Falling Short
Chapter
11: When Love Is Not Enough
Vegeta
awoke gradually, unwillingly, into a body he at first didn't believe was
his. Everything ached. His arms and legs, his chest, back,
shoulders, hands, head--thunder rippled through his skull, making his sight
blurred and dark. Even blinking caused
him to wince. He imagined briefly that
if his condition was anything less than fatal, it would be a profound
disappointment. He didn't have even the
strength to curse his weakness. More
than anything he longed to return to the void of dark, where even this agony,
nor the knowledge of his failure, could reach him.
Something
stirred, not within but beside him. He
became vaguely aware of the dull, soft pressure against his chest, and another,
lighter touch on his stomach. His eyes
opened a little wider; he remembered. Though his recollections were misted at best, the memory of her arms,
her care, lingered, impressed upon his flesh. She had comforted and nursed him, and he had allowed her to do so. And she'd stayed.
Vegeta
couldn't move enough to see the woman that slept against him, but he knew it
was her. Her touch and smell would
never be erased from his brain--they had always been with him, long before now.
Damn you, Koan. I swore I'd never let you see me like this
again. Vegeta sighed in disgust, and was caught by
a fit of coughing. There was a bitter
taste in his throat. Shit. I'll be stuck here for days…not
that it matters. Not anymore.
Vegeta
had been in space somewhere around Neptune when it happened. He'd done nothing but train for nearly a
week, forsaking food and sleep. He
hadn't been able to feel the pain. And then,
in an instant more clear than any other, he realized: he'd reached his
limit. His power level hadn't increased
for some time--since before his argument with Koan. She was right.
"You'll never be good
enough, Vegeta."
Somehow,
she knew. Koan, who had never fought a
real battle in her life, never looked through a scouter, could in once glance
pronounce his fate. It was maddening to
consider the possibility--power was, and would always be, everything. Without it, beings were no better than
pieces of property to be trampled and owned. It was the destiny he'd struggled against all his life, enduring torture
and humiliation beyond comprehension, only to have her steal it all away with a
word.
Never.
The
prince hated her for that. He hated her
calm, penetrating eyes, her hypocrisy, and the delicacy that always drove him
to want her. Her sensitivity annoyed
him, drove him mad with frustration over her frailty, while at the same time
trapping him. He thirsted for her pride
and spirit, and was tempted to continue doing so by the rare moments when she
defied him. Had he the strength he
would have woken her, demanded an explanation of the strange way she behaved
toward him. The same eyes that sought
to break him also consoled and soothed his injuries. Why? Why did she pursue
him so fervently, only to retreat from his every advance? What did she hope to attain?
What
did she see in him anyway?
Vegeta's
thoughts were disturbed when he detected a faint trace of movement nearby. He cocked his head, craning to see. A length of soft black hair changed its
position over Koan's thigh. He hated
that tail. He hated the way it moved,
twitched, swayed, bounced, and curled, alerting his attention like a moth to a
flame. Its twisting motion captivated
him. He would have taken it were it
within his reach, if only to stop its control over him. But that, too, would be a surrender. Touching her only verified her control over
him; the thought closed his eyes, as if an entity of its own, shutting out the
sight of her dark fur.
Damnit, what's happening to
me? I
should have known staying on Earth would make me weak. He cursed this blue planet, cursed Kakarot
and his family, cursed Bulma and Koan and especially himself. He hated them all, hated everything that
stood in the way of his destiny. These were
his last thoughts before falling unconscious once more.
--
Vegeta
slept continuously for five days. After
the first three Bulma insisted that a doctor be called to check his
condition. Koan reluctantly agreed, and
stood by anxiously as the Saiyan prince was examined. It wasn't his state of health that concerned her, however; she
prayed that he wouldn't wake and find the aging doctor prodding at him. Fortunately, he did not stir. The doctor completed his scan, assured the
two women that time would heal his injuries, and departed.
On
the fourth day Koan spoke with her son over the phone. "I'm sorry, Cumber. I miss you, too. But…I can't leave yet. Not until I know he'll be all right."
