Chapter 35- Better or Worse

Bulma woke up and looked around. Something was...off. It was 6:30 a.m., and there was the fact that she was still in jeans. Then it hit her. She was in Vegeta's bed, her arms wrapped around him and his around her. Off indeed.

With her face turning a lovely shade of red, she unwrapped herself from him and stumbled out of the room, hoping that her father wasn't nearby lest he have a stroke.

Reaching her room, she changed into some pajamas and went back to bed.

"Hey Geta!" Goku said as he barged into Vegeta's room. He'd made a habit of doing that recently.

Vegeta didn't move or respond. In fact, the only sign that Vegeta knew Goku was in his room was the increasing volume of the TV.

"I heard you were sick. Feeling better?" Goku asked innocently.

Vegeta's face went pale as he wondered how many people Bulma had told.

"You still look a bit pale." Goku pointed out. He also noticed that he was acting strange, but decided not to mention it. "But that's okay. 'Cause I brought" He pulled out a duffel bag and tossed it on the bed. "All of these movies."

Vegeta didn't say anything. He didn't even look at Goku, but trained his eyes on the bag instead.

Goku fought back the urge to sigh. He had known Vegeta for years, and he knew that this behavior was a sure sign that there was something seriously bothering him. He also knew that no matter what the problemwas he would never tell him anything. Goku slowly pulled the chair from the desk and sat backwards in it. He was silent for a while just studying his friend's movements and facial expressions as he slowly picked through the movies. He didn't like what he saw. He knew that Vegeta was going through a rough time, which on its own was enough to get anyone depressed, but he couldn't help but think it was something else.

Goku desperately wanted to help, but he had no idea where to start. He didn't even know what was bothering him…or even if there was something bothering him. He might just be blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Either way, he decided to do anything he could to cheer Vegeta up.

"So what did you two do last night?" He finally asked.

Vegeta just shrugged and continued to read the back of one of the movies.

Goku decided not to push it, so changed the subject a bit. "I went to a party last night." He said. "It wasn't all that fun though. I didn't really know anybody, and all they did was drink. I can't hold liquor down and ChiChi doesn't do that kind of stuff so we left early. We'd considered coming over here, but ChiChi wanted to leave you two alone. Anyway. ChiChi and Juuachi are going shopping today. Bulma might be going with them. So that just leaves us. Oh and Krillin's coming too. ChiChi really wants us to be friends with Krillin, because he's best friends with Yamcha, and she doesn't really like Yamcha as you may have noticed... You have a fridge in here!"

Vegeta looked at the mini-fridge as if seeing it for the first time, then shrugged.

Goku scurried over and opened it. All his worry for his friend was pushed aside by his amazement at seeing a refrigerator in someone's bedroom.

"Aww. Nothing but drinks." He whined after a brief inspection. "And I'm hungry. Well, while you pick a movie, I'll go down to the kitchen and see if Mrs. Briefs will make us something to eat. If not I'll order pizza."

Vegeta stared silently at the door Goku left through wondering how the guy could be so excited all the time. Then, wanting to put a few of his fearsto rest, he got up and headed over to Bulma's room.

Looking around the hall, he knocked on the door. He heard a muffled "come in" from the other side and let himself him.

"You told them?" Vegeta asked her, closing the door behind them and leaning on it. He sounded absolutely betrayed.

Bulma was looking at herself in the mirror and putting the finishing touches on her outfit. "Told them what?"

"'bout last night." He mumbled blushing.

Bulma turned to look at him, but his gaze was on the floor. She held back a sigh and walked over to him. "Only that you were sick. Nothing else, I swear." She said defensively. He looked up at her to see if she was lying, and she held his gaze. "Don't worry. I won't say a thing. I promise. Oh and by the way. I'm going to the mall. I think Goku might be coming over."

"Yeah he's here." Vegeta said opening the door and stepping into the hall. His cheeks still held a blush, but he was utterly relieved that she wouldn't say anything, and also surprised that he somewhat trusted her to stick to her promise.

