33
IT was all too much. His mother, Kami bless her, had warned him that things in the past would be different, but this was entirely too much for him to process right now.
A burning rage hit him so hard that he did not have time to properly sort through his emotions. One moment, his ship had landed at the predetermined, calculated spot on Yardrat, right where his mother had told him to land, and then the next, this—this blonde bitch who'd ruined his own world and his own time was hurting Bulma!
He'd seen it with his own eyes. There was no deceiving his eyes on what he had seen. The android had disposed of Krillin, for his form was limp and unresponsive, unmoved, and still like a statue. Surely dead already, and Bulma Briefs was doubled over on the ground and looking like she was in an immense amount of pain, a sheen of sweat along her brow, face contorted into a pained grimace, looking like she was barely able to hold it together.
All the while Android 18 stood in a protective stance in front of Bulma and Krillin, her unmistakable body language suggesting to the stranger that she wasn't about to let him get anywhere near Bulma. Burning shame, anger, and embarrassment at not being able to get her sooner raged within the young man, and now he felt nothing but anger and a twinge of fear at the sight of the Woman who Vegeta's future depended on.
"What did you do!" It escaped his voice as a low growl, his broad chest almost humming from the sound. He couldn't be sure, but a momentary flicker of anger and confusion darted through the blonde's eyes.
"Me? I didn't do anything, you dumbass! She drank something that's making her sick. I'm trying to help her."
Lies. Lies. This was all bullshit. It just had to be. Still keeping an eye on this bitch who was threatening everything he had come back for, he slowly shifted his attention towards now King Vegeta's mate.
What he found there broke his heart several times over. As he looked at Bulma's clammy face, he was met with nothing but such a horrible paleness, fear, and terror. He shifted his attention back towards the android and felt something deep in the recesses of his mind snap, his once kind sky-blue eyes darkening to a cerulean shade.
The android visibly flinched under the stranger's dark gaze and for just a split second, faltered in the decision. But then composing herself, Android 18 firmly planted the heels of her brown leather boots in the dirt.
The man steeled himself and hardened his features, the slender fingers of his dominant hand itching to pull his sword from his scabbard. But he had Bulma and Krillin to think about. One wrong move and they could wind up hurt as well, as long as she stood in their paths.
"I know you're lying to me. That's all you and the other one do is lie. One move, bitch," he spat the word with such hatred and disgust that under normal circumstances, Android 18 would have kicked this strange man to the next planet over for daring to speak to her in what she thought were odious terms. "And I'll cut you in half, girl."
The man's attentions were briefly drawn towards Bulma's doubled-over figure, her shoulders heaving in pain as she struggled to weakly try to stand to her feet.
A small, almost muted cry of pain escaped Vegeta's mate, her face twisting in immense pain and a tear slid down her cheek as she used the exterior wall of the escape pod to shakily rise to her feet to see what was going on now.
"Ooh. That's scary, kid. I think I'm gonna cry. What a great line," the android hissed sarcastically, sounding like she was enjoying herself "There's nothing I hate more than survivors, kid, so you asked for it. Don't say I didn't fucking warn you, boy, got that?" Android 18 grinned.
The man couldn't help the smirk that tugged the edges of his lips upward. "Got it," was all he answered.
It was more than enough. The one small tear, that one tiny cry of pain from Bulma Briefs was more than enough cause for him to act. This bitch was hurting her.
The one person in his isolated world left who didn't think him some kind of monster for what he was, didn't look at him with contempt for failing his whole family.
He let go of his mother's inherited gentleness, for it would do him no good in this situation, and faster than Android 18 thought possible, launched himself forward with a cry of rage upon his lips. He would not let any more harm come to Bulma. He would protect her, just as she had protected him.
The android didn't even have time to move before the man's powerful and calloused hand latched itself around Android 18's arm, tugging her forward as he hoped to put as much distance between Bulma, Krillin, and this monster as possible for him.
"Get away from her! You will not touch them!" he barked sharply, continuing to drag her away from Bulma. He didn't want to, but he forced himself to use just a little of his overwhelming strength and lifted 18 slightly off the ground, winding his hand around the girl's throat. "I could do it you know," he whisper-hissed his words through gritted teeth. "I could fucking kill you…"
"I'd like to see you try, kid," Android 18 growled, unfazed by the fact that his hand was wound around her throat like poison ivy snaked its way around a column.
The man let out a savage-sounding snarl through his gnashed teeth as his jaw locked in anger, though before he could reach behind him for his sword, a strong hand touched his left shoulder, gently applying enough pressure to coax him to look at the hand's owner.
