38

BULMA'S laboring began late in the evening as twilight approached, on a day that promised a thunderstorm. Black and purple billowing thunderclouds were blowing into West City from the east, and the distant low rumblings of thunder could be heard.

Of course, that could have just been Goku training and blowing up something, though there was no way for her to know for sure. Besides, she could have sworn that her friend was still training with that Whis fellow and that stupid purple cat, Beerus, with no manners, on his homeworld.

Bulma's parents had taken the opportunity of their newfound peace to take something of a little vacation for themselves, their first in many years, and were away the day their grandson made his way into the world. Bulma and Vegeta had more or less agreed that they'd watch over all of her father's animals.

Scratch was currently resting on her right shoulder, using the pads of his little paws to knead the knots and tension out of her, sometimes eliciting a low, satisfied moan from Bulma while she worked. Scratch, since Vegeta's return, had taken quite a liking to the Saiyan king.

Vegeta had scoffed at the kitten and claimed he didn't want anything to do with 'that stupid cat' but Bulma had caught her husband sneaking the family pet little morsels of food when he thought she wasn't looking. And Scratch had taken to riding on Vegeta's shoulders these days, more so than her father, which was really saying something.

The cat usually only tended to like her father, so for Scratch to bond with someone other than her dad was almost unheard of.

She'd been standing at the sideboard of her kitchen in Capsule Corp, cutting up some vegetables and cheese cubes to take to Tarble and Vegeta who were sparring in their training room, which had been her father's gravity room they'd repurposed as Bulma so jokingly called it 'The Saiyan Sanctuary,' the one place Vegeta could escape whenever her husband needed time alone with his thoughts or wanted to spar with Tarble or Goku and didn't want to risk blowing up the place.

A sharp, shooting pain began to twist with a painful cramp. Dropping the knife that she'd been holding with a loud clang, Bulma couldn't stop the low gasp that escaped from her throat. She brought up one hand to cradle her swollen abdomen through her lightweight, airy maxi dress.

With her other hand, she wound her hand around the edge of the tabletop, squeezing onto the surface's slab as hard as she could to brace against the pain through clenched teeth, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to try to just relax.

Which was easier said than done. Tarble and Gure, once he had collected all seven Dragon Balls with the help of Bulma and her Dragon Radar, had graciously offered to stay with Bulma and Vegeta here in Capsule Corp in one of their spare rooms during the last month of Bulma's pregnancy to help. Tarble thought he might be of help to his brother and sister-in-law during that time.

Vegeta would never dare admit it out loud to anyone else, but Bulma knew her Saiyan King was secretly glad that there were extra eyes to watch over his wife as her delivery date neared. Bulma was thrilled the two would be close when Tarble's nephew would be born.

They'd already agreed, not to mess with time, fearing the repercussions would be disastrous if they did and would keep Trunks' name the same, though Vegeta vehemently insisted on a Saiyan middle name to keep that side of his heritage intact. Bulma hadn't protested in that regard.

Considering all the stubborn, sometimes pigheaded King had given her, it was the least she could do, as his wife and mate.

His Queen, she thought, still gnashing her teeth against the pain. It was Gure who'd entered the kitchen who noticed Bulma's pains first. The tiny white little alien ran to the woman, alarmed. "Miss Bulma!" she squeaked in a terrified voice laced with fear. "Is it the baby? Is it your time?" she asked, afraid, her voice breathless.

Bulma could only nod, reaching up to swipe a lock of her blue bangs out of the way and lifted her chin to glance at her reflection in a nearby hanging mirror. She cringed at seeing how pale she was. Her cheeks felt clammy and her skin hot.

She inhaled a slightly shuddering breath as she raked her fingers through her ponytail.

Bulma could only gasp in response and reached out to grasp onto Tarble's wife's outstretched hand, having to bend over slightly to do it, as the alien barely reached the top of her kneecap, right as Tarble came trailing into the kitchen behind his wife, though his previously relaxed demeanor and smile dissipated when he caught sight of his sister-in-law doubled over in pain.

"Tarble! Get your brother!" Gure squeaked urgently towards her husband, as the little alien squeezed encouragingly onto Bulma's shaking but curled fingers.

