...........................................................................................~* BROKEN HOME
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*
Bulma and Vejita returned home late that night, both exhausted from the day's beach activities. Trunks had, much to Vejita's displeasure, returned home with Goku to play and spar with Gohan, who was getting to be quite fond of the little boy's company. Bulma could hardly blame the poor kid-- Chichi was the only company he had. That was enough to make any kid desperate.
Bulma tossed aside her beach bag of belongings upon entering the door and, judging by the darkness and silence of the mansion, assuming that her parents were not home. She turned to Vejita with a mischevious smile. "Looks like we're all alone tonight..."
The Saiyan Prince smirked in return, even as he brushed past the shocked Bulma on his way to the kitchen.
"Well then," Bulma called after him in a hurt voice. "Rejected." She kicked off her sandals and followed Vejita into the kitchen, where he was, no surprisingly, digging around in the refrigerator. "I see-- it must take an awful lot of energy to kick Goku's ass."
"Not nearly as much as you might think," Vejita retorted, moving away from the refrigerator with empty hands. "Even if it did, we don't have shit to eat here anyway. Your mother is getting old and senile-- she's worthless."
Bulma rolled her eyes and took a seat at the familiar counter. "Do you realize that nearly all of our encounters have taken place in the kitchen, at this counter?" She sighed and picked at her nails absently. "Thats a little pathetic, isn't it?"
"What's gotten you into such an observant mood?" Vejita proceeded to search the cabinets, and it looked as if he was having similar luck. Finally he pulled out a beer, staring down at the offensive drink in disgust, and crossed his arms. "Did your little conversation with Yamcha trigger fond memories?" His tone was low and dangerous. Bulma sensed an argument coming on and winced.
"Where did THAT comment come from?" she asked cautiously, making sure that she maintained good eye contact with Vejita. She knew from long experience that above all, the cocky Saiyan respected the truth.
"I could sense your ki's separate from the others, together." Vejita's expression grew serious, and he having no apparent problem looking her in the eye, as she was him. "Did you think that I wouldn't sense something like that?"
"You're acting like I should be confessing something," Bulma said, trying to keep a cool head. "Nothing happened, Vejita, you know that. We just talked."
"Talked," Vejita repeated. "What could you possibly have to discuss?"
"HE sought ME out," Bulma pointed out. "He wanted to resolve our past problems. He wants to be my friend again. We've been friends since we were what, fourteen years old?!"
Vejita scowled, and the little hairs on the back of Bulma's neck rose along with his ki. "Did that little bastard not understand what I meant when I told him not to mess with what's mine?!"
"Yours?" Bulma repeated doubtfully. "Technically, Vejita, I'm fair game."
"And what is THAT supposed to mean?" Vejita demanded.
"You have no legal claim over me nor Trunks," Bulma explained. This issue had been brought up before, but for the first time since Trunks' birth, she felt confident enough to resolve the matter once and for all. "Legally, I'm a single mother, free to date whoever I want."
"Don't throw this back in my face, woman," Vejita grumbled, twisting the metal cap off of his beer and crushing it in his fingers like Play-doh. "Human formalities mean nothing to me."
Bulma crossed her arms. "But they mean something to ME, Vejita! I'm not exactly content with the fact that you have no desire to marry me!" Too shaken up to wait for a response, she jumped out of her chair and started to exit the kitchen, but then paused in mid-step. "We're getting too old for this." She turned back around to face the angry Vejita, her blue eyes blazing. "Nobody's going to run away tonight-- not even me."
Vejita's movements were quick and jerky, a clear sign that he was mad. "Don't assume things that you know aren't true, woman. I'm sick of your brainless accusations."
"Brainless accusations?" Bulma exclaimed incredulously. "Its true, isn't it? If you really wanted to be committed to me, then I would have a fucking RING on my finger or at LEAST a promise from you!"
"Only humans need sentimental shit like that," Vejita spat. "I sure as hell don't!"
