Summary: A wintertime reunion of challenges.


January 22, Monday

Brooklyn: 10:21 p.m. EST
Cerinthe: 4:21 a.m. CET

"Ambushed"

Bulma removed her glasses as she stared at the video screen. Vegeta had not called since leaving New York months before, and her heart skipped a beat from seeing him. His hand was propped over his chin, as if he had been thinking carefully about what to say.

"Pack enough clothing for a week. A car will arrive in two hours to take you to a private airstrip."

Bulma cheeks felt hot. Then, her body shook. "No."

Vegeta exhaled. He had been at hospital a few hours already. "There is no time for that. Just…"

"Don't tell me what to do." She her hand up. "Just…don't. Tell me what happened to him."

"Zeus was shot in the back in the southeastern end of the country. Another American and a British journalist were hurt as well. They were ambushed. Emergency workers got them all out, but he took the worst hit. I… am sorry. Does he have close family?"

Bulma sniffed and wiped her face. "Just me now. He is family to me. Just me. His relatives rejected him because he's gay."

"Then he won't be alone. I had him brought to the hospital near my home once I found out. He is receiving good care."

Bulma picked up a framed picture from the dresser. Holding her in his arms, Zeus resembled a happy fisherman admiring his finest ocean catch. They were laughing. They always had something to laugh about.

"Did you see him?"

"Yes."

His thoughtful silence rang in her ears. "I told him not to return." She covered her face. "I told him!"

"Listen to me right now, Bulma! Zeus may not live through this, but he will wait… for you. Do not listen to the news for a while, and try to sleep on the flight. I have to go. I'll meet you on the runway when the plane lands."

Vegeta ended the call abruptly not because of personal discomfort. He would have gladly held Bulma if they were together, but he didn't want her completely consumed by grief before traveling. Prolonging conversation would have enabled it. He hoped her friend would live, but he didn't expect it. After arriving at hospital, Zeus asked him to take care of her, which unsettled him. They hadn't known each other a full year. He thought the man disliked him – or, at best, merely tolerated him - and he felt unworthy of the heartfelt request. He promised nothing, instead telling Zeus that Bulma would arrive soon. He could not possibly lie to a decent, honorable man who could be dead within days – or hours.

Events leading up to the attack had been suspicious. More foreign journalists had been traveling within Hegemone to watch how political changes there would unfold. While the prince generally supported a free press and would never advocate harming or jailing reporters for doing their jobs, he disliked speculative stories implying that the worst could still happen. He accepted the facts and informed opinions, no matter how unpleasant, but not careless guesswork. Tales of corruption and dueling feuds within the government had gained more attention publicly. Some stories helped uncover unfavorable situations that worked in his favor. Others, not so much. No one likes being investigated, no matter how "wholesome" one is – and he certainly wasn't.

He knew all along that Zeus was there, having been informed about it, and he had taken keen interest in why. The two reporters the photographer traveled with were considered the best in their profession, too. Vegeta suspected that they stumbled onto information someone didn't want them to know. Of course they did. Something Bulma said to him stood out particularly: She told Zeus not to return. What did she know, and how would he ask? Regardless, he would ask, all feelings aside, and no doubt she would be angry – and possibly enraged. More, he had Zeus and the other two watched, but obviously that hadn't turned out well. Was it the right thing to do? For him, the reality was cold and hard, and he would accept criticism about his actions without regrets or argument. Bulma could either accept it or not.


Cerinthe: 5:30 p.m., Jan. 23, Tuesday

"No Delusions"

Vegeta raised his chin as Bulma descended the plane's stairs. His all-black attire was modest and serious, right down to his winter boots. He looked as handsome as ever, but she was slightly taken aback by his austere appearance. She followed the news closely and had been concerned, but seeing him confirmed how hard these last several months had been. She also concluded that the prince had worked hard to stay sober, recalling how careful Zeus was after quitting heroin. It was hell – until it wasn't. In Vegeta's case, overseeing the full-scale overhaul of an entire government under that pressure was praiseworthy. He had been teetering on the edge of full-blown alcoholism. The reality had finally settled in, Bulma thought. He wasn't all the way there, but he had been close enough.

He handed her a larger shawl to block the bitterly cold wind as they approached the limousine. He stopped looking at her directly. She was dressed in an off-white coat and fur hat, and all he could think about was removing them to continue from where they left in November.

"Are you warm enough? It has been much colder than normal."

Bulma's head shifted to regain his eye contact. "I am. How are you?"

Uncomfortable, he frowned and turned away again. "Do I… look that terrible to you?"

"No," she said, squeezing his arm. "I would tell you. I expected you to be tired, although your goatee has filled out nicely."

Vegeta chest heaved. "Bulma, I..." He closed his eyes. "I..."

"Shhh. You don't have to say it. I missed you too. I am proud of you, my friend."

"There is nothing to be proud of yet." Their hands joined as they kissed gently and quickly. Neither could hold back anymore. Bulma lay her head on his shoulder while he held her.

"Your hair is longer."

"I've been too lazy to cut it." She paused, recalling what Zeus said about his first trip there. "You know, Vegeta, this might look bad for you - flying me here while others are hurt too."