The young Saiyan Prince's dark eyes grew wide with shock and alarm as he nodded. Prince Tarble turned on his heels and was running before he'd even reached the doorway.

No doubt to head straight back to the training room to get Vegeta and let him know his mate's time was now.

Down the hallway and in the gravity room, Vegeta had just finished stepping out of the showers and was wiping at his wild tuft of hair with a towel when Tarble barreled in through the doorway, clutching at a stitch in his side and screaming for his brother.

"Brother!" His voice echoed through the massive, empty training room.

Vegeta stiffened as he looked into Tarble's eyes. He could tell by the seriousness in his younger brother's face that Bulma's time was here.

The full force of her first contraction was hitting Bulma by the time Vegeta reached his wife.

The pain of it was keeping his mate doubled over, groaning against it, and bracing her aching back with one hand while keeping another resting overtop her swollen stomach. She clutched at it, almost desperately in the vain effort to make it stop.

Keeping her teeth gritted, with fearful eyes, Bulma finally looked at him as the wave of pain began to subside. Gasping for breath, she straightened her gait a bit and tried to smile, though it felt strained, the skin underneath her eyes crinkling.

"I…I think it might be time, Geta."

Vegeta stiffened at the use of his wife using his brother's nickname for him that he'd always detested, but he nodded and decided to let it go.

"Really?" he barked gruffly, his hoarse voice masking the nervousness he felt as his narrowed black eyes made a quick scan of his wife. "What gave it away? This better not be another false alarm, Woman, to pull me away from my training!"

Bulma shot Vegeta a withering look and shook her head.

Cut the bullshit, Geta, she snapped, initiating their mental bond. You can take off that armor around me. I'm your wife! It's time. I know you're worried just as I am, but it's coming, whether we like it or not, so…help me.

Vegeta swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. The past few months, as dysfunctional as they had been, had been the happiest times Bulma had ever known.

She never dreamed she'd have married a Prince, for Kami's sake. Her heart swelled as her stomach did the same.

A bit of an ass as he could be, as many squabbles as they'd had here and there, she was sure there wasn't a more concerned husband that Vegeta was, in his own way, though he claimed to keep his distance.

Just the other day, he'd yelled at her for trying to take the trash out on her own, not wanting her to move around so much right now.

Following that little incident, he'd barely allowed his mate to lift a finger, the heaviest thing he'd let her lift (much to her annoyance) was a glass of milk, insisting that the robotic servants her father had programmed to see to their needs get whatever she wanted or needed.

As the first pain of her labor subsided, Vegeta curled his hand around Bulma's shoulder and forced her to sit down in one of the chairs beside the breakfast nook where they ate in the mornings. Finally able to get in a good breath, Bulma forced her face to mold into a look of bravery that she didn't feel at all.

She didn't know much about how Saiyan females acted during childbirth, but she had a feeling they never screamed or showed any semblance of weakness. Her shaking hand clung on tightly to Vegeta's strong bicep.

It wasn't the most terrible pain she'd ever felt (she'd been through worse during a couple of lab accidents) but she knew it would worsen as her labor progressed. The storm outside didn't look any better either.

She let out a low groan that was quickly drowned out by the crackling rumble of thunder outside as the sky had started to darken. Bulma tried to keep her mind in the present and not think about the daunting ordeal that lay ahead of her.

Suddenly, she wished her mom were here. Having given birth to both her and Tights, she knew what to expect and knew better what to do. Given this was her first baby, she had no idea what she was supposed to do or how to react to it. And that thought scared her more than anything.

Luckily, she didn't have time to dwell on it too long as her husband's hoarse-sounding voice pulled her mind out of her fearful thoughts.

"Tarble, go fetch Kakarot's Woman. before the storm gets worse," Vegeta commanded his brother in a clipped and curt tone. He knew there was a bad thunderstorm coming and wanted Kakarot's mate here. She'd birthed Kakarot's brat, and though Vegeta didn't particularly like his mate, Kakarot's Woman, Chi-Chi, was experienced in this sort of thing and had more or less birthed Gohan into the world alone, with only her father by her side and a single midwife in their home.

Bulma's insistence that their baby be born in the comfort of their own home and not in a hospital surrounded by a team of Earth's medical experts troubled Vegeta more than he'd let on.

