Here she is! I finally finished this chapter and am pretty proud of it! Hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Please review and let me know what you think! It helps fuel writing when the author knows that people are enjoying the content and want to see more.
When Isla had been missing for a little over two months, Quinn still hadn't given up hope she'd be found. In fact, she wanted her friend to have exactly what she had when she left, so Quinn moved into Isla's apartment when her own lease had ended. Isla's mother, Valerie, had come up to take whatever she wanted after the Police took what they needed for their investigation. It had taken a few days for the police to release the apartment to her. They had almost turned the place completely upside down when she finally got the keys, so Quinn had to do a significant amount of cleaning. She opened a storage unit and put some of Isla's things inside it so she could return them when Isla got back. She just wanted her friend to have a shot at normalcy when she returned from her absence.
The police had found absolutely no evidence that would lead them as to where Paul could have put her. When Quinn reported her missing the day after their meeting, they found the man hold up in his apartment spouting off nonsense and covering the mirrors with sheets and towels. When the cops asked her if he had any history of mental health issues, she told them that as much as she thought he was a scum bag, he was about as normal as any man who beat and verbally assaulted his girlfriend for 5 years. When they couldn't get anything else from him, they allowed Quinn to talk to him. Even though she really didn't want to do it, they had told her that it could potentially help them find her friend, so she sucked it up and sat across from the wild-eyed, chained man.
"Paul, oh my God, you look horrible." She stated, leaning away from him reflexively in her stiff, metal chair. His normally well-groomed hair and close cropped beard had grown wild due to neglect. His eyes were blood-shot red and wide with fear. Whenever Quinn moved too quickly, Paul would jump looking around the room as if he were expecting someone to pop out at him from any moment. For most of the interview, he'd kept his eyes on the mirror behind Quinn, but not really looking at himself. She could tell that he was specifically looking at the mirror.
"Where is she, Paul?"
That was really the only thing she'd planned on asking. She really didn't care too much if he was in mental anguish, although it was actually disturbing to witness. The man fisted his hands, his chains jangling against the steel bar they looped on his edge of the table.
"Quintana," He started, his voice raspy and distorted, "I know you don't like me, but you have to believe me. Please."
This caught her attention. His 'please' was something of anguish. She'd heard this 'please' from different kids she'd counseled, trying to get her to listen to them as if she were their last lifeline to the world.
"He came through the mirror, Quinn."
Quinn's face scrunched into a look of utter confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
Paul's fists slammed against the table unexpectedly, causing Quinn to jump. He let out a groan of pure frustration as he looked back to her with an expression of the same caliber.
"The mirror in her living room! I've been going over it in my mind! If he left through the mirror, he must have come through it."
After that, he pulled his hands close to him, staring down at his palms as if they held the key to whatever the hell he was talking about.
"He was so strong, Quinn. He took Isla with him through the mirror."
Standing in front of the offending mirror, she took in the details. The thick, ornamental frame, the odd, half-length. She was there when Isla had bought it from the antique shop down the street. The woman had stood there, staring at the thing for a few minutes, coming back to it after wandering away multiple times to look throughout the store. She'd encouraged Isla to just buy the damn thing if she was so enamored with it.
However, after talking with Paul, the thing took on an ominous look as it sat on the wall, staring back at her. The feeling of something brushing against her foot jolted her out of her haze. Looking down, she saw her little companion begging to be picked up and loved.
"Good morning, little guy." She cooed, bending down and scooping him into her arms.
On her lunch break the day after Isla had gone on to meet Paul, she grew extremely suspicious after her best friend hadn't text her back, answered her phone calls, or showed up for work. Honestly, when she arrived at work and saw Isla wasn't there, she knew immediately that she should go look for her, but the thought of Isla in bed with the jerk, shamefully rolling away from her phone as Quinn blew it up crossed her mind. On her lunch break, she was fully prepared to confront her as she made her way to the apartment, however, as soon as she got to the street-level door, she knew something was wrong. A loud meow came from below her. Looking down, she saw Rex pacing, crying, desperately trying to get her attention. He stood on his hind legs, stretching his front legs up her pantyhose covered shins.
"Rex? What are you doing outside, baby?"
Reaching down, she pulled him into her arms and buried her face in his fur, gaining a grateful purr in response. He continued his constant vocalization as she pulled the door open and walked to the elevator.
When she reached Isla's apartment, a chill ran down her spine as she saw the door ajar. She only had to push it with her fingertips for the door to glide open, causing panic to rise in her belly.
"Isla?" She instinctively called out as she entered the fully lit apartment. The living room looked untouched, the lamps and kitchen light still on. Isla's purse caught her eye as she neared the sideboard she usually placed it on immediately upon entering her home.
"Isla?" Worry grew in her voice as she advanced through the place, everything still in its original spot. Rex cried to her, rubbing against her legs with is back and tail. He walked to his empty food bowl, crying loudly as he tried to get her to fill it.
"You act like you're starving." She murmured as she poured a scoop of the food into the bowl and picking up the bone-dry water dish, refilling it.
Sighing, she stood aimlessly in the kitchen and leaned against the granite counter. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she tapped the smiling picture of her best friend and put the device against her ear. Her blood froze as she heard the jingling ringtone Isla had as her default ringer. Dropping her phone, she listened for the sound, following it to the couch. She'd had to get on her hands and knees to find the nearly dead device underneath the sofa. Pulling it out, she stared down at the picture of the two of them in front of the old theater downtown when they had their last old school movie night.
The next number she called was the one to the local police station.
Rex curled in her lap as she sat on the couch, sighing and putting her slippered feet on her coffee table. In a few days, she was going to attend a memorial service for Isla that she'd helped Valerie organize in Isla's home state of North Carolina. Isla's brother Christopher had suggested the service after Valerie had refused to get out of bed for two weeks straight. This service had given Val something to do, but Quinn had thought that it was distracting from finding Isla. Chris insisted that Quinn help, though she had protested many times. He told her that he thought it would help Val get closure. Even when Quinn told him that she wanted to keep looking, he simply rested his hand on her shoulder and slumped in exhaustion.
"We really need to do this for mom, Quinn. Please."
Bested by the 'please' of despair once more, Quinn agreed to help. She'd spent all of her free time gathering photos and things that Val asked her about to move to her home, but her mind was constantly going over what she had seen when first got to Isla's home that afternoon or even in their conversation the night before. There had to be something she was missing. There just had to be.
