Last time:
And yet, in the back of her mind, she was almost too giddy for home to endure the long good-byes.
Ahh, home…
********************************************
"You know," Bulma whispered as she wrapped Furto into what seemed like the millionth frantic hug, "I don't think my parents would mind if I brought a few friends home. We have plenty of room! Too much actually."
"Oh, you flatter me too much, Miss," Furto sighed, a slight blush rising in his cheeks. He didn't know that he could love someone so much as a friend and still give his whole heart to Jemalin. "And I would take up your offer had I been forced to leave my home. But my place—"
"I know, I know. Your place is here. I'm just staling for time…I don't want to go…"
Furto gave a soft, knowing smile. "May I?" he asked, reaching towards her soon-to-be swollen belly. She nodded, just as he bent over and leaned in, placing his ear directly above her belly button. No one but a trained healer, or a Saiyan with their excellent hearing, could have possibly heard the nearly inaudible noises from within Bulma's womb. Over the past few days she'd woken in the night to find Vegeta's head pressed to her belly, as if the child inside were talking to him. She'd feign sleeping and end up staying up, well after he finally decided to fall asleep himself, just so she could bear witness to his rare tenderness.
"So?" she asked as he pulled away, fingers still lingering on her belly.
"Healthy as can be, but if you'd like to monitor your child's progress on the trip home, I suggest asking your Saiyan friend."
"So he WAS listening to our baby!" she said, a little too loudly, immediately clamping her hands over her mouth. "I knew it. He never mentioned it to me, but I knew it."
"Would he?" Furto laughed, though instantly felt ashamed. He shouldn't be poking fun at Vegeta's intimacy issues. He apologized and stepped back.
"Oh, stop that." She gathered him once again in her arms, burying her face in his neck. "The last thing I want is for you to have any ill feelings when I take off. I want you to remember me and be happy."
"You know I'll never forget you Bulma. Even if you hadn't returned me to my Jemalin, you'd still have made a great impact on my life."
"Me too…You know…You saved me so many times. I could never repay you for all you've done for me. I'm forever in your debt."
"Bulma!" cried a voice, as a blurred figure came rushing at her, nearly toppling her to the ground.
"Jemalin!?" she laughed, holding the other woman at arm's length. "I thought you were ill in bed. You're not even dressed!"
"I couldn't let you leave without saying good-bye!" Jemalin gasped, out of breath, her cheeks warm and moist, her nightgown falling off one shoulder.
"But I promised you I'd come see you before I left. As soon as I got away from your mate's vice-grip I was going to come to you."
"I couldn't wait to see you. Bulma! You changed my life! And I love you so much for it! I don't want to let you go. I wish you could stay here, with us, and we could raise our children together." She sighed deeply, forcing herself to take a step back so not to charge her alien friend again. "I suppose my children will only ever know about you from stories."
"I doubt this will be the last time we see each other," Bulma said confidently. "So long as I have a breath in my body and hands to run a ship, I'll be traveling the galaxies. After going to so many planets, I can't help but want to visit more. And I can't think of a better set of guides then my best alien friends."
"But your mate? Your child? How? When?" the Princess all but yelled, suppressing the urge to grab onto the other woman.
"In time, after we're settled, after our child is older. They'll be half-Saiyan, stronger than me at the age of two! I think they could handle a little space travel. Besides, with a brain and a sense of adventure like mine, the kid will be begging to explore the universe!"
"I pray that day will come while I'm still on this plain."
"Stop that!" Bulma demanded, grabbing her hands and forcing their eyes to meet. "I give you my word that our time together hasn't ended, not by a long shot. I don't care what Vegeta will say, I WILL see you again. I may be an aged woman with graying hair, but I will see you. As Kami is my witness."
"I do hope you're right. I wish you the best of luck."
Jemalin quickly wrapped her arms around Bulma's neck, whispering, "I love you," and then ran back toward the home, before she lost her nerve all together. If she hadn't gone right then, she wouldn't have been able to sanely let her friend leave.
"Woman," came Vegeta's voice from the ramp. He stood, suited up in his armor, in the doorway, arms crossed, his face passive to the happenings below. "Five minutes."
