Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.
The Perfect Flaw
Chapter XV
Comforted only by the whistle of the breeze, Goku lay still, his eyes shut to elude the stinging the heat.
It was becoming harder to breathe; like persistent, omnipotent hands crushing his chest. With each inhale he took, the hands refused to allow his rib-cage to expand.
"Chi . . . chi," he rasped.
A slight shuffling reached his ears, and attentively he paused in his wheezing to turn his head.
It was the little girl again.
She stood just as shyly as she had before, her head lowered, her saddened gaze downcast. Only this time, instead of clutching to the china doll, something purple lay in her feeble hands.
Goku laughed (or at least tried to). "Hey . . . Saman . . . tha."
When hearing her name the girl lifted her stare, started forward, and then came to her knees beside the dying warrior. "Here," she said, her voice soft and broken. Prudently she leaned forward and braced a cold hand beneath Goku's head, lifting it up gingerly until she heard the grunt of pain. With her other hand she then held the purple glass to his cracked lips.
They reacted immediately, his lips, taking in the cool liquid in larger amounts than they could manage due to their greed. Goku ignored the cold sensation as it gushed down his chin, rushed down his neck— it actually felt quite refreshing; all he cared about at the moment was getting as much as possible down his parched throat.
He stopped and drew away though suddenly, heaving in frenzied breaths with a suspicion that he'd accidentally inhaled the water. Just in case, he went into a fit of coughing.
Samantha watched in silence, patiently waiting, seemingly unfazed by the drops of blood that spewed from his lips. Then she averted her eyes to look down at the cup that she now twiddled with in her lap.
When certain he was done, Goku leaned his head back with a painful thud. He turned toward Samantha with a lopsided smile, visible streaks on his chin from where the water had streamed. With effort: "Thanks."
The girl's chin lowered, and the look she gave him almost led Goku to believe she hadn't understood him.
"Uh . . . where are . . . your parents?"
And unexpectedly, her face transfigured as a cherubic smile stretched her chubby cheeks. "Daddy left to help some people a while ago; he promised me he'd be back, and Mommy's still sleeping."
Something undescribable churned in Goku's stomach as he took in that smile. For he knew why Daddy had not yet returned to comfort his daughter, and why Mommy was sleeping. And It just hurt so much, her naivety, that Goku felt a vague urge to gather the waif into his arms had he the strength to move.
Then something else occurred to the fallen warrior. What reason did she have for helping him, if she believed him to be one of the monsters who did this horrible deed? Sure, he'd assured her that he wouldn't harm her, but they were just words. Meaningless words that no doubt the Saiyans would use to hide their true intentions.
So . . . "Why did you . . .?"
The smile faded, and she looked away again. She appeared pensive, as though her small mind was trying to grasp at a memory. After a minute: "Mommy told me that in the Bible, Jesus says that I have to forgive others in order to be forgiven."
Goku merely blinked.
Her soft eyes hardened, her grin returned. "No matter what."
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What am I doing?
Now this didn't seem as such a good idea as it had just a few minutes ago. Back in Ireland, after having had the unpleasant experience of being covered in serpent goo, of course Bulma had jumped into a different lake which they passed later to briefly cleanse herself, with her clothes on. But she had faced the truth with reluctance, that that had not done away with the excess filth that still caked her bare skin.
But the question was, could she trust Prince Vegeta?
Really, Bulma, she told herself with a scoff, I'm sure an honorable warrior such as him wouldn't do anything so naughty.
Hah! her conscience snickered back. Since when have any of those Saiyans proved themselves honorable? Besides, the man and his father have a Harem! I mean, if you're really gonna do this, then why not just up a sign now saying: I'm all yours for the taking! Heh, I bet he's watching you right now.
Bulma threw a quick glance over her shoulder with a hint of suspicion--- just in case.
Nothing.
Feverishly she turned back to the shimmering water of the oasis, whimpering with itching temptation. But I mean, if he was lusting after me, he would've made a move by now, right?
Perhaps. Or maybe he's just waiting for the right time to pounce on his prey.
She exhaled, hard, like a vexed bull, mustering up her courage and pushing away the disturbing voice in her mind. After a moment of gathering her frustration under control, she hesitantly began to shed her clothing.
Her shirt came over her head painfully slow, and something dreadful flashed across her brain that told he was going to be there, feeding off her body with those haunting eyes.
But alas, as the blouse fell to the ground, Bulma was met with nothing more than the black water of the oasis.
