Last time:
"Because," she sighed. "You make me crazy…and I want to kiss you."
Their lips met not a second later, and Bulma knew, without a doubt, that nothing her friends could say, or do, could keep her from falling for him.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"This isn't what I had in mind," Yamcha sighed, as he stared at the small empty needle 18 held between her fingers.
"Why not? If it works, it works. Who cares how it happens." She glanced at the batch of nametags on the desk, picked one she liked, and pinned it to her "borrowed" uniform. "I want one of these outfits."
"You could hurt her," he insisted. He glanced around the corner. No one was coming. "Besides, what if we get caught? Do you realize how much trouble we'll be in? No one is going to believe what we're really doing, and why, and even if they did, they wouldn't care."
"You worry too much. If you really cared about Bulma half as much as you say you do then you'd be doing this, not me. But it's a lot easier to have me do it, so I am. No one would openly accept a strange new man nurse. But there are so many women that one unrecognizable face won't bat an eyelash. Now," she sighed. "How do I look?"
"Like a porn star," he groaned. How did he get himself into this? "18, please, reconsider. You could hurt an innocent child with that thing."
"And just how could I do that? Listen, Yamcha. My grandmother, Kami rest her soul, was sick for the last ten years of her life. When I visited her, I helped with her shots. I've been doing it since I was twelve. I think I can handle one shot, for one baby." She winked at him from behind the bangs of her brunette wig, set the useless syringe down, and left the room. This was going to be a piece of cake.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
It was late Monday afternoon, and no one could think of anything to do, let alone motivate themselves to do it. The two groups were complete, aside from 18 who had deadlined paperwork to finish before she could do anything. 17 and Maris sat on the love seat in Bulma's upstairs living room, sitting as close to each other as possible without actually touching. Krillin sat alone in his usual chair of that room, wishing that 18 could be there with him. Chi-Chi and Goku, who couldn't seem to keep their hands off one another—though neither had the courage to ask the other out officially—were seated beside Bulma on the big couch. And Vegeta, he sat on the couch's armrest, just close enough to Bulma so the others might think something is up, but far enough away that she didn't ask him to move or try to push him. She was still extremely ify towards him, and any more he made, whether it be shifting in his seat or stretching, she presumed could easily turn into a sexual move, and she would be powerless to stop him. She was falling harder than she realized.
"Why do we come over here if there's nothing to do?" Vegeta complained, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"What else would you rather do?" Bulma snapped back, cringing as his lips curled into a devious smirk. "Asshole. Don't look at me."
"My," Chi-Chi cooed, taking her eyes off Goku for the first time all afternoon. "There's a bit of tension between you guys. Maybe you should go to your room and work it off."
"Chi-Chi Mau!"
"What?" she asked innocently. "Sorry B. I'm just trying to lighten the mood. You two bring it down so quickly. Bicker, bicker, bicker."
"I do not bicker," Bulma replied hotly under her breath, purposely ignoring Vegeta's chuckling beside her.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Hello, Miss Miyahara," 18 said, glancing at the paper work on her clipboard. "Oh, she has such a beautiful name. Ryoko. I've always loved that name."
"Yes. Thank you Miss…Kimio," the woman laughed. "It's always been my favorite too. There was no doubt what her name was going to be."
"Well, this should be relatively easy. Does Ryoko scare easily with new people?"
"Oh no. Not at all. She's an angel, I assure you."
"Great," 18 said. She set down the clipboard and gently lifted the syringe, this time containing a flu vaccination. "This will only sting for a minute, Ryoko dear."
The small child's large green eyes looked wonderingly at the needle, and made no attempt to move when 18 took hold of her chubby little arm. Slowly, so not to alarm the child, she put the needle on the upper arm, and, so she could barely feel a thing, pressed it in and pulled it out quickly. And, surprisingly, Ryoko didn't flinch.
"There, all done." She swabbed the small bit of blood that came from the needle hole, then secured it with a cartoon character band-aid. "Can she have sweets yet?"
