Falling Short
Chapter 3: When Wanting Is Not Enough
Koan awoke again to an empty room. For the past two months she'd grown accustomed to falling asleep beside her son, only to have him gone the next morning. Her daily routine had grown fairly predicable.
She would wake up and dress quickly in the clothes Bulma had modified for the comfort of her tail--today, short jeans overalls and a white, buttoned-down work short. A short trip took her to the kitchen where she would bid to farewell to Cumber for the day, and share breakfast with Bulma's family. As Cumber trained with Baiba she worked in Dr. Brief's workshop, taking care of the less delicate operations. The work kept her busy--she liked that. It held her away from her anxiety.
Koan entered the kitchen as she did every morning, and there was met with a slightly different scenario: Cumber had already left, and in his place at the table was only Vegeta.
"It's Saturday," Vegeta reminded her gruffly. It had taken some time for her to adjust to the concept of weekends. "Cumber went with Bulma to visit Kakarot's family, remember?"
"Yes." Koan took a deep breath before approaching. She tried not to look at him a she rummaged around for something to eat. Being alone with him made her somewhat nervous; though once, on Namek, she felt as if she'd seen his entire soul laid out at the time of his death, since then he'd grown cold and indifferent. He only cared about his training. She'd been watching him, hoping for a glimpse of sincerity in his dark eyes, without success. It was as if that aspect of him no longer existed.
"Why didn't you go with them?" Vegeta asked. He was seated at the table, bent over a bowl of cereal. "To Kakarot's, I mean."
She selected her own breakfast--also cereal--and joined him. She was not bold enough, however, to take the stool at his side. "I'm going for lunch," she explained. "I just wanted to finish the vehicle I've been working on with Dr. Briefs. It's due to be shipped tomorrow."
He nodded, though she knew he didn't really care. He was looking for another excuse to fight with Gohan, now that the boy was back at home for good.
They continued to eat in silence for some time, at a loss for conversation. At long last the prince spoke. "Your son is improving."
Koan glanced up at him, surprised by his remark. "That can only be expected from his teaching," she replied calmly. "I don't approve of you beating him within an inch of his life, but it has made him stronger."
He snorted. "Obviously." Having finished his cereal, he placed the dish in the sink--for someone else to take care of. "You really have secrets, don't you?"
Koan started, nearly biting through her spoon. She took a moment to compose herself before responding, "What do you mean?"
"You're not like an ordinary Saiyan," Vegeta continued. "Kakarot might be soft, but he still loves to fight. Even his son, having been raised by that obsessive bitch, loves it." She had no time to comment on his choice of words as he went on. "It's a Saiyan's nature. Your son has it. Why not you?"
"Why do you care?"
Vegeta was suddenly behind her; she hadn't heard his footsteps, but he was there, and he placed his hands on her shoulders. The touch made her flinch involuntarily. "Because. I'm curious. I'm sure we've met before--I simply can't recall where. I can tell by the way you look at me."
Koan gulped, at a loss for a response. His hands were worn and rough, and they curled and uncurled gently on her shoulders. She imagined that the feeling should have been comforting to her sore muscles, but to her it was harsh and possessive. He wanted her to react. And though she desperately loathed granting him such perverse pleasure, she couldn't help but shudder. Gradually, she gathered her courage. "What do you want?"
His hands moved, closer to her neck, so that his fingertips brushed the skin just below her earlobes. "I'm not sure yet," he admitted in that same arrogant tone. His voice became a low whisper in her ear. "But you're no different. You're watching me because you want something. But I think you already know what." His hand moved then, tracing a line with his index finger down her spine. She trembled but managed to stay still. His touch was different than she would have expected--faint, almost gentle.
Vegeta stroked her tail with the backs of his fingers. Instantly Koan was on her feet, overturning her stool as she spun to face him. Her tail coiled around her waist instinctively at the unexpected advance. "Don't," she said, trying to be firm even as her voice shook, and the edge of the table bit into her lower back. She turned her head away to save herself from his expression. "Prince Vegeta, please."
The prince stared at her, genuinely surprised by her reaction. He'd expected a less violent response to what their culture would have considered a courting gesture. A Saiyan's tail was, after all, the most sensitive organ in their anatomy. And he certainly hadn't done anything to hurt her.
He crossed his arms, eyeing the woman critically. "There's really something wrong with you, isn't there?" he said bluntly, cocking his head to the side. She cringed. "Yeah, something major. You were raised by one of Freeza's men, weren't you? What did he do to you?"
"Please," Koan whispered hoarsely. Her entire body was trembling. "Let me be."
Vegeta frowned. Usually he would have persisted, or at least mocked her, but now he felt a sort of…pity towards her. She was a Saiyan--she shouldn't ever be this way. No matter what their people faced, they always surpassed their boundaries to survive and stay strong. Had she none of that instinct? Was she even a real Saiyan? He couldn't help the feeling that something was very wrong with her. There was something in her that shouldn't have been. Or rather, something missing.
