Falling Leaves
Author's Note:
Remember the 'other' V/B get-together 'fic I promised? Well, here it is. It's not funny. It's serious and...well, read on.
The first chapter (this) is really mild. It'll get....well, it'll get more...serious and graphic by the third and final chapter. But let's see how you guys like (or hate) this one. But don't hate it too much, because we all KNOW Bulma/Vegeta get together fics have happy endings.
CONSTRUCTIVE flames welcome.
In a darkened room, where the curtains were drawn over the windows, all the lights turned out, the door closed, a woman sat in a chair, crying silently.
Hands folded over her bulging stomach, her dress blotchy with fresh tears, she sat, clutching a small baby suit she had just made.
Unfolding the tiny blue suit, she smoothed out the wrinkles and placed it on her knees. She brushed away her tears with a pale hand.
'No use crying over it,' she thought to herself. She stood up and placed the little suit in a cozy crib, covered in a soft blanket. She picked up a little baby rattle and shook it. The sounds made by it pleased her. She placed the rattle next to the suit.
Silently, the woman walked over to the window and parted the curtains. In the moonlight, she could see the leaves shaking lightly from the breeze. She shivered. For some reason, the leaves reminded her of herself.
The room suddenly became a little brighter. The woman whirled around, desperate hope in her eyes.
"Bulma?"
It was just her mother. She turned back to the window and stared.
"Bulma," her mother said. "It's not healthy for you or the baby to mope around like this." Mrs. Brief's put her arms around her daughter's thin shoulders.
In the light, Bulma wasn't a pretty sight. Compared to her round stomach, she was frightfully thin. People who saw her thought she was trying to kill herself or the baby...or both.
"You have to eat something," Mrs. Briefs whispered. "Come on, I've fixed your favorite--meatloaf and mashed potatoes." She paused, then smiled weakly. "Remember, Bulma? When you were five? You refused to eat anything but meatloaf and mashed potatoes...and one day, I told you that there was no meatloaf, and we'd be having poached salmon. You actually ran down to the deli and bought yourself a whole meatloaf and brought it home!"
Bulma gave a small laugh. She had been a silly little girl, wanting things that she couldn't or shouldn't have. Then she stopped smiling. She was still a silly little girl, still wanting things that she couldn't or shouldn't have.
Tears started to fall down her cheeks. She wanted only one thing in the world. And that was for her baby to have a father.
When Bulma told Vegeta that she was pregnant with his child, he had walked out of Capsule Corp. without saying a word. A month passed, then two, and finally he came back.
"What are you going to do with the child?" he had asked.
"What do you mean?" she answered, shocked.
"You don't meant to say you're actually thinking of having that kid?" he snapped.
"What are you saying? That I should get an abortion?" she cried.
"That's a possibility. You're rich. You can afford it."
Bulma couldn't believe it. She had thought he was at least somewhat caring, but he had just suggested she should erase the child. Anger surged through her like lava.
"Get out of my house!" she screamed. She threw a lamp at him. "Get out you asshole! You bastard! Get the hell out of my house!"
"Fine!" he snarled back, blasting the lamp into pieces. "Why the hell would I want to stay in this hellhole anyway? Have the stupid kid if you want; it's not my problem!" Then he stormed out, leaving Bulma sobbing madly in the corner of her bedroom.
She thought he would come back. They had had plenty of altercations...but then a month passed, then two, then three...then four. He hadn't come back. No letters, no phone calls...nothing.
Bulma thought she was strong enough to carry the child, with her parents and friends to help. But it hadn't helped. Chi-chi had stopped coming over with Goku and Gohan, for she saw that Bulma was watching Goku and Gohan with pain imbedded in her blue eyes. But Chi-chi had come over, loaded with food for Bulma, as often as she could.
"Chi-chi," said Bulma one day, picking at her dinner. She was seven months into her pregnancy and was feeling more depressed than ever.
"Yes, Bulma?" She piling more food onto Bulma's already over-filled plate.
"I'm thinking..." she said, staring down into her plate. "I'm thinking..." Why was it so hard to get this out of her chest?
"Yes, Bulma, I'm listening."
"I'm thinking...of putting the baby up for adoption."
Chi-chi dropped the serving spoon with a clatter.
"WHAT?" she yelped. "But Bulma--why?"
