Papercut: The Face Within

cabalistic

Part One: Nightmares

Chapter V

Present.

The pod beeped, announcing their arrival. Its two passengers had remained silent for the remainder of the trip—the saiyan, lost in deep thought, and the human, trying to focus at her present troubles rather than his troubling words hours before.

She stared out at the enormous planet in front of them—a planet with reddish hues and sand clouds that covered the planet's atmosphere. She shivered at the sight of it. This was planet of the monsters that had conquered and massacred planets across the galaxy; the very home of murderers. It seemed fitting that it reminded her of blood.

"Welcome home," Vegeta murmured. She glared at him, thinking he intended to mock her, but she saw that he was staring out at his planet with a forlorn gaze. It seemed more like he was talking to himself.

Bulma said nothing, too tired and confused to process anything. He seemed to be in a daze himself.

They landed quickly. The three space pods touched down on landing base simultaneously. The base seemed enormous – there were easily thousands of other landing platforms. The pod door opened; he slid out of the pod and Bulma followed. A crowd of saiyans stood outside the landing base, waiting.

She jolted. The only saiyans she had ever seen were the four: Goku, Vegeta, Nappa and Radditz. Before her stood a crowd of thousands of saiyans. All of their ebony hair gleamed in the sun, with noticeable widow's peaks. At the sight of their prince, many bowed their head and raised their fists in salute. They seemed to be made of stone; all were muscular, strong and tanned. A warrior's race.

Vegeta was unfazed by the group gathered before them. He raised his arm and roared a blood-curdling shout. Bulma nearly jumped out of her skin. Then they all replied, howling at each other in some sort of savage chorus. It was eerie and animalistic.

"My brethren," Vegeta called. He did not seem to be yelling, but his voice carried over a great distance. The clamor died down almost to an immediate hush. "The borders of the universe have been secured and the rebels defeated." The howls and roars nearly started up again if Vegeta hadn't continued. "The victory belongs to Vegetasei!" Then the crowd's cries grew to a deafening roar and Vegeta turned away.

Fear rose in Bulma's throat. He gripped her wrist in his hand and dragged her off in the other direction.

She looked back at the pods and her heart stopped when she saw Trunks trown over Radditz's shoulder. He was still unconscious, the bruise now reduced to the size of her fist. Dried blood crusted his forehead and his lips moved soundlessly. Her motherly instincts tore at her viciously, an angered monster enraged on the inside.

"What was that?" Bulma demanded to Vegeta, as they moved off the platforms. Vegeta chuckled, mostly to himself. Bulma glanced back at Trunks, paranoid, and demanded, "What border? What rebellion?" Vegeta laughed this time. "You're a foreigner. I almost forgot, since your instincts are practically saiyan."

When she fumed in response, Vegeta added carelessly in afterthought, "It's a compliment." Bulma scowled in repulsion. Like hell it was. "That was our greeting call. It's to tell the saiyans who are waiting on Vegetasei that the mission was successful. And then, they, of course, return the call. Tonight, we have a ceremony in the warrior's honor—despite the fact that Nappa died." Bulma heard the sudden venom in his voice and she grimly recalled that it was she who was responsible for his death.

"Our mission was twofold. Publicly, we had been sent to crush an uprising in the South Quadrant of the universe. A couple of the planets got arrogant under the saiyan rule and revolted. Normally, we don't send first class soldiers to outskirts, but we decided to make an example of them. Our second, and secret, mission—" he paused to glance at her. "—was to retrieve the lost heir of the throne."

Trunks.

"Stay close to me now. To them, you are supposed to be a captive and, if provoked, they might harass you."

"What do you mean 'supposed to be'?" Bulma said harshly. "Isn't that what I am?"

Vegeta met her eyes briefly. He smiled but said nothing.

They moved off of the platform and into the crowd. The saiyans seemed anxious and wary of her, staring at her, whispering to each other with leers on their exotic faces. She felt small, compared to hulking sizes and vulnerable to their piercing gazes. Bulma's eyes scanned through the crowd and landed on a face that made her face freeze.

It couldn't be. Was she hallucinating?

The face froze too. It was him!

Yamcha.

