(A/N: Glad you guys liked the last chapter. I thought it was a little wishy washy…but hey, what can you do? I hope you'll like this one as well - it moves the story with Andy along a little further. I'm too lazy to go through right now and put in the dividers, so you can figure it out. Sorry folks, I just got back from homecoming and I'm exhausted. BUT as promised I'm updating. You can bow down and lick my toes now.
Just kidding.
And ssjprincesscat, thanks for your words of support. They really made me feel better. :- D
R&R guys. Enjoy.)
"Dad, I've been getting the feeling that someone's following me," Bulma was saying. She and her father were seated at the kitchen table a few days after her conversation with Vegeta, and the time had not been at all pleasant. Whenever she went out, worked in the lab, or even took a shower, she always got the feeling that someone was watching her. The sensation tickled the back of her neck and rippled down her spine, sending her whirling around to look behind her every few seconds, just to find nothing once again. But the feeling didn't dissipate; it simply persisted, growing stronger seemingly with every hour until she had become so frightened that she had run to her father, who now sat before her with a skeptical frown.
"Well, I don't know what to tell you, dear," Dr. Briefs said in perplexity. "I haven't seen anyone around that shouldn't be here. Andy's been holed up in the lab for the majority of the time, and Vegeta's only been in the gravity rooms. Krillin stopped by the other day, but you were out at the mall with Trunks and he decided he'd come back another time. But you can always check the surveillance cameras if you'd like. You know where the room is."
Bulma smiled weakly, appreciating the comfort he was trying to offer, but understanding that when he was working, a full blown marching band could blast through his workshop and he wouldn't even blink. "Thanks Dad," she said. "I think I just might do that."
"Be careful, dear," he warned. "I know you hate dust, and no one's been in that room for probably going on three months."
She got up from the table. "Daddy, I'm a big girl - I can handle a few dust bunnies." Kissing him on the cheek, she pushed in her chair and started off down the hall, feeling the unseen eyes boring painfully into her spine. "Go away," she grated under her breath, quickening her steps until she was nearly sprinting toward the lab and the security room.
Pushing open the door, she pounded down the stairs, jumping the last five into the lab and nearly stumbling into a tool-littered counter. Andy was unusually absent, but a note fluttered to the floor upon her collision. Curious despite herself, she snatched it out of the air and flattened out the folded edges.
Ms. Briefs,
I've gone back to Britain to fetch some different plans. I was quite impressed with your ability to understand and build my prototypes, and I was hoping you'd be able to assist me in the construction of my newest invention. I will most likely return before the week is out, but if you need me, my cell phone number is with your mother.
Yours,
Andy
PS: Upon my return, please remind me that I have something important to ask you. Thanks.
"I hate it how everyone calls me 'Ms.' Briefs," Bulma grumbled, tossing the note into the garbage. "I'm married, for God's sake! And why would I need him? He's the one who invited himself in!" Snorting in disbelief, Bulma started again for the security room.
Flipping through her keys, she found the one that fit the door and shoved it into the lock, giving it a quick turn to the right. It jiggled easily, signaling the door was already unlocked.
"That's weird," she muttered, pushing her hair behind her ear and frowning. "Didn't Dad say this was locked?" She pushed the door open. To her astonishment, the light blared overhead with an intensity that implied the bulb had recently been changed. The dust on the floor was untouched, but a flurry of gray particles floated through glaring beams of luminosity of the overhead lamp. However, to her great relief, every security screen was dark and still.
"Maybe someone just forgot to lock it. Dad might've used one of those new Everlast bulbs…" She started to turn around and leave, but something caught her eye.
One of the counters' dust had been faintly stirred, as if gentle hands on stealthy arms had brushed just the hems of their sleeves across the filthy tabletop. There was no chair and no trace in the dust on the floor, but the monitor, unlike all the others, had been carefully cleaned away. Bulma's brow furrowed a little deeper, and she swept her eyes across the label at the top of the screen.
"Unlimited access," she breathed, moving across the room to kneel beside the glass screen. Swallowing an unexplained deep breath, she reached out a trembling finger and touched the screen.
The monitor flickered instantly to life in a myriad of sound and color. Then it went completely blue, and the machine asked in a monotone voice - "State room."
Bulma considered a moment. The last place she had gotten the unsettling feeling was in the hallway coming toward the lab. Tucking her hair back behind her ear, she leaned close to the speakers and whispered "Hallway C-12."
The computer whirred quietly, and Bulma found herself edging even closer to the buzzing screen, silently urging it to go faster. At last, the computer showed the desired location, and a prompt popped on the monitor.
"Enter time."
Bulma glanced at the clock. Then, with careful precision, she tapped the numerals on the keypad and touched enter.
