"This is for Bulma," the human seethed, "and for what you did to her!" He rocketed toward the Saiyan, fists extended. Vegeta had only a fraction of a second to drop into a defensive stance, but that was all the prince needed. The human's words sunk in as the fight began in earnest, and Vegeta felt rage bubble up through him. She had told him about last night. The woman had shared their most intimate moment with this fool, and now everyone knew Vegeta's weakness. And the rage that thought unleashed powered the prince to a peak of madness.
The two men flew at one another, fists and feet meeting in a deadly dance. Yamcha threw an elbow into Vegeta's face, only to have the Saiyan catch his elbow with a gloved hand. Vegeta got his surprise too, when a follow-through strike that should have taken the human in the gut instead was defected low by his arm.
Goku pulled up short, staring at the fight before him. Yes, Vegeta was obviously going to win, but Yamcha wasn't making it an easy victory. There was no way that the human should have been able to do this well, but the crazed, desperate look of love on his face answered that question. Goku held himself short for just a bit longer, waiting for the moment just before Yamcha lost; letting the two men pound on one another for some time might not be bad for either of them. But when he saw that moment, he darted forward without hesitation and deflected the Saiyan's last blow, knocking it wide.
"Enough," Goku said commandingly. Vegeta's eyes narrowed dangerously, but he drifted back from the other two men. Goku turned to the panting human and said, "Go home, Yamcha."
Yamcha's eyes widening in rage and he silently shook his head. "No," he finally gasped, his voice rasping in his throat. "Not until someone makes him pay."
"This is something that you can't understand," Goku told him, his voice softening with pity. "Vegeta's done nothing wrong to her."
"He bit her!" Yamcha screamed, his ki rising dramatically again. Vegeta growled in response and the human started to go through Goku to get to him.
Goku snatched his old friend by his shirt and shouted, "And I did the same to Chichi on our wedding night! It's a Saiyan custom. I think."
"And one that should not be told to outsiders," Vegeta snarled, angry that his weakness was being explained so openly.
"You can take your custom and shove it!" Yamcha shouted. "It's violent and stupid and it sucks!"
"The sting of your words is too great for me," Vegeta snapped, his tone both angry and sarcastic.
"Yamcha, go home," Goku said, fighting anger himself. "I won't tell you again." He couldn't explain, not in words, what the bite meant, and to hear Yamcha demean it, even unknowingly, was bringing him close to losing his own temper.
"And make sure that it is your home," Vegeta growled. "Don't go sniffing around my woman."
"Bulma! Her name is Bulma, you damn caveman!" Yamcha shouted. With a last angry glare at Goku, he took off toward Capital City, his muscles sore and his heart breaking.
The two Saiyans stared at one another for a long time. Finally Goku said, "How long you planning to stay here?"
Vegeta's eyes narrowed at him. Finally, the Prince shrugged as an answer. "As long as it takes."
"For what?" Goku asked.
"For people to forget what happened," Vegeta said, his voice catching with anger.
"Bulma won't forget," Goku answered. "And you won't be able to ignore this either."
"I can do whatever I want," the Prince hissed angrily.
"Well, you see, there's something else going on here, now," Goku said, scratching his head as he tried to remember exactly how Chichi had told about the oaks.
"What can you possibly think would change my mind?" Vegeta growled, turning his head to stare away from his fellow Saiyan, his dark eyes pensive.
"Well, you know how some trees are harder to push down than others?" Goku said awkwardly, sure that this was not the way that Chichi had told it, but not really remembering how it started.
"I do not have time for this," Vegeta snarled, rolling his eyes back to the younger Saiyan. "I don't need a horticultural lesson from you."
"No wait!" Goku cried, holding out a hand to stop him from leaving. "Darn it, Chichi explained it so well; I just can't remember how to start it."
"What did your braying wife tout out to you?" Vegeta snapped.
"Why some oaks are like adults, and some are like babies," Goku said, beating on the sides of his head as if to jar the thoughts loose. "And you have to be gentle with the little ones, cause they're fragile like babies, and they're too easy to uproot. Except that wasn't it at all!"
