Two Sides To A Story
Chapter Seven
Bad news travels fast, Piccolo reflected with a sigh.
Various television news teams and paparazzi had collected outside of the hospital entrance the morning after Trunks had been admitted. By the second day, the health of the Capsule Corporation heir had made the top news story on all of the networks. Sitting in the lobby as a captive audience, Bulma and her friends had watched the ZTV news anchor make his commentary;
"-Origins of the illness are unknown. Sources at the hospital say that the ten-month-old child has lapsed into a coma and is dependent on life support to maintain his precarious state. All attempts to contact the Briefs family for an interview have been postponed as the family continues its grim vigil. Thus far, there is little hope for a cure as-"
Bulma didn't hear the rest as she ran out of the waiting area, her slight form wracked by fresh sobs.
The entire collection of Fighters had appeared by the morning of the forth day. Even Tien and Chiaotzu had left their self-imposed isolation to try and lend some comfort to their friend. Actually daring to challenge his mother's rage, Gohan skipped school to seek out Piccolo, who had made his home at Dende's Look-Out. Along the way, the boy made a stop at Korin's to ask about the current crop of senzu beans. The aged cat gravely informed him that it appeared there was going to be a poor harvest of the mystical healing pods this season. Maybe three seeds would reach maturity, perhaps even less, and it wasn't going to happen for another four months.
Discouraged but still hopeful, Gohan approached Dende and asked if the Namek could come back with him and heal Trunks with his arcane recuperative abilities. The young alien could only shake his head. When he had donned the mantle of Earth's Guardian, he had sworn to an oath that forbade him from ever setting foot upon the mortal plane. Trunks had to be brought to him. An impossibility, given the child's present state.
Piccolo accompanied Gohan on the return flight to the hospital. The deterioration of events since the Cell games came as quite a shock to him as well as something else;
"Vegeta's dead?" he thundered in disbelief. "Who the hell told you that?!"
Setting the pace in their course back to the Western Capital, Gohan cruised along side of his friend and mentor, frowning with worry. "Bulma said it the night we brought Trunks to the hospital. She left Capsule Corp. to go looking for him that morning. I guess Vegeta had a credit card or something but it turned out someone had stolen it three months ago and has been using it in his place."
"And there's been no word from him since? Not a sign?"
"No."
"Damn it," the Namek cursed. It wasn't in the Saiyan's nature to lay low and not call attention to himself without at least one of them catching a sense of his whereabouts. This lapse was alarming. "What makes Bulma think he's dead?"
"She doesn't want to talk about it. I heard her tell mom that she had some sort of dream about him. She said that he came to say good-bye..."
Piccolo's verdant features tightened as he absorbed this information. None of it was good. Saiyan's were a telepathic breed that formed powerful emotional bonds with people that they cared about. He had witnessed first- hand the intimacy between the surly prince and Bulma; there was little doubt in his own mind that the pair had made some manner of mental connection. The normally levelheaded woman would not have betrayed such an admission-
-if it weren't true.
"Rubbish," he concluded, only because it eased his mind to deny it. He and Vegeta had clashed in the past, trading both words and blows in conflicts that had spilled mutual blood. Unfortunately, Piccolo couldn't deny the part of him that recognized the circumstances of past ambitions that made them reluctant kindred spirits. Gohan was the most dominant presence in his once-black heart. After that, Dende represented the much- needed tie to his own people. Amazingly, it was Vegeta who was next on the list. Piccolo had battled too often with Gokou for all past resentments to be successfully laid to rest. That and the fact that the young fighter seemed to spend more time dead or absent than the alien cared to count. The Namek had fought both against Vegeta and alongside him, noting the change in the Saiyan's demeanor each time they met. It was an evolution in ethics and attitude that he shared. He would never call Vegeta a friend, but he was no longer an enemy either. The ambiguity would have to suffice. For now.
"When this crisis is over I'll go look for him," Piccolo told the young boy to comfort him.
Gohan didn't appear to be swayed. "Maybe you should go do that now. I know it's a longshot but Vegeta might be the only one who can help Trunks. Bulma thinks that the illness might be related."
"She mentioned the V'Nhar?"
Gohan did an astonished double take. "You know about it too? When did this happen?"
"Remember two years ago when Dr. Briefs assembled the Z Fighters to look for Vegeta? He was suffering from it then. Bulma took him to a hotel and nursed him back to health."
"How… how bad off was he?"
"He almost died." And I almost killed him, Piccolo came close to admitting and bit down on the words. He didn't allow himself to dwell on that past confrontation very often and certainly wasn't about to betray the circumstances now. Some battles were never meant to be told. "You might be right about looking for him. Let's just see how the boy is first before we make any rash decisions."
As things turned out, Trunks was no better when they met up with the others. The little hybrid child seemed to have lapsed into some sort of stasis as his body fed on itself. His baby fat was being absorbed by his immature ki in a desperate attempt for the cells to find nourishment. At this rate, he wasn't going to survive to the end of the week. Piccolo took note of this with his usual stoic resolve and quickly left the hospital to begin his search for Vegeta.
