Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.
To Takuma: omg, I wouldn't mind at all! That would actually be really really awesome, and I wouldn't know how to make it up to you.
The Perfect Flaw
Chapter XII
"That's her, isn't it!"
"Yeah, s-she has blue hair!"
"Please tell us it's not the wrong girl!"
Even as murmurs and complaints grew louder among the crowd, Vegeta's gaze remained fixed on the mortified girl which sank in the men's arms; she stared up at him with look he could only decipher as fear. Her vibrant, blue locks spilled and cast a dark shadow over her large, sapphire orbs, while her delicate lips hung agape.
Oh, that was her alright. And he recognized her, too— from the dining hall. Now that he thought about it, she had been the one who had jarred that oaf, Nappa's attention. And frankly, Vegeta couldn't blame him; she was beautiful.
"Yes, I believe that's her," the Saiyan deemed with a victorious smirk. He reveled when seeing the woman's eyes widen.
A voice amplified from the back of the posse, deliberately staying hidden from view. "So, will you leave us alone, then?"
"My pleasure."
She couldn't believe this was happening; none of it was even processing in her paralyzed mind. Bulma could only gasp as she suddenly felt herself being hefted up into two burly arms, crushed against a rock-hard, heartless chest. Trembling, her neck felt tight as it turned on its own accord, stiffening when coming almost face to face the demon of her nightmares.
Here she was, just centimeters away from one of the most feared beings in the universe besides his father, and Frieza of course. Am I gonna die? Am I gonna die? Along with these frenzied thoughts that raced through her mind, Bulma felt something vile in her spine.
Or perhaps it was the furry, brown appendage that raveled itself intrusively around her waist, closing what little distance had been left between the two of them.
His arm tightened suddenly— almost painfully— and without warning she lost the last of her breath as they took flight high into the sky, a shower of light cascading onto them as they soared above the polluted, grey clouds. Her hair whipped mercilessly about her pained face, and she had to shut her eyes against the burning wind.
But when she did muster the courage to open her eyes, she found herself doing a double take. Before them lay the morning sun that sneaked its way over a distant cloud, bringing with it a myriad of softly toned colors that bled into the night sky. It was a radiant, enrapturing orb, attracting her like a light attracting a moth, and despite the fact that it was truly so far away, it almost seemed that if— that if they were to strive just a little farther and she were to reach out, she'd be able to feel its warm surface beneath her longing fingertips.
It was almost dreamlike— romantic, even.
And yet here she was, witnessing it with the Saiyan Prince, of all people. She would have least liked to have seen it with Mark, or even Kett— but Prince Vegeta?
At having thought of him suddenly, Bulma shot him an instinctual glance, and instead of acknowledging her, he kept his hard gaze on the invisible path ahead. Figured. As if he even knew what romantic meant. A creature like him wouldn't know how to appreciate something so ravishing.
The next thing that caught the scientist's eye, however,(and it had been inevitable) was below her.
Vegeta was jarred from his train of thought and grunted as two arms threw themselves frantically around his neck, followed by an ear piercing yelp. He scowled. "I won't drop you." This was nearly rasped from lack of oxygen, though, and therefore did not sound convincing. He tried again, this time snarling as a one time warning. "Let go."
And to this, Bulma complied immediately, but couldn't help but give another doubtful glance at the stream of clouds that rushed like the Vegeta rapids beneath them.
As difficult as she knew it would be, there was nothing else to do presently, but trust him. But how could she? For God's sake, she was in this man's arms, his sinful, infamous arms that could crush her without so much as the slightest effort! The one who had thoughtlessly killed so many— who had destroyed countless families— and merely laughed when recalling it. It was every slave's nightmare to be within conversing distance with him, let alone making skin contact withhim!
The silence prolonged a bit longer, before Bulma gave another glance to her captor. She clung tightly to his torn armor as she projected her voice as distinctly she could over the roaring winds. "Are you taking me back to Vegeta!"
"Not until I take care of some business first."
