Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.
A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews, they're always really appreciated! I've been travelling overseas, but now that I'm back home updates should be fairly regular from here on out. I still have a goal to finish this fic by the end of 2016!
I've updated the cover picture for this fic to another beautiful fan art from the last chapter, this time by rutbisbe. Please check out her tumblr by searching rutbisbe. I'd give you the address, but this site won't let me post URLs.
While you're on tumblr, you can always find me there – just search for piccoloisgreen. :)
Bulma
Year 755
She wakes as he untangles himself from her, sheets rustling softly as he rises from the bed. It's morning – the lights in her room have slowly begun to warm in time to the rising sun – and she blinks, bleary-eyed, at his naked form. It's a struggle to hold her eyes open, but one that is worth it for the sight of his muscled back, his bronzed skin marked by battle scars, and toned ass.
"Vegeta," she murmurs, still half asleep and unsure of what she's really trying to say. He turns and regards her for a moment, his gaze somehow softer than usual, before he slips out the door.
She rolls back under the blankets, feeling pleasantly boneless as she breathes in the scent of him on her pillow, and lets sleep drag her under again.
. . .
She finds him in the field, wearing both the gravity belt and ECG electrodes, the echocardiogram machine she's modified already collecting data. She smiles thoughtfully as he lands before her; the fact that he bothered to use the ECG without her belies just how important this training is to him. But of course, all their lives are on the line here, tied to the hope that he'll become strong enough to defeat Frieza.
And what will happen then?
She pushes the thought away, the sight of Vegeta, as smouldering as ever, a welcome distraction from her worries about the future. "How long have you been out here?" she asks, flashing him a smile.
He snorts, tilting his chin towards the sun, already high in the sky. "Hours. How was your morning lazing about in bed? It's almost noon," he mocks, humour dancing in his eyes.
She shakes her head. "I was tired," she replies. "Someone wore me out." It's enough to make him blush, and she grins, half expecting him to call her vulgar again. But she catches his eye, catches the same burning desire in his eyes that she feels for him, and bites at her lip. Damn. It's tempting to drag him back to bed now, despite all the work they still have to do. The need to have him burns again in her core, and she's on the cusp of saying something when his attention is drawn to the distant sky.
He's frowning, all playfulness gone from his face, and she turns to stare in the same direction, lifting one hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. "What is it?" she asks, peering up at the clear sky.
"One of the men. Nappa, from the sound of it."
The sound of Nappa's flight doesn't reach her until the shape of him tearing through the sky is clear to her Human eyes. She braces herself as he barrels towards them, the noise now ripping through the air, and she instantly misses the peace that she shared with Vegeta. Nappa lands with a thud in front of them, his bare chest covered in what looks to be dried blood, and she screws her nose up against the stench that's carried in the breeze. It's enough to make her want to gag.
"Hey Vegeta. You playing dress up?" he asks unceremoniously, and she watches out of the corner of her eye as Vegeta tenses, his guard up again. Gone is the sense of intimacy she was just sharing with him, and the flash of frustration towards Nappa that she experiences is startling in its intensity.
"Watch how you speak to me Nappa," Vegeta says, the warning clear in his voice. "And do not think about stepping foot in the ship before you've cleaned up."
"Aww, come on. The shower's inside."
"There's a lake that way. You reek. Sort yourself out and report back to me in an hour."
She coughs as Nappa kicks up dust, the smell, like a dead animal, hanging in the air long after he's disappeared from sight. She looks at Vegeta, sees the tight set to his shoulders, and sighs. No midday sex session, then. Instead she pulls up the data the ECG has collected, looking over Vegeta's vitals.
"It's looking positive so far. In theory, the gravity belt is creating enough strain on your body to increase the speed at which you gain strength." Grinning, she looks back up at him. "It's working!"
"Can you take it further? Increase the gravity beyond twenty times?"
The question catches her off guard. "We've only had one day of trails so far. I mean, the answer's yes, but… there's increased risks. If –"
"Twenty times is not enough. I need it to go to a hundred, at least." She's surprised by the sudden desperation in his voice, the agitated look in his eyes.
