Human Hospitality

by scoutergreen

Chapter 49

A Minute Under The Sun

"Good morning, sweetie!" A familiar, cheerful voice pierced through the shallow state of relaxation Vegeta had finally fallen into after a long and very uncomfortable night during which he only slept an hour at the most. His stomach ached from hunger, totally empty after three days in a coma and on a nutrient drip.

"Nnn," his swollen eyelids cracked open and he realized Mrs. Briefs had come to visit him. She carried two huge patterned canvas bags with her, and the Saiyan caught the smell of fresh flowers and food. If she had brought coffee as well, he risked shedding tears of joy.

Wow. I feel like shit.

He noticed the room he'd woken up in was different than the one he'd been in the day prior- although Vegeta hadn't grasped the severity of being in an intensive care unit at a metropolitan hospital, he'd come to realize he was being kept in a sterile, cold room filled with different machines because of the accident, which meant he'd been hurt and had been transported to some type of medical facility. This new room was warmer, with walls painted soft yellow, and featured a huge window that overlooked a tree-filled park and a large pond. His bed wasn't exactly comfortable, but he wasn't in much pain either.

"I'm so glad you were able to wake up not long after surgery. Boy, we were all so worried about you, Vegeta!"

Mrs. Briefs set her bags down, retrieved a vase from one of the bags, and went into the adjacent washroom to fill it with water. She arranged a mixture of late spring flowers from her gardens in the vase and set it on the windowsill. "There, isn't that nice? Something to help cheer up this room for now. I'll be right back, honey, I want to get a nurse in here to help you sit up."

As it turned out, sitting upright in the bed was no simple task. When he tried to move, everything hurt. Some movements, purely experimental, caused the nurses to stop him and warn him to stop moving without their guidance. The top half of the bed rose with him, and a nurse slid two plastic packs filled with air underneath his knees. It was painful, but once he was sitting up, he felt a bit better. Although his movements were slow and very stiff, he could slowly flex his arms and move his thumbs, left and right index fingers, and his right middle finger.

"We've got a server coming by to bring you some breakfast in a few minutes, Mr. Vegeta. Hope you don't mind, but a bunch of us at the nurses' station decided you looked like a two-egg omelette with ham and cheese kind of guy. Rita, get in here!"

A short, fat nurse with curly red hair poked her head into the room and grinned when she saw the patient nicknamed "the miracle man" was awake and alert. "Oh, look who's awake! Amazing!"

"What did you select for his side dishes? And the drink?"

"Oh yeah! Hope you like corn flakes and fruit salad, miracle man! Uhh, I forget what we decided on for a drink. Was it coffee? Or did we go with green tea?"

"I think we went with green tea. Do you like green tea, Mr. Vegeta?"

Vegeta couldn't believe what he was witnessing. This was the most bizarre medical facility he'd ever been in. A variety of food available to patients? Nurses monitoring him from a station and making rounds? A bright room with a window? Where the hell was he, anyway?

"I am so confused," he hadn't meant to burst out with that, face growing warm, "what's going on here? Where exactly am I?"

"Sir, you are in a private deluxe recovery suite on the seventh floor of West City Metropolitan Hospital. Don't worry, Mr. Vegeta, you'll be brought up to speed today. Your breakfast should arrive in a few minutes. We would have asked you what you wanted, but you were being taken for another round of x-rays and tests last night when all the orders are sent in. See you in a little while."

He wasn't impressed with the hospital breakfast, but he ate it anyway, desperate to quiet his growling stomach. The food wasn't exactly bad, but it was bland and the portion sizes were paltry. The tea had been allowed to over-brew, and Vegeta refused to drink it.

"I'm guessing you're still hungry," Mrs. Briefs removed the nearly empty tray provided by the hospital and reached into one of her canvas bags, revealing a glass container filled with crispy potatoes and sausages, "so I decided to bring you a little something."

"You guessed right," Vegeta managed to pull the lid off and took a fork when offered, "fuck, this is delicious," he kept talking with his mouth full, "you keep bringing me food, woman, and I will tolerate this place. Mmm..."

