Unexpected
By: Sango

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"Woman."

Light, seeping through my eyelids and piercing my brain...I fight against the pull of the voice and delve back into the blissful oblivion, the absence of thought.

"Get up." Insistent. Rude.

"Mmmmmmph. Go 'way."

A cold boot toe prods my side, none too gently. Irritated, I grunt and roll over, hitting myself in the nose with something as I do so. I open one eye. A bottle. A slight frown forms on my face; I'm not a heavy drinker. I don't usually sleep on the floor, either. But there is a feeling of dread hanging over me, something I just haven't remembered yet -- oh. Yamucha. A dull ache forms in my throat and I fight back tears. I refuse to cry in front of _him_.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Hurry up and fix me some food. I should be training already!"

I lob the bottle in his general direction, sure that it misses by a mile, but not bothering to look. Yamucha doesn't love me.

"Make it yourself, you Saiya-jin pig!" An image forms in my mind, of the grease fire that resulted the last time he attempted that. My mother would kill me if I let that happen again. And then lecture me about my duties as a hostess. She must be out if he's bothering _me_ for food. I'll never admit it to anyone, but I'm a horrible cook. But at least I won't burn the house down. I hear him turn and leave.

"Never mind, I'm up. Give me a minute." I stumble to my bathroom.

He grunts in reply and continues to stomp down the stairs.

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That lazy woman! The morning is halfway over already. But I can't train without eating something and I don't know where the other one is. I'm actually glad; even if the food is better I can't stand her incessant chatter.

I know perfectly well why she was curled up on the floor like a whipped dog with a bottle of whatever that was. I have keen hearing and the unwanted privilege of the room next to hers. That weakling human and she seem to have severed their ties, again. I snort in derision. Imagine letting someone else turn you into a sniveling wreck like that! How pathetic.

Unbidden, the image of her lying there forms in my mind. So vulnerable...clad only in shorts and some sleeveless garment bunched up from tossing in her sleep, exposing a hint of white skin at the navel. Pale aqua hair spilling out under her like a liquid pillow, her arm hiding her face except for a hint of full lips. Unable to tear my gaze away, I stared at her for a moment too long before waking her.

I purge the image from my thoughts and yell at her to hurry up. At this rate the androids will kill us all.

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Waiting for the eggs to cook, I can't stop my mind from replaying the scene from last night... I just couldn't take it anymore...I had to face the fact that things weren't the way I wanted them so badly to be. My wedding to Yamucha wasn't going to take place. He was trying so hard to please me, but the harder he tried, the more obvious it was to me that he just didn't feel the same deep emotion that I had for him. He wanted to make me happy, but couldn't quite keep his eyes from wandering. I knew he was faithful, at least this time. But I also didn't think it would last. I wanted to end it on good terms, before he broke my heart. So I told him it was over, and tried to hide my hurt at the hint of relief in his eyes, when he kissed me on the cheek and left. After that, I sat on the floor with the wine and the picture of my dream dress, torn out of a magazine and well, you know the rest.

"Damn!" These are no longer edible. I have half a mind to serve them to His Highness anyway, but just sigh and start over.

I hate him for being witness to my night of wallowing in self-pity. It was that much worse waking up to the contempt evident in his every feature. That cold voice, the uncaring stance, and insolent smirk all made me want to curl up and die. Or punch his lights out. Neither of which was likely to happen.

I manage not to burn them the second time. I set the plate on the table and walk out, head held high. He'd never see me like that again, I vow.

Wishful thinking on my part.

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"Is this it? This is hardly a snack!" I find myself addressing her back as she stalks out. She walks like a princess, head up, shoulders back and daring the world to cross her. I find it hard to reconcile her attitude and that mouth with the fragile creature sleeping on the floor.

Whatever. I raid the kitchen for something to supplement this pitiful excuse for a meal and head out to train.

I've always pushed myself hard. It's probably why I'm still alive. I became the best, and was therefore useful to Frieza and worth keeping around. I have always been the best, until now. The thought galls me until I want to scream. I hate him, and despise him even more for not caring. I honestly believe being the best fighter in the world doesn't mean anything to him. Kakarot.

It's been hours, I have no idea how many, and I am reaching my limit. But the thought of pummeling him keeps me going. I can't do that without reaching the level he's at -- Super Saiya-jin. I will die if that brat of his achieves it first.

I can feel the energy building up in the room to dangerous levels. But I can't quit now. The increased gravity threatens to force me to the ground. I fall to one knee, but refuse to turn it off. I hear a rib crack from the strain of staying upright.

Finally, I lose control and a blast of ki destroys the controls, returning the pain to bearable levels. The sudden release of pressure gives me the unsettling feeling of feeling like I'm going to fall _up_.

