Prologue:
This takes place somewhere in time where GT might have been. That is to say that this is an alternate universe in which the events of GT didn't end the way they did. At some point in time, Earth came under a very real threat of disappearing through genocide by some unnamed attackers. Vegeta and Goku – the strongest two on the planet and all that were left of the Saiyan race – joined forces to repel these invaders and defend their only home. The second generation of Saiyans, having long since died of old age, are not there to aid them. Because only Vegeta is left of the old world, Goku grows very lonely and longs for things that have gone and the comforts they brought.
Being successful in their defense, Goku concedes all power to the rightful born ruler, Vegeta, who then takes the throne of the planet and implements laws and governing to rebuild the nearly extinct human population. As a result, the Saiyan bloodlines mix with humans and over hundreds of years, form a hybrid that lives longer than normal humans but no where near that of the pure bloods Goku and Vegeta. This outliving of all he knew has taken its toll on Goku and he loses the openly cheerful attitude he is known for; and having lost all who tied him to the name 'Goku' and continually surrounded by his king's 'Kakkarot', and so he becomes.
He loved spending time with his family, almost as much as he loved the scheduled sparring matches with Vegeta. It didn't get any better than when he was fighting his own kin. But…there was only Pan left with whom he could use even a decent amount of power. The saddening thing was his sons were too busy with their own lives and didn't enjoy it like he did and even his beloved Pan seemed to reach the stage where she was no longer so interested. She was growing up so fast. Gohan liked to relieve stress from time to time and he did so love the amusement Videl provided, both when fighting him and when watching the married two go at it.
It was because of his increased solitude time – basically no one having the energy, stamina, or desire to keep up with him – that his bouts with Vegeta became an almost all-day daily event. The difference between them and his loved ones were so obvious, now. Even his feisty Chi Chi had resorted to throwing items than punching, her age having caught up with her regardless of her martial arts history. When he was at Capsule Corp., pounding Vegeta and receiving just as good a beating, he forgot he was different, that he was alien, that everyone around him was dying, that only he and Vegeta remained unchanged.
Actually, he couldn't even say that anymore. Vegeta had quite clearly progressed to the next stage of the Saiyan biological cycle. He was more mild mannered – as the prince goes – and it took more to really enflame him. It required a good bit of effort for him to piss the prince off enough for a hot retort. The span in the years between their births was showing these days. Everyone was getting so much older than him…Bulma, his beautiful Bulma, ripe with his childhood memories and hopeful dreams had always been the highlight of his visits to Vegeta, but no longer. Every glimpse he caught of her made him seize with pain.
The triple and double follow-up to his gut and jaw slammed him into the wall, sending his breath and blood-laced spit flying from his mouth.
"What's the matter, Kakkarot?" Even the taunts hadn't gone untouched. Vegeta spoke with only one quarter of the vehemence he had in the past. And what's more, genuine concern lined his tone. "You're not paying attention."
"Heh," he laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "It's nothing. Let's keep going," he assured and lunged, but Vegeta stopped him with an out-held hand.
"Cut the crap, Kakkarot. I'm tired of this shit. You're lying, have been for some time." A cryptic and baleful glare was leveled at him. "What is your fucking problem already?"
He jolted to a stop, surprised at the tone, the words, and the observance on the other Saiyan's part. The innocent and questioning look he threw across the way had no chance. His prince had read him. His eyes now asked of him the truth. He had long since been unable to deny when his liege asked; he rarely did from himself. He told him.
That's what happens when one is a different species, so his prince had said.
It still hurt.
What would he do when someone actually died? Left him?
His prince said he would deal with that when the time came; no use worrying about it until then. He had to wonder when his prince became so wise. When had they traded places? He was torn in the war between his thoughts and mouth when a signature ripped through his brain, the waves instantly recognizable and searing his heart.
"Bulma…" the whisper tumbled over numb lips as he looked in her direction, eyes wide then narrowed sadly.