"Good." Bulma said grabbing her purse and following him out. "I gotta go. Have fun." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and then headed down the hall, a devilish smirk on her face.

Vegeta stared after her, and then looked around to make sure nobody saw. Satisfied, he headed back to his room.

"Bulma dear." The shrill voice sang, announcing Mrs. Briefs's entrance.

"What mother?" Bulma asked in annoyance. She hoped that her mother wasn't going to ask her to do something. She had walked through the mall for six hours, and now all she wanted to do was relax.

"Your father and I are going out of town for a few weeks."

Bulma had grown quite used to these business trips over the years and wasn't the least surprised at the news. "Okay. When?"

"We'll be leaving next Friday." She answered.

Usually, the dialogue would have ended there, so Bulma was a bit surprised, surprised enough to look up from her book, when her mother continued talking. "Your father is a bit concerned about you staying here alone with Vegeta, though. I told him he was being silly, but he wanted me to tell you that if ever you think he might do something, you may invite ChiChi or Juuachi or one of your other female friends to spend the night."

Bulma looked oddly at her mother, but nodded anyway. She sat for a while after her mother had left, wondering why her father had so little faith in her and so much distrust for Vegeta. She decided that she'd have to ask him about that later. She looked back at her book, but decided that she didn't feel like reading anymore. With a yawn, she put the book on her bedside table, then turned off her lamp and went to sleep.

Monday morning was horrible for Bulma. The new uniforms clashed with her hair, and to top that off, news of her and Vegeta had spread like wildfire. Almost half the girls in school gave Bulma an angry glare when they looked her way, and many turned to whisper lies to their friends as she walked by. Yamcha was especially angry. He still thought that he had some kind of claim on her. Even Mr. Dilloir was being more harsh than usual. The only people who seemed to be happy for her were ChiChi, Goku, Krillin, Juuachi, and a few of her old friends from Carver.

It didn't really matter though. Their little deal would only last until Goku and ChiChi's trip. She was kind of sad though. She was really starting to like him. He could be a pretty cool guy once you look past the attitude. Although neither of them would say it, Saturday night had brought them closer than she would have thought. Besides Bulma getting to know a little more about Vegeta's...what could she call it...sensitive side?...he had established a small trust in her, something that, she guessed, he probably rarely did.

He was in a pretty good mood today ever since Detective Johnson and his partner had come by. They had asked him a few questions, but mainly had explained court procedures and what parts he would play. Vegeta still did not want anything to do with it, but he knew he had to for the sake of his job and Gee. Nevertheless, he had asked them if there was any possibility that he wouldn't have to testify. The detectives had responded that, although the event would be highly unlikely, if his father pleaded guilty, his testimony wouldn't be needed. Vegeta knew that there was little hope that he would do so, but he also knew that it was possible.

His good mood was not the result of the visit, however, but of the news he gained from it. The detectives had told him that his father had probably left town. No one in West City had seen him in weeks. They had left out the fact that hardly anyone had seen him when they knew he was in the city so as not to worry Vegeta.

After the detectives had gone, Vegeta continued to entertain the hope that his father had left and would never return. Not only would he be happy never seeing him again, but without his father in custody, there would be no court case at which to testify.

Vegeta looked up hearing the door slam. Bulma was home. He still didn't know how to act around her after Saturday. He didn't want to make her mad, lest she run off and tell everyone about the whole crying thing. She had promised that she wouldn't say anything, and had been trying hard to reassure him of that fact. He was starting to warm up to her, and although he didn't have much against her personally, he still had trouble trusting people.

Bulma heard a snicker as she walked into the living room. Squinting her eyes, she turned to glare at the source of the noise. He snickered again but kept his attention suspiciously riveted on the TV.

"What" She stressed the word. "Do you find so funny?"

Vegeta just shook his head as though he didn't know himself.

Bulma nodded as if contemplating something and walked to stand in front of him. "Well if nothing is funny, then what are you laughing at?" She said leaning over him.

"It could not possibly be that horrible thing you're wearing." He said innocently.

