Chapter 12: The Pro-Life Problem
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em and I'm broke
AN: Wow! I'm so glad I'm not hated for taking such a dreadfully long time off of writing, and I want to thank you all! Especially those of you who e-mailed me about this story. I NEVER get e-mails from people about my writings and other works, so that was a huge surprise that made my day. I'm sorry for last time's evil cliffy…erm…actually I'm not, but it drove me crazy too, wanting to write what happened next, so here it is….
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Warmth radiated away from Vegeta's hand as it neared Bulma's stomach. Tiny droplets of sweat ran down his face. He had to practice a surgeons care in this or things could go horribly wrong. Inches away, his hand started to falter as Bulma moved slightly, her own hand reaching toward the heat he was giving off. He pulled back suddenly, as if her slightest touch would cause him mortal harm. She stirred, making Vegeta opt for a quick getaway, rather than this task he was certain was for the best. 'The woman will find out soon enough.' Standing out on the perfect green lawn, Vegeta glared up at the window he just exited from, it's two occupants dancing in his mind.
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(AN: Have you figured it out yet? Bulma's pregnant!!! Vegeta was going to do the abortion thing himself, but decided against it. Which is good, because then there wouldn't be a Trunks in this story! *Nicci-chan wails in agony. "TRUNKS! My beloved! Trunks…" V. E. holds her Veggie-chan plushie close and fears the sanity of her friend, and herself…* Well, that was fun…Let's get back to the tale.) This Authors Note has been brought to you in part by the Chibi Destructo Mallet. Building a better future one mangling at a time….
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Stretching, Bulma pulled herself up out of bed and yawned, glaring at her buzzing alarm clock. The Hell-freezing glare soon transformed into a look of sheer horror as she realized that hitting the snooze button fifty million times didn't wake you up in time for work. In what can only have been proclaimed as the "Poetry in Motion" rendition of The Flight of the Bumblebee, the blue-haired beauty raced over to her closet and yanked out a nice business suit and matching shoes. Pressed for time, she kept her makeup simple, leaving her optimum time for styling her hair, which she would also keep as uncomplicated as her make-up for convenience. As she was brushing out the last of the knots in her hair, her gaze wandered to the calendar over the clock. Two weeks prior a small mark had been placed in the date's box. It had been a full fourteen days since she had "comforted" Vegeta and he had insulted her, sending her to her own room to contemplate her horrible luck with guys. Fourteen days since she had had the dream of the room again, where Vegeta had told her he couldn't love her. Not that she ever expected him to. All that mattered to him, all that he thought he had left was power. Nothing else mattered. Not to him, not ever to him. It wasn't like she really cared, either. Vegeta had been good for a night of fun, compensating for his antisocial overbearing attitude. She didn't care that he had used her like a fresh-from-the-box Kleenex, only to discard her when he was through. It had happened before, with Yamcha. Although Yamcha was sweet, he just wasn't ready for commitment. A light chuckle came from Bulma as she remembered how eager Vegeta had been for Yamcha to get on her nerves again since he got to give the ex-bandit a close-up of his vehicle. Standing up and smoothing her knee-length skirt down, Bulma admired herself in the mirror. She winked and blew the reflection a kiss before running down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Mrs. Briefs was at the stove and Bulma saw a small plate of eggs, bacon and toast ready for her. However, the minute she laid eyes on the food, bile rose in her throat, the bitter taste crowning her face with a grimace.
Rushing over to the bathroom, she carefully held her hair back as she hurled. (AN: Wow, what a graceful sentence!) The putrid smell gone when she flushed the toilet, she proceeded to eradicate the bitter taste from her mouth by brushing her teeth until blood tinted the bristles of her brush. Her mother hurried in, holding a glass of orange juice. "Honey, are you alright?"
"I feel horrible…" Mrs. Briefs' brows furrowed for a moment.
"Well, I'll go call the doctor. It's time for a check-up anyway." Bulma nodded, sinking against the porcelain throne and leaned her forehead against the cool ceramic surface.
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Sitting in the waiting room made both Bulma and Vegeta nervous. For Bulma it was because of the location. She hated hospitals and therefore anything having to do with them. It had always been a little fear, one that was easily ignored, but with Vegeta near her, it just seemed so much worse. For Vegeta, who was completely anti-humanity, he was getting antsy because of the well-crowded place filled to the brim with sickness. Not that he was actually AFRAID of them, he just didn't want ANY of these people around. Plus, he was already in a horrible mood for being forced, by threat of Gravitron de-activation, to take the stupid woman to her stupid doctors appointment. They both breathed a sigh of relief when the nurse cam out and called Bulma to go into the examination room. Curious to "alien" methods of judging ailments, Vegeta decided to follow her to find out what could possible be wrong with the onna that he was unaware of.