Or even at the top of that strange Lookout Tower, with those Nameks that could heal his mate in the event that something went wrong.

But Bulma had insisted. Any other Woman, he would have flown her straight to the hospital without any semblance of protest. But with Bulma Briefs, he felt like a requiem. And Vegeta hated this yielding to her.

This was a battle that he, the King of All Saiyans, merely wins, except, with the influence of a drug. His drug, of course, was her.

He let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair before looking back at Tarble.

Vegeta's brother was eager to bring help for Bulma, considering how much she had helped him in reviving Gure when she had been killed. Before the words even left his lips, the shorter Saiyan Prince was already fastening a clasp on his armor's chest plate, preparing to take flight into the storm, and lingered near the entry to the kitchen.

"Wait!" Bulma pleaded, holding up her hand, her tone trying and failing to alleviate her worry. Chi-Chi had visited her almost weekly during the final month of Bulma's pregnancy to examine her and had explained what to expect.

"R—Remember what Chi-Chi said?" She tried to calm both Saiyans down. "It could be a while yet before I feel another contraction." Though Bulma would be the first to admit, she'd be feeling a lot more confident if Chi-Chi lived a little bit closer, she also understood that Goku's wife's help wouldn't be needed until later in the night. Hopefully, by that point, the worst of the storm would have passed, and Tarble wouldn't be taking such a risk by going out to fetch her. "I don't think we need her yet."

Vegeta let out a frustrated growl as he ground his teeth in annoyance with her antics.

"But you need to get someone here who knows what she's doing," Vegeta tried to reason with her, kicking aside another chair to sit by her.

The King of All Saiyans was trying to remain relatively calm, though Bulma saw through the façade and the mask of calm and indifference plastered on his face. The skin of his brow was pulled taut and tight. His slightly olive and tanned complexion had gone pale. Paler than she'd ever seen.

She didn't know if he'd ever seen a Saiyan birth before, but she guessed by the look on his face, probably not so much. Vegeta had been a young and reckless warrior when his younger brother had been born, and there'd been too much fighting and purging of planets for Frieza to do.

Bulma let out a shuddering smile and shook her head no, which only incensed Vegeta's frustration further. But there was a hint of steel laced throughout her eyes that silently warned him not to argue with his Woman, so he let it go.

But that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Bulma's pretty features relaxed into a soft smile that did not quite meet her eyes as she touched his face, letting the pads of her fingertips ghost along the edges of a few of his battle scars.

"Everything's gonna be fine." She wasn't really sure at this point if her words were for Vegeta, or for herself. Bulma swallowed and awkwardly looked towards Prince Tarble and Gure and gave the married couple a brave little smile.

She was glad Vegeta's brother and his wife were here. "Why don't we sit down and eat?" She motioned towards the table to the veggie and cheese trays she'd spent a solid fifteen minutes preparing. Tarble and Gure looked toward Vegeta for confirmation, unsure of what to do. He grunted wordlessly in response as he nodded his approval.

"Alright," Gure squeaked, still sounding apprehensive as she nervously wrang her fingers together. "But let Tarble and me finish the prep!" she demanded, huffing, and narrowing her beady little eyes in a comical expression that almost made Bulma laugh, but she restrained herself.

Vegeta sat down next to Bulma, his own narrowed darkened gaze never once leaving Bulma's, or taking his hand off of her arm, either.

Bulma had seen to it the trays she'd painstakingly prepared was very nearly ready. All that was left for Tarble and Gure to do was arrange the cheese wedges on the trays and bring the plates over to the table of the little nook. The four of them ate quietly, with Scratch lurking underneath the kitchen table, hoping for scraps of food from Vegeta, though this time, his morsels came from Bulma as she ate very little and tried to hide the fact that she felt sick to her stomach. Chi-Chi had told her that would happen.

Bulma tried to smile as she heard Scratch's grateful mewls under the table as the black kitten affectionately brushed up against her legs as it munched on bites of her carrot sticks and cheese wedges. She tried to smile but couldn't quite make herself feel as cheerful as she knew she ought to be. This was fucking bloody it.

It was today. The day they would meet their baby, and she was terrified. She winced, hoping the others, Gure and Tarble hadn't caught on to how nervous she was.