"Oh Chi-chi," Bulma sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "It's so hard. I thought I could do it on my own, I really did. But I'm so scared, Chi-chi...I'm so scared!"
Chi-chi ran over to Bulma and put her arms around her. "What are you scared of?"
"I'm scared that my baby will come to resent me. What if he asks about his father? What am I supposed to say? 'Your father is a heartless bastard that never wanted you or me?'"
"Forget about him," Chi-chi said stoutly. "Even if he was here, he wouldn't be much help raising a child."
"But he'd BE HERE, Chi-chi! He'd be here for my child to look up to, to talk to!"
Chi-chi sighed. "Bulma, what makes you think he'll do that for your baby? Wouldn't it be worse for your child to be ignored by his own father?"
Bulma swallowed her sobs and shuddered a sigh. "Y-you're right, Chi-chi. I don't need him. Forget about what I said...it was just a thought and nothing more."
"Good," Chi-chi replied. "I don't want to hear you talking like that again. We'll all be here for you...your parents and my family. Gohan will treat him like his own brother, don't you worry. Now eat. You look like you're in labor already."
Bulma smiled slightly. But on the inside, she was still sobbing.
Mrs. Briefs had finally managed to persuade her daughter to eat a small serving of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, but afterwards, Bulma went to her room, claiming she wanted to be alone.
Turning on the light, Bulma checked the calendar on her desk. 'Three more weeks...' she thought. 'Surely he'd turn up by then?' Then she shook her head. She refused to think of him! To her, he never existed. But her thoughts kept wandering to that night...
He had been so tender, so loving. How could he betray her like this? Was she really just some kind of prostitute?
Pushing away the calender with her arm, Bulma broke out in fierce sobs. Five minutes later, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. Then another...then another. She cried in pain, and fell off the chair, clutching her stomach. Her face became white and torrents of sweat was forming on her forehead. She cried out again.
"Bulma! Bulma!" her mother and father cried, rushing into the room. Quickly, they called for an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital.
"Dr. and Mrs. Briefs?" a nurse called. Bulma's parents rushed over to the counter.
"How's my daughter? Is she ok? Is the baby ok?" they cried out.
"Your daughter is in the ward, you may go see her now."
The two rushed in, and saw their daughter lying on a bed, with a mess of tubes and machines surrounding her.
"Your daughter," the doctor who was standing by the bed said. "Is in very critical condition. She is malnutritioned and over-stressed...if she doesn't take of herself, she may lose the child and her own during delivery." He consulted the chart. "She will have to stay in the hospital until she gives birth. If one of you will follow me, I will show you the insurance forms you must fill out..." Dr. Briefs followed the doctor, while Mrs. Briefs' stayed by her daughter's side.
"Oh Bulma."
Dr. Briefs had arranged for his daughter to stay in one of the best private rooms in the hospital. Barely two days later, the room was filled with flowers and get-well wishes, fruit baskets and gifts. But Bulma didn't see them. All she did was stare at the ceiling, without saying a word.
"Bulma!" Chi-chi cried, rushing into the room. "What's happened to you?" She had been away, taking care of a sick relative in China. "I came as soon as one of the servants at your house told me you were in the hospital!"
Bulma said nothing. Tears kept falling from her eyes and soaking the pillow. Chi-chi wiped Bulma's and her own eyes with a handkerchief.
"I told you not to worry," she whispered, holding Bulma's pale hand. "I told you we're here to take care of you."
Bulma still said nothing. She closed her eyes. Chi-chi thought she was tired and wanted to sleep. Carefully wiping Bulma's face once more, she stepped outside to talk to Mrs. Briefs' and a doctor about her friend's condition.
Not even ten minutes had passed by, when they heard a shatter and a scream coming from the room.
Bulma was pulling out the IV needles from her wrist and had just upset a pitcher of water on the table. She was screaming incoherently and blood was pouring from her left wrist...where she had just cut herself with a piece of broken glass.
"OH MY GOD BULMA! BULMA!"
The doctors rushed in.
"Give her a sedative!" one of them yelled. Four doctors struggled to keep Bulma down to give her a shot of a strong sedative. Finally, they suceeded and rushed her from the room. Mrs. Briefs' collapsed into sobs and Chi-chi knelt down, trying to comfort her admist her own tears.
