DISCLAIMER: No, for the last time, I do not own DBZ or any of its
characters. I'm just this for my enjoyment and the enjoyment of others. So
since I don't own, nor do I have any money, suing is just out of the
question. MOVE ON!
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Summary: A chain of dramatic events leave Bulma thinking, will she notice what her life's been missing all along? Will she leave Vegeta and run into the arms of someone else, or will she forgive him? And with the changes going on, how many marriages will be put in danger?
-----
AN:
Thanks for the reviews I got for the first chapter, not that many but that's ok. I don't mind it just as long as anyone like this, that's enough. I'm so surprised that ppl actually lyked this story. ::grins:: So since I wasn't pelted with stones, told to go to tell, or cursed at, I'm going to continue this story. ^___^ I take it that it must be like on some degree. I hope I get some more reviews... ::hint hint:: I will try and better my skills, so if any of you have any comments, shoot them away. I'm all ears. ^______^
Oh, and a special thanks to Son-Kun. ::hugs Goku:: Thanks for the luv!! This chapter is for you buddy!! Happi reading, enjoy, and R&R.
~LadyB
------
Broken Beyond Repair
Chapter Two: Like a Lifeless Angel
By: LadyBulma24
-----
"She locked herself in one of the guest rooms down here since the...incident. She won't come out." Trunks paced the floor of his living room, his mother's best friend sitting on the snow leather couch listening to his version of what happened the night his mother fainted. He strode around from one end of the black carpet to the other, in the company of Goku, they had been in the living room for a while, conversing on the condition of his mother. The dim glow from the expensive Tiffany Laps Bulma had brought over a year ago lit up the usually murky living room, providing them with light in what was a very depressing conversational topic.
Goku brought his hands from his knees to his chin, supporting his head as he pondered over the information that he had just been given about his best friend. A strand of his ebony bangs feel between both of his even darker eyes. He frowned profoundly, how could this have happened to Bulma? "Do you know how she's been holding up?" An appearance of genuine apprehension accented his statement like a bold explanation point.
The younger of the two men finally stopped his pacing, Trunks walked over to Goku and sat next to him. "I don't know anything. She hasn't let me even come near her. She starts yelling hysterically if I go anywhere near the door."
"Is there anything that I can do for you Trunks?" Questioned Goku. "I'll be more than happy to help, just name it and I'll do whatever I can." Everything that had been told about Goku over the ages was true, he was the most sympathetic person to walk the face of the Earth. And while others confused that concern for weakness, it was only a part of what made him the strongest man alive.
"I'm sorry to say that there might not be much we can do." Trunks balled his hands up into fists over his pants, he bunched up the material into an atrocious bundle. "If only I hadn't opened my mouth...I should have just kept quiet." He grunted in frustration. "I'm the reason she's like this now Goku! If she's a vegetable for the rest of her life, it's because of me!"
Trunks' cries bounced off of the walls surrounding them, falling dead on the floor after their effect has worn off. "Trunks, she'll come around. All of this was bottling up inside of her. Think of it this way, in the long run you might have been doing her a favor. There's no telling what she might have done to herself if angered alone." Goku tried to reassure the younger Saiyan that everything would be all right, but how could he, if in reality he didn't even know if his best friend was going to be all right? "I'll go talk to her."
Protest came next from the collection of Trunks' emotions that were being held on display at the moment. "But I don't know how much you can get into her, I tried."
A clap of thunder roared outside of the window a few feet way from them, the sky turning post-apocalyptic for an instant, before rain began to pore down from the heaven like ashes. An omen? Maybe. Drops of rain splattered against the princess cut windowpane. Goku opened his mouth to speak, in a rather strained voice, Goku said, "You said so yourself, you were the one that started this." Deciding finally to take to his feet, moving a few inches away from the couch where he previously sat. "It might be best if someone other than you talked to her for once." He smiled politely.
It seemed that the youth agreed. "You're right Goku," Trunks paused for a moment. "You go talk to her, I'll see if I can get Akira on the phone."
