Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A Saiyan For All Seasons ❯ Come What May ( Chapter 21 )

A Saiyan For All Seasons

 

Chapter Twenty

 

Come What May

 

Thank you Lisa B for beta-ing.

 

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Bulma stood at her office window. It had a good vantage point to view the sun which was setting in a beautiful warm glow. She could still see for miles around. On the horizon was a tanker steaming through the choppy waters of the open sea. To the east were the rolling hills, which formed a bank of green and gold that West City nestled so comfortably beside. To the west was the great urban sprawl she called home, spread out like a giant concrete picnic blanket across the otherwise lush landscape. From there it tapered down to a complex of angular roads that contained her new offices and the marina itself. Fishing vessels, commercial freight, and pleasure crafts all moored there. She could see the boats bobbing up and down on the water as they fought for their continued right to stay tethered side by side. They were neatly packed between the marina infrastructure. Office blocks and apartment buildings flanked the jetties like giant dominoes.

 

She blew the top of her coffee cool, before returning to her desk. The last two folders of the day lay waiting for her attention. She only had those to read and sign. After that she would go home, have something to eat, find Trunks and take him out to Vegeta's new capsule training room. This was their new routine. It was soothing and inspirational having Trunks close by when she worked on the capsule. No problem was too complex and no challenge too great. It calmed Trunks as well, and he often fell asleep in Vegeta's training room more easily than he did in any other room of the house.

 

The capsule was almost ready--- two full weeks ahead of schedule! Bulma couldn't be happier, hadn't been happier than when she was working on it. For months she had been infuriated that there was nothing she could do to help her friends. They were training day in and day out to save the earth. They were willing to put their lives on the line to save her and the whole of mankind. She had wanted to help so badly and now she had the chance! Vegeta had called her up to the plate, and perfection was her only option.

 

This project was his way of testing her loyalties. It was as simple as that. Their last conversation had smacked of his distrust. That, compounded by the way he dismissed her father's involvement in the whole business, only confirmed it. Now, however, she was on the verge of success, and she was proud, proud of her endeavours to juggle both her private and professional life so well. Perhaps she had used the word `genius' too flippantly in the past, but now she felt that maybe, just maybe, she had earned a little of that title.

 

There was another plus point too. Her situation with Trunks was benefiting from a change of tack. She was adjusting well to the idea of spending time away from him. Her parents were wonderful in their support, and even though she had vowed from the first stages of her pregnancy that she would not burden them with her responsibilities, she knew better now. Her parents were ready and eager to be there for her. They wanted to help and they wanted to be a part of her life with Trunks. Looking after him for a few hours a day so she could work wasn't an ordeal for them; it was a pleasure, and Bulma was now sorry for not letting them get close to their grandson sooner.

 

The cot was gone from her office, and with it went the fantasy that motherhood and work would magically meld together under one roof. This one adjustment had changed her entire office and home life. The two never got muddled together anymore. At work she had nearly reclaimed every delegated project. Only the amount of travelling involved had been curtailed. At home she was a loving and devoted mother and leading a beautiful and enriching life with her son, where sleep was no longer the exception but the rule.

 

She looked up from her file. The evening sun filled her office with both light and heat. It was a benign scene, but there was an undertone to it that felt like a thunderstorm was brewing. A charge filled the air around her, and she could see it crackling with electricity. It sent a warning shock up her spine and along her forearms before Goku materialised in front of her. She jumped back so violently that her chair tipped over. She would never get used to him just appearing like that!

 

When she regained her composure she saw that her friend was sitting cross-legged on the desk with a big grin spread wide across his face. His eyes were alive with benevolent innocence. There was nothing about his posture that hinted he'd scared her on purpose, and she managed to control her shock without chewing him out too harshly.

 

“Goku!” she gasped. “You really ought to call me before you just appear like that.”

 

“You know Chi Chi said the same thing. Women really do think alike, huh?”