Five hours later, Bulma was brought back to her room. It was arranged that she should be guarded at all times, so she wouldn't try to take her own life again.
It was night. Bulma lay awake, tears still streaming down her cheeks. A guard-bot was standing next to her, recording her every move. But Bulma wasn't stupid. She wouldn't try that again. But she had felt such despair...she had felt no escape...and thought death was the only way out...
'No! I won't give him the pleasure of dying! I'll live! I'll live and make him see that I don't need him! That I can survive with my child, and my parents, and my good friends. That I can make it.' Enraged thoughts coursed through her brain. And with determination, she fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.
"I can't believe it!" Dr. Briefs yelled, throwing a tabloid newspaper onto the ground. Apparently, someone from the hospital had ratted to the Enquirist, the most prominent tabloid paper, about Bulma's attempted suicide. A large photograph of Bulma covered in blood sported the cover. The caption was, "Heir to Largest Corporation in the World Too Ashamed of Her Growing Problem: Attempts Suicide and Fails!" Then in smaller letters underneath that read: "Source says the father of the child is the President of Sonie Electronics, a married man with a wife and four mistresses! Cat fight insues!"
Dr. Briefs was so angry, he called the Enquirist and threatened them with no less than three thousand lawsuits if they did not withdraw the story. But the damage had been done. The picture of Bulma had spread like wildfire--it was even on the international news.
The Briefs family and Chi-chi made sure that none of this was seen or heard by Bulma, who would have been most upset had she found out. She was kept in high spirits by her family and friends, which helped her out considerably.
Two weeks later, Bulma went into labor. She gave birth to a beautiful little boy with pale, lavendar hair and light blue eyes. What surprised her the most was his face and not his tail...for his facial features resembled Vegeta.
"What a handsome, strong boy he is," cooed Mrs. Briefs.
"He's so adorable!" cried Chi-chi. Gohan, who had followed Chi-chi to see the baby, smiled and shyly asked if he could hold him.
"Sure Gohan," smiled Bulma. Gohan carefully held the baby and rocked him back and forth. He sighed contentedly. "He looks so much like Ve-" Then he stopped. He looked up at Bulma, who had noticed what he was going to say. She smiled again.
"You can say it Gohan," she said. "He looks a lot like Vegeta, there's no denying that."
Then Gohan smiled again. "I wish I had a little brother."
This time it was Chi-chi that smiled. "Well, until then, treat Trunks like a little brother, ok?"
"Of course, Ma!" replied Gohan. "I'll always treat Trunks like a little brother!"
"Wait a minute," Bulma interrupted. "Chi-chi, you don't mean to say--"
Chi-chi just smiled and took Trunks from Gohan.
If only happiness could last. Trunks was taken home to Capsule Corp., where he spent his first three weeks at his new home bawling his lungs out.
"Colic," Dr. Depato pronounced.
Poor Bulma was at the end of her wits. She just didn't know what to do anymore.
"Oh Trunks," she sobbed one night. "Please stop crying. Mama's here...stop crying, please stop!" But Trunks didn't stop.
At last, at around one in the morning, Trunks fell asleep, his cheeks blotchy and streaked with tears. Bulma carefully wiped his face with a soft wet cloth, then dried it with her silk handkerchief. She kissed his soft head and went to her desk.
From a secret drawer, she pulled out a file folder, opened it, and took out one of the forms. Adoption papers. She was going to do it. She was going to put Trunks up for adoption.
She couldn't do it. She had tried, tried, and tried but couldn't do it. Yes, she could raise the child...she had the money, the time. But she just couldn't. Seeing his face everyday frightened her. His face was so much like his father's. The way he gripped her fingers...strong like his father. Trunks was a constant reminder of something she couldn't have...and because of this, she felt she couldn't have Trunks either. She wasn't ready for motherhood. Not without someone, someone besides her parents and friends, to help her.
Bulma's hand shook while she filled out the forms. Tears blurred her eyes. But she got through it. Just one more form to sign...
She had done it. She had signed the last form. The hardest part was yet to come. She had to take the forms...and Trunks, to the adoption agency. She steeled herself. She would not cry when she said goodbye. She refused. Getting to her feet, Bulma quietly walked to Trunks' crib.