Throughout all of this, Bulma barely registered the comings and goings of family and friends as she struggled with her grief. Her mother was coping with the crisis by acting as an informal caterer. Nobody felt much like eating, but other patients and hospital staff took the opportunity to avail themselves of the mounds of food the woman brought. Anything beat cafeteria food, after all.
Yamcha was never far from the heiress' side but his concern was often distracted by the persistent calls on his cellphone. He had left his baseball team while they were in the playoffs and his manager was brilliantly pissed. Joining in that displaced resentment was Yamcha's present girlfriend and, often, the fighter had to hold the phone from his ear during one of her rants. He had met Janice two weeks ago when she had asked him to autograph both of her breasts after a game. They had been inseparable up until the call from Krillin when he was told what had happened to Trunks. He had left with barely a word, his usual fashion when dealing with the opposite sex. It wasn't done out of any conscious maliciousness on his part and he wasn't even aware of the habit. A man of action, Yamcha immediately shelved all routine concerns the instant a crisis presented itself. The fact that this particular emergency affected him personally was another reason for his brash haste. All that Janice knew was that he had left her for an ex-girlfriend, who had a child nobody knew who was the father to. Needless to say, she kept the number to Yamcha's cellphone on her speed dial within easy reach.
On the other side of the waiting room, Krillin paced around in aimless figure eight's. He would have liked Android 18 to be with him during this emergency but the female was still wary of gatherings. Some of the programming that identified the rest of the Fighters as 'prey' still lingered in her sub-conscious. Logically, she didn't want to risk a conflict in such delicate surroundings. Master Roshi was nearby with Oolong. At the moment, the pair were arguing over who was going to get possession of the skin magazine the old man had smuggled in from the gift- shop.
Ignoring all of them, Chi Chi sat back in one overstuffed lounge chair and watched the flow of people coming and going near the elevators. One young couple were approaching the nurses station, their faces pale, arms entwined. A doctor came towards them and words were exchanged. The woman released a wail of dismay and had to be carried to a private room by her husband. Exiting from the elevator, several teenagers were holding helium balloons and wrestling with one enormous stuffed bear. A young man in military fatigues sidestepped them and went down the hall towards the bathroom. Behind him, an elderly man was squinting at something written on a wrinkled piece of paper and then began the frustrating search for a specific room.
Loss, confusion, empty offerings. Chi Chi watched it all with eyes that were only half-seeing. She had foolishly believed that things would finally resolve themselves once she and Gohan moved into Capsule Corporation. Lately, everything she touched seemed to be disintegrating around her. Her marriage, her finances, her rapport with her son… Gohan was becoming increasingly combative and insubordinate, a far cry from the meek and submissive boy that she cherished. He was uncooperative with the tutor she had hired to help him advance a grade; his conduct bordered on actual rudeness. The boy had tried telling her that the pressure to study was too much for him but she had stubbornly refused to listen. Bulma had told her, not so long ago, that if she persisted in this course she was going to alienate Gohan for good. Chi Chi cheeks burned with shame over the scathing retort she had given the sea-foam haired beauty for her interference. It was common knowledge that Gokou had never been any kind of an intellectual. He had only gotten as far as the sixth grade and his skills outside of martial arts were rudimentary, at best. The family had lived off of her inheritance because he couldn't have been bothered to get a job. Small wonder she wanted better things for her only child-
-No, not only child. Soon, there were going to be two to worry about. Rubbing her stomach gingerly, the brunette submerged the self-pity that threatened to consume her. Everyone around her was crumbling to pieces; she had to remain the strong one. She was not going to break down in helpless tears!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bulma getting wearily to her feet and rose to accompany her. "Is everything alright?"
Glancing at her, Bulma nodded and headed towards the nurse's station. "I'm going to see if there's any news on Trunks' condition."
"Bulma, I-" Chi Chi knew that the other woman had been talking with the doctor less than two hours before. There would be no new information but she understood this helpless anxiety caused by sitting around. "-I think that's a very good idea."
The pair went to the counter and waited as the doctor was being paged. Bulma looked up to the wall that was displaying the vitals of the patients in the pediatric intensive care ward. There were two other children hooked up to life support. One was a baby girl born six weeks premature and the other a two-year-old boy who had been in a car accident. Trunks' name was written beneath one of the monitors and Bulma watched the laboring lines and blips that streaked across the screen with an aching heart. If it were possible, she would trade places with the baby in an instant. This wasn't fair for something to happen to someone so young and innocent.
Make it stop, she thought to herself. If this is some kind of a sick, twisted joke, I want it to come to an end. RIGHT NOW.
As if responding to her request, all of Trunks' vitals went flat- line.
Grateful that his mother hadn't berated him for seeking out Piccolo, Gohan relaxed a little and took advantage of the fare that Mrs. Briefs had laid out in the waiting room. There was practically a buffet set out on the coffee tables and the boy made up for several days of infrequent meals. There were three pitchers of iced tea and he drank two of them down in rapid succession. Obviously, it wasn't long before his swollen bladder demanded to be voided.