He was used to the tail now that he had occupied the shape many times. Rex leapt onto Isla's bed, peering around the room as he waited patiently for the girl to return. Although, in the dead of night, it wasn't likely she was coming back.
"Very strange." He mused to himself as he paced the plush mattress. She didn't usually stay away for so long. However, since she'd made the unprecedented transformation into Sayian, he knew her usual behavior was likely out the window.
Hopping onto the floor, he skirted the room and made his way to the balcony door she'd left cracked for him to come and go as he pleased. It was so nice of her to do so, he thought. So trusting, so thoughtful.
His thin coat shielded him from the summer breeze as he made his way through the city. He had always enjoyed the look of a black cat. There was something endearingly macabre and beautiful about the creatures he just couldn't resist. Apparently, Isla couldn't either.
Quillet stood in his usual corner, his hands wringing against each other as he looked out the window and waited ever so patiently. As soon as his eyes clapped on the small animal, he jumped up. His worried expression held as he bit his lip and ran his sweaty palms over his face.
"G-good evening."
Rex stared up at Quillet, his head titled to one side and then the other, taking in the rotund man's countenance. After a few moments, Quillet grew agitated.
"Stop staring at me like that, you know it makes me nervous." He bit at the cat, his large cheeks gaining a red tint in embarrassment, "Knock it off, Tipe!"
Immediately, the cat's mouth split into a smile, a deep laugh erupting from its throat. Quillet watched as the laughing cat transformed into a laughing man, towering over him with a menacing aura.
Tipe stretched, rolling his shoulders back and grinning at the lesser man.
"That shape is so confining. I hate coming out of it so quickly."
Quillet huffed, turning his back on his partner and walking to the far side of the room.
"I've been studying the activity monitors while you were away."
Tipe let his face fall into a small frown. Walking toward the monitors, he gazed at the readings, trying to figure out what Quillet had gleaned from the charts and lines of numbers that blinked at him.
"Isla didn't come back to her bedroom yesterday or today. She wasn't even there overnight. Maybe our pheromones worked and she spent the night with Goku."
Quillet shook his head, letting out a deep sigh.
"I never got the chance to up her dosage. But, even before she turned Sayian, the human-targeted amount had little to no effect on her. Goku was going berserk, but she was unfortunately stagnant."
Tipe hummed quietly, tapping his finger to his chin.
"Maybe that means that ever since she crossed through that portal with the Sayian, she'd begun the transformation process. No wonder the human-targeted amount failed—she was already Sayian. Take note for the others, Quillet."
A few moments of silence passed as the demons stared at the monitors, however, out of the corner of his eye, Tipe could see Quillet shifting his weight from foot to foot, his hands returned to their original wringing activity.
"Something you want to tell me, Quillet?" Tipe's tone was instantly impatient, adding to Quillet's nervous behaviors.
"M-more bad news, Tipe."
Another moment passed between them, Quillet's eyes fixed on the ground. Tipe growled, his sharpened teeth bared at his partner.
"Well, spit it out!"
Another sigh tumbled from Quillet as he lowered his head and stepped toward the monitors, his chubby fingers jabbing at a few buttons before standing back from the screen so Tipe could take a look. The data meant nothing to Tipe. That was why he was forced to bring along the pipsqueak of a demon when he wanted to do anything. For all of his anxiety and weakness, Quillet was an analytical genius. This fact, however, did not stop Tipe from picking the short demon up by his collar and bringing him to his height; his sweating face directly in front of Tipe's snarling one.
"Talk. Now."
An exaggerated gulp came from Quillet as he leaned away from the greater demon, his head bowing in submission and bringing his hands in front of him.
"We-well, ya see. I had taken some energy signature readings this afternoon and found Goku, Vegeta, and Isla at Capsule Corps along with two very large, very familiar ones. Whis and Beerus."
Tipe winced at their names, but Quillet either ignored his visceral reaction or was clueless to his partner's emotions because he continued his explanation.
"Then, a few minutes later, their signatures were gone, along with Goku's and Vegeta's and, based on the intense reading I got the night she completed her Sayian transformation, Isla's."
Tipe stared at Quillet, his brain not connecting the dots the lesser was laying out for him. This time, it was Quillet who tilted his head.
"That means they all vanished without a trace. They're not on earth anymore."
Wires connected in Tipe's mind, sending an angry expression of realization across his face. They were on Beerus's planet.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
"Don't you dare vomit in my presence!" Beerus growled. His glare was focused on Isla as she leaned over, holding her stomach as it rolled and threaten to spill its contents. Taking a deep breath, she straightened and placed her hands on her flushed cheeks to soothe her frayed nerves. The travel from Earth to Beerus's planet was bright, colorful, and extremely fast in a prolonged sort of way. For about thirty minutes, Isla was subjected to watching planets and stars fly by her at unreal speeds. Her head spun as she tried to close her eyes and not focus on the nauseating view, but her body still reacted to it. She smiled weakly at Whis.
"I think I need to sit down for a minute, if that's ok."
The angel gave her a smile accompanied by a curt nod as he shepherded Vegeta and Goku away with Lord Beerus, promising them something to eat that he'd brought back with him from the trip.
Taking a few short steps, Isla plopped on the edge of a large notch cut out in the side of the biggest tree she'd ever seen. Beerus's planet looked very strange, like it was a hollowed out city that housed only the destroyer god and his intimate crew, all culminating in a pantheon-like palace for said god. The entire structure had the appearance of being planted into the side of the tree as it sat deep in the inset grooves of the bark. The surrounding garden and water features reminded her of pictures of courtyards of the French royals in the 17th century. The only thing she found unsettling was the orange and red hue of the sky and the strange closeness of the planets that orbited the world. It was like looking at the most surreal thing she'd ever seen, but having the cognizance to know that it was actually in front of her.
"Feeling any better?"
Turning her head, she looked to see Goku standing behind her. The man held a friendly smile on his face as he looked down to her. Isla returned his expression, standing to her feet.
"Yeah, I think I was just dizzy from traveling."
Goku let out a small laugh, his hand reaching to the back of his head and giving it a firm rub.
"I know what you mean. I got dizzy the first time, too."
Isla shuddered as the recent memory crawled to the front of her mind.
"I don't look forward to doing that again any time soon."
Goku shrugged, "I don't think that's gonna be a problem. We might be staying here for a while."