Vegeta's face was momentarily confused until he, too, picked it up. There was a traded look of intense worry and knowing and both took off after her. He didn't – couldn't – even think and his fingers were instantaneously at his forward. Vegeta tracked his power trace through the grand building, speeding along his search for his wife. The older Saiyan rounded the last corner and halted at the sight of him gingerly reaching for her form, crumpled on the floor.
Vegeta flew the last distance to Bulma and Kakkarot. He noticed how the younger Saiyan's motions hesitated before he gave up and relinquished his almost-cradle over to him, defaulting to he who had most right to hold her. It was then that he realized. He put the look from before, the instant recognition of the situation, all the things gone, and the gentle, reverent touches and words of present and past…
His eyes grew wide as he looked at Kakkarot, he avoiding direct contact with the prince and instead focusing on the limp form in his arms. His gaze shifted to that of his wife, so still and frail and old in his arms, and back to the other where he closed his eyes in resignation. Together they rose and went to tend to what needed to be done.
He looked down and to his left over his graying goatee to where Kakkarot stood beside his throne. He observed his loyal warrior through the side of his eyes as he spoke. "How long had you loved my wife? My first one?"
Kakkarot started and looked back over his right shoulder to meet his king's eyes. "You ask me that now after all these years?'
King Vegeta sighed in mock annoyance and turned to gaze before him, the dancing swirls of the new Saiyan race he and Kakkarot had created. He couldn't say what made him ask after all this time when he's had hundreds of concubines, tens of thousands of children; Kakkarot, too. He'd granted his long-time once-rival an honorably sized harem for himself. He hadn't planned on saying that, however. Some things just needed to be answered, he supposed.
"I've given you many females with which to occupy yourself for helping me save this planet and letting me rule."
Kakkarot glanced briefly aside to Vegeta. "It was endangered. Besides, only you truly belong on a throne."
"Still flippant with your bullshit, I see." He sighed and dropped that little point. "In return, you've helped me restore the Saiyan race. In a new breed, yes, but we still exist. Perhaps in their own time, the human halves will evolve to be on par or even surpass that with their hybrid or Saiyan forms." He sighed again, becoming thoughtful in his reflecting.
"Over these odd hundreds of years, you've fought alongside me, giving me much needed advice, and you've helped to rebuild, police, and propagate our species. Your surprising participation in the concubine practice kept the pure Saiyan blood flowing and helped prevent genetic fallacies. I am indebted to you once again, Kakkarot." This was a common thing between them, always had been. But where it had once been the unending ire of the Saiyan royal, today it was spoken with nothing of the sort. Such harsh feelings had long ago perished.
"I had intended for the females to provide distraction for the increasing detachment of your humanity – something that I relied on to justly govern these humans, you should know – but I have never witnessed such strong emotional connection with any than of that with her. So oblige your king and answer his foolish musing."
He could see Kakkarot breathe deeply in preparations to calm himself further – if that was possible with how automated he'd become – and necessitate the required action.
"From the very beginning, sire. I thought I would end up with her, always," he sighed, the presence of old mourning still very fresh. "What I had with Chi Chi" – he would never forget his wife, no; not for what he would come to realize later as being irreversibly tricked – "I had wanted with her. I just didn't know what it was called. Once I knew, it was too late. I couldn't go back." There was strong nostalgic memory there.
"You should have," Vegeta scoffed, again looking out from his high vantage point throne. "That was always your weakness; never taking what you wanted."
Kakkarot only shook his head slightly. "Then we might not be here today. Things might have been so different. Neither of us might have lived, the universe might not have. What is right for all the innocents?
"I couldn't go back on my word. I did promise her."
"You always were too honorable. Kakkarot, you eternal fool!"
The subject of the curse cracked a half smile at the old argument, and after a short time, Vegeta did as well. He made himself relax, reclining more easily in the large throne once again after he'd let the warrior get to him for no reason again.
"You would be erroneous to think her so impartial to you in return, Kakkarot." He was aware of the other turning around with something almost like eagerness from the corner of his vision, but he made no indication of having seen it. "Of all that I ever had, of all that was ever left to me, all that I ever claimed and struggled for on my own and all this time you… You had my mate, too."
