Disclaimer: No, I don't own any characters mentioned, pregnancy, chicken, doctors . . . if fact, I own very little. So sue me. You won't get much though. You might get a hamster. If he's legally mine . . . I'm not quite sure.

Does anyone care? Thought not.

Enjoy.

I check the paper for a second time. The result hasn't changed, I didn't expect it to, I just need to grasp what it's just told me. The blue shines up at me almost grudgingly. I discard the paper into the toilet and as it flushes down the blue stays face up as if taunting me. The water spins round and round . . . it's enough to trigger my stomach and I'm violently sick into the toilet. I hear footsteps behind me -Vegeta must hear me heaving. He walks in and leans down next to me.

"Come on, cough it all up," he says softly (which is a rare form of speech for Vegeta), and rubs my back comfortingly. I feel more of my lunch rising up my throat and I give in and convulse it out. Vegeta wraps his arm around my shoulder and pats my back gently. It's a very rare occasion that he's so caring . . . and I have to be puking everywhere and ruin it. I finally bring my head up and wipe my mouth with my sleeve.

"You've been . . . doing this . . . thing . . . "

"Vomiting, Vegeta," I supply when he can't find the word.

"You've been vomiting a lot lately." He states.

"Yeah, well . . . I'm just a bit sick that's all . . . " I say. He leaves for the training room and I immediately put on my coat and head for the car.

(Still Bulma but change of scene)

I loosen my grip on the steering wheel and let the jeep cruise down the lane, mud splashing on the glossy paint. The windshield wipers continuously swipe away the rain splodges that are gathering on the glass, courtesy of the raging storm outside. I lean forward and rub the glass with my sleeve to get rid of any steam. Then I sit back and contemplate about my conversation at the doctor's office I just had . . .

"Well, Miss Briefs, we've checked our tests and the results are unanimous. It's positive." I let then words sink in, then I bury my head in my hands. I'd suspected it for a few days but I needed to be sure my life was over.

The doctor gives me a few leaflets and information on what I was about to ordeal in the not too distant future. I'm too shocked, worried and remorseful to do anything but take it all in absently. But even amongst all these negative feelings, I was excited and anticipating the day in which my life would change forever.

The road is quiet and I should be thinking about my current situation, but all I can concentrate on is how Vegeta will react.



Yamcha is glaring at me from across the kitchen. I can feel his eyes on my back. I despise being stared at. I clench my fists and grind my teeth, gripping into the side of the cabinet to stop myself from launching at him. I slowly look out of the corner of my eye and notice Yamcha doing the same to me. It's infuriating! No one may be so insolent to me, Vegeta, prince of saiyans!

"What do you keep looking at, ass wipe?" I growl viciously.

"An ignorant male slag," he whispers under his breath.

"What was that?" I turn around to face him.

"Oh, stop that games Vegeta, I know you slept with my girlfriend." He says, looking me straight in the eyes.

"What I do with your girlfriend is none of your business!" I yell.

"Well I've just decided to make it my business!" he knocks the chair back and jumps forward to punch me. Pathetic little rat. I grab his fist easily and with my other hand pick him up by the neck and knee him hard in the stomach. He lets out a moan of pain and I quickly shove him down onto the table and shower him with punches, laughing insanely at the same time.

"You must really care about this girl if you're prepared to be beaten senseless for her!" I snarl at him, landing a final punch just below his eye.

"I don't want to stain Bulma's table with your weak blood," I growl, backing off. He just glares at me and lifts himself up.

"What's your problem, Vegeta?" he asks, squinting through fingers cupped over his injured eye.

"Ignorant scum like you." I say quietly. I don't know what he's getting at but I'm sure I won't like it. I decide to be honest. A saiyan should hide nothing!

"You're scum. You cheated on Bulma. Do you even realise how much you hurt her?" I ask, controlling my anger.

"Yeah. I know." He sighs.

"Then why?!"

"Why do you even care?" he asks suspiciously. That one gets me.

"I see," he says almost tiredly, as if everything just clicked into place and now he wanted it to go back to being confused.

"You see what?!" I roar.

"You love her, don't you? It wasn't just a one-night stand. You love her."

Ah.

I can't deny it.