Goku nodded as he watched Trunks disappear into the kitchen, he stood alone for a moment before everything registered. His best friend was going insane, all because her husband had taken off and left her alone, without even giving Bulma so much as a good-bye. He could see where that would upset any other woman, but how could his friend be at the insanity's door? It was impossible, sure other women could fall to their knees over a man but how could his Bulma be so tragically effected over Vegeta's departure? Last time he checked, sure Vegeta and Bulma had a stable marriage, and of course they were happy together, but were they really madly in love? Since when had something so simple turned into, well, this? So they had bonded, big deal. Even Goku knew that a lack of love could cause even the strongest of Saiyan bonds crashing down to hell. Knowing all of that, could it really have been possible for is best friend to go insane over Vegeta?
No...Goku shook his head, the raven color in his hair blending into the darkness around him. Anyone but his Bulma. She was just so brave, so strong, so unlike other women. That's what made her so special... that's what made her Bulma Briefs. Rising his fist to knock on the white wood of Bulma's bedroom door, Goku fidgeted imperceptibly, what would she look like when he opened the door? Would she be sick? Would she be ugly, once more he shook his head. Even in her worse of times, Bulma had never looked in the least bit unattractive to him. She always had been, always would be, the image of womanly perfection that his life referred to. For a second time, Goku brought up his balled up hand, only this time, he knocked as softly as he could.
"Bulma, it's me."
There was no response from within the room. Goku sighed and leaned onto the hardness of the door, putting his full weight on it. "Bulma-Chan please." He pounded his forehead onto the wood. "You can't hide in there forever."
Still, no matter how hard he tried he was only rewarded by the stillness emitting itself the guestroom door. It felt as if he were talking to a wall, the way he was receiving nothing but silence as a response, and ironically enough, he was talking to a door.
"Don't make me open the door, I don't want to have to pry it open Bulma." No matter what he was saying he was still standing out in the hallway, one hand on her silver doorknob, his forehead pressed to the coolness of her door, and his eyes downcast on the floor. "Please..."
He spent a few minutes standing there, could she sincerely have been so depressed that she wouldn't even open the door to him? After his thoughts on deep contemplation Goku tightened his firm hold on the doorknob, not thinking twice about springing it loose allowing him entrance to the guestroom where Bulma was confined to. With a soft clanging clamor, the door gave way, opening partly with a creak. What Goku saw, scared him to death.
There lay his blue-haired angel, in a massive bed nearly double the size of a kind bed, white sheets as far as the eye could see. Her cerulean stands were spread out pointing in all directions known to man, her skin nearly as ashen as the silk sheets around her. The sight of her broke Goku's heart. She was usually so bright and so full of life. Those eyes, would they have been open they would have lacked the light that made her who she was. They would have been in subterranean need of existence, and would it have not been for the small rise and fall of her womanly breasts, he would have thought her dead. Everything about her was just so empty, so drained of any life. Bulma's face leaned in, her cheekbones dipping for the lack of nourishment on them. How long had it been since she had eaten last?
In diminutive steps Goku made his way over to her bedside, hoping that there was some way to get through to her. The wind trickled in through the open window at her far right, blowing her bangs away softly. Everything in the room hissed corrosion and death, obscurity working in perfect harmony to the purposelessness all around him. He sighed to himself and knelt down by her side, would she open her eyes? Could fate spare him the sight of one more life lost right before his eyes? Anyone but her...
Goku took one of her pale gentle hands in his own much more generously proportioned one, tightly holding onto it as if the contact of her skin was life itself. A few seconds passed him by before he had enough nerve to even being to think of what to do next; he brought her hand to his forehead, pressing her pallid ivory to his must tanner complexion. "Bulma?" Still there came no response from her, she was as lifeless as any dead person, not even the most trifling of evidence that she was alive. Again, he realized that her breath was the only thing signaling her existence.
"Akira isn't home."
Goku brought his head up from Bulma's hand, looking up to see Trunks leaning in on the open frame of Bulma's room, his muscular arms crossed over his chest strongly. He glanced at Goku, the way his eyes shot around desperately trying to think of something to do or say to bring his best friend back to life.
"I tried her home, office and cell, all nothing."