He blended easily with the crowd, clear shock written all over his face. Another scar crossed over his cross-shaped scar and his hair was cut, choppy against his ears. His face was still angular and his eyes were written over with surprise. He was in the attire of a saiyan and he was tanner, thinner too…but it was Yamcha. She was sure of it. It had to be him.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Hesitantly, she raised her eyes to his and slowly, deliberately, raised her hand to her necklace. Immediately, he swarmed forward, pushing his way through the sea of the crowd and breaking out into a run when he got out into the open pathway. Pure joy was written across his face.

Her heart leaped into her throat as she pulled away from Vegeta and ran into him, heedless of the consequences. She greeted the smell of him, the feel of his embrace. How many years had it been since he had held her like this? Twelve years…twelve years too long. His warm smell surrounded her, his scent overpowering all other foreign ones. "Yamcha!" She cried, "Am I dreaming?"

He put his forehead against hers and whispered her name over and over, "Bulma, Bulma, Bulma, Bulma, Bulma, Bulma…" Each time he said her name, waves of emotion burst through her. She clung to him, trembling. He was alive.

Then their reunion was abruptly cut short. The crowd was screaming, enraged. The guards nearby were already advancing towards them. Vegeta was grabbing her shoulders and tearing her away from Yamcha. His eyes were murderous. Yamcha stared back at the prince.

"Who are you," Vegeta hissed venomously, "and what the hell do you think you are doing?" Bulma tried to step forward but Vegeta angrily pushed Bulma behind him. The glare Vegeta gave Yamcha was a mix of pure hatred and…jealousy?

Yamcha bent down on his knee. "Forgive me, my liege. I was out of place." His gaze avoided Bulma's.

Bulma stared at Yamcha, delirious with shock. This wasn't the Yamcha she knew. The Yamcha she knew would never have bowed down to the monster who had destroyed their planet. The Yamcha she knew would have been spitting out insults, comebacks, blow-by-blow until his opponent was rendered to nothing, neither mouth nor fist as a weapon.

Vegeta slammed a kick full force into Yamcha's side. Bulma gasped and Yamcha doubled over, coughing, blood pouring from his mouth. "Learn your place, 3rd rated saiyan!" Vegeta spat. Bulma stared at Yamcha, confused. Saiyan? Yamcha said nothing, wiping the blood from his mouth on his sleeve, carefully examining the blood as though it were fascinating. Yamcha didn't make eye contact with anyone or lift a hand to defend himself.

Vegeta, fully angered now, stalked off, pulling Bulma behind him. She turned around to stare wide-eyed at Yamcha, who stared back at her. "I'll find you later," was what he mouthed to her. His impish wink didn't change however and it made her heart hopelessly flutter inside her. He was alive.

The palace of Vegetasei loomed above them. It dwarfed any other structure Bulma had ever seen before. Its jagged towers pierced the sky and blank windows stared out at her, with no welcoming feeling. She walked unsteadily next to Vegeta as they entered the darkened building. The walls rose high around them. Inside, the building was just as cold as its exterior.

When they entered an empty room, Vegeta whirled on Bulma, exploding. "What were you thinking?! Who was he!? Why the hell did you let him touch you like that?!" Inside of him swelled a consuming, monstrous feeling, something he had never felt before. The way he had trembled in anger when he saw how Bulma ran to a stranger's embrace while when every attempt on his part to touch her the same way, she fought and screamed? It was Vegeta who understood her more than she even knew herself, and yet she had rejoiced in a stranger's arms! She belongs to no one but me. She's mine.

Bulma faltered. "I—he…it was like…I knew him from before."

Vegeta's eyes grazed through her.

"You are never to speak to him again!" He swore.

Bulma snapped, "Why do you care?!"

Vegeta turned at her, his eyes blazing. "'Why do I care?'" He echoed. "I should have every right to care! You are my woman and he just comes up to you like that…the bastard doesn't even know who the hell you are!" Vegeta had no idea how wrong he was.

"I am not your woman, you selfish bastard!" It seemed childish, bickering like this. She certainly felt childish. But if she told him who Yamcha really was then she was certain that Vegeta would kill him. I have to protect him from the prince, even though he can't protect himself.

Vegeta laughed suddenly. He looked down at her, darkly smirking at her. The bitterness was rising in him, and he couldn't stop. "Oh Bulma, I didn't know you were such a whore. What's next, are you going to welcome him into your bed?" He mocked, "Perhaps that 's why it was so easy raping you…"

Bulma attempted to punch him but he caught it. "How dare you!" Bulma screamed, livid. "You don't know anything!"

