Igniting the Fire
Chapter Three
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TRUNKS."
The group stood in a semi-circle in the kitchen, gathered around the table, where, in the centre was a huge 'Thomas the Tank Engine' cake with a single candle glowing in the middle – right in Thomas' eye. Trunks was being gradually lowered towards the candle by Bulma, in the hopes that he would blow the candle out, but so far all he had managed to do was laugh and clap his hands from the disillusion that he could fly. Krillin and Yamcha also found this entertaining, whereas Bulma was growing impatient and tempted to blow the thing out herself. No, it was Trunks' first birthday, and he would blow his candle out. To Bulma, this was grossly important. So when she saw Roshi step up to the plate and wave his walking stick so quickly above the cake that a gust of wind extinguished the tiny flame, well, she wasn't overly pleased.
"Roshi," she yelled, "I don't remember it being your birthday, jerk." She sighed and decided that an early retirement was necessary, and the continuation of Trunks' clapping certified that he wasn't fussed about the whole debacle anyway.
Everyone clapped briefly, then returned to chat amongst one another while Bulma and Bunny cut the cake and assigned the right pieces to the right guests. Obviously Gohan was in need of an extra helping, being of Saiyan blood and whatnot, but everyone else, regardless of protest, was handed an equal sized slice. Bulma plated up a generous slice and hopelessly placed it in the fridge. Just in case.
I bet you were wondering where Vegeta was, then. Well, there was no telling. Bulma didn't know either. It had been a week, and she more or less assumed he'd left again, with no clue when he'd return. But that didn't matter. Today was about Trunks, and all of her friends were there (minus Goku, of course) to celebrate his first birthday. She wouldn't forget that.
The party felt strange without Goku, Bulma thought, as she walked back over to her friends, smiling at Trunks and her dad on her way to the other end of the Kitchen. She could just see it in Chichi's eyes that Goku's loss had taken a massive chunk out of her life, and her soul. But what could Bulma do? There was no way to comfort her, no effective way, anyway. Bulma had only felt the loss of Yamcha once, and as treasured as Yamcha was, she couldn't begin to compare that loss with a husband and father of her children. The thought of Vegeta dying, would crush her to the ground. There was no telling how she'd react after that, or whether she'd be able to carry on. Sure, the Bulma in the future seemed to cope just fine, but she felt that now she had formed some sort of weak connection with Vegeta. Weak as it may be, it was still very present, and she could feel it every day.
While deep in thought, Bulma didn't expect Chichi to catch her blank gaze and curiously make her way over. When their eyes met, Bulma knew that there was something hidden beyond them.
"Can I talk to you … In private?" Chichi said, casting glances around the rest of the group in case any of them had heard.
Instantly, Bulma placed a comforting hand on Chichi's shoulder. "Yeah, of course. What's wrong-"
"Bulma, I've been looking online at some really awesome places to go on vacation. You've got to see some of these resorts," Yamcha said, unaware of the discretion between Bulma and Chichi.
Bulma shrugged at Chichi and mouthed 'just a minute', to which Chichi nodded slowly, frowned at Yamcha, and walked over to where Gohan, Krillin and Eighteen were standing.
Bulma waited until she was out of ears way, and then turned to Yamcha, clasping her hands together in a very Bunny-like manner. "Oh my God, you have to show me them. This is so exciting, I haven't been on vacation in ages," she said.
"I know, you can tell," Yamcha said, smirking and awaiting a thump from Bulma.
"Jerk!" And she playfully punched him in the arm, cracking a few of her knuckles in the action.
"Hey, we're all getting older …" He smirked again. "But listen, I've found this great place we can stay in Barbados. You know: five stars, all inclusive, pool, beach view …"
Bulma's eyes widened with delight after each word Yamcha said. Granted, the prospect of a vacation was a little daunting at first, but after all the grim happenings, and especially how Vegeta has been stressing her out, it was growing more appealing by the minute. She just had to think of the cocktails, and the sunshine! Oh, and all her friends were going to be there.