"Oh, yes. That would be lovely."
"Alright," she hummed, digging through the colorful array of lollipops. "Here. Green, to match her eyes."
Once mother and daughter were gone, 18 nonchalantly slipped away from her booth, went down the hall, and turned into the room she and Yamcha had just been in. He was waiting, tapping his foot nervously on the ground.
"Took you long enough," he barked.
"Oh stop," she laughed, pulling off her wig, knowing full well that he was only paranoid. "Come on. I'll buy you dinner before I head over to Bulma's."
"You guys really are being good friends with them, huh?"
"I'm dating their friend Krillin." She could help the blush that rushed at her cheeks. In an attempt to hide it, she made for the door. "I'd say we're pretty close."
"Krillin? Really? I can't picture you with him."
"I know," she sighed. They were already to her car. She climbed in, tossed her wig in the back seat, and started the engine. "But there's just something about him."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Once," 18 said, thumbing through a magazine, "I thought I was pregnant. Stupid really. So, I came to the father of an old friend, Dr. Otaka. He was completely confidential, and no one every knew about it."
"And what about the other sample," Yamcha asked. "You got the girl's yesterday, but his? How'd you do that? Stab him?"
"Yeah," she laughed. She set down the magazine and looked him in the eye. "Everything will be fine, I assure you. He had a cut on his arm. I took an old band-aid. Simple. Now stop worrying."
"And the samples are…sufficient?"
"Yes, of course."
"Miss Gero."
"Dr. Otaka! How are you?"
"Wonderful my dear. Here, come with me." He led the two into the back laboratory and took a seat on a metal stool. "I understand you need a paternity test. For you?"
"No, no. For a friend. Too shy to come down herself, you know?"
"Oh, I quite understand," he said, smiling. "Where are your samples? Are they recent?"
"Yes, not very good I'm afraid; a cotton ball and a band-aid. Will that work?"
"Certainly."
"And when can you be done?"
"I can have the results back to you tomorrow."
"Great. Here." She grabbed a blank sheet of paper off his mess of a work area, scribbled her number, and handed it to him. "Call me as soon as you know."
"Will do, love."
"Thanks, so much. This really means a lot."
"Just doing my job," he laughed. "Thanks for the business."
They weren't outside for two seconds before Yamcha lit into her.
"What if he gets suspicious because the samples are for friends?"
"You know, Yamcha," she sighed. "You're really beginning to annoy me." And that's all she would say.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Don't you have school or something?" Vegeta asked, trying to scratch an itch he couldn't reach.
"Yeah," Bulma laughed. She leaned over, slipped her hand under his shirt and scratched at his itch with her sufficiently long fingernails. "But I took the day off. Kami knows I deserve it. You know, I haven't missed a single day since Kindergarten." She gasped loudly, just realizing the truth. "Holy Kami. I haven't missed a day since Kindergarten. This isn't like me."
"Seeing one girl isn't like me," he added, making sure she saw his small smile. "And one like you no less."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"You know what I mean. No kissing. No sex. Not even fooling around. You wear jeans like they're going out of style. Your hair never changes. You don't wear make-up."
"And how are any of those bad things? You just described all the tramps you've probably been on dates with." She unsnaked her hand from inside his shirt and placed it back in her lap. "I'm unlike any girl you're ever going to meet," she said with a triumphant smile, mirroring that of Vegeta's. "What?"
"That's why you're the only girl," he said slyly. "No one has ever been the only girl."
Bulma leaned in, as if on que, locking her lips with Vegeta's, her arms predictably wrapping around his shoulders. No sooner than her arms were in place, did he lift her into his lap, an action that brought a giggle from Bulma's throat.
"Kuso," she whispered, as their faces separated.
"What?"
"Your stupid line worked on me."
"Really?" he mused. "I didn't notice."
Before she had a chance to counter him, however, there came a knock at the door, which promptly flew open. Mrs. Ouji stood, holding the cordless telephone, her face streaked with tears and mascara.
