Chapter name explanation: Clarice tells Bulma everything. (The word "candor" means honesty.)
A/N: Well.... quite frankly, I'm really disappointed. I expected a lot more reviews than I got. Now I'm discouraged to write! I need some support here!
Also, to um.... Kay, yeah, that's it - I accept your apology. Your the first person I've known to flame a story and then apologize for it. ^_^ That's really nice of you. But... really, if your only nine years old, I dunno if you should be reading this story. The rating is "R", man. Pay attention.
And one last note before the chapter begins - my right "Shift" button is broken, so I have to get used to using the left one. So if you find any typos, you'll know what the cause is.
Chapter Nine: Clarice's Candor
Half an hour later found Clarice skimming the few clouds that streaked an otherwise clear, sable-colored sky-- the guilt of her earlier encounter with Vegeta still burning shamefully in the back of her mind. But then again, guilt was a feeling she was all too familiar with by now. Idly, she glanced down at the city below her, the street lights and cars blurring together in a strange, erotic sort of dance of color as she flew faster, her long hair whipping about her face, as though in an attempt to get her attention.
She exhaled heavily through her nose-- her arms splayed out at her sides as though to embrace the crisp night air as it carried her along. Ever since she'd first learned to fly (which was much later in her life than most other saiyajins had learned to), she'd felt as if the sky was the only place in the world where she belonged. She was always at peace up there, watching over the many life forms below her, where there was no one to judge her, no one to tell her what to do, no one to tell her how to live...
Whenever she flew, it was as if she had broken the barriers of repression-- freeing her to rise above the monotonous, droning lull, which had become her life. It was relaxing. She could always just sit there for hours and hours, watching the heavens above her and the world below her, her mind either focusing in deep thought, or residing in the bliss of utter ignorance; not a single thought moving in her head, as though her brain were dormant.
But her mind was always working anyway...it was always work, work, work-- no time to play. On rare occasions, the King would let members of his workforce go one vacation, but in some situations "rare" would become almost no more-- extinct.
So she did deserve a vacation anyway, didn't she?
Sighing again, Clarice remembered the task at hand-- the reason why the guilt pressed had itself upon her.
::What are you doing?::
Clarice's face suddenly broke from it's blank, peaceful expression as she frowned, her short moment of bliss being shattered by the sudden telepathic yell. So, he'd finally decided to try and reach her... it was almost surprising, given how long it had taken. But then again, judging from his hesitance to follow her when she'd walked out on him and Dryphus, she was almost certain he wouldn't come after her.
::I asked you a question! Answer me!::
::Now you know that I don't answer to anyone, Vegeta.::
::What are you going?::
::I'm going to pay Bulma a visit.::
::Nani?:: ::What?::
::If she won't listen to you, she's going to have to listen to me.::
::If you hurt her--::
::I won't touch her. I'm only going to talk to her.::
::What? Why?::
::The same reason that I let you stay here. Now shut your mouth and just trust me.::
She sensed that he had more to say, but she'd already shut down her brain again, severing his link to her, the feeling of peace returning to her. Now the only thing she was concentrating on was the gigantic silhouette of the Capsule Corp building a few miles ahead of her...
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Bulma leaned back into the large, cushioned chair, wanting to go home, but then again... if she went home, her mother would only try to talk to her about trying to work things out with Vegeta.
'Fat chance,' she thought, her eyes sliding shut. 'The only way ever I'm getting back together with him is if he has damn good explanation for what he did.' Somehow, even as the thought came to her, it didn't feel quite right, but she chose to ignore it. She loved him, but there was no way she was going to give in and let him walk all over her like that. If that was how he really felt anyway, then their relationship wasn't worth the paper it was written on.
She sighed and opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling-- it was the same boring wall with the same boring shadows draping over the same boring spots. Becoming restless, she got up and walked over to the window that she'd fallen asleep against hours and hours before, again staring out at the city.
Thousands upon thousands of lights met her gaze, twinkling in the dark of the night, like a mirror of the stars above them, stretching from here to eternity and back in striking display.
Luckily, she was alone in the office; Trunks had finished his work (including the stressful meeting with Helga Kramer) and had left early for a date he had with his second girlfriend that week.
'Nazomi was right to call him a man-slut,' thought Bulma, smiling as she recalled the memory.
She jumped slightly as she heard a strange noise behind her, though she wasn't sure where it'd come from. Slightly panicked, she stood rigidly in place for several moments, straining her ears for the phantom sound or some clue to its origin-- but there was nothing.
She was about to dismiss it when she heard it again, this time closer. Whatever it was, it was outside the office, moving towards the door.
Her heart beat speeding up considerably, she ran over to the door as fast as she could, locking it. She walked back to her desk, opening the drawer that held her beloved firearm, ready to grab it if she needed it.
This was happening all to often now - ever since she'd had that dream, she was afraid of anyone coming up to her office at night.
'Calm down.' she thought to herself. 'Maybe it's Trunks. Maybe he forgot something.' But something in the back of her mind knew it wasn't true.
The footsteps finally came to a halt, standing right behind the door of the office. Bulma waited for the person to do something, knock, try to turn the doorknob, do something, but nothing came. For some reason it worse than the person trying to break in... the silence was unnerving.
"Wh-Who is it?" called Bulma, the all too familiar feeling of dread over-taking her.
