Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Saiyan For All Seasons ❯ Afraid for him ( Chapter 14 )

A Saiyan For All Seasons

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

Afraid for him

 

Disclaimer: Not mine. *pouts*

 

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The last rays of a spring sun were exploding across the horizon in a dazzling display of red. This month was the typical transition from winter to spring - sudden sharp showers blocking any consistency in the weather. Today, however, was the first completely dry day since early March - the difference being that instead of having to wrap up warm in snug but cumbersome winter clothes, Bulma could get away with maternity jeans and a long sleeve button-down shirt. The winds had changed from north to south, bringing warmer air currents with them.

 

The new offices were officially opened a month ago, but a delay in the building of the east wing meant Bulma had to sacrifice her personally designed office and stick with the aging one at Capsule Corp for longer than initially planned. Today, however, the building inspector had given it the all clear, and eager to be ready for the start of the new week, Bulma had managed to talk Yamcha out of his training and into helping her move.

 

Most of the day had been spent watching as her dear friend emptied the air car and decapsulated box after box into the new office. All the important files and patents were transported to the vault adjoining the office, and the last of her items were now being brought out and made comfortable in their new home. Her solid gold fountain pen was safely balanced on its antique carved ebony stand. Her family photos were lined up along the wall, staring proudly down at her work area, and the enormous but wonky coil pot she'd made in high school stood in the corner by the door and served as a makeshift umbrella stand. They were the finishing touches that transformed the stark regular office space into an extension of home.

 

“And Henry makes it complete!”

 

She placed her well-loved spider plant on the ledge of the windowsill, letting its long tendrils cascade down the freshly painted primrose wall. The window overlooked the marina below; it was vast and bayed at just the right angle to give a panoramic view of the sun as it dipped behind the horizon. Hands on hips, Bulma stretched her back and watched as the glassy water sparkled in the twilight.

 

“I'm glad Daddy persuaded me to put the office at the top. It might mean I have to walk a little further to the laboratories, but this view more than makes up for it.”

 

“Your Dad's classes in architecture really paid off,” Yamcha agreed. “I thought the view from my balcony was good, but the height and angle of this window encompasses the entire marina.”

 

“Jealous?” she joked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good! If it makes you feel any better, it was your apartment that made me determined to get the land here in the first place.”

 

He smiled and sat down on the windowsill. “It's going to be weird -- you working here instead of at Capsule Corporation. It feels like the end of an era.”

 

“I see it more as the beginning of a new one. There was comfort in knowing home was right next-door if I needed some friendly advice, but I'm in the big league now. This is the re-birth of Bulma Briefs, even stronger and more independent than ever!”

 

“You're not even a little worried?”

 

“Perhaps - a little,” she admitted. “Change is always a little daunting, but it's exciting as well. Besides,” she said after a moments thought, “my life is about to change for good. I have to change with it.” She looked back out across the water, unconsciously rubbing her swollen tummy. “It feels like I need to.”

 

There was silence. Bulma, expecting Yamcha to speak, looked for him in the glass. She caught him staring at her bump as though mesmerized by the sight - curious and with a hint of amazement. After a while he looked up and their eyes met. She couldn't miss the sadness in them. They reflected a fraction of that feeling, all those months ago, when she'd first told him about the baby. Only time and acceptance had dulled that look.

 

The day of her confession, tears had welled in his eyes and fell with a sizzle to the barbeque. At first he attributed the moisture to the stinging smoke from the grill, but over the course of a long conversation, through kind words and gentle entreaty, Bulma had found the root of the problem.

 

So much regret.

 

There was no denying that, had they married and had the kids together as they'd originally planned, they would be happy now. Eventually they would have found the key that transformed their love into dependency and felicitous matrimony. It wouldn't have been heart-stopping or pounding love, but it would have been years of ingrained affection, solidified by responsibility and companionship. Happy, yes, they could have been happy with just companionship - had they taken that path - but they hadn't, and Yamcha's tears that day signified the final `what if' in a relationship full of `not quites.'

 

“How long have you got to go now?” he asked, the emotion suddenly cleared from his features.

 

“Three weeks, give or take a few days.”