On
the sixth day, Bulma and Koan were eating lunch when they heard footsteps
coming down the hall. Bulma immediately
stood up and looked to the door, and Koan sighed in relief. As expected, Vegeta entered a moment
later. He straightened a bit, made wary
by their eager faces. He crossed slowly
to the table beneath their stares. "What?"
"What?"
Bulma echoed incredulously. She put her
hands on her hips, towering over him as he took his seat. "We've been taking care of your sorry ass
for a week, and that's all you have
to say?"
"Isn't
there any food?"
Koan
smiled to herself as she quickly began to prepare the extra food they'd
purchased for this occasion. She
enjoyed listening to them argue; she'd been worried that Vegeta would recover
but grow distant, and bitter. But soon
enough he appeared to be himself again, poking fun at Bulma's hair and
clothing. He smiled, in his
condescending way. Even if Koan could
see the remaining uncertainty beneath his eyes, it was good to see he'd
improved.
Vegeta
made quick work of the meal she prepared, deflecting Bulma's quips all
along. When finally he'd finished, a
pause settled in the kitchen. "Well, in
any case," Bulma said, "you should probably take it easy for while--your hands,
especially.
He
grinned at her wickedly. "My hands'll
go wherever they like," he retorted.
"Pig! This is the last time I let you sleep under
the my roof!"
"Oh? Then I guess I'll be pulling your bed out
under the stars tonight."
"Why,
you…."
"Calm
down, both of you," Koan intervened. "Vegeta, if you're finished, I'd like to check your injuries."
The
prince raised an eyebrow. "Alright." He pushed back from
the table and stood. "Whenever you're
ready."
Bulma
glanced at each of them, frowning at Koan' sudden ease in his presence. "I've got work to do," she said, taking the
dishes to the sink. "Don't worry about
the cleaning--Mom always takes care of it. I'm going down to the lab."
Koan
nodded. "Sure. Take care."
Bulma
left, leaving the Saiyan pair alone. The prince looked to his would-be examiner. "Well?"
Koan
approached, each movement controlled. She watched him very carefully. "It doesn't hurt anywhere especially, does it?" She poked at his ribs with her fingertips,
gingerly scanning his flesh the way she'd learned years ago.
"No." She caught his left eyebrow twitching as she
probed an area of tender muscle. "It's
been a week."
"A
short time, even for you." When she was
satisfied that he was well enough, she stepped back. "How do you feel?"
--
Vegeta
stretched, curled and uncurled his fingers, and hmphed appreciatively. "Not bad. If only I had some of that strange drug Kakarot keeps around." He glanced at her, and was a bit startled to
see her tail, snaking gently back and forth behind her. Though they were standing close together,
she seemed to be at ease. That
mysteriously pleased him. "You've
changed," he remarked.
Koan
straightened her posture. "You…could
tell?"
He
crossed his arms. Deep inside, he was
thankful that she had yet to mention the events a week ago, and hoped that he
could continue this topic without her bringing it up. "You've calmed down. What
happened?"
She
was watching him, gauging his expression for his intentions. "I've been living a calm life. But, I have to admit, it probably has
something to do with my training."
"Training?" Vegeta was consumed suddenly by an
overwhelming eagerness. For a moment he
forgot all his own failure, and his body's weariness; he wanted to fight
her. He wanted to see her in motion,
her tone limbs moving and striking. He
wanted to see the fire in her eyes--that pride, that spirit only her anger had
been able to unlock. Unwillingly his
mind spun backwards, recalling the image of her as a child as she glared at him
with fiery, vibrant defiance. He wanted
to see that look again.
"Spar
with me." The words escaped before he'd
had the time to think them, betraying the secret of his excitement. "Right now--just for a while, at least."
Koan
took a step back, and her tail hung rigidly behind her. "Spar?" she echoed, trying to hide her
sudden caution. "With you? But--"
Vegeta
stepped forward, and was encouraged when she did not retreat. "I won't hurt you--I promise. But I want to see you fight."
She
didn't look convinced. "Are you sure
you're not just testing me?"
"Maybe,"
the prince admitted. "But I know you
want to." The sudden flash in her eyes
confirmed his suspicion; she was just as anxious to test her skills as he
was.
Koan
fidgeted, indecisive, even as her tail began to twitch in anticipation. "All right," she said, her voice barely
above a whisper. "Where?"