He turned his head sharply to the left, not in a patient mood and about to warn whomever it was to back the hell off, though his words died in his throat as Goku gazed up at him, carrying the unconscious form of Vegeta's younger brother, Prince Tarble in his arms, though sans his tail.
His dark eyes were narrowed in suspicion, though there was a look of confusion plastered over his face as well. "18? Uh, what's going on? Is Bulma alright? Where's Vegeta? Are you okay?" Goku asked, his voice sounding unnaturally cautious and quiet, not like the Saiyan at all.
Goku was not a quiet Saiyan warrior. He was loud, boisterous, he was always so sure and confident of himself when he spoke.
It was this change in tone that quelled the stranger's rage that threatened to consume him, that small, unsure voice of his mentor's father that drew him back, though his fingers itched to draw his weapon and cut this bitch clean in half, as he promised.
"Don't." The man's burning blue eyes widened in shock and fear as he recognized the owner of that childlike voice, a voice he did not think he'd hear during this time. It sounded like a plea. Gohan's father, he…he didn't want him to. Kami spare him. The shorter man dropped the android as though just touching her had burned him. Android 18 turned her head to the side and coughed, all the while shooting the stranger a rueful look.
He felt the panic ensue within him. Everything here was different. His mother had been right, damn her. Just by him coming here, the timeline had been altered, events drastically changed, but what other choice did he have?
"Buddy? Uh, you okay, man? You're not uh, one of Frieza's stupid goons, are you?" Krillin's hoarse voice spoke up, momentarily startling the stranger, whose blue eyes widened in alarm and shock, not having expected Krillin to still be alive.
The stranger slowly swiveled his gaze towards where Krillin still sat, crouched on the ground, one of his hands rubbing comforting circles in the small of Bulma's back, trying to do what he could to take away some of his friend's discomfort. His other hand was clutching at the back of his skull as it pained him.
This gave the stranger surprise. Krillin was alive.
He'd not been able to sense his energy levels. But then he berated himself for realizing that while he'd been knocked out, they'd slipped into nothing. The sky above their heads had now darkened to an almost blackish haze, despite the lateness of the hour. Rain began to descend hard from the black clouds that now hid the light of the moon from them. He supposed he ought to be grateful Vegeta's brother had somehow managed to have his tail cut off.
He'd have done it in a heartbeat with his own sword had Goku asked him to, though the fighter looked like he had managed alright on his own without any sort of help. Goku hadn't managed to escape Tarble's attack unscathed, however. There was a nasty welt developing above his browbone, and one of his eyes was blackened, already rapidly turning a sickly purplish hue. He snorted.
"I'm good," he answered gruffly, turning towards Krillin, though he desperately needed to talk to Goku alone. His face, what little color was left in it, drained. "But she isn't," he added, jerking his head towards Bulma's crouched figure. "She needs medical attention, fast. That stuff that Madame Destiny gave her, it's been poisoned, and if she doesn't get help now, she'll lose it. Do you know of a place where she could get the help she needs?"
Goku furrowed his brows upon hearing the stranger's question, looking like he was lost in deep thought for a moment, and then a light seemed to spark in his rich brown eyes, and he snapped his fingers together. "The lookout! We can take her to Kami to heal, he'll fix her right up, no problem, I hope, but we gotta wait for Vegeta first, he was right behind me, I—I think…?"
"Or maybe," barked a gruff, hoarse voice from behind the stranger that made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand upright in fear and anticipation. "He's waiting for you to tell him what the hell is going on, Kakarot, you clown! Who in the seven hells is this?!"
The stranger squeezed his eyes shut and slowly turned at the waist and found himself staring face-to-face with a man whom he never thought he would get to meet.
He'd had all that he wanted to say, his cover story, prepared out in his head, just like his mother told him to, but the moment he felt the burn of the now King-of-All-Saiyans' piercing gaze, his tongue felt like clay in his mouth, and his prepared statement promptly fled his mind as the stranger found himself at a loss for his words.
Blood was seeping out of a few scrapes and lacerations here and there littered through his chest, a smudge of dirt and dust caked on King Vegeta's cheeks, though the formidable Saiyan Warrior didn't seem bothered by it. The younger man stared in shock at the older Saiyan, half-conscious, seeming to only have eyes for Bulma, though he made no move to rush to her side.
