(A/N: Alright. Here we go.)
Andy dumped the unconscious prince in a chemical storage closet, wrinkling his nose in disgust as the Saiyan's heavy frame thudded to the toxin-spattered floor.
"That was too close," he murmured, kicking the iron door shut with a hollow clang. "Damn, that woman is too smart."
Just like Teraynia…
Andy shook his head violently, trying without success to clear the image of his Saiyan charge from his mind. But his programming proved all too functional - the words of his master throbbed through his circuits as blood would have coursed through the veins he once considered life. Whirling suddenly, he smashed his fist through the iron door, sending a haunting echo rebounding through the empty halls.
"Curse you, Lord Aspa," he growled. "You turned a simple infatuation into an obsession. Perhaps…perhaps it would have been easier to have died on that battlefield, the ashes of my corpse scattered to the winds of Vorenza. And yes," he grated, unwittingly raising his eyes to the ceiling, "I reserve the right to say 'die', for you endowed your creation with the ability - no, the requirement! - to love and lust and pine away until there is nothing left but a mere shell of the counterfeit man I once was. But now I see through your lie, Aspa! You called me an artificial life form, but in fact you created a life that was utterly authentic, even if it were fated to follow your every order. I feel…and I bleed…" He pulled his fist from the seething hole in the metal panel, fixing it with a withering leer. "Just like you," he hissed. "I simply bleed in the way that you yourself had forgotten. I bleed from every inch of my nonexistent heart. And if that is not life, then I do not know what is!
"And yet…even upon your death…I am condemned to live under your command…to live as the vengeance of your daughter, the Saiyan woman I was meant to love and yearn for and protect, yet watch from a distance while I tear myself apart from the inside out! And I despise it!" he roared, fists clenching at his sides, dribbles of molten iron falling from his knuckles to the floor. "I despise this life of solitude and pain. I find myself becoming enamored of the wife of the Saiyan upon whom I had vowed to exact my revenge, and this promises naught but to extend my miserable existence ever further into the netherworlds of the future! And - what a fool I am! - I did not notice I was falling into the same trap until it had closed over my head. I had hoped…" Opening his palm, he examined the bloodless holes in his grafted flesh, cursing the symbol of unwanted eternal life. "I had hoped to be able to end this treacherous life when I saw the product of my beloved Teraynia's only folly draw his last breath," he murmured. "But even now your ingenious trap of ones and zeroes now binds me to the woman who is like Teraynia in every way, right down to her choice of a mate!"
Clenching the 'wounded' hand into a fist, he reopened his fingers to find the crescent shaped gashes completely healed. Cursing aloud, he slammed his palm once more into the wall. "Goddamn this mindset that I cannot sway. Goddamn this obsession borne of necessity. Goddamn this love that you ignored…over the course of eternity…" He turned from the wall and stalked down the empty corridor, eyes fixed furiously on the tile as it rushed beneath his feet. He passed the door that held his captive without a glance, keeping his gaze trained pointedly on the ground. Only upon reaching the entrance to the control room did he glance back over his shoulder, a rueful grimace touching his thin, perfect lips.
"Goddamn this love you Saiyans shoved into a corner," he muttered, punching in the code without even glancing at the keypad, "only to force on me." Then the door slid open, and he disappeared inside.
When the door down the hall had fallen silently shut behind her captor, Bulma let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding and turned back to the computer screen before her. Although she had managed to bring the system under her control, she could not figure out how to turn off the monitor; if Andy caught her now, everything would be over. She was simply crossing her fingers and hoping with all her heart that someone up there liked her - or, at least, took pity on her.
She smiled at the thought, casting a glance over her shoulder at her son. "If only your daddy could've heard that," she called cheerfully. A glimmering laugh passed her lips as she went back to pulling up a layout of the building. "He would throw me out the window!" she finished jovially as the desired blueprint popped up onscreen. Clicking expertly on the image, she enlarged the third floor and highlighted the room labeled 'Holding Area'.
