"Because of the way that your face gets all soft when you talk to me, or the way that your voice looses its growl!" Her face breaks into an excited smile as she nearly shouts, "You like me!"
I'm caught flat-footed, my jaw hanging open. She knows how I feel, and she's happy! She isn't uncomfortable, or mocking me. I'm frozen, unsure of what to do. This outcome was something that I had never even conceived of in all my tightly-controlled thoughts of her. And worse, I feel my cold, cold heart flutter with hope.
"Hey, there you are!" Krillian's voice behind us pulls my attention away from her. "Yamcha's worried about you, Bulma; he didn't know where you had gone."
"Hey, Krillian, Vegeta likes me!" Bulma squeals, and for a brief moment, I think that I could kill her.
"What about Yamcha?" Krillian asks, starting a nervous sweat.
"Not boyfriend-girlfriend like, stupid! Like a friend, a real person!" Bulma rolls her eyes and giggles. My heart slams into the floor of the ship, and I know a pain that I have not known since I was a child. "He's going to help me against the, the… Hey Vegeta, what were they called?"
"The Black Star Syndicate," I grind out, my pain and anger at this turn of events clear in my voice. Krillian looks at me, surprised by my tone, but Bulma is as obvious as normal.
"Yeah, them!" she says. "I'm going to tell the others, and then we can plan. Wow, I feel great now that I know you guys are going to keep me safe!" And like a whirlwind, she is gone, leaving only destruction in her wake, dashing out the door back to her Yamcha.
"You ok?" Krillian says, his tone sounding tight. "You look like you've been broad-sided."
I glare at him, but he cuts me off, "Right, I forgot, you're always ok because you're the Prince of all Saiyans." There is a moment of expectant silence; him just looking at me, and I waiting for him to leave.
Finally, I ask, "Do you want something?"
"No, no, not really," Krillian answers, "though I am curious about something. Can I ask you a question?"
"No," I answer, scowling harder.
"When we found Bulma was missing, Yamcha said something funny," Krillian continues, ignoring me. "He said that we should find you, and Bulma would be with you. Isn't that a weird thing for a guy to say about his girlfriend? And how much weirder is it that he was right?"
"I know nothing about your culture, human," I snap and stand, planning to push past him. To my surprise, he doesn't leap away from me, like he normally does. I look at him, really look at him this time, and am surprised to see anger simmering in his eyes.
"Just don't break them up, ok?" Krillian says. "Because we both know that you can't love her the way that he does."
"Out of my way, shortie," I growl and snap each word out. My fists are trembling at my side, and I wonder when I lost so much self-control that my hands would betray me twice in one night.
Krillian steps aside, his small dark eyes over-flowing with emotion. "I just don't want to see them hurt. You're a cold-blooded killer, a destroyer of planets; Yamcha's been doing good and helping us for a long time now. Don't ruin their happiness."
"Look, baldie," I snap as I lean over him, "I have done nothing to ruin their precious happiness."
"I just don't think," Krillian says and then stops. I let him gather his thoughts, curious about what he is going to say. Finally, he continues, "I guess I'm just saying, Bulma doesn't think about you that way, but Yamcha's all too aware of your strength compared to his. It makes him nervous and so all I'm saying is, don't antagonize him."
"I'm helping her because I can kill more people helping than I would not helping," I say wearily as I get up to leave the ship. "Does that make you happy?"
Krillian waves his hands in the air in a gesture meant to pacify me. "I'm not accusing you of anything. I'm just asking you not to hurt them. They're very good for one another."
"You should have said she's too good for him," I snap as I stride past him, only to jerk to a stop when I hear my own words. The betrayal earlier by my hands now seems like nothing compared to the betrayal of my tongue. I whirl on the surprised human, acting without thought, pointing a finger into his chest. "This conversation never happened."
Krillian takes in my stormy eyes, my reddening face. "Yes, it did, but I won't tell anyone about it," he says, and he sounds tired. "Just try not to do too much damage to them, ok?"
I ignore him and stride past, eager to put this horrible night behind me. That ideal is not to be, as I am met by an angry Yamcha as I step off the grounded ship. "What the hell do you think that you're doing?" he yells, and only Bulma's presence behind him keeps my fists from his face.
"He's helping," Bulma butts in, "and doing a damn sight better than you, I might add." Yamcha tosses a brief scowl at her, and I move to take her out of the conversation.
"Stay out of this, woman," I growl. "The boy is talking to me."
Bulma rolls her eyes at me, clearly expressing her opinion of my statement, but Yamcha's face turns even redder. "Don't talk to her, don't look at her, don't even talk about her! Stay the hell away, do you hear me?" he shouts, and Bulma stares at him with shock. I am suddenly calm, for if he is so angry that he's acting like this, then I have finally hurt him as much as I have been hurt. I smirk at him and break out into a howling laugh, watching the rage in his face multiply. I step around him, still laughing at him, at his impudence. But even my laughter doesn't stop me from sensing his swing.
I twist away from him with a little leap into the air, sending him stumbling forward one step before I catch him by the scruff of the neck. My free hand comes around and punches him once in the stomach, then flies up to grab the front of his neck. Before he can respond, I have him suspended in the air before me, choking as he hangs from one hand.
