This is out a little faster than anticipated, though I have to say I enjoyed writing it! I've played around a little with some background information on Vegeta's home planet. Just a bit, nothing big really, but please excuse if it's incorrect. I'm just using my imagination ;)


Three Years
Chapter 2: He Doesn't Sleep


Vegeta didn't sleep. Through his lifetime he'd learned that falling asleep without due cure could easily spell your end. As a child maturing under Frieza's rule, he'd quickly learned that the ice-jin's grip spread far further than his arms could reach. It was obvious to any onlooker that Vegeta was considered one of his 'special' collections – a favoured pet, perhaps. Jealousy ran rife through Frieza's minions and without his comrades back in those early days he had little doubt he would have lasted until he was old enough to fend for himself.

Back then he'd had Raditz and Nappa, two warm bodies to drift asleep beside in the knowledge they would guard him until his waking hours. Over the years he became accustomed to the comfort of knowing they were there (not that he'd ever admit such a thing) and the safety their presence promised. He was easily the strongest of their group and had no delusions that any attacker could have overpowered his fellow Saiyan's, but not before he was roused and blasting their sorry soul to the next life. The only other time he considered it safe to truly drop his guard enough to sleep soundly was during the journeys from one world to the next in his pod.

Now stationary on Earth and with no comrades left living to stand guard over him, Vegeta didn't sleep. Every now and again he retired to the room the earthlings had designated him when he was ready to rest. Earth days were shorter than his own planet and so he didn't feel the tug of exhaustion like the earthlings did each night. He'd lived in space so long hopping from one planet to the next that he'd lost any kind of sleep cycle he might have once had years ago. To any onlooker that might stray into his quarters and breach his privacy he may have appeared asleep, eyes closed, body seemingly relaxed. In those moments he allowed his mind to drift in quiet meditation, a chance for his tortured body to recover from the strenuous daily routines it suffered through. Sometimes he dozed lightly, though any sound from a snapped twig to a distant footstep would rouse him from his fragile slumber. He trusted the earthlings no more than they trusted him; so he didn't sleep.

It was no surprise then when the slamming of the front door echoed loudly through the capsule Corp building. In the room they'd given him in the noise was barely audible – to human ears. Vegeta's eyes snapped open, pupils dilating in momentary panic, a surge of adrenaline coursing through his body as he struggling for a moment to comprehend where he was. A deep inhale revealed more than his eyes and ears ever could and was more than enough to remind him. A mixture of artificial scents (floor polish, perfume, chemicals, soap, hair spray etc.) assaulted his nostrils and he quickly snorted to expel the obnoxious odours. His eyes wandered to his closed door as the moonlight shone through his window, reflecting a mixture of agitation and frustration in the dark orbs. He'd just been roused from the closest thing he's experienced to sleep since he'd passed out beside Goku's recovery tank on Namek. The rest he'd experienced on that planet had been blissful, and though he'd only meant to rest his eyes for a few moments, the familiarity of a fellow Saiyan resting nearby had fooled his body to falling into a deeper sleep. That instance alone was a bitter reminder as to why he couldn't let his guard slip – it had been enough to obliterate his plans of wishing for immortality with the dragon. It was also enough to reinforce his belief that the humans (nor the sorry excuse for Saiyan's that were Kakarot and his mongrel son) couldn't be trusted. He hadn't allowed himself to sleep into a real sleep since then, so to be woken from such a pleasant, exhaustion induced half-slumber sparked up his anger.

He sat silently for a moment, still as the empty room around him and listened. Though his hearing was not on the level of the Namekians, it was still superior to the humans. He couldn't make out any distinct words in the distant tirade, but he could clearly hear it was the blue haired woman that was the main cause of the disturbance. From the inflections of her tone she was more than likely upset and the erratic rise and fall in volume gave no question of doubt that she was angry. He'd heard that mood enough times in the last week to recognise it.

A sudden holler of insults as Bulma screamed out her frustrations made him wince, his ears ringing. It wasn't loud but her high pitch scream was enough to give him a headache. Truly that woman had a more irritating voice that Frieza and produced language more vile sometimes than half the tyrants he'd met in his lifetime. She was impressively fierce... for a human. That thought did nothing to quell his frustration at being disturbed however and he flopped back onto the too-soft bed with a groan, trying to ignore the distant racket. Confronting the wench would only direct her tirade at him (if he wasn't the cause already as had been the case numerous times in recent weeks) and that would only hurt his ears and worsen his growing headache. He would meditate and try to forget about the pathetic woman and her pitiable problems.