Bulma trotted after Goku so closely she repeatedly kicked his feet when their strides overlapped. He didn't seem to notice, but he didn't slow his pace, either. He towered over her, and she was trying to peek around his much wider frame to catch a glimpse of the unconscious Saiyan he carried in his arms. They were almost at their destination.
"Goku. At least put us in the same cell. He needs medical attention. I'm not going to be two feet away, stuck on the wrong side of the bars, watching him suffer."
He looked over his shoulder at her, considering her words. He nodded in agreement - in direct contradiction of his words. "I don't know if Yamcha would like that."
Expecting only a halfhearted protest from him anyway, she pushed. "Even weak like this, do you truly think a few steel bars will stop him if he really wanted to hurt me?"
Goku stopped so abruptly, she crashed into his back. Not giving him time to think about the implications of a wounded and angry alien trapped in the same room as her, she seized his arm and pulled it, causing him to look down at her. She swallowed, already feeling guilty for what she was about to say.
"You did say you trusted me…"
His eyes studied her. They were full of worry, uncertainty, a need to believe in her – and finally – trust. Again, he nodded. "I do trust you, Bulma."
Pushing the overnight detox-room door open with his foot, he ducked through the entrance of the cell and stepped over to the lone bench in the room. The place wasn't overly large; as a holding cell used only to detain people overnight while they sobered up, it wasn't meant to be cozy. It had a bench, a toilet in the corner, and a sink. It would be safe, though; though there were no longer police in the station, the building was secure. At least, secure from people who weren't obnoxiously strong and could pop steel doors off the frame. And then put it back.
"I could even say I trust him," Goku said, pointing over his shoulder towards the benched alien with his thumb. "I believed what you said about Radditz. About them coming here looking for me. For us fighters. It just felt right, somehow. They're like me, Bulma. Maybe they're a little bit meaner, but – they're – we're – deep down we're the same. They just need a chance to prove it."
He let his head drop in shame and shoved his hands in the pockets of his gi. Looking anywhere but at Bulma, he let out a long whoosh of air. She didn't ask him why, if he had believed her the whole time everyone else thought she was crazy, he hadn't defended her. He started to feel awkward in the silence, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"And?" She prompted, knowing if he thought she was too angry to speak to him, he would be too nervous to continue.
His words came out in a rush, like it had been an explosion on the tip of his tongue just waiting for release. "And we all talked about it. They – we – decided that if all that stuff wasn't real and it was just in your head, it would be bad for you if we went along."
He looked up, his brows pinching as if trying to recall something. "Feeding the delusion, I think."
He looked back at her with confused eyes, imploring her to understand what he didn't. "I didn't want your mind to be broken. I didn't say anything in front of you 'cuz I didn't want to make it worse if they were right and you really weren't working. They said it could make you worse."
Reaching up to take her shoulders in his hands, he very lightly squeezed. "I told everyone I believed you, though. All the time."
She smiled wistfully at him and put a hand on his chest. How like Goku to betray her to her face in order to protect her just to turn around and fight for her behind her back. Keeping his mouth shut must have killed him inside – more so than the hurt she had felt. In that moment, she loved Goku more than she ever had before. Who could resist a heart like his? Simple, gullible, infuriating, pure, heart? She kept the moment for as long as she could, then put it into a warm velvet box in the back of her mind. Whenever she was lost, confused, or lonely, she'd pull it open and remember that her best friend believed in her, loved her, and would do anything he could to protect her – even from herself.
His smiled broadened when he felt the shift in her mood, and like an excited child, his eyes lit up. "We all believed the part about a bunch of bad guys coming to Earth, though. Which is why it was good that you built all those rifles. You were you when you started making things again." He grinned, and then seemed to remember the wounded Saiyan on the bench. His grin fell into a grimace and he whispered, "Krillen didn't have to break it just to see how powerful it was – but - I don't think anything else could have stopped that guy." He tilted his head to indicate the other Saiyan apologetically.
She stepped away from him and his arms dropped to his sides. Walking towards the bench, she spoke to him over her shoulder. "We will be ok in here, Goku. When you're all done fighting and protecting the world, we'll be waiting."
He nodded. As he turned to exit, she couldn't resist saying, "See you tomorrow!"
He threw a sloppy grin at her as he left.
She watched his back as he walked away from her – mostly because she knew once he was gone, she had a problem waiting for her attention. When she could no longer fool her imagination into thinking she could still hear Goku, she lifted her head high, straightened her back, and turned around.
And two coal-black eyes stared back at her. One burned bright in feverish distrust, the other was halfway hidden under a swollen, droopy eyelid. It took all her discipline not to flinch. Instead, she cleared her throat and bounced on her toes a few times, wondering what to say.
"Oh!" She cried, fumbling to open a cargo pocket. She pulled out the scouter, and when she realized that it was shattered in several places, tried not to collapse onto the floor in a blubbering heap. Nervous, uncertain, and more than a little afraid, her body practically hummed for distraction. So she paced. She paced and berated herself out loud, not caring that she was making a spectacle of herself in front of the alien.
Suddenly she stopped and abruptly turned to face him.