Apologetically, Goku sighed. "You did all you could Trunks." The end result, nothing. Bulma still lay there as if carved in stone, like a lifeless angel, clipped of its wings.
At that very moment, Trunks brought his fist up away from his body, slamming it into the drywall with a hollow thunk. He groaned, pulled back his hand, and did it again and again until his fists were the source of streaming rivers of blood. "I killed her..."
"No," Goku softly fingered Bulma's hand. "You didn't. Stop beating yourself up about that."
Trunks growled. "You don't know. You weren't there to see the way she glared at me, to hear the words she said. She said I was killing her, Goku, I killed her!"
It was obvious to them both now that no matter how much noise they made Bulma was not going to be so easily awakened with such a display of utter uproar. "TRUNKS!" Goku called out to him somewhat harshly, all to get his attention. "She's still breathing, see?"
They both glanced at her unresponsive cadaver, it rose, it fell, and no reply. The sight did nothing more but flue the flame that burned inside of Trunks, the guilt feeding from the fire. He undid his hands from their positions as fists, and brought them outstretched to his forehead, running them back in a rough motion into his lavender hair. Trunks pulled violently at his hair, wanting desperately to hurt elsewhere other than his heart, blood smeared down his forehead like crimson tears. "I just should have driven a stake through her heart! At least then I would have been spared such a sight!"
Goku understood where the young Saiyan, it was hard to control the hate, the longing, and the fear at his age, especially when you had such power flowing all the way through the viens in your body. "Trunks, be calm. She's your mother, not a vampire. She'll be just fine." He brought his free hand up to stroke her face, parting her aquatic bangs from Bulma's porcelain skin. Her demeanor; that china-doll appearance she gave off, her parted rose lips, were screaming his name, pulling at his heartstrings, crying out his name.
With as much interest as bewilderment, Trunks observed the way that Goku touched his mother, there was such a tenderness there, something he had never seen in his 22 years of life. Never had he seen a man, or anyone for a matter, touch another human being in such a way. Love, hope, tenderness, and even the darkest hint of pining desire were recognizable in Goku's impression on his mother's face. Trunks was mutedly befuddled; had he missed a step? Despite his observations, Trunks said nothing.
"Bulma-Chan." The voice filling the room was choking back sobs out of a type of manly superiority, something quiet uncharacteristic for Son Goku. "I'll do anything, just open your eyes." His hold on Bulma's hand tightened, not once letting it down from the position at his forehead. Each of his words, a secret whisper, the looks he sent her, laced with implication.
Trunks was growing uneasy standing there, a mere onlooker to his mother's body and to the man praying her back to life. Clearing his throat for recognition, he wondered aloud, "Should I get anything?"
Goku was pensive for a moment, his whole face turning somber and gray. "Ice water on a cloth." One of his large hands was run down from her forehead to her chin. "She's burning up."
A concise nod, "Got it." And with that the third person was gone.
It wasn't until Trunks was out of the room that Goku moved closer to Bulma, a part of him thinking that his closeness to her would make her respond, or even just open her eyes. "I'll stay here as long as it takes, just please, wake up."
Seconds later, Trunks returned, towel in hand and the bloody remains far from his princely face. "Here." He tossed the cream-colored cloth over to Goku; water streaming from it as it covered distance through air. Goku caught it with ease in one of his outsized hands, the right one.
"Arigatou."
Trunks acknowledged the thanks with a grunt and nod of his head, still standing in the doorway not knowing what else he was expected to do. The least he could think of was watching for the long awaited rejoinder from his delicately stated mother. His ocean eyes surveyed all actions brought on upon from Goku, the wiping of the cloth against her forehead shoving her sweet bangs aside, followed by something that surprised him. Upon bringing the material in contact with her sallow skin, a sharp draw of breath could be heard, her chest rising higher than ever before. An action, a response, a sign of hope.
"She-"
"Yeah..." Responded Goku, unable to tare his eyes off of Bulma who had yet to release the heavy breath of air she had taken in seconds ago. At last, she let it go, her body sinking into the covers as if falling a great distance from above. "I guess the ice water helped her..." Once more, Goku's voice trailed, it seemed he could not manage to keep it steady, it rose and fell with such uncertainty.
