(A/N: Rating's up. Hehe. Like I said, nothing too explicit. Another thing about later chapters; there will be a guy with a cheezy name, but bear with me the name goes with the story. The story may get a lull later on, but it'll get hot n heavy soon enough with Vegeta struggling with what he believes is lust. FYI: the story will kind of go in order of the summary. Right now we're at the part 'Two People Merged for the Sake of Emptiness', so hopefully that'll give you some idea of the story yet to come and how far we have to go. Thanks for sticking with me everyone, it means a lot. BTW: I'm going to do another fic after this one is done. Would you all like to see more BV or another couple? Write in and tell me. R&R.)
Bulma hadn't moved since Vegeta left. She still sat in the same position, her head dropped carelessly onto her folded arms as she willed the tears to stop. As of yet she had not succeeded, but she was still trying desperately to quell the pain that gripped her heart. She didn't even hear the soft footfalls as they slowly approached the door.
"Bulma?" Krillin ventured, poking his head around the corner. "Hey, are you okay?"
"Does it look like I'm okay?" she muttered, swiping the back of her hand across her sodden cheeks. Krillin shook his head awkwardly, and she managed to smile despite herself. "Don't worry about it, Krillin. It's only one more thing to add to the pile." Finally finding the strength to heft herself to her feet, she stepped over to her friend and laid a hand on his shoulder. "How's 18?" she asked conversationally, trying to draw attention away from her bloodshot eyes.
"Uh, she's good," Krillin replied, shooting her a sidelong look. "She's waiting for me out there. But what I really came to tell you was that Piccolo gathered the Dragonballs while you were…er…doing whatever it was in there."
"Really? That's great!" she exclaimed with a laugh that sounded a little too forced. "So you're sure they're not gonna be able to talk Goku into coming back to Earth?"
"Naw, I don't think he'll ever change his mind," the small warrior said sullenly. "He's so deadset against coming back here it's almost scary. Er, no pun intended with the 'deadset' thing."
The girl put on a crooked grin. "Of course not. Well, if Goku's not being wished back to life, what are they gonna use that extra wish for?"
"I think I'm gonna use it to…" he trailed off into a mumble, shuffling his feet and staring blankly into at his boots.
"What's that? Speak up, dummy, I can't hear you!"
"I think I'm gonna use it to get rid of the bomb in 18's chest," he rushed, flicking his eyes across her face to see her reaction. "It's dangerous while it's there, and I was thinking that maybe Shenron could…uh…make her a little more human. Do you think that's possible?"
Bulma put on her most winning smile. "Nothing's impossible for the Eternal Dragon, stupid!" she laughed, clapping her hand down upon his shiny head. "I'm sure you and 18 will make a lovely couple."
Krillin flushed redder than a beet. "Y-yeah, I h-hope so…" he stammered.
"So when are they doing the summoning?" she asked in a too-cheerful chirp. "I guess I'd better head up there with them or they'd probably mess it up. They can never do anything right without me around!" she added with a wink.
Glad to see that Bulma was looking a little better, Krillin smirked and nodded his agreement. "Yeah, really. They're probably gonna do it about noon tomorrow. I'll be sure to let you know before I take off. So you agree that taking that bomb out is a good idea?"
"Absolutely. The last thing Master Roshi needs is for a bomb to blow up Kame House. Don't look at me like that, everyone knows you're mooching off the old lecher. I'll bet you even read his dirty magazines, don't you?"
"N-no! Of course not!" Krillin said hastily, casting a worried glance over his shoulder. "Keep your voice down!" he hissed. "I only read the swimsuit editions of Sports Illustrated, and only rarely!"
Bulma was about to reply when 18 slapped a heavy hand down upon Krillin's shoulder, making the little man jump in surprise. "I don't care what you read," she announced, "because I know none of those digitally altered models will ever look anywhere near as good as me." She shot him a sexy leer and folded her arms across her chest. Krillin smiled weakly in return and turned an even darker shade of crimson.
"Like master, like pupil, I guess," Bulma snickered. "Well, I'd better go put Trunks in bed. I hope Mama watched out for him after Yamcha left." The no good hussy, she added silently, a bitter sneer turning her lip.
