Last time:
"Stop making me love you," she said as the plane came to a complete stop.
"I'm trying…" Vegeta sighed, then stood to grab their luggage.
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For the remainder of the night, and it was nearly 6:00 pm when they landed, Bulma and Vegeta spent in the company of their host. Instead of renting a private home or apartment—though Bulma didn't know if there were any around this area—Vegeta took it upon himself to lodge with a complete stranger. He only knew the man, and his wife and six children, by phone, but their relationship seemed solid to Bulma, who watched in awe as they spoke to one another. They spoke Arabic, the official language of Eygpt, and, to Bulma's utter amazement, Vegeta did too. She herself hadn't fully learned the language, but was in the process of learning it and several others at the time. She knew ten languages at the moment, and was in training with four others. Five of the ones she was fluent in she spoke regularly with her father at work, and teachers at school.
The home they were staying in was modest, with enough bedrooms for everyone to have their own, even Bulma and Vegeta—together, of course. Their host, Uthman, and his wife, Basilah, only assumed they were a couple; neither bothered to correct this mistake.
Tomorrow—or so Bulma gathered from what she could understand—Uthman and Basilah were going to take Bulma and Vegeta on a tour of the surrounding land, including going inside some pyramids. The Sphinx, however, was too far away for them to travel there in one day. But, upon hearing this, Bulma didn't bat an eyelash. The pyramids were enough for her for now; they could keep her occupied for well over just one short day. She was content with what her hosts could offer. "Besides," she thought idly, "we can see the Sphinx next time."
Finally, at just about 11:00 pm, Uthman and Basilah said their goodnights and retired to their room. Bulma and Vegeta were left in the living room in silence. After several long minutes, Bulma couldn't take it anymore and said, "I'm going outside. That breeze keeps blowing in here and its tempting me."
She stood and made for the door, and was nearly outside, when she noticed Vegeta was following her. As she turned, he pulled her to him and captured her lips with his. For a long moment, they simply stood there, entangled in each other, a warm breeze sweeping around them with tiny bits of sand tickling the backs of their legs.
"We can't do this," Bulma whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. He didn't bother to let go. "Not if we can't be together."
"Are you saying you want to be together?" The question held more meaning than either could know.
"What do you think?"
They both sighed at once. Common tactic; answer a question with a question to avoid giving a truthful, and very difficult, answer.
"I think we shouldn't be together, and so does everyone else."
"Why?" Bulma asked, pulling her head back.
"Because," he sighed, his face stone cold and pinched, as though he were thinking of his worst enemy. What Bulma didn't know, however, was that he actually was. Love. His worst and most feared adversary. "Too much alike. Always fighting. A lot of headaches. It's not worth it."
"Why? So you can have your whores every other night and not have to worry about it?"
"No." He remained calm at her accusation. "Have I been with anyone else since I took interest in you?"
"No," she admitted, shying away. They were both thinking of the same thing, though neither wished to bring it up and further spoil the mood. "There's no way, is there?"
"Look." He held her out at arm's length, his face calm and placid; a face she'd never seen on him before. There was no hint of anger or hostility as there usually was, and when he spoke, it was void of those emotions as well. "We go home tomorrow night. Until that plane touches down in Satan City, we can be whatever we want. But, when we get off that plane—"
"We're just friends," Bulma finished for him, her eyes beginning to water. "I wish you said that last night."
"Apparently," he laughed, bitterly, "I became a genius in twenty-four hours."
"I'll say."
Without another word, they descended the few steps off the back porch and onto the cooled desert sand. Neither wore shoes—for Uthman had politely asked them to remain barefoot in the house—and both were dressed in fashionable modern Egyptian clothing. Vegeta wore a long white cotton shirt, with an open collar, and long sleeves, and baggy black shorts of the same material that cut off just below his knees. Bulma wore the same type of shirt, though hers was a light blue color, and instead of long shorts, she wore a long black skirt with slits up both sides to her mid-thigh. She wore some jewelry as well—everything compliments of Vegeta at a local merchant—a simple silver plate necklace with a fake jewel embedded in the center, several jingling silver bracelets, and a silver anklet (I have no clue what modern Egyptian clothes look like. I just winged that, but its all fiction so who cares! :P).
The sand was still slightly warm from the day's sun, but nothing compared to what Bulma figured it should feel like; ten times worse than a normal day at the beach. They walked for nearly a half a mile in silence, their fingers laced together, steps now in sync with each other. A small pond with palm trees lay in the distance, which looked much like a mirage. They made their way towards it, both beginning to feel the night as it suddenly started to bear down on them. It was freezing in the desert at night, only it didn't seem to register with them until just now.
"It's beautiful here," Bulma mused, taking a seat on a tuft of grass next to the water. Vegeta followed suit, seemingly unaffected by the cold. "I don't think I want to go back just yet. Just a few more days? I don't want to go back to reality."
"I have to deal with that Sen nonsense. She's really fucked up this time. I didn't think she'd ever actually sue us. Stupid bitch."
"Where did you learn Arabic, Vegeta?"
"A book," he said simply, the Vegeta shell beginning to harden right before her eyes. Oh well, at least she'd glimpsed that kind-ish part of him, something not many others could say. "I know more than French and Arabic."
"Yeah? What else?"
He sighed heavily and splashed his feet into the icy water. "Spanish, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Italian, German, Aramaic, Chinese, Russian, English…er…some African languages, Finnish…Sign Language…I think that's it."
"Damn, and here I thought I was the only 18 year old that new that many languages. You have me beat though." Vegeta looked at her, almost surprised. She was, after all, a true genius. "I'm only just learning Arabic, Hebrew, and Portuguese. I'm not even starting African languages for another few years. I need to focus on my science, get a good grip for college, so I can prove myself to everyone that I'm not just Dr. Briefs' pretty little daughter."
"I don't know Portuguese," was all Vegeta said, wrinkling his nose. He'd meant to learn it, but then Sen happened, and, well, he didn't have time anymore.
