A/N: I have no idea why I have chosen this base so much. (I can't tell you or it spoils the whole thing. It isn't the main problem, but you know.). Please don't hate me for doing this so much. I just happen to like this problem. Also, I am sorry for not doing the Sons so often. Don't hate me for that either. This is a mix up of my story, a Simple Christmas Problem, just different. Enjoy!
M1: The Beginning of The End
Bulma, the young mother of one, carried a pile of laundry over to her thirteen-year-olds room. She had just got done with ironing out jeans and t-shirts and was ready to end her day sitting on the couch, eating strawberries. But she couldn't without finishing, of course, the horrible laundry.
Bulma nudged open the door, greeted with Trunks on Netflix watching Blackfish. She cleared her throat to grasp his attention. It took him a small amount of time for him to tear his eyes off the screen. "yeah, Mom?" he asked.
"Your laundry."
"Oh thanks, Mom. Just set it on my bed, please," he replied. He nodded toward his bed, covers sprawled in an untidy manner. Bulma just shook her head and smiled. "Oh sorry, mom. I'll make my bed and you know...clean...my room..." bulma gave him a look which Trunks couldn't help but snicker. "Okay, maybe I wasn't going to. Today anyways."
"I expect this room clean and spotless the next time I come back. Do you hear me?" bulma asked as she set down her load of laundry on Trunks's bed. Trunks nodded, turning back to his game. "Love you, Trunksy!"
"you too..." He replied, his attention glued to the screen. Bulma rolled her eyes pleasantly and turned to leave for the door. Bulma couldn't help but give her little Trunksy a hug! As soon as she had completed her ninja assault, she exited his room.
'Finally! I can go rest and eat strawberries, flick on some Jersey Shore, stay nice and warm, and all of the fantastic stuff!' Bulma thought of all of these relaxing activities as she strode to the couch. She sat down and was greeted with a cough to her left. "Oh! Hey vegeta, don't scare me like that!"
"Well you invaded my territory so it isn't my fault I scared you, Onna," the Prince responded.
"why were you coughing?"
"what are you talking about?"
"well you were coughing when I sat down. Or you just coughed once, I think." Bulma folded her arms in a defiant manner, knowing she was right.
"does it matter? I was clearing my throat, woman, it shouldn't be of any concern," Vegeta turned away from her and silently coughed into his sleeve.
"then why did you cough again?" she asked, peeking over his shoulder.
"just be quiet and leave me alone. If I am unwell, it makes no difference to my training regimen."
"okay, fine. You leave me no choice, Vegeta." Bulma strode over to the kitchen.
'what in the world is that woman thinking?' Vegeta wondered, waiting for her return. And return she did, fair reader, but this time a metal frying pan in hand. "Vegeta," bulma said, balancing the cooking instrument in one hand. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Come to the doctor with me, or I force you to come with me."
"What are you talking about? What in the world are you going to do with tha-" those were the last words he said before slipping into darkness.
-
(VEGETA'S P.O.V.)
I awoke with a cool substance covering my forehead. A wet cloth no doubt. I opened my eyes and was greeted with my wife nowhere to be found. 'Thank god,' I thought gratefully. I rose to get up but I was thrown into a fit of coughing. When the berating coughs finally subsided, I decided that the smart thing to do would rest for an hour and get back to training, just to make sure I don't ensue my wife's wrath. But then I notice that i wasn't home. The windows were open in this stranger room, letting in a slignt breeze and sunlight to pour in. I surmised that I had been transported to somewhere comfortable. I decide not to think about it. So I laid back onto the cool, blue, silken covers and rolled onto my side. As a sigh escaped my lips, I began to drift to sleep.
-
(BULMA'S P.O.V.)
1 hour earlier...
I get my son Trunks to help me get Vegeta into the car. I open the door while Trunks sets him down on the seat. "Eo you wanna come, Trunksy?" I ask, using my pet name for my son. He rolls his eyes playfully, and shakes his head. I shrug and go over to the other side of my Porsche. I wave goodbye to my thirteen year old and climb in. I wave one last time before disappearing over the drive way.
I glance over at my husband, sleeping peacefully. I couldn't help but smile. I knew he wouldn't cooperate in the end, so I knew I would need the frying pan anyways. I didn't feel too guilty for my actions. I stop when a red light blares at me. Just another block. Then I'll be at the doctor's office. I did feel a bit anxious as to what a saiyan could have, so I did want to rush things along a bit. 'Maybe it's an unknown illness...' I thought to myself. I looked again at my husband. His lips barely parted, he looked so peaceful without a scowl on his face. I smile once more. The red light turned green as I turned the corner toward the doctor's office.
