Two Sides To A Story
Chapter Six
He was the last person that Bulma expected to be waiting for her that morning. Standing outside of the front entrance of Capsule Corporation, he was simply watching the staff arrive for the start of their day shift. Bulma almost hit him with the door as she slipped outside for her usual pre- work cigarette.
She was in the process of lighting her smoke when she noticed him for the first time. The cigarette tumbled from her lips when she managed to get out a startled; "Vegeta?"
Cocking his head to one side, the Saiyan offered her one of his slanted smiles and crossed his muscled arms, simply staring at her. It was as if he had never left so many months ago. He was wearing loose tan slacks and an open-throated dark blue shirt; his usual color scheme when he wasn't in his training uniform or armor. Bulma thought he had never looked so handsome as he did that very minute. "You… came back."
"I didn't want to." He spoke in that gruff voice of his but the expression on his face was surprisingly neutral. "You tricked me and I'm still pissed about that but… I couldn't stay away any longer."
Bulma was gaping at him until she yelped and dropped her lighter. She had still been holding it aflame and burned her thumb. Before she could put it in her mouth, Vegeta moved in beside her with that uncanny speed of his and took her wounded hand in his own, investigating the injury. "No harm done," he said softly and smiled at her.
"Vegeta," she couldn't seem to believe that he was here. Running a curious hand through his thick hair she pressed herself against him urgently as if to prevent this apparition from leaving her. "There's so much to say! We have to have a long talk; About us, about Trunks. I want you to understand why I-I did what I- "
"There's no time for that, Bulma," he said. The teasing expression on his face suddenly became serious. "Time is too short."
"What are you saying?"
Instead of answering, he bent his head and kissed her. At the contact, Bulma's eyes slipped closed with relief and her mouth opened with a soundless moan of pleasure. It had been too long for this and her body trembled with the desire that only this lone Saiyan could satiate. She deepened the kiss, her senses straining and was unprepared for the coppery taste that enfolded her inquiring tongue.
Breaking off with a cough, she wiped her mouth and couldn't understand the amount of blood that streaked the back of her hand. "Vegeta… What?- " she looked up at him and stumbled backwards with a shrill scream.
Vegeta was standing in place and calmly watching her reaction but his appearance had changed drastically. His immaculate clothes were gone in favor of a stained and ripped hospital gown. His skin was terribly pale, as if he hadn't seen the sunlight in months and there were dark bruises around his wrists and ankles. His face was the absolute worst. His cheeks had hollowed out from hunger and that arrogant glare she was so used to seeing was reduced to a pained squint. Something had hacked off his proud mane and reduced it to close-cropped stubble. It was as if she were confronting a total stranger.
He looked down at his hands and slowly turned to look at his reflection in the front doors of the building. His shoulders sagged in disappointment. When he turned to look at her again, his nose had started bleeding. "I told you that time was short, Bulma," he said through a mouthful of blood. "I just came to say goodbye."
Bulma screamed and covered her eyes from the terrible vision. Darkness enfolded her and she thrashed against it, shaking her head in denial and terror. Not Vegeta- That wasn't him! It couldn't have been!
1 Vegeta-
"!!BRAVO!!" a voice thundered beside her and she jumped about a foot off of her seat, opening her eyes with a gasp.
Seated in a balcony that overlooked an affluent stage, Bulma sat trembling as the immense opera house around her erupted into applause and cheers. A trio of singers was stiffly bowing before the adulation until they disappeared behind the backdrop curtain. Beside her, her date was clapping enthusiastically and booming out his praise in a full-throated baritone that could probably be heard outside of the building. Shaking off the nightmare with difficulty, she finally became fully aware of her surroundings and the circumstances that had brought her here.
"Arándano al Fruta has to be the absolute perfection of a tenor!" her date boasted. Bulma actually had to work hard to remember his name, oh yes; Phillip Mitchell Anderson the Third. "And his wife, Nueces Variadas, has mastered the theme of the intricate arpeggio in her-"
"Is it over?" Bulma interrupted.
Phillip frowned down at her. "It's only the intermission, Bulma. Didn't you… Were you asleep?"
"No, of course not," she said, raising her hand and allowing him to pull her up and escort her downstairs to mingle with the rest of the guests. Phillip was about eleven years older than she was, the head of a plastic fabrication plant that Capsule Corporation often did business with. He was tall, well over six feet, and his short hair was steel colored at the temples. There was the inner tube of rich living around his midriff that not even the most expertly tailored suit could successfully hide. The third generation of a wealthy family, he was considerate in a distant way, completely out of touch with anyone who didn't have a net worth of several million zeni. He thought that exercise was a complete waste of time and an avid proponent of the Arts. In short, he was Vegeta's complete opposite; A match that Bulma would have thought to be ideal.
She was actually bored near to tears by the man.
Excusing herself, she made her way to the nearest washroom and moistened a towel, pressing it to her flushed cheeks. She went into the closest stall and sat on the closed lid of the toilet with her face in the towel, nursing the after-affects of her terrible dream. She could not recall anything even remotely that vivid except for the time that Vegeta had purposely linked his mind with hers, sharing that brutal memory of his childhood torture under Frieza. This vision had the same degree of detail and foreboding. She swore that she could still taste his blood in her mouth from the short-lived kiss.
I told you that time was short, Bulma. I just came to say goodbye.
A sob escaped her and she shook her head violently, scrubbing her face into the towel. "No… NO! It was a stupid dream from that damn boring opera, that's all. It didn't mean anything! It didn't!"
There was the sound of the door opening, followed by laughter. Bulma submerged her inexplicable grief with effort as several women went to the counter to fix their make-up.
"I was surprised that she gave up slumming with her usual circle of acquaintances to attend the opera this evening," one voice piped up.
"Who?" another voice inquired.
"Bulma Briefs, of course! I'm amazed that Phillip Anderson managed to drag her here. Then again, he's probably sniffing around for a juicy donation for his latest Arts project."
"Perhaps he's the mysterious father of her bastard son that everyone's talking about," one woman asked in a sly voice. Trapped in the bathroom stall, Bulma had to bite down on the towel before she gave herself away.
"That dandy? Not a chance! Bulma was always hanging around those queer-looking Fighters. Remember the Cell games broadcast? I'll bet it was one of those freaks. She probably gave them all a good luck screw before the fight."
"I heard from my doorman that there's a Las Vegas betting pool that has odds the boy is Mr. Satan's love child," one tittered.
"Hnh. I never even considered that-"
Bulma kicked open the stall door and stormed out, fixing them all with a livid glare. She shouldn't have been surprised to recognize two of the three women; Nancy Peterson and Sally Masters, both malicious and vacuous bitches who had always been jealous of her own wealth. Memorizing the face of the third woman, she turned her back on them and walked out of the bathroom without a word.
There was a moment of stunned silence before Nancy Peterson released a dry sniff of disdain and remarked, "That's new money for you; No class and even fewer manners. I hate to think what backwater welfare case fathered her boy. He'll never amount to anything."
Letting herself in through the back entrance of the Headquarters building, Bulma was in no mood to face her parents or Chi Chi that evening. They had all been trying to get her to forget about Vegeta and move on with her life and she was sick and tired of the pressure. Her own mother had been responsible for the date with Mr. Boring the Third and she wasn't in the mood to elaborate on the evening. The fact that she was home before eight o-clock was evidence enough of how poorly it had turned out.
She changed out of her evening dress into her more comfortable Capsule Corp. clothes and walked down the hall to the nursery. On her way, she passed Gohan's room and found the door partially ajar and peered inside. The boy was in the process of making his bed, which was odd considering the hour, but he had such a propensity for being neat that she immediately dismissed the sight. "Getting ready for bed so early?"
Gohan jumped and turned in surprise. He had been a bundle of nerves ever since school had started five weeks ago. It hadn't helped that he was one grade behind. By all rights it should have been two, but Gohan had proven his smarts in an aptitude test prior to the fall semester; A test that had been insisted upon by Chi Chi to one very harried and intimidated principal. The boy had the opportunity to advance another grade by doubling his studies. Reluctantly, the Briefs had bowed to Chi Chi's request for a proper tutor to instruct the boy three nights a week. Bulma was privately against such overwhelming pressure on such a young child but had learned the hard way that any criticism was neither appreciated nor desired. When the brown-haired woman started throwing Bulma's wealth, high I.Q. and her 'hippie parents' at her, the heiress wisely backed off. Now five months pregnant, Chi Chi's emotional state had reached nearly elemental proportions. As with any fierce storm, it was best to shut up, hold tight and ride it out.
