Excuse Me?

Disclaimer: Toriyama owns DBZ and I don't.

A/N: As promised, this is the quick update. This is set three days after the previous chapter. Read, review, nitpick, do anything you like.

Chapter V

Bulma's POV.

I'm feeling marvelously shot. So many nights have gone since I did something other than crying and scratching myself. I can't believe I'm being locked in a servant's cellar, coerced to seek shelter on the freezing floor with no hope of a romantic rescue. Oh, Gokou, Yamcha, where are you? I haven't seen anything that could be called a daylight since the goaler delivered my breakfast yesterday. I don't know exactly the number of hours that drifted since then. I'm doing my best to ignore my hunger. I have succeeded insofar as not going near the plate is concerned. Honestly, even a half-starved dog wouldn't lick it if it had a choice.

Now even my weakness has left me. I feel ready to stain these hands with murder, too ready I could almost taste the iron flavor of blood, granted that these aliens' blood are halfway like humans'. I kind of actually miss my room in much the same way I long to see how ragged I must look at the present. Four days ago I would've given everything to get away from its boring, prison-like sight. I take that back now, regrettably.

Well, believe it or don't, I've made so much progress in my battle against this isolation. I may be clinically mental right now but I don't care. I lost my life in three days, without warning and everything. My body is just so filled to the brim with anger I can hardly make room for miscellaneous emotions. I just feel really angry and vengeful. I wonder how everyone is. Are they still alive or are they as pathetic as me? They'd be lucky if they'd died already. The last time I was briefed of some news, triumph has been claimed by the invaders and our men somewhat annihilated, scattered, just like my mind. I wonder if I should give it the benefit of the doubt but how, when I'm locked fast in this tremendous hellhole?

The door creaks open. A rare event as of late. It's then when my yellow and red toady warden materializes in the threshold, a malicious grin plastered on his face and his cannibalistic claws clucking against each other, creating a kind of spooky rhythm. I choke at the very sight of him, too fatigued to offer an unpleasant word in return.

"Stand up, woman. I need to get you to the second floor."

"If I'm being arraigned for my gallows appearance, I'd need to get to my room first and change. I'm not about to die looking like a famished, abused prisoner." Come to think of it, I've been through worse weather for the past seventy-two hours.

"Nay, Lords Frieza and Vegeta want a word with you, immediately."

The names rang into my ear, recalling horrid memories I fought so hard to stash away to oblivion. Somehow, I feel more afraid of that prospect than standing vis-à-vis my death.

"Did you hear me? My bosses want to speak with you."

"Is it about the nuptial?" My words dissipate in the sub-zero air, failing to regroup themselves, and disappearing within each other in a matter of half a moment. The marriage deal is yet to be deliberated, I almost let it slip off me. I've been so hell-bent on plotting/fantasizing my revenge the marriage scarcely retained itself in me. And now... perhaps the hour has come to face it.

"Come, miss. The masters are not to be kept long."

I catch myself obeying his orders. Have I been in a healthier mood, I would've found this all singularly hilarious or better yet, I might've kicked this monster's ass a long while ago. But neither hilarity nor courage could be begotten at this rate. Hopelessness has never quite shown itself so boldly to me. All I can afford is to keep my head low and perchance, die that way.

My feet mechanically trail the warden. I trudge through pearly halls, sighing at their familiarity. Somehow, good memories seem to be mingled with the worst ones and each time the need to keep my eyes closed arises, I feel the unstoppable urge to cry.

Then I suddenly know where we are heading. That room contains numberless memories as well. This room whose door I'm face to face with now is where I used to spend my youthful nights when I was too scared and babyish to stay up in my own. I would neatly tuck myself between my parents, sleep tightly as their warmth was being transfused to my body. I would've gladly died this moment if only to get those days back.

"Come in, princess." An amphibious voice says. The door pries open, revealing an almost irreparable form of vandalism. My parents' bedroom can hardly be associated with its erstwhile gorgeous appearance and that's not to mention the presences that now fill it. I scratch my eyes for a btter look, trying to re-accustom myself to the light. The family portrait, my father's pride, is nowhere to be seen. The furniture were fatefully removed, doubtless to be shipped to Frieza's aircraft where great profit is to be made out of them.

And then, the absence of something human speaks the loudest. It fills every corner of the room, like unseen molecules, feeding on life and vitality.

"Sit down." Frieza says. I scour for something to sit on and at last, find a sturdy stool which I recognize as an import from the dirty kitchen. Frieza, however, is reclined on the Master's bed. From my pitiful position, I could get a full view of his three-toed white feet.

"Where are my parents? And what has happened while I was gone? Is everyone dead?"

"If I should answer that in order, princess, my words should go: In the dungeons, a lot, and no. Unfortunately, there are some that are worth keeping alive. You may count yourself among them."