 

He had Kiko now. It hadn't been easy for him to reawaken their affection. The night of the fancy dress party had gone a long way to help; it was true, but there were many weeks of uncertainty after that when equal bouts of doubt and determination on both sides missed the chance for happiness. At length, however, they managed to rekindle the affection, and Yamcha moved Kiko and her five-year-old daughter from a previous marriage from their cramped two bedroom townhouse into his spacious apartment with its communal but extensive gardens and pool.

 

“Kiko said she was just about dead on her feet when she was carrying Michiyo, but you're looking really healthy,” he said, flashing her a friendly smile. “I would have thought carrying a Saiyan child would be hell on your body, but even this late on you're practically glowing.”

 

“I thought that - and worried over it for a while too, when the whole shock of `Oh my god! I'm having Vegeta's baby' calmed down.” She laughed slightly. “You want a drink?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Vegeta's baby. Yes. She was used to the idea now. She concluded, not long after discussing the situation with Vegeta, that her infatuation with the Saiyan Prince was just that, an infatuation. She hadn't spoken to him since that day, and time and distance were working the wonders his icy tongue and brusque behaviour never had. There was a time, towards the end of his stay on her planet - when their relations were at their height - that Bulma felt, were it for a little effort on Vegeta's side, that she might have become quite smitten with him. Indeed, at that time it wouldn't have been hard to extend the whole sordid business into a sadistic and pornographic love story.

 

But such misconceptions were gone now, and Bulma was thankful for it. Carrying Vegeta's child would have been unbearable were her heart engaged. She was eager for his return, was looking forward to seeing him again, but this time it would be different. He'd told her to have no expectations before, and her fancy had lead her wrong, this time she wasn't going to forget.

 

“So the baby isn't draining you at all?” Yamcha asked.

 

She passed him a can of soda from the fridge and then moved on to sit down at her desk, resting her legs on the marble top and pushing the leather chair right back to accommodate her bump. “Well… he is more ferocious than your average foetus. I have to be very careful with supplementing my meals and keeping my iron levels up, but things started to even out about three months ago. I wasn't so tired. I had new energy and felt stronger. I asked Dad to check me, and would you believe that the little guy is actually helping me?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah. Apparently my son has latent ki.”

 

“Latent ki?” He picked up on the phrase immediately. “Master Roshi used the term when talking about Goku as a kid, and I'm sure Gohan said the same about Namek. He said that Guru tapped into his latent ki and made him more powerful. So this little bump has a higher than average ki level already?” His voice was somewhere between awe and concern.

 

She winked. “You got it, but don't worry. It isn't dangerous for me. Here,” she said, motioning to her tummy, “Put your hand on my belly.”

 

He was hesitant at first, but a, “Come on, don't be such a fraidy-cat!” soon bolstered him along. “Push a little harder,” she encouraged. “Can you feel that?”

 

He looked confused. “I'm not sure what I'm supposed to be feeling. It's all pretty solid.”

 

“That's the baby's bottom. He's head down, and although he's not engaged, it's pretty tight for space in there now. He hasn't got much room to move. So what happens to all the ki swimming around inside him?”

 

Yamcha shrugged.

 

“The same as the rest of the blood and nutrients that aren't needed, they travel through the umbilical cord into me, for my body to get rid of for him. Unlike the blood which goes straight to my kidneys, my body doesn't see the ki as a waste product and so instead of getting rid of it, it absorbs it.”

 

“No way!”

 

Bulma laughed. “That's right. He's not just a baby, he's my own little battery - constantly giving my body the energy it needs to carry him. Nifty, eh?”

 

“Amazing!” he agreed. “Just when I think I've seen it all, these Saiyans still manage to shock me.”

 

He removed his hand and took a step back to perch on the end of her desk. They watched together as the sun finally lost its grip on the horizon and fell behind. It was only after the sky darkened and the lights automatically switched themselves on that Yamcha spoke again.

 

“You know,” he said with a sideways glance at her. “I was at Goku's this morning. He asked after you.”

 

Bulma sighed. Goku! She hadn't seen him in so long. “And what did you say to him?” she asked, somewhat cautiously.

 

“As little as possible. He already knows we aren't together so I told him about Kiko. When he asked after you specifically I told him that I don't really see you that often, which I guess isn't a total lie.”