"You want to learn it with me? I'm further along in Arabic and Hebrew. I've hardly started Portuguese. I only know numbers, verbs, and the basic phrases. Simple stuff."
"I don't have time for that."
"But you have time to fly off to Europe, and Africa, on a second's notice and stay for a week?"
Vegeta grunted and pulled his feet from the water.
"Come on. Mondays and Fridays you come by and we'll learn Portuguese for, let's say, two hours a day. And then my mom will make a big dinner, since I know you have an appetite."
"Only if I get other benefits," he said slyly, a smirk pulling at his lips.
Bulma laughed.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just, even after we decided to not be more than friends, you're still trying to get into my pants."
"Instinct," he muttered, then stood up, offering his hand to Bulma. She took it, of course, and when she was to her feet, they instantly fell victim to their hormones, and emotions. It wasn't until Bulma shivered noticeably that Vegeta let go, his lips still lingering millimeters from hers when he said, "We need to sleep for tomorrow. Lots of walking."
"I'll kill that stupid bitch," she muttered under her breath, refusing to let him go. How was it that here—or any of the other places in Europe for that matter—Bulma could feel free to express every emotion she had? But, at home, she shielded herself from everything short of mild conversation with Vegeta? She couldn't explain it, nor did she care to, for this night, and the following day, were all she could have with him. And then, once Satan City was under her feet, they would return to cold mutual friends. Kami was definitely angry about something.
"Yeah, you and the rest of us."
"If she wasn't suing you guys—"
"Don't ask me that," he snapped, pulling away. The cold atmosphere now reflected the coldness she was so used to seeing. "Now hurry up. Ten more minutes and you won't be able to move you'll be shivering so bad."
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The attire for the day was light canvas shirts and long shorts, with high boots to keep sand from getting between the toes and being an annoyance. Basilah was the only person wearing a light robe over her long shorts, as she customarily wore. Other than that, all six people—two other friends of Uthman and Basilah's also joined them—were dressed alike and carried similar packs containing food, plenty of water, and emergency equipment: first aid, etc. The packs weren't heavy, though very annoying and slowed the group. That, and the intense heat. Even in the winter, the sun was sweltering, and more than once Bulma found herself winded and needed to wipe her brow.
"Not much longer," Uthman called back to Bulma, who was lagging behind. Vegeta, surprisingly, decided to stay back with her, further demonstrating to their hosts that they were a couple. "Just over this hill. You'll see it once we're at the top."
"We better," Bulma mumbled to herself. She hadn't planned on trekking miles across the desert.
No sooner had she said that, then she was to the top of the small hill, staring spellbound at the sight before her. Four pyramids stood in plain view, seeming to rise from the sand, the area around them virtual deserted, save for a few people here and there, but nothing like Bulma had imagined.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, coming up next to Basilah. Vegeta translated.
"She says they don't get many tourists in this part of Egypt. Most people visit the Sphinx and what's in that area. We're miles from the Sphinx, so most tourists overlook these pyramids."
"But they've been explored, right?" Stupid question.
"Why wouldn't they be? Uthman and Basilah, and those other two men, are guides for their area. That's why we stayed with them. I picked these pyramids because not many people come here," he sighed, then glanced at the four looming structures below. "Now hurry up. They have other things to do, you know."
"Sorry for wanting to know a little about where I'm going," she said, with a snotty undertone, following him and the others down the hill. "Pyramids have booby traps, you know. Forgive me for not wanting my head chopped off."
"Do you honestly think I'd bring you into a rigged pyramid?" he spat, not turning his head.
"I don't know. It's hard to tell with you."
"Shut up. The traps were set off decades ago. No one goes into unexplored parts of the pyramids anymore. Don't you know anything?"
"I know you're an egotistical jackass."
"You have a very strange relationship," said one of the other guides, the shortest of the three Egyptian men. Both looked at him in quiet astonishment. Neither knew he spoke Japanese. "I speak several trade languages," he said, as if sensing their confusion. And, without anymore input or explanation, he continued down the hill next to Uthman, who burst out laughing after a few seconds.
"Did you catch that?" Bulma whispered to Vegeta.
He ignored her, however, and hurried along. She had to practically run to keep up.
Ten minutes later, and they were entering the closest of the massive structures. And, even after Vegeta promised there was no possible way there could be any traps, Bulma still took a second look at everything she passed, which, for about a quarter of a mile, was only stone wall and mounted torches.
"No electricity?" Bulma asked, leaning in closer to Vegeta. He took this opportunity to get close to her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"You're insane, you know that? Why would they bother? Torches work fine, and that little town we're staying in doesn't have money enough to waste on lacing four enormous pyramids with lights for the few hundred tourists they have each year."
"That few, huh?"
Finally, after five minutes of hallway, they came to an opening; a vast room with a high ceiling and crumbling alters. Several stone statues stood in seemingly random places, and, as Bulma's eyes adjusted to the dim light, she discovered many sarcophagi. And, instead of being repulsed or terrified—as Vegeta expected—her eyes grew wide and a knowing smile graced her lips.
"Can we look inside them?" she asked excitedly, picking up the pace. The four guides stopped in the center of the room and appeared to be bored already.
Vegeta rolled his eyes, but asked none-the-less. He was surprised by the answer.
"What?"
"Yeah…" he said, still skeptical. That is, until Uthman and another man approached the closest sarcophagus and lifted the lid, carefully leaning it against the stone coffin. Bulma could hardly believe their strength.
As they approached the artfully decorated casket, Bulma felt a tingle rush through her. All her life she'd been fascinated with things like this; the Egyptians and how they mummified people, however, was in the top five of her list. The inside was a disappointment though, only another, plain coffin. Sadly, Bulma drew back and sighed.
"What?"
"I wanted to see the body."
Vegeta relayed the message to Uthman, who laughed, then answered.
"What?"
"He says there are many sarcophagi inside one another. And the body isn't here."