"Kuso!"
Goku glanced up. "Nani?"
"I have to go get Bra." Trunks sighed. "She still doesn't know about this." He said referring to his sister 13 years in his minor.
"How come?"
Trunks handed Goku a very serious look. "Do you honestly think that she could handle something like this? I don't."
Comically, Goku placed his hand behind his neck and smiled lopsidedly. "You're right. What are you going to tell her? Where has she been for the past four days?"
Trunks walked into the room for a moment, towards his mother's bed, and looked down on her fallen figure. "She's been with Pan for a few days, I told Gohan Bu-er...my mother wasn't feeling so well. He promised to look after Bra."
Goku knitted his eyebrows together over his coal eyes. "Nani? Gohan knew? And he didn't tell me?"
"Not exactly, I told him she wasn't feeling well, I never told him what happened."
"Oh."
Both men cast their sympathetic fleeting looks down at Bulma.
"I'll be right back with Bra. We can talk to her about his later." Trunks tossed over his shoulder, making his way over to the door once again.
The older Saiyan nodded. "Right. I'll watch over Bulma."
Trunks gave him a meek smile. "Arigatou."
His eyes had returned to Bulma's body. "Don't mention it Trunks." Just as Trunks was leaving, Goku called out to him, "Hey Trunks?"
"Hai?"
Goku was ill at ease for a moment, before he spoke. "Is it really wise to bring Bra into this?"
Trunks saw where Goku was coming from, something as horrible as this could traumatize Bra for years to come. "I don't know Goku, I can't leave her out of this for much longer either."
"Yeah..." Nodded Goku absently, knowing that Trunks was right. It wasn't fair to either of them to keep Bra in the dark about her mother's well being.
"I'll ask Gohan for his advice, I'll be back."
"Ok. Good luck."
"Arigatou, I'll need it."
With that, the youth left the room and took off out of the house, leaving Bulma's life in the hands of Goku. Trunks knew that he could not have asked for a better person to watch after the being of his mother, not even Kami himself could do a better job.
~*~
REVIEW!
REVIEW!!
REVIEW!!!
All comments, flames, suggestions, anything else, are welcome. ^_^
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Summary: A chain of dramatic events leave Bulma thinking, will she notice what her life's been missing all along? Will she leave Vegeta and run into the arms of someone else, or will she forgive him? And with the changes going on, how many marriages will be put in danger?
-----
AN:
Thanks for the reviews I got for the first chapter, not that many but that's ok. I don't mind it just as long as anyone like this, that's enough. I'm so surprised that ppl actually lyked this story. ::grins:: So since I wasn't pelted with stones, told to go to tell, or cursed at, I'm going to continue this story. ^___^ I take it that it must be like on some degree. I hope I get some more reviews... ::hint hint:: I will try and better my skills, so if any of you have any comments, shoot them away. I'm all ears. ^______^
Oh, and a special thanks to Son-Kun. ::hugs Goku:: Thanks for the luv!! This chapter is for you buddy!! Happi reading, enjoy, and R&R.
~LadyB
------
Broken Beyond Repair
Chapter Two: Like a Lifeless Angel
By: LadyBulma24
-----
"She locked herself in one of the guest rooms down here since the...incident. She won't come out." Trunks paced the floor of his living room, his mother's best friend sitting on the snow leather couch listening to his version of what happened the night his mother fainted. He strode around from one end of the black carpet to the other, in the company of Goku, they had been in the living room for a while, conversing on the condition of his mother. The dim glow from the expensive Tiffany Laps Bulma had brought over a year ago lit up the usually murky living room, providing them with light in what was a very depressing conversational topic.
Goku brought his hands from his knees to his chin, supporting his head as he pondered over the information that he had just been given about his best friend. A strand of his ebony bangs feel between both of his even darker eyes. He frowned profoundly, how could this have happened to Bulma? "Do you know how she's been holding up?" An appearance of genuine apprehension accented his statement like a bold explanation point.
