Chapter Two
Before . . . .
Vegeta shut down the gravity machine and sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit. Damn, he just couldn't reach it; he was almost there, but it kept eluding him. He needed to beat Kakkarot, prove to him and everyone else that he was the strongest in the universe. But his body wouldn't let him; just when he could feel the power coming, his body shut down on him, stubbornly refusing to do anything further. It was so damned frustrating.
He reached the door and straightened his shoulders, trying to regain his royal air. He could show no weaknesses; he was the Saiyan Prince. Feeling composed enough to go beyond the confines of the gravity machine, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool night air. The woman's house was dark, except for her window and the kitchen light. She always left the kitchen light on for him. She'd yell at him in the morning if she found it still on, knowing that he had trained the whole night through. She was always harping on him about his training too much and saying that his body needed to rest. What did she know? She knew nothing about the Saiyan physique, so he just ignored her.
He started to walk towards the house when he noticed a movement through Bulma's window. He stopped and looked up through her window. He saw it again. Damn, her new boyfriend, John, was there. He growled and began to walk to the kitchen. Didn't look like he'd get much sleep tonight if he stayed at the house. He hated when he had to go to that damned island in the middle of no where to sleep. But it was even worse to stay at the house when John was there because he and Bulma would be at it for a while, or yelling and screaming. Actually, he liked to see them yell at each other—the woman had quite a mouth—but tonight he just wanted to sleep. He was still frustrated about not making it to Super Saiyan status, and his body was aching all over. He needed to get some rest tonight.
He entered the kitchen and went straight to the fridge to find something edible. The woman wouldn't be cooking for him tonight now that her boyfriend was here, which was a blessing, considering her cooking was absolutely horrible. He was busily putting together several sandwiches when he heard a crash from upstairs followed by the woman screaming. It was eerily quiet for a moment, and then he heard her footsteps as she ran down the stairs, followed by a heavier step. He glanced at the clock and noted that it was still early; may be he would get to sleep here tonight.
"Leave me alone, John! Just go away!" he heard the woman scream.
His eyebrows scrunched together, his face worried. Her tone of voice wasn't right. She sounded . . . scared. He put down the knife and listened closely to the argument.
"Who was that guy on the answering machine, Bulma? Are you having an affair, Bulma?" John said, his voice angry.
The woman? Cheat? Never. That woman was very loyal. She was extremely loyal to her last boyfriend, that weakling Yamcha, even though he wasn't as loyal.
"John, I'd never cheat on you. You know that," she said, her voice pleading.
"How do I know? You flirt with every guy you come across. How do I know you're not cheating on me with . . . Vegeta?"
He clenched and un-clenched his hands, trying to control his temper. That baka wasn't worth the energy he'd have to use to burn him to a crisp.
"Vegeta? I would never cheat on you John, especially with Vegeta."
"Well, what about that guy on the answering machine then: are you cheating on me with him?" John said, his voice dangerously low.
"No, I told you already; he and I have to go to a meeting tomorrow morning, and he was making sure that I remembered."
"I don't believe you," John said. Vegeta heard his footsteps draw close to the woman.
"John, please," she pleaded. "Don't make me call Vegeta," she said, almost as if it were a last minute thought.
"Vegeta? He doesn't give a damn about you," John sneered.
"Yeah, but he wouldn't stand for this either, John," she said.
"Try to call for him all you like: that baka can't hear you over his training."
He heard a thud and the woman whimpered. What the hell? Was that idiot hitting her? He flew out of the kitchen into the living room and saw John steadily hitting the woman. He slammed his body into John, flying John across the room into the opposite wall. Before John could even hit the floor, Vegeta grabbed him and slammed his fist into John's face. John looked at him, fear evident in his eyes, blood streaming down his face.
"If I ever catch you here again, or around that woman, I will personally see to it that you don't breathe another breath." Vegeta picked up John and unceremoniously kicked his butt out of the house.
Coming back into the house, he found the woman still cowering in the living room. He stood looking down on her. She had a gash over her right eye and she was covered in bruises. He gently touched her, but she recoiled from his touch.
"Bulma, it's me," he said softly.
She looked up at him, her eyes wet from crying. She swallowed hard, the tears silently trailing down her face. He gently picked her up and held her in his arms. He needed to get her to a hospital. She clung to him as he flew her to the nearest Emergency Room.
"I need a doctor!" he roared as soon as he stepped through the sliding glass doors.
"Sir, all the doctors are busy. You're going to have to wait," a nurse said to him.
"I will not wait! I need a doctor NOW!" he bellowed, powering up slightly.
A doctor appeared from behind a curtain. "Sir, I'll see you."
Vegeta stepped into the curtained off room with the woman still in his arms. She had passed out on the flight to the ER. "I don't need help: she does."