"Alright. Seeya tomorrow." Turning back to 18, Krillin waved over his shoulder and led the beautiful android out into the garage, and from there out into the waning sunlight. Bulma watched them finally allowing the fake smile to slip from her face and become an envious frown as Krillin gently took 18's hand and flew out of sight.
"Not even a thank you," she muttered. Spinning on her heel, she clomped back up the stairs to see the mess Yamcha had made of her son.
She was about to mount her second flight of steps when her father caught her by the arm, drawing her to a halt at his side. "Bulma, what was going on earlier?" he asked with a slight frown. "Your mother told me the gravity room collapsed."
You didn't hear that? she wondered. Sometimes her father could be so oblivious. "Yeah. Vegeta went in when it wasn't fully repaired. I didn't think it would be much of a problem, since I doubted he would try to train under so many G's after such a big fight. But…well, you know Vegeta." Shrugging slightly, she moved once more for the stairs.
"Just a moment, dear. I have another question. What was going on with Yamcha? That girl seemed to have her heart set on finding him. She was a sweet thing. Kind of air headed, but sweet. Has the boy finally moved on?"
"Hardly!" she scoffed, tossing her hair indignantly over her shoulder. "He came here to hide from her! He met her at a bar, slept with her, then couldn't get rid of her."
Mr. Briefs regarded her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something else. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, not wanting to tell the rest of her story. It was too embarrassing.
"Well, if that's all it was…" her father began, shooting her a meaningful glance.
Bulma nodded clumsily and hurried up the stairs. However, at the middle landing, she stopped and glanced back over her shoulder, not surprised to find her dad staring after her with the same expectant face.
"He said he still loved me," she said softly. "He asked me to pretend to be his wife so he could get out of seeing that drunken whore again. Stupidest request I've ever heard! I--"
"--agreed, didn't you?" her father supplied with a knowing nod.
The girl tapped her toe against the top step. "Well, yeah. What else could I do? He was desperate, and I needed a babysitter anyway."
The doctor shook his head. "Bulma, you know that wasn't a smart thing to do."
"I do now!" she snapped. "I figured it couldn't be that bad, but boy was I wrong! He practically smashed me against the wall trying to kiss me--"
"Kissing you."
"Okay, fine, kissing me -- RIGHT IN FRONT OF VEGETA!" She tore at her hair in outrage, used to her parents somehow knowing every one of her thoughts before she even thought them. "And now…and now Vegeta's gone and probably will never come back except to train and raise Trunks. He probably - no, definitely! - doesn't even want to do that, but he has to because of that stupid promise that doesn't mean much of anything anyway!" Blowing out an irritated sigh, she tucked the clawed-at hair back behind her ear. "Daddy, why are men so stupid?"
"Well, I wouldn't be the one to ask that particular question, pumpkin," he laughed. "But I think you should go put Trunks down now. I think you'll be surprised when you go in and see where he's laying."
Bulma's eyes went wide. "Yamcha, what did you do!" Whirling around, she pounded up the stairs and slammed into the baby's room. A strangled gasp escaped her as she fell back a step.
Trunks lay in the middle of the floor, drooling heavily on the baby blue carpet. His baby blanket was thrown hastily across his shoulders; it looked as if someone had been in a big hurry to leave the child behind.
"Probably threw him down the moment he heard Ranessa at the door," Bulma sneered, gently gathering up her son to put him back in his crib. Though she was extremely careful, Trunks stirred and reached out to grab her shirt.
"Da…Daaaadaaa…" he gurgled with a happy smile.
Bulma blinked. "What did you say?" she whispered, slipping her hands under his arms and bringing him up to eye level. But the baby was fully awake now, and he apparently wasn't happy with what he saw. Trunks let out an ear-splitting wail, thrashing so hard Bulma had to hook her arms around him in a bear hug just to keep him in her grasp.
"T-Trunks! What's wrong, honey? Please, calm down!" she pleaded, burying her nose in her son's silky hair. The baby quieted slowly, diminishing from a shriek to series of low hiccups. Bulma however, kept her head resting upon her son's for a moment longer. When she finally looked up, her brow was furrowed into an expression of utter confusion.