"Well where the hell is it?"
"Stolen."
"What about another coffin?"
"There's only one that wasn't taken, but they said they won't open it. A King's sarcophagus is in another chamber. They only know the body is still there because when they discovered the chamber, there were three skeletons inside, speared through the chests."
"Why won't they open it?" She seemed to have ignored most of what he'd said.
"Would you shut your trap and think of the obvious."
Bulma frowned.
"Its sacred," he sighed, agitated.
"So, what? I can't see any of the bodies?"
Vegeta sighed again, then asked.
"The furthest pyramid away has two bodies you can see. One is a cat, though."
"I would have expected that. But the last one? Damn, that's a lot of walking."
"Do you want to see it or not?"
"Whatever," she huffed, then stormed out of the pyramid, confusing their hosts.
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Halfway to the last pyramid—and it was quite a distance away—Bulma slowed her pace and allowed the others to catch up to her. She was only angry at herself, however, for everything she'd wished she'd done differently with Vegeta, from the very first time she'd met him. But, she'd been too self-conscious then, and extremely protective of her heart, which, up until then, she'd never really considered giving to anyone. And now, after knowing Vegeta for only three months, she felt a deep connection and an even deeper need to be something wonderful in his eyes. There was no way she could know that that's exactly what was beginning to happen, that he had no control over his mind anymore and was slipping into a world completely alien to him. He was no more stable to begin a relationship with her than she was. And both of them were kicking themselves for mistakes along the way.
"This pyramid shall not be a disappointment," said the friendly Japanese-speaking Egyptian, as he passed Bulma and headed the group.
"But I'm sure you'll find something to complain about," Vegeta muttered under his breath, from three feet back. Bulma forced herself to ignore his comment, and focused instead on the pyramid they were headed towards. It was nothing different from the other three on the outside, but, as soon as they crossed the threshold, Bulma's sensed a big difference.
"It…feels weird in here," she said, more to herself.
"This one," the friendly Egyptian said, standing beside her once again, "is not…completely excavated. The soul still pulses." Then, eerily, he moved passed her and down the corridor, torch in hand.
"The soul still pulses," Bulma muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.
The walk to the center of the pyramid was quite a bit longer than the first, and, the end of the hall was completely different. Not only was the main area bigger, but in order to reach it, the group had to descend over two hundred stairs.
"I don't like how this looks," Bulma admitted. She stayed at the top as the others went down before her.
"What?" Vegeta sighed, looking down at the main room.
"Look how steep they are! I could break my neck on those!"
"Stop whining and go down. You made us walk all the way here to see a damn body, and I'm not leaving here until you do."
Bulma only lifted her chin and started the long descent down, taking each step carefully. Vegeta took them two at a time, and was halfway down when she was still on the thirtieth stair. As he neared the bottom, he looked back up at her and smirked. With all her gloating, she was sure making an ass of herself, being scared of a few stairs. Bulma caught the look and picked up her pace, willing herself to be unafraid of the incline.
"So what if I fall," she said aloud. "I won't get THAT hurt."
By the one hundred-and-fiftieth step, she had a good pace going, but her heart was racing a mile a minute. For a split second she closed her eyes to calm her nerves, and, just as she did, she lost her footing.
And everything went black.
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Sen couldn't have picked a better time—and a better band for that matter—to prey on. Already Green Dragon was surrounded by controversy because of Vegeta's unwillingness to keep a steady girlfriend. They were weak and easy to manipulate, and, ever since Sen found herself pregnant and alone, she'd become quite the manipulator.
Quietly, she made her way across the room, careful not to wake Ryoko, and crossed off another day on the calendar. With a heavy sigh, she capped her pen and started to get ready for bed. How long had it been since she'd been happy, truly happy? And madly in love? By the calendar she guessed a year, maybe a little more. And how long since she'd seen him, the man she'd given her heart to so certainly, only to have it stomped on?
"Someday," she told herself, squeezing a glob of toothpaste on her brush. "He'll be back and Ryoko will have a real father."
But, even as the hope filled her, she knew it was all a lie and slowly brushed her teeth.
She remembered the last day she saw him, perfectly, down to the way the collar of his shirt was folded up, ready for a tie, and the small scuff mark on one of his shoes he hadn't gotten a chance to remove. It was late afternoon, and he was just getting ready to leave on a business trip. He would only be gone for a couple of days, but she couldn't remember a time she'd been sadder. She never wanted to be without him, not for a second.
"Call me when you land?" she said hopefully, as he bustled around the apartment, making sure he had everything.
"No," he laughed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as he walked passed her and into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush. "I'm going to make you wonder where I am so you'll send a search party to come find me."
"Yeah," she countered, leaning against the doorframe. "And I'll find you in a sleazy hotel room with a hooker."
"She said she was going to kill me, I swear."
Their laughter rang through the modestly sized apartment, then suddenly fell dead.
"Don't be gone too long," she whispered, toying with the hem of her shirt.
"Only as long as I have to be. I promise."
"I…Be safe."
"Stop worrying," he laughed, with a hint of sadness. It was hitting him hard too. "I'll be fine."
"You sure have a lot of stuff for only a few days."
"I need to impress these people, honey. And if that means changing forty different times before the meeting, then so be it. Now stop giving yourself a migraine and give me a kiss."
When she released him for the final time at the cab outside their apartment, there was no way of knowing it would be the last time she'd hold him.
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Bulma awoke to the sound of Vegeta's voice, and a pounding headache. When she finally willed her eyes to open, five faces were hovering over her, and she instinctively backed up. She didn't get far, however, for Vegeta's arms were wrapped tightly around her, his face full of relief.
"What the hell happened?" she snapped.
"You fell," the Japanese-speaking Egyptian said. "Fifty stairs."
"That's five flights!" Bulma realized, glaring angrily at Vegeta, who flinched noticeably. "Hurry up, huh? Look where hurrying got me, asshole!"
