Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unbroken ❯ Weakness ( Chapter 4 )

Unbroken

 

Chapter 4 - Weakness

 

“Wake up, Aoiro.” I feel Brolli's hand stroking my hair, petting me like a docile animal. “I have a surprise for you.”

 

He stops petting me and rises from the bed. My reprieve is momentary because he soon returns. He grasps my arm and forces me to sit up. A box rests in his hand. He presents it to me. When I do not take it, he forces it into my hand.

 

“Open it,” he encourages me, a proud look on his face.

 

I do not. I just leave the object sitting in my palm as I look away from him.

 

“Open it,” he says angrily, “or I will bring a house servant in here to open for you. Then I will execute him.”

 

My stomach knots. The bastard knows how to manipulate me. I will suffer silently any tortures he inflicts on me just to avoid submitting to him, but I will not allow others to be punished for my defiance. Without looking at the box, I push the lid open to minimally satisfy his demand.

 

“This is not some exercise in box opening, Aoiro.” Brolli's voice continues to rise with anger. “Look at what's inside.” When I do not, he adds, “I can still call in the servant.”

 

Begrudgingly, I lower my eyes. Jewelry. I should find this amusing… this stupid man thinks a necklace will change my opinion of him. However, my sense of humor departed from me long ago.

 

“A trader came by the other day with it. When I saw it, I knew it was meant for no other neck than yours.” He takes the necklace out of the box. His pleased expression has returned. “The gems match your eye color perfectly.” He drapes the bobble around my neck, and then clasps it. “Yes, as perfect as I would have imagined it.” He sits back and admires his work. I continue to look through him.

 

“You do not seem pleased. Most women would be thanking a man for such a lavish gift. Though you do not have the power of speech, I am sure you can still come up with some way to thank me.” He wraps an arm around my lower back and brings me towards him. He forces me to straddle one of his large legs as he presses my body against his. He pushes the sheet I had been using to cover myself down so that he has a complete view of my naked chest.

 

“You know how I adore you, Aoiro.” The hand not pressing me to his body grasps one of my breasts. He strokes it absent-mindedly as he speaks to me. “I would give anything to please you—to have you be a willing mate rather than a forced slave. Tell me what it would take.”

 

As I force myself to meet his gaze, I wrap my fingers around his throat and then squeeze as hard as I can. Though I know the action is futile, I still allow myself the pleasure of feeling my hand wrapped around what would be a normal man's vital juncture. Though I use no words, he receives my message clearly. Nothing short of his death will ever please me. He grows angry once more and flips me onto my back to punish me for my rebelliousness. I keep my hand locked around his throat, digging my nails into his thick skin, wanting desperately to at least see some trickle of blood.

 

“Woman! Woman, stop it!” I see Brolli mouthing the words, but hear Vegeta's voice speaking to me. I try to force my eyes open, but all I can see is Brolli atop of me.

 

“I'll kill you, you bastard.” I keep choking him, suddenly surprised and thrilled when he begins to struggle for breath. One of his hands grips mine. He tries to force it away from his throat.

 

“Damn it, Bulma. Wake the fuck up!” The vision of Brolli suddenly dissipates and I realize it is not his neck I am squeezing, but Vegeta's. I immediately release him, and watch as he grabs his throat, fighting for breath.

 

“Shit,” I curse as I force myself to sit up. “I'm sorry.” Instinctively, I reach out to help him, but I quickly pull my hand back when I realize there is nothing I can do. “I thought you were Brolli.”

 

Vegeta looks at me with barely controlled anger in his eyes. “I know,” he says once his breathing has calmed. “You cursed his name several times in your sleep.”

 

I look away. Over the last few years my nightmares about my past with Brolli have become less frequent. But clearly last night something triggered them. Something made me recall the skin-crawling moment when I realized that the fool had some sort of twisted feelings for me. His asinine attempt to woo me with something material will forever enrage me. Brolli's irrational behavior that night was just further proof of how truly psychologically imbalanced he was. For a man to think a mere gift can win him the favor of a woman he has regularly abused proves his insanity. That bastard should have been put out of his misery long before his death.

