Whose Baby?
Vegeta sat slumped over, cradling his crushed arm as though to comfort it. He heard Bulma slam the laboratory door shut. Dizzy with pain, he could only sit shocked as he reflected on Bulma's violent actions. If she had told him how upset she was, he might have changed his ways. Instead the fiery company heiress had rigged his gravity machine and threatened to take full custody of their baby son. Trying to keep his injury from the recent gravity machine "accident" as still as possible, he scooted over to a discarded towel to fashion a sling. Why should Bulma get so upset? I was not training too much. He managed to get his damaged limb into the sling with minimal whimpering, but his mind wasn't focused on the pain of the serious fracture. The prince was worried about the custody issue. It wasn't his fault Bulma wanted him to spend more time with the boy. Spend more time? A slow smirk crossed his visage. Of course! He thought. I'll spend more time with him. Lots of time. He gingerly got to his feet and made his way out of the lab.
Bulma lay Trunks in his cradle.
"Goodnight sweetheart," she crooned, "are you going to be a good boy and sleep for six hours?"
Trunks giggled and attempted to grab her finger.
"None of that, sweetness," Bulma scolded, "your saiyan half is too strong. You would never let me have my finger back."
The baby began to fuss.
"Hush love. Don't cry now. Just go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning. I promise."
Early that morning, Vegeta was working quickly with his good arm. Doctors had patched up his left arm as well as they could in the limited time he had given them. Surgery had been suggested, but Vegeta had left after the limb had been splinted. He had already packed three capsulized crates full of baby food and diapers and stored them in Dr. Briefs' Saiyan-style space pod. He made certain that Bulma was sleeping, then hurried to the baby's room. He got out another crate and stuffed it with all the tolerable baby clothes he could find. Finally, he strode over to the most important bundle. The baby stared up at him and squealed in recognition. Vegeta lifted the boy with his right arm.
Vegeta carried his baggage and son into the enlarged space pod/gravity machine. Trunks emitted a confused murmur while his father examined the controls.
What's that noise? A space ship launching? Bulma hurried to the window. The space pod!? Who on earth...oh no! Bulma sprinted to her baby's room. The closets, and crib, were empty. Screaming, she dashed outside.
"Vegeta! Stop! My baby! My baby!"
But the pod was already launching. Wailing in despair, she watched the machine leave with her only child.
Vegeta sat slumped over, cradling his crushed arm as though to comfort it. He heard Bulma slam the laboratory door shut. Dizzy with pain, he could only sit shocked as he reflected on Bulma's violent actions. If she had told him how upset she was, he might have changed his ways. Instead the fiery company heiress had rigged his gravity machine and threatened to take full custody of their baby son. Trying to keep his injury from the recent gravity machine "accident" as still as possible, he scooted over to a discarded towel to fashion a sling. Why should Bulma get so upset? I was not training too much. He managed to get his damaged limb into the sling with minimal whimpering, but his mind wasn't focused on the pain of the serious fracture. The prince was worried about the custody issue. It wasn't his fault Bulma wanted him to spend more time with the boy. Spend more time? A slow smirk crossed his visage. Of course! He thought. I'll spend more time with him. Lots of time. He gingerly got to his feet and made his way out of the lab.
Bulma lay Trunks in his cradle.
"Goodnight sweetheart," she crooned, "are you going to be a good boy and sleep for six hours?"
Trunks giggled and attempted to grab her finger.
"None of that, sweetness," Bulma scolded, "your saiyan half is too strong. You would never let me have my finger back."
The baby began to fuss.
"Hush love. Don't cry now. Just go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning. I promise."
Early that morning, Vegeta was working quickly with his good arm. Doctors had patched up his left arm as well as they could in the limited time he had given them. Surgery had been suggested, but Vegeta had left after the limb had been splinted. He had already packed three capsulized crates full of baby food and diapers and stored them in Dr. Briefs' Saiyan-style space pod. He made certain that Bulma was sleeping, then hurried to the baby's room. He got out another crate and stuffed it with all the tolerable baby clothes he could find. Finally, he strode over to the most important bundle. The baby stared up at him and squealed in recognition. Vegeta lifted the boy with his right arm.
Vegeta carried his baggage and son into the enlarged space pod/gravity machine. Trunks emitted a confused murmur while his father examined the controls.
What's that noise? A space ship launching? Bulma hurried to the window. The space pod!? Who on earth...oh no! Bulma sprinted to her baby's room. The closets, and crib, were empty. Screaming, she dashed outside.
"Vegeta! Stop! My baby! My baby!"
But the pod was already launching. Wailing in despair, she watched the machine leave with her only child.