CHAPTER TWO

Bulma kneaded her fingers through her messy, wild hair as she had awakened from the deep, peaceful slumber. Shit; how long had she slept? Leaping from her bed in a panic, she was immediately relieved to see the sun's rays brightly shining through her broken window. The memories had recollected themselves and invaded her thoughts into how she had fallen asleep to begin with. She rubbed with subtle pressure against her forehead; Holy Kami, she had done the unthinkable.

Once she realized that she was still naked, she tiptoed to her closet and chose another outfit to wear; a grey shirt with a pair of sweatpants of a darker shade. After she had lit a cigarette, she had then remembered Trunks and the outing she had sent him for and she walked to the kitchen in haste. Her supplies had greeted her on the island countertop; certain products of produce and two cartons of cigarettes. She had smiled greedily when she returned the small boxes to the top drawer of her dresser. Her hands had shaken as the smell of their sex filled her nose; Bulma refused to think of what she had done. She would not attach herself to him, for she could not handle a heartbreak for the third time.

To busy her mind, she immediately took the steps to prepare for dinner. It was likely that Trunks was out with Gohan; what were those two up to? Almost every day, Gohan would visit and Trunks would leave with him for hours at a time. If he was secretly training her son to battle against the androids, she would have a ransom for his head… who was she kidding? Trunks was as stubborn as both herself and Vegeta; there was no stopping him if his mind would fix on a goal.

Bulma aggressively opened the package of rice and poured the contents in the boiling water to cook; of course, she would make a mess. Fuck it. She continued to prepare a large pot of steamed vegetables and eventually moved on to the main course. She always ensured to make enough food to feed an army with Vegeta around, and Trunks when he became older, yet she never broke this habit after Vegeta's passing. She would never forget his reaction to Goku's death and the reminder that the dragonballs were useless in his revival. If her 'husband' was alive and he knew of what she had done… Shit, her thoughts were slipping again.

After all of her choices were cooked to perfection, she transitioned the delectable food to the serving plates and placed them on the table accordingly. In the midst of this, she heard the front door open and shut, followed with sounds of excited chatters from her son. "Mom, can Gohan stay for dinner?"

Fuck. "Of course!" No matter how awkward the atmosphere would be, she must keep herself together for the sake of her son. She retrieved three plates and the appropriate silverware and set the table.

"Hey Bulma!" His beautiful voice rung through her ears. "Smells delicious!"

She gasped at the greeting and the compliment, but it was not noticed by either of the males who sat at the table and instantly helped themselves to the food. "What did you two do all afternoon?" She had asked as she retrieved three drinking glasses and placed a large pitcher of iced tea onto the table.

"Sightseeing!" Trunks answered between bites.

Bullshit. "Sounds like fun!" She entertained their lie as she finally sat down at the far end of the table, across from Gohan and poured herself a glass of tea and sipped to ensure a good taste. After she prepared herself a plate, she ate quietly and silently without any interruption. So far, this was going well; she was blessed to know that Gohan had acted as though nothing happened.

Not a single word was spoken for the remainder of dinner. She had finally stood to collect dishes for washing before retreating to the large sink. She filled both stainless steel basins half full of water and applied soap to the section in front of her.

"Would you like some help?"

Her breathing had ceased at the sound of his voice; she dared not wait too long to respond. "If you would like."

"It's the least I can do after such a delicious meal!" He grinned from ear to ear as he appeared beside her with the remainder of the dishes. In silence, Bulma had rubbed the dirt away from each of the dishes and handed them to Gohan for rinsing. "How was your nap?" He asked. The question had seemed genuine.

"It was rather pleasant," she had not missed a beat, for she had found her confident demeanor once more. "The best I've slept in a while, actually." A smile had crept across her lips as she washed a plate; Bulma was not lying in the least bit, for she had barely slept since the start of the Androids' reign of terror. Initially, it was uncertain if she would live to see the next sun rise, though their destruction to West City was short; the entire world was in their hands to maim. The onset of insomnia reared its ugly head after the deaths of her friends; some merciful and quick, others slow and torturous.

His hand grasped the plate, though he did not pull it away from her hand; curious cerulean met with soft, alluring onyx. A matching smile had curved his lips. "I'm glad to know I have that kind of effect on you."

"Gohan!" She hissed. "Trunks—"

"Is outside," he finished her sentence with a soft chuckle. To her surprise, she turned to see the dinner table empty. A scoff erupted from her throat when she turned around to finish the dishes. This meeting was not going to end the way she wished if she did not hurry and finish this chore. Perhaps some fresh air would do her some good. "Maybe I should step out when we finish up. Do you have a place to sleep tonight?"

"Under the stars atop a large mountain."

"Nonsense," she thrust another dish into his waiting hand. "You always have a place here." Damn her and her tongue.

"I do sense a thunderstorm coming tonight."

"Then stay! I am sure Trunks would love that."

"But would his mother?"

The serving plate in her possession slipped from her fingers and fell into the water.

Bulma placed the long cigarette to her lips and watched Trunks and Gohan play-fight in what was once their courtyard; this did not take away the upbeat atmosphere that filled the air. The lights that remained had emitted in the large opening, though she was sitting in a shadow and out of their immediate sight. Her son truly adored him in all aspects, as though he was the brother that he never got to have. It was rare that she would witness such a moment; this world in which they lived was a much different place and the fight to survive was suffocating. It was good to have a break from the serious battle that the three were up against.