He stared out window.

"Vegeta?"

"Honestly, I prefer that you focus on your friend. Olivier is paying your expenses, not I. If Zeus's condition improves, then we can move him to a hospital either in London or the U.S. for rehabilitation."

"You asked my cousin for help?"

"He says he owes you a favor."

"You are lying."

"Does it matter? It is taken care of."

Not appreciating his brush-off, Bulma looked up. "It does to me. Do not lie."

"Fine." He sighed with annoyance but didn't want to irritate her further – or arouse more suspicion. "That was a stupid lie. However, I am not saying more. Olivier handled it. You are welcome to stay at our estate. Our family hasn't lived in the royal palace for years. That place resembles a Byzantine church, with its geometric mosaics and marble columns. For someone as unholy as I am, it is rather frightening."

Bulma laughed softly. "I have missed your dry humor."

"I know. I may be an ass, but, as you've said, I am a smart one."

"What about Nappa?"

"Hn." Definitely not a question he wanted. "We agreed not to push each other too far. I still make some decisions around here. We are close to hospital now. Staff is expecting us."

"How… did Zeus look?"

Vegeta shook his head. "I know how much you love him." He hated when people talked when silence was more appropriate, so he stopped. One can only do so much to comfort the distraught. He expected her to reject staying at the mansion, which he wouldn't oppose.

He accepted that he was falling in love. He also realized that, as they became closer, they were destined for a world of pain. Their lessons had changed, and it was obvious that Bulma was on the edge of breaking her rules. Nappa was correct about them, the prince now believed, and, after their separation, he finally reconsidered everything without delusions. He also didn't want Bulma worried his drinking. That would be humiliating. Not drinking had stripped his emotions naked, and she had already seen more vulnerability from their first encounter, in June, than any other woman. Witnessing the rest would likely drive her away. Leaders, whether in front or behind the scenes, had to be practical. She may have memorized "The Art of War" by chapter and verse, but living it was radically different.

For now, though, his friend and lover was there. They held hands walking to Zeus's room.

"Do you want me inside with you?"

Bulma faced him. "No."

"Would you prefer staying here overnight?"

"Yes."

Vegeta nodded. "Dinner and breakfast will be delivered. I will step back now. My attendant here can provide anything else you need."

Bulma smiled and ruffled Zeus's hair. His face and body were swollen, and he was on a respirator. "Hello, gorgeous. I'm here. Can you be less dramatic sometimes? I know you must be scared. I am too, but I guess we now have friends in really high places. I brought you something."

The "Kung Fu Panda" theme song played on her phone. They would waltz to the playful melody together like 18th Century nobility, usually after wine-fueled dinners. "We will dance together again. You hear me, Mr. Brickey? Besides my father, you have been my best partner."

Tears welled in Zeus's eyes. He had loved and spoiled her like a doting brother, but he had faith that his "sweetie" would be fine eventually. Bulma stood quietly in the background while the medical team tried to save him the next morning. After he died, she grasped his hand to recite an elegy. "You always liked Herman Melville's poetry. I never did, but here goes. Give my father hug for me, too, Zeus. Love you always."

To have known him, to have loved him

After loneness long;

And then to be estranged in life,

And neither in the wrong;

And now for death to set his seal—

Ease me, a little ease, my song!

By wintry hills his hermit-mound

The sheeted snow-drifts drape,

And houseless there the snow-bird flits

Beneath the fir-trees' crape:

Glazed now with ice the cloistral vine

That hid the shyest grape.


4:30 p.m., Jan. 24, Wednesday

"Valuable Lessons"

Bulma tossed fitfully in her sleep until Vegeta lay down next to her. She didn't know he was in her hotel room, and he didn't touch her. He arrived after confirming that Zeus's body would be handled properly for burial or cremation later.

"Bulma, wake up. You haven't eaten since arriving yesterday. There is food here."

She curled into a semi-fetal position, waving him off. "No, no. I'm fine."

"I wouldn't be here if you were fine," he said gently. "Get up now – for me."

"Leave me alone! I almost prefer you acting like a jerk than doing this."

"Hmm." He leaned back. "If that is what you want, I am happy to oblige. Your closest friend died doing the job that pleased him, despite the terrible circumstances. Grieve, but don't expect me or others to pity you when you abuse yourself. You are just as susceptible as anyone of falling into a sink hole too."

Bulma's fake smile vacillated between surprise and enraged scorn. "Did I just hear what I thought I heard? You're lecturing me about abusing myself?! You almost drank yourself to death, arriving at my home with nowhere else to go! What arrogance. Did you bring me here to make you feel better about yourself? You don't have the privilege of making me do anything that I don't want outside of my bedroom. I'll be damned if this becomes the norm."

"Trust me, it won't," he replied coldly, "and if you believe that pathetic tantrum would hurt my delicate feelings, think again. You are terrible at it, and I will always be better than you – and now that I'm sober, I am much more severe." His face softened as her azure eyes fell. "I choose not to eviscerate your feelings because you deserve so, so much better than that, tiger lily."

