The shock of cold air was made all the more frigid by the absence of Vegeta's heat. Bulma flailed and clawed at the air as she fought, but whether she gasped and clawed in a desperate search to fill her lungs or to find and encourage the return of the missing Saiyan, she couldn't know. The sounds of unhappy spitting and howling that seemed more despairing than furious filled her ears and gave her something on which she could focus. The yowls grew weaker and more strained as they faded into half-hearted but still very aggravated snarls.
A shadow loomed over her, a dark silhouette against the waning flames of Vegeta's colossal but quickly cooling ki. She didn't recognize the outline of the owner, but she could find neither the will nor the energy to bother fighting against a meaty hand that gripped the tattered edges of her torn clothing and yanked her to her feet. Holy cracker…! His hand was large enough to wrap around her ribs as though she were a doll being snatched from a pile stuffed toys, lifted by one of those creepy metal claw things at a carnival. The monster was gentle, though, and managed not to hurt her even as he clasped her entire shoulder in the palm of his hand and shoved her in the direction he wanted her to go.
"You smell like a Saiyan," he spat in Saiygo sourly, followed by an echo that came from somewhere near his head that said, You have Saiyan Stink in English. Bulma, surprised at the unexpected translation, tripped. She managed to catch herself on the wall before her skull decided to get smacked. Though she sagged and would have crumpled back into a heap on the ground, she found strength by being curious as she stared up at him, trying to figure out what contraption he had used to translate. Instead, she found it hard not to giggle.
The pervert was leering at her, but that's not what she found funny.
Goku made the same face when he smelled something that intrigued him or made him nervous and uncertain. This one did it more gracefully, but he still managed to look like a cat that had something stuck to the roof of his mouth. Her vision doubled, and superimposed over what she saw in front of her eyes, she saw something else. A memory? Of Vegeta making the same face. She couldn't have seen it buried under this prison planet – it was too dark to see much of anything… Yet, the image of Vegeta… tasting the air… seemed so real and familiar she must have seen him do it often. Picturing the surly Saiyan with his nose all cute and scrunched up and his tongue sticking out between his teeth invoked a sudden surge of inexplicable, overwhelming emotion that it threatened her knees with collapse. Seeing that expression on his face…it was the definition of exasperation and amusement, impatience and playfulness… and so much more - all rolled up in a big ball of thinking him so adorable when he did it she had to fight to stay pissed off at him.
It was.. love.
And then it was gone.
Feeling like she had just been socked in the gut, she tightened her grip on the rocky wall and tried to catch her breath. Unsure if she was on the verge of suffering a mental melt down – she had no idea if she wanted to laugh, scream, or cry – the sound of someone else's struggle for breath caught her attention.
Suddenly alert, she shot her head to the left.
Vegeta, has back pinned to the wall loosely by 17, seemed to be clutching the teenager's wrists as though the android were helping him to stand rather than prevent him from moving. The Saiyan was calm but seemed shaky and weak. He was looking down and away from her, but his eyes drifted towards her feet. He snapped his gaze away and refused to look her way again.
"What happened?" she croaked, surprised at how raspy and parched her voice sounded – and would have said more, but was cut off when the giant's sudden grip on her shoulder squeezed a painful warning. 17 breathed heavily through his nose.
"He surprised me, that's all," He sounded slightly petulant and a little embarrassed. "Dr. Gero never finished us. My sister and I – we have a.." his features twisted in distaste. "a.. flaw." He winced but shrugged a moment later. "Though our energy is never exhausted during battle, the price we pay for it is that we can't run on full power all the time or we risk damaging ourselves. We don't take long to power up, as you say, but it takes a couple of seconds to go from zero to 60." He gave her an icy look. "But. I won't be surprised again."
She somehow got the feeling he was waiting for her to say something. "Ok..?" she said lamely, but her response seemed to satisfy him because the teenager nodded once before pointing his chin at something behind her.
"The mammoth holding you up is Nappa. He's cold, arrogant, rude, pig-headed, insensitive, and one hell of a grumpy fuck. He eats like a herd of dire were-pigs with manners to match, snores like a god damn t-rex with a cold, talks like a mental cripple through that scouter of his – probably on purpose because he thinks it's funny to confuse the peons - and he'll twist you like a lemon garnish on a strawberry daiquiri if you piss him off, which is easy to do and happens daily, without warning, and for no other reason than he'll pick a fight with a speck of dust if nothing else is available." 17 smirked. "I like him. So be nice or you'll hurt his feelings."
