Chapter Ten: Callin'

The soft, Earthling bed had never looked so comfortable before, he had to admit. His body longed to be flung against it, to wrap himself up in the dark sheets and comforter, to shut out the world. But he knew that he would not be able to fully enjoy his rest if he threw his filthy body on to the empty bed. Instead, he left a trail of clothes in his path to the bathroom, stripping each article until he stood in his boxers before the tub. He twisted the handles for the faucet, hoping to get the water to a tolerable heat. His mind wandered as he kept his hand under the steady flow of water, waiting for it to warm up.

Thankfully, Bulma had fallen asleep with the aid of her painkillers, and was now safely tucked away in her own bed, away from the horrors of an unknown future. She had sobbed all the way till the end of the trek in her room, before getting a hold of herself as he placed her on the bed. Somehow, she had managed to find her night clothes, and shrugged them on as he turned his back on her, waiting with summoned patience. And, mercifully, the pain relievers kicked in within minutes. Her panicked mind was allowed artificial peace…at least until the morning.

Vegeta stepped into the shower, satisfied with the temperature of the water. He squeezed a generous sized amount of shampoo into his palm, scrubbing at his scalp and hair with enough force to scrape away all the grime from the blast. Since coming upon the woman's body in the destroyed Gravity Room, he had felt grimy, filthy, disgusting. Unsure as to why he had felt that way, he simply pushed it to the back of his mind, realizing that it was most likely the literal feeling of those words. But he knew better. Guilt had tried to drag him in to the dark abyss as he guided her to the Med Bay and again as he carried her to her room. It wasn't his fault that she was weak, no indeed! Had she acquired half a brain from her conception, she would have installed security features in the GR to prevent the freakish accident. Stupid human.

Still, despite his justification, he couldn't shake the helplessness of the situation. "Damn," he grumbled, rinsing out the foam and reaching for the bar of soap that rested on the soap dish. He shouldn't be thinking about who was responsible for the damage. Instead, he directed his thoughts at the destruction of his precious GR. A groan escaped his lips as he realized that his training would be delayed until the elder Briefs returned from…wherever they were at. "Damn!" he nearly shrieked, whispering the end to keep from disturbing the banshee that lay only a door away. Of all the misfortunes to befall him at this point in life…

He let out a sigh, rinsing off his body. There was nothing he could do now. Training without the aid of the gravity would be good, but nowhere near as beneficial as the artificial simulator. Damn it all.

A twist of the handles shut off the water, ending his shower rather quickly. He griped the towel, hopping out of the tub while trying to dry off. It was no easy task, especially when all the recent events finally caught up with his tired body. Another sigh and he pulled on a fresh set of boxers, satisfied with his newfound cleanliness. The Prince was about to work on drying his long, dark hair when he heard the woman call for him. "For Kami's sake!" He stomped down the hall, not caring that his soaked hair was flinging water on the walls or floor, or that instead of its usual flame-shape, it hung past his shoulders, half-way down his back.

He slammed the door open, expecting her to cry out or shout obscenities at him for doing such a thing but she made no move, no sound, other than calling out to him again. Half tempted to bash his head through a wall, he marched straight up to her bed, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a shake.

'WHAT?'

Bulma sniffled a bit, running the sleeve of her robe across her nose a few times. "You left me," she whined, partially wobbly from her drug-induced state.

Vegeta let out a small, strangled huff. Had he promised her that he would stay? He recalled no such thing. No self-respecting, proud Saiya-jin Prince would ever promise to anyway! 'So?' he answered, releasing her from his grip.

"I thought…well, that maybe, you know….you would…jus—"

'You can just stop thinking,' came the snipped reply. 'If you had any foolish notions of me staying, you're an idiot. You've done quite enough for me today. My gravity room is ruined, I have no access to cooked food, my bed still has your germs in it, your freakin' parents are nowhere to be found…need I go on? Why would I possibly want to stay in your presence a moment longer?'

In the middle of his light monologue, he had sat down, and now that he was waiting for a reply from the wounded onna, he could finally take in his surroundings. It wasn't often that he had ever really graced her room with his presence. The whole area was usually a complete war-zone, but tonight it looked neater than usual. His eyes trailed back to her form, her sightless eyes seeing right past him.

She gave no reply, other than a few blinks and sniffles. A moment of insanity gripped her instead, causing her to fling her body against him. The miffed alien could offer no words or actions to express his shock. His arms only gripped the mattress, his body went rigid. The woman just squeezed harder, amazed that he smelled so good, felt so soft. It was a grand difference to his usually cold, hard demeanor.