"Boy," he grunted in an almost harsh form of greeting. "Take your hand off the hilt of that stupid sword before I blast you to smithereens until you're nothing but dust. You have exactly one minute to tell me your name and what you're doing here before I kill you. Why are you near my wife?" he growled through gritted teeth as his jaw clenched, his fingers curling into shaking fists at his side.
It would have been funny, he thought, this man of legend in his timeline telling him to put down a weapon. Instead of laughing, the younger man obliged and let his hand fall to his side. "What in the name of the gods happened to you, Fa—Vegeta," he stammered, a light pink blush speckling along his cheeks as he attempted to correct himself. Goddamn it, he thought inwardly. He'd almost blown it. That was Mother's number one rule.
Don't engage unless you absolutely have to, and his sole purpose had been to come here to save Mother and find Goku, one of which he'd already done those things.
There were perhaps only a few such beings in this entire universe who could give Vegeta a run for Bulma's money, the younger man realized with great surprise.
"Frieza is what happened, that witless worm," the Saiyan King before him spat out with no small measure of disgust and contempt in his voice as he turned his head to the side and spit out a sliver of blood. "He's dead though. I killed him," he added, noting the look of shock and awe on Goku's face as the other Saiyan made a noise.
"Whoa, really? Like dead as in, well, dead-dead?" Krillin exclaimed, not bothering to hide the note of awe and begrudging admiration from seeping into his tone.
"Dead-dead," was all Vegeta answered in a low guttural growl in a tone of almost indifference as he finally tore his gaze away from the stranger and rushed towards Bulma's crouched-over form. "She's been poisoned?" he barked in his usual cold tone, though the newest arrival wasn't fooled.
He could see the panic in his eyes, even if Vegeta would never admit it to the others. Fury was once again coursing through the Saiyan King's veins as his dark eyes made a quick scan of his wife's fading form. Her eyes were closed, but occasionally, her lids would give a flicker, as though Bulma were trying to force herself to wake up.
"Where can we take her? Don't you have one of those stupid Senzu Beans, Kakarot?"
"Not on me, no," Goku answered, shifting Tarble's weight in his arms and holding Vegeta's younger brother closer to his chest to distribute his weight more evenly. "But if I concentrate hard enough, I think I can get us all to the Lookout. The Guardian of the Earth should be able to heal us all," Goku was quick to explain, sensing Vegeta's growing anger and wanting to avoid any fighting.
Vegeta looked like he wanted to argue, as a muscle in his jaw twitched, though he thought better of it and nodded, kneeling into a crouch, and scooping up Bulma in his arms, letting his wife's head rest against the crook of his shoulder. He sensed the new arrival watching the almost intimate scene and shot the younger man a look.
"What are you looking at, sword boy?" he snapped, his usual haughtiness beginning to return to his gruff voice. The younger man almost smiled but fought it back.
He's beginning to sound like his old self again, he thought almost affectionately. "N—nothing," he quickly stammered and looked away, turning towards Goku.
"Damn right it's nothing, keep staring at me like that then I'll gouge your eyes out," he heard Vegeta growl as the group reluctantly moved forward to touch Goku's shoulder. The instant transmission would only work in a group like this if they were all latched onto the Saiyan.
The younger man, despite his better judgment, lifted his chin and looked as Goku began the process of instantly transporting them off the planet of Yardrat and towards the Lookout, a place he'd not been to in years.
The man looked at King Vegeta, at the pain that seemed to be edging even more worry lines on his face, though it wasn't the pain of his own body that he felt, but Bulma's. As much as the prideful, arrogant, and thick-headed Saiyan might not want to admit it, his wife was in a great deal of pain and unless Kami could heal her, his heir inside it—him—wouldn't survive past another hour.
He almost appeared weak, holding Bulma like this as the group materialized and set down on the surface of the Lookout Tower, where they were instantly greeted by a familiar face.
"Young master Goku, is that you? It is, isn't it! This is a most pleasant surprise!" came a voice that the youngest in the group hadn't heard in years.
Mr. PoPo came rushing forward, looking quite flustered. Goku shot his friend a cheerful wave, though his expression quickly faltered as he looked toward Bulma in Vegeta's arms. "This is my friend Bulma, Mr. Popo. She's been hurt. D'you think Kami could heal her up, sir?"
Mr. Popo's peaceful expression morphed into one of alarm as his beady darkened eyes narrowed as he took in the sight of Vegeta's wife, looking like she was barely managing to hang on.