"Hmph." I fold my arms and head toward the door. On the threshold I feel a hand on my shoulder. I don't turn.

"You're a lucky man, Vegeta. She's a great babe. Look after her." I turn to face him and we share a moment, a knowing moment. I nod and then leave, all my hated toward Yamcha gone as quickly as it had arisen.



Tonight. I'll tell him tonight. When I go to give him his dinner.

Tonight comes all too soon. I stand in the kitchen alone, tapping my fingernails anxiously on the counter in a repetitive rhythm. The microwave whirs tauntingly and I somehow hope the beep will never come. I check the timer.

23.

22.

21 . . . I bite my finer nail and I'm tempted to just disconnect the microwave and spend a while trying to "fix" it. But I'm going to have to face him sometime. I check the timer.

14. 13. 12. I breathe deeply and try to just relax. It works for the next 11 seconds.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!!!

I jump about 50 feet in the air. I slowly press the open button -the door swings out toward me and I quickly duck to avoid being knocked out. The meals steam tumbles out of the door.

"This is it."

I head toward the gravity room.



It's been three hours since my fight with Yamcha, and yet his words still linger in my mind. Do I really care that much about a silly woman? Coincidentally at that moment there is a knock on the door and Bulma walks in, blue hair luminous below me. I pretend not to notice her and continue training, although I don't quite know why. My fists fly through the air at the speed of sound. That'll impress her.

"Uh, Vegeta?" I look down and pretend to be surprised. She's holding a plate of food.

"Finally woman! I'm starving!" I shout down and quickly land in front of her. She hands me the grub silently, and doesn't leave. I look at her, suspecting something's wrong. She takes a strand of hair and twists it absently while fumbling for words.

"Vegeta . . . there's something, well, I mean, something happened, and well, I mean . . . "

"Hurry up and spit it out, I'm trying to train!" I yell through a mouthful of chicken.

"Remember that night about two months ago?" I leer at her, the memory of that wonderful night still fresh in my mind and making me tingle.

"How could I forget?"

"Well, it's . . . I'm . . . " I notice a single tear trickle down her cheek and I reach forward and brush it off with my thumb.

"Tell me." He eyes lock with mine.

"I'm . . . " the speaker beeps loudly, interrupting her. Damn. Dr Briefs voice blares throughout the room, and Bulma and I separate reflexively.

"What is it dad?" she asks.

"There's a slight technical difficulty on the prototype we've been working on, I need you're expertise."

"Ok, be right there," Bulma straddles round awkwardly and leaves the room with a less than subtle air of relief.

I can't help but wonder what's going on.



If I ever needed a friend it was now. No one knows but me and it's eating me away. I open my eyes gradually; my eyelashes slowly squelching away from their plastered position with tear glue.

"Thing's could be worse, I suppose . . . " I reassure myself. And the more I think about it the more I realise they could be. Vegeta's still here. And even though we've never kissed or even spoken of that night until yesterday, he's still here. I see him everyday.

And God knows I love him. More than anything.

So maybe . . . maybe it's not so bad. Maybe I'm making more of a thing of this than needed. If he was telling me the truth then yes, there's hope.

There's a loud tap on my bedroom door, and I pray it's not Vegeta for fear of my current mood ending in me blabbing everything. The door opens a crack and a shadow is cast in.

It's Vegeta.



The key. That's all I've come for. My main aim is to be stronger than Kakerott -I will become a super saiyan. If he can, I can! And that boy -the one from the future -he was as strong as Kakerott! That is my aim. It is.

"Where's the key?" I ask the woman sitting idly on her bed, "the key to the gravity room?"

"Oh. Third drawer." She says almost relieved. I take it and I'm just about to leave when I hear her voice.

"Hey Vegeta? I want to ask you a question."

"What is it?" I ask in my deceivably irritable voice without turning.

"Well, do you love me?" I just walk through the door and don't look back, but before I close it I take a deep breath.

"More than life itself, Bulma."



I watch him go. I don't even attempt to stop him.

So he was telling the truth. Vegeta loves me. And I love Vegeta. He knows it. I know it. Everything's perfect. And now I have to go and ruin it.

