Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball / Z / GT / Super.A/N: Thank you, as always, for your patience. I love hearing from readers, reviews or whatever are always welcome. I'll be working on Been So Long next. This next chapter is to A-Ha's acoustic version of "Take On Me." If yall are interested, I can make a public Spotify playlist that I'll update as I post the chapters. In any case, I hope you enjoy.
Take On Me (Acoustic)
The cold metal of the motel balcony was slick with rain. A glass bottle clinked against the rail that Bulma leaned. Her eyes burned and her face was red and puffy from crying. She must have looked like hell to the clerk at the gas station next door when she walked in, hair in shambles, makeup streaking down her cheeks, drops of blood and wooden splinters scattered across her shirt. He had waved off her payment for the beer she had set on the counter and the smokes she pointed to behind him.
"Just take it," he had mumbled, wide eyed. "You look like you've had a hell of a day. They're on me."
Barely thinking enough to issue a half-hearted 'thank you,' Bulma dragged herself back to their room.
The amount of planning that had gone into their escape plan was incredible. Vegeta must have made a full time job out of preparing for the worst case scenario, and while it was beneficial to them now, Bulma couldn't help the hollow pang of agony in her chest at the thought of him poring over details and dollar signs in case they ever had to leave without him. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes. They fell to the parking lot below as she took another swig of beer. It was tasteless.
Gohan had tried very hard to keep the peace. At first, he tried the "I'm sure he's fine" route, but Bulma had quickly torn through that argument.
"He fell four stories, Gohan, how could he survive that?"
Later, it was "Maybe Goku or the others found him and called an ambulance. He's had a lot of close calls," but that was exactly what concerned Bulma. Vegeta's previous injuries had been severe, and each time he was brought closer and closer to the brink of death. She feared this time had been one too many.
Eventually, Gohan fell into a somber quiet, speaking rarely and softly. Trunks had eventually quieted, the moving vehicle rocking him to sleep as they sped along the Interstate. It wasn't until she realized she needed to feed the infant that Bulma realized they had been on the road for several hours and the sun was setting behind the heavy clouds, sending them into an early, dreary dark.
"I didn't bring anything for Trunks," she muttered numbly. Gohan tossed back one of the duffle bags, the one Vegeta had brought out from the nursery's closet.
The van pulled into a cheap roadside motel in a small town a few miles off the highway. Gohan checked in alone, speaking seriously to the girl at the counter until she brought out a manager. The manager quickly handed Gohan a room key and directed him to the back of the establishment. Once inside, Bulma opened the bag to find everything she would need, including blankets and formula and a bear that had gone missing weeks ago. She wept as she cradled her son.
Bulma stared out at the road. She couldn't sleep. She was trying to wrap her mind around the senseless attack on her home. She had glimpsed the couple in passing, but hadn't seen enough to know if she recognized them. She hadn't heard from Krillin or her parents, but she had seen on the news that the Capsule Corp grounds had been set ablaze. She drained her bottle and shuffled back inside, taking care to shut it softly.
Gohan was sitting up in the corner. His cell phone was in his hand, resting face up on his thigh. He hadn't moved in hours.
"Anything?" she whispered. He shook his head.
"Straight to voicemail, all of them. Even their burners."
"Burners?"
Gohan smiled humorlessly. "Vegeta had us prepare ditch bags with prepaid phones that were only activated in an emergency. All of the numbers are activated, but…" he trailed off. Bulma reminded herself to breathe.
"Don't say it," she said, turning away. "I know."
She checked the makeshift bassinet they had made for Trunks, who had managed to wiggle free of his swaddling and blanket. Bulma wrapped him back up gently and kissed his forehead as she stepped away.
"What's next?" she asked as she pulled back the sheets on one of the twin beds. Gohan took a deep breath, barely audible over the rattling a/c.
"We wait two days, and if we don't hear anything, we keep moving."
Bulma rested her head on the pillow, feeling her exhaustion and sorrow pulling her into the mattress. Or maybe it was the beer.
"What if we never hear anything?" she whispered to the dark. When she closed her eyes, she tried to summon happy, peaceful images, but her mind only replayed Vegeta falling, always in slow motion, always from inside the van, never there in time to catch him. She softly cried herself to sleep.