"Vejita, I'm not a Saiyan. I never will be. I'm HUMAN. On this planet, an unmarried woman who has a child is looked down on as-- as TRASH!" Bulma stomped her foot in childish frustration. "You and I both know that Trunks deserves better than that."
Vejita narrowed his eyes. "Better than that? Perhaps the brat would feel better about himself if he had a mother who knew what the hell she was doing!"
Bulma was rendered speechless at this cruel comment. She soon found herself fighting back stinging tears. "Vejita, that was...that was HORRIBLE." When he moved to explain himself and perhaps do some damage control, she waved him away and fell back into her chair at the counter, her blue eyes wide with shock and hurt. "I can't believe that you said that."
"Kami, woman, you know that I didn't--"
"No, I don't know," Bulma insisted. "You're right. Oh Kami, you're right..." She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "I'm a shitty mother, and you know it. Would you believe that sometimes, I HATE Trunks? I just want to-- to... wrap my hands around his little throat and KILL him sometimes!" Her fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to do just that. "Is that a bad thing? Because it happens so often..."
Vejita leaned back against the kitchen sink, uncertain of what to do or say. "I wouldn't know. My parents were never around."
Bulma looked up and met his black eyes with her own. "And just think, YOU'RE the better parent! My parents have been around me, supporting me, my entire life, and look at how I turned out! Who would have thought that you, the bloodthirsty... VEJITA, would become the better parent?"
"I knew that it would happen," Vejita pointed out in an effort to make her feel better.
In an odd way, Vejita's form of consolation worked quite well on Bulma. Temporarily, anyway. She smiled through her tears. "Only you would make an arrogant comment like that at a time like this."
"At a time like this..." Vejita's eyes widened with realization. "Hold on for one damned minute! Are you making an attempt to have one of your damned heart-to-heart talks or whatever the hell you women call them?!" He took his beer and smashed it against the kitchen wall, his ki flaring up in a burst of blindingly blue light. Bulma desperately wished that she had some idea of what was going on in his head at the moment, but she had no such luck. "Dammit! I do NOT want to be dictated by ridiculous human expectations!"
Bulma slid off of her chair. "Listen to me, Vejita, don't lose control over yourself just because of--"
Vejita looked as if he was wishing for another beer to smash. His eyes smoldered with unbridled rage. "Don't try to push me around, just like everyone else on this shithole of a planet! I can fucking control myself!"
Bulma began backing away from him slowly. "Fine then. You work on that..." She locked wide-eyes with him for a moment more before turning and retreating, heading for the front hall. For the door.
Trunks sighed as Chichi sped along the twisty-turny country roads that would eventually turn into the highway that would take him back home. Back home to his parents fighting, or ignoring each other, or sometimes even worse-- making out. Trunks crinkled his little nose in disgust and glanced out the window, wishing that Gohan hadn't come down sick so he could have spent the night. Since he hadn't started real school yet, he didn't really have many friends to play with.
"Are we there yet?" he asked impatiently from his place in the backseat. "I'm tired."
Chichi grimaced and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "No, we aren't! You are just like your father, Trunks, just like Vejita. Honestly, hasn't Bulma taught you any manners?"
"No," Trunks grumbled, but it was too quiet for Chichi to hear. It wasn't as if she cared anyway. She was grumbling to herself about households these days and blah blah blah... Trunks tuned her out. Then, with a devilish smirk that WAS exactly like his father's, "Are we there now? Now? How about now?"
Chichi let loose a loud cry of frustration. Trunks laughed hysterically.
Bulma hastily slid on her flip-flops, grabbed Vejita's leather coat, and hurried out of the door, ignoring his shouts of protest. She held back the tears as long as she could, but before she made it to the driveway they spilled over, betraying her inner feelings of despair. She hopped into the first available car-- the red convertable that Vejita loved so much (Kami, she couldn't get away from reminders of him!) and sped out of the driveway. She did not notice Chichi's car pull into the driveway just as she was speeding away, nor did she hear Trunks shouting out of the window of the woman's car.