"Kami," Bulma gasped, sliding from Vegeta's lap and to her feet. "What's wrong Mrs. Ouji?"
"It's Goku," she sobbed. The phone slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor, sending the batteries across the carpet. She bent down to retrieve it, though only seemed to upset herself more and collapsed on the floor. Bulma rushed to her side. Vegeta was dumbstruck on the bed.
"What's Goku?"
"He…" She ran the back of her hand along her runny nose, trying in vain to stop her tears. "He was in a car accident…He…He's in the Emegency Room at the hospital…"
"Holy Kami!"
"I don't know anything else though!" Mrs. Ouji cried, curling her hands around Bulma's arms. "17 could barely say anything to me!"
"But he's ok, right?"
"I don't know!"
"Was he with anyone else?"
Silence.
"Was he!?"
"I…I don't know…"
"Vegeta?" Bulma whimpered, turning back to him. He was like a stone statue on the bed. He didn't even blink. "Vegeta!"
"I can drive you there," Mrs. Ouji offered, picking herself shakily up off the floor.
"Alright." She helped her off the floor as best as she could, then went to Vegeta's side. He didn't look at her. "Vegeta, come on."
His eyes shifted in her direction.
"Vegeta?"
"What if he—"
"He won't. Don't worry." She grabbed his wrist gently and pulled him off the bed. "Come on."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Goku laid in the cramped and stuffy hospital ICU room, his back stiff and uncomfortable in the position he was lying in. For hours he'd endured surgery, while under heavy anesthesia, with his friends and family—and associates—waiting on pins and needles for news of his condition. It came at seven that evening, after sitting in the Waiting Room for five painful hours; Goku would recover with minimal side effects. His left side had been nearly crushed under the weight of the car he'd collided with. His heart had been missed by less than an 1/8 of an inch. As it stood, his left arm and leg were broken in several places each, and a severe gash had been stitched up on his forehead, just under his hair.
"What side effects could he have?" Goku's Grandfather asked uneasily. The doctor smiled.
"Little to none," he replied. "If anything, he may walk with a limp from time to time when the bones and joints get stiff, and his broken arm is likely to heal at an outward angle. But nothing debilitating, and nothing a tough kid like him can't handle. Just a moment ago he wanted to get out of bed."
"So he's awake?"
"And fighting," the doctor laughed. "You can go in and see him if you like. He'll be out of ICU tomorrow, once his test results come back. Until then we're keeping him there to be monitored."
"Thank you doctor."
Like a herd of antelope running from a hungry lioness, those closest to Goku came running into his room, halting immediately at the sight of him bandaged and wearily-looking. Was this the same Goku they all knew and loved?
"One of you best have gummi worms or, Kami help me, I'm busting out of this damn hospital," he finally said, when no one spoke. The group broke into peals of laughter, ending abruptly when 18 pulled a five-pound bag from her backpack, and then it started up again.
For an hour and a half they chatted and laughed with their bed-ridden friend, constantly assuring him that he would be fine and up again in no time. When he asked Jun—who was of course present, and had been since four o'clock—what would happen to Green Dragon with his injury, she informed him that everything would be just fine. Their fans were loyal enough that a minor set back and some canceled concerts wouldn't turn them away. She added, with a bright smile, that she would be informing the press the next day about his condition, announcing that as soon as Goku was one hundred percent, Green Dragon would pick up where they left off. And everyone would be reimbursed, of course.
"Where's Vegeta?" Goku suddenly asked, as if just noticing his friend's absence.
"In the Waiting Room," 18 said, a little edgy. Another fight he assumed.
"Why isn't he in here? What the hell!" he grumbled. "Sorry. My meds make me cranky."
"He says he wants to talk to you alone. I tried to get him to come in with us, but he refused. You should have seen him when he walked in though, white as a sheet."
"Well of course!" Mrs. Ouji piped in. "You don't know how much you mean to my son, Goku."
"He's an asshole."
Everyone's faces dropped.
"Sorry. Damn meds. They need to put me on something else."