Heading down the corridor towards the bathroom, Gohan ogled the sterile surroundings. The last time he had been in this hospital was after the epic battle with the Saiyans and back then he hadn't been a visitor. He, Krillin and Gokou had been the last survivors to battle Vegeta and he had cleaned all of their clocks. It had just been a fluke that the boy's Oozaru state had fallen on the wounded Saiyan at the end, otherwise Earth would have been a barren cinder in space. Gohan and Krillin had spent a week in the hospital recovering from bruised bones and cuts. If not for a senzu bean, Gokou would have spent close to a year. Being here now created all sorts of bad memories for the young hybrid.
The bathroom was empty but for one closed stall and Gohan stepped up to the urinal and did his business. When he went to the sink, he was so engrossed in the task of thoroughly washing his hands that he didn't notice anyone was behind him until an arm locked around his neck.
Alien instinct kicked in and he immediately brought an elbow back, intending to connect with his attacker's ribcage. The blow was blocked. He kicked back and up with his left leg to nail the person in the groin with the heel of his foot. Again, the action was effortlessly thwarted. Staring at his reflection in confusion, Gohan saw that the man holding onto him was wearing a dark blue battle dress uniform. The hat was pulled down low over his face but, as the boy continued to stare, he finally glanced up. Gohan's entire body went limp in shock. "…Vegeta?"
He was released and the boy eagerly turned to confront the missing Saiyan. Words were lost for the moment as he could only gape helplessly at the figure standing only a few feet from him.
Staring back beneath the brim of the cap, Vegeta eyes remained locked on the youth as if expecting some manner of challenge. Little had changed in his face, it was as tense and expressionless as ever but Gohan thought that it looked a little paler than he remembered. Perhaps a little thinner, too. It was hard to tell under the loose clothes he was presently wearing. "Are you in disguise?"
Vegeta's lips twitched and he straightened from the fighting stance he had adopted. He appeared shorter than Gohan remembered and the boy figured that it had something to do with the BDU cap the Saiyan was wearing. Without that mantle of flame-styled hair surrounding his head, the Saiyan lost at least a foot of extra height. He was about to comment on it when Vegeta turned his head towards the door, exposing the nape of his neck. Gohan plainly saw that the dense ragged spikes of the man's usual mane of hair were now only about an inch long. "Vegeta, what the heck happened to your- "
Somebody was coming in and Gohan felt himself grabbed again and yanked into the nearby stall. The metal door closed just as Yamcha walked in. Glaring daggers at the boy, Vegeta's body language demanded that Gohan remain quiet while the other fighter went about his business. Registering that something wasn't right here by any stretch of the imagination, Gohan complied with the unspoken request.
Entering the stall right beside theirs, Yamcha unbuckled his trousers and sat down on the toilet. He released two immense farts, made some comment about beans and then grunted. There was the faint splash of water soon after followed by another release of wind. Gohan almost burst out laughing when the former-bandit began humming the tune "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" and tapping his feet on the linoleum. The mirth dried up the instant he looked into Vegeta's dark, haunted eyes.
It seemed to take forever before Yamcha was satisfied and pulled up his pants and then flushed the toilet. When he had exited the bathroom, Vegeta and Gohan quickly vacated the cramped stall and were almost gasping for air. "Filthy bastard never even washed his hands," Gohan heard the Saiyan grumble under his breath.
Ignoring the characteristic sarcasm, Gohan shelved his earlier concern and had to restrain himself from releasing a shout of joy. "You're alright! Everyone was getting worried about you, Vegeta. Nobody has heard a thing in over-"
"What's the boy's condition?" the Saiyan interrupted.
"Trunks?" Gohan winced at the stupid question. "He's in bad shape. The doctor's don't think he'll make it to the end of the week."
"Take me to him."
"Sure. Follow me," the boy said. He was relieved beyond words that the Saiyan appeared to be concerned about the baby's welfare at long last. The pair left the bathroom and turned left down the corridor towards the ICU. Practically skipping in his excitement, Gohan kept a brisk pace while Vegeta lagged behind, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might recognize him. He knew that the entire collection of Earth's defenders were assembled in the waiting area, only a handful of rooms away. There was no way he was going to let himself be interrupted in his duty until his intended task was complete.
Stopping in front of a large window, Gohan waited for the other man to catch up and then nodded gravely at the scene beyond the glass. At first, Vegeta didn't understand what the boy was getting at until the situation dawned on him and he understood what they were seeing. Lying in a padded crib, Trunks' pale little form was hooked up to various monitoring devices and a respirator was assisting his breathing. A nurse, wearing sterile gear, was tending to some paperwork in the far corner.
When the Saiyan's odd silence stretched on, Gohan spoke up; "Trunks wasn't eating that well for the last week or so. Bulma said that he might be suffering from- Oh, what was that word… veneer?"
"V'Nhar."
"Yeah, that. He went into some sort of seizure four days ago and still wouldn't accept what the nurses tried to give him. A day after that, he lapsed into a coma."