Isla knitted her brow, thinking of the explications of being on the god's planet for an extended period of time. She hadn't really gotten a chance to prepare for the trip. She wasn't even given time to gather clothing or toiletries. As soon as she emerged from her temper-tantrum pot scrubbing in Bulma's kitchen, she was whisked away by the beings, so she had no idea what to expect from the stay.
Placing a large hand on her shoulder, Goku pulled Isla away from the edge overlooking their temporary home planet. He pulled her into him, her side fitting into the crook of his arm. The gesture was comforting, but intimate enough to kick up butterflies in Isla's stomach.
"Come on, Isla," He said, his voice low, "let's get some lunch."
Goku stood in the center of the empty courtyard, his eyes closed and his arms crossed over his broad chest. A light breeze had kicked up that morning, tousling his hair and adding the sound of the shifting strands to his listening and sensing exercise. He'd been standing in the clearing for a while, feeling the moving energy around him and listening to every small sound he could pick up from his complete stillness. Usually, it wasn't the type of thing he'd go for, but it was what Whis had prescribed for him. After the first two hours, it wasn't really that bad, he found.
Two competing energies pulsed from the far side of the planet; Isla and Vegeta.
The prince had been put in charge of teaching her how to use her energy while Goku put in charge of fighting technique. Over the past two months, she'd grown exponentially in skill and power. He couldn't help but feel pride swell as he watched her train, knowing that he was helping her get stronger.
Funnily enough, being away from earth gave him a clear head. He didn't feel the urge to be as close to her on Beerus's planet. He didn't feel the tinge of jealousy when she chatted with Vegeta or Whis over their dinner. He didn't have to fight the feeling of needing to inhale her scent every time she was near him. He could control himself around her here. He could take in what she said and how she said it. He memorized the tone of her voice and little things that made her laugh. This was the part of getting to know her that he enjoyed. This was what he never had with ChiChi.
ChiChi.
The name of his wife echoed through his mind and tightened his chest with guilt. He hadn't seen her in almost three months and had left without any word to her. He did that a lot. He knew she hated it. Here he was with Isla, listening to her stories from her home, doing things to make her smile, while his own wife was at home, probably struggling to help Goten with his homework or doing chores that he should have been doing. There was a reason he didn't think about this so much; he was a terrible husband. But he knew that if he didn't train, his life would have no meaning—as awful as that sounded. He loved ChiChi, but he couldn't share this part of his life with her and she would never understand.
A sudden jolt of energy from behind him caused him to react instantly, whipping around and blocking the attack with his forearm. He opened his eyes to see Isla smiling above him, her knee connected with his arm in an attempt to land a sneak attack.
Dropping to her feet, she laughed lightly.
"You looked distracted. I thought I could finally get you."
Goku smirked at her, "You're gonna have to try a little harder than that."
She looked tired as she laughed. The training uniform Whis created for her looked like a mixture of Vegeta and Goku's, her cropped top a form fitting blue spandex while her pants were an exact copy of Goku's bright orange ones. She'd taken to wearing her hair up in high ponytail when she fought, but letting it fall low over her shoulders in the evening after they'd bathed and met for dinner in their pajamas. That was Goku's favorite iteration of her.
"Vegeta rough on you today?" He asked, watching her take down her hair only to gather the locks back up in her hand to tie them back again. Isla rolled her eyes.
"Isn't he always rough on me?" She took the small cloth ring from her mouth and looped it around her thick hair again and again, pulling it tightly to finish and dropping into a fighting stance. Goku examined her posture, nodding in approval.
"Your stance looks great. Let's start with some weed pulling and then you can move on to moving the boulders around the rock garden. We'll finish out with some sparing."
Isla let out a sigh, rolling her shoulders back and giving them a preemptive massage. It was going to be a long session.
She'd adapted to the schedule Whis and Beerus had laid out for her when she first arrived.
Wake up and Cook breakfast
The floor was always cold when she woke up with her alarm. After a few weeks, she'd finally trained herself to fall asleep with socks on so that when she stepped out of bed in the morning, she wouldn't have such a jolt from the chill on her toes. Dressing in a clean gi, she'd splash water on her face to knock the rest of the sleepy out of her eyes. Her bedroom was next door to the men's, so she'd have to sneak past it on her way to the kitchen. Vegeta was a light sleeper, she found after a few unfortunate incidents of incurring his wrath from interrupted sleep.
Cooking for the men gave her a new appreciation for ChiChi and her abilities to make an army sized meal three times a day. She'd learned what they liked and didn't like, but breakfast we pretty stable with rice, eggs, and bacon or some sort of adjacent meat.
Training with the Sayians
She loved/hated this part of the day. All of her energy was spent working with Vegeta and Goku to learn about how to mold her Sayian body into what it should be. It had a lot of pleasant side effects, such as no emotional outbursts and a clearer mind. There was something that was satisfied deep within her as she trained. Even though she'd be bruised or injured from a fight, something in her spirit made her come back for more.
Lunch
Again, she cooked. This meal, she got to be creative and do what she knew from her own cooking knowledge. Her boldness was met with mostly great reviews, with one exception being tamales. The Sayians did not like tamales, but Whis would eat mostly anything.
Weird.
Training with Whis
This was mostly for Vegeta and Goku, but she was allowed to participate in the exercises. She'd learned how to take what she gathered from the other two Sayians and implement it with what Whis was giving her. While some of what Goku had her do mimicked Whis's instruction, the angel went into an aggressively difficult, life or death place with his training. Once, while trying to outrun a disappearing track at threatened to throw her into a pit of never ending agony if she fell off, she indeed fell. Her only saving grace was Goku catching her and pulling her back into the realm of relative safety.
Shower and Cook Dinner
She would be excused from Whis's training early to let the men kick it up a notch without her around to need saving. During this time, she'd retire to their shared bathing room and relax, letting her sore muscle release their tension under hot water. The one large tub in the room was shared by the trio, but it didn't matter to her when she was covered in old sweat and smelled like a wet dog. The good thing about Whis's training is that the men loved it and it tended to go on longer than scheduled. This gave her as much time as she needed to soak and clean before starting to cook their evening meal.
Bedtime
After the final meal, the men had to clean the dishes and cookware. This part of implemented by Whis, who thought it was unfair for Isla to have to cook and clean all by herself. Of course, Goku and Vegeta had other chores they tended to, but Whis carved out this time especially for them.
