Strength in Weakness
Trunks lay on his back, staring up at the
ceiling, eyes open in the darkness as he struggled with the thoughts rushing
through his head. Sleep was impossible. It was already after two in the morning
and he was no closer to rest than he had been when he had first climbed into
bed. His father had not come home yet. And, somehow, he wasn’t surprised.
He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes as the
scene with Gohan replayed in his head.
"Trunks, I need to talk to you..."
Of course, he had obligingly followed the older
man upstairs, away from the noise, lights and laughter of the party. He was
eager to know what Gohan had discovered, it was obvious that he had turned up
something, from the tense look about him and the way he kept glancing around as
if to make sure no one else was near. Finally he had ushered Trunks into his
bedroom, turning the light on and then shutting the door and leaning against
it. He seemed to be struggling for words, closing his eyes for a moment and
pressing his lips together, then sighing. Suddenly feeling like he shouldn’t
press him, Trunks had said nothing, watching as Gohan had frowned and paced back
and forth, running his hands through his hair and obviously considering
carefully. And finally, the oddest question:
"Trunks, how do you feel about
homosexuality?"
Trunks had stared at him, caught completely off
guard and trying to suddenly shift his thought process to whatever obscure
track Gohan seemed to be following. As he fumbled for words, Gohan had
rephrased the question.
"I mean, how would you feel if, say, I
told you I was seeing another man?"
Gohan had then hastened to assure him that he
wasn’t, it was a hypothetical question. Trunks had made some joking comment
about wondering how Videl would react to that, and Gohan had brushed it aside
impatiently, he was serious. Trunks had stared at him for long moments, trying
to understand where he was going with this, then shrugged.
"I don’t know, I guess... it would be
kind of weird... but..."
"Would you feel differently about me?
Would you be disgusted or uncomfortable around me?"
Trunks had frowned, saying of course he
wouldn’t. It might take some getting used to, but he didn’t hate homosexuals or
anything. He’d had a few friends who were gay.
Then there had been another long silence from
Gohan, before the doctor had given him a weary smile and asked him to sit down.
He’d sat down on the bed and Gohan had dragged a chair up to sit directly
across from him, looking at him intently. And then he’d come out with it.
"All right, Trunks... I’ve been asking
you all of this because our fathers, Goku and Vejiita, are... They’re
involved."
And Trunks could not believe it. It just seemed
impossible, after everything that had gone on between the two Saiya-jins, the
fights and the competition and the anger, that they could be... together.
He had been completely honest in that he didn’t have a problem with homosexuality,
but when it came to his father... It was just unbelievable. It might not
even have been so shocking if it hadn’t been Goku he was with. Goku.
"Kakarrot".
He had talked with Gohan about it for a long
time, surprised at how well Gohan seemed to be taking it. After his initial
shock of stunned surprise, the young doctor seemed rather comfortable with the
topic. He’d been more worried about Trunks reaction. When Trunks had asked him
about it, he’d smiled.
"Well, you know Trunks... The more I
think about it, the more I think... That this could be a good thing. For both
of them. Who could possibly understand the last two surviving Saiya-jins better
than each other? Who could be a better match for them? What we need to worry
about, in my opinion, is how to make sure they actually get together and stay
that way."
And the more they had talked about it, the more
Trunks had relaxed about it, the initial shock wearing off until he saw it in
nearly the same light as Gohan.
Still... It was a lot to think about.
Goku sat, leaning against the headboard of his
bed with his arms folded on his drawn-up knees, his head resting on them.
Bitter anger and hurt simmered in his heart, and along with it a soul-wrenching
weariness and grief. Vejiita had turned him away again, and he didn’t know how
many more times he could deal with it.
Sighing miserably, he curled one arm up to drape
over his head, fingers clenching in his hair. He couldn’t. That was simply it.
He couldn’t deal with it anymore, having his heart kicked back and stepped
on every time he offered it.