There was no malice, only ironic hindsight brought with experience and age.
Kakkarot granted his king an unbidden soft, sardonic half-smile. "No, but I wanted."
He glanced in speculation at the attentive guard unmoving at his side. The one thing he truly held over Kakkarot, the one thing he'd actually obtained in regards to the life-time achievements he struggled for that the other never really wanted but possessed with ease, was a human female. He had finally and completely dominated the younger Saiyan in one aspect of life. So why didn't that knowledge bring him pleasure and peace?
He knew why.
He was attending some function, some party in celebration of a local week long festival, on security and the bar was wet and the room spinning. There were hundreds of people in this room and he wove through them with little difficulty. He wasn't large for a Saiyan and knew it, there were many a half- (and then some) breed easily twice his size, but his aura did all the work. He waved to those he knew, his smile only enough to pull his lips. That was if he did at all. He had lost it somewhere along the way; probably in some battle on some planet in defense of Earth. It mattered not. It had died with his last remaining bit of innocence.
The heavy music clamped his head but there was duty to attend to and he withstood it. The atmosphere wasn't entirely unpleasant. Rather, he was relaxed enough that his tail flowed freely behind him, not at all worried about some misfortune to befall it. Such times were so old that he couldn't remember. He had overcome the pain of harsh treatment against it following some evolution and the inhabitants of Earth were void of it and just as conscious for the sake of their own tails. They, too, were not subject to much pain and he suspected that had mostly to do with their inheritance from Vegeta and himself in the initial breeding cycle.
A current attempted bypass was foiled as he walked into a backing-up serving girl. He moved to steady them both, large hands gripping about her upper arms as she focused her attention on stabilizing the tray with its one drink. That accomplished, she returned to dishing it out before turning around to face him. Kakkarot scratched the back of his head and gave quite an embarrassed chuckle. It was the first genuine and pure grin in hundreds of years.
"Sorry about that."
The girl still held the try aloft on one hand but quickly rethought that as dancers narrowly missed it and brought it down to hold flush against her legs, fingers curling around the circle's rim.
"Mm-mm," she shook her head. "It's alright and bound to happen in an environment such as this."
She was short, tiny and he thought very petite, but he knew better than to think her frail; especially with how quickly she'd regained control and carried on with business. "Alright. I'll be getting back to work, then, too. Enjoy the party," he said maneuvering around her.
"Wait!" she almost yelled as he brushed past. He thought he might have seen an almost-flush to her face as he did what was asked and looked back to her. She brushed the short curl hugging her jaw behind an ear and spoke.
"You're the security patrol, aren't you." He nodded. "The King told me to call you 'Goku', that you used to go by that. Is that not correct?" she asked sweetly, innocently.
"Once upon a time, yes. A very long time ago," was the faint after-thought. He was stunned.
"What's it mean?"
"…Nothing, nothing," he smiled a bit sadly. "It's from a language long since dead."
"Well, why don't you take a break? Come get something to eat?" she invited him.
He shook his head. "No thanks. I've a job to finish. Perhaps later…"
"Oh, please?" she pleading, leaning forward and over the tray to bow before him. "The king told me to make you sit down! He'll kill me for displeasing him!"
"Vegeta can be harsh but I don't think he'll kill you over such an inane thing." There was once a time when such a statement would be false.
"…Well, how about a drink with me, then? You look like you at least need to sit down," she smiled in slightly shy teasing. This was the legendary Kakkarot she was talking to.
He smiles genuinely and laughs. "Sure, why not. Sounds good." He follows her in muted eagerness and interest. His tail floats behind as he tracks hers, it and hips swishing before him.
Vegeta smirked smugly, watching with crossed arms as Kakkarot trailed the girl. The little flip of happiness in the tip of Kakkarot's tail did not go unnoticed. He knew how to read the Saiyan over all these years, after all. The girl would be good for him. He half raised his glass in acknowledgement to some male figure across the way and took a sip as he returned to his own business.