"Alright," she sighed, glancing at the familiar faces around her. And then, in the blink of an eye, she was surrounded by all those faces, their arms snaked around her, as if to squeeze out her life. "Senju. Golana. Gurgo…Please! I need to breathe!" she gasped, reluctantly pushing them away. When they finally abided, and stepped back, she embraced each individually, whispering her own farewell and thanks for their help.
And then it was time.
"Oh Furto!" she cried, finally giving way to her impending tears. "Don't forget me! Don't you dare! I love you! Kami! I can't leave!"
"Shh…" he soothed, grabbing her around the waist, his own tears warm and stinging in his eyes. He led her up the ramp and into her lover's arms, giving Vegeta a firm handshake before he addressed Bulma once again. "I love you also, Miss," he whispered. He cupped her chin with his hand and met her eyes, all his emotions out in the open. "Thank you for all you've done for me. Your name shall never be forgotten on Fewskm."
"Oh Furto…" She took a deep breath and shrugged, as if that were all her body would allow her to do. "Somehow I'll find a way to see you again. I promise…Until then…Take care. And have a healthy baby!"
"You too, Bulma." He kissed her forehead tenderly, then began his descent from the ramp.
"Bye everyone!!" she called, waving as she was gently pulled into the ship.
"Farewell Bulma!"
"Good-bye Bulma!"
"Safe journey!"
"Don't forget us!"
"Never forget us!"
"WE LOVE YOU!"
And the doors shut.
*****************************************************
The second the ship broke into deep space and the controls made their automatic switch to autopilot, Bulma launched herself into Vegeta's arms, her advances urgent and heated. Without a moment to lose, he hoisted her legs around his waist and carried her out of the kitchen. When they didn't enter her bedroom, Bulma's trail of burning kisses on his neck suddenly stopped.
"Where are we going?" she breathed. Her cheeks were already flushed with excitement.
"My room," was his reply, and a coy smile spread across his features. "I'm not returning to your hideous planet without christening MY bedroom first. Kami knows we spend too much time in yours."
"Agreed."
Afterward, as they lay in each other's arms, their talk was minimal, if at all, and only consisted of questions pertaining to the child that Bulma carried within her. She admitted, reluctantly, that she was a little frightened about giving birth to and raising a half-Saiyan child. Sure Gohan was a sweet kid; she loved him like family, but the son or daughter of Vegeta? The arrogant and almighty Prince?
"I'm glad to see you think that of me," he murmured into her ear and kissed it tenderly. She ignored this, an act she was to commit more than necessary on their way back to Earth. When he tried this time to nibble at her ear, she shoved hard at his side and moved over. "Wench," he hissed, turning his back to her.
But his insults were the farthest thing from her mind just then. Now that she'd indulged in her Knight in Shining Armor once again and her "jets were cooled", she realized that her advances, while genuine, had only been to avoid thinking about their departure from Fewskm. Furto had been a temporary fixture in her life for the past seven months and now, as they plummeted through space, headed towards that blue and green planet she called home, he was gone and she was without his advice, without his comfort, and, most of all, without his friendship.
She curled herself into a ball beside Vegeta, her hands tucked under her face, her sobs painful though inaudible. But, as her first tears hit the pillow, she wiped furiously at them and cleared her throat.
No. Not again. Not now.
"How long will it take to get home?" She would say anything right now to keep from bursting into tears again, to subject Vegeta to her wailing cries, forcing him to be the type of mate she wanted and comfort her, as awkward as it was for the both of them.
"Two weeks," he sighed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Same as before. Don't ask such stupid questions."
"Why didn't you tell me you could know how the baby is?"
"I said—"
"It's not a stupid question Vegeta. As its mother I have a right to know."
"Nonsense…" he muttered, then gave way to a great heaving sigh. "I would have informed you had there been a problem with the child. But I don't expect any. It's half-Saiyan. It'll most likely do more damage to you."
"But Chi-Chi—"
"As much as I hate Kakarot's damn harpy, she is excellently built for Saiyan child-bearing. Being a fighter in her youth, she was well prepared to house a Saiyan. You, on the other hand, are frail and weak. But, it's nothing a little training can't fix. When we land you'll have to outline an exercise schedule for yourself and stick to it."
