Prince of Dead Fools

Falling Short

Chapter 10: When Pride Is Not Enough

Bulma wiped the sweat from her brow, cursing at the stifling heat. "I hate June," she muttered. She twisted the screwdriver in her hand until positive that it was snug. "I hate broken air conditioners." She selected another screw and fit it into the appropriate slot. Thanks to a malfunction in her father's design, her lab had become a veritable oven. "And I hate sweating." She sat back, wiping her face again. "Ick. I feel gross."

"Bulma!" She heard someone calling from outside the lab. "Are you here?"

"In the lab!" Bulma yelled back. She praised whoever this visitor was for offering her an excuse to take a break. She climbed to her feet, cracking joints. "I've been at this for too long," she said, casting the machine a nasty look.

The door opened, and Koan stepped in, her breath thick with fatigue. "Has Vegeta been here?" she asked briskly.

Bulma frowned, slightly recoiling at the abrupt mentioning of his name. "Why, no, not for a few weeks. Why?"

"Good. I was right." Koan sighed in relief.

"What's going on?"

The Saiyan woman entered the room further. "He was just at Goku's house," she explained, holding her hand up in advance to halt any interruptions. "Everyone's fine. We got into an argument, but nothing happened. Nothing serious, anyway." She hesitated for a moment. "But I wanted to make sure he didn't come here."

"Come upstairs," Bulma offered. "You can tell me all about it."

On the way to the kitchen they encountered Bulma's mother. "Oh, hello there, Miss Koan. We haven't seen you in so long. Did you see the news report just now?"

"News?" Koan echoed. "What news?"

"Just a little while ago someone attack a livestock farm outside the city. Stole all the poor animals and destroyed almost everything! But at least no one was hurt."

Bulma sighed in exasperation. "Sounds like Vegeta, that stupid jerk. Thanks, Mom." She continued on to the kitchen, Koan following a moment later. "Is that what you meant by 'nothing serious?'" she asked.

Koan's face echoed a feeling of distress. "I didn't anticipate that," she murmured. "I knew he'd be mad, but…if he'd killed anyone…."

"Don't worry about Vegeta; he's getting better about that."

Bulma made them both some coffee, and Koan explained everything that had taken place--objectively, and leaving out his comment about Bulma. "I knew he'd go back into space after that," she finished. "He'll try to prove me wrong. But sooner or later he'll break, and then he'll come here."

"Here?" The blue-haired woman frowned, a strange stirring in her gut. "What makes you say that?"

"Because he's safe here; he trusts you."

"Me?" she sputtered. "That's…that's ridiculous." Her temper kicked in. "Besides, I'd just as soon slap him as look at him, after what he's put me through."

Koan smiled wisely. She sees right through you, Bulma thought to herself. She knows what you're really feeling. You want him to trust you.

"In any case," Koan went on, "I know he'll come back eventually, and I need to talk to him. I need to be here when he comes back. As soon as he does, please contact me."

Bulma was stunned. She'd never heard the Saiyan woman speak so boldly, let alone ask to see Vegeta. "Um, okay," she said at last. "Sure, Koan. I'll be sure to do that."

"Thank you, Bulma."

Once Koan had left, Bulma returned to the workshop where the air conditioner was waiting. Her concentration failed her before she'd begun. "Trust, huh?" she mused aloud. She sighed and shook her head. "Yeah right."

I want him to trust me.

Bulma rolled up her sleeves, forcing the thought out of her head. "Right now, all I have to do is fix this damn thing. I don't care about Vegeta. To Hell with him--to Koan with him! Makes no difference to me."

But as she worked, another thought crept into her mind. If only I could convince myself of that….

--

When Koan returned to Goku's home she was met by several questioning faces. "No, I didn't go after him," she put the first issue to rest. "He's gone, back to space. He'll probably stay up there for a while."

"Are you all right?" Cumber asked. "Your tail…."

"It's fine," she quickly assured. They all sat around the table together, eager to hear what she had to say. "It'll be sore, later, but I'm fine. Thank you all." She smiled to prove her well-being, even if it was a somewhat forced gesture.

"That was pretty scary," piped up Gohan. "I was afraid he'd start a fight." He grinned. "Not that Dad couldn't beat him."

Goku smiled at his son's confidence, but Koan could see some other emotion hidden behind his eyes. He clearly wasn't happy with the idea of fighting his rival again. "Anyway, Koan," he started questioningly, "what were you talking about before? Vegeta not being able to become a Super Saiyan."

"Yeah," added Cumber. "He's almost as strong as Goku, isn't he?"

"Almost. Actually, this is something I've been thinking about for a long time." Koan licked her lips, hoping that she would be able to accurately explain her theories. "Don't you think it's odd that the first Super Saiyan in over a thousand years is the son of a low class fighter? No offence, Goku, but your fighting power was rather low at one time, wasn't it?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess so. I wasn't even a match for Radditz."

