Human Hospitality
by scoutergreen
Chapter 57
That Sinking Feeling
Bulma forced herself to refrain from attending to any work-related matters, lasting all of three and a half weeks. She spent many hours resting with the baby at her side, watching television, nursing her son, and eating. The enormous appetite she'd developed during pregnancy persisted, although Bulma swore she was dropping all the extra weight she'd gained during pregnancy. Within two weeks, she could almost button up her favourite pair of blue jeans again.
It was a full week before Bulma finally decided on a name. She'd pondered naming her son John, Avery, Benjamin... she even (momentarily) considered calling him Vegeta Junior. But every name she considered just didn't fit her son. The right name finally came to her as she nursed her son after an early-morning walk around the compound: Trunks.
By Trunks' second week of life, Bulma had been forced to supplement her breast milk with formula, unable to keep up with her son's appetite. When he didn't want to eat, he wanted to sleep.
As Trunks entered his first month of life, the thick, unruly black hair that had covered his scalp at birth started to fall out, revealing a pale bald head soon covered with a dusting of very fine violet hair. His eyes were a brilliant, clear blue, and he seemed capable of focusing on things both near and far away- something that immediately set Trunks aside from other babies. As for the nub on his lower back, it grew several inches each week and became increasingly furry. Not only did Trunks resemble his father, but he also had a tail that was soon considerably longer than his chubby legs and wiggled constantly.
Although Bulma had expected her parents would want to help her with her newborn baby, she hadn't expected them to demonstrate such devotion to being a part of Trunks' life from the start. They doted on the infant, frequently purchased new clothing, changed diapers, and offered to bottle-feed the infant if Bulma wanted to sleep.
One afternoon, after Trunks had been put to bed for the afternoon, Bulma went downstairs to the living room to find Yamcha waiting for her, a tiny gift bag clutched in his hands. "Hi, Bulma..."
"Yamcha! Boy, am I glad to see you," Bulma tightly embraced Yamcha, "as much as I've enjoyed my time at home after giving birth, I sure do miss socializing... and work..."
"You're not thinking of going back to work already, are you?!" Yamcha wasn't really surprised by Bulma's comment, but he just wanted to make sure he'd heard her correctly.
"Well, yeah," Bulma took a seat on the couch and invited Yamcha to join her, "you know how I am, Yamcha."
"Eh, I guess. Um, I got you something... for the baby..." Yamcha handed over the tiny pastel pink and blue gift bag, avoiding Bulma's eyes when he did so.
"Oh, Yamcha..." Bulma reached into the bag and pulled away the tissue paper wrapped around a tiny dark blue knit cap that featured two tiny points that resembled a cat's ears, "it's so cute! Trunks is gonna look adorable in this! When it's time to feed him, we're gonna see how it looks on him, okay? You wanna see him? He's really cute when he's asleep, just like his Daddy."
Through uncomfortable laughter, Yamcha agreed and followed Bulma upstairs. The guest bedroom he'd once occupied had been transformed into a spacious, bright nursery, filled a variety of toys, a bookshelf stocked with everything from nursery rhymes to introductory science books to philosophical texts, a huge assortment of clothing, and a television mounted on the wall. In the centre of the room stood the crib, and laying on his back was the tiny baby, fast asleep and not stirring.
"Geez," Yamcha's eyes widened, "this place looks different. Oh, wow," he tip-toed over to the crib, "he's so little! Looks like he took after you, Bulma!"
"I'm seeing a mixture these days," Bulma admired her sleeping son, "he honestly looked like what newborn Vegeta probably looked like thirty-something years ago. Like, total clone of his father. Black hair, and this weird stub where he's now got a tail! It started growing after I gave birth to him! I had no idea Saiyans didn't have tails at birth! Ohmygod, you gotta see his tail when he's awa-"
Baby Trunks stirred on his cot and his tiny fists clenched tight. His increasingly-long, furry tail slapped against the mattress and Yamcha jumped back with surprise. "Whoa. Guess there's no debating who the father is..."
The infant's eyes fluttered open, and Yamcha was relived when they looked like Bulma's. Vegeta's dark, glimmering eyes gave Yamcha the creeps, and he didn't enjoy having extended eye-contact with the Saiyan.
