Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Don't Ever Let Go ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

 

 

Disclaimer: Dragon Ball Z, all characters and concepts for the manga and anime, belong to Toriyama Akira

 

Chapter 2

 

Bulma-a few weeks later…

 

I've always wanted children. In my subconscious at least. But the reality of having children is much different then what my imagined musings ever prepared me for. Especially the reality of having a half Saiya-jin child. Granted, any child has a great deal of energy. They always seem to be bouncing around; asking questions a mile a minute, wanting to move onto the next exciting event before they're finished with what they started two seconds earlier. Multiply that by one hundred and you have the gist of what it is like to deal with a demi Saiya-jin. Which is what I'm unfortunately in the process of dealing with at the moment.

 

I've been down in the lab trying to concentrate on working on a new prototype for our housewares robotics department. The old line is really out of date so it has fallen to me, the genius of the corporation, to create a new prototype that is consumer friendly and easy on the pocket book. As you can probably imagine, it is not an easy or very exciting task. Yet I'm the woman who can do it. At least I would be able to do it if I wasn't inconveniently interrupted every fifteen minutes by the racket coming from the upstairs.

 

Sometimes I want to lock up my four year old son, or even send him to space for a few months. But of course, I know that he isn't the only mischief-maker in the house, which only makes the situation that much more annoying. And, like most men, Vegeta is conspicuously absent. Whatever happened to the idea of the enlightened family? Where the husband and wife share equally in raising and caring for their children as well as providing for them? Well, let me tell you, as far as that goes, my family is about as far from that as you can get. Not that I'm complaining, but sometimes I get really tired of playing both the mother and the father, and lately, that's how it has been around here.

 

Standing up from my comfortable seat in front of my desk, I let out a tired sigh and rub at the aching muscles of my neck. Rolling my head from side to side, I try to rid myself of the stiffness before I find myself marching upstairs to deal with the mess and destruction I'm sure to encounter.

 

I'm about halfway up the stairs leading out of the lab to the main part of the house when I find myself crashing into a moving figure. Grabbing onto the railing, I steady myself from toppling backwards down the stairs while I simultaneously grab onto the warm figure who has just run into me.

 

“Whoa, Gohan! Hold up a second there! You could have killed me, kiddo,” I joke out half-heartedly, when in reality, my pulse has just skyrocketed. I hate the feeling of being not in control of my body and almost falling backwards down the stairs is definitely a scary sensation.

 

Backing up a bit on the stairs, he pushes his black, spiky mane out of his eyes and looks at me with embarrassment marked all over his features.

 

“Gosh, Bulma! I'm really sorry. I was in such a hurry to get you out of the lab, I wasn't watching were I was going. You won't tell Vegeta, will you?”

 

“No. Unless it's something important.” I reply, wishing he didn't seem so nervous about my husband. It's one thing that really bothers me because I wish Gohan and Vegeta could make some sort of connection. Gohan needs a father figure that can understand his Saiya-jin nature and Vegeta needs someone to mentor, perhaps as a way to help him come to terms with himself. But who am I kidding? I don't think such a thing will ever come to pass as long as Vegeta's so unsure of himself and Gohan's scared shitless of the man who could do so much for him now that his real father is gone.

 

Other then his apparent discomfort around Vegeta, Gohan's a great kid. I mean, you couldn't ask for a better young man. He's protective, which I'm sure he gets from both his mother and his father, but he's also caring, considerate and extremely bright for his age. And at fifteen, he's probably the most mature teenager I've ever met. So to have him come barreling down the stairs hell bent for election could not be a good sign, especially since he's supposed to be watching over my son and his little brother, Goten. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I tap my foot nervously on the stair it's positioned on before I ask him the all-important question.

 

“Alright. What did those two monsters do this time?”

 

I can tell it's something really bad because Gohan has the unmistakable look across his face that says he's going to vomit. This unsettles me a bit because Gohan has witnessed some very gruesome and disturbing things during his short life. He fought against Vegeta when he first arrived on Earth. He witnessed Piccolo's death at the hands of the ugly Saiya-jin who came with Vegeta, and he saw both Kuririn and Vegeta get killed by Freeza. On top of that, he witnessed his father's sacrifice and saw both my son from the future and Android 16 get slaughtered by that horrible creation of Dr. Gero's: Cell. Instantly, about a million different scenarios play across my mind, each one more horrible then the first. I don't even think before I blurt out the first sentence that comes to my mind.