He didn't know. He didn't know the awkward smiles, the first dates, the promise of tomorrow, the hope so vibrant she couldn't breathe. He didn't know how much she cried when Goku had come back, the fragment of the human he once was. How much blood trailed on the ground. He carried the butchered body of his son, torn of all limbs. She remembered his eyes, his empty eyes as he walked slowly towards Bulma. "I'm so sorry, Bulma…I wasn't strong enough...I couldn't protect them." How many days had she done nothing but wail and cry?

A wave of anguished thoughts flooded her mind. Why was she so helpless? Why couldn't she defend herself? How come Yamcha couldn't defend himself—the one hero who had rescued her from so many nights of nightmares and torture? Was reality so much different that she had twisted Yamcha to be a knight in shining armor in her dreams instead of the real person that he was?

If I could fight, I wouldn't even be here. She would have gone with the other fighters to meet the saiyans in combat. She wouldn't have been left behind, waiting, as every day, every hour dragged on, with her heart wrenched up with so much anxiety and worry that every day felt like dying. She would have preferred fighting than the waiting. She probably would have died, but at least she could fight.

He was right, of course, of what he said earlier. She really had no place to go. And if she did run, how would Yamcha find her? He was her only hope for escaping this world now. Perhaps even Yamcha couldn't help her now, maybe she was on her own.

Her eyes flashed to the landing area just outside. An idea formed in her mind as she glanced at Vegeta, who was absorbed in his thoughts. Immediately she pulled away from his weakened grip and made a dash towards the space pods.

Trunks! Yamcha! The names caught in her throat and she lurched to a stop—but there was no need to. Vegeta caught her nearly immediately. She choked in mid-breath as Vegeta said hotly in her ear, "I told you not to get any ideas. This is your home now."

She struggled. Even hell would be far better than this! "Stop," he snarled. "Cooperate with me—just this once!"

"Release me, and I will!" She retorted.

Now he had an amused look on his face as he put her down and said with a cocky smirk on his face, "You're entitled to your promise… little Queen," he said tauntingly.

She glared at him, the meaning behind his words escaping her. They were silent for a while, before Bulma blurted, "Where will we stay?"

Vegeta glanced back at her. "Here. There are chambers prepared for you." He glanced back up at the palace. It was one of the newer palaces, so thankfully, he had no memories here. Flickering images brushed against his mind, but he hastily pushed them away.

Bulma's heart sank. "I still don't understand. Why am I here?"

Vegeta stopped so suddenly Bulma almost crashed into him. He turned around with a sick smile on his face. "Why…you're my queen, of course."

Bulma's eyes narrowed. "Queen!?" She spat. She thought he had been joking before.

"Yes and you should be honored," Vegeta snapped at her.

"Well I'm not!" She replied shrewdly. "Pick someone else, I don't want to." Images appeared in her mind, literally chained to the throne with Vegeta sitting next to her, his cold hand on top of hers, his leering smile directed at her. King and Queen…Her mind unwillingly flashed back to Yamcha. "…One day we'll get married…!"

Vegeta gripped her wrist hard, hard enough to make Bulma wince and awaken from her dream, as he said darkly, dangerously, "That is not your choice to make, Bulma."

"Why do I have to be your queen!?" Bulma's face twisted into a scowl, and once again Vegeta found himself staring into his reflection again.

Pleased by her reaction, his smile widened. "You're—"

"Vegeta!"

He winced at the voice. Not now.

A formidable saiyan woman burst into the room, wearing fighter's armor. She had a rather arrogant look on her face, with the longest hair that Bulma had ever seen. "I heard you returned much sooner than they had anticipated. I was told you wouldn't be back until a fortnight!" Her dark eyes swept over at Bulma.

Then Bulma keenly felt some sort of intuitive warning, a prickling on the back of her neck, as she bent backward easily in time to dodge the woman's unwarned slap. Blinking, she wondered what kind of reflex that was. Bulma smiled at the other woman. Jealousy?

Vegeta was surprised—and pleased— at how fast Bulma had moved to dodge Kiryae's sudden strike. Just like I thought—more saiyan than human. She would be a considerable warrior with her ability…Shaking his head free from his thoughts, he snapped at the saiyan, "Kiryae! I won't tolerate your behavior towards her!"

