Chapter Four - Cracking
Bulma cleared her throat, avoiding his questioning stare. "I was... I was worried."
"About what?"
"About you," she said softly. "You were dead. And I was afraid..." her voice trailed off.
She was worried... about me? But... why? Eager not to show his confusion, Vegeta kept his cold voice. "And I thought it was you who hoped I would blow myself up the next time I trashed the gravity room." He smirked.
"No… I…" His amazement grew as he watched her desperately struggling to find the words. She… she really cares… how can that be? I never… An emotion unknown to him began rising up inside him. But before he could even figure it out, he forced it away. No! I can't allow that! I am the prince of all Saiyans! I don't need this! I don't want this!
"You what, woman? I don't have all day!" he snarled.
Bulma felt as if he had just hit her. "Why, I think you do have all day, since you won't be able to leave this hospital until tomorrow, even if you are a quick healer. And you could at least be a little bit grateful," she said angrily.
"I haven't asked for your help! And I don't need your pity!" Vegeta snapped.
That was it. Bulma got up so quickly she threw over her chair.
"Oh, you don't need no help, do you! I'll tell you something, you would be dead if it weren't for me! And if you can't tell pity from concern, then I'm sorry for you, because one day you'll have yourself killed with your foolish pride!" she screamed, stormed out of the room and slammed the door, leaving a very silent Vegeta behind.
The Saiyan Prince did leave the hospital the next day, and for want of an alternative he moved back to Capsule Corp., carefully avoiding the woman by training most of the time in his fixed gravity room. She went out of his way, too: getting up early, leaving his breakfast in the kitchen, spending the day inside her laboratory, coming out only to prepare lunch and dinner. That went well for a few days.
Bulma put her screwdriver aside. "Finished," she murmured, pleased with herself. She had been doing a marvellous job on creating an improved emergency light, which had a small generator of it's own, allowing it to run in every possible situation. Now time to test it, she thought, and turned the switch. The generator awoke with a hum, and the light began to flash brightly. Perfect.
A crackling sound warned her that something was wrong. With a frown, she stared at the flickering light… lying on top of a metal table… which stood on a metal floor…
Kami! She made a desperate leap for a half-broken rocking chair, which she had always wanted to repair. She reached it barely in time: with a bang, the generator unloaded itself in a short circuit, electrifying her laboratory with a deadly charge. Bulma clung to the rocking chair, her eyes wide with terror. I will die… Somebody help me!
Vegeta was just blasting another training bot when he felt the woman's weak little ki rise in panic. Whoa! What's with that? he thought, for a moment alarmed. Idiot! That's none of your business! he interrupted himself angrily. Then his gaze fell onto the watch of the control panel. Must be preparing dinner by now… maybe she's seen one of those mouse-thingummies the women on this planet are so afraid of. He smirked. Can't see why I should care anyway. With that, he powered up and fired his blast, tearing the robot into pieces.
Bulma sat on the chair, gently rocking back and forth. Her body was trembling, her face a mask of sheer panic. She didn't know how long it had been since the short circuit, her feeling of time passing had been messed by her fear. But time didn't matter. No one knew where she was, her parents away on their world trip, Vegeta ignoring her completely sice that incident in the hospital. No one would come looking for her… she was surely to die. If only she hadn't built in such a strong battery! Her body shaking violently, she started rocking faster, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth…
He opened the door to the kitchen, his usual scowl turning into a deep frown. Where the hell is my dinner? He looked into the fridge, but the woman hadn't placed it there, either. Well, I think I'll have to give that stupid machine another try. Vegeta snickered, his anger turning into amusement, as he walked over to the microwave oven. He carefully pressed the button that opened the door – in fact he had already spotted it when the woman first had used the silly little machine, but it had been so much more fun to tick her off. Grinning, he looked at the open door and noticed a small piece of paper pinned to it. It read: 'Don't even think of it before you read the manual'. Said manual was lying on the oven's plate.
Vegeta almost laughed. This was almost as much fun as annoying that woman in person. Maybe he should go get her. Dinner certainly would be less boring.
AN: I'm bad, I know. Just soo lazy, while trying to improve and re-post some mediocre story. Sorry to all who actually read this.