"You will have another Mama and Papa soon, Trunks," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "A Mama and Papa who will care for you, play with you, sing to you...chase the monsters away..." A tear fell on his soft cheek. "But I will always love you, sweetie...Mama will always love you. You will always be my special little boy...wherever you are..." Tear after tear fell. Quickly, she brushed them away. She was tired and she had to rest...she had a long, long day ahead of her.
Sometime during the night, a window slid open, and a figure jumped silently into the room. The figure walked over to the crib and looked in. Trunks slept on, not noticing the shadow that had just cast over him. Then the figure looked over to the desk, where a considerable amount of paper work was spread.
He went to the desk and picked up one of the forms. Adoption papers? He thought. He scanned the other papers and saw names...or more accurately, a name. Mother...Bulma Briefs. Father...N/A. Form after form, he looked, and under each section labeled "Father," she had written N/A. Age, blood type, genetic diseases, country/planet of origin...all N/A. He gathered up the papers and walked over to the bed.
"Wake up."
Bulma stirred in her sleep, but didn't wake up. The man gently shook her.
"Wake up."
Slowly, sleepily, Bulma opened her eyes. She then gasped and sat up quickly.
"Wh-wh-" she stuttered. "Wh-what are you doing here?" she managed to choke out.
He held up the papers. "What is this?"
She gasped again. Then she tried to snatch them away, but he held them out of her reach.
"What is this?" he asked again.
"It's--it's none of your business!" she yelled. She stood up and tried to get the forms again. He pushed her back down.
"Like hell it's not my business!" he yelled back to her. "He's MY son--"
Bulma was outraged. "Your son?" she said in a deadly whisper. "I'm sorry, but MY son does not have a father."
"You're not making any sense! How can he not be my son?"
"He does not have a father," she repeated. "You saw the papers. As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist."
He stared at her, then shredded the papers with his hands.
"What do you think you're doing!?" she yelled.
"You're not giving Trunks up for adoption."
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" she sobbed, collapsing onto the floor, clutching at the pieces. "You left me! You left US! Left when we were most vulnerable! Left when we needed you the most...when I needed you the most! You never wanted Trunks...you wanted me to get an abortion! Now you waltz in here like you own the place, trying to tell me what to do?"
He just looked at her.
To be continued...........................
Author's Note:
Remember the 'other' V/B get-together 'fic I promised? Well, here it is. It's not funny. It's serious and...well, read on.
The first chapter (this) is really mild. It'll get....well, it'll get more...serious and graphic by the third and final chapter. But let's see how you guys like (or hate) this one. But don't hate it too much, because we all KNOW Bulma/Vegeta get together fics have happy endings.
CONSTRUCTIVE flames welcome.
In a darkened room, where the curtains were drawn over the windows, all the lights turned out, the door closed, a woman sat in a chair, crying silently.
Hands folded over her bulging stomach, her dress blotchy with fresh tears, she sat, clutching a small baby suit she had just made.
Unfolding the tiny blue suit, she smoothed out the wrinkles and placed it on her knees. She brushed away her tears with a pale hand.
'No use crying over it,' she thought to herself. She stood up and placed the little suit in a cozy crib, covered in a soft blanket. She picked up a little baby rattle and shook it. The sounds made by it pleased her. She placed the rattle next to the suit.
Silently, the woman walked over to the window and parted the curtains. In the moonlight, she could see the leaves shaking lightly from the breeze. She shivered. For some reason, the leaves reminded her of herself.
The room suddenly became a little brighter. The woman whirled around, desperate hope in her eyes.
"Bulma?"
It was just her mother. She turned back to the window and stared.
"Bulma," her mother said. "It's not healthy for you or the baby to mope around like this." Mrs. Brief's put her arms around her daughter's thin shoulders.
In the light, Bulma wasn't a pretty sight. Compared to her round stomach, she was frightfully thin. People who saw her thought she was trying to kill herself or the baby...or both.
"You have to eat something," Mrs. Briefs whispered. "Come on, I've fixed your favorite--meatloaf and mashed potatoes." She paused, then smiled weakly. "Remember, Bulma? When you were five? You refused to eat anything but meatloaf and mashed potatoes...and one day, I told you that there was no meatloaf, and we'd be having poached salmon. You actually ran down to the deli and bought yourself a whole meatloaf and brought it home!"
Bulma gave a small laugh. She had been a silly little girl, wanting things that she couldn't or shouldn't have. Then she stopped smiling. She was still a silly little girl, still wanting things that she couldn't or shouldn't have.