"Whore!" Kiryae seethed. Her eyes narrowed into slits. "You little slut! How dare you come to Vegetasei!"

Bulma looked coldly into the woman's eyes. She felt her lips curl into a scowl. "That was not my choice to make." Amused, Vegeta bit back laughter—that gaze was his own.

"Where's the brat!?" Kiryae said, whirling back at Vegeta. "I told you to kill them both!"

"He's the heir to the throne," Vegeta said, glaring down at her. "I cannot kill him—he's my own flesh and blood."

She looked cowed by Vegeta's gaze. She stumbled over her next words. "What about our mating!? I'm to be crowned queen!"

Bulma almost laughed at the irony. So much for your brilliant plan, she almost sneered but was cut off by Vegeta's indignant shout. "Mating? Have you lost it, woman?! There is no mating—there never was! You are not my queen, much less my mate!"

Kiryae looked thunderstruck. "Are you mad, Vegeta? We were betrothed since we were children!"

Bulma coolly started walking away, hoping that they wouldn't notice but Vegeta reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. Ahh damn. Apparently he hadn't let his guard down. He continued sharply, "That was my father—not me. Have you ever heard the words come out of my mouth?"

Kiryae seemed like she was at a loss for words.

"I want you off of the palace grounds. I never want to see you again, unless it's at a public occasion." His expression hardened as he enunciated the words, "Get out." Kiryae's eyes widened and she went slightly white. Vegeta turned away from her. He pulled Bulma along out of the room. Bulma gazed back at the devastated woman before continuing on.

She glanced at Vegeta again, to see him lost in thought—again.

Vegeta scowled as he walked, a million thoughts buzzing around his head in a swarm. Why did he always attract such distasteful women? Long ago, they were petty amusements, silly little playthings to pass the time, but now he had a greater prize in mind. And yet, she wanted nothing to do with him! He glared at her. He despised being so repulsive in Bulma's eyes. He wanted to be different, wanted her to gravitate towards him, wanted her world to shift on its axis like his did for her, like that one pathetic 3rd rated saiyan did. As he recalled the saiyan, he grew more frustrated with himself. In Kami's name, what had she seen in him? What was so worthy about 3rd rated saiyans?! They were barely fit for mating, much less the way that they had greeted each other.

Frustrated, he turned his thoughts back to Bulma. What chance did he have with her if she turned down a prince yet embraced 3rd rated saiyans? It didn't make sense.

"You're angry," she said aloud.

"Damn right I am," Vegeta snapped back.

Bulma didn't answer. She studied her surroundings with acute interest and she was alert, ready to flee if anything came out at her, ready to attack at any posing threat. He could tell: by the way she held her shoulders back and her hands tensed at her sides. Vegeta almost smiled.

"What's going to happen to my son?" Bulma asked. Vegeta realized with a start that she was echoing the tone of his voice. Amused, he smirked. Insolent woman, you mean to mock me.

He decided to be honest with her. "His memory will be wiped of earth. My son will be raised accordingly to the saiyan stature—to be the next prince of Vegetasei."

Bulma felt her body go numb. So that was it. So clean and calculated. He would forget everything—his mother, Goku, his best friend Goten, the time he caught his first fish and the way he smiled—his hands that once embraced her would turn into bloody hands that killed... Her Trunks, the innocent Trunks, would be taught how to kill…

It was her living nightmare. Trunks would turn into Vegeta's image… The Trunks she knew would die, cease to exist. "You can't." Bulma said with sudden nerve.

"Oh? Why can't I?" Vegeta's eyebrows raised, his old smirk was back, challenging her. Again, that wave of helplessness washed over her. Frustrated, she gritted her teeth—why was she so powerless!? She snarled, "If you take my son from me, I'll—!"

"You'll what?" Vegeta, obviously enjoying the moment, leaned in. Triumphant at the sight of her weakness, he sneered, "Wake up, woman. The son you pampered back on earth is dead. That was your son, now he's mine."

Bulma's hand sailed to his cheek—which he caught easily but he didn't anticipate the punch slammed into his chest. It didn't hurt, but it still caught him off guard. He stared at her—suddenly in admiration. How many times is this woman going to hit me? It was too good to be true. No doubt, this woman was born to be of saiyan stature.

Bulma seethed, "I will kill you if you even touch him!"