Her pants came next, and then her boots, and soon the only thing that shielded the girl from leering eyes was the blanket of night that had fallen upon the entire valley. She stood still for another moment, feeling utterly vulnerable, susceptible to the dangers of this foreign place.
She shivered when taking the first step, a wave of pleasurable sensations shooting up her spine.
But something gripped her suddenly, and Bulma instantly tensed. Her neck was stiff like a rusty joint as it cautiously turned, her eyes searching once more for any sign of someone watching her. Still, nothing.
That's it! Bulma confirmed. In one harsh movement she plopped down into the water with a splash, pouting to signify her determination. I wanted a bath, and God dammit, I'm gonna have a bath!
It wasn't long until silence again prevailed. Though unfortunately, due to Bulma's persistent worry of a peeping tom, she found it difficult to just lay back and enjoy it as she had initiallyhoped to. Actually, after a few moments, the silence even became unnerving in a way— too quiet.
And suddenly, she heaved a sigh as it all dawned on her.
This is not at all how she had imagined her visit on Earth. Where had she gone wrong? Had it been a flaw in her plan?
In a twisted way, she truly wished it had been her fault— a glitch in her devise— so that there would still be some sense of hope that remained in her mind. For if it was a mistake which she'd made, then, all that meant was that she could repair it and try again. Because after all, one learns from their mistakes, right?
But it was cold reality and the truth was that there were no mistakes. The only mistake she had made was attempting an escape in the first place. She had no longer had the strength or the endurance to fight off her inner rebellion, and had instead let it conquer over her.
A rustling brought Bulma back to the real world, and in panic she spun around with her eyes wide and alert.
She expected (and it wasn't her ego) that it was Vegeta who would be the source of the noise, but she was dead wrong as she found herself staring into the gleaming depths of an entirely different predator.
A gigantic feline. Bulma was vaguely aware that it resembled the prömen back on Vegeta; the two creatures' features overall were quite similar, only the one on Vegeta beat this one at least a thousand pounds in average size. But nevertheless it was terrifying, the way it stared at her so intently. Almost hungrily.
But something was strangely diffident about it, the way it repeatedly started forward with the intent of attacking her, but then would back away with obvious hesitance. Bulma concluded that it was the fact that she was in the middle of an oasis that held it back.
But still she remained unmoving and unblinking, as though afraid to miss its slightest move. And as though swearing to avenge its frustration, the cat bowed its head with a low rumble, its slanted eyes focused on its prey. Its smooth coat was radiant from the moonlight's gentle kiss.
And then it paused suddenly and lifted its head to sniff the air. It gave another rumble as it turned momentarily away from the girl, its famished eyes falling upon the pile of clothes that lay in the sand. Bulma gasped in horror and instantly paled.
M-my sandwich, she gulped. My capsules!
It dipped its head even lower for better access to the jacket pockets, nudging each with its keen nose.
All thought vanished as Bulma sprung to her feet, a feral growl emitting from her throat as her lips peeled back over grinding teeth. "Don't even think about it, Kitty!" she warned maliciously.
With remarkable speed she managed to wade her way through the resistant water that lapped against her ankles, halting just before the beast. "Don't you dare!" Her hands lashed out protectively just as the creature enclosed its jaws on a bundle of the cloth, and the two were left with a tug-of-war.
Bulma yanked viciously on what was hers, yet at the same time was wary of the already torn material. Like a wolf in the night she threw her head back and howled with desperation and rage.
"Damn Woman!" she heard from off in distance, and something in her froze.
She stilled, dumbfounded, as the Prince landed at the scene in alarm, his eyes freezing on what lay before him: the woman in the act of fighting with a wild animal over her clothes . .
completely naked. Instinctually his eyes swept over her for the slightest second, taking in her curvaceous frame that glistened surreally beneath the moon.
Bulma's eyes bulged as she registered what was happening. Forgetting entirely about what she had been fighting over in the first place, she let go and threw her arms around herself as she submerged under water.However her head emerged almost immediately, the main problem swimming back to her. She screeched while pointing to the escaping feline, vigorous in her effort to draw the Prince from his daze. "My clothes! Ahh! It has my favorite outfit!"
With a small shake of his head Vegeta snapped out of it, turning to the creature who was now absconding through the darkness like a shadow with the woman's attire dangling from its mouth. Heh, no effort's needed for this matter, Vegeta thought, extending a palm haughtily.