Tears started to fall down her cheeks. She wanted only one thing in the world. And that was for her baby to have a father.
When Bulma told Vegeta that she was pregnant with his child, he had walked out of Capsule Corp. without saying a word. A month passed, then two, and finally he came back.
"What are you going to do with the child?" he had asked.
"What do you mean?" she answered, shocked.
"You don't meant to say you're actually thinking of having that kid?" he snapped.
"What are you saying? That I should get an abortion?" she cried.
"That's a possibility. You're rich. You can afford it."
Bulma couldn't believe it. She had thought he was at least somewhat caring, but he had just suggested she should erase the child. Anger surged through her like lava.
"Get out of my house!" she screamed. She threw a lamp at him. "Get out you asshole! You bastard! Get the hell out of my house!"
"Fine!" he snarled back, blasting the lamp into pieces. "Why the hell would I want to stay in this hellhole anyway? Have the stupid kid if you want; it's not my problem!" Then he stormed out, leaving Bulma sobbing madly in the corner of her bedroom.
She thought he would come back. They had had plenty of altercations...but then a month passed, then two, then three...then four. He hadn't come back. No letters, no phone calls...nothing.
Bulma thought she was strong enough to carry the child, with her parents and friends to help. But it hadn't helped. Chi-chi had stopped coming over with Goku and Gohan, for she saw that Bulma was watching Goku and Gohan with pain imbedded in her blue eyes. But Chi-chi had come over, loaded with food for Bulma, as often as she could.
"Chi-chi," said Bulma one day, picking at her dinner. She was seven months into her pregnancy and was feeling more depressed than ever.
"Yes, Bulma?" She piling more food onto Bulma's already over-filled plate.
"I'm thinking..." she said, staring down into her plate. "I'm thinking..." Why was it so hard to get this out of her chest?
"Yes, Bulma, I'm listening."
"I'm thinking...of putting the baby up for adoption."
Chi-chi dropped the serving spoon with a clatter.
"WHAT?" she yelped. "But Bulma--why?"
"Oh Chi-chi," Bulma sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "It's so hard. I thought I could do it on my own, I really did. But I'm so scared, Chi-chi...I'm so scared!"
Chi-chi ran over to Bulma and put her arms around her. "What are you scared of?"
"I'm scared that my baby will come to resent me. What if he asks about his father? What am I supposed to say? 'Your father is a heartless bastard that never wanted you or me?'"
"Forget about him," Chi-chi said stoutly. "Even if he was here, he wouldn't be much help raising a child."
"But he'd BE HERE, Chi-chi! He'd be here for my child to look up to, to talk to!"
Chi-chi sighed. "Bulma, what makes you think he'll do that for your baby? Wouldn't it be worse for your child to be ignored by his own father?"
Bulma swallowed her sobs and shuddered a sigh. "Y-you're right, Chi-chi. I don't need him. Forget about what I said...it was just a thought and nothing more."
"Good," Chi-chi replied. "I don't want to hear you talking like that again. We'll all be here for you...your parents and my family. Gohan will treat him like his own brother, don't you worry. Now eat. You look like you're in labor already."
Bulma smiled slightly. But on the inside, she was still sobbing.
Mrs. Briefs had finally managed to persuade her daughter to eat a small serving of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, but afterwards, Bulma went to her room, claiming she wanted to be alone.
Turning on the light, Bulma checked the calendar on her desk. 'Three more weeks...' she thought. 'Surely he'd turn up by then?' Then she shook her head. She refused to think of him! To her, he never existed. But her thoughts kept wandering to that night...
He had been so tender, so loving. How could he betray her like this? Was she really just some kind of prostitute?
Pushing away the calender with her arm, Bulma broke out in fierce sobs. Five minutes later, she felt a sharp pain in her abdomen. Then another...then another. She cried in pain, and fell off the chair, clutching her stomach. Her face became white and torrents of sweat was forming on her forehead. She cried out again.
"Bulma! Bulma!" her mother and father cried, rushing into the room. Quickly, they called for an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital.
"Dr. and Mrs. Briefs?" a nurse called. Bulma's parents rushed over to the counter.
"How's my daughter? Is she ok? Is the baby ok?" they cried out.
"Your daughter is in the ward, you may go see her now."