"Bulma!!!" he calls. I note the subtle use of my name instead of his usual reference to me as "woman", and poke my head out of the door. I don't answer though because I know my voice will break up and I'll start crying.

"I . . . I mean . . . " he fumbles for words.

"This is the wrong key! How am I supposed to become stronger than Kakerott if I can't train? Tell me that!" he starts off soft and ends up growling the rest, his usual obnoxious self. I just . . . flip. I don't know why, but he annoys me so much sometimes . . .

"Why can't you just be nice for a change?! I think I'm probably the only woman who's ever loved you, and sometimes you're so horrible! Do you think of nothing but your own pathetic pride?"

"You can talk, woman!" I silently note "woman", "You've been moody and wimpy all week, you've been vomiting everywhere but in the toilet, and you seem to have gone insane -eating all my chicken covered in peanut butter!" he cries. He obviously doesn't get it. Without thinking, I just walk right up to his face, grab his hand and put it gently onto my stomach.

"I'm pregnant." I whisper.



PREGNANT?! Bulma's going to have a baby? MY CHILD?

"P-p-preg-pregnant??? What do you mean pregnant?" I stutter quietly. I don't move my hand -she does it for me. I can see the disappointment on her face at my reaction. But I can't help it -I just thought she was ill or was still in love with Yamcha or something womanly like that -but pregnant?

"But . . . but that's impossible!"

"Unless you need a little talk about the facts of life, you know perfectly well that it's possible," she says, both her hands over her stomach protectively.

"But . . . I . . . are you sure it's not Yamcha's?" I ask desperately.

"Of course not! It's yours. Ours, Vegeta." She says. I'm speechless which is rare for me. She just runs straight past me and I hear the click of her bedroom door as she locks it.

Our conversation sinks in.

I'm going to be a father. I'm going to have a son . . . or daughter, for that matter. A mini Bulma and me.

"Well at least it'll be good looking," I sneer to myself. But really, the whole thing is terrifying . . . me, a father? I could be a good father! I try to imagine myself playing baseball or swinging a child at the park, but they all end in me blowing something up . . . I don't know what to do. And when Bulma eventually emerges I want to speak to her, to make a snide remark or complain or anything! But nothing comes out.

Nothing comes out for the next four months.



I say "dinners ready," he says "Hmph". And that's about it. For four months.

It's not long before my parents find out about my little secret. Well, it is kind of obvious by the lump growing from my stomach. And being parents, they have to organise a baby shower. Great. And invite Vegeta. Even greater.

The day comes all too quickly -my whole family shows up and when the party starts I get about two hours of mindless dribble along the lines of:

"Congratulations!"

"So what's are you going to name it?"

"When's it due?" I answer it all "happily".

Not one relative asks who the father is. They all assume it's Yamcha's. Yep, he found out I was pregnant, dumped me, but is staying in contact for the kid. I feel like screaming. It's like I'm trapped in a tiny bubble, the walls misty and translucent so I'm burning my lungs screaming for help but no one can hear or see me clear enough.

For a few hours I just stand by the snack table picking at the finger foods and watch my grandma tell the rest of my family all my embarrassing childhood stories while I pretend to listen and interject a small empty laugh here and there in unison with everyone else.

Vegeta doesn't come to the party. He stays in the gravity room training, and of all things I don't blame him because apart from the fact he's too proud and scared to talk to the barer of his own child, this party is as boring at the Mayors election speech on labour day. He's so . . . GR!!! Just leaving me here all alone when it's now I need him more than ever. Selfish. Ignorant. Sexy . . . caring . . .

I rest my hands gently on the small bump protruding from my belly. And I realise I miss him. I miss Vegeta.



Kakerott. Kakerott. Kakerott. Kakerott. Kakerott. Bulma. Kakerott. DAMNIT KAKEROTT NOT BULMA!!!

I wipe the sweat from my brow with one swift hand and cling to the wall with the other. My leg surges with energy, so I hover up and release it with one deadly blow to the air. I backflip and spring off the wall, holding my hands apart and forcing energy from all over my body up my chest, down my arms, into my pulsing palms.

"FINAL FLASH!" I fire it all forward and teleport back to avoid the explosion before kicking my legs around so fast anybody in my line of fire would be incinerated to jelly. Breathing hard I let myself lower to the floor and cough for a few seconds before the dust clears up.