"Sounds good to me," she agreed, much to his surprise. She wasn't going to fight him on this? "Why would I? It's a good idea. I'm not going to disregard it just because it's yours, as tempting as it is."
"Wench," he said again, though this time it lacked conviction, as before he was slightly hurt by her rejection.
"You know, some people find those words as some type of insult."
"But not you?" he retorted.
"No, because I know that deep down you are thinking something nice about me. You may not want to say it, and Kami knows you never will, but its there and you cannot deny that."
"Wom—"
"Good night Vegeta."
***************************************************************
The next week dragged on in a similar fashion to their first night out in space. Wild, passionate, urgent sex, followed by mostly silence. Small fights erupted here and there, and the only time either of them showed even the slightly compassion for one another was when Bulma was ill from her pregnancy and hanging over the space-age toilet bowl. Vegeta would hold her hair back, if it wasn't tied back already, and rub her back in slow warm circles, trying to ease her churning stomach.
Soon, however, there was need to have a serious discussion, of which Vegeta initiated, much to the surprise of his now cold mate.
"Yes?" Bulma yawned as she entered the control room, her arms stretching high above her head. Moments earlier he had come barreling into her room, shook her awake, then left without a word. She found him right where she knew he would be after such an episode.
"Food," he stated, as if it were a command given by an army officer. Bulma's response was a slanted eyebrow. "We have one week's worth of food left—"
"That's perfe—"
"For one person," he finished, then added, as an afterthought, "who isn't eating for two."
Bulma's face fell and she struggled to find her voice.
"What does that mean exactly, Vegeta? We have a week left before we reach Earth, IF everything goes perfectly and we maintain speed. How are we going to—"
"You act as though I'm an incompetent mate who cannot provide," he huffed, crossing his arms. "The answer to your panicked question is simple. I will eat one meal—"
"Vegeta!"
"Let me finish!" he barked, sending her a glare icy enough to freeze her breath. "I will eat one meal, every other day. And before you go ahead and protest your little heart out, you remember that you need nourishment for two beings, and that I can handle a week's worth of semi-starvation."
"You're insane," she sighed, turning away from him. "I can't allow you to do it."
"Why? Because you can't stand it when I'm right? Or because you want to kill that innocent child inside you?"
Without another word she turned and left the room, the nobleness of his actions left unnoticed.
**********************************************************
"Holy Kami!" Bulma cried as she ran into the kitchen, her robe falling halfway from her body. "Yes! Holy kuso! Kami! Yes! Yes!"
Moments later Vegeta's tired and unnourished form graced the kitchen with a heavy grunt.
"Sorry," she sighed, pulling him into a stiffened embrace. He'd been overly distant since their fight from last week. "I'm just so happy. Tomorrow we'll be back on Earth!"
"No," he corrected, shrugged her off for his usual morning coffee, the only thing he could expect as regular "food". "We'll be on the mudball in 18 hours, so pack your shit so I can be ready for take-off after we land."
"So soon?"
He gave her a look as if you say, "You already knew that," then headed straight for the control room, his coffee mug left full on the counter.
**********************************************************
Three hours. And Bulma still didn't know if she could handle seeing everyone's faces after all this time, having to explain to them what had happened.
She sat rigidly on her bed, thumbing through old, unwanted medical documents that Furto had given her on Denj-sa, including a full report of the progress of her disease. She'd wanted to make sure her family knew exactly what had taken them so long in returning home, aside from the expected technical reasons. How was she going to explain EVERYTHING that had taken place from departure to landing? The initial accident that landed her alone with the Saiyan, the attraction, the disease, the love that grew, the war of those planets, all that traveling, her new friends, the child she was now carrying that decided that it was time, once again, for her to expel the rationed food into the toilet.
At her first cough, Vegeta entered her room and escorted her to the bathroom, as if it were his duty to care for her while she vomited, solely because the child was half his.
"It's a boy," he said nonchalantly as she kneeled next to the toilet, nearly spilling her cereal/bile combination on the floor.