"It's not a coma," Vegeta said tersely. "That's a condition reserved for those imbecilic soaps on daytime television. His system is just pining for proper nourishment."
"But he won't take any food."
"It's not food he wants," the Saiyan muttered and went to the door to let himself into the ICU. The deadbolt was electronic and required a code entered into the nearby keypad to gain entrance. Without any visible effort, Vegeta crushed the doorknob in one hand just as he rammed his shoulder into the door. It flew open, taking the reinforced metal jamb right along with it.
"Sir! You can't come in here!" the nurse cried indignantly. "This is a sterile environment!"
"Not anymore," Vegeta commented as he strode over to Trunks' crib. Poor Gohan was gamely keeping up but he couldn't look the furious attendant in the face, so great was his shame. He had been brought up to always respect authority and obey the rules. Now, after less than ten minutes in Vegeta's shadow, here he was ignoring both.
The nurse ran over to her desk and immediately picked up the phone. "Security! I have a Code White in the-"
With a muted curse, Vegeta whirled and flicked a miniature destructo disk from his first and middle fingers. It cut through the phone cord and collided with the far wall to dissipate in a harmless spray of sparks. The expression on the nurse's face was a cross between wonder and fear. She could only look down at the receiver in her hand where only a foot of cord was swinging back and forth. By the time she managed to look around at Vegeta, he was standing with his arm raised in her direction. "Get out," he barked. To lend import to his words, his hand began glowing.
The nurse took off, screeching like a banshee the instant she left the ICU. Vegeta knew that in less than a minute, security and the assembled Z Fighters were going to descend on him like a cloud of locusts. He had to work quickly.
Pulling the various electrodes from Trunks' small form, Vegeta scowled at the bruises from numerous needles that had marred the baby's flesh. Without any hesitation, he yanked out the breathing tube that had been forced down the boy's throat and unwrapped an object from his coat pocket. Paying keen attention beside the Saiyan, Gohan blanched in disgust at what the man held in one hand. "Oh gross! Is that what I think it is?"
Raising Trunks' head, Vegeta was holding a scrap of bloody meat directly beneath the infant's nose. "This is what the boy needs in his diet. A thing his mothers' lactating teats can't provide for him," the Saiyan explained patiently as he waited for a reaction to his offering. Any reaction. "Domesticated or half-breed, the babe has Saiyan in his blood and craves a taste of the kill. I'm willing to bet that you kept your household up all night with your howling until you turned at least two."
Blinking in surprise at the insight, Gohan could only gape at the other man. "Mom said I was a difficult baby until I turned two and finally started sleeping through the night. A piece of raw meat would have helped?"
Vegeta only offered a terse nod as he focused his concentration on his son. The baby was rejecting the grisly gift and his labored breaths were becoming shallower by the second. Outside of the ICU, there were shouts and a flurry of footfalls. Bulma and Chi Chi were the first to run to the window, followed by the others.
"Gohan! What are you doing in here? What's going on?!" Chi Chi shrieked at the top of her lungs as she rushed inside. Glaring daggers at the soldier standing over the stricken child, she snapped, "Who are you?" She didn't recognize the Saiyan in his unfamiliar gear and that was probably the only reason why she didn't go ballistic on the spot.
"Vegeta…" Bulma whispered from behind her. She froze in the doorway, unable to make her legs go any further. Despite the inconsistencies in the man's appearance, she knew it was him almost instantly. Now he was standing over Trunks' bed, holding the baby with what looked like bloody hands.
He's come to finish him off, she thought in terror. She tried to will her legs to move, to intervene, but too many days of little sleep finally took their toll. Collapsing strengthlessly to her knees, she gibbered senseless words to the Saiyan, begging him to spare their son. Behind her, Yamcha and the others looked on in shock, the tense scene actually causing them to pause in their course.
Vegeta watched her histrionics through veiled eyes and then focused his attention back to Chi Chi. The woman was staring at him as if he had horns as his presence slowly dawned on her. Her eyes tracked from the scrap of bloody meat he was holding, to his face and back again in confusion. "Wha-what are you doing-"
"Vegeta!" Gohan cried urgently. Trunks' body was beginning to shiver and his lips were turning blue from lack of oxygen.
"He's dying!" Chi Chi wailed. "You bastard! What have you done?"
Releasing a growl, Vegeta brought his wrist to his mouth and bit down deep into the veins, tearing away the flesh. He gripped the nape of Trunks' neck and forced the baby's face against the bleeding wound. "Drink, damn you! I COMMAND IT!" The transformation into Super Saiyan followed the order just as Vegeta's blood coated the infant. Both Gohan and Chi Chi were about to force the pair apart when they witnessed a stunning scene.
Registering the scent of ki-infused blood, both of Trunks' eyes flew open in recognition. He immediately latched onto the offering, sucking at the spouting gash with a fevered intensity that shook his entire body. Gohan saw a flicker of relief pass by on the Saiyan's face as well as something else.
Vegeta's nose was starting to bleed.
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Chapter Eight: Vegeta finally confronts Bulma about her past actions.
