Continuation! Finally, I post again. I know that many of you have been waiting for another update – my humblest apologies as I'm getting ready to return to school, hoping my cat isn't sick, praying my house doesn't have termites and working forty hours a week at a university during orientation week. I is busy, and usually tired at night. But I will finish, as I have said I would.
I need sleep, can you tell?
Oh, and another switch in POV.
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Prince of All, Part Two
I wake up somewhere strange, and for a horrible moment, I can't remember how I got here. Then it floods back – Monti-who-ever and his Black Ass Silliness, Vegeta drugging me, waking up in the cave, and that eternal darkness that wrapped me in pain and shadows.
I stare at the round roof over me, and slowly realize that I'm in my hovercraft – the big one that I use after a fight to get all the wounded home. But judging by the way I feel I'm one of the wounded this time.
A dark figure with inhuman hair leans over my right side, and I try unsuccessfully to refocus on it. "Vegeta?" I hazard a guess.
"Great," a familiar voice answers off to my left, so filled with bitterness that I doubt it's really him. "The first word out of her mouth is that asshole's name."
"Yamcha?" I moan, trying to sit up, squinting. The figure to my right leans closer and my eyes finally focus on Goku's concerned, relieved face.
"Take it easy," he murmurs as he gently pushes me back down, a position to which I'm only too happy to return. "You took quite a beating."
"I did?" I ask. I reach up and touch a bruise on his forehead that turns into a scrape down his nose. "I hope I don't look as bad as you."
"You look better than me," he chuckles. "You always look better than me, even when you look worse."
I grin weakly and drop my arm – it feels incredibly heavy, and I 'm not Vegeta, so I don't have to pretend I'm fine.
Vegeta!
Vegeta screams my name as he fades from me… Arms, his arms around me, holding me as I cling to him… Whispering, "See her by the gravity room… See her coming down the stairs, smiling… See her at her computer… See her here, on her home…"
"What happened to Vegeta?" I ask. He's the last thing I remember, and I don't see him. Goku leans back and I see Vegeta lying motionless on blankets on the other side of him. "Oh, god," I moan in sympathy, my eyes noting his injuries. His entire body is covered with a nasty gray residue; looks like he was dipped him in liquid smoke and let air dry. But the worse injury is the blast that has blackened his chest and neck – it looks like he took a chi blast dead on. "Will he be ok?"
"He'll be fine," Goku reassures me, his voice tense. I look up at him, to see him shooting an unreadable glance at Yamcha, who scowls as darkly as Vegeta out the back of the hovercar.
"All right," I growl as I make a second attempt to sit up. "What the hell is going on?"
"What do you mean?" Goku asks me with a big, uncomfortable grin. I'm not comforted; it's his 'I-ate-all-the-cookies-please-don't-kill-me' grin. His hands start to restrain me, but I knock him away and struggle upright. Or rather, he lets me knock him away, and sit upright.
"I mean, the last thing I remember is Vegeta fighting that big smoky thing," I groan as I prop myself against the seat back behind me. I decide not to mention how he was fighting it – why upset Yamcha more? "Then I wake up here, get growled at for trying to piece the last bits I remember with my present circumstances, and now Goku is making the serious face at Yamcha. So don't tell me nothing is going on."
The men are silent for a moment, and then Goku says, "The plan that Vegeta and I had formulated required secrecy. Some people reacted unexpectedly."
Yamcha blurts out, "In other words, I nearly screwed it all up because no one told me what was going on!"
"I'm sorry about that," Goku replies, "but I already told you why you weren't informed."
"Yeah, at least you didn't get chloroformed," I snort, trying to keep the tone light. Yamcha doesn't smile – if anything, my little jest only darkens his scowl further. Suddenly the pieces fall together and I say aloud, "You hurt Vegeta, trying to protect me, didn't you?"
Yamcha meets my eyes for the first time, and I see how tortured they are, drowning in some dark, guilty emotion. "I almost," his voice chokes on whatever he's saying and he has to start again, fighting an emotional quiver to continue, "I almost killed—" He suddenly leans into me, putting his head on my shoulder, and hugs me tightly as the sobs come.