"Human sentimental shit my ass," she growled, pressing down on the gas pedal even harder. The speedometer reached levels up to 90 mph, but she hardly noticed. All she thought about was getting to the Shore Road, where she could be alone. Well, if you didn't count the ocean.
The public beach was deserted due to the oncoming nightfall, much to Bulma's relief. She parked the convertable right on the sand and jumped out, headed straight for the surf. The ocean reminded her sometimes of Vejita-- sometimes cool and calm, yet also volatile and unpredictable, ready to jump up and bite you in the ass when you were least expecting it. Speaking of unpredictability, right when Bulma approached the water, the waves leaped up and soaked her straight down to the bone. She shook her head and twisted her nose ring absently. It was alright if she smelled like salt and seaweed-- it wasn't as if she would be sharing a bed with anyone anytime soon.
The sun finally set, and Bulma was cast into darkness. She didn't mind, though, she was used to darkness. She thought back to the night when Yamcha had dumped her forlornly. She had walked all the way home in stiletto heels, in the RAIN, that night, and she had lived. It seemed that she was destined to run away from all of the men in her life. Alone. She only thought of Trunks briefly-- her mind was still reeling over the recent argument. The kid was as strong and bull-headed as his father. He would be fine.
She plopped right down in the sand, ignoring the lapping waves that threatened to pull her out to sea. Where would she go? She couldn't go back to her house, that was for sure, but it wasn't as if she had many other places to go. Then, she thought of somewhere-- Vejita would have a fit if he knew, but it wasn't as if they were MARRIED or anything. She sat in the wet sand for a few more minutes, collecting her thoughts, and then stood and brushed herself off. When she jumped back into the convertable, all thoughts focused on the one place she had to go.
Yamcha's house.
Trunks came running into the house, his little face clearly showing concern. He had seen his mother speeding away in his dad's convertable, and when his mom went that fast, you knew that something was wrong. He called for his father, but he got no response. He finally found him in the living room, sitting on the couch and staring at the wall. His face was blank, and his eyes revealed nothing.
"Daddy?" Trunks called, approaching him slowly. "Where's Mommy going? Is she going to get some food? Because we ran out of Goldfish--"
"She's not going to get any damned food, boy!" Vejita exclaimed. "Stop running your mouth. Your mother just went away for a while."
"I don't believe you!" Trunks shouted indignantly, displaying some of his father's infamous temper. "She went away, probably forever! I hate you BOTH!" The child turned and stomped his way up to his room, where he slammed his door and turned on his TV.
Vejita rolled his eyes, thinking the small tantrum to be nothing more than an attempt to get attention. He lowered his head into his hands again and massaged his throbbing temples, trying to make his oncoming migraine go away. It wasn't unlike Bulma to run away, but he had been under the (foolish) impression that she had started to grow up and get over it. Apparently he had been wrong. It would not be the last time. For lack of anything else to do, Vejita got up and started pacing the room. He had to think of what to do-- if Mrs. Briefs came home and discovered what had happened, she would make a huge fuss and only add to his headache, and that was the LAST thing he wanted at the moment. Whatever he decided to do, it had to be fast and effiecient. And, in Vejita's mind anyway, if you wanted something done right then you would have to do it yourself.
The frustrated Saiyan grabbed a coat (Bulma would be pleased to see that he had done so; she was always trying to get him to dress for the weather.) and stepped out the door, almost certain that Trunks would be fine by himself. The boy was HIS son, after all. He ignored the heavy rain that was falling around him. He noticed his favorite car missing and scowled. He would settle for nothing less-- it looked as if he were going to have to fly. He hated flying in the rain.
"This had better be worth it," he grumbled to himself. "The brat is going to owe me for bringing his idiot mother home..."
Vejita powered up and took flight.