In spite of herself, Bulma felt her lip curve upwards. She didn't know how she knew it, but she knew that sounded so very Saiyan-like… to include the part about being sensitive. She nodded her assent and 17 dropped his arms to his sides. Vegeta swayed when the weight holding him to the rock wall shifted, but he managed to lean back against it just as the beast behind her stepped forward to catch him should he fall. Bulma gawked, thunderstruck at the sheer size of the new Saiyan - the goliath was easily 9 feet tall! In comparison, Goku – at just over 6 feet, seven inches tall – was tiny, and Vegeta – at around 6 feet, 3 inches tall - was miniscule. 17 must have understood what she was thinking because he made the weirdest snort-chuckle combo sound she had ever heard, as if he wasn't certain if he wanted to laugh or scoff. "His size takes getting used to, but despite what I said about him, he's a bear once you get to know him."
Bulma opened her mouth, but 17 cut her off. He really had a problem with doing that. "No, not a teddy bear. Just… a bear. An enormous, pissy, 9-foot-tall bear." He smirked at her, then turned to exit through the hole Nappa had made on his way in. Just before he left, he couldn't resist tossing one last sarcastic remark over his shoulder in her direction. "I can see you've got this so I'ma go." He flicked his wrist near his head in a mock salute and disappeared.
Intrigued, Bulma watched the ginormous creature support Vegeta's weight with surprising gentleness and reverence as they ambled towards the exit. A mamma bear, then. She thought as she fidgeted in the darkness. Of course, mamma bears are nine kinds of hell-spawn with teeth and claws if you get between her and her cubs…
Not that Vegeta was a cub, or anything.
She cringed and shoved the thought away. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and followed the two Saiyans as they led the way. Vegeta's ki had totally sputtered out before she had been pulled to her feet, and though it was dark, they were now close enough to the new moon-lit exit hole that she was able to see slightly better. Without the eerie, bluish glow of 17's inhuman eyes, shadows didn't seem as sharp or sinister, either.
Ahead of her, Vegeta sagged against Nappa as they came to a stop at the mouth of the hole. She wasn't certain why Nappa waited for her when his clear concern was Vegeta, but she was oddly satisfied by it. The large Saiyan glowered down at her and jerked his head towards the hole, indicating she should go first. She made a careful step past them and started walking in the direction 17's footprints led. A moment later, she heard a gravely noise behind her that – before now, and aside from the five words he had just blurted - was in a language she had only heard spoken by Vegeta. It was surreal… like she shouldn't be able to understand it coming from anyone else.
"Listen well. He will not tolerate you more than three steps away, but I will not tolerate you closer than two. You will walk ahead of us so that I may watch you."
When a machine covering his eye – which now suddenly looked really fucking familiar to her for some reason - spouted off a nonsensical line somewhere in the vicinity of
Good hearing. He force three walks far, I force two walks near. You walk front I see you.
Bulma raised an annoyed eyebrow. No wonder 17 said the guy spoke gibberish. Who the hell programed that piece of shit translator? And anyway, who was he to tell her where she could and couldn't walk so he could watch? Oh, sure she understood why he had said it, but really! He didn't have to be such a shit about it! Pssh.
She answered in Saiygo to prove that, yes, she did know some things, thank you. And maybe to rub his face in it just a little; he had already tossed her around like a rag doll with those huge hands of his and accused her of stinking like a Saiyan. She was done being bullied and treated like a fool. Condescending asshole.
"I get it, you dick, so shove it!" and was obnoxiously pleased that his shock blatant enough for her to see his reflective eyes pop open in the darkness when she looked behind her. But…. her smugness evaporated in a puff of smoke when he tensed as though ready to leap at her. Hadn't 17 said it was easy to piss this guy off? The sarcastic voice in the back of her head taunted her.
Way to go, Bulma, you just poked the mamma bear!
Nappa visibly shook but instead of ripping her head off of her shoulders, he forced himself to relax. Scoffing at her as though she wasn't worth his effort, he turned his attention back to Vegeta – who, she just noticed, had gone equally stiff at her words, but hadn't recovered from them as Nappa had.
Huh.
Troubled, she turned her head to watch where she was going, and jumped when Nappa barked at her, "Your accent is horrendous."
"So I've been told," she automatically replied, flippantly.
Dammit.
Almost – but not quite - getting raped by Vegeta – twice! - in the last couple of hours had turned her into an oversexed but underused bitch. She needed to stop thinking with her crotch and quit being hostile.
She sighed and tried to find inner peace.
What the hell had she said, anyway? Something about getting it, calling him a dick, then telling him to shove it.
Oh dear, God.
She smacked a hand over her mouth. Earth slang did not translate well into a literal language.
