Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ And We Were Angels ❯ Send Me an Angel ( Chapter 6 )

And We Were Angels

By: AMCM74

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Chapter 6 -Send Me an Angel

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"I can't do this." Bulma sat in her car and held on to the steering wheel as if it were a life raft. She whimpered a bit and dropped her head lower. "It's been so long. He is obviously furious with me." She had no idea what had possessed her to come here. It was late, well past midnight. She should just turn the car back and go home.

Bulma looked up at the building with a growing sense of dread and apprehension. She was tired. Days of pushing herself out of bed early and working all day had taken it's toll. To top it all off, she was sure she looked as terrible as she felt.

The simple fact was, things were not going to get any better until she took some steps to fix them. Look at the rest of her life. Her father was in the hospital getting help. It was far better then sitting at home dying slowly, being misdiagnosed with depression.

Work was going a lot better. The sharks had not stopped circling, but the board members were gleefully informing anyone in earshot that "Young Miss Bulma Briefs is whiling away her free hours in the lab working on something wonderful!" It would be much better if her mother was alive, her father had his health, and the company was rock solid again. But that was the stuff of childish dreams. Bunny was never coming back. Her father was never going to be young again, and his health more than likely would not make a full recovery. The company would be on her shoulders from here on out. There was nothing she could do to make any of it go away.

A look of sheer determination set on Bulma's ivory features. Her large blue eyes shimmered with hope. This was the last chance she had to reclaim some tiny part of her life. Bulma opened the door and walked into the building. She was going to apologize to Yamcha and she was going to beg him to take her back.

Courage carried her to his door and she could hear the music playing inside. She also heard voices. It sounded suspiciously like a party. She refused to turn and run. Knocking on the door she waited.

"Hey Krillin, could you answer that for me buddy. If it's the landlord tell him I didn't know the music was loud and I will turn it down right away." She heard Yamcha's voice as the volume of the speakers was lowered.

The door opened and Krillin's bright smiled faded. "Bulma."

Bulma could see Yamcha across the room. He straightened up and looked at her in amazement. Between them on the couch were two stunning women. One Bulma recognized immediately as Marron, Krillin's recent steady. The other had light blonde hair, incredibly large green eyes and a perfect tan.

The girl looked to Yamcha and then leaned forward to set a cup of coffee on the table. She seemed frozen in the position, as Yamcha came around the room to the door. He stopped and patted the girl's arm supportively. Then murmured to Krillin "It's ok. Let me talk to her."

Krillin backed up and Yamcha stepped through the doorway into the hall. He pulled the door almost shut to give them added privacy.

Bulma was stunned. She could feel a jittery sensation more akin to panic coursing through her. She didn't know what to say. It was painfully clear; by the way he had touched the other woman's arm, what was going on. The unanswered calls, the week and a half of silence were making perfect sense to her now.

"Bulma." Yamcha smiled uncomfortably; even though he glowed with a light she had never seen before. "Krillin told me you came by."

"That's good." Bulma forced out the words from the cold lump in her chest. She tried to ignore his eyes. She looked to the floor, the ceiling and the door, anything that would keep her from seeing the happiness that shown from his eyes. Happiness she had not seen in months. A happiness that she had once put there. "I was worried when I didn't hear from you."

"I was kind of messed up after that night." Yamcha explained softly. "When you dumped me, I really didn't take it so well."

Dumped him? She looked up at him with surprise in her eyes. What was he talking about? She had just wanted to step back and reassess where the relationship was going. She didn't have any intentions of letting him go.

Yamcha continued. "Krillin said I should go away for a while. Clear my head. So I took a cruise." He laughed a little. "I know that's more like something you would do, but I didn't want to do anything that I had done before. I had a lot of time to think." He took a deep sigh and lifted her hand in his. "You were right. I should have seen it before. I was just to blinded by you to realize it. Bulma, sweetie, you are way out of my league. There is no way I am ever going to fit into your world. I can see it now."

"Yamcha, I…" She started to speak, but the words were hard and he had something he wanted to tell her.

