Conflict
"You know, you're really getting this stuff fast."
"Hn."
"What does that even mean?"
"Roughly translated: Yes, no, I don't know, I don't care, or shut up."
Bulma glowered at her sarcastic student. "Well, gee, that sure narrows it down."
Vegeta smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. Of course an ambiguous answer would get under her skin. Besides, he was tired of listening to her praise. It felt like empty compliments to him.
"Your grammatical rules are some of the easiest I've learned."
"Oh, really? And exactly how many languages do you know well enough to compare them to?"
His smirk broadened. "Do you want me to include dead languages or not?"
She stared at him blankly. "With?"
"Fifty-seven, not including English."
Her jaw dropped. "Fifty…seven? No way! There's no way you could learn that many and be fluent in them all!"
"Fine, only forty-two if you leave out the ones where I'm not completely fluent. But I can hold adequate conversations in them."
Bulma shook her head and turned her attention back to the notebook on her desk. So he thought he understood her grammar so well, did he? She'd have to prove him wrong. She knew just how to do it, too.
"Ok, so you think you know English pretty well, huh? I bet you couldn't last one week in school without falling behind because you can't understand enough."
Vegeta snorted when she issued her challenge. He knew exactly what she was trying to do and he wasn't going to fall for it. She'd spent over a month teaching him English and giving him warnings that he'd have to go to school soon since he was learning it so fast. There was a reason he continued leading her to believe he wasn't picking up on reading and writing.
"Don't be absurd. I can speak it well enough, but you know I can't understand written language very well," he reminded her.
"You're doing well enough. You could get by with what you know in seventh grade. Remember you're learning from a genius, so naturally you're getting the best lessons possible. I'm still way ahead of you, but I'm at, like, the doctoral level." She smiled smugly, as if daring him to contradict her.
"Absolutely not."
"Huh?"
"You're not tricking me into going to that place."
Mentally she cursed his ability to see through her plot. Why couldn't he ever fall for anything? She sighed and closed her notebook. "Fine. Maybe I can't make you go, but my parents can."
He glared daggers at her as he stood up. "And what makes you think they'll think I'm ready for it?"
"They'll believe me when I tell them."
"I'll deny it."
"They'll believe me over you."
"What makes you so sure?"
"They know you're not stupid."
He snarled and turned away from her. He refused to go to 'school.' She giggled when she saw his tail flicking with his irritation. Now that she was used to the idea of him having it, it was a new source of interest for her. More than anything she wanted to touch it, but he always kept it wrapped around his waist and vehemently discouraged her from trying to feel it.
"I don't have time to waste on school," he groused.
Bulma rolled her eyes at his complaint. She didn't know what he could possibly be so busy with every day. He never told her what he did when she was away at school. All she knew was that he was often gone from the compound when she returned home and that he had a habit of pestering her father about mechanics. In her opinion if what he was doing wasn't important enough to ever talk about, it wasn't important enough to keep him from going to school with her. Misery loved company, and she was ready to have a friend – or at least acquaintance – there with her.
"Whatever. I'll talk to my parents tonight."
Vegeta ground his teeth and had to make a conscious effort to not wrap his hands around her frail little neck and squeeze… He shook his head. He had to avoid such thoughts if he wanted her to be able – and willing – to finish his scouter.
"Pretentious little brat!" he growled, using his native tongue.
Bulma wagged her finger at him. "You know if you're insulting me you should do it in a language I can understand."
"I hate you."
"The feeling is mutual."
"Shut up."
Bulma pretended to zip her lips and dismissed him with a wave. If he wanted to be done with his grammar lesson then she was going to get her homework finished. She didn't hear him as he silently stalked out of her room, so she jumped in surprise when her bedroom door suddenly slammed closed.
'Insolent girl! She wouldn't dare con me into this school thing. I don't need some pitiful earthling education! What I need is to get off this planet.' Vegeta went downstairs to the indoor garden to train before dinner. He was feeling the need to vent some aggression.