While they cleaned, Whis and Isla would commune, sitting together playing cards or talking about whatever they had in common. One night, they found out that Whis's staff could pick up TV signals from earth, so they began watching a soap opera. Originally, the plan was to make fun of the writing and characters, but as they watched more, they found themselves actually caring what happened. They would sit in the dining room, chatting about the episodes for a while before they parted ways. Isla always stuck her head into the men's room and wished them a good night before retiring to her own room and falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The next day, she'd do it all over again.
"How do you like it, Vegeta?" Isla asked the prince as he down his breakfast. She'd already finished her's as she leaned back, patting her slightly protruding belly. The prince continued to glare at his food as he consumed it. Goku sat at the end of the table beside Whis, his face planted firmly in his bowl.
"You prepare the same meal the every day. I eat it every day. You would know if I didn't like it."
She made a face at him, her expression filled with mocked confusion.
"I'm sorry if I have to ask. It's just that you always have a look of pure hatred on your face. I never know if you're enjoying yourself or if you're on the verge of having a stroke out of sheer displeasure."
Vegeta dropped his bowl to the table, his chopsticks rattling in the empty porcelain. He turned the glare he held for his food toward Isla.
"If I don't like something I'll let you know."
Isla scoffed, "Well, will you let me know if do you like something? It's like trying to read the facial expressions of a rock." She nudged her chin at Goku, his chopsticks rapidly shoveling food into his mouth, "Look at Goku, he's appreciative."
It was Vegeta's turn to scoff, rolling his eyes, "Please, that idiot would eat literal garbage if you put in it a bowl for him."
Goku stopped his consumption, swallowing hard and then letting out a sharp whine, "That's not true, Vegeta."
Isla smirked at Vegeta, bringing her cup to her lips, "Don't be such a jerk."
The prince opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Whis.
"Will you stop bickering for one moment? It's too early in the morning for this nonsense."
Isla stuck her tongue out at the prince, "Yeah, Vegeta."
Instantly, Whis cut his eyes to the woman, causing her to shut her mouth and avert her gaze.
"Honestly, you two. I put you together to train in the hopes that you would bond, but it has not worked so far."
Vegeta leaned back in his chair, his arms over his chest.
"Male and female Sayians do not 'bond'," He huffed, turning his head to the side, "The only thing close to it is mating and, I assure you, that will not happen."
Isla glanced over at Vegeta, mouth open to say something sarcastic, but stopping as she took in the prince's changed disposition. Even though he was looking away from her, she could tell he was made uncomfortable by what Whis had said. A rosy red hue had crawled up his neck and, even though Isla couldn't see it, she knew it was spread across his cheeks in embarrassment.
The prince's discomfort made her uneasy, causing her to shift in her seat before ultimately standing and clearing the table of the empty dishes.
As Isla rinsed the soap from the glass, she thought about what Vegeta had said and how he'd said it. It had hit her that she didn't really know anything about the Sayian birds and the bees, but really, how different could it be from humans? They did have sex the same way, right? She still had a vagina and assumed that both he and Goku had penises. They did have children with human women. Maybe there was an extra component that went with Sayian on Sayian intimacy that Vegeta knew about. The burning desire to ask him welled up within her, but was quickly extinguished by the thought of how embarrassed he was at the mere mention of 'mating', as he called it.
As she muddled over the differences between being a Sayian and a human, she was struck by a jarring realization: she hadn't had her period since her transformation. Her hands dropped into the warm water as she tried to process the thought. As much as she hated it, she might have to talk to the prince about the awkward intimacy of her own body.
"No, you idiot!" Vegeta snarled at her as he watched from his spot leaning against a boulder across the dusty field. He lifted his hand to his face and sighed. "If you want to ensure that you'll have enough energy to last the fight, you have to ration it from the start! You're wasting your attack power on meaningless points in the fight!"
Isla huffed, her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Vegeta was nothing if not a perfectionist. Pushing himself off the rock, he went to stand in front of her. He stretched his hand out, his palm directly in front of her exhausted face. Isla looked up at it as if she were staring down the barrel of a loaded shot gun.
"Vegeta... please give me a moment—"
Without warning, he fired, sending a rush of white heat around her, burning her skin and propelling her backwards until she tumbled to a stop on the rocky ground. Groaning, she sat up on her butt and looked at the smirking Sayian.
"You see how you're alive?" He mocked, "That is the level of strength you're bringing to every energy attack. You're only going to scratch your opponent every time if you don't start reserving your energy and pulling it out when the time is right. There's a reason we have those giant attacks like my 'Gallic Gun' or Kakarot's 'Kamehameha'—we've saved enough energy to power those by the end of the fight. Learn how to get it right, or you will die."
Isla groaned, wiping her face with her hand. Vegeta was right. She wasn't very good at conserving her energy. She liked to spend all of her power at the beginning because the release felt so good that she couldn't stop herself. It was like breaking down a large dam and letting the water rush through the rubble.
Her arms shook as she fought to catch her breath. The prince folded his arms over his chest once more and scoffed.
"Pathetic." He drew nearer to her until he was directly in front of her, staring down at the weaker Sayianess, "The gift of Sayian-hood might have been wasted on you."
Isla glared up at the man, "I never asked for it."
Scoffing again, Vegeta retreated to his previous spot leaning against a boulder. "Take a break, girl. You're obviously not going to take your new position seriously, so why should I train you seriously?"
Isla narrowed her eyes, leaning back on her heels before standing and making her way toward Vegeta to sit beside him. The two sat for a minute, neither speaking as Isla's breathing returned to normal. Biting her lip, Isla glanced up at the man, his eyes closed as he too rested. She thought about their conversation that morning and how upset he'd gotten when Whis brought up the subject of bonding. Maybe this could have been the time to ask him about Sayian mating. Her stomach began to tumble.
"Vegeta." She said flatly, trying to get him to acknowledge her and gaining a harsh "What?" In return.
"I'm... Well, I guess I'm... I just wanted to..."
The prince's nose crinkled in annoyance, "Spit it out, girl! I'm not going to stand here and listen to you practice speaking all day."
"I just. I wanted to ask you something about being Sayian."
This caught Vegeta by surprise. A small smirk formed on his face as he looked down at her spot seated in a small grassy patch. He, of course, was an expert on all things Sayian. No wonder she was asking him about his race. She was coming to the source of knowledge to learn all about herself.
"And? What do you want to know?"
Isla fidgeted with a small spot on her orange pants, trying to avoid eye contact with the older Sayian.
"It's about this morning. When Whis was talking about us bonding and you blushing."