Vejiita... I’m sorry...
He was sorry. Sorry that he couldn’t seem to be
what the prince needed, couldn’t give enough to hold onto him. And he was sorry
that he couldn’t do it anymore. He had needs too. And one of them was not
having a hole ripped in his chest every time he turned around.
He was not deluding himself. He was still in
love with Vejiita. Not one of those foolish people who felt that love could
simply end because you were angry or hurt. No, he was still in love. But it
seemed it was destined to be something beyond his reach. Vejiita had been hurt
too badly, and he was not good enough for the prince. It seemed he could not
mend the wounds inside Vejiita, no matter how hard he tried or how desperately
he wished. And the idea that someone like him would ever satisfy the prince of
the Saiya-jins... was laughable.
He could feel himself crying, feel the dampness
where his head rested on his arms.
He didn’t want to give up, didn’t want to back
down, but he didn’t know what else to do. He would take all of Vejiita’s pain
onto himself if he could, but he sometimes wondered if he was only hurting the
prince more with all he had done. And sometimes he felt angry. He was angry
now, angry that Vejiita would not accept his love, angry that everything he had
done had come to nothing. But that anger was muffled, dampened by the grief and
the pain tearing at him, clawing at his chest.
Slowly, he rolled onto his side, laying the
wrong way at the head of the bed, staring into the darkness. Maybe he would
feel angrier later, but he doubted it. He had never been able to hold onto his
anger for long. Vejiita had once said that made him weak. He wondered if that
was true, if he was a weakling. He felt weak now.
Vejiita sank slowly until he was kneeling in the
grass, shaking as he wrapped his arms around himself and closed his eyes. He
snarled, hating himself, hating the absurdity of his entire situation.
He could smell Kakarrot, taste him, feel him
still... The burn where their bodies had touched, the lingering sensation of
the other Saiya-jin’s hands on him, the flavor of his mouth on his lips.
And he felt fury and despair, that in his
wretched weakness part of him, too much of him, wanted to go back, return to
Kakarrot’s arms and fall into his bed. And touch him. And be touched. And feel
it again, that impossible, shattering glory that he had felt that night. It
seemed impossibly long ago now, almost a dream, because something that pure
should never have happened to him.
Again, disgust from somewhere deep inside him,
somewhere conditioned to feel nothing but scorn and hatred, somewhere cynical
and ugly. Revulsion that he could have become so weak as to feel, as to allow
himself to be drawn into the downward spiral of gentler emotions.
"Kakarrot," he ground out, his face
twisted and his voice agonized, "is nothing... I do not need him. I
don’t want him... He will be nothing to me... He is nothing to
me. He is..."
God, Kakarrot, please come. Take me back,
take me with you, don’t leave me alone, I’m sorry...
And he struck himself, with his own hand across
his face, for the pathetic weakling he was. For the need to be punished, and no
one else was around to do it.
"God, fuck you for a dickless coward!"
he snarled, half-sobbed at himself. "You pathetic bastard, you’ve betrayed
yourself..."
And he had, betrayed the standards he had set,
broken his own promise to himself. He had fallen, he had felt, and he
had exposed himself as he had sworn he would never do. If there was one part of
himself he could keep untouched, unhurt and invulnerable, it was his mind and
his soul. Freiza could never touch him there. If he could build a wall around
himself thick enough and impenetrable enough, no one would ever get in and he
would never get hurt. He had sworn to himself that this would be true, that he
would never let those defenses crumble.
They had crumbled before Kakarrot.
And the worst, the most wretched thing of all
now was that some of him still wanted, some of him still craved, so much
of him wanted to go back. He could never, ever let this happen again.
He could not see Kakarrot.
There was something strange about Trunks.
Vejiita had noticed over the past several days that the boy had seemed to be
acting differently around him, looking at him more often, being a little
quieter, appearing more thoughtful. It was disturbing him, the way the boy
seemed to be constantly pondering him, looking like he was about to say
something and then thinking better of it. And he seemed to know something was
wrong.