"Just leave, Vegeta."

He bowed. "As you wish. Your food cart will stay warm for hours. I am ordering hotel staff to leave it. However, there is an expensive restaurant near the hotel's lobby if your cuisine here doesn't suit you."

Bulma looked down and sighed. "I'm sorry. Please come back." Vegeta had been brutally honest, no doubt, but her rejection still stung him.

"Let's say that we have a tie," he said, approaching the door. "You started. I finished. It is better if I leave. I am… sorry for your loss. Your friend's memory will bring comfort in time."

"Look, I will eat." She waved a baked chicken leg in the air. "See! Would that atone for my rudeness?"

Vegeta looked horrified. "Perhaps if you had better table manners! You are wagging carefully prepared food at me. I am not a starving dog."

"Is this better?" Bulma took a giant bite and chewed with her mouth open. "How can you be offended? I have chained you to walls and done all kinds of things to you – and you howled like a starving wolf. Now you're squeamish over roasted chicken?"

He snatched the bone away, hoping that no grease had stained the rug. "Would you stop this foolishness?! You're making me gag."

Laughing, she gulped a glass of lemonade and stood. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I know what you're doing. Don't even think about it." He pointed at the food. "Eat, but I can't watch anymore."

She licked her fingers. "You can eat other things."

"No way." The prince's cheeks reddened as she thrust her hand into his pants, grabbing his dick. He stared straight ahead, biting his lips.

"You're not moving fast enough, your highness. What happened to your impressive karate reflexes?"

His eyelids dropped. Now he was on the hunt. "You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" He grabbed her, ripping her blouse to pieces. She tried to slap him, but his hand shot up as fast as lightening, clutching her wrist. His taunting laughter echoed from ceiling. "Is that good enough for you? As I said before, you are outclassed."

"I want you."

"Go ahead and gnash those pretty teeth," he said, shaking her. "What will you do for me? Mewl like an infant? I will break every single piece of furniture in this room driving you. I want you hallucinating over me – and you will. Are you ready again?"

He threw her over his shoulder and marched across the room.

"Damn it! Put me down!"

"Nope." He smacked her ass. "Did you truly understand what you were looking for with me?"

Bulma stopped moving. "Of course I did, from the first time I kissed you," she said softly. "You valued my lessons as much as I valued yours. We challenged each other, and you opened yourself to me. I wanted to know you. Even now, I don't expect more than that. It's okay if you don't either. We may have feelings for each other, but I understand…"

"That's enough." He released her and covered her lips. "I don't need you reading my mind."

She nipped at his fingers. "Okay, well, I would appreciate it if you would stop destroying my nicest clothes, jackass. That was a lovely piece of linen you shredded."

"You can always make more, no?" He waved the tattered blouse over his head. "Didn't you say once that you don't care about pretention? How many more lies have you told yourself…and me?"

"I changed my mind about you. Get out of my room."

"Your nipples are hard. I like that. I want to frolic with them." No one else would likely believe he had this much humor in him - and Bulma always giggled at his playfulness, which he loved. He would make this a good denouement. He paced around, inhaling her scent.

"What nonsense is this, Vegeta?"

He held up his finger. "Quiet. I'm sketching."

"You've got to be kidding." Bulma threw her hands up. "Now you're mocking me?" She gasped as he grabbed her and slammed her against his body, shoving her onto her knees. She collapsed like rag doll.

"Hn. That's more like it." Bulma flinched as he covered her mouth. "How long has this smart tongue of yours created trouble?"

Her eyes widened as Vegeta pulled her hair backward. She pursed her lips in rebellion, knowing what came next. That didn't stop him from tying the remainder of her blouse over her mouth.

"Oh, my. I apologize for being impolite, madame. It's much more comfortable to bite down on the fabric. Now open your mouth and do it correctly." His forefinger glided around the opening between buttocks, pushing flesh aside as he prepared for entry.

"Get my bag first," she mumbled. "I want lube!"

He quickly untied her. "You brought lube with you? What the hell?"

"I always carry some, no matter where I go. Zeus taught me this. You never know when you'll need it."

Vegeta's head fell onto her shoulders as they laughed together. "You two had a lot of fun, didn't you?"

Still chuckling, Bulma wiped her eyes. "We did. We certainly did – and I can't believe you planned to go anal on me like that without lube! Don't treat my beautiful ass like a lion's savannah. Apologize!"

He moved his hands underneath her back, turning on his side. "Let's do this instead. Put your legs around my hips." From there he gently penetrated her pussy. His thrusts were deep and intended to continue for as long as she wanted. They kissed passionately until her head shifted to the right. Her chest pumped as he increased speed. She panted heavily as he stroked her clit, guiding her to climax.

He cuddled next to her ear. "Have I pleased you, my mistress?"

She smiled. "Don't stop yet." For the first time in recent memory, she felt genuinely appreciated by a partner.

Then, the building shook. Smoke billowed from below. Glass shattered outside.

Gunshots flew.

Vegeta quickly grabbed a Glock pistol from underneath the bed – one of two in the room - while Bulma gathered their clothing.

"Stay down!"