Recap: Vegeta has been called to the U.S. to support an ill Bulma, who may miscarry or deliver prematurely, and is at risk for death. Before leaving, he must deal the fallout from disclosing Bulma's pregnancy to his mother Danae and biological father Nappa. He also faces other thorny challenges. Bulma must confront herself as well as Vegeta to move forward.
Looking grim, Nappa moved aside while Danae slowly approached Vegeta. She glanced back at the general, icily frowning her disapproval for more than being unaware of Bulma's pregnancy – although Nappa hadn't known either. She rejected his follow-up offer to hold her arm. Her cane drummed the wooden floor like a field commander.
"Danae, trust me, this is the first I've heard," Nappa said. "Now please, let me assist you."
"I trust you on that declaration, general," she said with fire in her eyes. "However, I am through being handled. This stops now. We are not getting any younger."
Danae stared at Vegeta, who bowed his head in obeisance. He gently clasped her extended hand, both from love and respect, to escort her.
"My queen, you're not being fair. Nappa and I…"
"Nonsense, son," Danae said softly. "You of all people learned from me that life is not fair, despite your entitlement. Let us begin with Ms. Brief and my soon-to-be grandchild. Then, your paternity."
"Bulma's sister called on her behalf," Vegeta replied. "I do not know every detail, but it is serious. The child is due in…"
"Late October, perhaps around the 25th?"
"The 21st," Vegeta said. He reminded himself never to underestimate her razor-sharp comprehension.
Danae shifted in her seat. No need to mince words.
"If they live," she continued, "babies at Bulma's stage of pregnancy are destined to have severe health difficulties. However, modern medicine is impressive. I'm sure her cousin arranged for the best care."
Vegeta nodded. "Olivier will be there tomorrow."
"Very good," said Danae, observing his agitation. "Now tell me why you hid this from us, son?"
Suddenly feeling tired, Vegeta had enough his mother's highhanded confrontation.
"Mother, really? You bit my head off when Bulma first visited – and now you're best friends? She has been kind and helpful to you because that is her nature. Though you have settled on believing that we should be together, our circumstance is far more complicated beyond this pregnancy."
"But," pressed Danae, "you are in love with her."
"Yes, I'm in love with her!" Vegeta shouted angrily. "Of course I am! What more do you want from me?! I'm also a borderline alcoholic with depression, and... and…" He stopped to catch his breath. "Mother, I accepted the tightrope upon which I stand, to remain committed to Hegemone. Not once has Bulma pressured me for more. She knows how I feel, but I also must respect her wishes."
Startled, Danae clenched the chair's arm rest. She felt like a fool.
"Alcohol? I do not understand. How could you not come to me for help? Why? Did I do something to make you not trust me? Oh, Vegeta. I'm so sorry."
Nappa had heard enough. Danae was doing the opposite of what Vegeta needed. Given the news, he thought she would use a lighter touch. She usually did.
"Stop it, Danae," he said. "He needs time – and so do you. Vegeta, go, now. "
Mind reeling, the prince rejected the general's order. "No, we are not done, Nappa. No. She is right. This must happen. I am in treatment, mother. I am sorry. I am carrying out my duties responsibly."
"And you are done," Nappa said, sternly glaring at Danae. "You must be in good shape for the trip, Vegeta. Finish preparing yourself."
The prince's frustration subsided as Nappa's sturdy hand steadied him. "Yes, general. Yes, you're right."
Considering his options as Vegeta left, Nappa faced Danae. She sat upright, waiting for an explanation.
"Danae, I will tell you once," he said at last. "Do not make this about you. What was that just now?"
Wood chips scattered as Danae's cane struck the coffee table. "What the hell do you mean, general?! You've watched and hidden Vegeta's illness from me! Alcohol dependence doesn't begin overnight! Furthermore, how did he learn that you are his father?"
"Damn you, woman!" Nappa retorted. "He's smart, Danae! He figured it out! I admitted my fatherhood after he had a drunken breakdown, following last year's U.N. speech. His bond with your husband has suffered because of King Vegeta's suspicions about us. Other issues only Vegeta can share if he so chooses. He still has his pride, and I've endured a lot crap to help because I love him. Rightfully, he has been uncertain about his life's trajectory, as well as his duties. I had to accept that. So should you."