 

“How did they die?”

 

Grabbing onto Gohan's shoulder, I shake him hard to get him to answer my question. I don't realize it, but tears are starting to spill out of my eyes and leak down to the end of my nose, making a mess of my makeup. But at the moment, ruined makeup is the least of my worries. I have to know.

 

“Answer me! How did they die?” I shout into Gohan's terrified face. It's at that moment I realize he's trying to answer me but can't because of the jarring I'm giving his body. Relaxing my grip on him, I let go, only to watch him stumble backwards slightly, landing on his rear end.

 

“Uh, Bulma. They aren't dead. At least, I don't think they are.”

 

Bad choice of words, especially when given to a worrier like me. In a flash, I swoop down and grab a hold of his shirt, pulling him upright in a manner similar to what Vegeta uses to intimidate those who are weaker than him. Pulling him upwards so that his eyes are locked onto mine, I snarl out the next statement, not even thinking about what I'm saying or how I'm saying it.

 

“You don't think they are? You don't THINK? That's not a good enough answer! Let's go find out!”

 

Marching up the stairs, I yank him along behind me even though I know he could easily break free if he wanted to. Maybe it's because of Chi-Chi's over protectiveness or maybe it's just that Gohan has a very compliant nature, but he makes no move to escape the oncoming explosion he knows is going to happen when I find out exactly what my son and his friend have been up to. It doesn't take me long to figure it out. Close to a few seconds actually.

 

There, where the wall to the family room used to be, is a huge, gaping hole. And the wall across from it in the hallway also has a gigantic hole, except this one has something lodged tightly inside it. The remains of my favorite sofa, stuffed into the wall like some sort of gigantic sausage. I'm relieved because I know my baby and his friend are most likely not injured, but I'm so angry at the moment, I feel like I could pull all of my hair out and scream until my vocal chords bleed.

 

“TRUNKS!! GOTEN!! IF YOU AREN'T IN FRONT OF ME IN 10 SECONDS, I'M GOING TO HAVE VEGETA BLOW YOU INTO SMITHEREENS!! 1…2…3…”

 

I really have no intention of letting Vegeta lay a hand on the two of them and it makes me feel guilty for using such a scare tactic on kids who are barely out of diapers, but it has the desired effect that I'm after. In less then five seconds, the two scoundrels are standing in front of me with terrified looking expressions on their faces. Especially Goten. The poor boy is fidgeting so badly, I'm afraid he's going to have an accident on the expensive Oriental rug he's standing on. Trunks at least knows that I would never have Vegeta do anything to harm him, but Goten is somewhat sheltered and…shall we say, special? Not that he's stupid or anything, but it's obvious he got all of his brains from his father. However, I can't lose face in front of the two of them, especially Trunks. So I continue on with my evil eye, hoping to drill into their heads that furniture is to be sat on, not tossed through a wall like a Frisbee.

 

Glaring at Trunks, I motion to the couch with my arm and point at it, waiting for the explanation that's going to tumble off of his lips in a few seconds. If there's one thing Trunks hates, it's being made to feel uncomfortable and vulnerable, a trait he shares with Vegeta. Unlike Vegeta, however, it doesn't take my son long to crack under the pressure, especially since he is only four.

 

“We was jus playin' Mama! Honest. Me an' Goten didn't mean it. It was an accident! Please don't send us to Papa!”

 

At this point, both Trunks and Goten's lips are trembling and Goten's actually starting to cry. Now I really feel bad: both for Goten who's scarred shitless and for the fact that everyone seems to think so lowly of Vegeta. I feel doubly guilty for using his name as a threat to my son and his best friend. No wonder Vegeta avoids everybody. Even I catch myself giving into using him as a scapegoat and I'm supposed to be his wife. Letting out an even breath, I push my thoughts to the side, to a place where I can think about them later. Right now, I have to deal with my son and his crazy behavior before he thinks he's off the hook. That will definitely happen if I don't answer him.

 

Crossing my arms under my breasts I let out a withering sigh before I continue on with my role as both judge and juror. Sometimes, I really dislike being a mother, and doling out punishment is one of those times.

