A/N:This is a sort of continuation of my previous fic "Seasons". You don't need to read it for this to make sense, but it does directly follow the characterizations I built up. Vegeta's return to Earth is far from what Bulma expected. Bulma grapples with her conflicting emotions and Vegeta isn't sure if his life is worth continuing.
Vegeta had not left the gravity chamber in three days, but not once had Bulma heard the hum of machinery. She didn't want to worry about him, not after the impassivity he had shown for her life and the life of their infant son. Their perfunctory meeting at the lookout hadn't strengthened her convictions either.
After saying goodbye to their son from the future, Vegeta entered the gravity chamber without saying a word. At first, Bulma was glad. She wasn't ready to face him. She was understanding when he left her, pregnant and alone, to train in space. She didn't complain when he had not contacted her more than once in the half-year he was gone. She didn't lament the fact that he didn't move to put a label on their relationship other than 'loneliness-fueled hook-up run amok.' But now, she was hurt. She had let dreams of a romantic return fill her head, dreams that a passionate Vegeta would return to Earth, sweep her off her feet, and make love to her before defeating the androids. The first glance she caught of Vegeta was in battle with them before he callously left her to die.
She yearned to override the door, check on him, and ask him to open up to her, but she felt that any softer parts of Vegeta's personality had been bottled back into his stony exterior. Her own pride was also not ready to allow her to show him kindness; the betrayal she felt ran too deep.
Sighing, Bulma stared out the kitchen window at the ship. Panchy put a hand on her shoulder.
"Has he had anything to eat, dear?" She asked, gesturing toward the chamber with her head.
"I don't know, mom. And honestly, he can starve for all I care," Bulma grimaced, immediately regretting her cruelty.
Panchy squeezed Bulma's shoulder knowingly. Before she could acknowledge her daughter, Trunks' cry rang out over the baby monitor on the table. Bulma ran off, thankful for an escape from her own thoughts.
—
Panchy's cheerful disposition gave her allowance to ask prying questions, gifting her the ability to get to know someone quickly. Over the past few years, she had amassed that his bark was much worse than his bite. She knew he did bite, but she had no fear that he would ever truly harm her. Also, no houseguest of hers was going to go three days without eating.
She quickly prepared three roast beef and provolone sandwiches, knowing he could eat plenty more, but not wanting him to be satiated enough that it might cause him to continue his isolation. Setting them on a tray and grabbing a few water bottles, she made her way out the back door.
"Vegeta!" She called out, gently knocking on the door of the gravity simulator.
No response.
"Vegeta, dear, it's Panchy. I made you sandwiches!"
"Fuck off and leave them at the door," Vegeta snarled. His voice was quiet, barely audible, but somehow retained an acidic quality.
"Now, dear, you know I won't tolerate you speaking to me that way in my home," Panchy's tone was gentle but firm.
"Thank you, Panchy. Please leave them at the door," he ground out.
"Of course, dear. You are more than welcome to join us for dinner tonight at seven. We will be having steak, I know it's your favorite."
Panchy returned to the house but kept a watchful eye on the gravity chamber. A few minutes later, she saw the door open and Vegeta emerged to collect the sandwiches. She caught a brief glimpse of his face, but enough to concern her. His skin looked pale and she could make out dark circles underneath his eyes.
—
Unsurprisingly, Vegeta did not attend dinner. Bulma and her parents ate quietly, while Trunks babbled in his high chair.
"Bulma, dear? Why don't you take some steaks out to Vegeta? He must be starving," Panchy suggested.
Bulma sighed. She wasn't ready to speak to him, but she still felt guilty about her earlier comment.
"I doubt he wants to see me, Mom. He was willing to let me die the last time he saw me," she replied.
Panchy was well-versed in the situation between her daughter and Vegeta. Bulma had spent the last few weeks anxious about the Cell Games and heartbroken over Vegeta's callousness. As she heard of his repeated destructive behavior through her friends, she sought her mother for comfort. Panchy had spent countless nights comforting her daughter and their relationship had become stronger for it.
"Oh, dear, I know," Panchy said softly, placing a hand on Bulma's shoulder. "No matter what the situation is, you two need to talk about it. And the best way to make any kind of headway with that man is food. He can't stay in there another day without eating. And you can't go another day without answers. I'll take Trunks for the night."
Bulma heaved a sigh. She knew her mom was right, but she wasn't sure if she was ready to face Vegeta. The anger in her stomach was deeply intertwined with anxiety. As angry as she was, she couldn't handle his rejection to her face. She held onto hope that once she was alone with him, the Vegeta she had come to know would show himself. Even if he did, was she able to forgive him? Thinking about it all made her stomach hurt.
Now or never, she thought to herself, grabbing a large plate of steaks and heading to the gravity chamber. She knocked on the door, knowing it was futile.
"I have your dinner, Vegeta," she said, working hard to keep her voice void of emotion.
No response.
"I also have the door override code, Vegeta. I'm coming in whether you like it or not."
Bulma punched a combination of numbers into a pad on the door. As the door opened, Bulma noticed the mess. Vegeta had always kept his room tidy when he lived in it. His ship was always spotless. Now, clothes from his months spent in space were strewn about in piles, and food wrappers and empty bottles littered the floor. At that moment, Bulma became very worried. She entered the chamber, closing the door behind her.
She scanned the room for Vegeta, finding him sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, against the bed.
"Hey," she whispered, walking over to him.
Against her better judgment, she sat beside him, placing the plate of food on his unmade bed.
"I'm really mad at you, Vegeta. I don't know if you even care, but you're allowed to eat, you know?"
She remained close, not quite touching and waited for the awkward silence. She had a lot to say to him, but she knew that it wouldn't get her anywhere when he was in this state. Vegeta had been frustrated, angry, and unstable around her before. This was new and she attempted to calculate the best approach and decided she was going to try an old tactic.
"Well if you're not going to eat, you need to clean yourself up. You're starting to stink up the place," she said, gently poking his shoulder. "I can get a hot bath drawn up for you in the house."
"I can shower in here," he spoke, barely audible, head still in his hands.
"Well obviously you haven't been. And you've been living in this thing for a year. You probably are out of soap. Come on," she appealed again, this time standing up. Slowly, almost painfully, Vegeta stood to follow her.
—
Bulma's aura glowed golden to him. The slightest touch of her finger on his shoulder engulfed him in warmth. It wasn't her ki, that wasn't possible; her ki was minuscule at best. Vegeta couldn't explain it, but it was just her.
And he almost let her die. Let that warm, comforting glow leave his life forever. He didn't deserve that comfort in his life anyway, not after the things he's done. But that was not the fate she deserved.
He had intended to stay in the gravity room until he starved. It felt cowardly. What was worse was how deeply he underestimated his pure Saiyan survival instincts. His plans were unraveled by a roast beef sandwich placed too close to him. He was weak.
When he stood up she staggered. His head spun and his knees buckled. Her hands were on him, guiding him back to the floor.
Weak.
"Okay, buddy. You are way too heavy for me to carry. Food first. You are probably starving."
Her words sounded garbled and distant. He felt his vision going black.
Weak.