 

“And men don't think at all!” she snapped.

 

He smiled, the biggest and goofiest grin he could muster. Bulma was powerless against it. She smiled back.

 

“It's good to see you,” she assured. “So, is this a social call or do I need to get worried?”

 

“It's probably best if I don't answer that,” he replied with a nervous laugh. “Here.” He handed Bulma an envelope. Her name was sprawled in red ink across the front.

 

Instantly recognizing the handwriting, Bulma gave it straight back to him.

 

“Yamcha came to see us the other day,” Goku explained. “He knows that you don't want to see him, and so he asked me to give you this.”

 

Bulma was resolute about not taking it.

 

Goku didn't give up. “I know things aren't good between you right now, but Yamcha did say there was nothing written inside that would upset you. I think he felt that it was important for him to write, just to let you know how he is getting on.”

 

“What Yamcha doesn't deem upsetting and what I feel about the situation, are two entirely different matters!”

 

“But you still care about him. I know you do.”

 

“Oh, of course I do!” she admitted, tersely. “I never stopped. You know that and so does he.”

 

“Then why not give him the benefit of the doubt? I'll leave the letter right here for you.” He placed it on the far corner of her desk. “If you want to read it then read it, and if you don't… well… there's a bin right over there.”

 

Goku paused for a moment to make sure his seriousness on the matter was heeded. With a grudging nod of the head, Bulma acknowledged that it was. The silent agreement was honoured, and the conversation moved on.

 

“Now that's all sorted out!” he said in a much more cheerful tone. “How have you been?”

 

They talked about a lot of things over the next half an hour. Capsule Corp., Chi Chi, Gohan's studies, and new training techniques. Some of it was interesting, a little was predictable, but all of it was reassuringly familiar. It didn't seem to matter how long they spent apart. She and Goku always managed to rekindle their friendship at the first sentence. It was one of those understandings that they would always share, and which would always be a delight to indulge in.

 

Eventually the conversation wound down, and Goku started to talk about going home.

 

“Thanks for coming over,” Bulma said as she gave him a long hug goodbye. “It was good to catch up.”

 

“It was,” he agreed. There was a pause. Goku had risen and all but touched his fingers to his forehead, when a stray thought seemed to halt him. He looked at Bulma with his head cocked to the side, deep in thought.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“Maybe you could help me. I've been thinking a bit about Vegeta recently and how I haven't felt his ki energy for a long time. Is he still training in space?”

 

“Yes, he is.”

 

“It worries me that he is spending so much time away from Earth. I was hoping these three years would benefit him more than it seems to have done. That spending time with good people would open his eyes a little to a peaceful existence and how he might go about finding one for himself. I mean, I was fairly sure that an event would take place and…” He stopped. “I think you know what I'm talking about.”

 

“The boy from the future,” she agreed. “Did he mention something about Vegeta?”

 

“Yes. The thing is it doesn't seem to be going the way I thought it would, if you know what I mean.”

 

Bulma did. A look passed between them, an acknowledgement of the truth that was declared but not verbalised. The young man from the future had told Goku in advance what would transpire between herself and Vegeta. It was the only explanation for the penetration of Goku's stare.

 

“I don't suppose you know how time travel works?” he asked a moment later, as though to test the water.

 

“I have a few theories,” she admitted cautiously. If Goku pressed the issue then she would tell him all, but she really hoped he wouldn't. “What would you like to know?”

 

“There are three months left until the Androids are supposed to arrive. I have no proof that they will come at all. It makes me feel a little nervy.”

 

“There are lots of variables involved in a disruption to the timeline of this nature,” she explained. “Names, facts, dates, times… anything is possible. Chances are that the boy from the future's appearance in our timeline has disrupted it so much that even he doesn't know if his predictions will come true. We've prepared as much as we can for every eventuality. I don't see that there's much else we can do. We're not going to get very far by second-guessing our own futures. Let it play out for a little longer and see what happens.”

