For the first time in many days, Vegeta slept deep and dreamlessly; he awoke promptly at 8:45 from habit, his eyes popping open, and sat up to find himself in his suite of rooms inside Capsule Corp. A couple of beats passed before he instantly recalled everything that happened during the wee hours of the morning in the kitchen with Bulma. Brushing away the thought indifferently, Vegeta stood and stretched, turning his mind toward training.
After grabbing a snack made from what was left of his provisions in the GR, the royal jumped straight into his usual routine. Turning the gravity up to full capacity, he flew through his forms, determined not to allow yesterday's training mishap from crippling him with unsaiyan-like fear. With defiant satisfaction, he witnessed his stamina hold steady as he plowed through an army of training bots, ordering the computer to throw everything it had at him. By the time the program ended, he'd worked out for a solid five hours and at last felt himself on the verge of a very long awaited zenkai boost - dare he hope super saiyan.
He exited the room, filling his lungs with a satisfying quaff of fresh air as he stepped out into the sunlight. He glanced automatically around him, half expecting the meddling inventor to be hovering somewhere nearby, ready to pepper him with small talk. He hoped she wouldn't start making assumptions just because of their brief dalliance - but based on her vain and shallow personality, he doubted he'd get off so lucky. At least banging her had seemed to somewhat settled his nerves.
Following a long, uninterrupted lunch, he took a walk though the house, finding himself at the entrance to the Briefs's atrium where they often entertained guests as well as kept their large menagerie of (he supposed) exotic pets. There in the middle of the patio area, he spotted none other than the Mrs. of the house herself sitting with one of the large carnivorous lizards that roamed around within the enclosure.
He started to walk away again, but she spotted him and gestured enthusiastically for him to enter. Unsure of why he did so, the price slowly opened the door and went inside.
Mrs. Briefs lounged in a large chair, the reptile's massive head in her lap, she stroked it's scaly snout as it emitted something between a growl and a purr through it's knife-like teeth. The entire sight made the prince's skin crawl.
"Hello dear, did you get some lunch," inquired the crazy lady petting the man-eating leviathan.
Vegeta crossed his arms and nodded shortly.
"Have you seen Bulma lately," she then asked with a tilt of her head.
"No."
"Hmm, I suppose she still hasn't come back from her hair appointment, though I would have thought she'd be home by now..."
With a grunt of annoyance, he turned and strode out of the atrium and back to his training.
That evening, he sat in the gardens in his usual spot unwinding from his daily ordeals. His body ached in a very gratifying way; he noted how his forearms and fingertips tingled from so much ki expulsion. Despite a full day of progress without any incidents of debilitating paralysis or interruptions from any household members, he still felt some gnawing sense of unease inside his gut - like another attack could hit him again at any time. Now that he was done for the day he looked around the grounds, finding himself completely alone, and wondered what exactly he was waiting for. With a sharp sigh, he stood up and headed inside.
000
The next morning,following a fairly good night's sleep, he suddenly felt the urge to pause on his way to breakfast to sit at his balcony. He'd never given it much thought before, but from his own window he had a very good view of the grounds and much of the city beyond. For a moment he allowed his mind to go blank as he took in the sights and sounds of the green haven he inhabited surrounded by metropolis, but just a few minutes pause was long enough and Vegeta was ready to go. Right as he started to turn away, he noticed Bulma from the corner of his eye walking briskly toward a nearby landing pad below.
Without thinking, he descended to the ground and watched her from a short distance away as she fumbled with her compact of capsules. She was not dressed for shop-work, nor was she in professional garb. With a brightly patterned, low-cut blouse beneath her jacket, tight fitting cutoffs over tights, and a pair of large sunglasses, she looked ready for what she (no doubt) considered fun. Her hair, he noticed, had also changed yet again. Gone were the large curls piled atop her head, now it lay flat, framing her face. All at once, she looked up as she prepared to toss her chosen capsule and started at seeing him.
