Disclaimer: I don't own DB/Z/GT. Sue me if you want, but all you'll get is an autograph and that isn't worth anything!
Why Can't I Say I Love You
Kuririn stared out the living room window at the setting sun and sighed to himself. He'd been married nearly a month now, and he had never been happier . . . but there was always a lingering shadow of doubt.
It was his wife, #18. Kuririn loved her with all his heart, a hundred, thousand, million times more than he had loved any of his other girlfriends, and he wouldn't trade her for all the Dragonballs in the universe. Sometimes, however, it was easy to become a bit discouraged.
Since the day Kuririn had first declared his feelings for her, #18 had rarely shown any sign of affection toward him, save a soft smile every once in a while. A few times, out the corner of his eye, Kuririn had caught her looking at him with an expression on her face that could be called tender, but only when she thought he couldn't see her. #18 let Kuririn hold her hand, and every so often she let him put his arm around her waist, but that was usually the extent of it. Of course, even that was not permitted in public. However, Kuririn loved her, and he didn't push her.
Kuririn's previous girlfriend, Maron, had been the wonderful--gorgeous, openly affectionate, outgoing, and a bit on the flirtatious side . . . but all along he'd known he wouldn't spend his life with her. She was too much like a spring breeze --wonderful while it lasted, but impossible to hold onto for long. #18, though, was different from any woman Kuririn had ever known . . . she was beautiful, true, with her straight blonde hair and piercing, pale blue eyes, but that barely scratched the surface. #18 was quiet, conservative, contemplative, aloof . . . to anyone else, it would appear that the cyborg had no emotions at all.
Kuririn wasn't "anyone else," however. He knew that #18 wasn't unfeeling and emotionless, just cynical and world-weary . . . and hurt. She had been emotionally scarred and betrayed numerous times in her life, enough that she had built up a protective wall around herself and her feelings. Sometimes she let Kuririn into that secret place --and when she did, Kuririn felt as though he could float straight up into heaven.
During his time with her, Kuririn had discovered that #18 possessed a unique sense of humor, though a little on the sarcastic side, and every once in a while he got her to laugh out loud. And in those glimpses when #18 thought he wasn't looking, Kuririn had seen into her heart and viewed a tender soul beneath the armor.
Just the previous night, he and #18 had been sitting on the couch together, watching television. Unexpectedly, #18 had laid her head on Kuririn's shoulder . . . that brief moment of tenderness had sparked a rush of emotion through him, and he had just sat there, hardly daring to breathe, not wanting the moment to end. Even now, Kuririn couldn't remember what the movie they'd been watching was about, or even what it was called. His only memory was #18's head on his shoulder, and never having felt closer to her before.
Unfortunately, moments like those were few and far between. And as always, when they were over, #18 acted like they had never happened at all.
Kuririn shook his head and stood up. The sun was almost at the horizon now, and he wondered if he'd left #18 alone too long; she'd been sitting in her tree since after supper. He decided to go outside and talk to her.
* * *
#18 sat alone in her tree, twenty feet above the ground, thinking. She always came up here to think . . . it was the one place she could be alone, where Kuririn would never disturb her. The small human didn't like trees --they were too high up, he said, despite the fact that he loved to fly. #18 smiled. It was just another of her husband's idiosyncrasies, and she loved him for it.
The smile faded. Yes, she loved him . . . she loved him dearly; so much that it almost scared her . . . but she had never said it, not in those specific words. Kuririn had told her many times before that he loved her --and when he did, his eyes shone with a light brighter than any star #18 had seen in the sky. However when #18 had tried to say "I love you," those three little words, as small as they were, seemed to stick in her throat.
She knew it tortured her husband that she rarely showed him any sign of fondness, and it broke #18's heart because there was no other way. #18 had spent so long building a wall around herself and her inner thoughts that to tear it down seemed an injustice. So many things had been taken from her during her life . . . her freedom, her beliefs, even her twin brother . . . #18's emotional shell was all that remained. Stripping it away would leave her open and defenseless, laid bare for all the world to see. The thought of it frightened her.
And yet, when she was with Kuririn, new feelings rose in #18 that she had never experienced before. It made her feel that it was all right to feel love, to leave the emotional armor behind and just be herself. #18 had always considered love to be a useless human emotion, one that made a person --or cyborg-- weak. In the beginning, when the first stirrings had entered #18's heart, she had been almost paralyzed with the fear that she was going soft, that her pride was leaving her . . . and yet . . . Kuririn made her forget herself sometimes.
The other day #18 had let her feelings loose, and she had rested her head on Kuririn's shoulder. The unexpected show of intimacy had startled him; she had felt his body tense with surprise at first, but after a second or two Kuririn had relaxed and let the emotion of the moment carry him through. As for #18, she hadn't wanted the time to end. All she wanted to do was remain there, her head on Kuririn's shoulder, forever.
But it didn't last. Those moments never did. For the life of her, #18 could never voice her feelings to her husband. All she could ever hope to give him were tender moments like that every once in a while, for him to remember, to give him hope.
