A/N: Wow it's been a while. I've been thoroughly distracted, I apologize. I won't drag you into the Broadway production that surrounds my life, however. XD We'll just move on in the story. :)
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A span of two weeks had passed since Piccolo and Vegeta sealed their bond as lifemates. As they had intended, no one was privy to what had happened, and small moments of passion were shared in secret, in between planning of Bulma's funeral.
It was the morning of the funeral, and Vegeta was feeling more cross than usual. He had already yelled at Trunks twice for being too loud and sent Mirai from his room because he was being 'irritatingly annoying' (a complete oxymoron that the demi-Saiyan dared not point out).
"What's your deal, Vegeta?" Pota asked him, frowning at him from the doorway of his room.
"I have a headache and my stomach hurts." He complained, his head resting in his hands.
Pota picked a piece of lint off of his tux and patted his shoulder.
"It's stress. You'll be fine when we get there." She reassured him.
But Vegeta wasn't fine when they got there. If anything he was worse than before. As they all sat in the viewing room, surrounded by friends and listening to the priest read to them, Pota had her eyes locked on Vegeta, who was sitting next to Piccolo. He had his right arm locked over his stomach and the other covering his mouth.
Everyone else in the room assumed that he was consumed by grief, but Pota knew that Vegeta was either going to pass out or hurl.
Piccolo gave Vegeta a questioning look, which Vegeta merely shook his head at and continued staring straight ahead, squeezing his eyes shut after Piccolo looked away.
Warning bells went off in Pota's head when the color drained from Vegeta's face. He stood abruptly and rushed out of the room, attracting a few looks, but none of them lingered. Piccolo stared after him and then looked at Pota, concern apparent in his eyes. Pota held up a finger, indicating for him to stay. She then stood, gathered her black robes from around her ankles and quickly exited the room.
She ran down the hallway of the church, searching frantically for signs of the Saiyan Prince. She screeched to a halt outside the bathrooms, hearing violent sounds coming from within.
She waited until they stopped, the toilet flushed, and Vegeta emerged, looking positively haggard. He looked surprised to see her.
"Pota?" He asked as she stuck her hand to his forehead and ordered him to sit down. He slumped against the wall and she sat down next to him, studying his face.
"What?" he asked irritably. "I just threw up, no big deal."
"It is a big deal." Pota's voice betrayed her panic, which made Vegeta panic a little as well. "Saiyan's don't get sick, Vegeta. There's something seriously wrong with you. We need to go home." She said standing up and looking him over again.
He stared after her as she ran down the hallway towards the viewing room.
Piccolo was half-listening to the priest when he felt a nudge in the back of his mind. He furrowed his brow and turned, seeing Pota standing in the back of the room. Another more urgent nudge made him realize that Pota was communicating with him telepathically. The panicked look on her face made his stomach turn. He silently got up and followed her out the door.
They arrived at the bathrooms and Piccolo froze. Vegeta was sitting on the ground looking paler than usual and absolutely miserable. He had his head in his hands and there was sweat on the back of his hands and brow. Piccolo cast an alarmed look in Pota's direction.
"He threw up. We need to get back to the Lookout. Saiyan's don't usually get sick. There could be something seriously wrong internally." Piccolo's heart skipped a beat as he stared down at his mate, who looked up at him with a weak smile. Pota and Piccolo jumped out of the way as Vegeta rushed back into the bathroom, heaving once again.
Pota flinched at the sounds, looking more worried than ever. After Vegeta didn't emerge after the toilet flushed, Piccolo walked into the bathroom to find him resting in the stall.
"I couldn't get up…" The Prince admitted, flashing him another weak smile. Heart breaking worry etched itself on the Namek's face as he gently picked Vegeta up and carried him out of the bathroom. Pota was walking back up the hallway towards them.
"I quietly told Mirai what was happening. He and Trunks will return home with Goku after the service." She explained. Piccolo nodded and held onto the now-shivering Saiyan in his arms.
"Let's go." They left the building and headed straight for the Lookout. They stopped only once when Vegeta had to vomit again, but they made it to the Lookout in record time otherwise.
"Bring him to my ship, please." Pota said. Her voice was calmer now. Piccolo obeyed and followed her up the ship's ramp and into the medical bay. He laid Vegeta down on a soft hospital-style bed. The Prince smiled his thanks to Piccolo, who just barely managed to smile back.
"Piccolo, if you don't mind, I'd like to examine Vegeta alone please." Pota requested, now wearing scrubs. Piccolo hesitated but after a reassuring nod from Vegeta he relented and left the ship, going to worry alone in his room.
Pota waited until the door slid shut and clicked into place before turning on Vegeta with a determined look on her face.
"Pull your sleeve up." Vegeta gave her a weird look, but rolled his sleeve up anyways. Without warning, Pota plunged a needle into his vein, extracting a blood sample before he even had time to say 'ow' or complain.
He watched her with curious confusion as she turned and plugged the sample into her massive computer, pressing a few buttons and reading a bunch of data that Vegeta could only pretend to understand. After a few more minutes of mumbling, pressing of more buttons and typing, Pota sat down slowly in her chair.
"Wow…" She said quietly. Vegeta didn't know whether to take that as a good thing or a bad thing, so he waited in pained silence. His stomach still churned, but he was positive that he was done vomiting. Pota finally turned slowly in her chair, a strangely happy expression on her face.
"Jesus Pota, I didn't know me being sick would make you happy. Are you that much of a medical nerd?" Vegeta sneered. Pota rolled her eyes.
"Hah hah, Captain Smart ass." She clicked a button and a sheet of paper printed. She retrieved it and walked over to Vegeta, handing it to him.
"Do you know what this means?" She asked mysteriously. Vegeta stared at the sheet, comprehending nothing… except one thing.
"Positive? What am I positive for?" He asked very clearly confused. Pota's smile returned, wider this time. Vegeta stared at the paper again and then looked back at Pota, finding no further clues.
"Is this bad? Am I ill?" He asked, frustrated that he didn't understand why she was so happy.
"Mmm, depends… is being a daddy bad?"
Vegeta's brain took three seconds to figure out what she meant. His grip on the paper loosened and sent it floating to the floor. He stared down at his stomach; his eyes were as big as dinner plates. Pota's smile remained on her face even as Vegeta paled and passed out on the bed.
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A/N: OH THANK GOD THE CLIMAX OF OUR STORY EMERGES! XDD Told you the mpreg wouldn't go away. :3 You guys better review this beast, I'm serious. I'm lacking in the review department.