"You sense it now?" she sputtered, her hacking coughs beginning to worry her. Was it right that her chest and throat burned this way? That every time she was positioned like this it felt as though an Eskes attack was coming. She laughed bitterly at the thought of a disease that had both torn her apart and brought about the greatest thing in her life.
"I've sensed it for a few days," he replied, as if the admittance of his withholding of information wouldn't add another ring to their pebble-rippled pool. But before she could snap at him, he ran a hand over her head and down to the small of her back, and said, "I didn't know for sure until just now, so bite your tongue."
"How much—"
"You already know the answer," he sighed. He rose to his feet and dampened a hand towel, placing it on the back of her neck. How had he known that's exactly what she needed? "Two hours and forty-eight minutes." He dared a glance out the bathroom door into her bedroom.
"I'm packed," she wheezed, grabbing a strip of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. "Can you grab my toothbrush?" He handed it to her, without objection, surprising her with a glob of green toothpaste. "You're getting better at this nice thing. I just might have to keep you."
"Wouldn't that be a pity," he laughed, and, for the first time, she realized he was making an honest attempt at a light-hearted joke. She forced a few well-acted chuckles then spit in the sink. It wasn't that she didn't think it was funny, but the sound of those words, in that tone, coming from his mouth gave her a dark feeling, as if it were a sign: the beginning of the end.
She shook off the feeling, however, and grabbed for her mates arm instead.
"Care to escort a lady to your room for one last christening before we land?"
"Bulma…" he purred in her ear, just before scooping her into his arms and carrying out of the room. But the dark feeling wouldn't go away.
***************************************************************
Goku paced back and froth across Capsule Corp.'s lawn, his bright orange gi a wrinkled mess that would have given Chi-Chi a heart attack had she not looked so disheveled herself. Ever since Bulma had turned up missing, everyone that she knew seemed to suddenly be involved in her life, even if they hadn't talked for weeks or months. Naturally, of course, Dr. Briefs had figured out what had happened, though he couldn't exactly explain it. What he did know, almost for certain, was that she was on the ship with Vegeta. What he didn't know, and what was on the tips of everyone's tongues, though no one dared to even hint that they were thinking it, was that something horrible could have happened to Bulma, with or without the assistance of a certain angry Saiyan.
"You're certain?" Mrs. Briefs asked Goku for the sixteenth time, her hands wringing and unwringing a dishtowel.
"I could sense Vegeta's energy from a galaxy away," he said gently. "I knew he was coming hours ago."
"And when are they going to land?" Yamcha piped in, everyone's eyes falling on him. It was public knowledge now that they had broken up shortly before the day she turned up missing, and that, ever since, he'd been making excuses for himself and declaring that when she returned he would sweep her into his arms and make her his bride.
"Ten minutes, give or take," he mumbled. His focus was entirely on the sky above them, a velvety blue dusk with barely twinkling stars and a deep sense of foreboding. Was Bulma on that ship too? No one could be certain. "That's strange." He turned back to the group.
"What is?" his wife practically screamed, grabbing at his arm, only to bring her hands back to the hem of her old t-shirt.
"I feel two Saiyan ki's. But I know one of them is Vegeta. It's unmistakenable. I KNOW his signature."
"Maybe he…" Piccolo didn't want to finish a sentence that had already worked its way into their minds. Maybe he'd found a new partner to aid him in destroying the Earth, to finish the job he'd started years ago, to finally live up to the promises he'd been making since he first set foot before them.
*****************************************************************
---Chapter 35!! Well, there you have it, another exciting installment of my wonderful story. Oo! Oooo! Ooooo! I cannot wait for the ending!! Not because I want it to be over, but because it is pure brilliance! Ok, fine, maybe its just that I THINK its brilliant, you all will have to be the judge of that, though I really do hope you agree :D Hope it wasn't took blah and that I didn't drag it out too much. I plan on having the next chapter be the last, though it'll most likely be the size of three of my usual chapters :P And I hope you're not all mad at me for taking SOOO long. I have a TON of work to do though, and I'm still not done with that, so you best all appreciate what I'm doing for you. It's midnight on a school night and I'm typing fanfiction for my adoring fans. Well, they better be adoring after this :D
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters) ßßßßI'm not joking
Next time: *sniff sniff* THE END *sniffle…sob…sniffle*
And yet, in the back of her mind, she was almost too giddy for home to endure the long good-byes.