And then he tensed; his brow twitched slightly in thought. Was it really necessary, a palm-blast? After a moment, Vegeta shook his head again at the image. No, much too messy. No doubt the miniature prömen would blow into bits from such impact, resulting into in an even filthier outfit. The woman would most certainly be displeased, and the Saiyan wasn't sure how much more of her whining he could tolerate before he blew her into the next dimension.
Coming to a conclusion as the woman gave another shrill cry, all but his index rolled into a fist. Light gathered to a pinpoint at the fingertip, and just as the cat's head turned to the outlandish hiss of ki, it had no time to react as it was thrown brutally from its feet.
Bulma's eyes became owlish as she took in what had just happened. So powerful, she thought in awe. Her brow creased as she struggled to recall even seeing the blast being released; it had been so inconceivably fast. Imagine what he could do to her if she tried to escape. Even with her motorbike, she probably wouldn't be able to get more than a few yards away before she was toast, literally.
She started when seeing her clothes thrown to sand, where they had initially been. Vegeta stared down at her without expression. "Hurry up and get dressed," he ordered curtly, "before you attract any more wild beasts with that banshee like scream of yours."
Bulma could have retorted, but she didn't feel up to it, not after what she had just seen. That brief display of power had been a rude reminder of just whom exactly she was dealing with, and suddenly, Bulma once again felt like a complete subordinate. And what was going to happen, now? Now that one of owners of the Harem had seen her naked? Bulma's cheeks flamed red and she gave an audible gulp. They were out in the middle of nowhere, where no one would be able to hear her screams or just merely wouldn't care. If he was getting any ideas, then she doubted there was much she could do to stop his three hundred or four hundred pounds of solid muscle.
But instead Bulma remained silent, blinking in confusion as he merely turned and walked away without another word.
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"What's happened to you back there!" Yamucha called out behind him, where it had become deathly silent.
Krillin hollered back, panting slightly. "Gimme a break here! We've been flying for hours!" It was difficult to fly such distance without expending every last bit of ki. "How can you not be tired!"
Yamucha shrugged, smugly. "Guess that old geezer's training really has paid off—," he turned to regard his bald friend with a smirk— "for some of us anyway. Right, Puar?"
"Right," the feline chirped.
From behind Krillin muttered to himself. How is it that I get tired before Puar does? This sucks! Why did he come along anyway?
A subliminal flashback played in Krillin's mind:
"Oh, can I go? PleasepleasepleasePLEASE? You have to let me go, Yamucha. What if you guys get in trouble; I want to be there to back my best friends up!" Puar pleaded, his tone wheedling.
Yamucha smiled in surrender. "Fine, why not?"
Krillin's brows twitched and came together angrily at the memory. Oh, yeah.
"Hey, is that him down there?"
Krillin turned to look below, and he quickly discarded of his anger when seeing his best friend's body lying in the midst of the fog.
A bead of sweat broke out on Yamucha's brow. "That c-can't be him . . . the power level is shockingly low," his voice wavered slightly. "Almost gone."
Something clutched tightly at Krillin's innards, and without warning he sped down with sudden energy, meandering through the jagged buildings and columns and ignoring his comrades' shouts from behind him. "GOKU!"
He came to a stand still and hovered over the battered body. Goku's eyes did not open to his presence, causing his entire being to quiver with disbelief and silent rage for whatever did this.
He leaned down to get a better examination of Goku's flesh wounds, just as Yamucha and puar touched ground behind— but he paid no attention to them. He would not let Goku die. Determined he dug his fingers into the skin of both of the Saiyan's bare, sweat-
lathered shoulders and shook vigorously, only growing more vicious when he didn't get a response. Finally he reared back with one hand hefting the body up by the torn gi, the other darting forward across his swollen cheek.
And that did it. Goku stirred, one eye fluttering open. He simpered when seeing the familiar orange gi. "Krillin . . ." he said, "glad you . . . could make it." He then noticed the others, his eye drifting shut once more and his voice trailing off. "Yamucha. Puar. How the heck . . . are . . . you . . . guys . . ."
"What did that monster do to you, Goku?" Krillin whispered, fatalistically, his eyes burning with angry tears.
Yamucha's voice spoke up suddenly, somewhat relieved. "I don't sense any other immense kis around here, so it looks like we lucked out."
"Good," said Krillin. He gave a brief glance over shoulder before turning back to Goku, who was now completely unconscious, his expression becoming firm in conclusion. "Then first thing's first:—," with a grunt he hefted the massive body over his shoulder— "we gotta get Goku back to Chichi's; as soon as possible."
