Falling Short
Chapter 7: When Escape Is Not Enough
"I know, but he's been asking about you."
Vegeta paused before entering the kitchen. Though he'd spent the past several days in his room, recuperating and pondering the actions of his blue-haired host, now he felt ready to move about again. His wanderings had led him to Bulma's voice; she was talking to someone, about him. He decided to listen.
"He's all right, I guess. He kind of over-exerted himself, but he's fine now." Bulma twirled the phone card around her fingers. "Yeah, a few days. It's…not so bad. No, he hasn't tried anything." He smirked at the slight falter in her tone. "We're almost getting along. Oh, sure. Actually…that might not be a good idea."
Vegeta entered the room, and she jumped when she saw him. "Oh, Vegeta, um--"
"Good morning." He snatched the phone from her hand and turned around before she could protest. "Who is this?" he demanded into the receiver.
Silence met him on the other end. "Is this Koan?" he continued, ignoring Bulma's complaints.
"…Yes," the woman replied at last. Her voice was quiet and almost meek, just how he remembered. Something inside him fluttered at the sound of it. "This is Koan."
The prince licked his lips. "Where are you?"
"In town."
Another long pause followed before Vegeta spoke again. "Come over."
"Why?" Her voice was wavering.
"Because." He hesitated. "I want to see you."
Koan didn't speak. Vegeta waited impatiently for her answer, but none came. A moment later there was a clicking sound, followed by a dial tone.
--
It was late that evening when Bulma received a phone call. She'd been on her way to find Vegeta--after a long and tiring day she could use a diversion, even if in the form of a verbal battle. The past several days had found her with similar intentions; whatever the outcome, she was drawing closer to the Saiyan Prince. More than that, she couldn't help the feeling that he was welcoming her.
Bulma seated herself in front of the telephone monitor, as a video was available. "Hello? This is Bulma."
"Uh, hi, Bulma. It's Krillin." The screen flickered, then showed her the squattish face of her ancient bald friend. He was wearing his usual baseball cap. "How're ya doing?"
"I'm fine." She smiled. It was good to finally hear from someone, as she hadn't communicated with anyone besides Yamcha much in the last year. "It's good to see you. What's up?"
Krillin blushed a bit in embarrassment. "Well, nothing really. I just wanted to, ya know, see how you were doing."
"Well, that's nice of you."
They chatted for a bit, commenting on the relative peace and their estimates on Goku's progress. After a few minutes, Krillin revealed the true reason for his call. "Listen, Bulma…I gotta ask you something."
"Sure, Krillin. Go ahead."
He took off his hat and played with it nervously. "Um, is it true? That Vegeta's with you?"
Bulma felt something in her chest stiffen. She did her best to maintain a pleasant outward appearance. "Actually, yeah. He's been here for a few days."
"And you're…okay with it?" he persisted. "Having him around, I mean."
"Sure," she replied easily. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well…he's Vegeta." Krillin's gaze wandered, drifting down to his hands as they curled around his hat. "And…I was worried about you. I mean…"
Bulma stared at him, a bit stunned. "You were worried about me?" she repeated.
"Yeah. So…you know, if he ever gets to be too much for you…yeah right…that is…" he stuttered. "I could…you know, come over and give you a hand." He grinned sheepishly. "Even if I probably won't be much help."
She didn't know how to respond. Here was Krillin, practically terrified to death of Vegeta, offering to help if the Saiyan got her into trouble. There was a genuine concern in his wide eyes, even as he was trying to appear confident. He had no idea what was going on at Capsule Corps, nor the strange bond she and Vegeta were now forming. He still thought the prince was their enemy.
"I'm just fine, Krillin," Bulma said with forced cheerfulness. "He's a handful, but nothing too tough for me." She cringed at her own words. "Thanks for being worried, but there's really no problem at all. In fact, I think I'll check up on him now."
"Uh, okay." Krillin frowned thoughtfully. "Well, if you need anything, give me a call, okay?"
"Sure." She couldn't stand it. She just couldn't bare to look at that face anymore, which so innocently assumed her discomfort. He probably even thought she was being noble, taking up Goku's cause in helping an enemy. "Well, bye Krillin."
"Yeah. See ya around."