 

“It was an accident? Then tell me, how could a couch end up stuck in a wall?” Instead of waiting for the circular reasoning and logic given from a four year old and his three year old counterpart's perspective, I forge on ahead.

 

“Are couches toys to be played with?”

 

They both shake their heads no.

 

“Do we throw couches around for fun?” Looking at Goten, I direct the question to the sniffling child. “Does your mother allow you and Gohan to toss furniture around for a game of catch?”

 

The boy shakes his head frantically, no doubt thinking that if he ever got caught doing something like that, he'd receive the spanking of a lifetime. Which, by the way, is mostly likely what's going to happen when he goes home because I really don't have the authority to punish Goten, but he needs to be taught a lesson, one way or another.

 

“Okay boys, this is what you are going to do. You are going to help Gohan pull the couch out of the wall and put it back were it belongs. Then Trunks, you are going to go to your room and take a nap.” At the dreaded “n” word, Trunks scrunches up his face in a defiant look, but I don't allow him to throw a temper tantrum because I continue on with my ultimatum. “I'm going to call up Chi-Chi and tell her what happened. She will deal with you Goten. After you pull the couch out, I think it would be a good idea for you boys to go home.” Raising my eyebrows at both Gohan and Goten, I wait for them to shake their heads in understanding.

 

With that said, I watch as the three of them try to right the wrong that Trunks and Goten had just made. I don't like sending the two boys home so early, mostly because I know that Chi-Chi sends them here to get some much needed `alone time'. And although I know she doesn't like or trust Vegeta much, I have a feeling she also sends her boys over to spend some time with an adult male because other than Piccolo, the two of them obviously don't get that sort of attention. It's unfortunate that nine times out of ten, they don't get any interaction with Vegeta either. And if they do, it's because he's yelling at Goten for some infraction or he's allowing Gohan to spar with him, which rarely happens. But I don't tell that to my friend, and I'm sure that neither Goten nor Gohan say anything to her about Vegeta either.

 

I supervise the boys on the progress they are making with putting the couch back in the family room. In a few minutes, the task is done. Except for pieces of plaster stuck all over the side of the couch that was unfortunately lodged inside the wall, it looks perfectly fine, which is a relief. Motioning for the boys to come forward, they follow me into the kitchen, where I hand Goten and Gohan a snack for the trip back to Mt. Pazou. I also give one to Trunks, who scarfs it down in under a minute. Walking the two boys to the front door, I give them each a hug and wait as Trunks says goodbye to his friends before they leave. Once they are gone, I turn around to face my guilty looking, sulking little prince.

 

“Okay Trunks. You know what I said. Upstairs!”

 

Thankfully, he's decided to take his punishment respectfully without having hysterics. I think the truth is that he really is tired, just like most normal kids his age would be. Following him up the stairs to his room, I help him take his shoes and socks off and get settled into his bed, handing him the security blanket he's slept with ever since he was an infant. Smoothing his purple hair back, I lean over and kiss him on the forehead, letting him know that I love him even though he can be a little trouble maker.

 

Looking up at me, he yawns and stretches his little arms out.

 

“Mama, is this it?”

 

I know what he's asking, and what kid wouldn't? Taking a nap does seem to be kind of lame, especially since it's obvious that he needed one. I think about it for a moment before I give him an answer.

 

“Look Trunks, you really scared Mommy by doing that. I know you're strong for your age, but throwing something around as big as a sofa is dangerous. How would you have felt if it would have landed on Goten or Gohan and hurt them? Not very good, huh?” I watch as he shakes his head slowly in understanding.

 

I know that this might be a hard lesson for him to learn, especially when Vegeta really starts training him in the art of fighting and possibly killing an opponent. I want him to know what is acceptable behavior, how to treat those weaker then himself. I want him to know the difference so when he does start learning what it means to be a Saiya-jin, he won't become some indiscriminate killer. I don't think Vegeta will actually teach him to do things like that because when it all boils down, I really don't believe Vegeta is comfortable with his past. Oh, when he first came to Earth and even after we first came together, he would boast about his conquests and his ability to kill without remorse. But I'm sure that does not hold true for him anymore, which could be part of the reason he's become so quiet and alone these last few years. Looking down at Trunks curled up in his bed, his eyelids starting to droop, I tell him what is going to happen.

