Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Saiyan For All Seasons ❯ Renewed Acquaintances ( Chapter 15 )

A Saiyan For All Seasons

 

Chapter Fourteen

 

Renewed Acquaintances

 

Disclaimer: DBZ belongs to AT, but he skipped on the juicy bits and that's where I step in. ^_^

 

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Bulma gave the space pod a quick once over. It was cradled in the lawn like a golf ball in a sand bunker and steam was still rising steadily from the hull.

 

“He returned just under an hour ago,” her father explained, “caused a great deal of fuss I can tell you. You think I'd be used to it by now, but no, I still lost my footing and started to panic thinking it was an earthquake. Your mother had a good laugh at my expense.”

 

Bulma walked calmly to the corner of the balcony to get a better view. The hull was a mess - so black the Capsule Corporation logo wasn't even visible on the side. Then there were the dents - some over a meter wide. It was hard to tell if the damage was inflicted by something or if the hull was just warped from repeated planet entry. The seals - which were tested at temperatures well over the standard - were completely melted away in places, which had caused the plates to bend severely out of shape.

 

“I must admit. I'm a little concerned about the amount of heat it's still giving off. I would have asked Vegeta about it myself, but I know that boy. If he wants something then he'll come to me demanding it as a necessity, and if he doesn't then it's best to leave him alone.”

 

“I think it might be wise to get a couple of people here to hose it down” Bulma said, refusing to acknowledge the reference to Vegeta. Her father was giving her a knowing parental look, which expressed a certain degree of teasing. “I don't like the way Mum's apple trees are hanging so close. They could catch, and you know how upset she will be if the blossoms are ruined.”

 

“Good idea,” he replied. “I'll sort it straight away,” Then as an afterthought. “And it will do you some good to take it all on in your own time.” He patted her affectionately on the shoulder. “No doubt it's an awkward time for you.”

 

Bulma watched him leave. She stayed on the patio for a few minutes and then followed him indoors. The view on the balcony was good, if you just wanted to see the pod, but Bulma was more interested in the occupant, and so rather than going back through the observatory, she took a left and entered the library instead. The window there gave a better view of the hatch, even though she had to kneel on the windowsill - which was large and padded for comfortable reading - with her nose right up to the glass.

 

As it happened the ramp was down and the hatch open. From what she could tell the space pod was empty. The light was on, but there were no shadows inside to give evidence of life.

 

She let out a long shaky breath and shifted to sit down rather than kneel. Her heart was beating fast. She could feel it colliding with her ribcage. Excited. Yes, she was excited at the thought of Vegeta's return. He had said he would, but that hadn't stopped the doubt lingering at the back of her mind that she would never see him again. A weight lifted. It was comforting to know he was good to his word.

 

So! What was she supposed to do now? The ship was being taken care of - her father was seeing to that - and it didn't look as though Vegeta wanted a big welcome party. There was no reason to go rushing outside like a loon to take a closer look, as she half felt inclined to do.

 

“Vegeta's back.”

 

For a long while she sat there, leaning against the glass and doing nothing but rubbing her tummy. Contemplating his return was essential, and she felt the need to tamp down what she was feeling with her resolution of indifference previous to the event.

 

“What do you think mummy should do?” she asked quietly.

 

The reply was a swift kick under the ribcage.

 

“Thanks,” she laughed, “I'll bear that in mind.”

 

She yawned and ruffled a tired hand through her fringe. “It's been a long day. Maybe I should just go to bed.”

 

Another kick.

 

“The voice of authority, eh?” she joked. “Okay then, bed it is.”

 

Her resolution was constrained but sensible. She would meet Vegeta soon enough and - whenever that was - Bulma was determined to be polite and calm in his company. Until that time, however, she would get on with things as normal. It was all she could do.

 

She helped herself up with the aid of the library steps and softly padded out of the room and to her bedroom. If only the adrenaline would stop swirling like a tornado inside her - then at least she might be able to stop shaking long enough to get some sleep.

 

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

 

It was a while before there was evidence of Vegeta making his way back into Capsule Corporation life - in the form of sweaty and torn latex laundry - and it wasn't until a good couple of days later that he was actually seen. Bulma - on the request of her father - had taken the day off work to help oversee repairs on the space pod and had therefore woken up later than usual. According to her mother, she'd missed Vegeta by half an hour. He was spotted in the kitchen claiming rights to the refrigerator as though he'd never been away.

