I Don't Have the Heart
By: Lehua
Disclaimer: DBZ is not mine, so these characters are not mine.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 10
Vegeta watched the woman as she slept. Her stomach had swelled to amazing proportions, and he briefly touched it, the baby kicking its foot in response. The brat was perceptive; it knew when Vegeta was near. More than once he had felt the brat searching for him, and the woman would sometimes double-over in pain until he came along to sooth the brat. It was selfish and Vegeta hated it; it was interfering with his training.
"He doesn't do it on purpose," the woman had told him on many occasions.
"Yes it does," he had replied.
"He doesn't have any higher cognition's yet; everything is instinctual still."
Maybe so, but he still hated it. And more so, the woman refused to sleep with him now. Of course, even he could see the logic in that, but it still annoyed him and he blamed the brat.
He rolled out of bed and put on his clothes. Training was still his most pressing concern; the woman could deal with the day-to-day necessities of taking care of the brat that was still growing inside of her. He would have to leave training early though for that stupid breathing class the woman was intent on taking. "You said you'd come with me," she had whined, and he had relented.
"I am getting soft," he muttered as he walked to the GR.
Never in his life had he thought he would be living like this. A few years ago he would have laughed if someone had told him he would be both free of Frieza and live on a stupid planet filled with a weak species waiting for his mate to give birth to a son.
When did she become my mate?
He hadn't formal ask her or taken her—why would he ask—so as of now they were just sleeping with each other and she was the mother of his child. But the thought had been seeping into his mind, and now that it had slipped its bond and exposed itself, he could not suppress it anymore.
A mate. Did he need one? No, he didn't think so; he could get along just fine in life without one. Kakkarot had one and kami what a harpy that one was; he didn't know what the buffoon saw in that woman. Then again, maybe he saw nothing; it's not like Kakkarot spent any quality time with her from what his woman had told him, and it's not like the idiot had marked her. Perhaps he didn't even know what a mate was; he didn't know what a Saiyan was until recently. You would think instinct would have made him mark the harpy, but perhaps Kakkarot instincts only went as far as fighting.
When the woman crossed his mind—and she was doing so more and more everyday—she had gone from being
'the' woman to being 'his' woman about half the time now. It was taking more effort to think of her in terms of being just any woman as the delivery day drew nearer. His thoughts weren't yet interrupting his training, but they were beginning to plague him. He should be thinking about training, coming up with better ways to get stronger, but instead he was thinking about her, wondering if she was still considering him to be her mate. She had mentioned marriage once, the stupid mating ritual on this planet, and she had said it in and offhand manner, but he remembered and he was disconcerted to be thinking about it at all.
He was interrupted by the woman later in the day.
"Vegeta!" she screamed from outside the GR.
He powered down the GR and opened the door.
"What-"
He blinked. The lower half of her body was wet and she was clutching her stomach in pain.
"The baby-"
-is coming. He picked her up and carried her to the infirmary. They had decided to call the doctor to them when the baby was on the way instead of going to the hospital. His woman had been adamant about making sure no one found out, staying home when her stomach was growing, not letting anyone see her on a vid screen below her chest area, making sure she had all the supplies she would need for a new born child stocked in the infirmary.
She clung to him, her face pale and her mouth set in a grim frown. He felt her tense up as another wave of pain coursed through her body. Placing her gently on the infirmary bed, he summoned the doctor.
"Do you need anything, woman?" he said.
She reached out her hand and he took it. "Just stay here with me."
Did she think he was going to be anywhere else? "Seriously, woman, after all the infernal training we had to do for the brat, do you think I'd be anywhere else?"
She smiled weakly and gripped his hand tightly as another contraction tore through her body.
The doctor arrived shortly and said that the baby was coming, but not for awhile. "She hasn't dilated enough for the baby to come yet."
"What th-"
"It means," his woman said, through clenched teeth, "that my cervix isn't big enough for the baby to pass through it yet." She went limp after the contraction was over.