Vegeta's blood turned to ice. She was going to ask him about—
"I haven't had a period since I turned Sayian." Isla's face burned as she spoke, a deep crimson covering her cheeks. Her mouth dried as she continued to actively avoid looking at Vegeta's stunned expression. The man's face relaxed into a bright blush as he grit his teeth. There was no avoiding the situation. He was going to have to answer her questions. Damnit.
Clearing his throat he starred straight ahead, "So you want to know about Sayian mating rituals?"
Isla didn't respond out loud, simply nodding in reply. Vegeta shifted on his feet.
"Well, what you have to know is that Sayians mate for life. However, that doesn't mean that we only have one mate; we are simply bonded to them forever. It isn't that unusual for a male Sayian to have two or three mates, or even a female Sayian for that matter."
Isla twisted her nose in disgust. How did any Sayian know who they weren't related to? If everyone was just mating with whoever they wanted to, then how did they keep track of things like that?
"Get that stupid look off of your face. It's not incestuous."
The Sayianess glanced at Vegeta only to find him glaring hard at her.
"There is a smell. I'm sure you've noticed that we all have different scents, correct?"
Isla nodded curtly, allowing Vegeta to continue.
"You're able to smell your own family members. Once you mate, your scent becomes mixed with that of your mate to create a personal, family scent."
She had noticed the unique smell of people around her, now that she thought about it. Vegeta and Bulma smelled strikingly similar—light linen, which she supposed came from Bulma, and clay mud, which was probably thrown in by Vegeta. Goku and ChiChi, as well as Goten and their entire home, smelled like a thick forest with fresh floral notes. Peonies like her grandmother grew in her flower garden in the summers. The woods behind the house she lived in as a child. Home.
"Well, then, what do I smell like?" Isla tossed Vegeta a playful wink that was met with a blushing glare.
"Wha-! I don-! That's it, I'm done talking with you about this."
Isla laughed, waving her hands in front of her apologetically, "No, no! I'm sorry."
Vegeta hmphed, turning his face away from her once more and falling silent. After a few moments, Isla stood, her head bowed.
"Vegeta, please. I'm sorry."
The prince glanced at her stance of humility. Pity welled up within his stomach as he gazed at the top of her head in her prolonged bow. She must have really wanted to know what he had to say if she was doing something so uncharacteristically humble. Unfortunately, there was something he had to tell her that was going to be painfully awkward for the both of them. He shifted on his feet, setting his glare even more as he sighed deeply.
"Fine."
The woman's head popped up, immediate interest written on her face. Sighing, Vegeta let his full weight lean against the hard rock behind him, bracing himself.
"Sayian women have something called a 'heat cycle'— different points of the year that they are most... fertile."
Isla cocked an eyebrow at him, trying to take in what he had just said. She'd heard about dogs going into heat, but never a person.
"So, that's when I get my period? When I go into heat?"
The prince shrugged, "I suppose so. I wouldn't know the intimate details, I'm not a woman."
Isla sat back, taking in the implications. So, how would she find a mate? Who could possibly mate with her? Did she even want a mate? There were so many things to take into account.
"I'm only going to say this once. After this moment, I will never utter this thought again so listen carefully."
Isla's attention snapped to Vegeta as he spoke, his gaze locked with hers in a hard stare.
"You're a full blooded Sayian woman. For all we know, you're the only one left in this entire universe. If there was any chance of regenerating the Sayian race, it lies with you."
A pregnant pause passed between them as Vegeta stared at her. After a moment, he turned back to the field, pushing himself off of the boulder and returning to the opening.
"Break time is over."
She shook off Vegeta's words, trying not to let them effect the rest of her day as she made her way to train with Goku. The goofy Sayian was doing sparring drills as she arrived. Sitting on the sideline, she watched him. He was strong, focused, able to center his energy on his enemy at full capacity and still have enough left over to go again.
Her eyes traced his back down to his forearms and hands. Every part of his was solid muscle, pulsating with power. That part of him made her mouth water. Biting her lip, she continued to watch, her own heart beat quickening as he serpentined. He was unabashedly beautiful and it made her blood rush through her the more she stared.
Without warning, he turned, his eyes locking with hers and a smile cracking the frown of concentration that he had previously held.
"Hey there!"
Isla's flushed face returned the smile as she faltered, waving awkwardly at her friend and mentor.
"H-Hey, Goku. You ready to get started?"
The man nodded, stretching his back as he leaned forward and touched his toes. As she approached, he peeked up through his hair and watched her begin her own stretching routine.
His eyes roamed over her, taking in the defined lines that now covered her legs, stomach, and arms. She looked as powerful as she actually was. Her body had gone from being limited by humanness to unbridled Sayian strength and ability. A soft sigh escaped her as she bent forward, letting her head fall over her legs as she pulled her toes toward her face. The sound was a symphony in his ears. If only was was little closer, he could have felt the sweet breath that had accompanied the sigh. His nose twitched as he took in her scent; her smell had only grown stronger and deeper as she grew in her new Sayian form, but today, he could hardly think as it entered his mind.
Shaking his head, he stood to his full height and rolled his shoulders.
"I'm not gonna take it easy on you today."
Her voice almost made him jump as he watched her leap to her feet and drop into her stance. A playful smirk graced her lips, stirring his own smirk as he mimicked her form.
"Can't wait."
No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the prince's words out of her mind. Two days after their conversation, she could still hear his voice telling her that she (likely) was the last hope of the Sayian race to revive. She tossed in her bed, procrastinating before getting up that morning to start breakfast. Her hands gripped her pillow, brining it down on her face hard as she groaned in frustration.
How could she ever begin to process that statement? It was like asking herself: Who would you rather have sex with, Goku or Vegeta? That was completely unfair. How dare he put that kind of pressure on her. How dare he assume that she even wanted a mate in the first place.
Letting her annoyance fuel her motions, she flung her feet onto the floor and pushed herself out of bed. She checked off her morning list: wash face, put on clothes, fix hair, make her way into the kitchen. After starting her rice, she had a few minutes to sit back. Her body felt strange. While the climate of the planet never changed, Isla found that her temperature was rising. The cropped shirt felt stifling and the gi pants felt constricting. Letting out a sharp breath, the woman fanned her face before shaking her head and gathered her eggs and meat to prepare for the rest of the meal. Holding onto the side of the stove, she took a few deep breaths, steadying herself. After a moment, the feeling passed, allowing her to continue with her work. She shrugged her shoulders and shook off the weird feeling.
