Author: Jessica (StarSapphireZ)
Rating: PG13, for mild language, mature themes.
Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ, yadayadayada. Sue me? Sure, you'll get a half-empty cartoon of malt balls. Also, I've seen most of Dragonball Z, but not all, so please forgive any inconsistency.
Archive?: Maybe. Please contact me and ask first! I'm generally a nice person...
Summary: Since so many of you asked, this is a continuation of "Uncertain Breeze". More drama and reflection from inside the mind of Ms. Bulma Briefs during the Cell Game.
Note: Once again, I would like to give a big "THANK YOU!" to all my reviewers...of every story thusfar. I know I haven't been around for awhile, some crazy stuff has been happening in my life and I've barely been able to keep up (check my website for details.) I will try to sit down, read and review all YOUR stories when I get the chance, though. And I'm trying to write more DBZ fiction. So stay tuned. There most definitely WILL be a third and final part to this story.
Site Plug: Electronic Wings Remix (The Spirit of DBZ; with a funky dance beat!) -- http://spirit__vs__spirit.tripod.com
Attention fellow authors, I welcome fanfic submissions! (And fanart too!)
The morning of the Cell Game, Vegeta had rose with the sun. As the golden rays of early morning broke through the lingering gray clouds, Bulma's eyes flickered open to find that he was already gone. Just like him. She hadn't even gotten to say goodbye! But that was obviously the way he had wanted it. The room was filled with the scent of rain, and his scent. His scent was still there, on the sheets, on her. That previous night, he had once again come to her, touched her and pressed his body into hers, showing her affection in the only way he knew how.
She inhaled deeply, trying to hold on to the last remnants of that night, and trying not to think about the very real possibility that there would never be one like that again for her and her...mate. It was amusing, in a way, the title of "mates" which Vegeta had bestown upon them. But for him it bore the utmost sense of commitment. She pulled the sheets to her, forming a thick bundle in her arms. "Like I said, Vegeta...take care of yourself." she whispered.
Just then, baby Trunks let out a squeal. Bulma pulled herself out of bed, threw on a simple shirt and pair of pants, and went to fulfill her duty to the Earth; that of a mother. She was becoming more convinced with each passing day that it wasn't any less easy than fighting hostile, all-powerful aliens and androids.
After changing and dressing her infant son, Bulma perched him on her hip and walked out to her kitchen for a cup of coffee. Yamcha and Mirai Trunks were already seated at the table, eating their breakfasts. "Ah!" Bulma gasped, "You should have woken me up! I could have made you something!"
"I hate to tell you this, but your son from the future here cooks better than you." said Yamcha, feigning some semblance of a smile. Mirai Trunks blushed and shifted awkwardly, then quickly offered a plate to his mother. They ate in silence, but Bulma felt that it was probably for the best. For if anyone would have spoken of the impending battle, she probably would have broken down crying and begged them not to go.
"Well," said Yamcha, as Bulma scooped the last scraps of her meal on to her plate, "You should probably get over to Kame House now. We have to leave very soon." Bulma nodded, rising and taking everyone's dishes to the sink.
They stood outside. Bulma hugged her once-lover and wished him the best, then moved on to her son from the future. She embraced him tightly and tears welled up in her eyes.
"Mother...?" he said questioningly, gently wrapping his arms around her.
"Trunks..." she whispered, choking back a sob. "You really, really have to take care out there today. You need to come back alive. You need to go back and rebuild your future. I'm so proud of you...and I know the future me would be too." She kissed him on the cheek, then backed away.
"Goodbye, both of you." she said, launching the capsule for her air car. She climbed in with baby Trunks. "And good luck." she said, with a final wave before taking to the air. Mirai Trunks and Yamcha followed suite. And they sped off in their respective directions; the two warriors towards the battle, and Bulma towards Kame House. There she would watch the television broadcast of the Cell Game for as long as the station's equipment would hold out. Just like she had so many years ago, when Vegeta had first come to Earth. He had been the enemy then, and Yamcha had died because of him. Strange how things can change, she thought to herself.
The last remaining traces of dark clouds from the previous night's storm were rapidly vanishing as she sped through the sky, which swelled with a shade of bright optimistic blue. The cool morning air grew warmer, it was indeed a beautiful spring day. It was if the Earth had no idea what kind of danger it was in.
Static danced across the television set as it had for hours, the room filled with the continuos and obnoxious buzz that accompanied it. For a mere fraction of a second, an image of sky flickered across the screen. Bulma sat up on the edge of her seat for a moment, then sighed defeatedly, slumping far back into the couch. She pulled her infant son closer to her and he looked up at her, with a look in his big blue eyes that couldn't be anything but distress. He had enough of a warrior's blood to know that something was wrong. But when the shock waves from the battle would cause the Earth to shake for a moment, he had stayed eerily quiet.
"Even in our utter helplessness, our hearts are out there fighting that battle with them." said Kamesennin, obviously in a rare moment of philosophy as he put a hand on her shoulder.
"Is Son Kun really gone, though?" she asked tentatively.
"Yes. Well, you never know for certain until it's through. But we need to be prepared for the worst..." he spoke the last sentence in the most fragile whisper, "I haven't felt his ki for a long time now."
Bulma hung her head. She couldn't hold up in a fight against even the weakest of warriors, much less detect ki. But from somewhere deep inside her she knew it to be true that Goku was gone. Maybe it was because she had known him since he was a child. Maybe it was women's intuition. It didn't matter very much. Her whole life had been a curse and a blessing, rolled into one big blur of events. She had stumbled into a secret before it truly existed, the people around her had grown in leaps and bounds to become the saviors of the world. Time and time again. With them as her dearest friends - and a Saiyajin as her mate and father of her son - she had all the protection she could ever ask for. But the curse was this; the waiting, the uncertainty. And finally, the grief.
Just then, another tremor hit hard. Bulma pulled her legs up on to the couch and braced herself against it, shielding little Trunks for all she was worth. Kamesennin went flying, landing in an akward tangle of limbs on the wooden floor. Bulma raised an eyebrow as the shaking began to cease, frankly surprised he hadn't "landed" smack in the middle of her cleavage. He clearly wasn't himself either. The quaking began again and Kamesennin latched on to the leg of his coffee table, hanging on for dear life.
"What's going on out there?" Bulma shouted, her voice barely audible above the combined sounds of the TV and the tremors rattling the Earth.
"You're asking me?!" he shouted in response. His sunglasses dropped from his face to the floor as he continued to cling. After being toppled from the couch herself, Bulma squeezed her body - along with baby Trunks's - under the table and waited. And waited, as furniture clattered to the floor, pieces of plaster worked their way loose from the ceiling and the ocean beat hard against the walls, forcing water through the windows. Until Bulma was certain that it was the end, of everything.
Then it stopped.
Kamesennin relinquished his grip on the coffee table, replaced his sunglasses, and climbed to his feet. He cleared his throat. "It's over." he said.
"It's over?" asked Bulma in disbelief as she crawled out. "That means...that means someone out there has defeated Cell, because we're not dead!" Her face lit up, brighter than it had been in days. Brighter than it had been in a very, very long time. "Yay!" she shouted and she began to dance, lifting a bewildered little Trunks into the air.
"Okay," she said, "we're going back to Capsule Corporation. I want to be there to greet
everyone when they come."