Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Don't Ever Let Go ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or any of it's characters. That privilege belongs to Toriyama Akira.

 

Chapter 4

 

Vegeta

 

I open the door to find what would become my worst nightmare, even worse then the ones inflicted upon me during my time under Freeza. My mate sitting on the floor in a pool of blood, sobbing as she tries to staunch the flow coming from between her legs.

 

What the hell did I do to have to watch something like this? That's all I think before my mind becomes numb to the scene at hand and my instincts take control.

 

In an instant, I'm upon her, not even realizing the fact that in all actuality, I'm most likely only making the situation worse for her. All I can think in my hazy mind is that my mate, my…anchor, is bleeding to death in front of my eyes. I've witnessed blood, gore and horrific death scenes more times then even I can count, yet none of them have ever made me feel like my insides are being ripped apart.

 

Not thinking, I swoop down and grab one of her wrists, trying to pull her upright and away from the scene at hand. All that is going through my instinct driven body is the need to take her someplace safe, someplace where she can get help. And quickly. My brain and my instincts to protect her are not in synch with one another. Fortunately, Bulma seems to be grasping the situation better than I am, and in a moment of clarity, she brings me back to reality.

 

Swinging her free wrist around, she somehow manages to land a well-aimed punch to my mid-section. I certainly am not expecting that kind of reaction. In fact, my panic stricken body is only looking for one thing: escape from the horror that has become our bathroom. Never have I reacted to a situation so poorly in my entire adult life. I, the epitome of outward control, have seemly lost it in front of the person who knows me best. And at the current moment, she is the one who seemingly has to talk sense to me, the one who should be in control of the situation.

 

Releasing her wrist, I back away from her. Not for the first time in my life do I find myself feeling completely inadequate and nervous, for lack of a better description. Stepping to the side, I watch as she slumps down on the floor and then doubles over in agony. Shifting away from her uneasily, I find myself backed up against the open door frame, making it look as though I'm thinking of running at any minute. I don't know what to do or even what this means, and that's what terrifies me the most besides the fact that Bulma could very well be at death's door for all that I know. And for some exceedingly uncomfortable reason, that is something I do not want to have happen. Shoving those thoughts away for later dissection, I slowly cross my arms and …Shit, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do in this situation.

 

Clearing my throat slightly, I chew the side of my mouth as I try to think of some way to…to address the situation? Hell, I have no clue and the sad this is, I should. I'm a seasoned warrior and seeing people in this sort of state isn't something I should be panicking about. However, the fact that Bulma is not a warrior and should never be in a state like this to begin with is what brings alarm gongs ringing in my head. That is the reason this situation is so wrong.

 

Snapping out of my confused reverie, I stare as she pushes herself upright and then leans up against our toilet, panting and sweating in obvious pain and discomfort. Watching her nervously, there is something besides the fact that she's bleeding all over that bothers me about her predicament, yet I can't seem to put my finger on it. Yet another facet of this complex scenario to file away in the recesses of my mind for further scrutiny.

 

“Vegeta?”

 

I grunt as a form of reply, afraid of what will come out of mouth if I try and utter words to her. She struggles in sitting herself up straighter and then lets out a loud groan of pain as I watch her abdominal muscles contract in fascinated aversion.

 

She straightens out slightly and then swallows, the sound of her parched throat breaking my concentration from observing her safely from the confines of the door.

 

“Vegeta, I'm…I need to go to the hospital. Could you please get my mother?”

 

She seems so composed but underneath her apparent ease of the situation, I can read her fear, uncertainty and disappointment. Taking her command literally, I leave her alone in the bathroom and quickly make my way to the other end of the compound where the old couple has their apartments. Partially, I'm relieved to have a task that I can accomplish, but on the other hand, I don't like the fact that she seems to have more faith in her mother than she does in me. What does she really want from me? Shaking my head in frustration, I stop in front of their bedroom door and bang loudly on it, not caring that I'm most likely waking them up from a restful slumber.

 

In less then a minute, the freak I have for a mother in-law opens the door a crack. Thankfully she's wearing something tasteful because if she weren't, in my current state of mind, I would have blasted her for her lewdness. Seeing me standing at her doorway must have alerted her to the serious of the situation because instead of saying something utterly ridiculous, she asks me what is wrong. Looking at her, I tell her as much as I know.