He said nothing.
He watched her though the hours as she labored and waited. She screamed, she yelled, she insulted his heritage and threw things at his head, she promised he'd never touch her again, and she begged the kami to kill her before the baby did it itself. In between the contractions she would apologize and be sweet, but as the contractions increased and the time in-between grew less and less, he began to worry that she would wear out before the baby could be delivered.
"Is this normal?" he said to the doctor as she yet again found something to throw at him.
"Perfectly," the doctor replied.
He wasn't sure if he believed her, or if the doctor believed herself. There was a hesitancy in the doctor's voice, and he didn't know if it was out of general concern or if there was something specifically wrong.
"Bulma," the doctor began, "why don't we give you-"
"No drugs!" his woman screeched and promptly threw something at the doctor which barely missed her.
The doctor appeared unperturbed.
The grip his woman had on his hand didn't hurt but it was alarming how tight she could grasp him; had he been human he was sure she would have broken his hand. He wondered if she was borrowing some power from the baby as she labored.
At hour 23 she was crying hysterically and the pain was beginning to overwhelm her. Nothing he said or did could sooth her. As he dried her face with a cool towel, he growled to the doctor, "When will the brat be coming?"
The doctor checked. "Soon."
"You've been saying that for the past few hours." His ears were beginning to hurt from his woman's continual crying.
"Another inch or so-"
And his woman shrieked so suddenly that he dropped the towel and covered his ears.
"Woman-"
"It's coming!" She pushed.
The doctor coaxed her loudly when to push and rest. Vegeta watched his woman as she worked to bring the brat into the world, and he was amazed at her strength. When it came down to it she was all business and soon enough a piercing cry could be heard and the brat was born. The doctor handed the brat to his woman.
"Trunks," she said and then promptly passed out.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vegeta felt a hand kneaded his hair. He had fallen asleep next to his woman after she had passed out from exhaustion. Trunks slept quietly next to her in a crib.
He sat up and looked at her, her hand caressing his cheek. She glowed.
"Wakey, wakey," she said.
"You forgive me then," he said. He remembered her threat earlier about not letting him touch her ever again.
She nodded. She looked at the baby. "Did you hold him yet?"
He shook his head: no.
"Give him to me," she said.
He went over to the crib and stared down at the purple-headed infant. The brat was sleeping peacefully now, wrapped in a blue blanket and sucking its thumb. He picked it up carefully and held it to his chest. The brat nuzzled him and grabbed his shirt, settling comfortably on his chest. He looked between his woman and the brat; he could feel something begin to well up in his chest, something unexplainable and undeniable, something like the love his woman had described to him countless times, but something deeper, more basic. It was need.
She smiled and motioned for him to give the brat to her. He obeyed, placing the brat in her arms and watching them as they grew accustomed to each other. The brat opened its blue eyes and cooed at his woman. She giggled and stuck a finger at the brat. It grabbed her finger and began to suck on it. "Wow, you've got quite the grip, just like your daddy," she said.
He watched them, mother and child, and felt the loss of his own mother keenly; he couldn't even remember her face now. Frieza had come and—the androids. How could he have forgotten? He turned and left the room.
"Vegeta, where-"
But he didn't stop to listen to her, didn't stop to answer her. He wasn't going to let the android bastards take his woman and brat away.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bulma growled darkly to herself at Vegeta's departure. "What the hell is his problem?" she muttered. "Don't worry, baby Trunks; your daddy is always grumpy, it's not you." Trunks had fallen asleep and was peacefully grabbing her hair.
Bulma placed his back in the crib and stretched her tired limbs. The labor had been bad; she was sore everywhere, in places she didn't know she could be sore in. She hadn't thought it would be so long or so painful, and she remembered every bit of it. Next time she would use an epidural.
