Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Doubts ❯ Unwraveling ( Chapter 9 )

Doubts: Chapter 9

The pain of a shattered jaw exceeded the vagrant's deepest imagination. Everything became red-tinged and blurry. He could barely comprehend what was going on around him, much less bear witness to the enraged advance of a certain alien who was still several feet off. His dusky hands scrabbled uselessly against the stringy mat of his beard and blood, while his whisky-damaged brain gave off unbearable bursts of agony. It was only when Vegeta had stopped right in front of the man that he spied the tips of the Saiyan's boots. Eyes laced with crimson marbling rolled upward loosely, reflecting momentarily on his ultimate demise.

Vegeta did not waste a single second. Without the slightest bit of empathy for the wound the vagabond had incurred, he bent at the knees long enough to secure the bottom plane of the man's jaw, right in conjunction with his jugular. He lifted easily, bringing the shocked man up into the air. A bloodcurdling howl erupted from the man's throat, a sound that seemed more animal than human. Anyone with any pity at all would have put him out of his misery right then and there, but apparently that particular emotion was always one far from Vegeta's mind in the first place.

As the unnamed man fought with his aggressor and let his scream fall into a bubbling mass of incoherent gurgles, Bra finally looked up from where she had placed her forehead against Bulma's right shoulder. As an intersecting weave of trailing tears filtered down her cheeks, she watched with a mix of awe and horror at the scene before her. Yes, it had been true that she had broken her offender's jawbone in the first place, but the extent of the damage was truly unintentional. Her only motive then was to be free of him, and frankly she did what had to be done. When Pan had fought him prior to that, he had always got back on his feet, without any true damage to speak of save a little blood. The girl had seen fights that both her father and brother participated in before, and so to her it was natural to observe physical damage in that respect. As far as death... well, it was safe to say that even in the farthest reaches of their memories, neither of the girls had truly seen the termination of a life.

Bra turned her head a bit, directing her terrified gaze to Pan. Much to her surprise, Pan was staring right back. Their thoughts echoed through their expressions, and it was only in a moment of revulsion that Bra broke off from her mother, a fresh coat of tears glinting in her eyes. "Daddy! Don't!"

Taken aback by Bra's sudden movement and outburst, Bulma reached out to grab her child, but it was to no avail. Bra was already heading for Vegeta, and Pan stood closer to her friend than she did Bulma at that point, too.

Vegeta was busy calculating a slow end for the vagabond. He barely squeezed his grip on the man's throat, which brought forth another stream of muffled coughs and wheezes. Not only was the man purple in the face and drowning in his own blood, but he was also suffocating by Vegeta's hold. The way the poor human clawed and moved his legs in a useless bicycling motion brought a sneer to the Saiyan's face. It brought back old memories, to say the least. In that it almost felt good, like picking up some old habit that brought relief to stress. Killing was just like that to Vegeta. He could have simply incinerated the filthy creature he held now in an instant, but because of the atrocities committed against his daughter, he would pay. He wanted the man to suffer each moment and feel it for as long as possible... until he heard the high cry of Bra's plea, that was.

Bra had reached the circumference of her father's strong, visible power. Both of her small hands were reaching for him, her eyes begging him to stop. "Please, Daddy! I think he learned his lesson!" Her bright blue eyes were focused on the pathetic form of the bum, who was beginning to cease his struggles as his muscles began to shut down systematically. "He's hurt enough."

Pan rushed forward, standing aside of Bra as she refrained from speaking. Bra was on a role, and Vegeta wouldn't give a damn to any word she said, anyways.

Bulma scuttled to her feet, bringing up the rear behind her child. Putting her hands gently on Bra's shoulders, she raised her eyes affirmatively to Vegeta. Bra was right. If anything, she couldn't allow Vegeta to torture the vagabond to death right in front of both of the girls, no matter what he had done to them. At such a young age, nightmares were the least of her worries. It was unknown what such a thing would do to them mentally, in the long run. As she processed these thoughts, she recalled how Vegeta had been around death and dying at a tender age himself, and with the way he turned out... she didn't need to think over that twice. "Vegeta," her voice breathed, attempting to gain the attention of her mate, "I think you should go give that man a... a... lecture.. about being nicer to children. Don't you?"

Without setting the vagrant back on his feet, he briefly allowed the outer stimuli that Bulma, Bra and Pan presented to enter his cold focus. His head angled over to them, while his voice came out as acidic, "Have you gone completely over the edge, woman?? What kind of..."