But, to her defense, everything was either sex or violence to Saiyans. Not that she was little miss purity, at the moment. Kami, what she wouldn't do to get a dick to shove it right about now…
Wanting very badly to change the subject, she… changed the subject, and was very careful to keep her voice neutral so her tone couldn't possibly be mistaken for suggestive no matter what she said. She didn't want to topple whatever restraint Vegeta had left.
"How is it he is so calm, now?" She murmured lowly without looking behind her.
Nappa rumbled menacingly but answered her just as quietly. "For one who has survived him for so long, do not feign foolishness. This is not calm. This you know. This you also feel."
She could sense his slimy, taunting smile directed at the back of her head and could practically feel his eyes dance over her naked skin, poorly covered by a dirty, half torn shirt that barely covered her ass cheeks. She also knew that, even if Vegeta couldn't smell her, he could and there was no hiding it.
No sense being insulted by his presumption, either. He was right. She did know. Whatever telepathic blocks he had been able to bind around Vegeta's carnal bloodlust was less than temporary and far less than perfect. She could feel.. something… oozing from his core, reaching out for her… its inky tendrils were like living, burning webs that pushed ahead of the flames, meant to wrap around and trap her until the wildfire could smother and consume her. His aura was a sticky residue from a nightmare clinging to a sleeper, preventing relief even as she bolted awake in terror.
And yet…
The darkness was seductive as it folded around her; it crooned in deep, heated tones that reverberated against her, quietly shattering her resistance.
Nappa's wicked chuckle was an anchor and she threw her awareness at it. She twisted abruptly to face him – the more senses she could fill with anything other than Vegeta was one less sense she had working against her. The moment her features were bathed in moonlight, she was brought up short by a thick hand wrapping around her throat. She could only stagger forward as the enormous Saiyan pulled her towards him and lifted her until only her toes were in contact with the ground. The sounds of protest and anger squelched and died behind clenched teeth when her efforts switched from yelping in surprise to gasping in shock. It had all happened too fast for her to feel fear, and even had it occurred to her to be afraid, some part of her – like a puppy being snatched by the scruff of the neck - went still with an instinctual calm. She knew his intent was not to harm her.
That didn't stop her from smacking him on the forearm when he hadn't released her after a few awkward moments. She was about to have a melt-down sized tantrum, ordering him to let go, when he stunned her by shifting his grip around her throat so the meaty pad of his thumb could caress her chin. She tried to turn her head away but was unsuccessful. What the hell was he doing?
She glared at him and smacked him again, then tried to kick, but he shook her once. It was just enough force to get her attention but it did nothing to help her temper. What was it about these Saiyans that allowed them to paw at her whenever and however they felt like just because she was too scrawny to do anything about it?
Her anger deflated as fast as it had come when an inexplicable, all consuming emotion surfaced in the burly Saiyan's eyes. It reminded her of the terrifying, fathomless look Vegeta had given her maybe once or twice before. Like the 'tasting the air' face he made, she knew she must have seen the bottomless look before the prison planet, as well. She couldn't place when or where she had seen it, but its effect on her was far more profound. It was terrifying and thrilling… it made her heart ache.
Unlike Vegeta, the bottomless look from Nappa wasn't too much for her to bear. It was a reluctant, fragile awe - as if even the notion of awe had been put aside and forgotten just to be replaced by something far less desirable after a lifetime of pain and circumstance. She saw pride in his eyes, clouded by disbelief. She saw sadness and regret…. And finally she saw the softest glimmer of hope.
Nappa lowered her to the ground gently and released her. Utterly dumbfounded, she stared up at him, wide eyed. What the fuck was that?
He cocked his head to the side and lifted the corner of his mouth in what almost looked like fondness.
WHAT!?
It disappeared quickly to be replaced by a sour expression, but even that seemed more pretense than genuine. He brushed her to the side and continued to walk past her, leaving her sputtering and gaping. She swung her head to stare at his back when he continued to move forward without offering an explanation.
"Aw, hell no!"
She flung herself after the Saiyan pair and threw a mother of a fit against the armor of Nappa's back with fists that were quick to sting and slow to illicit a response. When something warm and furry snaked around her left thigh and tugged, her balance was thrown off and the ground lurched below her. Plucked from her fall before she hit the earth, she found herself dangling five feet from the ground by her wrist, held in a vice grip. Her shoulder screamed as all of her weight pulled against the socket, but she wisely swallowed any sounds of pain she might have made as Nappa lifted her out of the reach of Vegeta's tail. The Prince eyed her with eyes that glowed ferally in the moonlight, and he growled like a panther about to pounce. He bared his teeth as Nappa lifted him by the throat so they were eye level. No one moved except for Bulma as she slowly twisted back and forth like a yoyo hanging on a string. But whatever silent conversation was going on between the two, it had an effect. Slowly, Vegeta's tail loosened and finally dropped from her leg.