"Processing. Please wait."
Drumming her fingers on the counter, Bulma cupped her chin with one hand and idly bit the tip of her little finger. The eyes were gone for the moment, but the need to discover the unseen stalker still burned steadily in her mind. "Come on, come on!" she grated, sinking her teeth a little deeper into the soft flesh.
The computer finally found the desired time and flickered into motion. She saw herself walking down the hall with rigid haste, eyes darting furtively to the left and right as she headed for the lab. She saw herself slip behind the iron door…
…and she heard the footsteps echoing behind her.
Shuddering visibly, Bulma wiped away the cold sweat that had started on her temple and nearly pressed her nose against the glass. Any minute now, the stalker would walk into view…
Right on cue, a shadow appeared at the bottom left of the picture. The girl tensed, barely noticing she had drawn blood from her clammy skin.
Vegeta strode into view, eyes trained on the door she had just entered. He appeared thoughtful for a moment, then angrily shook his head and turned to storm off in the other direction. But before he left, he cast a baleful glance up at the camera, brows lowering when he saw the watchful little box. An orb of energy flickered into his hand, and the screen went dark.
"Error. Error. End of recording session."
Bulma sank back onto her haunches, barely believing what she was seeing. So Vegeta was the one who was following her. The angry eyes she had felt boring into her back belonged to none other than the proud Saiyan prince. But why was he following her? Usually he could care less about anything she said or did. Maybe it was nearing the full moon…? No. The last full moon had only been about three weeks before, and it would probably be another two before it crested the skies again.
"Then he would have no reason to follow me!" she murmured, creasing her brow. "As far as he's concerned, I'm not even worth my weight in spit. Unless…" She paled at the new possibility.
Unless whatever it was he was watching out for somehow put him in danger as well.
Bulma pushed her fingers into her temples. "Go figure," she muttered. "The only time he decides to pay attention to me is when he thinks it might affect him. Bulma, you're just a paranoid old fool." Forcing a laugh, she pushed herself to her feet. She turned to hit the screen and cut the power, but her hand stopped as the memory of Trunks laying sprawled on the floor where his father had been pushed itself to the front of her mind…
Biting her lip and praying that the camera had caught the precious moment, she settled back down onto her heels and tapped the screen. "Computer," she said softly, barely daring to believe she would see what she hoped. "Show me the baby's room three weeks ago today, around seven pm."
The computer whirred, sorting through its reels upon reels of footage to find the desired time and place. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the screen went from blue to white, then the picture flickered onto the monitor. Bulma sucked in her breath as she watched Trunks stuff his little fingers up her husband's nose, biting her knuckle to keep from laughing. The Saiyan Prince toppled onto the floor with a curse, and his tiny son bounced on top of him with a shriek of glee. Vegeta scowled and seemed to be talking to the baby. Then he moved as if to shove his child away.
But apparently Trunks had other ideas. The baby snuggled up under Vegeta's chin with a contented smile.
The prince's eyes opened wide as he glowered down at the little boy. Bulma tensed, wondering if Vegeta had somehow hurt her son. But his eyes simply rolled to heaven, and he brought his hand up to rest tentatively on the baby's miniscule back. He spoke one more time, then let his head thunk back against the carpet.
" 'Just this once'," Bulma interpreted, pressing her hands over her mouth. "Oh my God…" Tears glimmered in her smiling eyes as she reached out to pause the image on the screen. "Computer, print," she commanded, wiping the corner of her eye.
"Printing."
The girl heaved a gentle sigh, tracing her fingers across the flickering image of her husband and son. "Why can't you be like this in front of me?" she wondered aloud. Shaking her head in wonder, she shut off the screen and went to retrieve her printout from the lab.
"What are you doing down here, woman! The brat is screaming and it's giving me a splitting headache!" Vegeta clomped down the stairs, eyes ablaze, sweating from head to toe with a towel draped around his neck. Apparently he had been in the personal gym, and his scent wafted across the room to permeate her senses. Swallowing hard, she shoved the newly printed picture behind her back and forced a scowl.
"For your information, I was checking out security," she retorted, edging toward the door. "And it wouldn't kill you to take care of your own son once in a while!"
"I don't have time for such antics," he snapped, folding his arms across his chest. "Speaking of ridiculous, where is that new fool you've invited into your house?"
Bulma rolled her eyes to heaven and prayed for patience. "Andy went back to Britain for a little while," she replied. "Why do you ask? Do you miss him?"
"Hell no! I'm glad he finally got the hint and got out of here. He was a conniving, untrustworthy little sunnuvabitch." Vegeta walked into the room, heading straight for the table and yanking Andy's carefully drawn plans from the smooth surface. "What is this shit, anyway?"