She scowled down at the uniform and pulled the jacket off. With a hmph, she kicked off her shoes and plopped on the couch next to him. She expected Vegeta to say something to her, but he didn't. She cast him a sidelong glance, ready to start a conversation, but stopped. He wasn't looking at her, but by the look on his face, she could tell that he was almost truly happy. Such a thing was so rare that she couldn't bring herself to say anything forfear that it might ruinthe moment. Whatever the reason for his mood was, she decided not to pry. Silence was good for the moment.

Rehtaf, as he had taken to calling himself, pulled his head out of the cupboard and sat back on his heels. His disguise was not coming along as well as he had hoped it would. He had wanted to be a red headed vigilante, but the only hair color he could find was a really old box of black dye, and one of grey. Although the box said "for a healthier look", he couldn't for the life of him, figure out why anyone would have grey hair dye, and then black too.

He had taken to wearing the old lady's glasses to practice walking without being able to see anything that was close to him. He knew that the glasses didn't suit his costume, but the woman had no sunglasses, and he had to do something to disguise his face. He'd also decided to grow a beard. It was itchy, but it would help disguise him better.

Using the counter for support, Rehtaf hoisted himself up, and for about the thousandth time, surveyed the room. It was a complete mess, but he didn't mind. It wasn't his house, and he wouldn't be staying here long.

The old fortune teller was no longer lying in the middle of the floor. He had been content to leave her there and just step over her when need be, but when she started stinking a few days ago, he decided to throw her out back.

Along with problems in the hair and facial departments, he was having trouble finding clothes to fit his theme. Unfortunately for him, the fortune teller had, apparently, never had a husband. Thus, there were no clothes that he could take and try to pass off as his own. The woman did have normal clothes herself, but he really didn't want to dress like a woman. All he had himself was raggedy old t-shirts and jeans--hardly vigilante wear. He had also considered using her robes, but purple wasn't really his color.

With a growl, he kicked a pile of junk that he had thrown out of one of the cabinets, causing things to roll across the room and something to burst. Nothing was going as planned.

Suddenly, he heard voice. He froze. It sounded like two people. They were getting closer. Thinking fast, he tiptoed to the old woman's bedroom.

"Honey, I still think this is a waste of money...and time" One was a man.

"Oh come on. If you are in that big of a hurry, why did you get us lost." The other was a woman.

Rehtaf heard the man sigh but continued what he was doing.

"Besides." The female voice continued as the doorknob turned. "It's not a lot, and it could be fun. We'll just get our fortunes told and then ask how to get back to the main road."

"Alright. But let's be quick about it."

The two people were in the house.

"Must be a temperamental fortuneteller." The man said looking at all the clutter on the floor.

"Oh be nice. They're probably just eccentric."

"Well where is the fortune teller?"

"Be patient, she might not have heard us."

"How do you know it's a woman."

"I'm just guessing. Now stop complaining. HELLO? Is anyone here?" The woman called.

"Yes I'm here." Rehtaf said walking towards them.

"See I told you it was a man." The man whispered to the woman.

The woman gave the man a reprimanding look and then turned to Rehtaf. "Hi." She said with a smile that Rehtaf thought made her look just like his wife Rachelle. "I'm Tasha and this is my husband Raul. We came to get our fortunes told."

"Oh well come right in." Rehtaf said. He didn't think he could bring himself to kill the woman, especially since she'd obviously just been married.

"Can we ask what happened to your house?" Raul asked.

"A poltergeist." Rehtaf said, the first thing that came to his mind. "His name's Albert. He does this all the time."

"Really?" Tasha asked wide eyed. "Can we see him?"

"He's kinda shy, but he may decide to come out later."

Raul rolled his eyes as he walked behind the pair. He could not believe that he was about to pay some guy that believed in ghosts to have his fortune told. But if it made Tasha happy and got them on to their honeymoon faster, then he'd go along with it.

Rehtaf righted the table in the middle of the room. He pulled up a chair but didn't sit down. Tasha sat down in the only other chair in the room, and Raul stood behind her, staring intensely at Rehtaf.