He had done everything he could to prevent the
boy from feeling or becoming aware of the distressed state of his mind and the
confused jumble of his emotions. And yet his son continually pestered him with
seemingly casual questions about his health, or how he was feeling, or, most
gratingly, about Kakarrot. Just yesterday he had snapped and roared at him
angrily before furiously leaving the boy’s presence, struggling to bring
himself back under control and embarrassed at his outburst. And, perhaps more
strangely still, his son hadn’t seemed terribly upset by his words or his
actions; he seemed possessed of an almost irritating patience.
Now, as he stalked into the kitchen after his
workout, looking for something to eat, the boy was sitting at the table,
looking at him with the strangest expression on his face. His lips tightening,
Vejiita ignored him, brushing past to open the refrigerator and glance around
inside, his tail lashing slightly.
Trunks sighed. After another moment he spoke,
his voice quiet. "Dad, are you going to tell me what’s going on?"
Vejiita stilled, still looking into the
refrigerator for a long moment before slowly straightening, closing it and
turning to face his son.
"What do you mean?"
Trunks gazed up at him, lifting an eyebrow slightly.
"I think you know what I mean."
Vejiita stiffened, suddenly nervous and
irritated at being put on the spot. His son didn’t look like he was going to be
willing to let it go this time.
"Why can’t you tell me what’s bothering
you?" Trunks questioned, "What is it you’re afraid of?"
Anger sparked in Vejiita. Anger helped to dull
the pain. "Trunks..." he said warningly.
"No." The boy said, rising and coming
toward him, stopping when he was just a few feet away. "Dad, I can tell
something’s wrong. Something’s been bothering you for weeks and you won’t tell
me what it is. This time I’m not letting you out of here until you talk to me.
I care about you, I just want to help..."
Vejiita swallowed, glancing to the side briefly,
searching for a way out of the situation. There was no way he could tell Trunks
about... everything that had happened. He simply could not make himself, would
not expose himself so terribly. But what could he do?
"Trunks..."
Suddenly the phone rang, seeming unnaturally
loud as it broke through the silence. A brief look of irritation crossed
Trunks’ face before he sighed, stepping past Vejiita to snatch the phone from
the receiver.
"Hello?"
Vejiita felt a slight rush of relief, thankful
for the respite, and he began to head toward the door, intent on escaping while
Trunks was on the phone.
"Gohan?"
He paused, then, hesitating in the doorway and
glancing back toward his son. Something in the boy’s voice had caught him, made
him hesitate on the threshold. There was a tinge of something... wrong... in
Trunks’ tone.
"What’s... What’s the matter, what’s
happe-"
Vejiita watched, alarm shooting through him as
the color drained from the boy’s face, and he stepped back into the room,
slowly moving closer.
"Wha- How?! I don’t-" Trunks’ voice
had risen in pitch, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the phone. "I
can’t believe that it could- It didn’t..."
Vejiita could feel the beginnings of fear
threading through him, made worse the longer he remained unaware of what was
going on.
"Oh God, Goha- .... I’ll be there as soon
as I can."
Trunks hung up the phone, almost missing the
receiver, then suddenly sagged against the refrigerator, still deathly pale as
he pressed a hand to his mouth. Vejiita stepped toward him, gripping his arm.
"Trunks...?"
"Oh God..." his son whispered.
"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God..."
"Trunks!" Vejiita snapped, grabbing
the boy’s shoulders and giving him a quick, rough shake, his fear making him
harsh. "What’s happened?!"
Trunks stared at him for a moment. "It’s
Goten..."
"What about Goten?!" Vejiita
nearly shouted.