 

“Just do me a favor.” I slowly turn back to Vegeta. “Don't ever give me jewels.”

 

One of his eyebrows arches up. While he does not know what sparked my statement, he responds to it regardless. “You need not worry on that account. I would never give you anything.” His cold retort causes me to smile. There are few positive things I can say about Vegeta, but I do give him credit for his rationality. Even after all he has been through, he is still level headed. I suppose that is part of the reason why I am attracted to him. Even though I will most assuredly disagree with his actions from time to time, I will never condemn him for being completely without sense.

 

“Are you hungry?” I ask, wanting to change the subject. I don't wish to linger on the past any longer.

 

When he responds with a stupefied expression, as though I have just asked him which way is space, I bite my bottom lip to control my laughter. I suppose there is no situation in which a Saiya-jin would answer `no' to that question.

 

I push myself out of bed. I grab a thin silken rob to cover myself before I walk over to a small kitchenette. I begin hauling out huge rations of food from the cupboard, knowing well the enormous appetite of Saiya-jins. Once the small dinning table is full, I rise on my tiptoes and reach into the back of a cabinet to pull out some drinks.

 

“It's not much, but in two days we'll be back on Wotja and then I'll be able to get—” I spin around to deliver the drinks but nearly drop them in my surprise. Vegeta had bolted from the bed, and was already sitting at the table, shoveling as much food into his mouth as he could.

 

“I guess it should have occurred to me that you haven't been fed well in a long time.” He continues to eat, ignoring me entirely. I then begin to unpack a small meal for myself, as I suggest, “perhaps when you are done, you could tell me what happened to you.”

 

He stops eating and looks up at me. He swallows what was chewing, and then wipes his mouth on his sleeve. “You really think I want to talk about it?”

 

It never occurred to me that he'd want to talk about it, but that doesn't mean it wouldn't help him if he did. “Weren't you the one lecturing me on letting go of the past?”

 

“Letting go of the past and reliving it are completely separate matters. Or perhaps I am wrong, and you would like to sit here and describe in graphic detail everything Brolli ever did to you.”

 

I manage to suppress a flinch, but I cannot help looking away from him for a moment. He's right. There is a vast difference between being able to talk about traumatic events, and actually choosing to. I believe I have recovered enough to be able to discuss what that bastard did to me, but no matter how healed I am, I will never like to broach the topic. “Graphic details are not required, but a general synopsis would be helpful.” I finish opening my meal. “I know nothing of what happened after the war started.”

 

Vegeta finishes his drink and then places it back on the table. “Actually, why don't we talk about what happened before the war started.” He returns to eating, though not with his initial ferocity. “Why don't you start by telling me how you managed to escape? And how long you had been planning it?”

 

I frown at his question. Is that truly what he thinks? That I had planned the unbelievably auspicious circumstances that led to my departure? “As much as I hate to dispel your image of me as a brilliant strategist, my escape was pure luck. After the fighting started, Radditz tried—” Radditz. Vegeta's brother, his only living relation. The closest thing to family he will probably ever have—unless he has children one day. Of course, he will have children. He's the king… or will be again. He must have a son, an heir. For some reason the idea of Vegeta bedding some woman simply to procreate is distasteful to me. It's not jealousy, I immediately tell myself. It must be pity. He will never know true companionship, as I one day plan to find.

 

“You wouldn't be regretting leaving a man for dead, now would you?” Vegeta interrupts my musings, concluding that I must have been contemplating Radditz's fate. What did happen to him? Did he die that day? Another day? Was he also imprisoned or sold into slavery? I hope not. Though he was Saiya-jin, he was among the lesser evils of the species.

 

“Did he survive?” I ask quietly.

 

“It's a little late to care.” Vegeta scolds me, as he continues to eat.