"What was that?"
A strong chorus of grunts and shouts filled the air around Goku and Isla as they sparred. After a long morning of cutting a field of grass by hand as a warm up, Isla's body was ready to release the pent up energy that hadn't been tapped into yet.
Sweat dripped from her face as she lunged at the Sayain, forcing power down her arm and through her fist as she threw a punched which her partner dodged with ease. Goku curled himself around her, landing a hit in her shoulder which sent her sailing into the ground and then ricocheting back at him like a boomerang. The two blurred into a barrage of arms and legs as they tangled with each other, one landing a hit and recovering before the other returned with force.
Vegeta took time to watch them, his focus spent more on their interaction rather than the subpar fight Isla was putting up. While he hated to admit that a weakling like her was given the gift of supreme power that is being a Sayian, he did know that she was trying to keep up. No matter how hard he pushed her or how intense the training regimen, she tried to rise to the occasion. He would never say this to her, but her enjoyed the effort she put into her training. Maybe she would be good for the Sayian race after all.
"What's for lunch?"
The groggy voice seemed to cut through the atmosphere of concentration that Isla and Goku had built. Vegeta whipped his head to the side, seeing the temperamental god that owned their personal training ground. Whis appeared beside him, smiling toward the god.
"Well, hello, Lord Beerus. I trust your nap was sufficient."
The cat responded with a agreeable grumble before repeating his initial question, "What's for lunch? I better not have to ask again."
The pair of Sayians in the air continued their attack on each other, ignoring Beerus's irritated questioning. Whis frowned at the two.
"It seems as though your cook is otherwise preoccupied."
Beerus grumbled once more, his annoyance quickly turning to anger. Watching Goku and Isla, his brown knit. He snapped his clawed fingers, disappearing and reappearing in between them, stopping Isla's punch in mid strike.
"Oh!" She said, surprise covering her face as she stared at the god. "Hey, Beerus."
He god smirked, his tail twitching as he looked at her, "Hey."
Before he could interrogate her about the lack of lunch being prepared, the god cried out in pain. Turning sharply, he saw Goku staring at him with the same surprise Isla had painted on her face a moment before, only Goku hadn't stopped his kick and it had landed on the back of Beerus's head.
"What the hell, Goku?!" He yelled, reciprocating the attack.
Isla looked over at Whis, the angel's eyes motioning toward the palace. Taking advantage of the fighting between Beerus and Goku, she quickly took to the kitchen to prepare their food.
"Ta-da!"
The Sayianess smiled as she showcased the spread of food she'd assembled on the table. With Beerus being awake, she figured that she'd try and impress him with a smorgasbord. The men lined the table, grabbing indiscriminately as they ate. A frown fell over her face as she watched them and filled her own plate. They didn't even stop to ask her what she'd made, they just continued to stuff themselves. Glancing at Whis, he threw her a grateful smile as he brought his fork to his mouth and savored his food.
"This is quite the meal, Isla. You've outdone yourself."
Glaring at the god, he caught his eye. Beerus stopped, fork mid-air as he stared at Whis for a moment and then frowning and rolling his eyes in understanding.
"Yea, you did great."
Isla smiled at the brief complement before turning her attention to her own food and digging in. Looking from Whis to Goku to Vegeta to Beerus, she watched them as she ate.
Who would have ever thought that she would have been sitting at a table with a god and his angel, let alone being complemented by them? What she wouldn't give to have Quinn right beside her, laughing and eating.
The thought of Quinn pulled at her heart, causing her to put her fork down.
What was she doing right now? Did Quinn ever think about her? A wave of shame washed over her as she realized how little Isla actually thought of her best friend. In the time she was on Beerus's planet, she had almost forgotten her as she spent almost all of her time with Goku, Vegeta, or Whis. Isla was almost sure that she hadn't said Quinn name in weeks when chatting with Whis after dinner or telling Goku stories about when she was in her world.
Pushing away from the table, Isla stood and walked to the kitchen again. She stood by the window that faced the outside world. The perma-orange sky was burning in a brilliant hue. Quinn would have enjoyed the intense color, making a joke about comparing it to the skin of celebrities or political figures. Isla would have laughed and agreed.
She sighed deeply, trying to exhale the disappointment within her. What was she doing? Was she trying to get back home to her family or not? She hadn't even thought to ask about leaving in a month, let alone thought of how her family was in that amount of time.
Pulling the ponytail holder out of her hair, she let her thick locks fall past her shoulders. She worked her fingers into the mane, massaging her scalp to relieve some of the tension she'd put on herself.
"The hair is coming down earlier today, hmm?"
Letting out a laugh, she looked up at Whis. She'd felt his energy enter the kitchen moments before, giving her a hint of pride in herself for practicing her new ability.
"I'm just… thinking. I think better without the added pressure."
The angel pursed his lips in mock thought, "Let me guess, you're thinking about your family."
Isla cocked an eyebrow at him, "What you can read minds too?"
Whis shook his head, "Not exactly. You have been asking about them less and less, so it was just a shot in the dark, really."
She let out a humorless laugh, crossing her arms under her breasts and sighing. Lifting her eyes, she bit her lip.
"Could I at least see them one last time? Even if I can't go there."
It was Whis's turn to sigh. He really did pity her. Being plucked out of her life and thrown not only into a new one, but into an entirely new existence in a new body. That had to be traumatizing. When she talked about her friend during their night time chats, her eyes sparkled with laughter. He liked seeing that, but recently, he'd been seeing it less and less. His eyes shifted to the doorway and then back to Isla. If Beerus knew, Whis would be the one in trouble but he knew the god would take it out on Isla.
Closing his eyes, he let out a defeated sigh, "One time, Isla."
He saw the woman perk up, her eyes filled with disbelief.
"W-what?"
Holding his staff out in front of him, he motioned her closer with his other hand. Quickly, she crossed the room and stood beside him. She could feel her heartbeat quicken in expectation as she watched his movements.
A few words spoken in a language she didn't understand and a bright spark signaled the beginning of a trans-universal connection. If it took any effort for him to make the connection, Whis's face did not show it as he tapped his staff on the ground and opened what looked like a window made of energy right before her eyes. It almost took her breath away, watching the bright vortex fade into a picture. Whis's eyes shifted, looking at the back of her head as she stepped toward the window.
"I was trying to find your friend, Quintana. Since she's the one you mention most often."