"Have you spoken to everyone else about this?" she said, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the gang, paying close attention to Piccolo, who somehow, she couldn't quite picture walking around on a beach in a pair of swim shorts …
It also occurred to her that none of the others had even mentioned the holiday, and she felt guilty to be feeling suspicious towards Yamcha.
Yamcha smiled. "Not yet, no. I want to get the perfect location first, and then we'll let everyone in on it." He laughed a bit, but kept a close eye on Bulma's reaction, which was moving through confusion and suspicion.
"Good, 'cause I don't want it to just be me, you and Trunks. Where would the fun be in that?" she said, punching Yamcha in the arm again, and turning round to find Chichi.
She was easy to spot when her voice was booming above the rest of the chatter. It looked like she was having another heated debate with Krillin about how to take a woman on a proper date, and how to treat her right. Not that Krillin wasn't doing so, but then again, Eighteen couldn't necessarily be classed as a 'proper woman', could she?
Bulma wedged her way between Chichi and Krillin before someone else took an early trip to Otherworld, and she then pulled Chichi aside.
"So, hey, what did you want to talk about?" she said, looking around for any eves droppers.
Chichi's mouth looked dry and she spluttered before she spoke. "Oh, it doesn't matter-Really", she said, affirming with a nod and slinking away to join the others again.
Standing with her mouth agape, Bulma watched Chichi in disbelief for a few seconds, when Yamcha crept up beside her again, scaring her half to death.
"So, Bulma, let's get to a computer and I'll show you the resort," he said, elbowing her and nodding his head towards the stairs.
She was still getting over Chichi's unusual behaviour to be thinking about holiday resorts, but clearly Yamcha wasn't going to let it drop until she went and had a look, so she scanned the room for Trunks, who was with her dad, stuffing his face with cake. But someone was missing from the room. Someone old, wrinkly and perverted …
"Wait, where's Roshi?" she said, raising an eyebrow from the new discovery.
Yamcha looked around. "I dunno, I think he went upstairs before," he shrugged.
"I told everyone that upstairs was strictly forbidden, especially to Roshi."
"Yeah, he mentioned something about going to your room-" he said, flinching.
"What! And you didn't think to tell me this? Yamcha!"
Within a heartbeat, Bulma ran out the room at the speed of an Olympic athlete, or a blood thirsty lioness, muttering the word 'creep' and other obscenities about the turtle hermit.
Yamcha stayed in the kitchen, and just laughed before joining the group again.
Only a few minutes had past when Master Roshi appeared in the kitchen with his glasses hanging off his face, and blood dripping from his nose.
"Woo hoo, she's a feisty one, alright!" And before he could gain a response, he was thumped on the top of the head again by Bulma who had followed him closely.
"That'll teach you to go through my underwear draw, you dirty old man," she said, folding her arms and storming ahead of him, very proud of herself.
Everyone laughed and cheered Bulma as she approached, whereas she acted as if she couldn't hear the applause and headed straight over to Trunks who was now sitting in Bunny's lap while she read him 'The Jungle Book' – not that he was listening.
She picked him up and wiped his cake smeared mouth with her thumb, and then wiped the residue on a tissue, while he clapped and waved his arms around. Eighteen subtly walked over to Bulma's side, again nearly causing an early heart attack.
"I could kill him if you want," Eighteen said, not making any eye contact with Bulma, but staring at Roshi as he rubbed the new lump on his head.
Bulma was speechless for a moment, and don't get her wrong, she had thought about doing that herself. Also, Eighteen would have been very capable of doing that job for her, saving her the hassle. But then she stopped thinking about Roshi's death, and thought about the fact the Eighteen had attempted to converse with her. Could she say she was flattered? The android hadn't spoken to anyone since she'd arrived with Krillin four hours ago, and now she was speaking to Bulma?
"Um, you know what, I think having him alive is more fun," she said, grinning.
For a moment, Eighteen's eyes widened and darted to Bulma's face to check for sincerity.
"Using him as an occasional punch bag is a good way to relieve stress, you know?" Bulma smiled, and was unsure whether to nudge Eighteen in the side or not.
No, way too soon.
Surprisingly, Eighteen smirked, then her face dropped again. "That's understandable when you have him living with you," she said, her eyes shifting.