Without looking away from Vegeta, Nappa set her down. He grabbed the tattered remains of her collar at the back of her neck and forced her to march alongside him, ensuring there was distance between her and Vegeta. Though she felt like a scolded child being dragged to the principal's office by the ear, his grip on her shirt prevented her from stumbling on a leg that was little more than pins or needles. Damn Vegeta's python tail! And damn Nappa for making her feel stupid. Again.
"I told you to keep a distance," Nappa said icily through grinding teeth.
She scowled up at the giant. "Well, fuck you very much."
Nappa immediately stiffened. His gaze darted nervously to the Prince to his left, as if gauging the likelihood of an attack. She realized she had spoken in English, but apparently, the phrase was something the brute recognized. His reaction wasn't quite what she had expected, though, so she happily translated – perhaps just a bit louder and more emphatic – just to ensure he understood precisely what she meant and not what he seemed to think she meant.
The enormous Saiyan cocked his head and appeared to look inward with wonder - as though finally solving something that had been puzzling him for some time. She didn't expect the thunderously loud bark of laughter, or the silly, smug look on his face. She sneered at him, angry about being curious but unable to stop herself. "You at least gonna tell me what that was about?"
Still grinning, his eyes flicked down at her. "Since I have joined the 'human herd,' several of them often said similar words to me, but none more often than the pathetic human with a mangled face. I had thought him to be propositioning me. Now I know the words were meant as a petty attempt at a verbal strike because no other damage could be inflicted against me." He shrugged. "Pity. An invitation is more respectable than cowardice."
"A petty, verbal strike?" She hollered, applying the accusation to herself rather than – she presumed – Yamcha. After all, she had just told him to fuck off. Wait a minute…
"Propositioning you?" she shouted, incredulous. Only a Saiyan would think someone who just insulted them was offering a screw! "You worm! You thought I was..!" she blurted in a wholly bizarre cross between horror and amusement. Well that explains the nervous glance at Vegeta!
"I bet you totally get off on sadomasochism, don't you? You pervert."
He looked down at her and grinned wolfishly. "There is only one blood lust to a Saiyan, Kdt' auhgr'veh. Rage feeds both fighting and fucking and one easily becomes the other. So when one is angry and offers to 'fuck you,' it can be nothing but an invitation."
Aaaand that explains why Nappa could accept someone insulting him and hitting on him at the same time. It wasn't like Yamcha to purposefully and frequently insult anyone, though – especially one who was so easily provoked to anger. Unless he had a special hatred for the Saiyan.
Wait a minute..
Bulma blanched. "You didn't…."
"Accept the invitation?"
She sucked in a breath as he leered at her, a wicked grin making him look ominous in the moonlight. He sobered then, bored with teasing.
"I would find more satisfaction from the crunch of his bones under my boot, and the squish of organs popping." He was quiet a moment and then shrugged a shoulder. "Had I acted, none would have survived the encounter. I am stronger than some, but there are some who are stronger than me."
He said no more, but Bulma understood. Somehow, it seemed weirdly familiar – as if she had personal experience telling someone to 'fuck you' and have it misinterpreted as an invitation. As deja vu as it was, she couldn't remember it. Eh. It was the ending that she would want most to remember, anyway. Then again, she'd be pissed if she got laid and forgot about all the sleazy details.
As for no one surviving a sexual encounter with Nappa – that actually made sense. There would have been one hell of a ferocious response to those truthfully uninvited advances. Eventually it would have morphed into a huge orgy of blood and violence as everyone else joined in what they thought was a fight. Nappa probably would have thought the whole thing was group foreplay.
She smiled until the whimsy speculation of how the whole thing would have started invoked imagery of how it would have ended.
Nappa said Saiyan sex was violent.
Her leg still ached from his tail, and it had only squeezed her for mere moments. Now that she was focusing on it, she could feel everywhere he had touched because her flesh was tender. And the bite mark… Her tit felt like it was on fire. What would happen when no one could stop him from finishing what he had started?
Fear froze the breath in her lungs and she tripped over her suddenly numb feet. The heavy hand gripping the back of her collar held her up and forced her to keep walking despite her wobbling legs.
"He will not kill you," Nappa said so softly it was almost a whisper. The thought of dying was so sobering, she wasn't even upset that the Saiyan had read her mind. She knew Saiyans were telepathic, but until now, she would have believed it would make her angry and uneasy to have one inside her head. Instead, it was a relief... like it was how communication was supposed to be. So, without even noticing what she did, she looked up and implored the giant for answers in a shaky and weak telepathic voice. How do you know?
He answered her audibly as though the conversation had always been out loud. "I know it because you are not already dead."