"Oh, hiya Bulma," Gohan said. His voice cracked at the greeting and he winced a little then shrugged in his usual good humor.
"Have you got all of your homework done?" Bulma asked as she stepped inside. Everything was as neat as a pin and there was even a change of clothes already laid out for the morning.
"Yeah, that computer you gave me was a big help. My old one from home was okay but it didn't have the memory I needed. Too slow, I guess. How did your date go?"
"It didn't. My date and your computer had a lot in common," she said dryly.
"Oh," Gohan muttered. "Sorry it didn't go so well."
She ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "It's alright. I swear that you're too tense for your own good! You need to learn to relax."
The boy pulled away from her with an irritated scowl on his face and then sat dejectedly on the edge of the bed. "When am I supposed to do that? Between school and studying I don't have any free time. I haven't seen Piccolo or even Krillin for months. What I really want to do is some real sparring."
"Your mother doesn't approve of you fighting, Gohan."
"I know that! But I'm half-Saiyan, not human, and I like to fight. I've been doing it none-stop for over five years and now all of a sudden I have to go back to being this scholar? I don't know if I can do it anymore, Bulma." His voice broke again but this time it was from emotion and he ducked his head to hide his tears.
Sitting beside him, Bulma put an arm around his shoulders and tried to pull him close. At first the boy resisted but eventually yielded to her gentle insistence and laid his head on her shoulder. "I'll tell you what: Why don't you slip away to go visit Piccolo on Saturday and I'll tell Chi Chi that you're-"
Gohan was shaking his head. "I'm too strong for him now that I'm a Super Saiyan. I need to train with someone who's an actual challenge."
Bulma's body tightened. She knew whom he was talking about. "Hon, Vegeta's made it clear that he wants to be left alone."
"Don't you miss him?" Gohan asked her. "I know that you still think about him. It's been over four months since he left. Don't you want to know where he is?"
Looking away from the boy's imploring eyes, Bulma thought about her earlier nightmare and had to betray a reluctant nod. "I know where he is," she admitted slowly.
"You do?" Gohan's troubled eyes brightened.
"And I guess that a visit is long overdue," she finished with a sigh.
Early the next morning, Chi Chi went downstairs to visit Bulma in her office and ask how her date the night before turned out. For some reason the older woman seemed to be avoiding her and it was something that the brunette took very seriously. When Bulma's secretary saw her coming, she stopped filing her nails and tried to look busy in front of the computer. "Ms. Briefs has stepped out of her office for the moment, Ms. Son," she instructed even before the other woman had opened her mouth.
"That's fine, I'll wait," Chi Chi said determinedly.
The thought of the high-strung female sitting only six feet away from her was not one that the secretary needed for her Friday morning. "You can go right inside and wait there, if you'd like," she offered and got up to open the door. "Can I get you a coffee?"
"Caffeine is bad for the baby," Chi Chi snapped, protectively cradling the gentle curve of her stomach. "Water will do just fine."
"I'll get that right away, Ms. Son," the girl said and hurried down the corridor to the breakroom.
Watching her leave, Chi Chi stepped into the pandemonium that was Bulma's main office. For all of the various labs and labyrinth of rooms that made up the lower half of Capsule Corporation, it was amazing how much junk was piled up on the floor and available desk space in this medium- sized room. Even the walls were filled with cluttered bulletin boards, posters and framed items. While she waited, Chi Chi took the opportunity to look over some of the articles on display.
Dominating one wall was a large framed blueprint of some sort of communications module that appeared to have been drawn freehand. On another hung an old tabloid cover featuring an actress that Chi Chi didn't recognize. The bold print beneath the woman's picture read: 'Actress Attacked by Alien'. Shaking her head in confusion, the brunette glanced over the various Capsule Corp. posters and then regarded the framed credentials that Bulma had arranged behind her desk. Chi Chi had never realized how many degrees the sea-foam haired beauty had effortlessly garnered; engineering, physics, architecture, mathematics-
"Huh," Chi Chi snorted, sitting in the chair behind the desk. "Her father probably bought them for her."
Sitting on the desk were research projects awaiting approval, transcripts of past meetings and general paperwork. None of it held any interest to the woman as her sharp eyes never ceased in their roaming. A picture of Trunks was propped up on the corner of the desk, the baby's smiling face full of innocent happiness and trust. Another was lying face down and Chi Chi picked it up, her face immediately darkening with recognition. She almost slammed it back down but forced herself to examine it more closely.
It was a picture of Vegeta but not one that she would have expected of the brash Saiyan. He was sitting on a balcony railing but Chi Chi didn't think that it was at Capsule Corporation. The exposed portion of the building that his back was resting against was elegant brick, not the garish yellow of the Headquarters building. He was actually out of his precious armor and barefoot, wearing a pair of sweatpants and an unbuttoned red shirt. He was staring at the camera with an expression that was a far cry from his usual surliness; there was actually a wry smile on his calm features. (Bulma had taken the picture when the pair had been at the Hammorski Plaza and the camera had been the only thing she had been wearing at the time to get the rare photo.) Unaware of this, perhaps blissfully, Chi Chi examined the picture far longer then even she would have credited herself for. This was her nemesis? This was the alien she had pledged revenge on for disrupting her family? Vegeta looked as normal as anyone in that photograph. Certainly not the conceited megalomaniac with the hair- trigger temper that bordered on total lunacy she fancied him as being. He looked-
Dear Dende, she thought with disbelief, he-he looks like a man in love! How is that possible?
Returning the framed image back to its previous resting-place, Chi Chi resumed her investigating. Two drawers were locked but in the left bottom drawer she found on old sandwich in a plastic container that had turned opaque with mold. In the right one were some textbooks. The titles were confusing for the countrywoman and she wondered if Bulma was cramming for another degree to add to her collection; Pathology of Chronic Stress; Child Abuse: A Psychological Interpretation; Depression and Suicidology. Intrigued, Chi Chi picked up the first book and leafed through it curiously. Bulma had used her highlighter in some sections, ignoring others. One page was dog-eared with a highlighted exclamation mark etched in beside one paragraph;
'Narcissistic personality disorder- Individuals plagued with this anti- social pathology often have an exaggerated sense of self-importance with a tendency to use denial and devaluation in order to maintain an inflated ego. This can border on a sociopathic personality trait devastating to a family dynamic. Often these troubled individuals were subjected to a harsh childhood where abuse was rampant and severe discipline often resulted in injury and-'
"What are you doing?"
Jumping about a foot out of the chair, Chi Chi snapped the book closed and dropped it back into the drawer. "I'm sorry, Bulma. I got bored waiting so I-I-"
"-Decided to snoop around my desk?" Bulma asked as she walked into the room. She was carrying a bottle of water that her secretary had passed to her and handed it over to the other woman.
"Well, two of the drawers weren't locked," Chi Chi said lamely, taking a sip.
Casting a quick glance around, Bulma decided that no harm was done and pulled on her coat, dismissing the invasion of privacy. She needed a favor and wasn't about to jeopardize her relationship with the woman over a little harmless looking around. "I'm slipping out for the day, will you keep an eye on Trunks?"
"Absolutely. Where are you going?" Chi Chi asked as they left the office.
"If you must know, I'm going to visit Vegeta," Bulma confessed reluctantly. She braced herself for the barrage of accusations and insults that would inevitably follow the admission.
They didn't come. Instead, the brunette asked almost conversationally, "Do you know where he is?"
Rifling through the papers that she had just picked up from the accounting department, Bulma nodded slowly as she read the latest information. "He's been using a Capsule Corporation expense card. At the moment, he's staying at a hotel on Haven Island. It's a tourist resort about four hours away from here."
"Vegeta the tourist," Chi Chi huffed. "I don't know how you can just let him gallivant around the planet like some care-free playboy when he clearly has obligations to his son. It's utterly deplorable!"
Bulma bit her tongue and waited until they were outside of the building and away from curious staff who always enjoyed some juicy gossip. Once free from prying eyes, she whirled and pointed a finger directly in the other woman's face. "Chi Chi, the only person who has any bitching rights where Vegeta is concerned is me. Got it?"
