Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Saiyan For All Seasons ❯ Confrontations ( Chapter 13 )

A Saiyan For All Seasons

 

Chapter Twelve

 

Confrontations

 

Disclaimer: Vegeta's cute arse belongs to Akira Toriyama… O.o;;.

 

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Bright sunshine broke rudely through the curtains. It scorched across the bedroom, illuminating a long thin line of dust, and making the particles within dance. At the far end it seared soft sheets, cotton pillows, and the small face poking out at the top.

 

Bulma stirred under the intense light. What time did she eventually crawl into bed last night? Three, four o'clock in the morning? She couldn't remember. In fact, did she remember going to bed at all?

 

The taxi ride home - sitting quietly in the backseat with sore cheeks from the lace of her sleeves as she endlessly wiped her tears dry - she could remember that. She remembered being scared of unwanted publicity and asking the taxi driver to stop a block short of Capsule Corporation. It was after then, when she was safe inside the compound that events became hazy.

 

She entered via the back door, laid her keys on the kitchen table and made a direct path through the breakfast room and into the lounge. It didn't prove sound judgement. She stopped two feet into the living room. Directly in front of her was the back entrance to the den. The soft light of the hall illuminated the lounge, making the den itself look as cold and dark as the demon who once stalked it.

 

She stayed there for several minutes, eyeing up the room and wondering if now - when the house was asleep and her emotions craved comfort - she would dare to go in. The bottle of her father's cognac, left carelessly on the mantelpiece from his after-dinner tipple, made up her mind for her. It was a glass-wrapped present for her sentimental musings, and she wasn't strong enough to walk past it. Temptation reasoned she was too awake to go to bed anyway - her head too full.

 

Her plan was simple - curl up on the den sofa, remember the good times and drink enough to forget the present was happening.

 

Last night it was a delicious plan - the indulgence and comfort her confused heart needed. This morning, however, sound faculties and a pounding head deduced it was the stupidest therapy imaginable.

 

She rolled onto her back in the padding of her duvet, spreading her arms and legs wide. The blood in her ears was thumping to the rhythm of her heart, and there was a little voice in the back of her head warning against any sudden movement. The fear of being sick demanded caution, and so there she stayed, completely immobile and staring up at the decorated plaster ceiling.

 

She hated feeling vulnerable. She hated feeling sick, and more than anything, she hated the guilt - the guilt her decision was already promising. When she made up her mind the previous day, her head had been responsible; her heart… well… her heart hadn't been involved at all. Her emotions had been flat - her mind detached. Now her feelings were rocketing all over the place, turning her into this weeping, hormonal, wreck of a woman who couldn't make a rational decision if her life depended on it.

 

The million zeni question was, did she keep her appointment and carry on with emergency procedures during emotional shut down - or did she make her excuses and take a few more days to decide?

 

For once in her life she wished there was someone else in control - someone else to make the right choice for her.

 

If only Vegeta was still there! He would give her the push she needed - Bulma was convinced of it. One icy glare and an “I don't give a shit about any of this!” from his lips, and she could rest easy with her decision. Vegeta, however, wasn't there, and her heart was now throwing up compassion for his absence - regret and shame at her own shortcomings. He deserved to be involved in the decision. There were just two problems. She had no way of getting in contact with him, and if she waited for him to come back it might be too late for a termination anyway.

 

It wasn't until an hour later when, washed, clothed, and feeling a little less queasy, Bulma eventually made her way downstairs and into the kitchen. Her mother, and the good-natured questioning about her evening with Yamcha, was expected. Being mentally prepared for the onslaught, Bulma was equal to answering all the questions while still keeping an eye on the clock, ever-conscious of her appointment with Dr. Ling.

 

Her father's presence - leaning against the kitchen cupboard as he flicked his cigarette ash into the sink - confused her. It was rare for him to eat meals in the comfort of his own kitchen, but to see him there for no obvious reason was even rarer. An unsettling feeling permeated the air, and if Bulma's intuition was leading her right, a certain amount of restrained confrontation.