He had been content to watch her move back and forth across the room – or at least, he hadn't done anything to indicate he cared one way or another – but when she stopped moving, his eyes snapped to her face. She closed her eyes and prayed that what she was about to do wasn't severely stupid. Twisting a capsule off of her bracelet, she fingered the code, pressed the button, and threw it to the ground. It poofed open in a cloud of smoke that, as it cleared, revealed a very incredulous Saiyan. He quickly schooled his features to be blank, but wasn't successful enough to hide his wary interest. He watched every move with greedy attention. She tried to ignore it, but she was positive she could feel the weight of his stare.
Separating medical supplies from the rest, she recapsuled the excess before looking back at her very likely very unwilling patient.
Sighing, she grabbed the medical supplies and stood. Instantly, a low, deep growl vibrated from deep in his chest. When he ran out of breath, he hissed as he brought more air into his lungs to growl again. Though the sound made her insides melt into goo, she forcefully swallowed her fear. No way.
She narrowed her eyes and glared at him, giving him an unspoken command. Don't challenge me, buddy. I'm Bulma Briefs.
He raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unimpressed.
She raised her eyebrows in response, just to prove she could – right before lowering them again. She had to show him she would not be intimidated. Besides! She saved this guy's life – she wasn't about to let him die just because he was too damn stubborn to let her help him. Pssh. What a baby! Like a child with a skinned knee, he didn't want anyone to look at his booboo. Well, tough shit, Mr. Bad Man.
At least, that's what she told herself. If he was a baby, all he could do was cry. Right? So then.
She took a step forward and felt a burst of pain in her skull. Ooh! That cheat. Quickly, she filled her mind with mathematical calculations, particle string theory, the cute shoes she saw yesterday, the sandwich she made that would have been sitting near her alarm clock if her nightstand still existed – she hadn't finished it as she fiddled with the scouter – and anything else she could think of to keep him out of her head. It was working, but he was fighting it and eventually, he would win.
And then something popped into her mind that she hadn't intended. She had wondered -, when he had first found her sprawled in cardboard boxes and Chinese food, but had shoved the thought into the closet of her head that was full of bad ideas and horrible thoughts. The last time she had opened this door, she had been fifteen sitting in an advanced physics course for a doctorate – daydreaming about the professor. It hadn't ended up well when the professor had asked her a question and she responded with – something clearly not physics related. She'd never gone back to that class.
She tried to grab the tail end of the thought before it fully escaped the closet, but she was too late. She hadn't known what she was doing when the thought had been made, but what's done was done. And now – it was out in the open for him to see.
He flinched, and all pressure on her mind abruptly evaporated. It was so sudden, she nearly lost her balance. She hadn't realized she had been physically leaning forward as she pushed back with her mind. Catching herself before she fell, she recovered more quickly than he. Embarrassed, she watched him from the corner of her eye, wondering how he'd take her obviously overzealous imagination.
He seemed…. Genuinely confused. He brushed his fingertips against his lips as if wondering, if by touching them, he could understand why she would wish to put her mouth on his. Geez, it's like he's never been kissed before, she thought. She studied him for a moment as he lowered his hand from his lips and glanced back at her, eyes full of bafflement and wariness. Ok. He's definitely never been kissed. He doesn't even know what it is.
She pulverized a tiny thought in the back of her mind that wondered how could he know what a tongue was for if he didn't even know what a kiss was? That thought wasn't even allowed to survive in her daydream closet.
She took a deep breath and let it out before taking another cautious step towards him. He shied away from her, but didn't assault her mind again. Her lips twisted in a wry pout. Who'd have thought? The big bad alien, felled by the thought of kissing me. She smirked. What a prude.
She finally reached the bench. His breaths came in quick pants, and his mouth was open as if tasting the air. She recognized the act from something Goku did subconsciously when he was unsure about something. Usually when he was nervous around ChiChi. It must be a Saiyan thing. This one was literally tasting the air, smelling her to see if she was, in this case, a threat. At least this one didn't make a weird face when he did it. Goku always looked like he had peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth.
She relaxed her muscles and moved with exaggerated slowness. And, even though he wouldn't understand her words, she spoke to him in a soothing voice. It worked, for the most part, until she picked up some scissors to cut off the remainder of his tattered body suit. At this point, she just stared at him, scissors in hand, until he relented. She felt guilty – she knew he was still bleeding and his acquiescence was likely from failing strength. He simply didn't have the energy to argue.
After that, things went smoothly. The bastard even had the balls to fall asleep as she cleaned his wounds. She humphed to herself. After all that spit and vinegar, what a little liar. He hadn't once tried to harm her. In fact, he'd seemed more afraid of her than she had of him. And her fear of him, slowly fading as she worked, had plummeted by the time she had wrapped the last injury. She didn't delude herself, though. He was hurt. Once he was feeling better – things would likely drastically change.
She decided she'd cross that bridge when she got there.
She stood up to stretch and her back popped. "Woah," she said to herself. She looked down at his sleeping form and cocked an eyebrow. "Ok Mr. Greedy. I'm done with you." She turned and walked towards the sink, mumbling. "It's my turn to get attention, now."
She took her jacket off, torn in too many places to really be a jacket any longer, and threw it to the floor. Then, like peeling off a second skin because it was stuck to her from grime, blood, and she didn't want to know what, her tshirt and bra were next to hit the floor. Wetting a washcloth in the sink, she wrung it out and started cleaning the grubbiness off of her skin.