Bulma buried her face in his chest, hoping to shut out the suffocating darkness. There wasn't an explanation as to why she turned to him for comfort. She only supposed it was because she hated being alone, always had. Hesitantly, she ran her palm up and down his back, trying to ease the tense muscles that had stiffened as a result of her touch. Suppressing a grin, she could feel his heart rate pick up before it settled into a slow, steady rhythm. Her hand kept hitting drops of water, finally plowing through a massive wet mane. She could feel her eyebrows arch up in surprise. His hair was practically as long as hers! A small smile eased up on her pale face…the first one for a very long night.

The alien Prince felt a strange sense of comfort in the tiny ministrations the woman executed. For a moment, he wondered who was taking care of whom. But he snapped out of his thoughts, grasping her arms once again and pushing her towards the comfort of her bed. 'Sleep,' he ordered when he felt she would protest. The sheets billowed around her before settling down on her body as he tucked her in. In reality, it was such a silly, unnatural thing for him to do, but the night had been totally out of the ordinary.

And none of it would happen again anyway.

He started to turn away, taking the towel from around his shoulders to finally get to his dripping hair.

"Vegeta…" Bulma called, her face pointed in his general direction, though her eyes still didn't meet his own. He had paused, feeling a bit of hope well up that maybe, just maybe, her crystalline eyes would connect with his ebony ones. He was sorely disappointed when they landed on his knees instead. "Don't leave. Please? Just for tonight?"

With the towel merely resting on his head, he regarded her from a safe distance. It would be easier for him if he just stayed in her room. He could keep an eye on her, not that he wanted to, but the situation did warrant that. And he would be able to tell her to shut up more effectively…

His stomach interrupted, reminding him that dinner had been missed.

'I need food first.'

Bulma blinked as the breeze from the door closing kissed her face.

Cold meats, cheeses, condiments, breads, greens, and liquids littered the table in the kitchen's nook. Vegeta would be willing to admit that he was no five-star cook. Thankfully, he was able to fend for himself with foods that didn't need to be heated with any earthling contraption. A sandwich that was so many feet high off of the table stood before him, placing a gleam in his eye that he hadn't held since he had battled all those weaklings on Namek. A feral grin replaced the scowl that he had retained while fixing his meal. At last, something was going right today!

Picking up what equated to three sandwiches from the top, he readied himself for his feast, eager to taste the fruits of his efforts. But before he could bite down on the breaded goodness, a tingle went up and down his spine. His brow furrowed as he spun around in his seat, ready to drop his portion and defend himself against any villain. He waited…and waited…

Until the door swung open anyway. A chilled looking Gohan quickly came in, shutting the door behind him as he jogged in place. "What are you doing?" Vegeta asked, still unsure of Earthling traditions and nonsensical things like that. Gohan blushed and rubbed the back of his head, reminding the Prince of the third-class clown that lived nearly a thousand miles away.

"Tryin' to keep warm! It sure is cold outside."

The older man chose not to grace the statement with any reply, as his sandwich was still uneaten. He turned in his seat, easily munching away at the helpless goodies before him. The half-breed's stomach chose that moment to speak up, churning out a chorus of growls for being ignored. "Let me guess…the Namek didn't bother to feed you." He didn't need to turn around to see the kid's response. Vegeta should've known. The stoic, green giant would pull off a stunt like that…getting the brat hungry and not bothering to feed him before sending him back. "Fiiiiiine," he mumbled, tossing about a third of the stack on another plate and sliding it away from his place at the table. Gohan didn't need an invitation; he plopped down two chairs away, gobbling down the sandwiches as though his life depended on it.

Minutes later, only empty bottles and cleaned off plates remained on the table. The younger of the two let out a contented burp, resting back in his chair as he sleepily blinked up at the ceiling. "What happened to the GR?" He lazily rolled his head to the side, catching a glimpse of the clock; it read 10:57 PM.

Vegeta winced at the reminder. Absently he rubbed at his shoulder, feeling it begin to bruise from the mentioned disaster. "It…blew," he hesitated, uncertain if telling the demi Saiya-jin about Bulma's condition would be wise.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Is Bulma gonna fix it?" Gohan sat up fully as he realized that his companion was more interested in the crumpled napkin that lay next to his plate. "Vegeta-san?"

He had wanted to avoid all questions really. His mind was not in any stable condition to deal with the brat or his prodding questions. Worse still, every time his mind was brought back to the subject of the woman, he could feel such ridiculous emotions like guilt swirl around and around. It wasn't his fault she got injured! She brought it on herself!