Assessing the damage I growl in frustration. It will probably take that woman days to fix this. I don't admit, even to myself, that I couldn't train more at the moment if I wanted.

Stepping outside, I realize it's already dark. At least I got in most of a day's worth of training. I need a hot shower to lessen the ache of muscles pushed too far.

The woman is in the main room of the house, doing some ridiculous contortions in time with a figure on the screen. I snort derisively, but catch my breath when I notice the slight amount of clothing upon her person, and the sweat glistening on her arms and legs. The position she is in doesn't help. What is wrong with me? The gravity room must be affecting my brain. This lowly human is not worthy of my attention...

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Of course I hear him come in. I don't think he's ever entered a room in his life without slamming the door. I can feel the condescending smirk on his face without turning around. I'm trying to clear my mind by working out my body. I _like_ this video and don't care how silly he thinks I look. Kickboxing is fun, and makes me think I just might be able to defend myself, if need be.

Except against a Saiya-jin. I feel his iron grip on my arm and know a moment of fear. The sibilant voice in my ear makes me shiver.

"Your form is terrible. Throw a punch like that, and you'll only hurt your hand. Like this..." His fingers burn my skin as he adjusts the angle of my wrist.

I start to say thanks, but he has already moved on toward the bathroom.

"Whatever. It doesn't matter, you're still pathetically weak and not likely to cause damage even if you manage to connect. Fix me something to eat, woman."

I finish my workout and throw something together for dinner, making sure to make his half as unpalatable as possible without the risk of him demanding something else. After all even a hungry Saiya-jin has some standards, as low as they may be.

I retreat to my bathroom to bathe before all of the hot water is gone. It never occurs to him that other people might like a shower. Inconsiderate baka.

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Standing under the steaming blast of water, I try to wash the feel of her skin from my hand. Slick with sweat, warm to the touch. Her wrist so slender I could snap it like a twig. I can still smell her hair as well -- some scent I can't place, driving me crazy. Sweet, with more than a hint of spice. It fits her perfectly.

What possessed me to talk to her? It was laughable, watching her try to assail an invisible opponent. But the thought of her actually needing to use those moves had bothered me. The reason why I would care eludes me. She's loud and arrogant and only good for fixing that machine and cooking. And the latter is debatable.

She proves me right yet again with that slop on the table. Does she _try_ to make food as unappetizing as possible? I consider bellowing at her to get back here and try again, but I'm just too hungry and tired to deal with her crap.

I collapse into bed, grateful at least that she isn't going to continue the crying jags every night.

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Walking to the kitchen for a glass of water, I catch a glimpse of him tangled up in the sheets. He isn't nearly as imposing in slumber. The lines on his face fade, and there is a hint of the boy he must have been, a long time ago. He doesn't appear to be sleeping peacefully, though; he tosses back and forth and mumbles something in a language I don't understand. A dead language known only to himself. The only other survivor of his race was raised on Earth. Pity unexpectedly fills my heart...I can't imagine enduring the destruction of my entire race. I consider waking him, but know he would not thank me for being the one to release him from whatever nightmare he's caught in.

It occurs to me then that I could very well know that feeling. Didn't the boy from the future say the androids killed everyone, but me? The thought chills me to the core.

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Life continues for a while. The hurt from the hole Yamucha left in my heart fades just a tiny bit. My days are reduced to cooking for that bastard and fixing the machine so he can break it again. I have another project to occupy my time, however; I am working on something I hope will stop the androids...as a last resort. They wouldn't let me use the dragonballs to stop it before it happened, but I refuse to let the Earth be destroyed if they fail. I've never built a weapon before. The thought was abhorrent to me, that something I built might be used to kill. But this is different.

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"Woman! Where the hell are you and why aren't you fixing that machine!"

She is supposed to be repairing that piece of junk tonight so I can use it tomorrow. But there is no sign of her; perhaps she has reconciled yet again with that human and gone off for a tryst. Frustrated and more than a little disgusted at the thought, I turn back to the house.

Something catches my eye, on the ground near the gravity room. A wrench, shining like a mirror in the moonlight. A faint feeling of unease grips my stomach. Whatever horrible state her living quarters were always in, the woman was fastidious about her tools. She would never have left it out on the ground.

I walk over, and my nose catches a slight taint of blood in the air. Her blood.

More worried than I wish to admit -- Why should I care??? -- I shout again. "Woman!"

Nothing.

There is one footprint leading off into the woods, but no sign of a struggle. Determined to kill her for making me do this, I follow. She had better not just be out for a stroll. Even as I think it, I know that isn't the case.

I find her some distance away, leaning on a tree for support. The smell of blood is stronger.

"Woman. Are you hurt?" A needless question. I can't see anything but her silhouette in the darkness, but every line of her body radiates pain.

