Chapter Ten
Rinse
Bulma groaned when she heard a fist pound on her door. "I'm busy!" she shouted, leaning further over her bench. The pounding still continued, though, and she reluctantly tore herself from her work to open the door.
It was Goku.
"Bulma, is it alright for me to come in?" he asked, smiling eagerly. She nodded and grudgingly stepped back so he could enter, quietly saying, "What are you doing here?"
"I was going to ask you for a favor." He found a seat among wires and boxes while she closed the door and returned to her desk, turning her chair to face him.
"What do you need?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver chain he had found in his quarters. "This necklace belongs to a friend of mine, and I wanted to get it cleaned for him. Could you help me?"
She sighed and gazed wistfully at her work. "Goku, I need to work on this gravity chamber. It's driving me crazy; I can't even find that heirloom and I think I'll have to discover the theorem all over again."
"But Bulma, this'll only take five minutes! And it's for a friend. I know it would mean a lot to him."
Once again, she glanced back at her work, but this time she hesitantly accepted the necklace. "I'll try and clean it, then you can come get it later."
"Sure," he said gladly, rising from his make-shift chair. "I'll be back soon!"
"You'd better be," she grumbled, taking the chain to her work bench. She heard him leave behind her as she settled down to get Goku's project out of the way.
The chain was dirty—very dirty, she noted, picking off chips of dirt caked onto the metal. She opened her drawer and rooted around for her polishing cloth that she kept around to clean finished projects, and she quickly ran the chain over the cloth, vigorously polishing some of the tougher spots. Most of the dirt came off easily, and the silver shone dully from her hand, but there were still tiny flakes of dirt coating the surface. She tried to run the chain through again, but only to find the same results.
"What the hell is wrong with this thing?" she muttered to herself. "Is this even dirt?" She tried to examine it more closely, but the delicate links were far too small for her eyes. Frustrated, she dug into her drawer and emerged with a magnifying glass and a file. She was planning on rebuffing the metal to a new sheen—and if that didn't work, she could always make a new one.
Grasping the chain in one hand, she lifted the magnifying glass to examine it more closely. If the thin lines of filth weren't on the chain, it would've looked absolutely fine, but all these scratches of brown—
Bulma frowned. "Wait a second… this looks like writing…." She refocused the magnifying glass and tried to read it, but she soon noticed that the writing wasn't letters of Standard—it was math symbols.
She gasped and hastily read some of the code.
It was a theorem.
Her father's theorem.
For a moment, she thought she was seeing things. She slapped her cheeks softly and rubbed her eyes, but when she picked up the necklace and magnifying glass again, it was still there, as clear as before.
It finally clicked that she had found the missing theorem, and Bulma scrambled for a pad of paper and a pencil to take notes.
Every bit was there: the things she had found, the ideas that she toyed with, the means she never could've dreamed of. She filled out pages and pages of notes before she heard the door buzz open behind her. "Goku, where did you find—" But her words froze in her mouth as she saw that her friend was not alone. Goku grinned widely at her.
"Surprise! You remember this guy, don't you?" he asked playfully, patting the shorter boy on the shoulder with a heavy hand.
Bulma nodded, then quietly pronounced, "Vegeta." Her eyes narrowed as she said it.
Vegeta's face, in turn, was a furious version of shock. "Goku," he hissed at the boy, his glare never leaving Bulma, "you said we were going to the new training facilities."
"I wanted this to be a surprise," Goku laughed, scratching the back of his head bashfully. "You know, a welcome home party. I even had Bulma clean your necklace for you."
"What necklace?" Vegeta demanded at the same time Bulma asked, "This is his?" There was a beat of silence as the two glared pointedly at each other. Goku's smile faltered. He looked between his two friends with childish concern. "What's wrong? You guys want to have the party later?"
"Or never," the prince added lowly. His tail lashed behind him.
"Goku, could you excuse us?" Bulma suddenly asked. "Vegeta and I need to talk."
"But what about the—"
"Now, Goku!" Meekly, the boy backed out of the room and allowed the door to shut him out.
There was a brief space of time where Bulma and Vegeta stared, considering each other with obvious spite and anger. She finally broke the silence by harshly saying, "I thought I told you to stay away from me."