"Outside
the city, where Cumber and Kakarot's son used to train."
"All
right." She gulped. "Just let me get
changed. I'll meet you there."
"Good." With a deep breath Vegeta stepped back,
putting some distance between them. "I'll be waiting." Rather than
waste time standing there awkwardly, he turned and swiftly left.
---
Koan
finally released her breath as the prince exited. She placed her hand firmly over her chest; her heart was
pounding. Fight…Vegeta? But how can I? She shuddered at the thought, struggling between excitement and
apprehension. This was an opportunity;
after training with Goku for so long, she'd become clearly aware of the power
of a Super Saiyan. This was her chance
to see how close Vegeta had come, and if her theories were correct.
But
she wasn't thinking of that now. She was
thinking of him, his dark eyes and wide, callused hands. Hurriedly she ran to the room Bulma had
reserved for her.
I don't even know why I
brought this. Koan changed into her old violet jumpsuit,
from Namek. Did I know this would happen? Oh God, what am I doing? She
tightened her boots and started to leave. Please…whoever can hear me…don't
make me regret this.
--
Vegeta
paced back and forth among the dusty, broken stones. He'd been to this place many times; the scars of his wrath were
jagged proof of this. He had changed in
a fury, into a pair of sweat pants and white muscle-shirt--his suit had been
torn beyond repair. Now he waited, his
mind in a whirl, trying to plan.
I can't possibly fight at
full strength against her--even if I intended to, I haven't recovered
significantly yet. Half strength at
best. No--not even a fourth. He scowled at his own pathetic healing abilities. But
how strong will she be? The daughter of
an Elite, trained by Nameks and possibly Kakarot as well. He realized then that he had no idea what
the last Saiyan woman was capable of. The obscurity of her skill only increased his curiosity in seeing it.
At
last he detected her spirit approaching from the north. He folded his arms, trying to appear calm
despite his restlessness. She landed a
minute later, dressed in her simple garb from Namek. The constricting fabric was, for a moment, distracting. He shook himself. "Ready?"
"I'm
ready." Koan moved slowly into a
readied position, and the prince did likewise. Her tail slithered around her waist. She waited, practically glowing with anxious tension.
A
full minute passed in painfully suspended silence. At last Vegeta attacked. He held back considerably, hating himself all along, aiming a punch to
her midsection. Koan blocked the first,
and surprised him by immediately countering with an attempted kick. It was then his turn to block; they
continued in this fashion for several exchanged rounds, battling back and forth
as if performing a practiced ritual. Experimentally Vegeta quickened his attacks, and was pleased when she
was able to keep up.
My God, she's magnificent.
Koan's
body moved with perfect, formless grace through the complicated strikes and
maneuvers. She blended her attacks and
defense into a series of motion, effortless switching tactics when one didn't
appear effective. Her eyes never left
his. They were bright and fierce, like
glittering obsidian, and more alive than any he'd seen. They overflowed with a passion so great that
he felt as if he were being infected by it. Silently she dared him to fight harder, faster, and his limbs complied
thoughtlessly.
Vegeta
reached the limit of his already weary and half-healed body. He could tell that his movements weren't
improving, even as he longed to continue their race. But Koan did not increase her power further--she too had reached
her barrier, and was content to further their battle on this level playing
field. Strike for strike they met,
their bodies moving in a common rhythm as if their blood flowed from one into
the other in an unbroken chain.
And
something had changed. Vegeta was
strangely not angered or ashamed at his inability to best this woman. Wining had always been his objective--even
in coming here, some part of him had hoped to strike her down and prove his
worth to her. But now, not even that
mattered. He was even vaguely aware of
a grin, spreading across his face. Koan's eyes were wide and vivacious, lips parted as she gasped for the
breath she required. And she
laughed. He'd never heard the sound
before, and he laughed back, for no reason at all. They were both laughing, like a pair of children playfully
mocking each other's efforts. They were
playing a game of no rules. Neither
understood what had come over them at that moment, sharing wicked grins and
wordless taunts. But in that instant,
those precious seconds, it was if they had reached something within them.
