Guilty Love

By

Starfire Grace

Summary: A frighten and confused sixteen year old girl had given a testimony that sent Son Goten to prison for a crime that he never committed. Now, after years of struggling, she has a new life and a new name—Bulla Lacestings—and was managing to deal with the guilt. Then Goten reappears, and she feels trapped by the memories and imprisoned by her helpless attraction to him.

He didn't recognize her. But he took one look at her and knew she was the girl he wanted

Bulla knows she's losing a battle to keep not only the past, but also her passion for Goten, concealed. Even if she could convince him of her love, could he ever forgive her once he knows the truth?

A/N: Hey guys so I wanted to do something different and decided to write a fic for my second favorite couple of all time, Goten x Bra. This fic will be rated M for brief language, smoking, and sexual references and content. Okay so I guess you could say this a major A/U the events of Z only goes as far as the Cell Games, the Buu arch never happened, Trunks and Bra don't know how to use their saiyan powers cause Vegeta died before he could teach them, Goten knows somewhat but not much since he was raised by Gohan after Chichi died. Oh and the Z fighters lost touch with one another after Goku died so they're basically strangers. Okay so I hope that helps from asking questions like why aren't they using their powers or reading ki and other stuff like that. Let's get into the story already! Leave a review on what you thought, thanks :D

Chapter 1

Bulla looked out over the large illuminated office at Lilac Aviation. She had been working at the airfreight company for almost a year now, and it was beginning to feel like home. The thought filled her with warm contentment as she leaned against the front of her desk, cautiously sipping her hot coffee. In the hangar adjoining the glass wall that partitioned the office, mechanics crawled over the bodies of two DC3s being checked out for their next flights. The DC3, Bulla had discovered since working here, was one the most reliable airplanes ever built and still in operation all over the world despite its age.

Mr. Phoenix, her boss walked into the hangar, alongside a well-muscled looking man. The man stood with his back to Bulla so she couldn't see his face, and she noticed him in that half-seeing, slightly distracted way one studies a distant object and fails to really see it. Her thoughts on other things, namely the beautiful white winter overcoat with sliver-fox collar she had seen on sale at Kelli Yuma's woman's clothing store. It was simply to die for and the price tag had almost made her do so. Bulla did some swift and mad calculations, but no matter how she juggled the bank account and future paychecks, the figures didn't come out right and she could not afford the coat. Nor could she justify the expense, since it really only ever rained in Japan with those rare occasions of snow so what she really needed was a new rain coat. With a small sigh of resignation, she took another cautious sip of her steaming coffee.

Something the unknown man did caught her attention, and she began to study him more carefully. He wore a black leather jacket and dark fitting blue jeans that seemed to show off every toned muscle of his long legs. His dark thick black hair was styled in a way that it spiked high above his head and she wondered briefly if he used lots of hair gel to keep it that way. He was probably a candidate for a job. Bulla knew Mr. Phoenix was looking for a new pilot. One of the older pilots had developed a heart condition and had to leave suddenly. A commercial cargo airline short of pilots meant delays and disgruntled customers. Mr. Phoenix would be desperate to replace the old pilot, she was sure of that.

Still thinking how wonderful she would feel in that winter coat with the fur collar turned up against her face, Bulla noted idly that the stranger was a tall man. He towered over Mr. Phoenix, who she had always thought was a tall man but he looked like a midget compared to this stranger, and moved with an effortless grace. As Bulla's gaze lingered, a nameless unease started to uncoil inside her.

The coat went instantly and completely out of her mind. She stood transfixed, watching everything he did, waiting for him to turn so that she could get a glimpse of his face. His head was angled downward as he listened to Mr. Phoenix, who was pointing to the nearest aircraft. She saw the man lift a hand and unzip his leather jacket, he slid his hands into his jean's pockets, using his elbows to push the jacket back out of the way. Then some noise, perhaps a mechanic dropping a wrench, a drilling suddenly turning on, made him turn his dark head and she saw the side of his face.