The younger of the two men finally stopped his pacing, Trunks walked over to Goku and sat next to him. "I don't know anything. She hasn't let me even come near her. She starts yelling hysterically if I go anywhere near the door."
"Is there anything that I can do for you Trunks?" Questioned Goku. "I'll be more than happy to help, just name it and I'll do whatever I can." Everything that had been told about Goku over the ages was true, he was the most sympathetic person to walk the face of the Earth. And while others confused that concern for weakness, it was only a part of what made him the strongest man alive.
"I'm sorry to say that there might not be much we can do." Trunks balled his hands up into fists over his pants, he bunched up the material into an atrocious bundle. "If only I hadn't opened my mouth...I should have just kept quiet." He grunted in frustration. "I'm the reason she's like this now Goku! If she's a vegetable for the rest of her life, it's because of me!"
Trunks' cries bounced off of the walls surrounding them, falling dead on the floor after their effect has worn off. "Trunks, she'll come around. All of this was bottling up inside of her. Think of it this way, in the long run you might have been doing her a favor. There's no telling what she might have done to herself if angered alone." Goku tried to reassure the younger Saiyan that everything would be all right, but how could he, if in reality he didn't even know if his best friend was going to be all right? "I'll go talk to her."
Protest came next from the collection of Trunks' emotions that were being held on display at the moment. "But I don't know how much you can get into her, I tried."
A clap of thunder roared outside of the window a few feet way from them, the sky turning post-apocalyptic for an instant, before rain began to pore down from the heaven like ashes. An omen? Maybe. Drops of rain splattered against the princess cut windowpane. Goku opened his mouth to speak, in a rather strained voice, Goku said, "You said so yourself, you were the one that started this." Deciding finally to take to his feet, moving a few inches away from the couch where he previously sat. "It might be best if someone other than you talked to her for once." He smiled politely.
It seemed that the youth agreed. "You're right Goku," Trunks paused for a moment. "You go talk to her, I'll see if I can get Akira on the phone."
Goku nodded as he watched Trunks disappear into the kitchen, he stood alone for a moment before everything registered. His best friend was going insane, all because her husband had taken off and left her alone, without even giving Bulma so much as a good-bye. He could see where that would upset any other woman, but how could his friend be at the insanity's door? It was impossible, sure other women could fall to their knees over a man but how could his Bulma be so tragically effected over Vegeta's departure? Last time he checked, sure Vegeta and Bulma had a stable marriage, and of course they were happy together, but were they really madly in love? Since when had something so simple turned into, well, this? So they had bonded, big deal. Even Goku knew that a lack of love could cause even the strongest of Saiyan bonds crashing down to hell. Knowing all of that, could it really have been possible for is best friend to go insane over Vegeta?
No...Goku shook his head, the raven color in his hair blending into the darkness around him. Anyone but his Bulma. She was just so brave, so strong, so unlike other women. That's what made her so special... that's what made her Bulma Briefs. Rising his fist to knock on the white wood of Bulma's bedroom door, Goku fidgeted imperceptibly, what would she look like when he opened the door? Would she be sick? Would she be ugly, once more he shook his head. Even in her worse of times, Bulma had never looked in the least bit unattractive to him. She always had been, always would be, the image of womanly perfection that his life referred to. For a second time, Goku brought up his balled up hand, only this time, he knocked as softly as he could.
"Bulma, it's me."
There was no response from within the room. Goku sighed and leaned onto the hardness of the door, putting his full weight on it. "Bulma-Chan please." He pounded his forehead onto the wood. "You can't hide in there forever."
Still, no matter how hard he tried he was only rewarded by the stillness emitting itself the guestroom door. It felt as if he were talking to a wall, the way he was receiving nothing but silence as a response, and ironically enough, he was talking to a door.
"Don't make me open the door, I don't want to have to pry it open Bulma." No matter what he was saying he was still standing out in the hallway, one hand on her silver doorknob, his forehead pressed to the coolness of her door, and his eyes downcast on the floor. "Please..."
He spent a few minutes standing there, could she sincerely have been so depressed that she wouldn't even open the door to him? After his thoughts on deep contemplation Goku tightened his firm hold on the doorknob, not thinking twice about springing it loose allowing him entrance to the guestroom where Bulma was confined to. With a soft clanging clamor, the door gave way, opening partly with a creak. What Goku saw, scared him to death.
