Disclaimer: No, I don't own DB/Z/GT, but come this fall, I will have a life-size mural of either my studly-hunk-a-bunk of lavender hottness or his spandex clad daddy on my wall..... oh, how sweet it is....
A/N: Alas, I now only have my home computer to use, not the school's, so I'm reduced to no italics anymore. So, reluctantly, I go back to the old drill..... thoughts are identified by ~these~. Ah, the tragic woes of those without Microsoft Word.....
Note to reviewer "mpvssj5" - actually, in the present timeline, Vegeta didn't go Super Saiyan until he left for space the second time, shortly after Trunks' birth. He did not transform while looking for Goku in space after the Frieza Saga, as when he came back and Trunks showed up and diced Frieza into lunchmeat, Vegeta was outraged that someone so young has reached what he couldn't, and you have lots of nice angsty moments of him struggling to reach Super Saiyan. As this is the mirai timeline, Vegeta would not be Super Saiyan as of yet. In the present time, he knew the jinzouningen were coming, therefore he trained heavily in order to prepare and Super Saiyan was reached. In this timeline, however, he obviously had no idea that the jinzouningen were coming, thus there would be no build up in training to lead to Super Saiyan. Plus, Vegeta's final transformation has a special place in this story's plot which hasn't come into play yet. Just to clear things up.
Last but not least, this chapter is dedicated to my bud and fellow VALL member, SnowEyes. Your review came at a time when I wasn't getting any new ones, so it really lifted me up. My ego shot straight through the roof, I swear... plaster and shingles all over the place...
Anyway, enough blather, on with the chapter! My apologies for keeping you all in suspense.... *tries to look honest but can't help sniggering evilly*
Meaningless - chapter 7
The Turn of the Tide
Darkness. It hovered over him, watching, waiting, looking for the perfect moment to consume him. It dimmed his senses and robbed him of coherent thought, and though he tried to fight it, the darkness kept coming. He feared that blackness more than anything, and cowardice was not exactly a familiar emotion to him. Yet that slowly advancing darkness was driving him to desperation.
He didn't want to die. Not here, not now. Not when he had finally found something to sustain him again. He had been to Hell before, and he did not want to go back there. He wanted to scream, shout, fight....anything to ward off that formidable darkness that claimed more of him with each passing second.
He was losing, and he couldn't stop it. He has lost Kakkarot to a virus, lost his honor to the jinzouningen, lost his mate to his stubborn idiocy, and now he was losing to his own body. With all the strength that remained in him he fought; fought to survive, to protect, to fulfill the new meaning he at last had found instead of letting himself fail once again.
Dimly, he could hear someone screaming- Bulma. Why was she still crying? He wasn't dead! He was alive! Vegeta tried to say something, but he couldn't seem to form the words.
~I am a prince! I refuse to die like this! Stop crying, I'm alive! I'm not dead! I am not that weak!~
Had she always been this beautiful? She seemed so desirable to him, now that he was fading. She was sobbing, but the tears only caused her eyes to burn with an even more intense blue than he remembered. He wanted to reach up and touch her smooth, wet cheek, but his arm would not move, and his eyes closed in frustration. He tried to claw his way out of the darkness, but found he couldn't even open his eyes anymore. He was slipping.
And then came salvation, but it wasn't a light in the distance, or a soothing voice. His came in the form of sudden excruciating pain as something large - and heavy - flung itself over his already shattered breastbone. It hurt.
* * *
Bulma buried her face in her hands as her body shook with sobs. The harsh wind whipped past her, chilling her to the bone, and she clutched her arms, shivering. She kept her eyes closed, not in an effort to subdue the tears, but because she could not bear to see him so lifeless, so cold. She didn't want to remember him like this, broken and defeated. She wanted to run, to shut herself away from the pain, away from loss and death and agony. Yet still she stayed amidst the tears, unable to leave her fallen prince's side.
"I was too late..."
The wind snatched he whispered words the second they left her lips, carried over the rubble and drowned into silence by the growing gale. Tears drying in the freezing air, she lowered herself onto his broken body, resting her head on his chest as if he was only sleeping. She could almost feel his arms encircling her, protecting her, if she just ignored the cold which lingered in their rightful place. He was fine, only sleeping...everything was just as it should be, just as long as she never woke up...
Bulma jerked backwards with a start as Vegeta let out a low groan of agony. Hope surged, and she just stopped herself from throwing herself on him and kissing him again in her sudden elation.
Desperately, she fumbled in her sweater pockets, fingers clumsy both with anxiousness and stiffness from the cold. At last she fell upon her cell phone, and dialed emergency with shaking hands.
The phone was ringing as she ran her fingers over his cheekbones, hope hammering in her chest with each heartbeat. She leaned down and kissed him gently, praying that he stayed with her just a little longer.
"Help's coming, Vegeta! You've almost made it, just keep hanging in there!" She rested her hand reassuringly on his arm, and though renewed hope flickered within her, the same cold, acute fear lurked just outside her thoughts, waiting.
* * *
The desk clerk at West City Private Hospital was becoming impatient. The person on the other line was amazingly stubborn, and had he not been required to maintain a businesslike hospitality, he would have hung up on her long ago. As it was, he was growing tired of arguing. Covering the mouthpiece with his palm he turned to the nurse also working behind the front desk.
"Can you take this call? I've tried to get through to this woman, but she's insisting that we bring an ambulance to Amber City."
The nurse's looked up from her paperwork, slightly surprised.
"Isn't that the city the Androids just attacked?"
The clerk merely handed her the phone. The nurse's eyebrows shot up as she put the receiver to her ear and she winced visibly. Assuming her most patient, explanatory voice, she began trying to reason.
"Ma'am," she said calmly. "hospital policy does not allow emergency vehicles to Android destruction zones until at least two hours after the initial attack." She waited while the caller responded heatedly, obviously unimpressed with the argument. The nurse sighed exasperatedly and pushed strands of dark purple hair from her eyes with her free hand.