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"You're telling me," Vegeta drawled with a rapidly growing temper, "that you'd rather have that puny thing than this?"
Taking another bite from her sandwich, Bulma continued to evade direct eye contact with the Saiyan Prince. He looked at her expectantly with his notorious glare, but found it useless when she couldn't even see him. Meaningfully he shook the hunk of meat in his hand while intensifying his glower. "Look, I even cooked it for your sake so you wouldn't starve!" he spat, feeling strangely unappreciated for his rare show of geniality. He thrust it out to her again for emphasis. "Now you're going to eat it whether you like it or not!"
Vegeta growled ferally as she looked up, her eyes large as she took hold of the sandwich with both hands, as though to protect it. "B-but I don't want any of it!" she squealed. "You can't seriously make me eat that! All I want is my sandwich!"
Vegeta fumed at her impudence, making sure all of his teeth were exposed. "Then you should have told me before I started cooking the damn thing!" he snarled. "I wouldn't have cooked it if you hadn't wanted any!"
Bulma was silent, studying him. Then she drew even further into herself, her eyes taking on a pleading effect.
The Saiyan saw this sudden change in tactics, and with a snarl leaned back against his rock, grumbling rapidly under his breath. To rid of his aggression he sank his teeth savagely into the leg of the cooked feline, tearing mercilessly at the skin as though it were his greatest enemy.
In reality, Bulma knew that he actually hadn't done it for her sake. He'd just done it to keep her alive until they arrived back on Vegeta, and frankly she thought this only typical of a Saiyan Prince. He could care less for a slave, she guessed.
She threw another quick glance in his direction, clandestinely, watching as he took in another animalistic mouthful.
Once finishing her sandwich in silence, she heaved a contented sigh while turning away from the Saiyan to lie on her side. "I'm gonna go to sleep," she said faintly over the crackling fire, "'kay?"
Vegeta didn't respond. However, he did pause in the middle of his feast to eye the fugitive with mild askance. Something puzzled him slightly, but he didn't know what.
But after a while it faded as her form seemed to lean out, her shoulders relaxing. And finally, her side visibly rose and fell every few seconds with her serene, even breaths, signaling her departure to the Land of Nod.
Vegeta sighed, before his eyes shifted to the woman's bag that lay a few inches beside him. He frowned as he fought the growing curiosity. Recollection of having seen a book of some sort during his earlier raid of her belongings came back to him, something he'd given absent interest toward but had been concentrating on finding only the Radar at the time. But now . . . she was asleep. Surely she'd never know, and even if she did, what could she possibly do to stop him?
Giving in to temptation the devious Saiyan leaned toward the bag, carefully, being cautious of sleeping girl. His gloved fingers crept with such skill into the opening, one would think he was nothing more than an experienced thief. He brought the book to settle in his lap.
Eyes hungry, he skimmed quickly over the contents, a bit disappointed with what he was seeing. Oddly enough, he'd been expecting formulas— elaborate, scientific devises; she was a scientist, right? Instead it seemed nothing more than a mere journal, containing passages about every day events in the Science Wing. Hn, I should have foreseen this, he thought bitterly, that a slave would have nothing better to write about.
But suddenly, something caused his eye to come to a halt. Had he just seen the Prince? He scrambled for the page, subconsciously leaning closer to the book as he began his perusal of the particular entry:
Geldin 26, 451 a.d.
Dear Diary,
I'm ashamed of myself. I accidentally went down the wrong Wing today and stumbled upon the Prince's spar match. I came so close to getting caught, my heart's still racing. And even worse than that . . . I started staring at him. You know, staring at him.
I'm so stupid sometimes.
Good news is that I was asked to go to dinner with Mark. I just hope it turns out to go smoothly.
Incredulous, Vegeta's chin barely inclined as he looked to the woman as though she were the most frightening thing in the universe.
Staring at me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?
According to what he had just read, it seemed the woman was the one to watch out forwhen bathing. Bitterly he recalled how she'd feared him peeping on her, her small body shaking with her emphasized orders to stay away which she hadhissed through her teeth.
So, she was a hypocrite, was she?
The human made a small noise before stirring, and Vegeta felt a rare wave of panic rush through his limbs as he nearly toppled over in an attempt to return the book to the bag. He made it just in time; her entire body shifted so that it was now facing him.