"Computer," she commanded, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear, "Locations and dimensions of Holding Area's ventilation."
"Processing. Six locations. Dimensions: 13cm x 8cm. Please specify--"
"Agh, that won't work." She clicked out of the popup window and quietly drummed her fingertips on the touchpad, making the cursor fly wildly around the screen. For the first time since breaking into the datastream, she had run out of ideas. It was time to work from scratch.
Cracking her knuckles, she leaned forward to inspect the image before her. Beside the trapdoor above her head, the room was sealed tight, the door being the only other usable exit.
"Go figure," she muttered, rubbing her forehead irritably. The anxiety was starting to creep up on her once again, clenching the nerves at the base of her neck and sending tiny tremors up and down her spine. She licked her lips and gave the print one last quick perusal.
"Nothing." She let her head land hard against the screen. "Dammit, now what? I was so close!"
She heard her baby squawk from his place on the mattress, and she twisted around to see what was the matter. The baby had somehow ripped a hole in the mattress and was now pulling out the stuffing by the fistful, making a small cloud of fluffy padding around his chubby legs. A wide smile was spread across his face, and he playfully tossed some up in the air, laughing loudly as it came floating back down around his head.
Bulma allowed herself a small grin and shook her head. "Well, whatever floats your boat, honey. As long as you're not screaming or choking to death, I don't have time to care what you're doing." She started to turn around, but it was as if her words had suddenly given the baby the idea to do just that. Trunks promptly scooped up a handful of the fluff and stuck it in his mouth.
"Ack! Trunks, you'll choke yourself!" Bulma cried, nearly falling out of her seat as she struggled to get to her son.
The baby gummed the fibers for a few seconds, then made a comical face and spat out the sticky wad, gabbling angrily as he smacked his hand down on top of the whole mess.
Bulma pressed a hand over her thudding heart, breathing a sigh of relief. "Geez, kid, don't do that to me! I have enough to worry about as it is." Picking herself up out of the floor, she hefted herself back into the chair and prepared to look for another way out.
BOOM.
The concussion nearly sent her through the roof. "WHAT THE HELL!" she yelped, whirling around so fast she sent the chair tumbling to the ground.
Trunks hadn't moved, but an enormous hole had opened up under his hand. It had clearly been created by a ki blast, that much was evident. But where had it come from? Bulma's gaze traveled back and forth from her son to the hole as she tried to comprehend what had just happened. Surely Trunks couldn't have…?
Then, right before her eyes, the little boy turned his sights upon the downy pile around him. Letting out a wordless screech of aggravation, he touched his hands to the stuffing and proceeded to blast it to ashes.
Bulma watched dumbly for a moment, her mouth hanging slightly open as she attempted to process what she had just seen. Then her cerulean eyes lit up, and she charged over to her little boy, scooping him into her arms and tossing him into the air.
"You did it, Trunks!" she cried happily, tears of joy forming in the corners of her eyes. "Now we can save daddy and go home!" She tugged him close and headed for the door. "Alright," she told him, setting him down by the wall. "When you blast through, we're going to have to make a run for it. I have a good feeling Andy shoved him in one of the closets on this floor. He wasn't gone long, and I heard a door slam down the hall-- Wait. Why am I telling you this? You don't understand a word I'm saying." She shot her son a sheepish grin and ran back to the mattress to retrieve some of the stuffing. Trunks eyed her warily, then stuck his tiny fist into his mouth and smeared a slobbery handprint on the wall.
Making sure she had enough fluffy padding, she took one last look at the blueprint, trusting her photographic memory to take care of the rest. Then she rushed over to where her son sat against the wall, placing the stuffing against the chrome baseboard and taking a step back. "Go ahead, Trunksie Poo," she cooed, pushing the little ball of fibers closer to him with the toe of her shoe and crossing her fingers behind her back.
The young Saiyan gave a shrill shriek and pulled himself up next to the puff ball. Placing his miniscule palm atop it, he blasted it out of existence, taking a portion of the wall three feet in diameter with it.