But Vegeta noticed and kept a wary eye on his mate. Bulma had been correct in her guess. Her next pain did take some time to arrive, but not as long as she thought it would. Gure cleaned up the plates off the table when their snack was over.

Bulma stood heavily, smacking Vegeta's hand away in irritation and shooting her husband a withering look when he moved to keep her still.

"I—I can do it myself, Geta!" she snapped. "Quit smothering me, it's going to be just fine! I—I swear to Kami, you are the most annoying Saiyan I think I've ever met! Even worse than Goku, Geta! But…" She paused, seeing the briefest flashes of anger and annoyance dart through her husband's eyes. She let out a sigh of frustration and closed her eyes. Bulma was more tired and fearful than angry, and she hadn't intended to hurt his feelings. I'm sorry, she whispered mentally, knowing Vegeta heard it. You're also the sweetest.

The angry red blush and the grunt she heard Vegeta gave off was well worth her compliment.

Her hand supported her back as she straightened her gait, which was starting to ache. Just as she was reaching for a deck of cards for something to do, her stomach clenched again. Bulma drew in a sharp breath and tried to hold it in despite the pain mounting in her belly.

Vegeta, who'd not been more than a step behind her, saw his mate's reaction and raced to wind his strong arm tightly around her arm again.

She would have normally protested and shirked away from his touch, wanting the space. She wanted to show him she could be just as strong as a Saiyan woman could, however, the females of his species tended to handle childbirth. But she also wanted the comfort, so she allowed herself to gratefully grab hold of both his forearms and let out a low groan through clenched teeth as the full force of her contraction hit her.

Vegeta helped his wife to stand upright as her legs had startled to buckle. He held her close as her body raged war against her. The moment she began to relax, Bulma rested her head against his shoulder. At last, she was able to inhale a deep breath fully into her lungs and get a moment to just breathe, trying to will her body to just relax.

As the evening seemed to drag on, Bulma's labor progressed steadily. She tried to keep herself occupied so thoughts wouldn't race ahead of her body. With Tarble's help, she tidied the living room and her and Vegeta's master bedroom upstairs, where they would hopefully bring their baby into this world. She fetched extra blankets to strip the sheets of their fancy duvet and goose feather comforter, not wanting it to get soiled with the blood and mess that came with birthing a baby.

In their place, she set down several woolen blankets. Not as comfortable, but better suited. Bulma's aches and pains were coming sooner, lasting longer, and gripping her harder as each hour passed. Whenever one would take control and seize her body, Bulma would bravely try to breathe through each tingling spasm and steel herself against her contractions, but she couldn't keep the desperate pain-filled groans from her escaping throat, try as hard as she might.

Vegeta tried his hardest to be his mate's rock, but he himself was clueless and had no idea what to do, and secretly terrified, though he'd rather die before ever letting himself admit that he was afraid. He held onto Bulma as softly or as strongly as his mate needed him to, as she clung to him in her throes of agony as her pains worsened.

He spoke words in a low voice that he hoped was soothing to her to try to strengthen his Woman's resolve and gave her his steady hands to grip onto when she could hold on almost no longer. Bulma could sense that her husband was nervous, maybe even afraid, but she quickly realized he wasn't letting her see his fear.

Somehow, it gave her the courage she needed to face her worsening labor. Bulma let out a shuddering breath as she relaxed a bit, taking the outstretched hand that Vegeta offered, not staying a word. They'd only taken two steps away from the edge of the bed when Bulma froze, her blue eyes wide in alarm.

Confused and growing increasingly paranoid that something was wrong, Vegeta gaped at her. Bulma's face twisted and contorted as she felt a hot gush of liquid flow from between her legs and splatter into a puddle on the hardwood floor of their bedroom around her feet. She let out a gasp.

The flustered King of All Saiyans could barely manage to maintain a firm grip on the calm he'd been faking for his mate's sake for the last several hours.

"Woman, what is it?" he snapped harshly, looking down at the strange puddle in alarm. He'd never attended a birth before, so he'd no idea what to expect. This was a woman's area of expertise, not his. "Is it the baby?" Vegeta asked, gruffly.

Bulma stepped awkwardly over the puddle and looked around for a roll of paper towels or a towel or something she could clean the mess up with. She recollected what Chi-Chi had told her about the fluid that surrounded the baby and how it would rupture when it meant her time was close.