"I understand the situation is critical, but at this time it is far too hazardous to dispatch rescue vehicles to the area. If we send an ambulance too early, the jinzouningen may still be on the premises and that would prove fatal for those on the rescue team." She paused again, now irritated by the woman's lack of respect for authority.
"No I don't know who you are!" she snapped, her mask of politeness fast deteriorating. "Frankly ma'am, you could be Bulma Briefs for all I care, we cannot dispatch those vehicles at this time!"
A barrage of shouts from the woman on the other end of the line ensued, and all colour rapidly drained from the nurse's face.
"Oh...Miss Briefs! I...I didn't know! I apologize, and we will send a helicopter and ambulances as soon as the full two hours have passed, but —" She was cut off again by the angry voice on the phone, and finally, defeat took over her weakening expression.
"Very well, Miss Briefs. If you are willing to be so generous, I'm sure we can return the favour."
The clerk stared at the purple-haired nurse in disbelief. He snatched the phone back and slammed it onto the desk.
"What do you think you're DOING?!?" he burst out, face livid. "One famous name and you crumble? You have just endangered the lives of several emergency paramedics!"
The nurse returned his glare with an equal vengeance, though her face was still pale.
"Bulma Briefs has just promised the hospital a donation of three million zeni if we save the life of a survivor she's found. She has also threatened to remove all Capsule Corp. funding from the project to add the new ICU wing should we not comply to her demands. I suggest we do what she wants."
The clerk paled, then flushed, than blanched again. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times before he finally regained control.
"I'll alert a helicopter."
* * *
Bulma hung up the phone with a small exclamation of triumph and grabbed Vegeta's hand exuberantly, though carful not to jar him.
"Did you hear that, Vegeta? They're sending help! You're safe now! I —" She stopped suddenly, and her body froze.
Even through the glove, Vegeta's hand was cold as ice.
This time, however, it was not weeping and desperation which took over. Bulma's brow creased in a frown, and her eyes flashed in angry obstinance.
"Oh no you don't!" she growled, glaring at the Saiyan's multiple wounds and waxy, grey skin covered in cold sweat. "Not this time - we're too close to winning!"
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the ever-shrinking window which bound them. She was met with a dense, impenetrable black wall. Gritting her teeth in determination, she focused her attention on that barrier and pushed.
Nothing happened. More than just angry now, Bulma gathered her confidence and tried again, harder this time. Still nothing. Even with all her brilliance and years as an advanced scientist, she could come up with no solution as to how to help him. If only there was a way to give him some of her own energy...she knew she didn't have much, but if it could be enough to sustain him until the paramedics arrived...she knew Piccolo had been known to do such a thing in the past. If only she knew how to do it! Frustrated, she rested her forehead against Vegeta's as she thought.
The sensation, when it came, was abrupt and very strange. It was as if someone had suddenly taken her breath directly from her lungs and thrown it to the wind. Bulma sat upright, her head swimming with dizziness. As she regained her breath, something caught her eye, making her blink in confusion.
Was her mind playing tricks on her? Or had a tiny touch of colour returned to Vegeta's ashen face? Her hope reinforced, Bulma pressed her palm against his forehead and closed her eyes, trying to reproduce the exact thoughts and emotions she had felt a second ago.
It took a moment, but finally it worked. With a wave of exultation she felt the sensation return, and as energy drained from her body, Vegeta's cold, clammy skin began to warm beneath her fingers. He was still unconscious as Bulma removed her hand and gasped for breath, physically exhausted, but he was no longer on the brink, and that was all that mattered. Now all there was left to do, was wait.
* * *
Laughter. Not the delighted, silver quality of genuine mirth, but harsh, cruel mocking. It surrounded him, pressing in on all sides, suffocating. Vegeta struggled to find his way back to the surface, to get out of that cesspool of disdain, but the more he fought, the more they laughed.
The jinzouningen. Unbeatable, yet so foolish in their behaviour they disgraced the honorary title of warrior. They were like a pair of lions, constantly hunting him down. They beat him, tormented him, tore the hope from his being before it even arose. They humiliated him, and took perverse pleasure in doing so.
The strangest fact of it all was how quickly the jinzouningen had taken over him. Kakkarot had ruled his thoughts and ambitions for countless years, yet he had been shunted aside when these two monsters arrived. Now, the third class Saiyan who had haunted his dreams so small a time ago almost seemed to be on his side, encouraging him through his subconscious to defeat the Androids and complete what he had been denied the chance to try. Kakkarot was not here to play hero this time - he was depending on Vegeta.
The Saiyan prince laughed, a deep, rough sound in the blackness in which he drifted. Kakkarot, depending on him? It was an satisfying (and certainly amusing) thought. But when had he ever done anything for that imbecile, and why should he start now?
Suddenly, he could see the jinzouningen and their annoyingly confident smirks hovering above him in the darkness. As they turned, two other figures became visible through the mist.
His wife and son. They were vulnerable, defenseless. Bulma held Trunks to her protectively, and the baby cried as he struggled to run away. The Androids cast one brief look over their shoulders at the frozen prince, the cold, entertained malice glittering in their eyes speaking wordlessly for what they were about to do.
Vegeta stood rooted to the spot, unable to move as the jinzounengen closed in on them. Bulma turned once to look at him, her sapphire eyes wide with fear, hands white as she clutched their son in her arms.
And then they were upon her. Vegeta watched though blurred vision as the jinzouningen killed her without mercy or remorse. He watched her body crumple, lying broken in a mangled heap of pale skin, turquoise hair, and red splashes which shouldn't be there. Trunks wailed from where he lay trapped beneath his mother's body. The male cyborg kicked her corpse over, exposing her terrified, still face, colourless save the spatters of deep crimson around her mouth. Picking up the squalling baby by one ankle, Seventeen turned to Vegeta, dangling his son on in the air, daring him to attack.