 

“So you mean to tell me he met up with another woman outside the club, and left you to make your own way home!” Mrs. Briefs gasped. “Well, I'm sure there must have been some shift in proper dating etiquette since I was a girl. I'm pretty certain abandoning your date for another woman in the middle of the night was an absolute no-no!”

 

Bulma laughed, putting on a show to hide her unease. “Now you put it like that it does sound pretty bad, but you're forgetting, Mum, Yamcha and I weren't on a date, and he didn't abandon me. I told him to go.”

 

“Well… it still sounds like a funny business to me. I don't remember things being so complicated when I was a girl. Why, your father was the perfect gentleman to me. Weren't you dear?” she said, smiling in his direction. “Well… when I could drag you away from your work that is. See, Bulma, how little they change over the years?” She hugged her husband's arm. Dr Brief smiled slightly and affectionately patted her hand. “Not that I'd want him to.”

 

Bulma smiled. She knew it was required, but her father's affection appeared to be over and Bulma soon felt his eyes weighing heavily on her. It was then she understood why her father was there. He obviously wanted to talk to her about something. The trouble was she didn't really have the time to listen. Her father was a man who naturally took his time with everything - slow methodical, and never harried - even when he was CEO he still managed to take his work in his stride. It was a trait Bulma naturally envied and eventually hoped to simulate.

 

She shoved her last half of toast in her mouth and struggled into her jacket.

 

“Are you in a hurry, Bulma?” he asked, stepping away from the worktop. “Because I really have something very pressing to talk to you about.”

 

“Sorry, Daddy, I have an appointment. If I don't go now I'm going to be late. I overslept as it is.”

 

He stood resolutely at the other end of the long oak table, and scratched the top of his head. “Well then, you are just going to have to reschedule your appointment, because what I have to say is important.” He pulled out a chair, sat down, and patted the seat next to him. “I'm sure whoever you were going to see can wait just a few more minutes, and if they can't then they're not worth going to see in the first place.” He winked. “Now take your time eating your toast and just relax, or you'll get indigestion.”

 

“But---”

 

“I'm not taking no for an answer. Come.” He turned to his wife. “Would you put the kettle on for us, please?”

 

“Of course. Tea or coffee?”

 

“Coffee, please. Bulma?”

 

Bulma, caught in two minds, eventually succumbed to temptation. “The same. “ In the long run she knew it wouldn't solve anything, but for now she was very glad to have the short trip across town postponed. Such a cowardly way out, but there were other days, and without a definite decision, there was little point going anyway. The twenty-zeni fine for a missed appointment was of little concern.

 

She took the empty chair, shrugged off her jacket, and sat down. “Okay,” she said, leaning on the table and putting on her business face. “Shoot. What do you want to talk about?”

 

He met her gaze head on, his own piecing eyes, unblinking as they peered back. “I want to talk about you.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Yes. You've been CEO for how long now, five months?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

He smiled. “You've done a lot in that short space of time. I was going through the admin files last night, and I see the new offices are coming along well. I was after that land for years. Amazing how quickly the feminine wiles work when this old fuddy-duddy is out of the way, eh?”

 

Bulma frowned.

 

“I know, I know. I didn't mean any offence by that. I haven't suddenly forgotten that you're one of the most intelligent people on the planet, but unfortunately it will take time for the industry to accept this. There are many people out there who still think you're a token gesture, an iconic, pretty face for the limelight and front pages to glory in, not the intelligent and feisty woman I and everyone else close to you knows. It's the media hype we were expecting, and I don't think that now and again it is necessarily wrong for us to use it to our advantage - as I'm sure you did to get the sale of this land.”

 

“Perhaps,” she admitted with a blush. “I may have flirted a little.”

 

“Well…” he said, resting back on his chair and thanking Mrs. Briefs as she laid his coffee in front of him, “as I said. It does no harm. You've done pretty well for press coverage in the last five months. Enough to get noticed, but not too much to become intrusive.”

 

Here he paused and looked straight at Bulma again - only the introduction of her own coffee interrupting the intense gaze.