"No," she murmured in a lowly voice in the hopes of soothing her husband as she gave his arm an affectionate pat. She shot him a calming smile, though, to her, it felt more like a grimace. "My water broke." She smiled nervously. "But…it does mean that the baby is coming." She tried to calm her frantic breaths and racing heartbeat. "I think we need to go get Chi-Chi," she responded.

Unable to contain his anxiety a fraction of a second longer, Vegeta numbly nodded, feeling like his mind was utterly reeling. At that moment, he felt he could barely remember the way to Kakarot's house, much less determine how he'd get there and back in time with Kakarot's Woman in tow.

He cursed himself for not having the Yardratians or Kakarot teach him the instant-transmission technique, thinking it would come in handy right about now. Just do a zap and grab.

"Tarble," he barked. He turned his attention towards Tarble and Gure, who'd been standing idle in the corner of their master bedroom, waiting. "Watch over my wife. I'm going to get Kakarot's mate," he growled, motioning for them both to take one of Bulma's hands and help her through it all.

Surprisingly enough, it was Prince Tarble's wife who faced the Saiyan King, her beady, glassy black eyes narrowed as she shot him a stony glare.

"No," she insisted firmly, her hands on her hips as she looked like she was half expecting Vegeta to start a brawl or erupt into an argument.

Vegeta felt his face drain of color as his lips parted open slightly to speak. This alien humanoid, whatever Gure was to Tarble, wife or not, had the audacity to speak to the King of All Saiyans like this? He let Bulma get away with it as his mate, but this, he could not at all tolerate. No.

"Woman," he frowned at her, leaning down so that the tip of his nose almost touched Gure's. "We don't have time for this. I have to go," he growled.

His voice was growing increasingly agitated. But Gure firmly planted the heels of her white boots into the floor beneath her and stood her ground. She would not move a muscle, despite King Vegeta's savage growling and snarling at her.

"Tarble and I will go," she squeaked, motioning for Prince Tarble to join her side. "You stay here with your mate. Miss Bulma needs you."

Gure raised her round chin defiantly as her much-taller husband moved to stand beside her, both of them eager to help his brother's mate now.

Vegeta shook his head forcefully. "No," he barked. "There's a thunderstorm out there." He looked towards his brother and angrily narrowed his eyes until they were mere slits. "Besides, we both know that I'm the faster flier, Tarble…" his voice trailed off as he looked out their window.

The skies outside had grown even darker by now, flashes of lightning ripping through the sky.

With the torrential downpour bringing its wrath on West City's streets, you couldn't see five feet ahead of you, and Vegeta said as much.

"You won't be able to see five feet in front of you, Tarble," he snapped, glowering at his brother.

Bulma swallowed a lump in her throat as she followed her husband's gaze to see where he was looking. He was right. The storm was getting bad.

Even through her distress, Bulma wasn't willing to risk her brother-in-law and Gure's safety. She turned towards her husband and shook her head insistently, finally agreeing with him on one thing for a change. Vegeta almost had difficulty believing it as he stared at her in shock.

"No way, Tarble," she interjected. "You might be a Saiyan and a good flier, but it's dangerous," she whispered breathlessly, her face twisting in pain as another contraction ravaged her insides.

"Brother," Tarble spoke up, staring across the way at Vegeta hopefully, trying to make his older sibling see reason. "You need to be here with your wife." Neither he nor Gure was backing down on this. "We can do this. Just trust us," he begged.

"Please, sir," Gure squeaked, clinging onto the pants leg of her husband's jumpsuit as she'd ducked behind Tarble for cover in case Vegeta's temper imploded. She looked at him with hopeful, huge brimming black eyes that made him feel unnerved, like looking into the soulless eyes of an empty bottomless pit, like a child's doll or something. "We can do this." Gure smiled eagerly and echoed her husband's sentiment, waiting.

Still in his arms, Bulma lowered her head and let out a dreadful whine as she felt another contraction mounting. Uncertainty filled Vegeta's mind as he pictured the possible outcome of either action. If he left Tarble and Gure here alone to watch over Bulma, the two of them might be the only ones to help his mate in case his heir came faster than expected. But if he let them go, there could be a delay, and they needed Kakarot's Woman here immediately, like yesterday morning.