 

“Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

 

“Yeah well, I still don't see what the big problem with Goku knowing is,” he admitted. “He's one of the most liberal and open-minded people I know. And besides, he doesn't seem all that bothered with Vegeta. In fact, I think he's trying to encourage Vegeta's alliance with Earth as much as possible.” There was a pause, and a look - a look that belied light conversation and demanded particular attention. “Don't shut yourself away, B,” he said at last. “You're too strong for that.”

 

Bulma was a little shocked. Was that what he really believed she was doing - hiding?

 

“Don't be silly, Yamcha. I'm not doing this because I want to hide from having Vegeta's child, or because I'm ashamed of it.”

 

“Then why? Goku really misses you, and he's not the only one. Chi Chi, Gohan, Krillin and Master Roshi - they're all worried too. None of them have seen you for months. I don't know if I can hide it from them any longer.” He looked her firmly in the eye. “I'm not sure I want to.”

 

She reached out a hand, which he took and stroked the back of. “Listen to me Yamcha. Were I the only one involved I would have sung it from the rooftops months ago. I'd be at Son Kun's every weekend with Chi Chi asking for advice and tips, rather than sitting at home, worrying my parents over every little niggle. If I had it my way I'd be going to Kame island topping up my tan and letting everyone see how perfect the bump is that's bringing my child into this world, but I haven't been given that luxury. This is Vegeta's child too, and whatever happens hereafter, I have to be sensible about that.”

 

She looked away, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the glass. Her hair was long and slick, just grazing her chin. Her complexion was fresh and her eyes sparkled. Yamcha was right; she did look good - funny how the exterior could hide the truth so flawlessly.

 

“You… you were the only person he wanted to know about our relationship, Yamcha. Vegeta runs very short on trust. He says he trusts me now, but what good is that trust if I don't honour it? You know how violent his competitiveness with all of you is, especially where Goku's concerned. I have to tread as carefully as I possibly can. It hurts now. It hurts to shut out my closest friends from what is one of the happiest events of my life, but I have to look at the bigger picture. There is more at stake here than me, please understand that!”

 

“It sounds to me like you're afraid of him.”

 

“That's rubbish and you know it!” she defended. “You said earlier that I'm a strong woman, Yamcha, and it's true - I am strong, and I'm having to be stronger now than I've ever been in my life.” She paused - choosing her words carefully. “I'm afraid for Vegeta, but I'm certainly not afraid of him.”

 

“Afraid for him. What do you mean by that?”

 

“No expectations, no disappointment,” she said, not answering him directly. “If there is one thing Vegeta tried to drill into me it was not to have any expectations, and although I understood it, in the end I did everything I could to avoid facing up to it. I didn't care that he would throw my words back in my face or that he was cold and aloof, because when all was said and done, it felt like I'd gained a part of him that no one else ever had. Attention and retraction of it. Through those means I got him to open up to me, caught his fancy, and I vainly hoped that I could somehow manage to influence his nature. He's very singular in his goals, obsessive to an extreme that I've never seen in someone before, and somewhere in there was a little niche I'd carved out through persistence alone. I dunno. I know it sounds corny, but I would have liked to help him more, perhaps even guide him into being a better person, but I took it too far. I got too involved. I don't regret it for myself, but I do for him. Just like eating after being starved, I should have given my time to him a little at a time, and I did to start with, but in the end all I did was keep stuffing more bread in his mouth until he choked. It was stupid… stupid… stupid… stupid!”

 

She pounded the arm of her chair with a small fist to give her words the extra meaning they deserved.

 

“I was getting through to him before… well… before we took things further. I am sure of it. Now I'm afraid I've pushed him further away from finding himself than he ever did on his own. I've interfered too much, and I'm not going to risk doing it again.” She looked up - months of forced thought and determination shone in her eyes. “The best thing I can do now is to keep his trust. I'm looking forward to his return, but that is all. I'm going to keep my distance from him as much as possible, just like I intended to over a year ago. That way I won't damage the only thing substantial between us - our trust of each other.”

 

“I think that's a good plan,” Yamcha agreed, “but it will be hard, especially if you're living together for a while before the androids arrive.”

 

“Well, I'm not sure when he's coming back, but when he does, if I feel my control slipping - then you're gonna be the first one I call, okay?”