Vegeta showed up to dinner a few minutes late covered in sweat and minor burns. He sat down at the table and started serving himself despite the concerned exclamations about his physical state. He didn't want them fawning over him so he brushed off their questions and doting and ate his meal quickly without a word.
"So, I think Vegeta's ready to go to school," Bulma said casually once they determined the boy wasn't going to respond to their concern.
"Oh?" Dr. Brief turned his eyes from Vegeta to his daughter. He didn't doubt he could get by, but he also didn't think that Vegeta agreed with her about his readiness, judging by the cold glare he was giving her.
She nodded, oblivious to the death glare. "He's got a good handle on English and I bet he knows math and stuff enough to start middle school."
Dr. Brief turned again to his young houseguest. He didn't look happy about the proposition. He took another bite of sushi and slowly chewed it while he mulled the idea over in his head. Vegeta could be quite successful in school but did he need to go, at least so soon? Call him selfish, but he liked having the boy around.
Mrs. Brief was having similar thoughts. She enjoyed seeing Vegeta around the compound, especially at lunch. It gave her great pleasure seeing him eating so much of her cooking. He was surly, but she was absolutely convinced he just needed love. Like an abused and neglected animal she wanted to teach him to trust again and not be scared all the time. She wanted him to feel comfortable opening up to them. Would he learn to trust if he went to school? She knew children could be horribly cruel to one another. Sending him to a jungle like that might do the boy more harm than good.
Bulma could see her parents' thoughts plainly written across their faces. No doubt Vegeta was aware of the same thing and was mentally gloating his victory. She glanced his way and frowned when she saw him smugly grinning at her. He knew he won. Well – maybe not.
"I don't see why I should have to go to school if he doesn't," Bulma grumbled. "It's not like I learn anything."
Dr. Brief sighed and continued eating. He'd heard her singing the same tune for years. It lost its effectiveness long ago. He strongly held onto the belief that as the future president of Capsule Corporation she needed a formal education that he didn't have the time to give her at home. And anyway, he and his wife both hoped that by sending Bulma to school she would make some friends closer to her age and possibly feel like a kid despite her genius. They were afraid her intelligence made her feel like she was skipping the best time of her life.
Vegeta's only response was a condescending scoff. He was glad she left the compound for the better part of the day five days a week. It kept her out of his hair and her questions about his daily activity to a minimum. Then again, if she weren't at the prison for human children, she could devote more time to fixing his scouter and then he could get his space pod fixed and he could be on his way. But was it worth having her around more? He shook his head to get his thoughts back on track. He should focus on not going to school, not advocating for her to be allowed to stay home.
"You know why you have to go to school, dear," Dr. Brief said to his daughter.
She pouted. "It's not fair! I know I have to go, so why doesn't he have to, too?" she asked, pointing at Vegeta.
"Do you want to go to school?" Dr. Brief asked him.
"No."
"Well, that settles it. I don't see why I should send you."
"But Dad! I don't want to go either!" Bulma protested.
"Bulma," he said sternly, "We've been over this. There is going to be no more discussion on the issue."
Bulma could feel tears forming in her eyes. Her parents clearly favored Vegeta over her. He was given the choice to go to school or not while she was forced to go kicking and screaming. Sometimes literally. And really she just wanted Vegeta to go so she would have a friend at school with her. But she didn't want to admit that out loud. No doubt Vegeta would use that as ammunition against her in their next verbal feud. She didn't want to give him any more firepower than he already had when she had virtually nothing on him.
"I can't believe this," she growled. She slammed her hands against the table as she stood up then ran out of the kitchen. She felt positively furious with both her parents and Vegeta.
Vegeta watched her retreat with mild amusement before turning his attention back to his meal. He anticipated no more interruptions now that she was gone. He missed the exchanged glance between the elder Briefs and calmly finished eating. When he was done he left the kitchen to go find the sulking girl and demand she spend the rest of the evening working on his scouter.