He caught 'that look' from Bulma just then. As a heap of nonverbal communication fell back and forth between them, he gritted his teeth. How weak did she think him, that he would actually stop with the lingering demise of the grimy beast he now held in his own hands? Any harm that came to his family would be met with open opposition from his side, but another look at Bra settled any argument he might have had up to that point. Bulma was right; as much as he hated it, he couldn't possibly kill the man in front of Bra or even her half-baked friend, for that matter. It didn't stop him from doing it elsewhere, however.

Bulma eyed him specifically again, and that was all the further urging he needed. For appearances only, he loosened the vice-like grip he had on the man's throatlatch. The vagrant sucked in a chilling amount of air, eyes wide and arms flailing once again. It was almost ironic that Vegeta was letting himself ease up on the ascertained fate of the man just now, but it would have to do until Bra and Pan were no longer a watchful audience. It took a tremendous amount of willpower alone not to kill him then and there, but some weak emotion made him unable to go through with it. It was unfortunate that there was a time when he wouldn't have thought twice on the matter, but things had changed since then.

"Yes.." Vegeta stole a glance down to Bra, his mouth set in a grim line. You had better appreciate this later, kid. "...I will... speak with him on the subject." Without wasting another second, the Saiyan zipped off in a trail of energy that left a temporary streak in the sky. He would satisfy the coursing anger shooting through his fists in a more suitable location, devoid of witnesses.

Bulma exhaled in a sigh she hadn't realized that she had been holding. Giving a second examination to the relieved girls, one of which who had entirely bought the story of Vegeta 'lecturing' the man on his wrongs, she finally allowed all of her frustrations to spill forth. "You two have a lot of explaining to do."

Bra dropped her head into her chest, sniffing to gain whatever pity Bulma might have to give her a more lenient sentence. "Yes, Mommy."

Pan shot a look into the sky, suspicion darkening her countenance. Vegeta, chewing that ratty old man out for harming them? Yeah, right. For once, she would be glad to accept whatever punishment that might be handed down to her once her parents got wind of the entire fiasco.

It was more than she could say for the vagabond.

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Back at the Briefs' residence, much, much later...

"Of all of the stupid, idiotic..." Bulma wore a hole into the tile of the foyer by pacing back and forth. She must have done it a million times since the point that she had gleaned every single tidbit from the girls, from start to finish. She had no patience for Bra's tears by then, for those were old hat. Pan's diversions and reduced eye contact only aggravated her more, but in the end she managed to get down everything. Needless to say, they got quite the scolding. After it was over, she almost felt sorry for Pan. Gohan and Videl's daughter would no doubt have to repeat the consequences of her folly with her own parents.

Now that the girls were in bed and under the watch of an employee for Capsule Corporation, Bulma was anticipating the return of Vegeta. It had taken him a considerable amount of time, even for what she knew he had planned. Truthfully, the knowledge that he was taking his time to kill someone by some nefarious means brought a sickening sink to her stomach. All throughout those many years, and some things still remained strong within him. You can take the man away from the killing, but never the killing out of the man, she reminded herself. With shaking hands, she fumbled into the recesses of her business suit to remove a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. She withdrew a single cigarette, bringing it to her lips and lighting up before depositing both the pack and lighter back into the depths of the pocket again. She was now well into her fifties, and had accepted the fact decades ago that those little sticks of nicotine might just be the end to her own life. It didn't much to her then when she started, and it sure as hell didn't matter now. She inhaled smoothly, and then separated the end of the cigarette from her lips as she exhaled a steady stream of smoke into the air. At the same time, she dimly heard the front door open.

"I will never understand why you like those things so much. They foul up the air I happen to breathe."

Bulma's eyes widened considerably and she almost lost the cigarette she held nimbly between two fingers. "Vegeta!" From her vantage point, she could clearly see the blood on his hands. It was dark and had dried in crusting splotches. He stood in the now open door that led out to the front yard of the Capsule Corp. compound, looking the same save for the crimson patches sticking to his digits. She met up with his left side quickly, her eyes asking a silent question that her vocal chords worked to query, "Did you..?" It was dumb thing to ask him, but her mind needed to make that particular closure.

"Of course, woman. Do you actually think I would let him live?" he snapped.

"No, its just... nevermind." She let a fragment of silence hang between them, before shifting gears again. "Bra and Pan admitted to breaking the GR, stealing the food out of the refrigerator and taking the motorcycle." Bulma let it all come out at once, as if afraid to give only snippets at different intervals.

He snorted, apparently indifferent to shock or surprise. "I had a hunch they were up to no good."

"As if!" Bulma retorted, shaking her head. "You didn't have a clue. Naturally, it was I who thought it a possibility."

He muttered something beneath his breath, stalking past her to enter the kitchen. She briefly heard the sound of running water from the tap, and then she took the initiative to follow after him. "What are you doing?"