 

“Of course,” he agreed. “You're right. I'm just being silly.”

 

“You're not being silly. It's a natural reaction to be nervous before a big fight.”

 

“Not for me. Maybe it's because I know that I'm supposed to die.”

 

“That would do it for most people.”

 

“But I'm excited as well!” he enthused. “It's been far too long since I had a chance to test myself like this, but I know I'm in the best shape I possibly can be.”

 

“You will win, won't you Son-Kun?” she asked, uneasy about his reply. Goku had never spoken about being nervous before a fight in all the years she'd known him. It was his confidence that installed it in everyone else. If he was worried then Bulma really knew things were bad.

 

He smiled and clapped a strong hand on her shoulder. “Piece of cake,” he said, and then teleported out of the room.

 

Alone once again, Bulma was left to muse over her conversation with Goku. Three months. What with running Capsule Corporation and worrying about Vegeta and Trunks, she had hardly given a thought to it recently. An event that seemed an age away was suddenly upon her. The room felt cold. A shiver rushed down her spine as she contemplated her own mortality and that of those around her. “Three months,” she sighed, laying her head on the table. “I always new this time would come, but for some reason I just blocked it out and carried on with my life regardless. I hope it was the right thing to do.”

 

She looked up and saw the envelope on the corner of her desk. Did she dare open it? “Three months and I might never see him again.” The light was fading quickly. The spotlights above her desk would turn on any minute. “I owe it to him to read it.” Her decision made, she grabbed the letter and stuffed it into the inside pocket of her suit jacket. In the next moment she had shut down her computer, filed the daily reports, and left the room. The office was too impersonal. She needed to be at home.

 

It was three hours later. Trunks' breathing was feathered with a light snore and steady enough to convince Bulma he wouldn't wake up anytime soon. It was only then, and under the soft glow of a monitor screen that she dared to investigate the letter further. Her work jacket was discarded over the arm of the pilot's seat. So eager had she been to start work on Vegeta's project that she hadn't even got as far as putting on overalls. Work had continued and grease splattered her clothes even though her blouse sleeves were rolled up at the arms, and her skirt was hitched high (due to manoeuvring under a particularly small gap in the panelled wall.) The envelope poked ominously out from the inside pocket, inviting her to read it. She plucked it out, ripped open the top of the envelope, and then sat down to read.

 

“To Bulma,

 

I know you don't want to hear from me at the moment, but I needed to tell you something, and for both our sakes it couldn't wait. You were right about everything, and I'm sorry. It always amazes me how good you are in a crisis. How you see right through the situation and act so quickly. You sure knew how to handle me, and from what I've learned since, how to make others see what needs to be done.

 

I've done a lot of thinking these last few weeks, about how my life got so out of control. How I managed to ignore so many things when the warning signs were as clear as day. Going into the desert that last time was a prime example. I knew I had to spend some time away from you, and yet what did I do? I left a letter in Kiko's care that almost demanded your attention over hers. No wonder then that she threw it away.

 

Kiko has left the city and gone to stay with her sister. When I got back from Capsule Corporation, she'd already taken all her possessions from the apartment. I wasn't surprised, but it cut me. Cut me more than I ever realized it would. The loss of her and the loss of you Bulma, because yes… as ridiculous as it sounds, and pathetic and blind were my hopes, I still had them for our future together as a couple - showed me how ridiculous I was being. How I was living my whole life as a fantasy and hurting everyone around me. I can see it all so clearly now.

 

Don't feel sorry for me, B. I got what I deserved. I just hope I'll get the chance to rebuild my life. Have you ever thought about what might happen in three months time? I think about it all the time now. I know you don't want to hear this, but it's from the heart. I couldn't bear the thought of dying knowing you are still angry with me, or that you still thought I was angry with you. I'm not angry at all. You've been a great friend to me, Bulma.

 

Thank you.

 

Yamcha.”