He knew Tarble was more than tough and capable, but the risk still ate away at his mind.

Vegeta flinched as he felt Bulma shudder in his grasp, her breaths coming to her in short, panting gasps. He knew it was taking all of her resolve and strength not to cry out in pain and agony, which he admired. Bulma was strong-willed, tougher than anyone gave her credit for.

"Brother, please!" bellowed Prince Tarble, nearing the end of his patience with his older brother's reluctance and silence in giving them an answer. Vegeta blinked, startled at his outburst.

He'd never seen such a fierce boldness and courage in his younger brother's eyes before, until now. Tarble was not simply asking Vegeta to let him and Gure help him and Bulma. He was asking for him to treat him like the warrior he'd become. Tarble reminded Vegeta of himself at that age.

Vegeta let out a sigh, recognizing he had to give him this, or else Bulma and Tarble both would surely never let him hear the end if he didn't agree.

"Fine," he snapped, his tone brisk and clipped. "But do not take any chances, brother. If it's too bad, both of you come straight back," he ordered them, narrowing his eyes as he glowered.

Tarble's face brightened as he let out a sigh of relief and turned on his heels to go, grabbing onto Gure's hand and practically dragging her out of Bulma and Vegeta's bedroom and down the hall.

As Bulma watched the pair go, she rested heavily against him and looked worriedly into Vegeta's darkened eyes. His expression was troubled, she could tell it. "They'll be alright," she told him, reaching up with her left hand and placing it over top of his, studying the glint of their matching black and blue gold wedding bands.

She hoped she could be sure of her own declaration as she reached for Vegeta's calloused knuckles and brought them to her lips for a kiss.

She brought her lips to his and kissed him. Vegeta allowed himself to focus on just how good his mate tasted, and the sensation of losing himself for a moment or two in the embrace made him temporarily forget. At least until she broke it off and pulled apart to study his face. Bulma smiled sweetly. Her hands slid up to hold his face.

Bulma looked at Vegeta for a moment, grateful her Saiyan King hadn't gone with Goku and that blue-skinned alien Whis to train on some distant remote planet for that Beerus Destroyer guy. Finally, she managed to find her voice again.

"Thank you, Geta," she whispered, her eyes brimming with tears that she fought to blink back.

"For what?" he asked hoarsely, brushing a lock of her bangs out of her eyes almost tenderly.

Bulma swallowed as she heard her voice choke with emotion as she struggled to find the right words to convey her gratitude that he'd stayed. "I don't…I'm grateful that you stayed. I don't know what I would do without you here. I don't think I'm…strong enough to do this without you." She confessed, a pained look on her features.

She bit down on her bottom lip and stuck it out in a slight pout, fearful of her prideful husband's reaction to her potential weakness.

Bulma did not know exactly what to expect, but as she made to turn her head away, for Vegeta to firmly cup her chin in his grip and force her head to tilt upwards to look at him was…not it.

"No. Shut up, Woman. I'm not going to have my mate talking like this. Do you truly hold such a low opinion of yourself? You're a queen now, Bulma, you're strong, stronger than you realize," he growled in a firm voice, the sheer intensity of his gaze burning a hole through her.

Yet Bulma couldn't bring herself to look away. She drew in a sharp breath as he continued speaking.

"I should be the one thanking you, Woman," Vegeta bluntly corrected his wife as he glanced down briefly towards her swollen stomach. "You've given…" he began, as he softly ran his hand over her stomach. "You've given me everything a Saiyan warrior could be proud of. You're a good mate, a fine wife, and my race will continue here on this planet, with the rest of my people, and I'll have a son soon with my blood that flows through his veins. To not let the Saiyan race extinguish is perhaps the greatest insult I could ever give Frieza, and may that bastard lizard freak rot in Hell, as he watches my race thrive as the last of his died with him, and good riddance," he snarled, the edges of his lips curling upward as he flipped the bird towards their bedroom floor, as though Vegeta though Frieza could see it from Hell. For all Bulma knew, maybe he could see it.

Vegeta continued to stare deeply into Bulma's brimming blue eyes with such an intensity that made her forget about her contractions for a second. "9000," he barked in his gruff, rough tone.

