A/N: Hi all. Firstly, I will warn you that there are going to be a few spoilers scattered about. More towards the later chapters, though. In all honesty, this story was inspired by Jesa Jaisai's "Time enough to be with you." It was one of my favorite stories, and if the author has a problem with my posting The Muerte Virus, please contact me and I'll remove it.
Um…besides that, I don't think there is anything to say. Rating may go up, depending on the reviews I get and what the people want. ^.^ Enjoy!
Bulma let the hospital bed take her full weight as she nervously waited for the doctor's return. She did her best to relax, knowing that is wasn't good to stay tense too long, especially in her condition.
What condition that was, she didn't know. In fact, it was the whole reason she was here. For the past three months her health had been going from poor to dangerously bad. Still, Bulma, being the stubborn Briefs that she was, kept putting off a trip to the doctor's office. That is, until she began to cough up blood and loose the ability to move her arms or legs for a few moments at a time.
It had been hard, keeping her growing illness from her husband Vegeta and her parents. They all thought she was just going for a routine check-up, and she had made sure to make enough fuss about going that they wouldn't think to second-guess her motives. She had left her son Trunks, now at the bright and curious age of six, in the care of her mother, and gave both him and Vegeta firm orders not to train Trunks in the GR while she was gone. Of course, that meant that when she got home, she would find them both sprawled out on the ground out front, totally exhausted from not obeying her orders.
Bulma smiled a little, ignoring the twinge in her heart as she shifted slightly on the bed. Everything had been so peacefully since Cell had been killed. Gohan had gone off to school, though he never forgot to show up at her house at least once a week to train with Vegeta. Chi-Chi had another little boy, Goten, who was as adventurous and carefree as the man he looked so much like. Goku.
A sigh escaped her lips as she stared at the ceiling. Goku…It had been a long time now. Years had passed, but it was still an open wound. To know that she would never see her friend again was heart wrenching. That she would never hear his childish and naive comments, or laugh as he inhaled thousands of platters of food, and then complained about a stomachache.
"Mrs. Briefs?" The doctor called, clearing his throat as he entered.
Bulma blinked away thoughts of the past and turned her attention on the man before her. Immediately she sat up, knowing from the hesitant and sorrowful look in his eyes that he had bad news.
He was a good man, she recalled. Doctor Bryan S. Fields. He had delivered her as a baby, and she trusted him more than any other doctor specialist in the world. She also knew that whatever was uncovered here, today, would be kept in the strictest of confidentiality. No one would know of her visit.
"How bad is it, Doc?" Bulma asked, shifting to swing her legs over the side of the bed. "I hope I don't have to go into surgery."
This, for some reason, pained the good doctor. "No, Mrs. Briefs. There will be no need for that." He cleared his throat again and looked down at the clipboard in his hands. "Bulma," he said, looking back up at her, "you have a very rare disease called the Muerte virus."
Bulma felt her stomach drop into an endless pit. She didn't like the sound of that virus. She forced herself to grin. "Sounds a little over-dramatic, Doc. What do I need to take to get rid of it?"
"Bulma…" Doctor Fields reached forward and covered one of her hands with his and took a ragged breath. "There is nothing you can take for Muerte. It is as the name suggests. Death. In all of our medical history, only two other people contracted such a virus."
Bulma was very pale now. "Wh-what happened to them?"
"They became very sick, Bulma. It was a…very messy and painful death for each of them." He glanced down at the papers and pulled a few sheets out. "Here are their coronary reports."
Bulma took it with a shaky hand and skimmed over the sheets. Bile rose in her mouth as she read over it. Their internal organs had all been liquefied…loss of fingers and toes due to lack of blood circulation…pain…lots and lots of pain…
She shuddered and pushed the papers away. "Is there no cure, Doctor?" She asked softly.
He shook his head sadly. "No. I can't tell you how sorry I am, Bulma."
Bulma stood, a strange, distant look in her eyes. "How long do you think I have?"
"From what I gathered, and how far along the virus is in your system," he hesitated, doing a quick mental calculation. "I would estimate it at about three weeks. A month and a half tops. It kills within a year."