With a scream of outrage and pure, unadulterated fury, Vegeta sprang forward, shaking free the last invisible bindings which had kept him from saving Bulma's fragile life. Even as he closed his fist around Seventeen's throat, however, the Android laughed and disappeared, fading back into view several feet away where he tossed Trunks like a rag doll to his sister, who caught baby in one hand by his head.
Vegeta snarled and turned on her, charging with one fist cocked. He burned with hatred for the jinzouningen now, wanting nothing more than to hear their tortured screams as he killed them, just as they had murdered Bulma. Out of the corner of his eye, Vegeta could see her pale, twisted corpse, and it fueled his anger to overflowing. Shouting promises of damnation, he closed in on Eighteen, but she too vanished before he could reach her.
Frenzied now, Vegeta spun....
...just in time to see the sneering android crush his toddler's tiny skull in her fist. Vegeta's chest heaved with rage and shock as his son's blood splashed onto his hands. His body frozen once more, he watched uselessly as Eighteen walked calmly across the floor, dumping Trunks' body on top of that of his mother's. The jinzouningen turned to the stricken warrior, smirked, and vanished.
Vegeta stood, fists clenched and breathing laboured as he stared unseeing at the bloody heap that was his wife and son. Red haze clouded his vision as rage filled him, a fury so great that his body began to tremble, unable to contain it all. Searing orange flames erupted all around him, and his power shot upwards in a roaring pillar of swirling fire, but he did not feel it. All he knew was the two things now burned into the depth of his being; hate, and loss.
* * *
Vegeta coughed and jerked awake. Immediately he shut his eyes again - the light in the room was painfully bright, and his head throbbed.
~Light? Room? ~
He opened his eyes slowly, carefully adjusting to the brightness, and blinked a few times to clear his vision. Sure enough, the neat walls, expensive furniture, and tall windows were all there - he was in Bulma's room. Vegeta found himself exhaling a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
~ I was only hallucinating... how pathetic. ~
A cool hand passed over his forehead, and Vegeta turned to see Bulma, surprised that he had not felt her ki from the beginning. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail, and her fair features lit with a smile - something he had not sen for what seemed like eternity.
"You're finally awake, I see." she grinned, though she searched his expression silently fro any sign of discomfort.
Vegeta grunted and tried to sit up, but found that none of his limbs would move. Startled, he craned his neck to examine his battered body. His face took on a mixture of horror and disgust at what he saw.
"Kami, woman! Is there a single inch of me not covered in plaster?!?"
Bulma laughed and leaned forward.
"Yes." she said simply, then kissed him firmly on the mouth. "There."
Vegeta attempted to look angry, but couldn't keep one corner of his mouth from tugging upwards ever so slightly. However, he still surveyed his legions of casts with obvious distaste.
"This is ridiculous. With all the technology available to you, can't you think of ANY method of healing beyond these primitive means? And you call yourself a genius."
Bulma snorted. "Your sarcasm is unscathed, I see."
"I look like a cotton ball!" He bellowed, struggling to free himself of the plaster. Bulma shook her head adamantly.
"Nonsense," she declared reassuringly. "You look like a marshmallow."
Vegeta glowered. "Why am I in here?" he demanded, abruptly changing the subject. "I thought you threw a fit every time a speck of grime or blood got on your precious satin sheets."
"Your injuries were cleaned and bandaged beforehand, thank you very much!" Bulma huffed indignantly. "I had to get you out of the hospital anyway. A few times you started to come to, and when you did, I was told you terrorized the hospital staff. I believe you bit a nurse who was only trying to clean a cut on your chin, and you spit in the lead doctor's face when he was checking your condition.
Vegeta chuckled meanly.
"Besides," Bulma continued. "I thought you'd feel better waking up here."
Vegeta smirked, earning a raised eyebrow from his partner.
"Meaning you couldn't wait to get me back in your bed again."
Bulma stuck out her tongue at him and replied airily, "I don't hear you complaining!" before standing up and stretching.
"Well," she said lightly. "Since you're obviously feeling better, I'll go fix you something to eat. I'd expect you're starving." She grinned somewhat maliciously and flicked her finger several times over his lips, making infantile noises.
"Looks like I'll have to feed another little baby besides Trunks today!" she cooed in the voice she used when playing with her son when he was but a few months old.
Vegeta glared venomously as she tickled his chin and left the room, laughing. He was very much relieved when she returned to spoonfeed him a thick, creamy soup - he had been half certain she was going to bring him baby food.
* * *
~~THREE WEEKS LATER~~
Rain pattered softly on the windows, making the lavishly furnished rooms of Capsule Corporation seem even more comfortable than usual. Vegeta pulled a black T-shirt over his head, shaking out his limbs and flexing his stiff muscles. Lying in bed uselessly for three endless weeks confined in plaster casts had seemed more like intense torture than recuperation. He had felt each individual second as they ticked steadily past, valuable training time forever lost to him. Now, at last, he was fully healed.
He met Bulma halfway down the hallway. She was clothed in a fuzzy pink bathrobe, her feet stuffed into ridiculously fluffy white slippers, and her wet hair was wrapped in a towel. She yawned as she passed him and poked one finger idly on his arm.
"Wait for me in the kitchen," she said, stifling another yawn. "I want to talk to you." Vegeta kept walking.
"It can wait. I'm going to train."
Bulma whirled, he towel sliding from atop her head in the process, her wet mass of deep aqua hair tumbling messily over one shoulder.
"You've GOT to be kidding me!" she screeched. Vegeta glanced disdainfully over his shoulder, wincing at her high pitched tone.
"Why do you ask me to restate the obvious?" he stated flatly. "I am the only person alive with any hope of defeating the jinzouningen. If I want to have any advantage, I'll have to train during very spare minute and more." He stopped and arched one black brow. "Do you want me to beat them or not?"
Bulma strode over to him, pushing on his back and steering him towards the kitchen.
