Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z, or any of the characters featured therein; they belong to Akira Toriyama and whoever he's decided to share them with.

Author's Notes: All I have to say is THANK YOU to everyone who's still reading! Between the two sites, we've hit 300 reviews! That's amazing! Thank you so much!!

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PRESENT DAY

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Zarbon stood to the left of Frieza's chair, watching as the dainty overlord of this quadrant of the universe tapped long black nails impatiently against his armrest. Vegeta was late, as usual, though the saiyan always seemed to have some perfectly innocuous excuse as to why his tardiness was not a reflection of his monumental respect for their master. He rolled his eyes, wondering just exactly what it was that the tyrant saw in that repulsive little man that he allowed such insolence time and time again. Zarbon's lip curled in disgust at the jealousy that curdled his stomach; he was not so favoured as the sayain princeling and was berated by his lord for showing up anything but early.

Zarbon could not recall if he had always hated the creature to his right with such fire as he did now, and he did not think so. There had been a time when he was young and ambitious, so hungry for power that he did not see the deceit behind the pretty charade. He'd admired the self-proclaimed emperor and had willingly bowed, proudly fought, and happily shared the master's bed. He couldn't recall when it had changed, only knew that his loathing for the youngest Cold had grown to such proportions that he often feared he might suffocate with it. The openness with which Vegeta hated Frieza was enviable and frustrating to the ever-bowing Zarbon, who knew that if he so much as dared to treat the master with even a tenth of the disrespect that Vegeta did, it would be his death. A satisfying one though...still, he wasn't ready to die yet, so he'd leave the games to Vegeta.

Speak of the Devil, Zarbon thought as the prince sauntered in, exactly three minutes and forty-two seconds late. Not so much as to be overtly rude, just enough to get in a dig. The green man couldn't help but to admire such tenacity, even if it tore at his own pride to do so.

“Princeling.” Frieza greeted the Saiyan's half-there bow with ice in his voice.

“My Lord.” Vegeta inclined his head and straightened back up without being told to do so. His eyes flickered to Zarbon and their gazes met for a moment. Vegeta raised an eyebrow, and Zarbon felt a sudden, paralyzing fear that perhaps the prince could tell, could see or smell or somehow sense their kinship in hatred of the white snake between them. Was it truth, or simply paranoia in his own mind? Schooling his features, he merely returned the impertinent look. Vegeta's eyes flickered back to the master's, their split-second connection so suddenly done with.

“What have you to report?” Frieza asked, without preamble. Zarbon watched Vegeta straighten a little, the saiyan wisely interpreting their emperor's nasty mood. Things had not been going terribly well for Frieza lately, and Vegeta was smart enough to see that and tread carefully.

“I believe I am making progress.” Vegeta said, simply. “I have made contact with those who are frequent allies of Vengeance, and though I have yet to meet someone who knows his true identity, it is only a matter of time before we are able to apprehend him during one of his attacks.”

“Who are these people?” Frieza demanded, and Zarbon caught the barest hint of unease cross Vegeta's face.

“I think it unwise to say, my Lord. Should word get back to them, the resistance will close ranks and my task will be doubly hard. We are dealing with the kind of fools who do not quake in the face of death.”

“Is that why you took the tracking device from your pod?” The lizard sat forward, licking his lips as a hunter might, in anticipation of the kill. He was obviously hoping to have caught the Saiyan off guard.

“Partly.” Vegeta cocked his head, plainly having expected the question. Zarbon himself was surprised. He hadn't told Frieza about that, and the hedonistic creature hardly ever bothered to check into such boring matters himself. He wondered who'd told. Perhaps the docksmen had done a thorough checkup on the prince's pod. “I thought it best that no one knew where I was, considering the precarious situation we find ourselves in.”

“What precarious situation?” Frieza sat back, pouting. He'd plainly hoped to catch the saiyan in some sort of disobedient behaviour and was disappointed at the simple answer.