The Prince let out a breath that had built up during his mental rant. "No," was all he could get out through gritted teeth at first. "She can't. Not now."

Gohan's eyes widened. "Is…is she ok?"

A curt nod was received in reply. "She'll be fine. For some reason she's lost her sight and her hearing in the blast. I think her ears will heal fast enough. Her eyes may take longer." He stood up abruptly, deciding to take his chances and hope that the cleaning bots would take care of the mess. "I'll be in her room tonight. I'm sure you're competent enough to get yourself to bed." The demi only nodded as the warrior sulked away, feet padding across the carpet heard until he made his way up the stairs.

The boy stood up, following the path up the stairs and to his room, where he immediately went to the shower. He knew Bulma would be ok. Her ki felt strong, though it had an anxious, nervous aura about it. And if the Prince had known that much about her condition, then he probably had taken care of whatever had ailed her in the first place. With his mind now at ease, the demi could shower in peace.

The doorway seemed to loom high above him as he simply stood before it. Why it was so hard to walk through it and plop down in a chair by her bed was beyond understanding in his mind. He was pretty sure it had to deal with uncertainties. This was uncharted territory for him. Never before had he stayed with someone because they had asked, especially when they were ill and in bed. He almost felt embarrassed by his child-like behavior.

Being the prince he was though, he shrugged it off, twisting the handle on the door and swinging it open gently. The woman was sitting up, fighting sleep as she fiddled with the corners of her blanket. And she called him stubborn.

'I thought I told you to sleep.'

Obviously she was surprised. Her sleepy eyes blinked back to their alertness and another smile was visible from where he stood. Did it really mean so much to her?

"You came back."

Vegeta shrugged again, well aware that she couldn't see him. He could barely admit to himself that deep in the recesses of his mind, he had promised that he would come back, if only to keep her quite for the rest of the night. It wasn't as though he had to get up for any particular reason anyway. 'Gimme a pillow,' was all he demanded as he sat down on a cushiony lazy-boy chair.

Bulma shook her head, patting the excess bed beside her. "It's not like you haven't shared a bed with me before."

'Absolutely not!'

"Aww, come on! The bed is ten times more comfortable than the recliner."

Perhaps the woman did have a point. Various spots on his body began to ache, and he was sure it was all due to the flippin' explosion that had turned his day from bad to worse. Growling under his breath, he pulled the covers back just enough for him to slide in, huddling as close as he could to the edge without falling off. Again the woman instantly glued herself to his back, making him most uncomfortable with the situation at hand. 'Must you be so clingy?!'

He received a slap on the arm. "It's human nature! I can't help the fact that I feel the need to 'cling' to you! I've just been through more hell than I've ever been through, and now I'd like to get some sleep!!" Vegeta blinked in surprise at her slight mood swing, but said nothing more. He felt her settle against him, her breathing evening out to a totally rested rhythm.

"About time," he muttered, feeling his own eye lids betray him as sleep claimed his body.

The shrill ring of a tune he couldn't decipher brought him back from the land of sleep. He opened one eye half way, sure that his biological clock was effecting him and that he would be able to turn over and return to much needed sleep. His other eye opened half way to focus on the direction of the noise.

No such luck.

The woman's cell phone slid around her nightstand, vibrating and playing some tune that bordered on romance and depression. His ungloved hand reached for it, clasping it in a large palm as he brought it closer for inspection. The tune still rang out, muffled though it was, and still it vibrated in his hand. He turned the cell over in his hand, squinting at the screen to read the caller ID.

"Yamcha." It read, stopping long enough with its noise to signify that it had gone to the answering service.

Vegeta scowled. Why the weakling Scarface had only now bothered to call the woman was beyond him. Still, he knew that if someone didn't answer his noisy calls, the baka was just as likely to show up and snoop around. The last thing they needed was to have him come and start pointing fingers for uncontrolled incidents.

The phone went off again, playing the same annoying tune. The Prince flipped it open, glad for once that the woman couldn't hear. "What?" He winced at the sound of his voice. Sleep must've claimed him entirely that night because he still sounded like he was dead to the world.

"Vegeta? What are you doing with Bulma's phone?" The weakling sounded clearly confused. Vegeta smirked in satisfaction though his mind churned through little white lies to cover up his means for answering Bulma's personal number.

"She's sleeping and it was annoying me." Oh so lame. He slapped his forehead, instantly regretting it as the blue-haired invalid turned slightly.

"Oh, well…is she mad at me?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. I'll tell her you called." Quickly, he hung up, tossing the phone on the recliner and settling back in to sleep. Finally, peace again. He could feel his mind totally letting go and drifting away to total relaxation when the woman suddenly moved. An eye cracked open, watching as she hesitantly wrapped an arm around his torso. He felt a sudden heat flush his cheeks, but made no move.