Back at Capsule Corps., Trunks waited on his small balcony, watching his father leave in a flash of golden light. So he had been right-- his mother had run off. She had threatened to do it a couple times when she didn't think that he was listening, but the thought that she might actually try to pull it off had never crossed his mind. Until he had seen the red convertible speeding away, that is.
Trunks turned and sprinted out of his room and down the stairs. He skidded to a halt in the hallway and began searching for his tennis shoes-- he would never forgive his father for not teaching him how to fly yet --and upon finding them began the struggle to tie them by himself. His mother had always (more than often reluctantly) been there to assist him, so he had rarely done it by himself, but he managed. He didn't think to grab a coat as his father had, being a child and all that. He instead walked right out the door and began walking in the direction of the ocean, where somehow he knew his mother had gone.
Bulma was careful pulling into Yamcha's driveway-- she didn't want him to be aware of her presence just yet. She had to get herself together before she started screaming in frustration. She ignored the rain that formed puddles on the leather interior of the car and allowed herself a moment to collect her thoughts.
She had always known-- in the back of her mind, anyway --that Vejita didn't want to marry her. He was a man of honor, and if his intentions had been such then he would have asked her a long time ago, back when her pregnancy was first discovered. Even Vejita had a simple understanding of how being a single mother affected such a young woman's reputation. But he had left her just that for years now, apparently without a second thought or even a single regret. Bulma's hands clenched into fists at the thought. Let Vejita see how much fun being a single parent really is.
"Bulma?" Yamcha called. When she had been engaged in thought, he had stepped out onto his sheltered doorstep. So much for him not noticing her yet. "Is that you?"
Bulma wiped some soaking wet hair out of her face and grimaced as she stepped out of the car. The interior would never be the same after this little fiasco. "Yes, its me. Do you mind?" She was gladder than ever that they had made peace earlier, even if it had made the argument that much worse.
Though he looked a bit confused, Yamcha nodded and followed her inside. The familiar surroundings caused Bulma's heart to race as she relived the last night she had spent here. "I see that you uh, fixed your window. Sorry about that."
"Yeah." Yamcha grinned. "So what's up? Should I be expecting Vejita to come and break my neck in a couple minutes?"
Bulma normally would have laughed, but he might do just that, so she merely faked a smile. "Well, not for a few minutes at least. I actually feel like an ass right now..." She started backing away towards the door. "I should just... go somewhere else..."
Yamcha grabbed her arm, concern clear in his brown eyes. He knew Bulma far too well. "What happened? Did that bastard HIT you? And where's Trunks?"
"He's at Goku's, and no, Vejita's never hit me," Bulma answered. "This is going to sound really stupid, but we had an argument."
"An argument," Yamcha repeated. "I have the impression that that's a common thing. Why is this one any different?"
"There is no resolution to this one," Bulma said. "Unless Vejita gets a sudden change of heart, and that's not very likely." She noticed the growing puddle beneath her feet and winced. "Um, maybe I should dry off."
Yamcha nodded, intrigued in spite of himself. "That might be a good idea. Follow me."
Bulma glanced out the window, searching for a tell-tale glow of ki, then followed Yamcha deeper into his apartment.
__________________________________________________________________________________________
(A/N): I actually updated this fic, can you believe it?! This one was kind of short, but that's all that I want to put in for now. I don't think that this fic is going to be quite as long as 'Little Black Dress' was. Its going to be more like ten chapters or so, plus an epilogue. And for all you 'Pitch Black' people, I just learned that there is going to be a sequel, possibly even THREE sequels, called 'The Chronicles of Riddick', and they're all going to center around none other than Vin Diesel's character, Riddick, obviously! I'm so happy! The release date for the first one is June 26, 2004 or somewhere around there. Who knows, maybe I'll write a few sequels...?? These ones are going to be higher-budget, better-made movies, so that's definitely going to be a must-see for me. Anyway, all reviews will be greatly appreciated, as always. Ja ne!