"If I increase it too quickly you could die." Something flickers in his gaze at her words, and she instantly regrets mentioning death. She can practically see the gears turning in his mind, and knows it's to do with Saiyan healing and their growth in power after near-death experiences.
"You're no good to us dead," she reiterates.
"I need you to increase the gravity. I won't reach… I need to get stronger."
She pauses, searching his face, alarm bells ringing in her mind. "What aren't you telling me?" she asks quietly, cocking her head to the side to look him over once more. "What won't you reach?"
His left eye twitches – a tick she's noticed appears whenever he's frustrated – and she knows she's hit a nerve. She feels as if they're balanced on a knife edge, can sense his urge to erect the wall he usually carries around him once more, and knows that if she pushes him too far he'll just pull further away.
And so his raw honesty is all the more surprising. "Super Saiyan," he says with quiet determination. "I need to become Legendary."
Legendary. She opens her mouth and closes it again, biting back her automatic remark. It's just a legend. He seems to sense what she's thinking, though, his frown deepening. "It's more than just a legend, Bulma. It is my destiny."
She knows better than to argue against him on this one. "I'll work on developing a stronger gravity belt," she concedes. "I have enough materials for another two – it will take some time to build!" she adds. It's a white lie – it will take her less than a day, now that she's constructed the first one, but he doesn't have to know that. She's not willing to risk him killing himself, and though they have a regen tank on board, they have limited supplies of the healing liquid. "The one you're using can be used by the other guys once I make one with a greater range."
"Good."
She nods, glancing at the ECG once more. "It looks like you're fine using this machine without me here. I'll be in my lab if you need me. Just pack it up at the end of the day and bring the capsule to me so I can download the data."
She turns and leaves without a backwards glance, her gut churning with the realisation that Vegeta – cold, calculated Vegeta – is clinging so desperately to a fairy tale.
. . .
She spends the afternoon researching Super Saiyans from the files she has downloaded over the years. There's little material to work with, and she can find nothing substantial, nothing that satisfies her that the Super Saiyan is more than just a legend. There's no proof. The more she looks, the less she seems to find.
As the sun sets she emerges from the spare bedroom that she has turned into a makeshift lab, and finds that Raditz has returned, thankfully in a better condition than Nappa. Both men report that there is nothing but greenery and blue oceans on the other side of the planet, and she breathes a sigh of relief as she sits across from them in the common room. They are safe here, for now.
Raditz says something in Saiyan than makes Vegeta blush and growl under his breath, and she knows it's about her. She doesn't have the patience to deal with it right now, so leaves the men to their gossip and heads to bed.
. . .
She can't sleep. Vegeta's admission about becoming a Super Saiyan has unsettled her more than it should have, an unexpected factor in her plans to defeat Frieza. She tosses and turns, and in the dark pulls out her tablet, reading once more through the only substantial source she managed to find, a digitised copy of an old book on Saiyan legends. She reads until the words begin to blur together on the page, the stories of murder and bloodshed making her sick to her stomach, more so because the Saiyans treat the murderers as heroes. She puts the tablet away, huddling down under the blankets, knowing full well that the men she is living with now share the same mentality as their ancestors who wrote that book.
Sleep still evades her. She feels cold. She feels tired. She feels alone.
And though she's just reminded herself of the billions that Vegeta has killed, the scent of him is still there on her sheets, and she finds herself wanting him, wanting to bridge whatever gaps exist between them. She rises without really thinking, barely remembering to take a condom with her, and slips out the door, lifting a hand to knock softly at his bedroom.
The door slides open, and his mouth is on hers before she can utter a single word, his hands blazing hot against her cold skin. She lets him pull her inside, hardly registers the door hissing closed behind her before she is pushed up against it roughly, his lips searing her skin as he drags her top down and her breasts spring free. He's already naked, and she runs her hands over his body, enjoying the feel of him, taking pleasure in the simple act of touching him.
"Vegeta," she half moans, half pleads. His tail slides through her hand, corded muscle hard under the fur, and he groans into her mouth. He likes it, she's found, and his hard erection nudges at her thigh. She pushes him towards the bed and he carries her there, tugging off her clothes before she hits the mattress.
She pulls him down on top of her, the solid weight of him a comfort to her. There's no knowing where this will lead them; she only knows that she needs this now.