"He’s... He’s at the hospital..." As
Trunks spoke, the dazed tone left his voice, his tone instead sharpening toward
panic. "Oh, God, he’s- He’s in intensive care, they think he might die,
they- they-"
"What!" Vejiita shouted, "How
could he possibly be in intensive care!? His father is a pure Saiya-jin, he
can’t be hurt like those weakling humans! What happened?!"
"He was- he... He got into a fight... at a
club with a kid from school...."
Vejiita stared at him, stunned to speechless
disbelief for a moment before sputtering, "A fight with a kid from school?!
How the fuck could a God damn human child threaten his
life?!"
Trunks stared at him, his hand near his throat.
"A... A gunshot to the head at point-blank range... He wasn’t expecting
it, he... That could take down even a Saiya-jin, Dad, and Goten’s the weakest
of us, oh God!"
Trunks suddenly shoved past him, lunging toward
the door.
"I have to go to the hospital!"
Then he was gone, and Vejiita was staggered,
bracing himself against the wall for a moment, his mind reeling as he struggled
to accept what Trunks had just told him. It seemed impossible, almost laughable
that something so ridiculous could have happened to one of them, to their
invincible little force. A stupid joke, that someone as pathetic as a human
schoolchild could threaten the life of one of their own. Kakarrot’s son.
He suddenly froze, a vicious chill bleeding
through him as his heart tightened in horror. Kakarrot’s son.
Kakarrot...
He could only imagine what the other Saiya-jin
was going through now, with his foolishly soft heart he must be...
Snatching his jacket without thinking about it,
he bolted out the door.
It was quiet at the hospital. So quiet in the
little room where they had all gathered, gathered to wait. They weren’t allowed
to see Goten yet.
Vejiita slipped in silently, calling no
attention to himself, glancing around the room. Trunks was already there,
sitting in a chair with his head in his hands, his lavender hair shielding his
face. Pan sat beside him, her dark eyes wide and frightened as she leaned
against him, biting her lip and occasionally looking to one of the adults as if
hoping for guidance. Videl was sitting on a chair in the row across from them,
her head bowed as she cried softly. Gohan was standing in the corner, his back
to Vejiita. Piccolo was speaking to him, the Namek’s voice low and comforting.
They hadn’t allowed Gohan to operate. He was too close to the patient. No one
had been able to reach the others yet.
And Goku... Kakarrot was seated a few chairs
down from Trunks, slouched in his seat, staring straight ahead, his black eyes
lusterless. His hands curled limply over the arms of the chair, his legs
stretched out haphazardly in front of him. He was emotionless. No tears, no
anguish on his face. Simply nothing. His mind, when Vejiita reached out
tentatively, was a solid wall, utterly closed off.
Trunks looked up and saw him, slowly rising from
his chair, upsetting Pan as he did so, and staggering toward him, his eyes
wildly distraught. Vejiita caught his arm as he approached, drawing him into
the corner opposite Gohan and Piccolo, waiting to hear what he had to say.
"D-D-Dad..." He grasped Vejiita’s arm.
"I- As I was coming in they were moving him and I saw that- It- There was
blood everywhere.... H-He..."
Vejiita set both hands on his son’s arms, trying
to steady him. Tears were building in the boy’s eyes.
"Do you think... he’s going to
die...?" Trunks whispered, his voice strangled.
Vejiita’s lips parted and he hesitated,
wondering what was the right thing to say. In the end he could only answer
honestly. "I don’t know," he said quietly.
Suddenly, almost startlingly, Trunks hunched
forward, leaning against Vejiita and burying his head in his father’s shoulder,
muffling his sobs against his shirt. Vejiita glanced around uncomfortably, even
now ill at ease with such a display of emotion, but no one was paying attention
to them, too caught up in their own grief to notice.
Hesitantly, he set his hand on Trunks’ back in
awkward comfort and the boy’s fingers clenched in his shirt.
"Oh, Dad, what if he dies...? What will I
do?" Trunks cried, "Goten’s always been my best friend... He can’t
die... Not like this..."