Rhapsody~*
HawaiianBabay@aol.com
AIM Hawaiian Babay
__________________________________________________________________________________________
.........................................................................................................................Rhapsody~*
Bulma and Vejita returned home late that night, both exhausted from the day's beach activities. Trunks had, much to Vejita's displeasure, returned home with Goku to play and spar with Gohan, who was getting to be quite fond of the little boy's company. Bulma could hardly blame the poor kid-- Chichi was the only company he had. That was enough to make any kid desperate.
Bulma tossed aside her beach bag of belongings upon entering the door and, judging by the darkness and silence of the mansion, assuming that her parents were not home. She turned to Vejita with a mischevious smile. "Looks like we're all alone tonight..."
The Saiyan Prince smirked in return, even as he brushed past the shocked Bulma on his way to the kitchen.
"Well then," Bulma called after him in a hurt voice. "Rejected." She kicked off her sandals and followed Vejita into the kitchen, where he was, no surprisingly, digging around in the refrigerator. "I see-- it must take an awful lot of energy to kick Goku's ass."
"Not nearly as much as you might think," Vejita retorted, moving away from the refrigerator with empty hands. "Even if it did, we don't have shit to eat here anyway. Your mother is getting old and senile-- she's worthless."
Bulma rolled her eyes and took a seat at the familiar counter. "Do you realize that nearly all of our encounters have taken place in the kitchen, at this counter?" She sighed and picked at her nails absently. "Thats a little pathetic, isn't it?"
"What's gotten you into such an observant mood?" Vejita proceeded to search the cabinets, and it looked as if he was having similar luck. Finally he pulled out a beer, staring down at the offensive drink in disgust, and crossed his arms. "Did your little conversation with Yamcha trigger fond memories?" His tone was low and dangerous. Bulma sensed an argument coming on and winced.
"Where did THAT comment come from?" she asked cautiously, making sure that she maintained good eye contact with Vejita. She knew from long experience that above all, the cocky Saiyan respected the truth.
"I could sense your ki's separate from the others, together." Vejita's expression grew serious, and he having no apparent problem looking her in the eye, as she was him. "Did you think that I wouldn't sense something like that?"
"You're acting like I should be confessing something," Bulma said, trying to keep a cool head. "Nothing happened, Vejita, you know that. We just talked."
"Talked," Vejita repeated. "What could you possibly have to discuss?"
"HE sought ME out," Bulma pointed out. "He wanted to resolve our past problems. He wants to be my friend again. We've been friends since we were what, fourteen years old?!"
Vejita scowled, and the little hairs on the back of Bulma's neck rose along with his ki. "Did that little bastard not understand what I meant when I told him not to mess with what's mine?!"
"Yours?" Bulma repeated doubtfully. "Technically, Vejita, I'm fair game."
"And what is THAT supposed to mean?" Vejita demanded.
"You have no legal claim over me nor Trunks," Bulma explained. This issue had been brought up before, but for the first time since Trunks' birth, she felt confident enough to resolve the matter once and for all. "Legally, I'm a single mother, free to date whoever I want."
"Don't throw this back in my face, woman," Vejita grumbled, twisting the metal cap off of his beer and crushing it in his fingers like Play-doh. "Human formalities mean nothing to me."
Bulma crossed her arms. "But they mean something to ME, Vejita! I'm not exactly content with the fact that you have no desire to marry me!" Too shaken up to wait for a response, she jumped out of her chair and started to exit the kitchen, but then paused in mid-step. "We're getting too old for this." She turned back around to face the angry Vejita, her blue eyes blazing. "Nobody's going to run away tonight-- not even me."
Vejita's movements were quick and jerky, a clear sign that he was mad. "Don't assume things that you know aren't true, woman. I'm sick of your brainless accusations."
"Brainless accusations?" Bulma exclaimed incredulously. "Its true, isn't it? If you really wanted to be committed to me, then I would have a fucking RING on my finger or at LEAST a promise from you!"
"Only humans need sentimental shit like that," Vejita spat. "I sure as hell don't!"