 

“The Wom…I mean Bulma is bleeding in the bathroom. She wants you . Follow me.”

 

With that said, I curtly turn on my heel and stride back in the direction that I came from. I don't even bother to turn around and make sure that she's following me, my desire to get back to Bulma fueling my haste.

 

In what seems like nanoseconds, I'm back to the room I share with Bulma. Opening the door, I step inside and hurry over to where I left the bathroom door ajar. Cocking my head slightly, I watch as Bulma's mother nimbly walks past me and enters the scene of horror that I somehow unwittingly fell into. Seeing her daughter is such a horrible circumstance seems to spur something in the dingbat that I've never seen before: control and efficiency. Before she even walks across the threshold, she seems to have an understanding of what is going on better then I do. Stepping up to her weeping daughter, I watch as she kneels down next to her and asks her a few questions. Glancing uneasily at Bulma, I notice as she whispers something to her mother and then nervously peers over to where I'm standing. Her mother seems to be able to read Bulma's expressions in ways I've either never wanted to or ever been able to do. In a flash, she's back at the bathroom doorway, looking at me nervously.

 

“Vegeta. Bulma…It would be easier for Bulma if you could leave. Please.”

 

Growling at her, I feel as though my worthless life is coming full circle. This rotten relationship with my mate is the final straw in the pile of filth that's been infecting my rotten mind ever since I was a small boy forced to pay tribute to the biggest brute the universe has ever seen. It's the worst sort of betrayal, to be asked to leave the one person I'm supposed to protect, the one purpose my life has had ever since Kakarot killed himself.

 

In a moment of weakness and confused anger, I almost give into the temptation of blasting the woman who is acting like a shield for Bulma. Realizing how fruitless and meaningless such violent intentions are, I cross my arms in anger and step back. However, I'm not ready to back away from this horrible situation without at least venting some of the simmering frustration that seems about to boil over. Glaring at her imperiously, I finally find my voice.

 

“Fine. I'll leave, if that's what you want.”

 

Realizing that my tongue is not going to cooperate with me, I do the only thing left for to me to do. I walk over to the balcony, open the doors and blast back out into the night, leaving in anger and frustration for the second time today. Perhaps what I'm doing isn't what is expected of me, but if she wants me to leave, so be it. I have enough sense in my head to know when I'm not wanted. Yet deep down inside, I can't help but feel a sort of lingering hurt over the fact that she doesn't trust me enough to tell me what is wrong. But then again, whom am I kidding? I've heard the old adage that you have to show trust in others before they can trust you back, and in that regard, I've never placed my faith in Bulma because I've never had the chance to. Besides, trusting others is not something I'm good at. Until I met Bulma, I'd always lived my life alone, learning the hard way at a young age that putting trust in others is a dangerous and stupid thing to do. So when was it that I actually desired another person to feel that way about me? Flying into the wilderness, these fruitless and confusing thoughts occupy my mind, along with a worry and concern for my mate that feels as though it's eating away at my control to stay the hell away from her.

 

`Vegeta, you are one fucked up individual, ` I think to myself as fly aimlessly away from the place where I live.

 

Bulma

 

I swallow down a sob as I watch Vegeta shout at my mother and then blast off through the balcony doors into the night. Even though I had my mom ask him to leave, I didn't mean for him to leave like that. I…I need him yet I'm humiliated and ashamed of this situation and I'm afraid of how he's going to react…when he finds out how weak I am for wanting him to be there for me. To act in a capacity which would be completely foreign and alien to him. To act out of compassion and maybe even love.

 

I don't have time to wallow on these miserable thoughts before another sharp pain lances through my middles like a knife sliding through my flesh. Biting back a scream, I let out a keening moan, not wanting to appear pathetic in front of my mother. It hurts so much, almost worse then when I went into labor with Trunks. Perhaps the pain I'm feeling is because I know the awful truth, yet still I don't want to own up to it. This can't be happening to me. That's all I can think as the pain recedes and a fresh smear of blood appears between my legs.

 

Breathing in heavily through my nose, I feel like I'm dying. My eyes are closed and I just want the pain to end. When a cold wet sensation suddenly makes itself known on my brow, I snap back to reality as soon as my eyes open involuntarily. My mother is wiping away the sweat that has accumulated on my forehead and she's peering at me with a very worried expression on her face.

