The Craving
Disclaimer
DBZ, its characters, and concepts are the copyrights and/or trademarks of FUNimation (and/or Akira Toriyama) and are used here for non-profit entertainment purposes only. The only characters we created are Brik and Sharly, who we humbly offer as a sacrifice to whoever wants to play with them. Feel free to bend, spindle, mutilate, and/or even kill them. All we ask is that you send us a copy of whatever story you use them in. (Especially the spindle, we want to know what that is.)
Chapter 2: HomecomingAbout four months later, Vegeta took in his appearance in the full-length mirror aboard his ship as it made its pre-programmed flight back to Earth. He stood there in his torn blue and white armor, observing his black flame of hair and black eyes. Then, with the twitch of a mental muscle, a process that he had refined over the past few days, he burst into his new power.
He observed himself again in the mirror. This time, he was not his normal self. His eyes had turned into a pale green color and his hair into bright gold, but probably the most noticeable feature was the golden aura that now surrounded the Saiyan prince. His muscles, which were always powerful before, were now bursting with so much energy that he felt he could crush his idiot rival Kakarot like a pinjata.
Vegeta smiled at his newfound power. He had done it. He was now a Super Saiyan. He could now rightfully call himself "the Prince of all Saiyans" once again.
The warrior furrowed his brow in thought. Should he tell that lowly Kakarot and his pathetic friends of his new power? No, he decided. He would break those worthless androids that foolish boy had foretold all by himself, and then he would finally defeat Kakarot as he had so recently and sweetly dreamed.
Let those idiots mock him then.
He relaxed and let the Super Saiyan gold and jade dissipate, leaving his reflection somewhat less glorious than a moment ago. He had better not transform too closely to Earth, lest his secret be sensed by the other fighters training on the planet. Vegeta grinned viciously, "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise, after all, now would I?" he told himself.
It was mid-afternoon as Bulma gazed up at the cloud-speckled sky through the window and sighed. Vegeta had been gone so long. She remembered how strange he had been acting just before he left, and she somehow blamed herself.
Of course, her mother had told her not to, that it wasn't really her fault, that he would be back. After all, he had saved her life back on Namek, hadn't he? And he'd come back once already, so in Mrs. Brief's book, that left no doubt that a man had feelings for a woman. Bulma hadn't had the heart to tell her that Vegeta had only saved her so that he could use her as a hostage, and that he had only come back because he knew that Goku would eventually be back here.
Yamcha had left before and also come back--several times. Now he was gone again, kicked out, and had been away for longer than Vegeta.
Bulma felt so alone.
She sighed, realizing that she was still staring at the clouds, and tried to continue with her work, reprogramming the medical computer system that Vegeta had somehow managed to trash in his haste. Before she completely tore her eyes from the window, however, her attention was caught by a figure standing in the driveway.
It couldn't be . . .
"Yamcha!"
Bulma threw down her pencil and notes and scrambled out of her chair. She hit the hallway at a dead run and almost overshot the front door in her rush to it. Grabbing onto the handle for balance lest she fall, she wrenched open the door and ran out to her ex-boyfriend. "Yamcha!" she shouted excitedly again.
This time, he heard her, startled, and turned around in alarm, "Bulma, what a surprise," he managed nervously with a little laugh.
"Yamcha, you're back," Bulma breathed, practically in admiration. "I didn't think you were coming back," she blushed and looked down, assuming the familiar, coy stance reminiscent of a schoolgirl waiting for her beau to ask her to a dance.
Yamcha sheepishly put his hand behind his head, his face turning red, "Well, uh, you see . . . it wasn't exactly my idea . . ."
"Bulma, there you are!" came a familiar female voice from behind her. Bulma turned around to see her old friend from college, Sharly, jogging down the lawn, her large bust and golden hair bouncing in rhythm with her steps.
"Oh, hi Sharly, long time no see . . ." Bulma started to regain her mature composure. When her old friend stopped close to them, chest heaving with her panting, Bulma asked, "What brings you here?"
"Oh Bulma, it's been so long. I still remember how you bailed me out all those times in class," the blonde bombshell grinned like a cat showing off her new toy, "I was in the area and thought I'd stop by, you know, no annual reunion necessary, and thought I'd introduce you to my new boyfriend! Isn't he cute?" she bubbled.
"Yeah, we've met," Bulma said flatly. All her coyness had just gone out the window.
"Oh, by the way, I heard you had a new boyfriend, too," the vacuous bimbo continued, not taking such a subtle hint to go away, "He's gotta be something to catch your eye, girl. I know how picky you are!"