As
strangely and abruptly as it had begun, the battle ended. They stopped, locked in arms, panting in
exhaustion. An invisible signal told
both that the fight was over--they were too tired to continue. Slowly, they untwined from each other and
dropped to their rears in the dust.
Vegeta
wiped the sweat from his face, laughing sharply. He felt strangely liberated, as if nothing in his life had ever
mattered until now and never would. He
gazed across the few feet of open space between him and the Saiyan woman and
grinned--grinned openly, foolishly, and carelessly. She was truly magnificent, in every regard. He could see in her now the fiery will he
remembered--not in arrogant pride, but in appreciation of him and herself.
"Not
bad." It was all he could say, could
let himself say.
"You
too." Koan was gradually returning her
breath to a reasonable pace. She spoke
no more, as any words shared on the experience would only degrade its
meaning. To acknowledge it, even, would
seem as sacrilege. So she merely
smiled, her tail waving as all the proof of her mood he needed.
--
Koan
was only barely aware of the movement of her tail. She climbed to her feet with gradual care, as if moving slowly
enough could halt and trap this moment. She didn't want to speak, least it shatter. Even breathing was dangerous, so she stood very still, waiting as
the prince stood as well. He was still
smiling, not devoid of arrogance but without bitterness. He had enjoyed himself. The thought of bringing him that kind of joy
caused her heart to quake. This was
what she'd been hoping to give him: for once, a moment of peace, without
competition or hatred or power levels. A circumstance where both of them could simply be the people they were
meant to be.
Vegeta
approached, and she held her breath, not knowing what to expect. "Let's go back," he suggested, appraising
her with his eyes. "There's…something I
want to ask you."
"Ask
me?" She surprised herself by not
feeling wary. She merely nodded, and
they took to the air--slowly, as they were both still exhausted.
Vegeta
led the way to his room. Koan followed,
strengthened by the experience they'd shared so recently. She'd spent the last week--the last several
weeks--preparing for this moment. And
if she could handle this well, she could change the prince forever.
"Sit." He indicated the bed, and she did so
obediently. He'd become suddenly
serious, with a gaze that was focused and calm. "There's something I want to know."
Koan
nodded. She already knew what he was
going to ask--about the Super Saiyans. She was prepared to answer.
"Tell
me what happened to you."
Her
heart skipped a beat. "What do you
mean?"
Vegeta
crossed his arms, though the stance was not aggressive or condescending. It was almost patient. "You. What just happened…." He shook
his head. "Whatever that was, that was
you."
"Me,"
she echoed, fidgeting.
He
sat down beside her, and she shifted. This wasn't what she'd expected or planned for. "You. You're different now. What you
were before…like a mask." He reached
out, his fingertips sliding along her jaw. She flinched.
"That,"
he murmured, as if she'd just proven his point. "You're afraid of this. Me touching you."
He
could never understand. Koan urged
his hand away from her. "Vegeta, this
isn't about me."
"It
is," he insisted. His voice rumbled
deeply within his chest as he spoke, spilled over her skin. "Because I have nothing left except
this. Wanting you."
"Stop." She placed her hands on his chest, not to
push him back, just to keep some distance between them. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her ears. "You don't understand."
"Tell
me." The prince did not take his eyes
from her for an instant. "You were
raised by a Kalbassian--what did he do to you?"
"I'll do whatever I want to
you. You're mine."
Koan
closed her eyes, fearful of seeing the terrible visions that plagued her so
insistently. But with her lids shut the
darkness only gave her imagination more freedom. She opened them once more, hesitantly. "He…Kado…he was my master." She was relieved as Vegeta leaned back, allowing her room to breathe and
think. She confined her trembling hands
to her lap, and watched them writhe against each other. "Ever since I was a child, he…he used
me. In very way possible." She could not face him out of shame. "He beat me, raped me--over and over, until
I was nearly dead. And I…."
She
choked on the words. "I couldn't do
anything. In the beginning I fought
back, but he only…I wasn't strong enough to stop him." A quiet, self-mocking chuckle escaped her
lips. "But I must admit, his 'training'
made me strong, even if I could never use that power.
"I
know what you're thinking." Koan
sighed, and closed her eyes briefly. "A
fool. I probably could have killed her
by the time I was ten. But when I
thought of fighting back…all I had to do was look at myself." She lifted her
hands, remembering the ancient scars her skin did not. "This body. It belonged to him. And now, to
you."