She gave him a small squeeze, resting her head on his shoulder. "Was that Yamcha?"

Vegeta blinked in surprise. "Is your hearing back?"

"Not completely. It's like I have a head cold…I can hear you, but it's kind of muffled."

Again he blinked, amazed at how her body was healing. "And your vision?" He sat up, resting on his elbow as he hovered above her.

Bulma shook her head. "No." He started to grind his teeth, but decided to stop. She was making progress at least. Now he wouldn't have to soil his own mind by invading hers. Joy.

"That was your weakling male," a sudden touch of anger hit him. "Do human males normally call so early in the morning?"

A smirk flitted across the woman's face. "Only the stupid ones."

"Huh," he replied, shoving the covers off of him. For a moment he was disoriented, taking in the girlish surroundings that screamed at him. Oh, right, he was in the woman's room, not his this time. Shaking his head to clear it, he picked his way over miscellaneous objects to get to the door.

"Where are you going?" The woman called out, grasping the covers closer to her body.

"For a run," was his only response.

Bulma gingerly rubbed her head, sure that she must've nearly cracked it open in the ruins of the GR. Her ears throbbed every once in a while, a good sign that her body had dedicated all its efforts to heal it. Thankfully, one sense had returned, relieving her of feeling like she should be shoved away in a home. Her vision still being gone worried her, but she couldn't do anything about that until she either went to the hospital or waited on her father to return.

She decided to go with the latter.

Her thoughts did a 180 as she mulled over the "Vegeta Situation". She was sure that this whole ordeal had probably rubbed him the wrong way, if his clipped answers and slight hissy fits were any indication. Of course, she couldn't blame him. This was a very inconvenient incident, even more-so since she was the only person on the entire compound able to rebuild the gravity room, cook—no matter how awful it was— and stand up to him.

And running?

Sure, the GR was completely totaled, and perhaps this was the only way for him to get an actual work out…but how unlike him! He could fly the circumference of the planet about a hundred times and still not break a sweat. She failed to see what a run around the neighborhood or city could do. Oh well, who could figure out a Saiya-jin male anyway?

"All boys are stupid," she concluded, planting her feet on the ground. A long yawn accompanied her stretches. Sleeping had done the trick, for sure. A smile stretched across her face as she shuffled towards her bathroom, wanting nothing more than to wash off soot and dried blood.

The vibration of the phone stopped her, soon followed by her ring tone. "I need to change that," an oomph followed as she tripped over a briefcase. "Dammit!" Reaching up to touch wherever the sound was coming from, she managed to grasp the phone in her hand, feeling for the seam to flip it open. "Yatta!"

"Moshi Moshi!"

"Bulma? You answered!"

The blue eyed woman rolled her eyes…or rather, she hoped she had. "Hey Yamcha. Long time, no speak."

Nervous laughter echoed back. "Heh, yeah! I just got back from my training excursion last night." Last night? He had always managed to call her the moment he stepped into civilization. Bulma's eyebrows furrowed, but she said nothing to betray her confusion.

"Oh? How'd it go?"

"It was alright. Training with Tien is no joke though." She could practically hear the shrug in his voice. If she wasn't so sure that Tien would blab about it, she would phone the three-eyed bodyguard and ask him if there was any training to begin with. "Then again, I put up a fight of my own."

"I'm sure you did." She practically gagged. Not talking to her other half in the longest time had allowed her the chance to get used to intellectual conversations with the opposite sex. The woman was sure that hearing Vegeta give his monologue on warriors and the Saiya-jin race was more beneficial to her brain cells than Yamcha's exaggerated stories. "I'd hate to cut this short, but I really gotta jump in the shower—"

"Well I just called to see if you wanted to do anything tonight. You're not busy, are you?"

Bulma's mind panicked. She would never be able to explain just what happened without her bandit of a boyfriend wigging out and pointing fingers at her surly housemate. Nor could she force herself to lie. What to do…what to do…what to do!

"I, uh…have been under the weather lately (cough, cough). I'd hate to get you sick." Lies, all lies! A silent sigh escaped her lips as Yamcha accepted her excuse and quickly said his adieus. Too quickly. No matter, she would be able to deal with him in time. Using her photographic memory to hop over wayward articles of clothing and other items, the young woman made her way to her personal bathroom.

Ah, this one was also a bit off to me. That's ok. Bulma's got her hearing back...but what of her sight?

REVIEW!