"Oh, good morning," she adjusted her glasses and studied the asphalt, "I figured you'd already be busy by this time of day..."
He took several steps toward her, noting the way she avoided eye contact at all cost as he approached.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm taking some time off," she said, then dropped the tiny object she was holding; a helicopter appeared on the tarmac, "If you have any trouble with the GR, or whatever, just talk to my dad and I'll be back in a few days." She turned toward the chopper, throwing a hasty wave over her shoulder. "Bye!"
"You're avoiding me."
She swung around, one hand gripping the chopper door, "What? No I'm not - I just need a break from work, everything isn't about you!"
He crossed his arms obstinately, "You were gone all yesterday as well - your mother said you had a 'hair appointment' - does chopping off your hair really take the entire day?"
Her hand flew self-consciously to her cerulean locks, "Shut up! I had other errands yesterday - and I don't need to run my schedule by you!" She turned once again to board the aircraft and paused. Vegeta watched her with his usual dour expression. Sighing in defeat, she faced him and removed her sunglasses, "Listen Vegeta, about the other night, you're right - I have been avoiding you. You see I wasn't really thinking straight and...I was hoping maybe we could just forget about what-"
"You've taken the day off?" He interrupted.
"Well, yes, but that's not the point-"
"Good. I have something to show you." His gaze shifted inexplicably off into the distance.
She was surprised to find it was not in the direction of the gravity room. "Right now? Show me what?"
"Something I discovered while training in the wastelands the other day - I thought it might interest you."
She looked from him to her awaiting transportation, thinking about her hotel reservations for a moment, but feeling her better judgement starting to loose out once again.
000
Fifteen minutes later, Vegeta landed and disentangled Bulma's arms from around his neck, plucking her clawed fingers out of his hair and setting her none too gently down on her own two feet. The frazzled woman's legs almost immediately gave out and she fell backward, caught at the last moment by Vegeta's index finger jabbing against her spine.
"Get a hold of yourself, woman," he admonished her disgustedly, "you act as if this is the first time your feet have ever left the ground!"
"Well, usually," she shot back, "I'm the one who has the controls when I fly, and that's how I like it."
"Indeed," he muttered. Vegeta turned and took several steps forward, looking out onto the desert plateaus before them. Bulma did the same, wondering what she was supposed to be looking at.
"So this is where you went when you left the compound that day," she mused aloud; when he didn't respond she went on, "what did you take me out here to see first thing in the morning?"
"Look," he pointed to a cluster of stones at the base of the mesa.
Bulma frowned until she realized that the stones were actually little houses built into the rock wall, complete with small windows and multiple storeys.
"Those places were probably built centuries ago by ancient desert people, but no one lives there now," she informed him. "Why did you want to show them to me?"
"These domiciles are much like the ones I remember from my childhood - before Frieza blew up my planet," he stared past the mesa as if through time and space to somewhere that now existed nowhere accept within his own memory. "It's strange that I never gave them a second glance back then, yet I can now picture them so vividly."
Bulma gaped at the exiled prince. The longer she knew him, the more surprised she was of what she discovered beneath this slowly melting glacier of disdain. She stepped closer and reached for his hand; he didn't pull away. Squeezing lightly, she said, "Thank you for showing me."
He made no reply accept for a slight inclination of his head. A breeze swept past, blowing sand and debris in their faces; Vegeta seemed not to notice, but Bulma thought of how tousled her hair must be after the harrowing trip over and how overall arid and uncomfortable the desert was. She was suddenly reminded that she was a city girl, and though she was touched by this unexpected revelation from Vegeta, wondered how much longer he wanted to stand out here staring at a bunch of giant rocks. A low rumble abruptly answered her discomfort from the cavern of Vegeta's own stomach.
Their eyes met and Bulma smirked, "I'll make a deal with you: I'll treat you to breakfast if you let me drive this time, "She pulled out a capsule and raised her eyebrows at him.