"Don't blame him madam, please. He didn't know that step was loose. I should have told you all, but I forgot."
"Loose? What do you mean, loose?"
"A large piece of it came off when you stepped on it."
"That's wonderful," she grumbled, trying to stand, but immediately five sets of hands pushed her back down.
"You need to stay there for now," Uthman said, crouching beside her. "We don't know the extent of your injuries."
"I feel fine. Now let me up."
"If you get up," Vegeta said, "we're going straight to a hospital. You can forget about seeing the bodies."
"Fine. How bad do I look?"
No one answered.
"I said," she seethed, through her teeth, "how bad do I look?"
Basilah reached into her sack and pulled out a small mirror. Bulma gasped.
"Oh well," she laughed bitterly. "I don't like having my picture taken anyway."
She couldn't remember a time she'd been this roughed up. When she was a kid, she'd run around with Krillin and Chi-Chi; wrestling, throwing rocks; the kinds of things all kids did in their youth. But it had always been little cuts and bruises and scrapes on the knees. Nothing like this.
Above her right eye, just above her eyebrow, was a large gauze soaked through almost completely with blood, and poorly attached. Other scrapes and cuts were around the bandage as well, telling her that she must have fallen directly on her forehead, exactly where the bandage was. There was a very visible bruise on her right cheekbone, a sizable cut on her lower lip, and another large scrape on her chin. She looked like she'd gotten into a fight…and lost.
"I don't have any broken bones, right?"
Uthman shook his head.
"Well, my right leg hurts a little, but other than that I'm fine. Can I get up now?"
Vegeta only rolled his eyes and helped her to her feet, his heart rate finally beginning to slow to normal. He couldn't remember a time he'd been so scared.
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"Another six hour flight," Bulma sighed, easing into the soft cushions of the private jet. Since they had more time to plan the trip back, they were able to take a private flight home, and not have to worry about disturbing sleeping passengers. "Well, this gives us time to come up with an explanation for everything."
"I don't need to explain myself to anyone," Vegeta retorted. The engines started, but neither paid any attention.
"Ok, fine. Not them, but what about me? You never told me why you dropped everything to take me on a grand tour for almost a week."
"Would you rather I didn't?"
"That's not what I said. But I'd like to know why. I'm pretty sure you haven't done this with anyone else. Why me? Why not some other girl?"
"You know why." The fasten seatbelt sign went off and Vegeta unbuckled himself and stood. Across from where they were buckled in, was a luxurious couch, complete with mini-bar and a television. "You're a challenge," he said, sitting on the couch. Bulma stayed where she was. "I'm fascinated by you. I want to know more."
"It's funny," she said, not looking the least bit amused. "You sound genuine, but I know you're not. I know there's an evil little jerk hiding behind this façade you keep putting up. He keeps popping out and you can't control him, and I know he's who you really are. Be yourself, that might actually work."
"If I was myself," he said, reaching into the mini-bar for some Scotch, "I'd strap you into a parachute pack and push you out of the plane."
"Oh!" He was so startled he nearly dropped his glass. "We need to do that this spring!"
"Do what?" he grunted, wiping at the spilled alcohol on his pants.
"Go skydiving. I've only been a few times, but I LOVED it. As soon as the weather's good, we're going. No excuses."
"Why are we doing this?"
"Doing what? Talking?"
"Well, yeah." He set down his drink and motioned her to come sit by him. She gave him a skeptical look, but obliged. "Did you forget so easily what we said last night?"
"You can't expect me to just sleep with you then pretend like nothing happened. I can't do that Vegeta. If we do anything, I want it going somewhere. But we both know it won't, so why bother? Why half-start something? Why toy with MY emotions!?" Her eyes glistened with the threat of tears. She touched her bandage instinctively; it was still attached properly.
"You could never last in a relationship with me," he finally said, turning his head away.
"And why not?"
"Because," he snapped, "I'd drive you away. That's what happens. I drive girls away. Why the hell do you think I've been single for so long?"
"You seem to enjoy having a new girl every other night."
"I'm through with that adolescent bullshit."
"But…?"
"But there's nothing else for me. Like I said, relationships don't work."
"Well, if you ever change your mind about that, give me a call, ok?"
"Trust me," he sighed, leaning in and giving her a small, but passionate, kiss on the lips. "You'll be the first person I call."
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---Chapter 24! :D Hmm, that chapter was…well, you tell me! :P Longer, yes :P Heehee. Vegeta does seem too mushy right now though, it's strange. I never write him like this…Oh well, it can't last for long :D Muhahahaha!
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)…and no death…
Next time: Home! gasp
Note: Someone asked me is Anzai Anzai is a real author…Well, I'm sorry to inform you that he is not. He's not even a real person. I made him up off the top of my head.
Also: Someone else left a very angry review for Chapter 18 a few days ago, "Bulma's a slut who doesn't know what the fuck she wants. Vegeta was better off with Sen. I'm giving up on this stupid story."…Man, it sounds like someone is a bit impatient. I guess they're one of those people who like 2 chapter Bulma and Vegeta stories with nothing realistic to them what-so-ever. I'm sorry that I like my stories to have substance and plot twists. I was under the impression that that was entertaining, but I could be wrong…And this person is very brave, not even putting a signed review. All they put was "Duo's Dame", which I can only assume is some feminine-looking gay guy from one of those cheesy "just like ever other anime" animes. I hate those kinds. They're all the same, Jesus! LOL! :P And I'm soooo sick of people with their yaoi bullshit, it's ridiculous. I'm not saying I have anything against gay guys—I happen to know several and a god friend of mine is a lesbian—but enough is enough. And what the hell do the girls get from watching two guys go at it?…Whatever, this rant is over. Obviously, I don't appreciate half-assed insults from half-brained—I'm just going to stop there :P No need to get hostile.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and the next is in the process of being thought up :P
"Stop making me love you," she said as the plane came to a complete stop.