"I didn't know I would end up with you, or else I wouldn't have come," Vegeta answered callously, although truthfully. "I was going to train when Goku brought me here."
Bulma nodded in acceptance, then she held the necklace aloft in her hand, letting it dangle from her fingers so he could see what it was. "This is yours, right?"
Immediately, his jaw slackened in his surprise. It took him a moment to find his voice. "How… how did you get that?"
"Goku. But the real question is how did you get it?"
"What do you care?"
"This belongs to me. Did you steal it or something?"
Vegeta snarled at her and crossed his arms contemptuously. "Of course not. Why would I steal something from a little girl?"
"You stole a family from a little girl," she shot back, "so a necklace shouldn't make too much of a difference to you, huh? I thought it was all the same to soulless monkey, anyways. Or does the Saiyan prince suddenly have a heart?" Bulma sneered the last sentence with scorn, causing him to grit his teeth.
"How dare you? Just because you believe I'm some kind of a cold-blooded murderer doesn't make it fact."
"But you did kill my parents. Or are you denying that?" He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but the words on his lips died. After a pause, she spat, "That's what I thought."
"You idiot!" he suddenly yelled, surprising them both. "I had no choice in the matter!"
"But you had a choice with me?" she screeched back. "I don't see the god damned difference between one person and another! You didn't have to kill anyone!"
"If there's no difference between people, what's the difference between you and me?"
Her chest was heaving, and her eyes sparked with passion. "I said between people. You aren't a person, you're a monster—a heartless, soulless monster who just kills," her voice choked on emotion, and she turned away so he couldn't see her frustrated tears. "I hate you," she whispered, and the room fell into silence.
The Saiyan prince, however, was almost deafened by the roar of his thoughts. How could this have happened? Where did he go wrong? He had only wanted to help, to save her from death… and now he was being repaid with this… this ache. In that moment, he actually believed he hated her back—but he realized it wasn't Bulma he hated. It was this stranger standing before him, this woman whom he knew nothing about. It was her he hated. His frustration finally consumed him, and he spat, "I wish I had left you for dead. Then maybe both of our lives would've been easier."
Her eyes snapped up, and she managed to glower at him through her tears. "You should've," she declared, matching the harshness in his voice. "I'd rather be dead than be here with you." He growled lowly at the derision, and their eyes locked, yet all of the rage Vegeta felt couldn't conceal the torment in his eyes from her, and he felt her leer soften, if only in the slightest bit. They were frozen, waiting for the other to back down first.
It took a few moments of silence, but Bulma was the first to break free, turning to stare at her desk. "Vegeta," she whispered, "I think you should go. Please don't try to see me again." There was a note in her voice that bordered on begging, as if this were the only solution.
His throat tightened painfully, but he managed to coolly state, "We are in agreement, then." That being said, Vegeta left without another word, the door sliding quietly shut behind him.
Bulma immediately felt drained, and she allowed herself to collapse into her lab chair, breathing heavily. She lifted a hand to brush her hair back and was surprised to find that she was in a cold sweat. A sudden anger overtook her. How could he do this to her? How could he make her feel so flustered just by looking at her like that? She had seen the glint in his eyes—it wasn't cruelty or malice, but it was something sad, pitiable. It almost looked like remorse.
But that was impossible. Vegeta was the man who had killed her entire family, her entire hometown without regret. How could he feel such pain over one girl?
Inwardly, Bulma groaned and forced herself back to work. She had just found the missing heirloom, the missing key, and she'd be damned if she'd let anyone distract her from her goal.
Yet her hands still shook as she lifted the pencil. She heard the door open again and wheeled from surprise.
"Don't worry, it's only me," Zarbon laughed, striding beside her. "Scared it would be someone else?"
Bulma laughed along with him, but it was forced and harsh. Zarbon looked at her oddly. "Is there something bothering you?"
She shook her head and bowed it over her desk.
"Don't lie, I've taken care of you for nine years now. Are you ill? What's wrong?" Zarbon lifted her chin to peer into her eyes, and he was surprised to find streaks of tears running down her face.