It took a moment to catch his muffled words, but when she did, her eyes grew large as a new born fear was born in the base of her stomach. Business? What kind of business? He wasn't talking about doing something to Earth, was he? Bulma gulped. "W-what kind of business?"
How bold: how dare she ask him of his personal business like so; it was none of her concern. Yet still, as if admired by her foolish bravery, he answered the question simply. "I'm going to find the Dragon Balls." On account of his gaze set straight ahead, Vegeta was unaware of just how the slave's eyes bulged at the horrifying information he'd just given.
She hadn't heard him right. That's all. It was the wind; making it too hard to hear anything.
He hadn't just said Dragon Balls.
She assured herself firmly within her thoughts, even as other unknown voices screamed at the back of her mind, drowning out all other comfort.
Bulma could feel an overwhelming emotion which she couldn't quite decipher settle heavily in each of her limbs, and no longer could she feel the cool wind against her now completely numb face. Her airways seemed to constrict, as though sending an instinctual barrier to block the subconscious cry that threatened; her eyes were numb as well, no longer burning as they stared carelessly at the sun.
She was shocked beyond feeling— beyond the emotions she should have been feeling at that ironic moment. And desperately she tried to dig for something, for something like fear or rage.
But nothing. Everything was numb— not just her limbs . . .
but everything.
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
They had thought that once they'd turn the refugee in, they'd be granted with the sense of serenity and relief at having saved their home.
Or what was left of it anyway.
But instead, they unknowingly willed guilt upon themselves after the Saiyan's departure. For the sake of keeping their planet intact, they'd given something of equal value, something that was probably just as innocent as they themselves, that had had a life just like them; and they'd destroyed it.
Now, as they stared with tattered souls and shattered spirits into the sky, all they could do was pray for the girl that had been snatched away like a mouse by a ravenous hawk.
No— like a corpse by a vulture . . .
Because after all, she might as well be dead already.
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
"Why the hell are you squirming so much, Woman!"
For at least the last few minutes she'd been wriggling in his arms, and frankly it was beginning to get annoying; like an unreachable itch. "I already gave you my word I would not drop you!"
That's not the problem, you asshole! she wanted to shout to release some of the overbearing frustration, but wisely she kept her lipssealed. It was hard enough accepting the fact that somehow the Saiyan Prince knew of the Dragon Balls' existence, let alone the fact that she was going to have to think of something quickly if she planned on living in a future universe where there was still a shred of peace. If the Prince were to get his hands on those Dragon Balls, well— hell, she didn't even like the thought of it.
Despite the little worm in his grasp, Vegeta's mind had wandered elsewhere. He'd begun thinking about the future journey that lied ahead of him, of finding the Dragon Balls— with this girl. Hopefully she wouldn't be too much of a nuisance. Besides, she was a scientist after all, right? Perhaps he could have her create something for him. Surely the slave who was able to escape her way off the most feared planet in the universe, was far more intelligent than that toad, Kitser. An absent simper touched his lips as he once again praised himself for having mustered the courage to rid of the repulsive creature.
Suddenly, realization hit Vegeta. His grip on Bulma tightened insidiously, jarring her attention. "Certainly you know of them; it's your home planet after all?"
"What?" Bulma blinked stupidly, but soon winced instead as her chest was pressed painfully against the breast plates of his armor.
"You know 'what'!" the Saiyan snapped, eyeing her with deep suspicion; was she hiding something from him? "The Dragon Balls!"
Well duh. A subliminal image of her wearing a dunce hat came into her head, and her face brightened red with embarrassment. She then stuttered at being put on the spot.
That is . . . before an idea shone discreetly in her mind.
"Oh! Uh . . . y-yeah."
Vegeta's brows arched in curiosity. "Then no doubt you'd be able to create a little something that would help in seeking them out?" In spite of the raised tone which in most circumstances would indicate a question of some sort, Bulma could tell by the gleam in his eye that this question was purely rhetorical.