"A model." Bulma snatched it away from him and smoothed out the wrinkled edges. "What does it look like?"
"A weapon," he replied, shooting her a scathing glance. "I don't trust that fool."
"You don't trust anyone. It's nothing new."
"Will you shut up for ten seconds!" Vegeta snarled, startling her into silence. "I've been watching him. He's been casting furtive glances at you as he works, and he whispers to himself when you leave. His plans are all for lethal weapons the likes of which I haven't seen since Vejitaseii was destroyed."
"Vegeta, they're training devices!" she said, exasperated and yet a little uncomfortable. "He dabbles in martial arts, and he wanted something that would generate ki blasts--"
"And did your precious Andy tell you what he was going to be doing with ki blasts?" the prince said mockingly, catching her eyes with fiery pools of liquid onyx. "Did he tell you exactly what he was going to be getting from his home in wherever the hell he came from? Why does he continue to stay here even after he's finished his 'training device'?" Bulma regarded him angrily, her mouth set in a stubborn line. Vegeta smirked, sensing his victory and reveling in it.
"You humans are too trusting," he said, turning his head in disgust. "Without the Saiyans, you would have been dead long ago."
"Without the Saiyans, nothing like this would ever have happened," she muttered, attempting to roll up the picture and stuff it up her sleeve.
"What was that!" he demanded. In a rush of power, he appeared in front of her and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. "Repeat yourself, woman!"
"I said, without you Saiyans, none of this crap would ever have happened!" she shouted into his ear, cerulean eyes narrowing dangerously. She jerked away from his grasp with a twist of her lithe body. "You never trust anyone - not even me!" she grated, pushing her hair behind her ear. Whirling around, she went back to rounding up the various blueprints the prince had scattered across the table.
"And what reason do I have to 'trust' anyone, woman?" Vegeta growled, crossing his arms in front of him. "Such frivolities often lead to one's demise."
"Oh, like I could do anything to you!" she snapped, shoving the plans into a drawer and slamming it shut. "All I want to do is share my life with you--" Her eyes went wide and she clamped her jaw shut, a faint flush spilling across her creamy cheeks.
Vegeta snorted, but only half in derision. The black irises faded from furious to troubled, if only for a moment. "A life shared is a life lost," he murmured. Then he shook his head violently, turning mirrored eyes upon her hunched form. "However, the real reason I came down to this godforsaken place was to tell you you're being followed."
"Well, yeah, I kind of figured that out when I saw you on camera," Bulma retorted, turning back carefully as not to bend the picture shoved up the back of her shirt. "And I was meaning to ask you about--"
"I do not believe that idiot really left," Vegeta interrupted, slamming his hand down on the table. Several drawing pencils skittered to the floor. "It is true that I have been keeping an eye on you, but that is only because someone had better watch your fool back, you oblivious moron!"
"Are you saying you actually care?" Bulma asked incredulously.
"I'm not raising that kid by myself," Vegeta shot back, a little too quickly. "It pesters me enough even when you are around! But that's not the point. That fool of a 'partner' of yours has been watching you - I'm sure of it."
Bulma rolled her eyes. "Then why don't you just kill him?" she challenged, voice oozing sarcasm.
"I want to know why." The prince's fist clenched, and Bulma winced as she heard every one of the knuckles crack. "He had no business here in the first place, and now he's after you. Just who does he think he is!"
"I'd say someone's jealous," Bulma said slyly.
"Have you no brain in your head, woman!" Vegeta roared, eyes flaring green. "You're falling right into his trap, you idiot human!"
"In fact, I do have a brain, and it's telling me that this is a load of crap!" Bulma barked, small hands clenching into fists at her sides. "And if you ever call me 'idiot human' again, I'll--"
"You'll what?" Vegeta asked sarcastically. "Slap my hand and tell me 'no'?"
"Oh I'll do more than that!" For what seemed to be the tenth time that month, Bulma landed an all out slap to the prince's cheek, leaving a seething red imprint on the suntanned skin. Vegeta barely even twitched.
"Ooh, scary," he sneered, shoving past her to stalk toward the stairs. "Fine, let yourself fall into his trap. I'll be damned if I ever give you a second thought. But I'll have you know; the moment you die, the brat is going to hell!" Stomping up the steps, he slammed the door behind him, leaving the entire house shaking on its foundations.
Bulma blinked rapidly as she angrily jammed the key into the lock of the drawer. "Stupid suspicious ass," she muttered around her heart, which had leapt up into her throat and refused to slide back down. "Man, I hate him sometimes…" Swiping her hand across her eyes, she let the picture slide out of her shirt. She carefully rolled it up and stamped across the room to plop down at her computer, irritably flicking on the screen with a shaking hand.