"Odd," she breathed, glancing down at him. "You smell like…like Vegeta." She looked over her shoulder at the place where Trunks had lain, blue eyes scanning the rug for some sign that the prince had been there. There was none - not even an indention in the carpet. Scooting a little closer, she ran her fingers across the soft fibers. To her surprise, a wide area - much bigger than Trunks - was still warm.
"Huh." She looked back to her child, her eyes shining in the sunset. "Dada. Now I get it. Your daddy was here, wasn't he? Hey, what's this?" Reaching out, she plucked a long, stiff black hair from her son's shoulder. Tears in her eyes, she tried to imagine Vegeta laying in the floor with Trunks snuggled up against his chin, but the image wouldn't come. It was simply too ridiculous to even envision.
"You're really lucky, you know that?" She poked her son in the stomach. "You don't know what I'd give to be able to have switched places with you right about then." A light breeze that smelled of sweat and blood reached her nose, and she looked out the window just in time to see Vegeta slipping away into the growing shadows.
"Vegeta!" she cried, setting Trunks none-too-gently back on the floor and running to the window. "Vegeta, wait! Come back here! I have to explain about earlier!" But there was no reply. Bulma sighed and started to turn away when she heard another voice call up from the ground.
"Hey, you up there!"
Bulma looked down. Standing on the sidewalk beside Capsule Corporation was Ranessa in all her revealing splendor, waving merrily up at the blue-haired woman in the third-story window. Bulma hesitantly waved back, cursing her luck and life and anything she could think of off the top of her head.
"Come on down!" Ranessa was saying, pointing down the street. "I want to talk to ya!"
"I'm…I'm busy!" Bulma called back, not wanting to have anything to do with her.
"Like hell!" came the reply. "What else is there to do at eight o'clock at night besides hit the bar? Come on, it'll just be the two of us. I'm sober and I really don't like the feeling."
"I'll just bet you don't," Bulma muttered. "Sorry," she said louder, "I really don't feel like going anywhere tonight. I'm…uh…not feeling well." It was the truth, but not in the sense she had made it out to be. However, she was a bit curious to see what the woman would have to say when she wasn't stark-raving-drunk. On impulse, she said, "But how about you come in here for a while? I'd need to stay home with the baby anyway."
Ranessa seemed to consider, then, finally, gave a crisp nod.
"I'll be down in a minute. Head around to the back door; I'll meet you there." Slamming the window shut, she wrapped the black hair around her ring finger on a whim, tying the ends together with an expert twist of her thumb and forefinger. Taking a moment to marvel at the strength of the silky strand, she admired the shimmering black tress with an appreciative eye. A knock came at the back door and she quickly stuffed Trunks under her arm and hurried down the steps.
"Thanks for the invite," Bulma said upon opening the door, "but bars aren't really my thing."
"Somehow I didn't think so. You intellectual types are all the same." Ranessa glided across the threshold and settled herself at the glass kitchen table, motioning for Bulma to do the same. "Come on, sit down. I have a lot to talk to you about."
"Er, sure." Bulma sat down and pointedly placed Trunks on the table. "What is it?"
"My, what a cute baby you have!" Ranessa cooed, forgetting all about the previous direction of the conversation. Trunks eyed her sleepily, then popped his fist into his mouth. The blond girl giggled and reached out to poke the chubby side. The baby's hand snaked out and grabbed her finger with alarming speed. Ranessa's eyes went wide.
"Sweet God he's strong!" she whistled, attempting to wrench her hand away. Trunks held tight and ended up being dragged across the table to fall into her lap. He glanced up at her with an annoyed frown, then proceeded to chew on the edge of the table.
"Yeah, just like his father," Bulma replied, placing heavy emphasis on the word 'father'.
"That's odd. I didn't really think Yamcha was all that strong," the blond said pointedly, raising her head to meet her hostess' eyes.
"Oh, he's not," Bulma retorted, knowing full well what trap the girl was trying to set and somehow not caring that she was walking right into it. "Yamcha's about as weak as a chubby preschooler."