"Should I be happy, then?" I say, trying to humor him.

"It depends on your willingness to negotiate." A voice that doesn't belong to Frieza slithers its way to my ears. I follow its direction and to my disappointment learn that its origin is none other than the haughty prince of the lousy world. Unlike Frieza, he is enthroned on the windowsill, half of his face clouded by the shadow of the curtains. He raises an eyebrow to me and smiles, "What, forgot me already, didn't you? Did you just find somebody else to bore with your marriage proposal?"

"Not quite. My sanity's still preserved and it tells me you're a jerk. Anyway," ignoring him, I turn to Frieza. "Have you got another way around this? What are your new terms?"

"Simple. I need an information that only you know."

His words capture my attention in an instant. I lean closer to him, determined not to cringe at his animal features. This may as well be my chance to salvage my world and I'd be a total fool to disregard it.

"I'm listening."

"Oh well. Then no difficulty may pass between us." Frieza states as his violet lips curl into what must've been a really grotesque grin. "This warrior, I believe he is a friend of yours, has spilled the beans as to the inventor of this device." He holds out a black chip for me to examine. I don't need to look twice or longer to know that it's the flame-deflector. I invented it myself hardly a year ago. I raise my eyes towards my interlocutor, wary to keep it out of any suspicious expression.

"And?" was all I can say.

"And? Well, we've tried the device ourselves and surprisingly, none of my men can't seem to find out how to use it. We guess that you, being its creator, would tell us."

"Sure. But what do I get in return?"

"Name your price."

"Leave... at once." I say, upholding the rest of what's left of my pluck.

There's laughter all of a sudden. A shrill, murder-bent laughter that I haven't heard before. Frieza is shaking on the sheets, uncontrollably, so that his breath comes short and his pupils roll back into his skull. It's a very scary scene, seeing him drive himself crazy.

"You seem to mistake me for someone very generous, princess. I'm afraid I'm going to have to call it either way, but not now. Not when I haven't stripped this world down to its core. I say, you think of something else." he finishes in halting tones as he nursed further symptoms of incessant laughter.

"This warrior who told you about me, is it Son Gokou?" I said quietly.

"Yes, the Baron of Zarak. Don't be upset that he's betrayed you. At gunpoint, you must understand, men have to turn back on their word."

"I'm not upset. If revealing the name of the inventor saved his life from your clutches, I'd be more than grateful that he's spared."

"Oh, noble. And may I inquire as to the nature of his relationship with you?"

"Childhood friend. He's the only one who knew how I got by the invention of the chip. Does he live yet?" I say, hiding my anxiety.

"I'm afraid so. He seems strong, my lady."

"Yes and if you're not careful enough, his power may drive you to the next galaxy." I spurt out in reckless abandon, not aware of any consequence my words may bring.

"Really? Too bad his execution is scheduled tomorrow, at dusk."

I drop my hands to my sides. This time, I didn't bother to conceal my anxiety. I take a step toward Frieza, ready to prostrate before him to beg for my friend's life.

"You can't..."

"And why can't I? Really, I'm quite shocked you'd think me incapable of ordering this man's death when clearly, almost before your eyes, I've swept one half of this world's population." he sneers and subsequently curls his lips.

"You can still save his life, Bulma." Vegeta says, breaking his silence at last. He moves forward, setting himself in the light. "You tell us how to get the flame deflector to work and we'd let him go a free man."

I think for a moment. Nothing clicks insofar as achieveing my end is concerned. I can feel both men's eyes studying me, carefully, as though it's a matter of life and death to discover my thoughts. Then I decide,

"I need to talk to you, Vegeta." I say. "In private."

His eyes wander from me to his adoptive father. I keep my gaze at him, steadily, not wanting to see dissent there. I can't read his expression; the only thing I'm conscious of is the ineffable intensity in his face. Without looking at Frieza, and equally conscious of his presence, I wait for his compliance, thinking that I'd die if he doesn't grant my request. In a few seconds, I hear the double doors close gently behind me and suddenly we are alone in the master's suite.

"I'm not going to marry you in exchange for that--"

"I'm not asking you to marry me." I say sternly amidst the holy silence. He retreats a step as if fearing a bite from me. I collapse on the foot of the bed. All frailties leave me and in a surge of adrenaline, with my thoughts on the verge of orgasm, I wring my hands together. "Listen, I can offer you something that you can't refuse. And if you do this particular bidding of mine, I can give you that. And I assure you no regrets."

"Is this a joke? Because if it is, just give me the cue to laugh and I'll be there."

"But first I need you to promise not to tell anyone. We have to be careful in taking the steps because otherwise we're toast..."

"Hold on. I haven't actually said yes. In fact I can hardly subject myself to be interested in whatever it is you have to say. I'm quite content as Frieza's protégé."

"You weren't listening, were you?"