#18 drew her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them, suppressing a groan. How long would it last? she wondered. How long before Kuririn decided #18 didn't really love him, and he broke it off? Or would he keep on loving her, trusting that one day #18 would show him that his love was not in vain? Why was she doomed to keep her feelings to herself?
"Hey, #18, can I come up?"
#18 looked down to see Kuririn standing at the base of the tree, staring up at her. She wondered how long he'd been there. "Sure, go ahead."
Kuririn flew up to the branch where #18 was perched and sat beside her. #18 raised a blonde eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like trees," she pointed out.
"I don't," Kuririn cracked a grin, "But I have to talk to you. Aren't I brave?"
#18 laughed in spite of herself. "Yes, Kuririn, you're brave."
Kuririn smiled, then he made the mistake of looking down. His face paled. "Uh, it's really high up here. Do you want to take a walk? This is kinda freakin' me out."
#18 nodded. A walk was just what she needed to clear her mind of doubts and perhaps give herself some peace of mind. "A walk would be perfect."
"Let's fly down to the beach and walk there," Kuririn suggested, and #18 agreed.
When the two of them reached the beach, the sun had already begun to dip below the horizon, and the sky had exploded into color; reds, oranges, and pinks, shooting into the sky and reflecting off the water. Kuririn felt a catch in his throat. "Beautiful, isn't it?" he commented.
There was no reply. Kuririn looked up to see #18 as distant as ever, apparently unaffected by the sight, though the sunset danced in her eyes. It was arguable whether she even saw it. Kuririn bit back a sigh.
"Kuririn, why do they call me 'The Ice Queen'?"
The suddenness of the question startled Kuririn, and he glanced up at her sharply. "Who's 'they'?" he demanded.
"Most of your friends, at some point or another. . . but especially Vegeta. We were talking, Vegeta and I, at one of those get-togethers your friends love. Somehow the topic of conversation switched to you . . . Vegeta said he didn't understand what a happy-go-lucky person like you was doing with an 'ice queen' like me."
#18 looked down and saw that Kuririn's eyes were blazing with rage, his fists clenched. With an effort he controlled himself, and the anger drained from his face. "Vegeta's just trying to make trouble," Kuririn's eyes got a distant look, like he was thinking about something far away.
"Vegeta's been through a lot, really . . . Bulma was telling me that when Vegeta realized he was falling in love with her, he got scared. He'd always been a loner, and the fact that someone else was taking over his thoughts worried him. He was scared of sacrificing his pride, scared of seeming weak, scared of going soft, of needing someone . . . of giving up everything he had once considered important, because of some woman. He had a reputation to keep up, one of pride and arrogance and above all, self-reliance. He worried about what people would say if he started to deviate from that. But Bulma kept on loving him, and after a while Vegeta realized that it didn't matter what others thought. That love was more important than his pride . . ." Kuririn trailed off.
#18 was silent for a minute. This Vegeta had gone through exactly what #18 herself was feeling now. Perhaps she should have a talk with him. Maybe he could help her straighten out her feelings. #18 didn't clue in that perhaps this was why Kuririn had mentioned it to her. "You still haven't answered my question," #18 pointed out. "I'm not familiar with Earth colloquialism, and I don't understand what they mean when they call me that."
Kuririn paused a second before replying. "An ice queen is someone who has no feelings. She's beautiful, but untouchable. The others call you that because they don't know you like I do. They only see what you let them see --the cynical, protective outer shell you keep around yourself. I know you, though . . . you do have a tender side, you just don't let it surface often."
#18 was quiet. It seemed as though her mental armor was working a little too well.
"But I don't care what they see," Kuririn interrupted her thoughts, taking her hand and squeezing it for a second before letting it drop, "I know who you really are. I didn't fall in love with the ice queen; I fell in love with you, and that's who I married."
Again there was silence as #18 mulled this one over. Kuririn was so willing, ready to give anyone a chance, no matter how high the odds were stacked against him. He deserves someone who can make him happy, not keep him guessing like this. . . .
"But I don't want anyone else. Don't you understand? I love you!"
#18 jumped. She hadn't realized she'd spoken this last bit aloud. "Kuririn, I know I'm asking a lot of questions, but I have another one."
"Make it snappy," Kuririn joked, "I have a very pressing engagement to go to in five minutes."
#18 looked around at the empty stretch of beach and laughed. "I'll try . . . it's a short question anyway. I know you love me--I'm not questioning that. But, why do you love me?"
Kuririn looked shocked. "#18, what--" he broke off as #18 placed a finger over his lips, silencing him.
"It's a serious question," #18 managed a small shrug. "I've been having doubts about myself lately."
Kuririn was shaken, for he knew in his heart why he loved his wife, but putting it into words that didn't sound trite and cliché could prove to be difficult. "I could go for the obvious and say that you're beautiful and intelligent and an excellent fighter with a rare sense of humor . . . but that doesn't even come close to the real reason. I guess the long and short of it is, you complete me. You make me whole in a way no one else ever could. We're like a puzzle, you and I --our good points make up for each other's shortcomings. You're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with."
#18's only reply was to reach down and catch Kuririn's hand, holding it in her own. Kuririn felt a warm glow spread through him. "Can we sit for a while?" #18 asked. Her legs had suddenly given out on her --her knees were wobbly with relief.