"YES!" Bulma exclaimed, waving the smoke out of her face and reaching for her child. But her elation didn't last long; a sharp siren began to blare, almost knocking her to her knees with its piercing tones. Biting her tongue against the pain, she grabbed her son off the floor and stumbled out into the hallway.
"Vegeta!" she yelled, trying to make herself heard over the siren as she tore down the corridor as fast as her legs would carry her. "Vegeta, can you hear me? Where are you!" She could already hear the control room door sliding up, releasing Andy into the mazelike halls for a terrorizing game of cat and mouse. Swallowing her fear, Bulma skidded around the corner, trying to keep her heart from clogging her throat as she searched frantically for some trace of her husband.
"Vegeta!" she called again, twisting her head this way and that, breath coming in labored gasps through a ragged throat. Footsteps echoed from down the hall, making every heartbeat sound like a signal drum. Bulma bit back a frustrated cry and pushed open a random door, hiding herself behind a sheet draped across a forgotten mirror.
The android slowly passed the room. His heavy footfalls clicked on the metal tile as he moved steadily down the hall. "I know you're here, Bulma," he called softly. "It's only a matter of time before I find you. Alright, I'll play your little game. There is nothing you can do to help your husband; our deal is unbreakable. Try as you might, you will still be mine."
Bulma held her hand over her mouth, not daring to breathe as long as Andy was within fifty feet of the door. Then she heard him retreating down the hall, followed by the sound of expensive shoes descending a flight of stairs. Unable to hold it any longer, she let out her breath, watching it whistle through the baby's soft hair with widened eyes.
"That was too close," she whispered. "But there's no time for that now. We need to find your father." Creeping back out into the hall, she started examining each of the doors with careful precision, certain Andy would not return for at least a little while. But then Trunks began to struggle against her, and she shot him a furtive glance.
"Eh…ehhhh!" the baby grunted, reaching desperately for something out of her line of sight. Bulma desperately tried to shush him, but he would not be ignored; he stretched and strained, reaching as far as he could beyond her shoulder.
"What, what is it?" she asked finally, turning around to look. At the end of the hall was an iron door with a hole punched through the top. Her heart leapt into her throat despite all former precautions. Tucking the baby firmly against her breast, she scampered down the hall, opening the door before she had even come to a full stop.
The prince lay on the floor at her feet, sprawled on the sticky chrome in a tangle of arms and legs. His glossy black hair was matted with chemicals, and his handsome face was smashed into the tile. The prince had been utterly humbled, and the sight was nothing short of heartbreaking.
"Oh, Vegeta…" Bulma knelt next to him, gently lifting his head onto her lap and stroking the silky raven locks with the tips of her fingers. She leaned down and kissed his forehead, then placed her hand on his shoulder and issued a gentle shake. "Vegeta, please, wake up! I know how to get us out of here! Please, open your eyes…"
"Nn…" The prince's eyelids fluttered, and he blearily forced himself to focus. "B…Bulma…!" He immediately struggled to move, only to find his arms and legs one more outside his control. Muttering a curse under his breath, he let his head fall wearily back against her thighs.
"Shh, shh…don't move yet," she crooned, burying her fingers deeper into his ebony hair. "I found a way to get us out of here."
"What!" Vegeta forced himself to meet her gaze, eyes wide and alert. "Tell me, woman! What is it?"
"The Sairiea," she answered softly.
"The Sairiea!" The prince jerked upright, the shock of her statement renewing the connection between his nerves as he shakily stared her in the eye. "You've got to be joking, woman! You are not a Saiyan!"
"So what?" she returned, throwing a worried look over her shoulder. "It will increase your power, won't it? Come on, it won't kill you to join with me! You already did it in the human sense; so what if you do it just once more?"