"And still, imagine this: you went from that low level to being a match for Vegeta in only a year, right? It took Vegeta his entire lifetime to get that high, even considering the number of battles he's fought."

Cumber made a face. "It's kinda sad when you put it that way."

Koan nodded vaguely. "There seems to be one thing that separates Goku and Vegeta," she continued in a softer tone. "This." She gestured to the room around them, and smiled a bit when they all looked, hoping to see something. "This home," she explained. "This family--this love you all take for granted. Every battle Goku fights is emotional--for his family, his friends. Saiyans don't think that way."

Goku was watching her attentively now. Despite his usual inane exterior, there were times she could tell that he was taking things seriously. "Radditz didn't seem to care what happened to me," he mused.

Being betrayed by a brother wasn't common on Planet Vegeta, but no one would think twice about it. But for Goku…. "He probably didn't. Saiyans aren't raised that way."

"Barbaric," Chichi huffed.

"Maybe." She nodded thoughtfully. "But I'm sure Goku's realized it by now--the true power behind a Saiyan's strength."

His eyes reflected that truth, one he was not proud of. "Anger."

"Yes."

Gohan rested his chin on his hands. "Like when Krillin….But Vegeta's mad a lot of the time."

"There's a difference." Koan recalled briefly the scene they'd recently witnessed, and others, as far back as her memory allowed. She remembered watching the Saiyan prince as he fought, as he cursed and tormented and killed. His dark eyes, no matter how possessed by fury, were always thick and impenetrable. He was hiding his fear, his doubts behind the rage and arrogance. But Goku didn't fight that way--when he loved he did so fully, and when overcome by anger he had nothing else. That was what made him the better.

"Koan?"

The woman started from her thoughts. Goku was watching her curiously. "You okay?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry." She tried to recall where she'd left off. Vegeta's anger. God, if he knew we were discussing him this way…. "Anyway, Saiyans usually don't feel strong, real emotions--love, hate, grief--because they don't have the opportunity. They don't have friends they care enough about to love, or to mourn, or avenge, and most enemies can be destroyed by a group of them. So really, most Saiyans aren't capable of real, uncontrolled anger. Just…arrogance and bloodlust."

"Dad's never been like that," Gohan said brightly. "Is that because he grew up on Earth?"

Koan smiled at him. "Yes, I think so. And because of you."

"Me?"

"Of course. Because he loves you. Goku said it himself, to Ginyu: to mass huge amounts of power, you need to join spirit and body. Vegeta…hasn't learned that yet."

Chichi stood up from the table. "It's a good thing, too," she said deftly. "Someone that rude could cause chaos!"

"'With great power comes greater responsibility,'" Cumber quoted. "Baiba taught me that."

"He's a good teacher, then."

"So…what about Vegeta?" asked Gohan. "Did you tell him this?"

He'd never believe me. But he must. "No. But I will, when he's ready to hear it. Don't mention it to him," Koan added.

"Don't worry," he laughed. "I wouldn't."

The discussion broke up then; the boys returned to their studies, and Chichi to the house work. Goku ventured outside, volunteering to get more firewood for the stove--after Vegeta's rampage, there was sure to be plenty of fallen trees. Koan excused herself to attend to the garden, hoping that in the simple task she would find some clarity of thought. After about half an hour, she found Goku standing behind her. She smiled at him pleasantly. "Finished already?"

"Of course. No sweat." He calmly incinerated the pile of dead flowers and weeds she'd accumulated. "Actually, I was thinking," he said, appraising her with his eyes. "You're not like a normal Saiyan, either."

Koan stopped working for a moment. "I was raised differently," she answered. "My father was actually more like you, Goku. He believed in love." She sighed. "Our race wasn't incapable of feeling--we just never found a need, I suppose. Or we were too afraid."

Goku puzzled over this for a moment and then, seemingly satisfied, chatted on more casual topics as he helped her work. Once again she was grateful for his discretion--she couldn't explain her past to him. It wouldn't do any good; most likely, it would only upset him. She didn't want anyone to treat her differently, now when she was finally truly learning to be strong. For now, she would have to depend on her internal strength. Later, she would be able to trust.

---

A month after Koan's visit Bulma was in the lab, working on another of her father's misguided attempts at "technology." Though the air conditioner had turned the room into an ice box, the frustration of her work was enough heated discomfort. She pushed and pried the levers to no avail. "Damn piece of junk," she muttered, giving it a swift kick.

Bulma paused, suddenly aware of a presence nearby. Though she'd never been trained like her old friends, she had developed a keen sense for when someone was looking at her. But this feeling was familiar, and it caused her heart to skip a beat. Slowly, she turned.