 

“But of course I let him be,” Mrs. Brief said. “He's the father of our grandchild! He's family now and welcome whenever he decides to stop by.”

 

Bulma agreed outwardly, and even though she was carrying his child, secretly she was less inclined to think of him as a member of the family. To think it would be halfway to believing it, and Vegeta had already shown her how foolish that was. It was much more appealing for Bulma to accept him as a local stray - harsh, perhaps, but not entirely without foundation. He was more than self-sufficient when he wished to be left alone, untameable and with the strength and self-possession to strive through any hardship. He was also, however, more than willing to indulge in the finer side of life - should it suit him to do so.

 

“Dear Vegeta!” her mother enthused. “I know he's the same good-looking young man who left all those months ago, but he does, somehow, look different - taller perhaps.”

 

The backdoor was open as Bulma sat down at the kitchen table to eat her toast. She was listening intently to her mother, even if outwardly she didn't show as much, and enjoying the way the morning sun diffused through the room and mixed with the breeze from the open doorway. The bad weather of the previous few weeks was forgotten in the beauty of the warmer present. The rain had made the spring ground come alive, and there was a freshness all around that seemed to automatically lift the spirits.

 

“Taller? Well, that might be possible,” Bulma agreed, “who knows when it comes to Saiyan physiology?”

 

“And how are you this morning, Bulma?” her mum asked, pouring her a glass of orange juice.

 

“Pretty good. I used that cooling gel you recommended for my ankles last night and it worked wonders. It's weird having so much energy but not being able to do much with it. I feel like I could climb a mountain!”

 

“Mountain climbing with swollen ankles, now there's a novelty!” Mrs. Brief laughed. “But I'm glad you've taken the day off today. I really wish you'd reconsider taking some maternity leave before the big event.”

 

“Ah mum!” she said. “I feel great! Why should I stay at home? Besides you know Yamcha can get to me within two minutes of calling him. We've timed it on several occasions. I'll be fine.”

 

“Well, I know better than to try and talk you out of something when you've made up your mind. Just remember to make time for other things. Vegeta's here now, and from what your father says the space pod isn't going to be fit for travel for a while. This is time the two of you can either waste and regret, or use to good purpose. But then I'm sure you've realized that already.” She moved to the fridge. “Oh my!” she said, sorting through the contents. “I'll need to get back in the habit of cooking for a Saiyan appetite. We'll need extra groceries… oh… and what a wonderful chance to test out some new sugar pastries. Dear Vegeta has such a sweet tooth!”

 

Bulma ate the rest of her meal listening to her mother as she excitedly trawled her newest cookery books. Only the repeated appeals of, “Do you think Vegeta would prefer butterscotch or brandy butter?” roused her to say, “I really wouldn't know.”

 

Once she was done, and her dishes were washed, Bulma left the house and made her way to the hangers at the back of the compound. The sun was strong on her bare arms and she was grateful for having chosen a long white summer tunic rather than the jumper she'd considered wearing when she first woke up. It really was a glorious day and she felt a little flutter of triumph when a slow warm breeze fanned the apple blossoms, still in tact and watching over the crater in the ground.

 

She looked across the crash site. A huge ring of earth outlined the edge, blackened from the heat. The landscape gardeners would arrive in a while and come the end of the day a stranger to the grounds wouldn't be any the wiser. Still she looked on the sight with mild awe and a little excitement. Her spine literally tingled.

 

At first she attributed it to the weird majesty of the view, but the moment passed and with no little surprise, Bulma realized her mistake.

 

That feeling! It seemed like an age since she last sensed it. Startled, she looked up. At first she saw nothing, but walking a little further around the rim did the trick.

 

Vegeta.

 

He was the other side of the crater - on the patio decking outside the den. Unfortunately the Capsule Corporation grounds were large, and they were a fair distance apart. There was no way Bulma could make it a casual meeting that far from her intended destination, but she could at least appreciate the view.

 

His posture was the same classic show of arrogance she attributed to his personality. He stood - feet a shoulder width apart - with his chest pushed forward and his arms crossed sternly in front of him. He was dressed in a full body suit of royal blue. It was one of the suits her father fabricated from Vegeta's old armour while he was off planet.