"Because it's wrong, that's why!" Vegeta roared, fire sparkling in the depths of his onyx eyes. "I am a Saiyan warrior! You are a human woman, with no more power than an insect! What would I gain by joining myself with--" His muscles gave out, and he slumped back against her lap, a terrifying grimace on his lips.
"Well, for one thing, you'd be able to move," Bulma said testily, resisting the urge to let him fall back to the floor. "And for another thing…" She trailed off. What would Vegeta gain from their union? She hadn't thought of that. Trunks hiccupped from the crook of her left arm, and she shot him a helpless glance.
"And for another thing, what?" Vegeta sneered into her lap. "Would I learn how to change diapers? Or perhaps how to cry?"
Bulma growled and turned his head so she could look him in the eye. "Or perhaps how to love, like your mother loved your father?" she said icily. "After all, isn't that what won them the battle on Vorenza?"
"Strength won the battle on Vorenza, and strength alone!" Vegeta snarled. He fell silent, his head resting wearily on her lap. After a few silent moments, he spoke again, this time much softer than before. "My father underwent the Sairiea. My father wanted power, and he got it," he muttered. "And for what! To hand it over to Frieza, that's what. Well, I refuse to be like him. I refuse to allow myself to become the coward my father was." He met her gaze once more. "I will not go back on my promise the way my father went back on his."
Bulma's breath caught in her throat. "V…Vegeta…" She set Trunks gently on the ground and pulled Vegeta into a sitting position. Easing herself behind him, she pressed him to her body as tightly as she could. "Vegeta," she said softly, cupping his cheek with the palm of her left hand and gently kissing his ear, "if…if you don't want to do it…then I guess you don't have to." She felt the lump coming back to haunt her, and she angrily forced it back down into her stomach. "You'll have your pride and your honor. I'll just have to live the rest of my life…knowing my son will never know his father."
Vegeta's brow furrowed as he felt her nestle against his back. "Never know his father…what are you talking about? Woman, that was my promise! I vowed to raise the child until he came of age! I will take the brat back with me when the three days are up--"
"No you won't," Bulma interrupted, lowering her thick lashes as she kissed the back of his neck. She found herself wondering idly if the moon was really full after all; somehow it didn't seem to matter that much anymore. Sighing heavily, she tugged him closer. "Andy plans to kill you as soon as the time is up."
"What! That bastard! Where is the honor in striking down a man when he cannot move!" Vegeta demanded, grinding his teeth together in disbelief.
"There isn't any. That's the point." Bulma blew her hair out of her face. "This isn't about honor; this is about revenge. Andy was your mother's android, appointed by her father to watch over her on her mission to Vorenza."
Vegeta's brow furrowed. "And how do you know this?" he asked quietly.
"I hacked into some of Andy's memory files."
"Huh." Vegeta lowered his gaze. "So it seems you're not completely useless after all."
Bulma allowed herself a brief smirk. "So it seems."
Trunks, who had been watching all this in patient silence, decided he could sit still no longer. Using one of the iron shelves to pull himself onto his tiny feet, he toddled over to his parents and latched onto his father's limp arm, locking blue eyes with black as he stared his father steadfastly in the face.
Vegeta glared back for a few moments, then let forth a low, malicious chuckle. "He has your eyes, woman," he muttered.
"But he has your strength, Vegeta." Reaching around her husband, she picked up the child and set him on his father's stomach. "He was the one who got me out of that holding cell in the first place."
For the first time in his young life, the little boy received his father's utmost attention. "Did he?" Vegeta murmured. Trunks looked up at his father and smiled, spitting out a stray bit of mattress stuffing that had managed to evade him earlier. It landed on Vegeta's muscular chest, and the baby immediately lunged for it.
Bulma's eyes went wide. "Wait, Trunks, no--!"
With a squeal of delight, the baby placed his hand atop the sodden clump of fibers and blasted it to bits. Vegeta quickly shut his eyes, and Bulma turned her head away to shield herself from the blast. When the light of the energy faded, Vegeta looked back to his son, his eyes wide in disbelief.