"I'm just stating a fact!"
"Fine. State them to yourself because I don't want to hear any more of it. You don't know anything about our relationship-"
"-A relationship? Is THAT what you call it?" Chi Chi cried indignantly.
"Like I told Yamcha before; Vegeta is off-limits. I'm not going to put up with any more trash talking about him from you or anyone else. Whatever resentments you still have against him, just let them go." Boldly turning her back on her friend, Bulma selected a capsule from a packet and depressed the trigger, expertly throwing it a safe distance away. In a cloud of smoke, her favorite hoverjet materialized as if it had been sitting there the entire time.
"Why do you always come in defense of that awful man?" Chi Chi called after her determined, as ever, to get in the last word.
Climbing into the cockpit, Bulma shouted back, "Because I'm the only one who will!" She slammed the door shut before the other woman could edge in a retort and initiated lift-off.
The four-hour flight was perhaps the worst part of the entire journey to Haven. As much as Bulma would have enjoyed seeing father and son reunited at long last, she had elected to leave Trunks behind. It wasn't out of fear of Vegeta's reaction to the forced union but a concern for the boy's present health. He still wasn't sleeping soundly through the night and now his appetite had become alarmingly peckish. He had lost half a pound at his pediatric check-up last week and Bulma was beginning to feel the first threads of worry even as her doctor tried to reassure her that everything appeared fine. How would an earth physician know what was wrong with the child? For that matter, how could any of them? Gokou had been entirely ignorant of his alien heritage until Radditz's arrival, and now they were both dead. That left only Vegeta as the sole remaining Saiyan who could shed some much-needed insight into their unique physiology. Even that knowledge would be severely lacking on the Prince's part, though not at all through fault of his own. He had been taken from his world and people at the age of eight, uprooted from his culture and the dictations of his heritage that he should have experienced firsthand. It was unknown how much outside of fighting, screwing and survival that Nappa and Radditz would have been able to teach him. Alternatively, if they had even bothered in the effort.
Bulma had so many questions eating away at her, the volume growing exponentially the longer they were apart. In the silence and loneliness of the cockpit, her brilliant mind turned in on itself and became her own worst enemy. She began rehearsing speeches for when she would finally came face to face with the Saiyan. "Vegeta, don't you dare slam the door in my face. We have to talk- No, that'll just piss him off more, he'll think I'm trying to be bossy. Hmmm… Maybe if I just hike up my skirt and say, 'Take me now, you magnificent stallion!'" She broke off into nervous laughter and was astounded how close to tears she actually was. She wasn't surprised to be feeling fear at the looming meeting and a great deal of tension.
And there was also guilt. Quite a lot of it.
No Saiyan woman survived Vegetasei's destruction. My line ends here, with me. I've made my peace long ago that I'm the last son of the House of Vegeta.
Both of Bulma's arms burst into ominous gooseflesh at the memory of Vegeta's admittance to her not so very long ago. He had confided in her as a trusted friend, telling her his regrets that he was the last of his line. He had said there was no way that he would willingly father a- how had he put it? –a 'mongrel' child with polluted blood. Bulma had sat by him listening to him bare his soul to her, having already thrown her oral contraceptives into the trash. She would have probably gone after them that night if he hadn't continued his confessions. By the time the tale was over, her desire to have his child cemented itself in her resolve to see that it got done. She still had no regrets but she had to sway him over to her reasoning and it wasn't going to be easy. The words he had spoken to her in June as he had left Capsule Corporation had been awful, but she didn't dwell on them for very long. She had others to remind her of his true feelings…
I know that I speak without thinking. To be honest, I doubt that will ever change. But you'll never be hurt by my hand, Bulma. I can assure you of that at least.
He had confided that admission to her when his heart had been lulled by her comfort and love and she knew intimately that he had spoken the truth that night. The scene at the Headquarters had been only created out of hurt for her deception, lingering grief from the Cell Games and dangerous self-loathing at his own failure. He had cared about the teenaged Trunks of the future and they had only been together a short time. Bulma was certain that Vegeta would focus that now-misplaced affection on his infant son, if offered the opportunity. Of the two of them, Bulma would have to shelve her indignant resentment and make the first move or it would never happen.
Bulma finally knew what she would say when she met with him, "Vegeta, it doesn't matter if you and I are through. I can accept that, if it's truly what you want. I just want Trunks to know his father."
Yes, that would work, though her heart would pain with the loss.
A quick inquiry at the front desk (and a hundred-zeni bill as an added incentive) led Bulma to a charming oceanfront cottage that was set apart from the main Haven resort. It had it's own private beach and a lush assortment of tropical plants that gave the small area a sense of privacy that the Saiyan would enjoy. As Bulma rounded the pathway that led around to the front of the elegant building, she didn't expect company to be waiting for her.
A pair of statuesque blondes were sunbathing on lounge chairs, both topless and extremely well-endowed. Bulma knew that Vegeta was a breast man but even the sight of those boobs intimated the heiress who was no slouch in the chest department herself.
One of the women noticed her for the first time and raised her sunglasses, making no effort to cover her nudity. "Hey! Are you the masseuse we called for earlier? You're late!"
Grappling with her temper, Bulma managed to get out through tense lips, "I'm looking for Vegeta. Is he here?"
Concluding that she wasn't whom they had been expecting, the woman returned to her previous position on the lounge. "Veggie's inside with Monique. You can join in, if you like threesomes. He sure does!" She giggled knowingly and her companion only groaned in agreement.
Without another word, Bulma walked into the open doorway of the cottage and cast a quick glance around. It looked as if a wild party had been held the night before, empty bottles were sitting in every available space and the living room was in complete disarray. She began to feel the first stirrings of doubt when she saw the smeared lines of cocaine on the coffee table. "…Vegeta?"
Drunken laughter reached her ears and Bulma boldly walked into the bedroom. Lying in the tangle of sheets, a redhead was screaming her encouragement to whoever was underneath of the blanket between her splayed legs and noisily slurping away. Her voice had reached a pitch that could have shattered glass and her sweaty, excited features turned to notice Bulma at long last. "Shed the clothes and join in," she panted cheerfully. "The more the merrier!"
"!!VEGETA!!" Bulma shrieked.
All activity beneath the twisted sheets stopped. "Who's that?" an unfamiliar voice called out.
It was all becoming so damned clear! Bulma resisted the urge to storm over and pull off the covers but she really didn't want to get any closer than necessary. "The real owner of the card you've been partying with, jackass. Show yourself right now."
It was a long moment before a head poked out and reluctantly looked at her, his nose and chin shiny. "So… uh, I guess the fun's over, right?" an Asian teenager concluded in a sad voice.
Three and a half months… oh dear Dende, three and a half months!!
Bulma was a nervous wreck when she played the time period over and over in her mind. Three and a half months from the day that Vegeta had thrown his Capsule Corporation expense card into the trash outside of the Gilded Osprey, only to have it picked up by a street punk of the name of Tetsuo Chu. The little Asian had thought he had won the lottery and no one had been the wiser for the deception. Not even Bulma herself. She thought she'd had an ingenious way of keeping track of the Saiyan without being obtrusive. None of the expenses had been out of the ordinary; small cash advances, the odd restaurant and hotels. All things she would have expected Vegeta to have used the card for himself. If Chu had made some extraordinary purchases, like a hovercar or personal jet, it would have raised the flag a lot earlier. But damned if the little bastard hadn't had the wits to be frugal.
Bulma turned him over to the Island authorities for credit card fraud and then sped a direct course North to the city of Prescott, the last place that Vegeta had been-
-over three and a half months ago! She couldn't successfully shake that. She went to the main library and looked up the microfilms of the various papers that had been printed around the days that Vegeta had eaten at the restaurant. She didn't know what she was looking for but kept reading nonetheless. There was some letter to the Editor about a scene at a local McDonalds that she skimmed over. What caught her eye was a half-page spread detailing an explosion that had happened at some seedy hotel less than ten blocks away.
"Yeah, he was here," the man behind the cage of the check-in counter said. He handed back the photo of Vegeta that Bulma had slid over to him. He picked up the logbook and showed her the entry and she saw the alien symbol that was the Saiyan's name. She had to restrain her fingers from caressing the signature.