"Do not lecture me," Danae said, looking away. "I am aware of his ambivalence. Recall that I encouraged him to pull back to care for himself - which he has, apparently. But you see his commitment to work."
"Fine then," Nappa replied. "Since childhood we have tried to protect him. He also has tried to protect us from many troubles. Sometimes… parents miss what is in plain sight."
"Like this accidental pregnancy," said Danae. "We walked their path together too, Nappa. I am not angry with him – and I don't care about propriety. I want to help. Vegeta will hurt terribly if the worst happens. Terribly."
"I know, but you are queen and propriety matters – along with Bulma and Vegeta's privacy. Think about what he said. She's unready to love in the way he desires, and she may never be. She has considered whether her presence would distract and derail him. Having a child, though, changes one's perspective."
Danae smiled. "As we both know."
Nappa wiped Danae's tears as they kissed. "You cannot go, my love. Your health is important, as well. We must wing it, as the Americans say. I will be with our son on this trip. Make yourself useful. Apply your brilliance to handling King Vegeta until we return."
Danae's insides burned with resentment over her husband. Until now, King Vegeta was the only father the prince had ever known, and the boy had loved him. Neither spouse had slept in the same bed for years because the queen couldn't tolerate his spitefulness. Her best years were devoted to earning Hegemone a place on the world stage with him. King Vegeta accepted his namesake as heir apparent because Danae's support was invaluable - and he wouldn't be humiliated publicly over her suspected love child. He never would confront Nappa because the general had served Hegemone honorably. Despite the king's disappointment, he also knew Danae's first love was indeed the better man.
"My preference is complete silence," Danae replied to Nappa. "The king does not need to know…yet."
Hours later Vegeta donned jeans and a crisp white oxford shirt, braced for the brutal heat wave gripping New York. Dante, the page, arrived smiling and carrying a sparkling blue gift box and greeting card. All packages entering the mansion were screened for explosives and toxic substances, but the prince remained suspicious.
Eyeing the box, Vegeta gruffly replied, "What's in it? Someone must have told you."
Dante knew Vegeta was unsentimental but puzzled by his lackluster enthusiasm about the gift.
"Yes, I do," the teenager said cheerfully. "May I open it for you?"
"Don't bother," Vegeta said, extending his hand. "I'll take the card first. You may go, Dante. Your preparations for my trip are suitable. While I am away, you will support the king and queen's chief of staff, Iris. She will haze you appropriately."
"Yes, your highness. Safe travels."
Vegeta fingered the roughened, powder blue parchment until cracking the envelope's wax seal.
***
Unto Your Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Hegemone:
Arestis Rose sends greetings.
You have been on my mind, Vegeta. While I understand your desire for distance, many years have passed and I humbly seek forgiveness for the discord I caused in your family.
Our great country nears a notable milestone because of you and the true believers, and I am proud to serve our government. The march of progress will continue!
I have not forgotten about your birthday on August 10th. I respectfully request that you accept my gift and hope that it brings pleasure.
I have the honor to remain most humble and obedient servant. - A.R.
The obsequious letter's faultless formality amused Vegeta. Arestis remained an unrepentant, attention-seeking know-it-all. The gift box he opened contained an intricately designed pink genie bottle and two monogrammed shot glasses.
Swarovski Alize vodka. Price: $2,500.
"Damn," the prince grumbled, "she wasted money unwisely." He had consumed pricier spirits anyway.
Arestis always had an end game, which Vegeta knew. This brand of Alize had been the first "hard spirit" shared during their youth. Vegeta's fingers wandered over the bottle's ridges. Then, he set it down and picked up a shot glass.
Standing in the mansion's underground garage, Nappa rang Vegeta's phone. "We're ready when you are, although we should not wait much longer."
"Give me an hour, general. Also, I will retire for the evening as soon as we're flying."