"Trunks," Vejiita sighed, lifting his
eyes briefly as he searched for anything he could say to his son, "Life
is... never predictable. There are never any guarantees. There is nothing we
can do but take what comes and move on..."
Vejiita nearly gagged as the hypocrisy of his
own statement struck him.
You tried to take your own life such a short
time ago, and you’re preaching about handling things and moving on?!
His lips tightening briefly, he pushed the
thought aside. He had to say what was best for Trunks, regardless of his own
personal problems, and could only hope the boy would believe what he said, his
actions not withstanding.
"But Trunks," he said firmly,
threading his fingers through the boy’s hair and pulling his head off his
shoulder, "you must be strong now. You cannot let the others see you break
down like this, especially those who look up to you. Look to Pan over there,
she... she adores you, and you’ve frightened her with your crying. You must be
in control for her if not for yourself. Now dry your eyes and go back there, she
needs to be able to rely on you."
Trunks swallowed, forcing back further tears and
shakily wiping his cheeks, his eyes downcast. Releasing the boy’s hair, Vejiita
gave him a light pat on the shoulder, trying to communicate some measure of
affection, and, as the boy lifted his gaze, he forced a small smile. "Go
on."
Nodding, Trunks gave him a feeble, watery smile
in return and, taking a deep breath and making sure his cheeks were dry, he
turned and went to sit beside Pan again, gently drawing her into a brief hug.
The girl squeezed him back again for a moment, then whispered something softly
in his ear before squirming off the chair. Vejiita’s eyebrows shot up as she
tentatively approached him. Standing in front of him, she fidgeted for a
moment, one hand twisting in her hair. Finally she asked softly, "Is
Trunks all right...?"
Vejiita stared down at her for a moment before
answering, keeping his voice quiet. "Yes he’s fine. He just needed to talk
for a minute."
"Oh... Oh, okay... Vejiita...?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Hmm?"
"Is... I-is Uncle Goten going to die?"
Vejiita suppressed a sigh, wondering why the
girl felt the need to come to him for answers.
He leaned back against the wall, folding his
arms over his chest and closing his eyes for a moment. "I don’t know."
Pan bit her lip, glancing up at him, then away,
twisting her hair around her fingers. "Oh... I’m worried about Daddy...
And Grandpa."
That said, she turned and went back to her seat,
crawling up beside Trunks and leaning on the boy again. Vejiita watched her,
not really seeing her, a frown pulling at his lips. He was worried too.
His eyes shifted to Goku again. The other
Saiya-jin’s silence, his withdrawal was concerning him. He knew for certain
that Kakarrot was no where near as emotionless as he appeared, but he was
somehow keeping everything suppressed, very unlike himself. He glanced at
Trunks for a moment. If it were the boy... who was in there being operated on
right now, Vejiita could only imagine how he’d be feeling. And Kakarrot had
always been more emotional, more caring, more easily hurt than Vejiita.
The prince’s frown deepened and he crossed the
room, passing around Goku to where Gohan and Piccolo were standing. The Namek
looked up at his approach and Gohan turned to follow his gaze. Kakarrot’s
oldest son was pale, his face drawn and strained and his eyes bright with
grief.
"Vejiita," he said in greeting, his
voice quiet, though rough. "Thanks for coming."
Vejiita shrugged, brushing aside the young man’s
gratitude. "Forget that. What have you heard? How is he?"
Piccolo folded his arms across his chest, his
face set in a frown as he glanced briefly toward the doorway, his deep voice
subdued as he spoke. "He’s only been in surgery for about forty minutes so
far. We might still have a long time to wait."
Gohan roughly rubbed a hand across his face.
