Last time:
Vegeta smirks despite the seriousness of the situation. What the hell could he be thinking?
"Yamcha," I say, gently slipping from Vegeta's desirable hold. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."
My hands are trembling as I close the door, having quickly ushered Vegeta out of the apartment. He didn'y ask questions. Yamcha stands—his face still displaying his complete shock—in the middle of the living room. Now that Vegeta is gone, I no longer possess my confidence. I'm a five-year-old child who just got caught being naughty, and I'm terrified.
"You're not sick," he points out, as if he wants to stall the inevitable as long as I do.
"No," I whisper, hardly able to hear my own warped voice. Where's my shrink when I need her? I could sure use some of that great advice right about now. "I'm not sick."
He takes a step forward, then stops, seemingly unable to get any closer to me. And I think, "Well duh, Bulma! You're a repulsive person. Look what you've done with your miserable life!"
"But I did go to the doctor's this morning."
His ears perk and he looks up at me. No matter how much I want to, I can't look away. I deserve this. All of it. I was rash and stupid and unfaithful. I should be having my ears blown out from the shear volume of his angry voice. But instead, prolonging my agony, he only asks why.
"I did a stupid thing," I admit, finally turning my eyes away from him. This is unbearable! How could I have hurt him! Yes I don't love him in that way, but I still care about him. "I did a lot of stupid things."
I can almost feel him tense up across the room.
"I…Bulma, what are you saying?"
You know exactly what I'm saying, I want to say, but resist. This isn't about him not being able to accept what's going on, it's about me being a worthless whore.
"I forgot to take my birth control pills all this week."
"You mean…" His lips spread into a smile and I want to cry. No! You don't get it! "Bulma, are you pregnant?"
I nod slowly, though inside I'm screaming at myself to just tell him everything. I can't let him go on believing that it's his child in me. I've ruined enough already. This I'm going to do right.
But his arms are around me before I can stop him. He's beyond happy, so high on cloud nine that when I break the other news he'll come crashing down so far and so fast he'll probably break something.
"Yamcha, please," I say, my voice low and flat. I'm going to start crying if he doesn't get off of me. "There's more." I manage to gently push him back, but the smile on his face and the gleam in his eyes are still there. "I…Yamcha, you know I love you, I love you so much." Great job Bulma, keep going down this road, hurt him more. Bitch. "I just…Not…that…way…"
I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for his reaction. At this point I have no clue what he'll say or do. And I still haven't really told him what I need to.
This is the longest moment in the history of time.
"It's not my baby," he says softly. "Is it?" I couldn't have looked at him if I wanted to.
"I…" But what's there to explain? He knows, he's crushed, and it's all because of me. "No Yamcha, it's not…It's—"
"Vegeta's," he finishes for me, startling me completely. I gasp uncontrollably and look up, staring at him.
He sighs and looks away, but he's not angry, so much as shocked and upset. But how the hell did he know it was Vegeta?
"Kami," he sighs, his eyebrows knit so tight it looks painful. "I never thought this would happen. I mean, I knew it might, but I never actually thought it would. I thought…" He trails off as he catches my eyes, realizing that I have no clue what he's talking about. "It's not important." But there's nothing reassuring or honest in that statement. "I love you Bulma, I always have and I always will, but you love him, I know you do, I can see it in you. I should never have…well, I never stood a chance against that."
"Yamcha," I say, grabbing his arm so he'll look at me. But he refuses. "What are you talking about? You knew what might happen? That I'd cheat on you?" What a horrible thing to think! But he's entitled to any thoughts about me that he wants right now.
"No, no," he says quickly, shaking his head vigorously. "I knew you might fall for him and leave me."
"Why?"
"I can't tell you." He looks back at his shoes, as if they're the most fascinating fucking things in the world. Well, guess what buddy? They're not! I know exactly what this is about and I am not going to let it slip away this time.
"Tell me," I say, trying to control my voice, and this time I grab under his chin and force him to meet my angry eyes. No matter how much I know he doesn't deserve this, I can't stop myself.
"Please Bulma." He's in agony. "I really can't. I want to, I do. You have a right to know, but I can't…You're going to have to ask your father."
"My father?" My arms drop to my sides and immediately I feel the tears begin to well. My father has been hiding this from me too! "Please Yamcha," I say, turning soft eyes on him, my hands on his arms. "I have to know. How big is it?"
He doesn't answer right away, scuffing his feet on the floor like a child. And then he looks up, and I can see that there are tears in his eyes as well.
And then he says what I have been dreading this whole time:
"Life changing…"
My father is sitting in the big red leather chair behind his desk, the phone cradled on his ear, when I storm into his office. Usually when I come see him up here I'll chat with his secretary, Kita, for a few minutes and she'll buzz me in, though it's never necessary, just a little game we play. But today, in the heat of my anger and sadness and confusion, I burst right in. From the look on his face I know who he's on the phone with, why he's not surprised to see me here when I'm supposed to be home sick.