"Vejita, I'm not a Saiyan. I never will be. I'm HUMAN. On this planet, an unmarried woman who has a child is looked down on as-- as TRASH!" Bulma stomped her foot in childish frustration. "You and I both know that Trunks deserves better than that."
Vejita narrowed his eyes. "Better than that? Perhaps the brat would feel better about himself if he had a mother who knew what the hell she was doing!"
Bulma was rendered speechless at this cruel comment. She soon found herself fighting back stinging tears. "Vejita, that was...that was HORRIBLE." When he moved to explain himself and perhaps do some damage control, she waved him away and fell back into her chair at the counter, her blue eyes wide with shock and hurt. "I can't believe that you said that."
"Kami, woman, you know that I didn't--"
"No, I don't know," Bulma insisted. "You're right. Oh Kami, you're right..." She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "I'm a shitty mother, and you know it. Would you believe that sometimes, I HATE Trunks? I just want to-- to... wrap my hands around his little throat and KILL him sometimes!" Her fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to do just that. "Is that a bad thing? Because it happens so often..."
Vejita leaned back against the kitchen sink, uncertain of what to do or say. "I wouldn't know. My parents were never around."
Bulma looked up and met his black eyes with her own. "And just think, YOU'RE the better parent! My parents have been around me, supporting me, my entire life, and look at how I turned out! Who would have thought that you, the bloodthirsty... VEJITA, would become the better parent?"
"I knew that it would happen," Vejita pointed out in an effort to make her feel better.
In an odd way, Vejita's form of consolation worked quite well on Bulma. Temporarily, anyway. She smiled through her tears. "Only you would make an arrogant comment like that at a time like this."
"At a time like this..." Vejita's eyes widened with realization. "Hold on for one damned minute! Are you making an attempt to have one of your damned heart-to-heart talks or whatever the hell you women call them?!" He took his beer and smashed it against the kitchen wall, his ki flaring up in a burst of blindingly blue light. Bulma desperately wished that she had some idea of what was going on in his head at the moment, but she had no such luck. "Dammit! I do NOT want to be dictated by ridiculous human expectations!"
Bulma slid off of her chair. "Listen to me, Vejita, don't lose control over yourself just because of--"
Vejita looked as if he was wishing for another beer to smash. His eyes smoldered with unbridled rage. "Don't try to push me around, just like everyone else on this shithole of a planet! I can fucking control myself!"
Bulma began backing away from him slowly. "Fine then. You work on that..." She locked wide-eyes with him for a moment more before turning and retreating, heading for the front hall. For the door.
Trunks sighed as Chichi sped along the twisty-turny country roads that would eventually turn into the highway that would take him back home. Back home to his parents fighting, or ignoring each other, or sometimes even worse-- making out. Trunks crinkled his little nose in disgust and glanced out the window, wishing that Gohan hadn't come down sick so he could have spent the night. Since he hadn't started real school yet, he didn't really have many friends to play with.
"Are we there yet?" he asked impatiently from his place in the backseat. "I'm tired."
Chichi grimaced and gripped the steering wheel tighter. "No, we aren't! You are just like your father, Trunks, just like Vejita. Honestly, hasn't Bulma taught you any manners?"
"No," Trunks grumbled, but it was too quiet for Chichi to hear. It wasn't as if she cared anyway. She was grumbling to herself about households these days and blah blah blah... Trunks tuned her out. Then, with a devilish smirk that WAS exactly like his father's, "Are we there now? Now? How about now?"
Chichi let loose a loud cry of frustration. Trunks laughed hysterically.
Bulma hastily slid on her flip-flops, grabbed Vejita's leather coat, and hurried out of the door, ignoring his shouts of protest. She held back the tears as long as she could, but before she made it to the driveway they spilled over, betraying her inner feelings of despair. She hopped into the first available car-- the red convertable that Vejita loved so much (Kami, she couldn't get away from reminders of him!) and sped out of the driveway. She did not notice Chichi's car pull into the driveway just as she was speeding away, nor did she hear Trunks shouting out of the window of the woman's car.