He placed her down on the bed and watched the doctor assess her. "She has a serious gash over her eye that will need to be stitched. Also, she has several bruises. Who are you to this woman?" the doctor asked him, suspicion in his voice.
"I live in her house," he said, crossing his arms. "I didn't do this; her boyfriend did." He knew what the doctor was thinking.
The doctor said nothing. He returned to his examination of the woman. He found several more bruises, older ones, underneath her shirt and pants. She also had many cuts too, some recently closed and others fading against her pale skin. Once he began to take off Bulma's undergarments, Vegeta left. He didn't want to know what lay beneath them; he might not be able to control the urge to kill that bastard. He silently waited outside the curtained room.
The doctor came out several minutes later. "She has endured a great deal of beatings. As you saw, she had several bruises, some fresh and some staring to fade. She also has scarring from cuts she received earlier. The gash on her head is being stitched right now. She seems to have endured a few unwanted sexual acts."
"You mean she was raped?" Vegeta said, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.
The doctor nodded. "Physically, she'll be fine. Emotionally, I'm not sure." The doctor looked at Vegeta with steady eyes. "How long has this been going on?"
Vegeta looked at him, a deep scowl on his face. "I don't know."
The doctor looked at him, disbelief written in his eyes.
"I'm out all day. I don't get home until very late. Tonight I got in early," he said, trying to convince himself more than the doctor. How long had it been going on? And right in front of his face too.
The doctor nodded. "Well," he said with a heavy breath, "after her eye is stitched and she wakes, she can go home. That is, after I see her."
Vegeta nodded.
The doctor left.
He stood silently outside of the curtained room, thinking. How the hell did this happen? He couldn't imagine why the woman would let a man beat her, or rape her. He couldn't imagine her being scared of anyone. Hell, she wasn't even scared of him! How could she be so scared of a weakling human?
How could he have not known what was going on? She'd been quieter lately, but he thought she'd just gotten tired of fighting with him. He'd noticed that she was dragging her feet a bit, and that she'd seem a little jumpy lately also. How could he have not known something was wrong? And it was going on in his house. He could feel his temper rising. That damned man deserved to die for all the pain he caused.
He was contemplating on whether or not he should kill the man when he heard movement from inside the curtained room. He pulled back the curtain a bit and saw the woman get up and shake her head. She tentatively touched the stitches on her head, moaning a bit. She got to her feet and started to make her way out of the curtained prison she was currently in.
"Woman, the doctor said you couldn't go until he saw you," he said, stepping into the room and standing in her way.
"Vegeta . . . ." she breathed. She looked shocked. "What are you doing here?"
"Woman, I brought you here," he said roughly.
"Why?"
He looked at her annoyed. "Your head was bleeding, woman. What was I suppose to do? Leave you there and let it bleed until you either died or it became infected and then you died?"
The woman looked at him shocked again. She regained her composure a bit and said, "I want to go home."
He raised an eyebrow at her. He looked out into the nursing station and barked at a nurse to go get the doctor. The nurse ran to do what she was told. The doctor appeared moments later.
"Ahh, you're awake." He gently shooed the woman back to the bed and examined her, checking if she was experiencing any pain or lack of vision or reflex. He turned to Vegeta. "Could you excuse us?"
He gave the doctor a glare that could have melted ice, but he left. He waited outside the curtain again, listening in to the conversation.
"Did he do this to you?" the doctor asked her.
Vegeta felt more than heard her say no. That damned doctor didn't believe his story. If he could he'd blow the doctor and the whole hospital up, but he knew the woman would probably harp on him until the end of the world, and then some. And she wouldn't fix the machine either, so he decided against blowing everything up.
The doctor stepped out, followed by the shaky woman. "She's free to go," the doctor said to Vegeta.
Vegeta grunted and picked her up. She placed her arms mechanically around him, her face downcast. He exited the hospital and flew to the house, neither of them saying a word. He could sense that she felt ashamed for not telling him what was going on, and he felt she should be. Why didn't she say anything to him? Given, he acts like he doesn't give a damn about her, but he wouldn't let anyone beat her, not in his house. He felt strangely protective of her. He scrunched his eyes together, wondering where that feeling was coming from.
They reached the house and placed her down on the front porch. He opened the door for her and she went inside, still shaking. He followed her to her room and flicked on the light. The room was a mess. He saw a vase smashed on the floor near the wall, explaining the crash from earlier. Clothes were all over the place, and several other things were broken across the floor. It was disconcerting to see such a mess in her room; she was a very organized person. He cleaned off her bed and motioned for her to get in. She obeyed, laying down and drawing her sheets over her body. He grunted and left, turning the light off.