"You weren't joking, were you?" he muttered. "Well, seems the brat could have some potential after all." A look of renewed determination settled onto his handsome features, furrowing his silky brow as he flicked his gaze briefly between his wife and his son. Then, forcing himself up onto his elbows, Vegeta shoved Trunks roughly onto the floor and struggled to attain a sitting position.
"Ah, Vegeta, what are you doing!" Bulma demanded, attempting to push her husband back down onto her lap. "Don't hurt yourself! Hold still--"
"Don't tell me what to do!" Vegeta roared. "I have to be standing to perform the Sairiea, foolish woman! Now regain your feet so we can get this over with!" He caught hold of one of the shelves, nearly toppling it over on top of him as he used it to support the weight his shaky knees could not hold.
Bulma stared at him. "But…" she said faintly, " you just said…!"
"Shut up! I know what I just said!" he growled furiously, shifting his burning onyx eyes upon her slouched frame. He held her gaze for a few short moments, then let it fall upon the floor, remarkably close to where his young son sat irritably poking at a dust bunny. "But it seems that in order to keep my vow, I must go through with the Sairiea after all." When the blue haired beauty met his gaze uncertainly, he issued a growl and slammed his hand into the metal shelf. "Dammit woman, I swear on my honor that I will not make the same mistake my father made! Is that good enough for you!"
Bulma snapped out of her stupor with a sharp shake of her head. "N-no, I didn't doubt that. It's just that you changed your mind so quickly! I thought you were deadset against--"
"Am I not allowed to change my mind now?" he demanded.
"I didn't say that either!" Bulma grated, getting slowly to her feet. "It was just so sudden. Are you sure? You seemed so fixed on not being like your father--"
"OF COURSE I'M SURE!" he shouted, eyes darting warily down the hallway. "I am fixed on not being like my father, as you say, but in order to do so, I must keep my promises, even at the cost of my own denominations!" Pushing away from the shelves, he swayed uncertainly on his feet for a few breathless seconds before shakily regaining his balance. "Even if I don't believe that undergoing the Sairiea will change a single damn thing, if it's the only chance I have to fulfill my promise, I will take it!" He turned around, motioning her near with an impatient gesture thrown over his shoulder. "Now hurry up! We don't have all day!"
Bulma risked a quick glance at Trunks, wondering if her little son's strength was what had inspired this sudden change in her husband. The boy looked back at her, then went back to trying to swallow his toes. She shook her head incredulously, then shifted her eyes back to Vegeta.
"If you're sure," she murmured, daring to meet his gaze.
The prince held her cerulean gaze for a moment, then rolled his ebony eyes and twisted away from her, a soft 'tch' escaping his pursed lips. "Just get into position, woman," he said softly.
Bulma nodded slightly and moved to stand behind him, her back pressed lightly against his. She could feel the weakened muscles straining with the effort of standing, and she bit her lip to keep from flinging a curse at the demented inventor right then and there.
"Let's do this," she growled, holding up her hands and waiting for him to follow suit.
She felt him consent as he pushed himself hard against her back, sliding his feet next to hers to bring them into the required position. His gloved hands enveloped hers just as his father's had covered those of his queen, and she couldn't suppress a smile as she imagined herself in the place of the incredible Saiyan woman. Angling her head to see the writing on her wrist, Bulma gently nudged her prince with her heel.
"Ready when you are," she said in what she hoped was a confident tone. In truth, she was terrified; what if the ritual didn't work? What if she wasn't good enough to give her husband the strength he required? And most importantly…
What if she couldn't help Vegeta keep his promise?
I guess we'll find out, she thought in resignation, squeezing her eyes shut as she waited for the count to begin. Trunks, if this doesn't work, please forgive me. I tried, I truly did…
"One," Vegeta grated, willing his knees to hold out just a little while longer.
Bulma blew out her breath, praying vehemently that she would get the pronunciation of the foreign words correct. "Two."
Both tensed as they prepared to meet their destiny.
"Three!"