"Not when you're barely healed, no! I refuse to have all my hard nursing work undone by one day of pushing yourself too hard. There are eggs, bacon, toast, and sausages on the table - eat them. I'll be down in a few minutes, and if you leave on me before I get there, there will be hell to pay."
She marched back up the hall in her best businesslike stride, and even though he was impatient, Vegeta had to grin inwardly. His mood soon darkened, however, as he sat down at the table, cramming food angrily into his mouth.
He had fought like a mere amateur! Forgetting the weight of advantage and disadvantage, taking luck for granted, and disregarding his opponents' superior strength in one small moment of exhilaration. He had let his guard fall, and allowed himself to believe in a hopeless dream rather than actual fact. Such neglect of efficiency had nearly gotten him killed...he had not performed so badly since his childhood.
Vegeta growled, draining a carton of orange juice. Super Saiyan. Ha! How could he have been so ignorant? One surge of power and he immediately assumed he had transformed. Such mistakes were unforgivable... he should have known the difference, and yet he played right into the jinzouningen's hands. It infuriated him that he was capable of such childish errors.
Bulma entered the room then, still wearing her bathrobe and slippers, though her hair had been neatly combed and blow-dried. Vegeta glanced up at her briefly before returning to scowl into his food.
"I see you're in a pleasant mood today," she commented dryly as she prepared a cup of coffee. Her voice sounded somewhat colder than usual - he had most likely offended her somehow when he said he was going to train immediately. But then again, what had she been expecting?
"Bulma," he said suddenly, taking her slightly by surprise. "When I left for battle, you wanted me to die. Something obviously happened to change your mind; I want to know what."
Bulma looked somewhat lost at what to say.
"I just realized I'd made a mistake, that's all." she said cautiously, bringing her gaze up to meet his. "Luckily, it wasn't too late to make it right again."
Miraculously, Vegeta remained silent. Bulma boosted herself up onto the counter-top, holding on to the edge of the marble and swinging her legs slightly. She seemed to have mostly lost her previous hostility.
"Now it's my turn to ask the questions." she stated, staring directly at him. "When you went into battle that day, you must have known they were stronger...why did you go through with it?"
Vegeta shot her a dark glare, and Bulma correctly surmised that she had struck a sore spot. To her surprise, however, Vegeta answered.
"I underestimated them." he spat, voice sharp and laden with self loathing. "For that, I more than deserved the beating I received."
Bulma frowned indignantly.
"That's not true!" she argued. "Everyone underestimated them! You managed to do something that none of the others were able to do — you fought, and you survived. I don't pretend to know much about fighting, but that alone should label you as a worthy warrior, don't you think?"
Vegeta leapt up from the table, knocking over his chair and rattling the dishes. Bulma pushed herself a few inches backwards on the counter as white energy crackled and sparked off him.
"I was a fool!" he shouted, fists brought up at his sides. "A true warrior never judges his opponent so superficially! I deserved to die!!"
Bulma stepped lightly down from her perch to look him squarely in the eye. As much as rage consumed him, Vegeta found himself unable to tear himself from her cerulean gaze.
"Listen to me, Vegeta." she commanded firmly. "I don't know what you consider good fighting tactics or behaviour or whatever. All I know is that you lived through a battle which very well should have killed you, and that alone counts for a heck of a lot in my books, even if it doesn't in yours. You survived, and to me, that's all that matters. If you still want to beat yourself up about it, go ahead, but at least remember that."
She turned back to her coffee, and Vegeta was left standing in a swirling tide of mixed emotions. He was angry at the jinzouningen, furious with himself, disappointed that he had not reached Super Saiyan after all....and confused. Finally, his body took over for him. He found himself walking over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him.
Bulma regarded him steadily for a moment, then brought his head down to hers and kissed him softly. As he felt her begin to pull away, however, Vegeta moved suddenly forward, backing her up against the counter, placing a hand behind her hand and pressing her lips forcefully against his. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his muscular neck and entwining her fingers in his dark hair, pulling his face even closer. All the ferocity bottled inside him was released in that moment, and Vegeta locked his other arm around her shoulders, refusing to let her go. He had been denied her for so long - now the feel of her awakened in him a desire which shot through him like electricity, and while the back of his mind cursed his ability to need anything so badly, the rest of him surrendered completely to the kiss.
Eventually, the need for oxygen forced them to break apart. Vegeta twisted her silky hair around his fingers, still holding her against his chest, when a sudden thought occurred to him.
"Woman,", he said abruptly, and she pulled back slightly to meet his eye, curious. "Where are your infernal parents? I haven't seen them at all."
Bulma's mouth quirked up into a sly smile, and her eyes danced. "They left on a three month cruise a couple weeks before you cam back. They're probably enjoying martini's and crab on crackers out on some sunny deck right now."
Vegeta grinned at her response, raising one obviously suggestive eyebrow and flicking his gaze towards the stairs. Bulma slapped him lightly on the chest and tried to move away, but his hold around her shoulders was like iron. Not that she was complaining.
"Vegeta!" she hissed, feeling her cheeks heat up as if she was a teenager again. "It's early morning! Trunks will be awake soon, and —"
"And," Vegeta interrupted bluntly, "Seven months is a very, very long time."
Bulma drew herself up huffily as best she could while still caught in his arms , replying that THAT was HIS fault, not hers, but she could not keep her expression from mirroring Vegeta's for more than a moment.
"You know what?" she said finally. "I think you're right."
~~*~~
No, the next chapter will NOT be lemon. I do NOT write that kind of thing, so if that's what you're looking for, you'd better look somewhere else. I leave it up to your own imaginations as to what they're going to be doing in between chapters. *snickers* This is my least favourite chapter, just because I couldn't fill it with angst like some of the others, but I think after the last chapter, this story needed a break from action. I'm sorry this one jumped around so much. However, what would have happened during the time lapses would be monotonous and not very interesting or helpful to the plot had I written it down, so I feel that even this excessive jumping around is the best way to go in this instance. To all my TZW buddies, look! I even incorporated Maria's bodycast fic challenge into this chapter, and I didn't even mean to! Bwa ha ha!!