"Thank you," he says to Yamcha on the other line, then hangs up, not bothering to tell me to sit because he knows me too well. "Bulma—"
"Don't say a word to me unless it's what I want to hear," I snap, slamming my hands on the desk. I know it's a childish act of rage, but I'm beyond caring how I present myself. I'm a fake and a loser. What's immature to that?
"What do you want to hear?" His voice is calm, an attempt to soothe my anger. I just don't see how he can think it'll work.
"You know damn well what I want to hear!" Later on I'll look back on this moment and be appalled at myself for yelling at my father like this. I know he would never do anything to intentionally hurt me. "Everything. What was in those medical reports that was blacked-out? Why is everyone so secretive with me? Why am I having dreams about being engaged to Vegeta? Why am I so drawn to him? Why don't I love Yamcha anymore? Why—"
I'm in such a rage of emotions that I don't notice him coming around the desk. He pulls me almost roughly into his arms, and has to lean on the desk's edge to keep me under control. But I'm so off kilter that I could never have gotten out of his hold. And he is too determined to calm me down, to make me happy, make me the way I was.
"I love you baby doll," he whispers, kissing my forehead. He hasn't called me baby doll since I was ten.
"I love you too daddy," I whimper, my cheeks wet and my voice strained. "But I have to know. You can't keep hiding this from me."
"I know." He rests his cheek on the top of my head, not ready in the least to let me go yet. Not until he's sure I'm calm. "I know."
"What did Yamcha tell you?"
"Not much." And I knew he was telling the truth. If he knew I was pregnant he would have said something. "Just that it was time for you to know, and that you and him are no longer together. Is there something you want to tell me?"
"I'm not saying a word until you tell me what's going on." There was nothing spiteful in my voice. It was only the truth.
"Do you know what it has to deal with?"
"Daddy," I say through my teeth, wanting to glare at him, but unable to with the way he's holding me.
"Forgive me," he sighs, giving me a little squeeze of a hug. "It's only I'm so used to you not knowing. It's been…It's been nine years, Bulma."
"I know it has to do with my coma in high school. Just say it. I can't wait any longer." How desperate and pathetic do I sound?
"You," he begins, but then pauses to collect his thoughts, form his words. To him it matters how he says it, to me it matters when. "You were only in a coma for three months—"
"But that doesn't—"
"You lost three real months of your life, Bulma," he repeats, "but you lost a lot more than that."
My heart sinks and my legs give out from under me. If he hadn't been holding me so adamantly I'd have crashed to the floor. He eases me into the chair opposite his desk, kneeling before me.
"How long?" I whisper, unable to stop the waterfall of tears.
"Bulma—"
"How long!"
"A year…"
"I…" But the words are slow forming and jumbled. I take a few deep breaths and concentrate on the information I've just been given. Though I'm not so much shocked as relieved. Somehow, in my subconscious, I've known it all these years. When I first came out of the coma I could have sworn I was a sophomore in high school. But when everyone kept insisting I was a junior I just accepted it and slowly let my apprehensions fade away. If only I had been more persistent back then! "This has a lot to do with Vegeta, doesn't it?"
My father nods, and stands, leaning against his desk. He knew he would have to deal with this one day, though I assume he didn't think it would be today. Or any time soon. Perhaps he prayed I would never find out. And I don't blame him. I wouldn't want to have to deal with this either.
"You were engaged to him," he says, lowering his head in a shameful gesture.
"My dream," I breathe, my entire body trembling. "It was…it was real?"
"Yes baby doll, it was. He proposed to you—"
"The night of the accident," I finish for him. The rain, late at night. It's so vivid in my mind I can almost smell it. "But I remember being with Yamcha!" I cry, exhausted.
"You were. You and him dated before you dated Vegeta. Look, Bulma, I know this is a lot to take in at once—"
"Just keep talking. I need it all."
"Very well…" He straightens his back and lets out a heavy sigh. "You were with Yamcha when you and Vegeta started to become friends. Goku was very adamant about the two of you being friends because of how horrible you were to each other." I scoff at this, remembering it perfectly. "He practically forced you two to spend time together, and eventually you started to have feelings for him."
"I didn't—"
"No dear, you broke it off with Yamcha before you so much as told Vegeta how you felt. You were together for a year before the accident."
"I…I…This is so unbelievable."
"I know dear. I know how you feel about Vegeta, but—"
"No, not that." I don't mean to sound harsh, but I think he'll understand. "Daddy, I've done something awful to Yamcha." He arches an eyebrow and eases back, awaiting my confession. "I…I cheated on him with Vegeta. I have been for months now…And I'm pregnant…"
Vegeta is sitting at his desk, a stack of papers before him, and not looking at one of them. He's obviously in deep thought, so I decide to bring him out of it.