Ranessa gave a sparkling laugh. "Tell me about it. I almost beat him in arm wrestling when I was staggering drunk!" She calmed immediately, leaning across the babbling baby to look Bulma in the eye. "Now tell me. Who's the real father?"
"Oh, I'm sure you don't know him," Bulma said idly, not liking the way the girl was trying to pry into her life. If she wanted to pester Yamcha, by all means she could chase him to the ends of the earth and the more power to her. But this was too much. "Moving on…"
"Alright then," the other girl conceded, though a satisfied smirk was plastered across her lips. "The other thing I wanted to ask you was where that ignoramus has gotten to."
Bulma shrugged. "I never know where that asshole is, and I truly don't care," she replied, motioning for Ranessa to hand back her son. "You might want to try down at the local whorehouse, though. Most likely that's where he is. You should really give up on him; he's hopeless."
"Oh, I know that," Ranessa said brightly. "To be honest, so am I. Speaking of which, do you have any booze? I really was planning on hitting the bar tonight…"
"No no, I won't keep you that long," Bulma said hastily. "Besides, I never have beer in the house. I'm…allergic."
"Right. And I'm the lead singer of the Spice Girls." Getting up, Ranessa sauntered over to the fridge and yanked it open and started to rummage through the shelves. Bulma sighed in exasperation and rolled her eyes to heaven, trying to convince herself not to throw the metal napkin holder at the girl's empty head. Ranessa kicked the door shut and came out with bottle of tequila clamped in one hand and a can of Bud Light in the other. She shot an amused look at Bulma, who sniffed and fiddled with Trunks' hat.
"Must be left over from the last time Yamcha was here," she muttered.
"Uh huh." Popping open the can with an expert finger, Ranessa downed half the booze in one gulp, sighing contentedly through her nose.
"So why are you attracted to him?" Bulma asked, curious despite herself. "I mean, he's so rude and uncaring…"
Ranessa had just started in on the bottle of tequila. She choked when Bulma spoke, slapping the bottle down on the tabletop to give her an incredulous look.
"Rude and uncaring? Hardly. He may be stupid, immature, and irresponsible, but he genuinely cares about what he loves."
"And how do you figure that?" Bulma demanded incredulously.
"Well, when you're drop-dead drunk, you tend to be more yourself than at any other time," Ranessa said easily. "And that's exactly what he was when he was talking about you."
Bulma had been getting up from the table to shoo the girl out the door. But she stopped at this, pausing in midstep. "What did he say?"
"Aw, I don't remember word for word. He was just saying how much he loved you and how you had up and married the wrong man. He would go to hell and back for you, y'know." Ranessa fiddled with her empty can, a smile passing across her porcelain features. "I figured, hell, if I could get him to love me like that…"
Bulma sank back into her chair. Just when it had gotten so easy to hate Yamcha…
"Yeah, I came to ask you how you did it." Ranessa leaned forward, lacing her fingers and balancing her chin upon them. "Come on, tell me. I gotta know."
Before she could even consider replying, Mama Briefs rushed into the room, dragging Vegeta by the ear. The Saiyan Prince was thrown off balance by his injured leg and thus was unable to fight back. But at the sight of Bulma, he immediately steeled himself against the pain and twisted out of his mother-in-law's iron grip, a snarl upon his lips.
"You said you healed him!" Mrs. Briefs squawked, planting her hands on her hips.
"I…I thought I did…" Bulma mumbled, wincing at the sickening yellow-green crust that had only thickened since the morning.
"You thought you did. Look at him, honey! He's a mess!" Mama turned back to fuss over him, but he jerked away.
"Don't touch me, woman!" he grated, casting her a scathing look. "I've had much worse than an eye infection and a stupid wounded leg!"
"Don't be silly! We need to get some drops into that eye immediately!" Mrs. Briefs motioned for Bulma to tend to Vegeta. "Go rub some oil into that leg and make sure it's not broken, then for God's sake put drops into that eye before it falls out! I'll take Trunks and entertain your guest. I do love visitors…Oh, I remember you!" she exclaimed with a happy smile, grabbing the baby and settling down at the table to talk.