That was too close, you fool, he snapped to himself as he sat to the fire once more, hoping she wouldn't notice his rapid breathing. Nonchalant he drew up a knee and rested an arm atop it as cover up.
Her eyes were dragged down by dark bags, the fire's light doing its best to restore that vivacious gleam that had shone in them earlier, only to fail miserably. It was difficult to tell whether or not it was weariness or sadness that made her eyes seem so . . . lifeless. She made another of those subtle, tiresome sounds, shifting slightly. "Hey," she said softly.
Vegeta arched a brow at her casualty.
"Can I ask you a question?"
There was an incoherent grumble from Vegeta as he turned away in response, and Bulma took it as permission to continue. "W-what's gonna happen to me?" Something was strangely unnatural about her tone— inflection less— broken. Whatever it was, it grabbed Vegeta's attention. "When we get back to Planet Vegeta, I mean?"
He took a moment to absorb the question. Smiling, he turned his head a bit more, provoking her gaze to meet his. "Well," he chuckled, flexing his gloved fingers, "it's hard to say, really. I mean—," he cocked his head to regard her with a glare typical of a superior— "you did have the nerve to flee from the Empire; I'm guessing the sentence will be severe— death perhaps. Are you telling me you didn't even bother to think over the consequences before doing this?"
"Well what was I supposed to do!" she spat with sudden aggression. "My father was dying, and I was what— just supposed to do your bidding for the rest of my life— which by the way is like thirty years shorter than yours! Besides," she paused, her demeanor again shifting into submissiveness, "what else did I have to lose? I-I had lost e-everything." In a moment of uncontainable sorrow, Bulma could not suppress the sniffle that came, and her eyes began to water as she curled into a ball.
Vegeta merely stared, not with pity, not with guilt. But when seeing that first hint of oncoming tears his lips thinned in a grimace, anger dancing in his pupils. "No crying! I will not tolerate such weakness, even from a slave!"
Bulma sniffled again, before willing the tears gone with all her might.
"That's more like it," Vegeta muttered, calming once more.
Bulma waited until she was certain she could speak without her voice wavering to ask her second question. "A-and what about the Harem?" she gulped. She had given a lot of thought into asking this question, fearing that it would arouse . . . ideas. Her arms instinctually wrapped themselves around her body at the memory of the horrid nightmare she'd had while in the space- pod.
Perplexed, Vegeta shot her a sideways glance. "I fail to see how that is relevant to the matter of this discussion."
What! Bulma's brows twitched in puzzled annoyance. "W-what d'you mean? I know you and King Vegeta established a harem in the Palace; e-everyone's talking about it."
"Are they, now?" he inquired with a raised brow. After a minute he threw his head back and roared with genuine laughter. "Is that what you've been so afraid of? There is Concubine Duty, of course, in the Palace, but a harem! Hah! My dear Earthling, I dare say you've got me confused with Frieza! He's the one with a harem, not I!"
When Bulma remained silent Vegeta continued through his dying chuckles. "And no, I highly doubt Concubine Duty will be your punishment."
The woman merely blinked, before her brows lowered over indignant eyes. "Are you saying I'm not good enough to be a Concubine?"
Vegeta's visage collapsed into something quite comical at that. "What—!"
"Are you saying I'm not pretty enough!"
"What are you blathering about—,"
"Well, let me tell you something," Bulma was on her forearms now due to drama of her verbal attack, "I'm ten times more beautiful than any of those mindless drones that you force yourself on against their will! And—,"
"Fine, you're right!" he roared. "Now, are you saying you want to be my Concubine! Because I swear if you don't watch your mouth, you're going to give me ideas!"
And like that Bulma promptly shut her mouth.
Vegeta watched in fascination as her face withdrew into an unreadable mask, and he absently awaited for her to explode. But she did nothing— didn't even blink as she turned and collapsed onto her opposite side, her shoulders hunching as her knees drew up to her chest, as though to estrange herself from the rest of the world.
She wasn't even sure how long it was until she calmed herself— wasn't sure what her last thought was, as her world gradually began to dissolve into that familiar tranquility of white darkness.
And Vegeta continued to watch her, watching as her frustrated breaths finally slowed, his mind replaying the heated conversation which they'd just had; the scene in which water droplets had shimmered like diamonds on her bare skin from the moonlight—
and unaware of it, his tail slowly unfurled and began to lash.
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A/N: Hmmmm. Nothing to say . . . oh well. 9 REVIEWS PLEASE.