Bulma nodded sharply. "Thank you, Doctor Fields. I would like all the paperwork you have on this disease, please."
"Of course." He handed her a small packet. "I assumed you would want it all."
Bulma nodded again and headed for the door. "I will see you next year, Doctor," she said firmly.
Doctor Fields closed his eyes as she left and prayed. Dear Kami, please let her be right.
The next few days passed in a blur to Bulma Briefs. She locked herself in her lab and refused to come out except to eat. There was a shower and a closet full of her clothes so she could keep clean in the lab. Inside, she worked furiously, vials of her blood filled the small table as she constantly searched the computer and her brain for an answer. A cure to the virus called Death that swam in her system.
Actually, swam wasn't quite the right word for it, she reflected morbidly. It didn't swim; it melded. It attached itself to each and every blood cell in her body. To each organ. To each spot of living tissue. And then it burrowed into her, hiding itself too deep for any medical staff to find. And even if they managed to kill off the ones that had merged with her blood cells and not kill her in the process, it multiplied fast enough that if even one survived, she would be no better off.
Finally, one week after she had been told she would die, Bulma came up with something. It was in no means a cure, but it would buy her an extra week or so. It was a little electronic chip that clamped on to the flesh on the underside of her wrist. It was about the size of a quarter, and about twice as thick, but it was the best she could do. A little digital clock showed how many hours, minutes, and seconds she had left until it ran out of the serum that kept the Muerte at bay.
When the clock ran down to zero, she would die in a wave of pain and blood. The serum acted as a damn against the Muerte virus. It blocked it, allowing the disease to build itself higher and higher. And when it broke…
Bulma shook those thoughts out of her head as she deleted the last of her files. She had one thousand, one hundred and seventy-six hours, forty-two minutes, and three seconds left to live, and she was going to live. Starting with her friends and family that she had been neglecting.
She headed to the kitchen, knowing that at any given time either her son or her husband would be there raiding the fridge for a "decent meal". Sure enough, both Trunks and Vegeta were finishing their lunch. Her parents were sitting there, too, quietly sipping their tea.
"We haven't had a party in a while," Bulma said as she walked in and took a seat. "What do you guys think of a get-together with everyone?"
Her mother squealed happily. "That sounds wonderful, Bulma! And I just found this new recipe that your little Vegeta and his friend Goku should just love!"
Bulma snickered at the look on Vegeta's face. "You're improving, Mom. I only heard two things wrong in that sentence. First, Vegeta isn't little, and second, Goku isn't his friend." She smirked at her husband. "Although, Vegeta's such a pig, he might not have listened past the 'new recipe' comment."
"Watch it, Woman," Vegeta growled. The corner of his mouth quirked. "You're in an odd mood today. And what are you doing out of your lab? I was enjoying the peace and quiet around here without your irritating voice in my ear."
Bulma laughed, placing a kiss on Vegeta's temple as she skipped out of the room. "No more work for me, boys! For the next six weeks, I'm gonna have some fun!"
Trunks glanced at his dad when his mother was out of sight. "Dad…"
"I don't know, boy," he answered the unspoken question, looking after his mate worriedly. "I just don't know."
The next day, the Z Senshi started arriving for Bulma's reunion. Trunks, of course, was ecstatic that Goten and Gohan were coming because that meant someone to beat up on that wouldn't smash his face in for it. When everyone got there, it totaled twenty-one people, including Bulma's family.
Originally, it was supposed to be her, Vegeta, Trunks, Chi-Chi, Gohan, Goten, Krillen, and Piccolo. However, Krillen revealed that he had been married to the Android Eighteen for a few years and they had a daughter named Marron. And then, Tien and Choutzu had been training with Piccolo when he got the invite, so they came, too. And Lunch had come, also, since she and Tien had married a few years back. And Chi-chi's father, the Ox-King, had nothing to do, so he tagged along with the Sons. And, of course, since Krillen and Eighteen were still living with Master Roshi, the old pervert came along with Turtle and Oolong. Yamcha and Puar, much to Vegeta's anger, came along, sensing everyone's gathered kis. Dende and Mr. Popo said much the same thing when they popped in.