There lay his blue-haired angel, in a massive bed nearly double the size of a kind bed, white sheets as far as the eye could see. Her cerulean stands were spread out pointing in all directions known to man, her skin nearly as ashen as the silk sheets around her. The sight of her broke Goku's heart. She was usually so bright and so full of life. Those eyes, would they have been open they would have lacked the light that made her who she was. They would have been in subterranean need of existence, and would it have not been for the small rise and fall of her womanly breasts, he would have thought her dead. Everything about her was just so empty, so drained of any life. Bulma's face leaned in, her cheekbones dipping for the lack of nourishment on them. How long had it been since she had eaten last?
In diminutive steps Goku made his way over to her bedside, hoping that there was some way to get through to her. The wind trickled in through the open window at her far right, blowing her bangs away softly. Everything in the room hissed corrosion and death, obscurity working in perfect harmony to the purposelessness all around him. He sighed to himself and knelt down by her side, would she open her eyes? Could fate spare him the sight of one more life lost right before his eyes? Anyone but her...
Goku took one of her pale gentle hands in his own much more generously proportioned one, tightly holding onto it as if the contact of her skin was life itself. A few seconds passed him by before he had enough nerve to even being to think of what to do next; he brought her hand to his forehead, pressing her pallid ivory to his must tanner complexion. "Bulma?" Still there came no response from her, she was as lifeless as any dead person, not even the most trifling of evidence that she was alive. Again, he realized that her breath was the only thing signaling her existence.
"Akira isn't home."
Goku brought his head up from Bulma's hand, looking up to see Trunks leaning in on the open frame of Bulma's room, his muscular arms crossed over his chest strongly. He glanced at Goku, the way his eyes shot around desperately trying to think of something to do or say to bring his best friend back to life.
"I tried her home, office and cell, all nothing."
Apologetically, Goku sighed. "You did all you could Trunks." The end result, nothing. Bulma still lay there as if carved in stone, like a lifeless angel, clipped of its wings.
At that very moment, Trunks brought his fist up away from his body, slamming it into the drywall with a hollow thunk. He groaned, pulled back his hand, and did it again and again until his fists were the source of streaming rivers of blood. "I killed her..."
"No," Goku softly fingered Bulma's hand. "You didn't. Stop beating yourself up about that."
Trunks growled. "You don't know. You weren't there to see the way she glared at me, to hear the words she said. She said I was killing her, Goku, I killed her!"
It was obvious to them both now that no matter how much noise they made Bulma was not going to be so easily awakened with such a display of utter uproar. "TRUNKS!" Goku called out to him somewhat harshly, all to get his attention. "She's still breathing, see?"
They both glanced at her unresponsive cadaver, it rose, it fell, and no reply. The sight did nothing more but flue the flame that burned inside of Trunks, the guilt feeding from the fire. He undid his hands from their positions as fists, and brought them outstretched to his forehead, running them back in a rough motion into his lavender hair. Trunks pulled violently at his hair, wanting desperately to hurt elsewhere other than his heart, blood smeared down his forehead like crimson tears. "I just should have driven a stake through her heart! At least then I would have been spared such a sight!"
Goku understood where the young Saiyan, it was hard to control the hate, the longing, and the fear at his age, especially when you had such power flowing all the way through the viens in your body. "Trunks, be calm. She's your mother, not a vampire. She'll be just fine." He brought his free hand up to stroke her face, parting her aquatic bangs from Bulma's porcelain skin. Her demeanor; that china-doll appearance she gave off, her parted rose lips, were screaming his name, pulling at his heartstrings, crying out his name.
With as much interest as bewilderment, Trunks observed the way that Goku touched his mother, there was such a tenderness there, something he had never seen in his 22 years of life. Never had he seen a man, or anyone for a matter, touch another human being in such a way. Love, hope, tenderness, and even the darkest hint of pining desire were recognizable in Goku's impression on his mother's face. Trunks was mutedly befuddled; had he missed a step? Despite his observations, Trunks said nothing.