"Is something wrong?" Rehtaf asked.

"Have I seen you before?" Raul asked.

"Come to think of it you do look familiar. Maybe you had a commercial?" Tasha said cocking her head a bit.

"Yeah it was on TV." Suddenly it hit him. "You know what Tasha maybe we'll come back later. We really have to be going. Sorry mister."

"Oh come on, we don't have anywhere to be. I want to get my fortune told."

Raul leaned down close to her ear. "Tasha this is that guy the police are looking for."

Tasha grew pale and looked up at Rehtaf pleadingly, as if she was asking him to make it not true. She too recognized the face, although it was a bit different from the sketch on TV. She stumbled out of the chair and backed into Raul.

Rehtaf just stood there staring at the girl. She was so young, and so much like Rachelle. He couldn't kill her...not again. Now the man...

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you leave."

Both of them froze. Tasha looked on the verge of tears. Suddenly, Raul grabbed Tasha's arm and bolted.

Rehtaf was getting on in years but he was still quick. He knocked the table out of his way and was upon the two before they could reach the door. Tasha screamed as Raul tried to defend her, but was thrown into the wall. Raul sat on the floor in a horrified daze, as he watched the murderer grab his new wife.

"Stop it!" Rehtaf yelled at her, shaking her by the arms. Tasha continued to scream as she struggled to get out of his grip. "STOP SCREAMING!"

Tasha finally got quiet and only an occasionaly whimper escaped.

Raul finally pulled himself together and rushed back over. He ripped Rehtaf away from Tasha and punched him as hard as he could. "Run Tasha! Get out of here!" He yelled, but Tahsa stood still, too scared to do anything. Raul let all of his attention go to Tasha as he wondered why she wouldn't go. Therefore, he was caught totally off guard when a fist flew into his stomach and another into his face. Raul fell to the floor gasping and clutching his stomach. He watched through one eye, for the other hurt too much to open, and Rehtaf moved to stand over him.

"No! Please!" Tasha shouted running over and grabbing Rehtaf's arm. "Please leave him alone. We'll do anything! Don't kill him."

Rehtaf stopped and stared at her. His heart melting as he watched a tear run down her face. He couldn't ruin this girl's life, then he would be just like him. After contemplating for a second what to do with them, he grabbed Raul's arm and started to drag him across the room. "Follow me." He ordered Tasha.

She obeyed silently, hoping that he wasn't leading her to her death.

Rehtaf led them into a bathroom. He set Raul beneath an iron towel rack that was attatched to the wall, then he tore off a piece of the purple robe that he had hurriedly thrown on and tied his hands to it. He took another piece and tied Tasha's hands behing her back. "Now stay here and be quiet." He said closing the door and pushing china cabinet in front of it.

Things had definitely just gotten a lot more difficult. He knew that he'd have to kill the two eventually if he wanted to keep away from the police, but he didn't want to think about it now.

He walked toward the front door to make sure that they were the only people there. He didn't see anyone else, but there was a very nice car. Walking to the car, he tried the handles, only to find that it was locked. With a groan he headed back to the house, and unbarricaded the door.

"Were are your keys boy?" He asked startling the newlyweds with his entrance.

Raul looked at him with a mixture of hatred and confusion. "In my pocket."

Without another word, Rehtaf retrieved the keys, left them again and rebarricaded the door. He returned to the car, and, after cursing Raul for having so many keys, unlocked the door. He plopped into the driver's seat and marveled for a second at the leather interior. Promising himself that he'd take the car for a ride later, he got out of the car and opened the trunk. Smiling at his newfound luck, he pulled two large suitcases out of the trunk and carried them into the house.

He set them in the middle of the floor and then opened the first one. He dug a bit, and conluded that it was Tasha's. He set it aside to look through later, and then opened the other suitcase. This one looked more promising.

"Ooh." He said excitedly, pulling out a suit jacket. A few alterations and this would make a great disguise for him. "And it's brandname too."

Sorry that I haven't updated lately, my computer's been screwy. Hope you enjoyed it.

GothicDream