As the sun set, the group moved outside and Bulma found a quiet chair off to the side of the party. She tucked her feet up and rested her chin on her knees as she surveyed the controlled chaos that was her friends. She would miss them, she thought, smiling a little. More than anything else on the planet, she would miss knowing that they would always be there for her.
She found her eyes being pulled towards her husband and revised the stray thought. She might miss her friends, but it would be a constant pain to be separated from Vegeta and her son. They were just beginning their lives together. Being with Vegeta was still thrilling and heart-stopping. And little Trunks had barely begun to live. She would never be there to advise him about the wiles of women, or see him off on his first date. Or when he married…
Bulma suddenly stood and went inside, not being able to stop the tears. It wasn't fair! She cried in her mind. She had always thought it would be her that sobbed over her husband's grave. But now…would he even care? Would her dark Prince let down his emotional barrier enough to let the salty tears of grief soak the dirt at her grave?
"Woman," Vegeta growled, entering the dark living room to find his mate curled up against the arm of the couch. "The brat was looking for you. Something about wanting to go to a park tomorrow."
Bulma sniffed back the rest of her tears and wiped her cheeks clean as she stood. She flashed him a bright smile and hid her pain deep down. "Sounds like a good time. You're coming too, of course."
Vegeta sputtered. "Woman! I have training to do!"
Bulma narrowed her eyes at him, getting ready for an argument, when she suddenly couldn't find the anger to yell. With a sigh, she backed down. "Very well, Vegeta," she said, her shoulders slumping. "I just thought…" She shook her head and forced herself to perk back up. "You'd probably end up blasting the hotdog man, anyway!"
"…Woman…" Vegeta trailed off as she turned to leave.
Bulma paused and looked back at him. "Yes, Vegeta?"
The Saiyan Prince hesitated, looking like he was fighting a quick mental battle. Finally he shrugged. "The baka machine needs to be fixed, anyway. I'll go with you and the brat to make sure no one thinks of touching what is mine."
Bulma smiled brilliantly at him, feeling her heart warm as he tried to please her. "Thank you, Vegeta."
Vegeta snorted and turned away, crossing his arms over his chest. Bulma smiled sadly at his back before leaving to find her boy. Her agreement to Trunk's plan to go to the park, and then the zoo was met with another demand to let Goten come with them. Bulma grinned at Chi-Chi's pleading look and nodded.
"Woohoo!" Goten cheered. He began hopping around and singing, "I'm going to the zoo-o! I'm going to the zoo-o!"
"Oh, and Trunks," Bulma said, smiling. "Your father's coming with us."
Trunks stood there, gaping for a long moment. "You mean it?" He asked, hope shining in his eyes. "He'll really come?"
Bulma smiled even more widely and ruffled his lavender hair. "Yes, Trunks. If there's one thing you can count on about your father, it's his word. Once it's given, he won't break it without a very good reason."
"Cool," Trunks grinned. "I can't wait for tomorrow!"
Gradually, the party broke off, everyone growing tired and drifting home. No one said anything, as they congratulated her on her best party yet, but they thought it. Her party would have been perfect, but for the absence of their goofy Saiyan Goku.
The next day was one Bulma was certain she would never forget. They started out early, picking up Goten on their way out. Over the night, Trunks and Goten had decided that it would be best if they started with the zoo and ended with a nice stroll through the park.
From the beginning, the zoo idea was destined for disaster. Vegeta, the arrogant man that he was, refused to leave one exhibit until he had made at least one derogatory comment on the animal. It was actually quite funny when Bulma took him before the monkey exhibit and defied him to make a comment on them that wouldn't, in some way, be putting his own race down. Vegeta only growled and stalked off.