“Why, the fact of the leak in our intelligence, sir.” Vegeta said, matter of factly, with just the right hint of incredulity as to imply that such a thing should be widely known. “My Lord, how else do you think Vengeance has managed to thwart us at every turn? He has someone on the inside.” Vegeta shrugged. “And I believe this person must have access to many trusted areas of your esteemed operation, in order to feed the rebels the information that they obviously possess.”

“Ugh, you sound like Ginyu,” Frieza groaned, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. “Did you two rehearse the same speech?”

“Sir?”

“He also suspects someone on the inside, which is why he will not tell me who in the resistance he is impersonating.” Frieza continued, blessedly unaware of the sudden stiffness in Vegeta's body. Ginyu? Why hadn't he known! Clever bastard! “Imagine, being unaware of the activities of my own operatives!” Purple eyes focused pointedly on Vegeta, and Zarbon had to admire the bland look they received in return. If Vegeta was up to something, he thought, the saiyan was hiding it extremely well. And knowing Vegeta as he did, he was almost certain that something was in the works. Unlike Frieza, whose vain eyes saw the saiyans as too stupid for subterfuge, Zarbon had spent years watching the canny young prince, and knew what he was capable of.

“Sire,” Zarbon interjected, with just the right amount of veneration in his voice, “perhaps Vegeta and Ginyu have the right of it.” He smiled his most self-effacing smile, communicating to his liege that he was aware of how brash he was being, how foolish he was to dare suggest something contrary. Even at his most volatile, the Icejin was always susceptible to flattery. “If Vegeta's words are true,” he raised an eyebrow, as though this were dubious, “then he has made much more progress in the past month than in all the time we have been chasing after Vengeance in the open.”

“You, too?” Frieza whined, turning his gaze toward his most trusted underling. “Fine.” He shrugged, and Vegeta was surprised at Frieza's easy acquiescence to Zarbon's suggestion. He'd come prepared to sway the Icejin's mind with facts and reason, but had he known that Frieza would be so influenced by Zarbon's surprise support, he'd not have wasted so much time preparing his arguments. “Perhaps next I'll be turning my throne over to you three as well.” The tyrant pouted, though he waved Vegeta away with a flick of his fingers, quickly having grown bored with the discussion. So long as the little monkey produced results, Frieza really didn't care how they came about. “I'll be watching you though, princeling.” He sneered as Vegeta turned to leave the room. “So don't fuck this up. I want Vengeance dead!”

“Of course, Lord Frieza,” Vegeta replied calmly, stopping mid stride but not bothering to turn and face his master. “Your wish is my command.”

`Ginyu, Ginyu, Ginyu!' His mind raced, as he strode purposefully through the halls of Frieza's mothership, the heels of his boots clanging against the metal floor and echoing round him. He was feeling something akin to panic, trying to replay in his mind everything that had happened during his stay on Red Station, but if he was being honest, he'd been too busy sniffing after Bulma to pay much attention to anything else. He'd been sort of suspicious of the three-eyed earthling, Tien, he recalled, and of course there was the creepy old scientist who never left his labs. Both of them had seemed to avoid the Saiyans like the plague...but could one of them have been doing so in an effort not to be found out as Ginyu?

He shared the newfound bit of information with the other saiyans as soon as he reached their quarters.

“We would have known.” Nappa said, stubbornly. “Wouldn't we have? We can sense Ki now.”

“But we've got jack shit to compare it to,” Radditz pointed out, “since we didn't know what Tien or Ginyu or Gero's power felt like before.” Then, turning to Gohan, “Kid, did that feel like the same people?”

“I...I don't know.” Gohan looked around the room, wishing he could offer his comrades some comfort. This was as close to sheer breakdown as he'd ever seen amongst the confident group. “I'd never met Dr. Gero or Tien before. Nothing about anyone on the ship felt particularly wrong to me, but would we even know?” Gohan asked. “I mean, if this Ginyu guy takes people's bodies, does he assume their ki patterns as well or does his come with him? Krillin said that ki is a spiritual force, but it's very grounded in physical strength.”