They were silent a moment, but Bulma could see his eyes glinting in the darkness as he studied her from his periphery. He seemed to consider her chin for a moment before looking away. "I also know it because you are Kdt' auhgr'veh." he murmured lowly.
Bulma's eyebrows crunched in confusion even as understanding slowly dawned on her. Her fingertips brushed the patterns she knew were tattooed on her chin. What does that even mean? She thought, not expecting an answer but hoping for one, anyway.
Nappa clenched his jaw and turned to consider Vegeta. The Prince took in a jagged breath and released a haggard, rolling growl broken into intervals of sound and silence. The stuttering effect was thrilling –an animalistic arpeggio that bypassed thought and hammered against her base nature. If Nappa noticed the sudden flush of heat or the goosebumps on her skin, he ignored it.
Instead, the large Saiyan seemed to take the sound as assent. His mouth thinned and his eyes hardened and he carefully chose his words. "Though all males in the Royal line share a name, it is written differently so that each may be distinguished from any other. The version of the name on your flesh belongs to his father. This reason alone is enough to know it was not the Prince who gifted this Mark to you. Had he done so, the name would have been his own." His eyes flicked to the tattoo on her face. Suddenly self-conscious, she looked away – but she was listening so intently she could almost hear his words before they were spoken aloud.
"A male can Mark any female, should she find him worthy, accept his claim, and assume her place as his equal – whether that status is higher or lower than her own. This is why the Saiyan caste system is so complex, and why strength – which establishes position - is valued. It is the female who chooses the male, but it is the male's Mark she wears, and none can Mark any name other than his own."
She could feel the collar of her shirt tighten around her throat as he clenched his fist in anger. His next words were forced through clenched teeth. "To do so is forbidden! An act of treason that is no less powerful simply because there are only two left to honor and enforce it!"
Realizing he was starting to bellow, he snapped his jaw shut and forced himself to steady his breathing. After a few deep, calming breaths, she, too, could breathe a little easier as he relaxed his fist and started to speak again. "So few know of the custom at all since it was banned a handful of years before our planet was destroyed. Of those who still have this knowledge, and the knowledge to betray our laws in such a way, there is only one who would. Even he did not know that the Markings meant… he knew only the last Saiyan to wear them." Nappa's expression went dark with menace and loathing. "Frieza believed the Mark would proclaim you as our Queen. He did it to twist the sacrament and mock the only one of us left who bears the right to make a Royal claim, but, as a Saiyan, is forbidden to do so."
Looking pained, Nappa bared his teeth. "Yet the offense is much more than that. Vegeta cannot control his ki during the time when such a claim is made and thus he is unable to give his Mark. For him to see a female with a name only he has the right to give - but for that name to be the wrong one… it is a torment for him because he is unable to correct it. It is an insult to him as a male."
Bulma reeled. Every time Vegeta looked at her, he was at war with himself. Saiyans only had one blood lust, yes? Fighting and fucking. She couldn't imagine how he could stomach the vile mix of loathing and lust that did nothing but augment each other in endless battle. She felt sick.
Pity is the last thing either Saiyan would want from her, but she was human. She couldn't help but to feel wronged on Vegeta's behalf, if for no other reason than for the unwilling part she played. The sticky tears of revulsion, fury, and sorrow congealed in the back of her throat and sank like a hot stone in her gut. Feeling as though she could easily wretch, she allowed the stale air from her lungs to escape carefully so she wouldn't choke on it. But - then her breath would catch and the burning behind her eyes would worsen, closing her throat all the tighter and making it even more difficult to calm down.
She fought against it, but it wasn't working. She was going to lose it in front of the only two beings in existence that couldn't tolerate it. She shook violently, preparing to wrench herself away and run so they wouldn't have to see her come apart.
Nappa's grip on her shoulder tightened and when her eyes flew to his in reflex, he shook his head. He would not allow her any escape. The burden of knowing was hers to bear, as was the obligation to bear it with dignity. Somehow, this comforted her in a way nothing else could. The Saiyan studied her with patience as she regained control of herself. His voice dropped its gruff tone as he peered at her with open interest.
"Frieza's act should have ensured that Vegeta would tear the Mark from your face." Nappa paused, his mouth still open as if he hadn't finished speaking. Where there had been curiosity, there was now that strange mix of awe and disbelief in his eyes once again. "On his life, it was his obligation to remove it by any means because though it is not his own name, it is the name of his House. There is no other name so near his own than that. For him to allow it be worn by you can only mean it is his wish that it be worn by you. It is a claim. That is what makes you Kdt' auhgr'veh - 'Of the Prince' – because one who is claimed by a Royal is a Royal. "
Vegeta, leaning heavily against Nappa, made a chesty sound that rumbled in his throat. It was a contented sound until he jerked in sudden pain. A hiss tore from his lips followed by a strained snarl. Bulma felt the pulse of his ki vibrate through her bones. An oppressive cloud of his pheromones billowed over her and drowned her in sensation. It was unbearable and the onslaught of raw sex was a liquid bomb detonating in her veins. Bulma's brain snapped.