He found her in her bedroom and was surprised to see that she was not only still upset, but she was crying and appeared quite dejected. He shifted his weight between his feet uncomfortably as he debated whether or not to bother her. Rather than being concerned about her feelings, he didn't know how to interact with her when she was being so irrational.
'Ridiculous girl, why does she care about this so much?' He scowled and turned on his heel to take his leave before she noticed him standing in her doorway.
He quietly padded to his own room and sat down at the desk with his scouter laid out on it. Through the process of repairs it looked worse than ever. Bulma claimed gutting it would speed up the process, which made him nervous because he didn't entirely trust her to be able to put it back together again. There were tiny pieces covering the surface of his desk and he was afraid a careless exhalation of air could upset them and he'd never figure out where they were supposed to go. The whole idea of fixing by tearing apart was nerve wracking for him. She was so casual about it, but she didn't realize the importance of getting his scouter working correctly as soon as possible. And it wasn't as if he could tell her.
He raked his fingers through his hair and slumped back in his chair. She taught him the function of all the pieces and now they were to the next step of diagnosing if they had problems and what those problems were if they did. Already she had determined she would have to rebuild some of it. He was afraid to ask how long that would take.
'Might as well get something done.' Vegeta picked up a miniscule screwdriver and started reinstalling the intact microprocessor. Going from memory alone he had it back in place a few minutes later.
"Is there anything you don't learn fast?"
Vegeta flinched when the unexpected question broke his concentration. He turned and saw the girl standing behind him watching what he was doing over his shoulder. She was frowning, which certainly didn't add much to her distraught appearance with puffy red eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. His lip raised in a snarl.
"Hn."
"Jerk. You're almost as smart as me but you don't have to…" she trailed off after seeing the warning look he gave her. "Whatever. I see you've started without me. You sure you need my help?"
He was vaguely taken aback by the bitterness lacing her words. But he brushed that aside and nodded. "I can put it together, but you haven't showed me how to make new parts where needed."
Somewhat appeased, Bulma pulled another chair up to the desk and separated the functional parts from the ruined ones. "I don't have time to start that tonight, but we can get the materials we'll need. Dad probably has everything in his lab."
"Fine. I can put the rest of this together later."
"Don't you ever sleep?"
"Not much."
"But you never even look tired."
"I'm not."
"But you just said you don't sleep much."
"I don't need to."
There wasn't much she could say to that. She knew some people naturally required less sleep than normal. Often she wished she was one of them, but she wasn't. Now she learned that he was. She bit her lip to keep herself from confessing her growing jealousy of her houseguest. She was beginning to think he was better than her in every way. Well, almost. At least she didn't have crazy, untamable hair.
"I really can't stand you," she told him.
"Likewise."
"Jerk."
"Brat."
Bulma huffed haughtily and pushed all the undamaged pieces into a plastic bag. Vegeta nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw her so carelessly jumble them all together.
"What are you doing?" he yelled.
She rolled her eyes. "Relax. I know what everything does. I'm not going to get them confused."
"You'd better hope for your sake that you don't," he hissed.
Bulma felt a shiver of fear running down her spine. He had threatened her before, but he never sounded so serious about it. The scariest part was she had no idea what exactly he could or would do to her if provoked enough. He was unpredictable and she knew very little about him, but she could sense some underlying sinister nature when he let it show.
"Seriously," she said, trying to cover her nervousness, "I got this. Come on, let's go get the stuff we'll need."
Vegeta got up and followed her downstairs to the laboratory. The large room was becoming fairly familiar since he spent so much time there, so he knew exactly where to go to find scrap pieces of electronics. He rifled through them along with Bulma even though he had no idea what to look for. Despite being clueless about the utility of the various things, he figured it would be advantageous to know what was available for when he got to fixing his space pod.
"I think that's everything," Bulma said as she shoved the new parts into another plastic bag.
"Hn."
"Eloquently put," she quipped.
Vegeta snorted. He still didn't see the point in responding with a long, drawn-out speech when a simple grunt of acknowledgement would suffice. Just because she was a loudmouth who could babble about nothing for hours on end didn't mean he was equally willing to waste his breath.
