Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Crossroads ❯ New Problems ( Chapter 10 )

Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ. So don't sue.

AN: I just want to take the chance and give a huge THANKS to Hella once again, for her support and beta-reading :-)
This chapter is dedicated to Biggi, (who probably won't read it for a while anyway) for all the trouble she went through with her diploma thesis. ;-)

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"What was that all about?" Svenja asked, confused, when the door closed behind her and Bulma. The last few minutes had been a bit strange, all she had been able to do was to follow the sensation and try not to look as stupid as she had felt. Somehow she suspected she hadn't succeeded.

"It's a bit complicated." Bulma answered and shot her a quizzical glance. "You don't know much about Saiyans, right?"
"No. Until ten days ago I didn't even know they existed. Not only Saiyans, but also inhabited planets, highly developed space traffic. Hundreds of other species, aliens…" she trailed off when the image of the Alien queen of the movie popped into her mind. "Nah," she muttered and shook her head.
"I haven't met any other Saiyans except Zura, so it's a bit hard to judge what of him is typical Saiyan or typical Zura," she continued. "It's wrong to judge a species by one individual, so… All I really know about Saiyans is that they have tails, or at least I thought so. That Vegeta guy didn't have one, though."
Bulma sighed. "Not anymore. He had one, but it was cut off some years ago. Okay, here are the facts, the short version. Vegeta's home planet was blasted out of space by Frieza, an evil alien that we managed to kill some time ago. Everybody on the planet died. Vegeta survived because he was working for Frieza at that time and wasn't on the planet's surface. There were two other Saiyans with him who were also killed when they came here. According to Vegeta he had been looking for survivors but never found any, or any information about them, so he was convinced there weren't any. Your Zura is the living proof he was wrong in this."
Svenja's thoughts were in chaos. Total annihilation of a planet? Evil aliens? Her Zura?

Opting to ignore the latter she stuttered: "Wait a minute... Vegeta was working for the guy who killed his species?! Is he brain dead or something?"
"Better not let him hear that." Bulma muttered and walked through another door. "I wasn't as if he had any choice in that. Look, I only know it second hand, and I don't know all the facts. I think it's better if you asked Zura about it or something. He probably has better knowledge about it."

Svenja nodded thoughtfully. Come to think of it, everything Zura had told her about him had happened in recent years. She knew nothing at all about his childhood. And she resolved to change that.
"Say, if Vegeta thought there weren't any other Saiyans out there, shouldn't he be happy he wasn't right? He looked so angry. I mean, I'd probably be cart-wheeling with joy if I was him."

Bulma's mouth twitched. "This is Vegeta we're talking about," she said, trying to restrain herself from not bursting into laughter at the image. "He's… different."

"Ah. I see." Svenja said, and didn't. Any further questions fled her mind when Bulma opened a door to reveal a bathroom. Svenja mouthed an 'Oh' and her eyes zoomed in on the shower. They had cleaned her wounds and washed most of the dirt away that had accumulated on her skin, but seeing the shower made her realize how filthy she felt. Laughing out loud she hurried to explain when she saw Bulma's puzzled expression. "I just realized I take so many things for granted. I never thought I'd be so happy to see a shower. Or a real toilet." She shuddered, thinking back on Lokran and the remains of a building's foundation, only two rather low joint walls that she had declared as a makeshift privy.

Bulma regarded her with a mix of sympathy and curiosity. "You know, I'm really curious to hear what happened after you turned up on Lokran," she said and then shot a guilty glance at her. "Again, I'm sorry. I know what it's like to be suddenly caught up in things you had no intention to be in the first place."
"I know." Svenja answered simply and nodded. It was hard to be angry at Bulma, considering she hadn't done it on purpose. Besides, she realized she started to like the blue-haired woman with her easy manner.

"Okay." Bulma said and looked at her thoughtfully. "I'll go get you some different clothes. Sorry about them," she gestured at the baggy jogging clothes Svenja wore, "but those were the only ones I could find in the med section. I somehow doubt you'd have waited for me to get something else back then, you were kinda… focussed."
Svenja felt her cheeks heat up at the memory and mumbled a thanks. "Say," she asked before Bulma stepped out of the room, "you think they're alright?"
"Yeah." Bulma nodded.

Stepping into the shower when Bulma had closed the door Svenja turned the water on, not caring that she was sprayed with cold droplets for the moment it took until the water heated up. She couldn't remember when something as simple and usual as a shower had been so pleasurable. Scrubbing and lathering until her skin was red and her hair didn't feel anymore as if successions of rather messy birds had made their nest in it, she wondered about Bulma's doubtful expression when she had answered the last question. It had almost been as if the affirmative was meant not only for Svenja but also to convince herself. She hadn't really understood half of what was going on, but as far as she could see there was no reason for that Vegeta to be as angry as he had looked. Maybe it was only his usual expression, but Bulma's reaction made her think. She'd ask Zura later what that was all about, she decided and closed her eyes, enjoying the almost scalding water a minute longer.