"There's one thing I don't get," 18 said around a mouthful of peanut butter cups. Goku grimaced. They were the one food he didn't like. Too much peanut butter and not enough chocolate he said.
"What?"
"What were you doing on Doctor's Alley (a nickname for the street with all medical related businesses)? That is where you crashed, right?"
"I have a better question," Goku snapped, shaking his head. He gave an apologetic sigh. 18 nodded for him to continue. "What were you doing there with Bulma's ex-boyfriend?"
"Kuso," she swore, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Yeah," Bulma added. "I saw you with him the other day. What's going on, 18? Since when do you know Yamcha?"
"I…Bulma, can I talk to you?…In private?"
Bulma gave her a questioning look.
"Please?"
"Yeah," she sighed. She didn't want the others to think she was the reason they were all being singled out. A wink to Chi-Chi as they left the room told her she would know soon enough.
"As for the rest of you," Goku joked. "Get out. I want to talk to Vegeta."
With small laughs and large chips on their shoulders, the group hustled out of the room. Moments later Vegeta walked in, at a slower, less confident pace than usual. His head hung low and his eyes seemed irritated. And there was no doubt in Goku's mind he had been crying.
"Vegeta—" He began, but was cut off immediately.
"You listen to me!" Vegeta railed, tears threatening to escape, as he pointed a finger at the temporarily disabled. Goku flinched, then glared at his sour friend. "Because, Kami damn it, I'm only going to say this once!"
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
---Chapter 15! Eeep! How can I end it right there!? Damn I'm a mean author :P Heehee. Don't worry though, the next chapter shall answer some of the questions I left up in the air. I will deliver!
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)You think I joke, ha!
Next time: Ahhh! What kind of a sick Soap Opera world have I created!?
Note: I suffer from what is commonly called Extreme Laziness. LOL! I'll check my work when I have time later :P In the meantime, tell me about typos, etc…Thanks!
P.S. :Yamcha was skipping school the same day as Bulma (now it makes more sense :P)
"Because," she sighed. "You make me crazy…and I want to kiss you."
Their lips met not a second later, and Bulma knew, without a doubt, that nothing her friends could say, or do, could keep her from falling for him.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"This isn't what I had in mind," Yamcha sighed, as he stared at the small empty needle 18 held between her fingers.
"Why not? If it works, it works. Who cares how it happens." She glanced at the batch of nametags on the desk, picked one she liked, and pinned it to her "borrowed" uniform. "I want one of these outfits."
"You could hurt her," he insisted. He glanced around the corner. No one was coming. "Besides, what if we get caught? Do you realize how much trouble we'll be in? No one is going to believe what we're really doing, and why, and even if they did, they wouldn't care."
"You worry too much. If you really cared about Bulma half as much as you say you do then you'd be doing this, not me. But it's a lot easier to have me do it, so I am. No one would openly accept a strange new man nurse. But there are so many women that one unrecognizable face won't bat an eyelash. Now," she sighed. "How do I look?"
"Like a porn star," he groaned. How did he get himself into this? "18, please, reconsider. You could hurt an innocent child with that thing."
"And just how could I do that? Listen, Yamcha. My grandmother, Kami rest her soul, was sick for the last ten years of her life. When I visited her, I helped with her shots. I've been doing it since I was twelve. I think I can handle one shot, for one baby." She winked at him from behind the bangs of her brunette wig, set the useless syringe down, and left the room. This was going to be a piece of cake.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
It was late Monday afternoon, and no one could think of anything to do, let alone motivate themselves to do it. The two groups were complete, aside from 18 who had deadlined paperwork to finish before she could do anything. 17 and Maris sat on the love seat in Bulma's upstairs living room, sitting as close to each other as possible without actually touching. Krillin sat alone in his usual chair of that room, wishing that 18 could be there with him. Chi-Chi and Goku, who couldn't seem to keep their hands off one another—though neither had the courage to ask the other out officially—were seated beside Bulma on the big couch. And Vegeta, he sat on the couch's armrest, just close enough to Bulma so the others might think something is up, but far enough away that she didn't ask him to move or try to push him. She was still extremely ify towards him, and any more he made, whether it be shifting in his seat or stretching, she presumed could easily turn into a sexual move, and she would be powerless to stop him. She was falling harder than she realized.