 

He must have made a trip to see Dad too, she thought with just a twinge of jealousy.

 

He wasn't doing much, just standing, focusing his gaze on the palm tree directly in front of him, and yet at the same time - paying it no notice.

 

Bulma knew she ought to look away, but for some reason she didn't. How many times during his time at her home had she watched him unnoticed in just such the same position? His partiality for the peace and seclusion of that area of her father's home was still intriguing to witness.

 

Being able to sense him such a distance away was interesting. It was disturbing as well. Even Yamcha's energy would have struggled to affect her at that range.

 

Vegeta's posture shifted.

 

Bulma grew a little nervous and started to move away. She was too slow. Vegeta looked away from the palm tree, just enough to see her from under the imposing visage of two stern thick eyebrows. Those piercing black eyes fixed pointedly on her. There was something strikingly different about him, but Bulma didn't think it was his height.

 

She was in the middle of the lawn. There were no buildings close by to duck into to avoid his gaze. Her only choice was to go on. Her promise to greet him casually and politely was about to be tested.

 

Determined to make the moment pass as quickly and painlessly as possible, she put a hand on her waist and tilted her hips to the side. It wasn't an overly comfortable position when heavily pregnant, but it looked relaxed and confident, and that was all that mattered. She smiled, what she hoped was a friendly smile, and gave him a quick wink and a thumbs-up before carrying on to the main hanger.

 

The hanger door was large and mostly constructed from reinforced glass. It reflected a good chunk of the compound and gave her a surreptitious glimpse at Vegeta as she fiddled with the lock. His eyes had followed her the entire way. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks slightly and, flustered, it took her a little longer to open the doors than usual. She closed them again when she was the other side. Curiosity got the better of her. She looked up from under her eyelashes to take another glimpse. What she saw honestly surprised her. He relaxed one arm and returned her earlier welcome with an acknowledgement of his own - in the form of a cautious salute over the side of his bicep.

 

His expression was blank - as unreadable as ever - but that didn't bother Bulma. With that one small gesture he'd said all he needed to say. She smiled and then turned into the building.

 

Once she was far enough out of view, she let out a long shaky breath. “It is over,” she said, barely above a whisper. “The worst is over.”

 

The day passed well enough for Bulma. Buoyed by her encounter with Vegeta her mind was sharp and on the ball. No matter how vehemently her father quizzed her on the technicalities of their salvage operation, Bulma was equal to it all. By the end of the day the entire hull was stripped and the telemetry retrieved and categorized for analysis later.

 

Bulma found very early on that it was a surprise test. Her father delighted in springing them on her.

 

“Office work is all well and good,” he would say, “but it's far too easy to become complaisant when you're away from where the magic happens. Remember… administration was invented by idiots who want intelligent people to become just as stupid as they are.”

 

She was kept away from the serious engineering, of course, but her father acted on her orders in his inspection of the “guts of the machine” as he called it. He was covered from head to toe in grease and oil. His face was as black as tar - except for the Zorro style mask of clean skin the goggles left behind. “Well,” he said, “wiping his hands with an equally oily rag. “I think we should leave it there for today.” He fumbled on the floor for a few minutes, clearing up the tools and closing the inside panels. “All in all I think this will be a fun little project for me. It's been a while since I last had a good challenge.” There was a pause as he closed the tool case and sat down on it. “Have you spoken to Vegeta yet?” he asked. “I don't mean to pry, but I think it might well be worth your time to know his plans.”

 

“Why?” she asked, “What has he said to you?”

 

“Really,” he said. “It's not my place. It will be better to ask Vegeta.”

 

Bulma looked at him for a while. No. She wasn't going to pester Vegeta - that would completely counteract her plans. Her dad was definitely the softer touch. She had to press the issue.

 

“It might be best for you if I ask Vegeta, but finding Vegeta is like ghost hunting. Besides, you're the one who brought it up.”

 

“Only because I'm concerned.” Mr. Briefs looked at the ground and sighed. “I don't know what weird relationship you have with that man,” he confessed, “and I'm not entirely sure I want to know, but it does seem a strange business to me. From what he said to me this morning, it doesn't sound as though he's here by choice. I think he was hoping we could make this a quick bodge job and then send him on his way again. He says he still has a lot of training to do for the androids, and you know, the whole other grudge business with Goku, but he says he doesn't want to train here.”