"Human sentimental shit my ass," she growled, pressing down on the gas pedal even harder. The speedometer reached levels up to 90 mph, but she hardly noticed. All she thought about was getting to the Shore Road, where she could be alone. Well, if you didn't count the ocean.
The public beach was deserted due to the oncoming nightfall, much to Bulma's relief. She parked the convertable right on the sand and jumped out, headed straight for the surf. The ocean reminded her sometimes of Vejita-- sometimes cool and calm, yet also volatile and unpredictable, ready to jump up and bite you in the ass when you were least expecting it. Speaking of unpredictability, right when Bulma approached the water, the waves leaped up and soaked her straight down to the bone. She shook her head and twisted her nose ring absently. It was alright if she smelled like salt and seaweed-- it wasn't as if she would be sharing a bed with anyone anytime soon.
The sun finally set, and Bulma was cast into darkness. She didn't mind, though, she was used to darkness. She thought back to the night when Yamcha had dumped her forlornly. She had walked all the way home in stiletto heels, in the RAIN, that night, and she had lived. It seemed that she was destined to run away from all of the men in her life. Alone. She only thought of Trunks briefly-- her mind was still reeling over the recent argument. The kid was as strong and bull-headed as his father. He would be fine.
She plopped right down in the sand, ignoring the lapping waves that threatened to pull her out to sea. Where would she go? She couldn't go back to her house, that was for sure, but it wasn't as if she had many other places to go. Then, she thought of somewhere-- Vejita would have a fit if he knew, but it wasn't as if they were MARRIED or anything. She sat in the wet sand for a few more minutes, collecting her thoughts, and then stood and brushed herself off. When she jumped back into the convertable, all thoughts focused on the one place she had to go.
Yamcha's house.
Trunks came running into the house, his little face clearly showing concern. He had seen his mother speeding away in his dad's convertable, and when his mom went that fast, you knew that something was wrong. He called for his father, but he got no response. He finally found him in the living room, sitting on the couch and staring at the wall. His face was blank, and his eyes revealed nothing.
"Daddy?" Trunks called, approaching him slowly. "Where's Mommy going? Is she going to get some food? Because we ran out of Goldfish--"
"She's not going to get any damned food, boy!" Vejita exclaimed. "Stop running your mouth. Your mother just went away for a while."
"I don't believe you!" Trunks shouted indignantly, displaying some of his father's infamous temper. "She went away, probably forever! I hate you BOTH!" The child turned and stomped his way up to his room, where he slammed his door and turned on his TV.
Vejita rolled his eyes, thinking the small tantrum to be nothing more than an attempt to get attention. He lowered his head into his hands again and massaged his throbbing temples, trying to make his oncoming migraine go away. It wasn't unlike Bulma to run away, but he had been under the (foolish) impression that she had started to grow up and get over it. Apparently he had been wrong. It would not be the last time. For lack of anything else to do, Vejita got up and started pacing the room. He had to think of what to do-- if Mrs. Briefs came home and discovered what had happened, she would make a huge fuss and only add to his headache, and that was the LAST thing he wanted at the moment. Whatever he decided to do, it had to be fast and effiecient. And, in Vejita's mind anyway, if you wanted something done right then you would have to do it yourself.
The frustrated Saiyan grabbed a coat (Bulma would be pleased to see that he had done so; she was always trying to get him to dress for the weather.) and stepped out the door, almost certain that Trunks would be fine by himself. The boy was HIS son, after all. He ignored the heavy rain that was falling around him. He noticed his favorite car missing and scowled. He would settle for nothing less-- it looked as if he were going to have to fly. He hated flying in the rain.
"This had better be worth it," he grumbled to himself. "The brat is going to owe me for bringing his idiot mother home..."
Vejita powered up and took flight.