"I'm trying…" Vegeta sighed, then stood to grab their luggage.
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For the remainder of the night, and it was nearly 6:00 pm when they landed, Bulma and Vegeta spent in the company of their host. Instead of renting a private home or apartment—though Bulma didn't know if there were any around this area—Vegeta took it upon himself to lodge with a complete stranger. He only knew the man, and his wife and six children, by phone, but their relationship seemed solid to Bulma, who watched in awe as they spoke to one another. They spoke Arabic, the official language of Eygpt, and, to Bulma's utter amazement, Vegeta did too. She herself hadn't fully learned the language, but was in the process of learning it and several others at the time. She knew ten languages at the moment, and was in training with four others. Five of the ones she was fluent in she spoke regularly with her father at work, and teachers at school.
The home they were staying in was modest, with enough bedrooms for everyone to have their own, even Bulma and Vegeta—together, of course. Their host, Uthman, and his wife, Basilah, only assumed they were a couple; neither bothered to correct this mistake.
Tomorrow—or so Bulma gathered from what she could understand—Uthman and Basilah were going to take Bulma and Vegeta on a tour of the surrounding land, including going inside some pyramids. The Sphinx, however, was too far away for them to travel there in one day. But, upon hearing this, Bulma didn't bat an eyelash. The pyramids were enough for her for now; they could keep her occupied for well over just one short day. She was content with what her hosts could offer. "Besides," she thought idly, "we can see the Sphinx next time."
Finally, at just about 11:00 pm, Uthman and Basilah said their goodnights and retired to their room. Bulma and Vegeta were left in the living room in silence. After several long minutes, Bulma couldn't take it anymore and said, "I'm going outside. That breeze keeps blowing in here and its tempting me."
She stood and made for the door, and was nearly outside, when she noticed Vegeta was following her. As she turned, he pulled her to him and captured her lips with his. For a long moment, they simply stood there, entangled in each other, a warm breeze sweeping around them with tiny bits of sand tickling the backs of their legs.
"We can't do this," Bulma whispered, resting her head on his shoulder. He didn't bother to let go. "Not if we can't be together."
"Are you saying you want to be together?" The question held more meaning than either could know.
"What do you think?"
They both sighed at once. Common tactic; answer a question with a question to avoid giving a truthful, and very difficult, answer.
"I think we shouldn't be together, and so does everyone else."
"Why?" Bulma asked, pulling her head back.
"Because," he sighed, his face stone cold and pinched, as though he were thinking of his worst enemy. What Bulma didn't know, however, was that he actually was. Love. His worst and most feared adversary. "Too much alike. Always fighting. A lot of headaches. It's not worth it."
"Why? So you can have your whores every other night and not have to worry about it?"
"No." He remained calm at her accusation. "Have I been with anyone else since I took interest in you?"
"No," she admitted, shying away. They were both thinking of the same thing, though neither wished to bring it up and further spoil the mood. "There's no way, is there?"
"Look." He held her out at arm's length, his face calm and placid; a face she'd never seen on him before. There was no hint of anger or hostility as there usually was, and when he spoke, it was void of those emotions as well. "We go home tomorrow night. Until that plane touches down in Satan City, we can be whatever we want. But, when we get off that plane—"
"We're just friends," Bulma finished for him, her eyes beginning to water. "I wish you said that last night."
"Apparently," he laughed, bitterly, "I became a genius in twenty-four hours."
"I'll say."
Without another word, they descended the few steps off the back porch and onto the cooled desert sand. Neither wore shoes—for Uthman had politely asked them to remain barefoot in the house—and both were dressed in fashionable modern Egyptian clothing. Vegeta wore a long white cotton shirt, with an open collar, and long sleeves, and baggy black shorts of the same material that cut off just below his knees. Bulma wore the same type of shirt, though hers was a light blue color, and instead of long shorts, she wore a long black skirt with slits up both sides to her mid-thigh. She wore some jewelry as well—everything compliments of Vegeta at a local merchant—a simple silver plate necklace with a fake jewel embedded in the center, several jingling silver bracelets, and a silver anklet (I have no clue what modern Egyptian clothes look like. I just winged that, but its all fiction so who cares! :P).
The sand was still slightly warm from the day's sun, but nothing compared to what Bulma figured it should feel like; ten times worse than a normal day at the beach. They walked for nearly a half a mile in silence, their fingers laced together, steps now in sync with each other. A small pond with palm trees lay in the distance, which looked much like a mirage. They made their way towards it, both beginning to feel the night as it suddenly started to bear down on them. It was freezing in the desert at night, only it didn't seem to register with them until just now.
"It's beautiful here," Bulma mused, taking a seat on a tuft of grass next to the water. Vegeta followed suit, seemingly unaffected by the cold. "I don't think I want to go back just yet. Just a few more days? I don't want to go back to reality."
"I have to deal with that Sen nonsense. She's really fucked up this time. I didn't think she'd ever actually sue us. Stupid bitch."
"Where did you learn Arabic, Vegeta?"
"A book," he said simply, the Vegeta shell beginning to harden right before her eyes. Oh well, at least she'd glimpsed that kind-ish part of him, something not many others could say. "I know more than French and Arabic."
"Yeah? What else?"
He sighed heavily and splashed his feet into the icy water. "Spanish, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Italian, German, Aramaic, Chinese, Russian, English…er…some African languages, Finnish…Sign Language…I think that's it."
"Damn, and here I thought I was the only 18 year old that new that many languages. You have me beat though." Vegeta looked at her, almost surprised. She was, after all, a true genius. "I'm only just learning Arabic, Hebrew, and Portuguese. I'm not even starting African languages for another few years. I need to focus on my science, get a good grip for college, so I can prove myself to everyone that I'm not just Dr. Briefs' pretty little daughter."
"I don't know Portuguese," was all Vegeta said, wrinkling his nose. He'd meant to learn it, but then Sen happened, and, well, he didn't have time anymore.