Inside the exam room, Bulma hoisted herself up onto the leather bed/thing that was covered with a strip of wax paper, the paper crumbling and making various noises under her. Vegeta found a seat in a rather cold, uncomfortable chair.
The doctor entered, smiling, looking like she was making quite an effort to keep in her over-happiness. "Well, Bulma Briefs, I've got good news. You're going to have a baby." Bulma's jaw dropped, but before she could say anything in response, the doctor was already over at Vegeta's side.
"Are you the happy father?"
"I'm not exactly happy, but I assure you that I AM the father." he said blandly, not looking at her, but past her to Bulma, who was turning various shades of color from blue and white to red and orange. Feeling the tension growing in the room, the doctor make a hasty retreat, leaving a nonchalant Vegeta smirking at a very angry woman.
"Hell hath no fury as a woman scorned." He laughed. "Right now, woman you look like hell incarnated. Don't say anything. We've yet another place to be."
"And where is that, Vegeta?" Bulma's cold fury calmed her voice, though she was boiling inside.
"Another clinic."
"Why?"
"We're getting rid of the brat, the way you do on earth. I could use my chi, but I'm afraid I'd harm you."
"NANI!?!"
"You heard me."
"I HEARD you, but we are NOT having an abortion, Vegeta." He frowned, not expecting her to want to keep the child.
"You are a human. I don't think your body could handle a Saiyajin…"
"Chichi did it."
"Kakarotto's mate was a warrior. You are not strong eno…" He was cut off by her cold glare, freezing him in place.
"Take me home Vegeta, I'm tired." Vegeta nodded, and after paying the co-pay for the exam the two were off for the compound. Arriving home, Bulma stalked off to the room, and Vegeta to his gravity room, neither of them saying a word.
"How did it go, sweetie?" Her mother chirped as Bulma stomped up the stairs.
"I'm pregnant with a monster by a man who isn't fit to be the father of his own feces. I'm tired and I'm going to bed." Mrs. Briefs' cheerful disposition evaporated immediately as she watched her daughter stagger to her room, an invisible rock weighing heavily on her shoulders.
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FIVE MONTHS LATER…..(Oh, it sounds like my science experiment! Five months later, the fungi life form has begun to substantially eat away at the carbonate body of my younger cousin. As she lays on the floor twitching, her body greatly dilapidated from her all-SPAM diet….ANYWAYS….That's of no concern to you. You guys just want the damn story.)
Bulma stood in front of the mirror, examining herself in the reflection. Clad in a paint-stained white T-shirt of Goku's that had been left at their house at one time or another, she turned to look at her from the side. Her breasts had started to swell a bit, and her stomach had certainly swelled substantially. Her appetite rivaled Vegeta's now that she was eating for herself AND a Saiyajin. Well, half a Saiyajin. She was human, making her first child a mutt. Disgusted, she turned and stalked out of the bathroom, feeling in a sour mood. She laid down on the bed, and curled into a ball, letting desperate tears leak from her eyes to cascade onto the sheet. A gruff voice reprimanded her from the corner.
"Why do you cry so much. Now I know where all that liquid you drink goes."
"Shut up Vegeta. I've got every reason to cry."
"Oh, and what are they?"
"For starters, I look like the Goodyear blimp, I'm eating more in a month I've ever eaten per year, and another thing, I'm carrying the monster child of a father who hates me! Why the hell shouldn't I cry!?"
"Woman…"
"Go away Vegeta, just go." Bulma reached over and turned on her CD player, letting a heavy beat come through. Recognizing music as Bulma's expression of feeling, he listened to the lyrics intently.
And I wonder day to day
I don't like you anyway
I don't need your shit today
You're pathetic in your own way
I feel for you
Better fuckin' go away
I will behave
I'm doing the best I ever did
I'm doing the best that I can
Now go away
Not letting the song finish through, Vegeta ripped the stereo off the wall and flung it across the room. She sat up and glared at him. Then something that Vegeta considered wholly miraculous occurred. Bulma registered a chi in his mind. She never had before, and Vegeta backed up as it skyrocketed. Before his eyes, a golden aura flared around Bulma. However something was different, her chi wasn't originating in the same place, nor did it feel like her. No, this was a masculine chi. What the hell was going on?
(AN Oh, I think that's enough for today. *insert Acme evil grin here* See you guys next chapter!)