As usual, I was greeted with the yellow and blue flowers in front of the electronic doors as I pulled into the parking lot. Several cars were littered here and there, wanting to make appointments and the like. I stepped out of my car, Vegeta awaking at the best and most expected time.
"What...? Woman! How dare you hit me?" He said, realizing his surroundings and how it all happened. I ignored his insistent complaints and demands as I stepped over to the side. Vegeta unlocked his seat belt and decided to be quiet. He gave a small cough into his elbow. "Woman, I don't know why you have insisted upon me coming to this clinic, but I assure you that I am fine."
"Alright, Vegeta," I say, bored of his complaining and his fake assurances. We walked through the car-adorned parking lot, the cold of Winter biting into my bare arms, my heels making click-click sounds on the pavement. Why in the world did I not where a sweater? I was pretty sure I was going to freeze. Then I was thankful of the heat that blew out of the electronic doors from inside the clinic. With it came the smell of medicine and air fresher, the attempt of removing the first odor unsuccessful. I stepped onto the carpet, the same smells becoming intoxicating. I ignored them and made a beeline for the front desk. Just before Vegeta opened his mouth, I pointed to the waiting area. Then I turned my attention to the man sitting at the front desk, looking at me expectantly.
"Hi, I made an appointment for 2:00? For Vegeta Briefs?"
"Oh yes, you did. Over the phone, correct? You are Mrs. Briefs, yes?"
"Yeah. For Dr. Yarbrough?" (yeah, I brought him back! ^▽^) I answer. He nods and starts typing away on his keyboard. Then the question comes.
"Where is your sister?" I nearly bust out laughing.
"No, it's my husband. He's a man."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I did not know that. Please let him know that I apologized." I nod at his request and make my way over to Vegeta, reading a magazine.
"Hey, 'Geta." I say, sitting next to him in a plush chair. He simply grunts as a reply. "Hey, just curious, how did you learn to read if you were so busy fighting as a kid? Also how to write? Shouldn't you be illiterate?" I think I might've hit a nerve, but he simply laughs.
"You're more dull than I thought! Of course I'm literate! I am a prince, so how am I supposed to compete my duties if I cannot read, nor write?" His words stung a little. It hurt to be called dull. But I knew he was just mad at me for hitting him in the head with a frying pan.
"alright, jeez. I was just curious." The two of us sat alone in the waiting room, slowly watching it being filled by several people for the next twenty minutes. Vegeta coughed, making it seem small. But I could see that he had restrained the rest of his cough through his eyes.
Finally, after those twenty minutes of waiting, Dr. Yarbrough appeared through two doors. He looked at me and gestured for me to come to him. I nudged Vegeta, pointing at our family doctor. He gave the doctor a hard look. Both of us rose, our seats quickly taken by two elderly women, both pale. I smiled sympathetically towards the two as they waved back.
We went through the double doors Dr. Yarbrough had come through, greeted with the sight of several medical instruments. Several nurses scampered about, looking for pills, serums, or ace bandages for patients. I looked about the room, the bright lights and white walls and floors almost blinding. Several doors that led to unknown territory flooded my vision toward the right. I turned back to looking in front of me, where I almost knocked into a small female nurse, who nearly skirted around me as I tried to apologize.
Dr. Yarbrough took us around a corner to the left, where a scale rested on the ground. It was equipped with a height meter on its side. Kill two birds with one stone, right?
"Please step here, Vegeta." the doctor asked. Normally doctors wouldn't use your first name, but since we were so close, we had become used to it. Also Dr. Yarbrough was fully aware that Vegeta claimed he had no last name. Yarbrough was smart and decided not to call him "Mr. Briefs, thus keeping his head attached to his shoulders.
Vegeta did as he was told and stepped onto the scale. As it measured his weight, Dr. Yarbrough measured his height by pressing several buttons. There was a faint beep, making me jump. My family's doctor simply walked to the other side of the scale and nodded, scrawling numbers on his clipboard. "Still same height and weight; 123 pounds and only 5'5". Will you ever change, Vegeta?" Dr. Yarbrough said jokingly. My husband simply growled, giving him a dangerous glare, which the doctor simply ignored full-knowingly.
He once more led us down an extremely long corridor, the never-ending doors on either side. The same white walls and wooden doors were getting to annoy me.
Vegeta coughed into his sleeve, this time not able to stop a fit of coughs. Yarbrough raised a concerned brow at him, the coughs getting more violent. I watched as Vegeta laid a slight hand on a nearby wall, the violent coughs beginning to subside. When they had stopped all together, Vegeta looked a tad shaken. But his eyes shone with strength and determination. After Yarbrough saw to it that he was fine, we continued on our long journey down the hallway.