“Shit.” Radditz cursed, quickly echoed by the other two adults.

“As far as I am aware, Ginyu's strength is limited by that of his body. I was young when he took his current form, but I was there.” Vegeta said, and Nappa sat silently, nodding. He'd not been present at the time, but the prince had told him of it, afterward.

“You said he went from a weaker body to a stronger one,” Nappa said, “but that it seemed like he was having trouble getting used to it.”

“Yes,” Vegeta nodded, wishing that he'd been able to feel ki all his life. “He had to figure out his new body, to unlock the mechanisms of power that he was unused to. All I knew was that suddenly he had more power though; I'd no idea what it felt like.”

“Which puts us back at square one.” Radditz sighed, but Vegeta suddenly sat up straighter.

“Krillin.” He gasped, shooting out of his chair and onto his feet, his tail puffed stiffly behind him.

“Who?” Nappa asked, but Gohan had leapt out of his chair as well, having quickly caught onto Vegeta's idea.

“Monk!” He shouted, and a look of comprehension appeared on Nappa's face.

“He fought Tien before.” Vegeta said, pointing at Gohan. “You told us, in the Boudokai, yes?” Gohan nodded frantically. “So he should know if Tien feels different than before. He told us himself that he'd been training onboard Red Station with the three-eyes, so he should have noticed a change!”

“True.” It was Radditz's turn to have a little insight. “But even if he is Ginyu, that still leaves us wondering why the hell he hasn't ratted us out yet.”

“Perhaps he means to join us?” Nappa put forth, but Radditz shook his head a little.

“Ginyu hates Vegeta, and he doesn't hate Frieza more, not like Zarbon does.” Radditz scratched his chin, then his cheeks reddened when he noticed everyone staring at him, puzzled. “What? He's hot, okay? I stare at him a lot, and I've seen how hard he works to keep that calm on his face. He hates Frieza just as much as we do, I think.”

“Bullshit.” Nappa spat.

“No, I think Radditz might actually be right, for once.” Vegeta said, eyebrow raised at the older man's sudden show of intelligence. He wasn't aware that Radditz actually paid so much attention to the world around him...then again, he'd only noticed because he was ogling Zarbon, so Vegeta wasn't sure if it should count for much. In fact, maybe it deserved minus points for being so disturbing...

“I wouldn't like someone who treated me like Frieza treats Zarbon.” Gohan said simply, blessedly unencumbered by the mental images that Vegeta was suffering from. It wasn't that Vegeta had a problem with homosexuality, it was just that he had a problem with Zarbon. He didn't want to touch or even look at anyone who'd willingly done it with Frieza.

“I think Zarbon's a bit of a masochist, anyway.” Radditz said, a little too enthusiastically. Vegeta shook his head violently, shaking the images right out. Even Gohan grimaced a little - he'd made the mistake before of asking his uncle what S and M meant after hearing some of the older boys making jokes. Radditz, with his usual lack of boundaries and tact, had explained it in full detail, potentially scarring the 7 year old's brain in a brand new way. It had been hard enough for Gohan to accept that sometimes it was okay to inflict pain upon people - the idea that some people actually liked it was dizzying and - with his basic and sheltered knowledge of sex - confusing.

“Enough talk of Zarbon.” Vegeta snapped, and Raddtiz ducked his head sheepishly.

“It's not that I actually want him...” the long-haired saiyan muttered his eyes glued to the floor so as to avoid Vegeta's glare. “It's just that he's good to look at.”

“Well, one of these days we'll get him to transform for you.” Vegeta growled, and Radditz pouted. “Now everybody shut up. We have work to do.” He paused. “Well, I have work to do. You three do whatever. Do something productive.” He said, waving a gloved hand in dismissal as he stalked into his bedroom to use the comm-link.