~Mira
A/N: Alas, I now only have my home computer to use, not the school's, so I'm reduced to no italics anymore. So, reluctantly, I go back to the old drill..... thoughts are identified by ~these~. Ah, the tragic woes of those without Microsoft Word.....
Note to reviewer "mpvssj5" - actually, in the present timeline, Vegeta didn't go Super Saiyan until he left for space the second time, shortly after Trunks' birth. He did not transform while looking for Goku in space after the Frieza Saga, as when he came back and Trunks showed up and diced Frieza into lunchmeat, Vegeta was outraged that someone so young has reached what he couldn't, and you have lots of nice angsty moments of him struggling to reach Super Saiyan. As this is the mirai timeline, Vegeta would not be Super Saiyan as of yet. In the present time, he knew the jinzouningen were coming, therefore he trained heavily in order to prepare and Super Saiyan was reached. In this timeline, however, he obviously had no idea that the jinzouningen were coming, thus there would be no build up in training to lead to Super Saiyan. Plus, Vegeta's final transformation has a special place in this story's plot which hasn't come into play yet. Just to clear things up.
Last but not least, this chapter is dedicated to my bud and fellow VALL member, SnowEyes. Your review came at a time when I wasn't getting any new ones, so it really lifted me up. My ego shot straight through the roof, I swear... plaster and shingles all over the place...
Anyway, enough blather, on with the chapter! My apologies for keeping you all in suspense.... *tries to look honest but can't help sniggering evilly*
Meaningless - chapter 7
The Turn of the Tide
Darkness. It hovered over him, watching, waiting, looking for the perfect moment to consume him. It dimmed his senses and robbed him of coherent thought, and though he tried to fight it, the darkness kept coming. He feared that blackness more than anything, and cowardice was not exactly a familiar emotion to him. Yet that slowly advancing darkness was driving him to desperation.
He didn't want to die. Not here, not now. Not when he had finally found something to sustain him again. He had been to Hell before, and he did not want to go back there. He wanted to scream, shout, fight....anything to ward off that formidable darkness that claimed more of him with each passing second.
He was losing, and he couldn't stop it. He has lost Kakkarot to a virus, lost his honor to the jinzouningen, lost his mate to his stubborn idiocy, and now he was losing to his own body. With all the strength that remained in him he fought; fought to survive, to protect, to fulfill the new meaning he at last had found instead of letting himself fail once again.
Dimly, he could hear someone screaming- Bulma. Why was she still crying? He wasn't dead! He was alive! Vegeta tried to say something, but he couldn't seem to form the words.
~I am a prince! I refuse to die like this! Stop crying, I'm alive! I'm not dead! I am not that weak!~
Had she always been this beautiful? She seemed so desirable to him, now that he was fading. She was sobbing, but the tears only caused her eyes to burn with an even more intense blue than he remembered. He wanted to reach up and touch her smooth, wet cheek, but his arm would not move, and his eyes closed in frustration. He tried to claw his way out of the darkness, but found he couldn't even open his eyes anymore. He was slipping.
And then came salvation, but it wasn't a light in the distance, or a soothing voice. His came in the form of sudden excruciating pain as something large - and heavy - flung itself over his already shattered breastbone. It hurt.
* * *
Bulma buried her face in her hands as her body shook with sobs. The harsh wind whipped past her, chilling her to the bone, and she clutched her arms, shivering. She kept her eyes closed, not in an effort to subdue the tears, but because she could not bear to see him so lifeless, so cold. She didn't want to remember him like this, broken and defeated. She wanted to run, to shut herself away from the pain, away from loss and death and agony. Yet still she stayed amidst the tears, unable to leave her fallen prince's side.
"I was too late..."
The wind snatched he whispered words the second they left her lips, carried over the rubble and drowned into silence by the growing gale. Tears drying in the freezing air, she lowered herself onto his broken body, resting her head on his chest as if he was only sleeping. She could almost feel his arms encircling her, protecting her, if she just ignored the cold which lingered in their rightful place. He was fine, only sleeping...everything was just as it should be, just as long as she never woke up...
Bulma jerked backwards with a start as Vegeta let out a low groan of agony. Hope surged, and she just stopped herself from throwing herself on him and kissing him again in her sudden elation.
Desperately, she fumbled in her sweater pockets, fingers clumsy both with anxiousness and stiffness from the cold. At last she fell upon her cell phone, and dialed emergency with shaking hands.
The phone was ringing as she ran her fingers over his cheekbones, hope hammering in her chest with each heartbeat. She leaned down and kissed him gently, praying that he stayed with her just a little longer.
"Help's coming, Vegeta! You've almost made it, just keep hanging in there!" She rested her hand reassuringly on his arm, and though renewed hope flickered within her, the same cold, acute fear lurked just outside her thoughts, waiting.
* * *
The desk clerk at West City Private Hospital was becoming impatient. The person on the other line was amazingly stubborn, and had he not been required to maintain a businesslike hospitality, he would have hung up on her long ago. As it was, he was growing tired of arguing. Covering the mouthpiece with his palm he turned to the nurse also working behind the front desk.
"Can you take this call? I've tried to get through to this woman, but she's insisting that we bring an ambulance to Amber City."
The nurse's looked up from her paperwork, slightly surprised.
"Isn't that the city the Androids just attacked?"
The clerk merely handed her the phone. The nurse's eyebrows shot up as she put the receiver to her ear and she winced visibly. Assuming her most patient, explanatory voice, she began trying to reason.
"Ma'am," she said calmly. "hospital policy does not allow emergency vehicles to Android destruction zones until at least two hours after the initial attack." She waited while the caller responded heatedly, obviously unimpressed with the argument. The nurse sighed exasperatedly and pushed strands of dark purple hair from her eyes with her free hand.