She stood stunned, unable to believe what her senses told her. Her mind reacted with denial. Don't panic! Keep calm. The sharp commands echoed in her head in quick succession. It was just someone who looked like him. The eyes could play tricks on you sometimes, everybody knew that.

She placed the coffee cup down on the desk with a tremulous hand. Her protective instincts sent her thoughts darting from one possibility to another, from one explanation to another, frantically trying to explain away the man in the hangar who had suddenly sprung into her life from out of the past. A past that she thought she buried deep inside. A past that her conscious mind had successfully wallpapered over with the humdrum patterns of everyday life. She had pretended for some time now that it had never happened, had convinced herself that it had been nothing more than a bad dream, some mirage her overactive imagination had conjured up. Now all those carefully constructed lies and deceptions were being stripped away by the appearance of this stranger. She could not still the searing apprehension that filled her, nor quiet her jangled nerves as dark thoughts converged, jolting her to alarming possibilities that the stranger's presence presented.

She would just have to sit down for a moment and not get into a panic, she told herself, struggling to stay calm. Then she would quietly and inconspicuously get up and go to the rest room to wash her hands and give herself another few minutes to compose her thoughts with no one else around. She sat and waited and finally she saw Mr. Phoenix turn away from the man and walk towards the door that joined his office to hangar area. The other man had disappeared from her view to another part of the hangar. She looked up as she felt Mr. Phoenix's gaze upon her. He signaled to her to come into his office. She moved away from her desk and walked towards the glass enclosure. Once inside, she stood in front of his desk, trying to still the pounding of her heart.

"We've got a new pilot working for us, Bulla." He beamed, pleased with himself at having filled the vacancy. "I want you to type up his personal data and file it. There's something I want to tell you about him, but I haven't the time right now. I'll speak to you about it later."

"Yes Mr. Phoenix," she replied softly, taking the papers he held out. She didn't trust herself to look at them, and she tried to keep her visibly shaking hand still, thrusting it, with the papers, to her side.

"That's all for now, Bulla." He smiled kindly. She smiled back, thinking once again how lucky she was to have Mr. Phoenix for her employer. He always treated her like one of his own daughters, and she loved working for him. She would hate to have to leave Yamatori. She was jumping to hasty wild conclusions, she told herself as she turned away and moved back across the carpeted, plant-lined office area to her desk. She sat down, placing the folder in front of her. It looked harmless enough. Just a simple manila folder with an application form inside it, the necessary information required of any new employee. That was all it was. Harmless, perfectly harmless.

Look at it, her mind ordered. Simply pick it up and look at it. Go on. Look at it.

With trembling hands, she opened the folder and forced herself to read the application form. Then her heart stopped beating, and her breath stayed lodged in her throat somewhere. His name bounced wildly off the page. She shut her eyes as the words danced in her entire being. Questions crowded into her mind in a silent barrage that she was unable to answer. She opened her eyes and forced herself to look again at the application in front of her.

Son Goten. Male. Japanese. Thirty years old. Orange Star University. Eastern's Flyers Academy of Japan. The words began to swim in front of her eyes; her mind barely able to absorb what she was reading. She scanned the list of previous employers and noticed a gap, seven years that had been left carefully blank, unannounced for.

All the blood drained from Bulla's face, and she put a shaky hand to her head to conceal her expression from anybody who happened to be looking her way. It was him, there was no doubt about it. What was she going to do? Would it be possible to avoid him? Maybe he would never see her. The pilots came into the office to check on inventories of goods, to talk to with Mr. Phoenix about changes in routes, any last-minute hitches because of the weather or to discuss some mechanical delay. No! That was a desperate, foolish hope. It was impossible to avoid him. Sooner or later he would see her. That was a certainty.