"Shh," I murmur as I hug him back and stroke his hair, looking helplessly at Goku, more than a little confused. "It's ok, baby." Since when has Yamcha been broken up over Vegeta possibly dying?
Goku looks incredibly sad, but resolute at the same time. For the first time that I can remember, my childhood friend is a closed book to me, as if there is something that he must hide from me.
Fear washes over me as I realize that something important happened today, something that changed everything, and no one wants to tell me what it is.
* * *
The doctor gives me a clean bill of health after four maddening hours of check-ups. Vegeta had already been seen to and medicated as much as he could be without killing him, or so the doctors have decided. His sedated, battered body is lying quietly in the Capsule clinic.
When I finally find a mirror, I discover that I am covered in the same smoky scum as Vegeta. It is completely dry, and flakes off if any pressure is applied to it. I almost simply shower it away, but the scientific part of me insists that I save at least one sample. It is easy enough to secure a vial of the gray flakes and then I gladly clean up.
The heat and stream revitalize me, and I step out, feeling like a new woman. Unfortunately, I still have all the same old problems. Squaring my shoulders, I go in search of answers.
Yamcha is the first stop; he is waiting for me downstairs in the living room, patient through all the checkups and cleanups. "Hey," I murmur as I walk into the room.
"Bulma," he whispers and jumps to his feet to hug me. I bask in his love and concern, trying to gather my thoughts to better present my question.
"Yamcha," I start, but he tenses in my arms at my tone. "What?"
Yamcha pulls back from my arms to look me deeply in the eyes. "Don't ask, baby," he says softly. "I'm sorry, baby, please don't ask me today." He grins, a strangely unhappy expression, as he continues, "Hey, I know! Let's go out to dinner together, to celebrate another win for the good guys!"
"Ok, but who won it?" I ask relentlessly.
Rage passes over his features, startling me. "You can't leave it alone, can you?" he snaps, flinging one arm out, as if he wants to stop touching me, but can't really decide. "You just keep digging, don't you?"
"Yamcha! I was unconscious and I wake up in Bizzaro-land!" I shout in answer, stomping my foot to let him know I am really upset. "Goku's all serious, you're all moody, and Vegeta's peaceful – unconscious but peaceful! And no one will tell me anything!"
"Well, I'll tell you one thing, lady," Yamcha growls as he drops his grip on my arm. "You're having dinner alone!" He doesn't wait for me to reply, but turns to leave.
"Fine!" I scream at his back. "I'd rather eat with the unconscious Saiyan than you right now anyway!"
He turns at that, and I draw back from the look on his face. Rage, shame, and despair all fly across his face, and I'm left shaking by the turbulent emotions radiating from him. With a final growl, he dashes away from me, leaving me trembling still.
I drop onto the couch, holding my arms as I quiver in delayed fear. I can never remember Yamcha looking at me like that before; it is very frightening to see that look on that beloved face. Finally, I can move without a fine tremor, and I stand up, all the more determined to find out what the hell is going on here. My boyfriend is acting like a madman, Goku is hiding things from me, and Vegeta the psychopath saved my life. My world is turned upside down, and I intend to set it upright.
* * *
Setting my life upright has to wait though. My father has a task for me, and a quick scan of the blueprints reveals that it will be at least eighty hours of work. I sigh and ask him, "Can't this wait a bit?"
My father glances at me over the papers he's reading. "Now Bulma, I almost never ask you to set your life aside for one of my tasks, but this is very important," he says pointedly. "I really need this done as soon as possible."
Guiltily, I agree. I dig in, trying to get the project done so that I can get back to my important tasks. I'm two days into the project when I realize that I haven't heard from anyone. The realization catches me up short. I was nearly removed from this world, and had been pretty shaky when everyone had seen me last, and no one had called to check on me?
"Something's wrong," I growl and race over to the workstation's phone. I pick the receiver and am about to dial when Goku's voice over the line stops me.
"Did it work?" he asks, sounding worried.
"Yes," my father's somber voice answers, "now will you tell me what this is all about?"
"I'd like to, sir," Goku said apologetically, "but I can't really say that Bulma would appreciate me telling you what's going on."
"Well, son," my father replies, "when are you going to tell her so that I can stop lying to my daughter?" My eyes bug with rage, but I hold my tongue. I want to hear this answer.