Ahh, home…
********************************************
"You know," Bulma whispered as she wrapped Furto into what seemed like the millionth frantic hug, "I don't think my parents would mind if I brought a few friends home. We have plenty of room! Too much actually."
"Oh, you flatter me too much, Miss," Furto sighed, a slight blush rising in his cheeks. He didn't know that he could love someone so much as a friend and still give his whole heart to Jemalin. "And I would take up your offer had I been forced to leave my home. But my place—"
"I know, I know. Your place is here. I'm just staling for time…I don't want to go…"
Furto gave a soft, knowing smile. "May I?" he asked, reaching towards her soon-to-be swollen belly. She nodded, just as he bent over and leaned in, placing his ear directly above her belly button. No one but a trained healer, or a Saiyan with their excellent hearing, could have possibly heard the nearly inaudible noises from within Bulma's womb. Over the past few days she'd woken in the night to find Vegeta's head pressed to her belly, as if the child inside were talking to him. She'd feign sleeping and end up staying up, well after he finally decided to fall asleep himself, just so she could bear witness to his rare tenderness.
"So?" she asked as he pulled away, fingers still lingering on her belly.
"Healthy as can be, but if you'd like to monitor your child's progress on the trip home, I suggest asking your Saiyan friend."
"So he WAS listening to our baby!" she said, a little too loudly, immediately clamping her hands over her mouth. "I knew it. He never mentioned it to me, but I knew it."
"Would he?" Furto laughed, though instantly felt ashamed. He shouldn't be poking fun at Vegeta's intimacy issues. He apologized and stepped back.
"Oh, stop that." She gathered him once again in her arms, burying her face in his neck. "The last thing I want is for you to have any ill feelings when I take off. I want you to remember me and be happy."
"You know I'll never forget you Bulma. Even if you hadn't returned me to my Jemalin, you'd still have made a great impact on my life."
"Me too…You know…You saved me so many times. I could never repay you for all you've done for me. I'm forever in your debt."
"Bulma!" cried a voice, as a blurred figure came rushing at her, nearly toppling her to the ground.
"Jemalin!?" she laughed, holding the other woman at arm's length. "I thought you were ill in bed. You're not even dressed!"
"I couldn't let you leave without saying good-bye!" Jemalin gasped, out of breath, her cheeks warm and moist, her nightgown falling off one shoulder.
"But I promised you I'd come see you before I left. As soon as I got away from your mate's vice-grip I was going to come to you."
"I couldn't wait to see you. Bulma! You changed my life! And I love you so much for it! I don't want to let you go. I wish you could stay here, with us, and we could raise our children together." She sighed deeply, forcing herself to take a step back so not to charge her alien friend again. "I suppose my children will only ever know about you from stories."
"I doubt this will be the last time we see each other," Bulma said confidently. "So long as I have a breath in my body and hands to run a ship, I'll be traveling the galaxies. After going to so many planets, I can't help but want to visit more. And I can't think of a better set of guides then my best alien friends."
"But your mate? Your child? How? When?" the Princess all but yelled, suppressing the urge to grab onto the other woman.
"In time, after we're settled, after our child is older. They'll be half-Saiyan, stronger than me at the age of two! I think they could handle a little space travel. Besides, with a brain and a sense of adventure like mine, the kid will be begging to explore the universe!"
"I pray that day will come while I'm still on this plain."
"Stop that!" Bulma demanded, grabbing her hands and forcing their eyes to meet. "I give you my word that our time together hasn't ended, not by a long shot. I don't care what Vegeta will say, I WILL see you again. I may be an aged woman with graying hair, but I will see you. As Kami is my witness."
"I do hope you're right. I wish you the best of luck."
Jemalin quickly wrapped her arms around Bulma's neck, whispering, "I love you," and then ran back toward the home, before she lost her nerve all together. If she hadn't gone right then, she wouldn't have been able to sanely let her friend leave.
"Woman," came Vegeta's voice from the ramp. He stood, suited up in his armor, in the doorway, arms crossed, his face passive to the happenings below. "Five minutes."