Frantically she reminded herself that she had only been sixteen at the time. Her appearance had changed dramatically since then. She had been a flat chested unsophisticated teen, a real Plane Jane. She had even worn glasses. Her hair had been pulled back in a high ponytail. She reached up and touched the mane of aqua-blue waves that now framed the mature contours of her face and reach all the way down to her waist. The up-to-the-minute hairstyle and deftly applied makeup had transformed her completely. She was bit taller now too, and her willowy figure had filled out in all the right places. Yes, to even the most discerning eyes she would be completely unrecognizable from her former self, from that timid sixteen year old girl. Yes, she thought relaxing, there was every chance he would not recognize her. She had even changed her name. What a lucky decision that had been. She had done it because she wanted to put the past behind her, to start fresh, so she legally changed it. She was no longer the Bra Briefs he'd known at the trial. She had taken her grandmother's maiden name, Lacestings, and used her middle name, Bulla. She almost laughed out loud with relief, because she had grown so accustomed to her new name she had almost forgotten she hadn't always had the name.

A movement in peripheral vision caught Bulla's attention. She turned and saw her friend Valese Parison walking towards her. Smiling, Bulla quickly masked her anxiety. With her usual air of camaraderie, Valese perched on the edge of Bulla's desk and bent forward, a mischievous glimmer in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Phoenix hired a new pilot," Valese whispered. "And is he a hunk! Have you seen him?"

"I haven't gotten a good look at him. I've only seen him from a distance. Phoenix gave me his paperwork. I was about to type it up." Her words came out faster than usual, betraying her edginess.

"Well if you get a chance, find some excuse to go out into the hangar. He's still out there talking to one of the mechanics. That is, if you want to be positively blown over by sheer masculinity and sex appeal that oozes from every pore. Of course, if you're not impressed by that sort of thing," Valese said, studying her fingernail polish with exaggerated interest, "I won't hold it against you, because I would like a clear field, actually."

"If he's all you say he is, he's out of my league," Bulla murmured. Valese's interest in Goten could be an advantage. Bulla didn't want anyone including Valese, to think that she was at all interested in Son Goten. She was determined to keep a low profile and fade into the background.

Unfortunately, her ploy backfired, because Valese's antennae went up instantly. Her gaze slipped over Bulla's curving figure, long legs, blue eyes and mop of aqua blue wavy hair. "You're underestimating your charms," she said. "Why is that, I wonder?"

Valese was too quick, Bulla thought. She should have known better. The last thing she wanted was Valese to have any suspicions regarding her and Son Goten.

With studied casualness she replied, "I…have my eye on someone else at the moment. Besides, I haven't gotten a really good look at him yet." She smiled sweetly trying to cover up her anxiety again. There was no one in her life at the moment, but she would invent somebody if necessary.

Valese smiled back with good-natured delight at her reply.

"Thanks, I'll remember you in my will." She slid off the desk and turned back towards her own desk.

As Bulla watched her go, a soft sigh relief escaped. That was one tricky situation out of the way. Was this how it was going to be from now on? Her head and mind reeled.

Her gaze flickered back to the application. Marital status: Single. Address: 754 Lydian Street. She wondered if he lived alone, if he made any friends since he had served his time. They say getting back into the world was immensely difficult.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly shut as remorse eddied inside her. It wasn't all her fault, she told herself. It wasn't all her fault. She had to remember that. She couldn't help it. She had only been sixteen for Kami sake! She couldn't forget that.

Bulla placed her fingers on the keyboard of her computer and started typing a formal file on him with all the necessary dada, forcing herself to concentrate, forcing herself to forget for a moment. Until she finished this, she promised herself she wouldn't think about it. She had a job to do. She couldn't indulge herself in emotional drama. She was a working girl with bills to pay, dependent on her own earnings. There was no room for reflection on anything else.

She finished typing.

When she looked up at the clock again it was it was nearly seven o'clock. She tidied her desk and took her handbag out of the drawer. She took her coat off the hanger in the closet, pulling it on and waved goodbye to Valese and Mr. Phoenix across the space of the office. She hurried out of office into the cool evening. The sky rumbled ominously, and she knew that it would rain any minute.

The rain began to spatter down as she walked briskly across the parking lot. It crossed her mind that she should stop and something for dinner at the nearby grocery store, but the sanctuary of her apartment beckoned so strongly that she decided to make do with the leftovers in the refrigerator. She slid into the front seat of her car and searched her handbag for her keys.