 

“There was nothing I could do for him,” I say, getting defensive. “Besides, he ordered me away from him. To get to the bunker. Believe it or not, I actually tried to get there. Being your prisoner was better than being blown into little pieces… Well, marginally better.” I cannot help but throw in the jibe. “I came across the docking bay by shear luck. And then what was I supposed to do? Say to hell with my freedom, and run back through a war zone to try and get to your bunker without being killed? No one in their right mind would have done anything differently than I did.”

 

Vegeta looks at me unflinchingly. When he does not immediately respond to my story, I demand, “Did he survive?”

 

He maintains his silence for several moments. He picks up a drink and washes down everything he has just eaten. Soon after, I notice his face twinge, as if in pain. He fists his hand and pounds it twice against his chest. He takes a deep breath, and then clears his throat. I part my lips to ask him if anything is wrong, but he finally responds to my question before I get the chance. “I was able to get him into a regeneration tank in time.”

 

I sigh in relief. I did not want to hear that my escape cost of my former guard's life. “So what happened to him?”

 

Vegeta places his second now empty drink back on the table, and then sits back in his chair. He crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing me shrewdly. “I do not know. He was leading an offensive in the western hemisphere of Vegeta-sei when last I heard from him. That was nearly a year ago. In that amount of time, his fate could have been anything.”

 

My heart aches for Vegeta, though I know it should not. I have lost all of my blood relations because of his people. I should not feel empathy for him. “Before I came here last night, I sent a transmission to a friend of mine on Wotja. He has several interplanetary contacts. I asked him to relay to me anything he could learn about your war. I will send him another message this afternoon, to see if he can learn anything of Radditz's fate.”

 

“What makes you think his fate is of any significance to me?” A mixture of confusion and suspicion laces his expression.

 

“Because he's your—” I pause, remembering that Vegeta never shared with me the blood tie between the two men. Vegeta never really shared any of his history with me. Who am I to bring it up? “Your friend. I thought he was your friend.”

 

“A king has no friends, only subjects and enemies.” Vegeta's eyes drift from mine. I know he is thinking of the war. More than ever, I want to know details of it.

 

“How did it happen?” Though my question is vague, Vegeta knows exactly what I am asking. I expect him to once again circumvent the question, but to my surprise, he begins to speak.

 

“We were winning. At the beginning of the war, we outnumbered the elites nearly fifty to one. Five years later, our advantage was close to two hundred to one. Victory was in our reach… The day it happened, I had Paragus and his crew cornered. I was battling seven elites, when something pierced my neck.” He absently reaches up to touch the puncture wound I had noticed while he was on the auction block. “I'll never forget that moment.”

 

His turns towards me, though he does not seem to see me as he speaks. “Have you ever had dream, when you're not fully asleep, yet not quite awake. You think you are still conscious of everything around you, but you aren't. You think you have control, but you don't. It's a frightening feeling, but once you awaken, that fear is soon forgotten, because it never really existed. It was just a figment of your imagination... But what if it wasn't your imagination? Envision never waking up, the fear never disappearing. You're helpless, trapped in an alien body. At the mercy of those who hate you. That was my life for nearly a year.”

 

I do not look away from him as he describes an experience not unfamiliar to me. The only difference is that what he describes has been my life for five times as long. “Why didn't they kill you?”

 

Vegeta releases one boisterous chuckle, “Disappointed, are you?”

 

I shake my head. “You should know better after last night.” I thought he understood how important having him with me was, but, of course, he never truly could. “I just don't understand the rationale. Not killing you leaves the possibility, although they likely calculated it to be slim, for you to one day return seeking vengeance.”

 

“I assure you, Paragus does not care about the odds of my return. All that matters to him is that I continue to suffer. Death would put an end to that. So slavery held greater appeal for him.”

 

I push my now finished meal away from me, and then rest my elbows on the table, crossing my arms over each other. “Well, then wouldn't he be disappointed to know how little you were suffering last night?”

 

My comment is rewarded with a slight smile before he responds, “Especially considering it was you I was with. You know he still has every intention of finding you, and making you pay for Brolli's death.”

