CHAPTER THREE

"Okay, that's better."

Finally, she had determined the exact coordinates into the near-complete time machine that her father had left behind. Though Bulma Briefs was rather intelligent, this invention had pushed the limits of what she knew. And she had no one to turn to; it was all up to her to determine the precision that this machine needed for her son's trip that he would make, whether he favored the idea or not; the fate of their world had depended on it. "Ugh, nice. Major improvements!"

She had never awakened so determined to complete a project. Though her arms were empty upon the faint sound of chirping birds that had greeted her morning, she risen from her bed and brewed a hot pot of coffee before she dug right into her work. It was possible to travel time, and she would spend her last breath in an attempt of perfecting all aspects of the machine.

Her heart was weighed down with a pooling despair. To know that her entire world would be saved would result in Vegeta returning to her arms. There was no denial that it was this she wanted, though times had clearly changed, for a brief affair had bloomed into something much more than she had bargained for. Gohan loved her. He fucking loved her. She wished that he would have never said those words, as she was given such a larger conflict. Bulma knew exactly what would happen if Vegeta discovered the events that occurred in the aftermath of his death. She shivered; she did not want to think about it. Thank Kami for this machine; she refused to think any more on the subject.

Faint footsteps had approached her; it would likely be Gohan sneaking up on her again. He was making the coping of her situations impossible. She had turned around to see her son with fear in his eyes; Gohan, bloody, beaten and near death, was slumped over his back. "Oh, my gosh!" She jumped from her chair. "What happened, Trunks!?"

"To be blunt… we got beat up." His voice was strained due to his mentor's weight.

His words had fallen onto her deaf ears as her complexion had paled. One of his perfectly sculpted arms were gone. "Oh, no! His arm! Get him to a bed, Trunks! Hurry!"

She quickly followed him to the only un-harmed room of their home. An addition to the basement, which served as a guest room where Trunks had assumed Gohan slept during his stay at the Capsule Corporation. With tears in her eyes, the journey down the stairs were fast. Her worst nightmare had come true. She opened the door for Trunk's entry and the lights immediately emitted through the room to reveal a small bed in the corner. "Lie him down! Hurry!" She placed her arms against Gohan's weight as Trunks slowly straightened his back and eased him to the comfortable, plush furniture. "Quick, Trunks. See if you can find Dr. Kikyo. Now!"

"Right!" And her son ran out of the room.

Tears spilled from her eyes as she quickly undid his bloody uniform. "Please, Gohan… please don't die," her plea cracked when she burst into sobs. His body, once so beautiful and chiseled to perfection, was destroyed permanently. It took every fiber of her logic to hold her emotions together long enough to retrieve a various bundle of medical instruments from the large cabinet across from the bed. After placing her items onto a paper towel atop the clean metal tray, she placed it to the night stand and pulled up a chair. Her hands were covered with a sterile pair of gloves as Bulma initiated the examination of his wounds. She would fix him at any cost.

Blood seeped from his arm's amputation and onto the sheet that she chose to drape over the wound; time was running out. She withdrew four syringes from their sterile packaging and filled them with liquid from a vial. She injected it into the nearby regions and repeated the process of numbing him before she continued to work with what little she had on hand. After the procedure was complete, she revealed the injury for the first time. She purposely held her arm to her mouth for a moment to stifle a cry. Those bastard androids. She could not take away any more precious time away from her lover, and she immediately began to withdraw what little debris that was in his wound.

"Mom, I cannot reach him!" she heard Trunks call to her.

"Keep trying!" She screamed in more hysteric that she realized.

Once she was sure that the wound was clear of any foreign material, she applied a cleaning solution. And finally, a thick bandage was applied in hopes of suppressing the bleeding. Her vision was blurred as she was witness to his critical condition. A gloved finger traced over the wound of his bloody cheek, where her lips once frequented his jawline just beneath what would become a scar. She would never be able to deny him, regardless of the extent of his wounds. If he lived.