The traffic was heavy on the way home, and the rain pelted down on the windshield so hard the wipers couldn't keep up with it. The drive home was a slow one; she had too much time to think, too much time to remember.

When she reached her apartment she flung her coat onto the nearest chair and walked into the kitchen to take some aspirin out of the cupboard. Her head throbbed painfully. She swallowed the aspirin and closed her eyes, waiting for relief to come to her pounding temples. In her bedroom, she stripped off her clothes, dropping them heedlessly on the floor behind her, and walked into the shower. Immediately the warm soothing spray pelted down her soft skin. The water streamed down the wall of the cubicle and over her. The mist of spray hung in the air as she languished underneath it, closing her eyes and trying to dispel the images that crowed into her mind. She pressed her hands to her temples trying to squeeze the images out, but they kept flashing in relentless and devastating succession, like images in one of those old film projectors

Finally she could suppress them no longer and she began to sob, little tiny muffled sounds at first that gradually escalated into great racking sobs that were soundless but heart wrenching, and they went on till she could cry no more.

The next morning her eyes were red and swollen. She used an astringent and bathed them repeatedly to get the swelling down, and then she summoned up all her skill as she applied her makeup, trying to disguise the ravages of the night before. As she slid into her white ruffled blouse and black skirt with a matching black jacket, she gazed at herself in the mirror, trying to restore her confidence. She purposely kept her hair in its tousled casual waving style because it was so completely different from the way it had been at the trial. Now it framed the delicate contours of her face, emphasizing her blue eyes. She reassessed her changed physical nerves. She tried to remember exactly how tall she had been at sixteen. She glanced down at her high-heeled pumps. That was another thing in her favor. It was a small thing, but she breathed more deeply and felt more confident somehow.

When she reached the office, she noticed that Mr. Phoenix was already at his desk. She immediately began sorting through some work she wanted to file away before he called her in. on edge, she knew he would want to speak to her first thing in the morning, and her instincts told it was about Goten. After about fifteen minutes, he signaled to her through the glass partition. She immediately picked up a notepad and pencil and walked in.

"Good morning, Mr. Phoenix." She tried to appear as normal as possible.

"For pity sake, when are you going to learn to me Alex, like everybody else, Bulla?"

She hesitated and blushed. Perhaps it was out of respect for his age. His first name always stuck in her throat and "Mr. Phoenix" rolled off her tongue so much more easily than "Alex."

"It's just a habit I got into," she apologized, a little embarrassed. "That's how I think of you. You're always Mr. Phoenix in my mind."

"Okay," he said good-naturedly.

She could see he really didn't mind. She thought it secretly pleased him.

"Now that you mention it, I think I would find it strange if you did start calling me Alex." He turned over some papers on his desk and then looked back up at her.

"I wanted to talk to you about the new pilot I hired," he said, rolling back in his swivel chair and bracing his elbows on the arms to steeple his hands in front of his face. "You're not a gossipy girl, Bulla. At least from what I've seen of you, you don't strike me as that type. What I have to tell you is between you and me, and I don't want it to go any further. I think I can trust you to keep it under you hat, can't I?" his bright green eyes held a silent appeal.

"Yes," she murmured, looking at him directly. Yes most certainly. If only he knew, she would be last person in the world to want to gossip about Goten. She struggled not to let her inner turmoil that his words were stirring up show on her face.

"Good our new pilot—I gave you his paperwork yesterday. Not all his data is filled in. there are one or two things we have to adjust, gloss over for his sake. One of them is that he served time in prison." His gaze flickered up to hers to judge her reaction.

She tried to keep her gaze steady and not blink an eye. "I see," she said quietly.

"So we're going to make a few minor adjustments; invent something for his previous employer, fix the dates, how long he worked there, et cetera. And keep it to yourself. Have I made myself clear?"

"Perfectly sir," she murmured.

"I believe a man deserves a second chance. Don't you?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"I can see your heart is in the right place, Bulla. He does seem like a good man. It's really hard to believe that he's an ex-con." He stared at some point in the distance unseeingly, then back at her. "When you meet him, you'll see what I mean. He doesn't act like the sort of man who would be found guilty of manslaughter, or any serious charge for that matter."

