Summary: Vegeta and Bulma try to say goodbye. That's easier said than done.
7 a.m., Nov. 11, Wednesday
"Difficult Times"
Bulma sat next to Vegeta in a private room that Nappa had arranged. Zeus had been correct about the alcohol poisoning. Unconscious and on oxygen, the prince would need careful medical attention for hours. Clearly he wouldn't be leaving New York, maybe for another few days. Bulma wondered if he often drank this heavily.
The general spoke with the doctors for almost an hour before entering the room again, in addition to calming his own worries. He touched Bulma's shoulder from behind to speak in another room. She quickly moved away, silently communicating displeasure and anger. Tense situations usually brought out the "take care of business" side of her personality.
"You… will have to tell the newspapers something, general. The U.S. has laws against publicly disclosing some details about person's medical condition, but we both know this might get out. Tell them he was hospitalized for exhaustion and leave it there."
The way she held Vegeta's hand showed they were getting too close, Nappa thought, and she wasn't moving. "Please come with me, Ms. Brief. He is well-taken care of."
"Oh, really?" She looked up. "He could have died. Where the hell were you and your throng of guards?"
Nappa sighed. This was yet another argument that he didn't need. "Thank you for everything you've done, Bulma. Please don't take offense, but it is time for you to leave."
"I am not going anywhere, at least until Vegeta wakes up."
"Would you prefer having the city police carry you out?" Nappa said coolly. "My security team, however, might be much more discreet. You should let them escort you."
Bulma walked angrily into the other room. "You have some nerve threatening me, asshole. Make it the last time. I'm not afraid of you. I said that before."
"I'll ignore that petty insult since you are upset," Nappa said. "I am upset too, Bulma, but let me clear: None of this is your business. I warned you two to leave each other alone, but neither of you listened. Of course I don't blame you for what happened, but there is much more on the line beyond your evening playtime sessions. His troubles are out in the open now, but he will pull himself together."
"Playtime lessons? Boy, you really know how to hit a girl where it hurts, you jerk. Let me ask you this. Have you really considered what Vegeta wants? Have you? Maybe that's why he came to me. He kept saying he was alone and needed someone to talk with. What happened between you?"
Nappa led her back to the doorway. "Look at him. I have considered the prince's wants and needs more than you'll ever know. I don't have to justify anything to you. Also, if you haven't figured out already, he will likely cut ties with you when he recovers. He might feel ashamed and lash out. Regardless, he is bound by duty to Hegemone. Your country has endured difficult times in which your citizens have been greatly troubled and divided. I am sure you can understand that. Vegeta and others who think like him are our best hope."
Bulma didn't like what she heard, but deep down she felt Nappa was probably right. She kissed Vegeta's forehead while the general brought her coat. "That's a lot of responsibility for one person to carry. You will… let me know how he's doing, right?"
"Yes. He will be fine, my dear."
"Dear?" Bulma smiled. "Well, that's a new one, considering that I just called you an asshole."
"As I said, Ms. Brief, I may dislike your relationship with Vegeta, but it doesn't mean that I dislike you. Also, I have been called far, far worse."
4 p.m. "Choose Wisely "
Cursing, Vegeta attempted to remove the oxygen and intravenous tubes when he fully awakened. A nurse standing nearby stopped him.
"Don't touch me. I'm fine. Just give me something to stop this headache."
"Actually you're not fine, sir," the nurse said, unfazed. "You were unconscious. Had it not been for your friends, you would probably would be pushing up daisies in a cemetary. Now, I suggest that you keep quiet until I finish checking your vital signs. You heart rate and blood pressure are up."
"Well, aren't you the bringer of light and happiness," Vegeta said sarcastically. "Aren't nurses supposed to be gentle and servile?"
The tiny woman snorted through her laughter. "Prince Vegeta, I don't know who filled your deluded mind with that fairy tale. Keep talking and you'll soon learn how it feels to have your bowels emptied without your permission. However, out of the kindness of my heart, here's medicine for the headache."
