Warning 1: I don't own etc...

Warning 2: I don't speak English or at least not as good as I'd like. Which means this story is sort of experimental since it's the first time I try to write directly in English. So, forgive me for having such a poor style, I'm doing my best and it hurts.

Warning 3: I picked up a random rate, I'm not sure it's the right one, but I'm clueless about those goddam rates.

Most important : Kalebxdd did me the favour to beta-read my work. He's much more gifted than me and I recommand you to go read his story (should I say especially White Lines?). That way, if my story doesn't please you, your time won't be totally wasted.


November 3rd,

Hey there. It seems some readers of this story have been pleased enough to have me nominated for 2016 Annual Award of the TPTH Community, a Vegebul Community you can find on google and tumblr. I have to thank them humbly for that. Being a very lame trader, I won't tell you to go vote for me but if you like this pairing and in case you don't know this community already, go and see the stories that have been nominated for I know some of the authors are really great.

Thanks a lot to grant me the honor of being nominated along with them, it means a lot to me :)

Enjoy.


The Jabberwocky


Chapter 1.

The six-year-old was sitting on a tiny pink chair which looked very uncomfortable. Nevertheless, the girl didn't seem to care. She was still and motionless with her eyes locked on the paper lying on the table in front of her.

She kept running her paintbrush on the white sheet with studiousness.

Vegeta was leaning against the doorframe of the room. He'd been watching his daughter for ten minutes and she hadn't given him the slightest glance so far. She was without doubt aware of him being there, but she merely carried on with her task by applying every available color one over another.

She was so focused on her work that it was as if her meaningless painting was the most important thing in the world. Seing that she still didn't pay any attention to him, her father called her softly once more.

"Bulla."

As a reply, she plunged her paintbrush in the glass of water resting on the table and picked up a new color without even turning her head.

This was quite new to him. Usually, each time he ended up addressing someone he got full attention straight away. Not with that kid. She sometimes acted strangely, as if lost in her world. Bulma called it daydreaming and found it 'cute'. She'd explained to him that it was something normal for children that age, and she considered it as a sign of great creativity. Yet, the Saiyan couldn't remember his older son doing such thing. When he was younger, Trunks could be absentminded from time to time, but it had never come to the point of not paying attention when his father was there and calling him.

Bulla was still painting with great care, her little tongue sticking out.

"Bulla," he growled louder.

He used a harder tone this time, for he knew his rough voice had some magical effect on people, especially on little kids. However, the girl still wouldn't raise her eyes to him. He had the feeling she was ignoring him on purpose, and it started to get on his nerves.

He walked up to the tiny table and leaned on her to grasp her wrist.

"Bulla! I'm calling you, don't you hear?" he grunted.

Her big blue eyes widened in astonishement and she started. As he met her gaze, he was no longer sure if her surprise was feigned or genuine, so he softened a bit. She blinked, her dripping paintbrush still hanging above the paper. He sighed.

"Your mother says your dinner's ready."

She beamed at him, her smile was pierced by toothless holes. "I know," she replied gently.

He frowned. He was wondering how she could know such thing, since she was drawing quietly in the nursery while Bulma was downstairs in the kitchen. Anyway, kids were saying senseless things sometimes.

"I had to finish this. See? It's verryyyy important, but I'm done by now. Isn't it amazing?"

He looked down at the picture she'd been working on so badly. Since she had carelessly mixed all colors, it was only a big, brown mess. He pouted and stood straight.

"You should answer when grown-up speak to you. You might get in trouble otherwise," he said with an annoyed face.

He left the room and went downstair only to bump into Gloria. Hell, he hated that girl.

She was Bulla's babysitter. She always reeked of boys and cheap perfumes, and the Saiyan could say she liked men a lot. Lots of men. She was also always chewing some awful gum and her breath was forever tainted with a synthetic mint odor. Most of all, she talked a lot. And loudly. He couldn't stand her, but Bulla seemed to like her and she was the only one that still agreed to keep babysitting at the Briefs'.

"Hey, Mr. Briefs! It's been a while! So… You're on a ride tonight?" she asked with a disgusting, mischievous wink.

He could smell the scent of her brand new boyfriend on her and was almost nauseated. He glared at her, but she wasn't impressed at all and chuckled coarsely.

"You're not the social one, are you. Anyway, where's the little princess?"

"Glo-ri-a!" a voice sang from the top of the stairs.

Bulla jumped several steps at a time until she joined her babysitter.

"Hello Miss Bulla!" the young woman greeted by lifting the child in her arms.

"Hey, dinner! I called at least four times!" Bulma yelled from the kitchen's doorstep.