000
Bulma did her best to ignore the stickiness under her feet and the less than pristine table top where her half-eaten hash browns smeared in ketchup sat. She concentrated instead on the man in the booth across from her putting away stacks of carbohydrates like leftovers down a garbage disposal. He looked up at her between mouthfuls - "What's the matter - not hungry," he eyed the pushed-around food on her plate.
"I already had something earlier this morning," she replied, setting her fork down. Truthfully, the greasy fare was not much to her taste - though that hadn't always been the case. She'd often visited dumps just like this when she and Yamcha were teenagers - especially after nights of too much partying when lots of starchy food was needed to sober up quickly. Although the food was cheap, she'd mainly brought the hungry man here because of the large portions - knowing full well he wasn't particular about where his calories came from.
"Where are you heading after this," her taskmaster now demanded to know.
"Hm? Oh, to the beach," she said, suddenly remembering her hastily planned and out of season trip.
Vegeta concentrated on cutting a sausage as he spoke, "And when do you plan to return?"
"In five days..."
"Then I suppose I can make due with the old man while you're away," he conceded dryly, popping a piece into his mouth.
"So you like me better than my dad, at least," She winked teasingly at him.
Vegeta suddenly choked, causing his companion to lean toward him in alarm - "Are you okay?"
He gave his chest several hard thumps, finally managing to dislodge the obstruction; his face was inordinately red when he spoke again. "Don't be ridiculous - I only meant that you're more accessible than - I don't care!"
Bulma felt her own face flush and attempted to cover her embarrassment with a laugh, "No of course not, I don't either; I was just joking!" The two of them stared at the table in awkward silence; Bulma glanced at her watch, "Well, it's getting late, and I'm sure you have training to do - I'll just go pay and as soon as you're finished we can both get going."
The prince and Bulma went their separate ways after the restaurant with the heiress heading to check into her resort. While absently unpacking her luggage, the events of the morning replayed endlessly in her head.
She'd been so certain she'd handed him yet another weapon to use against her following their night together; she'd braced herself for anything from gloating to outright disdain, but she'd never expected the reticent, even vulnerable man she'd seen today. She'd always believed Vegeta capable of kindness (though at times he sorely tested that theory) but suddenly an entirely new dimension to the man was opening up to her - she thought she liked it.
Brushing aside her whirling thoughts for the moment, Bulma grabbed her bathing suit, determined to enjoy the vacation that she'd booked in full panic mode.
000
Vegeta rushed back home, eager to make up for lost time. He felt a sudden vigor stirring within him that he didn't want to waste - possibly it was all the starches he'd consumed turning to sugar in his system - but he wondered if there wasn't something more to it. He hadn't intended to bring her out to the wastelands to show her dilapidated dwellings and gush about his past; the only reason he'd blurted out the suggestion was to shut her up on the subject of where their post-coitus relationship was going. He needed to stop thinking about her entirely; he couldn't afford to let himself be distracted when he was so close to reaching his goal.
As soon as he reached Capsule Corp. Vegeta leapt into his gravity room and remained there until a blip on the overhead monitor caused him to glance up from his push-ups to see Dr. Briefs and his cat staring down at the saiyan.
"There's dinner ready if you'd like to join us," offered the scientist as he regularly did whenever Vegeta's workouts went over the usual time. Vegeta responded with his customary scoff and returned to practice until the screen went black once more. He then paused in mid-punch, sweat dripping off his face, ragged pants issuing from a dry throat, and abruptly lowered his arm. He barked an order at the computer and the gravity immediately lowered. Promptly the prince strode to the shower.
"Oh!" gasped Mrs Briefs as Vegeta entered the dining room several minutes later bathed and dressed in clothes bought by Bulma for him months ago, but never worn until that night. "How nice to see you, dear, don't you look dapper!" She looked at her husband, "Doesn't Vegeta look dapper, darling?"
Dr. Briefs merely grinned and waved toward a chair. Vegeta took the seat already doubting his decision to dine with the Briefs - something he'd never done while Bulma wasn't there - one less buffer now stood between him and her beaming mother.