Vegeta was standing in the door. She knew he'd be there, but the sight of him still caused her to jump. His suit was torn and bloodstained--he wasn't wearing the armor, as it was most likely cracked by the look of his condition. Dark circles hung beneath his dulled, weary eyes, and bruises colored his skin.

It wasn't the first time he'd returned to her this way, or worse. Again and again she'd seen him push the limits of his body. But this time something had changed; her brain imagined that he'd gone too far, and now she viewed only a ghost.

He didn't speak, and then he was gone.

--

When Koan reached Capsule Corps, Bulma was pacing in the kitchen. "Something's wrong," she began immediately. "I might not know him as well as you seem to, but I've never seen him like this. He's been in his room this entire time."

Koan nodded vaguely. I…was right. He's lost his faith. She assured Bulma that everything would be fine, and started for his room. If I can help him now, it might help him change for good. Maybe…I can help him…the way I never was.

Koan stopped at the door that led to Vegeta's room. She planned everything carefully; what she would say, how she would respond to him if he became angry. A full minute passed with her hand perched on the handle. When her doubts began to rise she took a deep breath and forced them back. I can't hesitate. I won't let him think me weak. She turned the handle and stepped inside.

The room was relatively unchanged since the last time she'd seen it, nearly two years ago. The lights were off, and her eyes adjusted to the non-furnished, empty setting quickly. Vegeta was seated on the edge of the bed. He didn't look up as she entered. He was silent, radiating a tangible aura of fatigue. Koan's blood felt as if it were solidifying; his shoulders were slumped, head down as he stared at his blood-stained hands.

I did it. I broke him. Hesitantly she came forward, approaching the lifeless man. But seeing him like this….Her throat constricted, her eyes ached--she wanted to cry for him. All her arguments slipped from her brain, leaving only the need to comfort, to support him.

Koan knelt down in front of him, slipping her hands into his. They were cold and strangely dormant; she would have expected him to shake, or withdraw, but he didn't--couldn't. She stared up into his eyes, and saw only herself reflected in them. The fear, the shame and even regret--like a mirror to her past, and the terrors she'd faced. She never imagined that, when reduced to only truth, the two of them were so similar.

Koan stood, gently easing closer. When she reached for him he finally animated, pushing at her hands feebly, trying to reject her affection. His strength was no enough to resist, and instead he turned his head away. She ignored the stubbornness he so desperately clung to. With one hand on his shoulder and another curling over the back of his neck, she pulled him to her, his head against her stomach. There she held him without scorn or pity. She would be his strength, just this once.

The prince didn't try to recoil again. His body relaxed, as if surrendering to the touch of death. He leaned against her, his arms slack and breath shuddering against the material of her dress. He admitted nothing through words, and she spoke nothing of his failure. Even so, for that moment he placed all his trust into her, and she accepted it all.

Some time later Koan eased back; very slowly, as she was reluctant to withdraw from this comfort herself. She knew better than to try and see his face. With painstaking care she urged Vegeta to lie down on his back. He obeyed without protest. By the time she'd pulled a single sheet over him he appeared to be barely conscious. A sigh emptied from her lips as she watched his descent into slumber. Seated beside him she gently probed over his body, listing the injuries she found in her mind. Broken rib, dislocated shoulder, pulled muscles, burns. She removed his boots, but when she attempted to take off his gloves as well the limbs flinched in pain. At last she resorted to ripping the fabric and peeling it off--they had long since lost their usefulness anyway. The hands beneath were skinned to the bone around his knuckles, and several joints were swollen--probably broken.

Koan stared at the man, unsure as to whether she should be awed, terrified, or revolted by his unending dedication. She left then, to return minutes later with Bulma and a first aid kit. Together they managed to clean, bandage, and set his injuries. Bulma left soon afterwards. Her Saiyan friend stayed a while longer. She slipped her hand gingerly into his once more, and if only a bit, she felt his fingers curl.

Koan sighed and began to leave. She'd not gone far when something tugged her arm; she glanced down, surprised to see Vegeta watching her. His eyes, muddied with weariness and strain, spoke to her where his voice could not. Stay.

"Vegeta…." She licked her lips, a tremble in her heart when she looked upon his pain--pain she was the cause of.

Stay. His gaze, lifeless and still, did not change. Koan surrendered. Being wary of his freshly tended wounds she seated herself on the bed. His clumsy, gauze-covered hands indicated for her to lie with him. She diffidently complied, settling into a position that wouldn't harm him. Instead he pulled her closer, until their bodies touched. At first the proximity made her nervous; the damp heat of his skin, the smell of his sweat, raised images too familiar in her.

Gradually, she began to relax. With her head against his chest she could hear his heartbeat; she focused on that steady, flawless rhythm to keep her thoughts from wandering. She even began to enjoy the sensation of his holding her. Whether his actions were tender or weak, she couldn't tell, but didn't care. Soon she had joined him in sleep, and they rested that way through the night.

To Next Chapter

Return