He made his way to his room, across the hall from hers. He needed to get some sleep. His body still hurt, and now his head hurt with questions of why. He quickly showered and climbed into his bed, sighing slightly now that he'd finally made it. He was almost sleeping when he heard a queit shuffling outside of the door. He kept his eyes closed, knowing it was the woman. She pushed his door open a crack.
"Vegeta?" she called.
He didn't answer her.
She pushed the door open and stepped into the room, closing it behind her. He heard her soft footfalls as she walked to his bed. She gently touched his shoulder, trying to wake him.
"Vegeta."
"Woman," he said, opening his eyes.
She pulled her hand back quickly, her eyes widening. "You're awake?"
"Well, if I was asleep, now I'm awake. What do you want?" he said, half sitting up. The moonlight fell upon her pale face, showing that she was scared and uncertain.
"Um . . . could I sleep with you tonight?" she said, her voice shaking.
He sighed. He should have known; she was probably scared witless in her room, considering all the crap that had recently gone on in there. He moved over and motioned her to get in beside him. She got in, smiling at him.
"Thank you, Vegeta," she said quietly.
He grunted and turned his body away from her, pulling the covers over them. He listened to her breathe for about an hour, knowing that she hadn't fallen asleep yet. He turned to face her, irritated though he didn't know why. Her back was to him, and she held her body tightly together, tense. "Woman, are you going to sleep sometime tonight?"
She remained silent.
"Woman?"
She said nothing.
He gently touched her, moving her so that she faced him. He saw tears falling from her eyes and trailing down her face. Had she been crying for the past hour? He caught her eyes with his, and he could see the fear still in her eyes. He sighed. Even though she was not even a foot away from him she still felt scared. At this rate he'd never get to sleep; her tension was getting to him. He moved over a bit and pulled her toward him, in an embrace. She melted against him, her hands drawn up to her chest. She buried her face into his chest and sighed. He felt her relax, and within the next few minutes she was asleep. "Finally," he thought, and soon he was asleep too.
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It took several weeks before she was almost back to normal. He tried to be as nice as possible to her, considering ever time he snapped at her she would fly into hysterics and cry herself sick. She slowly got back her strength, both physically and emotionally. She went back to working in her lab, and cooking her Kami-awful food. He kept his comments on her food mostly to himself the first few weeks, but one day he couldn't handle it anymore.
"Woman, your food taste worst than dog food. Can't you make anything better?" he said, seeing how she'd react.
She stopped cutting her apple in mid-stride, her shoulders tensing. Damn, she was going to cry again. He clenched his teeth, waiting for the oncoming flood of tears.
"Then why don't you go eat dog food!" she screamed at him.
Vegeta looked at her surprised. She had turned to look at him, clutching the knife, her breath heavy and her eyes red, but no tears. He smirked and crossed his arms, sitting back against the chair. "Because you don't buy dog food."
She smiled crookedly. "Then I'll go buy some for you."
Later that night he came in from training and saw several cans of dog food on the table. He smirked; she was normal again, well. . . almost. She still slept in his bed. She no longer slept in her room anymore. She slept with her body snuggled closely to his, and she would toss and turn until he held her in his arms. That night she was snuggled closely to his back, but she wasn't sleeping.
"Vegeta?" she said, touching him lightly on the back. She started to trace the scars on his back.
"What?"
"Why do you always have to act like a bastard?"
He snorted and said, "That's just the way I am."
She was silent for a moment. He waited for her response. "Well," she said as if she'd come to a decision, "I'm just going to have to teach you how not to be a bastard anymore." She threw her arms around him. "Goodnight, Veggie-chan." He heard her soft breathing become steady, and he knew she was asleep.
He turned to her, pulling her close to him out of reflex. "You do that," he said roughly, half jokingly. Then he fell asleep.
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Now . . . .
Vegeta saw the first rays of the sun begin to peek through the living room window. That wasn't exactly a better time, and he couldn't figure out why he'd thought of it as one. He still wanted to kill John for all the crap he'd put the woman through. He felt his ki rising, and he roughly pushed it down, not wanting to wake the brats yet.
He sighed and got up from the chair he was sitting on the whole night through. He supposed that was the beginning of better times. He walked silently to the kitchen. The woman still wasn't home yet. She'd never been gone this long before. He felt a pang of guilt and worry. Where'd the hell she go? Knowing her, she probably went to Kakkarot's house or some hotel. He was sure she'd be fine. But, he still missed her. Right now she would usually be cooking her awful food and yelling at him at the same time, which would wake up the brats and they'd come grumbling into the kitchen. But now it was quiet, a little too quiet.
He sighed and walked out of the kitchen to the gravity room. He had no real reason to train anymore, but he still did. Maybe he could clear his thoughts after he trained a bit. Maybe she'd be home too.
