Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Saiyan For All Seasons ❯ The Climb ( Chapter 11 )

A Saiyan For All Seasons

Chapter Ten

The Climb

Disclaimer: Oh my… DBZ belongs to Akira Toriyama.

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Bulma's head barely had time to touch the pillow before light started to creep into the gorge. Not many more minutes passed before she could hear her friends stirring around her. Morning sun defused through the tent and she could see Goku's shadow through the canvas stretching against the first morning rays as he enthused about the freshness of the mountain air. She snuggled deeper into her sleeping bag, willing the light away. How much rest had she found last night? Three hours, possibly four? Completely drained, both physically and mentally, she fought to keep her eyes open.

Wiping a tired hand across her face she was surprised to feel moisture there. Had she been… crying? She shook her head. Ridiculous! Using the back of her sleeve she brushed the tears defiantly aside, but they refused to dry no matter how many times she cleared them. Why now? She could understand if they had come a few hours ago. There was cause for them then, but as she'd picked herself up from the damp stone that night and went back into her tent she'd felt nothing. There had been a dull ache around her temples, but it seemed designed to cushion her feelings more than augment them, to cocoon her mind and protect it from her confrontation with Vegeta.

Perhaps this current emotional outburst was nothing more than hormones. If she remembered correctly she only had a couple of days to go before she was due on her period. Premenstrual tension didn't normally affect her through tears - more likely it transformed her into a rampaging beast ready to strike down all in her path - but there were extenuating circumstances this time and maybe these, combined with fatigue, were allowing her emotions to dominate her in a new and previously unseen way. Simple, explainable, it excused her from the situation, and even though a part of her brain nagged and scolded her for her foolishness, she felt better for the lie. 

The tears made her head ache, and with a frown Bulma opened her backpack. She was downing a couple of ibuprofen as Yamcha stuck his head through the flaps of her tent a moment later.

"Morning lazy bones!" he chirped, awake as could be.

All Bulma could do was grimace as one of the tablets stuck in her throat and she realized she had no water to rinse it down.

Yamcha's smile faltered on his lips. He looked cautiously back out of the tent and then entered, closing the way behind him. "You don't look so good, B," he said putting a hand on her forehead. "You feel hot and look a little pale."

"I didn't sleep very well last night," she admitted. "Do you have any water?"

"Oh, yeah, right here." He handed her a small bottle and occupied himself with watching her drink it. She wondered if he could see the tears still stinging her eyes. He'd only spoken about her complexion, but the way his mouth twisted in worry told a different story.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Of course I am." She smiled, a difficult act to perform when she felt contrariwise. "I'm just tired, that's all."   

He jostled closer. "Hey, this is me, B. There's no use lying to me. I know when something's wrong."

"It's nothing - really."

"If it's nothing, then why are you crying?" He ran a finger along her cheek and after inspecting the tear he had caught there a moment, he rubbed it dry on his shirt. "Is this about last night? Did I upset you? Are you worried about my reaction, because I really think I might have been a bit of an arse? You know, it was all a little bit sudden, but - that is…."

She cracked a smile through the tears - one that was genuine this time - and put a finger to his lips, shushing him instantly. "Don't be an idiot," she chided, pushing his head playfully away. "You were perfect last night, a wonderful friend, and you gave me more good advice than a girl could possibly need."

"Really?"

"Really," she reassured. "I've been thinking over what you said, and you know what, you're right. What I was looking for with Vegeta was a little bit of fun, something, new - exciting and dangerous. You know what I'm like, I'm no good at that 'stay at home and stay out of trouble' nonsense. I have to be out risking my life in one way or another."

He laughed lightly at that.

"But I realized something last night. Vegeta, or should I say, his outlook and obsessions - I can't hide from them anymore - can't sweep them under the carpet like I have been doing. It's hurting me, and that's something I never wanted. So I'm going to put these last few months down to complete and total desperation and make a fresh start, just like you told me I should. I mean, Vegeta? I seriously need to get out more!"

"So why the tears?" he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Hormones?  Fatigue?"

"Or maybe it's something else?" he offered. "Do you think it's possible that you were starting to love him, and now that he's gone, it's going to make things harder on you?"