Not knowing what else to do, Bulma shuffled forward to stand before Vegeta, still unable to meet his eyes. The prince snorted in disbelief and turned away. Her hand darted out to touch his in an almost pleading gesture.
"Please, Vegeta," she whispered, not caring that there were others in the room. "Let me help you. Please, just this once. Even your serving girls back home on Vejetaseii must have helped you soothe your wounds."
"We take care of ourselves, woman," he muttered, jerking his hand away. Bulma sighed and put up her hands in surrender, turning to retrieve Trunks. But Vegeta laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, keeping her from going any further. Startled, she turned to face him, only to find his eyes trained on the floor.
"Just this once," he grumbled. "I know nothing of Earthian diseases. Treat my injuries right this time, or you'll wish you'd never been born!" With that, he whirled on his good leg and clomped shakily down the hall.
"That him?" Ranessa asked, pointing after him with the mouth of her tequila bottle.
Bulma blushed and nodded, still amazed at what had just happened.
The blond girl nodded approvingly. "Cool. I thought so; I saw him fly by earlier, and I thought you guys must've got into some kinda fight. And the kid has his daddy's eyes," she added, grinning at Trunks, who burped in response.
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "No he doesn't. He has blue eyes, like me. His dad has black."
"Not the color! I'm talking about the look. They both have this determined look that implies great power…and great weakness." She took another sip of the alcohol. The beginnings of a drunken flush were already apparent on her pallid skin.
"Great…weakness?" Bulma ventured, casting a worried glance at her tiny son.
Ranessa hiccupped and nodded. "Yee….uup."
Bulma rolled her eyes. "Why am I listening to you? You're a freaking drunk." Disgusted with herself and Ranessa, she headed down the hall after Vegeta.
She came upon him in her bedroom. He was lounging back on the bed, idly picking at the repulsive yellow scum that decorated his eye. Upon her entrance, he sat up, rotating his head back and forth on his neck.
"About time," he growled. "I was beginning to think you had gotten lost in your own house."
"It was only a few extra seconds, Vegeta!" Bulma said, exasperated despite her guilt.
"Hmph. Just get started. What should I do?"
Bulma sat down beside him. "Put your leg on my lap. I'm going to have to make sure it's not broken. If it's not, which I don't think it is, I'll rub some of this palm oil into it to ease the soreness."
Shrugging, Vegeta hefted his leg and swung it over her lap. Bulma peeled back the layer of skintight polyester and suppressed a gasp when she saw the condition of the skin. It was black, brown, and green from the knee down, creating what looked like a preschooler's attempt at camouflage. Various cuts had healed to the fabric, and when she had ripped it away, they had reopened and were now bleeding freely. Setting her mouth in a grim line, she rubbed the oil between her palms and began to knead her fingers up and down his leg.
Vegeta's eye twitched slightly as she pressed her fingers into his bruises, and he let out a growl of pain as she pushed against a bit of bruised bone. "Watch it, woman!" he roared.
"I have to do this, alright!" she growled back. "If I don't, it'll just get worse."
"My body could heal this over the course of three days without the pain!"
"Oh sure, until you started to walk!" Bulma returned, digging her knuckles hard into his sore calf muscle. Vegeta cried out more in agitation than pain, but his back ached slightly against the miniscule twinge. Bulma's breath caught in her throat as she watched his powerful muscles coil and tense. With a familiar heat rising to her cheeks, she ducked over his leg and set to work rubbing the oil into the injured limb. Despite the numerous cuts and bruises, the skin was completely smooth. Unlike the men of earth, they were completely hairless and wonderfully shaped with rippling muscles flowing beneath the flawless skin. Raw power coursed beneath her fingers, setting them tingling with the barely contained energy. She rubbed harder, sensing the muscle starting to loosen from its knot.
Vegeta watched her intently, somehow unable to take his eyes from her hunched form. When she was done, she sat up straight and stretched. Her body rippled beneath her form-fitting outfit, and the prince found himself licking his lips despite himself.