"Damn it woman!" he snaps, grabbing the back of his head where I slapped him. "What the hell was that for!"
"We were engaged Vegeta!" I hiss, shoving him back and off his stool. He barely manages to keep himself from falling, and stands, only a foot or so between us. Clearly he was not ready for this. He hadn't known what would come of my confrontation with Yamcha. "Fuck! We dated? Who the hell was I!"
"I take it that you finally know," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. But instead of seeing it as the arrogant gesture I usually do, I see it for what it really is, what it's always been—he's nervous and he's trying to hide it.
"I don't understand this Vegeta! How could we have actually dated?"
Out of the corner of my eye I see 17, alter and standing near my workstation. But that's all the attention my mind gives him.
"Why is that so hard to believe?" he demands, suddenly angry as well. "We've been fucking like rabbits!"
I clench my fists at my sides, forcing myself to not hit him.
"How could you do this to me!" I yell, poking a finger into his chest. Hopefully that will satiate my desire to smack him. "How could you not tell me?"
"I have spent nine years without you!" he screams, the vein in his forehead pulsating with such force I fear it might burst. "You think you have suffered in your ignorance? I've had to sit by and watch you get further and further from me every single day, knowing that at one time you were mine! So don't you tell me about pain and suffering, I know a hell of a lot more about it than you ever will!"
The passion in his voice takes me back. It sounds like—No. He's just angry. He's just…nevermind.
I sigh deeply and take a careful step forward.
"I used to love you, didn't I?" I ask, remaining firm. I'm still so angry that he could have kept something this huge from me.
He sneers at me, looking away.
"Vegeta?"
"You made it very clear," he snaps.
"And you?"
"I think I've had just about as much as I can take tonight, woman. Good night."
And then he storms out of the lab, leaving me in a swirl of angry, longing, and hopeless sadness.
What I didn't tell him, what I couldn't bring myself to say, was that I do love him, that I've always loved him, all these years that I never knew we'd been together. In my heart I always knew Yamcha was wrong for me and that my true love was out there. It wasn't until my father revealed the truth that I realized Vegeta was that love.
"Bulma?"
17 steps up and comes to me. I allow him to take me into his arms, patting my head as I sob into his chest.
"How could you?" I whimper, my hands unconsciously pulling at his loose lab coat. "All of you. I had a right to know."
"The doctors felt it was better for you to not know," he says into my hair. "They thought if you found out it would shock you so much that you might go into another coma. And if you did again," he sighs, hugging me closer, "there was a ninety percent chance you would never wake up again…As it was, your chances the first time were fifty/fifty."
"Vegeta has had to live with this all this time?" I cry. "How is that fair? To either of us. I…I…I love him 17."
"I know sweety," he whispers, kissing my head. Why does everyone think that that'll make everything better? "And so does he. He just…" He pauses, sitting me down on Vegeta's stool. "This has always been difficult for him, B. When you got in the accident he spent every waking moment with you. We had to force him to go to school, and even then he would skip out after first or second period to come see you. He wanted to be the first person you saw when you woke up."
"But I don't understand." My breathing is back to normal, but the tears are on a constant drip. "All the memories I have of him he's a jerk to me, we hate each other. There's no difference between how he acted before and after the crash."
17 sighs and nods.
"You woke up one of the nights we managed to get Vegeta to go home and sleep. By the time any of us knew you were back, the doctors had sealed off your room to all visitors…They took us into a room and lectured us for almost an hour, telling us what we could and could not tell you…You had been awake for some time and told the doctors the last thing you remembered."
"The formal at school," I say, covering my mouth with my hand. I was the reason the information had been withheld. Because I told them that, because I said that I had gone to a dance with my boyfriend, Yamcha.
"The doctors knew immediately that this would be a problem, so they ordered Vegeta to step back. He got so angry that he punched the doctor and was escorted out of the hospital."
"My ring," I say suddenly. "We were engaged. He gave me an engagement ring. Where is it?"
The pained look on his face told me he didn't want to tell me.
"Vegeta still has it," he says, looking away. "He wears it on a chain around his neck."
"But I've seen him naked! He doesn't wear a necklace."
"He took it off, Bulma," he says as if he was there. "He told me about the two of you. He said he took it off when he took his shirt off and you never noticed…He almost told you after that, because he thought you were coming back to him. He thought you might have been remembering."
"Because of the dream?"
"Because of the dream."
"17, what do I do?" I whisper, wiping furiously at my tears. "How can we be together again? How can we raise a child with so much history? How—"
I clamp my hands over my mouth, shaking my head at my sheer stupidity.
"Bulma, are you—"
"This is going to be a long night…"
Chapter 11! Well, well, well! I think that answers all your people's questions :) I know a bunch of you figured it out (how couldn't you? I left a million clues :P), but I hope it was as good as what you thought.
REVIEW! And make me happy :D
Next time: Holy hell!