Vegeta looked past her. "Why are you allowing her to speak to me like this?"
"She seems to be doing a good job," Nappa replied. "No reason to stop now."
The nurse laughed harder as she left. Vegeta appeared insulted, but her unapologetic sassiness had amused him. He thought about Bulma. He had wanted to talk, but now he questioned whether she would want him around anymore. Seeing her would've been better than Nappa towering above him.
"Where is she?"
"Ms. Brief left earlier."
"No shit, Nappa. I'm awake now and she's not here. Did you make her leave?"
"I think you know that Bulma isn't easily intimidated. She left by choice."
"Hn. I'm sure you weren't unhappy about it."
Nappa sat down and grabbed Vegeta's arm. "Let me tell you something. Don't you ever do anything like this again! I don't care how angry you are, but you cannot endanger yourself like this – or others! Did you stop once to consider how Bulma or anyone else would be affected before you drank yourself into the hospital? Furthermore, now I must investigate why building security didn't tell anyone that you left the penthouse. How much did you promise to pay people to keep their mouths shut?"
"Let go," Vegeta said defiantly. "You have no right to lecture me, daddy. We both know you don't give a damn about Bulma either, so stop faking concern. You seem deeply wounded that I had the nerve to become involved with someone completely on my terms and not yours - or anyone else's." He tapped his chin. "Ah, I see. You've secretly wanted me to be a pathetic eunuch for eternity."
Nappa had been meditating quietly while the prince railed. Either that, or he would smash everything in the room. "So is this how it will be from now on, son? Even when you're ill and need support, this is what I get from you? My god, you can be downright maddening. Vegeta, you can't be angry at the world forever, and I won't be here forever. Danae and I tried teaching how anger could be used for goodness, rather than full-on, reckless destruction. This seems like the right time to revisit those lessons."
Feeling nauseated, Vegeta turned over. "I'm not ill."
"You are!" Nappa pointed at the mirror facing them. "Look at yourself. You're going through alcohol withdrawal, son. I hate to say this, but unless you get treatment for your drinking I will be forced to tell the regional governors, king, and queen that you are unfit to represent our country's interests. They still respect my opinion enough and will want to know why. You will be responsible for explaining that."
"Do whatever you want," Vegeta said, waving him off. "In fact, tell them now that I'm drying out in the hospital from my near-fatal drunken stupor. You don't have to bear the shame alone, general."
"I am not ashamed anything," Nappa said sternly. "I'm also not ashamed of you, Vegeta. I suggest staying in the hospital the rest of the week while you consider my words. There are therapists here. Choose wisely."
He placed Vegeta's phone on the bed tray and walked out. The prince reclined on his pillows, holding the phone until his hands stopped shaking.
"Call tiger lily."
"Dialing tiger lily," the electronic voice replied.
Bulma was still in bed while Zeus prepared an early dinner. She had left her phone on the kitchen counter. Zeus almost burned himself on the stove after hearing it ring. The screen said "Count Dracula," plunging him into a laughing fit.
"Clearly this must be Vegeta." He walked quickly to the bedroom, answered the phone, and stuck it beneath Bulma's half-asleep face. Confused, she pawed at him like an annoyed cat.
"What the hell are you doing, Zeus? Stop."
"Take this call," he whispered. "I'm busy."
"Bulma, are you there? Are you all right?"
She slid under the bed covers. "Yes, Vegeta. I'm well, but you still don't sound good. Why aren't you resting?"
"We probably shouldn't see each other anymore."
Bulma paused. "Okay. I understand."
In this instance, Vegeta would have preferred her to be somewhat less understanding. "How long did you stay this morning? You… didn't have to leave."
"I did have to leave, eventually. I thought it was best."
"What are you wearing?"
"Vegeta, really…"
"Tell me! I can't be with you anymore in the way you want – in the way that I want. Leave me with something - please."
"Silence," Bulma said softly. "You have a lot on your mind, and you're running from it in every way possible. I would do you and myself a disservice by allowing that to continue."
"Oh, let me guess. I suppose you want me to bare my entire soul now."