#18 sat cross-legged on the sand, and Kuririn went to sit beside her. On impulse, Kuririn lay down on the sand, resting his head on #18's lap. He waited, every muscle tensed, for #18 to explode --but she didn't. Instead, she smiled softly and tousled Kuririn's hair, massaging his head. Kuririn smiled.
The sun had completely set by now, and the sky was that beautiful shade of blue that only appears just after the sun has gone down. The stars began to poke their way through the darkness. "You know," Kuririn remarked, #18 still rubbing his head, "That group of stars up there is the constellation called 'Draco'. It looks like a dragon. See?"
#18 glanced up, but she saw no pattern. All she saw was stars. "No."
"You're being too literal," Kuririn chided her, "Stop looking at things scientifically and try just looking. It doesn't look exactly like a dragon, but if you stop trying to analyze it you might just see it," when #18 still appeared baffled, Kuririn took her chin in his hands and pointed her face at a certain section of the stars. "It's right there. Just try to see it."
#18 stopped picking out every individual star and tried looking at the big picture, as Kuririn suggested. All of a sudden, a group of stars seemed to coalesce into the shape of a curving dragon. It was crude, of course, but beautiful . . . somehow the creature seemed to be beckoning to her.
Kuririn heard #18's sharp intake of breath, and he smiled. "You see it now?"
#18 nodded. "I see it," she looked down at him. His eyes were half-closed, his expression peaceful, almost dreamy. "Is that Shenron, or whatever your Dragonball dragon is called?"
Kuririn shrugged. "I don't know if it's that particular dragon, but there was some legend about it. I don't remember."
"It doesn't matter. It's still beautiful."
Kuririn closed his eyes, and a few seconds later his breathing evened out as he fell asleep. #18 smiled gently. Kuririn had always been able to drop off instantly like that. She looked up at the sky, now speckled with even more stars, and fixed her gaze upon the celestial dragon. Shenron was able to grant wishes, #18 thought to herself, I wonder if this one can . . . Well, Kuririn was asleep and there was no one around to hear . . . no one except the stars. She had nothing to lose.
#18 cleared her throat. "I don't know if this will work . . . actually, I know it won't, but at least I'll be able to get this off my chest. I wish I knew why I have to be an 'ice queen', why I can't show how I feel. I wish I wasn't so scared of seeming weak. I wish I knew why I love Kuririn so much, but whenever I try to tell him, I lose my nerve. I wish . . ." she closed her eyes for a second. "I wish that, when I look at Kuririn with any kind of affection, he would see me. He's always looking the other way when I let my guard down. I wish he could see the little things I do to let him know how much I care. I wish--" #18 broke off. "That's a lot of wishes. I guess that's all."
"Your wish is granted," came a quiet voice.
#18 jumped in surprise, and she looked down to see Kuririn, eyes open and very much awake. "I've seen the looks you give me --when you think I don't notice," Kuririn's eyes were filled with tears. "I notice the little things you do; the flowers on the table, the way you write little messages when the window fogs up or when the table is dusty, the way you touch my hand when we're washing dishes . . . you may think I don't see, but I do," Kuririn raised a hand to her face. "I don't care if you aren't as demonstrative as my other girlfriend was. That's not who you are, and in case you didn't notice, it's you I married, not her."
#18 took Kuririn's hand and kissed it, feeling as though she wanted to cry. But this time she didn't care how weak she seemed, because she knew it didn't matter.
Kuririn sat up, his eyes searching her face. The stars were reflected in her eyes, and he thought to himself that he had never seen her look more beautiful. With tears in his eyes, Kuririn took #18's face in his hands and gently kissed her. A few seconds later, she kissed him back.
Kuririn broke off the kiss first, and when he looked at her he saw that there were tears on her cheeks, glistening silver in the starlight. He wiped the tears gently with his hand. Neither of them spoke. After a time, #18 shifted her position so she could comfortable rest her head on Kuririn's shoulder. This time, instead of wondering how long the moment would last, Kuririn slipped an arm around #18's waist and said nothing. #18 didn't pull away, she didn't snap at him -- she just sat there with him, enjoying the quiet time they had together.
At last Kuririn ventured, "I guess we should go back, huh? It is kind of late," the reluctance was evident in his voice.
What #18 said next made his heart leap. "Do we have to go back? Can't we just stay here tonight? It's a beautiful night."
Feeling his heart swell, Kuririn replied, "Well sure, if you want to."
#18 turned to him and gave Kuririn a smile that made his heart lurch. "Yes, I do."
Kuririn lay down on the sand, one hand behind his head, and #18 reclined beside him, her head on his arm. #18 turned halfway on her side so she was facing him. "Kuririn . . . I love you."
There. She'd said it. She'd said it, and it didn't make her feel weak or afraid . . . instead, she was filled with so much love that she thought her heart would burst.
Kuririn smiled gently. "I know you do. I always have . . . and I love you, too," he kissed her lightly on the forehead. "Goodnight."
Kuririn closed his eyes, and soon the sound of the waves and the touch of the ocean breeze lulled the pair into a peaceful sleep. . . . .
* * *