Back at Capsule Corps., Trunks waited on his small balcony, watching his father leave in a flash of golden light. So he had been right-- his mother had run off. She had threatened to do it a couple times when she didn't think that he was listening, but the thought that she might actually try to pull it off had never crossed his mind. Until he had seen the red convertible speeding away, that is.
Trunks turned and sprinted out of his room and down the stairs. He skidded to a halt in the hallway and began searching for his tennis shoes-- he would never forgive his father for not teaching him how to fly yet --and upon finding them began the struggle to tie them by himself. His mother had always (more than often reluctantly) been there to assist him, so he had rarely done it by himself, but he managed. He didn't think to grab a coat as his father had, being a child and all that. He instead walked right out the door and began walking in the direction of the ocean, where somehow he knew his mother had gone.
Bulma was careful pulling into Yamcha's driveway-- she didn't want him to be aware of her presence just yet. She had to get herself together before she started screaming in frustration. She ignored the rain that formed puddles on the leather interior of the car and allowed herself a moment to collect her thoughts.
She had always known-- in the back of her mind, anyway --that Vejita didn't want to marry her. He was a man of honor, and if his intentions had been such then he would have asked her a long time ago, back when her pregnancy was first discovered. Even Vejita had a simple understanding of how being a single mother affected such a young woman's reputation. But he had left her just that for years now, apparently without a second thought or even a single regret. Bulma's hands clenched into fists at the thought. Let Vejita see how much fun being a single parent really is.
"Bulma?" Yamcha called. When she had been engaged in thought, he had stepped out onto his sheltered doorstep. So much for him not noticing her yet. "Is that you?"
Bulma wiped some soaking wet hair out of her face and grimaced as she stepped out of the car. The interior would never be the same after this little fiasco. "Yes, its me. Do you mind?" She was gladder than ever that they had made peace earlier, even if it had made the argument that much worse.
Though he looked a bit confused, Yamcha nodded and followed her inside. The familiar surroundings caused Bulma's heart to race as she relived the last night she had spent here. "I see that you uh, fixed your window. Sorry about that."
"Yeah." Yamcha grinned. "So what's up? Should I be expecting Vejita to come and break my neck in a couple minutes?"
Bulma normally would have laughed, but he might do just that, so she merely faked a smile. "Well, not for a few minutes at least. I actually feel like an ass right now..." She started backing away towards the door. "I should just... go somewhere else..."
Yamcha grabbed her arm, concern clear in his brown eyes. He knew Bulma far too well. "What happened? Did that bastard HIT you? And where's Trunks?"
"He's at Goku's, and no, Vejita's never hit me," Bulma answered. "This is going to sound really stupid, but we had an argument."
"An argument," Yamcha repeated. "I have the impression that that's a common thing. Why is this one any different?"
"There is no resolution to this one," Bulma said. "Unless Vejita gets a sudden change of heart, and that's not very likely." She noticed the growing puddle beneath her feet and winced. "Um, maybe I should dry off."
Yamcha nodded, intrigued in spite of himself. "That might be a good idea. Follow me."
Bulma glanced out the window, searching for a tell-tale glow of ki, then followed Yamcha deeper into his apartment.
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(A/N): I actually updated this fic, can you believe it?! This one was kind of short, but that's all that I want to put in for now. I don't think that this fic is going to be quite as long as 'Little Black Dress' was. Its going to be more like ten chapters or so, plus an epilogue. And for all you 'Pitch Black' people, I just learned that there is going to be a sequel, possibly even THREE sequels, called 'The Chronicles of Riddick', and they're all going to center around none other than Vin Diesel's character, Riddick, obviously! I'm so happy! The release date for the first one is June 26, 2004 or somewhere around there. Who knows, maybe I'll write a few sequels...?? These ones are going to be higher-budget, better-made movies, so that's definitely going to be a must-see for me. Anyway, all reviews will be greatly appreciated, as always. Ja ne!
Rhapsody~*
HawaiianBabay@aol.com
AIM Hawaiian Babay
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