"Alright," she sighed, glancing at the familiar faces around her. And then, in the blink of an eye, she was surrounded by all those faces, their arms snaked around her, as if to squeeze out her life. "Senju. Golana. Gurgo…Please! I need to breathe!" she gasped, reluctantly pushing them away. When they finally abided, and stepped back, she embraced each individually, whispering her own farewell and thanks for their help.
And then it was time.
"Oh Furto!" she cried, finally giving way to her impending tears. "Don't forget me! Don't you dare! I love you! Kami! I can't leave!"
"Shh…" he soothed, grabbing her around the waist, his own tears warm and stinging in his eyes. He led her up the ramp and into her lover's arms, giving Vegeta a firm handshake before he addressed Bulma once again. "I love you also, Miss," he whispered. He cupped her chin with his hand and met her eyes, all his emotions out in the open. "Thank you for all you've done for me. Your name shall never be forgotten on Fewskm."
"Oh Furto…" She took a deep breath and shrugged, as if that were all her body would allow her to do. "Somehow I'll find a way to see you again. I promise…Until then…Take care. And have a healthy baby!"
"You too, Bulma." He kissed her forehead tenderly, then began his descent from the ramp.
"Bye everyone!!" she called, waving as she was gently pulled into the ship.
"Farewell Bulma!"
"Good-bye Bulma!"
"Safe journey!"
"Don't forget us!"
"Never forget us!"
"WE LOVE YOU!"
And the doors shut.
*****************************************************
The second the ship broke into deep space and the controls made their automatic switch to autopilot, Bulma launched herself into Vegeta's arms, her advances urgent and heated. Without a moment to lose, he hoisted her legs around his waist and carried her out of the kitchen. When they didn't enter her bedroom, Bulma's trail of burning kisses on his neck suddenly stopped.
"Where are we going?" she breathed. Her cheeks were already flushed with excitement.
"My room," was his reply, and a coy smile spread across his features. "I'm not returning to your hideous planet without christening MY bedroom first. Kami knows we spend too much time in yours."
"Agreed."
Afterward, as they lay in each other's arms, their talk was minimal, if at all, and only consisted of questions pertaining to the child that Bulma carried within her. She admitted, reluctantly, that she was a little frightened about giving birth to and raising a half-Saiyan child. Sure Gohan was a sweet kid; she loved him like family, but the son or daughter of Vegeta? The arrogant and almighty Prince?
"I'm glad to see you think that of me," he murmured into her ear and kissed it tenderly. She ignored this, an act she was to commit more than necessary on their way back to Earth. When he tried this time to nibble at her ear, she shoved hard at his side and moved over. "Wench," he hissed, turning his back to her.
But his insults were the farthest thing from her mind just then. Now that she'd indulged in her Knight in Shining Armor once again and her "jets were cooled", she realized that her advances, while genuine, had only been to avoid thinking about their departure from Fewskm. Furto had been a temporary fixture in her life for the past seven months and now, as they plummeted through space, headed towards that blue and green planet she called home, he was gone and she was without his advice, without his comfort, and, most of all, without his friendship.
She curled herself into a ball beside Vegeta, her hands tucked under her face, her sobs painful though inaudible. But, as her first tears hit the pillow, she wiped furiously at them and cleared her throat.
No. Not again. Not now.
"How long will it take to get home?" She would say anything right now to keep from bursting into tears again, to subject Vegeta to her wailing cries, forcing him to be the type of mate she wanted and comfort her, as awkward as it was for the both of them.
"Two weeks," he sighed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Same as before. Don't ask such stupid questions."
"Why didn't you tell me you could know how the baby is?"
"I said—"
"It's not a stupid question Vegeta. As its mother I have a right to know."
"Nonsense…" he muttered, then gave way to a great heaving sigh. "I would have informed you had there been a problem with the child. But I don't expect any. It's half-Saiyan. It'll most likely do more damage to you."
"But Chi-Chi—"
"As much as I hate Kakarot's damn harpy, she is excellently built for Saiyan child-bearing. Being a fighter in her youth, she was well prepared to house a Saiyan. You, on the other hand, are frail and weak. But, it's nothing a little training can't fix. When we land you'll have to outline an exercise schedule for yourself and stick to it."