"Vegeta, before you passed out, I said you could tell me as much or as little as you wanted. What I cared about most was getting help for you. I see now that you've been drinking heavily for some time."
He laid his phone down. "I have to go."
Bulma held her phone against her chin, considering whether it would be good to see him again. He was returning to the lion's den in Hegemone. Would he get the help he needed?
Zeus peeked into the room. "How is he?"
"How did you know that our call was over?"
"Because my ears are as large as tires, sweetie. How about answering me now?"
"I understand why Nappa is so protective, but he said Vegeta will come back to himself. I believe that. You saw how powerful his U.N. speech was. He just needs the right kind of help and support. It's not like you and I are trying to manage a country."
Zeus placed a food tray over her legs. "I thought you said romance wasn't expected between you. I'm hearing something different."
"Zeus, nothing has changed on that end – and stop eating off my plate." Bulma grabbed his fingers. "I told you what Vegeta said when he first arrived here, and I kept thinking about it at the hospital. It broke my heart. You would have felt the same way."
"Honey, my heart broke when I saw him in your arms. For all of his faults, he is a proud man. He wouldn't have come in that condition if he wasn't hurting."
"I know."
"Then maybe you should eat the rest of my wonderful dinner and return to the hospital tonight. Forget what Nappa said for a while and just be a friend to Vegeta."
"I don't want him to run from his problems."
"Okay, but you can still sit at his bedside and say that, Bulma. He may be angry or stop talking altogether, but he will eventually appreciate that you cared enough to return. You could also hold his hand, just like you did when I was hospitalized for my heroin addiction. I was deeply ashamed, but you didn't make me feel that way. We were silent, but I felt so loved. You understood what I needed."
8:30 p.m. – "This Thing"
Bulma tapped her foot impatiently. She hated being in hospitals, and this disagreement wasn't easing her discomfort.
"We are under strict orders not to allow anyone to see the prince besides the medical staff, Ms. Brief."
"Is Nappa still here?"
"Yes, but…"
"But what? He makes the final decision, so get him out here. I want to speak with him."
"We don't take orders from you."
Bulma held up her phone. "Look guys, I can just call Vegeta. Would you prefer facing his wrath over blocking my entrance? Go get Nappa – now."
Nappa walked up behind her. "I am here, Ms. Brief. What is it?"
"I want to see him."
"That's obvious, and you know what my answer is."
"General, with all due respect, Vegeta is an adult who can make his own choices. That's why I asked to see you first. If you trust him to lead, then you can trust us to spend thirty minutes alone together. He may ask me to leave within five, but that will be his decision."
Nappa exhaled. In some ways Bulma's stubbornness reminded him of Danae.
"All right. You get thirty minutes. The nurses just gave him a light sedative to ease his agitation. He'll be here the rest of the week."
"Is the drinking that bad, Nappa?"
"Just go inside. You are wasting valuable time."
Bulma untied her headscarf. The room was mostly dark, except for a dimmed light over Vegeta's bed. An unfinished bag of crisps sat on the nightstand. His eyes were closed, and he seemed to be resting comfortably. Bulma decided to let him sleep, confident that Nappa would allow her to return later.
"Why are you here? Did you and Zeus get bored with discussing my personal affairs?"
Bulma approached the foot of the bed. "Well, I see that sedative hasn't dulled your gift for rudeness."
"Your guilt over leaving the hospital earlier is useless, and I certainly don't need your pity," Vegeta replied. "You said exactly what you meant."
"Wow, your highness! I have been here all of two minutes. Are there any more assumptions you'd like to make? I don't mind hearing them, but Nappa set a strict time limit for our chat."
"Oh really?" Vegeta raised up. "If he had his way, I would be in an institution baring my soul to people with worse problems than mine. Then I could save the world, complete with four bottles of unnecessary medication to treat the clinical depression that everyone is trying tirelessly to diagnose me with."
Bulma sat down. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. You're living multiple lives in one body. That would be hard on anyone. Just because I said don't run from your problems doesn't mean that I don't care."