 

Bulma read the letter impartially. She knew that somewhere she was feeling sadness for her friend's situation, but it didn't affect her as much as she thought it would. There was hope woven into the pain of his words, and that couldn't be ignored. Kiko had left him. Yamcha hadn't treated it as a surprise, and Bulma agreed that it wasn't. From the first moment of their encounter in the hallway, the signs were there. Yamcha's flippancy towards their relationship would have tested even the most devoted couple. It was better for both of them this way. A new beginning! Oh how cruel would it be for that to be denied to them now. The end of the letter did affect Bulma. She couldn't help but be pleased to know that he held no grudge over her actions, and she felt relieved that even now he still spoke of their friendship as one that was strong.

 

“I couldn't bear the thought of dying knowing you are still angry with me.”

 

Those were the words that unsettled her most, and she realized instantly that the situation had to be rectified before the androids arrived. Her plan was simple. She would write a few short lines in return to his letter and invite him to her home on the morning of the Androids arrival. It only seemed right that they should lay aside their troubles on that day, face their new future together, and the threat that dared to ruin it.

 

With her mind made up, she placed the envelope back into her jacket pocket and returned to working on the capsule. It was so close to being finished. Only a few more system checks to do, and then she could get stuck into the necessary extras like the new five thousand zeni surround sound stereo, the isotonic sports drink dispenser, and the pink fluffy dice that would hang tauntingly above the pilot's control.

 

Ten minutes later Bulma was ankle deep in the cooling hose from panel 5XC, when an almighty boom sounded across the compound. The capsule groaned and shuddered as though half the city had been destroyed. The force didn't quite knock her from her feet, but she did scrape a cleft out of her calf as she steadied herself against the sharp metal of the open panel.

 

“Shit!”

 

As calmly as she could, she extricated herself from the metal tubing and moved to the cot to check on Trunks. His eyes were open wide, and he had a puzzled expression on his face, as though he were thinking about whether the situation annoyed enough to cry or not. He was unhurt, and when Bulma picked him up to check him over, he was perfectly happy to nuzzle into the crook of her neck and settle back down to sleep. She held onto him for much longer than was needed. Action and movement were required to steady her thoughts and feelings. Flickering waves of excitement and anticipation licked along the inside of her stomach, and as she stroked the soft baby down on the back of Trunks' neck, an unmistakable ki washed over her as though it were caressing her in return.

 

There was no doubt about it. Vegeta was back, and she closed her eyes to try and hold back all the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

 

“Can you feel that, Trunks?” she asked the sleeping child, as he drooled over her neck. “It's Daddy.”

 

Bulma laid Trunks back down in his cot, and went to the main console to find her phone. She flipped it open, dialled the night manager, and let it ring. Her attention drifted to the open panel while she waited. Eight hours later and it would be ready to go. Damn he had rotten timing!

 

“Good evening, Miss Briefs.”

 

“Good evening, Jonathon. Capsule four is back. I need you to round up the rest of the night team and head out to the front lawn. It will need cooling so we can capsulate it as soon as possible.”

 

“Understood. We'll be there in ten minutes.”

 

“Make it five.”

 

“Yes Ma'am.”

 

She flipped the phone shut again and, unable to resist temptation, opened the hanger door. Security lighting lit the front lawn enough for her to see the destruction wrought on it. A few car alarms were wailing into the night sky, but no significant damage had been done. The spaceship had imbedded itself into the shingle drive and missed the front porch by mere centimetres. It didn't look in nearly so bad shape as it had the last time. It was dirty, there was no question about that, but it was still spherical and boldly displayed the Capsule Corporation logo on the side. It wasn't cold outside, despite the frost on the floor. The heat coming from the spaceship's hull was immense.

 

Movement on the balcony drew her attention away from the crash site. The impact had woken her parents. Her father was dressed in his long, white, winter nightgown and her mother in something considerably skimpier, accessorized perfectly with blue plastic curling rollers.