 

“Bulma, I called the ambulance. They should be here any second.”

 

“God Mom. Why did you do that? I'm going to be…”

 

Before I can even finish my sentence, another horrible, ripping pain tears itself through my body. This time, I don't contain my scream. I have to be dying to feel this much pain. In seconds, it's over with, but the after effects are still reverberating through my system. Feeling stressed, abandoned (although I know it's my fault), and in severe pain, I lean on my mother and sob and sob and sob.

 

`Why? Why is this happening to me?' I think to myself as I lay in my mother's warm and comforting arms. Was it because I avoided telling Vegeta the truth? Was it because he didn't want this baby? Was it because…? Another gripping pain passes through my body, pulling me away from my thinking and back into the ugly reality of what is happening to my body.

 

“Bulma, hang on there. It's going to be okay honey. My baby, my poor baby.”

 

I half hear my mother mumbling to me as she rocks my body, the two of us sitting on the bloody, cold bathroom floor. I can hear her telling me that everything is going to be fine, but I know the truth. Everything is not going to be fine. I'm not going to wake up from this, feeling relieved to know that it is nothing more than a horrible nightmare. It is a nightmare that has come to life, and there is nothing that I can do to push the demons away from my body. They've lodged themselves deep within me and they are tearing me apart and… I stop myself before I can go farther. I don't…I don't want to think about it. I won't think about it.

 

I don't know how long we sit there together, pain after pain dulling my senses to anything but just surviving past them. It could have been for hours or only a few minutes, but finally, the ambulance that my mother called shows up. They are coldly efficient and before I know it, I'm being lifted onto a gurney, given some sort of sedative, loaded up into the back of the vehicle and whisked off to West City Memorial Hospital.

 

My body is still in agony, but whatever they gave me starts to work it's magic immediately. A sort of numbness sweeps through my body and within minutes, I start to feel myself slipping away from consciousness. My eyelids feel as though they are being weighted down with bricks. Unable to fight the onslaught of tiredness that washes through my frame, I give in and drift off into oblivion.

 

& & &

 

I can feel my body starting to wake up, but I don't want to. You know that feeling you have when you first wake up in the morning? The feeling that tells you to just stay wrapped up in your warm blankets and keep right on snoozing through the rest of the day? That's how I'm feeling at the moment, yet something…or someone obviously has a different opinion on the matter. Feeling someone poke me in the shoulder for the third time, I irritably brush the offending hand away. Still, my apparent irritation at being rudely awakened from my nap doesn't seem to deter the person poking me in the least. This time, instead of poke, I feel my body shift sideways as a well placed shove is applied to my shoulders. Deciding to change tactics, I move away slightly and mumble out a warning.

 

“Go away.”

 

“No.”

 

Finally opening my eyes, I blink them shut as sunlight filters down through the foliage of the tree I'm laying under and my pupils shrink to accommodate the light entering inside.

 

Turning my head to the side, I find myself staring at two muscular thighs clad in a pair of tight blue jeans. Gazing upwards past a T-shirt enclosed torso, I look into Vegeta's smirking face.

 

“You're an ass.”

 

“Hnnn, whatever Woman.”

 

Watching as he settles down next to me, I'm slightly surprised when he proffers his hand towards me. Confused, I wonder why he's volunteering his help and why he's being so uncharacteristically…nice? Yeah, nice. Still, a helping hand is a helping hand, and I'm not stupid enough to piss him off by ignoring his offer. Grabbing hold of it, he pulls me upright and I find myself leaning in towards him, using his body as a support. I don't know why, but I have this sudden urge to kiss him. I'm about to plant my lips on his when he leans away from me and crosses his arms, a twinkle of mischief floating in the depths of his dark brown eyes.

 

“Now that you're finally awake, maybe you can start making those sandwiches. I'm hungry.”

 

Leave it to Vegeta to turn a semi-romantic event into something centered around food, or more specifically, his enormous stomach. Sometimes I have a feeling that he's more like Goku then he'd ever admit to. Slapping him in the arm, I stand up, but not quick enough because before I even take a step, he's behind me with his arms wrapped around my middle.

 

I stiffen slightly when his breath tickles across my ear, hearing a very distinct purr coming from between his lips. Licking my own set of lips, I let out a gasp when I feel him kiss my throat, and suddenly, I'm not really sure if he's hungry for sandwiches or hungry for…for something else.

