Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Decoding the Saiyan ❯ Orange ( Chapter 21 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: This was written using the Spectrum Challenge prompt `orange' from the Blue & Black livejournal community. If you haven't checked the group out yet, I really recommend doing so, as there are some great B/V stories posted there. :)

When I think of the word orange in relation to DBZ, Goku always pops into my mind.

Orange

The lab was silent, the only sound her own breathing as she lifted the soldering iron from its hook. The metal on the circuitry gave a small hiss as she touched it with the hot tip, small wisps of smoke rising from the hole in Android Sixteen's head. Her father had gone for a lunch break some half-hour before, leaving her alone to continue doggedly piecing the broken machine back together.

She placed the soldering iron back in its hook, looking up just in time to see a flash of orange and black materialize out of thin air. She shrieked in fright and fell backwards against the desk behind her, her eyes wide and staring at the man who had suddenly appeared in her lab.

Once her heart had stopped racing from the fright- she would never get used to the way Goku appeared out of thin air- she straightened herself, switched off her soldering iron, and looked the Saiyan angrily in the eye.

He was smiling. Not one of his boyish, wide grins; this smile was closer to a smirk. Humour danced in his green eyes, and his lips remained closed, the corners of his mouth tilting up. This was the smile Son-kun gave her every time he was truly laughing at her.

“It's not funny, Goku,” she frowned, hands placed firmly on her hips. “You've gotta give me some warning before you come barging in here like that!”

He laughed outright at that, one big hand reaching back to scratch his head in habit as he grinned down at her. She found herself grinning back- Son-kun's smile was infectious- and shaking her head.

“So you found them all?” she asked, nodding at the radar in his hand.

“Yep,” he replied, handing her invention back to her. “Thanks for letting me borrow it again, Bulma.”

The stood in silence for a moment- there was a question on the tip of her tongue, but she was suddenly too afraid to ask, too fearful of the answer- and then Goku shrugged, reaching up to his forehead with two fingers. “I'll see you around -”

“Goku! Wait!” she cried, darting around the lab table.

He paused as her hand clutched at the sleeve of his jacket, pulling his arm back down. She could feel the solid muscle beneath the cloth, strong and real and alive, and the breath caught in her throat. They had less than a week until the Cell Games. Less than a week, and they could all be nothing but lifeless bones.

She was sure Goku could sense her fear; he was a Saiyan, after all, and Vegeta always seemed to be able to do so. His blonde brows furrowed, green eyes peering down at her with worry as the smile disappeared from his face.

“My son- Trunks,” she spoke, so quietly that it was almost a whisper, “he said you told him that you're not strong enough to beat Cell. Is that true?”

“Yeah, it is,” he replied, and heart dropped. “But I have a plan,” he added hastily, “I think it will work.”

“You think?” she replied, feeling her face flush and her head thump. “You think you have a plan that might work? ! Goku! Why aren't you training more?”

Goku had stepped back. She watched as he shrugged his shoulders once more, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “Because I can't,” he replied with a finality that chilled her to the bone. “There's nothing I could do in the days left that would get me strong enough, so what's the point? Besides, I'm sure my plan will work.”

“And if it doesn't?”

Another shrug. “Then we'll all die, I guess.”

She sat down heavily on the nearest stool, feeling that she no longer had the energy to stand. Beside her, Android Sixteen lay prostrate on the lab table, numerous parts scattered around the still form.

“What's the point of me even fixing him then,” she muttered, gesturing angrily at the Android's `body'. “What's the point of everyone else training, huh? ! I haven't even seen Vegeta properly since… since…” her face flushed as she remembered their last encounter, silent and desperate in the night. She wasn't going to share that with Goku.

“I am so sick of all of this shit,” she hissed, thumping her hand down hard on the table beside her. “Fuck that Dr Gero! And I told you Goku; I told you we should have just used the dragonballs to go after him before he set the Androids free, but nobody listened to me!”

“Bulma -”

“I don't want you to die, Goku!” she cried, swiping at her damp eyes furiously. “Promise me you'll come back alive!”

“I haven't met Sixteen personally, but Krillin says he's a good guy, so I think you should fix him anyway,” Goku replied with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. “As for coming back alive… I'll do my best. You take care, Bulma.”

He was gone in an instant, leaving her with a very bad feeling in her gut.

. . .

“I'll do my best.”

After an hour, she had given up trying to work on the Android for the day, Goku's words repeating in her head with haunting finality. She did not want to admit it, but it had felt as if he were saying goodbye, as if he already knew his own fate.

She had wanted to face her fears head-on. That was one of the reasons why she had flown into the battlefield on May 12th, determined to see the Androids for herself. She had been sick of waiting. She was still sick of waiting.

“Mother?”

She looked up to find a pair of blue eyes- the colour so much like her own- staring worriedly back at her. “Are you all right?” Trunks asked, taking another step towards her. His hair fell past his shoulders- he'd been training in the Room of Spirit and Time again- and his armour looked battered. “You've been staring out the window for the last ten minutes.”

She had, she realised. Her cup of coffee had gone cold in her still hands; she'd been too caught up in her own thoughts to notice that Trunks had even returned. Only now did she notice how low the sun hung in the sky, the afternoon having passed in a blur.

When he son stood at his full height, she had to tilt her head slightly to look him in the eye. She smiled at the fact, glad to know that if they did all survive, her baby would one day be taller than his father.

“I'm fine, just… worried,” she replied with a sigh, reaching up to touch her son's face. “I worry about all of you, every time you fight.”

“I know,” he replied, looking away, the light from the late sun accentuating the bones of his face, making him look even more like Vegeta. “But we have to. There's no other way.”

She had a sudden memory of Vegeta, snarling in anger. “I have to be stronger than Kakarot!” he had hissed at her. “You know that! There is no other way!”

“I know you do,” she acknowledged with a wry smile as she peered up at her son. “It's in your blood.”