Vegeta had frozen at the word "babies". "Say it straight, fool," Vegeta finally growled. "Is this about Bulma?"
"Yes, Chichi said that I had to explain to you about oaks, like she did for me when Gohan was born," Goku answered cheerfully, "so that I knew not to hurt him by accident. I guess that means that you're going to be a daddy."
Vegeta stared at him in open horror before powering up and blasting away toward the east.
"Huh," Goku said, scratching the back of his head. "Why did he do that?"
* * *
"I can't believe this," Bulma sobbed, staring in shock at the little white stick. The indicator mark had long since faded, but she couldn't stop looking at it, waiting for the negative indicator to magically pop up. Since the positive indicator had long since come and gone, she was logically sure that it wasn't going to happen. But still she stared, hoping and waiting.
"Bulma?" Chichi called through the bathroom door, but Bulma ignored her for now.
"Vegeta, where are you?" she whispered. "This is your mess too."
"Bulma, honey, I'm coming in," Chichi called again, and the door opened. She didn't need to ask how the test came out; the answer was written all over the woman's face. "Can I get you something?"
"Yeah," Bulma answered. Her next words came out in a scream, "You can get me that bastard who put me in this position!"
Chichi flinched slightly, glad that Gohan was well outside of the hearing range of the angry woman. "How about I get you something that I actually have a shot of being able to do?" she tried again.
Bulma stared at the floor for a second, and then stood up. "Tell me what I can expect from this," she said. "Tell me how to be a mother to a half-Saiyan, because I think that I'm stuck by myself with this."
* * *
A father. No, it was impossible. He couldn't do it. He couldn't be a father. He had no idea how to do it. He had no idea how he could possibly even begin to be one.
And the woman? She was strong, and brave, for one of her kind. She would be fine without him meddling, without fights over how to raise the brat.
His brat. His half-Saiyan warrior to be.
He really couldn't do this.
A baby. A tiny, annoying mewling infant that would be helpless. The woman would want to coddle and pamper it; he would have trouble resisting the urge to drown it like a rat when it cried.
Vegeta stood up, aware that there were only two routes left to him now. One led back to Bulma. The other was to go off-planet. He could probably make it to the prototype spaceship that the woman's father had been constructing, and it could take him away.
Yes. Away from the horror that was to come, away from the screaming brat and tiny diapers and ridiculous toys and complex rules of baby-care and that demanding woman who would insist he embrace it all; away to somewhere he could fight and become as strong as he deserved to be.
His mind made up, Vegeta floated northwest-ward, heading toward both his salvation and his terror.
* * *
Bulma lay in bed in the dark room, running over the lists of things that she had to. Her parents were being incredibly supportive, offering their concern and help to her. The memory of their selfless offers over the dinner meal brought helpless tears to her eyes.
"No!" she shouted into the room. She sat up hurriedly and pulled her robe on over her pajamas, urging herself onward, "If I can't sleep, then I won't lay here crying helplessly either! I have a ton of things to prepare, and I can't waste a moment."
She dashed down to the lab, her mind seizing on the problems that lay before her eagerly. She had to keep busy, she thought to herself as she dashed into her office, snatching her laptop off her desk before racing down the corridor to her personal lab. "Stevens could handle the Plastics Division while I'm away, but I can't trust Myers to pick his nose, much less handle Metallics," she muttered to herself as she punched the code into the door. She pushed the door open with her butt as she flicked up the light switch.
Vegeta froze, half-in the spaceship. Bulma similarly froze. They stared at each other in silence, Vegeta in silent terror and Bulma in broken-spirited tiredness. The first to move was Vegeta's eyes; against his will, they flicked toward her neck, where a bandage covered her skin.
"Perfect, Vegeta," Bulma broke the painful silence. "Just perfect."
Vegeta stepped out of the spaceship, looking uneasily at her. "I—"
"Don't care, Vegeta," Bulma said coldly. "Don't want to hear it. Just get, and don't let the atmosphere slam you in the ass on the way out."
Vegeta's eyes narrowed as his mask of uncertainty fell away to be replaced by anger. "Fine," he snarled. "I will not be rejected again by you."