Bulma followed her line of vision, and her eyes landed on Vegeta, who was scowling at the sight of all her friends congregated where he usually came for food. She gulped and waited for him to look at her, but she discovered that she'd be waiting for a long time, because he snarled, spun on his heels and headed back out the door, supposedly to fly off for another couple of weeks.
High with adrenalin, Bulma ran over to Bunny and handed Trunks over, before she ran outside, leaving Eighteen to roll her eyes with disgust.
Stupid as the action may have seemed, but Bulma was determined to see what was going on inside that guy's head. A week since she argued with him, it had been. A week! If he was supposed to be making a fresh start with Trunks, then he wasn't going the right way about it. Disappearing constantly was not the most effective way of earning your son's love and trust, now, was it?
Vegeta was walking quite casually across the lawn when Bulma made it outside. He didn't know where he was headed. Somewhere with access to something edible. He could hunt for something, but he'd been doing that all week and was tired of eating dinosaur meat. It was Bunny's cooking that he craved, and there was no way in hell he was going to grace that house with his presence when all of those circus freaks were there.
"Vegeta, wait," Bulma said, jogging towards him.
He didn't think to stop for her, and continued down the lawn. There was the option of flying away-
"Vegeta, please," she said, and stopped.
He stopped, allowing her to persuade him, or reason with him, or whatever she thought would be beneficial to him.
It was getting dark outside, the temperature was dropping significantly, and Bulma had a summery day-dress on, with flip flops. Not a great choice of clothing. But, hey, at least it wasn't a rabbit costume. A shudder prickled its way down her spine at that memory.
Then there was the matter of Vegeta. But she had no time to muse over reasons. Obviously the man was prepared to fly off again, and for some reason Bulma thought she'd be able to deter him from doing so. What was it about that guy that made her keep trying?
"Why do you – no, I'm not going to argue … Come back inside, Vegeta," she said to the back of his head.
"Why are those fools here?" he said, turning round to look at her.
Damn, he wished he hadn't looked at her. Why did he look at her? And what the hell did she have on this time? Not much … again. He gulped slowly and took in her frame and subtly as he could.
Bulma tapped her foot, secretly pleased with the attention she was getting, but still pretty pissed off about the way he had addressed her friends. "Those freaks are my friends, and it's Trunks birthday, so we're celebrating."
"Fsh. I should have known it was another pointless ritual you earthlings seem to obsess over," he said, folding his arms and frowning.
"There's nothing obsessive about wanting to celebrate my son's birthday, Vegeta," she said, also folding her arms, defiantly.
"Oh, of course. So planning it weeks prior isn't the least bit obsessive to you?" he remarked.
"Listen …" she pointed at him, then sighed and dropped her arm to her side. "Look, I want you to join us. Well, I want you to be there."
He narrowed his eyes." What you want in not my concern," he said, looking her up and down once more.
"Ok, if you won't for me, do it for Trunks. It's his birthday, after all." She looked at the ground as a way of evading the scrutiny.
"I'm not socialising with any of them," he said, his eyes roaming over her hair as it draped across her shoulders. It was getting longer again.
"I'm not asking you to, Vegeta," she said, lifting her head.
An uncomfortable silence settled between them for a moment, while Vegeta thought about which option would be better for him. If it was the boy's earth birthday, then he should attend the gathering, but only for the boy. There would be no exception of conversation for the woman-
"There's loads of food to be eaten," Bulma said, with a flicker of a smile.
She couldn't ignore the state that Vegeta was in. More apparent because he was wearing normal clothing; the jeans were ripped and covered in dirt, and the sleeves of his shirt had been torn off. He resembled a rebellious teen. Bulma wondered if he had had a shower, or a wash, even.
He started towards her, and instead of walking around her, he stopped directly in front of her and looked right into her eyes.
Bulma froze and her throat felt as if it was closing up, stopping any oxygen getting into her lungs. All the hairs on her arms stood erect, and goose pimples dotted them. Why was this man still able to do this to her? Maybe he was right about the human race being pathetic because she felt it right at that moment.
"Step aside," he said, smirking.