A few minutes later she found herself sitting once again at the table in the kitchen and feeling a little dazed. Bulma had met her when she stepped out of the bathroom, and after declaring dinner was ready whisked her away to the kitchen and left her there with an elderly blonde she introduced as her mother. The woman was nice enough, chattering about meaningless things without expecting an active response as she set the table, managing to nullify any awkwardness Svenja might have felt being left alone with a complete stranger again. She had the usual friendly enthusiasm mothers displayed when they meet friends or acquaintances of their grown-up child. Still, Mrs. Briefs' voice had a certain frequency that set Svenja's teeth on edge, and she was glad when Bulma entered the room again and plopped down on a chair.
"I told them dinner's ready. They'll come in a moment," she said and hungrily eyed the numerous dishes her mother set on the table.

Svenja could only stare at the pile of dishes and platters in front of her. Were they expecting some more people? The thought fled her mind instantly as the delicious smell of the food assaulted and overwhelmed her senses. Having spent days with the same boring and tasteless food ration that lacked even the faintest trace of flavour made her highly receptive for the mix of spices and herbs wafting up from the dishes, and it took all her self-control not to drool.
"No sense in waiting." Bulma said cheerfully and filled her plate. "Help yourself before it's all gone."
Svenja highly doubted that amount of food would be gone anytime soon but nevertheless accepted the offer gladly. The next minutes were filled with reintroducing her taste buds to flavours again, and she had a hard time forcing herself to eat slowly and savouring every bite.

When the door banged open suddenly and Vegeta and Zura entered she was munching contentedly on cheese-coated potatoes, and looked up, smiling happily. The smile shrivelled and died on her lips as she took in Zura's face. It was stony and devoid of all expression, his eyes cold and flat as they wandered across the room and its occupants without any apparent interest, sweeping over her as if she wasn't there.
Vegeta looked as he had before, giving the impression of someone who had a root treatment on a daily basis.

The dinner took on a different mood when the two men sat down and attacked the food with a vengeance. Some kind of angry tension filled the air that silenced even Bulma's mother, who excused herself a short time later to see to her pets or something like that.
Svenja chewed on her potatoes who had suddenly turned stale in her mouth and stared at Zura. It was as if some shutter had closed on him when she hadn't looked. She didn't recognise him anymore as the Zura she had come to know, he looked even more hostile and closed off than when they had first talked to each other on Lokran, when he had misinterpreted her attempt to measure his temperature as an attempt to kill him. She desperately wanted to ask what was wrong, but his expression and stance were so forbidding that the question died on her lips.

When he was finished he rose abruptly and directed his eyes at Bulma. "I need you to tell me what information you need to gather the materials and tools I need to repair my ship."
"Alright," she said carefully, her eyes flickering uncertainly between him, Vegeta and Svenja. "I can give you a list in half an hour."
He nodded curtly. "Good. I want get back to Lokran and be on my way as soon as possible." Then he turned around and walked briskly out of the room without a backward glance, followed a moment later by Vegeta.

Svenja sat at the table, her still half-filled plate forgotten, and stared at the door the two Saiyans had exited through seconds before.
"What the hell was that?" Bulma asked, confused, and a foreboding glint appeared in her eyes.
Svenja shook her head mutely, unable to grasp and comprehend what had happened in the last few minutes. "Could you…" she began and took a deep breath to steady her voice. "Could you tell me where I can sleep? I'm not feeling so well."
The blue-haired woman shot her a worried look but nodded silently and led her to a room not far from the kitchen.
"Here, take this one," she said gently. "Watch your step when you go out on the terrace, the pool's a few meters away from it. I meant to fix the light out there for some time, but since we usually only use it during daytime I always forgot it. Shorts and pyjamas are in the cupboard over there. I'll come to see you in the morning, okay?"
Svenja nodded and made an attempt to smile. She obviously failed miserably, because Bulma regarded her quizzically.
"Good night." Svenja said firmly, uncaring that it was a bit rude to more or less kick her hostess out of the room but desperately wanting to be alone before she lost her composure.

Understanding flickered through Bulma's gaze and she gave her a last smile before she left the room and shut the door behind her. The furrow that had appeared between her brows and the angry glare Svenja glimpsed on Bulma's face before the door closed bode nothing good for the next person crossing her path.

Sitting down abruptly on the edge of the soft bed she forced herself to breath evenly. Anger and self-loathing rushed through her in rapid waves when she felt wetness prickling behind her eyes, and she clenched her hands into fists. Since when was she so unstable? Couldn't a day pass without her starting to cry? When had she lost her protective shell and became so sickeningly vulnerable? Gods, this felt like a constant state of PMS! What the fuck was wrong with her?
Squeezing her eyes shut but unable to prevent the tears escaping them she let out a muffled sound of discontentment, something between a snarl and a small shriek.

