Unlikely Bond
By Bdegrees

Chapter 8
Twenty Two Hundred

It was over.

Thank Kami, it was over.

It was almost surreal now, like what had happened was in slow motion, and the world had suddenly snapped back to normal speed.

They had sat in silence for half an hour after Daikkon left them the last time, not even looking at each other. Somehow, there was a wordless agreement between them before....before it happened. But it was over now....thank Kami....

Goku stared up at the ceiling. He had been that way for a while now, not having the mental strength to move. One hand lay over his stomach, the other clenched into a fist and resting over his heart. Neither moved to wipe away the tears that rolled slowly from his eyes.

Vegeta didn’t lie. He didn’t hurt him. It was uncomfortable and stung with the burn of muscle that didn’t want to give, but there was no pain. No physical pain. Just the sharp stab of wounded pride and shredded dignity. And just as quietly as they had come together, they moved apart. Goku tried to hold back the emotional current he was feeling as he adjusted his clothing. Clothing that had not been removed so much as moved out of the way. He had crawled completely up onto the bed and wrapped his arms around himself as if to shield himself from the realization of what had just transpired moments ago. He squeezed his eyes shut as the air was suddenly pierced by Vegeta’s cursing, followed shortly thereafter by the telltale sound of sickness.

And for twenty minutes Goku lay there, finally rolling onto his back, listening to Vegeta’s body try to purge every mist of moisture from his gut. He was past the point of producing anything, and now his body was only heaving out of muscle memory aftershocks.

Goku’s chest gave a shuttering lurch from a suppressed sob. After all that happened, he didn’t want to cry out loud. But he was devastated. He clamped his eyes closed again, trying to block out the memory, but couldn’t shut out the heavy smell of rubbing oil and musk, nor the throbbing discomfort between his legs. How he longed for home....

Vegeta turned on the water in the sink, catching it in his cupped hand and bringing it to his lips. He swirled the liquid in his mouth before spitting it out, hoping it would take with it the hot sting and acrid taste in his throat. He leaned his hands onto the basin and dropped his head. His body felt heavy and more weary than after any battle he had ever fought. How could this have happened….

It lasted longer than he had wanted, his body being uncooperative. It was difficult enough to achieve the required state of readiness and, unfortunately, he had to rely on biology and friction to complete the task. What was he supposed to think of? It wasn’t sex to him, so much as a brutalization. Was he supposed to think of something pornographic? Something intimate?

His wife?

A new wave of nausea washed hot over him, but he took a deep breath and fought against it. His body had nothing left to give anyway. He heard Goku stifle a gasping sob.

Never in Vegeta’s life had he wanted someone to take his pain away, save this moment. He wanted to hide in the warm embrace of his woman and close off the world in her arms. But he was strong. Too strong maybe.

Of all the people, why did it have to be Kakkarot?

Taking a deep breath, Vegeta stepped out from the dismally inefficient privacy of the bathing area. He approached the bed slowly, catching Goku’s eye as he leaned against the footboard.

“Know this, Kakkarot,” he began, his voice raspy from the strain to his throat. “When we come out of this, and we will, I will personally break every bone in his body for what he has made me do...to you.”

Goku frowned sadly as he looked up at his rival whom he had always wanted so much to be his friend. The weight of the prince’s words showed him that maybe they had always been, without either of them realizing. What timing, to find this out now...

“Revenge won’t take it back, Vegeta….” Goku spoke quietly.

“No,” Vegeta agreed. “But it will make him really fucking sorry that it happened.”

Goku sighed and turned his eyes back toward the ceiling.

“If the children are safe....does it matter what we had to do...”

“Again that is because of him, Kakkarot, don’t you see that! They make you feel like you volunteer to sacrifice yourself when they have already given you no choice!” Vegeta shouted, his voice sounding impossibly thin. He stared down at Goku, mentally berating himself for saying too much. No, he supposed Goku wasn’t familiar with keeping track of the injustices inflicted upon himself...just others. Ah, if Vegeta had a zeni for every injustice he kept meticulous track of, well....what would one do with such a fortune?

Goku ignored the prince until he moved away from the bed and back behind the screen that separated the main area from the ‘personal’ space. He could hear the sound of struggling and metal giving way before the rushing of water into the metal tub. Vegeta obviously modified the sink to fill the bath. After several moments the water ceased and Vegeta reappeared, crossing the room to settle on the floor in the far corner. Goku looked to him curiously, but the older Saiyan merely closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall.

Slowly, he pushed himself from the mattress and made his way around the screen, his muscles protesting. He let his fingers skim the surface of the water which was nearly hot to the point of boiling. Removing his clothing, he sank into the water, his muscles twitched against the sensation, but he settled back, letting the water soothe him.

He tried not to think about what Vegeta said.

Because he knew he was right.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was just after dawn when Bulma, Trunks and Gohan gathered back in the ship hangar of Capsule Corp. None of them had actually gotten any decent sleep, wanting to test the radar as soon as possible.

“I used the capsule log to get a copy of Dad’s and Uncle Goku’s energy signals,” Trunks told them as he adjusted the parameters within the program. “I trained a little in its gravity unit last night so it would take a reading of my own signal to test against the others.”

Bulma nodded, stifling a yawn as she lit a cigarette.

“How long before we know?”

“Not long...” Trunks muttered, punching the final keystroke and letting the program initiate. The three crowded around the control panel as they watched the program run. The startup screen flashed off, the radar calibrated and the computer blipped steadily as it scanned. In moments, the results returned.