"Who told you I had a new boyfriend?" she said calmly, trying not to let the rage show.
"Oh, just here and there. What, afraid I'm gonna steal him from you?" She laughed, "I've got my own, girl, no danger of that!"
"New boyfriend?" Yamcha asked, puzzled.
"Yes, Yamcha, new boyfriend. What, didn't think I could get another one?" Bulma snapped.
"Are you talking about Vegeta?"
"Well, come on, where is he, then?" the blonde pushed.
"He's not here, ok? The big jerk just up and left! And I don't even know if he's coming back, alright, Sharly?" she exploded. Then, a little more quietly, yet no less venomous, "Now get off my property."
The pair stared at her in shock.
"I said go, bitch!" Bulma screamed, and they both ran off the lawn, jumped into Sharly's red convertible and took off.
Still fuming, she watched them until they were out of sight, then turned and stalked back into the house, slamming the door on the way in. Once inside, the woman screamed in animal frustration until her voice gave out. She then collapsed on a nearby couch, took one of the pillows onto her lap, cradling it, then curled around it and started crying.
Watching as their daughter soaked the pillow in tears and hearing the muffled sobs from their sheltered position by the staircase, Mr. and Mrs. Brief observed Bulma's breakdown. Surprisingly, it was Mrs. Brief who restrained her husband from stepping forward to comfort their daughter.
"But shouldn't we go to her, dear?" the puzzled man inquired.
"No, let her get it out of her system. She's had it tough. I think this was the last straw in the stack, if you know what I mean," she said quietly.
Dr. Brief looked up at his wife, innocent incomprehension obscuring his kindly face.
"Isn't it obvious? Her biological clock is ticking," Mrs. Brief whispered, "Her body is telling her to start a family, but she's just been rejected like so much trash. She's probably telling herself that no man wants her right about now, she's that depressed. I know how this goes; I've had plenty of friends that went through the same thing. Even though it breaks my heart to see my beautiful daughter like this, it's best just to let her work through it. Nothing we can do or say will make a difference to her right now."
Dr. Brief's expression hadn't changed one bit.
Mrs. Brief sighed and started to lead her husband away from the scene. "Woman's intuition, dear, you wouldn't understand."
"Oh, alright, if you say so."
Bulma woke up, still clutching the tear-soaked pillow from before. "I must have cried myself to sleep," she mumbled quietly, "I wonder what advice my mom has. Maybe she went through something like this before? I need to talk to her anyway."
She lifted her head up, half-expecting to find her mother sitting quietly beside her.
Mrs. Brief wasn't anywhere in sight.
Thinking this odd, Bulma sat up wearily and proceeded to search the house. She quickly found that neither of her parents were around. Plus it was dark outside. She must have missed dinner . . .
Bulma's stomach started to rumble.
"I guess I should go eat something then, hadn't I?" she told herself and headed to the fridge.
When she got there, she found a note stuck to it with a magnet. "Bulma," she read her mother's handwriting aloud, "Your father and I have gone to take care of a sick friend of mine. Sorry, you'll have to make your own dinner. See you tomorrow! Mom."
Bulma sighed. She really was on her own tonight.
Trying to put that out of her mind, she opened the refrigerator only to find it almost empty. "That's right, I've got to buy groceries again, don't I?" she said, slapping herself on the forehead, "Well, I'll get a little extra ice cream this time. Chocolate sounds good," Bulma mused out loud.
She reached for one of her air car capsules, then decided against it. It wasn't worth it. The market was within walking distance, plus a little fresh air might do her some good . . .
Half an hour later, Bulma was on her way back from the store, already digging into the chocolate ice cream she had treated herself to. She was almost at the front gate of her yard when a large, familiar figure stepped in her way. Before she knew it, Bulma had almost bumped into Brik.
"Hello, Bulma," the square-jawed man drawled, "You're out late. Want me to give you a ride home?"
"No thanks, Brik, I'm already home," she tried to push past him and succeeded in opening the gate, but the man's hand had mysteriously appeared on her elbow. This obstruction and the speed at which it was performed caused Bulma to spill her grocery bag just inside the gate and almost trip over her own feet. Brik's hand on her elbow, however, managed to keep her from falling to the ground entirely.
"Actually, I meant my home, sweetie," in the darkness, Bulma couldn't tell for sure, but she certainly heard the smirk in his voice.
"Brik, get your filthy hands off me. My boyfriend is inside and he's a very light sleeper," she lied, hoping it was convincing enough.
The Neanderthal only laughed. "You mean that Vegeta guy? He hasn't been around for months, has he? I even heard he wasn't coming back!"