Quite out of character, Bulma stepped aside, watched as he walked inside, and then followed in behind him. What a weird guy. That was old news, granted. But the odd behaviour always stood out to her. Perhaps she should ignore it, like everyone else seemed to do. That's what she could never understand. None of her friends ever fussed over Vegeta like she did, so then why did he always assume they would pester him for his attention. He must have forgotten what planet he was on, and that his royal status was non-existent on earth.
The room formed a dead silence when Vegeta entered. There was only Piccolo, Krillin and Yamcha stood in the kitchen, but they clipped their conversation when they realised the almighty prince had walked back in. Being a bit tipsy, Krillin chuckled the silence off and greeted Vegeta with a friendly wave, and the prince looked for a couple of seconds, making Krillin sweat (not in the good way) and pull his collar loose.
"Er, guys, I'm just gunna check and see what Eighteen is doing, yeah …" he said, and scuttled away.
Yamcha raised his beer bottle. "You get her champ." He 'wooped', and immediately brought his bottle back down when he saw Vegeta staring at him.
It only took a few seconds for Yamcha to realise that he and Piccolo had nothing in common at all, thus he decided to follow Krillin into the living room, when Piccolo sighed and knew he'd have to follow the same path. He wasn't going to stay with Vegeta – couldn't stand the guy, being partly responsible for his death those years ago.
Bulma ushered Vegeta over to the kitchen table, where there was a few plates of quiche, chicken legs, and some other strange looking things that she had yet to taste. As she did so, Eighteen slunk in from the front door, and decided that the kitchen counter was a decent enough place to wait for the rest of the night. Let's face it, she didn't really like anyone there anyway, it wasn't like she was going to communicate with any of them.
Upon this arrival, Vegeta plonked his plate back on the table, and didn't hesitate to approach the mysterious android. He thought she was wasted; done, scrap metal. He thought wrong obviously. But after what that bitch did to him, and his pride, he'd be surprised if was able to fight the urge to blast her right there.
She smirked when he reached her, their noses almost touching. "Android. What possessed you with the stupidity to show your face here?"
Bulma sighed in misery. He just couldn't let it go, could he? He had to ruin everything. She vouched for watching it play out, and let him get it out of his system. There were no more threats, so there shouldn't be any reason for anymore conflict, especially not at her son's birthday party.
"I'm with Krillin, little monkey-man ," she said, flicking her hair off her shoulder and rolling her eyes.
Vegeta's face went blank. "What? Cue ball?"
He noticed a pink hue on her cheeks just then, and wondered how she was even able to blush. She didn't have blood, did she? He blinked, speechless. What was wrong with that idiot? Making relations with a robot. He shook his head , and turned away, thinking it wasn't so bad that he hadn't already eaten because he would have vomited right then.
Bulma loosened the tension in her shoulders a bit, and looked up at the ceiling, hoping the day would wind down a bit quicker, as a twinge of pain pulled in her head, and that only meant one thing. A quick rest was in order. Her guests wouldn't mind if she went up to her room for half an hour, would they. That was all she needed.
Vegeta plated up his mound of food, and thought about which room would be the safest and furthest away from all the morons. Judging by the noise, he guessed that they had moved into the dining room, presumably drinking their body weights in alcohol. Pathetic. He would never touch the stuff again, not after what it did to him the last time. Yet another regretful memory.
The only reason why he was there was for Trunks, so where was the brat? The least he could do was see the child, and see what he was doing. Carefully, he closed his eyes to search for the boy's energy level. He didn't know how to react upon finding that he was with Kakarot's boy, the same boy who had saved his life. The same boy who defeated Cell ...They were somewhere down the other end of the building, and Vegeta made the rash decision to grab his plate and venture down there to check out the situation. He'd be damned if Gohan was teaching his son fighting techniques before he did. That would be it then. There'd be no reason for him to stay.
As he quickened his pace down the corridor, he nearly collided with Kakarot's harlot, and he clutched his plate of food to his chest protectively. Although, food didn't seem particularly interesting when he had this woman standing in front of him, with watery eyes, and grey skin.
Chichi sniffled, and didn't stop for Vegeta to judge her any longer. But it was too late. When she looked up at Vegeta, and saw his eyes flitter over her stomach and then back to her face, she knew he knew what she didn't want him or anybody else to know.