"Nothing's wrong," she breathed, shaking his hand away and turning to her work. "I'm fine. I was just… I've just been working hard on this project. I must be tired."
"But you're crying. What happened?"
"I told you, it's nothing important. Maybe the dust." Her mind scrambled for a distraction, and the necklace immediately presented itself. "But hey, you'll never guess what I found."
Goku started when the door slid open. Vegeta stormed out immediately afterwards, marching towards his quarters without a backwards glance. The younger Saiyan scrambled to his feet. "Vegeta! Hey, wait up!"
The prince didn't stop when he heard his name being called. Earlier, he had promised himself he wouldn't lose his head if he met her again, but he did anyways, and now he was perturbed that he said so much about something so stupid.
"Come on, Vegeta!"
"What is it?" he grunted, although he didn't stop walking. Goku caught up on his own accord and asked, "What happened? Are we going to have the party another time?"
"No, we're not going to have a party," the prince sneered, doubling his pace. "I'm going to train."
"Great! I'll come with."
At his words, Vegeta stopped dead and wheeled to stare him down. "I'm going alone," he pronounced through clenched teeth. "Go back to the room or go bother that bitch in her lab. Just leave me be."
"But Vegeta—"
"I said leave!" Goku paled, and the prince took that as his cue to leave, shouting over his shoulder, "And don't you dare follow me!"
His jaw set, the young boy watched Vegeta march away, wishing that he could understand what was happening. He had been too young, though, and he couldn't quite recall—
But then there was another he could ask.
"It shouldn't take too long now that I have everything I need," Bulma was saying. "Maximum a week."
"That's fantastic news." Zarbon smiled pleasantly at her, ruffling her hair. "Lord Frieza will be eager to get an entire fleet set up, and I'm sure you'll be rewarded."
"With what? An extra ration?" They both began to laugh, hers energetically bright, his pleasantly civilized. The door opened before they had regained control, and Bulma, still laughing, allowed her eyes to drift to the doorway, where they met Goku's grim face. Her smile drifted away. "Goku?" she asked, and her voice halted Zarbon's chuckle. He, too, turned to stare at the boy framed in the doorway, but his gaze was menacing, spiteful.
"Bulma," Goku pronounced stonily, whether as a greeting or not, she couldn't tell. "Are you feeling better?"
"Uh, yeah." She flushed when she felt Zarbon's gaze turn to her. "Can I talk to you later? Zarbon and I were just—"
"I need to talk to you about Vegeta," he interrupted.
"Goku, no," she said, flushing, while Zarbon snapped, "He's back?"
"This can't wait, Bulma." Goku's voice held a pleading note, and his cold expression softened into that of a younger child for a brief moment. "Why are you two acting so different?"
"Later," she pressed. "Zarbon and I were talking."
"No, it's fine, I'll leave," the alien sighed, pulling his lips into a tight smile as he turned back to her. "I just remembered someone I need to see right now."
"Oh," Bulma said, obviously surprised. "You're sure?"
"Certain."
She frowned slightly, but nodded. "Well, see you later, then."
"Right." He glared at the Saiyan one last time before his quiet steps carried him from the room. Goku silently stepped out of his way, leaning on a nearby lab table. He waited for the door to close before he turned back to Bulma.
"Can you tell me what's wrong?" he begged. But, unfeelingly, she turned back to her work and began to transcribe the theorem. "Bulma, please!"
"No, there's nothing wrong."
He desperately hurried to her desk. "I can't remember everything that happened back then, and now I feel like I missed something, something big. I don't understand—you two were friends, I thought, but you both act like this and… Bulma, I don't know what to think! Will you please listen!" He was breathing heavily from this outburst, and he clenched her desk so hard, he was crumpling the metal in his hand.
She stared at the work before her, the pencil unmoving. Suddenly, Bulma sighed and shoved her work away. "I am listening," she whispered.
Yes, another day, another chapter. I just got out of school yesterday, and although I'm working practically full-time this summer, I think I'll be spending a lot of time finishing this story, as well as working on the next.
Speaking of which, there's a poll on my profile page about which story people would like to see next from me. Please vote! It would mean the world to me!