When he spoke his voice was a shattered whisper, pitched low enough that no one
outside their little circle would hear it. "I just... I don’t know how he
can survive this... He was shot right in the forehead, Vejiita, from less than
three yards away... I just... I just can’t... I’m so afraid..." He drew in
a harsh breath, covering his eyes with a trembling hand for a moment as he
struggled to pull himself together. When he lifted his gaze to meet Vejiita’s
once more, it was filled with desperate pleading, as though he was looking to
the prince for reassurance, for hope. "I... Do you honestly think he has a
chance, Vejiita? You know more about Saiya-jin physiology than anyone else, and
I know he’s only half-Saiya-jin, but... Do you think...?"
"If he were completely human he would
almost certainly be dead already," Vejiita replied quietly, his voice
grim. "As it is... his body has likely come close to shutting down as all
his energy goes toward trying to repair the damage. I’m not going to lie to
you. It’s very possible that he will die. And... even if he doesn’t... there’s
no way to know what the extent of the damage to his mind will be. I can tell
you that if he does recover, he will do so much faster than a human. He does
have a chance... I just can’t say honestly that it’s a good one."
Gohan nodded, sagging back against the wall and
closing his eyes for a moment, his head bowed. Slowly, he lifted a hand and
brushed at the few tears that slipped slowly down his cheeks, wiping them away
on the lab coat he still wore. Piccolo set his hand on the young doctor’s
shoulder briefly, the expression on his face one of uncharacteristic sympathy.
After a moment Vejiita cleared his throat,
shifting slightly. Slowly, Gohan opened his eyes to look at him again, the
black depths despairing.
"How..." Vejiita spoke hesitantly,
"How is Kakarrot handling this?"
Gohan straightened slightly, glancing over at
Goku, who had hardly moved since Vejiita had arrived. "Dad...? I... I
don’t know... He seems strange, really quiet, ever since he got here. I’m
worried about him but I... I don’t know what to do. He’s scaring me a little...
Usually he’s so strong..."
Vejiita nodded, still looking at the other
Saiya-jin. Finally, as he watched, a shudder of movement passed through
Kakarrot’s body and he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and
pressing his face into his hands. Hesitantly reaching out now, he again brushed
a tentative touch against the other Saiya-jin’s mind. He could sense stresses,
cracks appearing in that wall Kakarrot had built, his mental defenses teetering
as he struggled to remain in control. Vejiita found himself taking a half-step
toward the other Saiya-jin, as if there was anything he could possibly do to
make it better.
Just then Krillen, Juuhachigo, Marron,
Tenshinhan, Yamcha, Chaozu and Master Roshi rushed into the waiting room, all
talking and asking questions at once. Krillen, Tenshinhan, Master Roshi, and
Yamcha descended quickly toward Goku, firing loud, rapid questions at him.
"What happened?"
"Where is he, are they operating?"
"Did they tell you what his chances
are?"
"What was he doing?"
"How long has it been?"
"Will he make it?"
Vejiita watched as Kakarrot slid his hands up to
grip the sides of his head, his fingers clenching in his hair as he seemed to
hunch further inward on himself. Then, when the relentless barrage showed no
signs of ceasing, he abruptly shot to his feet, shoving through the small
circle that had gathered around him and heading for the door, still holding his
head. The people in the room stared after him, the noise level growing as they
voiced their confusion or concern.
"Goku!"
"What happened?!"
"Where are you going?"
"Would someone explain exactly what
is going on!!"
"You jerks, leave him alone! How dare you
bother him like that!"
"Goku!"
"Where’s Goten?!"
Cursing, Vejiita snarled angrily, pressing Gohan
back when the young man tried to step forward to calm everyone down.
"SHUT UP!!"
The entire group abruptly went quiet as everyone
twisted to look toward Vejiita. The prince glared at them, disgust plain on his
face. "Everyone, just shut the fuck up! You’re all pathetic. Goten is in
there, possibly dying, and none of you could find it in you to simply come here
and be quiet and support his family through this. Instead you come in shouting
and arguing and demanding answers, when one of your own is down." Vejiita
made a disgusted noise deep in his throat. "You make me sick."