"Rejected?" Bulma shrieked, her cold composure becoming blinding rage as she strode up to the Saiyan. "Let me tell you something about rejection, buster! Rejection is having your boyfriend bite you on the freaking neck and leave you bleeding—"
"You ordered me out of your room!" he shouted back, leaning forward like he always did in a fight.
"—and then knock you up and go off-planet!" she finished angrily, leaning forward just as much.
"You just told me to leave!"
"Yeah, when I saw your ass hanging out of the spaceship!" she screamed, waving her hand at the offending ship. "Of course, you never think to wait for permission, do you?"
"I will not have this irrational argument with you, woman. I'm done here," Vegeta snapped.
"And that's it," Bulma answered, crossing her arms as she straighten her back up, calm again without warning. "You're done with me, and now you're going." She leaned tiredly against a nearby table, emotionally exhausted.
"This isn't about you," Vegeta moaned furiously, his hands curved into claws of frustration before him. "This is about me! I can't be a father!"
"You seem to have started the process well enough," Bulma sighed as she rubbed her bandaged neck, not even sure that she wanted to argue the point anymore.
"I don't have time for this," the Saiyan whispered, more to himself than her. "I can't do this."
"Like I have all the time in the world for a freaking baby!" Bulma shouted, her energy coming back in a maddened rush. "I didn't ask for this Vegeta!"
"Neither did I," the Saiyan pointed out quietly. He moved over to lean against the table next her. He didn't look at her, but she felt better with him just being close.
"But we can do this together," Bulma said to him. "You and me and the baby, whatever sex it is."
"A son," Vegeta said distractedly, crossing his arms.
Bulma blinked at him, frowning. "How do you know?"
Vegeta looked at has as if she had lost her mind. "Because it is from my seed," he explained.
"You arrogant ass," Bulma sighed, but she was smiling as she said it. They leaned against the table silently together for a moment, while both gathered their courage. Finally, Bulma asked, "So what now?"
Vegeta blinked at her, as if he had forgotten she was there. "I cannot do this," he said, his voice dark with defeat.
Bulma's face twisted with rage, and she screamed wordlessly as she pushed herself off the desk. "I can't believe you!" she howled. "You are such an ass! God, what was I thinking, to sleep with you?"
Vegeta moved away from the table, heading toward the spaceship. Despite herself, Bulma turned to watch him. And at the doorway of the ship, he paused. Before her astonished eyes, he turned and looked at her, his face unreadable. He moved back toward her, as she held her ground, uncertain.
He stopped before her, his eyes those empty mirrors that Bulma had started to hate. Then he put his arms around her, and Bulma folded with relief into his chest, feeling her relieved tears start. "Don't worry," she sobbed, "I'll help you figure out what you're doing. And Goku can help—"
Vegeta laid a finger on her lips. "Shh, woman," he murmured and lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was magnificent, like the one that he had given her the night before; warm and tender and so close to loving. She responded happily, glad that she wasn't going to be alone in this.
Vegeta broke off the kiss, looking deeply into her eyes. "Good-bye, woman," he murmured. "Take care of the—my brat."
She stared at him with disbelief, the situation changing too fast for her to react at all. He gently released her and walked to the spaceship. This time, he didn't look back as he climbed in, or as he powered up the ship, or as he eased it out of the lab. He didn't look back at her once, and he vowed that he wouldn't anymore.
* * *
Bulma sat on the lab floor feeling wooden and lifeless. Suddenly, she began to giggle, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. All that did was muffle the giggles, and before long, she was rolling on the floor, clutching her stomach in pain as she laughed hysterically.
Finally, she fell silent, staring at the lights shining from the high ceiling overhead. "You ass," she whispered quietly to the ceiling. Finally, she collected herself and rose to her feet, straightening her clothes. "Time to forget you," she muttered quietly, "time to get busy. I have so much to do, and so little time to do it."
She opened the laptop, peering at the document that popped open. "Lets see; Stevens gets Plastics. Newman for Metallics? I'll have to ask Jerry…" She threw herself into her work, and if silent tears trailed down her face, they didn't slow her at all.
~finis~