Bulma looked at him with mild shock as he effortlessly voiced what her own mind had purposefully blanked - what it didn't even want to consider being true. "Oh please!" she huffed, denial full on her tongue. "I told you last night that I don't love him. That's ridiculous!"

"So you said, but saying is one thing," he said with a casual smile, "the truth is another." He reached out and held her hand, affectionately stroking it. "I know this is a bizarre situation, and I know it's weird for us to be talking this way after everything that has happened between us, but don't hide yourself from me, B. I couldn't bear that."

"I don't think I have anything to hide," she whispered honestly, truly touched by his proclamation. "Maybe you're right, maybe coming to terms with this is harder than I thought it would be, but that doesn't mean I should be crying like the idiot I am now."

"I don't understand either," he said at length. "Is there something you're not telling me? Has something changed since last night?"

She caught his beautiful brown eyes and instantly knew there was no point lying to him. Here he was offering to be her friend and counsel all in one beautiful gesture, and no matter how awkward it felt, she couldn't keep this to herself. She wanted - needed someone to bounce her emotions off. "You're right. I probably wouldn't be this way if I hadn't had a visitor last night."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I didn't get much rest, but it wasn't because I couldn't sleep."

He nodded. "I understand. I thought I could feel something out of place. I thought it was just my dreams, but --- he was here, wasn't he? Vegeta."

She sunk her head low. "He came to say goodbye."

"And what happened?" he asked, more than a little curiosity apparent in his tone.

She snorted. "In Vegeta's eyes, there was only one way to say goodbye properly. Let's just say it involved kidnapping me away from here to somewhere more --- private. I did take on board what you said last night, but when he was here, it was a different matter. I thought - that was - his actions gave me cause to question myself. They gave me a glimmer of hope, and I knew I wouldn't be able to face myself if I didn't at least try to answer them. It was all going well until I opened my big mouth. I don't regret saying the stuff I did, but it only forced him into retaliating. He said things --- things that kind of opened my eyes and gave me a little insight into my own heart."

His mouth frowned into a grim line. "What did you say?"

"That's not important," she snapped. "Besides, 'Super Saiyan and defeating those damn androids!'--- that was all he could talk about. Then it got bitter, and he accused me of trying to seduce him to save my life. Ugh! Can you believe that shit? It made me so angry!"

"Oh boy," he groaned, rubbing his temples. "You went ape-shit on him, didn't you?"

"Not really." She held her head up high. "I was actually proud of myself. I was pretty calm, but then it wasn't his fault, Yamcha. You see it was mine. He never once said anything to give me the expectation of anything more. I was more angry at myself than him."

"So what are you going to do now that he's gone?"

"I'll tell you just as soon as I've figured it out."

He laughed at that. "Join the club." He moved a smidgen closer and put his arms around her. "But don't worry, we'll figure it out together. We can't go back, so that gives us only one direction to go, right? We'll go forward together - as a team."

She smiled. He was right of course. He seemed to be right a lot recently and Bulma wondered whether this was a new development or something she had overlooked in his character before, when she had been too close to him to judge his behaviour impartially.

"Hey, I know!" he said. "What's it called, that new bar on Fifth Street? You know, the one with the late license and the cocktails with the rude names?"

It was a complete conversation swerve, but Bulma picked up on it with new energy. She'd had enough of trying to think through her emotions. Ignoring them was definitely a preferable option. "Uh, oh god, I think I know the one you're talking about. Didn't it use to be an old dance hall?"

"Yeah, that's the one. It's a boy's name, Oliver… or something like that."

"Well, whatever the name is, what about it?"

"I suggest we go next Saturday as therapy."

She squirmed in anticipation, her tears long forgotten.

"We'll both put our glad rags on," he continued. "Scope out the talent, get as pissed as farts, and see what happens. It's as good a starting point as any."

"Aren't you forgetting something?" she asked.

"What?"

"Fifth Street is like paparazzi valley. Two well publicized ex-lovers, going out on a drinking binge together - it's a media field day, and I for one am not about to become victim of another panty shot."

Yamcha raised an eyebrow. "Panty shot?"

"Don't play Mr. Innocent with me, Buster. I know for a fact that you read the sport papers, and all the smut that goes with them. You've seen the celebrity panty shot. Do you know how they get them?"

He shrugged.

"They stick the camera right up your dress."

"Then wear trousers," he offered.