Then there had been the incident with the hotdog vendor, just as Bulma had predicted. The poor man didn't have enough food to feed a full Saiyan and two demi-Saiyans, so Vegeta had wanted to start blasting him for his stupidity. Up until Bulma reminded him that he was doing exactly as she had said he would. Then he stomped and walked off to find another "food dispensing servant".
By the time the boys were ready to leave, Bulma had managed to keep Vegeta from killing anyone, which she thought marked the outing as a pleasant one. However, he did manage to seriously injure five men who whistled, hooted, howled, and made sexual comments towards her when her back was turned. Still, it was a good day.
The park was Bulma's favored part of the trip. Goten and Trunks ran ahead of them, making strange animal sounds that they had heard at the zoo and laughing. Bulma and Vegeta walked side-by-side down the paved walkway, neither touching nor talking.
After the second male to attempt to talk to Bulma crawled away with a broken arm, Bulma hesitantly decided to offer a suggestion.
"You know," she began, "if you just put you arm around me or something to let them know we're together, you wouldn't have to expend energy hurting them."
"If I had my tail," Vegeta grumbled, sliding an arm over her shoulders, "this wouldn't be a problem."
"Do you miss your tail?" Bulma asked, surprised.
"Of course I do!" Vegeta growled. "It doubled my strength! Kept me balanced!"
Bulma made a thoughtful noise, but didn't comment on that. Trunks gave them a strange look when he and Goten raced back to inform them that they were hungry again. He had never seen his father with his arm around his mother. It looked very strange and unnatural, but one glare from his father silenced any questions he might have about it.
The next few weeks passed by quickly for Bulma. With every day, she found something new and wonderful to do with her son and husband. Occasionally Chi-Chi or Krillen would come with them on an outing, but mostly it was the three of them. Trunks had dubbed her the "coolest Mom ever," and Goten agreed, saying his mom was nothing like Bulma.
One night, two weeks before Bulma's time would run out, she climbed onto the roof as she had been doing lately when she couldn't sleep. She sat there, staring up at the stars and tried to keep her thoughts from turning morbid, as they tended to do.
"You're going to kill yourself one day, Woman," Vegeta growled, appearing on the other side of the roof, "trying to climb up and down from here."
Bulma lifted her head and regarded him. "And what would you do then, Vegeta?" She asked him. "If I suddenly died."
Vegeta approached her warily and snorted. "What kind of question is that, Woman? I would feel your ki arch as you fell, and catch you."
Bulma smiled sadly at him before returning her chin to her knees and staring sightlessly out over the city. "Would you cry over me, Vegeta?" She asked very softly.
"What? Of course not, Woman! Warriors don't cry!"
Bulma sighed and nodded, not looking back to him. "I thought as much." She pulled back on the happy face she had become so adept at over the weeks and stood up. "Well, I'm of to bed, Veggie! G'night!"
"Hold it, Woman," Vegeta growled, grabbing her arm as she passed him. "I want an explanation."
Bulma blinked innocently up at him. "For what, Vegeta?"
Her claim to not knowing what he was talking about seemed to anger him a bit. "Ever since you got back from that fool doctor's visit, you've been acting strange," he accused. "First you lock yourself away for a week, then you come out acting like you have to get everything done before some kind of deadline."
Bulma forced herself to stay calm under his black, fiery gaze. "I have to get back to work in two weeks, Vegeta. I told you that. And I wont be able to find time off for a very long time, so I wanted to spend what little time I have left with my loved ones, is that so terrible?"
"You have erratic mood swings," he continued, ignoring her comment. "You go from depressed to gloriously happy whenever anyone comes around. I demand to know what is going on!"
Bulma fell silent, thinking quickly. He can not know, she thought desperately. He cannot find out that I'm going to die.
He already knows, another part of her whispered. He's just in denial. He doesn't want to think that you could leave him.
"It's late, Vegeta," Bulma said tiredly. "I'll tell you later." She smiled slightly. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."
Reluctantly, Vegeta nodded and led the way back down to their room. In bed, Bulma curled against him and stared across his chest at the far wall. She couldn't give this up, she thought, not for the first time. This life, this love, none of it.