Isla examined the picture. It wasn't Quinn's apartment or their work. It was somewhere familiar, but not too recognizable, like she hadn't been there in quite the long time. Rows and rows of long, people filled benches led up to a tall, oaken podium that a man in a long, black robe stood behind. Snowy white flowers lined the decorated stage as a long screen hung down that displayed photos of herself with her friends and family she hadn't seen in a long time.
This was a memorial service, she thought, based on the absence of a casket. Scanning the room, she saw the weak form of her mother, shoulders bobbing at odd intervals as she sobbed in the front row. Beside her sat her brother Christopher, his arm draped over the older woman's back. They both looked so much small than she remembered. Her mother looked tired, skin ashen and eyes sunken in with sleeplessness, her hair pulled back halfheartedly in two golden clips. Chris looked just as exhausted, his usually broad chest looking particularly crumpled in his pressed black suit. A deep pain hit Isla as she watched her family. Her hand floated up instinctively as if to comfort them, but dropped slowly as she remembered that they occupied two completely different planes of existence. Her eyes watered, droplets threatening to fall to the stone floor. Taking a quick breath, she wiped them away.
"And now," The man's voice was gentle and kind as he looked over the crowd and motioned down to a front bench, "I'm going to ask that Isla's best friend, Quintana, to come up and say a few words in remembrance."
There was silence as the man descended from the podium and took a seat in the opposite bench in the front. After a moment, a woman with a thick, long French braid stood, her black, empire waist dress brushing the tops of her knees as she made her way to the podium and stood.
Isla smiled as she took in Quinn's appearance. The woman never could resist stealing the show, even if it wasn't on purpose. With small sprigs of baby's breath in her hair and a plunging neckline that was accented by a thin, golden necklace that dropped just as far, she had all eyes on her instead of the circulating photos on the projector screen.
Clearing her throat, Quinn adjusted the thin, standing microphone, tapping it with her black painted fingertip. She didn't really want to do this, but Val begged her to say a few words on Isla's behalf.
"You two were such close, fast friends, Quinny. Please, just say something to keep her memory alive." The woman gripped her prepared pages. Why should she say something to keep Isla's memory alive when she herself was still alive? Of course she didn't dare say this to Valerie herself, but she thought it right up until she opened her red lips to speak before the multitudes of mourners.
"If you knew Isla, you knew that she loved people. She loved kids, troubled kids, the worst of the worst kids because she knew that everyone had a redemption arch they could live out."
'And that's the reason she got taken by a abusive psychopath' was something she wanted to add, but instead, she she swallowed her words and regrouped.
"Her love for her family, her love for us all, is felt even though she is not here with us right now."
'And we are wasting time right now not looking for her because she's not dead.'
"We remember her today, taking time to look around at others and thinking about what good they can do and helping them find it. We look at the people in our lives that are present today and ask how we can serve them, make them feel valued. We look—"
Quinn's eyes that had been floating from face to face suddenly spiked up, locking eyes with Isla as she peered through the window and widening. Her voice stopped, replaced by a strict inhale of surprise.
"Isla?"
"Quinn!"
Instantly, a hand grabbed a fist full of her shirt, yanking Isla backward and closing the window. Her butt connected with the ground, but it didn't deter her from scrambling to her feet and to where the window once was.
"Quinn!" She repeated, "Hello?"
She turned to ask Whis why he'd closed the window, but came face to face with a snarling cat god. Soon, her face matched his.
"How dare you! You blatantly disobeyed me!"
"She saw me! Quintana saw me, Beerus!" Her voice was a mix of desperation and anger as she pleaded with him.
"All the reason you never do that again!"
Switching tactics, she moved to Whis, moving past his pre-approved personal space and closer to him. Her fingers looped the front of his robe, pulling his head down to look her in the eyes.
"Whis, please. Let me go back!"
"Enough!"
Once again, the angry god's claws found their way around the collar of Isla's top, ripping her away from the angel and throwing her through the doorway into the dining room, sliding across the once food-filled table that now occupied empty bowls and plates. Broken glass dug into her skin as she fell over the side and landed hard on the floor. It hurt. A burning pain radiated from different points on her body that the shards had buried themselves.
She stood, groaning as she did. At once, Beerus was before her, his hand outstretched as he sent a pulse of energy that knocked her back to her knees.
"I will only tell you this one more time, girl."
Isla lifted her eyes, her body shaking with the effort. Beerus locked his eyes with hers, sending his hand behind his back to lock in place with the other.
"I am in control here. You have no power. I am the supreme of this universe. You are nothing."
Isla's eyes closed as Beerus's mouth fell into a stern frown.
"Repeat after me, girl: I am nothing."
"I am nothing."
Her voice was soft, but resolute. Beerus almost felt sorry for her. He wasn't doing this to be cruel; he wasn't trying to hurt her on purpose. The god watched as she stood, her countenance still downcast. She needed to understand that she was where she had to be, like it or not. He almost wanted to tell her that, but he just sighed.
"Go clean yourself up."
After bandaging herself up, her afternoon training with Whis and the other Sayians as Beerus judged from the sidelines, and her bath, Isla stood in the kitchen once more trying to avoid the spot that once occupied the rift Whis had opened up for her. She hadn't said much going into the rest of the day, her mind blank.
Picking at one of her small bandages, she took a peek at a wound and wasn't that surprised to find that it had already healed. Her new Sayian body was a fine-tuned machine of efficiency, its supercharged metabolism something of a miracle. She couldn't even fathom that she had been so weak in her human body, but every now and then her mind reminded her of the fact.
She used to be under Paul's control. She used to bend to the whims of a man that only cared for himself and his own desires. Now, she was under Beerus and his rules. Really, she shouldn't be so upset at the implementation of rules on a being that had as much power as she did. Maybe he was right. How would her family react if they saw her now? Did she really need to go back or would it be something that caused more problems than it fixed? Maybe her mother was better off thinking that she was dead instead of having the knowledge that they would never be together again.
Her breath hitched causing her hand to fly to her mouth, leaving the carrots she was chopping on the wooden board as she turned and slid her back down the counter so that she was seated on the floor. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she thought of the withering form of her mom, the woman shrinking into herself as her body racked with sobs sitting on the pew of the church. Pulling her knees to her chin, she let her body contract and lax as she tried to suppress the sobbing of her own. Her muscles tightened in her belly as the waves of sadness crashed over her and she vomited her sadness into the air around her. Fingers clawed her pants as she swallowed the urge to let her sobbing rise to screams of anguish, letting the screams escape as high pitched exhales.