The two rushed in, and saw their daughter lying on a bed, with a mess of tubes and machines surrounding her.
"Your daughter," the doctor who was standing by the bed said. "Is in very critical condition. She is malnutritioned and over-stressed...if she doesn't take of herself, she may lose the child and her own during delivery." He consulted the chart. "She will have to stay in the hospital until she gives birth. If one of you will follow me, I will show you the insurance forms you must fill out..." Dr. Briefs followed the doctor, while Mrs. Briefs' stayed by her daughter's side.
"Oh Bulma."
Dr. Briefs had arranged for his daughter to stay in one of the best private rooms in the hospital. Barely two days later, the room was filled with flowers and get-well wishes, fruit baskets and gifts. But Bulma didn't see them. All she did was stare at the ceiling, without saying a word.
"Bulma!" Chi-chi cried, rushing into the room. "What's happened to you?" She had been away, taking care of a sick relative in China. "I came as soon as one of the servants at your house told me you were in the hospital!"
Bulma said nothing. Tears kept falling from her eyes and soaking the pillow. Chi-chi wiped Bulma's and her own eyes with a handkerchief.
"I told you not to worry," she whispered, holding Bulma's pale hand. "I told you we're here to take care of you."
Bulma still said nothing. She closed her eyes. Chi-chi thought she was tired and wanted to sleep. Carefully wiping Bulma's face once more, she stepped outside to talk to Mrs. Briefs' and a doctor about her friend's condition.
Not even ten minutes had passed by, when they heard a shatter and a scream coming from the room.
Bulma was pulling out the IV needles from her wrist and had just upset a pitcher of water on the table. She was screaming incoherently and blood was pouring from her left wrist...where she had just cut herself with a piece of broken glass.
"OH MY GOD BULMA! BULMA!"
The doctors rushed in.
"Give her a sedative!" one of them yelled. Four doctors struggled to keep Bulma down to give her a shot of a strong sedative. Finally, they suceeded and rushed her from the room. Mrs. Briefs' collapsed into sobs and Chi-chi knelt down, trying to comfort her admist her own tears.
Five hours later, Bulma was brought back to her room. It was arranged that she should be guarded at all times, so she wouldn't try to take her own life again.
It was night. Bulma lay awake, tears still streaming down her cheeks. A guard-bot was standing next to her, recording her every move. But Bulma wasn't stupid. She wouldn't try that again. But she had felt such despair...she had felt no escape...and thought death was the only way out...
'No! I won't give him the pleasure of dying! I'll live! I'll live and make him see that I don't need him! That I can survive with my child, and my parents, and my good friends. That I can make it.' Enraged thoughts coursed through her brain. And with determination, she fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.
"I can't believe it!" Dr. Briefs yelled, throwing a tabloid newspaper onto the ground. Apparently, someone from the hospital had ratted to the Enquirist, the most prominent tabloid paper, about Bulma's attempted suicide. A large photograph of Bulma covered in blood sported the cover. The caption was, "Heir to Largest Corporation in the World Too Ashamed of Her Growing Problem: Attempts Suicide and Fails!" Then in smaller letters underneath that read: "Source says the father of the child is the President of Sonie Electronics, a married man with a wife and four mistresses! Cat fight insues!"
Dr. Briefs was so angry, he called the Enquirist and threatened them with no less than three thousand lawsuits if they did not withdraw the story. But the damage had been done. The picture of Bulma had spread like wildfire--it was even on the international news.
The Briefs family and Chi-chi made sure that none of this was seen or heard by Bulma, who would have been most upset had she found out. She was kept in high spirits by her family and friends, which helped her out considerably.
Two weeks later, Bulma went into labor. She gave birth to a beautiful little boy with pale, lavendar hair and light blue eyes. What surprised her the most was his face and not his tail...for his facial features resembled Vegeta.
"What a handsome, strong boy he is," cooed Mrs. Briefs.
"He's so adorable!" cried Chi-chi. Gohan, who had followed Chi-chi to see the baby, smiled and shyly asked if he could hold him.
"Sure Gohan," smiled Bulma. Gohan carefully held the baby and rocked him back and forth. He sighed contentedly. "He looks so much like Ve-" Then he stopped. He looked up at Bulma, who had noticed what he was going to say. She smiled again.