 

“Of course. I have the feeling this is going to change.”

 

Bulma cupped her coffee, blowing the top cool. “Why would you say that?”

 

He shook his head and laid something on the table. “That's why.” He pushed the small piece of plastic across the smooth surface so it was right under her nose.

 

Inside, Bulma almost died on the spot. Outwardly her face didn't change as she slowly looked down at her pregnancy test, set out on the kitchen table, and for all to see. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, but Bulma wasn't about to do either. Her parents deserved an answer - they deserved to know what was going on, or rather, what had gone on in their house over the last five months.

 

“We didn't go looking for it, Bulma.” Mrs Briefs explained, a little agitated. “I was just turning down your bed after you left last night and… I got such a shock. Is it true? Am I going to be… are you?”

 

Bulma closed her eyes and let out a long breath. Was this really happening? It all seemed so surreal, as though someone else's life was being played out like some trashy daytime soap through her eyes. She sighed, and invited her Mum to sit down with them.

 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I'm pregnant.”

 

Here Mrs. Briefs inhaled sharply, but Bulma put a hand up to silence her before the profusions started.

 

“Before you even ask… no. Yamcha isn't the father. You know we've been separated for over a year now, and it's been a separation we've both honoured.” She took her parents by the hand. “I told you the truth about last night, Mum. I want Yamcha to be happy, and I sincerely hope he finds that happiness with Kiko. Never once has he done anything wrong, never once has he hurt me. We separated by mutual consent, and since that time I couldn't have asked for a better friend.”

 

She sighed, let both hands go, and took a tentative sip on her coffee. Her parents looked expectantly back.

 

“For ten years we tried to make our relationship work,” she said, replacing the awkwardness with her own voice. “We had some really good times, and we had some damn right shitty ones too, but if I'm completely honest, for ten years our relationship failed. In some ways I believe it bloomed too quickly. It's kind of frightening how well we managed to ignore the truth. I can't say my love for him has ever changed. I'm pretty certain I love him as much now as I did at the height of our relationship. It was nothing more than interpretation of our love that guided us wrong for so long.”

 

“I'm glad to hear there was no wrong-doing on Yamcha's part,” Mrs. Briefs said. “I'd hate to think badly of such a good looking and polite young man. But if he's not the father then who is? Is it your mystery man - the one you were talking about last night?”

 

Bulma nodded. “Yes.”

 

“But you said things didn't work out between the two of you!”

 

Another nod - wordless this time.

 

“So then,” interrupted her father. “When were you going to tell Vegeta the good news?”

 

Her eyes shot open and she nearly dropped her coffee. Dr. Briefs merely chuckled at her shock and took a long sip on his drink. “After all, Vegeta is the father, isn't he?”

 

“Oh my! Is that true, Bulma?” Mrs. Brief gasped. “Is that lovely boy, Vegeta, really the daddy?”

 

Bulma continued to stare. “How...?”

 

“Oh!” He waved a dismissive hand. “I've had my suspicions for a while now, but I wouldn't have been certain if the man in question hadn't let something of the matter slip before he left.”

 

Bulma sat stock still. Vegeta? Vegeta let something slip? Vegeta! The prince of pride and the master at holding it - he alluded to their relationship with her father? Holy shit!

 

It took a while for the shock to pass, but once it was she wanted to know more. She wasn't angry he let on something of their intimacy - far from it. In fact, there was an electrifying shiver of adrenaline shooting through her limbs at the discovery, but she kept her features in tact - her lips frowned and her voice resolute. There would be time for thought later, for now the surest way to get the answers she wanted was to pretend she was affronted by the news. It would give more weight to her decision and the reasons behind it if she didn't look too happy about the revelation.

 

She pulled her eyebrows low, her forehead bunching into a fake show of anger. “And just what did he say to you?”

 

“Oh, I'm sure that's not important.”

 

“Please, Dad, don't tease me. I need to know what he said.”