When Bulma turned up with two cups of coffee in a cardboard tray and a large paper bag filled with baked goods, the Saiyan knew something very strange had happened to him. Never in his life had he received visitors while in hospital- at least not any who had brought food and flowers, anyway. Visitors while in medical care usually meant he'd fucked up and was about to face imminent punishment.

"Good morning, everybody!" The doctor with the salt and pepper hair had returned, strolling in immediately after knocking, "and you've got some home cooking, I see! Looks like you ate the room service breakfast, too. Heh. Do you remember me? I'm Doctor Clark," he extended his hand but Vegeta refused to do the same, "and you are making remarkable progress, Mr. Vegeta. I actually came by today to talk with you about your incident and your course of recovery. Can you tell me the last thing you remember before waking up here?"

"Before I woke up in this room, I was in a colder room with more machines and felt hung the fuck over on something."

The doctor laughed. "I'll explain that room to you soon. It's normal to feel tired and foggy after what you went though. Can you remember anything before that room?"

Vegeta took a long sip of coffee and tried to piece together what had happened. This doctor wanted to know why he'd shown up half dead and all sliced up at the hospital. "Alright," Vegeta finally spoke, "I woke up at about four thirty, like usual, had something to eat, and went to work with the machine that malfunctioned. Then there's a blank spot. Then I was inside some vehicle, there were some lights, somebody shoving a hard tube down my throat, and then I woke up feeling like shit."

"Mmhm," Doctor Clark nodded, "you were involved in a serious accident. We've learned you were working on a large, ahem, machine of some variety when there was a massive mechanical malfunction and an explosion as a result. Miss Briefs, have you collected any more information on what occurred?"

"It's Doctor Briefs," Bulma smirked, "we're combing over the wreckage, narrowing down the cause of the explosion. We suspect there was some sort of electrical malfunction that triggered everything, but it's still too early to confirm that idea. To be honest with you, I've been spending a lot of time here and just trying to catch up on sleep when I am at home, so right now I only receive daily memos regarding the investigation. I will arrange for somebody from Capsule HQ to contact you the minute we have learned the true cause of the accident."

"Alright, that sounds fine," Doctor Clark turned to Vegeta, "but I'd like to speak with you alone, Mr. Vegeta, regarding your treatment here. Your surgery was quite intense, but I'm really glad you've come through so quickly. Looks like you have an appetite, too! Ladies, can I ask for a few moments in private?"

Once Bulma and Bunny Briefs had left, Doctor Clark pulled a chair to Vegeta's bedside and set a thick manila folder on the beside table. He took a deep breath and prepared himself for what he was about to tell his patient: "you sustained the kind of trauma that usually kills a human. Given the type of accident you were supposedly involved in, I'm amazed you weren't blown to pieces. You sustained a great number of deep lacerations across your limbs and torso, and we had to reattach some severed tendons and stitch muscle back together. You sustained catastrophic blood loss and required more than a dozen units of blood during surgery, and at one point during surgery your heart stopped for ten seconds. We sourced skin for grafting from your inner thighs and buttocks, so don't be too shocked to find stitches there too. You have six fractured ribs, a broken tibia, four broken fingers, badly sprained wrists, second degree burns to your hands, legs, back, chest, and shoulders, and all sorts of little cuts, scratches, scrapes, and bruises of varying severity. In short, you are a very lucky man, Mr. Vegeta. You came very close to death, and your rate of recovery has been remarkable to say the least. I'm guessing you can recall being conscious for a few minutes yesterday, based on your comments about the room. You were in intensive care, in a medically-induced coma, which we brought you out of yesterday. Your accident occurred four days ago."

Vegeta took another sip of coffee and fiddled with the plastic tab opening. "Alright then. So what now?"

"Give me that," Doctor Clark pulled the coffee out of the Saiyan's hands, "we need to have a very serious conversa-"

"Give me back my coffee, Doctor," Vegeta's eyes glimmered and he scowled, "I can talk and drink coffee at the same time."