"You want to learn it with me? I'm further along in Arabic and Hebrew. I've hardly started Portuguese. I only know numbers, verbs, and the basic phrases. Simple stuff."
"I don't have time for that."
"But you have time to fly off to Europe, and Africa, on a second's notice and stay for a week?"
Vegeta grunted and pulled his feet from the water.
"Come on. Mondays and Fridays you come by and we'll learn Portuguese for, let's say, two hours a day. And then my mom will make a big dinner, since I know you have an appetite."
"Only if I get other benefits," he said slyly, a smirk pulling at his lips.
Bulma laughed.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just, even after we decided to not be more than friends, you're still trying to get into my pants."
"Instinct," he muttered, then stood up, offering his hand to Bulma. She took it, of course, and when she was to her feet, they instantly fell victim to their hormones, and emotions. It wasn't until Bulma shivered noticeably that Vegeta let go, his lips still lingering millimeters from hers when he said, "We need to sleep for tomorrow. Lots of walking."
"I'll kill that stupid bitch," she muttered under her breath, refusing to let him go. How was it that here—or any of the other places in Europe for that matter—Bulma could feel free to express every emotion she had? But, at home, she shielded herself from everything short of mild conversation with Vegeta? She couldn't explain it, nor did she care to, for this night, and the following day, were all she could have with him. And then, once Satan City was under her feet, they would return to cold mutual friends. Kami was definitely angry about something.
"Yeah, you and the rest of us."
"If she wasn't suing you guys—"
"Don't ask me that," he snapped, pulling away. The cold atmosphere now reflected the coldness she was so used to seeing. "Now hurry up. Ten more minutes and you won't be able to move you'll be shivering so bad."
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The attire for the day was light canvas shirts and long shorts, with high boots to keep sand from getting between the toes and being an annoyance. Basilah was the only person wearing a light robe over her long shorts, as she customarily wore. Other than that, all six people—two other friends of Uthman and Basilah's also joined them—were dressed alike and carried similar packs containing food, plenty of water, and emergency equipment: first aid, etc. The packs weren't heavy, though very annoying and slowed the group. That, and the intense heat. Even in the winter, the sun was sweltering, and more than once Bulma found herself winded and needed to wipe her brow.
"Not much longer," Uthman called back to Bulma, who was lagging behind. Vegeta, surprisingly, decided to stay back with her, further demonstrating to their hosts that they were a couple. "Just over this hill. You'll see it once we're at the top."
"We better," Bulma mumbled to herself. She hadn't planned on trekking miles across the desert.
No sooner had she said that, then she was to the top of the small hill, staring spellbound at the sight before her. Four pyramids stood in plain view, seeming to rise from the sand, the area around them virtual deserted, save for a few people here and there, but nothing like Bulma had imagined.
"Where is everyone?" she asked, coming up next to Basilah. Vegeta translated.
"She says they don't get many tourists in this part of Egypt. Most people visit the Sphinx and what's in that area. We're miles from the Sphinx, so most tourists overlook these pyramids."
"But they've been explored, right?" Stupid question.
"Why wouldn't they be? Uthman and Basilah, and those other two men, are guides for their area. That's why we stayed with them. I picked these pyramids because not many people come here," he sighed, then glanced at the four looming structures below. "Now hurry up. They have other things to do, you know."
"Sorry for wanting to know a little about where I'm going," she said, with a snotty undertone, following him and the others down the hill. "Pyramids have booby traps, you know. Forgive me for not wanting my head chopped off."
"Do you honestly think I'd bring you into a rigged pyramid?" he spat, not turning his head.
"I don't know. It's hard to tell with you."
"Shut up. The traps were set off decades ago. No one goes into unexplored parts of the pyramids anymore. Don't you know anything?"
"I know you're an egotistical jackass."
"You have a very strange relationship," said one of the other guides, the shortest of the three Egyptian men. Both looked at him in quiet astonishment. Neither knew he spoke Japanese. "I speak several trade languages," he said, as if sensing their confusion. And, without anymore input or explanation, he continued down the hill next to Uthman, who burst out laughing after a few seconds.
"Did you catch that?" Bulma whispered to Vegeta.
He ignored her, however, and hurried along. She had to practically run to keep up.
Ten minutes later, and they were entering the closest of the massive structures. And, even after Vegeta promised there was no possible way there could be any traps, Bulma still took a second look at everything she passed, which, for about a quarter of a mile, was only stone wall and mounted torches.
"No electricity?" Bulma asked, leaning in closer to Vegeta. He took this opportunity to get close to her, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
"You're insane, you know that? Why would they bother? Torches work fine, and that little town we're staying in doesn't have money enough to waste on lacing four enormous pyramids with lights for the few hundred tourists they have each year."
"That few, huh?"
Finally, after five minutes of hallway, they came to an opening; a vast room with a high ceiling and crumbling alters. Several stone statues stood in seemingly random places, and, as Bulma's eyes adjusted to the dim light, she discovered many sarcophagi. And, instead of being repulsed or terrified—as Vegeta expected—her eyes grew wide and a knowing smile graced her lips.
"Can we look inside them?" she asked excitedly, picking up the pace. The four guides stopped in the center of the room and appeared to be bored already.
Vegeta rolled his eyes, but asked none-the-less. He was surprised by the answer.
"What?"
"Yeah…" he said, still skeptical. That is, until Uthman and another man approached the closest sarcophagus and lifted the lid, carefully leaning it against the stone coffin. Bulma could hardly believe their strength.
As they approached the artfully decorated casket, Bulma felt a tingle rush through her. All her life she'd been fascinated with things like this; the Egyptians and how they mummified people, however, was in the top five of her list. The inside was a disappointment though, only another, plain coffin. Sadly, Bulma drew back and sighed.
"What?"
"I wanted to see the body."
Vegeta relayed the message to Uthman, who laughed, then answered.
"What?"
"He says there are many sarcophagi inside one another. And the body isn't here."