He had little care for the matter, though, and was partly distracted by the loud clatter coming from the next room down. So Gohan was showing his son how to fight. God damn that blasted child! Vegeta stepped aside and strode on through to a room he hadn't been in before, but looked very familiar to him. In fact, it was almost an exact replica of the living room, only this room had that sickening pink colour splashed across the wall. It looked as if Bulma had accidently handed a paint brush to Kakarot, and let him loose in this room.
He looked over to where the noise was coming from, and saw Gohan sitting on the floor next to Trunks, who was clapping and throwing wooden blocks up into the air, while Gohan was trying to create some type of wooden tower for him. Idiots. That was their idea of fun? Vegeta saw the sofa and sat down on it, and ate his food in silence; observing the closely and noting the monotony of the game they were playing. Basically, Gohan would build a stack of blocks, Trunks would wobble into it and knock it down, and then clap at the destruction. Vegeta supposed Trunks was somewhat similar to himself. Laughing at destruction.
One thing he hadn't failed to notice was the lack of acknowledgment from either of them. He wasn't bothered, obviously, but he did wonder why. And, he was a little disturbed as to why his son was wearing nothing but a diaper. Was that also some sort of 'birthday' ritual? To walk around half naked? Mind you, Saiyan spawn never wore clothing until they were taught how to fight, which, when he was a child, was at the age Trunks was at now.
Finishing off the last of his food, Vegeta dumped the plate on the floor, and started to feel a heaviness in his eyes. It wasn't long before he lost his battle to sleep, and drifted off to the strangely comforting sounds of his son laughing away with Gohan.
Vegeta awoke, very abruptly, to the feel of something prodding him somewhere. When he came to a bit more, the feeling, he could locate, was in his ribs, and quickly he sat up, in what was now a very dark room, and he looked down. It was Trunks, pressing a DVD case into him, and trying to rouse him out of slumber. Well it worked, and now he wasn't very amused, with a head ache and blurred vision. He stared at the, still, half naked child, and allowed him to continue to prod the case into him while he tried to justify the situation he was in.
"Dis, dis, dis …" Trunks said, now ramming the DVD into Vegeta, and pin-pointing the exact spot to cause him slight discomfort.
Vegeta flinched and snatched the case away from Trunks to stop the infernal babbling. Again, he saw that the DVD was labelled the 'Teletubbies', with a picture of all of them posing suggestively on the front cover.
Good God …
He shifted his speculative gaze onto his son, and sighed. "No, you know damn well what happened the last time, kid." And he put the DVD down beside him, and began feeling the tufts of hair on the back of his head, which had become quite dishevelled from lounging back on the sofa for who knows how long.
Then, out of nowhere, Vegeta felt a small burst of energy, and his eyes instantly reverted back to Trunks, who was standing up, making him level with Vegeta's biceps, and he was clenching his little fists, frowning at his father.
"Dis," he said, lobbing the DVD onto Vegeta's empty lap, and staring at Vegeta intently.
Remarkably so, Vegeta's mouth remained clamped shut as he assessed what was going on with the child. Never had he seen the boy act like that around Bulma, so why did he think it was ok to do so in front of him? The boy clearly had no respect; Vegeta didn't know whether to be more fascinated by the energy level currently being displayed. That was his son, who was still exceptionally young, but could raise his ki to a level that almost surpassed cue ball's? Well, he was very surprised.
Vegeta looked at Trunks, then back at the DVD, then back at Trunks again, and contemplated what to do. He was still tired, so maybe if he put the damn Teletubbies on, the boy would leave him alone. But where was Bulma? Wasn't it her job, to look watch the brat at all times?
Trunks' energy waned, and he dropped into a sitting position, looking exhausted and defeated. Seeing this, Vegeta swiped up the DVD and proceeded to put it on. What was the worst that could happen? He didn't have to sit there and watch it with him, did he?