"Sounds good to me," she agreed, much to his surprise. She wasn't going to fight him on this? "Why would I? It's a good idea. I'm not going to disregard it just because it's yours, as tempting as it is."
"Wench," he said again, though this time it lacked conviction, as before he was slightly hurt by her rejection.
"You know, some people find those words as some type of insult."
"But not you?" he retorted.
"No, because I know that deep down you are thinking something nice about me. You may not want to say it, and Kami knows you never will, but its there and you cannot deny that."
"Wom—"
"Good night Vegeta."
***************************************************************
The next week dragged on in a similar fashion to their first night out in space. Wild, passionate, urgent sex, followed by mostly silence. Small fights erupted here and there, and the only time either of them showed even the slightly compassion for one another was when Bulma was ill from her pregnancy and hanging over the space-age toilet bowl. Vegeta would hold her hair back, if it wasn't tied back already, and rub her back in slow warm circles, trying to ease her churning stomach.
Soon, however, there was need to have a serious discussion, of which Vegeta initiated, much to the surprise of his now cold mate.
"Yes?" Bulma yawned as she entered the control room, her arms stretching high above her head. Moments earlier he had come barreling into her room, shook her awake, then left without a word. She found him right where she knew he would be after such an episode.
"Food," he stated, as if it were a command given by an army officer. Bulma's response was a slanted eyebrow. "We have one week's worth of food left—"
"That's perfe—"
"For one person," he finished, then added, as an afterthought, "who isn't eating for two."
Bulma's face fell and she struggled to find her voice.
"What does that mean exactly, Vegeta? We have a week left before we reach Earth, IF everything goes perfectly and we maintain speed. How are we going to—"
"You act as though I'm an incompetent mate who cannot provide," he huffed, crossing his arms. "The answer to your panicked question is simple. I will eat one meal—"
"Vegeta!"
"Let me finish!" he barked, sending her a glare icy enough to freeze her breath. "I will eat one meal, every other day. And before you go ahead and protest your little heart out, you remember that you need nourishment for two beings, and that I can handle a week's worth of semi-starvation."
"You're insane," she sighed, turning away from him. "I can't allow you to do it."
"Why? Because you can't stand it when I'm right? Or because you want to kill that innocent child inside you?"
Without another word she turned and left the room, the nobleness of his actions left unnoticed.
**********************************************************
"Holy Kami!" Bulma cried as she ran into the kitchen, her robe falling halfway from her body. "Yes! Holy kuso! Kami! Yes! Yes!"
Moments later Vegeta's tired and unnourished form graced the kitchen with a heavy grunt.
"Sorry," she sighed, pulling him into a stiffened embrace. He'd been overly distant since their fight from last week. "I'm just so happy. Tomorrow we'll be back on Earth!"
"No," he corrected, shrugged her off for his usual morning coffee, the only thing he could expect as regular "food". "We'll be on the mudball in 18 hours, so pack your shit so I can be ready for take-off after we land."
"So soon?"
He gave her a look as if you say, "You already knew that," then headed straight for the control room, his coffee mug left full on the counter.
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Three hours. And Bulma still didn't know if she could handle seeing everyone's faces after all this time, having to explain to them what had happened.
She sat rigidly on her bed, thumbing through old, unwanted medical documents that Furto had given her on Denj-sa, including a full report of the progress of her disease. She'd wanted to make sure her family knew exactly what had taken them so long in returning home, aside from the expected technical reasons. How was she going to explain EVERYTHING that had taken place from departure to landing? The initial accident that landed her alone with the Saiyan, the attraction, the disease, the love that grew, the war of those planets, all that traveling, her new friends, the child she was now carrying that decided that it was time, once again, for her to expel the rationed food into the toilet.
At her first cough, Vegeta entered her room and escorted her to the bathroom, as if it were his duty to care for her while she vomited, solely because the child was half his.
"It's a boy," he said nonchalantly as she kneeled next to the toilet, nearly spilling her cereal/bile combination on the floor.