She retrieved another vial of an anesthetic and one injury by one, she stitched Gohan into a man once more. After cleaning and bandaging the final wound that would eventually scar his cheek, she rested her head onto her arms of the nightstand and admired her work. Not only her work, but also his beauty. A beauty that she doubted she would ever see in another again in her lifetime. The loss of Gohan would be the final blow that would destroy her.

"I love you too…" she uttered before she collapsed into uncontrollable sobs.

Eventually, Trunks was able to track the location of Doctor Kikyo and he managed to visit the desolation of West City for Gohan's emergency surgery. With thanks to all of the Briefs Family's surgical equipment on hand to aid him, the procedure lasted around three hours and simply took place in his bed, as there were no other options of a more sterile environment. Bulma would never forget pacing repeatedly in her shattered living room and silently praying for a miracle. She caught the curious eye of her son, yet she did not care; she was long past that point. "He sustained a lot of damage from his battle with the Androids," Dr. Kikyo was solemn after he returned to Bulma and Trunks's location. "It is a miracle he survived after such an attack. You did a good job tending to him before I came, Bulma. He is lucky to have you two. I will return when he gains consciousness."

Bulma sniffled and nodded. "Thank you! Thank you so much, doctor. Please be careful!" The older gentleman gave his blessings and left without another word.

She eventually retired to her bedroom and simply stared at the ceiling. Her body and soul, once filled with a despair all too familiar, was numb; she felt nothing; she was simply a woman who had succumbed to a neutral void. The drastic turn of events had occurred so quickly, though she did not want to think. Eventually, she had found herself and turned to her side when her back ached with lack of movement. What a horrible day; to know that Gohan was lying in a devastating condition downstairs made her stomach turn in many different ways.

To her great surprise, the door slowly creaked open only to reveal him. Bulma blinked stupidly, as she believed she had fallen victim to a hallucination. She sat up and stared at him for a moment longer in a great debate to say something to confirm whether this was a figment of her imagination or a brutal reality. However, what words she could say had caught in her throat.

She was witness to his walk closer to her. "I am leaving to kill the bastard androids." She had never heard Gohan be so serious.

"What in the hell are you talking about? No, you are not!" This was indeed a reality. She stood and blocked the doorway. "You are going to go back to bed and stay there until you are healed! Do you not realize the extent of your injuries? You were almost killed!"

"And I am going to finish the job!" He shouted.

"Like hell you are! We just sewn you back together and I am not in the mood to do that again!"

Gohan sucked a large breath through his nostrils. "Do you not have faith in me?"

"Ohhh, no. You are not going to play that card with me, mister."

"It's a simple question."

Bulma's features softened; his velvet tone was returning. "Of course I do… But please, wait until you are healed and I can design a prosthetic ar—"

"I do not need another arm, Bulma."

She sighed; she could not believe that she was having this conversation. "Go back to bed. You just had surgery a few hours ago and you need to rest."

"Do I need to remind you how quick saiyans heal?"

No shit, Sherlock. Bulma's eyes widened as she watched Gohan sit on her bed and reclined to make himself comfortable. His face twisted with his grunts and painful moans at each movement he made. Suddenly feeling the need to help him, she lifted her blanket and draped it over his body; he was stubborn like every other saiyan she met. "And do I also need to remind you of Trunks's reaction if he would see you in his mother's bed?"

"He will survive." He grunted.

She bit her lip and shook her head. When she opened her eyes, she was breathless; the moon that shone through her window had lightened his features and enhanced his shadows in such a perfect way. His eyes were soft, yet intimidating with thanks to the moon's beauty, and solely on her. "Come here."

"What? Gohan, I—"

"Come on." He smiled. The reminder that she could never deny him had rung so loud, like a bell, inside of her thoughts. Damn him. She shut the door behind her and slowly returned, only to pause beside the large furniture. "I do not think this is a good idea." His only hand had tapped at the edge of the bed and she rubbed her forehead to distract herself from laughing. She finally obeyed and sunk her weight onto the bed and lied beside him. His fingers slowly found his way to her delicate face and fondled her bottom lip. "I will be stronger than ever before. You have my word."