 

Inside Bulma felt a little stab, somewhere frighteningly close to her heart, but outwardly her face didn't change. “Oh,” she said. “All that man does is train. It doesn't surprise me.”

 

“Yes, but considering, you're so close to giving birth and all… well… I thought maybe he had come back to be involved with that. It seemed right somehow.”

 

Bulma smiled and shook her head. “I told you Vegeta wouldn't want to be involved as a parent. He's just not that kind of guy.”

 

“Yes, but your mother and I… well… we know it's not the ideal relationship, and I can tell you I would much prefer that you'd settled down with Yamcha, but we want you to be happy. You deserve it, and we were hoping that maybe Vegeta's return would make you happier than you have been these last few months.”

 

“It's okay, Daddy. I am happy. Vegeta gave me something that no one else ever has,” she affectionately rubbed her tummy. “And I will forever be grateful to him for that. My little boy will make me happier and give my life more purpose than any man will. I have no idea what the future holds, especially with regards to Vegeta, but I have no expectations either. Vegeta is a free man, for the first time in his life, and it's up to him to decide for himself what he wants to do. I won't stop him from enjoying his freedom.”

 

“Well,” he said, “if that is what you want for him, then I will have to respect as much. Although,” he said, suddenly brightening as an idea hit him, “the pod isn't so badly damaged. It will probably be space-worthy in a couple of weeks. I could, however, stretch that to three or four, if someone were to press me?” He winked.

 

Bulma laughed a little. “As tempting as that is,” she said, “it's okay. Let him train.” Then after a moments thought. “Besides, we'll only be shooting ourselves in the foot if we don't.”

 

“Okay then,” he agreed. “This old man is leaving the subject well and truly alone.” He stood up. His stomach rumbled, echoing against the curved pod walls. “I think it's time for some dinner. Your mother was talking about cooking up that frozen rack of lamb we never used last week. Maybe we should get cleaned up.”

 

Bulma agreed and they both walked back to the house. Her father wanted her to help him for the rest of the week, and so as soon as dinner was over, she went to the living room to phone around and get cover for her absence at the office.

 

Her father and mother came in not long after she finished rebooking appointments. They had a bottle of wine to share and made themselves comfy to watch the evening movie. Bulma watched with them for a while, but James Stewart was the wrong era for her to get excited about, and so she made her excuses and left.

 

She had a few files she wanted to catch up on before she went to bed anyway. The den - having the best music system in the house and a laptop linked to the Capsule Corporation database - was the obvious place to go. Her ulterior motive, however, didn't have much to do with work. There was no denying that she was disappointed on entering to find the patio doors firmly locked and the room deserted, but she handled her disappointment well and carried on with her main purpose unperturbed. She grabbed the remote from the coffee table and switched the stereo on.

 

“Good evening,” the voice command system kicked in, “what music do you require today?”

 

“CD,” Bulma replied. “Compilation. Mellow one. Repeat all.”

 

“Thank you, Miss Briefs.”

 

“You're welcome,” she said politely, even though it was unnecessary.

 

The pretty verses of an old Chinese love song came alive through the speakers. This was one of her mother's favourite songs, and despite a dislike for her mother's taste of music in general, this one piece had managed to find its way into her main play list. The flute intro was stunning! She listened to it - humming along because she didn't understand the foreign words - and only started work when it finished.

 

With a sigh she turned the computer on and knuckled down. One of the files handled by her new secretary was mislabelled, and thanks to the way the current system handled the application, it threw off another fifty files by default. What initially started as a half hour project quickly escalated into a mini-crisis.

 

The creation of a patch temporarily solved the problem, but it took Bulma a lot longer than the half hour she'd originally planned. In fact the CD played through two rotations before she was in a position to start the installation.

 

There was a sudden tingling in her spine when she eventually closed her laptop - low and rhythmical - like a silken caress.

 

Her stomach knotted. Vegeta was close. She stood up and deliberately went to open the curtains. It was a little stuffy in the room, she reasoned. Some fresh air would do her the world of good.