In near panic, Nappa threw her over his shoulder, snatched Vegeta under his other arm, and ran towards the light of the ship that had just come into view, howling bloody murder for them to open the door.
OoOoO
Yamcha heard shouting at the same time an explosion of frantic desperation screamed towards them. Goku hurled himself at the door and only just managed to tear it open before it was annihilated by a blur being chased by crackling, blue flames. The second Nappa was through the door, Goku slammed and locked it, forcing the fireball to crack like an egg against the hull and wash over the shuddering ship.
"You fucking blockhead! You could have destroyed the whole planet with that burst of ki!"
Krillen - who had been playing cards with 18 – and had moved to support Goku even faster than he himself had, turned to glare at him. "Sshhhh! Yamcha," he mumbled in warning.
The beast Saiyan, his eyes wide and rolling, was smoking as he dropped to a knee to unload his charges. Everyone was suddenly crowding them, causing more trouble than it was solving. Somehow Krillen was able to squeeze himself into the fray and when he dislodged from the mass of frenzy, he was carrying someone.
Yamcha's heart launched and got stuck in his throat. Instantly sweating, he found himself somehow suddenly across the room from where he had been, helping Krillen to restrain a wild woman who was desperately flailing in an attempt to escape. She was screeching something that the pounding in his ears wouldn't allow him to make out. She was going to hurt herself if she didn't calm down! Hell! She was going to hurt him! How the hell was she this strong!?
Following instinct, he plucked her from Krillen's arms and sat her on the floor. Pulling her back to his chest, he wrapped his legs and arms around her so she couldn't move. Locked in his embrace and held tightly against his chest, her struggling slowly waned as she realized her efforts were meaningless. Hugging her from behind with one arm, the other was freed to stroke her hair as though she were a fragile, terrified child newly wakened from a nightmare. Mouth pressed to her temple, he tried to soothe her by hushing in her ear.
"Shhhh… Bulma. It's all right. It's all gonna be all right…"
He sat there with his eyes closed, just holding her and murmuring in her ear. God. In his wildest prayers, he didn't dare to dream of ever holding her this way again. It was the smell of her hair that broke the fantasy. It had always smelled like thickly sweet lavender, vanilla, and strawberries. Now it was the soft musk of fire, earth, and rain. He opened his eyes. And then a low sound, deep and rich made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
His eyebrows pinched. Something seemed… off.
And something was vibrating against his chest?
Confused, he loosened his hold and pulled away – just far enough to see Bulma's profile. Her jaw was clenched tightly and her lips were peeled back, baring her teeth. "Bulma?"
She sucked in a breath and a moment later the low, raspy sound got louder.
What the hell? Was she growling?
"Bulma..?" he said again, a bit more alarmed.
"Let me go," she said lowly. "Let me go let me go let me go…."
She was stiff and hard in his grasp, her fingernails clawing into his forearms. "Let me GO!" she shrieked before exploding into violent struggles at the same time her speech disintegrated into yowling and spitting in the bestial way of an animal. Baffled and shocked, he dropped his arms and she rushed to follow the Saiyans who had disappeared into the other room mere minutes ago. Unable to fathom what the hell had just happened, he stared at the floor and blinked in disbelief. Did she hate him so much? Did she even recognize him? Which was worse?
He flinched when a hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped and by reflex, looked at what had touched him. Krillen's sympathetic eyes held his own. "It isn't you. 17 says she has huge holes in her memory… she doesn't even remember what happened on Earth." Yamcha cringed. If this is how she acted when she didn't remember, how would she react when she did remember? Did he want her to? He'd have said no an hour ago, but that was before – did she spend so much time with that damn Saiyan she forget she was human?
He sighed. He was never going to be able to atone for leaving her in that prison cell. Even now when she had no memory of it, he was still paying for that mistake.
Krillen smiled weakly and patted his shoulder. "Just give it some time – she's been through hell but she's stronger than all of us. She'll be all right… she's Bulma."
Yamcha tore his eyes away. After a moment he nodded dejectedly but accepted the monk's hand when he reached to help him stand. A commotion broke out near the door and his head snapped up. Piccolo had caught her in her mad dash to chase after the Saiyans and had her arm in a vice grip. Bulma was yelling like she had been before. He had thought it was just nonsense noises, but it seemed.. more complex.