Gloria walked to her boss with the little girl still in her arms. Bulla whispered something in her ear and she laughed. Vegeta watched all the females disappearing noisily in the kitchen and went back to the gravity room.

Bulma and him were visiting the Sons for dinner tonight. He usually avoided those kind of meetings like plague, but Goku was back from his training with the Earthling brat for a short visit, and Vegeta was secretly hoping it would be a perfect opportunity for a good spar with him. Truth to be told, the Saiyan was also dreaming about a real homemade meal, and he knew Chichi was at least good at that.

Besides, Bulma needed to relax at those times. She was working hard on a project, and it made her so nervous all the time that it was no longer bearable for the house's other inhabitants. She even yelled at Bulla which rarely happened. She was getting on everyone's nerves, so Vegeta had thought a nice dinner with her friends would have her come down a little.

He deactivated the whole gravity room and locked it before going back to the house. When he entered his room, Bulma was wandering in her closet and looking for the perfect outfit, a single towel tied around her body.

"Remind me why we keep having this freaky babysitter," he said. "Trunks is old enough to watch his sister, don't you think?"

"Trunks? No way, I won't trust him for that. Remember?" Bulma answered from the closet.

Vegeta rolled his eyes and gave up arguing. He went into the bathroom and got undressed.

He hated that Gloria. However, he couldn't fully disagree with his wife. Their sixteen-year-old boy had turned rather weird in the two last years. He had become very secret and didn't share much with his parents anymore. Once again, Bulma found it rather 'normal' as he was a 'teenager'.

What she'd found less normal was the way he'd run away from home for a whole week the year before. It was still an unpleasant memory for Vegeta. Not that he'd worried very much but Bulma had been downright scared. Thus, the Saiyan had sought his son for days with Gohan's help but the little bastard had been awfully good at suppressing his ki, so they never found out where he was hiding.

As days went by, Trunks's disappearance had driven Bulma almost crazy, and it had become very hard for Vegeta to deal with the situation. Then, one morning, they'd found the fifteen-year-old quietly sleeping in his bed. He was rather dirty and seemed tired but not sorry or sad the least. Even rather joyful. He never told anyone where he had been or what he'd been doing, though.

Vegeta had suspected something about a girl. Bulma had imagined something about drugs. However, the boy never explained anything. "He's fragile. The teenage years are a hard time," Bulma had said. Yet, Vegeta didn't believe this explanation. Indeed, Trunks was far from fragile and he dealt rather good with his 'teenage years' or whatever Bulma called it.

The point was that the night he had run away, Trunks was supposed to watch his five-year-old sister, and he'd left her alone at home without a second thought. From that day, Bulma had decided he wasn't mature enough to be trusted on that matter.

The shower felt good. Vegeta was more relaxed when he got out the bathroom. Bulma was putting on her jewels in front of the mirror.

"Go check the kids while I'm getting ready, we're already late," she asked.

"We're always late, what's the point?" he mumbled while getting dressed.

She sighed and glared at him. "Could you, at least, sometimes pretend you care for your children?"

"I'll do my best," he growled while slamming the room's door behind him.

He stepped into the corridor to Trunks's room. A picture of a grinning skull with flesh still sticking to the bones was hanging on the door. Letters dripping with red ink picturing blood were written under the grimacing face. "You've been warned".

Vegeta didn't even look at the ridiculous poster, he knocked harshly at the door. He'd never considered knocking at doors before, but he had to admit that life with his family had taught him that little concessions could avoid a big headache.

The door opened an inch and Trunks's face appeared in the small gap. The boy had rings under his eyes and Vegeta wondered when the kid had some real sleep for the last time. The Saiyan didn't care that much for his son's private life though, and the question vanished from his brain very soon.

"Your mother and I are leaving to go to Mount Paozu. We'll be back in the night. The freak's watching Bulla. Can you live with that?"

"Sure. Have fun," Trunks answered with an emotionless voice.

He closed the door quietly without waiting for any other advice or question. Vegeta was used to a minimum of words with him lately, so he didn't bother. He headed to Bulla's room.

The little girl was in the nursery and watching TV. Gloria was nowhere to be seen. Vegeta frowned a bit and glanced at the clock. Wasn't it supposed to be bedtime or some shit like that?

He stepped in. Bulla was sitting on the ground. She seemed mesmerized by the movie.

"Hey, girl!" Vegeta called, "Where's that freak of…"

He interrupted himself as something strange had caught his eyes. He walked closer to the child. She hadn't even turned to him and was still focused on the screen.