"Why do we come over here if there's nothing to do?" Vegeta complained, for what seemed like the hundredth time.
"What else would you rather do?" Bulma snapped back, cringing as his lips curled into a devious smirk. "Asshole. Don't look at me."
"My," Chi-Chi cooed, taking her eyes off Goku for the first time all afternoon. "There's a bit of tension between you guys. Maybe you should go to your room and work it off."
"Chi-Chi Mau!"
"What?" she asked innocently. "Sorry B. I'm just trying to lighten the mood. You two bring it down so quickly. Bicker, bicker, bicker."
"I do not bicker," Bulma replied hotly under her breath, purposely ignoring Vegeta's chuckling beside her.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Hello, Miss Miyahara," 18 said, glancing at the paper work on her clipboard. "Oh, she has such a beautiful name. Ryoko. I've always loved that name."
"Yes. Thank you Miss…Kimio," the woman laughed. "It's always been my favorite too. There was no doubt what her name was going to be."
"Well, this should be relatively easy. Does Ryoko scare easily with new people?"
"Oh no. Not at all. She's an angel, I assure you."
"Great," 18 said. She set down the clipboard and gently lifted the syringe, this time containing a flu vaccination. "This will only sting for a minute, Ryoko dear."
The small child's large green eyes looked wonderingly at the needle, and made no attempt to move when 18 took hold of her chubby little arm. Slowly, so not to alarm the child, she put the needle on the upper arm, and, so she could barely feel a thing, pressed it in and pulled it out quickly. And, surprisingly, Ryoko didn't flinch.
"There, all done." She swabbed the small bit of blood that came from the needle hole, then secured it with a cartoon character band-aid. "Can she have sweets yet?"
"Oh, yes. That would be lovely."
"Alright," she hummed, digging through the colorful array of lollipops. "Here. Green, to match her eyes."
Once mother and daughter were gone, 18 nonchalantly slipped away from her booth, went down the hall, and turned into the room she and Yamcha had just been in. He was waiting, tapping his foot nervously on the ground.
"Took you long enough," he barked.
"Oh stop," she laughed, pulling off her wig, knowing full well that he was only paranoid. "Come on. I'll buy you dinner before I head over to Bulma's."
"You guys really are being good friends with them, huh?"
"I'm dating their friend Krillin." She could help the blush that rushed at her cheeks. In an attempt to hide it, she made for the door. "I'd say we're pretty close."
"Krillin? Really? I can't picture you with him."
"I know," she sighed. They were already to her car. She climbed in, tossed her wig in the back seat, and started the engine. "But there's just something about him."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Once," 18 said, thumbing through a magazine, "I thought I was pregnant. Stupid really. So, I came to the father of an old friend, Dr. Otaka. He was completely confidential, and no one every knew about it."
"And what about the other sample," Yamcha asked. "You got the girl's yesterday, but his? How'd you do that? Stab him?"
"Yeah," she laughed. She set down the magazine and looked him in the eye. "Everything will be fine, I assure you. He had a cut on his arm. I took an old band-aid. Simple. Now stop worrying."
"And the samples are…sufficient?"
"Yes, of course."
"Miss Gero."
"Dr. Otaka! How are you?"
"Wonderful my dear. Here, come with me." He led the two into the back laboratory and took a seat on a metal stool. "I understand you need a paternity test. For you?"
"No, no. For a friend. Too shy to come down herself, you know?"
"Oh, I quite understand," he said, smiling. "Where are your samples? Are they recent?"
"Yes, not very good I'm afraid; a cotton ball and a band-aid. Will that work?"
"Certainly."
"And when can you be done?"
"I can have the results back to you tomorrow."