"Well where the hell is it?"
"Stolen."
"What about another coffin?"
"There's only one that wasn't taken, but they said they won't open it. A King's sarcophagus is in another chamber. They only know the body is still there because when they discovered the chamber, there were three skeletons inside, speared through the chests."
"Why won't they open it?" She seemed to have ignored most of what he'd said.
"Would you shut your trap and think of the obvious."
Bulma frowned.
"Its sacred," he sighed, agitated.
"So, what? I can't see any of the bodies?"
Vegeta sighed again, then asked.
"The furthest pyramid away has two bodies you can see. One is a cat, though."
"I would have expected that. But the last one? Damn, that's a lot of walking."
"Do you want to see it or not?"
"Whatever," she huffed, then stormed out of the pyramid, confusing their hosts.
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Halfway to the last pyramid—and it was quite a distance away—Bulma slowed her pace and allowed the others to catch up to her. She was only angry at herself, however, for everything she'd wished she'd done differently with Vegeta, from the very first time she'd met him. But, she'd been too self-conscious then, and extremely protective of her heart, which, up until then, she'd never really considered giving to anyone. And now, after knowing Vegeta for only three months, she felt a deep connection and an even deeper need to be something wonderful in his eyes. There was no way she could know that that's exactly what was beginning to happen, that he had no control over his mind anymore and was slipping into a world completely alien to him. He was no more stable to begin a relationship with her than she was. And both of them were kicking themselves for mistakes along the way.
"This pyramid shall not be a disappointment," said the friendly Japanese-speaking Egyptian, as he passed Bulma and headed the group.
"But I'm sure you'll find something to complain about," Vegeta muttered under his breath, from three feet back. Bulma forced herself to ignore his comment, and focused instead on the pyramid they were headed towards. It was nothing different from the other three on the outside, but, as soon as they crossed the threshold, Bulma's sensed a big difference.
"It…feels weird in here," she said, more to herself.
"This one," the friendly Egyptian said, standing beside her once again, "is not…completely excavated. The soul still pulses." Then, eerily, he moved passed her and down the corridor, torch in hand.
"The soul still pulses," Bulma muttered to herself, rolling her eyes.
The walk to the center of the pyramid was quite a bit longer than the first, and, the end of the hall was completely different. Not only was the main area bigger, but in order to reach it, the group had to descend over two hundred stairs.
"I don't like how this looks," Bulma admitted. She stayed at the top as the others went down before her.
"What?" Vegeta sighed, looking down at the main room.
"Look how steep they are! I could break my neck on those!"
"Stop whining and go down. You made us walk all the way here to see a damn body, and I'm not leaving here until you do."
Bulma only lifted her chin and started the long descent down, taking each step carefully. Vegeta took them two at a time, and was halfway down when she was still on the thirtieth stair. As he neared the bottom, he looked back up at her and smirked. With all her gloating, she was sure making an ass of herself, being scared of a few stairs. Bulma caught the look and picked up her pace, willing herself to be unafraid of the incline.
"So what if I fall," she said aloud. "I won't get THAT hurt."
By the one hundred-and-fiftieth step, she had a good pace going, but her heart was racing a mile a minute. For a split second she closed her eyes to calm her nerves, and, just as she did, she lost her footing.
And everything went black.
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Sen couldn't have picked a better time—and a better band for that matter—to prey on. Already Green Dragon was surrounded by controversy because of Vegeta's unwillingness to keep a steady girlfriend. They were weak and easy to manipulate, and, ever since Sen found herself pregnant and alone, she'd become quite the manipulator.
Quietly, she made her way across the room, careful not to wake Ryoko, and crossed off another day on the calendar. With a heavy sigh, she capped her pen and started to get ready for bed. How long had it been since she'd been happy, truly happy? And madly in love? By the calendar she guessed a year, maybe a little more. And how long since she'd seen him, the man she'd given her heart to so certainly, only to have it stomped on?
"Someday," she told herself, squeezing a glob of toothpaste on her brush. "He'll be back and Ryoko will have a real father."
But, even as the hope filled her, she knew it was all a lie and slowly brushed her teeth.
She remembered the last day she saw him, perfectly, down to the way the collar of his shirt was folded up, ready for a tie, and the small scuff mark on one of his shoes he hadn't gotten a chance to remove. It was late afternoon, and he was just getting ready to leave on a business trip. He would only be gone for a couple of days, but she couldn't remember a time she'd been sadder. She never wanted to be without him, not for a second.
"Call me when you land?" she said hopefully, as he bustled around the apartment, making sure he had everything.
"No," he laughed, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek as he walked passed her and into the bathroom to grab his toothbrush. "I'm going to make you wonder where I am so you'll send a search party to come find me."
"Yeah," she countered, leaning against the doorframe. "And I'll find you in a sleazy hotel room with a hooker."
"She said she was going to kill me, I swear."
Their laughter rang through the modestly sized apartment, then suddenly fell dead.
"Don't be gone too long," she whispered, toying with the hem of her shirt.
"Only as long as I have to be. I promise."
"I…Be safe."
"Stop worrying," he laughed, with a hint of sadness. It was hitting him hard too. "I'll be fine."
"You sure have a lot of stuff for only a few days."
"I need to impress these people, honey. And if that means changing forty different times before the meeting, then so be it. Now stop giving yourself a migraine and give me a kiss."
When she released him for the final time at the cab outside their apartment, there was no way of knowing it would be the last time she'd hold him.
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Bulma awoke to the sound of Vegeta's voice, and a pounding headache. When she finally willed her eyes to open, five faces were hovering over her, and she instinctively backed up. She didn't get far, however, for Vegeta's arms were wrapped tightly around her, his face full of relief.
"What the hell happened?" she snapped.
"You fell," the Japanese-speaking Egyptian said. "Fifty stairs."
"That's five flights!" Bulma realized, glaring angrily at Vegeta, who flinched noticeably. "Hurry up, huh? Look where hurrying got me, asshole!"