"I understand the situation is critical, but at this time it is far too hazardous to dispatch rescue vehicles to the area. If we send an ambulance too early, the jinzouningen may still be on the premises and that would prove fatal for those on the rescue team." She paused again, now irritated by the woman's lack of respect for authority.
"No I don't know who you are!" she snapped, her mask of politeness fast deteriorating. "Frankly ma'am, you could be Bulma Briefs for all I care, we cannot dispatch those vehicles at this time!"
A barrage of shouts from the woman on the other end of the line ensued, and all colour rapidly drained from the nurse's face.
"Oh...Miss Briefs! I...I didn't know! I apologize, and we will send a helicopter and ambulances as soon as the full two hours have passed, but —" She was cut off again by the angry voice on the phone, and finally, defeat took over her weakening expression.
"Very well, Miss Briefs. If you are willing to be so generous, I'm sure we can return the favour."
The clerk stared at the purple-haired nurse in disbelief. He snatched the phone back and slammed it onto the desk.
"What do you think you're DOING?!?" he burst out, face livid. "One famous name and you crumble? You have just endangered the lives of several emergency paramedics!"
The nurse returned his glare with an equal vengeance, though her face was still pale.
"Bulma Briefs has just promised the hospital a donation of three million zeni if we save the life of a survivor she's found. She has also threatened to remove all Capsule Corp. funding from the project to add the new ICU wing should we not comply to her demands. I suggest we do what she wants."
The clerk paled, then flushed, than blanched again. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times before he finally regained control.
"I'll alert a helicopter."
* * *
Bulma hung up the phone with a small exclamation of triumph and grabbed Vegeta's hand exuberantly, though carful not to jar him.
"Did you hear that, Vegeta? They're sending help! You're safe now! I —" She stopped suddenly, and her body froze.
Even through the glove, Vegeta's hand was cold as ice.
This time, however, it was not weeping and desperation which took over. Bulma's brow creased in a frown, and her eyes flashed in angry obstinance.
"Oh no you don't!" she growled, glaring at the Saiyan's multiple wounds and waxy, grey skin covered in cold sweat. "Not this time - we're too close to winning!"
Closing her eyes, she concentrated on the ever-shrinking window which bound them. She was met with a dense, impenetrable black wall. Gritting her teeth in determination, she focused her attention on that barrier and pushed.
Nothing happened. More than just angry now, Bulma gathered her confidence and tried again, harder this time. Still nothing. Even with all her brilliance and years as an advanced scientist, she could come up with no solution as to how to help him. If only there was a way to give him some of her own energy...she knew she didn't have much, but if it could be enough to sustain him until the paramedics arrived...she knew Piccolo had been known to do such a thing in the past. If only she knew how to do it! Frustrated, she rested her forehead against Vegeta's as she thought.
The sensation, when it came, was abrupt and very strange. It was as if someone had suddenly taken her breath directly from her lungs and thrown it to the wind. Bulma sat upright, her head swimming with dizziness. As she regained her breath, something caught her eye, making her blink in confusion.
Was her mind playing tricks on her? Or had a tiny touch of colour returned to Vegeta's ashen face? Her hope reinforced, Bulma pressed her palm against his forehead and closed her eyes, trying to reproduce the exact thoughts and emotions she had felt a second ago.
It took a moment, but finally it worked. With a wave of exultation she felt the sensation return, and as energy drained from her body, Vegeta's cold, clammy skin began to warm beneath her fingers. He was still unconscious as Bulma removed her hand and gasped for breath, physically exhausted, but he was no longer on the brink, and that was all that mattered. Now all there was left to do, was wait.
* * *
Laughter. Not the delighted, silver quality of genuine mirth, but harsh, cruel mocking. It surrounded him, pressing in on all sides, suffocating. Vegeta struggled to find his way back to the surface, to get out of that cesspool of disdain, but the more he fought, the more they laughed.
The jinzouningen. Unbeatable, yet so foolish in their behaviour they disgraced the honorary title of warrior. They were like a pair of lions, constantly hunting him down. They beat him, tormented him, tore the hope from his being before it even arose. They humiliated him, and took perverse pleasure in doing so.
The strangest fact of it all was how quickly the jinzouningen had taken over him. Kakkarot had ruled his thoughts and ambitions for countless years, yet he had been shunted aside when these two monsters arrived. Now, the third class Saiyan who had haunted his dreams so small a time ago almost seemed to be on his side, encouraging him through his subconscious to defeat the Androids and complete what he had been denied the chance to try. Kakkarot was not here to play hero this time - he was depending on Vegeta.
The Saiyan prince laughed, a deep, rough sound in the blackness in which he drifted. Kakkarot, depending on him? It was an satisfying (and certainly amusing) thought. But when had he ever done anything for that imbecile, and why should he start now?
Suddenly, he could see the jinzouningen and their annoyingly confident smirks hovering above him in the darkness. As they turned, two other figures became visible through the mist.
His wife and son. They were vulnerable, defenseless. Bulma held Trunks to her protectively, and the baby cried as he struggled to run away. The Androids cast one brief look over their shoulders at the frozen prince, the cold, entertained malice glittering in their eyes speaking wordlessly for what they were about to do.
Vegeta stood rooted to the spot, unable to move as the jinzounengen closed in on them. Bulma turned once to look at him, her sapphire eyes wide with fear, hands white as she clutched their son in her arms.
And then they were upon her. Vegeta watched though blurred vision as the jinzouningen killed her without mercy or remorse. He watched her body crumple, lying broken in a mangled heap of pale skin, turquoise hair, and red splashes which shouldn't be there. Trunks wailed from where he lay trapped beneath his mother's body. The male cyborg kicked her corpse over, exposing her terrified, still face, colourless save the spatters of deep crimson around her mouth. Picking up the squalling baby by one ankle, Seventeen turned to Vegeta, dangling his son on in the air, daring him to attack.
With a scream of outrage and pure, unadulterated fury, Vegeta sprang forward, shaking free the last invisible bindings which had kept him from saving Bulma's fragile life. Even as he closed his fist around Seventeen's throat, however, the Android laughed and disappeared, fading back into view several feet away where he tossed Trunks like a rag doll to his sister, who caught baby in one hand by his head.