She whorled on the Namek, anger and fear burning in her eyes. She hissed when there was no response from the green man, then hauled back and tried to smack him. When he caught her hand easily, she practically vibrated with rage. "What the fuck! Let me go! Who the hell are you to…stop…m-"
Her words died. Slowly she closed her mouth and stood, her arms crossed. Eerily calm, she stared suspiciously at Piccolo as if deciding whether or not she wanted to admit he was there. Her eyes shifted from place to place at random, seeing for the first time where she was and with whom.
Apparently she had chosen to believe her eyes. Either that or she had finally come to her senses.
Completely overwhelmed she pressed herself into a niche built into the hull behind her. She wrapped the torn edges of her dirt-crusted clothing around her as though she suddenly noticed the front was hanging wide open, exposing her nakedness underneath. The silence stretched.
Abruptly, Goku stepped around Piccolo and opened his arms as though he were going to snatch the wary woman in an enormous bear hug – and halted a foot in front of her like he'd just walked into a wall.
"Bulma…" he spluttered. His expression pinched as though he were in pain. Arms still raised as though he had forgotten to lower them, he peered at her as though he was deciding whether or not she had sprouted an extra head. Frowning, he winced again – but this time, it looked like he was trying to get a bad taste out of his mouth. "Bulma," he wheezed. "Why do you….You smell like – you smell…"
"Like a Saiyan," she said sharply. "I know." Deciding to ignore the rest of the room – she could handle one thing at a time but not everything all at once - she closed the distance between herself and Goku and flung her arms around him. He flinched as if stunned, but eventually settled his arms around her loosely as if afraid to touch her. He tittered uncomfortably and looked at Chichi as if embarrassed. Pulling away as if it hurt to be in contact, he held her at arms distance to truly look at her. She bore his cautious scrutiny and waited for him to finish.
"You look…" he started.
"Different," Yamcha finished.
Bulma's eyes snapped to the former bandit's. It was like getting thrown into a frozen lake and he sucked in a breath. He hadn't seen those eyes in two years, but he knew them better than he knew his own. They were the same, but they were… changed. As was the rest of her. Though she had always been beautiful, it was a cheerful beauty that seemed warm, sexy, and inviting, playful and sassy, soft and full of sunshine. This beauty seemed darker and more… fierce. She was sharp and intimidating, dangerous and untamed, devastating like wildfire and almost… otherworldly. Sex and seduction hummed just under her skin and oozed out of her like an electrical storm. Her body moved in a predatory way that made her seem like she was wrapped in shadow and ready to pounce. Even the marks on her face gave her alluring, alien mystique. It was a beauty that was painful to look at because it made her impossibly, inhumanly desirable.
The Bulma he knew was not the Bulma he saw now. This Bulma was unreachable, untouchable, and completely forbidden.
He'd never wanted something so much and been so terrified about it.
She turned to look over her shoulder in the same moment Piccolo and Goku glanced over her head. Yamcha hadn't heard anything, but he followed their gaze and clenched his jaw tightly when Nappa stepped onto the ship's bridge. The Saiyan ignored everyone and focused intently on Bulma. He said something that sounded little more than animal noises, and it dawned on him that Bulma had been speaking it earlier when he had thought she was sputtering nonsense. Disconcerted, Yamcha listened for the translation. A horrible translation was better than nothing and he wanted to know what was going on.
"Sleeping Prince now. Weak and strong take turns –"
He was cut off when Bulma held her hand out to the Saiyan, palm up. Confused, the giant frowned at her and did nothing. Bulma… growled… again, and the Saiyan twisted his lip in annoyance. A moment later, though, he removed his scouter and gently placed it into the woman's waiting hand. She peered at it as if she'd never seen one before but then abruptly turned to the ship's main consul, sat down, and started reprogramming like she had been using this particular computer for years. If what ChiChi had said was true, Bulma had been using this ship though – through the eyes of that Saiyan. It was strange how she could remember some things like it was second nature but other things that should be familiar seemed completely foreign.
Minutes later, Bulma handed the device back and Nappa raised a skeptical eyebrow but diligently replaced the scouter over his eye. The translation was still horrible – but not because Yamcha couldn't understand it…. Rather because he could.
OoOoO
"I have forced the Prince into a healing sleep, but it cannot last. He trades moments of surging ki with moments of no ki at all, and every time it returns, it grows more powerful and less controlled."
The Saiyan's eyes swept the room, but he did not demand that he and Bulma be left in privacy. In fact, he seemed nervous and strained. He rushed when he spoke as if he were running out of time but couldn't leave anything out.