The Eternal Dragon, she thought. He should be able to get rid of it. After all, he brought people back from the dead. Her disease should be a snap. And she could finally stop Vegeta's grumbling about his lost tail.
But how would she get around Vegeta, who was already suspicious, and her son? It was going to take a while, maybe even the rest of the time she had left. Not to mention all the dangers that seemed to surround the Dragonballs.
Bulma fell asleep contemplating how she would be able to do it alone.
The next morning yielded no answers and Bulma prepared to abandon herself for another day of family fun. She headed downstairs only to find a note plastered to the table. In Vegeta's elegant handwriting, it said:
Woman, The brat and I are going to spend this day training. All of your "fun" is making him weak.
Bulma sighed in mingled relief and regret. She didn't want to have to go out again today. She was starting to feel the effects of her illness, and another day like yesterday or the day before would wear her out completely.
She opted for a nice, long refreshing bath and curled up on the couch with a good novel. No sooner had she gotten truly comfortable than did the doorbell ring, announcing a guest. Bulma scowled darkly at the door, but got up and answered it.
Her eyes widened and she took a step back when she opened the door to reveal Piccolo. They stood there a moment, staring at each other.
"Uh…Vegeta's in the GR with Trunks," Bulma said.
"I did not come to speak with them," Piccolo rumbled.
"Oh." Bulma hesitated. "Then who?"
"You."
Bulma waited for an elaboration. When she got none, she frowned, beginning to get angry. "Care to tell me what about?"
"Your illness," he said shortly.
Bulma went stiff and stepped aside to let him in. She led him to her lab, the only secure place that came to mind, before speaking again. "How do you know about that?" She demanded.
"Nameks are telepathic," Piccolo said. "You were thinking very hard about your disease, the Muerte virus, during the party."
Bulma watched him carefully. "Are you going to tell them?"
"No. It is not my decision to make."
"Then what are you here for?"
"Dende asked me to come and offer to gather the Dragonballs for you," he said, sounding less than pleased with it. "He hopes that it will offer a cure for you."
Bulma gasped in delight. "Oh! That would be perfect! I was just thinking about a way to gather them soon enough!"
Piccolo looked at her, his expression betraying nothing of what he thought. "How long do you have?"
Bulma pulled up the sleeve that covered her chip and looked at the clock. "Three hundred and forty-one hours, eleven minutes, and twenty-nine seconds."
Piccolo looked startled. "How can you…?"
Bulma grinned at him and showed him the chip. "I bought myself a little more time with this baby. But as soon as the time runs out…I'm in for a very painful death."
Piccolo grunted and moved towards the door. "When I have gathered them all, I will return to take you to Dende's Lookout."
Bulma nodded. "Thanks, Piccolo."
Four days passed before Piccolo returned, and in that time, Bulma's condition began to deteriorate slightly. It wasn't bad, yet, but soon she wouldn't be able to hide the sickness from her family.
"Let's go," Piccolo said shortly, ignoring her parents.
Bulma jumped up from the table eagerly. "Mom, Dad," she said, turning back. "If Vegeta or Trunks ask where I went, by any small miracle, tell them I went shopping, okay?"
"Oh!" Her mother clapped her hands excitedly. "Are you cooking up a surprise for them, Bulma dear?"
Bulma smiled slightly. "Yeah, Mom. That's it."
"Have fun, honey," her father murmured from behind his paper.
Bulma hurried outside with Piccolo and held onto him tightly when he took off. She had flown a few times with Vegeta, but the lack of control still made her stomach clench in fear.
Then they were at Dende's, and Bulma honed in on the tall, young Namek and the seven glowing magic balls. She greeted Dende with a hug and a brief, heart-felt thank you for everything he had done for her, no matter what happened.
"Arise, Dragon!" Bulma called out to the golden balls. "Arise, and grant my wishes!"
There was a whoosh of wind and the sky grew black with clouds. Bulma crossed her fingers as lightening streaked the sky, and prayed that she would have enough time before any of her friends came to investigate.