Looking around the dilapidated surroundings of 'Hal's Happy Hump Hotel' Bulma was trying to fathom the logic of Vegeta's choice to come here, of all places. "Was… was he with anyone?"
"Naw. He went to his room alone. Looked tired."
Pride then, not sex. His financial resources would have been limited and he had simply needed a cheap place to rest his head for the night. Her guilt began to grow… "I read about an explosion that happened the night he was here. What happened?"
"You a cop?"
"No."
"Ex-wife?"
She had to betray a hurt smile at that. "No, we were… never married. I'm just trying to find him, for our son's sake."
Nodding to himself, the younger man visibly debated whether to talk to her and then shrugged to himself. It was a slow day and he had a great view of her cleavage from his higher vantagepoint. Leaning on the counter he said, "It was a crazy night. I could hear him yelling at Bonnie and Clyde to keep the noise down, all the way from here-"
"Bonnie and Clyde?"
"Pair of crack-heads who had holed themselves up for a couple of nights. I dunno their real names. Turned out they were responsible for a bunch of robberies and one murder and were lying low from the heat. How was I to know? I gave your boyfriend the room next door."
"He attacked them," Bulma muttered.
"Nope, I don't think that's how it went down," the man surprised her by saying. "Clyde shot through the wall first and then he must have detonated some damn bomb or something. Asshole blew the room up as well as himself, no loss there. His crazy bitch girlfriend attacked your man next and nailed him with a bag of smack."
"Smack?" Bulma echoed dumbly. This was all sounding like some terrible nightmare.
"Heroin. He fell out of the hole the explosion made. The cops looked for a body but never found one. I guess it don't look too good that you haven't seen him yet, huh?"
"No," she whispered, "It sure doesn't."
The man grunted and then stepped away from the cage and left her line of sight for a moment. She still hadn't moved when he came back several minutes later, sliding a capsule through the slot in the wire mesh. "Not to be morbid or nothing, but I guess you're as close to the next of kin as I'm ever going to meet. You might as well take this, I've been keeping it in the safe in case… y'know, he ever comes back."
Staring at the capsule that contained all of Vegeta's possessions, Bulma felt the panic within her stomach start to spread. No money, no belongings, no word from him in over three months. She wasn't sure if she was able to get out an understandable thank-you to the clerk but she managed to gurgle out something before she turned and ran out of the hotel.
The younger man watched her go with eyes that had witnessed more grief pass through that door than a man twice his age. He should have mentioned the odd spikes of hair that the police had found in her boyfriends damaged room. It was probably just as well that he hadn't. She looked distraught enough as it was and would have probably asked for them as a souvenir. Hal, the manager, had thrown them in the trash, disliking the odd consistency of the hair that hadn't been caused by an overdose on the gel. One of the hairs had actually pierced his skin like a damned needle, it was so stiff. No, Hal wasn't keeping around any more weird shit then he had to.
Outside, Bulma stood on the bottom step of the Hotel entrance and hugged herself as if she had developed a chill. A group of teenagers were lounging around an old car sitting on its rims and began whistling and catcalling to her. She didn't even hear them as she struggled with her grief and fear.
I told you that time was short, Bulma. I just came to say goodbye.
"Oh god, Vegeta… What's happened to you?" she whispered, wiping away tears with trembling fingers. "I wish I'd never told you to leave. I'd take it all back if I could. I'm so sorry- " She was certain that she would fall apart into a million unsalvageable pieces if she had to cope with just one more hint of bad news.
That was when her cellphone began to ring.
She had left the Western Capital at nine o'clock that morning and was back before supper. By the time Bulma showed up at the hospital, it looked as if she had aged years. Chi Chi and Gohan were there waiting for her, as were her parents. All four people took one glance at her near-hysterical features and shelved the questions until she appeared more rational.
"Where's my baby?" she wailed the instant she stepped outside of the elevator onto the Pediatric floor. "What have you done with my baby?!"
Friends and family were there, wordlessly guiding her to the Intensive Care ward. She barely noticed them at first and almost fought their gentle grips until it dawned on her that they were only trying to help. Her vision warped by a blanket of bitter tears, she barely registered the sight that greeted her when they led her to the one-way glass. In the next room, a tiny lavender-haired bundle was the center of a commotion of activity. Trunks' little pale form was hooked up to tubes and electrodes and was currently being hooked up to life support to assist his breathing. The doctor and nurses overseeing his care were wearing sterile masks and gowns, taking care not to risk any exposure to infection. One nurse inserted a needle into a tiny vein and Bulma saw his little hand flex in pain at the contact. She swore she could hear a wail of agony and confusion inside of her mind.
"!!TRUNKS!!" She pounded on the glass until Chi Chi and her father tried to pull her away. Fighting them like a banshee, she almost broke free and jeopardized the quarantine of the room when she sprinted for the door. Hospital staff intervened over her parent's objections and there was the sharp sting of a needle in her arm. The faces and surroundings around her broke up into meaningless shapes and the sounds became inconsequential but for Trunks' terrified wailing in her brain.
"What happened?" She was able to rasp out later when the sedation had passed. She had been given a private room to rest in and now sat on the edge of the bed, her rheumy eyes tracking back and forth between her mother and Chi Chi. "I asked you a question; What happened to Trunks?"
"He was fine at breakfast," the brunette spoke up. As usual, Mrs. Briefs was too inconsolable to provide any kind of a rational explanation in her state. "But a few hours later, he started throwing up. At first, I didn't think anything was wrong but he just wouldn't stop. Your mother called an ambulance when he went into a seizure. He's burning up with fever and the doctor's don't know how to bring it down. It came on so fast, Bulma! I swear he was fine this morning!" Normally the pillar of composure and strength, Chi Chi dissolved into a fit of helpless tears. She wasn't able to rein them in until Bulma whispered an odd word under her breath.
"V'Nhar."
Pausing in mid-sob, Chi Chi looked up in confusion. Close beside her, Gohan asked delicately. "What's that, Bulma?"
"It's a Saiya-jin illness caused by not eating enough," Bulma said through numb lips. "Trunks has been off of his food for days. Intravenous replacement fluids won't help, he needs proper nourishment."
Dr. Briefs and his wife seemed to be nodding with understanding, as if they had encountered this problem before. Chi Chi regarded them with suspicion, she was never a woman who liked being left out of the loop. "What on earth are you talking about, Bulma? How do you know so much about this?"
"Vegeta has had it before. It might even be hereditary." She eased herself down onto the floor and held onto the bed until the rubbery sensation in her legs passed. "I have to get the doctor's to give Trunks solid food. That's what he needs to get better."
"What about Vegeta?" Gohan piped up. "Did you find him?"
A wounded sob escaped Bulma's throat. She gave an enigmatic tilt of her head that was a bewildered cross between a shake and a nod but didn't offer anything more. She honestly didn't know where to begin until Chi Chi released a disgusted snort and made the mistake of remarking; "I knew it. He turned his back on you, didn't he? That arrogant, selfish, mean-spirited little man. He doesn't care about you or your son, that's why he left in the first pl-"
With a cat-like hiss, Bulma was on her before the other woman could finish. The heiress was no fighter but in an instant she grabbed the lapels of Chi Chi's dress and forced her up against the wall. "Vegeta's disappeared!" Bulma yelled directly into her face. "He went missing over three months ago! A damned thief has been using his card this entire time. I'm the one who told Vegeta to leave Capsule Corporation and now he's never coming back!" She released the other woman, her face contorted into a mask of rage and terror. "Because he's dead," she said at last. The tears were held at bay by the force of sheer will alone. "I'm pretty sure that he's dead. And it's all my fault."
Despite the persistence of her friends and family, Bulma would offer no more of an explanation for her outburst. She was cruising on autopilot now, fixated on only one goal to help her through the present crisis before she could even begin to consider any others. She told the doctors as much as she dared without exposing the family's extraterrestrial connections. The staff regarded her histrionics with only wariness until her father repeated the request in that affable, quiet manner of his. Finally, they relented and removed the baby's breathing tube long enough to force-feed him some much needed protein. Trunks promptly threw it back up and went into convulsions.
The next day he slipped into a coma.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Seven: The vigil continues… Will a cure arrive in time?