"After I gave up, I met Tea. She's fun, kind and she accepts me for who I am." Tears formed in his eyes. Bulma felt as if she was choking as he spoke. "I would never have found her if it were not for you. Bulma, I really owe you so much."

The door came open and the blonde girl stood there with a worried look in her eyes. "Yamcha, you can come in if you want. It's your place." A look of fear flashed over her face as she got a good look at Bulma up close.

"No," Bulma shook her head. She was holding in the tears with all her might. It was a good thing she had been having so much practice lately or she would never have been able to succeed. "I really have to be going. I just wanted to come over and check on up him."

"Oh I see." The relief was there in the light lyrical voice.

Yamcha let go of Bulma's hand. "We're still friends, aren't we Bulma?"

"Of course we are." Bulma felt the knife twist in her heart at the request. "If you will excuse me now, I need to be going." She turned and walked slowly down the hall. Willing herself not to run. She pushed her hand to her mouth as she waited for the elevator to take her to the bottom floor, silent tears streaming out of her eyes. The closer she came to the car, the faster her pace. All she wanted was to get home, go to bed and drown herself in her sorrow.

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"Well, that went over perfectly." Goku looked down at the astonished Vegeta. The moon hung in the sky behind the Angel of Death, the only beacon of light in the night. "You have your work cut out for you tonight."

"How was I supposed to know the fucking idiot had gone off and found another woman?" Vegeta didn't bother to even look up. "They had been together for a long time. Feelings like that just don't die."

"No they don't. Yamcha took comfort in the arms of another woman, Vegeta." Goku drifted to the ground. "That is how he coped. How he made it through. Can you tell me what your charge will do?"

"I believe she is going to get good and drunk." Vegeta scowled, the prospect of holding the fragile form over the toilet all night was not appealing.

"Vegeta, my friend." Goku said in a low voice. "Have you ever stopped to think why I keep popping in?"

"To bother me?" Vegeta clenched his fists to his side, the black leather of his gloves being pulled tightly by his vexation.

"Or perhaps I am here to clean up the mess if you fail."

Vegeta paled and looked at the fading tail lights of Bulma's car. "Oh Shit!"

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Bulma lay across her bed with a bottle of Bacardi. She had run out of tears. She had sobbed for so long and so hard that there were no more left to be shed. All she wanted to do now was to feel numb. She wanted to escape this world where she was alone, over worked and stressed. Bulma looked at the bottle and frowned. The alcohol just wasn't enough. It just wasn't going to do the job fast enough to suit her. She was tired of trying to be strong. Sitting up she slid across the bed and opened her drawer. She pulled out the bottle of pills that the doctors had given her to help her deal with the insomnia after her mother's death.

The fact that it was dangerous and that Bulma could hurt herself was real, but damned if she cared. At this point if she went to sleep and never woke up it would be just fine with her. Decision made, she fumbled with the cap. Blasted childproof caps. They couldn't keep out a three year old, but they were sure ruining her plans.

Frowning at the plastic bottle Bulma set it back on the nightstand. She lifted the glass Bacardi bottle and smashed it down on the offender. Fragments of glass and plastic scattered over her, cutting her smooth skin. The tiny rivulets of blood that were produced from the cuts ran down her face and arms. The rum sprayed over her and the bed before seeping into the rug.

Bulma started to laugh hysterically looking at the white pills that were spinning on the nightstand and lying on the floor. This was not the result she was looking for, but it worked just the same. She reached out and grabbed a handful of glass and pills in her fist.

She tried to pull her arm back but found she could not.

The blue eyes widened in stunned awe.

The warm feeling of a hand on her left shoulder and the presence of someone at her back crept through her senses. She looked to the hand that reached around her right side to still her movement. The bed slowly sagged as the form was materializing adding more weight upon it. But nothing was more terrifying than the whispered voice in her ear. "I swear, if you take so much as one of those pills I will break your arm myself."

Bulma turned her head toward the voice and came face to face with the being she had seen twice before. The only difference was that this time she was sure he was either a figment of her alcohol induced mind, or the angel he claimed to be.