"No! Vegeta, put him down!" Bulma shrieks, lunging forward and grabbing my upraised arm. Yamcha grabs my wrist reflexively, trying to lift his body and take some pressure off his throat, and I let him, but not too far. I don't wish to kill him, but there is a lesson that must be learned here.
"He attacked me, woman," I reply calmly. "Give me a reason to do so."
"Because he's sorry!" Bulma shouts, jerking fruitlessly on my arm.
I look up at Yamcha; his face is burning a deep red and his breath is hissing in and out of him in a painful sound, but his eyes are filled with his pride and fear. "He doesn't look like he's sorry," I say to her, smirking slightly. "I think that if I put him down, he'll attack me again."
Bulma stares at him for a second, and I can see her incredible mind working, trying to come up with the right thing to say to me. "Because he's a stupid hot-headed boy, and you're above that sort of foolishness," she finally answers.
The smile that breaks out across my face is not completely humorous; part of me is happy to hear her praise me above him, and another part is sad that she obviously doesn't mean it. Sorrow, happiness and cruel amusement all dance across my face and Bulma sees it all. Her eyes narrow in deliberate curiosity, and I realize that I shouldn't give her more time to study me, lest she figure out what I was thinking. "Did you hear that, boy?" I growl as I turn back to Yamcha and shake him lightly, causing him to gag louder. "You're a silly, hot-headed boy and I'm above that foolishness." The look in his eyes is rewarding.
"You've got what you want, Vegeta," Bulma pleads, tugging again on my arm, though this time she puts no real effort behind it. "Put him down. Please."
It's the please that gets me. I shrug and set him down, pretending indifference. He staggers away from me, choking and gasping. Bulma runs up to help him and he pushes her away from him, his pain-bright eyes screaming how angry he is at her. I hold myself in check as she turns and dashes off into the night, her hands clenched tight and her face straining not to cry.
"Someone needs to watch her. The Black Star could have agents out there," I say to the quiet night around me. Yamcha opens his mouth, but another coughing fit seizes him, and it is left to Krillian to ruin things.
"I bet you'd like to volunteer," the midget says, and I glare at him.
"No, shortie, I was going to suggest you do it, since you're useless for anything else," I snap at him.
"Not a bad idea, Krillan," Kakkarot's voice cuts through the tension. "It's been a rough night for everyone." He's standing just inside the ring of light made by the overhead lamp. How long had he been standing there?
"What about you?" Krillan asks my only subject. "You're better with her than I am."
"I've got to talk with Vegeta," Kakkarot answers, looking at me. His expression is not its normal idiotic self, but serious.
"Not here," I tell him. He looks sharply at me, but he nods and we both leap into the air, leaving Krillan behind looking miserable.
We soar high into the air, well above the land below. When Kakkarot is like this, preparing for or in serious battle, it is then that I can see him as truly Saiyan. We both know where we're going, flying with the purity of purpose and we both know that we're not going to talk about anything until we're there. Finally, the white spire comes into view, and we arc up, sweeping to the top of that pillar. And only when our feet touch the ground of the Guardian of Earth's home, does Kakkarot turn to me. "Bulma said that you had a plan," he says.
I roll my eyes. "She can't keep silent for a moment, can she?" I hiss. "She'll ruin it all if she keeps going on about it."
"You think that this Montidulein could find things out?" Kakkarot asks.
"I think that he has spies on this planet," I answer, "and I'm sure that they will be watching us soon, if not right now. He didn't tell me how to contact him, just that he would pick me up when I had both of them."
"Then we'd better get on with it and get back to Bulma," Kakkarot answers, and I quickly lay it out for him.
When I'm done, he nods. "It might work," he says. "But Yamcha won't like it."
"If he comes up with a plan that he likes and will work as well, he's welcome to it," I snap. "In the meantime, I'm the only one with anything." I step forward and point my finger at Kakkarot. "Just make sure you're ready when they come."
"I know, I know," Kakkarot nods. "We'll be ready."
* * *
Now. Now's the time, but I find my feet stuck to the ground. I need to move soon; I've got what I need, and Yamcha's busy with Kakkarot's little "task". Gohan, who is supposed to be guarding Bulma, has "gone to the restroom". All arrangements are in place; it is time to go, and I begin my plan with a heavy heart. I wish that I could have told her what was going to happen, but her reactions must be spontaneous in case there are any hidden watchers. As I push off the ground and fly up to her window, one thought plays through my mind constantly. Bulma, forgive me.
I drop silently onto her balcony, rag in my hand. I quickly press the bottle of the chloroform to the rag and turn it down to let it soak into the cloth. When I have enough liquid on it, I set the bottle aside and move to her bed.
She's sleeping, angelic. For one heartbeat, I watch her, and then I move. As gently as I can, I press the rag to her nose and mouth. Her eyes snap open, and she stares at me, startled, before she begins to struggle. I easily keep the cloth against her face, though the look in her eyes is killing me. So angry, so betrayed, but I won't look away. I do not shy away from the reality of things, from the truth of the world – or the anger in her eyes. Gradually, her hands slow their weak protests, and her eyes roll back and close. I count to ten, leaving the rag there, and then scoop her up in my arms.
The door opens suddenly, and I twist to face Yamcha. His eyes flutter to Bulma, unconscious in my arms, and then to my stolen belt, which holds both the device and other supplies. "You bastard!" he shouts and his panic only increases when Bulma remains limp and still against me.