"You can't talk like that right now… you need to focus on your recovery."

"Whatever you say, doctor," and he placed his lips on hers.

Gohan followed Bulma's wisdom for only three days before he was mentoring Trunks once more. After dinner was completed for the night, she stood by the window and watched these two. She knew all along of their secret; did Trunks suspect the same between herself and his handsome teacher? Regardless, Bulma did not feel that she needed to worry, for the trio had much more pressing matters on their hands.

Like the two worthless heaps of metal who cost Gohan a limb.

She knew that Gohan never stood the first chance with only one arm. Deep down, she believed that he did not believe so, either. If she could stall him until he is fully healed, she could gift him with the custom prosthetic that she is designing. This would greatly strengthen his odds of the androids' defeats exponentially; it was simply getting him to see that. Bulma journeyed a mission to never fail him. The fate of the only survivors of their friends and family heavily depended on it. They were more blessed than they realized, in consideration that Bulma possessed the expertise of developing artificial limbs for the citizens of West City, though they were rarely needed.

"Dinner is ready, you two!" She called out, only to witness the relieved stare of her son and an intense, hardened scowl from Gohan. She planned not to dine with them tonight, for she had to return to work on the prosthetic design. The time machine had entered her mind, though her desperate need for Gohan's survival outweighed all other urgencies.

Her return to the basement had seemingly gone unnoticed, but she could not have cared any less. She sat in front of the large computer and opened the programs she needed. This was not an average artificial limb she was developing; it was far more complex. The prosthetic needed to be of highest durability, while easy to install. There was no doubt that he would need surgery to have this specific piece implanted, which would require extra time to heal, and even more so for Gohan to adapt to the hardware. Her next challenge was to convince him to refrain from any battles. Oh Kami, she would trade this major obstacle for the time machine's bullshit any day.

It was common for her to lose track of time when she would become so submerged into her work. Under normal circumstances, this would be considered a good thing, yet the nature of this newest project had forced her to do nothing but think. She would never feel the ripples of his toughened muscles against her touch ever again. Gohan faced the ultimate loss, though she lost something on that day, too.

She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her long hair in frustration. Life was not fair.

A hand had rested on her shoulder and she opened her eyes long enough to witness the source. Gohan was standing with a glare similar to the one she viewed before she had gotten to work. "Are you coming to bed?" She blinked, having the knowledge of her numbness returning to erase all emotion. Gohan looked to the computer and observed a large blueprint of what would be his new arm on display. His lips curved warmly. "You've worked hard today… let's get some rest." Her features were flat, as the beam of her light had left her beautiful, cerulean eyes, which had looked to him and forced his smile to fall. She finally stood and grasped his wrist to pull him out of the study. "Bulma?"

The two had passed Trunks, who had observed the awkward scene. "Mom? What are you-"

"It's time for bed, Trunks," she said as they had disappeared from his sight.

Through their house she had ushered him without any second thought. Gohan could have easily pulled his hand away and demanded an explanation, yet his curiosity far outweighed that possibility; he had to have known what she was up to. Finally, they had arrived at her bedroom and she shut the door once Gohan had entered. "What the hell? Are you okay?"

The room was dark as it always had been, though every expression of hers, dull and unreadable, barely shone from the moon's light that found its way to them. He was unsure of what to think of her sudden shift of behavior. He simply stood there and watched her slowly walk to him and stop just inches away. His eyebrows raised in her direction.

She did not break the stare into the two pools of onyx that deeply expressed concern. Suddenly, he felt the belt of his gi being tugged at and unraveled with ease. She reached in to undo the ties of his top and pushed the material off of his shoulders. Confusion had only escalated inside of Gohan's thoughts. Was she angry? Was she upset? He dared not touch her in return.

Her fingers entwined the elastic waistband of his pants and boxer shorts before she thrust the remainder of his clothing to his ankles without uttering the first word. He held his breath and slowly released it once her lips embraced his abdomen and hips hungrily. This had quickly hardened him, and soon, it had all made sense. Her kisses trailed to his thighs and he trembled with anticipation; He stuttered as though he wished to say something, yet nothing had passed his lips. And without warning, she took every inch of him into her mouth. "Holy shit, Bulma." His neck craned and he closed his eyes.