 

He looked remorseful. “I'm not teasing Bulma, more like embarrassed at my own dealings. You see, just before he left he asked me to make sure you were well protected while he was away. Of course, I replied somewhat cautiously to him.” Here he blushed a little. “It seems a little embarrassing now, but I said something along the lines of your being in less danger without him around, and,” he admitted, “I might have made some off hand comment about knowing his temperament, and that I wasn't overly happy with his interest in you.”

 

Bulma blushed and cringed. She loved her father to death, but that was embarrassing.

 

Dr. Briefs was very quick to apologise. “I'm sorry, Bulma, but I had to say something. You know I give you free enough licence - have done since you were a teenager, but that doesn't mean I'm ignorant or unconcerned about the choices you make in your life. It was my duty as your father to make sure Vegeta knew I was concerned too.”

 

“What did he say to you?” she asked, not sure if she really wanted to hear the reply.

 

“He said that he would take an interest in whoever he pleased, and that I wasn't in a position to object to it.”

 

“Well… that sounds like Vegeta all right.”

 

“It was what I was expecting. He's right after all. I could do little to stop him, and it looks even less likely now.” He sighed and wiped a hand over his brow. “I was willing to leave it at that. I've seen enough of the young man's disposition to know when to let matters lie. I turned away as he entered the capsule and was about to leave for the control room, but I heard his voice once more. He said something I was not expecting. He said that no harm would come to you from his hands, and he even gave his word to it. Now… although I have seen enough in his behaviour to be alarmed, scared, and I am sure he has the capacity to fall to depths I do not even want to comprehend - indeed from the look in his eyes I feel he has fallen several times already - but he still appears to have his pride. I'm pretty certain he's not a man who gives his word often, because - unlike a lot of young men nowadays - it is a commitment he will honour once avowed. So you see, I have no choice but to accept what he said and believe it. And I still do, Bulma, I still believe he meant you no harm.”

 

Bulma smiled - standing tears flooding her vision. It was more than she hoped for, especially after their last meeting, and which made his reaction shortly after his take off understandable. To talk to her father so candidly, to lay himself open in that manner - it had to have an affect on him - and what feeling did he naturally fall back on when he was unsure of himself. Anger.

 

“I don't think he did either,” Bulma admitted. “But that doesn't change things. We were on bad terms when he left. To be honest it was more a misunderstanding of our situation on my part than his. He doesn't know about the pregnancy. I didn't find out until yesterday, and I have no way of contacting him to let him have a say on my decision. He destroyed the ear piece you gave him.”

 

“I was wondering why he wasn't answering my calls!” Mrs. Briefs exclaimed. “I thought he was just too busy for my nonsense.”

 

Her father, however, picked up on the real issue. “And what decision would that be?”

 

“Whether or not to go ahead with the pregnancy. My heart . . .” she closed her eyes and swallowed a lump in her throat. “My heart aches at the thought of terminating it, but my head . . . my head says it's the right thing to do. The business… the press… Vegeta being the father! It all points to disaster, but then I get the feeling if I terminate the pregnancy I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life. Daddy, I think, for the first time in my life, I don't know what to do.”

 

Bulma didn't ask for attention or reassurance of any kind. Her mother, she acknowledged, was too shocked by talk of termination to offer it, but much to her relief her father smiled gently at her, leaned forwards and slowly pulled her into a hug - his lips kissing the top of her head.

 

“I understand,” he soothed in a quiet voice. “It isn't a decision you can make on your own, but it's also not my place to offer an opinion. Just know that your mother and I will be behind you one hundred percent whatever you decide. I would, however, urge you not to make Capsule Corp. an issue in your decision. The business will look after itself, no child or rumour will affect the integrity or stability of our product base. There is such a thing as over-caution. Your happiness has been, and always will be the most important thing to your mother and I. Don't ever forget that.”

 

Comforted by his words and thankful for them, Bulma hugged him tighter, and one stubborn tear escaped to wet a path down her cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered.

 

“Well…” He patted her back. “Now I think we need to speak to someone who has a right to be involved in the decision. More so than your mother and I.”

 

She blinked. “Who?”