"Soon," Goku sighs. "I do appreciate what you're doing, Mr. Briefs. I swear to you that it's for her own good."
"Really?" I shriek into the phone. "I don't think that lying to me constitutes as for my own good!"
"Bulma!" Goku hoots in surprise. "How—"
"Same house, same phone line, same Saiyan in big trouble!" I shout.
My father speaks up. "I'll let you two talk this out." The line clicks once, and all I can hear is Goku's panicked breathing.
"Now what the hell is going on?" I shout into the phone. The line clicks dead. "Goku! Goku, get your Saiyan ass back on this phone!" I scream into the line, too enraged to believe that he had actually hung up on me. When I don't get an answer and the reality registers, I shriek with fury and throw the phone down. I stomp at full speed to my desk and snatch up my fastest capsule hovercar. Racing onto my yard, I click the top and toss it to the ground. My beloved XR-5000 appears, and I jump in.
Despite the fact that it is Goku who had set me off, Yamcha's house is closer than that hump of land that Goku and family called home. I head to him first, determined that I was going to get to the bottom of this.
I dash up the walk of his house and pound on the door. "Minute!" Yamcha calls and the door swings open. I gape at my boyfriend, shocked beyond words at his disheveled appearance. I quickly shut my mouth as the scent of booze oozes from him. "Bulma!"
"Good guess," I hiss at him. "I'm glad to see that you haven't forgotten my name while you weren't visiting me!" I start to push past him, but he holds firm. Fine, I can have this discussion in full view of his neighbors if that's what he wants!
"You're my firlgriend, not my warden," he snaps, or rather tries to snap. There is nothing quick or sharp about him tonight.
"No, right now, I'm your worst nightmare," I shout at him, pleased to see noisy Ms. Clackclock's curtains twist aside. "What the hell is going on?"
"Go 'way, Bulmie," Yamcha exhales, sagging against the doorframe with effort. "Go back to your monkey."
"Oh, no, you don't!" I shout, grabbing his arm to keep him from falling, his neighbors forgotten. "We're not fighting about the fact that Vegeta saved me and you didn't because that is not what it is about!"
"Isn't it?" he slurs staring at me. His eyes are glazed with alcohol, but they are full of conviction. "Veggie was faster than Yamchie and Bulmie wants him – Veggie, now." He pulls a nearby bottle off his table and sloshes some more alcohol back. The look of distain that he's giving me robs me of my voice. "Bulmie always wants the best man, and Yamchie's not the best."
"Yamcha, you ass," I seethe, finally finding my voice. "Vegeta saved my life! Am I grateful? Yes! But that doesn't mean that I want him!"
"You've always wanted him," Yamcha says softly, "I'm just too sober normally to see it." His eyes are calm and his voice resolute, but I gather my anger for one last try.
"I want you," I half-growl, half-sigh, "though that could change if you don't put down the bottle."
"And I want you," he sighs and sags more in the doorway. "I want you to be happy, and I won't make you happy."
"Not when you're drinking, no!" The conversation is getting too deep, too serious, and I rely on my oldest weapon – decisive action and orders. Planting my hands on my hips, I say, "Yamcha, I'm going to put you to bed and we can talk about this later. In fact, when Vegeta's up, we can have another picnic, in both your honors, for saving me. How does that sound?"
Yamcha hauls himself to his feet, swaying slightly. "There's just one problem with that," he grunts.
"What?" I keep my tone even and cordial somehow. I should get a medal for dealing with this man!
"I tried to kill you," he answers, an ironic half-smile touching his features. While I stand there in shock, he slams the door shut in my face.
"Yamcha?" I call through the door when I've gathered myself somewhat. "What did you mean? Please talk to me."
"No!" he hollers. "Go away; fly away to the guy who saved you from me. Go fly to your monkey."
I plead for ten minutes, but Yamcha will not open the door. Finally, even I have to admit defeat, and I walk slowly to my car, shock numbing my emotions and the world.
I don't cry until I remember that he's never denied me anything else before. And now, when it matters most, he denies me his heart.
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I hope to post soon – see you all in a couple of days… Hate it? Enjoy it? Let me know!