"I made extra just in case you decided to join us," she motioned toward whole sides of beef and great platters piled with sides. There was even one plate filled with the woman's fantastic danishes for desert.
Danish day, the prince thought wistfully, happiest of all days. He knew full well that she made virtually all of the food they ate even though, with all the Briefs's money at her disposal, she didn't need to. Aside from a possible desperation to feel needed, he wondered if it was kindness that compelled her to work so hard - or merely stupidity as he'd always assumed; he wasn't even sure if there was a difference.
Vegeta gave a small grunt of assent and began helping his plate. Following his usual habit, the dinner guest concentrated on his meal and did not engage in conversation. However, he had little choice but to listen as Dr. and Mrs. Briefs conversed:
"Today I was out getting ingredients when I saw a duckling had fallen into a storm drain," The woman was telling her husband.
The doctor looked concerned, "What did you do?"
"Well, I finally managed to scoop him out, but then I had to walk all the way down to the pond in my new shoes and they got stuck in the mud," she tittered behind her hand, "but I was able to return him to his family, so it was worth it."
"You could have brought him here as a friend for Scratch," suggested her husband.
"Oh, I think he's happier with his mother," Mrs. Briefs insisted, "I'll just have to go out and buy new shoes tomorrow."
Vegeta could only gawk at them in exasperation. Stupidity, he decided. It was definitely stupidity.
Just as he was about to snatch several danishes and walk out, he caught the look shared between the two. He was suddenly stunned by an energy that he'd never recognized before - he quickly realized that if this was what happiness looked like, then he had never experienced a happy day in his life.
000
He stood with his feet planted far apart on the tiled floors, systematically taking out training bots. The computer must have been running a different program than usual, because the automatons he fought looked strange - yet not unfamiliar. Waves of Frieza's men battered themselves against him only to be smashed to pieces. He saw Dodoria, Zarbon, and the entire Ginyu Force among them and many more he did not know the names of. He saw the inhabitants of entire planets that he'd wiped out, including the namekians. He saw Nappa. Still Vegeta never slowed in his progress of destruction, the corpses piling up around him and yet the room never filled up.
The screen above his head revealed the face of Freiza leering down at him. "Destroy them all like a good monkey," sneered the reptilian overlord. Vegeta's feverish pace increased; with a roar he blasted through the remainder of them until only one opponent was standing. A lone figure - glowing with power - hovered above the slain. Kakarrot as super saiyan stared dispassionately down at him.
The rightful heir to the legendary locked eyes with the usurper who dared feign superiority. His rage was an inferno that incinerated his insides and consumed his entire being with an impossible intensity as he met the abomination in midair. The terrific bang issuing from his palm encompassed the totality of his hatred and malice, rending the golden head cleanly from its body. Panting raggedly, the prince glowered down at his quarry. Instead of Kakkarot however, a decapitated Bulma Briefs now lay sprawled on top of the dead pile.
Vegeta awoke with a gasp. His sheets lay wadded around his ankles, his pillow rent to pieces in his hands. He sat up, surveying the dark room, the clock on the side table glared 3:02 in angry red digits. Another nightmare - the first one in more than a week yet shockingly vivid - the final image seared into his eyelids like a fire brand. He got up, splashing cold water on his face and gulped copiously out of his palm while he wondered what the horrendous vision involving Bulma could possibly mean. Now wide awake he weighed his options and (despite the subject matter of the dream - or possibly because of it) immediately decided to train.
Dully he headed for the sanctuary of his GR. When he arrived and switched on the light he found the power cut off. After trying the switch again a couple more times with the same effect the befuddled insomniac began to grow annoyed. He strode into the middle of the room, "Wake up you piece of junk and begin the program," he snarled. The room remained lifeless. "Shit," muttered the Saiyan, clenching and unclenching his fists. A new idea to tear the machine to pieces occurred to him even though he knew it would bring only fleeting satisfaction followed by much grief. Aside from which, something didn't make sense: the power for his training facilities shared its source with the rest of the compound, and the electricity had been working inside the house.
