention to the baby in my arms and banishing the image of Vegeta's pale, cripplingly violated body from my mind.

"You need a name," I murmured to the little being, wiping drying blood and fluid from his face.

I thought back to the suggestions I'd given Vegeta months ago. None of them fitted, but neither did any of the new ones that were coming to mind now.

Kishna, "borne of suffering", was discarded; as were Rekul and Daraes, "blood origin" and "young martyr".

I forced my thoughts to stay on what I knew of Saiyan language and not drift back to the high possibility of my mate dying. It was a miracle in itself that the baby had even survived. Extreme measures wouldn't have even had to have been taken in the first place if it wasn'timpossible for someone male to give birth naturally. Honestly anyone with eyes could have seen that. I'd seen that. Maybe if he hadn't been allowed to try and Bulma had just done a C-section to begin with, I wouldn't be in this predicament now and Vegeta would be okay.

"Tesserot," I decided. The Saiya-go word Tessec, meaning "impossible", combined with the suffix of my own Saiyan name –rot, meaning "special", or "miracle". A pretty fitting name I think.

Bulma stood back after a long while, peeling off her latex gloves and breathing a heavy sigh. I looked up from cleaning Tesserot's face – he'd stopped crying now and was just making little hiccupping noises – to meet her eye; knowing I'd find the answer there. She looked at me and shook her head slightly.

"I don't know," she admitted, "It could go either way right now."

I bit my tongue to keep quiet and nodded numbly.

My eyes landed on my mate again. A dark, ugly scar was carved into his midsection, stitched together and still leaking blood. It made my own skin ache to look at. I was certain he'd have that scar the rest of his life; if he did live, that is. That thought alone was so very depressing that I hung my head, rejecting the tears that pricked my eyes and forbidding them to fall.

I was startled out of my thoughts when something grabbed the tip of my tail, which had been lashing restlessly. I jumped and looked down at Tesserot, who had the end of the furry appendage gripped in his tiny fist. Despite the grim circumstances, I felt a surge of protectiveness and affection for the child. This little creature belonged to me. Like Vegeta belonged to me. I could feel the tentative beginning of the bond between parent and child forming slowly; eventually it would solidify and strengthen until it was as indissoluble as the one between Vegeta and me.

The moment my mind returned to my mate, I felt his ki flutter and raise a fraction of an inch. He was coming back to consciousness gradually. I got up and moved over to him, my eyes riveted on his face. I sat down on the edge of the table, supporting little Tesserot between my chest and knee as I adjusted the towel wrapped around him, keeping him warm and safe.

I heard a faint moan of pain and confusion and saw Vegeta's eyelid twitch; then open slowly.

"W… what happened?" he slurred, squeezing the eye closed again.

"You're awake!" I exclaimed, hardly daring to believe it.

He winced and grit his teeth, as if the sound of my voice was painful to him.

"How do you feel?" Bulma asked from next to me. I wanted to tell her to lower her voice in consideration of my mate's wellbeing, but I held my tongue.

"Awful," Vegeta replied weakly. I nodded to myself, he sure looked it.

Tesserot wriggled, as if in response to his mother's voice, and let out a piercing cry. I expected the sound to aggravate the barely conscious prince's ears, but it actually seemed to do the opposite.

His eyes snapped open, a look of blatant disbelief slapped on his face.

Tesserot continued crying, waving his little fists around as if to punctuate his disquiet.

"K-Kakarot..?" Vegeta stammered, attempting to sit up with a grimace, "D-did you..? Did I…?"

I allowed myself to share in his incredulity for a moment; feeling his awe and pain, his worry and lingering fear, racing through me. Emotions were a thing Vegeta had always denied having more often than anything else, except maybe regrets. It was always an engaging experience to explore the many feelings he usually locked away, now that it was my honor and privilege to be able to do so.

"Say hello to your son," I said quietly, respecting his sensitive hearing with my lowered voice as I handed him the baby, who did not cease his wiggling until he was in his mother's arms.

I told my mate of the name I had chosen, and felt his approval as he tasted the word himself and clarified its definition.

Vegeta tried to move, and I felt the slash of ripping pain along with him as he fought for breath, willing the pain away. I hoped the scar wouldn't trouble him too long; he'd had more than his share of pain today.

X

Tesserot was fed for the first time by bottle. Obviously. I'd helped Bulma with that a while back. Apparently both of us had more foresight than the prince did in any situation. I remembered researching colostrum and the like months ago, and helping Bulma devise a formula that would properly suit a growing Saiyan's nutritional needs and appetite.

Ahem. Contrary to nearly everyone's belief, I'm not actually that stupid.

Vegeta was exhausted. You'll get no surprise from me; it was about three a.m., he'd been wide awake all night fighting contractions and had been knocked out and sliced open if that wasn't enough. He'd been through the ringer and then some.

"Go to sleep, Vegeta," I told him, "You've earned it…. and don't worry, I'll look after both of you."

I swear to it. I thought with conviction.

The prince – lying against my shoulder – nodded and drifted to sleep; holding our newborn son to his chest gently.

I teleported the three of us home after assuring Bulma we'd be fine, and lay close to my mate, keeping my eyes fixed on both of them and thwarting my own exhaustion by delving deep into the paternal and mating bonds that were tied to me.