Chapter Six
He was the last person that Bulma expected to be waiting for her that morning. Standing outside of the front entrance of Capsule Corporation, he was simply watching the staff arrive for the start of their day shift. Bulma almost hit him with the door as she slipped outside for her usual pre- work cigarette.
She was in the process of lighting her smoke when she noticed him for the first time. The cigarette tumbled from her lips when she managed to get out a startled; "Vegeta?"
Cocking his head to one side, the Saiyan offered her one of his slanted smiles and crossed his muscled arms, simply staring at her. It was as if he had never left so many months ago. He was wearing loose tan slacks and an open-throated dark blue shirt; his usual color scheme when he wasn't in his training uniform or armor. Bulma thought he had never looked so handsome as he did that very minute. "You… came back."
"I didn't want to." He spoke in that gruff voice of his but the expression on his face was surprisingly neutral. "You tricked me and I'm still pissed about that but… I couldn't stay away any longer."
Bulma was gaping at him until she yelped and dropped her lighter. She had still been holding it aflame and burned her thumb. Before she could put it in her mouth, Vegeta moved in beside her with that uncanny speed of his and took her wounded hand in his own, investigating the injury. "No harm done," he said softly and smiled at her.
"Vegeta," she couldn't seem to believe that he was here. Running a curious hand through his thick hair she pressed herself against him urgently as if to prevent this apparition from leaving her. "There's so much to say! We have to have a long talk; About us, about Trunks. I want you to understand why I-I did what I- "
"There's no time for that, Bulma," he said. The teasing expression on his face suddenly became serious. "Time is too short."
"What are you saying?"
Instead of answering, he bent his head and kissed her. At the contact, Bulma's eyes slipped closed with relief and her mouth opened with a soundless moan of pleasure. It had been too long for this and her body trembled with the desire that only this lone Saiyan could satiate. She deepened the kiss, her senses straining and was unprepared for the coppery taste that enfolded her inquiring tongue.
Breaking off with a cough, she wiped her mouth and couldn't understand the amount of blood that streaked the back of her hand. "Vegeta… What?- " she looked up at him and stumbled backwards with a shrill scream.
Vegeta was standing in place and calmly watching her reaction but his appearance had changed drastically. His immaculate clothes were gone in favor of a stained and ripped hospital gown. His skin was terribly pale, as if he hadn't seen the sunlight in months and there were dark bruises around his wrists and ankles. His face was the absolute worst. His cheeks had hollowed out from hunger and that arrogant glare she was so used to seeing was reduced to a pained squint. Something had hacked off his proud mane and reduced it to close-cropped stubble. It was as if she were confronting a total stranger.
He looked down at his hands and slowly turned to look at his reflection in the front doors of the building. His shoulders sagged in disappointment. When he turned to look at her again, his nose had started bleeding. "I told you that time was short, Bulma," he said through a mouthful of blood. "I just came to say goodbye."
Bulma screamed and covered her eyes from the terrible vision. Darkness enfolded her and she thrashed against it, shaking her head in denial and terror. Not Vegeta- That wasn't him! It couldn't have been!
1 Vegeta-
"!!BRAVO!!" a voice thundered beside her and she jumped about a foot off of her seat, opening her eyes with a gasp.
Seated in a balcony that overlooked an affluent stage, Bulma sat trembling as the immense opera house around her erupted into applause and cheers. A trio of singers was stiffly bowing before the adulation until they disappeared behind the backdrop curtain. Beside her, her date was clapping enthusiastically and booming out his praise in a full-throated baritone that could probably be heard outside of the building. Shaking off the nightmare with difficulty, she finally became fully aware of her surroundings and the circumstances that had brought her here.
"Arándano al Fruta has to be the absolute perfection of a tenor!" her date boasted. Bulma actually had to work hard to remember his name, oh yes; Phillip Mitchell Anderson the Third. "And his wife, Nueces Variadas, has mastered the theme of the intricate arpeggio in her-"
"Is it over?" Bulma interrupted.
Phillip frowned down at her. "It's only the intermission, Bulma. Didn't you… Were you asleep?"
"No, of course not," she said, raising her hand and allowing him to pull her up and escort her downstairs to mingle with the rest of the guests. Phillip was about eleven years older than she was, the head of a plastic fabrication plant that Capsule Corporation often did business with. He was tall, well over six feet, and his short hair was steel colored at the temples. There was the inner tube of rich living around his midriff that not even the most expertly tailored suit could successfully hide. The third generation of a wealthy family, he was considerate in a distant way, completely out of touch with anyone who didn't have a net worth of several million zeni. He thought that exercise was a complete waste of time and an avid proponent of the Arts. In short, he was Vegeta's complete opposite; A match that Bulma would have thought to be ideal.
She was actually bored near to tears by the man.
Excusing herself, she made her way to the nearest washroom and moistened a towel, pressing it to her flushed cheeks. She went into the closest stall and sat on the closed lid of the toilet with her face in the towel, nursing the after-affects of her terrible dream. She could not recall anything even remotely that vivid except for the time that Vegeta had purposely linked his mind with hers, sharing that brutal memory of his childhood torture under Frieza. This vision had the same degree of detail and foreboding. She swore that she could still taste his blood in her mouth from the short-lived kiss.
I told you that time was short, Bulma. I just came to say goodbye.
A sob escaped her and she shook her head violently, scrubbing her face into the towel. "No… NO! It was a stupid dream from that damn boring opera, that's all. It didn't mean anything! It didn't!"
There was the sound of the door opening, followed by laughter. Bulma submerged her inexplicable grief with effort as several women went to the counter to fix their make-up.
"I was surprised that she gave up slumming with her usual circle of acquaintances to attend the opera this evening," one voice piped up.
"Who?" another voice inquired.
"Bulma Briefs, of course! I'm amazed that Phillip Anderson managed to drag her here. Then again, he's probably sniffing around for a juicy donation for his latest Arts project."
"Perhaps he's the mysterious father of her bastard son that everyone's talking about," one woman asked in a sly voice. Trapped in the bathroom stall, Bulma had to bite down on the towel before she gave herself away.
"That dandy? Not a chance! Bulma was always hanging around those queer-looking Fighters. Remember the Cell games broadcast? I'll bet it was one of those freaks. She probably gave them all a good luck screw before the fight."
"I heard from my doorman that there's a Las Vegas betting pool that has odds the boy is Mr. Satan's love child," one tittered.
"Hnh. I never even considered that-"
Bulma kicked open the stall door and stormed out, fixing them all with a livid glare. She shouldn't have been surprised to recognize two of the three women; Nancy Peterson and Sally Masters, both malicious and vacuous bitches who had always been jealous of her own wealth. Memorizing the face of the third woman, she turned her back on them and walked out of the bathroom without a word.
There was a moment of stunned silence before Nancy Peterson released a dry sniff of disdain and remarked, "That's new money for you; No class and even fewer manners. I hate to think what backwater welfare case fathered her boy. He'll never amount to anything."
Letting herself in through the back entrance of the Headquarters building, Bulma was in no mood to face her parents or Chi Chi that evening. They had all been trying to get her to forget about Vegeta and move on with her life and she was sick and tired of the pressure. Her own mother had been responsible for the date with Mr. Boring the Third and she wasn't in the mood to elaborate on the evening. The fact that she was home before eight o-clock was evidence enough of how poorly it had turned out.
She changed out of her evening dress into her more comfortable Capsule Corp. clothes and walked down the hall to the nursery. On her way, she passed Gohan's room and found the door partially ajar and peered inside. The boy was in the process of making his bed, which was odd considering the hour, but he had such a propensity for being neat that she immediately dismissed the sight. "Getting ready for bed so early?"
Gohan jumped and turned in surprise. He had been a bundle of nerves ever since school had started five weeks ago. It hadn't helped that he was one grade behind. By all rights it should have been two, but Gohan had proven his smarts in an aptitude test prior to the fall semester; A test that had been insisted upon by Chi Chi to one very harried and intimidated principal. The boy had the opportunity to advance another grade by doubling his studies. Reluctantly, the Briefs had bowed to Chi Chi's request for a proper tutor to instruct the boy three nights a week. Bulma was privately against such overwhelming pressure on such a young child but had learned the hard way that any criticism was neither appreciated nor desired. When the brown-haired woman started throwing Bulma's wealth, high I.Q. and her 'hippie parents' at her, the heiress wisely backed off. Now five months pregnant, Chi Chi's emotional state had reached nearly elemental proportions. As with any fierce storm, it was best to shut up, hold tight and ride it out.