"Wh-who told you that?" Bulma's fear was starting to show in her voice.
"Oh, I have my sources, honey. Now just come along quietly so you don't hurt my ears." Brik started to pull her away from the gate, but she grabbed on to it. The man growled in annoyance and just pulled harder. Eventually, Bulma's deathgrip on the fence gave, making them both stumble back a few feet.
Positioning himself between the struggling woman and the fence, Brik started trying to subdue her through brute strength. Bulma was starting to tire despite herself when a faint roaring sound started to grow louder, accopanied by a reddish glow in the sky, which also grew in intensity . . .
It seemed to be coming straight for them . . .
At about half a mile above the ground, it appeared to slow down, firing some sort of landing rockets, and a few seconds later, it spread its landing gear and touched down flawlessly on the lawn in front of Capsule Corp.
Brik stared agape at the capsule's landing, his grip going slack. Bulma was at first surprised, but overcame her shock quickly, taking her chance to escape her would-be kidnapper. She twisted in his loosened hold and brought her knee up as hard as she could into his groin.
Brik froze in complete and utter pain, releasing his hold on Bulma altogether, and slowly doubled over bringing his meaty hands over his privates, letting out little soprano squeaks.
This did nothing to alleviate Bulma's panic, though, as she was halfway down the street before her assailant had hit the ground.
Demonstrating extraordinary recovery under the circumstances, Brik was up on his feet and staggering after her a few seconds later.
Not really caring if his landing had woken up the household or not, Vegeta stepped out of his spaceship and breathed in the night air. He smiled slightly. Despite his opinion of the place, it almost felt like he was home. It occurred to him that Earth actually was the closest thing he had to a home right now, and it looked like it was going to stay that way. Bereft of a home planet and anyone who would recognize him for what he was, the only thing he had left to cling to was himself. It didn't really matter where he ended up. He was the last. The last Saiyan who remembered what the homeworld had looked like. The last of the pureblooded royal line . . . he didn't even have an heir . . .
Vegeta's smile faded as a heaviness settled around his heart. Had all the torture he had put himself through recently been worth it? Nobody even really cared what he did, so why should he? What if it was all in vain?
He suddenly felt very alone.
"I care because that's the only thing left," Vegeta told himself quietly, "My strength is the only thing that matters now, the only thing that ever mattered. Everything else that happens to me is incidental."
After dismissing this train of thought, Vegeta suddenly realized that he was tense, clenching his fists and digging his fingernails deeper into the recently healed wounds on his palms. He forced himself to relax. This was no time to dwell on that. While he was back, he should make the most of it.
Vegeta forced himself to smirk as he took a few more steps toward the house.
Just then, a slamming sound caught his attention. Turning to locate it, Vegeta saw the unlatched gate swing in the slight breeze. Thinking that was all it was, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, then noticed the untidy pile just on his side of the gate. He decided to take a look and discovered the scattered groceries on the sidewalk, including an open bucket of some sort. Vegeta picked it up; wondering what would cause anyone at this house to drop food that, according to the near-freezing temperature of the half-gallon bucket, was only bought very recently . . .
On a less serious note, he also wondered what this cold substance tasted like . . .
Still in a panic, Bulma ran around practically blindly. She had hoped to make it around another entrance to Capsule Corp's grounds, but she realized she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere when she found herself staring into a blind alley.
"Ok Bulma, calm down. You can think yourself out of this," she panted aloud to herself, "Now why is he after you?"
"For your money, of course. What else?" came a winded voice from behind her. Bulma whirled around to see Brik leaning heavily on one of the walls. "Though now I can think of a few others, you little bitch," he spat as he lumbered closer to her. There wasn't enough room to get past him, so Bulma had no option but to back up further. Even in his pained condition, Brik was still faster than she was, and it didn't help that when Bulma stepped wrong, one of her high-heels broke. In a flash, Brik was there with an evil grin and a huge hand crushing her wrist.
Bulma screamed.
Vegeta had dug out a small portion of the mostly-frozen consumable for a second taste when he heard the scream. It was certainly a woman's scream, Vegeta had heard enough of them to be able to tell that much, but he could almost place it . . .
It sounded like Bulma's scream, the way she screamed when she was afraid for her life.
More curious at this point than anything else, Vegeta dropped the ice cream and jumped into the sky.
He was at a loss as to where to look yet, however, until the second scream split the air.
"Vegeta!"
Vegeta flew in the direction the cry came from, looking down for signs of a struggle, but because of the dark of the city streets at night, he couldn't see anything. Vegeta growled in frustration, he needed another sign . . .