"The phase is meant to come in two stages in those decades younger. The body obtains full growth in stage one to better contain the increased ki of an adult in stage two. Vegeta was denied this. It is why he is small for one of our kind, but that is not his failure. It is ours… he has always been too powerful. Radditz and I.. we could not guide a ki too great for us through a transition that would only allow it to become much greater."
Bulma nodded. 17 had said as much, but every detail was vastly important and none of them could afford anything to have been forgotten. Nappa may not like spilling Vegeta's secrets, but none of them could afford secrets, either.
"We could only delay his phase. We knew Kakarot survived, so it was possible... It was our hope a female - It has now reached a point where it cannot be subdued. We must help him or he will die. We all will die."
At this, he fell silent. The whole room was silent. The tension was so overwhelming it became stifling.
"Who'd have thought that after a year of hearing nothing but nonsense from this guy that he could be so articulate?"
Everyone's eyes landed on Krillen who had the decency to look embarrassed. "What?" he said sheepishly. "We were all thinking it…."
Nappa narrowed his eyes at the monk and bared his teeth in a half-assed threat. Krillen shifted his weight and found something else to look at.
"Well I say no," Yamcha challenged. "Why doesn't Goku just teleport him somewhere far away and leave him there? We'll be down a Saiyan – tragic - but why should the rest of the galaxy go with him? "
When Yamcha mentioned teleporting, Goku jumped and looked around the room guiltily. They were still on the prison planet and he was supposed to have teleported them off right away. The Saiyan's eyes darted around the room, making sure no one was paying attention. He crossed his arms and tryed to look casual as he leaned against the hull. Then, slowly, he reached a hand to his hair to smooth the spikes flat. Still acting as if nothing were out of the ordinary, he shifted his fingers from his hair to rest against his forehead and looked inward as he focused. He didn't have a ki to lock onto, but as Yamcha said, they didn't want to be near anything in case Vegeta exploded. So, Goku concentrated on a spot that was empty of ki. Somewhere far from planets, stars, or anything that could be in danger.
There…
The ship lurched and everyone looked around in alarm.
"Has it started? Is he exploding now?" ChiChi said nervously from her seat across from 18.
That sobered the room quickly, but no one could help but glance from one face to the next to see which of them would know what to do. Goku turned his head to and fro as they did, trying to seem as confused as everyone else. Each time someone's gaze found his, he shrugged as if he were clueless.
It worked. Eventually everyone dismissed the strange jolt and started talking again. He smiled to himself, pleased.
And then Bulma screamed, her voice full of such pain it was reduced to a gurgle in her throat. She convulsed in a violent spasm and as her head was thrown back, her knees hit the floor. It was so out of place and sudden, no one moved as they stared at her, completely stunned, as she writhed in agony on the ground. Goku dropped and cradled her head, looking around for someone to know what to do to help.
"Beans…" he whispered before his head shot up to seek out Krillen. His eyes were full or terror. "Beans! Beans!"
Krillen jolted from his stupor and his hands riffled over the pockets hidden in strategic places throughout his gi. "Here!" he shouted and tossed the bag to Goku who plucked them from the air. Pulling the bag open with his teeth, he tried to shove shaking, overly large fingers inside to grab a tiny bean.
When Nappa closed his fist around Goku's, the smaller Saiyan looked up, betrayal and rage in his eyes. Nappa's face was without expression, his voice calm.
"She is linked with Vegeta and his pain is hers. The only cure is for her to guide the transition of his body. You and I will help her survive it by guiding the transition of his ki. In this, we three cannot fail."
Gohan's timid voice was so gentle and innocent, it broke Yamcha's heart. "What's wrong with Bulma? What do you mean she has to help Vegeta? Why can't you fail?"
"He's saying that Bulma's going to fuck the Prince while your daddy and Nappa stop his ki from frying her before he can learn to control it. If any of them messes up, auntie Bulma's got a crotch-row seat to the end of the universe - which, unfortunately, none of us will live through," 17 stated with indifference.
ChiChi was too horrified to do anything but gape at the android. And then, like someone had flipped a switch, the room erupted with everyone shouting at everyone else.
Goku's gaze had never left Nappa's, but it dropped now to take in Bulma, her head still cradled in his hand. She was still in pain, but her fevered eyes focused on him just long enough to let him know. She trusted him.
He looked inward for a heartbeat, his expression unreadable. Bulma was his first friend. He had always trusted her and she had never let him down. When everyone else said not to believe in her, they were wrong. He had let her down. But even after everything – two long years of failures - she still trusted him. He would not fail her again.
He lifted Bulma carefully in his arms as he rose to his feet.
"Guide his ki how?" he said softly. Nappa turned and walked from the room without watching to see if he was followed.
No one noticed them leave.