"So this will probably take a while to figure out, so you're going to have to wait to start this. Hopefully this weekend we can get going on it," Bulma said as she locked the lab door.
She knew he wasn't happy to hear that when she saw the tip of his tail flicking even though he didn't give a verbal response. It wasn't as if she was purposely taking her time, so she didn't think he had any right to be irritated with her. No doubt she was working faster than anyone else could, so he should consider himself lucky to have her help. She smiled as she boosted her own confidence and walked away from the lab with a new spring in her step. Which reminded her, she needed to test her latest invention…
Vegeta wasn't grateful, though. All he could think about was his need to get back to the tyrant's ship as soon as possible. He knew what to expect upon his return and the consequences would surely be intensified with each day of his absence.
'Maybe I should kill myself and save Frieza the trouble,' he thought. 'At least I could make it quick and relatively painless.' He sighed and shook his head. 'No, I can't die yet. I've got to live long enough to ascend.'
A familiar feeling of hopelessness gnawed at his resolve. This wasn't the first time he'd considered suicide to save himself from his life of slavery. As usual, he was reminded of his duty as the prince of his dead race to exact revenge from the lizard. But he couldn't help but think he would never be strong enough to do so. At his age he was already much stronger than any other saiyans had been for generations, but it still wasn't enough. It would never be enough. He knew Nappa and Raditz were counting on him to do the impossible and it shamed him to even think of letting them down by acting on cowardice and taking his own miserable life. He owed them, the last of his proud race, the hope that Frieza would die at his hands. Even if it was an unrealistic fantasy based on a legend.
"Vegeta? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he answered automatically.
Bulma's brows furrowed as she decided whether or not to pursue whatever made Vegeta betray a rare expression of consternation. But as soon as she asked what was wrong he returned to stoicism. Something was obviously weighing heavily on him, but unsurprisingly he was unwilling to talk about it. No, he wanted to keep everything bottled up inside. She didn't think that could be healthy, but there was no changing it. He was reserved and always would be.
'Well, if something's bothering him, maybe I should help him take his mind off it.' That was when she realized that despite having him live with her for a whole month, she still didn't even know what kinds of things he liked doing.
"What do people do for fun where you're from?" she asked.
The answer "kill weaklings" was the first thing that sprang to mind when she asked. He bit his tongue to keep from blurting it out and shrugged instead. Knowing her, she wouldn't approve of that particular form of entertainment.
"I still have almost an hour before I have to go to bed, so we could do something fun! Hey, I know!" Bulma exclaimed. She grabbed Vegeta's hand and nearly jerked him off his feet as she took off running. "It's still really warm out so we can go swimming!"
Vegeta dug his heels into the carpet and this time Bulma was the one who was nearly jerked off her feet. "Swimming?" he asked, glaring at her suspiciously.
"It's when you get in the water and…" She didn't know how to explain the act of swimming with words, so instead she made swimming motions with her arms.
He raised his eyebrow at her strange display.
"You do know how to swim, don't you?" she asked when he failed to show any understanding.
He scoffed. "If I understand correctly by what you mean by 'swimming,' then yes, but I would hardly call that swimming."
"I'll have you know I'm a very good swimmer," she spat with a dramatic wave of her arms.
"Hn."
"I choose to interpret that as a yes."
"Hn."
She sighed in exasperation. He was trying to get under her skin and she refused to allow him to succeed. "Whatever, let's go! I bet I could swim laps around you."
"Right."
"Come with me and I'll prove it!"
He was torn between indulging her so he could make fun of her and returning to his room to continue piecing together his scouter. Neither sounded good to him at the moment, but he didn't honestly know what else to do. It was only an hour wasted if he went with her… an hour that could be spent better. Another hour he would pay for later when he got back to Frieza with more of his own blood spilled on the ground.
"Stupid girl, I have better things to do."
Bulma put her hands on her hips and quirked an eyebrow. "Why are you always so serious? Don't you ever like to have fun?"
Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use trying to explain himself to her. "I don't have time for 'fun.'"
"Yeah, because you have so much to do. Hello, you don't go to school, you don't have a job! What is there for you to do that's so important you can't take one hour off?"
"You wouldn't understand if I told you, brat!" he roared, now thoroughly enraged with her childish attitude. "You don't know a damn thing about me so stop trying to act as though you do!"
Bulma shrank back from him after his angry outburst. He could smell her fear and felt satisfaction that he was finally able to put her in her place.
"Maybe if you'd tell me something about yourself I'd know," she snapped back defensively.
His lip raised in a snarl, revealing a surprisingly long canine. He looked feral. Suddenly she thought it may have been a bad idea to push him so hard. Trying to pry into his life was apparently unwise. She gulped.
He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her so close their noses were almost touching. She could practically see the fury burning like fire in his obsidian orbs. "Listen, girl. I will tell you nothing. I don't plan on staying here for long so you might as well give up these foolish attempts to make me your 'friend.' Stop being a nosey little brat and leave. Me. Alone." He roughly pushed her away and stalked down the hall without her contemptible company.
Bulma rubbed her eyes to stop the tears from coming, but it was no use. Her shoulders hurt pretty bad, but her heart hurt worse. She'd tried to be friendly to him for weeks and he still hated her for some reason. She didn't realize how much she was hoping he would be her friend until he rejected her and threw all her efforts back in her face. She wanted to be mad at him for it, but all she could feel was embarrassment for her naïve stupidity. The whole time she'd known him he stayed distant and never showed any interest in getting to know her. But she thought they would be close friends because they were close in age and they lived in the same home. But none of that mattered. The fact was, he really didn't like her.
'I could play the same game. I could refuse to build his…thing.' She sniffled and furiously wiped the tears from her cheeks. 'And what did he mean he doesn't plan to stay? Where else does he have to go?'
When Vegeta sat down to resume work on his scouter, he found that his mind was too clouded with emotions to be able to remember how to do it. He growled in frustration and ground his teeth. He needed to calm down if he hoped to get anything done. He took a deep breath and released it slowly, forcing his rage and despair out along with the air. After a few minutes he had himself under control. When he was numb, he could forget how much he hated the life from which he could not escape. Being detached was the only way to retain his sanity, ironically.
'That infernal girl is going to make me lose my mind,' he thought as he examined the tiny microphone before putting it in place.
Vegeta worked long into the night before he couldn't stop yawning and his eyes refused to stay open. He was afraid he was going soft. Before, he'd been able to stay awake for days on end. Now it seemed he needed almost as much sleep as the pathetic humans. He got up from his seat, stripped down to his boxers, and crawled into bed.
'I've got to get out of here soon. If I don't I'll never survive. I have to live! My people's honor depends on me. I cannot get weak. I cannot die.'
Bulma had a hard time sleeping that night. She woke up periodically and at three in the morning she woke again and couldn't get back to sleep. After tossing and turning for twenty minutes she got up to get a glass of milk in the hopes that it would help her sleep.
She was walking past Vegeta's guestroom when she heard him crying out. Curiosity struck her again as she tiptoed over to his door and pressed her ear against it. She was startled when he roared in pain. She threw the door open and ran to the side of his bed where all five on his limbs were failing erratically, the covers kicked off the bed. In the dim light streaming in through his balcony doors she could see a layer of sweat glistening on his body.
"Vegeta? Are you alright?"
His only response was another cry of agony as he curled into a tight ball of trembling muscle. He started muttering something in a language she hadn't heard him use much before. It sounded more like hissing than speech, but it was indeed a language of some sort. There wasn't much intonation, but if she had to guess what he was feeling, it was intense fear.
Sympathy tugged at her heart. This didn't look like any normal nightmare a kid might have. This was him reliving a vivid, terrible memory in his mind. Realization struck her in her tired state. 'He's right, I really don't know anything about him.' She tried to reach out to him, but as soon as her hand touched him his arm batted her away so hard she heard a sharp snap and a stab of pain exploded through her arm. She howled in pain and collapsed on the floor, her broken arm clutched to her chest.