"Oh, hiya Bulma," Gohan said. His voice cracked at the greeting and he winced a little then shrugged in his usual good humor.
"Have you got all of your homework done?" Bulma asked as she stepped inside. Everything was as neat as a pin and there was even a change of clothes already laid out for the morning.
"Yeah, that computer you gave me was a big help. My old one from home was okay but it didn't have the memory I needed. Too slow, I guess. How did your date go?"
"It didn't. My date and your computer had a lot in common," she said dryly.
"Oh," Gohan muttered. "Sorry it didn't go so well."
She ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "It's alright. I swear that you're too tense for your own good! You need to learn to relax."
The boy pulled away from her with an irritated scowl on his face and then sat dejectedly on the edge of the bed. "When am I supposed to do that? Between school and studying I don't have any free time. I haven't seen Piccolo or even Krillin for months. What I really want to do is some real sparring."
"Your mother doesn't approve of you fighting, Gohan."
"I know that! But I'm half-Saiyan, not human, and I like to fight. I've been doing it none-stop for over five years and now all of a sudden I have to go back to being this scholar? I don't know if I can do it anymore, Bulma." His voice broke again but this time it was from emotion and he ducked his head to hide his tears.
Sitting beside him, Bulma put an arm around his shoulders and tried to pull him close. At first the boy resisted but eventually yielded to her gentle insistence and laid his head on her shoulder. "I'll tell you what: Why don't you slip away to go visit Piccolo on Saturday and I'll tell Chi Chi that you're-"
Gohan was shaking his head. "I'm too strong for him now that I'm a Super Saiyan. I need to train with someone who's an actual challenge."
Bulma's body tightened. She knew whom he was talking about. "Hon, Vegeta's made it clear that he wants to be left alone."
"Don't you miss him?" Gohan asked her. "I know that you still think about him. It's been over four months since he left. Don't you want to know where he is?"
Looking away from the boy's imploring eyes, Bulma thought about her earlier nightmare and had to betray a reluctant nod. "I know where he is," she admitted slowly.
"You do?" Gohan's troubled eyes brightened.
"And I guess that a visit is long overdue," she finished with a sigh.
Early the next morning, Chi Chi went downstairs to visit Bulma in her office and ask how her date the night before turned out. For some reason the older woman seemed to be avoiding her and it was something that the brunette took very seriously. When Bulma's secretary saw her coming, she stopped filing her nails and tried to look busy in front of the computer. "Ms. Briefs has stepped out of her office for the moment, Ms. Son," she instructed even before the other woman had opened her mouth.
"That's fine, I'll wait," Chi Chi said determinedly.
The thought of the high-strung female sitting only six feet away from her was not one that the secretary needed for her Friday morning. "You can go right inside and wait there, if you'd like," she offered and got up to open the door. "Can I get you a coffee?"
"Caffeine is bad for the baby," Chi Chi snapped, protectively cradling the gentle curve of her stomach. "Water will do just fine."
"I'll get that right away, Ms. Son," the girl said and hurried down the corridor to the breakroom.
Watching her leave, Chi Chi stepped into the pandemonium that was Bulma's main office. For all of the various labs and labyrinth of rooms that made up the lower half of Capsule Corporation, it was amazing how much junk was piled up on the floor and available desk space in this medium- sized room. Even the walls were filled with cluttered bulletin boards, posters and framed items. While she waited, Chi Chi took the opportunity to look over some of the articles on display.
Dominating one wall was a large framed blueprint of some sort of communications module that appeared to have been drawn freehand. On another hung an old tabloid cover featuring an actress that Chi Chi didn't recognize. The bold print beneath the woman's picture read: 'Actress Attacked by Alien'. Shaking her head in confusion, the brunette glanced over the various Capsule Corp. posters and then regarded the framed credentials that Bulma had arranged behind her desk. Chi Chi had never realized how many degrees the sea-foam haired beauty had effortlessly garnered; engineering, physics, architecture, mathematics-
"Huh," Chi Chi snorted, sitting in the chair behind the desk. "Her father probably bought them for her."
Sitting on the desk were research projects awaiting approval, transcripts of past meetings and general paperwork. None of it held any interest to the woman as her sharp eyes never ceased in their roaming. A picture of Trunks was propped up on the corner of the desk, the baby's smiling face full of innocent happiness and trust. Another was lying face down and Chi Chi picked it up, her face immediately darkening with recognition. She almost slammed it back down but forced herself to examine it more closely.
It was a picture of Vegeta but not one that she would have expected of the brash Saiyan. He was sitting on a balcony railing but Chi Chi didn't think that it was at Capsule Corporation. The exposed portion of the building that his back was resting against was elegant brick, not the garish yellow of the Headquarters building. He was actually out of his precious armor and barefoot, wearing a pair of sweatpants and an unbuttoned red shirt. He was staring at the camera with an expression that was a far cry from his usual surliness; there was actually a wry smile on his calm features. (Bulma had taken the picture when the pair had been at the Hammorski Plaza and the camera had been the only thing she had been wearing at the time to get the rare photo.) Unaware of this, perhaps blissfully, Chi Chi examined the picture far longer then even she would have credited herself for. This was her nemesis? This was the alien she had pledged revenge on for disrupting her family? Vegeta looked as normal as anyone in that photograph. Certainly not the conceited megalomaniac with the hair- trigger temper that bordered on total lunacy she fancied him as being. He looked-
Dear Dende, she thought with disbelief, he-he looks like a man in love! How is that possible?
Returning the framed image back to its previous resting-place, Chi Chi resumed her investigating. Two drawers were locked but in the left bottom drawer she found on old sandwich in a plastic container that had turned opaque with mold. In the right one were some textbooks. The titles were confusing for the countrywoman and she wondered if Bulma was cramming for another degree to add to her collection; Pathology of Chronic Stress; Child Abuse: A Psychological Interpretation; Depression and Suicidology. Intrigued, Chi Chi picked up the first book and leafed through it curiously. Bulma had used her highlighter in some sections, ignoring others. One page was dog-eared with a highlighted exclamation mark etched in beside one paragraph;
'Narcissistic personality disorder- Individuals plagued with this anti- social pathology often have an exaggerated sense of self-importance with a tendency to use denial and devaluation in order to maintain an inflated ego. This can border on a sociopathic personality trait devastating to a family dynamic. Often these troubled individuals were subjected to a harsh childhood where abuse was rampant and severe discipline often resulted in injury and-'
"What are you doing?"
Jumping about a foot out of the chair, Chi Chi snapped the book closed and dropped it back into the drawer. "I'm sorry, Bulma. I got bored waiting so I-I-"
"-Decided to snoop around my desk?" Bulma asked as she walked into the room. She was carrying a bottle of water that her secretary had passed to her and handed it over to the other woman.
"Well, two of the drawers weren't locked," Chi Chi said lamely, taking a sip.
Casting a quick glance around, Bulma decided that no harm was done and pulled on her coat, dismissing the invasion of privacy. She needed a favor and wasn't about to jeopardize her relationship with the woman over a little harmless looking around. "I'm slipping out for the day, will you keep an eye on Trunks?"
"Absolutely. Where are you going?" Chi Chi asked as they left the office.
"If you must know, I'm going to visit Vegeta," Bulma confessed reluctantly. She braced herself for the barrage of accusations and insults that would inevitably follow the admission.
They didn't come. Instead, the brunette asked almost conversationally, "Do you know where he is?"
Rifling through the papers that she had just picked up from the accounting department, Bulma nodded slowly as she read the latest information. "He's been using a Capsule Corporation expense card. At the moment, he's staying at a hotel on Haven Island. It's a tourist resort about four hours away from here."
"Vegeta the tourist," Chi Chi huffed. "I don't know how you can just let him gallivant around the planet like some care-free playboy when he clearly has obligations to his son. It's utterly deplorable!"
Bulma bit her tongue and waited until they were outside of the building and away from curious staff who always enjoyed some juicy gossip. Once free from prying eyes, she whirled and pointed a finger directly in the other woman's face. "Chi Chi, the only person who has any bitching rights where Vegeta is concerned is me. Got it?"