"You should leave, Bulma. I am ending this thing between us. I don't need any more lessons.'"
"Give me your hand, Vegeta."
"Oh please, woman! I was being polite, but you're a glutton for punishment. Get out. I'm tired."
"Fine, then. I'll take it myself."
"Will you stop it?" He smacked her palm. "Shall we try karate again?"
"I think I'd win this time, Count Dracula. You seem a little stoned from that sedative now." Bulma giggled until Vegeta flashed a slight grin, unmistakably one of mischief, as if he had stolen her favorite panties.
"Don't bet on it, Medusa." He looked away to avoid breaking down, but his grip tightened around her hand. Bulma sat quietly holding it until he fell asleep. Another hour passed before she left.
She wiped away tears after leaving his bedside. She didn't pity him. She just realized the extent of his loneliness. Nappa, who was sleeping in an adjacent room, immediately rose to escort her out.
"Why are you crying?"
"That was a long thirty minutes, general."
"Maybe my watch broke." He handed her a handkerchief. Here he was, having his heartstrings pulled by this woman. How could she possibly believe that she and Vegeta weren't falling in love? It could take a year, maybe two years, or maybe even ten, but they were on that road. He worried that Bulma might be incapable of accepting that responsibility after seeing Vegeta's life in Hegemone. Dating or marrying any head of state or politician had broken the toughest of people.
Bulma looked into the room again. "Thank you for letting me stay. May I ask something? How many close friends does he have in your country?"
"The prince has many supporters who consider themselves as friends – in spite of his reserve and crankiness. None are close. They are proud of what he represents for our country. He is fond of your cousin Olivier, though, and others he studied with at Oxford."
"And he's fond of you, of course."
"Ms. Brief, at this point Vegeta's fondness for me all depends on the week…or the millisecond. This isn't a good one, and I don't know why I'm telling you this. Maybe I should see a therapist myself."
Noon, Nov. 17, Tuesday
"Sniffles"
Bulma burrowed into the sofa while her sister fussed over a blanket covering her.
"Give me the sketching pad, Bulma. Drink this soup instead."
"I'm not dying, big sister. I have the sniffles, not the plague."
"Thank goodness you don't, dashing around in November like it's the summer! Now you're sick and wrapped in pajamas like a mountain climber. Oh yes! Speaking of clothing, do you like my new skirt?"
"Who made it?"
Irritated, Tights tossed her long white hair. "Really, Bulma. Stop being impolite and arrogant. Father always said you'd be just like him."
Bulma threw a crayon at her. "You asked the question, Tights. Who made it?"
"Ralston."
"Tell him he did a good job. I would have trimmed the hemline, but it is attractive on you."
"I have to go," Tights replied, kissing her cheek. "Get some rest. Are you ever going to tell me more about the prince? It's not like people around town don't know that he's visited."
"This is my studio, dear. People visit. I work."
"Fine," Tights huffed. "I suppose Zeus knows everything."
"Stop being jealous." Bulma said, pulling her into a hug. "I love you. Go back to work."
Bulma's cold wasn't terrible, but it was enough to keep her sleepy and achy. She and Vegeta hadn't been in touch, which was fine. Nappa kindly texted her to say the prince was better and that they were leaving the U.S. soon. Then the elevator door near the kitchen clicked open. She pulled the blanket over her head. Tights must have forgotten something. Lord, please spare me another lecture.
"Hiding from your nosy sister, Ms. Brief?"
"What?! Who?" Bulma kicked the blanket off. One foot got caught, pulling her off the sofa – face down.
Vegeta could barely stop laughing. "Do you need help?"
"No, damn it!" Bulma shouted. "I've fallen on carpet before! Ugh! I can't get this blanket off my leg! Stop laughing at me!"
Vegeta crouched down, holding out his hand. "It is interesting seeing you like this. Usually I'm on the carpet while you're tying ropes on me. Why are you wearing this dreadful sleepwear midday? Are you not well?"