 

I roll my eyes at the idea. Only a father equally insane as Brolli could be so obsessed with punishing the woman his son tormented for half a decade. “Well, never let it be said that the man can't hold a grudge.” I shake my head and then release a bitter laugh.

 

“How well have you covered your tracks?” Vegeta asks with a surprising amount of severity.

 

“Covered my tracks? Well, I've been discrete, but I can't say I've been actively hiding.” I then quickly relay to him the details of my escape, from landing on Bukiih, to settling on Wotja. When I finish, I see Vegeta is displeased with what he has heard.

 

“Very sloppy, woman. The couple you met on Bukiih, the man you sold the ship to, these relationships you've made on your new home—all can lead Paragus right to you. You will have to relocate again. Tell no one where you are going, and never return.”

 

“What? No.” I am firm in my defiance. “Wotja is my new home. I will not lose what I've built.”

 

“You will lose it whether you wish to or not if Paragus finds you,” Vegeta warns.

 

“Then you will just have to keep Paragus from finding me by killing him once I restore your strength.” I quickly realize that on some level this is the reason Vegeta started this conversation. He wants me to have a personal investment in helping him.

 

“We should be back to my home in less than two days. Once we arrive, I will need you to be patient.”

 

“Patient?” He raises a brow. “I am not—” his face contorts yet again, and he lowers a hand to the table to steady himself. This second display of discomfort causes me to worry.

 

“Vegeta are you—”

 

“—a patient man.” He takes a long breath and then says, “I am not a patient man, so you had better work quickly.” He then shoots me a silencing look, telling me not to ask him about his odd behavior. Knowing him well enough not to waste my breath trying to figure out what he's hiding, I rise from my seat.

 

“Fine. Suffer in silence.” I grasp my drink and empty meal container and place it in the disposal. “You can finish eating. I am going to take a shower.”

 

I head into my washroom and close the door behind me. I turn the shower on, and pull a drying cloth out for myself. As the water warms, I remove my robe. I cannot help but catch the image of myself in the mirror. It's odd for me to see myself like this a day after sex. No blood. No bruises. No self disgust. No overwhelming need to scratch all of my skin off. I'm just a woman, with messy hair and sex between my legs. Non-violent, non-disgusting sex. Definitely new for me, but a good kind of new. A very good kind of new.

 

The washroom door opens, and my head snaps to the side to see Vegeta standing in the doorway. I quickly cross my arms over my chest and reach down to grab for my discarded robe. “What are you doing? I'm obviously not done in here yet.” I quickly throw my robe over me.

 

“Why are you covering yourself?” His brow lifts in that adorable fashion it does when he's perplexed. It makes my stomach do a little flip.

 

“Have you ever heard of being modest?” A stupid thing to say considering he has seen me naked on several different occasions, we just had sex—several times—last night, and since reuniting yesterday he has yet to dawn a stitch of clothing… although, I suppose that last one is my fault for not getting him any clothes. “Look, why are you in here?” I want to change the subject. “If you want to take a shower, you can have the next one.”

 

“No.” He pushes himself past the doorway, and steps into the washroom. “I want this one.” He closes the door behind him.

 

“Fine.” I decide this is not something worth fighting over. “I'll take the next one.” I move to walk past him, and out of the washroom, but he blocks my path.

 

“Perhaps I am not being clear.” A devilish smirk slides across his lips before he elucidates, “I want this shower, with you in it.”

 

Stupidly, I can only respond with, “Oh.”

 

Before I realize what is happening, my robe is back on the floor, and I am in the shower with Vegeta standing behind me. My upper back rests against his chest. My head is supported by his right shoulder. A cleansing solution sprays us, as I feel him massage it into my skin. His hands are gentle, but firm. His movements are liberal, yet not invasive.

 

“The last time a man was in the shower with me, was when Brolli came after me. When he drugged me. Tried to make me want him.” I do not know what makes me voice my musings, but for some reason I feel comfortable doing so.