"Getting that low creature's blood off my skin, what else?" Vegeta stated it as if he was explaining it to a mere child, not a full grown woman that happened to be a genius.

Bulma grated her upper set of teeth against the lower, before authoritively crossing her arms against the fabric of her beige suit. "Are you trying to avoid the topic, or something? While you were taking your time out there, I had to do the hard part and scold those two."

"The hard part? You chew out two children, and you proclaim it as hard? You do that on a day to day basis with everyone, woman. It should come naturally to you by now." He spoke as if he were chewing on broken glass and spitting out shrapnel.

Bulma made an inarticulate sound at the back of her throat. The nerve! "Whatever, monkey man. The only reason I get stuck with that part is because you don't even have a basic understanding of morals!"

"Are you questioning my sense of justice?" The Saiyan's voice had taken a warm, low undercurrent that swam fast and dangerously. He turned from the position that faced the sink, glaring daggers at her.

She wasn't even phased. Before giving him a straight answer, she took a last puff of her cigarette and stamped out the remainder via an ashtray perched atop the kitchen table. "Yeah, I wonder. Did you have to torture him?"

"What makes you think I did?"

"Don't play that game with me. We both damn well know you did."

Vegeta scowled, his brow furrowing. "Don't even think about wishing him back with the dragonballs, woman..."

"I'm not that dumb, Vegeta. I'm angry too, remember? I also don't have any doubts as to where Bra got her conniving personality."

Vegeta almost seemed to take a hint of pride in that, but it was really hard to tell with the leer that had adhered itself to his face. He shifted his weight to the opposite leg, tearing his gaze from Bulma's angry features. As he concentrated on the closed, white door of the refrigerator, he commented calmly, "It doesn't matter. Your daughter broke the training simulator, and then removed the food, as you said..."

He didn't get to finish. Bulma raised her hands, flinging them into the air as she screeched, "My daughter? Kami, Vegeta, you say that so often you would think I conceived her by asexual means! What the hell do you mean, my daughter?! She's yours too!"

He only smirked in response. "She looks exactly like you. I wouldn't be surprised."

Bulma repressed the urge to hit him across his smug face, and wipe it into a clean slate. "Bastard."

"You never let me finish from before, Bulma." When he used her name, she knew it was serious. Now he was beginning to sound weary, as if the exasperation he had felt all throughout that day had finally become so much that he had to express it outwardly to rid himself of it.

"Go ahead, but no smart-ass comments."

He looked affronted. "Fine. Like I said, she may have done those things, but that idiot 'friend' of hers might have led her on..."

Bulma hastily cut him off. "What, trying to find an excuse for your daughter, Vegeta?" She smiled as his normal scowl fell into place, the veneer of exhaustion wiped clean. "Bra confessed to dragging Pan along with it, actually. It doesn't make Pan any less guilty, but I just want you to know before you start blaming this all on Pan's relation to Goku."

"That miserable Kakkorot," he swore beneath his breath, "I..."

Again, he was interrupted as Bulma swiftly deflected any chance of furthering his sentences. "Shut up and listen, would you? Don't you want to know why she did what she did?"

Her actions thus far only darkened his scowl further. He appeared on the edge of violence, although she knew she would never be at the receiving end. Nearly snarling, he countered, "What?"

"She felt you and I argue too much. She thinks we hate each other."

Any further words died with his frown. He seemed surprised, but hastened to cover the expression behind a mask of more indifference. "So? Let her."

"Let her??" Bulma was clearly shocked at his simplistic resolution to the dilemma. "Just let her? Oh, for Kami's sake, Vegeta. We are her parents, who happen to live beneath the same roof. If we were separated, it wouldn't be that way." She shook her head, before adding softly, "She has a point, you know. With these last few weeks we have been at each other's throats."

He chuffed gruffly and crossed his arms against his chest defensively, which mimicked her. "Do you think I actually think I care about any of this?"

"Yeah, I do."

He just shook his head and turned away, heading for the foyer once more. "Baka woman. There is nothing wrong with things as they are." He left in the direction of the Gravity Room, abandoning her to the cold solace of the kitchen. She shook her head sadly, before a single, silent tear made its presence known by sliding down a pale cheek. Bulma chided herself for crying at that stage in her life. Kami only knew how many tears Vegeta and put her through over the years. This time around shouldn't have been any different, yet she found herself wondering again just how much he did care.

You are far too blind for your own good, Bulma. Even a first grader can easily see what you try to ignore, time and time again.

She exited the kitchen, went upstairs and threw herself on top of her bed. Her body became quickly wracked with sobs, long into wee hours of the morning.

-AN: Whew! Chapter 9 finished. One more to go and then this fic is done. R&R, please!