 

“Vegeta, of course.”

 

Bulma rubbed her face dry. “But how? He destroyed the earpiece.”

 

“I know, but as the saying goes, there is more than one way to skin a cat. Or, in this case, catch a monkey.” He winked, and despite herself, Bulma smiled.

 

Before she was fully aware of what was happening, she found herself removed from the kitchen on her father's arm, out across the lawn in blinding summer sunshine, and on to his lab. There was no room for opposition. Never had she seen her father move with such speed and determination. It was more like being frogmarched than escorted.

 

“Here,” he said, ushering her to sit in his large leather chair at the back of the lab. There was a computer in front of her - a mixture of components somewhere between impressive hi-tech, and bad sci-fi. “The subspace transmitter. Vegeta's capsule is fitted with one just the same as Goku's was on his trip to Namek. It's along the same lines as the one fitted for safe communication during excess gravity, but obviously with satellite and subspace relays.”

 

“Subspace…? But Earth hasn't got the resources or satellites to make that possible!”

 

“Of course not. That's why, when I found out there were other more intelligent life forms out there, I borrowed theirs. Really… it's quite fascinating what you can do with a little….” Here Dr. Briefs controlled himself. “But what am I talking about. We'll have plenty of time to discuss this later. For now….” He reached over her shoulder, punched in some commands on the keyboard, commands that Bulma automatically memorized, and hit enter. “You have someone to talk to. Give it a minute or so for the relays to kick in and hope he answers.”

 

Bulma looked up at him, a wry smile on her face. “Hope or fear?” she joked. “But thank you. It means a lot.”

 

He saluted. “All in a father's days work.” He left one more kiss on her head and then with a stealth Bulma didn't know he possessed, he quickly left the room.

 

There wasn't time to properly process the situation or the moment. Before she was fully away there was a string of beeps and clicks emanating from the deep recesses of the computer, as though she were about to go online via dial up. She had an inclination the technology wasn't that different - she just hoped it wouldn't be as slow. Her hands felt sweaty, a mixture of dread and anticipation. Did she even know what she was going to say? Was he even going to answer? What was taking him so long?

 

She cupped her hands and bit a thumbnail.

 

At length there was a crackle and after a succession of beeps, there was a click that sounded like someone picking up an ordinary telephone call. “What is it, old man?”

 

Bulma closed her eyes. His voice. Shit! Why did his voice always manage to make her stomach cramp? The computer, however, flashed an option in bright neon green that demanded to be answered. It read, “Activate holographic communication” with a little “<Y/N>” option at the bottom.

 

It took all the courage in Bulma's body to press `Y'.

 

“You lucked out, Vegeta,” she said, as calmly as her voice would allow. “Dad isn't here. Looks like you'll have to talk to me instead.”

 

Just then the visual transmission kicked in. It captured a look of mild shock on Vegeta's face just before his features cleared. Bulma allowed a moments triumph. It was nice to see he wasn't as shut off to her influence as she often feared. He stood at the centre of the capsule in the full glow of yellow strip lighting, his back rigid and arms crossed.

 

She stared openly, regressing through the hypnosis of his body, and remembering the feel of those tightly packed muscles against the smoothness of her skin - the feel of him inside her. The heat rose to her cheeks, and she was instantly ashamed for it. With the holographic projection showing him her image in twice its ordinary size, Vegeta was sure to see the blush on her skin. What was it about this man that attracted her so intensely? What unnatural phenomenon induced such violent lust for one individual? Was it chemical, spiritual, or perhaps a combination of both?

 

It was then Bulma noticed Vegeta was staring at her just as intensely as she was him. In his case, though, there was no emotion to give his thoughts away. His eyes dragged slowly up the screen and then away as he turned his back on her. “I told your father I wanted no distractions.”

 

Her blush was complimented with the slightest of smiles. “You consider me a distraction?”

 

“Bulma,” he said, drawing out her name as though it were awkward on his lips. “Remembering you writhing in pleasure underneath me makes it impossible for me to describe you as anything else.”