"Fine." Vegeta turned and left; he could sense her bewilderment at his honoring her request. He walked down the hall and outside, into the open space where the Nameks lived They eyed him suspiciously--he didn't care. Soon he was on his way to the Capsule III's gravity room that served as his gym. A work out will make me forget this, he told himself. I don't even know why I was bothering with her. The blue-haired woman would be easier, if that's what this is about. Koan won't even look at me without being wary, or looking so damned thoughtful.
He snorted. I don't care. Whatever happened to her, why should I care? I've got more important things to think about.
Vegeta didn't return to Capsule Corps until long after the sun had set. His day had not been eventful, but still he felt exhausted. Not even training had cleansed the Saiyan woman from his mind--her eyes, her voice, her body had consumed his every moment. The shadows he battled were all her form, inviting him though he could touch nothing. The wind reminded him of her whispers, and the heat of the gym the warmth of her trembling skin beneath his fingers. And her tail--the texture of the coarse hairs never left him. He wanted to be near her, if only to touch her again. He even found himself wanting his own tail to grow back.
He wanted her. There was no way around the fact that had been growing in the past months--when she opposed him he desired her even more, and when she retreated the frustration lit him on fire. It would be easy to take what he wanted from her; however, though the idea had passed him many times, he never acted. He wanted to own this woman whom already dominated him, but the old methods never left him satisfied enough. He wanted to know her secrets.
The Capsule Corps was dark and silent when he returned, save one light in the kitchen. He followed it in hopes of finding Koan. Who he found, however, was Bulma. She was sitting at the table, reading over some papers as she sipped from a coffee mug. She glanced up as he entered. "Oh, so there you are. I wasn't sure you were coming back."
Bulma wasn't like Koan at all. She looked at him with a different kind of fear, the kind that made her shift and sometimes blush in his presence. He liked having that effect on her; he took a seat at her side. "I've got no place to go," he reminded.
"That's true. You're lucky I took you in."
At least I have some diversion before I figure out Koan. "So why did you take me in?" Vegeta asked, leaning his elbow on the table. His gaze never left her, making her nervous. "I almost destroyed this planet once. How do you know I won't now?"
Bulma hesitated. "You won't," she decided at last. "Like you said, you've got no where to go."
He chuckled, which unnerved her even more. "You're right, I suppose. But still, I'm your enemy."
"I'm not doing it for you," she retorted, her temper finally kicking in. "Goku would have wanted me to--that's all. Unlike you, he cares about others."
Vegeta scowled internally; on the outside, however, his arrogant grin never faltered. He reached out, smoothing a lock of blue hair behind her ear. She flinched. "Maybe." That was all he said before he left to find his room.
*****
Brennel 47 was not the ideal world for a prince. Vegeta was seated on a rock protruding from the rubble he'd created, arms crossed and expression set sourly. Nearby, Nappa and Radditz tore meat from the bones of a Brennelian with their teeth. They were waiting. The transmission they'd received had told him to wait on Brennel until Freeza's ship could reach them, as it was currently trapped in a meteor shower and to approach in their small pods would be nearly suicide. Several others were with them--Freeza's men of various species of warriors. Vegeta didn't care about them. But there was one among them that caught his attention; a tall man with dark skin and green hair, staring at the Saiyan trio. His eyes were touched with fear, and that alone pleased him.
The officer quickly averted his eyes when Vegeta looked. It was then that the prince noticed the smaller figure at the man's side. It was a young girl--a Saiyan girl, no more than five or six years old. She was watching him curiously. When he beckoned her, she glared defiantly. "Come here," he said, offering a piece of meat from his dinner. "You're a Saiyan, aren't you? I'm your prince."
The girl approached slowly, and snatched the food from him once she was there. Her audacity momentarily startled him--the other fighters were staring, as they themselves would not have been so bold. She was lively all right, and her eyes were fierce and proud. Like his own. "That's good," he murmured, watching as she devoured the meat. "I guess we're the last left, huh?"
The girl just stared at him. She had a strange gaze--as if she could see more than what was really there, more than his face. "I want to be like my father," she said.
"Was your dad a fighter?"
"Yeah." She traced her finger in the dirt. "He's dead now."
"Yeah, mine too." Vegeta smiled at her. "We'll be better than our fathers. Someday, the Saiyans will rule everything."
She contemplated this for a moment, then asked, "Are you strong?"
The prince smirked. "Of course. The strongest."
"Then…do you love someone?"
It was then that the officer called her back. At first she wouldn't obey, so he retrieved her himself, apologizing to the Saiyan prince all the while. That left him to ponder the meaning of her question.
*****
When Vegeta woke up, he remembered.
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