 

“It's okay!” she called up. “I'll handle it. You guys go back to bed.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Absolutely! Jonathon is already on his way. I'll be fine. Night, guys.”

 

They waved and disappeared back into the house. Bulma glanced back at Trunks. He would be fine for a few minutes, and so she continued to walk down the ramp. There was an almighty noise the closer she got to Vegeta's spaceship. The outside plates, burning hot from the capsules entry into Earth's atmosphere, hissed and groaned loudly as they cooled. The lights inside were on, and she could see movement inside. Her pace quickened. The exit ramp was lowering just as she arrived. The steam rising steadily from the hull curtained the entire structure and looked eerily beautiful. Vegeta's outline, shadowed and distorted, pooled into view behind it. His bold silhouette showed muscle, grace, and arrogance, all in one mesmerising vision. His arms were folded as he walked through the burning hot steam as though it were no barrier. He sure knew how to make and entrance, she had to give him that.

 

“You're two weeks early,” she snapped, determined to make their meeting as volatile as usual.

 

“As you see.”

 

“I seriously hope you're not wanting to train straight away. I'm a genius, but I'm not a miracle worker.”

 

“Hmph!” A repugnant little scowl disturbed his handsome features. “So you failed.”

 

For now she was prepared to put up with all the demeaning behaviour his pride felt necessary to throw at her. He'd kept his promise. He was back… and that was all that mattered.

 

“Oh, I never fail.”

 

“Then show me what you've done!” he demanded.

 

“Step right this way.”

 

Bulma motioned to the hanger, and she felt triumphant as Vegeta fell obediently into step behind her. All the time they walked together she could feel his eyes on her face, but it wasn't until they'd crossed the lawn and entered the open hanger that she deigned to acknowledge it. His attitude was studied and calculating, and his eyes were cold and shut off, impossible to read! Concerned, but unperturbed, she led him up the entrance ramp of Capsule training room number five.

 

He paused in the doorway and gave the hull a quick tap. “It looks no different to the pod I just left.”

 

“Ah!” she replied. “It's what's on the inside that counts. Oh and keep your voice down because Trunks is asleep in here.”

 

He made no reply, but turned his gaze a fraction to take a look at his son. “Show me how it works.”

 

“Here!” She showed him to the central control panel. “The layout hasn't altered much. I designed it that way. It took a little longer to integrate onto the old system, but it will make it easier to run in the long term.”

 

Bulma paused, hoping for some approval. She received none, and instantly felt silly for expecting more.

 

“This is the new bit,” she bragged, pushing a button to left of the main keypad. “And this is the main page. From here you can go to several areas, they just change the settings slightly. It might have a few teething issues, but we'll see how it goes. So this is the part you have to deal with.” She touched the screen and a new page opened. “This option will turn the power dampeners on and change the output to a ten point variable setting. Or in layman's terms, it will create a field around the walls of the chamber that will obscure any life signature within it. Goku could be standing right outside the door, and he wouldn't even know you were in here, unless he was spying on you through the window of course.” She winked. “Any questions?”

 

“You said I wouldn't be able to train straight away. It looks finished.”

 

“It is pretty much finished, but there are a few bugs in the system. I don't want you to use it until I can guarantee that it's safe. Eight hours. That's all I'm asking. The rest of the tweaking I can do during your down time.”

 

“Safety is of no importance to me.”

 

“Well, your safety is of importance to me!” she snapped, before realising her mistake. Her cheeks pinked a little. “Come on, Vegeta. You only just got back. Get some sleep and,” she held her nose, “take a shower first. Eight hours will fly by.”

 

“Very well. I will take a shower, but I will return straight away to observe your progress. I will not be tricked out of training.”

 

“I'm not out to trick you, Vegeta!” she said, a little hurt at his continued distrust of her motives.

 

“No,” he replied. “For once I don't believe you are.”