"Don't blame him madam, please. He didn't know that step was loose. I should have told you all, but I forgot."
"Loose? What do you mean, loose?"
"A large piece of it came off when you stepped on it."
"That's wonderful," she grumbled, trying to stand, but immediately five sets of hands pushed her back down.
"You need to stay there for now," Uthman said, crouching beside her. "We don't know the extent of your injuries."
"I feel fine. Now let me up."
"If you get up," Vegeta said, "we're going straight to a hospital. You can forget about seeing the bodies."
"Fine. How bad do I look?"
No one answered.
"I said," she seethed, through her teeth, "how bad do I look?"
Basilah reached into her sack and pulled out a small mirror. Bulma gasped.
"Oh well," she laughed bitterly. "I don't like having my picture taken anyway."
She couldn't remember a time she'd been this roughed up. When she was a kid, she'd run around with Krillin and Chi-Chi; wrestling, throwing rocks; the kinds of things all kids did in their youth. But it had always been little cuts and bruises and scrapes on the knees. Nothing like this.
Above her right eye, just above her eyebrow, was a large gauze soaked through almost completely with blood, and poorly attached. Other scrapes and cuts were around the bandage as well, telling her that she must have fallen directly on her forehead, exactly where the bandage was. There was a very visible bruise on her right cheekbone, a sizable cut on her lower lip, and another large scrape on her chin. She looked like she'd gotten into a fight…and lost.
"I don't have any broken bones, right?"
Uthman shook his head.
"Well, my right leg hurts a little, but other than that I'm fine. Can I get up now?"
Vegeta only rolled his eyes and helped her to her feet, his heart rate finally beginning to slow to normal. He couldn't remember a time he'd been so scared.
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"Another six hour flight," Bulma sighed, easing into the soft cushions of the private jet. Since they had more time to plan the trip back, they were able to take a private flight home, and not have to worry about disturbing sleeping passengers. "Well, this gives us time to come up with an explanation for everything."
"I don't need to explain myself to anyone," Vegeta retorted. The engines started, but neither paid any attention.
"Ok, fine. Not them, but what about me? You never told me why you dropped everything to take me on a grand tour for almost a week."
"Would you rather I didn't?"
"That's not what I said. But I'd like to know why. I'm pretty sure you haven't done this with anyone else. Why me? Why not some other girl?"
"You know why." The fasten seatbelt sign went off and Vegeta unbuckled himself and stood. Across from where they were buckled in, was a luxurious couch, complete with mini-bar and a television. "You're a challenge," he said, sitting on the couch. Bulma stayed where she was. "I'm fascinated by you. I want to know more."
"It's funny," she said, not looking the least bit amused. "You sound genuine, but I know you're not. I know there's an evil little jerk hiding behind this façade you keep putting up. He keeps popping out and you can't control him, and I know he's who you really are. Be yourself, that might actually work."
"If I was myself," he said, reaching into the mini-bar for some Scotch, "I'd strap you into a parachute pack and push you out of the plane."
"Oh!" He was so startled he nearly dropped his glass. "We need to do that this spring!"
"Do what?" he grunted, wiping at the spilled alcohol on his pants.
"Go skydiving. I've only been a few times, but I LOVED it. As soon as the weather's good, we're going. No excuses."
"Why are we doing this?"
"Doing what? Talking?"
"Well, yeah." He set down his drink and motioned her to come sit by him. She gave him a skeptical look, but obliged. "Did you forget so easily what we said last night?"
"You can't expect me to just sleep with you then pretend like nothing happened. I can't do that Vegeta. If we do anything, I want it going somewhere. But we both know it won't, so why bother? Why half-start something? Why toy with MY emotions!?" Her eyes glistened with the threat of tears. She touched her bandage instinctively; it was still attached properly.
"You could never last in a relationship with me," he finally said, turning his head away.
"And why not?"
"Because," he snapped, "I'd drive you away. That's what happens. I drive girls away. Why the hell do you think I've been single for so long?"
"You seem to enjoy having a new girl every other night."
"I'm through with that adolescent bullshit."
"But…?"
"But there's nothing else for me. Like I said, relationships don't work."
"Well, if you ever change your mind about that, give me a call, ok?"
"Trust me," he sighed, leaning in and giving her a small, but passionate, kiss on the lips. "You'll be the first person I call."
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---Chapter 24! :D Hmm, that chapter was…well, you tell me! :P Longer, yes :P Heehee. Vegeta does seem too mushy right now though, it's strange. I never write him like this…Oh well, it can't last for long :D Muhahahaha!
REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Reviews=More Chapters)…and no death…
Next time: Home! gasp
Note: Someone asked me is Anzai Anzai is a real author…Well, I'm sorry to inform you that he is not. He's not even a real person. I made him up off the top of my head.
Also: Someone else left a very angry review for Chapter 18 a few days ago, "Bulma's a slut who doesn't know what the fuck she wants. Vegeta was better off with Sen. I'm giving up on this stupid story."…Man, it sounds like someone is a bit impatient. I guess they're one of those people who like 2 chapter Bulma and Vegeta stories with nothing realistic to them what-so-ever. I'm sorry that I like my stories to have substance and plot twists. I was under the impression that that was entertaining, but I could be wrong…And this person is very brave, not even putting a signed review. All they put was "Duo's Dame", which I can only assume is some feminine-looking gay guy from one of those cheesy "just like ever other anime" animes. I hate those kinds. They're all the same, Jesus! LOL! :P And I'm soooo sick of people with their yaoi bullshit, it's ridiculous. I'm not saying I have anything against gay guys—I happen to know several and a god friend of mine is a lesbian—but enough is enough. And what the hell do the girls get from watching two guys go at it?…Whatever, this rant is over. Obviously, I don't appreciate half-assed insults from half-brained—I'm just going to stop there :P No need to get hostile.
Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and the next is in the process of being thought up :P