Summary: My son from the future spoke of faith and hope. His mother shared the story of her life, asking me to make a pledge. I recalled then what I believed were my final words to my family during one of my most lethal battles. I thought I understood what my wife felt that day, after the husk of my body crumbled into ash, blown away by the wind. I thought...
"I'm anxious, Vegeta. I don't want surgery."
"You've taken great care of yourself. Let's walk around again. We'll go slower."
"We weren't walking that fast before, honey."
"Not a good time, Bulma. Stay focused."
"I'm the one in labor, Saiyan. I can joke all I want – until I decide to kill you."
"No one has claimed your shameful bounty on my head yet, woman. Call it off."
"Never!"
Vegeta, though quite anxious himself, was thankful that he could relieve Bulma's stress. They were in her second day of induced labor. If one more day passed, she'd likely need a caesarean section to deliver their child. Her maternity team at the hospital recommended labor induction at thirty-six weeks because of her diabetes.
Bulma had wanted to give birth at home, but the entire family – her mother, father, sister, son and husband – weren't on board whatsoever. Assuring everyone that their residence could be equipped with enough technology to construct a new planet didn't convince them.
Goku's wife Chi Chi voiced her concerns most stridently. Had Vegeta not been plagued by fatherhood jitters, he would've told Earth's most authoritarian tiger mom to back off. But why piss off a woman with two half-Saiyan children already? Chi Chi had earned her admiral's stripes. Yet she still found empathy for Vegeta – a testament to her character – because of Goku, Gohan, Trunks, Goten and Bulma's influence. She'd never like him, but he was there caring for Bulma and fully engaged in the birth of this child. He didn't have the desire to make a total ass of himself now, she concluded.
"Knock-knock. May I come in you two?"
"Of course, Chi Chi. Help me into my chair, Vegeta, please."
"Hello, dear. How are you feeling? Your maternity chair looks comfortable."
"I'm OK for now, hon. They may move me onto something less fashionable when I'm delivering the baby."
Chi Chi looked at Vegeta for further confirmation of Bulma's condition. He took a seat, silently affirming his wife's reply. "Do you need a break, Vegeta? Food? I can stay with her for a while."
"I'm here for the duration," he replied, yawning. "Trunks is coming later, too."
"He needs sleep," Bulma said. "He wasn't getting much before I was admitted to the hospital. It's almost been a week since -"
Vegeta unlocked his recliner chair, putting his feet up. "She came to see you, Bulma, not analyze my nocturnal habits. Besides, I have a lifetime of experience on how to stay awake."
From his appearance, Chi Chi predicted that he would be knocked into dreamland in less than an hour. "I'll stick around anyway if that's OK with you. I capsulized a twenty-one course dinner meal in case you get hungry, Vegeta. Another capsule has breakfast for tomorrow. They're in this storage tube."
"That's so kind of you," Bulma said.
Ready to take full charge, Chi Chi unfastened her hulking tote bag. "It's the least I can do. I'll never forget how much you helped when I was pregnant with Goten."
She closed the window blinds behind Vegeta, which didn't seem to disturb him. He yawned again, keeping an eye on Bulma's posture. She still looked comfortable, he thought, so he kept quiet.
Bulma examined the fetal-heart-rate band on her arm. Fortunately, she didn't have to be strapped to a bed or her chair yet. "I'm thirsty. Can you get some ice water for me?"
Vegeta, whose eyes were half closed, raised his hand. Using telekinesis became a godsend that he had stopped taking for granted. "I can do that. What else?"
Chi Chi placed a small aromatherapy diffuser on a lamp table, pouring lavender oil into it. "Stay where you are, Vegeta, and put those weather-beaten fingers down. I'm closer to her."
Vegeta frowned, but his protest was short-lived. "There are straws in the drawer over there - and unlike Kakarot's hands, mine are pristine."
Bulma, glancing at her husband, caught on to the woman's stealth strategy. Wow, she is fantastic at this. "That smells marvelous, Chi Chi. I love lavender. It's so calming."
Chi Chi picked up a brush to comb Bulma's hair, humming a lullaby. "I have new barrettes for you. They're sparkly." After about ten minutes she nodded in Vegeta's direction. He was fast asleep.
Bulma slapped her partner-in-crime's hand. "Thank you. Can you put a blanket over him? I don't think he'll wake up."
"Oh he won't for a while," Chi Chi said, giggling with her. "Not until it's time for you to give birth. It's sooner than you think, I believe."
"I'm not sure if that will happen without surgery, hon. We're both uneasy about it."
"And I am sure, Bulma. Vegeta wouldn't be sleeping now if your energy or the baby's were unstable. My actions gave him permission to rest minus a tiresome argument with us about whether he should. I suggest having Trunks come with your parents tomorrow instead, though. He can stay with me and Goten at Gohan's house tonight."
"All right," Bulma said, hugging her. "Call my parents first."
Chi Chi tiptoed beside Vegeta, spreading a linen blanket on his chest. Now you have another life to fight for. Do it well, you crazy man, and... godspeed to you both.
"Hello, sleepyhead. Your hair is a disaster zone. Do you want a comb?"