Vegeta snarled and turned on her, charging with one fist cocked. He burned with hatred for the jinzouningen now, wanting nothing more than to hear their tortured screams as he killed them, just as they had murdered Bulma. Out of the corner of his eye, Vegeta could see her pale, twisted corpse, and it fueled his anger to overflowing. Shouting promises of damnation, he closed in on Eighteen, but she too vanished before he could reach her.
Frenzied now, Vegeta spun....
...just in time to see the sneering android crush his toddler's tiny skull in her fist. Vegeta's chest heaved with rage and shock as his son's blood splashed onto his hands. His body frozen once more, he watched uselessly as Eighteen walked calmly across the floor, dumping Trunks' body on top of that of his mother's. The jinzouningen turned to the stricken warrior, smirked, and vanished.
Vegeta stood, fists clenched and breathing laboured as he stared unseeing at the bloody heap that was his wife and son. Red haze clouded his vision as rage filled him, a fury so great that his body began to tremble, unable to contain it all. Searing orange flames erupted all around him, and his power shot upwards in a roaring pillar of swirling fire, but he did not feel it. All he knew was the two things now burned into the depth of his being; hate, and loss.
* * *
Vegeta coughed and jerked awake. Immediately he shut his eyes again - the light in the room was painfully bright, and his head throbbed.
~Light? Room? ~
He opened his eyes slowly, carefully adjusting to the brightness, and blinked a few times to clear his vision. Sure enough, the neat walls, expensive furniture, and tall windows were all there - he was in Bulma's room. Vegeta found himself exhaling a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.
~ I was only hallucinating... how pathetic. ~
A cool hand passed over his forehead, and Vegeta turned to see Bulma, surprised that he had not felt her ki from the beginning. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail, and her fair features lit with a smile - something he had not sen for what seemed like eternity.
"You're finally awake, I see." she grinned, though she searched his expression silently fro any sign of discomfort.
Vegeta grunted and tried to sit up, but found that none of his limbs would move. Startled, he craned his neck to examine his battered body. His face took on a mixture of horror and disgust at what he saw.
"Kami, woman! Is there a single inch of me not covered in plaster?!?"
Bulma laughed and leaned forward.
"Yes." she said simply, then kissed him firmly on the mouth. "There."
Vegeta attempted to look angry, but couldn't keep one corner of his mouth from tugging upwards ever so slightly. However, he still surveyed his legions of casts with obvious distaste.
"This is ridiculous. With all the technology available to you, can't you think of ANY method of healing beyond these primitive means? And you call yourself a genius."
Bulma snorted. "Your sarcasm is unscathed, I see."
"I look like a cotton ball!" He bellowed, struggling to free himself of the plaster. Bulma shook her head adamantly.
"Nonsense," she declared reassuringly. "You look like a marshmallow."
Vegeta glowered. "Why am I in here?" he demanded, abruptly changing the subject. "I thought you threw a fit every time a speck of grime or blood got on your precious satin sheets."
"Your injuries were cleaned and bandaged beforehand, thank you very much!" Bulma huffed indignantly. "I had to get you out of the hospital anyway. A few times you started to come to, and when you did, I was told you terrorized the hospital staff. I believe you bit a nurse who was only trying to clean a cut on your chin, and you spit in the lead doctor's face when he was checking your condition.
Vegeta chuckled meanly.
"Besides," Bulma continued. "I thought you'd feel better waking up here."
Vegeta smirked, earning a raised eyebrow from his partner.
"Meaning you couldn't wait to get me back in your bed again."
Bulma stuck out her tongue at him and replied airily, "I don't hear you complaining!" before standing up and stretching.
"Well," she said lightly. "Since you're obviously feeling better, I'll go fix you something to eat. I'd expect you're starving." She grinned somewhat maliciously and flicked her finger several times over his lips, making infantile noises.
"Looks like I'll have to feed another little baby besides Trunks today!" she cooed in the voice she used when playing with her son when he was but a few months old.
Vegeta glared venomously as she tickled his chin and left the room, laughing. He was very much relieved when she returned to spoonfeed him a thick, creamy soup - he had been half certain she was going to bring him baby food.
* * *
~~THREE WEEKS LATER~~
Rain pattered softly on the windows, making the lavishly furnished rooms of Capsule Corporation seem even more comfortable than usual. Vegeta pulled a black T-shirt over his head, shaking out his limbs and flexing his stiff muscles. Lying in bed uselessly for three endless weeks confined in plaster casts had seemed more like intense torture than recuperation. He had felt each individual second as they ticked steadily past, valuable training time forever lost to him. Now, at last, he was fully healed.
He met Bulma halfway down the hallway. She was clothed in a fuzzy pink bathrobe, her feet stuffed into ridiculously fluffy white slippers, and her wet hair was wrapped in a towel. She yawned as she passed him and poked one finger idly on his arm.
"Wait for me in the kitchen," she said, stifling another yawn. "I want to talk to you." Vegeta kept walking.
"It can wait. I'm going to train."
Bulma whirled, he towel sliding from atop her head in the process, her wet mass of deep aqua hair tumbling messily over one shoulder.
"You've GOT to be kidding me!" she screeched. Vegeta glanced disdainfully over his shoulder, wincing at her high pitched tone.
"Why do you ask me to restate the obvious?" he stated flatly. "I am the only person alive with any hope of defeating the jinzouningen. If I want to have any advantage, I'll have to train during very spare minute and more." He stopped and arched one black brow. "Do you want me to beat them or not?"
Bulma strode over to him, pushing on his back and steering him towards the kitchen.
"Not when you're barely healed, no! I refuse to have all my hard nursing work undone by one day of pushing yourself too hard. There are eggs, bacon, toast, and sausages on the table - eat them. I'll be down in a few minutes, and if you leave on me before I get there, there will be hell to pay."
