Just Incase
By Theresa AKA BulmaAngel
I sit alone at the kitchen table my mind wondering aimlessly as I flip
through one of the magazines in front of me. My father and Mother have
both left for the afternoon. My father to some urgent meeting for the
company and my mother had finally gone out with a few of her girlfriends
they had only been begging her all week. She'd kept insisting to them that
she couldn't go that she had matters to attend to here but my father had
talked her into it before leaving for his meeting insisting that she needed
the change of scenery and if anything happened I would be here and more than
capable of handling it.
I knew why my father had been so determined she go ever since the day of the
accident with the gravity room my mother had been nervous and aggitated wringing
her hands with worry over Vegeta and the state he is in. I was glad my father had
talked her into it. She hadn't been out since the day after the accident when she
went on a "necessary" trip to the store. She had returned placing in front of me
two of the magazines I often read and a small bottle of the perfume I usually wore
I'd simply looked up at her then and offered a small smile. She'd been happy at
that and gone off to see what my father was up to. I knew why she'd given them to
me. My mother still seemed to believe that unpleasantness could be eased by the
giving of gifts. Almost as if I am still a child.
I had to smile at that my mother is such a sweet woman she only belives in the best
of things.. and people. It also upset me. It hadn't been her who'd gotten in an argument
with me after the accident but that yet again was just my mother. Try to smooth over hurt
that she wasn't even responsible for.
I can feel my heart speed up in my chest even now when I think about the accident. I'd
been standing outside talking with Yamcha.. more like listening to Yamcha tell me about
how he'd run into some redhead that remembered him from when he played baseball. I'd only
been half listening due to a mixture of the fact of not wanting to get mad and trying not
to think about what my mother had said earlier. I've been doing that alot though lately
getting mad at Yamcha. I'm starting to notice things about him.. things I suppose have
always been there but now they truly seem to grate on my nerves.
I'd been just about to open my mouth and make some witty reply to what he'd been saying
when it happened. An explosion coming from the direction of the gravity room where Vegeta
spent all his days training. I'd truned then and run in the direction of the Gravity room
not listening to Yamcha who was calling after me the only thought that had been racing through
my head was to find Vegeta.
My feet were pounding the ground like hammers when I saw that state the gravity room was in.
There was rubble and busted glass everywhere but no sign of Vegeta. I called his name beginning
to dig through the rubble not caring that some of the stone blocks abraded my hands. I cursed
myself silently for never having learned how to fly when sometimes legs just couldn't carry you
fast enough. Thats when I saw a hand reach out of the rubble not far away followed by a head and
shoulders.. it was Vegeta! He was struggling to raise himself up.
I ran to him then gathering him in my arms.
"What were you thinking!" I scolded angrily
"You could have been killed!"
He didn't reply. His face looked all scratched up and he was gritting his teeh from pain. I tried
to help him up he chose then to speak.
" I don't need your help Woman! " He'd stated through clenched teeth.
I released him then giving him the chance to stand on his own. When he stumbled I threw one of his
muscled arms over my shoulder and held him around the waist. Yamcha was just standing there as if
this were just another day and no drastic and possibly fatal situation had just occured.
"Get my father NOW !" I yelled.
Yamcha did as I asked though it seemed like it took him forever to move. After my father had come and
I'd finished helping him walk Vegeta in I returned outside and thats when the argument insued. Yamcha
was angrily telling me how he didnt care for me showing so much concern for someone who should never
have been wished back in the first place let alone the way I'd looked when I'd held him against me.
A surge of anger had washed through me then. Who was he to tell me who to be concerned with when I had
just spent half an hour listening to him go on and on about some attractive fan of his? I'd been trying
to help someone who's life was possibly threatened. I'd yelled back at him then something about how if
he couldn't understand that anyone in need of aid deserved it regaurdless then maybe he'd better just
get out of my face for awhile and that besides all of his bragging had been giving me a headache.
He'd left then grumbling to himself about how unreasonable *I* was being. It was for that reason
that my mother had bought me the magazines and perfume. I sighed now tucking the magazines under my
arm. What to do now? I knew what I wanted to do but shoved that idea out of my mind and headed tword
the living room maybe something good would be on T.V. As I walked down the hall I saw the door to the
room Vegeta is in is open. Before I am able to stop myself I walk in and up to the bedside.
I sit the magazines down on the desk by the bed. I allow my eyes to sweep over him. A thin sheet is
covering him to the waist his muscled chest and arms are visable his hands are resting unmoving beside
him with the palms facing up. His face usually cast in a look of determination or annoyance is relaxed.