Her voice, weak and ragged... "Go away. This doesn't concern you."

She takes a step away from the tree, and sways into a patch of moonlight streaming through the canopy of leaves overhead. Comprehension dawns. The inseams of her grey work pants are soaked with blood from crotch to hem. I can't believe how much of it there is, yet she's still standing.

Barely.

"Baka. I suppose you want me to fetch that idiot boyfriend of yours."

"No!"

Surprised at her vehemence, I say, "Didn't you tell him?"

"...I was only just starting to suspect, myself. I'm not very...regular."

"What are you doing out here?!?"

No answer.

"You could die, you know that! I'll never hear the end of it from Kakarot if I let that happen. I suppose I should take you--"

She turns, a half-smile on pale lips. "I'm too stubborn to die. You should know that. Besides, women have gone through this centuries before we even existed. Before doctors, or hospitals." A sigh. "I don't want Yamucha to know. There isn't any point now."

"I'm sure he would come running..." Sarcasm dripping off my lips. I can't help it.

"I'm sure he would. That's the point. He would come back into my life, trying to take care of me, trying to love me. But he can't. And I won't settle for that. But right now I don't have the strength to send him away again. Do you understand? Promise me you won't tell him."

I don't answer.

She straightens her shoulders and takes a step. Two. I can't help admiring her determination. She has a will of iron, and enough pride for a Saiya-jin. Too much for her own good. Faintly, in a voice barely audible even to my ears, I hear her mumble, "Goku, you were wrong..."

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Goku, before we parted ways, had wished me a healthy baby. I'd thought he was on crack, but maybe he was more perceptive than I gave him credit for. Wait, never mind -- this is _Goku_ we're talking about.

Despite my efforts, I abruptly find the ground rushing up to meet me. I hear a growl of irritation, and before I hit, I am swept into the rough embrace of arms corded like steel. Almost immediately his grip shifts to become less painful and more secure.

"Since you insist on killing yourself, I can at least help you get there faster. Where are you going?"

"I'm bleeding on you."

"I don't like these ugly human rags anyway. But you can wash them later. Where?"

"There is a cave, by the lake. I used to go there, as a child..."

"I could take you home. Your parents probably wouldn't tell anyone if you asked."

"I don't want to worry them."

A lie. I don't want them to know. I don't want to deal with their disappointment, and pity.

He apparently knows the cave that I mentioned, because the next thing I remember is lying in it, something pillowed under my head. A fire burns nearby, but it doesn't lend me much warmth. I am so cold.

He scowls furiously at me throughout the whole ordeal, but his hands are unfailingly gentle.

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I watch her sleep. As much pain as she must have been in, her pride wouldn't let her show it around me. Grudgingly, I allow myself to feel an ounce of respect. I have seen warriors cry out with less reason.

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I wake to see him sitting across from me, with his back to the wall. I can only tell that he is awake from the firelight reflecting off of his obsidian eyes. His statement gives away nothing.

I stand on rubber legs. "I have to get back. Before morning."

No response. My legs give out and I find myself sitting again.

"I don't know how it happened, you know. We were always careful." I don't know why I'm telling this to him. I'm positive he doesn't give a damn. But I need to talk about it.

"I didn't want it...but now...to never even have the chance to live--" A sob escapes my throat. I distantly remember having promised myself never to let him see me cry, but the tears are unstoppable. I've been through too much. I turn away and try to pretend he isn't there. I wish Yamucha were here. But in a way, that would be worse. The comfort I most want, he can't give.

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She is easier to deal with angry. That, I can handle. Insults I am good at. Comforting sniveling women is not a skill of mine. I've never really cared to try. I still don't, really, but something prompts me to place a hand on her shoulder. I suddenly find myself with an armful of sobbing woman, hot tears soaking my bare chest. Without thinking, I reach up to stroke the silken blue head. I want to leave, and run away from the strange desire to protect that this is evoking in me. I don't have time for this weakness. I almost throw her off and stalk out. Instead I wrap her in the shirt she was using as a pillow and fly her home.

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I awaken disoriented, feeling strangely empty. I remember what has happened, but there are no tears left. I stay in bed, grateful to my mother for accepting my claim of the flu without feeling the need to fuss over me. Realizing I am still wearing Vegeta's 'ugly human rag' of a shirt, I smile a bit. I know he likes this shirt; I've seen him admiring himself in the mirror on more than one occasion.

Sighing, I burrow under the covers and try to force my mind to mirror the emptiness in my soul. I don't want to think anymore. Nothing in my life is happening the way I'd expected. I had thought I would soon marry Yamucha. I won't. I'd thought I might become a mother. Not anymore. I thought Vegeta was a total asshole...well, at least he isn't as bad as I'd thought before.

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End Chapter 1

Sango