Bulma flicked the screen off and leaned back in her chair. She felt weak and sick even after so simple and exchange. She wasn't so noble as she seemed. Her thoughts drifted back, remembering the trials they'd gone through that now seemed so far away. Lives had been risked and lost to the man who captivated her thoughts--the pain of those battles rested heavily inside her gut. Had she betrayed her friends in harboring their killer? If not, then surly by loving him….
Bulma hid her face in both hands. She didn't cry though her heart twisted and ached in shame. Her shoulders crept up and her head bowed, but still she remained silent. It was too late for her to cry now--much too late.
A pair of hands came down on her shoulders, strong but not harsh, holding her steady in her chair. She let out a quiet sob before she was able to stifle it; she already knew who it was. She wanted to pull away from him--anything that would aid in correcting her sins. But she could not reject his strength nor his warmth. His hands slid across her chest to grip the opposite shoulders, and his breath fell over her ears in wordless murmurs. His arms enveloped, protected, and possessed her. In that embrace she felt stable and immune to any harm--she welcomed it, as such consistency had never been in her life. She needed it now.
Vegeta led her to his room without a word. She knew what was going to happen long before he closed the door behind them--she could tell by his eyes. He needed something from her, and she surprised them both by not hesitating. She had finally admitted to herself; she was lonely. And it wasn't so wrong for her to choose this man, was it? He wouldn't have wasted his time on her if he hadn't chosen her, too.
Bulma kissed him, and drew close, urging his arms around her. The Saiyan returned her actions with less force than she would have expected--it had been some time before either of them had experienced this closeness. That night, they reminded each other.
-------
Several months later….
Vegeta leaned his elbows on his knees, frustrated with the circumstances he'd been forced into. Kakarot was speaking to the strange boy alone--what did he have to say that the prince couldn't hear? He didn't like this boy that had suddenly appeared, or his strength. And he was a Saiyan. Seeing him had been a shock--Vegeta had never seen a Super Saiyan, and he'd expected a more grandiose form for a power that could rule the universe.
He's too young to have escape Planet Vegeta, the prince mused. He's not Kakarot's son, and certainly not Radditz's or Nappa's. But there are no other Saiyans who could have been his parent. Except….
Vegeta's gaze drifted unwillingly to the furthest member of the group. Koan was seated on a small rock, as far as she could be from Vegeta and still be within the ring of people who had come to hear the strange boy. She was dressed in one of Kakarot's wife's outfits--an Asian-style dress of midnight blue. Her tail was wound tightly about her waist. It's me, he realized; whenever she noticed his eyes on her, the tail tightened. Her fingers twisted around each other anxiously. We haven't seen each other for over a year, and she's still afraid of me.
Kakarot returned with the strange boy, and related what had been said. Vegeta cursed beneath his breath. An enemy stronger than Freeza? There are only a few years to prepare. He grinned. Finally, I'll have my chance to beat that arrogant half-wit Saiyan Kakarot.
Kakarot was looking at him. It wasn't a look of caution, or concern, but almost approval. Vegeta sneered. "What're you staring at?"
Kakarot grinned, which nearly nauseated him. "Nothing. Anyway, we have three years. One day of celebration won't hurt anything, huh Gohan?"
Gohan's face lit up with a grin, and he nodded vigorously. "Welcome home, Dad."
"How many times have you said that? Come on--let's have a party!"
Everyone returned to Capsule Corps, where Mrs. Briefs had already begun preparing a huge feast. All that day the group of friends relaxed, ate, and listened with rapt attention as Kakarot described his escape from Namek over and over. Vegeta watched from what he considered to be a safe distance. They were acting like fools--how could they be so calm, knowing that battles were at hand? He'd never allowed himself such childish indulgence off the battlefield.
A twitching of movement drew his attention across the room. Koan was speaking to Kakarot, her manner much less reserved than before. Her tail waved casually back and forth as she answered his questions. She was completely calm in his presence.
Vegeta scowled, a feeling of resentment swelling inside him as they conversed. He couldn't explain the sudden heat in his skin from watching them. It wasn't jealously--it was too strong to be jealously, and he was too advanced for that. Typical human emotions didn't apply to a Saiyan prince.
Koan glanced his way, and almost immediately her tail moved to encircle her waist. Kakarot noticed the change and followed her gaze, then smiled as if he understood. From then on, they both continued to cast glances his way as they talked.
The prince scowled, growing sick of watching. He turned to leave the room. But as soon as he'd gone through the door a hand touched his shoulder--a woman's hand. Slowly, he turned and crossed his arms. As expected, it was Koan.