Doctor Clark returned the coffee and huffed. "Today, you're going to have all your dressings changed, and I'll make sure you get a good shower, too. I'll be coming by in the late afternoon to check on you one more time before my partner monitors you overnight. It's too early to say when you'll be strong enough to commence physical rehabilitation, which we'll discuss in detail when your condition improves. For now, the plan is to keep you comfortable, out of pain, and allow your body the chance to begin healing."

"We need to discuss this food thing. That breakfast was crap. You can't expect me to survive on meals that two eggs and a tiny box of cereal the size of my palm. Oh, and we can't forget about the little cup of fruit!"

"Hmm," Doctor Clark pulled out a pad of paper and jotted down a short memo, "you do appear to be a very athletic man... and good nutrition is key to healing. I'll make sure you're switched to a high calorie diet plan in time for your lunch order."

"Fine. Oh. One more thing. Why did you call me a dimmer switch in that other room?"

The doctor laughed and his face spread into a forced smile. He'd been quite certain his patient was unconscious when he'd said that. "Oh, I didn't mean it in a bad way! I apologize if you thought I was insulting you. Being in a medically-induced coma isn't something you can just snap out of. Basically, you're waking up very, very slowly. It's why you could remember some details the room, but nothing else, and it's also why you're feeling a bit strange right now. I used the "dimmer switch" as an analogy for one of the ladies checking in on you. You gradually came back to your full, aware state. And you've done incredibly well for somebody so early into recovery."

"Mm. Is that all, then?"

"Not quite," Doctor Clark took his folder off the bedside table and retrieved an x-ray of Vegeta's skull, holding up to the light, "your x-rays are showing me something unique, Mr. Vegeta. Interesting facial structure, and quite possibly the longest roots I've ever seen on a full set of teeth. Your third molars have grown in perfectly straight, with more than enough room in the upper and lower jaw. Such large eyes, too. Much larger than the average human's. Fascinating stuff..."

Vegeta rolled his eyes. What did his teeth and eyeballs have to do with anything they'd been speaking about?

"You said you were an employee of Capsule Corp? What is it you do, exactly?"

"I work alongside Doctor Briefs on some projects," he responded without missing a beat, "you could say I'm responsible for testing and development."

"And the machine you were working on?"

"Working in."

"Well, what was it, exactly?"

"Ask Doctor Briefs for an explanation. I'm starting to feel a bit dim again," he smirked and had another sip of coffee, draining his cup.

"Of course," Doctor Clark rose from his seat, visibly annoyed, "maybe we can have another chat tomorrow. I'll see you later, Mr. Vegeta."

Mrs. Briefs stayed long enough to make Vegeta's room a bit more comfortable, providing a warmer blanket, another pillow, his housecoat (hung up on the hook in his en-suite washroom) and two containers filled with snacks that would keep at room temperature. She left when the nurses came by to change his dressings just after ten in the morning.

Even though the nurses warned Vegeta that the process of cleaning his wounds would be unpleasant and assured him they could take short breaks, he told them he just wanted to get it over with. He said nothing when they removed all the bandages and kept his eyes firmly shut during a seated shower. When they rinsed his hair after a thorough shampooing, it was tinged brown-red from dried blood. They gently pulled tiny pieces of glass from his hair. When they set him stomach down on the freshly changed bed and starting to treat his back, Vegeta stopped to request a folded towel, which he bit down on. When somebody lanced a series of large, tight blisters on his back, he screamed into the towel and pressed his forehead into the mattress.

The process of having his wounds thoroughly cleaned and dressed was agonizing, and by the time they were through, lunch was to be served within the hour. This time, at least, he was able to order what he wanted to eat.

Although the idea of having spaghetti and meatballs, chef's salad, whole milk, and a slice of carrot cake sounded delicious, Vegeta was disappointed by the portion sizes and the taste of his meal. Bulma turned up for the afternoon as he finished the final crumbs of his cake, carrying another canvas bag.