He wondered for a moment if someone had sabotaged it, but immediately dismissed this as baseless paranoia brought on by his current state of mind. Forming another idea, he instead stomped back out toward Capsule Corp and the control room. Light glowed suspiciously through the crack beneath the door as he approached the room that communicated to his chamber. Without hesitation, he flung it open. "What's going on!"
A piercing shriek answered him followed by a loud thud, then Bulma was sprawled on the floor at his feet clutching her head.
"You?" balked Vegeta, gaping incredulously down at her, and trying not to picture the headless woman in his dream.
She glared, red-faced, up at him, tears beading in the corners of her eyes. "What the hell is wrong with you - you crazy bastard!" she roared.
Vegeta then noticed an open panel below the control console with a suspicious tangle of wires hanging out of it. Bulma got to her knees, rubbing her head furiously where she'd apparently bonked it upon his sudden entrance.
"What are you doing here instead of on vacation," accused Vegeta.
"I came back," she snapped, struggling to her feet, "because I couldn't stop thinking about work and your stupid gravity room!"
Vegeta eyed the open panel, "What about it?"
"I just had some ideas for some system upgrades and I wanted to work on them while they were still fresh in my mind, so I came back earlier this evening," her eyes narrowed at him, "I didn't realize you were also in the habit of training in the middle of the night."
He remained silent for a moment surveying the room, he then looked back at her, "What sort of upgrades?"
"Well," sighed the tech savant, leaning wearily against the console and pushing a hand through her short, straight locks, "now it should be able to handle all the commands you throw at it without crashing, and the programs will be faster and more challenging - I thought I'd let it be a surprise when you got up to train later this morning...so much for that!"
"I see," he replied belatedly after a long pause. The two stared at each other, "How's your head," he added as an afterthought.
She touched the place and and then winced slightly, "I'll have a knot; but I guess it's not a concussion."
"And you're still working?"
"I was just finishing up."
"Very well, then." Vegeta walked up to where she was leaning and shoved her into a sitting position on the console, gripping all of her short haircut tightly in one fist. Bulma gasped sharply and was quick to wrap her legs around him.
000
Weeks passed, Vegeta continued to train, now in the upgraded GR, with varying degrees of success. He'd initially been excited by the new installations, but was growing frustrated with his slow progress. Once again, despite everything he tried, super saiyan continued to elude him. He sat in his usual spot in the gardens, stewing over practice, when Bulma sat down beside him. He spared her a glance before returning to his brooding. The inventor herself said nothing and the two sat in silence.
"Well," Vegeta spoke at last, stretching until his shoulders popped loudly, "I have about fifteen minutes, so if you want to do this, then let's get going."
"Actually, I need to talk to you about something."
"...So talk."
"She took a deep breath and released it. He glared at her impatiently, "Did something happen to th-"
"Before you finish that thought, this has nothing to do with your stupid gravity room."
"Who said anything about that," he scoffed, "Well, what is it then?"
"It's about me: I'm pregnant." She looked at him expectantly.
He stared blankly back. "So what do you want me to do about it?"
"Nothing! I just thought you might like to know - since you're the father."
He analyzed her midsection critically, "How long will it take?"
"I'm only about two months along," she crossed her arms over her stomach, "geez!"
"I don't know how long an earth-woman's gestation period is supposed to be," Vegeta retorted as he stood and stretched some more, "At any rate, hopefully it'll take more after its saiyan heritage and not be a complete weakling."
"Why; would you take more of an interest in a strong child?"
"Probably not," he huffed, "Now if you aren't going to do anything other than talk to me, then I have other things to attend to."
She watched him saunter away, "Jerk," she muttered to his back. Still, it wasn't the worst reaction she had imagined coming from him.