"Great. Here." She grabbed a blank sheet of paper off his mess of a work area, scribbled her number, and handed it to him. "Call me as soon as you know."
"Will do, love."
"Thanks, so much. This really means a lot."
"Just doing my job," he laughed. "Thanks for the business."
They weren't outside for two seconds before Yamcha lit into her.
"What if he gets suspicious because the samples are for friends?"
"You know, Yamcha," she sighed. "You're really beginning to annoy me." And that's all she would say.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Don't you have school or something?" Vegeta asked, trying to scratch an itch he couldn't reach.
"Yeah," Bulma laughed. She leaned over, slipped her hand under his shirt and scratched at his itch with her sufficiently long fingernails. "But I took the day off. Kami knows I deserve it. You know, I haven't missed a single day since Kindergarten." She gasped loudly, just realizing the truth. "Holy Kami. I haven't missed a day since Kindergarten. This isn't like me."
"Seeing one girl isn't like me," he added, making sure she saw his small smile. "And one like you no less."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"You know what I mean. No kissing. No sex. Not even fooling around. You wear jeans like they're going out of style. Your hair never changes. You don't wear make-up."
"And how are any of those bad things? You just described all the tramps you've probably been on dates with." She unsnaked her hand from inside his shirt and placed it back in her lap. "I'm unlike any girl you're ever going to meet," she said with a triumphant smile, mirroring that of Vegeta's. "What?"
"That's why you're the only girl," he said slyly. "No one has ever been the only girl."
Bulma leaned in, as if on que, locking her lips with Vegeta's, her arms predictably wrapping around his shoulders. No sooner than her arms were in place, did he lift her into his lap, an action that brought a giggle from Bulma's throat.
"Kuso," she whispered, as their faces separated.
"What?"
"Your stupid line worked on me."
"Really?" he mused. "I didn't notice."
Before she had a chance to counter him, however, there came a knock at the door, which promptly flew open. Mrs. Ouji stood, holding the cordless telephone, her face streaked with tears and mascara.
"Kami," Bulma gasped, sliding from Vegeta's lap and to her feet. "What's wrong Mrs. Ouji?"
"It's Goku," she sobbed. The phone slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor, sending the batteries across the carpet. She bent down to retrieve it, though only seemed to upset herself more and collapsed on the floor. Bulma rushed to her side. Vegeta was dumbstruck on the bed.
"What's Goku?"
"He…" She ran the back of her hand along her runny nose, trying in vain to stop her tears. "He was in a car accident…He…He's in the Emegency Room at the hospital…"
"Holy Kami!"
"I don't know anything else though!" Mrs. Ouji cried, curling her hands around Bulma's arms. "17 could barely say anything to me!"
"But he's ok, right?"
"I don't know!"
"Was he with anyone else?"
Silence.
"Was he!?"
"I…I don't know…"
"Vegeta?" Bulma whimpered, turning back to him. He was like a stone statue on the bed. He didn't even blink. "Vegeta!"
"I can drive you there," Mrs. Ouji offered, picking herself shakily up off the floor.
"Alright." She helped her off the floor as best as she could, then went to Vegeta's side. He didn't look at her. "Vegeta, come on."
His eyes shifted in her direction.
"Vegeta?"
"What if he—"
"He won't. Don't worry." She grabbed his wrist gently and pulled him off the bed. "Come on."
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Goku laid in the cramped and stuffy hospital ICU room, his back stiff and uncomfortable in the position he was lying in. For hours he'd endured surgery, while under heavy anesthesia, with his friends and family—and associates—waiting on pins and needles for news of his condition. It came at seven that evening, after sitting in the Waiting Room for five painful hours; Goku would recover with minimal side effects. His left side had been nearly crushed under the weight of the car he'd collided with. His heart had been missed by less than an 1/8 of an inch. As it stood, his left arm and leg were broken in several places each, and a severe gash had been stitched up on his forehead, just under his hair.
"What side effects could he have?" Goku's Grandfather asked uneasily. The doctor smiled.