"I am the Eternal Dragon," boomed the gigantic beast that loomed above her. "You who have summoned me, make your wishes."
"I wish," Bulma said in a clear voice, "that you get rid of the disease called the Muerte virus that is inside of me."
The Dragon was silent as his eyes glowed a bright red. "Your wish cannot be granted."
"What!" Bulma reeled in shock, not really having expected this. "Why not?"
"It is beyond my power."
Bulma chewed on her bottom lip as she thought. "Then I wish to be taken to one who can heal me."
Again the Dragon's eyes glowed, and again he answered in the negative.
"The one who can heal you is out of my reach," he rumbled.
"If the Dragon can't reach them," Dende spoke up, "then the person must be stronger than he."
Bulma scowled up at the Dragon, getting angry. "Then I wish for a way to contact the one who can heal me!"
The Dragon's eyes glowed and a large boom box was suddenly dumped at her feet.
"Your wish has been granted. What are your final two?"
Bulma thought about how to phrase her next wish, a smile blooming across her features that could only be described as wicked. "I wish for all the Saiyans that live on Earth to have their tails back!"
"Bulma!" Piccolo and Dende shouted together in horror.
But it was too late. The Dragon was already granting her wish. Bulma giggled as she thought of what would happen to poor Gohan at school when he found his tail had re-grown. And at least Vegeta would stop harping on her about his damned tail.
"It is done," the Dragon boomed. "What is your final wish?"
Bulma had already thought about this one as she made her second wish. "I wish that the moon be brought back, but I want to full moon left out of the lunar rotation."
There was a pause as the Dragon granted her wish where Bulma felt the two Nameks breathe deep sighs of relief.
"Your wishes have been granted. Now, I go."
Bulma grinned at them. "We need the excitement, anyway," she told them, referring to the tail wish.
Piccolo only grunted and Bulma turned to examine the giant radio on the ground before her. Dende was staring at it in a mixture of awe and fear.
"What's up, Dende?" Bulma asked worriedly as she started to fiddle with the knobs.
"Don't do that!" He yelped, dragging her away from it. "You aren't allowed to touch that, Bulma! No one is allowed to mess with that!"
He sounded slightly panicked, so Bulma stopped trying to mess with it and looked at him expectantly. Piccolo was looking at him with dawning horror.
"It…can't be!" He cried, looking at the box.
"It is," Dende said grimly. "That, Bulma, is the boom box of the Grand Kai himself. He never goes anywhere without it."
"Then I guess he'll be here soon," Bulma said, happy with how the Dragon granted her wish.
"No!" Dende cried loudly. "That's not good! Bulma, I want you to listen very carefully. The universe is separated into four different quadrants. North, South, East, and West."
"I know," Bulma said. "Goku told us about that after he got back from King Kai's place. For every cardinal direction, there is a Kai that watches over it."
"Right. But what he didn't know," Piccolo picked up, "was that there was another Kai that watches over the four Kais. He's called the Grand Kai."
"Oh." Bulma gulped. "That makes him…pretty strong, huh?"
"The strongest," Dende said seriously.
"And he's gonna be angry when he finds him little radio gone, huh?"
Dende nodded.
"DAMN THAT DRAGON!" Bulma yelled at the top of her lungs.
Immediately, she regretted it. Her knees collapsed under her weight as she started coughing. She braced her hands on the ground, locking her elbows to keep her up. Her insides churned painfully, and when it passed, she saw blood liberally dotting the floor.
Dende silently handed her a glass of water, and she drank in sips.
"The Dragon said that he would be able to heal me," Bulma whispered, still weak. "I can't die. Not yet."
"When it's your time, chickie, it's your time," a gravelly, aged voice said. "Ya gotta go with the flow."
Bulma sat up weakly and turned with Piccolo and Dende to see who their new visitor was. He sat on the railing of the pavilion, one leg casually dangling over the side. He was short, with a long gray hair, mustache, and beard and long pointy ears. Sunglasses were perched on his nose, hiding his eyes from them.
"Not yet," Bulma gasped through the pain as she tried to stand. "Not like this."