"How was your chat with Doctor Clark?" Bulma switched on the television and began clicking through the channels.

"What a fuckin' weirdo," the Saiyan rolled his eyes, "going on about my x-rays being fascinating and unusual..."

Nervousness bubbled up in Bulma's gut. "Oh yeah? Well, let me talk to him... and don't say or do anything to freak him out in the meantime!"

The nurse named Rita knocked on the door, apologizing for the intrusion, and produced a vanilla milkshake in a styrofoam cup. "A bunch of the girls and I thought you deserved this. It'll be our secret, alright?"

"I'm no snitch," Vegeta paid no mind to the nurse as she took away his tray, digging into the ice cream concoction.

The nurse burst out laughing and waved goodbye to her patient. He was quickly gaining a reputation for being very charming on top of being considered a miracle. Bulma watched this exchange, stunned by what she was witnessing. She knew Vegeta could be witty, but he was showing off an ability to enchant just about anybody who entered the room. He'd never been so overtly and consistently charming at home. Had the explosion triggered a very unusual mood swing, or was he just working with another side of his complex personality? Over the hours, every single nurse that came by to check on him, regardless of age or gender, appeared to find him charming. Many of them promised to return with treats or small material comforts, and Vegeta would vow to keep it a secret.

By four in the afternoon, Vegeta had been given a milkshake, another cup of coffee, a tin of cookies (hidden in one of the drawers of his beside table), chocolate and candies, a wide-tooth comb for his hair, and a pair of fuzzy blue socks. Bulma couldn't believe what she was seeing. How could this alien, who was often so unpleasant, have so many humans (creatures Vegeta admitted to disliking) practically wrapped around his little finger? The sight of it all made the hairs on Bulma's arms stand up on end.

Doctor Clark arrived at Vegeta's room just after four fifteen and gave his patient an uneasy smile. He couldn't help but feel there was something a bit off about the guy, but he couldn't figure out what it was that made him feel that way. Something about the way his patient had looked at him for a split second during their morning chat sent a chill up his spine.

"Hello, everybody. Ah, Doctor Briefs, I was hoping we could have a chat today..."

"Oh yes, of course. We agreed to that yesterday, didn't we? Whenever you're ready, I am."

They didn't go to the atrium for coffee. Instead, Doctor Clark asked Bulma to follow him to his office on the ninth floor. With the door shut and locked, and his phone set on vibrate, Doctor Clark proceeded to clip some of Vegeta's x-rays to a light board mounted on the wall and switched it on. Bulma muttered something about turning her phone to vibrate, but turned on the voice recorder instead.

She was getting used to this sort of thing, even more now that Vegeta was a resident at the Capsule compound. Some people really did think she was stupid and could be easily taken advantage of, and now that she was in her thirties, it was getting tiring. He'd be easy to deal with. Doctor Clark wasn't that smart.

"You know as well as I do that these x-rays aren't normal, Doctor Briefs. These teeth," he pointed to Vegeta's mandible with the end of a pencil, "aren't human teeth. The length and size... these teeth look like they belong to a gorilla, or a chimp..."

"Maybe he's got some crowns? I don't know the guy's dental history," Bulma shrugged, "and I don't know of any gorilla or chimp that vocalizes like he does! Or has hair like he does..."

"Those teeth aren't crowns, believe me. I went ahead and performed a bone density scan, considering Mr. Vegeta sustained the kind of bone fractures we typically see in children or very young adults. You know, young people with supple, springy bones. We call them green stick fractures. And Mr. Vegeta, of course, claims to be thirty two years old. None of his bones, despite the kind of incident he was in, were completely broken. Just fractured to varying degrees. Anyway, the results of the bone density scan came back, and either our machines are broken or he's got the heaviest, densest bones ever recorded, and it just so happens they appear to be comparable in strength to steel beams used for skyscrapers. Not to mention, going from near death and severed tendons to sitting upright, being talkative, and wanting to eat all the time in the space of four days? Unheard of."

Again, Bulma shrugged. "Anything else, Doctor Clark?"