She almost cowered under the intimidating glower, and chose her words carefully. "I already have something," she stated a-matter-of-factly.
"Oh, really?"
A brief flicker of sudden doubt flashed in Bulma's mind, but only momentarily, until she pushed it stubbornly to the back of her mind. "Yes, it's called a Dragon Radar." She did her best to sound purely informative, and to wall out her defying intentions. "And it'll find those Dragon Balls quicker than you can say Vegeta-the-fifty-sixth ten times fast." What am I doing?
Though it was not formidable to show one's ecstasy, that's exactly what Vegeta felt inside at this proclamation. But suddenly, this rare jubilance diminished when the hard slap of common sense came across his cheek. Surely, a slave who possessed a fathomless loathing for his kind would not give in to him so easily? His eyes darkened beneath lowered brows. "What's the catch?"
Despite her awkward position, Bulma managed to cross her arms while pensively tapping her jutted chin. At the same time, she allowed a long "hmmmm" to issue from her tightly pursed lips. She snapped her eyes back to Vegeta. "You have to give me your Saiyan vow that you or your men, from this point to when you take me back to Vegeta, will not harm another person on this planet."
"I came alone."
There was an abrupt shift in Bulma's demeanor at this, and her visage became quite comical. "Y-you came alone!" she squeaked. It wasn't disappointment, but genuine surprise that took hold of the captured girl.
Vegeta tore his gaze away briefly, his nose wrinkling as though contemptible thoughts had come into his head. "It's not like I wanted to do this, Woman."
Then why did he?
"It's none of your concern."
Okay, then.
After a moment, Bulma valiantly regained the composition she'd been able to hold before the startling news. "Okay, if you give me your Saiyan vow that you will not harm another human on this planet, and that we will leave Earth peacefully, then I will give the Dragon Radar to you."
A bitter smile spread across the Prince's lips, and Bulma once again felt a jolt of fear scurry down her spine. "You're in no position to be bargaining with me."
"Look, do you want it or not! I won't give it to you until you agree to my wishes!"
It was evident that this woman was not going to back down, and she wasn't lying. And he was sad to say that she also did not seem the type to be shaken by a simple threat, which he would normally be using in this set of circumstances. So it was only natural for the Prince to answer angrily due to the difficulty of accepting defeat. "Fine," he uttered.
Though she had to strain, she heard it, and it was good enough for her. It was time to continue her plan. "Okay," she began while giving a weary sigh. "The Dragon Radar's in my bag, which is in my ship which was left in that city that you practically obliterated." The last fraction of the sentence had trailed off into a jumble of words which were hissed through clenched teeth., but Vegeta hadn't taken notice.
Instead he glared at her steadily, continuously, and soon it made Bulma a tad uneasy. "It's in your ship?"
"Y-yes." Bulma silently cursed herself at the stammered reply.
There was a tense silence, before the Saiyan once again mumbled: "Fine." And in an instant they were plummeting through the pink clouds in the direction from which they'd come. He seemed even more impatient than before, his mouth a grimace, his eyes and face hardening into an impassive mask, and it made one both wonder and dread just what he was intending on wishing for.
The dankness of the clouds seemed to become more visible as they bolted through the morning air; droplets of moisture materialized on both exposed or clothed skin, and Vegeta could distantly feel the woman's breasts swelling against him as her shirt became nothing more than the thinness of paper that clung to her lush form.
His neck became sticky beneath her palms, his ice cold skin gradually numbing her fingertips; she closed her lids for the fear of having her eyes freeze if keeping them open any longer.
It was difficult to think in the howling wind as they neared closer to city of ruins.
And Bulma just hoped she knew what she was doing.
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT
A/N: okay, here's the deal, and this is the first time I've done this: I'm looking for at least 9 reviews for this chapter which would put me at 61. Now I know this shouldn't be too hard, seeing as I know there are more than 10 of you out there reading this story. So that would be greatly appreciated. PLEASE REVIEW!