 

“But you didn't,” Vegeta reminds me as he continues to stroke my skin. “Even impaired, you turned from him to me.”

 

I push away from him, and then slowly turn around to face him. “I did. Didn't I?” I take a handful of cleanser in my hand. I then spread it over Vegeta's chest. I fan my hands out and begin to wash him. “I wonder if I'll ever figure out what it is about you.” I place my hands over his shoulders, and then wash his back. “I mean, you're cruel, thoughtless, selfish—you're not even particularly attractive.” The last insult he rewards with a cold look. I smile back at him.

 

“What do you think it is?” I ask. His hands return to my body. They stroke my hips, tracing the curves of my waist, torso, and shoulders until they lock around my neck. His fingers tangle in my wet hair.

 

“If it's anything like my inconvenient attraction to you, I am no closer to an answer than you.” He tugs me forward, and I feel his lips touch mine. We exchange a gentle kiss. The kind couples use to express their love for one another. Though we are not in love, I suppose we are expressing our desire for one another. Not a fiery passionate kind of desire, but the kind of desire two people who need one another on more than just a physical level experience.

 

Though I try not to apply much meaning to the gesture, I cannot stop the longing that vibrates throughout my body. This is what I want one day. I want a man who can both arouse my body, and saturate my heart, my soul, my psyche with feeling. With a single touch I want to know that I am cared for, desired, loved. I know what I am feeling now is not that. It is a foreshadowing, my mind allowing me the illusion that this is more than a shallow coupling.

 

I called us mates last night, and I suppose that is an appropriate term for it. Saiya-jin mates are couples that have pledged themselves to one another for a short time. There is no long-term commitment in the union. The couple simply enjoys one another until the passion wanes and then they move on. That is what we are doing, enjoying each other for a short time. So why am I expending so much energy dwelling on the terminology and conditions of our union. Why can't I just enjoy it?

 

My back hits a shower wall as Vegeta shifts us around. When I lift my legs to wrap them around his waist, I feel his hands drop from the back of my head to slam against the wall behind us. His body falls forward slightly, as if he has lost his balance momentarily. His lips move to my neck quickly, as if his uncommonly graceless movement had been intentional. I may have believed his cover if his body hadn't suddenly begun to convulse.

 

“Vegeta, are you alright?” I move to return my legs to the ground, but he pushes me more tightly against the wall.

 

“I'm fine,” he says coldly. I do not believe him; something has been off about him ever since we awoke.

 

“Vegeta, maybe you should—” I do not have a chance to finish my thought as I hear him groan. Suddenly he loses his struggle to keep his balance and begins to slide to the floor. Since I am tangled with him, I fall as well, cradling his head and chest against mine to try and soften his fall. “Vegeta. Vegeta!” I call his name, hoping he has not lost consciousness. I wrap a hand around the side of his neck and lift his head so I can look at him. I see he is still conscious, but barely.

 

“Vegeta, talk to me. What's happening to you?”

 

“Pain…Weak…” his voice drops off. I think I am about to lose him, so I shake his head to try and keep him conscious.

 

“Stay with me, Vegeta!” I slap him lightly a few times. “I need to get you back to the medical facility, so I can figure out what is happening to you.”

 

It is a struggle, especially getting the two of us off the slippery floor, but we manage to stumble our way out of the shower. I grab two drying cloths to wrap around us, before we stagger our way to the door of my room. To my surprise, once the door opens I find Roki standing guard. I suppose I should have expected Que to station the man outside my chambers. He must have assumed I would be screaming for his protection at some point during the night.

 

Willing to take advantage of the unnecessary security, I ask Roki to take one of Vegeta's arms to help me get him to the medical facility. Just as he has reacted to all of my recent requests, he eyes me skeptically before complying. He places an arm around Vegeta's back and then half carries, half drags him in the direction of the medical facility. Clearly no longer needing my help, I release Vegeta and readjust my towel more securely around myself.