As the prince began to push his way toward the
door, Yamcha’s voice reached his ears. The man had never completely gotten over
everything that had gone on between Vejiita and Bulma and a deep resentment
still lingered.
"Oh, right, Vejiita, like you’re one to
fucking talk, you heartless bastard."
Vejiita abruptly stopped, facing away from the
other man for a moment, not speaking. Then he slowly turned around, moving
forward to stand in front of the human, who took an unconscious step backward,
fear sparking in his eyes.
"Be careful," the prince hissed, his
voice low and dangerous. Reaching out, he grabbed the front of Yamcha’s shirt,
dragging him down and forward until their noses were nearly touching. When he
spoke his tone was frigid and he pronounced every word with slow, deadly
sharpness. "Don’t fuck with me."
For a moment he still held onto the man, staring
coldly into his eyes. Then he shoved him backward, nearly throwing him into the
wall, before turning and walking through the absolutely silent room to the
door. Once he reached it, though, he paused again, glancing back.
"When Kakarrot comes back you might want to
try and extend him a little understanding. It’s his son that’s in that
room. Remember that."
Stepping out into the hallway, he slipped around
rushing doctors and nurses, dodging stretchers and frantic paramedics as he
extended his senses. He located Goku’s ki without difficulty, slightly away
from the frantic activity of the ER, and headed toward it, taking a slow breath
to calm down as he did so. He moved into one of the quieter hallways of the
hospital, following his senses to a room currently empty of patients. Kakarrot
was there, having slipped inside in an attempt to escape the crazy, hectic rush
surrounding them. Slowly, he stepped into the doorway, peering inside.
Kakarrot was there, seated on one of the empty
hospital beds, his bowed head pressed to his hands. He was unmoving, utterly
still but for the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Quietly, Vejiita moved further into the room.
"Kakarrot."
The man on the bed did not react for a moment,
remaining motionless for several seconds before slowly lifting his head. His
eyes were brimming, glittering brightly before he blinked, and Vejiita saw his
throat move as he swallowed. He released a shaky sigh, looking away again. When
he spoke his voice was dead.
"What do you want, Vejiita?"
Vejiita shrugged without speaking, the lack of a
welcome not dissuading him as he moved closer to the other Saiya-jin. There was
a short stretch of silence before the prince spoke softly.
"I’m sorry."
Kakarrot seemed to shudder them, his eyes
squeezing closed as he brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose,
drawing in a breath that almost sounded like tears, but then wasn’t. Vejiita
felt pain, somehow, that Kakarrot was doing this, was restraining himself so
badly when it was not in his nature to do so. Again he spoke, and he did not
even recognize himself, the impossible gentleness in his voice.
"Are you all right?"
And of course he knew that the other man was not
all right, that he couldn’t possibly be, but the words were something, the
words were an offering. They were an invitation, a signal that he was willing
to listen.
Kakarrot’s hand slid up from his nose to cover
his eyes for a moment and he pressed his lips together, swallowing again. He
exhaled slowly
"I-I..." he tried, his voice
trembling, "I don’t know how... I can’t believe this... He was... He was
just going out for the evening... Out with a few friends... And they weren’t
doing anything, just... they were just..."
Kakarrot shivered violently, pressing his hand
to his mouth for a moment.
"Then I-I felt something... and I
got a call... about... about what..."
A choked-off, anguished sound escaped him and he
bowed his dark head, wrapping his arms around his stomach and rocking forward
slightly. Stepping forward, Vejiita lifted his hand, reaching out. He hesitated
for the slightest moment, then touched Kakarrot’s shoulder, gripping him
lightly. He felt another tremor run through the other Saiya-jin’s body and
Kakarrot turned his head toward him slightly.
"Vejiita... I... I don’t know... what to
do..."
Vejiita’s touch curved over to rest softly
against the back of Kakarrot’s neck.