But it had been worth it. Her baby slept peacefully and the man of her dreams, well, he may be grumpy now but she had seen the look of utter devotion he had on his face before it closed over and he left. She wondered what had gotten his underwear in a knot, but thought better of going to see herself; she wasn't strong enough to get out of bed yet.
"Doctor," she called.
The doctor came right in as if waiting to be summoned. "Miss Briefs, you are looking much better now. Are you hungry?"
Bulma nodded and the doctor produced something for her to eat.
"The delivery went smoothly and you'll be happy to know that there is nothing wrong with your baby. You'll probably be able to be up and about in a few days."
Bulma nodded.
"Did you hire anyone to help you out until then?"
"No, but Vegeta will be around; we'll manage."
"He is a very attentive man. I've never seen a father last that long without having to take a breather."
Bulma smiled. "He's no stranger to pain and suffering."
The doctor gave her an odd look but didn't question her. "I'll be on my way then. Good luck with the baby; I'm sure everyone will be interested in him when you let everyone know he exists. You'll break a lot of hearts." The doctor squeezed her hand and left.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vegeta found them in the infirmary after he had trained and showered. His woman was still asleep, but the brat was awake and alert. He picked it up and stared at it, keeping it at arms length. It made grasping motions at him, and when he did nothing it began to cry. His woman woke with a start.
"Vegeta!" she said, sticking her arms out.
He handed her the baby.
"Don't worry, Daddy's ugly face won't hurt you," she cooed.
Vegeta growled. "Woman-"
"I was just joking," she said, laughing. "Who would ever think you're ugly?"
He snorted and turned away.
"Oh, come on, Vegeta. It was just a joke. I'm sorry."
"I am not angry at you for calling me ugly."
"Then why?"
Why was he angry? "I am not angry."
"Well, you don't appear to be happy either. Here's your son and you're scowling just as deeply as you always do. Don't you ever take a break from being mad?"
"I am not mad."
"Okay, well, don't you ever take a break from being yourself and let yourself be happy?" she said.
He said nothing.
She sighed. "Fine, moving on. Can you get me outta here? I'm beginning to become claustrophobic."
"Where is the doctor?" He picked her up and carried her to the house.
"I told her to go."
He frowned.
"I figured we'd be fine. I should be okay in a few days."
"Woman, I need to train."
She rolled her eyes. "Can't you take a few days off? It's not everyday you have a newborn son."
He shook his head: no.
She hit him lightly as he placed her on the couch. "Come on, Vegeta, take a few days off. Spend some time with me and the Trunks."
"Woman, I need to get stronger." He went into the kitchen to make her something to eat.
"A few days won't kill you, Vegeta. You'll still be plenty strong by the time the androids get here."
He brought their dinner to the living room.
"It's just a few days. Please?" she said,
He shook his head: no.
"Is training more important than me and your son?" She was angry.
"Woman, you know-"
She held up her hand. "I know, I shouldn't have said it. Training is more important than me, but I had hoped that it wouldn't be more important the Trunks."
He watched her as she smoothed the brat's brow; the brat knew something was wrong and it was restless. It stopped moving under his woman's hand.
They ate in silence.
He wanted to spend a few days with them, but the need to get stronger, to ensure that his woman and the brat would be safe, was stronger than his need to spend time with them. He had to make her understand.
"Woman," he said later that night as they lay in bed. The brat had its own room, so they were alone. She was snuggled up against him, awake. "I need to get stronger."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
"Oh, come on, Vegeta," she said pulling away from him, "you have to get stronger to 'beat the androids and kill Kakkarot.' I've heard the speech thousands of times already." She faced her back to him.
"I need to get stronger so . . . I can protect you, and the brat," he said.
She turned back and looked at him. "What did you say?"
He pulled her toward him and settled her on his chest. It was nice to be alone with her, without the brat between them. It had been awhile. They were silent for awhile.
"When did this happen?" she said.
"This afternoon."
"Is that why you left so abruptly?"
He nodded.
She sighed. "Marry me."
He grunted.
They slept.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Review please.