 

I encourage Roki to hurry. Besides wanting to run some tests on Vegeta as soon as possible, I do not want to linger in the hallways where someone might see the two of us towel-clad. The last thing I need is Que hearing about this and giving me another lecture that I neither want nor need.

 

Once we reach our destination, I have Roki lay Vegeta on an observation bed. He then steps back, allowing me to take his place by my patient's side. I realize then that Vegeta has lost consciousness. I should have assumed as much when he refrained from offering a single protest when Roki took hold of him.

 

“Vegeta?” I try to shake him awake. His eyes squint slightly, but he does not rouse. “Damn it.” I turn to my guard. “Roki, give me a bio-scanner.” The large man immediately assists me and I thank him. I then set the device over Vegeta's abdomen and calibrate it for a complete biological survey. The scanner opens slowly, releasing its eight tentacle traces. They pierce his skin to get to his bloodstream, and begin recording the data that will hopefully give me some sort of clue as to what has caused his abrupt illness.

 

I know the process will take a few minutes, so I open a seat for myself beside the observation bed. I use one hand to grasp Vegeta's, as I rest my other on his brow, stroking the pained creases from it. I can see he is struggling to return to consciousness.

 

“Vegeta,” I try to whisper his name. For a few moments, I seem to reach him as he opens his eyes. “Can you tell me where your pain is coming from?”

 

With some effort, he drags the hand I had been holding toward his upper chest. “Here.” He places my hand over his heart.

 

“OK,” I move the hand I had been resting on his brow to the bio-scanner. I recalibrate it to focus on the area of his body he had indicated. I then drag his hand back to the side of the bed, and return to stroking his brow. The gesture seemed to calm him earlier, and it does so again, this time lulling him back into unconsciousness. I decided to allow him to remain like this. There is no sense keeping him lucid when he is in such discomfort.

 

“You have feelings for this man.” The sound of my almost forgotten guard's voice startles me. I nearly jump from my seat and spin around to face him.

 

“Excuse me?” I stammer.

 

“I have only known you a few months, Rushka. But I am a strong judge of character. You are not the type of woman who would purchase a body for her pleasure. It is clear to me you have a past with this man. I saw your reaction when you first laid eyes on him at the auction, and how territorial you have been about his welfare ever since.” Roki is stiff, with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet firmly set a foot apart. “Knowing of his species, I must admit, I cannot fathom how that past could be anything but ugly. Yet, you clearly have a fondness for him—an affection. I have no right to ask about this past or what future you plan with him, but as the friend I would like to believe I have become, I must caution you. His species is—”

 

“Violent. Sadistic.” I finish his thought, probably more accurately than he would have. “They are murderers. Enslavers. Destroyers of nations. Rapists.” My arms unconsciously cross over my chest. I close my eyes, and take a deep breath. “Trust me, Roki.” I open my eyes slowly. “You do not need to warn me about the Saiya-jins. I'm certain I know them even better than you.”

 

Roki's sudden remorseful expression suggests that he has correctly inferred from my statements more about my past than anyone else who has become a part of my new life. Of course, I would still like to keep such truths as quiet as possible. “I know that anything I tell you will not be shared.”

 

“Or anything you do not tell me,” Roki's sly reference to my indirect comment causes me to smile. The type of uncompromising loyalty he is capable of makes me feel fortunate for knowing him.

 

I hear the bio-scanner announce its completion. The tentacles detract from Vegeta's body, and the device automatically closes itself up. I lift the scanner off of Vegeta and then begin to read its conclusions. Not more than half way through the report, the scanner slips from my hands.

 

“No,” I whisper. The results spread a coldness throughout my body.

 

“What is it?” Roki asks as his shadow descends upon me.

 

“It's Vegeta.” I whispered almost too stunned to say the words. “According to these readings, his ki isn't the only part of him that has deteriorated. His organs are failing.”

 

“What does that mean?” Roki's question sounds like an echo from a distance.

 

“It means he hasn't just lost his strength.” I shakily lower my hand to rest it over Vegeta's too slowly beating heart. “He's dying.”

 

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