She stayed for a prolonged period, letting herself release the anger; letting herself release the agony; letting herself release the grief. After her body felt empty, she planted her palm against the counter and walked herself back to a standing position. Swiping the left over tears away, she splashed some cool water from the sink onto her face and dried it with her shirt.
"I was wondering where you went."
Goku's voice was so soothing that she didn't bother to turn to meet him. Continuing to cut her vegetables for the dinner that evening, she simply sent him a hollow smile.
"I'm just making dinner, like always."
The Sayian leaned his butt against the counter and watched her for a moment, his hands fiddling with the belt of his gi. Isla could tell he hadn't bathed yet just by the thick smell of sweat and his own natural scent. It was so oddly comforting that she leaned into it, wanting to lay her head on his shoulder and breathe in deeply, but fighting the temptation.
Just as the previous day, a wave of heat flashed over her momentarily, causing her to roll her shoulders in discomfort and clear her throat hard. Goku's face fell into a lopsided frown as he put the back of his hand against her forehead.
"You ok?"
She grit her teeth as he neared her, fighting her impulses.
"I'm fine, Goku."
Turning her body away from him, she walked over to the cupboard and pulled a large pot off of the shelf.
"I've been thinking, you know." Goku said, his chin resting on his closed fist. Isla let out a small laugh.
"Sounds dangerous." She teased, placing the pot into the sink and letting it the cool water begin to fill the bottom. The man smiled, playfully knocking his elbow into her side.
"I don't think you're nothing, Isla."
The corners of her mouth upturned slightly, her hand reaching over to his forearm and rubbing it in a grateful gesture. As she tried to remove her hand to return it to her work, she felt Goku's large hand cover hers and grip it, holding it firmly. Her eyes locked with his, a confused expression on her face which he ignored.
"You're a Sayian. I might not know what that means in the bigger sense, but I know that it means you're strong. More than strong, you're almost invincible."
His thumb made small circles on her palm as he dropped his eyes to examine it. The connection of his skin with hers collided with the warmth of her body.
"You have more power in your hand now than you did in your entire body when you were human. I'm so proud of how you've built yourself up from the ground. It's amazing to see you get stronger."
She could feel the heat radiate from her skin, rising off of her body as though she were a furnace. Her blood rushed in her ears until the only thing she could hear was her own quickened breath. She watched Goku take a breath and then a deeper one directly after. His scent was overpowering now, quickly breaking down her will to hold her own and not bury her face in his chest. It was the feeling of being underwater and seeing an oxygen tank in front of you when you're drowning and knowing that the life source was just in reach. The only thing she had to do was grab it.
"Isla, the pot is overflowing."
At once, the feeling was gone. It was as if the spell he had cast over her was broken and she could only see her mentor and friend standing before her, a look of concern mixed with curiosity on his face. Shaking her head, she blinked before turning the handle on the water spout to the off position and cutting the flow. Turning back to him, she smiled once more.
"I think you should go bathe. You're pretty sweaty."
Goku grinned, "Yeah, I guess you're right."
He started to walk away, but stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. Isla watched him falter before speaking.
"You know, if half of the things that Quinn said about you are true, I must have picked a pretty great person to save and bring back with me."
He looked over his shoulder to her, this time his face was devoid of the casual, silly nature it usually held. His eyes sparkled, but not in the jovial way they usually did; their color fading from his normal grey into a deep black.
"I want you to know that I don't want you to go back. As selfish as that sounds, I kind of like having you here with me."
With that, he began again, walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway that led to the bathroom as Isla watched behind him. It was then that she discovered that she'd been holding her breath as he talked. Letting out a long exhale, she turned back to her preparations and resumed her various tasks. His smell lingered, brushing against her skin as it heated again at the thought of him being so near to her resurfaced.
"I like having you here with me, too."
Sitting in his own bath, Goku leaned the back of his head against the side of the tub. He loved the feeling of hot water after a long day of training, there was nothing that could compete with the releasing of tension almost immediately that a bath could provide.
Usually, he'd sit for only a few minutes before getting bored and washing up to get out, but this day he found himself staring off into space and letting his body just feel the water around him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was happening. His body was heightening, but in a way that it never had before. He felt as though he had turned up the heat inside of himself.
When he sparred Isla, he could feel his skin burning, almost literally, with energy. It made him want to put more and more behind everything he threw at her, made him want to prove to her that he was stronger, stronger than she'd ever seen him before. When they warmed up in their stretching, he could smell her just like he could on earth. Her scent swirling around his head and invading him no matter how hard he tried not to think about it.
In the night, right before they'd go to sleep, sometimes he'd hear Vegeta leave the room and escape to the balcony to... have some time to himself. Besides the smell of arousal, he'd often hear the end of the encounter— the prince breathing out a heavy, strangled "Bulma."
He'd do that too. He was a man after all. Even though he was a Sayian, it didn't exempt him from the urges he felt from time to time that had to be tended to. Only, instead of his mind taking him to images of his lovely ChiChi, it would betray him, flashing pictures of Isla when she'd just transformed into Sayianhood and stood before him completely nude. Sometimes, he' d even think about how he'd had to hold her down while she squirmed in her underwear beneath his hands. He was sure that Vegeta knew his thoughts as he would make his own call known, "Isla."
It made him embarrassed at first, but after the months wore on, he found that the two men just didn't talk about it and went on about their days. However, more and more, he mind was clouded by the thought of the younger Sayian woman, pushing out any acknowledgment of ChiChi. He didn't want to forget about his wife, but something in his head couldn't reconcile shutting Isla out completely.
When she'd begged Whis to send her back to her own universe, his chest tightened. He had to physically restrain himself in order to not grab her and pull her into him. When Beerus punished her, it made him angry, but somewhat relieved that she now knew that there was no possible way for her to leave. As he watched her cry on the kitchen floor, her body heaving with sadness, he was a little happy that she was finally getting to point that she was here with him and allowing herself to grieve the fact. He wanted to pull her close and protect her from the hurt, but he knew that she had to feel it herself so that she would know that she was going with the only choice available.
He could feel the inner heat rising again as he stood from his bath and looked out the large, opening that served as a window to the outside.
'I need you here, Isla,' a voice inside of him rang out in his mind as if it were speaking for him, 'I need you to be mine.'
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