Chapter Seven
Bad news travels fast, Piccolo reflected with a sigh.
Various television news teams and paparazzi had collected outside of the hospital entrance the morning after Trunks had been admitted. By the second day, the health of the Capsule Corporation heir had made the top news story on all of the networks. Sitting in the lobby as a captive audience, Bulma and her friends had watched the ZTV news anchor make his commentary;
"-Origins of the illness are unknown. Sources at the hospital say that the ten-month-old child has lapsed into a coma and is dependent on life support to maintain his precarious state. All attempts to contact the Briefs family for an interview have been postponed as the family continues its grim vigil. Thus far, there is little hope for a cure as-"
Bulma didn't hear the rest as she ran out of the waiting area, her slight form wracked by fresh sobs.
The entire collection of Fighters had appeared by the morning of the forth day. Even Tien and Chiaotzu had left their self-imposed isolation to try and lend some comfort to their friend. Actually daring to challenge his mother's rage, Gohan skipped school to seek out Piccolo, who had made his home at Dende's Look-Out. Along the way, the boy made a stop at Korin's to ask about the current crop of senzu beans. The aged cat gravely informed him that it appeared there was going to be a poor harvest of the mystical healing pods this season. Maybe three seeds would reach maturity, perhaps even less, and it wasn't going to happen for another four months.
Discouraged but still hopeful, Gohan approached Dende and asked if the Namek could come back with him and heal Trunks with his arcane recuperative abilities. The young alien could only shake his head. When he had donned the mantle of Earth's Guardian, he had sworn to an oath that forbade him from ever setting foot upon the mortal plane. Trunks had to be brought to him. An impossibility, given the child's present state.
Piccolo accompanied Gohan on the return flight to the hospital. The deterioration of events since the Cell games came as quite a shock to him as well as something else;
"Vegeta's dead?" he thundered in disbelief. "Who the hell told you that?!"
Setting the pace in their course back to the Western Capital, Gohan cruised along side of his friend and mentor, frowning with worry. "Bulma said it the night we brought Trunks to the hospital. She left Capsule Corp. to go looking for him that morning. I guess Vegeta had a credit card or something but it turned out someone had stolen it three months ago and has been using it in his place."
"And there's been no word from him since? Not a sign?"
"No."
"Damn it," the Namek cursed. It wasn't in the Saiyan's nature to lay low and not call attention to himself without at least one of them catching a sense of his whereabouts. This lapse was alarming. "What makes Bulma think he's dead?"
"She doesn't want to talk about it. I heard her tell mom that she had some sort of dream about him. She said that he came to say good-bye..."
Piccolo's verdant features tightened as he absorbed this information. None of it was good. Saiyan's were a telepathic breed that formed powerful emotional bonds with people that they cared about. He had witnessed first- hand the intimacy between the surly prince and Bulma; there was little doubt in his own mind that the pair had made some manner of mental connection. The normally levelheaded woman would not have betrayed such an admission-
-if it weren't true.
"Rubbish," he concluded, only because it eased his mind to deny it. He and Vegeta had clashed in the past, trading both words and blows in conflicts that had spilled mutual blood. Unfortunately, Piccolo couldn't deny the part of him that recognized the circumstances of past ambitions that made them reluctant kindred spirits. Gohan was the most dominant presence in his once-black heart. After that, Dende represented the much- needed tie to his own people. Amazingly, it was Vegeta who was next on the list. Piccolo had battled too often with Gokou for all past resentments to be successfully laid to rest. That and the fact that the young fighter seemed to spend more time dead or absent than the alien cared to count. The Namek had fought both against Vegeta and alongside him, noting the change in the Saiyan's demeanor each time they met. It was an evolution in ethics and attitude that he shared. He would never call Vegeta a friend, but he was no longer an enemy either. The ambiguity would have to suffice. For now.
"When this crisis is over I'll go look for him," Piccolo told the young boy to comfort him.
Gohan didn't appear to be swayed. "Maybe you should go do that now. I know it's a longshot but Vegeta might be the only one who can help Trunks. Bulma thinks that the illness might be related."
"She mentioned the V'Nhar?"
Gohan did an astonished double take. "You know about it too? When did this happen?"
"Remember two years ago when Dr. Briefs assembled the Z Fighters to look for Vegeta? He was suffering from it then. Bulma took him to a hotel and nursed him back to health."
"How… how bad off was he?"
"He almost died." And I almost killed him, Piccolo came close to admitting and bit down on the words. He didn't allow himself to dwell on that past confrontation very often and certainly wasn't about to betray the circumstances now. Some battles were never meant to be told. "You might be right about looking for him. Let's just see how the boy is first before we make any rash decisions."
As things turned out, Trunks was no better when they met up with the others. The little hybrid child seemed to have lapsed into some sort of stasis as his body fed on itself. His baby fat was being absorbed by his immature ki in a desperate attempt for the cells to find nourishment. At this rate, he wasn't going to survive to the end of the week. Piccolo took note of this with his usual stoic resolve and quickly left the hospital to begin his search for Vegeta.