Sensing his son's melancholy, Nappa considered asking to dine with him. Then he decided against it, figuring Vegeta needed solitude before seeing Bulma.
"Understood. A meal will be ready in your cabin quarters – also, Vegeta, that spirited New Yorker we know is as tough as saddle leather. We will…figure out the rest."
"She must be to deal with me," the prince replied. "You know better than anyone."
He opened the bottle, filling the shot glasses with vodka.
Manhattan, New York: 5 a.m., August 4th, Saturday
Olivier and Vegeta shook hands and embraced at the hospital, acknowledging decades of friendship. Nappa nodded a polite greeting and stepped away. Olivier always had been a steadying, good-natured presence in the prince's life, which the general appreciated. Vegeta had been more distant in recent years because of his alcohol dependence, contributing to his loneliness. His friend would have helped had he known.
"You are a sight, mate," he said, admiring Vegeta's tastefully casual appearance. "You look better on the telly, I say. The goatee fits you, however."
"And you look like a hapless rat dragged through an alley," Vegeta said. "Being CEO has aged you."
In truth, the white-haired executive's solid muscular frame almost matched Vegeta's, except for carrying about ten more pounds. Handing him coffee, Olivier led Vegeta into a breezy, high-ceiling living room next to Bulma's quarters. Visually harmonious, the room's classic Astor-style furniture, charcoal watercolor paintings, and the black-and-white rug appealed to the senses. Bulma's family breathed artistic appreciation into everything, the prince thought.
Olivier smiled. "Recall that many London alleys are quite lovely, you acid-tongued bastard."
The prince smirked and replied, "All the better to scald you with, arsehole."
Vegeta noticed Olivier's closer examination of him. His friend knew about his drinking, evidently. Only four people could be responsible. Zeus was dead. Bulma and Nappa wouldn't have said anything.
That left Tights – and she probably learned from Zeus before asking Bulma. She was friendly when they first met, and he was polite. Regardless, Vegeta's prickly reputation clothed him. As much as he hated to admit, Tights should be cautious – but he had limits. They would lock horns if she overstepped.
His mind raced as the New York's cityscape gradually filled with the familiar cadence of car horns, booming delivery trucks, and all manner of human chatter. Bulma had proper lodging and medical attention, but maybe she needed a discreet roommate to keep her company? Friends couldn't be there consistently – or maybe they could?
"Your email explained the basics," he said from the balcony. "What about complications?
Olivier stared forward. "Vegeta, she is at risk for heart or kidney failure, and stroke, if current treatment becomes ineffective. Doctors also are using steroids to boost the child's lung size. If Bulma could reach thirty weeks of gestation, even that would be better, but she takes priority. If the doctors deliver early to preserve her life, then so be it. She cannot go home."
"How... is her mood?"
"It will improve when you enter, I am sure," Olivier said, seeing through his friend's reserved mask. Vegeta was scared and undoubtedly loved Bulma. For years Olivier hoped the prince would find a partner, and yet their brotherly bonhomie didn't outweigh legitimate concerns.
Vegeta leaned forward on the balcony's barrier, waiting for the denouement. "You disapprove," he said. "Stop overthinking and speak plainly, Olivier."
"Do you blame me?" Olivier asked with patient concern. "Bulma is family. While in Hegemone, she visits a mortally wounded friend and is confronted with a terrorist attack – all in a week. Now she's having your child. You, my friend, are a brilliant statesman - and an erstwhile cad with emotional baggage. I am a loyal pragmatist. You have been hard on yourself - which has pained me over the years – as well as others. Yet I feel your love for my cousin. I had to see it myself before moving forward."
"So you're asking what I could possibly offer her?" Vegeta asked.
"Love, of course, and that's good," Olivier said, clutching his shoulder. "Hell, I love my ex-wife, but our relationship is not salvageable. If you and Bulma commit, which I suspect, you must protect each other's hearts spiritually. You must."
"Whatever that means," Vegeta said as he sipped coffee. "Anything else you want to know?"
"Actually, I do," Olivier said, bowing his head in thought. "When did you last drink?"