“Wooo!” Bulma shouted, the cigarette falling from her lips as she threw her arms around her son’s neck. “Success!”

Trunks felt a sense of relief wash over him. They were halfway there.

“I apologize for the interruption.”

The trio turned as they were addressed by Piccolo.

“Not at all, Piccolo,” Bulma replied, reaching down to swipe the cigarette from the metal floor.

“What news do you have?” Gohan asked him.

“Dende believes that he has located Goku and Vegeta…” Bulma continued to grin, but Trunks and Gohan felt the tension in the pause.

“But?” Gohan asked. Piccolo’s expression remained neutral.

“But the signal is very weak. Either someone or something is dampening their ki or -” Trunks felt his heart stop beating as the Namekian finished his thought. “- they have come to considerable harm. He cannot tell which.”

“Then it’s time to go!” Trunks announced. “Mom,” he turned to Bulma and looked down into her face. “I will be back soon, and I will have Papa and Bulla with me.”

Bulma smiled and touched his cheek. It was moments like this, when the young, normally baby-faced boy looked so much like his father. His brow furrowed, and his mouth set in furious determination. Although he must get his height from his grandmother.

“Good luck,” she told him, leaning up to kiss his face.

“While you prep the ship, I’m going to dash home and let Mom and Videl know what’s up,” Gohan told them. “And to say goodbye....” He stumbled a bit on the words. “Just in case.”

Trunks reached out and grabbed a fistful of Gohan’s lapel.

“We won’t be gone long.” he said firmly. Gohan nodded quietly understanding, a bit awed that the young man he watched grow up seemed, at this moment, like the darkly troubled Trunks from the future.

“I’ll be right back,” Gohan stated.

The remaining three watched Gohan fly from the hangar bay door and disappear on the horizon. When he was out of sight, Trunks turned and grabbed his pack off the floor. Piccolo addressed him.

“I stopped by Korin’s and got some senzu beans, since these are Saiyans we will be facing.”

Trunks gave a short nod as he hefted the supplies in his arms.

“That’s fine,” he remarked with a serious voice. “But we’re not going to be the ones needing them.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Vegeta waited until Goku had gone too sleep before opening his eyes. The other Saiyan probably thought he was asleep himself.

He still sat on the floor by the wall, his knees pulled up, his arms crossed over them. He couldn’t sleep. He wouldn’t. He would be damned if he would give anyone the opportunity to try anything while they slept, defenseless.

But they were defenseless, he told himself. Helpless. Had he his ki, he could have taken that general down without even breaking a sweat. A general. It was laughable to an elite soldier such as himself. Horenz was nothing more than a self-proclaimed general as far as he was concerned. Horenz knew nothing about what it was to fight for the sheer glory of proving that you were the strongest.

But none of that mattered now. Nothing mattered. He was useless. He could do nothing but hope that his own actions deterred any they might take against the children. He knew there was a reason that he always thought he should have remained alone in the universe. Family was a liability, something to be used against you. Yet, he wanted more than anything to see his little girl safe on Earth once again. And he had done far worse for family that he didn’t care for at all...

Memories that he had long ago tried to bury rose up in his mind with new potency. Frieza had learned early on that breaking Vegeta’s body was far less satisfying than trying to break his spirit. Bones and flesh could heal, but cuts to one’s pride left angry red welts visible in the eyes. And a small reminder could reopen those wounds and leave them stinging, even if they were over a radio transmission. And it worked every time. Vegeta’s pride could suffer the torment of such tactics, but would not give up. He couldn’t even pretend obedience. Not even to save himself the abuse.

And now, what about Kakkarot? Would the younger Saiyan even know what to do with himself after this ordeal was behind them? Vegeta tried to tell himself that Kakkarot agreed to this, just as he did. It was to save the little ones. They both knew they had no choice in the matter. It was this or.…

Vegeta let out a steady breath as he tried to calm himself. No, he would not have let that happen. He would have forced Kakkarot if he had to. And that realization made him feel even more like a monster. Was he no better than Frieza?

The memory of the choked sounds Kakkarot had made rang in his ears. The pitiful sound of one trying to be strong, but wanting to die. He could look away from the way Kakkarot’s hips shifted instinctually in a fruitless attempt to seek relief from the unwelcome intrusion or from the way his hands fisted into the sheets...but he couldn’t ignore the sounds. The memory raised the hairs on his arms and threatened another upheaval of his stomach.

Vegeta had learned not to make a single noise. Anything was just more fuel for the fire of Frieza’s biting commentary. And now he was the one inflicting the pain. And no one would believe that he was innocent in the matter. No one would believe that he was a victim as well. How would he be received if this came to light back on Earth? Bulma and Kakkarot’s friends still treated him coldly or when they were being especially nice, with indifference.

Vegeta closed his eyes again and leaned his head onto the wall. So what? He would face their disdain. Let them try their worst. He felt no need to make up for his actions or to explain or justify them to those clowns. But a tiny piece of him hoped that they wouldn’t find out about this. He didn’t want her thinking he was a monster. He didn’t want his children to feel about him the way he felt about his own father.

Vegeta grimaced. No, they could think what they would about him for his actions, but at least they would know that he fought for them. That he gave his pride and dignity for them. He didn’t send them into the hands of a monster. They would think what they would of his actions, but he would know. He may not be the father that they wanted, but he would not be the father he'd had.


TBC

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