Dr. Clark removed his glasses and stared directly into Bulma's eyes: "that man is no human. He's no local. Hell, I even saw that fucking stub of a monkey tail! He looks a lot like one of those weird creatures they caught on camera a few years back! And now, I possess some fascinating evidence to present to the media! Capsule Corporation enlists extra-terrestrial being to work on secret projects! Unless, of course, we worked out some sort of... confidentiality agreement."

Bulma leaned back in her chair, smirked, and for some reason Vegeta's laugh (the genuinely amused one) came through her loud and clear. "Okay, then. Let me see if I've got this straight, Doctor Clark. First, you ran some tests that sound rather unnecessary on a man who was brought in after a terrible accident, without notifying me, the patient's designated guardian. And I get the feeling you ran those tests when he was in his coma, so he couldn't have provided consent either. Second, you've brought me into your office to show me some x-rays and test results which you believe provide evidence that I, and by extension, Capsule Corporation... am housing an extra-terrestrial being. And now you are threatening to distribute a private citizen's medical information to the media to back up your claims, and unless I agree what certainly sounds like some sort of blackmail? Did I get that all right, or did I misunderstand you?"

"There's barely any information on this guy! How strange that in an age of electronic medical records, I can find nothing on this "Mister Vegeta" guy. You know that guy isn't normal. What kind of a name is "Vegeta", anyway?"

"Maybe he changed his name. I don't know what to tell you, Doctor Clark, other than that you sound like a total fucking idiot right now. Just what are you looking for in exchange for your silence? I mean, assuming you can actually prove this man is an alien. Are you just looking for some media attention? A minute in the sun, if you will?"

Dr. Clark pulled on his tie. "I want two point five million zeni every year for the next ten years."

"Very cute," Bulma picked up her phone, turned off the voice recorder, and smirked again, "but that won't be happening. But I will cut you a deal, Doctor Clark: you collect all the medical images and test results on my employee and have them in my hands within ninety minutes, and in exchange I'll have you transferred to West County Correctional Facility's hospital wing. They need a new physician considering their last one was stabbed and decided to leave... and unfortunately they've had a lot of difficulty filling the position since then. It's a wonderful deal, considering you're now on record threatening to release an innocent person's private information to the general public and blackmail my family and my company into some kind of sick compliance. Don't worry, I'll let the hospital's HR department and the president know about your immediate resignation for you. I can just squeeze in for an appointment with her if I say it's a bit urgent. Her family and mine go way back, you know? Anyway, I'll be back on the seventh floor. Make sure to bring everything in a folder, alright? It's been nice chatting, Doctor Clark. Good luck!"

With that, Bulma rose from her seat, beamed at the stunned doctor, and headed back to Vegeta's room.

During the dinner hour, Vegeta received a few more visitors: Mrs. Briefs, Dr. Briefs, and even Yamcha stopped by for a few minutes before excusing himself and leaving the hospital.

Although annoyed with how crowded his room was becoming, visitors kept bringing him food, so he tolerated their presence. The hospital brought him a grilled chicken breast with roasted vegetables, a cup of tomato soup, and portion of fruit compote, which the Saiyan devoured anyway. Once he'd finished the hospital meal, he immediately dug into the baked ziti Mrs. Briefs had brought him.

Doctor Clark entered without knocking, handed Bulma a thick, sealed envelope, and gave Vegeta very curt nod. "Best of luck, Mr. Vegeta."

The Saiyan licked his teeth before flashing them at the doctor and growling deep in his throat. "They'll never believe you," he sneered. He went right back to eating the meal Mrs. Briefs had prepared and focused on the television, switched to a quiz show.

When Bulma sighed and rubbed her temples, Vegeta sniffed loudly. "Hey, you said you'd talk to him, and you did... so I figured it was time to freak him out."

Bunny and Dr. Briefs looked warily at one another, but decided it was best to not get involved at that very moment. Things had a way of moving fast with their unusual guest, and even being confined to a hospital bed didn't change that.