 

“I can't let this one slide baby. I'm going to have to talk to your father, and then we'll see what will happen from there, kay?” Thankfully, he just nods his little head and a few minutes later, he's down for the count.

 

Leaving the room quietly, I carefully close the door and walk across the hallway to my own room. The truth is, I feel exhausted, and while I haven't been throwing up as much, I still feel continuously ill. It's difficult to get up everyday and pretend that nothing's the matter with me, but I have to do it. I was hoping this pregnancy would play out differently then the last, but if anything, this one is worse. And it's made doubly worse because I still haven't gotten up the courage to tell Vegeta, something I did manage to do the first time I experienced the joy of carrying a child. I feel like I'm living a lie and I'm beginning to hate it. And part of it is because I'm almost positive Vegeta knows the truth and that's why he's been making himself scarce. What must he think of me? God knows, it probably isn't anything good if he's avoiding me.

 

Walking over to my bed, I lie down and pull the covers up over my body, completely forgetting about calling Chi-Chi. As soon as my head hits the pillow, I feel as though a gigantic weight has been lifted. Relaxing slightly, I make a decision that I'm going to tell him the truth when he gets back today, consequences be damned. I can't keep feeling worried and guilty; two things that probably aren't helping the developing child in my womb grow. Even if he isn't ready to hear the news, since he's probably already figured it out, I might as well get it over with. I don't want him to dislike me any more then he already does.

 

Vegeta

 

I stare at the desert below me: the ruined expanse of landscape that holds the images of memories burned into the back of my head. Images of my rival winking out of existence to never return again superimposed with images of his son defeating the creature I allowed to come into being because of my arrogance and pride.

 

Sitting up on the rim of the crater that was created from the immense amount of energy expelled during the final fight against Cell, I let these thoughts run through my head over and over again. It's my self-imposed punishment: to see what happened because of my overrated pride like a broken movie reel. Perhaps such a use of mental imagery isn't healthy, but what the fuck? My mind has been mentally unbalanced probably as long as I can remember. At least going as far back as to when I began my enslavement underneath Freeza. So while self-depreciation most likely wouldn't be classified as something normal to do with one's spare time, I don't care about normalcy. However, I do wish I could feel the way I used to be before Kakarrot's death.

 

Growling slightly in irritation over my stupid thoughts, I slowly stand up and dust off the thin layer of grit and dirt that has settled onto my training suit. The sun is sitting halfway above the horizon and while the afternoon heat has started to dissipate, it's still uncomfortably warm. Besides, even I get tired of sitting and thinking for hours on end and my stomach is starting to growl, reminding me that I haven't eaten since the early breakfast I made myself before I left to come out here.

 

Glancing back to the bottom of the crater, I feel that awful recurring sensation of deep shame well up inside of me. Shame that I caused this to happen when I allowed Cell to absorb that Android whore instead of beating him when I had the chance. Hating the feeling, I swallow hard and then start to power up. Watching the rocks as they begin to lift off the ground, feeling the earth shake beneath my feet, I scream out into the desert, letting the wind carry the sound of my roar of anger and underlying anguish. I hate feeling like this. I hate it! As quickly as I start, I quit, not even allowing myself the joy of ascending. I just don't have the energy for that today. Kicking a rock with my boot, I push off the ground and find myself flying back to the place where I live.

 

It only takes me about fifteen minutes and I find myself soaring over West City, ignoring the stupid people and imbeciles that make up the majority of the population. In a few seconds, I power down and land in front of Capsule Corporation. Normally, when I come back from being gone all day, I slip in through the window of the bedroom I share with the Woman. However, today, for some reason I can't even fathom, I decide to use the front door. Walking up to it, I press in my stupid security code so that the door will open up for me.

 

Moving inside, I blink to help my eyes adjust to the dimness of the house compared to the bright sunlight spilling in from the outside. Walking into the entryway a small amount, I realize that something doesn't seem right. It takes me a second to figure it out. It's quiet. Dead quiet. For some reason, this unsettles me. I know that Kakarrot's brats were supposed to be here today and whenever my brat gets together with mini-Kakarrot, there's enough racket going on to make me want to put permanent silencers on the two of them. Cautiously walking farther into the hallway, I power up slightly and put my guard up. Something is wrong.