*

Krillin stared at Tien's red face from across the training mat, waiting for the attack that he knew would come hurtling at him any second now. The shock of his conversation with Vengeance had yet to leave him, and he was being extra cautious in the face of what the older man had said. He'd heard of Ginyu, of course. Everyone had heard of the elite squad, the cream of Frieza's crop, who's perfectly synchronized gymnastic routines struck fear into the hearts of billions. Never before had Krillin known, however, that Ginyu's most guarded secret was the art of body snatching, and that he currently inhabited the body of someone in the resistance. Krillin swallowed and met Tien's gaze. Vegeta suspected the man across the mat, and his paranoia had quickly spread through Krillin's mind.

Krillin leapt to the side as Tien finally made his move, dodging a kick that was much weaker than something he'd expect from one of the most powerful beings in the universe. Weaker even than he'd have expected from Tien. Trap! His mind shrieked and he ducked just in time to avoid being pummelled in the face.

“Something on your mind, Krillin?” Tien panted as the smaller man hopped back several feet. “You seem distracted.”

“Err...um, no.” Krillin laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head with one sweaty palm as he did so. Tien cocked his head to the side, certain that the monk was hiding something, but uncertain as to what. Krillin launched forward, hoping to derail the triclops' train of thought. He wished Bulma was around - she'd know what to do for sure - but she and Puar had left that very morning for Chisal to pick up Dr. Gero's package and maybe sneak in a visit with Guru if they had a chance. He was very jealous not to be going too, but Bulma had insisted that at least one of them had to stay to keep an eye on things, as they still hadn't let anyone else in on the potential presence of a traitor. He'd been voted out because, it seemed, Puar and Bulma had suddenly become fast friends, always whispering and giggling together, like schoolgirls discussing which boys they had crushes on. Then again, if the trip was going to be one long session of truth or dare, Krillin figured it was probably better that he hadn't gone.

“You sure?” Tien puffed between punches, looking irritated. “You can tell me stuff, you know.”

“It's nothing, I swear it.” Krillin crossed his heart with one hand, while using the other to block the knee that was headed for his stomach. “Hey, let's power up and fight for real!” He suggested, hoping that he'd be able to tell if there was a difference in Tien's ki from when he'd felt it so many years ago at the Tenkaichi Boudokai. He wished he'd had the forethought to pay more attention, but Goku had been the assassin's target and Krillin had been content to let them have at it.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” Tien said, drawing back, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. “I haven't powered up since...a very long time.”

“Aww, c'mon! It'll be fun. Work the rust out of your system.” Krillin bounced on the balls of his feet, hoping he wasn't being too obvious. Tien shook his head no, and backed respectfully out of the training ring.

“No,” he repeated, “not today.”

“Ahh...sure, buddy.” Krillin watched him slip his shoes on and beat a hasty retreat, a great sensation of unease building in his belly. Did Tien know that something would be revealed if he powered up? Did Ginyu even know about the ability to sense power levels? He hadn't been there during the training session; would he realize that the nature of someone's power could be felt, in addition to its strength? Vegeta and the other Saiyans hadn't ever heard of it from anyone in the army and Vegeta was high enough up in the ranks that Krillin presumed he'd be privy to most of the big secrets. He'd been entrusted with rooting out and destroying Frieza's number one enemy, hadn't he?

Even under the stressful circumstances he found himself in, the thought made Krillin grin a little, as it always did. He'd never met Frieza, of course, but he'd heard enough to know that they wouldn't exactly be pals. The idea of Vegeta, that arrogant, self-assured, prick of a man leading the whole empire on a wild goose chase was a good one. It was something he'd never have believed if he didn't know firsthand, and he couldn't help but to be impressed at the prince's skill in pulling it off. It was no wonder the other saiyans worshipped him. Krillin could only dream of being so brave. Imagine standing up to someone like Frieza, when he wasn't even sure he'd have the nerve to tell Vegeta that he hadn't managed to get Tien to power up!