His dark oynx eyes that so often offered me silent challange when he demanded I fix something are closed. His
hair is raised above his head as usual like an ebony flame.
The breathing machine is making hypnotic,rythmic sounds. I note the way the inside of the oxygen mask
he wears is covered with small droplets of moisture and misty from the heat of his breath. My mother is
I muse to myself. He is handsome. Perhaps it is a shame that he seems to care only for training and becoming
the best there is. My mother also said that determination would make him a good husband. I'd countered her by
saying it was more like obession but she'd only shaken her head at me as if I didn't understand. Sometimes I wonder
maybe Mom was right about that too...
I now notice the many small scars on his chest and arms. I find myself wondering what would cause such scarring.
Did I really want to know?
I dare to run my index finger over his upturned palm it feels roughened, battle worn. Images come unbidden into
my mind of the dream I'd had the night before he'd crash landed on the earth. I wonder if it would feel as it had
in that dream to have those hands travling over my exposed skin even as his lips claimed mine for his own.....
I shake my head as if to dislodge the thought from my mind. I place his hand palm down at his side as if that will
keep my mind from again wondering in that direction.
I turn to go when I hear him mutter a single word.
"must"
I stay turning back to him his hands are now gripping the sheets at his sides when he speaks again this time more
forcefully.
"MUST"
I don't know what to do so I just stand there. He is gripping the sheets much tighter now.
"become" He says.
I see his knuckles are turning white his wrists are straining. I do the first thing that pops into my mind. I lean over
and begin messaging his knuckles and wrist gently.
"shhh" I whisper as if trying to soothe an upset child.
I continue to do this a few moments and it seems to make no difference and then his face relaxes as do his hands and I
breathe a sigh of relief. I sit down in the chair beside the bed and look at the clock. My mother will be home within the
hour. Perhaps it would be best if I stay here.
Just incase of course.
I rest my head on the desk suddenly tierd. I close my eyes and in a few moments I can feel the line between a dream and reality
blur as I fall asleep the magazines, long forgotten pressed against my cheek.
I don't own these characters so please dont sue me LOL Please read and review
thanks!! Questions comments or creative death threats can be sent to teesa57@hotmail.com
By Theresa AKA BulmaAngel
I sit alone at the kitchen table my mind wondering aimlessly as I flip
through one of the magazines in front of me. My father and Mother have
both left for the afternoon. My father to some urgent meeting for the
company and my mother had finally gone out with a few of her girlfriends
they had only been begging her all week. She'd kept insisting to them that
she couldn't go that she had matters to attend to here but my father had
talked her into it before leaving for his meeting insisting that she needed
the change of scenery and if anything happened I would be here and more than
capable of handling it.
I knew why my father had been so determined she go ever since the day of the
accident with the gravity room my mother had been nervous and aggitated wringing
her hands with worry over Vegeta and the state he is in. I was glad my father had
talked her into it. She hadn't been out since the day after the accident when she
went on a "necessary" trip to the store. She had returned placing in front of me
two of the magazines I often read and a small bottle of the perfume I usually wore
I'd simply looked up at her then and offered a small smile. She'd been happy at
that and gone off to see what my father was up to. I knew why she'd given them to
me. My mother still seemed to believe that unpleasantness could be eased by the
giving of gifts. Almost as if I am still a child.
I had to smile at that my mother is such a sweet woman she only belives in the best
of things.. and people. It also upset me. It hadn't been her who'd gotten in an argument
with me after the accident but that yet again was just my mother. Try to smooth over hurt
that she wasn't even responsible for.
I can feel my heart speed up in my chest even now when I think about the accident. I'd
been standing outside talking with Yamcha.. more like listening to Yamcha tell me about
how he'd run into some redhead that remembered him from when he played baseball. I'd only
been half listening due to a mixture of the fact of not wanting to get mad and trying not
to think about what my mother had said earlier. I've been doing that alot though lately
getting mad at Yamcha. I'm starting to notice things about him.. things I suppose have
always been there but now they truly seem to grate on my nerves.
I'd been just about to open my mouth and make some witty reply to what he'd been saying
when it happened. An explosion coming from the direction of the gravity room where Vegeta
spent all his days training. I'd truned then and run in the direction of the Gravity room
not listening to Yamcha who was calling after me the only thought that had been racing through
my head was to find Vegeta.
My feet were pounding the ground like hammers when I saw that state the gravity room was in.