 

Silently padding down the hallway, I stop suddenly when I see it: a gaping hole in the wall of the family room that wasn't there when I left earlier that morning. My throat becomes dry and I try to push away my growing unease. Except for the hole, everything else seems to be in place.

 

But where the hell are my brat and my mate? I know the two old people are gone for the week, but usually some stupid game or event is going on when I get back from my solitary travels. The continued silence is starting to unnerve me, and what creeps me out the most is that I'm feeling any sort of discomfort at all. Another sign of my growing softness and weakness. Hissing in disgust with myself, I check out the rest of the rooms downstairs looking for any sign of their whereabouts or that of an intruder. Finding nothing, I silently make my way upstairs.

 

Creeping down the hallway and hiding in the shadows, I slowly make my way to my son's bedroom. Pushing the door open manually, I sneak inside, glancing around quickly. Almost as soon as I enter his room, I see a lump in the middle of his bed, which turns out to be my missing brat. Sucking on his thumb like a baby and holding onto that ridiculous blanket he's had as far back as I can remember. Gritting my teeth slightly at how coddled my son is, I use my irritation as a front to hide the true fact that I'm relieved. But that doesn't explain where my woman is at the moment.

 

Closing the door behind me, I walk across the hallway and open the door to the room I share with her. She's lying on the bed with her back turned towards me, one arm tucked underneath the pillow resting below her head. Her hair is an awful mess, tangled across the pillowcase and sheets. Walking slowly over towards her, I seat myself on the edge of the bed. Letting out the breath I didn't know I had been holding, I relax somewhat. She's safe. That's all that matters at the moment.

 

Taking off my boots, I drop them slowly next to the bed before I push my legs up and cross them. Turning to the side, I glance at her sleeping body. Was she like this when she was pregnant with Trunks? I can't remember because…because I had left her. I couldn't deal with the ramifications the first time around and I'm having an even more difficult time dealing with them the second. But I have no excuse to leave this time, no reason to get me out of this situation. So I'm stuck, but part of me, the weak part of me, doesn't really want to leave anyway. Where the hell would I go?

 

What ever happened to the killer inside of me? It still lurks around the corners of my mind, but with my rival gone, my ambition to be the best has dimmed somewhat as well. Which brings me back to the reason my life has been stuck in a circular rut ever since my reason for coming to this shit hole disappeared in the first place.

 

Resting my head in my hand, I look at Bulma, trying to clear my mind of these never ending, torturous thoughts. I'm evil. I've always been that way and probably always will be. But there is nothing left to direct that evil towards and I'm still trying to find that purpose. I feel empty, and even though I make the motions to keep going through this second hell I'm living through, I'm beginning to tire of the monotony.

 

Shaking my head slightly, I hesitantly touch Bulma's hair, feeling the softness glide underneath my rough and dirty glove.

 

Why? Why does she trust me? Why does she care about me? Why does she try to show me that I can be accepted, something I've never been in my entire life? And then why, after all that, can't she tell me about the life I've created with her for a second time? It's almost like a betrayal of sorts, fucking with my screwed up brain.

 

Watching her, I keep stroking her hair because for some reason, I can feel a connection with her. But everything is so different from what it was like when we first began living together under this roof. She's the first person I can say that I've gotten to know underneath their exterior. Perhaps that's what's driving my confusion. The fact that she's let me inside even when I didn't want that, and now, it feels like she's trying to pull away from me, pushing me away from her. And it bothers me more then I would have thought possible. I don't understand. It makes me angry, but more importantly, it hurts.

 

I don't know how long I sit there in my filthy training gear touching her hair when she starts to stir from her sleep. Quickly moving my hand into my lap, I look forward towards the wall, pretending that I could care less about her movements. Glancing at her with my peripheral vision, I watch her as she rolls over onto her back, blinking the sleep slowly from her blue eyes. Licking my lips slightly, I watch as she unconsciously trails her hand down towards her belly. Even though I know she isn't even aware of what she's doing, it has the unintended result of fascinating me and arousing me. At least that part of my brain is still functioning, but at the moment, I would rather not be thinking such licentious thoughts. Blushing slightly, I unconsciously move closer to her, making her aware of my presence for the first time.