A wrenching, vicious sob was torn from the other
Saiya-jin’s throat.
"It’s my son... my son, he’s...
he’s..."
"Kakarrot..."
And then he was leaning forward, whether he
moved or Vejiita drew him neither knew, but his face was pressed to Vejiita’s
stomach, Vejiita’s hand on the back of his head, holding him there. And then
the prince felt the damn burst.
Kakarrot’s pain rushed through their link to
meet him and tears sprang to Vejiita’s own eyes under the force of it, the fear
and the grief. Kakarrot wept, first quietly, his shoulders shaking as he slowly
wrapped his arms around Vejiita’s waste pulling him closer, then screaming with
sobs, muffling the sounds against Vejiita’s body as he tore his throat raw. His
grief was agonizing, the raw, tearing pain of a parent who adored his children
and was now faced with their loss. Vejiita closed his eyes, clenching his teeth
against it, feeling the ache in his throat as he shared Kakarrot’s sorrow.
Drawing a shuddering breath, he wanted only to
give comfort, to soothe the other Saiya-jin’s pain. It didn’t matter now, it
couldn’t, the part of him that raged against it; that voice was overpowered by
so many others now. And... Kakarrot needed him.
Gently, trembling slightly, the prince threaded
his fingers through the other Saiya-jin’s hair, stroking him softly, lifting
his other hand to do the same, cradling his head and feeling Kakarrot press his
face harder against him, fighting to stifle his sobs. Still smoothing the other
man’s hair, Vejiita purred softly, letting one hand drop down to stroke
Kakarrot’s cheek. He could feel him calming, bringing himself under control,
although the grief was still very present, wrapping itself around the other
Saiya-jin. Still, there was a relief there now, a shivering gratefulness for
the release he had been allowed.
Continuing to sift his fingers through thick
black locks, Vejiita spoke softly.
"Shh... Kakarrot... Listen to me now. You
must be strong, and you must try to project your love and warmth, confidence,
even if you don’t feel it. As a Saiya-jin you have a bond with your children,
that’s what you felt when Goten was injured. Now, when your feelings are so
intense, he may sense you, even unconsciously, and you must not feed him your
fear or your grief. He needs your love and your support now, and that may help
him where nothing else can, do you understand me?"
After a moment of stillness Goku leaned back
slightly, and Vejiita found himself trailing his hands around to cradle the
other Saiya-jin’s cheeks as he gazed up at him. Without thought, he gently
smoothed his thumb over Kakarrot’s eye, smearing away lingering teardrops.
"Can you do it, Kakarrot?"
Staring up at him, his eyes searching, Goku
nodded, drawing in a shaky breath. Slowly, his arms lowered until his hands
were resting on Vejiita’s hips.
The two Saiya-jins stared at each other for a
long moment before Goku finally dropped his hands, Vejiita doing the same.
"Vejiita... Thank you..." Goku said
softly, almost whispering.
He got to his feet as the prince shrugged it
off, rubbing his arm across his face and running his hands through his hair.
Vejiita gestured toward the doorway, his black eyes gentle.
"They’re waiting for you."
Goku nodded, taking a step forward, then pausing
to look at Vejiita once more. He seemed about to say something, then stopped,
instead walking to the door. Vejiita followed him, and they made their way back
to the waiting room in silence. As they entered everyone looked up, their eyes
locking onto Goku, some of them rising to their feet.
A slightly awkward stillness followed before
Krillen stepped forward slightly.
"Ah, Goku, I just wanted to say that-"
He paused, suddenly, as yet another person
entered the room behind Vejiita and Goku. The two Saiya-jins twisted around to
face a doctor, her mask drawn down around her neck, her scrubs red with blood
as she stripped her gloves off.
"Son Goku?" She asked, her eyes
settling on the taller Saiya-jin.
Goku nodded, apprehension and hope filling his
face all at once.
"I’m Dr. Marlin, I need to speak with
you."
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