He got it: "Vege--"
It was cut off, but that was enough. He finally spotted the two of them. Bulma was being harassed by that mentally underdeveloped gorilla she called Brik. Vegeta took a fraction of a second to consider the situation. He didn't really owe her anything, but seeing her like that made something in his blood boil. He wanted to make that inferior bastard scream . . .
In the blink of an eye, Vegeta was behind the imbecile, lifting him off his feet by the back of his shirt to get his attention. In surprise, he released his grip on Bulma, letting her slump to the ground.
"I thought it was made clear the last time we met that this area was off limits to you," Vegeta growled venomously, "or do I need to break a few things to get my point across?" With that, the Saiyan tossed Brik into the air, let him fall back down, and dropkicked him into the trashcans across the street. By the time the idiot had presence of mind to crawl out of the refuse and look back across the way, Vegeta was back on the ground, still a rather ironically short figure with a self-righteous smirk on his face. Looking at Brik as if daring him to do something stupid.
For once in his life making a smart decision, Brik ran as fast as he could in the other direction, never again looking back.
Vegeta watched him go. When the man rounded a corner out of sight, Vegeta turned around to check on Bulma. He hadn't heard her make a sound since before he had taken care of her assailant.
She was sitting on the dirty asphalt shaking, her head lowered and her clothes torn. Every once in awhile he would hear a loud, uncontrolled sob escape her choked throat. It didn't take Vegeta long to realize that she was trying to keep from crying.
It didn't take him long after that to realize that he had no clue how to handle this . . . Vegeta's reason told him that he didn't have to. He could just take off and leave her there on the filthy pavement in this dark back-alley and let her find her own way home.
No, something else told him. Her attitude was always filled with fire, betraying a spirit that was almost akin to his own. He wasn't quite sure why, but seeing her like this frightened him a little. She had never seemed this vulnerable to him before.
He took a step closer to her shuddering figure. "Bulma?" uncertainty edged his voice. Her shaking subsided a little, but she didn't look up. Heartened a little that she was at least slightly responsive, Vegeta came closer and kneeled beside her, trying to take hold of her by her elbow, but she pulled away from his hand. He backed off a little, and then slowly reached out again, this time gently taking hold of her upper arm causing her to flinch, but she relaxed a second later. "Come on, let's get you home," he said softly, as he slowly started standing up. She complied with the gentle persuasion surprisingly enough and stood up with him.
When they were both on their feet, Bulma tore out of his grip, but instead of running away as the warrior expected, she wrapped her arms around his chest and buried her face in his shoulder.
Vegeta had no clue what to do. He was used to eliciting fear, hate and other negative emotions from the people in his presence . . . by now he was even almost used to being laughed at, but this was a new circumstance altogether. She wasn't running from him, slapping him, or scolding him. She was crying on his shoulder! Bulma was actually seeking comfort from him.
The Saiyan weighed his options once again. He could release himself from her grip easily, but at this point, he wasn't quite sure how without hurting her. He could also try talking to her, but he had the distinct impression that she wasn't exactly in the mood to hear anything anyone said. At a loss for anything better to do, Vegeta fell back on what he had observed other people do in times like this. He wrapped his arms around her and held her.
It was almost hypnotic, being so close to her after all this time. His senses took in everything about her as he closed his eyes, from the sweet smell of her skin and hair, to the rhythmic shuddering of her body to her sobs, to the saturated warmth of her tears soaking through his tattered armor, to the allegro drumbeat of her heart . . .
After an indeterminate amount of time, Vegeta realized that her shaking had died down and her breathing was more even. Yet she was still clinging to him. As he tried to pull away a little, Bulma just clutched him more fiercely, almost making him gasp for air. "Bulma, let's go back now," he said softly in her ear, "We should get you inside--"
Vegeta was cut off by Bulma's lips on his own.
It was like the world around him exploded. In a fraction of a second, his heart started to race and his blood ran hot. It was as if he was in the grip of a star and couldn't pull himself free. Before he knew what had happened, Vegeta reflexively pulled away from this new sensation, all but tearing himself free of the woman's needy grasp. Fortunately, she still had a tight grip around his middle, causing him to stay closer than his reflexes would have had him. In fact, Bulma's lips were still locked on his.
The longer she held him like this, the more his shock started to fade. Once the initial panic had settled, Vegeta found himself returning the kiss, uncertain at first, but then wholeheartedly, clutching her body more firmly against his as his instincts began to take hold. After a few seconds of this, the prince had enough presence of mind to sweep his lady up into his arms with a tenderness he had not even been aware he was capable of and raised them both into the air back to Capsule Corp.