"What the hell..." the Saiyan mumbled as he came closer from the TV.

It was showing a screaming woman stabbed by a guy with a huge knife. Rivers of blood were dripping on her white skin and she was crying frantically. Bulla was watching with a faint frown as if she was trying to understand what was going on.

Vegeta froze for an instant and his eyes wandered in the room seeking for the remote. He couldn't locate the item but he was feeling a growing urge to turn the movie off. Without thinking further he just dropped the TV on the ground and it blew up into pieces with a deafening noise. The device released some light smoke and expelled some sparkles before turning black and silent.

Bulla had jumped a little but didn't say anything. She was still sitting on the ground contemplating the useless, half-burnt TV.

"What were you watching? Where is your damn babysitter?" Vegeta hissed.

Bulla looked up at him. She was frowning deeper and he was surprised to spot anger in her blue, childish eyes.

"You broke it!" she yelled accusingly.

"I couldn't find the remote, where's…"

"It was MY TV and you broke it! Why did you do that, you're mean!"

Vegeta was taken aback by his daughter's reaction.

"Don't talk to me that way, brat! You were watching something you're not supposed to see and I'm the one to decide whether you have a TV or not!"

Bulla had gritted teeth and her aura was unexpectingly flaring.

"That movie was cool! Besides, Trunks told me you did those kind of bloody things yourself when you were a kid, so why shouldn't I see it?"

"Trunks told you what?!" Vegeta exclaimed in disbelief.

Bulla stood up and the chandelier above Vegeta's head began to swing dangerously. He had a glance at it and understood straight away that the little girl's ki was getting out of control. He knew he had to cool down, otherwise he wouldn't have much choice but to knock her out and Bulma would get under his skin for weeks.

He stepped back.

"Ok, Bulla, calm down now. Where's Gloria? Why don't you have your pyjamas on?"

"For God's sakes! What's going on here?" Bulma's voice asked angrily in his back.

"He broke my TV!" Bulla yelled, pointing at her father.

Bulma sighed and walked to her daughter to pat her head.

"He did that?" she said softly.

"Yeah! He did it on purpose," the child added in an appalled tone.

Bulma peeked at Vegeta.

"I couldn't find the remote and…"

"Whatever! Could you once in a while take care of the equipment?" she hissed.

She kissed her daughter. "Mum will get you a brand new one. A bigger one," she hushed lovingly.

Bulla's ki went down gradually. Bulma took her in her room to have her put her pyjamas on. She explained her with a soothing voice that her father was weird, sometimes, but that he loved her anyway.

The Saiyan gazed at the chandelier that was still slightly swinging. He was himself still nervous about what just happened. The brat's energy had flared up so quickly and so dangerously. He would have had no trouble dealing with it but if this kind of things happened out of the house, it could be dreadful.

He sighed and wondered once again where the freaking babysitter had been the whole time. He went downstairs and found her sitting in the kitchen.

"Victoria!" he miscalled.

She was perched on a stool and showing him her back. As he stepped closer to her he realized she was gazing absently at nothing in particular while mechanically eating Bulla's plate.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he groaned.

She didn't answer. She didn't even look at him. She kept on eating Bulla's vegetables. Vegeta frowned and waved his hand in front of her. She didn't react.

"Hey!" he yelled all of a sudden.

She blinked at last. She swallowed the vegetables.

"Mr Briefs? What's up?"

"What are you doing here? Eating my daughter's plate while she's upstairs watching freaking movies in the nursery?"

"Wha… What?" the girl stammered.

She looked lost for a while. She finally rested the plate and forks and stood up awkwardly.

"I… I better go check on her."

"Yeah. Do that. I think that's what my wife pays you for."

He watched her leaving the kitchen with concern. Something was wrong. He couldn't say what. He remembered Bulla's mesmerized look while she was watching this awful bloody movie.

He had to talk to Trunks. He had downright no desire to do that. He wasn't gifted to 'talk', it was always Bulma's matter. Humans like to talk a lot and they had the strong belief it could solve a lot of issues. Yet, Vegeta was no human and he had never practiced the 'talking' solution. As far as he was concerned, he would rather stay at a good distance from the children's troubles. However, he knew Bulma would freak out if he told her what happened with Bulla. He remembered her panic when Trunks ran away and he didn't feel like renewing this experience.

"Ready to go, warrior?"

He looked up to find out Bulma was standing on the doorstep. He realized that she was looking beautiful and furthermore, she was looking cheerful. She would only call him warrior when she was in a good mood and it was exactly what he was craving for. A wonderful, loving, peaceful spouse.