"Saiya-jin soth mirai," they said together. Bulma suppressed a sigh of relief as her words blended perfectly with those of the Saiyan Prince. "Don terith sa Renir, vowest sularus en mithas jen scelles korai. Ki est juntareais. Hiestai neaed oesth tierm, viex coen sei."
A blinding light flashed around them. Vegeta's eyes went wide, and he risked a glance over his shoulder.
"It's…working!" he cried in disbelief.
Bulma smirked. "Of course it is!" she replied happily. "Did you honestly think I could make a mistake like that?"
"Yes," came his immediate retort. "But at the very least, I expected you to make a pronunciation error, woman!"
"Just shut up tell me if you're getting any stronger!"
"Not yet!" he growled. "I believe we have to make our vows before our souls are conjoined."
"Ladies first," she said teasingly.
"Go ahead," he shot back icily.
Bulma rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Alright then," she said quietly. Delving deep into the depths of her soul, she sought the words she had longed to say for so long but had never found the courage to speak. It took no more than a second; it seemed they had been on the tip of her tongue all along.
"On my honor," she said softly, "I vow to become the first human queen to win the respect of her king. I will show him the limits of power and the boundaries of strength…and I will show him the immeasurable possibilities of love."
She felt Vegeta go rigid against her back, and she wondered for a petrifying moment if her bold words would make him call the ritual off entirely. I'll kill him if he does, she thought wildly. He has to know how crucial this moment is! She held her breath, waiting apprehensively for his reply.
Eventually his muscles relaxed, and she thought she could feel his hand tightening ever so slightly around her fist. "On my honor," came his response, piercing her veins with the sharp intensity of their power and sending an electric shiver down her spine, "I vow to live out the dying hours of the Saiyan race with the eternal pride of my people coursing through my blood. I vow to ascend to the pinnacle of perfection. I will exclude no hardship, evade no sacrifice to ease my path. As the final King of the Saiyans, I vow to ensure our race's place in history as the greatest warrior race to fall to their own foolish agendas. Though our blood will dwindle and die with the passage of time, with the help of my queen, I vow to make it count until the last crimson drop fades into eternity."
Bulma's eyes went wide as the beautiful words flowed past her ears, rushing into the river of time to be lost to the past. The powerful speech seemed to stem not from the single Saiyan man at her side, but from the essence of the race itself - the death cry of a race that deemed itself immortal only to find itself destroyed. The girl glanced over her shoulder to find her prince's eyes squeezed shut, a pained grimace pulling taut the lips she'd hoped would be twisted into the ecstatic leer of power. Letting her gaze return to the floor in front of her, she bit her lip in a silent plea.
If there is a God up there, please let this work…
Energy coursed around them, binding them together in a shimmering cocoon of light. The second stage was about to begin. Bulma braced herself for the unknown, holding tight to her husband as they spiraled into the mysterious abyss known as the Sairiea.
Andy whirled at the sound of the vortex, flashing blue eyes widening in fear as he stared incredulously at the ceiling.
"It can't be…" he whispered. "It's not possible! A human and a Saiyan cannot unite! She'll be destroyed!" He was already tearing up the hall, a crazed but determined expression settling over his pristine, porcelain features. "I have to stop it," he growled, mounting the steps four by four. "I will not let Bulma meet the same fate as Teraynia! Damn you, Vegeta! Damn you to hell!"
(A/N: Okay. The Sairiea is underway. Andy's worried. Will it work? Who knows. What's the second part of the ritual? Gotta stay tuned to find out. Will the vows be sufficient to bind them together? Dunno. Heheh but all will be revealed next chapter, when the prince of the Saiyans confronts his deepest hatred, the girl who loves him faces off with the agonizing tears in her soul, and the android who lost it all is forced to face the destiny that has ever eluded him in his quest for the end of love itself. Will a love that never existed outside of lust be enough to save the new-bound couple from themselves? Next time: the final chapter of NOTHING YET EVERYTHING.)