 

She moved the curtains away from the window and hooked them in the sashes either side. Her senses weren't wrong. Vegeta was just the other side. He was facing the opposite direction, looking away from the building. The light of the den flooded over his back. It threw, not only his shadow across the decking, but hers as well. The two silhouettes pooled together in the light and looked as though they were standing in an intimate embrace.

 

She shook her head to clear the image.

 

Nervous, but undeterred, she turned the lock and let the doors slide apart.

 

“Sorry Vegeta,” she ventured, “I just need a bit of fresh air. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

 

There was no response.

 

“I can turn the music off if you want.”

 

“That isn't necessary,” he replied.

 

“Okay then.”

 

Not knowing quite what else to say she made a move to go back inside.

 

“Bulma?”

 

He spoke her name lowly but firmly. A shiver of expectation skipped down her spine.

 

“When will the child be born?”

 

“Soon.” She felt the need to say more. She didn't want to go back indoors. “My due date is in a couple of weeks but I will be induced if I go over three weeks - no longer than that. Mum went overdue with me, so I'm preparing for the worst.”

 

“I see.”

 

Bulma hung around the door, desperately trying to think of something else to say. There was so much she wanted to say to him, and yet when she tried to put it into words, her mind failed her.

 

“Is there something you wanted?” he asked.

 

“Not really. It is nice and cool out here, and I've got nothing to do right now.”

 

“Come out then. The door will do fine without you hovering around it.”

 

Bulma's legs didn't leave her any choice; they were up and moving long before she had any knowledge of it. She decided to sit down at the edge of the decking by his feet, that way, should they talk, she didn't have the embarrassment of having to face him.

 

There was silence. They'd shared similar silences before, but none - she thought - so awkward and full of expectation. Would he speak at all? She knew Vegeta was self-assured and comfortable in her presence. It worried her. He didn't need to make conversation to pass the time. The only reason he would speak was if he wanted to.

 

Bulma wasn't sure how long she sat there. The day had been warm, but there was a slight chill to the air now the sun was gone, reminding her it was still spring and not a balmy summer night.

 

“Do you recall our last conversation?”

 

“In space?” she asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

She nodded, “I remember.”

 

“I made an admission to you that day,” he said. “I told you that I trusted your honesty and integrity.”

 

“You did,” she agreed, cautious about where this line of thought might be heading.

 

“It wasn't a light comment,” he admitted. “And I will prove as much.”

 

Bulma inhaled sharply, and for the first time since coming outside, she turned to face him. He wasn't looking at her, but there was something in the slight upturn of his mouth that looked alien on him and yet endearing to his character at the same time. His body gave off a whole new feeling. It was more than just a sense - the air seemed to dance with his essence.

 

“I'm going to let you in on a secret, Bulma, a secret that I especially don't want getting back to that clown Kakarrot or the rest of the Z warriors. They will find out in due time, but for now they shall remain ignorant - just as such low class worms should.”

 

“Hey! You're talking about my friends. There's no need to be such an arsehole!”

 

He chuckled slightly. It convinced Bulma he'd said it to deliberately get a rise out of her.

 

“I am an arsehole, Bulma, no matter how determined you are to think otherwise.”

 

She harrumphed and turned away. “You're a smug jerk too.”

 

He didn't attempt to deny it.

 

Determined to keep the conversations alive she spoke again. “So what's this big secret then?” She wanted it to sound casual, but she was trembling, and the words came out shaky.

 

“To be honest I thought you might have guessed something of it already,” he admitted. “Considering your claims to me on one particularly interesting day in the gravity room. I understand, however, that being Human is a severe disability in such a matter. Or are you not as ignorant as you would make me think you are?”

 

There was a pause, as though he were sizing the situation up. The wind rustled the palm trees in front of Bulma and made her shiver a little.

 

“If you choose ignorance then I am perfectly willing to leave you guessing,” he continued, in an obvious attempt to draw her out.

 

“I'm not choosing to ignore anything, Vegeta,” she said. “I know something's different about you. What I'm not so sure about I is why it's different. I can sense it. Your energy is exactly how I remember it, and yet at the same time, completely different,” she struggled for the right words, “it's thicker.”

 

“A crude interpretation, but impressive for someone with no training in such an area,” he admitted.