Bulma shook her head. "Nope... oh, are you waking up, Trunkie? Is it time for ba-ba? C'mon," she reached into the crib and gently lifted her son out, "let's go downstairs."
Hair dripping from the cold rain, Vegeta crossed the threshold of the bedroom he shared with his young comrade, Raditz, and actually smiled when he found it unoccupied. Signs of a days-long party were present; full ashtrays, empty liquor bottles, damp towels and dirty clothing strewn about the floor, burnt-out candles, and the mattress pulled halfway off the base of Raditz' bed.
"Ugh," Vegeta's nose wrinkled at the smell of the stale air and he immediately went to the climate control panel to turn on the air conditioner, "...'least they're not home right now... maybe they'll be out for a day or two..."
Vegeta mulled over the possibility of taking a long, hot shower before going to sleep as he pulled off his light protective armour, boots, and finally his thermal wear. He decided against it, in case his idiotic comrades returned before he'd had a chance to sleep. He collapsed in his bed, which for the most part had been left untouched by Raditz (aside from an undergarment which definitely did not belong to any of the Saiyans) and lay on his back, staring into the darkness and struggling to keep his thoughts from sliding into unchecked paranoia.
"Why the hell did I have to say that to her?" Vegeta rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around himself.
The whisper-quiet hum of the air conditioner mixed with the sound of heavy rain and Vegeta felt his breath slowing while the ache in his chest grew.
"Nobody wants me."
His knees drew towards his chest and he dipped his chin down, heaving a sigh and squeezing his eyes shut.
"Nobody wants me... all I'm good for is destruction."
He slipped into dreamless rest, awaking many hours later to Raditz shaking his shoulder. The room was dim and Vegeta realized the cold, rainy night had turned into dreary morning. "Mmmuh?"
"Wake up! That ugly bitch Malar is calling for you. Are you wanna get that or should I tell her to fuck off?"
Vegeta snapped into an upright position, punched Raditz hard in the bicep, and got out of bed, grabbing a loose night shirt hanging from a hook on the en-suite washroom door. "I'll take it in here. Get out, Raditz. And take your stinking laundry, too!"
Raditz grumbled but did not disobey the prince's orders. Once Raditz had left, Vegeta shut the door and switched on the entertainment console mounted on the wall, navigated the home screen, and accepted Malar's call.
"Hey! Why did you leave? I was gonna suggest we just grab breakfast at a food stall before fixing your pod..." Malar looked over Vegeta, her brow crooked and eyes narrow.
"Oh. Well, I woke up early and figured I'd go train..."
Malar's expression gave away her scepticism over Vegeta's reason, but she accepted it anyway. "Okay. I'll be at the shop later- gotta attend some meeting with the big brass in a few hours, ugh..." she rolled her eyes, "they were soooo just great about giving me advance notice! That Zarbon is a real piece of work! Anyway... come by later so you can tell me what happened with your pod in detail, yeah?"
"Mm, alright. And good luck with Zarbon- he's a real prick."
Vegeta went back to sleep after disconnecting the call, barely stirring when Raditz re-entered the room and loudly shoved his own mattress back into place before collapsing on it.
After sleeping another few hours, Vegeta woke, took a brief shower, changed into clean clothing and put on his scouter and light armour. He pulled the heavy burgundy cloak he'd had made by a nearby seamstress over his shoulders and fastened it shut, heading out into the hazy, grey morning.
Vegeta took the underground system to Malar's block, not keen on traversing the four kilometre route that passed through several run-down blocks again. Nobody ever bothered him, of course, but there were moments where the teenaged Saiyan just loved to be lazy.
He spent several minutes watching his own reflection in the window as the train passed through a dark tunnel, always monitoring the eyes and movements of the passengers around him to make sure they weren't paying attention to him.
At least my face looks better, he thought, not so chubby now, hah! Vegeta didn't like that his face was so round and plump; it felt like everybody made fun of his cheeks or his chin. Worse yet, he'd experienced a terrible bout of facial acne the year prior- something everybody in the galaxy seemed to notice and poke fun at- it had resulted in several people meeting their demise, including a taxi driver.
Raditz had said the entire thing was the beginning of puberty, which Vegeta had seriously doubted.