Feeling angry with himself, Vegeta grumbled. "I shouldn't have slept this long, Bulma."
"Come over here, honey. As I said yesterday, you needed the rest. Anyway, my contractions are changing. The midwife and doctor are coming to clean me up and check vitals now. Do not give them panic attacks. I don't want them worried more than they should be."
"They're paid and trained to worry - with discipline – but I won't use excessive force because you asked pleasantly."
The midwife arrived first, meticulously checking Bulma's vital signs and lower abdomen. She didn't seem apprehensive despite Vegeta's deadly serious attitude while he observed. They were on a first-name basis now.
"You should freshen up, Vegeta. After you change clothes, put on the scrubs and surgical shoes I left next door. From what I know, Bulma may have eight hours left before she delivers the baby."
"Her discomfort has increased considerably," he replied. "I'll go after you manage that, Katie."
Caught off guard, the midwife searched every corner of Bulma's body. "By how much? I'm so sorry, sweetheart. You didn't press the other call button to tell us. Someone would have come instantly."
Bulma exhaled slowly, squeezing Vegeta's hand. She hadn't expected much stronger pain at this stage. It didn't happen with Trunks. She felt it would be better for her husband to leave so the midwife could discuss treatment options.
Damn that Saiyan ki. I swear, when I get out of here, I'm going to finish sensors that will outsmart theirs. "I'm OK, Katie. Just have to adjust to the contractions. Go get cleaned up, Vegeta."
Enduring excruciating pain was part of Vegeta's DNA. He didn't want Bulma anywhere near that point for a normal human, especially with a Saiyan baby, because it could disrupt more biological functions. One wrong move and her body could go into shock, which could cause her heart to stop or kill their child or both. Those potential outcomes terrified him.
Yet, instead of surrendering to his stubbornness, he did the opposite. "I won't take more than twenty minutes to prepare myself. By then, I want to hear solutions for my wife."
"We'll make sure to choose the right one," the relieved midwife said. "Let's get started, Bulma."
"Give me a minute to talk with my husband privately, please."
"Certainly, hon. Push the blue call button again as soon as you're ready."
Vegeta reached for his wife's hands. For much of his life, outside of fighting or sex, he struggled emotionally with being touched humanely by anyone. Not only was open affection foreign to him because of the austere conditions he grew up in, but also dangerous. Now he couldn't imagine an existence without it due to Bulma and their son.
"Thank you for trusting her and me, badman," she said while they embraced. Vegeta's pounding heart concerned her, so she held their kiss. "I know that was enormously difficult for you."
She couldn't shake using the nickname that, unluckily for Vegeta, stuck like glue after he (somewhat) chose to live on Earth post-Namek. She sentimentally kept the neon-pink shirt with the moniker to terrorize him. During this stressful moment, though, the running joke symbolized how far their relationship had come.
"Now you must trust me, Bulma. Do not try to protect me. Say what you need to say. If you're hurting, don't hold back. I don't care how much you scream, curse, cry or demand anything from me or anyone else in this room. That's why I'm here…like you've always been there for me."
Within four hours Bulma was dripping in sweat, breathing heavily through her forceful contractions. She had to stand up to give birth, laying across on the now-inclined delivery cot. Katie, the midwife, kept vigil beside her, guiding her through the process. The woman also steered Vegeta – one of the most unsettling husbands she'd dealt with – with rock-solid confidence. He expected her to be upfront about each stage. She equipped him with a plastic inhaler filled with nitric oxide and oxygen for Bulma to relieve her some of her pain.
He was standing next to her, quietly stroking her hair and wiping her face. Each time she looked up for reassurance or moaned, he didn't hold back a determined smile. He would grin like an imbecile for hours if that's what she required to get through this.
"You're doing well."
"I don't know, Vegeta. I don't know. You were right. This isn't like what happened with Trunks."
"We're almost there, woman."
"I have a name, you know."
"Tell me what it is again? I forget trivial details. Now breathe with me like we practiced together."
They laughed a little while he fed her ice shavings. Bulma's hand locked hard on his when the next wave of contractions hit.
"Deep breaths, Bulma," Katie coaxed. "Ease into them, honey. We're going to inject something to relax your uterus to give your baby more room, OK?"
Vegeta kept calm, briefly making eye contact with Katie while the remaining staff entered to help and supervise the machines. Another attendant on the opposite side of the birthing table massaged Bulma's head. A whooshing monitor confirmed the unborn child's healthy heartbeat, which Vegeta had sensed already. Bulma's heart rate wasn't unstable yet, but something wasn't right. He knew that.
Katie's eyes darted between one of the monitors and her front-end view of Bulma's birth canal. "Push, push, push, push."
Bulma moaned, deeply inhaling from the gas bottle. "I can't do it. I can't do it."
Vegeta laid two fingers on his wife's cheek, closing his eyes. The others didn't know what he was doing, but his dignified gentleness with her touched everyone's hearts.
"They can't hear us, Bulma. Stay focused on our life together, on Trunks and our baby, your parents, your friends. You're a fighter. I would not have had a future without you. I love you. I love you."