"I'm just stating a fact!"
"Fine. State them to yourself because I don't want to hear any more of it. You don't know anything about our relationship-"
"-A relationship? Is THAT what you call it?" Chi Chi cried indignantly.
"Like I told Yamcha before; Vegeta is off-limits. I'm not going to put up with any more trash talking about him from you or anyone else. Whatever resentments you still have against him, just let them go." Boldly turning her back on her friend, Bulma selected a capsule from a packet and depressed the trigger, expertly throwing it a safe distance away. In a cloud of smoke, her favorite hoverjet materialized as if it had been sitting there the entire time.
"Why do you always come in defense of that awful man?" Chi Chi called after her determined, as ever, to get in the last word.
Climbing into the cockpit, Bulma shouted back, "Because I'm the only one who will!" She slammed the door shut before the other woman could edge in a retort and initiated lift-off.
The four-hour flight was perhaps the worst part of the entire journey to Haven. As much as Bulma would have enjoyed seeing father and son reunited at long last, she had elected to leave Trunks behind. It wasn't out of fear of Vegeta's reaction to the forced union but a concern for the boy's present health. He still wasn't sleeping soundly through the night and now his appetite had become alarmingly peckish. He had lost half a pound at his pediatric check-up last week and Bulma was beginning to feel the first threads of worry even as her doctor tried to reassure her that everything appeared fine. How would an earth physician know what was wrong with the child? For that matter, how could any of them? Gokou had been entirely ignorant of his alien heritage until Radditz's arrival, and now they were both dead. That left only Vegeta as the sole remaining Saiyan who could shed some much-needed insight into their unique physiology. Even that knowledge would be severely lacking on the Prince's part, though not at all through fault of his own. He had been taken from his world and people at the age of eight, uprooted from his culture and the dictations of his heritage that he should have experienced firsthand. It was unknown how much outside of fighting, screwing and survival that Nappa and Radditz would have been able to teach him. Alternatively, if they had even bothered in the effort.
Bulma had so many questions eating away at her, the volume growing exponentially the longer they were apart. In the silence and loneliness of the cockpit, her brilliant mind turned in on itself and became her own worst enemy. She began rehearsing speeches for when she would finally came face to face with the Saiyan. "Vegeta, don't you dare slam the door in my face. We have to talk- No, that'll just piss him off more, he'll think I'm trying to be bossy. Hmmm… Maybe if I just hike up my skirt and say, 'Take me now, you magnificent stallion!'" She broke off into nervous laughter and was astounded how close to tears she actually was. She wasn't surprised to be feeling fear at the looming meeting and a great deal of tension.
And there was also guilt. Quite a lot of it.
No Saiyan woman survived Vegetasei's destruction. My line ends here, with me. I've made my peace long ago that I'm the last son of the House of Vegeta.
Both of Bulma's arms burst into ominous gooseflesh at the memory of Vegeta's admittance to her not so very long ago. He had confided in her as a trusted friend, telling her his regrets that he was the last of his line. He had said there was no way that he would willingly father a- how had he put it? –a 'mongrel' child with polluted blood. Bulma had sat by him listening to him bare his soul to her, having already thrown her oral contraceptives into the trash. She would have probably gone after them that night if he hadn't continued his confessions. By the time the tale was over, her desire to have his child cemented itself in her resolve to see that it got done. She still had no regrets but she had to sway him over to her reasoning and it wasn't going to be easy. The words he had spoken to her in June as he had left Capsule Corporation had been awful, but she didn't dwell on them for very long. She had others to remind her of his true feelings…
I know that I speak without thinking. To be honest, I doubt that will ever change. But you'll never be hurt by my hand, Bulma. I can assure you of that at least.
He had confided that admission to her when his heart had been lulled by her comfort and love and she knew intimately that he had spoken the truth that night. The scene at the Headquarters had been only created out of hurt for her deception, lingering grief from the Cell Games and dangerous self-loathing at his own failure. He had cared about the teenaged Trunks of the future and they had only been together a short time. Bulma was certain that Vegeta would focus that now-misplaced affection on his infant son, if offered the opportunity. Of the two of them, Bulma would have to shelve her indignant resentment and make the first move or it would never happen.
Bulma finally knew what she would say when she met with him, "Vegeta, it doesn't matter if you and I are through. I can accept that, if it's truly what you want. I just want Trunks to know his father."
Yes, that would work, though her heart would pain with the loss.
A quick inquiry at the front desk (and a hundred-zeni bill as an added incentive) led Bulma to a charming oceanfront cottage that was set apart from the main Haven resort. It had it's own private beach and a lush assortment of tropical plants that gave the small area a sense of privacy that the Saiyan would enjoy. As Bulma rounded the pathway that led around to the front of the elegant building, she didn't expect company to be waiting for her.
A pair of statuesque blondes were sunbathing on lounge chairs, both topless and extremely well-endowed. Bulma knew that Vegeta was a breast man but even the sight of those boobs intimated the heiress who was no slouch in the chest department herself.
One of the women noticed her for the first time and raised her sunglasses, making no effort to cover her nudity. "Hey! Are you the masseuse we called for earlier? You're late!"
Grappling with her temper, Bulma managed to get out through tense lips, "I'm looking for Vegeta. Is he here?"
Concluding that she wasn't whom they had been expecting, the woman returned to her previous position on the lounge. "Veggie's inside with Monique. You can join in, if you like threesomes. He sure does!" She giggled knowingly and her companion only groaned in agreement.
Without another word, Bulma walked into the open doorway of the cottage and cast a quick glance around. It looked as if a wild party had been held the night before, empty bottles were sitting in every available space and the living room was in complete disarray. She began to feel the first stirrings of doubt when she saw the smeared lines of cocaine on the coffee table. "…Vegeta?"
Drunken laughter reached her ears and Bulma boldly walked into the bedroom. Lying in the tangle of sheets, a redhead was screaming her encouragement to whoever was underneath of the blanket between her splayed legs and noisily slurping away. Her voice had reached a pitch that could have shattered glass and her sweaty, excited features turned to notice Bulma at long last. "Shed the clothes and join in," she panted cheerfully. "The more the merrier!"
"!!VEGETA!!" Bulma shrieked.
All activity beneath the twisted sheets stopped. "Who's that?" an unfamiliar voice called out.
It was all becoming so damned clear! Bulma resisted the urge to storm over and pull off the covers but she really didn't want to get any closer than necessary. "The real owner of the card you've been partying with, jackass. Show yourself right now."
It was a long moment before a head poked out and reluctantly looked at her, his nose and chin shiny. "So… uh, I guess the fun's over, right?" an Asian teenager concluded in a sad voice.
Three and a half months… oh dear Dende, three and a half months!!
Bulma was a nervous wreck when she played the time period over and over in her mind. Three and a half months from the day that Vegeta had thrown his Capsule Corporation expense card into the trash outside of the Gilded Osprey, only to have it picked up by a street punk of the name of Tetsuo Chu. The little Asian had thought he had won the lottery and no one had been the wiser for the deception. Not even Bulma herself. She thought she'd had an ingenious way of keeping track of the Saiyan without being obtrusive. None of the expenses had been out of the ordinary; small cash advances, the odd restaurant and hotels. All things she would have expected Vegeta to have used the card for himself. If Chu had made some extraordinary purchases, like a hovercar or personal jet, it would have raised the flag a lot earlier. But damned if the little bastard hadn't had the wits to be frugal.
Bulma turned him over to the Island authorities for credit card fraud and then sped a direct course North to the city of Prescott, the last place that Vegeta had been-
-over three and a half months ago! She couldn't successfully shake that. She went to the main library and looked up the microfilms of the various papers that had been printed around the days that Vegeta had eaten at the restaurant. She didn't know what she was looking for but kept reading nonetheless. There was some letter to the Editor about a scene at a local McDonalds that she skimmed over. What caught her eye was a half-page spread detailing an explosion that had happened at some seedy hotel less than ten blocks away.
"Yeah, he was here," the man behind the cage of the check-in counter said. He handed back the photo of Vegeta that Bulma had slid over to him. He picked up the logbook and showed her the entry and she saw the alien symbol that was the Saiyan's name. She had to restrain her fingers from caressing the signature.
