Author: Jessica (StarSapphireZ)
Rating: PG13, for mild language, discussion of sex.
Disclaimer: Does anyone really think a humble fanfic writer like myself owns DBZ? No. Has one ever been sued for writing a fanfic? Not that I know of... But I'll say it anyway... I don't own DBZ, so don't sue me! The only thing I can really give is my siblings, and wouldn't it be a pity if I lost them! O=) This story IS my hard work though, so please don't take it for any use without my permission. Also, I've seen most of Dragonball Z, but not all, so please forgive any inconsistancy.
Archive?: Maybe. Please contact me and ask first! I'm generally a nice person...
Summary: Bulma reflects on the eve of the Cell game - on the events of the past several years, and her relationship with Vegeta - set to the backdrop of a late spring storm. (Yeah, I know my last story involved the Cell Game and reflection as well. There is something about the upheaval of this time period which makes it a good time to go inside the minds and emotions of the characters.) Rather short.
Note: I would like to give a big "THANK YOU!" to everyone who read and reviewed my first story, "Rising from the Ashes." Your kind words made my day and encouraged me to write more fics. This one is just something that came to me at 2:30 AM the other day, and turned out half-decent. It's one of two I'm putting up tonight. In the works are a Buu era Gohan and Videl romance fic, and a multi-chapter alternate universe/new character type story, I should have them up sometime in the near future.
Site Plug: Electronic Wings Remix (The Spirit of DBZ; with a funky dance beat!) -- http://spirit__vs__spirit.tripod.com
I welcome fanfic submissions (and fanart too!)
Baby Trunks slept soundly in his crib, giving Bulma a few moments of private thought. Her cornflower blue eyes were plagued with worry. It was late afternoon on the eve of the Cell Game; the day before the fate of the world and the universe was to be decided upon yet again in a fury of fists and explosions. An unsettling cold breeze blew through the open window, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin. She rose from the chair in which she had been seated to close it. The grounds of the Capsule Corporation were bathed in soft tranquil yellow sunlight characteristic of springtime, but the wind blew through the leaves of the trees making the light dance across the earth in violent patterns. A few thickly whipped clouds laid ominously against the shinning blue horizon.
Those fighting against the maniacal green android would be some of Bulma's oldest and closest friends. She had known many of them since her wild teenage dragonball-collecting adventures. She silently recalled them, smiling a slight, sadness-tinged smile. She had been vibrant and lively, with a lust for adventure and a talent for getting her way; manipulating the world with her sexual appeal. She had settled down a lot since then, she mused, especially now that she was filling the role of a mother. Her mind briefly paged through all the other things which had changed over the years, and all the things that hadn't. Krillin had settled down as well. The monk's fixation had changed from trying to look up girls' skirts to trying to find a bride. Son Goku, on the other hand, hadn't changed. He had married, had a son, grown immensely in strength and saved the world a few more times, but he was still as innocent as he had been that first time they met; when he had tried to kill the car she was driving.
Unfortunately, her ex-lover Yamcha hadn't changed either. He maintained the same lack-of-control when it came to his handling of the frequent attention he received from other women. He had really suffered, watching everyone train for the arrival of the androids, knowing that he had fallen far behind the likes of his once-equal comrades every respect. And he made a few bad decisions; decisions which Bulma felt he was too old to make, and had made too many times. So she ended what she had once thought would last forever.
A low rumble sounded in the distance; thunder, pressing hard against the sky like the impending summer, pressing against the cooler air of springtime. The ominous clouds had drifted closer, becoming more ominous; deeper, darker. Shaped like ashy rolling hills, turned upside-down in the sky. More wind blew into the room, tossing the gauzy white curtains around her, enveloping her silent form in them. Bulma had not closed the window. She was lost in thought and the world outside her.
Also on the front lines that day, would be her son from the future. That shy, powerful lavender-haired boy she had barely gotten a chance to know. The few times she had tried to engage him in conversation he would blush furiously and trip over his words. It made her smile, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride that he hadn't turned out cold and arrogant like his father.