000
The door to his suite banged open as the ragged warrior dragged himself inside, peeling clothing off as he crossed the room to his shower. He hardly felt up to facing anyone tonight, much less sitting through another dinner with the Briefs. Despite pushing himself until he'd collapsed, he'd failed to achieve the zenkai boost he'd hoped for. Instead, He'd come to only to find the power setting back at regular gravity - a safety feature included in Bulma's upgrade, he realized with infuriation. Time was running out for him to unlock super saiyan - soon the androids would be here and he still remained Kakarrot's inferior. The thought was inconceivable; something was sabotaging him!
The image of himself in a full-length mirror caught his eye as he stomped past; Vegeta froze and took a step back. There he stood, stripped down with nothing left concealing him. The dream from months ago (Frieza's visage sneering down at him from the GR monitor) suddenly came to mind. His whole life he'd been merely a mercenary with a pedigree for the wretched overlord. He'd always understood what was expected of him, and had at least enjoyed a sense of superiority among his fellow slaves while relishing his hatred for the despot that owned his life. The ki bullet shot by Frieza that ripped through his heart that day should have brought it all to an end. But then he'd awakened.
He did not recognize the man before him now who slept in a soft bed and lived an infernally quiet life, mooning after a woman from a race he wouldn't have hesitated to exterminate only a couple of short years ago, who even now carried his offspring within her. Only specters in an endless stream of nightmares remained anymore to remind the shell of a warrior, adopted and neutered like just another stray by the Briefs family, of who he'd once been.
Vegeta, gazing intently at the stranger in the mirror, raised his arms and pressed his left palm into the back of his right hand.
"Galick gun!"
The Briefs heard the blast from the dining room; Mrs. Briefs grasped the pot of sloshing soup on the table. Bulma grabbed onto the back of her father's chair, toppling them both.
"What was that; an earthquake?"
Dr. Breifs and Bulma helped each other back on their feet. "It sounded like something exploded upstairs," gasped Bulma as bits of plaster rained down over the family and their meal.
The three scurried to the upper floor, finding Vegeta's door hanging open and a pile of debris littering the area. Bulma let out a small scream and stumbled toward the room.
"Dearest, be careful," cried her mother.
Bulma stopped short as she entered - an enormous smoldering hole had been blasted through the wall to the outside. Vegeta was nowhere to be found.
000
Later that evening, Bulma made her way to the GR. She stood outside the eerily quiet room - certain of the saiyan's presence within but still hesitating to knock. She knew she ought to be furious - demand an explanation for the wanton destruction to her house. The action was capricious even for Vegeta and something filled her with dread at the thought of what their conversation might lead to; whatever reason the surly beyonder had for blowing a hole through Capsule Corp, she didn't think she wanted to know. She turned and strode away, resolving to talk to him the following day.
The next day turned into over a week. Bulma did not see Vegeta, nor did she seek him out. He did not show up for meals with the family, nor did he visit her while she worked either to complain or otherwise. He did not slip into her room at night as he had been know to do from time to time during the past couple months. Bulma told herself that it was probably because he was 'on the cusp of ascending' as he was fond of referring to the elusive state of super saiyan. She hoped so; she didn't know how much more everyone's nerves could take. There was a feeling that something had to give soon.
Inevitably, their paths crossed one Monday as Bulma headed out for a business luncheon. Vegeta was making his way to the house, arms crossed and head dipped pensively. His obsidian eyes cut upward beneath the thunderhead of his brows as she approached. Immediately, he changed direction. Bulma stopped and sighed wearily; she turned and called after him, "Vegeta, can we talk for a minute?"
The wall of hair slowed, his head swiveled halfway around, not fully facing her.
"We haven't seen you for a few days; it's nice to know you didn't die in that gravity room."
"What do you want," he spat.
What did she want, she wondered. She was trying to reason with the most contrary and unaccountable ass currently on the planet - why was she fighting to hold on to a relationship that had all the substantiality of a puff of smoke? "I don't know," she turned to leave once again, "just forget it."