 

More than a little shocked at the admission, Bulma looked up and met his scowl head on.

 

“Well, I'm glad it's finally sinking in.”

 

She smiled, and really hoped that her light-heartedness would break through the tension that was palpable between them. The whole of his demeanour didn't sit well with her. She wasn't sure how she had imagined their reunion panning out, but she was convinced that it had involved much less talking, and much more passion. To say she felt cheated and cast down was an understatement. Their last conversation, the need for each other they had shared, it had all offered so much. Now it was forgotten. His face was etched into the haughty aloofness that she was used to seeing him use on her friends, but which he hadn't felt obliged to use in her presence for a very long time.

 

Try as she might she couldn't keep her emotion down and she turned her back to him in an effort to hide it. “Well,” she said, both hoping and fearing he would leave. “I better get these tests started.”

 

“Your leg is bleeding.”

 

“Hn?”

 

Bulma looked down. There was a substantial trail of blood running down her leg and it was now staining the tops of her white socks scarlet. Funny, it hadn't felt that serious.

 

“Oh crap.” She hobbled over to the pilot's seat. “I scraped it against a panel when your ship landed.”

 

She placed her foot on the main console and looked at the wound. It was deep and about four inches long.

 

“I think it needs stitches. I'll just bandage it for now, get the tests out of the way and go to the med-wing in the morning. Can you pass me the first aid kit? It should be under the floor in the left hand compartment of the bedroom.”

 

He left, and Bulma tried to clear away some of the blood with her work jacket. Great Bulma! She thought. What a way to welcome him home. I'm such a klutz!

 

He appeared again a moment later with the first aid kit in hand.

 

“Just lay it on the side. I should be able to bandage it okay on my own.”

 

Vegeta looked at Bulma and then down at the med-kit. He shook his head. “It will be easier if I do it.”

 

He calmly sat down in the other seat and gestured for her to lay her injured leg on his lap. She stared at him wide-eyed with shock. Vegeta interpreted her hesitation as fear. “I won't hurt you any more than necessary.”

 

Her heart was beating fast with anticipation. She put her bloodied leg across his lap. A surge of feelings coursed through her, but pain was not one of them. It felt like far too long ago since they last touched each other, and she wondered if he was as affected by it as much as she was. The heat radiating from him enticed her to get closer. She wanted to snuggle into his chest and use it like a security blanket. She wanted to lose herself in his essence and forget the rest of the world existed. Unfortunately the consol between the two seats made a more intimate position impossible.

 

He was a very careful and studied practitioner. The med-kit was opened slowly and methodically, and he neatly arranged the bandages and ointments into order of use. He doused a cotton ball in iodine and smirked. “You know this will hurt.”

 

“You're not supposed to enjoy it!” she snapped. “Just get on with it. I can take it.”

 

He obliged, and she instantly regretted her words. Vegeta wasn't gentle or tentative in his approach, and she had to bite down hard on her lip to stop herself from screaming out loud. She couldn't prevent her leg from trembling though, or the moisture from rising to her eyes. Vegeta chuckled and shook his head, but didn't goad her any further. He simply applied the gauze and pad, before trimming a length of bandage. There was a pause. Bulma caught his features. He stared at her leg for a while and then looked down at his gloved hands. They were stained with her blood and the iodine. He could have easily carried on without removing them, but he plucked them from his hand finger by finger. Bulma squirmed on her seat in anticipation. He wrapped the bandage neatly around her calf. His bare hands bushed against her flesh every now and then, making the most wonderful little tingles shoot along her thighs.

 

He tied off the bandage and secured it with strips of tape and a safety pin. His hands lingered, and he allowed his thumb to stroke the bare skin at her ankle. Bulma's cheeks burned a deep red and she was brave enough to look him the eye. For the briefest of moments she thought she could see a similar spark of desire and need in him, but it was all too quickly smothered. He stood and without another word, he left the room.