"Ugh!" she screamed. "You're missing the point."

He smiled. "And you're making it more difficult than it really is. Saturday nights are fancy dress nights. A mask and a wig and no one outside will know who we are. Come on… what do you say? It'll be fun!"

Fun! It was the magic word, and Bulma's eyes lit up. It had been a long time since she'd last gone out on the town. It had been a regular Saturday night custom through university, and she missed the good old days, protected from the media spotlight. She'd been able to go wherever she pleased back then, make as much of a tit out of herself as she liked and all without being greeted by a three page pullout in the papers the next day.

"I say hell yeah!" she enthused.

"Good then I'll pick you up next Saturday, around sevenish."

She winked. "It's a date… er… sort of."

He chuckled and let her go, ready to leave the tent. "Yamcha," she called, stopping him short.

"Yeah?"

"This stuff about Vegeta. It's our secret, okay, just between you and me. The others… they don't need to know, and I know Vegeta wouldn't appreciate being the subject of idle gossip."

He nodded. "Our secret." He began to leave again when one more thought stopped him. "Are you going to be okay today?" 

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"The climb. I'll be happy to fly you up if you think it will be too much and we can always come up with an excuse so the others don't become suspicious. I don't like the thought of you doing it when you look this…."

"Pathetic?" she joked.

"Well, I was going to say tired, but if you want to be pathetic, then fair enough."

She pouted. "That's right, kick me when I'm down."

His face softened. "You don't look pathetic," he assured her. "Very far from it, but I'm still worried."

"Don't be. I'll be just fine. I won't let him… I mean… I won't let this situation stop me from having fun on this adventure. As I said yesterday - I'll climb the damn thing or die trying."

They were interrupted the next minute by Krillin's cheery voice. "I hope you guys aren't making out in there!" he called through the opening of the one-man tent. "Grubs up."

Yamcha groaned and put his hands together in prayer. "Please don't let it be fish."

Breakfast passed peacefully enough. Bulma managed to hide her forlorn face behind a barrage of makeup, and she was reasonably happy with the effort she made to appear her usual cheerful self. Yamcha did all he could to help her, taking the conversation up, cheering the mood and pinning the attention on himself so as to divert notice away from her. She was extremely thankful for his efforts.

Once the fire was put out and the rest of the group began discussing the climb, Bulma secretly let him know how much she appreciated his distractions in a quick hug and kiss to the cheek. He blushed slightly for it, and so as not to make the moment awkward he began sorting through her climbing equipment, checking and rechecking that everything was safe and in good order. When he was finished he saw to harnessing her up himself. Goku insisted on climbing first, setting out her path and securing the ropes for her. Gohan stood beside her the whole time, enthusiastically pointing out the route he and his father had planned the previous evening. He even offered suggestions on suitable handholds for the climb up and sounded much older than his actual nine years.

Twenty minutes later and Goku was at the top, sitting cross-legged on the gorge edge and looking cheerily down. "That was a blast!" he called down with a salute. "The ropes are all placed, so you can start anytime you like Bulma."

"Good luck, Bulma-san." Gohan moved away and leapt onto the cliff, clearing a good ten-foot in the process.

"Cheat!" Krillin shouted after him, but triple flipped up to the gorge side at an almost equal height.

Oolong and Puar nodded to each other and in two equal puffs of smoke, shapeshifted into their own characterizations of a bat and bird respectively. How Oolong even got off the ground with puny bat wings under the strain of the normal size of his over-stuffed piggy face, was a mystery to Bulma. Her friends always seemed to be able to disprove the laws of physics in that way, and with minimal effort. Perhaps that was why they excelled - nothing appeared to be impossible within the scope of their imagination.

A heavy hand rested on her shoulder as she stood at the bottom, looking up, and feeling slightly queasy as the top stared dauntingly down at her. "You ready?" Yamcha asked, clicking the fastenings together and smashing a helmet firmly on her head without even waiting for an answer.

She took a long deep breath. "As I'll ever be."

"I'll climb with you," he reassured. "And if you get into any trouble then let me know, okay?"

"Worry about your own climb," she scolded, fluffing her hair. "Oh, and don't forget to eat my dust!"

This said she found her first foothold and pushed up to start her climb. Yamcha was left flatfooted and Bulma was already up and passed the first overhang by the time he caught up. "I should have known you wouldn't play fair."