Vegeta's smirk vanished. In a flash, he had his fingers clenched around her throat so tight he could feel her windpipe, her pulse throbbing erratically against his fingers. She gagged while he hissed in her ear, "Don't you threaten me. Do you hear me? I find your mad courage amusing, but don't be stupid. Don't forget who you are, and who I am. Understand?"

She nodded, hastily, and he released her. "Good girl." He walked to the doorway and looked expectantly at her. She followed him, quickly.

They walked together now, Bulma no longer hesitating. She finally understands how important it is for her to stay in line here. Vegeta noted. Good.

Bulma trailed behind him, fearful. This was the father of her son, this monster who abused her and taunted her. She thought of her own father, long ago, as he held her up to see the fireworks of the Lantern Festival more clearly. She remembered, even though she was 16—far too old to be carried in her father's comical height, she was small enough to let him carry her and she cried with laughter of a child. Of course, it wasn't the fireworks that night, but the explosions of the West city that they witnessed; instead of beauty that was expected she only saw horror.

Her father, when he could, was kind to her. He was always busy though, but always wanted her to come with him to work, always amused by his heiress' amassed knowledge. He would pat her on the head and say fondly, "Surely you are my daughter."

She hardly saw her mother, who had left her father years ago. When Bulma did see her mother, as infrequent as it was, she was always distant, bringing a boyfriend or one of her many temporary husbands.

Bulma shook her head. The only other person she knew intimately was Goku, a childhood friend and Yamcha, her boyfriend, along with the rest of the gang. But her father was her best friend.

My life wasn't perfect, she finally allowed herself to admit. As fragmented as it was, I was happy. Until the saiyans came. She glowered at Vegeta's back. His tug at her wrist never faltered yet he spared her no glance as he hotly stalked down each hallway.

"Where…where are we going?" She finally asked quietly.

He didn't stop as he said, "To our quarters."

It took her only a second to absorb that as she stopped in her tracks, making Vegeta stop too. "Our!?" She shrieked, stricken.

Wryly, Vegeta smirked and turned back to look at her with a wolfish grin on his face. "Yes. Our quarters. You and I are to share. As King and Queen. As mates…" he paused, and added smoothly, "and as lovers."

"I refuse!" She seethed, wrenching her hand away from his in a fluid movement. "You honestly can't expect me to go along with this willingly!"

Vegeta leered as he added, eyes glittering, "Wait until you see our bed."

"What!?!"

He suddenly leaned back, indifferent. "Relax. I'm not going to rape you. What sort of gentleman would I be if I did that?" His dark eyes flashed at hers, and his smirk grew.

Her eyes narrowed, and she bared her lips in a snarl, twisting her face into that expression that so resembled his. He gazed at his reflection for a moment, once again finding himself marveling at their similarities. Yes, I am sure of it now. He raised a hand to her cheek. She turned away, disgusted, but he only moved closer. His expression was solemn. "Have you ever wondered why it was you?"

Her icy voice had an inkling of curiosity in it. "What do you mean?"

"Why, of all the humans captive, I chose to take you with me?"

"No," she answered truthfully. "I never let myself think. I assumed it was because of my father because he worked for you, or because Goku was the only one who stood up and fought you. Maybe because I was the heiress of the rich family and I was being held for ransom or being made an example of?"

He played with her hair, twisting it between his fingers. "Do you want to know?"

She hesitated. "Does it change anything?"

He pulled her hair back to kiss her neck. "It might." He looked into her eyes. Maybe one day, I'll tell her.

He pulled aside and pressed a button, the door sliding open. He pushed Bulma in and shut the door behind him.

She stopped, puzzled. The room was completely empty, except for a table in the center of the room.

Then it dawned on her, but too late.

He saw his chance and took it. He moved behind her and moved his hands up to the nerve on her neck. She stiffened —but too late as he struck her, hard, against her weak point. She fell limply against him, her body crumpling as he caught her, effortlessly.

The prince of Vegetasei stared down at the lovely woman in his arms and wondered what kind of spell she was intoxicating him with.

A/N: So here's a long chapter to follow the last short chapter :) Lots of dialogue, not much plot. I didn't change too much with this chapter - just a couple of tweaks here and there and polishing the plot a little bit.

Wow I can't believe I pasted that twice - that's so embarrassing! Sorry guys! :) I must have been really out of it last night!

Let me know what you think!