 

I watch as she sits up slowly. She looks like shit. Her face is paler then usual and there are dark circles under her eyes. And her eyes. They reflect the sadness and confusion that are no doubt showing in my own. Smiling wanly at me, she leans back against the headboard, drawing her knees up to her chest.

 

“Vegeta, how long have you been sitting there in your stinky clothes?”

 

I just grunt as a reply. I'm not really in the mood to talk. Unlike her, I don't find the need to converse unnecessarily. Even though I know there are things unsaid between the two of us, I don't want to bring up the thing she still hasn't told me. I don't feel that it's my place to do so. I'm not going to beg. I refuse to ever show such weakness in front of her or anyone else for that matter.

 

“I take it not that long. Or maybe I've been asleep longer then I thought.” I watch as she looks at the clock, a slight look of shock crossing her sickly looking face.

 

“God, I've been in here…” She trails off. Suddenly, she sits ups straighter, agitation clear in her body posture and language.

 

“Shit, I never called Chi-Chi. And Trunks…”

 

She's about to try to jump off the bed to check on our brat when I grab her arm, effectively pulling her up next to my body.

 

“The brat's sleeping.”

 

“Oh. He's not doing anything bad?”

 

Narrowing my eyes at her, I don't like the insinuation: that I'm not capable enough to check up on my own progeny. Well, I know I'm a shitty father. At least in her eyes I am. But to think that I would lie to her about something as stupid as whether or not our son is making mischief insults me and cuts deeper then it should. Especially since she's been lying to me by omission for weeks. With that, I stand up quickly, feeling a stab of guilt when she teeters sideways across the bed.

 

“What do you take me for, an imbecile? Woman, I'm at least intelligent enough to know when that hellion is sleeping.”

 

Crossing my arms, I make my way towards the bathroom, deciding to get myself cleaned up. I don't particularly like smelling like sweat and dirt and I can't stand the feel of the grime that's gotten underneath my training shirt and pants and into the nooks and crannies of my gloved hands. I'm almost to the door, when she speaks up from the bed.

 

“Vegeta, wait.”

 

Turning my head slightly, I direct a cold look towards where she's sitting on the bed.

 

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I know you know when he's sleeping. It's just been a bad day.”

 

Grunting, I turn around fully, knowing that she's more then likely going to start some sort of elaboration about her terrible day and that if I don't at least pretend to listen, she'll screech at me or get back at me when I least expect it. She's the only person who has that sort of power over me and it baffles me because in the grand scheme of things, she's nothing. Putting my hands on my hips, I wait impatiently for her to start her speech.

 

“I haven't been feeling the greatest and I've been trying to get the houeswares line up to date. And on top of that, I assume you saw the giant hole in the family room wall?”

 

At this, I smirk slightly; trying to hide the fact that for a moment, I thought something or someone other than my son had caused it. Bulma, of course, misreads the look on my face and decides that I think it's some sort of joke. Standing up from the bed, she marches over to where I'm standing so that we're eye to eye.

 

“It's not funny or even amusing Vegeta! And maybe, if you would spend some decent amount of time with your son, it wouldn't have happened!”

 

It doesn't take long for her accusations to sink in and they make me extremely angry. Pushing forward so that my nose is almost touching hers, I hiss into her face.

 

“Oh, so it's my fault, is it? Well, let me reiterate something to you woman. He may be my son, but I'm not his goddamned babysitter! As far as my responsibility goes towards him, it's to make sure he grows up to be a strong example of a Saiya-jin Prince. Not some coddled, pampered, spoiled brat the way you're making him.”

 

This is an old argument of ours; one that hasn't been brought up in a long time because of the fact it has a tendency to become extremely nasty. Avoidance is sometimes a blessing. After spitting my sentiments out towards her, I don't have long to wait before a retort rolls off of her venomous tongue.

 

“It's called love Vegeta, something I'd think you'd understand somewhat by now. You didn't have it when you grew up and I'm not going to let Trunks grow up that way either. And no matter what you say to the contrary, I'm pretty sure you don't want him to end up like you either.”