Vegeta's
slow intake of breath was clear proof of his mild confusion. Koan faced him, though she quivered into
doing so. He was staring at her with expressionless
attention. "I…couldn't stand the
thought of that, so I ran away. But it
won't change anything." Her fingers
curled. "You're all that really matters
now. I want to be yours."
--
There
was silence between the pair for a long time. Vegeta stared--he could do nothing else. By now his brain was spinning in so many circles that it seemed a
completely useless organ by now. Rather
than bother with thought he did only what he desired: he pulled Koan to him,
ignoring her surprised gasp. He held
her against him firmly, protectively. Her body shivered; his muscles tightened in anger at the thought of
anyone else touching it. To imagine
another man's hands on her, twisting on dominating her perfect flesh, was too
much for him to bare. He would have
killed the undeserving fool in an instant had he known where to look for him.
"You
don't have to be afraid," he murmured tightly. "I'll never let another man touch you."
The
Saiyan woman sighed. "Vegeta…."
"Quiet
now." Vegeta eased her back just enough
to kiss her mouth. She recoiled, as his
actions merely gave fuel to her memories. He did not pursue her this time. Though he admitted to himself that he didn't really understand her pain,
"fear" was an emotion he knew well. Helplessness, humiliation, desperation--at the hands of Freeza he'd
suffered them all, bound by destiny to a despicable way of life. In the beginning he'd fought only to
increase his power, as if his success were an act of rebellion against his
immortal master The passage of time had
taught him truth: to even fight was to surrender to Freeza's wishes. And so he continued to fight, because he had
nothing else, hiding from himself the truth.
He
would never be good enough.
The
prince had lost even that, now. She'd
taught him something terrible; his fight was meaningless. Which left only her. Her spirit, her courage--it was hidden now,
but he knew of its existence. I'll find it. Staring into her eyes, he could see the faint traces of light--of
life, hoping to be set free. I wonder if that's what she always saw in
me, he thought, stroking her cheek. I want to see it. I want her to see it. Maybe then….
Vegeta
laid down on his back, swinging his legs onto the bed. Koan watched him, wary, as if expected him
to do some violent act. He closed his
eyes. Silently, he waited.
--
Koan
stared at the prince in bewilderment. He…didn't
take me. He looked calm, and
patient. Is this a test, or a symbol of trust?
The
Saiyan woman reached out, gingerly sliding her fingertips along Vegeta's cheek
and jaw. He inhaled slowly but did not
stir. Encouraged, she repeated her
caress with the other hand. She liked
the feel of his skin--rough and warm. She traced his hair line, his eyelids and lips, enjoying this
opportunity for such simple touches.
When
her courage increased she let her hands glide lower, down his neck and
chest. There Koan paused. She could feel his muscles drawn tight
beneath her fingers, and when she looked at his hands found them to be
fists. He's restraining himself.
"You're afraid of this. Me touching you."
"…wanting you…"
Koan
pulled back, her mouth opening without sound. Her heart began to flutter within her ribs. For me, he's….
Vegeta's
eyes gradually opened, and gazed up at her. They spoke to her, clearly, truthfully. They told her of his desire, a need so great that it ached, and the
strength that managed to keep it repressed. For her sake, he would not harm or force her. Even if it was frustrating and painful, he would not accept the
position of ownership over her.
For
the first time in her life, Koan kissed a man of her own desire. He returned it tenderly as best he could,
and she nearly cried, her lips trembling against his.
--
The
prince of the Saiyan's had never exerted more self control in his life. Though he wanted nothing more than to take
her fiercely, passionately, in the only way he knew how, that would prove
nothing. For this one night he would
fulfill her needs.
He
softened his hands on her shoulders, and his mouth on her lips. He loosened his arms even as she pulled
tightly against him. He calmed his
pulse, remaining still as she undressed him and herself. The strain of resistance had exhausted him
long before the bedsheets swallowed them. And yet, still he could not help but admit that their love was the most
oddly satisfying experience he'd ever had.
To
Next Chapter (possibly the conclusion….?)
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