"Bulma?" came a muffled voice from behind the door, sounding somewhat uncertain.
Bulma's face suddenly contorted into one of confusion; she hadn't actually expected the person to answer her, she only wanted to be certain that she would need to be prepared for some type of attack.
The voice was a woman's; was it Trunks' secretary? No, his secretary was from Madrid, she didn't have a British accent.
"Yes?" she called finally, becoming less attentive.
"I need to talk to you," said the voice, it's owner still hidden behind the door. "It's about Vegeta," she responded, sounding shamefaced.
Bulma's eyes widened, her mouth opening slightly in surprise.
"H-how do you know about that?" she asked, her fingers tracing over the cold barrel of the gun.
"Probably because I'm the cause of it," replied the voice after a moment of hesitation.
Bulma's eyes widened even more, and her feeling of dread turned to one of anger.
'So that's the bitch that he kissed,' she thought her teeth barred.
Picking up the gun, she walked over to the door briskly, all fear leaving her, anger clouding every ounce of judgment she had left. She unlocked the door and swung it open, holding the gun in front of her.
A feeling of superiority thundered through her as she observed the horrified look that flashed across the woman's face when she saw the gun. Bulma smirked and let her index finger wrap around the trigger, prepared to pull it.
But when the raven-haired woman regained her composure and leaned against the doorframe, a decidedly bored look settling over her agonizingly beautiful features, Bulma's hand wavered, her earlier confusion coming back into play. For a long moment, the two regarded each other, one in mild annoyance, the other in barely contained fury. 'Just who the hell does she think she is?' Bulma thought, teeth clenching in aggravation, 'I've got a gun to her head! Stupid, arrogant... no wonder Vegeta was interested in her--"
"I wouldn't bother if I were you," she said quietly.
"Well you're not me," spat Bulma before pulling the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot surprised Bulma, who clenched her eyes shut and clasped her hands over her ears, the short echo causing her head to throb in pain.
She opened her eyes, expecting to see the woman on the floor, dead and bleeding a provocative smear across her floor, but was welcomed merely by the sight of the pale-eyed vixen examining the bullet, which apparently... she'd caught.
"Wow," muttered the mysterious woman, looking over the bullet. "Now this one was meant to kill."
Bulma stumbled backward, horrified, still gripping the gun tightly.
Sighing quietly, the woman held the bullet at arms length, staring at the open window ahead of her. Finally finding the right angle, she reeled her arm backward, then swung back forward, releasing the bullet from her hand. The bullet went zooming forward, as though again shot from a gun. It zoomed out the window, making a short swishing sound as it pierced the air.
Bulma stared out the window in the direction of the botched bullet, horror over-taking her.
"H-how - b-but - it's impossib - how-" she stammered, horror running through her.
"Look," began the woman, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, "if you give me a chance, I'll explain everything, because Vegeta needs you back. I've never seen him this upset before. If you still think that I'm lying after you hear the truth, you may take as many shots as you want with that gun. I'm not guaranteeing that one of them will hit me, however."
Bulma stumbled back to her desk, walking around it and sitting down. Propping her elbows up on the desk's redwood surface, she buried her hands in her hair, staring down at her knees.
She'd seen many things in her life, of course, but now... it'd just been so long since she'd seen anything so unnatural. The only people she knew that could do things like that were the rest of the Z Warriors, and this lady sure as hell wasn't one of them.
Bulma looked back up at the woman, as though examining her.
'Who could she be?' she though to herself, frowning. 'She looks almost... saiyajin.... but she has to be human. The rest of the saiyajins are gone. They're almost extinct. But how did she get so fast? Is someone training her....?'
Now she was willing to believe anything. And even if she didn't fully believe her... something about her just seemed sincere.
"Fine," sighed Bulma finally, still frowning. "I'll listen. But I'm not promising that I'll believe anything you'll have to say," she said quietly, her words a haunting reflection of Clarice's earlier proposal.
The woman's face lit up suddenly with a grateful smile, her steel-colored eyes sparkling. "Thank you," she sighed, still smiling.
"You're name's Clarice," said Bulma suddenly, looking back expectantly up at the woman, her hands still in her hair.
"Yes," said Clarice. "Vegeta must have told you..."
"By accident," muttered Bulma, lazily sitting her chin in her palm.
Nodding, Clarice sighed and stared down at the floor, toeing the edge of the large Oriental rug she was standing in front of.
"Where do you want me to begin?" she asked suddenly, looking back up at Bulma.
"You tell me," said Bulma, becoming slightly annoyed. "You're the one that knows when Vegeta started cheating on me, so start there."
Clarice suddenly laughed and shook her head knowingly, staring Bulma right in the eye.
"He never cheated on you, I know that for a fact. He loves you too much. And the reason that I asked where you wanted me to begin was because I didn't want to tell you some big, long story about anything that you weren't interested in. I guessed that he'd at least told you about what was going on, and I only need to tell you what you want to know."
"Wait, what 'big, long' story?" asked Bulma, looking confused. "He never told me anything."
'Here we go again,' thought Clarice, standing upright instead of with her back slouched as it was before.
"Well... I guess I have no choice but to tell you everything," she sighed, closing her eyes. "It happened a few decades ago..."
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Alright. Kinda short, but there it is... chapter nine. I hope people liked it, and if you didn't, well then I'm sorry. .
Read and Review!