 

Stepping back slightly, I'm suddenly unsure. She's never taken our argument in this direction before. Usually, it's all about how I'm not even making him into a Saiya-jin Prince because I don't have the patience to teach him, which isn't true. But to throw my past in my face like that and to say what I've thought about myself, how I don't want Trunks to end up making the same mistakes as me, is almost unbearable. It's as though I can never get away from the anguish festering inside me, and now, she's laid the gauntlet down. I can either run away and lose face, or admit to her statement's validity. Instead, I decide to change the focus of the argument.

 

“Love! Ha! You profess that perfect emotion to me over and over again yet you can't even tell me the truth. So much for such a petty feeling. I'm beginning to wonder if it even exists at all!”

 

At this statement, her already pale visage becomes ghostly white as she unconsciously steps away from me. But I'm not going to let her go. Not until she admits to me what she's been so desperate to hide. Stepping forward towards her retreating body, I take a hold of her arm and pull her into a tight embrace. Anger is simmering just below the surface of my skin and I can tell she's afraid. Am I really that horrible to her all of a sudden that she doesn't even like touching me? And why does this continue to bother me? I want to curse Kakarrot and his stupid death for doing this to me. But instead, I have to settle for getting some answers from my reluctant mate.

 

Pushing her chin up so that she's looking into my eyes, I wait for her answer, knowing it's about to come soon because of the way she's nibbling on her lower lip in a nervous manner.

 

“Okay, I suppose you already know.”

 

That's it? That's all she's going to say to me? Well, that is definitely not good enough. I know what she's trying to do. She's trying to ascertain exactly how much I've deduced so that she won't feel so guilty for withholding information. The truth is, I'm sick of playing games and have been for a long while, and I'm not going to let her have the upper hand in this. I've had enough. Pulling her in even closer, ignoring the fact that I could possibly be suffocating her with my grip around her midsection, I wait.

 

“Vegeta, let go a little! I need to breathe, you big bully!”

 

“Not until you give me a fucking answer and stop playing these ridiculous games with me! Now tell me the truth!” I shout into her startled face, baring my teeth at her. I will not be a pawn for her or for anyone else. That time of my life is long over. I live for myself, even when I'm not exactly sure what that reason for living is anymore.

 

“Fine! You want to know the truth so bad? Well here it is: I'm pregnant again! Now let go of me.”

 

With the statement out in the open, I loosen my grip enough to let her breath easier, but I don't let her go. With her admission, some of my earlier anger dissipates but the betrayal from her lack of trust is still lodged deep inside whatever heart I have. Moving one of my hands up to frame her face, I push a lock of her hair behind her ear so I can see her eyes better. Before I even know what I'm doing, a question rolls off of my tongue.

 

“Why Bulma?”

 

She knows what I'm really asking so she clears her throat slightly, taking in a deep breath.

 

“Because I was afraid.”

 

Afraid of me, I want to ask? Afraid of what I might do? But whatever small amount of pride I have left won't allow me to ask those questions so I just leave it at that. I don't want to have to admit that I'm also afraid of what this new child is going to mean for me. Nothing ever seems to be clear anymore.

 

Deciding that I don't want to think about any of this at the moment, I allow myself to cave into the feel of her body pressed against my own. Even though I know she doesn't feel well and I probably smell horrible to her, touching my mouth to hers is the one way I've learned to quell my thoughts and my inner demons, at least temporarily. Giving in, I lean forward and press my lips to hers. I know that she still is angry with me for manhandling her like that, but she doesn't try to escape from it, and for that I'm grateful. I don't think I could take another sign of rejection from her. When it comes down to it, in the back of my mind I know that she's the reason I'm here and she's what has kept me centered since the time of Kakarrot's idiotic death. Without her…I shudder to think of what I would have become. And maybe that's why her lies and omissions have bothered me more then they should have: because I care about her and for once in my life, I would like it if she kept caring back about me. No one else in my life has ever done that for selfless reasons.

 

I don't know how long we stand in front of the bathroom touching each other and giving some modicum of comfort when she starts to pull away. Letting her go, I watch as she backs up awkwardly and rubs her arms absently. She doesn't say anything about her pregnancy, of which I'm glad. Such conversation would only cause me to feel angry again. Instead, she brings up the hole in the wall downstairs.