Zura hadn't even acknowledged her presence, ignoring her as if she were a piece of furniture. Less than furniture. She just didn't understand it, Zura usually was very outspoken when something pissed him off, and she couldn't think of anything she had done that would make him act as cold and rejecting as he had.

'What did you expect?' as voice inside her head sneered. 'He only tolerated you because there was no one else on Lokran. And now that there are others, why should he bother with you? Idiot!'
She batted the voice away, unwilling to believe it, but the thought took root in her mind. Wasn't that how it had always been, that she was always second choice, a kind of substitute person when others weren't available? She ignored the reasonable part of her mind that told her she was being narrow-minded and not honest with herself, and that her always being second choice had much to do with her not exactly being an easy person to deal with.

He had said he wanted to be on his way as soon as possible. He. As in one person, singular. Sure, he hadn't promised her anything, he didn't say he'd help her finding her way back or waiting until she found a way, but still, it hurt. She had somehow thought what they had been through together had linked them in a way. But she understood now that this thought was one-sided. There was no link, no connection left, if there ever had been one.
They had had the same goal, to find the source for their crashing, and now that they found it…
She wasn't sure what she had expected, but him so eager to leave had certainly not been it. As soon as he repaired his ship he'd be gone, forever. Leaving toward the one or other space station or a job, getting together with acquaintances and old colleagues. Leaving her alone in a world she was unfamiliar with, with people she didn't know and a more than uncertain future. Abandoning her.

'Stop it!' she inwardly screamed at herself. 'He doesn't owe you anything. You don't owe him anything. So what are you whining about?!' But it was no use.
Collapsing on the bed and muffling her sobs in a fluffy pillow she poured out her misery. She felt alone, utterly and completely alone. It was the agonizing loneliness a person feels despite being surrounded by other people, a kind of emotional isolation almost impossible to break out of. Trying to acknowledge she'd be alone again soon in and come to terms with the irrational feeling of betrayal she felt, she lay on the bed, watching a spectacular sunset through the large windows reaching to the floor without really seeing it.

Another sense of discomfort came and added to her misery. Her stomach cramped and shot spikes of pain thought her belly. "Shiiiit." she wailed miserably and curled her body when another wave of pain hit her and her stomach told her in no uncertain terms it absolutely didn't appreciate the rich and spicy dinner it was confronted with after spending several days on a diet of dull and plain rations.

Feeling like shit mentally and physically she stayed where she was, suspended in misery, until she couldn't take it any longer, and stumbled out of her room when the cramps abated briefly.
Finding Bulma's mother in the kitchen she fended off her questions as polite as she could and returned minutes later to her room with a pot of fennel tea and a handful of caraway seeds she had begged off Mrs. Briefs. The tea and spice helped soothing her upset digestive tract within an hour, but her relief at the decreasing cramps was short-lived since it reminded her the other reason for her misery couldn't be taken care of that simply.

Spending hours laying on the bed and watching night fall over the planet and the house she calmed down enough to get her composure back. Sleep was out of question, she still felt upset, hurt and angry, but her will came back. She should have known better than to get wrong idea of companionship about a stranger who had only allied with her out of necessity. She had been blind, really. All her hurt and anger was her own fault, if she had seen things as they really were none of that emotional shit would have happened.

Only, knowing those facts in theory and mind, and really feeling them were two totally different things. Still, she would cope.

A small voice in the back of her mind told her she hadn't thought things entirely through, that there were still some aspects that didn't make sense, like the way he had acted before she and Bulma had left the kitchen. She ignored it, feeling too exhausted mentally to brood over alternatives to her theory.
Unbidden memories rose before her eyes, the easy way they had bantered in the kitchen when Bulma had left the room and the comforting feeling not to be alone in this mess. Zura when he stepped out of the Regeneration Tank, droplets of liquid clinging to his well-built body and glistening in the light. The way his muscles rippled when he moved…

"Stop!" she snarled and rolled out of the bed to stand in the middle of the room. "Masochist," she muttered scornfully at herself and shook her head violently to get rid off the images. She had enough things to deal with without her hormones creating another problem.

Straightening up she took a deep breath and looked out of the windows into the night outside, forcing herself to be completely honest with herself. She didn't know if she was right with her assumption. But she'd stick to it until it was proved wrong, which wouldn't happen.
The only way to confirm or deny them would take actually talking with Zura. And that wouldn't happen, at least not with her taking initiative. She might be difficult and bitchy at times and too quick to pass judgement for her own good, but she still had her self-esteem. And Zura surely wouldn't come to talk to her of his own accord, that she was sure of. Why should he?

Snorting derisively she opened the glass doors leading out to the terrace. Sitting down on the ground outside she leaned against the doors and watched the sky, hardening her heart and mind against every worst-case scenario that might come up.