Thinking about it, he realized that he and Tien never really went full-tilt when sparring. Thanks to Bulma, the training room was capable of withstanding some small blasts, but they all tended to be pretty damn careful anyway. Blowing a hole in the space-station wall wasn't like blowing a hole in one's dojo wall back on Earth. If the structural integrity of the ship was compromised, death was the likely outcome. Add to that Tien's odd reluctance to go all out, and Krillin realized that they'd only really ever engaged in hand to hand sparring. Naturally, their kis raised a little during such activity but Krillin had never noticed anything odd about it, and he wasn't sure if that meant that Tien was Tien, or that he needed to power up more.

Frowning, Krillin grabbed his towel and trudged to the changing room, rubbing the light sheen of sweat from his bald head as he went. There has to be another way, he thought as he turned on the shower, jumping back to avoid the first few seconds of icy-cold spray. Now, Krillin had seen a lot of body-snatcher movies, and he knew that in order to find someone out, you have to trick them into answering a question that only the real owner of the body would know. The problem in that solution, he thought, shrugging out of his clothes and stepping into the hot water, was that he really hadn't known Tien very well on Earth. Krillin didn't know Tien's mother's name, or who his first kiss was. He didn't know Tien's favourite food or his least favourite television show. He hardly even knew the man enough to tell if his ki was the same one or not! They'd been enemies at worst and awkward acquaintances at best. What could he ask?

And then, to throw a wrench into his plans, what sort of knowledge did Ginyu have about the bodies he took over? Did he meet people and make them spill their secrets beforehand? Did he have access to their memories, or did they get kicked out with the soul? If he'd been smart, Krillin thought, he would have asked Vegeta these questions beforehand. And if Vegeta was smart, he would have anticipated them! The saiyan prince must not have seen a lot of B-rated horror movies, or he'd never have suggested the power-level thing.

As he soaped up his balls, he wished Bulma were around. Not for that reason, of course. He was under no illusions that Bulma would ever touch his balls. He was just stumped, and even if Bulma couldn't come up with anything either, at least he'd have someone to be stumped with. If a genius couldn't figure it out, then he wouldn't feel so helpless himself.

*

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Bulma was stepping out of the transport ship, stretching cramped limps, just as Dende came running out of the dome-shaped hut, his white robes flapping and tangling round his legs. “Bulma!” He shouted, skidding to a stop just before he bowled her over. “And Puar! I was not aware that you were coming!” He reached up and grasped Bulma's hand in his smooth fingers, as though to tug her forward toward the house. “Guru will be pleased.”

“I hope so.” Bulma smiled and allowed herself to be led inside. “I didn't exactly tell him that we were coming.”

“Do not be silly, Bulma. Guru is always happy to see his friends.”

“Right you are, young Dende.” Guru chuckled from the other room, having overheard their conversation. “What are you waiting for? Come and say hello to an old man.” He beckoned, and Bulma and Puar quickened their pace, slinking into his chamber with shy smiles.

“I know we shouldn't just drop in...” Bulma began, “...but,” she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders.

“But sometimes one must see one's friends.” Guru finished for her, his smile wide and a twinkle in his old eyes. Bulma nodded gratefully and he chuckled to himself for a moment before sending Dende for water and some fruit for their guests. “Accept my apologies; had I known you were coming, perhaps we could have had something else brought in.” Guru gestured toward the hastily prepared platter than Dende came scrambling back with. Bulma's mouth watered at the array of fruits, so freshly plucked that their stems still leaked sap from the breakage.

“No,” she muttered around a juicy mouthful, while Puar's cheeks flamed at his friend's lack of manners.

“It's wonderful.” He supplied, waiting to take a bite of his own food until he'd finished speaking. Bulma nodded her agreement and was reaching for another piece just as Nail walked in.

“I was wondering who'd arrived.” He poured himself a gourd of water and leaned forward, his hand darting out as though to reach for a piece of fruit before pulling back. “It always looks so satisfying.” He shrugged, catching Bulma's odd look. “I tried eating the fruit once,” Nail grimaced sheepishly, “and it did not turn out well. Yet it is natural to reach for what others are enjoying, yes?” He sat back and sipped his water.