 

“Vegeta, I don't know if Trunk threw it or if Goten did, but the fact remains, it happened. Trunks is probably going to wake up in a little bit. I told him I'd talk to you about punishing him. I know he probably didn't mean for their playing to get so out of hand, but…he doesn't know his own strength.”

 

I know what she's trying to get at, so I let out a sigh of defeat.

 

“I'll take more of an interest in his training. As long as he acts in an acceptable manner.”

 

“Vegeta, he's four. He doesn't know how to act self-controlled and stoic like you. All he wants is some attention and approval from you. And who knows, maybe it'll help you get out of this second slump you're in.”

 

I don't like the implications of her last statement but I let my irritation slip through the cracks as I pretend she never said anything. All I do is nod my head.

 

“Well, what about an appropriate punishment? It was more or less an accident and maybe with some training, he'll get rid of some of his nervous energy.”

 

“Woman, I don't find the offense that grievous. But if you want to punish him, by all means do so.”

 

Deciding that this conversation is over with, I turn around and head towards the bathroom, leaving Bulma looking at me quizzically. I'm sure she thought the hole in the wall would have generated a larger reaction then the one I gave her over Trunks and his punishment. The truth is, had I been there when it happened, the boy probably wouldn't be able to sit down for a week. But since I was thankfully out of the house when it occurred, I don't have to deal with the inconvenience of being the enforcer. Besides, I myself have made bigger disasters throughout Capsule Corporation due to my colossal temper, so who am I to judge my son? I'm about to open the door when Bulma calls out my name again. Letting out a sigh of frustration, I still my motions and wait for her to say what it is that's on her mind.

 

“I'll tell him he can't have dessert for the rest of the week. That should do the trick, don't you think?”

 

“Fine.” I state sharply. I'm beginning to tire of her incessant nagging and my smell is starting to finally get to me, not saying how much it must be making Bulma want to gag. Besides, no desserts for my brat will probably traumatize him and it has an added bonus because I can consume his portion. I have to admit, Earthling desserts are one of the few things this planet boasts that makes staying here somewhat bearable.

 

Deciding to make sure our conversation is at an end, I ask her if that is all she wants to say. When she says yes, I finally open the door and walk inside. Closing it behind me, I quickly strip out of my dirty training suit, throwing it into the hamper. Making my way over to the shower, I turn the water on and wait for it to become nice and hot, steam billowing out and over the glass shower door. Stepping inside, I scrub myself clean as I watch the grime from my body sloughing off in dirty streams of brown water.

 

Letting out a sigh, I lean up against the shower wall, crossing my arms. I let the details of our argument flit past my mind. Something seems to stand out to me and that's the fact that besides not putting her trust in me, it's clear that Bulma doesn't think I'm capable of love. True, I do care about her and my son, more then I will ever admit to them. But love is such a strange concept to me and I really don't understand it, even after being with Bulma for over five years. I know that she whispers that word to me after we have sex and when she thinks I'm asleep. She also tells our son that she loves him almost every opportunity that she gets the chance to. But what does it really mean? And can she actually love me, especially when she can't trust me enough to tell me about getting pregnant?

 

I've always thought of love as a weakness to be exploited. Perhaps it's because when I was a child, any idea of love was taken away from me at an early age. My mother died soon after I was born and my father sold me to Freeza. I had to fight in order to have my basic requirements met. So is it any wonder that I'm still confused about it, especially when she's right in saying that I don't want Trunks to end up like me, no matter how much I detest Bulma's rearing methods? And now that I'm about to have a second child, how am I supposed to act towards them when I don't even know how to treat my first born? Sometimes, I almost wish I had never given into the temptation of Bulma's body the first time we mated. Perhaps all of this could have been avoided. However, had I not found her, I'm sure that I'd most likely be in a worse state of mind then I'm currently in. At least I do have somewhat of a purpose, and that is to protect my family, no matter how undeserving I am of them. And that idea does give me some modicum of comfort, no matter how confused I am.

 

End of Chapter Two! I hope it wasn't too ambiguous of an end. Bulma has told Vegeta the truth and now Vegeta has to take more of in interest in Trunks. Will this help to smooth out Vegeta's uncertainties and will he be able to forgive Bulma for her lack of trust?