Throughout all of this, Bulma barely registered the comings and goings of family and friends as she struggled with her grief. Her mother was coping with the crisis by acting as an informal caterer. Nobody felt much like eating, but other patients and hospital staff took the opportunity to avail themselves of the mounds of food the woman brought. Anything beat cafeteria food, after all.
Yamcha was never far from the heiress' side but his concern was often distracted by the persistent calls on his cellphone. He had left his baseball team while they were in the playoffs and his manager was brilliantly pissed. Joining in that displaced resentment was Yamcha's present girlfriend and, often, the fighter had to hold the phone from his ear during one of her rants. He had met Janice two weeks ago when she had asked him to autograph both of her breasts after a game. They had been inseparable up until the call from Krillin when he was told what had happened to Trunks. He had left with barely a word, his usual fashion when dealing with the opposite sex. It wasn't done out of any conscious maliciousness on his part and he wasn't even aware of the habit. A man of action, Yamcha immediately shelved all routine concerns the instant a crisis presented itself. The fact that this particular emergency affected him personally was another reason for his brash haste. All that Janice knew was that he had left her for an ex-girlfriend, who had a child nobody knew who was the father to. Needless to say, she kept the number to Yamcha's cellphone on her speed dial within easy reach.
On the other side of the waiting room, Krillin paced around in aimless figure eight's. He would have liked Android 18 to be with him during this emergency but the female was still wary of gatherings. Some of the programming that identified the rest of the Fighters as 'prey' still lingered in her sub-conscious. Logically, she didn't want to risk a conflict in such delicate surroundings. Master Roshi was nearby with Oolong. At the moment, the pair were arguing over who was going to get possession of the skin magazine the old man had smuggled in from the gift- shop.
Ignoring all of them, Chi Chi sat back in one overstuffed lounge chair and watched the flow of people coming and going near the elevators. One young couple were approaching the nurses station, their faces pale, arms entwined. A doctor came towards them and words were exchanged. The woman released a wail of dismay and had to be carried to a private room by her husband. Exiting from the elevator, several teenagers were holding helium balloons and wrestling with one enormous stuffed bear. A young man in military fatigues sidestepped them and went down the hall towards the bathroom. Behind him, an elderly man was squinting at something written on a wrinkled piece of paper and then began the frustrating search for a specific room.
Loss, confusion, empty offerings. Chi Chi watched it all with eyes that were only half-seeing. She had foolishly believed that things would finally resolve themselves once she and Gohan moved into Capsule Corporation. Lately, everything she touched seemed to be disintegrating around her. Her marriage, her finances, her rapport with her son… Gohan was becoming increasingly combative and insubordinate, a far cry from the meek and submissive boy that she cherished. He was uncooperative with the tutor she had hired to help him advance a grade; his conduct bordered on actual rudeness. The boy had tried telling her that the pressure to study was too much for him but she had stubbornly refused to listen. Bulma had told her, not so long ago, that if she persisted in this course she was going to alienate Gohan for good. Chi Chi cheeks burned with shame over the scathing retort she had given the sea-foam haired beauty for her interference. It was common knowledge that Gokou had never been any kind of an intellectual. He had only gotten as far as the sixth grade and his skills outside of martial arts were rudimentary, at best. The family had lived off of her inheritance because he couldn't have been bothered to get a job. Small wonder she wanted better things for her only child-
-No, not only child. Soon, there were going to be two to worry about. Rubbing her stomach gingerly, the brunette submerged the self-pity that threatened to consume her. Everyone around her was crumbling to pieces; she had to remain the strong one. She was not going to break down in helpless tears!
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bulma getting wearily to her feet and rose to accompany her. "Is everything alright?"
Glancing at her, Bulma nodded and headed towards the nurse's station. "I'm going to see if there's any news on Trunks' condition."
"Bulma, I-" Chi Chi knew that the other woman had been talking with the doctor less than two hours before. There would be no new information but she understood this helpless anxiety caused by sitting around. "-I think that's a very good idea."
The pair went to the counter and waited as the doctor was being paged. Bulma looked up to the wall that was displaying the vitals of the patients in the pediatric intensive care ward. There were two other children hooked up to life support. One was a baby girl born six weeks premature and the other a two-year-old boy who had been in a car accident. Trunks' name was written beneath one of the monitors and Bulma watched the laboring lines and blips that streaked across the screen with an aching heart. If it were possible, she would trade places with the baby in an instant. This wasn't fair for something to happen to someone so young and innocent.
Make it stop, she thought to herself. If this is some kind of a sick, twisted joke, I want it to come to an end. RIGHT NOW.
As if responding to her request, all of Trunks' vitals went flat- line.
Grateful that his mother hadn't berated him for seeking out Piccolo, Gohan relaxed a little and took advantage of the fare that Mrs. Briefs had laid out in the waiting room. There was practically a buffet set out on the coffee tables and the boy made up for several days of infrequent meals. There were three pitchers of iced tea and he drank two of them down in rapid succession. Obviously, it wasn't long before his swollen bladder demanded to be voided.