There was rubble and busted glass everywhere but no sign of Vegeta. I called his name beginning
to dig through the rubble not caring that some of the stone blocks abraded my hands. I cursed
myself silently for never having learned how to fly when sometimes legs just couldn't carry you
fast enough. Thats when I saw a hand reach out of the rubble not far away followed by a head and
shoulders.. it was Vegeta! He was struggling to raise himself up.
I ran to him then gathering him in my arms.
"What were you thinking!" I scolded angrily
"You could have been killed!"
He didn't reply. His face looked all scratched up and he was gritting his teeh from pain. I tried
to help him up he chose then to speak.
" I don't need your help Woman! " He'd stated through clenched teeth.
I released him then giving him the chance to stand on his own. When he stumbled I threw one of his
muscled arms over my shoulder and held him around the waist. Yamcha was just standing there as if
this were just another day and no drastic and possibly fatal situation had just occured.
"Get my father NOW !" I yelled.
Yamcha did as I asked though it seemed like it took him forever to move. After my father had come and
I'd finished helping him walk Vegeta in I returned outside and thats when the argument insued. Yamcha
was angrily telling me how he didnt care for me showing so much concern for someone who should never
have been wished back in the first place let alone the way I'd looked when I'd held him against me.
A surge of anger had washed through me then. Who was he to tell me who to be concerned with when I had
just spent half an hour listening to him go on and on about some attractive fan of his? I'd been trying
to help someone who's life was possibly threatened. I'd yelled back at him then something about how if
he couldn't understand that anyone in need of aid deserved it regaurdless then maybe he'd better just
get out of my face for awhile and that besides all of his bragging had been giving me a headache.
He'd left then grumbling to himself about how unreasonable *I* was being. It was for that reason
that my mother had bought me the magazines and perfume. I sighed now tucking the magazines under my
arm. What to do now? I knew what I wanted to do but shoved that idea out of my mind and headed tword
the living room maybe something good would be on T.V. As I walked down the hall I saw the door to the
room Vegeta is in is open. Before I am able to stop myself I walk in and up to the bedside.
I sit the magazines down on the desk by the bed. I allow my eyes to sweep over him. A thin sheet is
covering him to the waist his muscled chest and arms are visable his hands are resting unmoving beside
him with the palms facing up. His face usually cast in a look of determination or annoyance is relaxed.
His dark oynx eyes that so often offered me silent challange when he demanded I fix something are closed. His
hair is raised above his head as usual like an ebony flame.
The breathing machine is making hypnotic,rythmic sounds. I note the way the inside of the oxygen mask
he wears is covered with small droplets of moisture and misty from the heat of his breath. My mother is
I muse to myself. He is handsome. Perhaps it is a shame that he seems to care only for training and becoming
the best there is. My mother also said that determination would make him a good husband. I'd countered her by
saying it was more like obession but she'd only shaken her head at me as if I didn't understand. Sometimes I wonder
maybe Mom was right about that too...
I now notice the many small scars on his chest and arms. I find myself wondering what would cause such scarring.
Did I really want to know?
I dare to run my index finger over his upturned palm it feels roughened, battle worn. Images come unbidden into
my mind of the dream I'd had the night before he'd crash landed on the earth. I wonder if it would feel as it had
in that dream to have those hands travling over my exposed skin even as his lips claimed mine for his own.....
I shake my head as if to dislodge the thought from my mind. I place his hand palm down at his side as if that will
keep my mind from again wondering in that direction.
I turn to go when I hear him mutter a single word.
"must"
I stay turning back to him his hands are now gripping the sheets at his sides when he speaks again this time more
forcefully.
"MUST"
I don't know what to do so I just stand there. He is gripping the sheets much tighter now.
"become" He says.
I see his knuckles are turning white his wrists are straining. I do the first thing that pops into my mind. I lean over
and begin messaging his knuckles and wrist gently.
"shhh" I whisper as if trying to soothe an upset child.
I continue to do this a few moments and it seems to make no difference and then his face relaxes as do his hands and I
breathe a sigh of relief. I sit down in the chair beside the bed and look at the clock. My mother will be home within the
hour. Perhaps it would be best if I stay here.
Just incase of course.
I rest my head on the desk suddenly tierd. I close my eyes and in a few moments I can feel the line between a dream and reality
blur as I fall asleep the magazines, long forgotten pressed against my cheek.
I don't own these characters so please dont sue me LOL Please read and review
thanks!! Questions comments or creative death threats can be sent to teesa57@hotmail.com