"You can say it Gohan," she said. "He looks a lot like Vegeta, there's no denying that."
Then Gohan smiled again. "I wish I had a little brother."
This time it was Chi-chi that smiled. "Well, until then, treat Trunks like a little brother, ok?"
"Of course, Ma!" replied Gohan. "I'll always treat Trunks like a little brother!"
"Wait a minute," Bulma interrupted. "Chi-chi, you don't mean to say--"
Chi-chi just smiled and took Trunks from Gohan.
If only happiness could last. Trunks was taken home to Capsule Corp., where he spent his first three weeks at his new home bawling his lungs out.
"Colic," Dr. Depato pronounced.
Poor Bulma was at the end of her wits. She just didn't know what to do anymore.
"Oh Trunks," she sobbed one night. "Please stop crying. Mama's here...stop crying, please stop!" But Trunks didn't stop.
At last, at around one in the morning, Trunks fell asleep, his cheeks blotchy and streaked with tears. Bulma carefully wiped his face with a soft wet cloth, then dried it with her silk handkerchief. She kissed his soft head and went to her desk.
From a secret drawer, she pulled out a file folder, opened it, and took out one of the forms. Adoption papers. She was going to do it. She was going to put Trunks up for adoption.
She couldn't do it. She had tried, tried, and tried but couldn't do it. Yes, she could raise the child...she had the money, the time. But she just couldn't. Seeing his face everyday frightened her. His face was so much like his father's. The way he gripped her fingers...strong like his father. Trunks was a constant reminder of something she couldn't have...and because of this, she felt she couldn't have Trunks either. She wasn't ready for motherhood. Not without someone, someone besides her parents and friends, to help her.
Bulma's hand shook while she filled out the forms. Tears blurred her eyes. But she got through it. Just one more form to sign...
She had done it. She had signed the last form. The hardest part was yet to come. She had to take the forms...and Trunks, to the adoption agency. She steeled herself. She would not cry when she said goodbye. She refused. Getting to her feet, Bulma quietly walked to Trunks' crib.
"You will have another Mama and Papa soon, Trunks," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "A Mama and Papa who will care for you, play with you, sing to you...chase the monsters away..." A tear fell on his soft cheek. "But I will always love you, sweetie...Mama will always love you. You will always be my special little boy...wherever you are..." Tear after tear fell. Quickly, she brushed them away. She was tired and she had to rest...she had a long, long day ahead of her.
Sometime during the night, a window slid open, and a figure jumped silently into the room. The figure walked over to the crib and looked in. Trunks slept on, not noticing the shadow that had just cast over him. Then the figure looked over to the desk, where a considerable amount of paper work was spread.
He went to the desk and picked up one of the forms. Adoption papers? He thought. He scanned the other papers and saw names...or more accurately, a name. Mother...Bulma Briefs. Father...N/A. Form after form, he looked, and under each section labeled "Father," she had written N/A. Age, blood type, genetic diseases, country/planet of origin...all N/A. He gathered up the papers and walked over to the bed.
"Wake up."
Bulma stirred in her sleep, but didn't wake up. The man gently shook her.
"Wake up."
Slowly, sleepily, Bulma opened her eyes. She then gasped and sat up quickly.
"Wh-wh-" she stuttered. "Wh-what are you doing here?" she managed to choke out.
He held up the papers. "What is this?"
She gasped again. Then she tried to snatch them away, but he held them out of her reach.
"What is this?" he asked again.
"It's--it's none of your business!" she yelled. She stood up and tried to get the forms again. He pushed her back down.
"Like hell it's not my business!" he yelled back to her. "He's MY son--"
Bulma was outraged. "Your son?" she said in a deadly whisper. "I'm sorry, but MY son does not have a father."
"You're not making any sense! How can he not be my son?"
"He does not have a father," she repeated. "You saw the papers. As far as I'm concerned, you don't exist."
He stared at her, then shredded the papers with his hands.
"What do you think you're doing!?" she yelled.
"You're not giving Trunks up for adoption."
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" she sobbed, collapsing onto the floor, clutching at the pieces. "You left me! You left US! Left when we were most vulnerable! Left when we needed you the most...when I needed you the most! You never wanted Trunks...you wanted me to get an abortion! Now you waltz in here like you own the place, trying to tell me what to do?"
He just looked at her.
To be continued...........................