 

“Not just a pretty face, eh?” she said with a wink.

 

He snorted, but made no attempt to deny it.

 

“Of course,” she persisted. “That still doesn't tell me what's different about it.”

 

“You're right,” he agreed. “It doesn't … that is why I want you to stand and look me straight in the eye.”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. Look me in the eye, Bulma, and tell me out loud what you think my secret is.”

 

Bulma stayed stock still for a moment. Looking Vegeta in the eye was no mean feat, and she felt the need to psyche herself up for it. Bulma Briefs, however, didn't back down from a challenge, no matter how powerful and clever the opponent. She took two, long, deep breathes. When her courage was high, she slid her feet to the edge of the decking and slowly got to her feet. She was in front of him now - still facing away. Expectation hung thick in the air and if asked Bulma would say she could feel him watching her every move. There was something exciting but frightening about the sensation. Vegeta had a way of giving you the impression he knew more about you than you ever knew yourself.

 

She willed her feet to move and turned on the spot to look him dead in the eye.

 

What she saw almost floored her.

 

“Holy shit, Vegeta!” she gasped. “What happened to your eyes?”

 

In truth she had a pretty good idea, but the shock of seeing them glint in the moonlight a uniform shade of teal, ripped the words from her lips before she was aware of saying them. Then again, perhaps it was justified. His eyebrows sparked with just the hint of gold, but other than that he remained unchanged. His hair was its usual rich ebony colour. When she'd seen Goku and the boy from the future transform their hair had been golden too.

 

Vegeta didn't seem alarmed or affronted by her outburst. In fact he stood taller and prouder than she had ever seen him in his life before. The gold light, seeping from his eyebrows, framed his features, and gave them an ethereal quality. The most beautiful, arrogant smirk graced his lips, the perfect vent for his pride to flow through.

 

“V… Vegeta,” she whispered, “Did you… oh my lord! Are you…” she had to ask - she had to be sure, “are you Super Saiyan?”

 

“I am,” he said. “The Saiyan Prince has claimed his birthright and you, Bulma, you are the first to see it. The prophecy of my birth is fulfilled. I feel like I have the power of a god. No.” he corrected. “To my people this would be considered becoming a god.”

 

“B…but your hair...?” she stammered.

 

“I am holding back from the full transformation,” he admitted. “The others would sense me - and as I said earlier - I don't want any of them knowing.” He chuckled. “I want to see the fear on their faces first hand.”

 

Bulma felt herself physically shake.

 

“I will not lie to you, Bulma. I didn't come back here to show you. I had no intention of returning until the Androids arrive, but I couldn't continue without getting some repairs. I can't train on Earth. They would know I am Super Saiyan the minute I started powering up.”

 

So that was why he was in such a hurry to be gone? When her father told her he didn't want to train on Earth, Bulma had taken it a little personally - as though Vegeta were deliberately avoiding her. Now that she knew, at least partially, that was not the case, it was a lot easier to take on board.

 

“Super Saiyan!”

 

She smiled for him.

 

He was Super Saiyan! The bastard had done it - he'd actually gone and done it! She felt tears well in her eyes. Any sane person would be pissing their pants with fear right now, but all Bulma could feel was pride. She was proud of Vegeta - she was happy for him.

 

He blinked and the teal was gone. Super Saiyan hidden from sight, but irrepressibly stamped onto her mind.

 

A part of her felt as though she were experiencing his pride first hand, and that pride spurred her to do something that five minutes ago she wouldn't have even contemplated doing. She took a few bold steps forward so they were face to face and, reaching over the bump of her stomach, she managed to put her arms around his shoulders to hug him tightly.

 

“I knew you would do it, Vegeta,” she whispered. “I knew you would.”

 

He didn't make any move to return the embrace, but Bulma hadn't expected he would. Much to her delight, though, he didn't push her away. He was so warm, just as she remembered him, and his skin still gave off that unique musky aroma that instantly clicked familiarity and protection in her mind. It inundated her nostrils, scrambling her thoughts and she happily indulged in the intoxication.

 

Unhooking her arms from around him, she made a move to leave, but it didn't seem as though Vegeta wanted her to. Heat pooled on her stomach as he laid a hand against it. His posture was stiff, powerful and authoritative, and yet those eyes flashed with a hint of intrigue.