"Oh my," the kind-hearted assistant to the Guardian of the Earth murmured lowly. "Bring her inside quickly, I will fetch Kami, he's around here somewhere. I think he was in the kitchens last I saw! Try not to move her so much. The blood, th—there's blood," he squeaked, gesturing with a stubby finger to the blood that was trickling down Bulma's cargo pant leg. "Try not to jostle her around so much or she'll go into shock. What in Kami's name happened to her, Goku?"
Vegeta spoke up in a rough voice, saving Goku the trouble of answering. "Poison. She drank something that was spiked into a cup of disgusting smelling tea. I think it's meant as an abortifacient to get rid of it," he snarled.
"Get rid of what?" Goku hollered closely behind, almost causing Vegeta to groan out loud. This moron!
Did he truly not know?!
No. Wait. It was fucking Kakarot, of course, he didn't fucking know, because he didn't know anything with his two brain cells the size of a pea. He moved, following the short, stout, strange little man in the red and white pantaloons until they came to a luscious-looking bedroom, a room truly fit for the Queen that Bulma now was.
"Set her down gently, I will fetch Kami," Mr. PoPo advised and without another word, darted off at a rapid pace down the hallway and to the left.
Vegeta looked blankly towards the sight just as Sword Boy, as he was now calling him until the kid revealed to the group his name, and he would reveal it-walked up to him, though Vegeta paid the boy no mind, as he was unable to tear his gaze away from the horrible view of his pregnant mate, lying seemingly lifeless on the bed. His bad mood was further not improved when the little bastard whelp spoke up, trying to supplicate him.
"It's not your fault, you know. Nobody blames you. Bulma doesn't," the man whispered in a soft, quiet voice.
"You don't speak her name, wretch," Vegeta hissed, feeling a surge of anger well within his broad chest at hearing this stranger, of whom he knew nothing, say her name with such tenderness as though this man knew her.
But how? Who was he to his Woman? A friend? An ex-lover? The tenseness seemed to be rising rapidly within himself as he lifted his gaze and was momentarily taken aback by the brilliant shade of blue of the stranger's eyes.
Blue eyes, he thought wildly. Crystalline blue, like…. like Bulma's, Vegeta wondered, staring into the boy's surprisingly icy and hardened gaze as they locked stares, neither one willing to back down from the other. "Shut it."
But the boy turned a deaf ear to Vegeta's commands. "Is it true?" He asked. "You killed Frieza?"
"What does it matter to you?" Vegeta snarled, to which his question received a scoff much like his own.
"So, you did kill him then. That's…unexpected." He mumbled his words under his breath, sounding impressed. Vegeta's teeth clenched in anger and flaring annoyance as he briefly looked towards Bulma's form, hoping this stupid Guardian of the Earth would show soon. From his side, he felt Goku move to stand next to him. News of Frieza's death would spread throughout the universe and be sure to spread quite the discomfort.
But he pushed aside that thought before looking back towards Bulma. "How do you know my wife, boy?"
"Oh, h—her?" the younger man stammered, looking at Bulma's figure resting peacefully on the bed, almost appearing to be sleeping before he looked back to Vegeta.
Vegeta felt his knuckles go bone-white at his sides from his balled-up fists. "Who the hell are you, kid?"
The stranger eyed Vegeta and Goku passively for a moment, before letting out a hair-raising scream and causing the familiar rush of air to flood through the room as his hair changed yellow, though his blue eyes stayed the same. Beside him, he swore Kakarot paled in shock.
"Vegeta, I—I think that's—" he started to say, though the stranger in the purple jacket with the sword cut him off before Kakarot could finish saying his piece.
"I wanted to kill you, you know, for what you did to my mother, Vegeta," the revealed Saiyan growled, unsmiling, as his wild hair whipped off of his forehead.
His blue eyes burned with a passion, itching for a fight. Vegeta tensed but did not bother to transform.
Even in such freezing air from being so high up at this altitude, Vegeta could feel his temples start to slicken.
The younger man continued speaking. "You—you left her, you know! I could kill you right here and now if I wanted to, but in exchange for lessening your burden, and I made a promise to someone that I love that I would do what I could to save her life and my timeline, and we might actually have a chance at fixing this, don't you think? And you wanted to know my name, Vegeta. It's Trunks. Oh, and since we share a relative…you can call me… son!"
And time stood still as the younger Saiyan darted forward with a cry of rage on his lips as Trunks Briefs crushed his forehead between his own father's eyes, an insane form of a greeting that Vegeta hadn't expected, which sent the Saiyan King spiraling toward the ground with a bloodied grunt and a newly-broken nose.