Heading down the corridor towards the bathroom, Gohan ogled the sterile surroundings. The last time he had been in this hospital was after the epic battle with the Saiyans and back then he hadn't been a visitor. He, Krillin and Gokou had been the last survivors to battle Vegeta and he had cleaned all of their clocks. It had just been a fluke that the boy's Oozaru state had fallen on the wounded Saiyan at the end, otherwise Earth would have been a barren cinder in space. Gohan and Krillin had spent a week in the hospital recovering from bruised bones and cuts. If not for a senzu bean, Gokou would have spent close to a year. Being here now created all sorts of bad memories for the young hybrid.
The bathroom was empty but for one closed stall and Gohan stepped up to the urinal and did his business. When he went to the sink, he was so engrossed in the task of thoroughly washing his hands that he didn't notice anyone was behind him until an arm locked around his neck.
Alien instinct kicked in and he immediately brought an elbow back, intending to connect with his attacker's ribcage. The blow was blocked. He kicked back and up with his left leg to nail the person in the groin with the heel of his foot. Again, the action was effortlessly thwarted. Staring at his reflection in confusion, Gohan saw that the man holding onto him was wearing a dark blue battle dress uniform. The hat was pulled down low over his face but, as the boy continued to stare, he finally glanced up. Gohan's entire body went limp in shock. "…Vegeta?"
He was released and the boy eagerly turned to confront the missing Saiyan. Words were lost for the moment as he could only gape helplessly at the figure standing only a few feet from him.
Staring back beneath the brim of the cap, Vegeta eyes remained locked on the youth as if expecting some manner of challenge. Little had changed in his face, it was as tense and expressionless as ever but Gohan thought that it looked a little paler than he remembered. Perhaps a little thinner, too. It was hard to tell under the loose clothes he was presently wearing. "Are you in disguise?"
Vegeta's lips twitched and he straightened from the fighting stance he had adopted. He appeared shorter than Gohan remembered and the boy figured that it had something to do with the BDU cap the Saiyan was wearing. Without that mantle of flame-styled hair surrounding his head, the Saiyan lost at least a foot of extra height. He was about to comment on it when Vegeta turned his head towards the door, exposing the nape of his neck. Gohan plainly saw that the dense ragged spikes of the man's usual mane of hair were now only about an inch long. "Vegeta, what the heck happened to your- "
Somebody was coming in and Gohan felt himself grabbed again and yanked into the nearby stall. The metal door closed just as Yamcha walked in. Glaring daggers at the boy, Vegeta's body language demanded that Gohan remain quiet while the other fighter went about his business. Registering that something wasn't right here by any stretch of the imagination, Gohan complied with the unspoken request.
Entering the stall right beside theirs, Yamcha unbuckled his trousers and sat down on the toilet. He released two immense farts, made some comment about beans and then grunted. There was the faint splash of water soon after followed by another release of wind. Gohan almost burst out laughing when the former-bandit began humming the tune "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" and tapping his feet on the linoleum. The mirth dried up the instant he looked into Vegeta's dark, haunted eyes.
It seemed to take forever before Yamcha was satisfied and pulled up his pants and then flushed the toilet. When he had exited the bathroom, Vegeta and Gohan quickly vacated the cramped stall and were almost gasping for air. "Filthy bastard never even washed his hands," Gohan heard the Saiyan grumble under his breath.
Ignoring the characteristic sarcasm, Gohan shelved his earlier concern and had to restrain himself from releasing a shout of joy. "You're alright! Everyone was getting worried about you, Vegeta. Nobody has heard a thing in over-"
"What's the boy's condition?" the Saiyan interrupted.
"Trunks?" Gohan winced at the stupid question. "He's in bad shape. The doctor's don't think he'll make it to the end of the week."
"Take me to him."
"Sure. Follow me," the boy said. He was relieved beyond words that the Saiyan appeared to be concerned about the baby's welfare at long last. The pair left the bathroom and turned left down the corridor towards the ICU. Practically skipping in his excitement, Gohan kept a brisk pace while Vegeta lagged behind, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might recognize him. He knew that the entire collection of Earth's defenders were assembled in the waiting area, only a handful of rooms away. There was no way he was going to let himself be interrupted in his duty until his intended task was complete.
Stopping in front of a large window, Gohan waited for the other man to catch up and then nodded gravely at the scene beyond the glass. At first, Vegeta didn't understand what the boy was getting at until the situation dawned on him and he understood what they were seeing. Lying in a padded crib, Trunks' pale little form was hooked up to various monitoring devices and a respirator was assisting his breathing. A nurse, wearing sterile gear, was tending to some paperwork in the far corner.
When the Saiyan's odd silence stretched on, Gohan spoke up; "Trunks wasn't eating that well for the last week or so. Bulma said that he might be suffering from- Oh, what was that word… veneer?"
"V'Nhar."
"Yeah, that. He went into some sort of seizure four days ago and still wouldn't accept what the nurses tried to give him. A day after that, he lapsed into a coma."