"Bulma-Chan." The voice filling the room was choking back sobs out of a type of manly superiority, something quiet uncharacteristic for Son Goku. "I'll do anything, just open your eyes." His hold on Bulma's hand tightened, not once letting it down from the position at his forehead. Each of his words, a secret whisper, the looks he sent her, laced with implication.
Trunks was growing uneasy standing there, a mere onlooker to his mother's body and to the man praying her back to life. Clearing his throat for recognition, he wondered aloud, "Should I get anything?"
Goku was pensive for a moment, his whole face turning somber and gray. "Ice water on a cloth." One of his large hands was run down from her forehead to her chin. "She's burning up."
A concise nod, "Got it." And with that the third person was gone.
It wasn't until Trunks was out of the room that Goku moved closer to Bulma, a part of him thinking that his closeness to her would make her respond, or even just open her eyes. "I'll stay here as long as it takes, just please, wake up."
Seconds later, Trunks returned, towel in hand and the bloody remains far from his princely face. "Here." He tossed the cream-colored cloth over to Goku; water streaming from it as it covered distance through air. Goku caught it with ease in one of his outsized hands, the right one.
"Arigatou."
Trunks acknowledged the thanks with a grunt and nod of his head, still standing in the doorway not knowing what else he was expected to do. The least he could think of was watching for the long awaited rejoinder from his delicately stated mother. His ocean eyes surveyed all actions brought on upon from Goku, the wiping of the cloth against her forehead shoving her sweet bangs aside, followed by something that surprised him. Upon bringing the material in contact with her sallow skin, a sharp draw of breath could be heard, her chest rising higher than ever before. An action, a response, a sign of hope.
"She-"
"Yeah..." Responded Goku, unable to tare his eyes off of Bulma who had yet to release the heavy breath of air she had taken in seconds ago. At last, she let it go, her body sinking into the covers as if falling a great distance from above. "I guess the ice water helped her..." Once more, Goku's voice trailed, it seemed he could not manage to keep it steady, it rose and fell with such uncertainty.
"Kuso!"
Goku glanced up. "Nani?"
"I have to go get Bra." Trunks sighed. "She still doesn't know about this." He said referring to his sister 13 years in his minor.
"How come?"
Trunks handed Goku a very serious look. "Do you honestly think that she could handle something like this? I don't."
Comically, Goku placed his hand behind his neck and smiled lopsidedly. "You're right. What are you going to tell her? Where has she been for the past four days?"
Trunks walked into the room for a moment, towards his mother's bed, and looked down on her fallen figure. "She's been with Pan for a few days, I told Gohan Bu-er...my mother wasn't feeling so well. He promised to look after Bra."
Goku knitted his eyebrows together over his coal eyes. "Nani? Gohan knew? And he didn't tell me?"
"Not exactly, I told him she wasn't feeling well, I never told him what happened."
"Oh."
Both men cast their sympathetic fleeting looks down at Bulma.
"I'll be right back with Bra. We can talk to her about his later." Trunks tossed over his shoulder, making his way over to the door once again.
The older Saiyan nodded. "Right. I'll watch over Bulma."
Trunks gave him a meek smile. "Arigatou."
His eyes had returned to Bulma's body. "Don't mention it Trunks." Just as Trunks was leaving, Goku called out to him, "Hey Trunks?"
"Hai?"
Goku was ill at ease for a moment, before he spoke. "Is it really wise to bring Bra into this?"
Trunks saw where Goku was coming from, something as horrible as this could traumatize Bra for years to come. "I don't know Goku, I can't leave her out of this for much longer either."
"Yeah..." Nodded Goku absently, knowing that Trunks was right. It wasn't fair to either of them to keep Bra in the dark about her mother's well being.
"I'll ask Gohan for his advice, I'll be back."
"Ok. Good luck."
"Arigatou, I'll need it."
With that, the youth left the room and took off out of the house, leaving Bulma's life in the hands of Goku. Trunks knew that he could not have asked for a better person to watch after the being of his mother, not even Kami himself could do a better job.
~*~
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