Vegeta sprang out of bed when he heard the intruder. Immediately fully awake, he landed in a defensive crouch while his eyes shifted quickly over his surroundings. His eyebrows rose in astonishment when he caught sight of the blue-haired girl then lowered as he glared at her.
"What are you doing in here?" he demanded.
She looked up at him and choked back a sob. She had never felt such pain before in her life, and it was only made worse by his callous question. Couldn't he see she needed help? "You broke my arm, you idiot!"
He growled. He wasn't sorry for doing that even if it was true. If she trespassed on his territory he had every right to attack her. Still, she was in his domain now and he wanted her out. It didn't look like she was planning on leaving though. He cautiously stepped closer to her as if expecting her to lunge at him in retaliation.
"Oh Kami, Vegeta, this hurts!" she bawled when he kneeled down in front of her.
"Shut up, girl," he purred. He knew better than to upset her worse, so he was trying to calm her down instead. "Let me see your arm."
Bulma sniffled and winced when he gently took her arm and held it out so he could examine it. He prodded it in a few places until she screamed in pain. He frowned and allowed her to pull her arm back and hold it against her chest. He knew which bone was broken but he didn't know the English word for it so he couldn't tell her.
"Where can you get medical attention?" he asked, standing up.
"Get my parents. They'll take me to the hospital."
Vegeta grabbed one of the sheets from the floor and ripped off a strip of it. He ignored Bulma's questioning look and made it into a makeshift sling for her arm. It wasn't great but it was good enough to handle the job temporarily.
"Come on," he grumbled, pulling her to her feet.
He walked with her to her parents' room and banged on the door before inviting himself in. He wanted them to hurry and take the whimpering girl off his hands so he could return to bed.
"Wake up!" he barked when neither of them roused from their slumber.
"Hm? What is it?" Dr. Brief mumbled into his pillow.
Bulma saw Vegeta's impatience and decided to speak up. "Dad, my arm's broken. I need to go to the hospital."
Dr. Brief shot up in bed. "You're hurt?" He got out of bed and ran to his daughter. "What happened?"
"I, uh…" She glanced at Vegeta and then lowered her head. "I was going downstairs and I fell. I guess I woke Vegeta up and he helped me."
Dr. Brief wasn't entirely convinced, but he shrugged and decided to accept her explanation for now. At the moment what mattered was getting her to the emergency room. He could ask questions later.
By then Mrs. Brief was awake as well. When she learned what was going on she nearly broke out in tears. If there was one thing she couldn't stand it was her baby being in pain. She was so upset her husband had to usher her out of the bedroom, giving her the task of getting the car ready.
He came back in and ordered Vegeta to help Bulma to the car while he got dressed. Vegeta did as he was told, though he didn't understand what all the fuss was about. She had a broken bone, she wasn't having a baby. Humans got worked up over the silliest things.
A few minutes later all four of them were on the way to the West City General Hospital, much to Vegeta's chagrin. He didn't want to accompany his host family on the trip, but Mrs. Brief insisted he come along to reassure him that Bulma would be ok. As if he didn't already know that. He sprawled out in the backseat with his feet on Bulma's lap despite her protests and slept through the short drive to the hospital.
When they got to the hospital Vegeta was dragged along with them to the emergency room. He grumbled the whole way and went straight for the chairs in the waiting room to continue sleeping. He was joined a bit later by the others after they signed in. It was only a minute before Bulma was taken into the ER. Dr. Brief went along with her but Mrs. Brief stayed behind so as not to get in the way.
She saw that Vegeta was sound asleep so she refrained from disturbing him. She thought all the excitement must have worn him out. It was so nice to see he cared about Bulma. He acted mean to her but deep down he liked her. Mrs. Brief smiled at that thought and started reading one of the magazines from the waiting room table.
A/N: Oh, Mrs. Brief, how wrong you are...
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