Aggravated, Vegeta pulled away. "You are crossing a line, Olivier. Back off – now."
"Call me any time before a bender, so I can stop you." Olivier re-entered the living room, nodding for the prince to follow. "We must stick together."
Vegeta's eyebrows arched with surprise. "You had an alcohol problem?"
"Why do you think my wife left, mate? Even my charm has limits. Consider my offer as you visit with Bulma. You will have my friendship - always - but never my blessing if you end treatment for our illness. Now then, I have kept you long enough. See her."
"Just a little sleepy, she is," an attending nurse said when Vegeta entered. "Still early, it is. Sit right here, sir."
Vegeta said nothing, which didn't surprise the nurse. "We have to be monitor fluid intake," she added, "but feel free to encourage her to drink more water or call us for other needs."
"Yes," Vegeta said. "I understand. You can leave us." He pressed a cloth-covered stress ball into Bulma's hand. "You might need this to throw at someone."
"It's just like you to sneak in, your highness," she said groggily, "and I don't need help with water. I will have some when I'm ready."
"Call it a habit you encouraged, madame. However, a sunrise visit does not count."
Bulma smiled. "I did encourage that habit, didn't I?"
Their fingers interlaced. Vegeta's silence bespoke relief. They recalled their quiet hand-holding when he was hospitalized drunk and depressed - his lowest moment.
"Do not expect me to say you're beautiful right now."
"Try this," Bulma said playfully. "I really don't give a shit."
"Yeah, well," Vegeta continued, "we've seen each other in about one-thousand incredible erotic positions. I suppose you get a pass this time."
Bulma finally requested water. Her shaky hand almost dropped the plastic glass, prompting Vegeta to help her authoritatively. He seemed sad, which she couldn't tolerate. Not while she was like this. Not yet. After all, they once dragged their naked bodies across a hotel floor during a bombing in Hegemone, for goodness sake!
"Thanks for the water," she said. "So… how's it going, Count Dracula?"
Vegeta frowned as if she had insulted him. "Bulma Brief, I did not travel almost five-thousand miles to gossip about myself like a boarding school student."
Taking a deep breath, she poked his arm. "Then tell me what you want, Prince Vegeta. I'm running out of topics."
Vegeta's head dropped as he laughed. "Oh, no. You will not trap me again, woman. I will not be fooled. That's how we got into this mess."
"If I recall," Bulma interjected, "you wanted me – and only me – to design your clothes. Then, I soon handed your ass to you for acting like a giant ass in my home."
Vegeta observed her breathing difficulty, which wasn't bad, but she appeared uncomfortable. He stood. "I'm calling the nurse. Our banter can resume later. You need food, too."
Eyes glistening with tears, Bulma grabbed his arm. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Vegeta."
"It was unintentional," he said quietly. "I understand, tiger lily. We agreed to put distance between us. Now let me go. It's OK. Rest."
"No, it's not OK," Bulma protested.
The prince looked down and sighed. "We may be parents soon. You called and I am here. I am repaying debts for your kindnesses to me and, by extension, my eccentric family."
"Well, would you at least give me more water please?" she asked.
Despite his reluctance, Vegeta agreed. Bulma pulled him closer while he helped her drink. No matter how tired, her energetic blue eyes always dazzled. The prince shook his head, placing his cool hand on her face. Brushing her hair back, he kissed her left temple, lingering until she gently stroked his neck.
"How will we do this, Vegeta?"
"We won't," he said with conviction. "Not now. Once our child is born or… or…" He couldn't bring himself to finish that part. "We can decide about being together afterward. I am in love with you, but this is an emotional time for us."
Bulma observed him. "You know, Vegeta, I've thought extensively about Zeus living more in the moment beyond even me. I want to reach another level, with you. Let's try."
After kissing Bulma again, the prince rested his head near hers. While they reconciled, Vegeta also saw Tights listening by the door.
Notes: Thanks for your comments on the last chapter. Vegebul have had a rough go of it, but there's hope, yes? Regarding Tights, well, she might have a backstory clouding her judgment about the prince. Who knows! Love hearing from you.