Bulla stood in rigid silence, unable to move, unable to speak.

"Ah, well, that's life," he said, unsteepling his hands. "We've all got skeletons in our closets, things we've done…enough said. You'll fix that, Bulla, and remember, not a word to anyone. He's paid his debt to society as far as I'm concerned."

As Bulla stood in rigid silence, her mind raced. Mr. Phoenix had said a man deserved a second chance. A second chance. Did she deserve a second chance? Would he give her a second chance? She didn't think so.

She murmured an almost incoherent reply to Mr. Phoenix and quickly turned away, wanting very much to get back to the relative safety of her desk.

Her head was spinning and there seemed to be nothing she could do to stop it. Mechanically she picked up the application and filled in his last employer as Unity Airlines, to satisfy any prying eyes that happened upon it. Position Held: Pilot. When she came to salary she put down one that she knew was in keeping with what a pilot with a small airline would have earned. Her fingers moved in a jerky fashion over the keyboard keys, and eventually she settled down into something vaguely resembling her usual efficiency. She closed her eyes periodically and prayed to get through this day. If she could get through this day she told herself, tomorrow would be easier and the day after that even easier until, by the end of the week, she should be back to something resembling normal.

When she finally glanced up from her work, she saw Valese striding her way towards her desk in her usual air of joie de vivre. As usual, she perched on the edge of Bulla's desk.

"Aren't we serious today? Did something go wrong with what's-his-name? You seem to have a black cloud suspended over you."

Bulla summoned up a hasty smile to dispel that impression. "No, I just stayed up too late reading, and now I'm feeling a bit jaded. I didn't get enough sleep, that's all."

"Have you seen him yet?" Valese tilted her head in the direction of the hanger.

"No," Bulla replied absentmindedly. Sooner or later it was going to happen, and she wasn't at all sure what she was going to do, or how she was going to react. The prospect shook her, and it must have shown in her face.

"Don't let him get you down," Valese said softly.

Bulla looked up startled.

"What's-his-name, don't let him get you down. If things are going wrong, just remember there are lots of other fish in the sea." Bulla was instantly relived as she realized Valese was referring to the invented man in her life and not Son Goten.

"But don't go fishing for the one out there." Valese motioned to the hangar again. "He belongs to me. That's if he'll let me catch him." She bent forward. "Fill me in on the details."

"What details?"

"His vital statistics, of course. Is he single, divorced? He doesn't have a married look. I hope I'm not mistaken."

"No," Bulla said quickly, increasingly happy that Valese might serve as a distraction and aid in preventing her from being detected. "You got a clear field. It says single on his application. Unless he's got a fiancée tucked away somewhere. And he's well educated. But how do you propose to meet him? Will you get Phoenix to introduce you, or will you invent some excuse to go out there?"

"Trust me, girl, I'll think of something. Feminine wiles are inexhaustible, you know." She slid off the desk. "I'd better go and do some work."

Bulla's gaze followed her, then drifted back towards the hangar, and then she turned to her work.

Later in the afternoon, Mr. Phoenix signaled frantically to her to come into his office. When she reached the glassed-in partition that separated him from the rest of the office staff, he looked up with a harassed expression on his face.

"Bulla, will you make these adjustments? Customers that call up at the last minute and expect you to move heaven and earth for them drive me up the wall."

Bulla watched him disappear into the hangar. She picked up the lists and studied them intently, dismayed by all the last minute changes. She knew she should get to her desk quickly and get this done and printed out or she just might be here after closing. Completely absorbed, she didn't hear the outer door to Mr. Phoenix's office open and close softly. With her gaze still locked on the lists, she swung around and suddenly slammed into a solid wall of rock-hard flesh.

Startled, she gasped and jumped back as the cargo list flew from her hand and fluttered to the floor.

"Oh, damn it all!" she muttered, reaching down to pick up the sheaves of paper. When she looked up, she was horrified to find herself staring into the wary black eyes of Son Goten. His stunning good looks plunged her into momentary speechlessness. The force of his tough, masculine presence seemed to crowd the small office.