"I…need to talk to you," she said diffidently.
Vegeta regarded her coldly. He was still angry, and he wasn't in the mood for her feeble excuses. "Do you want to go somewhere private?"
"No." Her refusal was immediate. "This is fine." The sounds of the party drifted into the hall with them. "I just…wanted to apologize." She wouldn't face him--her dark eyes, far more beautiful than he remembered, shifted about restlessly. "I've been rude to you."
He snorted. Though his annoyance with her was unwarranted, he couldn't help it. "Is that so."
Koan chewed her lip, searching the tile for something to say. He could tell, however, that it was using much of her courage to keep her rooted before him. If there was anything he could sense, it was fear. "I…don't even know why I'm talking to you," she went on in a somber, thoughtful kind of tone. "I guess because I feel like you'll be gone soon."
Vegeta straightened wit he words; in truth, he had intended to leave again in the Capsule III. For a moment he regarded her critically. How does she always know…? She thinks she understands me so well. "Why?"
"You have that look in your eyes." She was regaining her courage, bit by bit, and at last she faced him directly. Her gaze was focused, deep, and searching. "Like you know you don't belong here. You need to get away from them, beat them." As she spoke, he slowly uncrossed his arms. "As if they disgust you. Even Bulma."
"That's no concern of yours," Vegeta spat. He didn't regret the events that had taken place between him and the blue-haired inventor--she was a beautiful woman, and he a man. He never thought of the two of them outside of their bedroom setting. But faced with Koan, her eyes plucking answers out of his brain, his convictions faltered. She knew about him and Bulma without being told, and accepted it, the way he had accepted it. She felt no jealously and no injustice, unlike the typically possessive human females. She knew him, and she understood.
"I'm sorry, Prince Vegeta," Koan was saying. She kept her head up, as if he were about to do something amazing and she was waiting to see it. It unnerved him. "That's all I really wanted to say."
"What are you looking at?"
She paused, bewildered. "What do you mean?"
"I don't like the way you look at me," Vegeta growled. "Stop it."
Koan didn't understand, so she didn't honor his request. Her eyes merely sparked, as if she'd suddenly found what she'd sought. His curiosity overwhelmed him; he wanted to know what it was she saw.
"How should I look at you?"
Vegeta's expression darkened. "Don't patronize me. I know you're frightened." With that triumphant note he turned his back on the Saiyan woman and left, confident that he'd won the battle.
But he could still feel her eyes on his back, all the way down the hall.
--
The next morning, Bulma started making the coffee as soon as she was up. She scolded herself several times over for letting last night's booze get to her. A look around the kitchen showed that no one else was up yet. "I suppose I should make breakfast," she muttered, as everyone had spent the night after the celebrations. Then, after looking her kitchen over one more time, decided that it would be too much effort. Her mother would handle it soon enough. Instead, she plopped down at the table with her coffee and a bowl of instant oatmeal.
Soon after, someone else entered the room. She nearly spit out her coffee in surprise--it was Vegeta, dressed in his fighting outfit and armor. After a brief investigation of the refrigerator, he selected a frozen pizza--pepperoni, sausage, ham, and every other known meat byproduct--and put it in the microwave. It beeped and whirled to life.
"Tell me you're not leaving again," Bulma groaned.
"Why do you care?" he retorted callously.
She shifted in her chair. "It's my spaceship. Besides, the ship doesn't have to be in space for the gravity machine to work. It's self-contained, after all."
The Saiyan prince didn't face her. "Better in space than surrounded by filthy, weak humans."
"Well, excuse me!" she declared, rolling her eyes. "Just remember--last time you came back, you were half dead. I don't want to have to nurse you back to health again."
Vegeta chuckled. "Next time, I'll find myself a prettier woman."
Bulma threw a wicked face at his turned back. "Good luck. Whatever you say, prince. Just don't come crawling back here."
"Fine." Vegeta removed his finished pizza from the microwave, and then walked out. His exit was so abrupt that at first she didn't even realize that he'd gone. Several minutes later, still eating her oatmeal, she heard the engines of the Capsule III igniting. She moved to the window in order to see the lift off.
"So, you're really going," she murmured, watching as the black and white sphere shot into the air, piercing the clouds. Soon there wasn't even a trail of smoke left to announce his departure. Bulma closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and returned to her daily routine.
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