My stomach lets out strange gurgling noises. I didn't realise how hungry I am. But I can't leave -Bulma's stupid baby parade or whatever the hell it is is being held in the lounge and kitchen.

But a saiyan has to eat . . .

I tell myself all I'm going for is the food, even when I know that I would give anything at that moment to hug Bulma tight and tell her that I want this child more than anything in the world. Yes, I have thought about this offspring over the last few months. I've thought a quite a lot in fact.

And the more I'd pondered the more I realised it was a good thing. That this miracle of life might just be the best thing that's ever happened to me.

Apart from surpassing Kakerott that is.

I was going to be the father of a saiyan -in fact, one of only four saiyans left. I will train it to be strong, far stronger than Kakerott's wimpy son. We will be the two most powerful beings alive! Vegeta and his child, the most feared warriors of all time . . .

Suddenly, being afraid of this event seems pitiful. It is my son, or daughter, and I want the whole world to know it!

But first -food. The kitchen awaits.



I check my watch for about the fiftieth time in two minutes, and sink back into the couch, resting a paper plate on my stomach. Out of the corner of my eye I see another guest being welcomed in. I curse my luck when I realise it's aunt Wilma, possible the most irritating and humiliating relative you could have. Her heavy Texan accent pierces my ears and she waddles over excitably as if I was five and she hadn't seen me in years. I remove the plate and stand up, smiling falsely and almost getting crushed in a bear hug.

"How've y'all been? My what a looker she is, ain't she Hermit? I'll bet Yamcha is so proud!" she comments, standing back to admire me. I blush slightly and scratch the back of my neck. My uncle Hermit agrees, stuttering along with a wife twice the size of him. I'd forgotten how much my aunt Wilma had taken a shining to Yamcha. She's going to be devastated when I tell her we've broken up . . . she looks at my stomach in wonder.

"Well aren't we coming along fine, Bulma dear? That belly o' yours is bigger than an African elephant!" One thing about aunt Wilma, she knows her geology. How she can be so smart and yet so . . . aunt Wilmer-ish is beyond me. I nod and cup my hands over my stomach.

"Yeah well, it's due in about two months." I say.

"Well I'll be darned! Bulma's gonna be a momma so soon!" I smile sweetly.

"So, have you and its daddy thought of any names for the little tyke yet?" she asks, obviously meaning Yamcha. I open my mouth to reply when I feel a hand rest on top of mine on my stomach, and another on my shoulder. I feel Vegetas breath on my neck as he says,

"We're going to name our baby Trunks."



I grin as about every person in the room turns toward me, their jaws open in shock. One woman drops her tea.

"Is . . . is this true Bulma? Is he the father?" asks the woman who had just been badgering Bulma with questions in her irritating accent. I remembered her from a visit about a year ago -when Bulma and that thick shit Yamcha were still together. Hah! She had adored him like he was a king! I can't help feeling a huge sense of self-satisfaction.

"Yeah . . . " she agrees.

"But what about Yamcha! He was such a handsome young man!"

"He cheated and we broke up a while ago." Bulma explains reluctantly. Her mother approaches, so shocked she had nearly opened her eyes.

"But of all people why Vegeta? Sure he's cute, but he's . . . Vegeta!" I growl angrily at her.

"Just because I'm a saiyan warrior doesn't mean I can't love your daughter and our child!" I yell angrily. Bulma steps out of my arms and turns to face me.

"What did you just say?"

"I . . . " I take her hand and lead her into the hallway.

"Vegeta . . . " I grin my grin. And kiss her. As our lips interlock and her arms wrap around me, I rest one of my hands on her waist, and the other onto a small bump in my back pocket.

A wedding ring.



Shorter than the last one. Still sweet though. Couldn't think of a funny ending . . . you'll have to put up with that. Yes, there is more to come. So review. Please.

Yes, I am the queen of short sentences.

And I am aware that if Bulma tells Vegeta she's pregnant two months into it, and then the party's four months later that only makes her 6 months pregnant and she has three months left, but for the purpose of this fic pregnancy for saiyan children is eight months. So sue me is she had to have a big stomach in as little time as possible.