He didn't move a muscle as his eyes engaged hers with an almost hostile stare. Then with male thoroughness he let his gaze slide with lazy inspection over her.

Bulla felt her face grow warm. Immediately the sting of heady sensuality flared between them like a just-struck match, and then an equally powerful sting of fear followed quickly on its heels.

"I thought you heard me come in," he said with studied indifference.

His low, even voice eddied into her ear from some distant point in space, jolting her out of her momentary stunned state. He was speaking to her. His questioning expression indicated he found her slightly demented and not all there.

"I…d-didn't hear you," she murmured, stammering like schoolgirl. "I…uh…was concentrating on these lists," she added. Her voice and face mirrored her confusion as she pointed to the papers on the floor. She had to get away from him.

Hastily she bent to retrieve the remainder of the scattered lists, searching for any excuse to move away and not have to look him in the eye. The question does he remember? Surged and hovered uppermost in her mind.

"Wait a minute. I'll help you," he said quietly. With the same effortless grace she had noticed before, he bent down beside her. His tall, well-built frame was barely an inch away now. His shoulder grazed her arm, his muscular thigh almost touching hers. Her heart pounded wildly as he helped her gather the papers.

He regarded her with lazy amusement. "Do you bump into people a lot?" he flashed a teasing smile that softened his stern features.

"Not a lot." She laughed nervously.

"I suppose I should have said something." His smile faded away, and he was guarded once again, so self-contained that could detect nothing of what was going on behind those amazing ebony eyes that had changed from black to leaden and had suddenly become veiled and remote. If he recognized her, there was still no outward sign that he did. The thought calmed her, and she looked down at the papers again and began to rise slowly, not looking at him.

"That might not be a bad idea," she said with a flirtatious note in her voice that it was remarkable, considering the circumstances.

She straighten to her full height and gave the papers another little juggle to even out the edges. She was acutely aware of his nearness, of him standing over her, and she was glad to have something to do with her hands for the moment. She knew that she had to look up at him, look him in the face again or it would seem odd. Summoning up a fair imitation of a relaxed smile, she slowly lifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze. There was something about his nearness that caused her hand to shake involuntary, and she almost dropped the list all over again. Instantly she tried to cover up the potent effect he had on her.

"You must be the new pilot, Son Goten, it's a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Lilac Aviation. I'm Bulla Lacestings."

"Thanks," he said, still watching her warily. The ghost of a smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"Mr. Phoenix is a great guy. Everybody likes working for him," she added.

He was studying her silently again. Perhaps he was wondering if she knew about him. He probably wondered that about anyone he met, she thought. But her friendly manner seemed to satisfy him.

"I hope I will too," he replied with a kind of cynical reserve. Her heart clenched at the distance he put between himself and those around him, the hard suspicious wall he seemed to have built around himself, as if he were forever waiting for someone or something to attack him. Her gaze flickered as she realized that she had been partly responsible for putting it there.

"I've got to be getting back to my desk. I've got plenty to do. It was nice meeting you," she said quietly, the trite phrase almost choking her.

"Nice meeting you," he replied. He was still studying her with the same intent look in his dark eyes, as if he could see into the depths of her soul. Feeling his gaze following her, she turned away, practically gasping for air, as if the shock of seeing him, being so close to him, had stopped her from breathing.

She didn't realize just how stunned she was from this surprise encounter with Son Goten until she began walking briskly back towards her desk. She barely felt her feet moving across the carpet. But she somehow made it to her desk. Her breathing was shallow and quick. A soft sheen of perspiration began to explode onto her forehead.

Had he recognized her? She didn't think so. She hoped that from here on in she could fade into the background and if he thought of her at all, it would be as part of the office furniture.

Wow it's amazing how much you can write when you're listening to rock music LOLz. And yes I OOC'd Valese, she so much more tolerable when she not acting like a dimwit. So what do you think? Is it good so far or should I just stop here, leave a review and tell me what you think. Oh and for those of you have been reading Journey of a Warrior don't worry I'm not giving up on that story I'm actually in the process of writing the second chapter and hope to be posting it soon.