 

“The child is strong,” he said thoughtfully.

 

“Of course,” Bulma agreed. “Daddy's the legendary.”

 

Vegeta chuckled at that. “True.”

 

There was a pause, and Bulma felt the need to change the direction of the conversation. There had been no communication between them since the time she told him of her pregnancy. During that time, and under the spell of the words Vegeta himself had used, she hadn't considered that he would show any interest in their baby. Unprepared for his curiosity she felt the need to by-pass it for the time being. She had two weeks to get a measure of her own fortitude on the subject. For now she just wanted to stay on the foundations. Re-acquaintance came first - building on it would come later.

 

“Super Saiyan!” she said. “The legendary.” She tried to copy the pride and majesty he projected when he spoke. “How does it feel now you finally have it?”

 

“You cannot imagine, Bulma,” he said. His chest was trembling against her shoulder he was so close. “One minute I was low, aggravated, and as drained as I have ever been in my life, and the next. Shit! The next something just fell away and there it was - the key to Super Saiyan, right there, staring at me. In the end it was as simple as flipping a switch. And fuck! The power! It felt damn near orgasmic as it flowed through me for the first time.”

 

“You cannot imagine,” he said again, as though he hardly believed it himself. “So much power. Every sense heightened. It is like being reborn. Suddenly simple things took on a totally different aspect. Touch,” he said, and Bulma was somewhat surprised when she felt his hand trailing up and down her spine. “Smell!” He breathed in deeply. “Sight, hearing - it is all heightened. Even…” He leaned over her bump as though it weren't there, and brushed his fingers over her cheek. “Taste.” His face was suddenly very close, and the next moment his lips were pressed firmly against hers.

 

Bulma felt her head swim with confusion and longing. Oh god! Months of planning, months of extracting herself from this god-damn Adonis of a man, and it all fell away within the first five minutes of being close to him. All the old need came pouring back into her faster and harder than she could properly cope with. She couldn't breathe. She wanted this so much, and yet she feared it at the same time.

 

He'd said quite categorically, “No continuance” and yet here he was, holding her and sharing the joys of Super Saiyan so intimately with her. It was beautiful! The feel of his lips - the play and insistence of his power and the deep purr that settled so perfectly in his throat - it was all so beautiful. It was all so cruel.

 

No kiss had ever hurt so much.

 

Tears gathered and dripped down her cheeks. She pulled away. “I can't do this, Vegeta,” she mumbled, wiping her cheeks so they wouldn't betray her emotion.

 

“Why not?” he asked. “In the mountains you spoke of continuance.”

 

“Yes, and if I remember rightly you didn't like the idea very much. In fact, I clearly remember you saying that there wouldn't be any.”

 

He smiled down at her. Dear god! It was an actual smile. “I changed my mind.”

 

He moved to kiss her again. This time she was prepared and held out an arm to stop him. She was shaking. He could easily find a way past her arm if he wanted to, and Bulma couldn't quite trust her resolve if that were to happen.

 

“No! Fuck, Vegeta. You can't do that. You can't just say, “That's it” one minute, and then, “I changed my mind” the next. It doesn't work that way!”

 

“I am the legendary,” he stated, as though it somehow made everything right. “Everything is different.”

 

“Yes, it is,” she agreed, “And not just with you, Vegeta.” She pointed to her stomach. “I believe you noticed this!”

 

“The child is of no more concern to me than any problem that chooses to get in my way. I will merely work my way around it.” He licked his lips, and Bulma had to physically turn away from the image it produced. Her resolve needed to be strong. For her, for their child, for Vegeta - she had no choice but to be strong.

 

“But it's not just about the physical restrictions, Vegeta. This is about the mental ones too. We've both got too much crap going on in our lives right now to be sure about anything. Do you understand what I'm trying to say here?”

 

“No,” he said, his voice commanding but obviously restrained. “I don't.”

 

Bulma took a step away from him to give herself the room she needed to think. How did she explain this so he understood?

 

“You enjoyed having sex with me, right?” she asked.

 

“What kind of a stupid question is that?”

 

“Stupid but relevant,” she insisted. “Please answer it.”

 

“Well, of course I did,” he snapped.