We finally came to a halt outside a wooden door. Everything about the door looked the same; but a golden plaque was placed on top of it. It read:
"DR. YARBROUGH
HEAD DOCTOR AND SCHOLAR
ROOM 15, B HALL"
Yarbrough opened the wooden door, showing an extremely white room with medical posters hung on each wall. In the middle of the room, a blue cot was bolted to the floor, the (annoyingly) familiar white crinkly paper laid on top of it, a blood pressure meter bolted into the wall next to the cot. Next to that lay a basket full of magazines and books accompanied by a blue plush chair. To the left of the room was a marble countertop with jars of cotton swabs and popsicle sticks, a sink installed into the middle of it. Next to the jars were medical instruments to check inside ears and noses, check temperatures, and other purposes.
"Vegeta, I need you to sit on that cot there," Dr. Yarbrough instructed, pointing to it. "I'm just going to check all of the necessary areas of the body and diagnose what is wrong with you."
-
(VEGETA'S P.O.V. STILL AT DOCTOR'S OFFICE, ROOM 15 B HALL)
So what I'm told is that I'm going to be poked and prodded by a man who claims to be a doctor. Fantastic. Then again, I honestly do not want to protest so I just sit down on the blue cot, the paper insanely loud. I growl softly, seeking to destroy the horrible paper. Just as I'm about to, that annoying doctor opens his fat mouth.
"Vegeta, I do know you are indeed a Saiyan, so if you get troubled, such as you are right now due to the sanitation paper, then count to ten and do not destroy anything. Anyway, I'm going to check your blood pressure now, so if you will hold out your arm I will feel very appreciated."
Yeah, right, you fat tub of lard. Honestly, he really isn't obese, but I cannot say without lying that he is completely fit either. But either way the doctor went toward the meter with a basket underneath it to my left. He fished out a blue object, Velcro attached to either end. I hold out my arm as I was instructed to earlier, which Yarbrough looped around my forearm and connected either end with the Velcro. I rested my cheek on my fist, noticing how warm I felt. I decided to ignore it and looked on as Dr. Yarbrough started pumping on a blue object, every squeeze making the blue circle around my arm constrict my veins even more. The red liquid in the meter raised higher and higher, up and down with every pump. Finally the man stopped, removed the blue instrument from my arm, and dropped them back in the basket.
"Your blood pressure is, of course, higher than a human but I am unsure if it is healthy for a Saiyan. Would you be so kind as in to check?" He stretched out his arm, letting me see the number of my blood pressure. It was indeed high for a human, but not so much to where a Saiyan is concerned.
"It's fine. It's not high," I say, casting my eyes toward the white tiled floor. I feel a cool hand rest itself on my cheek, already knowing it's my wife. I glance at her, seeing her smile. I do not show any sign of a smile or a smirk, but instead close my eyes, feeling a bit drained, as if her touch brought on a feel of tiredness. I hear Dr. Yarbrough make his way toward me, feeling a cold, metal feel through my shirt.
"I am just checking your heart beat," Yarbrough explained. He pulled back and picked up a pencil. "Your heart rate is going somewhere along the speed of this-" he paused, making a fast tapping with the eraser end of his pencil on the marble of his counter. "Is this quick for a Saiyan? It's quite fast for a human."
"It is a bit too fast. Very unhealthy, actually, for a Saiyan to have the heart rate such as that." I respond, too enraptured with a now-forming headache to feel alarmed. Then I feel the same cold sensation on my hot back, the pleasure unbelievable.
"Please breathe in slowly through the mouth please," I hear Yarbrough's voice say behind me. I inhale as I am instructed, feeling a tight restriction in the lungs, as if I am not to take a full breath of air. Quite aggravating. The man tsk-ed as I exhale, and asked me to do it two more times.
That done, he went over to his counter and picked up a black instrument. "I am going to check the inside of your ears and nose," I was told. I just nodded as I felt the cold of the instrument insert itself in my left ear. He nods and checks my other one. "Both ears are good, so now I will check your nasal passage..." once more feeling like a primitive beast, he continued to inspect my body. Hit my knees with a hammer, checked my hearing and vision, all that annoying crap. Really, this felt more like some stupid check up. Just as I was ready to leave, I am told that I have to go through two more things.
"One is to do a influenza check. Please open your mouth, Vegeta," Yarbrough orders me. I do so, feeling to ill to contradict his instruction. He takes a long cotton swab, placing it in my mouth.