Dende grabbed her arm and steadied her. "Careful, Bulma," he murmured.
"You look in sad shape," the old man, obviously the Grand Kai, said, jumping off the rail and walking over.
Bulma frowned at him. "Of course I do," she snapped. "I'm dying!"
"Then I would ask that you give my regards to King Yemma," he said, unperturbed by her outburst. "Now, me and my tunes here are gonna jet."
"Wait!" Bulma cried. "Please."
"What's up, hot mama?"
"I need your help," Bulma said. She took a deep breath and explained everything in a rush. "You see, I have this virus called Muerte and it kills people very painfully and I tried everything I could think of and all it did was slow the virus down but now times running out and I can't leave Vegeta and Trunks because I love them too much and the Dragon didn't have enough power to get rid of it so I asked him to find me a way to speak with someone who can and he brought your boom box here and here you are so I'm assuming that you can fix me and I would really appreciate it if you did."
"Woah!" The Grand Kai laughed. "Now that's a mouthful!" He gave her a long, considering look. "So, you're that Bulma. Goku's told us all about you."
"Goku!" Bulma cried. "You know Goku?"
"Sure! He just finished winning the Other World Tournament not a year ago!"
Piccolo let out a huff of laughter. "Yeah, that sounds like Goku, alright."
The Grand Kai stood with his arms crossed, staring up at the sky, his foot perched on the top of his radio. He nodded to himself several times, muttering some nameless tune under his breath.
"Alright, you cool cats," he said. "I'll take Bulma here with me back to my place and fix her up good as new!"
"You will?" Bulma cheered. "Alright! Woohoo! I-"
She dissolved into another coughing fix, her body's reprimand for doing anything more strenuous than standing there breathing.
When it passed, Dende was holding her up, looking very worried. Bulma patted his hand absently, taking deep, slow breaths. When she took her hand away from his, she left another splash of blood.
"I thought you said you had another week at least," Piccolo said, sounding as worried as she had ever heard him.
"I do," Bulma said, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "This is just the beginning."
"No kidding," the Grand Kai agreed. "I've seen this Muerte virus in action and it ain't pretty."
"You had better hurry and get her out of here," Piccolo said gruffly. "Vegeta and the others are almost here."
"Vegeta…" Bulma echoed, looking out over the Lookout. She shook her head slightly and carefully took a few steps. Finding that her legs would hold her, she nodded at the Grand Kai. "Let's get out of here before they come."
"Alrighty then!" He shouldered his boom box and started off. "Hold on tight, Bulma! This is gonna be one groovy ride!"
Bulma grabbed his arm weakly with both her hands and clamped her eyes shut. Vegeta, she thought. Forgive me for leaving you like this.
They vanished just as she heard the whoosh of the wind as her husband landed on Dende's Lookout. She hoped that he wouldn't kill the Namek Guardian. Goku wasn't around to hold him back anymore, and Gohan had been letting school interfere with his training lately. No one would be able to stop him.
"Here we are!" The Grand Kai said.
Bulma opened her eyes cautiously and found herself inside a giant mansion. She followed him silently, gaping at how big everything seemed. They entered a large study hall and he motioned for Bulma to take a rest in one of the chairs.
"Now, I won't mince the truth for ya," he told her. "To get that nasty bug out of ya, I'll have to go in real deep. And it's gonna hurt. A lot."
"But it'll be gone," Bulma said.
"All gone!" He hesitated before adding, "With the possibility of some minor side-effects."
"What kind of side-effects?"
"Nothing bad, chickie. Nothing bad! The energy I use to get that junk out of you might get stuck in there, upping what you guys call your ki level."
Bulma blinked in surprise. "You mean, I'll be like Goku and Vegeta and the others?"
"Uh-huh," he agreed. "With the right training, of course. And you will need training, if I can't bring all of my energy out with the disease."
Bulma relaxed. "That's fine. Let's do it."
"Alright!" The Grand Kai rubbed his hands together and gripped her shoulders tightly. "Hold onto something, kiddo. This is going to hurt!"
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