"I was, and I deeply regret that I even bothered to."

"You hate your foster dad. You can't fool me."

"Believe what you will but I've had enough." he says, placing her hands on her hips and moving back to his former abode. But he didn't walk out on me, which is a plus because I'd still have a window of chance to persuade him.

"I said I can give you something you can't resist. It can give you the power to overthrow your lord, as easy as that."

He turns his back on me so that from this angle, there's no way to see his face. But I hardly need to make an effort to read his actions; he seems to be putting it over his head, thinking hard about the offer. The silence persists and so does his statuesque form. A fierce battle is taking place inside him, not wanting to be divulged until the victor's identity is announced.

"You make a bold offer. You assume many things you know nothing about. Whoever gave you the idea that I want my master off that throne?"

"You did." I say, risking my life if I had known any better. "Everything about you points to that road... but I can sense too much fear in you. Like, you'd die longing to kill him, never seeing the fulfillment of that dream."

"Shut up! Who are you to read me like that? You know, that's exactly why I have no patience for stupid creatures like you. You think that you're so smart you know everything that's going on inside somebody else's mind. But in truth you don't know the half of it and you have no way to know anything at all. So what if I don't like my foster father, is it enough reason to plot against him?"

"Yes, in fact. You're such a sad person, you are; you can't have what you want most. In fact, you have no certainty of comfort in the future. He's going to be just a burden to you in old age and if you don't kill him first, he's going to make sure he'll get you." I sigh, ignoring the spastic tremble of my knees. "I can't understand why you deny everything at the face of irrefutable reality. Really, you're being delusional and naive."

"Take it or leave it, prince. That's all I can offer to you." I push on as I feel so close to my victory. All that's missing is the post-war celebration and those firecrackers.

"You think you have the power to..." he whispers slowly, careful not to be heard by a soul. His face turns pallid, incredulous and yet, quiet.

"Kick his ass? No, I don't have it. But I know something that can, and that something happens to be something I have means to possess. That is, if you help me."

"If I help you?" he grins. "What if I don't help you? And what's more, what if I recount to Lord Frieza every small detail of this conversation? You'd think he's going to pardon you a second time? Fat chance."

"Then your last chance vanishes along with me." I state a matter-of-factly, testing his fortitude. Upon closer examination, his mind seems to struggle with reason in great difficulty. One more push and he's giving in, or so I hope. "I own the most powerful secret in the universe, Vegeta. I have access to something great kings of the galaxy have died for over the centuries. You think I'm bluffing? Think again. I happen to be one of the smartest beings ever to exist, my little invention alone speaks big for it. And here I am offering you a chance at survival. Frankly, if you refuse it, you must be insane or tremendously ignorant or both."

"Suppose I agree, what are your conditions?"

"Keep Son Gokou and this household in a safe distance from your men. Keep me alive (you won't need to marry me anymore which is going to be a major advantage for both of us). And most importantly, help me obtain this thing."

"What exactly is this thing?"

"Seven stones. I assume you've heard of their grand history before?"

His eyes widen. If his hair wasn't already standing on his head, it would've done so now.

"The seven stones? You mean, they exist?" he enunciates each syllable so thoroughly as if to refrain me from missing any of them.

"Apparently they do, even as the myths have told and retold. I see no harm in telling you about them; even if you rat on me to Frieza, that doesn't guarantee that the stones are going to fall into your hands. As I've said before, I'm the only one who can tell where they are, discounting those who died for it, of course." I reply. At this point I feel quite disoriented and weary of explaining, but the overwhelming necessity to go on takes over. I've reached the point where I've become immune to physical trials.

"Is it true that they can bring back those from the dead?" he says. He has by now taken on a less disinterested tone and the look on his face suggests a center of focus, sincerely, earnestly.

"That's what legends declare and by statistics, legends rarely lie. We won't know until we see for ourselves. I understand you want someone revived?"

"I do." he says after a moment of clear hesitation.

"Do you want it bad enough to go with me? I mean, it's worth the risk, especially if it may mean seeing your loved one back to life."

"Who says anything about a loved one?" he says, suddenly furious. He confronts me, with his face hardly what it looked like. I must've hit a sore spot there.

"Your face." I say as calmly as I can, striving not to retract from his red-hot anger. "Vegeta, you must really love her to weigh this matter seriously. I can see it's taking its generous toll on you. And as far as I'm concerned nothing's hindering you from it. The temptation is very great, very great indeed..."

"Alright, I'll do it."

"It's a deal then." I smile happily for the first time in many days. Hope isn't dead after all. Yet. "But first you need to take me to Son Gokou. I must make sure he's secure."

"You worry too much about him. You must really love him." he says and to my surprise, he's grinning.

"You bet." I answer.

TBC

A/N: Plot thickens, off they go and next chapter's still not underway. I know. I'm going to work on it soon.