"I'm so exhausted, Vegeta. That's never stopped me before, not with anything I had to do."
"Exactly, and it won't stop you now. Not as long as I'm here. Not while these people are here. I won't call them useless idiots yet because I promised you that I wouldn't."
"I love you so much. All I've wanted was for you to be happy. I want our children to be happy."
Vegeta's breath hitched. Her words sent a chill through him. "You... must listen to Katie now. Our baby is almost in your arms."
"Small breaths now," the midwife said, smiling at her. "Keep panting, Bulma. That's my girl. Push, push, push, push."
A nurse discussed Bulma's progress with two doctors who had entered the room. The physician who didn't know Vegeta spoke in pedantic circles, believing he could manage this father like he would an overwrought child. Plus, the man was too dense and arrogant to be intimated – initially.
Vegeta didn't raise his voice, but the tension in the room increased fivefold. "It is not in your best interest to do that with me. Since no one warned you, I assume they don't like your attitude much either. Just focus on my wife and be direct. If you're incapable of abiding by my request, I will throw you out."
Katie took a risk, steadily holding his wrist. Judging from Vegeta's demeanor, she knew he disliked being touched by anyone other than his wife and son, but she had to respond. He eyed her, though not angrily.
"No one's keeping you two in the dark," the midwife said, summoning Bulma's chief physician. "Have I yet?"
"Her heart rate will skyrocket soon," Vegeta replied, emotionless. "Do something before it worsens." If he allowed himself to feel, doubt would spread like cancer. Bulma was the love of his life. She would be well. He would accept nothing less than that.
The other doctor who ran afoul of Vegeta irritably tapped on a clipboard with his pen. "How does he know that? Her vitals don't indicate -"
"He just knows, damn it." Seething, Katie directed her gloved hand at the doors. "Now shut up and get out, Eric, while we continue working. Doctor Carter, the baby's head is crowning. We're almost there, Bulma. It's all right, honey. We're almost there. We're all so proud of you."
The chief doctor immediately shouted new emergency orders to the medical team. The attendants fastened an oxygen cannula on Bulma, injected her with a drug to manage her heart rate and changed her positioning.
Vegeta could only stand back helplessly and watch. His wife said they had chosen the best people to look after her at the end of her pregnancy. She told him not to be overbearing. She said she didn't want a C-section. Her diabetes was supposed to be under control. He had kept her spirits up when doubt chipped away at her thoughts. He had put his own reservations aside to support her.
Now he couldn't hold her at all. What would he tell their son and extended family, who had been waiting patiently for hours? They all had agreed that only Vegeta should be in the birthing room. Trunks had to sense trouble brewing, even as Vegeta tried to keep his energy levels balanced. Forcing everyone away to apply his own brand of crisis treatment – using his ki stabilize her – wouldn't be sufficient to fix all the problems Bulma was facing then.
Her sobbing had stopped, replaced by the energetic bawling of their healthy new baby - and lots and lots of blood. Katie ran across the room, handing the infant to her colleagues to clean. The medical team continued with their business, working to stem Bulma's fluid loss.
"Bulma, I'm injecting you with a genetically engineered protein transfusion to stop the hemorrhaging," the doctor said. "I know you're sleepy but keep your eyes on the nurse here. Your gorgeous little one is excited to greet her mama. She has your hair color, too."
The baby's father, standing frozen in place, was well past anxiety.
Katie asked a helper to move, resolving to treat Vegeta like anyone in shock over a spouse's decline. "Come beside me. We're wheeling her out as soon as the doctor finishes."
He held up Bulma's head, smiling at the irreplaceable spark in her eyes. That gleam encompassed everything about her - yelling, arguing, lovemaking, tears, understanding, friendship, kindness, empathy, intelligence, daring, dedication, hilarity.
His chin trembled as he whispered to her. "Bulla Echalotte is ready for us to hold. They're tending to her in another room now. Her grandmother can snap as many ridiculous pictures as she wants. I won't complain about posing for them."
Bulma smiled tiredly, lovingly, at him. Her thumb swept a tear off his face. "Don't... cry. Take care of our children. Promise me."
Katie gasped as the peaks on Bulma's heart monitor dropped into one trilling flatline.
Flanked by the treatment staff, the doctor called a code blue. The activity in the room transformed with military precision as resuscitation measures were deployed. Katie tilted Bulma's chin, inserting a suction device into her mouth to keep her airways clear, while a nurse began targeted chest compressions. That had to happen first before more advanced equipment available could be used. The physician performed lightning-fast surgery on the birth canal, using a Capsule Corporation device made for high-risk pregnancies with advanced complications.
Bulma's heartbeat kept stopping and starting, but they only had so much time. If they couldn't stabilize her in this weakened condition, the likelihood of brain damage was high.
No, no, no. Vegeta's knees buckled, nearly taking him down until someone caught him.
"I've gotcha, buddy. I've gotcha. It's Kakarot. Let's do this together."
A/N (Sept. 29): Special thanks to RandomDBZ fan for the lovely and so-very-thoughtful comment (and overlooking the bot spam). I enjoyed seeing the story through your eyes.