 

“And you liked that it was me?” She blushed. “As opposed to another woman.”

 

“I've told you several times that I'm picky about the women I have sex with,” he stated. “On Vegetasei, it was generally looked down upon to fuck those who hadn't proved themselves worthy of you.”

 

“Well, that's the thing, Vegeta. I don't know very much about your planet or how sex was regarded there, but I do know how it is here on Earth. Humans, well, we grow personal, emotional attachments with people over time, especially those we have intimate relationships with. The physical attractions we have will either fizzle out - meaning the relationship ends - or grow stronger, which triggers the addition of an emotional attachment.”

 

He looked confused by this. “You no longer have a physical attraction to me?”

 

“I'm still physically attracted to you,” she admitted - she could feel a deep blush burning her cheeks. She hoped she wouldn't have to explain further.

 

A nervous glance up, however, showed her that Vegeta understood her silence.

 

“Oh,” was all he said.

 

“Yes,” she agreed.

 

“So this emotional attachment is like friendship?” He sneered the word.

 

“In some ways, yes, and yet in others, no.”

 

He seemed displeased by this. “But I told you I didn't want anything like that from you.”

 

“I know, but want it or not - it's there. I can't do anything to stop that now.”

 

She was trembling. Admitting something she'd denied to even herself for so long, was hard, and required a certain amount of deliberation and restraint. Vegeta was silent. His brow was furrowed as he considered the import of her words.

 

“I've spent the time you were away coming to terms with and accepting that you didn't want a continuance,” she continued. “I've had plenty of time to decipher my feelings, and I've equally had enough time to control them. I'm not sure if you can relate to the way I'm feeling right now, but I hope you appreciate that it is difficult for me. I know that even if you have the capacity to feel the same - which I'm not entirely sure of - that you don't have the time to think on it properly right now, not with the upcoming fight with the Androids - and more especially now that you have achieved Super Saiyan. That's why I think it's better that we don't do this right now.”

 

There was a pause.

 

“I really am glad you are Super Saiyan though.” She felt it was necessary to end on a positive and confirm that she was happy about his transformation. “And you have my word that I won't tell anyone.”

 

“Your word isn't necessary,” he said somewhat stiffly.

 

“I know, but I want to give it anyway.”

 

“Then that is it?” he persisted. “Nothing?”

 

“Nothing,” she whispered, “at least not until you've had the time to think about what I'm saying a little more thoroughly. This isn't an absolute end, Vegeta, or rather I hope it won't be, but for now it is.”

 

“You want me to have an emotional attachment to you before any kind of continuance?” he asked. “Just so I understand completely what you're asking of me.”

 

Was that really what she was asking? Was she really asking an alien who had once struck the fear of hell itself through her heart, to care and protect it instead? Oh shit! She was!

 

“Yes.”

 

He pursed his lips slightly in thought.

 

“A confirmed union?” he persisted. “Marriage… did you call it?”

 

“Oh gosh no! Nothing like that - marriage is an empty gesture without emotional attachment.”

 

“Hn. Well, if nothing else then at least I know the limits.” He turned away from her. “You're right. It is not something I can afford to think about right now.”

 

Bulma felt her chest clench. However much she'd convinced herself of this fact, it still hurt to hear it straight from his lips.

 

“That doesn't mean, however,” he continued, “that I will ignore it forever. When the time is right, I will think on it.”

 

“Thank you,” she said, not finding a more appropriate word for the relief of her feelings.

 

He nodded and took a few steps away. Bulma thought he was going to leave, but something made him stop. He turned back and openly stared at her stomach. “A couple of weeks?” he asked.

 

She nodded.

 

“I will stay to see the child and then resume training,” he said, before turning once again and this time leaving for good.

 

Once she was sure he was out of sight, Bulma sighed. All strength escaped her body, and she sat down rather clumsily on the decking. It wasn't supposed to be this way? He was never supposed to want a continuance. Through all her careful planning she hadn't accounted for this. If she had then maybe… maybe it would have been less painful.

 

Tears flowed.

 

Bulma did nothing to restrain them.

 

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

 

A/N - I can't believe how long this chapter turned out. I haven't been able to write anything for months, and BAM! It all flows out in one gigantic gloop.

 

Special thanks to LisaB for beta-ing this for me.