Bulma, Dr. Briefs and Mrs. Briefs continued their luncheon in relative peace. Dr. and Mrs. Briefs talked more about what kind of work Dr. Briefs was doing on Vegeta's equipment (a conversation which really involved Mrs. Briefs asking a lot of questions over and over again and Dr. Briefs indulging her with the same answers over and over again) while Bulma simply sat in the chair, absently listening and nibbling on one of her favorite cakes.
She was still caught up on the beginning of their conversation and all the insane training that Vegeta was doing. She was shocked—and impressed—with how he was holding up. But she was still worried, even if she wouldn't admit that out loud to anyone.
He's just going to blow himself up one day.. she thought worriedly.
Not as soon as the thought crossed her mind, an incredible, deafening explosion came from outside, and it was close.
All three of them cried out in surprise as the ground rumbled and shook, and even the sturdy frame of the house began to quiver dangerously. The tray of sweets went flying in one direction, the tea in another, and somehow in all the shaking, Bulma's face ended up in the cake that she was eating.
"What the hell!" she shouted perplexed and a bit frightened.
"My word, what in the world is going on?!" Dr. Briefs added.
"Oh dear, it's the Androids! They've come, they've come!" Bulma's mother started to cry
Bulma rolled her eyes. "Mom, the Androids aren't coming for another three years. Look, it's stopping now, ok?" Bulma was right; the ridiculous shaking was beginning to lessen now.
Mrs. Briefs looked around, trying to confirm what her daughter was telling her. The she giggled.
"My dear, I guess I got a little carried away, ha."
Bulma groaned. No shit, mom… Then she spoke. "Well it's too early for it to have been the Androids, so what in the world was—"
"Guyssss!" came a loud voice from the down the hall, accompanied by frantically pounding footsteps. It was Yamcha. He ran into the living room.
"Guys, uh, you gotta come quickly, Vegeta's capsule blew up, and he was in it!"
"What!?" Bulma, Dr. and Mrs. Briefs all yelled simultaneously. Bulma was the first to bolt out of her seat and run straight to door, pushing past Yamcha and heading to the back of the house and out the back door, towards where the capsule Vegeta was training in was at.
She could smell burnt metal and feel the lingering heat from the blast, and could see dark, angry black smoke coiling up from where Vegeta's capsule should have been.
Oh Vegeta, what did you get yourself into?
Bulma continued to run full speed, and cursed the fact that the layout of the home and property was so sprawled out. I'm never going to get there! She thought frantically.
Yamcha caught up with her just as she neared Vegeta's capsule, but she was so absorbed in the sight of the wreckage that she didn't even acknowledge his presence.
"Vegeta!" she shouted, horrified; the capsule was completely demolished! A large, jagged hole was basically what was left of it, with the contents of the capsule charred and broken in a pile of rubble that spilled out of it onto the ground; bits and pieces of debris littered the yard, and there was only one thing missing from the scene: Vegeta himself.
Bulma knelt down into the wreakage, panicked. She couldn't see him anywhere!
From behind her, Yamcha said something, but she didn't pay his comments any mind; they weren't important right now.
"Where is he? Vegeta?" she worried to herself.
Bulma then began digging frantically through the rubble; Vegeta may have blown himself up, but he couldn't possibly have obliterated himself completely… could he?
Suddenly, so fast that she barely saw, a hand shot out of the pile Bulma was digging through. It startled her, so much in fact that she went tumbling backward, falling over Yamcha and knocking him down.
The hand clenched and unclenched once, and was slowly followed by an arm, a shoulder, and then finally the body they were attached to.
Vegeta pulled himself up, but Bulma could tell he was doing it weakly. Then she gasped at the sight of him; he was covered in bruises and there were several places on his body where skin had been completely burned or ripped open due what Bulma could only assume would be shrapnel from the explosion.
"You… ok?" she asked. She felt like it was a stupid question, but if he was able to pull himself up and able to answer, that couldn't be all bad, right? The way he looked just made it seem like he was badly hurt…
She was still trying to convince herself.
"Of.. course.. I am," he managed to groan out. Bulma let out deep, relieved breath. Then she started in.
"How dare you, you dweeb, you almost wreaked my house! What are you trying to prove!?"
Before Vegeta could make what Bulma expected would be a rude, snarky comment, he straightened himself up, laughed weakly, stumbled a little and then promptly fell back into the pile of rubble he just came out of moments ago.
Bulma was shocked. Didn't he say he was ok?!
"Oh no! You're hurt," she said, immediately rushing to his side. She propped him up with one of her arms, not an easy task considering that Vegeta was pretty much made of muscle. She watched as he slowly pried an eye back open, gauging whether or not he was going to pass out again.
"Go, I don't need help; I've got training to do," he rasped out.
She sighed. "You've got to stop training for a while! I mean look at you, you're a complete wreck!"
Vegeta squinted up at her through one eye, determined. "But I feel fine! I'm a Saiyan, I can take a little pain; it means nothing to me. And I have to get stronger than Kakorot!"
Bulma softened. "Ok sure, we all know you're a tough guy but you need to rest now." She hoped that he would listen and take her advice; Bulma would not be so lucky today.
"I take orders from no one!" he barked, pushing away from her. He had almost gotten to the point where he could stand up, but instead toppled over again, this time face first into a pile of broken metal.
"Oh no!" Bulma cried out, checking him over to make sure he was ok. This time, he had really passed out, and by the looks of it wasn't going to wake up anytime soon.
"Come on Bulma, let's get him inside. Your dad said to bring him inside if he was badly injured; Dr. Briefs had some stuff set up in case something like this happened."
At first Bulma didn't reply; she just continued to look down at Vegeta's expressionless, blank face.