Do you know how doctors check if you have strep throat? Placing a popsicle stick in your mouth far enough for you to gag. Imagine that, but ten times the waves of nausea worse. That's because the idiotic doctor decided to go all the way to the back of my throat. I restrain the urge to gag as he takes a swab of my throat. Thankfully, he only did it once and he did it quickly. He removed the cotton swab, seals it in a Ziploc bag, and sets it on the counter. As soon as it's out, I take a silent gust of air. I cough, the feeling to gag almost unbearable. I felt like I had to vomit. Luckily, it eventually passed.
"Now, I must take this over to be tested. Meanwhile I need you to take these pills. Take only four. I will be back." He pointed to a small container full of pills on the counter. Usually four is considered an overdose of these certain pills, but because I am a Saiyan, I am usually supposed to take more so an effect will actually go through my tough Saiyan body. "There is a drink machine around the left corner. Buy a water to take the pills, then down them. I will return in approximately fifteen minutes," Dr. Yarbrough explained, opening the door. He tool one step out before hesitating. "I almost forgot. You may feel a tad drowsy, but that's just a side-effect. Later you will understand, Vegeta." The puzzling doctor gave a nod in Bulma's direction, leaving me clueless. Bulma apparently understood, as she gave him a returning nod. Yarbrough closed the door, leaving me and Bulma here alone.
"What is going on, woman?" I demand, looking her straight in the eye.
"Nothing, Vegeta, it just seems safe, knowing you." she replies, getting me annoyed. "I'll be right back. I have to get you that water so you can take your pills." She leaves, leaving me with my thoughts.
What was going on? Yarbrough obviously was told something from my wife which I don't know about. Is it just a simple prescription? Could it possibly be life endangering? These thoughts circle my head as my headache intensifies. I shake my head, only making it worse. I notice that my throat is also kind of dry and sore. I swallow hard. I leave the blue cot, the crinkly paper once more making itself known. I sigh and lean against the wall, the cool surface embracing my still-warm back. I close my eyes and let all these physical feelings envelop me. Then I try to think what sickness a Saiyan prince could have possibly inherited. But my thoughts are interrupted by my wife opening and closing the door, setting a bottle full of water labeled, "Dasani" on the front.
"Got your water, Vegeta! Now you have to take your pills-"
"What will those pills do to me?" I demand.
"They're supposed to help your flu symptoms, you know, make you better. Dr. Yarbrough only wants you to start your prescription early."
"Then why is he finding a diagnosis?"
"To be certain that you have it," she said, reaching for the pill bottle. She retrieved four little capsules and set them in the palm of her hand before offering them out for me to accept. "He's pretty confident you have it though. Also, you know what they say! Doctor's Orders!" Bulma once more holds them out in front of me. Reluctantly, I hold out my hand for her to deposit the small medicinal capsules. She hands me the water which I hold in my free hand. I take one pill and insert it in my mouth before swallowing it dry, abandoning the water. I do the same to the other three before taking the first sip from the bottle. Bulma already knows I'm capable to down pills without water, so it came to no shock of hers. Immediately, a wave of drowsiness washes over me.
"Sorry, Vegeta. I just know you'll protest. They're only sleeping pills. These help you stay asleep and safe on the ride to the hospital. Love you vege-" she wasn't able to finish her explanation, as I fell to the floor, vision going blank.
Huh. Who knew that sleeping pills and wenches could be such a devious accomplice in the hand of deception. Nothing bad happens to me. At least, not by the hands of another.
-
(BULMA'S P.O.V. OUTSIDE IN LOBBY)
I look down at my husband, feeling guilty for the maneuver I had to pull. He now lies in a gurney, carried by two men on either side. I hear the blaring of sirens from the ambulance vehicle waiting outside. I had to get him to take the pills or he would have gotten worse. His breathing had already been limited. It scared me how fast the symptom had come and how I cannot do anything about it.
Vegeta's complexion now flushed, I kiss him slightly on the forehead. It was my silent way of giving forgiveness while he was asleep right now. His temperature a terrifying
One hundred and ten degrees- much higher than that of normal high temperature standards of a human. The highest for a human was one hundred and six when having the flu; Vegeta was a saiyan and thus his illness was worse as the bacteria worked harder against his Saiyan antibodies. Vegeta's breath intake turning worse, he is lifted up into the ambulance as I climb in. I brush a tear from my cheek as I think of how bad his particular flu was. Dr. Yarbrough decided to meet us at the hospital, deciding to wait to tell Vegeta what type of flu he had. Honestly, I don't know if I can make it through another explanation of his diagnosis.