Just as Gohan had predicted, heavy clouds had rolled in and blanketed the breathtaking view of the stars. The bright flashes of lightning and the thunder's loud rumbling served as a warning to seek shelter. Bulma had put her cigarette out in the plain ashtray beside her and stood. She would take advantage of this opportunity and sneak off for a quick shower before she would greet her bed for the night.

After the retreat to her bedroom, she released her long hair from the captive tie and her locks cascaded over her shoulders. It had been so long since she visited a salon and she missed her team of stylists terribly. She missed the smell of the shampoos and the chemicals. The conversations with the stylists, some light and others in-depth. West City Salon was a wonderful place where she was welcomed as a person and not as a billionaire. Though it was wonderful to be rich, she enjoyed living as a normal person from time to time. There were many things that she had yearned to experience again; many things she had taken for granted. She could not deny that another day of living was another day to be blessed.

The sober gaze in her reflection had stared back at her once she rubbed a heavy hand down her face. If the androids were to be beaten, how would the remainder of the scarce civilization begin to rebuild the world to the state it once was? Other survivors likely faced the same challenge as she; a daily struggle not to succumb to the powerful, crashing waves of eternal reminders of what, and who, had been lost. She would keep kicking to stay with the surface until there was nothing left.

Could Gohan truly be the ray of hope to the world? And her world?

His softened expression from earlier seeped into her thoughts. To know that they initiated a secret affair was shameful, for she was more than double his age. Meeting him as a child and watching him grow into such a handsome, charming, serious man had been an honor, indeed, yet she tainted those memories by doing what she did. She was filled with such horrid guilt, though in the depths of her soul, she was aware that she could never turn him away if he were to advance on her once again.

This was wrong.

She sighed in disgust at the escalating conflict between her emotion and logic. Bulma had finally found her way to her closet and retrieved a fresh pair of pajamas to wear for bed. The pattering of rain had loudened against her window and the wind roared; this storm was heavier than she had expected. Regardless, she needed a shower. She surfaced from her bedroom and casually strode to the bathroom.

"Good night, mom!" She heard her son call from behind her.

"Good night, Trunks," her smile was warm in his direction.

The shower was hot and relaxing; it was one of the last few luxuries she had left. The thick steam of the heat delicately risen from the stall and she watched it in awe. The loud, clapping thunder from the outside had made her jump for only a moment. She used to love lying in bed and watch the storms that affected her area; this subtle pleasure was only a memory that had died alongside Vegeta. She inhaled a deep breath; the air was thick with moisture; it vaguely reminded her of the spa treatments she received on a regular basis in her previous life.

She wiped away the remnants of hot water that dripped over the skin of her delicate face. It was difficult not to grieve over such tragedies that would forever scar her life and the upbringing of her son. She had a day of relaxation; it was time to return to work on her time machine. The blasted thing had given her so many migraines. Her father had helped her construct the majority of the details. How she wished that he was still here, but she would learn to carry on this task on her own.

Bulma did not hear the bathroom door open and shut. Her hand had found the source of the shower's water and had turned it off with ease. She turned to retrieve a towel that rested on the railing mounted close to the stall and she wiped the excess water from her body. She then wrapped herself with the large fabric and opened the large, glass door to make her escape to the bedroom. So much more steam had escaped with her from the stall and it risen and pooled into such beautiful designs towards the high ceiling. When her eyes had adjusted to the thick atmosphere, her vision revealed the silhouettes and shapes of his figure. Bulma had initially stepped back and slipped in a small puddle of bath water, only for him to suddenly catch her. An audible gasp had erupted from her throat once his handsome face was just inches from hers.

"Gohan…" His name was a mere whisper of her lips.

"You should be more careful," he smiled.

"Perhaps I would not have to be as careful if you did not sneak up on me so much." Another clap of thunder had jolted her in fright.

"You would be worried if I didn't. Am I wrong?" He lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom.

"What in the hell are you doing!?"

His features were so confident and proud. "I'm taking you to bed."

The towel around her petite body had dropped to the floor and his strong, callused hands rubbed every curve of her bare torso. Her cerulean stare lifted to his determined gaze before he leaned to bite her lip; He never failed to leave her breathless. Her eyes had closed at the gentle tug and their lips had finally embraced. Her arms stretched around his neck to pull him closer; every encounter of theirs was a true blessing, indeed. His heart pounded against her breast as he lifted her and collapsed onto the bed.

It was her expectation that he would immediately take her as he previously had, though he seemed too focused on their strong embrace. She did not mind this, as she enjoyed every aspect of him, even his unpredictable nature. She enjoyed the bond that he and Trunks shared, and even more so when she received the opportunities to witness it. His serious demeanor, the front that she would see the majority of the time, had hurt her immensely, as she was aware that the odds were stacked against him. How much time did she have left before he would meet the same fate as the others?

No. She could not think like this. Not at this time. She had to enjoy him.

When he parted with her mouth, she mirrored his previous movement my closing her teeth gently onto his bottom lip. His eyes, hooded and so soft, fixed onto hers. "I love you," he had whispered.

Bulma was speechless for she shivered at the words, having wished that he would have never said a thing; how long had it been since she heard such a sincere confession? Gohan was never one to lie. She was ashamed to allow such a thing to happen; Trunks would never forgive her for the feelings they had shared. His hand crept between her bare breasts and finally stopped at her jawline before he had taken her for another kiss.

So much they had been through together. Through heaven. Through hell. In happiness and in pain. And Bulma would go through it all again if it had meant this moment. It was such a horrid shame that she returned those three subtle words.