"Ha!" She found a new grip and grunted slightly as she pulled herself up. "Try not using your ki to help you balance and then we'll talk about fair!"

"But I'm not!"

"Oh please, save it for someone who can't sense your ki signature."

Krillin laughed from above them. "Ha, ha, Yamcha's busted!"

Goku's soft laughter could be heard filtering down from the top. "Cheat, cheat, cheat, cheat!"

Yamcha looked completely aghast! "Way to go Bulma," he whined. "Now I have to forfeit!"

She giggled and took another step up, quickly readjusting as the rock crumbled under her shoe. "Phew!" she gasped. "That was close."

"Would have served you right," he grumbled. "Ever heard of bad karma?"

"The only karma I know about has the word 'sutra' attached to it." She winked and carried on climbing.

Three quarters of the way up, all the other climbers save her and Yamcha had made it safely to the top. They were all huddled together - a very bad sign -and she desperately hoped it had more to do with their stupid bet and Yamcha's punishment than her. Pulling herself up over yet another overhang, she took a moment out to catch her breath and appreciate the view. The other side of the gorge was actually lower than the one they were scaling, and the view afforded an almost uninterrupted panorama of the majestic mountain scenery around them. She scratched her head. The helmet was a little too tight and was starting to chafe around her neck. Her ears were squashed flat against her head.

"Hey," came a petulant voice above her. "No breaks! I'm hungry and Goku says we can't eat without you."

"Screw you Oolong! We just had breakfast," she spat. "I'm tired, my head is aching and I'm taking a break and if you say another word then the only thing cooking will be your sorry arse!"

"Sheesh, who put the bug up her arse?"

"Are you okay, B?" asked Yamcha. "If it's too much…"

"I'm fine." She was lying of course. Her headache was back with a vengeance, and to top it all off, she was starting to feel a little green around the gills.

"Liar," he said, more of an observation than an insult. "Climb on me and I'll give you a piggy back up the rest of the way."

She grimaced. The offer was actually very appealing. She'd never felt this way climbing before. Scared, yes. Tired, yes, but never nauseous. What was her body doing to her today? She had, however, said that she would climb the whole distance, insisted that it wasn't too much for her, and she wasn't about to be proven wrong.

"It's a nice offer, but I'm okay. I promise I'll let you know if I'm not."

To prove her point she grabbed a fresh handhold, and carried on.

"The human is right," came a voice from nowhere. "You are a liar. You're huffing and panting like you've just run a galactic marathon."

Bulma lost her hold for a second, under the spell of the voice she'd just heard, and couldn't mistake. It was just fortunate that she'd only taken a few steps up from the ledge. That didn't, however, stop her from scraping her shins on the way down.

"Fuck!" she swore, landing heavily on the rock.

There was a chuckle from inside her helmet, and realization dawned. The helmet was pushing down on her ears. Which was more than likely pushing down on her earpiece as well.

"This a bad time?" Vegeta's voice crooned.

She didn't answer, she couldn't. Yamcha had abandoned his own course and was flying over to her. In a heartbeat he was on her, fussing about and gingerly lifting her up.

"I know you said you were okay, B," he soothed. "But that was too close for comfort."

"I…"

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he interrupted.

"But…"

"This is ridiculous!" snarled Vegeta. "How the hell am I going to get any peace with this thing in my ear? I only left planet two hours ago and already you pathetic Earthlings are distracting me! Turn the damn thing off woman!"

"I can't!"

"Just hold on Bulma. Don't worry about it. Like I said earlier, we'll make excuses to the rest. They won't suspect a thing."

"Fine! If you won't then I'll destroy mine. I don't know what possessed me to take the damn thing in the first place!"

"No!"

Her plea didn't reach him. There was a crackle of static and then nothing. Shit! He'd done it - he'd really destroyed it. The only way she had for her parents, for her to contact him, gone in a nanosecond. Her shoulders slumped. She didn't know why it affected her so much, but the tears were beginning to resurface. Her last link with the temperamental alien was gone and for some reason it caused her even more pain than their bitter conversation the previous night had. She had no means to reach him, no means to continue any kind of relationship with him emotional or professional, and no means to ascertain when he would be back.