His father, who would also be fighting. The strange man - or rather, Saiyajin - who's arms she found herself in shortly after her break-up with Yamcha. He had chosen to ask her to fix yet another robot he'd destroyed in his training at the wrong time, and she flung herself at him, her fists beating furiously against his chest. He just stood, watching her. When she finally ceased her aggressions he asked her if she was finished with a look vaguely resemblant of sympathy in his eyes and she had collapsed limply against him, breathing in his scent. She didn't really know why, but then she lowered her lips to his shoulder, softly kissing the skin revealed by the tank top he'd worn to train, and then one thing lead to another.
Maybe it was just one of those crazy things which people did in the wake of the destruction of a long-term relationship. And as for why Vegeta welcomed her advances, he was after-all a man. Even warriors had their weaknesses. Regardless of reasons, they continued this dance, one night after another until Vegeta left to train in space. Bulma had been very angry, even more so when he had missed the birth of the child their passion had conceived. (Instead, Yamcha had been by her side, remaining a faithful friend beyond the call of duty.)
After he returned she purposely avoided being alone with him, striving to regard him with the same cold indifference in which he regarded her and their son. But it had been her fault as well; from the beginning it was plainly obvious that Vegeta had no interest in her as a person. And she wouldn't trade Trunks for the world.
The rain began, starting adruptly in a forceful waterfall torrent as the thunder rolled louder. Bulma finally closed the window, grateful that the sound had not awakened her infant son. Saiyanjins seemed to be able to sleep through anything. Lightning danced in the distance as she slumped back in her chair, sighing softly. The worry was impossible to shake; it always was. It would last until after the battle when she would either be relieved, sad, or dead along with everyone else on the planet.
She heard the door open and looked up to see Vegeta walk in; his clothes, hair and skin soaked with droplets of rain. He seemed not to care, as he stood with his arms folded across his chest. The lightning struck closer, illuminating his face in the shadowy room, revealing his expression to be unreadable. He must have finished his training, and come to the closest place he had to a home on Earth to eat and sleep.
For a few moments they merely looked at each other. Finally, her lips parted and she spoke. "As hard as it is for me to say this, take care of yourself out there tomorrow Vegeta. I...don't want to see you get hurt. You probably don't care but before you ran out on me I had thought, if just for a moment, that I loved you." She was surprised at the words that had come rushing out, but she felt surprisingly relieved to have said them. Regardless, she expected nothing more than a
"Hmph" in return from the Saiyajin prince.
"Hmph." he said, then raised a dark eyebrow. " For one thing, I am confident that I will defeat Cell. For another, do you really believe things are any different between us than they were before, woman?"
Bulma scowled at him. "We haven't talked since you left to train in space. Well, not that we ever talked! But we haven't even touched. Yamcha has been more of a father to our son this past year than you have, and that's sad! Damn it, my father's cat has been more of a father to Trunks..."
Vegeta slowly closed the distance between them before she could finish her tirade. He firmly lifted her face in his right hand, softly stroking her cheek with his left. His eyes looked as if they were filled with great turmoil. Finally he cringed and forced out the word that had lingered so long on his tongue..."Bulma." Her eyes went wide, he was calling her Bulma. He was calling her by her name, as opposed to "woman."
"Bulma," he said again, with just a little less effort than before, "we mated."
"Mated, screwed, whatever you want to call it. It doesn't make it any more enchanting. It doesn't make it any better." she said with only a tinge of bitterness.
"You may want to know this;" he responded, "Saiyajins mate for life."
Was he trying to tell her that they did have a relationship? That they were in essence, good as married? Her eyes grew again in disbelief. She could counter him again defiantly, chase him out of her home and out of her life, but she didn't say a word. Instead she just collapsed against him, resting her head in the crook of his neck. He lifted his arms and embraced her, just holding her for the longest time, as the sky errupted outside the window and the thunder shook the walls.
No one's aura had swelled; no one's hair had turned gold. But a few silent and subtle
transformations had commenced before the battle began.