She twisted her wrist and furiously claimed him with her hand once she surfaced. His heavy breathing and soft moans had been a good sign. All of this time, he had focused solely on pleasing her; it was her turn to reveal what would eternally burn for him. She never knew if this would be her last time with this opportunity. I love you too. And she had taken him in his entirety with a conscious effort to swirl her tongue around every inch.

Gohan was not exactly sure what had gotten into her, though he would never say the first complaint. Hell, he had no complaints. He bit his lip at her work. Pleasure had consumed him and he found himself with such an intense craving for more. Eventually, his fingers entangled with her hair and he joined in with the rhythm she created. "Ah, fuck," his body had throbbed with the pain of his injuries, which had begged him to sit. He could not do so, out of the worry that Bulma would change her mind if he would break away from this. His throat had hummed a moan of approval at the heat that enveloped his being.

Bulma had pulled herself away and shot a seductive stare towards the man she had in her hold. His face had finally appeared over his strong, bandaged chest, with beads of sweat developing above his brows and his lips parted in surprise. "What has gotten into you?"

"Lay down."

He immediately had the will to obey any instruction that she had given him. As he allowed his shoulders to recline against the large headboard, his features flinched at the cries of his wounds. He refused any sort of pain relief, as he was much stronger than that. Instead, his attention focused on Bulma's exposure of her beautiful body as she quickly escaped from her clothes and tossed them to the floor. His eyes had popped open at her determination when he watched her crawl to him, where she taken him into a passionate kiss that ended with the sucking of his bottom lip. The center of him had throbbed at this, as he was never aware that Bulma could possess a dominance that could be so addicting. Why hadn't he let her take control before?

She had nestled her weight between his legs and had taken every stiff inch into her mouth again and again. He breathed another sigh of relief when his eyes closed. His hand entwined with her long, blue locks; oh, how he loved this woman. She would never know how much she eased this irrepressible ache that he would never be able to fix. Bulma made him forget that his time was clearly running short. He was aware that he had a death sentence if he would face the Androids again, but he had to try. And he would. There was no time to waste on this prosthetic arm that Bulma was designing. People continued to die each day at the hands of these monsters, and the world needed as many as possible if they wished to build the world as it was again. If his death would stall the Androids long enough for residents to scurry to safety, his job would be done.

His hips arched against her body and had joined in with her rhythmic work. As long as I am here, you will always be safe. He would fulfill this promise, even if it meant the ending of his life. A new grief, long and with many thorns, had twisted around his heart and tightened into a miserable suffocation. Is this what love truly felt like? He swallowed and closed his eyes; the odds have never been so against him.

"Keep going." he murmured.

Though their lovemaking was a battleground for domination, it would always be an experience fit for the Gods. It would be her that he would remember when he would take his final breath. The beautiful woman, with the messy blue hair that bucked wildly atop his hips and bit her lip as she had neared her climax. The sweet cries of her ecstasy had filled his ears when he witnessed her energy diminishing. He cupped the small of her back with his arm and he pressed Bulma to her back before he filled her again with a much quicker pace, as he, too, was near his end.

"Gohan!" She breathed, for she was overwhelmed with her climax. Her body trembled and quivered beneath him as the sound of his fingernails dug into her bed beside her had filled her ears. His breathing ceased when he had reached his peak and he spilled himself into her. Gohan's eyes squeezed and his lips parted at the incredible feeling that filled him.

"I love you too…" She whispered after he had came. His squeezed eyes opened instantly and had burned for the beautiful woman that he shared this pleasure with. "Bulma…" The corners of his mouth had curved into a victorious smile when he had taken her in for a final, passionate kiss.

They had lied momentarily and silently reminisced about their wonderful affair. His fingers had ran through her silk hair as she had fallen asleep for the night. He would not allow the exhaustion to overtake him; he had business to finish.