“I suppose that's true.” Bulma shrugged and popped another piece of the sweet, juicy melon into her mouth.

“Speaking of enjoyment,” Guru chuckled to himself, “I have a gift for you Bulma, delivered only yesterday.

“A gift for me?” Bulma asked, her curiosity piqued. “Oh, you shouldn't have!”

“Oh, it's not from me, my dear girl, only the sender thought perhaps you might not be so receptive if he were to bring it in person.” Guru chuckled and directed her around the corner into Dende's small bedroom, where a large crate with all the markings of a brand-new regeneration tank sat, unapologetically taking up all of the child's space.

“It's in my room `cause we didn't have anywhere else to put it, and Guru didn't want to leave it outside.” Dende said, appearing at her elbow. “But don't worry, I don't mind.” He smiled up at her, his antennae bobbing with the motion of his head, and she grinned back down.

“It's just like him, not to think of how this would inconvenience you.” She sighed dramatically, but her pleasure was palpable as she bent to examine the stamps on the crate. He'd gotten her a much better model than the one he'd broken.

“So it is from Vengeance, then?” Dende asked, then quickly looked down at the floor, embarrassed. “Guru wouldn't tell me; he said it was none of my business if a man gets a lady a present. What does that mean? A man and a lady? Nameks only have men but Guru says that some kinds of people have two different types. Why?”

“Umm…” Bulma's jaw worked, but no sound was coming out. Did she really have to try and explain the birds and the bees to a kid who had no concept of male and female? Come to think of it, did Nameks even have the parts required for such a discussion to make sense? “This isn't that type of gift.” Bulma said, dodging the question entirely. “Ve…ngeance broke our regeneration tank at Red Station, so he promised to replace it.”

“Vengeance was on Red Station?” Nail was standing in the doorway, and Bulma's head jerked up to see him glaring at her, suspicion in his eyes. She was glad she'd caught herself - she'd almost said his name out loud and though she trusted the Nameks, she wasn't quite sure who knew what about Vegeta. She didn't want to be the one to spill the beans that the Saiyan had been so carefully guarding.

“Briefly.” Bulma said, standing up to her full height. She wondered if she'd ever stop being so uneasy around the tall Namek. His resemblance to Piccolo was uncanny and when she looked at him she couldn't help but to remember all the destruction that the so-called devil had caused on Earth. Nail squinted at her, plainly unhappy to discover that more secrets were being kept from him. He opened his mouth, as though to say something, but looked to Dende, standing innocently beside the blue-haired earthling, and shut it again. He stepped aside to allow them back into Guru's sitting room, and did not miss the way Dende's hand sought out the woman's as they passed him.

Much later that night - into the wee hours of the morning, actually - when everyone else was abed and Bulma's roiling thoughts kept her from sleep, she crept into the tiny room that served as a kitchen when guests were about, hoping perhaps for some kind of a snack. She longed for cookies and a cup of warm milk, but Guru kept no livestock of any kind, so a few pieces of leftover fruit was probably the best that she could hope for. He stomach was gurgling for something a little more substantial but her brain knew she was better off with the fruit, half sick with hunger, and the other half with thoughts brought up by that damn regeneration tank. Her period was very late and she was beginning to wonder how she'd tell her family and friends that she'd been knocked up by Vegeta. None of them, except Puar, even knew that she'd gone to bed with him and she hadn't exactly planned to let that slip out. Yamcha had not been dead very long, and the thought of him sent guilt swimming through her veins. What would he think? Surely he was watching her, watching all of them. The thought made her queasy and she wasn't so sure she wanted to eat anything anymore, even though she'd found the platter of leftovers from their earlier meal.

Would her baby be born with a tail, she wondered suddenly. What about its eyes and hair? Gohan had favoured Goku quite heavily, but then Chichi was also possessed of dark eyes and hair. Vegeta and I, she thought, are polar opposites when it comes to colouring. She sat on the counter and picked idly at the fruit, imagining all the combinations of skin and hair and eyes that her child might have. She grimaced; what if it had Vegeta's hair but with her colour? What, God forbid, if it had his temper?