"Little to none," he replied. "If anything, he may walk with a limp from time to time when the bones and joints get stiff, and his broken arm is likely to heal at an outward angle. But nothing debilitating, and nothing a tough kid like him can't handle. Just a moment ago he wanted to get out of bed."
"So he's awake?"
"And fighting," the doctor laughed. "You can go in and see him if you like. He'll be out of ICU tomorrow, once his test results come back. Until then we're keeping him there to be monitored."
"Thank you doctor."
Like a herd of antelope running from a hungry lioness, those closest to Goku came running into his room, halting immediately at the sight of him bandaged and wearily-looking. Was this the same Goku they all knew and loved?
"One of you best have gummi worms or, Kami help me, I'm busting out of this damn hospital," he finally said, when no one spoke. The group broke into peals of laughter, ending abruptly when 18 pulled a five-pound bag from her backpack, and then it started up again.
For an hour and a half they chatted and laughed with their bed-ridden friend, constantly assuring him that he would be fine and up again in no time. When he asked Jun—who was of course present, and had been since four o'clock—what would happen to Green Dragon with his injury, she informed him that everything would be just fine. Their fans were loyal enough that a minor set back and some canceled concerts wouldn't turn them away. She added, with a bright smile, that she would be informing the press the next day about his condition, announcing that as soon as Goku was one hundred percent, Green Dragon would pick up where they left off. And everyone would be reimbursed, of course.
"Where's Vegeta?" Goku suddenly asked, as if just noticing his friend's absence.
"In the Waiting Room," 18 said, a little edgy. Another fight he assumed.
"Why isn't he in here? What the hell!" he grumbled. "Sorry. My meds make me cranky."
"He says he wants to talk to you alone. I tried to get him to come in with us, but he refused. You should have seen him when he walked in though, white as a sheet."
"Well of course!" Mrs. Ouji piped in. "You don't know how much you mean to my son, Goku."
"He's an asshole."
Everyone's faces dropped.
"Sorry. Damn meds. They need to put me on something else."
"There's one thing I don't get," 18 said around a mouthful of peanut butter cups. Goku grimaced. They were the one food he didn't like. Too much peanut butter and not enough chocolate he said.
"What?"
"What were you doing on Doctor's Alley (a nickname for the street with all medical related businesses)? That is where you crashed, right?"
"I have a better question," Goku snapped, shaking his head. He gave an apologetic sigh. 18 nodded for him to continue. "What were you doing there with Bulma's ex-boyfriend?"
"Kuso," she swore, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Yeah," Bulma added. "I saw you with him the other day. What's going on, 18? Since when do you know Yamcha?"
"I…Bulma, can I talk to you?…In private?"
Bulma gave her a questioning look.
"Please?"
"Yeah," she sighed. She didn't want the others to think she was the reason they were all being singled out. A wink to Chi-Chi as they left the room told her she would know soon enough.
"As for the rest of you," Goku joked. "Get out. I want to talk to Vegeta."
With small laughs and large chips on their shoulders, the group hustled out of the room. Moments later Vegeta walked in, at a slower, less confident pace than usual. His head hung low and his eyes seemed irritated. And there was no doubt in Goku's mind he had been crying.
"Vegeta—" He began, but was cut off immediately.
"You listen to me!" Vegeta railed, tears threatening to escape, as he pointed a finger at the temporarily disabled. Goku flinched, then glared at his sour friend. "Because, Kami damn it, I'm only going to say this once!"
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---Chapter 15! Eeep! How can I end it right there!? Damn I'm a mean author :P Heehee. Don't worry though, the next chapter shall answer some of the questions I left up in the air. I will deliver!
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)You think I joke, ha!
Next time: Ahhh! What kind of a sick Soap Opera world have I created!?
Note: I suffer from what is commonly called Extreme Laziness. LOL! I'll check my work when I have time later :P In the meantime, tell me about typos, etc…Thanks!
P.S. :Yamcha was skipping school the same day as Bulma (now it makes more sense :P)