"Why can't he just be like he was on the night of the full moon?" she asked the flickering monitor. Receiving no response but a password prompt, she blew out a sigh and typed it in, settling herself for a long bout of mindless computer work that would allow her, at least for a little while, to forget herself entirely.
Hours later, after careful perusal of the newest update for the gravity rooms, Bulma finally rolled her chair away from the table and drew in a colossal yawn. Drawing her hands behind her head, she deftly cracked each of her knuckles and rolled her neck from side to side.
"Well, that's finished," she muttered, pushing herself to her feet. She winced when her stiffened knees let out a groan of protest, and she reached down to massage the backs of her legs. "Now all that's left to do is make the actual changes to the machinery…Vegeta will be--" She stopped, a frown tingeing the corners of her mouth. She had been about to say 'Vegeta will be happy', and she wondered incredulously why she had even bothered. Tossing her head in self-disgust, she shoved her chair under the desk and headed for the door, all the while thinking how pathetic she was to have him ever on her mind.
"Bloody bastard," she grated, gripping the handrail with an iron fist. "How the hell did I ever fall in love with him?"
"That's what I've been wondering."
Bulma jumped at the new voice, whipping her head up to come face to face with Andy. The young genius had come quietly down the stairs without her even noticing, his stealthy footsteps easily drowned out by her persistent muttering. In his arms he carried a sleeping baby Trunks, who looked as if he had been out for hours and would remain so for quite some time.
"Wh…why would you be wondering that?" Bulma asked defensively, her smooth brow furrowing ever so slightly. Silently she cursed her horrible habit of thinking aloud. "It's none of your business."
Andy shrugged. "I just can't understand how a beautiful girl like you would allow herself to be treated in such a vile way. It blows my mind." He shifted Trunks on his shoulder so the baby was drooling on the floor instead of in his unruly auburn hair.
Bulma snorted and planted her hands on her hips. "Well, that was my choice, no matter how stupid," she retorted, starting to become annoyed with his continuous intrusions. "And what are you doing with Trunks? It's way past his bedtime-"
"And as you can see, the child is sleeping," Andy interrupted, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Now if we could sit down, I have some things I'd like to discuss with you over a drink."
"Not right now. Give me my son," Bulma grated, holding out her arms. "And weren't you supposed to be in Britain for a while? Seems kind of odd that you're back so soon."
"My departure was…delayed," he said softly. "And as for your son, I would like to hold him for a little while, if you don't mind. I've never before seen such a well behaved baby."
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "You can't possibly mean Trunks," she said warily, giving him a sidelong look. "He's always doing one of three things - screaming, crying, or wailing."
He shrugged again. "He's been good for me. Now please, I ask for only a moment of your time…"
"Fine," she conceded, folding her arms and stalking over to the table whose drawers housed his plans. "But only five minutes."
A small smile touched his lips. "That is all the time I need." Seating himself beside her, he took a flask from his belt and uncapped it, bringing it slowly to his lips. When Bulma gave him a questioning glance, he wiped his mouth and grinned. "'Tis the finest English brandy," he supplied, smacking his lips. "Care for a sip?"
"No, I don't drink. Can you just tell me what it was you wanted to say? Your five minutes are ticking away."
"But you must at least taste it," Andy insisted, holding the flask out to her. "I promise you , you have never tasted anything like it."
Bulma bit back a seething remark. "I'll bet I haven't, and the reason is probably because I don't drink," she said slowly, hiding clenched fists beneath the tabletop.
"Just one sip," he pressed. "I promise you won't regret it."
Well, what can it hurt? she thought, eyeing the little bottle warily. If it will get him to leave me alone, I guess I can spare a sip. God knows that if I DID drink, I'd desperately need a shot right about now…
"Fine," she snarled, snatching up the flask and bringing it to her lips. She took a single swig, recapped the bottle, and threw it down on the table. "Now what was it you wanted to tell me?"
Andy said nothing for a little while. Instead, he stared intently into the depths of her azure eyes, as if trying to find an answer hidden deep within the pools of her pupils. She found herself beginning to nod off; angrily she shook herself awake.
Bulma, you've never unintentionally fallen asleep! she berated herself. Not even when you had a twelve hour project. What's wrong with you? She was about to excuse herself for a Coke when he spoke at last.
"I came to tell you that I'm going to save you," he murmured, slipping silently to his feet and laying a heavy hand upon her shoulder. "I'm going to take you away from here, and you'll never be unhappy again."
"Wh….wha?" Her eyes blinked rapidly as her mind reeled in shaky circles around her head. She tried to move away, but some invisible force held her still as she began to sink into uncharted darkness.
"I'm going to make the Saiyan bastard pay," she heard him say as she slipped into unconsciousness. "For everything."
Then all went black.