But after twenty minutes or so, Vegeta couldn't help but stare at the enchanting creatures, feeling a mixture of disgust and marvel. And before he knew it, an hour had passed, and Trunks was sitting on the sofa right beside him, so transfixed that Vegeta bet if he accidentally blasted the wall beside him, the child wouldn't flinch or bat an eye. Basically, the boy was being brainwashed, which Vegeta did not condone at all, but there was something about the pink custard in that show that intrigued him greatly.
"As much as I know you're enjoying this, it's way past Trunks' bed time," Bulma said, leaning against the door frame in her dressing gown, and trying to stifle her grin with the back of her hand.
Vegeta's head whipped round, like an animal caught in the car headlights, and watched as Bulma advanced over to Trunks, who was now shuffling on his buttocks away from her and closer to Vegeta, shaking his head with disapproval.
"C'mon Trunks, it's sleepy time," Bulma said, trying her hardest not to let the glee merge across her trained look of disdain.
She knew, though, that she had just walked in on Vegeta and her son, spending time together, and more shockingly, watching the Teletubbies. She was so happy that she could cry, but right then, she needed to get Trunks to bed otherwise he would be mad cranky in the morning.
Everyone had left over an hour ago, but she hadn't thought to check up on where Vegeta had gotten to because she just assumed he would be grazing in his room, like usual. As far as she knew, Gohan was minding Trunks while she had a nap, which did her the world of good, and then Trunks was with her mother.
Bulma outstretched her arms and leaned over the sofa to try and grab Trunks, but Trunks had other plans, and he clambered onto Vegeta's lap, leaving the prince panic-strickened and unable to move.
"No, Trunks. Get off Daddy," Bulma ordered, and shuffled her way around to the front of the sofa.
By now Trunks had a firm grip on Vegeta's arm, and Bulma didn't think twice but to grab her baby and attempt to prise him away from the petrified prince. It was a pathetic sight, really. Just when things were looking up.
Bulma yanked hard, and stumbled on her slippers, allowing the opposing force of Trunks to throw her forward into Vegeta. Luckily, she regained her balance by pressing her shins hard into the base of the sofa, leaving her inches away from Vegeta's face. This time, the tips of their noses brushed against each other, and Bulma stopped pulling, and stared into Vegeta's wide eyes, waiting for him to move.
Trunks wriggled beneath her, almost squashed between his parents, but she ignored that when she could almost taste Vegeta's breath, sending her back to a place she longed to be.
Vegeta stared into Bulma's eyes for what seemed like minutes before she retreated, and easily pulled Trunks into her arms. He didn't know why, but he felt trapped. Not physically, but he felt unable to act, speak, or even think. Thoughts eluded him after that, as he watched her carry his son out of the room; the boy's arms flailing in protest.
"Right, young man, bed time," Vegeta heard Bulma say, as she paced off and out of the room, followed by the loud shrieking of Trunks.
Despite only just realising, Vegeta knew that Bulma was beginning to struggle to control the boy, and what with his power increasing rapidly every day, it wouldn't be long before Trunks would accidentally hurt her or maybe even kill her. He didn't know why, but he didn't like the idea of her dying just yet, not when the boy was so dependent on a mother figure. In a year, Trunks wouldn't need her, but right now, she was necessary … to the brat.
Relieved and allowing the tightness in his chest to loosen again, Vegeta exhaled and threw his arms behind his head, and listened to the muffling sound of crying from upstairs.
He felt kind of relaxed at that moment. The sleep had done him rather well, and he had managed to sleep without the nuisance of a nightmare, which was positive. He could have gone as far as saying he was content, but that would be a lie nonetheless. He wondered when he would be able to sleep again, and whether he should even attempt it or not. Was it worth trying now? When he was still dreary and waned from the close encounter with the woman? It was worth a try.
He sauntered up the stairs and headed for his room, passing the door, which had been coincidentally left open, where Bulma was leaning over Trunks' crib, looking down with adoration in her eyes. The crying had stopped, and was replaced by the sound of high-pitched chimes, concentrated in some kind of dial, which was swinging above the crib.
Bulma spotted Vegeta, who was standing awkwardly in the door way with a lack of expression. She stepped away from the crib, pulled the ties of her nightgown tight, and walked over to see what was up with him. It was unusual for him to have followed her, only unless he wanted something specific. A dark thought swept across her mind that made her twitch as a way of removing it. But he did look particularly attractive at that moment, when she ignored the tattered clothes, and dirty skin. Still, there was something very appealing.