I noticed that I could physically get a lot closer to the prince as he slept, and concluded that his weight and overall body mass had more or less returned to normal with Tesserot's birth. I predicted that, other than the scars of the forced C-section and the lingering stretch marks, pregnancy would have no other lasting effects on my mate's body. A little good news after all he'd gone through.

Vegeta woke up at about five a.m., and told me to get some sleep. I almost refused, willing to give any reason or excuse to not have to face my impending nightmares, but in the end I lost the battle with my body and just nodded, letting my eyes close as my mate purred for his son and me.

X

The trauma of the experience stayed with me for months. It only showed in my heightened concern for my mate and the disturbingly accurate dreams that chased me at night. I deliberately closed my mind to Vegeta before I fell asleep each night, not wanting to worry him with the nightmares. He had enough on his plate to begin with.

Six months passed and Vegeta went into heat. That much I could tell. The only thought in my head when I realized this was that no matter how much I resisted, fate was going to get its way. I just knew it.

But every time I looked at him and contemplated just giving in, the images of him crumpled on the floor, terrified and bleeding; or lying on a white medical table, soaked in sweat and screaming; or unconscious with a horrific gash in his stomach, always found their way into my head. I couldn't put him through that again. Odds are he wouldn't survive it a second time.

There was something about day five. I didn't feel like myself, so I left the house to train and stayed away from Vegeta at all costs. I'd taken Bulma's advice and kept a rubber on me at all times, in case I lost control, but I doubted protection would cross my mind if it was taken over by the sadistic, animal urges that I had come to hate.

I didn't expect him to be outside as well; but apparently Vegeta had gotten someone to watch Tess and was out stretching his muscles. If I'd known he was there, I would have taken a detour; but I almost walked right into him; completely oblivious.

That is until I caught his scent. Vegeta smelled amazing on any given day… at least to me… but when his fiery, royal musk was laced with the pestilential scent of fertility and heat; it was like a toxin. Like a drug. Something you try to ignore, but it steals control of every vein in your body and forces you metaphorically to your knees.

I'd already tasted the blood that ran beneath that perfect, bronze skin more than once; but like the addict I'd become, one taste led to more, more, always more. It was never enough to just be around him anymore.

Without warning, every thought in my head was rudely shoved aside by two words. Take him. It was like someone had grafted the command into my mind instead of me thinking of it myself. I shook my head, restraining the desire pulsing through my veins.

Now. The demand shunted into my mind like a freight train. I forced the thought that didn't even seem to be mine away and bit my lip until it bled, holding it in.

I felt like my blood was on fire, like something was igniting everything inside me until it all burned away along with my sanity. Instincts were awakened, overlapping common sense and repercussion. Urges were activated, covering and smothering stress and worry. And though I fought tooth and nail, I was losing the battle. Now! The command sounded in my head again, louder, resonating through my entire body. Against my will, I growled and attacked the prince before me, catching him completely unaware.

Check mate, the thought leapt to mind as I wrestled his arms behind his back, No backing out now.

Everything was a haze of heat and fire and energy, but I found myself on a hill I didn't recognize; pinning my delicious mate down beneath me and growling like an animal.

"Kakarot," I barely heard him speak, but the tone of his voice made me pause, "I can't exactly stop you, but could you at least use protection?"

I forced away the urges, the instincts, the desires, from my mind for a moment. Holding it all back like a dam holding back a flood. I couldn't do it forever, but maybe it would give me the time I needed to…

I could feel the corner of a plastic wrapper digging into my thigh through the pocket of my pants. Knowing what it was, but doubting I had time to grab it and make use of it before the proverbial floodgates cracked and I lost control again, I fumbled with my pockets for a second, feeling the barrier slipping. And as my concentration shifted for an instant to the complicated packaging of the object within reach of my fingers, it all broke loose.

I snarled a curse and gave up, the swamp of instinct grabbing me again. Everything went blurry, and I remembered no more.

X

My fault. My fault. My fault. The two words became a loop as I teleported Vegeta home to a house where everyone else was asleep. Once in my – our – room, I threw him some loose gi pants to use as pajamas before taking a pair for myself; and gave him an eyebrow-raising command.

Like I said, I had more foresight than him; and when Bulma had brought up that Vegeta could go into heat again, the first chance I got I bought two things. Condoms, and a pregnancy tester. Yes it had been embarrassing and yes the first one turned out to be useless – whether I kept one in my pocket or not - but at least I'd thought ahead.

So while my mate was no doubt in the bathroom down the hall, trying to figure out how to use the device, I lay down and looked at the ceiling; hating myself with a rage that was uncommon - but certainly not unheard of – for me.

I don't know how long I lay there, simmering, but I was on the brink of Super Saiyan by the time Vegeta returned. I wasn't mad at him at all. Only at myself. And the inability to control myself that had gotten me into more trouble than anything else in my life, ever.

"Well?" I snapped, regretting the harshness of my voice.

He sighed, "I did what you said. Just now."

"And?" the answer was all over his face, but I had to hear him say it.

"It's official," he said flatly, "I'm pregnant again."

Dammit! Of course, I knew this would happen; but right then the only thing to come to mind was the image that hadn't haunted me all day until now: my mate's body, broken and bleeding, with a jagged slash slicing down his abdomen.

And it all could have been prevented if I had an ounce of self-control in my whole body.

So I once again found myself stuck hopelessly in check mate in the unfair game that was my life.

-Shinsun