Looking around the dilapidated surroundings of 'Hal's Happy Hump Hotel' Bulma was trying to fathom the logic of Vegeta's choice to come here, of all places. "Was… was he with anyone?"
"Naw. He went to his room alone. Looked tired."
Pride then, not sex. His financial resources would have been limited and he had simply needed a cheap place to rest his head for the night. Her guilt began to grow… "I read about an explosion that happened the night he was here. What happened?"
"You a cop?"
"No."
"Ex-wife?"
She had to betray a hurt smile at that. "No, we were… never married. I'm just trying to find him, for our son's sake."
Nodding to himself, the younger man visibly debated whether to talk to her and then shrugged to himself. It was a slow day and he had a great view of her cleavage from his higher vantagepoint. Leaning on the counter he said, "It was a crazy night. I could hear him yelling at Bonnie and Clyde to keep the noise down, all the way from here-"
"Bonnie and Clyde?"
"Pair of crack-heads who had holed themselves up for a couple of nights. I dunno their real names. Turned out they were responsible for a bunch of robberies and one murder and were lying low from the heat. How was I to know? I gave your boyfriend the room next door."
"He attacked them," Bulma muttered.
"Nope, I don't think that's how it went down," the man surprised her by saying. "Clyde shot through the wall first and then he must have detonated some damn bomb or something. Asshole blew the room up as well as himself, no loss there. His crazy bitch girlfriend attacked your man next and nailed him with a bag of smack."
"Smack?" Bulma echoed dumbly. This was all sounding like some terrible nightmare.
"Heroin. He fell out of the hole the explosion made. The cops looked for a body but never found one. I guess it don't look too good that you haven't seen him yet, huh?"
"No," she whispered, "It sure doesn't."
The man grunted and then stepped away from the cage and left her line of sight for a moment. She still hadn't moved when he came back several minutes later, sliding a capsule through the slot in the wire mesh. "Not to be morbid or nothing, but I guess you're as close to the next of kin as I'm ever going to meet. You might as well take this, I've been keeping it in the safe in case… y'know, he ever comes back."
Staring at the capsule that contained all of Vegeta's possessions, Bulma felt the panic within her stomach start to spread. No money, no belongings, no word from him in over three months. She wasn't sure if she was able to get out an understandable thank-you to the clerk but she managed to gurgle out something before she turned and ran out of the hotel.
The younger man watched her go with eyes that had witnessed more grief pass through that door than a man twice his age. He should have mentioned the odd spikes of hair that the police had found in her boyfriends damaged room. It was probably just as well that he hadn't. She looked distraught enough as it was and would have probably asked for them as a souvenir. Hal, the manager, had thrown them in the trash, disliking the odd consistency of the hair that hadn't been caused by an overdose on the gel. One of the hairs had actually pierced his skin like a damned needle, it was so stiff. No, Hal wasn't keeping around any more weird shit then he had to.
Outside, Bulma stood on the bottom step of the Hotel entrance and hugged herself as if she had developed a chill. A group of teenagers were lounging around an old car sitting on its rims and began whistling and catcalling to her. She didn't even hear them as she struggled with her grief and fear.
I told you that time was short, Bulma. I just came to say goodbye.
"Oh god, Vegeta… What's happened to you?" she whispered, wiping away tears with trembling fingers. "I wish I'd never told you to leave. I'd take it all back if I could. I'm so sorry- " She was certain that she would fall apart into a million unsalvageable pieces if she had to cope with just one more hint of bad news.
That was when her cellphone began to ring.
She had left the Western Capital at nine o'clock that morning and was back before supper. By the time Bulma showed up at the hospital, it looked as if she had aged years. Chi Chi and Gohan were there waiting for her, as were her parents. All four people took one glance at her near-hysterical features and shelved the questions until she appeared more rational.
"Where's my baby?" she wailed the instant she stepped outside of the elevator onto the Pediatric floor. "What have you done with my baby?!"
Friends and family were there, wordlessly guiding her to the Intensive Care ward. She barely noticed them at first and almost fought their gentle grips until it dawned on her that they were only trying to help. Her vision warped by a blanket of bitter tears, she barely registered the sight that greeted her when they led her to the one-way glass. In the next room, a tiny lavender-haired bundle was the center of a commotion of activity. Trunks' little pale form was hooked up to tubes and electrodes and was currently being hooked up to life support to assist his breathing. The doctor and nurses overseeing his care were wearing sterile masks and gowns, taking care not to risk any exposure to infection. One nurse inserted a needle into a tiny vein and Bulma saw his little hand flex in pain at the contact. She swore she could hear a wail of agony and confusion inside of her mind.
"!!TRUNKS!!" She pounded on the glass until Chi Chi and her father tried to pull her away. Fighting them like a banshee, she almost broke free and jeopardized the quarantine of the room when she sprinted for the door. Hospital staff intervened over her parent's objections and there was the sharp sting of a needle in her arm. The faces and surroundings around her broke up into meaningless shapes and the sounds became inconsequential but for Trunks' terrified wailing in her brain.
"What happened?" She was able to rasp out later when the sedation had passed. She had been given a private room to rest in and now sat on the edge of the bed, her rheumy eyes tracking back and forth between her mother and Chi Chi. "I asked you a question; What happened to Trunks?"
"He was fine at breakfast," the brunette spoke up. As usual, Mrs. Briefs was too inconsolable to provide any kind of a rational explanation in her state. "But a few hours later, he started throwing up. At first, I didn't think anything was wrong but he just wouldn't stop. Your mother called an ambulance when he went into a seizure. He's burning up with fever and the doctor's don't know how to bring it down. It came on so fast, Bulma! I swear he was fine this morning!" Normally the pillar of composure and strength, Chi Chi dissolved into a fit of helpless tears. She wasn't able to rein them in until Bulma whispered an odd word under her breath.
"V'Nhar."
Pausing in mid-sob, Chi Chi looked up in confusion. Close beside her, Gohan asked delicately. "What's that, Bulma?"
"It's a Saiya-jin illness caused by not eating enough," Bulma said through numb lips. "Trunks has been off of his food for days. Intravenous replacement fluids won't help, he needs proper nourishment."
Dr. Briefs and his wife seemed to be nodding with understanding, as if they had encountered this problem before. Chi Chi regarded them with suspicion, she was never a woman who liked being left out of the loop. "What on earth are you talking about, Bulma? How do you know so much about this?"
"Vegeta has had it before. It might even be hereditary." She eased herself down onto the floor and held onto the bed until the rubbery sensation in her legs passed. "I have to get the doctor's to give Trunks solid food. That's what he needs to get better."
"What about Vegeta?" Gohan piped up. "Did you find him?"
A wounded sob escaped Bulma's throat. She gave an enigmatic tilt of her head that was a bewildered cross between a shake and a nod but didn't offer anything more. She honestly didn't know where to begin until Chi Chi released a disgusted snort and made the mistake of remarking; "I knew it. He turned his back on you, didn't he? That arrogant, selfish, mean-spirited little man. He doesn't care about you or your son, that's why he left in the first pl-"
With a cat-like hiss, Bulma was on her before the other woman could finish. The heiress was no fighter but in an instant she grabbed the lapels of Chi Chi's dress and forced her up against the wall. "Vegeta's disappeared!" Bulma yelled directly into her face. "He went missing over three months ago! A damned thief has been using his card this entire time. I'm the one who told Vegeta to leave Capsule Corporation and now he's never coming back!" She released the other woman, her face contorted into a mask of rage and terror. "Because he's dead," she said at last. The tears were held at bay by the force of sheer will alone. "I'm pretty sure that he's dead. And it's all my fault."
Despite the persistence of her friends and family, Bulma would offer no more of an explanation for her outburst. She was cruising on autopilot now, fixated on only one goal to help her through the present crisis before she could even begin to consider any others. She told the doctors as much as she dared without exposing the family's extraterrestrial connections. The staff regarded her histrionics with only wariness until her father repeated the request in that affable, quiet manner of his. Finally, they relented and removed the baby's breathing tube long enough to force-feed him some much needed protein. Trunks promptly threw it back up and went into convulsions.
The next day he slipped into a coma.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Seven: The vigil continues… Will a cure arrive in time?