Blame lack of sleep for using the Bard to entitle this chapter.
"Vegeta? Vegeta? How are you feeling?"
Bulma was sitting next to him. Feeling her hand on his shoulder, Vegeta rolled over and yawned. "Ugh. I am so thirsty. How long have I been asleep?"
"For a day, so it's a little after 5 p.m. Thirst is a side-effect from the medicine I gave you."
He grimaced. "An entire day? Really?"
"Your body needed this," Bulma replied. "Remember, I gave you a big dose of the drug, and you were already exhausted from lack of sleep. You sound much better, though."
"Well, I do not need tending in this way from you anymore -but I am hungry."
"Get your food by your damn self," Bulma said, feeling annoyed by his abrupt dismissal. "I'm not your maid. Regardless, you need a separate round of shots to straighten out your overactive immune system. They should protect you for years, we believe."
"I am not doing it." Vegeta said, drawing his blanket over his chest. "The reaction I had was a fluke."
Bulma felt her face turning red from frustration. "I'm so tired of this, you ungrateful, petulant, childish man - and I am fed up with your moodiness. One minute you're all over me, and the next minute I get this crap from you."
Vegeta reclined in his bed and sighed. His disapproval of Bulma's anger matched his exasperation. Self-pity is not an attractive attribute. Too bad she does not recognize it.
"Ungrateful? You still do not understand, do you? Woman, I may be all of those things, but you chose to house me. Accept that - and, as I recall, you rejected me yesterday. Do not insult me to avoid responsibility for your decisions, because I have no guilt at all about mine. I know why I am here, and that is to train and understand how your low-class, simple-minded friend 'Goku' accomplished an act that I have not as a Saiyan warrior.
"Defeating these 'androids' is a challenge I will win, with or without help from your weakling friends, who foolishly believe they are worthy fighters. You and your father have provided all the tools I need, willingly. He may not know everything about me, but he is accomplished in his own right. Therefore, he understands implicitly what drives me as a man ... more than you ever will."
Bulma stopped herself from snickering. My god. What a drama queen. Oh, the tragedy! I can't believe he's playing the man-card. Not an appealing look for him.
"Perhaps my father does understand you more, but he is also at peace with himself, Vegeta. You aren't - and from what I'm hearing, you may never be. But I still hope that happens one day, whether you remain here or not - and whether you achieve what Goku has with his fighting talents. And yes, I am wholly responsible for my choices."
"Fancy that," Vegeta said. "See there, you learned something."
"You aren't of this world in mind or spirit, Vegeta," Bulma continued. "I've been wrong to expect more than what you're equipped to give personally to anyone, beyond fighting on our side this time. That's why I pushed you away - but you should own your bullshit too. You felt something good with me yesterday and selfishly took advantage in the same way you've done with everything else in your life. Now you regret it. Accept that - and trust me, babe, I am no victim."
"You overestimate your skill at analyzing me."
Bulma nodded and approached the door. "The shooter bots should be ready by noon tomorrow for your obstacle training in the gravity chamber. My father will observe in case of malfunctions. Your reinforced battle armor, gloves, and footwear will be ready in a week. I recommend adjusting the firepower to a lower level until you have them."
"Noted. You have said your piece, Bulma. I will be ready for tomorrow."
Vegeta's rebuff didn't really hurt her. Was she fuming? Certainly - but Bulma also knew the Saiyan prince carried a massive list of "humiliations" inside his head - real or perceived - that triggered his aggravating behavior. She couldn't imagine lugging that kind of mental weight around, let alone drawing enough strength from it to become an accomplished fighter and military commander, as he did.
To be sure, that list often motivated Vegeta to accomplish extraordinary feats, when it didn't drive him to underestimate the challenges facing him. With Frieza dead, he was now free to redefine his life. That was a lot to ask of someone who spent almost one-third of existence serving under a dictator - although Vegeta would probably never see it that way. Now, his default response was throwing rebellious punches at everyone in sight, deserved or not.
God forbid if a psychiatrist ever met with him, Bulma thought. Being as smart as he was, Vegeta's antics would likely drive any therapist to alcoholism - or, perhaps, kill the person "accidentally." She chuckled at this otherwise gloomy thought. Then she felt somewhat guilty. The man had survived brutal humiliations that would have left other people permanently broken: the destruction of his planet and savage beating on Namek by Frieza; his bloody, tearful confession to Goku about the fate of their race; and, especially, his devastation at not being the prophesied, all-powerful Saiyan warrior of legend who would avenge them, restoring his honor.
Still, Vegeta was damned lucky to have a second chance at life, considering the cruelties he inflicted on others while serving in Frieza's army - often in ways Bulma didn't care to know more about. She had seen enough of that man on Namek, when they first met. Despite all of this, he had become an unexpected ally - one who would perhaps save them all from the terror Earth would eventually face from the androids within another two years.
He would eventually accept treatment for his ailment, and that was all that mattered to Bulma right then. The stakes were too high for everyone else she loved - and for Vegeta.
###
It was pitch-black outside, and Vegeta had finally stopped ripping bark from a helpless old oak tree behind the gazebo. The damage he inflicted would probably cause another spat with Bulma if he were in the mood to tolerate it, which he wasn't. The giant, moss-covered relic was half dead anyway. He thought it was a proper mercy killing.
You aren't of this world in mind or spirit.
Humans had many annoying habits, one of them being their fixation on repeating irrefutable facts - proving points that don't require more proof. Bulma was especially horrible at this, in his opinion. Her observation was one-hundred percent accurate, so it shouldn't have irritated him. But it did.
What a foolish statement. How dare that insolent woman pass judgment, as if he were seeking acceptance from mortals who were clearly beneath him. Not a chance.
The prince of all Saiyans bows before no one. Not this time. Not ever again.
And he would never be king.
He was a sojourner - a temporary resident. Being a migrant strengthened him, he felt, by blocking worthless personal attachments. Power, in and of itself, was a noble end. Achieving and maintaining it - sometimes ruthlessly - guided almost all relationships, he believed. One was worthy of his company or not. Most people would never be. Fear and domination were easier to manage… and play around with.
Vegeta understood the complexities of using people better than most. He had been exploited throughout his life. The thought of being genuinely cared for by anyone was absurd. The beautiful young scientist he seduced in the medical lab was no exception. Bulma needed to get over herself. She wanted to claim his body as much as he wanted to tame hers. His comment the day before about trusting her judgment about not having sex was all bullshit. He smiled and licked his lips.
She will return for more.
Of course she would! Perish the thought that he would ever be smitten with her. His attraction was carnal. Whether Bulma developed feelings later - which Vegeta arrogantly believed she would - was irrelevant. No doubt that those emotions would focus entirely on her fulfillment, not his. He would refused to be used in this way.
"Rowwwrrrr…"
What the hell is that? Have I been speaking out loud?
Indeed he was, and Tama had enough of Vegeta's long-winded, angst-ridden Shakespearean monologue in the yard. Was he Hamlet or Macbeth? Who the fuck cared? He was scaring away the squirrels and crickets! She had to stop him, for his sake and for hers. The growls were courteous warning shots before shitting on his head from her tree roost. If he continued blathering, a carpet-bombing of poo would serve a worthy cause.
"You miserable little wretch." Vegeta conjured up a fiery marble of energy - tiny enough to fry a cat - on his right trigger finger. "How dare you snarl at me."
"Rowwwrrrr…"
He slowly elevated himself to Tama's resting place and glowered. She didn't bat an eye.
"Cat, do you know I have killed people for lesser wrongs against me?"
Tama squatted down with her ears slightly raised. She didn't fear dying by his hand.