"It's not a coma," Vegeta said tersely. "That's a condition reserved for those imbecilic soaps on daytime television. His system is just pining for proper nourishment."
"But he won't take any food."
"It's not food he wants," the Saiyan muttered and went to the door to let himself into the ICU. The deadbolt was electronic and required a code entered into the nearby keypad to gain entrance. Without any visible effort, Vegeta crushed the doorknob in one hand just as he rammed his shoulder into the door. It flew open, taking the reinforced metal jamb right along with it.
"Sir! You can't come in here!" the nurse cried indignantly. "This is a sterile environment!"
"Not anymore," Vegeta commented as he strode over to Trunks' crib. Poor Gohan was gamely keeping up but he couldn't look the furious attendant in the face, so great was his shame. He had been brought up to always respect authority and obey the rules. Now, after less than ten minutes in Vegeta's shadow, here he was ignoring both.
The nurse ran over to her desk and immediately picked up the phone. "Security! I have a Code White in the-"
With a muted curse, Vegeta whirled and flicked a miniature destructo disk from his first and middle fingers. It cut through the phone cord and collided with the far wall to dissipate in a harmless spray of sparks. The expression on the nurse's face was a cross between wonder and fear. She could only look down at the receiver in her hand where only a foot of cord was swinging back and forth. By the time she managed to look around at Vegeta, he was standing with his arm raised in her direction. "Get out," he barked. To lend import to his words, his hand began glowing.
The nurse took off, screeching like a banshee the instant she left the ICU. Vegeta knew that in less than a minute, security and the assembled Z Fighters were going to descend on him like a cloud of locusts. He had to work quickly.
Pulling the various electrodes from Trunks' small form, Vegeta scowled at the bruises from numerous needles that had marred the baby's flesh. Without any hesitation, he yanked out the breathing tube that had been forced down the boy's throat and unwrapped an object from his coat pocket. Paying keen attention beside the Saiyan, Gohan blanched in disgust at what the man held in one hand. "Oh gross! Is that what I think it is?"
Raising Trunks' head, Vegeta was holding a scrap of bloody meat directly beneath the infant's nose. "This is what the boy needs in his diet. A thing his mothers' lactating teats can't provide for him," the Saiyan explained patiently as he waited for a reaction to his offering. Any reaction. "Domesticated or half-breed, the babe has Saiyan in his blood and craves a taste of the kill. I'm willing to bet that you kept your household up all night with your howling until you turned at least two."
Blinking in surprise at the insight, Gohan could only gape at the other man. "Mom said I was a difficult baby until I turned two and finally started sleeping through the night. A piece of raw meat would have helped?"
Vegeta only offered a terse nod as he focused his concentration on his son. The baby was rejecting the grisly gift and his labored breaths were becoming shallower by the second. Outside of the ICU, there were shouts and a flurry of footfalls. Bulma and Chi Chi were the first to run to the window, followed by the others.
"Gohan! What are you doing in here? What's going on?!" Chi Chi shrieked at the top of her lungs as she rushed inside. Glaring daggers at the soldier standing over the stricken child, she snapped, "Who are you?" She didn't recognize the Saiyan in his unfamiliar gear and that was probably the only reason why she didn't go ballistic on the spot.
"Vegeta…" Bulma whispered from behind her. She froze in the doorway, unable to make her legs go any further. Despite the inconsistencies in the man's appearance, she knew it was him almost instantly. Now he was standing over Trunks' bed, holding the baby with what looked like bloody hands.
He's come to finish him off, she thought in terror. She tried to will her legs to move, to intervene, but too many days of little sleep finally took their toll. Collapsing strengthlessly to her knees, she gibbered senseless words to the Saiyan, begging him to spare their son. Behind her, Yamcha and the others looked on in shock, the tense scene actually causing them to pause in their course.
Vegeta watched her histrionics through veiled eyes and then focused his attention back to Chi Chi. The woman was staring at him as if he had horns as his presence slowly dawned on her. Her eyes tracked from the scrap of bloody meat he was holding, to his face and back again in confusion. "Wha-what are you doing-"
"Vegeta!" Gohan cried urgently. Trunks' body was beginning to shiver and his lips were turning blue from lack of oxygen.
"He's dying!" Chi Chi wailed. "You bastard! What have you done?"
Releasing a growl, Vegeta brought his wrist to his mouth and bit down deep into the veins, tearing away the flesh. He gripped the nape of Trunks' neck and forced the baby's face against the bleeding wound. "Drink, damn you! I COMMAND IT!" The transformation into Super Saiyan followed the order just as Vegeta's blood coated the infant. Both Gohan and Chi Chi were about to force the pair apart when they witnessed a stunning scene.
Registering the scent of ki-infused blood, both of Trunks' eyes flew open in recognition. He immediately latched onto the offering, sucking at the spouting gash with a fevered intensity that shook his entire body. Gohan saw a flicker of relief pass by on the Saiyan's face as well as something else.
Vegeta's nose was starting to bleed.
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Chapter Eight: Vegeta finally confronts Bulma about her past actions.