Much to the prince's surprise, Raditz had been right about the puberty thing, and over the course of one short year Vegeta suddenly grew three and a half inches taller (by his fifteenth birthday, he was officially over five feet tall) while his appetite grew ever larger, his skin broke out with pimples and clogged pores, his moods were unpredictable, and he suddenly started noticing others in a different way; some people around him had features or a charisma that made him feel strange and wonderful at the same time.
Then he noticed Malar, the funny mechanic he'd known for years. Suddenly, she became the funny and attractive mechanic he'd known for years, and being around her became rife with (what he considered) to be awkward moments. He struggled not to stare at her and felt embarrassed while when she caught him looking, although she never said anything or seemed disgusted by him.
She'd never said she was attracted to him, either, and Vegeta had his doubts she saw him that way. It certainly stung, but he forced himself to accept it as another cold, hard fact. The whole thing rolled endlessly in his mind, deepening his general feeling of angst at that point in his strange life.
Vegeta returned to Malar's shop and found her working on his pod, humming away to a mindless tune drifting through the air from the dusty speakers of an old stereo.
"Well, aren't you the regal one!" Malar pulled herself from underneath his pod to greet the Saiyan. "I hope your outfit underneath is fit to get dirty, because I wanna give you a crash course in how the inside of your pod works before I depart."
"Depart?" Vegeta furrowed his brow at Malar. A twinge of worry began in his stomach.
"Yeah," Malar sighed and wiped her brow with her forearm, leaving a streak of grease behind, "my meeting with the big guys wrapped up a lot sooner than I expected. Frieza's ordered me to work on his newest mass transit ship as he navigates its maiden voyage..."
Vegeta thought he would drop to his knees, devastated by this news. "What?! How can he do that?"
"Oh, you tell me, Vegeta! The same way he sends you and your comrades on various missions!" Malar sighed again, "I'm gonna miss this shop..."
"No..." Vegeta felt his face getting hot, "when... when do you leave?"
"Four days. I have enough time to fix your pod and give you some good advice should this thing ever break down when you're on an isolated mission, pack my tools and essentials, and clean out the living area in the back. You should go change if your outfit is as nice as your cloak, Vegeta. I found an old shirt you left behind before your last mission, it's in the bathroom on the drying rack. Should be good by now..."
Vegeta felt like he was sinking into a pit. "Yeah," he nearly whimpered, "just a minute..." he walked as quickly as he could manage without breaking into a run, the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes.
He locked the bathroom door, pulled off his cloak, and sunk to the grubby tile floor, silently sobbing with a hand clapped over his mouth.
Ten minutes passed before he heard a soft knocking on the bathroom door. "Everything alright in there?"
"Go away!" He snarled, "I'll be out soon! Leave me!"
Vegeta snapped into full-fledged consciousness the instant he heard a loud bang and felt himself being flung out of his bed. He'd been having such a nice, dreamless sleep, too!
"Son of a bitch!" He pushed himself off the floor and stumbled over to the computer console in his living area, bringing up the ship's diagnostic information and hoping that he wasn't about to experience a catastrophic failure inside the ship.
"Computer! What's going on?"
"LOCATION UNKNOWN... ... PROCESSING... LOCATION... UNKNOWN... ATMOSPHERIC CONTENTS... NITROGEN 78, OXYGEN 21, CO2 0.004... AIR QUALITY... GOOD... WATER CONTENT... UNKNOWN. DEEMED SAFE TO VENTURE OUTSIDE. THANK YOU FOR TRAVELING CAPSULE CORP!"
Vegeta's eyes narrowed and he peered out the port window, realizing there was an awful lot of pink and purple hues and what he swore were rock formations.
"Oh, my... God..." Vegeta took in the scene outside, realizing he really had landed on an unknown planet, panic filling his chest and constricting his breath. Why had the ship landed? Had the woman remotely controlled his ship to land? Was there a mechanical failure aboard, and could he fix it?
I could die here, he realized, without anybody knowing what really happened to me...
He felt an awful sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. After taking a minute to steady his breath and slow his racing thoughts, he decided the best course of action would be to call Bulma. It was time to face the mother of his child one more time.