 

Dammit! What was this monkey doing to her? How could he be so detached one minute, and so god damn intense the next? They had parted on bad terms, hadn't they? Why was he intimating something so personal between them, when there was nothing left to face - nothing to claim?

 

“Don't!” she snapped, suddenly angry at the confusion he forced on her. “Don't talk to me like that. Shit Vegeta!”

 

“You'd prefer me to forget about it?” he asked.

 

She considered for a moment. “No.”

 

“Then you do not at least regret it.”

 

“No.”

 

“I thought you might. I was angry when I left your planet, Bulma.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I still am.”

 

“I don't doubt it. You're of a disposition to let your anger fester rather than diminish with time.”

 

“You presume to know me very well.”

 

“I don't presume anything, but I think I might be starting to understand some aspects of your character better than I have in the past.”

 

“Very well then, Bulma. Tell me why I am angry?”

 

She closed her eyes. What was his sudden fascination with using her name? It made talking rationally to him so much harder. “I would say you have many reasons. Partly because of me, partly because it's your nature, and perhaps, partly because of what you said to my father.”

 

He snorted. “So the old man told you about that.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I presume he likewise understood the intimation.”

 

“My father is an intelligent man, Vegeta. It might not seem like it, but not much gets past him.”

 

“So I thought.” A pause “I will allow that giving my word to him made me somewhat uncomfortable. He is a man, I believe, of integrity and honesty - a characterization that I have not witnessed very often, but which I realize and accept is more prevalent in your species than most. Your father possesses it, your mother to a degree, and so do you. The oath I made to your father does not anger me. But I am a creature of habit, Bulma. I am long past the gates of salvation, nor would I strive to find my way back to them. Staying my hand in your house is not hard for me. I know my oath will be kept, and kept easily - that is what angers me. The distraction your family offers, it bears so little semblance to my previous life, and it is unsettling for me to realise I am learning to appreciate it, to appreciate them, and… you.”

 

There was a pain in Bulma's chest. Was it sympathy for his predicament, or joy at his honesty? Whatever it was, her view of him leaped to previously un-thought of heights because of it. “I know this isn't what you want to hear, Vegeta, but I am glad for it.”

 

He snorted. “Fine words mean nothing when there is little foundation for their continuance. My appreciation for your family has gone too far. I knew that before I left. It manifested into near dependence, particularly on you, and although I do not regret my actions for myself, I can see where they may appear misplaced.”

 

“I don't understand.”

 

He turned to face her - walking away from the console and closer to the camera. His face engulfed the entire screen, his gaze searing her with just as much intensity as if he were standing in the room.

 

“When I was the only one feeling dependency it did not bother me,” he admitted, his eyes unmoving. “It was my body for me to control - my mind for me to account for.” He gritted his teeth and threw his head to the side as his brow creased in consternation. “I know the feeling all too well - constantly striving for something I fear is beyond my means to achieve. You should have stayed away from me Bulma. Stayed how I was comfortable with you - as elusive as Super Saiyan. You had no right to be interested in me. You had no right to take that interest away, and you had no right to worm your way into my mind, so much so that I couldn't think about anything else!”

 

He snapped his gaze back on her.

 

“I left your planet with the full intention of distancing myself from the situation as much as possible, and to a degree it has worked. You shocked me when you spoke of a continuation in the mountains. I knew you enjoyed our couplings, but I did not think you wanted anything more from me than a few fucks, a little bit of dark excitement, and then to forget it ever happened. I was unprepared for more and I admit, it was not a wholly unpleasant thought - coming back for a few short months before the androids arrive to find comfort between your thighs.”

 

“I think I shocked myself as well,” she admitted.

 

He seemed to accept this at face value, and there was a pause - natural, accepting, and surprisingly, not awkward.

 

“Why did you decide to contact me?” he asked. “There is nothing to profit from it. There will be no continuance. I will defend your planet against the Androids, but that is all I can give you, Bulma. I am not capable of anything more.”