She had been irritated with him earlier, irritated that he didn't seem to care about his own safety, and for what, more power? But looking at him now, beaten, battered, with his words about getting stronger than Goku ringing in her ears and the desperation and determination she heard even in his weak voice, the only thing Bulma felt for Vegeta right now was pity.
"B—Bulma?" Yamcha said, hesitating. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Come on, your dad will fix him right up, but we need to get him inside."
"What?" She looked up. "Oh. Right."
She took one of Vegeta's arms and draped it across her shoulder. She then attempted to step up, but the entirety of Vegeta's dead weight without him supporting himself was too much and she toppled over with Vegeta in tow.
"Here, let me help," Yamcha offered.
"No, I can do it!" she insisted. She tried again, this time using all the strength she could muster, and managed to pull him up with her.
Not as soon as she took the first step did she stumble over again, but this time Yamcha stepped in a caught both her and Vegeta.
Bulma sighed, exasperated.
"How about I get one side, and you get the other, yeah?" Yamcha suggested. Bulma had wanted to help Vegeta on her own—for her own, suborn reasons, and so she could feel useful—but decided that it would probably be better if Yamcha helped out. So she just nodded, and Yamcha slung Vegeta's other arm over his shoulder, and Bulma kept the one she had slung over hers securely in place, and they made their quickly—but gently—into the house. And Bulma had to admit, it was a lot easier with Yamcha's help than it had been on her own.
Yamcha directed Bulma on where Dr. Briefs had told him to bring Vegeta if he was injured. It was in the guest area of the house, close to where Vegeta's room (if he ever decided he was going to use it, that is) was.
Dr. Briefs and Mrs. Briefs were already in there, waiting for them.
"Ah, I see it was a good decision to put this room in here after Vegeta asked for such extreme training equipment; I knew these would come in handy," he said, as he ushered Yamcha and Bulma in.
The room was complete with a hospital bed, heart, blood pressure, and lung monitors, machines that could scan a body and show where there was internal damage, the works. It looked like Dr. Briefs had already gotten some things set up, and as soon as Bulma and Yamcha set Vegeta onto the hospital bed ("Careful Yamcha, you big lug!" Bulma had shrieked) Dr. Briefs immediately began hooking Vegeta up to wires and nodes and turned on various equipment that made a multitude of beeping and buzzing noises. He then put a clear mask over Vegeta's mouth and nose, and explained that it would help Vegeta breathe if it turned out that there was any damage to his lungs.
Bulma looked on all of this with a careful, worried eye. Every wire, every node, every machine turned on made her realize more and more what she wished Vegeta would realize: he was not an indestructible man. No amount of Saiyan blood would change that, no amount royal heritage would fix it, either.
The proud prince should have learned that on Namek.
At some point after Dr. Briefs was done working on hooking Vegeta to just about every piece of machinery he could find, Yamcha asked Bulma if she wanted to go get some food.
"No," she said, kneeling beside Vegeta's bed. "I think I'll just stay here."
"You sure Bulma? You haven't eaten much today and I thought—"
"Yamcha, I said I was going to stay here, what part of that don't you understand?!" Bulma burst. She didn't want to be mean with Yamcha, but he had a bad habit of trying to get her to do things she didn't feel like doing, or trying to insert himself into situations he didn't need to, and right now Bulma wanted to stay here, with Vegeta, and make sure he healed right.
Yamcha scowled behind her, turned, and stalked out of the room.
"Is he going to be alright, daddy?" Bulma asked, not caring that Yamcha left.
"I hope so; the only thing he hasn't bruised is his eyebrows. If he stays in bed for a week or so he should be alright. He's dodged a bullet again, it's a miracle he survive such a horrible accident. Those Saiyans are practically indestructible!" he said, impressed.
"Oh, poor Vegeta!" Mrs. Briefs cried out.
Dr. Briefs put a comforting arm around his wife. "Come on dear, let's let him rest," he said, and he and Mrs. Briefs left Vegeta and Bulma alone.
Bulma looked down at the Saiyan prince, a frown on her face.
You lump head…
She began to turn around and head out with her parents, but Vegeta began to speak. Only, he was still asleep, and he wasn't talking to her.
"Kakorot!" he rasped out in his sleep. "I'll get stronger Kakorot! I'll beat you!."
Bulma looked down in disbelief and confusion. Vegeta's expression was anger, but his voice and the inflections in his tone were desperation and fear. He started to writhe, and even his angry expression turned to one of pain and anguish.
He's having a nightmare, she realized. She took the chair that was nestled between Vegeta's bed and a desk that was beside it, placed it in front of the desk, and sat in it. She then contemplated holding his hand through his nightmare, thought against it, and then went with it as she slowly leaned down from the chair and grasped his hand in hers.
It was a little weird. She had never held a hand quite like Vegeta's. It wasn't in the size—Yamcha for sure had some of the biggest hands she'd ever seen—but it was more in the way they felt. They were hard, and calloused on the palms, and his veins and tendons popped up on the surface, even as he slept.
Suddenly, the hand she was holding clenched, and Vegeta let out a pained sound.
"Ka-kor-ot!"
He started shaking, and she was afraid for a moment that he'd wake up. After all, who knows what kind of mood he'd be in if he woke up and she was holding his hand, of all things.
Hoping it would calm him down, she rubbed the top of his hand with her thumb. It was something her father did when she was younger and scared, and it had always calmed her down.
She began tracing little circles over the surface of Vegeta's hand, and after a while the grip on her hand loosened. He still shook and muttered out as he slept, but he at least appeared to be less gripped with whatever it was in his dream that terrified him.
Bulma yawned.
I suppose I'll get some rest too… she thought as she drifted off, her hand absently tracing Vegeta's.