What if she didn't even want it?

The problem was, she didn't know what she wanted, and the clock was ticking. Soon the thing inside of her would no longer be a simple ball of cells, it would be a baby, and she didn't even really know how long she had. Did Saiyans carry for 9 months like humans did? She seemed to recall Chichi once having said something about Gohan being born ridiculously premature, so much so that they thought they would lose him for sure, but was that a saiyan thing, or just a Gohan thing? By `ridiculous', had Chichi meant months or simply an overdramatized couple of weeks?

“Bulma,” a voice called, and she jumped with surprise. “Come in here. I can feel your unrest all the way from here.”

“Guru?” Bulma hopped quickly off the counter and tiptoed into the sitting room, where Guru had dozed off in his chair. “I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to wake you.”

The old namek raised a hand to wave her concern away, before motioning her to sit. “I am old, my dear. I doze where and when I need it, no more no less.” He waited until she had made herself comfortable before asking, “Now tell me, child, why you are wandering around my house in the middle of the night, with worry pouring out of your very being?”

“I think I'm pregnant.” She confessed without hesitation, finding that she was oddly pleased to be able to talk to the old man about it, even if she wasn't sure that he would understand just how big a mess she found herself in. “And it's Ven's.” She said with a whoosh of air, as though she was dropping a bomb. Guru looked at her oddly for a moment, so she ploughed on, the words dropping out of her mouth at an unstoppable rate. “I mean, he's not a bad guy I guess but I'm pretty sure he's not going to be happy about this, and he'll probably make a horrendous father if he decides to stick around, which he probably won't because we're not even really together and I don't even know if I want it or not, or if I can even carry it to term without killing myself,” she took a deep breath, “because I don't know if you realize how strong he is but it's damn strong, and Gohan is only eight and he's super powerful and Chichi had him okay, I guess, but she's a lot stronger than I am, and she was in prime condition when she had him because she was fighting in the tournaments so it was probably a lot easier on her than it's going to be on me because I'm really, really weak and I'm terrified that both of us will die in the middle of childbirth like it's the olden days or something when they didn't have real doctors, just quacks who went on and on about humours and thought that bleeding people half to death was a good idea, and it's not like they were stupid or anything, it's just that they didn't know any better but still I can't just sit here and be expec-“

“You aren't pregnant.” Guru said, interrupting her. Bulma stopped mid-word, her mouth open and eyes wide. “You are not pregnant.” Guru repeated himself as he leaned forward, put two fingers under her chin and gently shut her jaw. “If you were pregnant, and especially if it was Vengeance's child, I would have noticed it immediately. I sense a great many things about you, Bulma, but the presence of a life growing inside of you is not one of them.”

“You mean…” she trailed off and he nodded. “I'm not…” Bulma whispered, her hands fluttering briefly over her stomach. She sagged with relief, what felt like a lifetime's worth of tension flowing out of her body. And yet still… “I don't really know how to feel.” She admitted, “I'm relieved and I'm happy, but I think part of me kind of got used to the idea.”

“Such is life.” Guru said softly, and Bulma smiled weakly up at him. “Great joy and great disappointment all entwined together.”

“So…you're sure?” Bulma asked, and Guru nodded slowly.

“Completely and totally.” He said, and Bulma jumped up, impulsively throwing her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you so much.” She whispered, slowly letting go and stepping away. “I guess I should go back to bed now though, being that my reason for being awake is gone now.” Guru laughed and bid her goodnight for the second time that day, and she tiptoed back to bed feeling lighter than air. Still though, she thought, placing a hand over her stomach, maybe she'd still make sure not to drink till her period finally made an appearance, just in case.

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So no Trunks yet, I guess! I thought about sticking him in there, but I didn't want to deal with that whole “You're only with me because I'm pregnant!” type stuff. Next time, a bit of a treat for anyone who's itching to see more Goku/Piccolo storyline!