It was more than enough for her. Bulma let out a sigh and rested her head against the crook of his shoulder, looking out at the window towards the storm. "Then 10,000," she fired right back, not missing a beat, a soft smile curving her lips up. "And infinity to your heir and our son. At least we've already seen he grows up to be a handsome young man, just like his daddy," she sighed, her hand going instinctively to her middle and resting there. Vegeta didn't say a word, just drew his mate closer and kissed her again, gentler this time.

As Vegeta pulled apart, Bulma drew in a sharp breath, flinching as she felt another pain coming. She collapsed against Vegeta, dreading the moments to come, wishing Tarble and Gure would hurry the hell up and return with Chi-Chi.

"I think I need to lie down," she groaned. Vegeta's reaction was almost instantaneous as he held his wife close and walked her toward the bed.

Pulling back the blankets that Bulma and Gure had laid out, Vegeta helped his wife to sit and gently guided her head to rest on the pillow. Effortlessly, he lifted her legs onto the mattress as he listened to his wife groan with the intensity of the contraction that ravaged her body. Vegeta sat stoically beside Bulma's side, though no amount of an impassive expression was enough to tamper down the worry lining his face.

Bulma squeezed onto Vegeta's hand to focus. As it worsened, Bulma curled in on herself and rocked to a silent rhythm that only she heard.

When her pains began to subside, Vegeta left his mate's side only long enough to fill a bowl with cold water and pick up a clean rag from the bathroom. Returning to Bulma's bedside, he soaked the cloth in the water and diligently sponged at the beads of sweat along her brow.

Bulma gave him a weak smile of thanks just long enough to catch her breath before her body was wracked in agony once more. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and threw her head back to the ceiling. "Tell me a story, Geta," she whispered, begging her husband. "Anything. Saiyan myths, legendary warriors. That isn'tyou," she added hotly, seeing her husband's mouth turn up in a triumphant smirk as she peeked open an eyelid. "To take my mind off how much it really hurts."

Vegeta hesitated, searching his mind. Trying to find something monumental enough to draw his mate's thoughts away from giving birth to his heir.

He stammered for a moment, feeling so unsure of himself and what story could possibly hold Bulma's attention long enough for Tarble and his mate to arrive with Kakarot's overbearing nag of a mate. But then, he thought of how skilled and strong Bulma Briefs was, and how her intelligence could not be rivaled.

She did not have battle courage, perhaps, though, with the number of Vegeta's enemies she had slapped with her own hand, Vegeta would be willing to argue otherwise.

But she had a Woman's kind of courage. Finally, an idea came to him. He knew just the story to tell, and he launched into his version of events of the first time he'd encountered her on the planet Namek, how taken even at the time he'd been by her as she'd left an impression on him, even if he didn't know it.

Though at the time, his sole focus had only been on collecting the Dragon Balls and keeping them away from Lord Frieza. Bulma smiled a bit with eyes closed when he got to the part when Frieza's Ginyu Forces had landed on the planet, though her smile faltered as she recollected being turned into a fucking slimy disgusting frog.

She shuddered at the memory. Before her husband could reach the culmination of what he remembered of the confrontation with Frieza before that lizard freak had killed him, leaving it up to Kakarot to finish things, Bulma's back throbbed from the soreness of her muscles.

She rolled away from him onto her side, her face towards the opposite wall. Vegeta stopped, unsure whether or not to continue it.

"I'm listening," she encouraged through closed eyes, her voice small and meek sounding. "Keep going," she pleaded, her voice now shifting to a faint, barely audible whisper.

Vegeta continued, trying to sound as descriptive and vivid as he had before. While he wove the story, describing the sensations of what it was like to die, the things he'd witnessed afterward, he firmly rubbed onto Bulma's back.

She groaned, but this time it was relieved gratitude. "What did you see when Frieza killed you, Geta? When you…died, after...?" she whispered, her tone laced with curiosity. "Did you see anything?"

Vegeta hesitated, biting the wall of his cheek as he contemplated over whether or not to tell her the truth. There were several answers he could offer his mate, he thought, though, in the end, he knew they would all be a lie.

In the end, his heart, as wretched as the damned feeble quivering muscle within his chest beat relentlessly was, answered for him. Vegeta only had one answer to give his wife.

"You."