"This has something to do with my blowing up your house I suppose," she heard him call after her.
Scientist and saiyan faced one another. "Why; do you have an explanation for that?"
The dark prince gave a dismissive shrug, "Maybe I'm just weary of this place - and of you."
Bulma released a short (and perhaps a bit too loud) laugh and retorted, "That's rich! You have access to the best training facilities - built to your specifications - that this planet has to offer, and on top of that a beautiful genius maintains everything for you, but if that still isn't good enough then why don't you try to find somewhere else that's better!"
"I already have found somewhere that's better," he shot back, watching the surprised look bloom across her face, "Space."
"Space?"
"That's right. What I need is to be able to train without a gaggle of twits constantly pestering me - or having to be reminded about your annoying brat," he glared accusatorily at her growing midsection. She automatically clasped her unborn child protectively. "I've already settled it with your father, and I am going to take a ship as soon as it's finished being prepared for me - I'll stay there until I have achieved super saiyan."
Bulma absorbed his words silently for a moment. "I see. Then you should go."
The prince suddenly bristled, "I wasn't asking your permission!"
"Of course not; you obviously see us - namely me - as a hindrance to you, even though all I ever do is fix everything you break - including yourself at times. But I guess it's still somehow my fault that you can't hack it."
"No, it's my fault," he corrected sharply. "I allowed myself to grow soft living here; instead of remembering my saiyan heritage, I lowered my guard and allowed myself to get infected by temptations and weak emotions," he gazed meaningfully at her, "but I will not permit that to happen again - ever."
"Fine. Do whatever you want," she shrugged flippantly, "now if you'll excuse me, you're not the only one that has somewhere else to be."
Bulma watched until the man disappeared behind a hedge before she changed direction and stormed back to the house. She found her mother in the solarium watering plants.
"So, have you heard the wonderful news yet?" She announced loudly to her mother's back; the woman jumped, dropping her watering can.
"Bulma, what are you doing here? I thought you were heading to a meeting."
"Vegeta is going to space to train!" the younger woman plunged on without listening.
"Oh dear, when will he be back?"
"Who knows? Whenever he becomes a super saiyan...or runs out of food - whichever comes first," she threw her hands up and dropped into an Adirondack chair, "Arrgh!"
"That's too bad; I'm going to miss him."
"Really? I'm not; things should be a lot quieter around here for a change."
"Then why do you sound so upset?"
"I'm just thinking of all the expenses he's incurring - taking a ship into deep space: the cost of the rocket fuel alone will be astronomical!"
Mrs. Briefs clipped several marigold blooms and placed them in a vase, "Do you think he'll be back in time for the baby to be born?"
"What difference does it make" Bulma eyed the colorful flowers sitting on the table beside her, "frankly, fatherhood is not in his wheelhouse. In fact, I don't even know that I would want him to be a part of my baby's life."
"But you may change your mind later on," her mother beamed optimistically.
"Why, when I can easily provide everything this baby will ever need? Vegeta can't even provide emotional support," She huffed loudly, slumping further into her chair, "Boy, was I wrong about him!"
"How's that, dear?"
"He thinks he used me to get what he wanted, but I got what I wanted too, and I think I came out with the better end of the of the deal," she placed a hand over her womb, "Here's one person, at least, who isn't going to leave me behind - even if all of my friends do!"
She remembered her looming luncheon with a groan; suddenly she felt her stomach churn. Hastily, Bulma jumped up and ran to the nearest clump of shrubs, heaving her breakfast into them - her mother scurried over to her side.
"Bulma, are you alright?"
"J-just morning sickness," mumbled the mother-to-be between retches. Her stomach finally empty, she accepted the handkerchief Mrs. Briefs offered and wiped her mouth. For several moments more she remained hunched over the bushes sniffling and then all at once burst into tears.
"Oh dear!"
"Don't get the wrong idea," she croaked out as her mother's arms wrapped around her, "it's just these damned hormones!"