"I have bit of a cold. Nothing too bad. My nosy sister didn't tell you?"
"I guess she wanted to surprise you. Don't worry. She was quite pleasant. No questions asked."
"You could have called, Vegeta. You do look and sound much better, though. I am pleased."
He pressed the bridge of Bulma's nose until she sneezed multiple times. "I can't say the same for you, although your red nose and flushed cheeks are rather adorable."
"Pompous ass!" She kicked at him. "Stop it! Would you mind not making my condition worse?"
Vegeta removed his coat and hat. "My flight leaves in five hours. It's appropriate and honorable to say goodbye in person. I probably won't attend the White House dinner."
Bulma stood to find ginger tea and shortbread cookies. She peeked back a few times while Vegeta silently stared at the floor. She wanted to touch him, and to have him touch her, but this visit wasn't intended for that, she believed.
"The tuxedo will be at the shop whenever you want it," she said. "Have some cookies. Where is this brooding politeness coming from? I feel like I'm reading a Georgian-era novel. Maybe I'll start calling you Mr. Darcy."
"I always hated that worthless book, Pride and Prejudice." He took the tray from her. "You don't have to serve me. Be comfortable in your home. Just let me sit here with you. Will you… hold my head in your lap like last week? You helped me feel safe. I appreciated that."
She nodded. "Come." This time she fell asleep as Vegeta's comfortable body heat swathed her. After about an hour he carefully moved from their embrace, trying not to wake her. He opened the elevator door to retrieve a vase of tiger lilies left there. Then he heard Bulma sneeze.
"Damn," he muttered. "I was almost out of here."
"Vegeta, are you leaving?"
He brought the flowers to the coffee table, and Bulma could tell he was extremely displeased.
"They're gorgeous."
"I know," he said, crossing his arms. "That's why I bought them, and of course you ruined the surprise."
She flung a pillow as he seated himself again. "Well, excuse the hell out of me for being sick and near death, you grouchy goat!"
"This might help you feel better." Like a thunderbolt, Vegeta's tough, strong arms captured her. He nipped at her shoulders, ears, and neck until his sweet, burning kiss melded with her lips. Bulma couldn't protest. She didn't want to. She clung to him, listening to and feeling his hunger, and this time she was on the other side – willing to submit. They couldn't take their eyes off each other as he excitedly ripped the buttons from her pajamas like a child with a Christmas gift. Her hips danced around his torso. He smelled her fragrant hair, brushing his chin over it, gently kissing her forehead and temples.
"Thank you," she said sweetly, piercing his hardened heart and arousing him even more.
"Just breathe with me, tiger lily. I want to hear us breathe together." They pressed in harder as their inhalations and exhalations harmonized. Her body was a delectable labyrinth of nerves to caress. Each stroke could induce different sighs. Her back arched and rocked as he held her arms over her head with one hand. The other he used to remove his belt. Bulma smiled with anticipation. He returned the grin, laughing.
"So you think you're in control now, Prince Vegeta? Our lessons aren't through."
"Turn over on your stomach and spread your legs."
"What if I don't want to?!" Bulma thrashed harder. "What are you going to do about it?!"
He bit her shoulder until she became rigid. "Oh, my darling, are you sure? Did you think I couldn't feel it – that I couldn't smell it on you after what we've done together? You have been kind, and I would've been satisfied leaving for good after you held me today. But coming back… I will ask now: Do you want me to go?" He pulled Bulma's hair. "Answer me, madame. What do you want?"
His dark, smoke-filled voice and throbbing erection pushed her senses to euphoria.
"Stay."
Vegeta's panting increased as he pressed into her back, raising her ass to his chest. "Rest your face on your arms. Do not move while my fingers travel between your legs. Consider how each one entering your body feels as I stroke those fleshy lips. Do not moan, whimper, or sigh. If you do, I will spank you seven times. Do you understand me?"
"Ha! Only seven?"
Vegeta curled the belt, snapping it with rattlesnake-speed on both sides of her ass. Bulma yelped.
"Quiet, my little flower. We have two hours."