I look at the clipboard in my hand that was given to me from the hospital secretary. I was about to find out when my message speaker on my desk clicked to life.
"Dr. Son?" Clarice, the secretary, asks me.
"Yes, Clarice?"
"I'm having the papers with the patient names, diagnosis, and health papers that you are assigned being brought up to your office now."
"Thank you, Clarice," I say, sipping my coffee. I look at the picture of my family, Videl and Pan smiling up at me, my mother, Chi Chi, and my younger brother, Goten, flashing peace signs. My father, Son Goku, was not included in the picture. He was off training the small boy named a Uub somewhere. The monitor beeps, letting me know she has signed off. I grab my pin that read my name and place it on the lapel of my doctor coat:
SON GOHAN
HEAD SCHOLAR AND DOCTOR OF SATAN CITY HOSPITAL
I wait for my papers to be delivered to my office. I lace my fingers together and place them on my mahogany desk. About five minutes later, I hear a light tapping and opening of my door. A mousy-haired student comes in. Recently the hospital had allowed students from a nearby medical school come by and learn and experience the thrill and responsibility of being a doctor. This student came silently and placed the papers on my desk. She gave a small bow before leaving and closing the door behind her. I lift the papers from the desk up to my face. I skim down the list, seeing ordinary names and nothing out of the normal list. But just as I'm setting down the papers, taking a drink of my coffee, the last name I read almost makes me spit out my coffee and fall out of my wheelie-chair. I couldn't believe who my patient was.
-
(VEGETA'S P.O.V. SATAN CITY HOSPITAL ROOM, PRESENT TIME)
The first thing I notice is the rancid taste in my mouth. I swallow, trying to lose it, but to no avail, as the horrible taste insists that it remains. The next thing I notice is the horrible headache. Nothing can help that except for pain killers. Third, I can feel something protruding my arms. I open my eyes, sunlight nearly blinding. No...not sunlight...the blueness of my wife's eyes.
"Bulma?" as soon as it leaves my lips, I realize I have just said her name. I usually only say it during important conversations, but this time I have let it slip like a fool.
"Yeah?" I can see the worry in her eyes. She bites her bottom lip, looking overwhelmingly concerned.
"Where am I? Another clinic?" I sit up, causing her to lean back. I look around, blue mainly around. A wide flat-screen high-definition TV played a romance movie on low volume. To my left was the window which I had felt a breeze from earlier.
"Satan City Hospital," I hear my wife say. I look down at my arms, IV drips punctured through my skin. I lay back down, drowsiness coming again as soon as my head hits the pillow. My breathing gets shorter.
"Vegeta, are you alright?"
I give her a look that lets her know how silly an attempt of a question such as that was.
"I don't even know what illness I have been assaulted with. How am I supposed to be alright?" I smirk at her when she seems a bit hurt from my comment. "Anyways, what do I have?"
"You have type-" She was cut off as the door to my room opened. Whom I presumed to be my doctor, a insanely tall-looking man with jet black hair and idiotic glasses. I couldn't believe who my doctor was.
"Hello, Vegeta. It's good to see that you are awake," said Gohan, my doctor. "Now, you have to take certain medicines..." and off he went babbling about nonsense about the purpose of my prescription and the hours I was expected to take them.
He picked up a bottle of dark, green looking serum. I seriously hoped I didn't have to take that. "This is to help your throat and cough." he removed the cup from the top of the cap, pouring it nearly half-way. "This is about how much a human takes. But since your Saiyan," he continued, pouring it nearly twice as much as it was before. "You have to take this much. Every twelve hours, okay?" I couldn't nod. I simply loathed the medicine I had to take. I looked at it, wondering what in the world that putrid-looking medicine would taste like. He hands me the cup which I hesitate in downing before it finally reaches my lips.
It tasted absolutely disgusting. It was fifty times worser than the grossest grape gunk in a bottle. But as I swallowed it, it felt like bliss to my throat. It chilled and numbed it, the soreness disappearing completely. He then handed me another one that was supposed to help my fever. I drank it, this one not nearly as good as the first. This one was all about the taste. The feel of it didn't help anything. I nearly gag at the taste.
"Finally, these pills you will have to take every two hours, "Gohan said. "This helps you fall asleep, which, of course, is very important on the path to recovery." He hands four to me, once more twice the normal human intake. I take them all, washing them down with water, when I feel even more tired. Gohan leaves the room, telling Bulma that she needs to leave soon. All she can do is nod. At least, that's all I saw before falling to a deep sleep.