 

“It's more than okay, B. You were there for me when things were weird with Kiko. It's about time I repaid the favour.”

 

She laughed. “We make a tragic pair, don't we?”

 

“Speak for yourself!”

 

“Great!” She pouted. “Even my best friend thinks I'm a nutcase.”

 

“I don't think anything,” he teased.

 

“Well,” she harrumphed. “Nutcase or not, at least I can say that two good thing have come out of all this.” She rubbed her belly to emphasise one.

 

“It sure has! I still can't believe you're going to be a mum? But what is the other?”

 

“It's given me the opportunity to see that Vegeta does have some good in him. You might think I'm crazy to say it, but it's true. I've seen it, and I'm pretty sure he knows it too. He's just got to figure out that it's up to him to make his own decisions now. I don't think he's used to that. That's part of the reason I've kept the pregnancy a secret. I know everyone will find out sooner or later, and I'm sure Vegeta does too, but I will honour his wish for secrecy until he can have a say in the matter himself.”

 

Yamcha closed his eyes and nodded solemnly. “I always figured you had a good reason, but it's hard when they all keep asking after you. Chi Chi's persuaded Goku and Piccolo to start driving lessons, and - had they not made a complete balls up of their first test - I think you would have had a visit before now.”

 

“Piccolo… driving!” A smile cracked on Bulma's face at the mental images it conjured. “Oh my! Now wouldn't that be a Kodak moment!” Yamcha's face, however, sobered her. “Okay, I know. I'm skirting the issue, but I have an idea to help ease your conscience, and to allay a few of their worries.” She put her feet down and scooted the chair as close to the table as her stomach would allow. “The phone's been plugged in, right?” Yamcha nodded and she started dialling, putting to rights what she should have sorted out months ago.

 

She spoke to Goku for several hours, tag teaming with Yamcha when the conversation swerved. She told him that Yamcha had scolded her for her neglect and that she was sorry, giving her increased work responsibilities as an excuse. She spent a lot of the time describing her new offices and then went on to talk about the latest ventures she was embarking on - not letting up long enough to feel awkward or to leave room for more probing questions.

 

The call was ended on the promise that she would visit as soon as her workload lifted, and spend some time with them in the mountains, a promise she wasn't necessarily unequal too, were her mum willing to babysit for the odd afternoon later on in the year.

 

Yamcha didn't stay for much longer after that. He had his own responsibilities, and although Bulma was more than willing to spend the whole evening in the office talking with her friend, she conceded that Kiko had just as much right to him now as she did -- probably more.

 

It was almost ten o'clock before she eventually made it home. She parked the aircair by the front door and rather clumsily exited it. If there was one thing she'd learned early on into her pregnancy, it was that carrying a child meant losing all balance, poise, and dignity. Once indoors she laid the bag of empty capsules on the dresser, and suddenly feeling the long day she'd spent ordering Yamcha about, she made a beeline for her bedroom.

 

She didn't, however, make it that far.

 

Her father accosted her in his pyjamas on the landing. There was a wild expression on his face - the sort that usually meant he had something exciting to tell her. “Bulma!” he gasped as though out of breath. “Tell me what the use of having a mobile phone is if you leave it on the kitchen table? I've been trying to call you all evening, but the office line was engaged.”

 

Oh yes… there was another thing pregnancy stripped you of - brain cells. “I'm sorry, Daddy, but I'm here now. What's got your panties in such a bunch?”

 

“Come with me,” he answered enigmatically.

 

Bulma was left with little choice but to follow as he grabbed her hand and escorted her along as though he were a five-year-old with a very special secret to tell. She was led on through the music room, around the curved outside of the observatory and out onto the first floor patio. Her father's bare feet slapped on the tiles as the both walked towards the balcony edge, and the closer they got, the more urgency Bulma felt in her feet.

 

“There,” he said, proudly showing her the circular shaped spaceship embedded in what was once the back lawn - as though she could possibly miss it. “He's back!”

 

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AN - I apologise - this is late and shorter than previous chapters. It just felt like the natural finish - or the most evil - *sniggers* take your pick. My art has taken precedence recently because I'm going free-lance and will hopefully be making a little pocket money out of it. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop writing though. I will do my hardest to keep updating regularly.

 

*hugs*

 

Ember