 

Bulma suddenly became very nervous. She'd become so consumed in Vegeta's admission that she'd forgotten the true purpose of her long distance call. His words were a mixture of pain and encouragement, neither of which gave her the answer she was looking for.

 

“You say you felt a dependency on me?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” he agreed, although it was snapped out between gritted teeth as though the admission pained him.

 

“Then be honest and tell me if that feeling is still there, somewhere, no matter how small?”

 

He stared at her for a long while. The answer was already there in his posture, but it wasn't enough. She wanted to hear him say it. “Yes.”

 

“Well, then. I think we have a decision to make between us.” She took a long breath, willing the courage to make her say the words. “I called you today because I found out yesterday that I am pregnant.”

 

She looked up to see the control Vegeta practiced from the beginning of her call was very nearly undone. Indeed, he couldn't stop his jaw from dropping and his eyes from widening to hide his shock. It was very evident that whatever he expected to hear from this conversation - that wasn't it.

 

She held her chin high, a defiant gesture to mask her nervousness.

 

“You look shocked, Vegeta, but nowhere near as blown away as I was when I first found out. I walked around like a zombie in denial for half the day. Oh, and before you say anything… I am one hundred percent certain the child I'm carrying is yours. I know your sense of smell is heightened - much to my detriment on several occasions. It would be impossible for me to lie about it to you.”

 

“You don't have to convince me, Bulma,” he said. His control was back in perfect place - all shock removed from his face - all life from his eyes diminished. He was blank, unreadable, just as Bulma feared he would be. “I trust your integrity and honesty.”

 

She smiled, happy he was being civil about it. “I called to let you know.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Is that all you have to say?” she asked.

 

“Is there anything else to say?” he said. “I told you a minute ago that there will be no continuance.”

 

“I heard what you said, Vegeta, but that doesn't solve my problem. I need to know your opinion. There are two options. One - I will carry our child, give birth to it and look after it with all the love and affection I can. I know you're not interested in the raising of a child. I know if I go through with this option I will bring the child up by myself. I understand this, and although I would regret bringing up a child on my own, I think I have better resources than most.”

 

“And the second option?”

 

“Or,” she said, taking a deep breath for courage. “I could have an abortion - a way of terminating the pregnancy via surgical procedure.”

 

“Is there risk to your health with this option?” he asked.

 

“No, perhaps a very slight risk of infection, but nothing that can't be cured with antibiotics.” She sighed and rubbed a hand across her eyes. “No matter your view on the situation, you are the father, and you have just as much say in the decision as I do. I can't, in good conscience, leave you out of it.”

 

“And you will promise to leave me alone to train uninterrupted, without distractions and without obligations either way?”

 

She nodded.

 

“Then it is simple, Bulma. If you can't stand the thought of bearing my child then you should terminate it. If, however, you do not think it totally disgusting to your human sensibilities - if you will take the pleasure I am incapable of offering you from the child, then you should go through with the pregnancy.”

 

There was silence. The moment the words left his mouth Bulma already knew what her decision would be. The thought of carrying Vegeta's child was not disgusting to her, not in the least. For the first time she realized it was fear of Vegeta's reaction that made the thought of carrying his child unbearable. Now that she knew he didn't mind, her conscience was easy, her mind made up.

 

“Do you know what you will do?” he asked.

 

She nodded - her heart easy. “The thought of carrying your child is very far from disgusting, Vegeta.”

 

Was that a slight smile? Whatever emotion she saw, it was quickly passed. “May I continue my training now?”

 

“Yes,” she agreed. “And Vegeta?”

 

“What?”

 

“I believe in you.” She winked. “I know you will become a Super Saiyan very soon. Just… don't let it go to your head.”

 

He chuckled at that. “I won't make promises I can't keep, Bulma.” And with that, he ended the transmission.

 

 

**************************

 

A/N - Wow… all my author's notes seem to be apologies recently. Lots of distractions in RL have made this chapter very long in the writing. Would you believe I started writing this chapter over a month ago? O.o;; I hope it was worth the wait.

 

Special thanks to Lisa B for beta-ing. *hugs*