"Alright, that's done. Nothing was broken. Now I can get that disgusting eye of yours…"
"Don't you dare call me disgusting!" Vegeta snarled.
She rolled her eyes. "What, you don't think that gross yellow crap in your eye is disgusting?" she challenged, reaching into the medical bag to retrieve a bottle of ocular disinfectant.
He muttered something unintelligible, and she smiled, knowing she had won at least one small battle. "Now hold still. I'm going to have to peel that stuff off before I can treat it, and I don't want to poke you with my nails."
"Then cut them off!"
"Just shut up, okay?" she snapped. "I'm trying to help you, for the love of God!" Taking out a medical toilette, she gingerly began to dab at the edge of the repulsive mass. "Man, I don't know how you Saiyans do it. Anything like this would drive me absolutely insane!"
"We manage," he answered shortly.
"Obviously." Having separated the crust from the skin, she began to peel it away. Vegeta stiffened and clenched his fists as the natural eye patch finally fell away, revealing a severely swollen eye. "Yuck," she commented, wrinkling her nose. She tossed the crust into the garbage can; it landed with a sickening thud.
"Are you done yet?"
"Hold your horses! Lay back, I need to put some drops in it. They'll be cold and probably sting, but I'm sure you'll manage," she said sarcastically, repeating what he had said not moments before.
Vegeta eyed the bottle warily. "Saiyan eyes are especially sensitive," he warned. "Making a mistake would mean your life!"
"I'll be careful, dammit!" Bulma said, aggravated at his constant complaints. Pushing him back on the bed she pried the swollen eye open and dripped a single drop into its red depths.
The prince howled in pain, bucking against her and throwing her down on top of him. He rolled her over, pinning her underneath him.
"How dare you!" he hissed.
Bulma felt him pressed up against her in the most tantalizing ways. Despite the fury on his face, she smiled faintly up at him. "I need to get one more in there," she said somewhat breathlessly. Pushing up with her hips, she startled him into flopping back over onto his back, staring at her in flushed amazement. Prying his eye open once more, she squirted the second drop under his lid.
"There," she murmured, staring down into his good eye. She realized vaguely that she was straddling him and that he felt extremely warm beneath her legs. Leaning down slowly, she pressed her lips against his with shaky precision, wondering at the smooth texture of the mouth that spoke nothing but curses. She felt his hands unwittingly rise up to rest on her waist, and the raw power of his body coursed through her soul as he kissed her back.
"You are either extremely brave," he whispered, "or extremely stupid. To tempt a Saiyan twice is to play a dangerous game with fate. But no matter; you know you cannot escape now."
"Nor would I want to." A sexy smirk touched her lips. "I've told you before; you don't scare me, Vegeta," she breathed, drawing her hands up to cup his cheeks. "I know you're dangerous. You could rip me in two with one hand. But the thing is, you won't." Pressing ever closer, she kissed his lips with tender grace. She felt him respond once more, this time with more force as he gently rolled her over onto her side.
"This doesn't mean anything," he murmured against her skin. "If we do this, nothing will change between us."
"Somehow I knew you'd say that," she answered. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed his lips with avid passion. "But tonight will be enough for now. I can hold on until the next moment of weakness."
"Weakness," he repeated softly, with only a hint of sarcasm. "Yes, of course. Until then…"
She smiled, caressing his face with her left hand. When it passed his good eye, he frowned and grabbed it, looking curiously at her 'ring'. "What's this?" he asked.
"Oh. That. Um…" she flushed a deep red, not wanting to admit that she had tied one of his hairs around her finger. It would seem so weird…! "Nothing. Just something I picked up in town today."
"You didn't go out," he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her ring finger, knowing full well what she had done and chuckling inwardly at the thought. Moments like this were rare, for a Saiyan almost never merged with another outside of necessity. But with this came a sense of freedom, a sense of being completely right…
A sense of something he had never felt before…
Shuddering away this ominous thought, Vegeta turned his eyes inward and allowed his body to respond on its own as he crushed her beneath his alluring weight. He let his thoughts dwindle into nothingness as the almost savage energy of their union enveloped them both.
And all the while he was only dimly aware of the single tear trickling down her cheek.