Slowly, she shuffled over the door way and closed the door gently behind her. Then she looked up at Vegeta, quizzically.
"Vegeta … You OK?" she said, looking him over to check for any abnormalities.
A moment passed and he thought whether to answer her or not—or just walk away. Why did she have to throw the same questions at him every time he saw her?
"Of course I'm OK," he snapped back, and looked in the direction of his room, estimating how much distance he would have had to have walked if he'd just ignored her. There was that trapped feeling again. He didn't owe this woman anything, so why did he feel, feel …Guilty?
As he recalled, she was the reason he had to escape the damn place, because she had to go poking her nose into the reasons behind his actions again. The thought of that night made him feel tremulous with anger.
"Oh, you just look, well, stressed," she said, looking at him imploringly.
"Ha, speak for yourself."
"Yeah, I know I look like hell," she sighed and pulled her hair from the back and over one shoulder. "It's been a long day."
It had. That wasn't a lie.
Vegeta grunted a response and turned his body, being completely fed up with the tireless conversation. Every time he was around Bulma, he felt increasingly irritated. And every time he saw her, it was like she had forgotten their last bout of aggravation and she had forgiven him. He didn't need forgiving and he certainly did want to be forgiven. It wasn't in his nature to be forgiven, because usually, his victims wouldn't have the time to do so. Yet, this woman was still alive, for now. No, he hadn't planned on killing her. He just didn't know what to do about her.
"Hey, did you happen to speak to Gohan today?" Bulma said.
Vegeta stopped and cocked an eyebrow, curious with the strange question. "No."
"It's just, he was acting really weird … Come to think about it, so was Chichi," she said, musing into thin air, then looking at Vegeta again.
He crossed his arms and huffed. He couldn't believe that she was so naïve. "That's because Kakarot's woman is carrying another one of his putrid spawn."
Bulma's mouth dropped open. "Re-ally?" And she ran over to Vegeta to make sure he wasn't lying.
He grimaced from her eagerness to invade his space, and rather than speak (because he'd forgotten how to, somehow), he gulped and nodded slowly.
Dropping back, Bulma's eyes roamed across the corridor for an answer. "Oh my God. Why didn't she say anything to me?" she said, looking at Vegeta. "I have to call her … No, It's late. I should leave it, right? Yeah, I'll sleep it off, then call her first thing in the morning—or I could go round …"
Deciding he'd had enough, Vegeta walked away and left her to her own deluded thoughts. Crazy woman. But he was stopped again, when he was literally inches away from sanctuary.
"Thanks for sticking around today. I know it made Trunks happy," she said, smiling gently.
Keeping his back turned, Bulma only saw him shrug his shoulders, and then continue off down the corridor. Feeling quite perky with information, Bulma had no intention of resting for the night. There was a new science magazine she had yet to take a look at, and maybe write down a few notes and ideas—nothing too stressful.
Then there was Vegeta; the thought of him made her smile. Her hope in him was growing, but she didn't want to rely on it too much, as he had the tendency to vanish. Actually, she wouldn't have been surprised if she'd followed him to his room and found the balcony door wide open and his presence gone again. But that thought didn't plague her mind much anymore. Even if he would disappear, he would always come back. It had been done many times, who's to say that's just the way he was, and that's his way of dealing with things.
Either way, her concern for Vegeta was diminishing; there were too many things going on in her life for her to focus all her time on worrying where he goes all the time. That didn't mean she didn't have a burning desire to run into his arms every time she saw him. She'd just learnt to control it well. How much she wanted to Vegeta to care about her was a totally new level. But until today, she had very little doubt that Vegeta could care for anyone but himself. It seemed he had a soft spot for someone else.
So what was there to look forward to? Oh, yeah. The holiday with the gang. Bulma knew that was bound to be awesome; she had hundreds of ideas for when she returned to work; Vegeta was progressing with Trunks, very slowly, but still … and there was something else …
Bulma squinted, and then she remembered.
Chichi was pregnant!