"No," she sobbed. "He cut me off!"

"I was afraid this would happen," Yamcha comforted, holding her tightly to his chest and laying a kiss on her forehead. "You're burning up."

She struggled slightly in his hold, but his arms didn't budge, only held her even more securely. "I think you might be coming down with something."

"No really…"

"Shhh," he cooed. "We're at the top now."

The next minute she was being laid down and all her friends were around her. Her cheeks felt like they were burning as they all looked worriedly down. She wasn't sure if it was her temperature or the embarrassment of the situation that caused it. What she did know for certain was that both her stomach and her breakfast were revolting and she couldn't stop the bile as it climbed up her throat. With one convulse, and only just enough warning to turn, she threw up onto the grass.

Shit! Just what she didn't need!

"Here Yamcha," Krillin said, his voice swimming and a little distant to her ears. "Take this tent and put it up over there so we can figure out what's wrong with her."

"Hey Bulma-san," Gohan added. "Here's some water. To take the taste away."

She grudgingly took it. "I'm sorry," she whispered, after rinsing her mouth. "I don't know what came over me."

She was instantly shushed by assertions that she shouldn't apologise. All except Oolong who was making off hand comments on the colour and consistency of her vomit. "How come there's always carrots?" he pondered.

Bulma was feeling more and more embarrassed as time passed, and surprisingly her headache was going with it. Maybe her body had only needed to be sick once just to get the ordeal over and done with. Her friends were all fussing about, asking her how she felt, when realistically she'd felt ten times worse before she'd thrown up than she did now.

"The tents up," Yamcha called, and Goku scooped her up ready to take her inside.

"Really," she insisted. "This isn't necessary. I feel a lot better now."

"That maybe so," Goku smiled. "But humour us for a while, okay. Then we'll get back to our little adventure when we all know you're feeling as good as you say you are." He winked, and Bulma grudgingly smiled back as he stepped inside the tent and laid her down.

"Is there a doctor in the house," Krillin called from outside.

"I am the doctor, moron!" she replied trying to sit up and only succeeding in getting a heavy hand on her chest, pushing her back down.

"Today I'm the doctor," Goku said, sternly.

"Oh great," Yamcha joked from the other side. "It was nice knowing you, Bulma."

"And I didn't draw up my last will and testament either." She put a dramatic hand to her forehead. "I bequeath everything I own to daddy's kitty. May he have enough yarn to live out the rest of his days in kitty paradise!"

"Hey, that's not nice," Goku pouted. "Chi says I have healing hands."

"Was that before or after you sent her flying through the wall?" Yamcha asked.

"Hey, give me a break; that was an accident. Where's the medical stuff?" He looked around.

"My backpack," she said, easing it off her shoulders.

"Okay." He opened the bag and on finding the case with a bright red cross on it, he held it up for her to see. "This the one?"

"Yep."

Bulma winced as he forced the catch open and proceeded to empty the contents over her feet. He was casually throwing bandages away when she reached a hand out and stopped him. She smiled up, making him automatically smile back. "I appreciate the sentiment, really I do, but maybe it would be better if you handed me what I need and I did this myself."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

"Positive," she assured. "It was probably just a touch of vertigo. Pass me the thermometer."

He did as he was told and silently watched her as she performed a self-diagnostic. The results were, she was sad to say, inconclusive. She was running a slight temperature and her blood pressure was a little higher than normal. Her airways were okay and she didn't feel at all tight-chested. She couldn't however say it was only a simple case of vertigo. Yamcha had said she'd been running a temperature earlier that morning and that was well before she had started climbing. It pointed to something viral - nothing serious and certainly nothing that was going to stop her from enjoying the rest of her vacation.

Having imparted the good news to her friends, they sat down until well after lunchtime. They couldn't hang about, however, there was a strict schedule to complete. Her friends grudgingly admitted that they couldn't waste anymore time, and they were more than satisfied to take turns in carrying her, even though Bulma protested. Their entreaties turned over every good reason she could think of to refuse and they set out on their way. The next two days passed without a glitch and Bulma was extremely thankful that the mystery illness didn't return.

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A/N - This was a hard chapter to write, but in the end it was necessary to set the scene for things to come. Huge thanks to LisaB who gave her usual and much appreciated advice and impartiality. What would I do without her?