"You sense it now?" she sputtered, her hacking coughs beginning to worry her. Was it right that her chest and throat burned this way? That every time she was positioned like this it felt as though an Eskes attack was coming. She laughed bitterly at the thought of a disease that had both torn her apart and brought about the greatest thing in her life.
"I've sensed it for a few days," he replied, as if the admittance of his withholding of information wouldn't add another ring to their pebble-rippled pool. But before she could snap at him, he ran a hand over her head and down to the small of her back, and said, "I didn't know for sure until just now, so bite your tongue."
"How much—"
"You already know the answer," he sighed. He rose to his feet and dampened a hand towel, placing it on the back of her neck. How had he known that's exactly what she needed? "Two hours and forty-eight minutes." He dared a glance out the bathroom door into her bedroom.
"I'm packed," she wheezed, grabbing a strip of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. "Can you grab my toothbrush?" He handed it to her, without objection, surprising her with a glob of green toothpaste. "You're getting better at this nice thing. I just might have to keep you."
"Wouldn't that be a pity," he laughed, and, for the first time, she realized he was making an honest attempt at a light-hearted joke. She forced a few well-acted chuckles then spit in the sink. It wasn't that she didn't think it was funny, but the sound of those words, in that tone, coming from his mouth gave her a dark feeling, as if it were a sign: the beginning of the end.
She shook off the feeling, however, and grabbed for her mates arm instead.
"Care to escort a lady to your room for one last christening before we land?"
"Bulma…" he purred in her ear, just before scooping her into his arms and carrying out of the room. But the dark feeling wouldn't go away.
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Goku paced back and froth across Capsule Corp.'s lawn, his bright orange gi a wrinkled mess that would have given Chi-Chi a heart attack had she not looked so disheveled herself. Ever since Bulma had turned up missing, everyone that she knew seemed to suddenly be involved in her life, even if they hadn't talked for weeks or months. Naturally, of course, Dr. Briefs had figured out what had happened, though he couldn't exactly explain it. What he did know, almost for certain, was that she was on the ship with Vegeta. What he didn't know, and what was on the tips of everyone's tongues, though no one dared to even hint that they were thinking it, was that something horrible could have happened to Bulma, with or without the assistance of a certain angry Saiyan.
"You're certain?" Mrs. Briefs asked Goku for the sixteenth time, her hands wringing and unwringing a dishtowel.
"I could sense Vegeta's energy from a galaxy away," he said gently. "I knew he was coming hours ago."
"And when are they going to land?" Yamcha piped in, everyone's eyes falling on him. It was public knowledge now that they had broken up shortly before the day she turned up missing, and that, ever since, he'd been making excuses for himself and declaring that when she returned he would sweep her into his arms and make her his bride.
"Ten minutes, give or take," he mumbled. His focus was entirely on the sky above them, a velvety blue dusk with barely twinkling stars and a deep sense of foreboding. Was Bulma on that ship too? No one could be certain. "That's strange." He turned back to the group.
"What is?" his wife practically screamed, grabbing at his arm, only to bring her hands back to the hem of her old t-shirt.
"I feel two Saiyan ki's. But I know one of them is Vegeta. It's unmistakenable. I KNOW his signature."
"Maybe he…" Piccolo didn't want to finish a sentence that had already worked its way into their minds. Maybe he'd found a new partner to aid him in destroying the Earth, to finish the job he'd started years ago, to finally live up to the promises he'd been making since he first set foot before them.
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---Chapter 35!! Well, there you have it, another exciting installment of my wonderful story. Oo! Oooo! Ooooo! I cannot wait for the ending!! Not because I want it to be over, but because it is pure brilliance! Ok, fine, maybe its just that I THINK its brilliant, you all will have to be the judge of that, though I really do hope you agree :D Hope it wasn't took blah and that I didn't drag it out too much. I plan on having the next chapter be the last, though it'll most likely be the size of three of my usual chapters :P And I hope you're not all mad at me for taking SOOO long. I have a TON of work to do though, and I'm still not done with that, so you best all appreciate what I'm doing for you. It's midnight on a school night and I'm typing fanfiction for my adoring fans. Well, they better be adoring after this :D
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters) ßßßßI'm not joking
Next time: *sniff sniff* THE END *sniffle…sob…sniffle*