She marched back up the hall in her best businesslike stride, and even though he was impatient, Vegeta had to grin inwardly. His mood soon darkened, however, as he sat down at the table, cramming food angrily into his mouth.
He had fought like a mere amateur! Forgetting the weight of advantage and disadvantage, taking luck for granted, and disregarding his opponents' superior strength in one small moment of exhilaration. He had let his guard fall, and allowed himself to believe in a hopeless dream rather than actual fact. Such neglect of efficiency had nearly gotten him killed...he had not performed so badly since his childhood.
Vegeta growled, draining a carton of orange juice. Super Saiyan. Ha! How could he have been so ignorant? One surge of power and he immediately assumed he had transformed. Such mistakes were unforgivable... he should have known the difference, and yet he played right into the jinzouningen's hands. It infuriated him that he was capable of such childish errors.
Bulma entered the room then, still wearing her bathrobe and slippers, though her hair had been neatly combed and blow-dried. Vegeta glanced up at her briefly before returning to scowl into his food.
"I see you're in a pleasant mood today," she commented dryly as she prepared a cup of coffee. Her voice sounded somewhat colder than usual - he had most likely offended her somehow when he said he was going to train immediately. But then again, what had she been expecting?
"Bulma," he said suddenly, taking her slightly by surprise. "When I left for battle, you wanted me to die. Something obviously happened to change your mind; I want to know what."
Bulma looked somewhat lost at what to say.
"I just realized I'd made a mistake, that's all." she said cautiously, bringing her gaze up to meet his. "Luckily, it wasn't too late to make it right again."
Miraculously, Vegeta remained silent. Bulma boosted herself up onto the counter-top, holding on to the edge of the marble and swinging her legs slightly. She seemed to have mostly lost her previous hostility.
"Now it's my turn to ask the questions." she stated, staring directly at him. "When you went into battle that day, you must have known they were stronger...why did you go through with it?"
Vegeta shot her a dark glare, and Bulma correctly surmised that she had struck a sore spot. To her surprise, however, Vegeta answered.
"I underestimated them." he spat, voice sharp and laden with self loathing. "For that, I more than deserved the beating I received."
Bulma frowned indignantly.
"That's not true!" she argued. "Everyone underestimated them! You managed to do something that none of the others were able to do — you fought, and you survived. I don't pretend to know much about fighting, but that alone should label you as a worthy warrior, don't you think?"
Vegeta leapt up from the table, knocking over his chair and rattling the dishes. Bulma pushed herself a few inches backwards on the counter as white energy crackled and sparked off him.
"I was a fool!" he shouted, fists brought up at his sides. "A true warrior never judges his opponent so superficially! I deserved to die!!"
Bulma stepped lightly down from her perch to look him squarely in the eye. As much as rage consumed him, Vegeta found himself unable to tear himself from her cerulean gaze.
"Listen to me, Vegeta." she commanded firmly. "I don't know what you consider good fighting tactics or behaviour or whatever. All I know is that you lived through a battle which very well should have killed you, and that alone counts for a heck of a lot in my books, even if it doesn't in yours. You survived, and to me, that's all that matters. If you still want to beat yourself up about it, go ahead, but at least remember that."
She turned back to her coffee, and Vegeta was left standing in a swirling tide of mixed emotions. He was angry at the jinzouningen, furious with himself, disappointed that he had not reached Super Saiyan after all....and confused. Finally, his body took over for him. He found himself walking over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, turning her around to face him.
Bulma regarded him steadily for a moment, then brought his head down to hers and kissed him softly. As he felt her begin to pull away, however, Vegeta moved suddenly forward, backing her up against the counter, placing a hand behind her hand and pressing her lips forcefully against his. She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around his muscular neck and entwining her fingers in his dark hair, pulling his face even closer. All the ferocity bottled inside him was released in that moment, and Vegeta locked his other arm around her shoulders, refusing to let her go. He had been denied her for so long - now the feel of her awakened in him a desire which shot through him like electricity, and while the back of his mind cursed his ability to need anything so badly, the rest of him surrendered completely to the kiss.
Eventually, the need for oxygen forced them to break apart. Vegeta twisted her silky hair around his fingers, still holding her against his chest, when a sudden thought occurred to him.
"Woman,", he said abruptly, and she pulled back slightly to meet his eye, curious. "Where are your infernal parents? I haven't seen them at all."
Bulma's mouth quirked up into a sly smile, and her eyes danced. "They left on a three month cruise a couple weeks before you cam back. They're probably enjoying martini's and crab on crackers out on some sunny deck right now."
Vegeta grinned at her response, raising one obviously suggestive eyebrow and flicking his gaze towards the stairs. Bulma slapped him lightly on the chest and tried to move away, but his hold around her shoulders was like iron. Not that she was complaining.
"Vegeta!" she hissed, feeling her cheeks heat up as if she was a teenager again. "It's early morning! Trunks will be awake soon, and —"
"And," Vegeta interrupted bluntly, "Seven months is a very, very long time."
Bulma drew herself up huffily as best she could while still caught in his arms , replying that THAT was HIS fault, not hers, but she could not keep her expression from mirroring Vegeta's for more than a moment.
"You know what?" she said finally. "I think you're right."
~~*~~
No, the next chapter will NOT be lemon. I do NOT write that kind of thing, so if that's what you're looking for, you'd better look somewhere else. I leave it up to your own imaginations as to what they're going to be doing in between chapters. *snickers* This is my least favourite chapter, just because I couldn't fill it with angst like some of the others, but I think after the last chapter, this story needed a break from action. I'm sorry this one jumped around so much. However, what would have happened during the time lapses would be monotonous and not very interesting or helpful to the plot had I written it down, so I feel that even this excessive jumping around is the best way to go in this instance. To all my TZW buddies, look! I even incorporated Maria's bodycast fic challenge into this chapter, and I didn't even mean to! Bwa ha ha!!
~Mira