 

“Vegeta, let go. We're out in a public park for God's sake. Somebody could see us.” I whisper frantically, although I'm not really sure if I want him to let go. He feels nice and for once, I like the way he's treating me.

 

“Stop being so coy Bulma. You know that it only has the opposite effect on me anyway.”

 

Well, that much is true. Still, even though the offer in the air does seem tempting, I'm not fool enough to try and tempt fate. With my abysmal bad luck, we'd end up being caught by the city police or have some old couple come across us and die of a heart attack from the shock. Besides, there is always the possibility that it would be our son who finds us and that is more then enough reason to stop the madness that Vegeta wants to pursue.

 

Pulling away from him firmly, I turn around and give him a smile.

 

“It can wait, can't it? You know Vegeta, good things happen to those who wait.”

 

I can tell he's disappointed, but instead of trying to badger me into giving in like he would normally do, he just shrugs his shoulders and backs up a few inches. Intrigued once again by his attitude, I look at him for a few seconds before he notices my pursual.

 

“What? Have I grown an extra head Woman? If I haven't, would you kindly explain what's so fascinating about me that you have to stare at me? I don't like people looking at me.”

 

Rubbing my arms, I try to phrase my thoughts without saying something that will inevitably insult him. However, with Vegeta, there is always an inherent risk that you are somehow going to offend him, even if that is not your intent. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I tell him what seems so off.

 

“I'm just wondering if you took a happy pill today or something. You're, um…unusually helpful and nice today.”

 

And of course, just as I predicted, Vegeta looks at me in such a way the clearly conveys his displeasure with my frank evaluation.

 

“Huh, well, if you're going to act like there is something wrong with being nice for a change, then I'll quit. But considering that you're the one who told me it isn't healthy to be angry at everything on this dung heap, I don't understand why you think it is so strange I would find pleasure in your company. We are mates after all.”

 

I said all that to him? For some reason, my mind seems oddly blank at ever having a conversation about something like his anger issues. In fact, the only thing I can think of was that I must have been drunk at the time. And Vegeta had to have been as well, because that's the only explanation I can come up with for him to have taken my words to heart.

 

Raising my eyebrows slightly, I let out a sigh and blurt out an apology. The lord knows, I certainly like this Vegeta much more then the usual cold and cranky version.

 

“Sorry Vegeta. I must just not be awake yet from that nice little nap.”

 

I watch in amazement as he nods his head in acceptance. Letting the oddity of the situation slide by, I ask him another question that comes to mind.

 

“Where's Trunks?”

 

“Playing with Toma over on those stupid things you humans call a jungle gym.” With that said, I watch as he jerks his head over in the direction of the play area in the park and I let out sigh of relief when I see my son's tell tale purple hair. That's when something else that Vegeta said pops into my head.

 

“Who's Toma?”

 

“Gods Bulma, did you leave your brain back at Capsule Corporation?”

 

Feeling uncomfortable over his reaction and the fact that he's currently looking at me like I've grown two heads, I blush slightly and then try to cover my faux pas.

 

“Oh, sorry. I just didn't understand what you were saying Vegeta.” With that, I step away from him and head over towards the picnic blanket that's set up under the same tree I was sleeping underneath. Settling down on the red and white checkered cloth, I start pulling out the bread and meat that's been placed inside it and begin the process of assembling the huge amount of food that my son and my husband are going to end up eating. Vegeta, however, is not appeased by my answer or my motions towards making him something to eat.

 

Feeling uneasy, I watch nervously as he settles down next to me on the blanket. Without warning, he grabs one of my hands and then stares at my face. I suddenly have a sinking sensation that he's going to try and get inside of my head, but before he does, he lets go of it and then slouches down next to me.

 

“I don't know why you would ask such a ridiculous question. But you seem healthy enough. Maybe you didn't hear me right…” He lets his sentence trail off as he abruptly stares into space, the wheels in his head spinning as he searches for an elusive answer.

 

However, soon as his solitary thought process starts, it's ended just as quickly by a loud smacking sound, as something collides with his head. Swallowing nervously, I tense up as I wait for the explosion I know is going to happen. But then something happens that really throws me for a loop.

 

Turning around, I see the culprit who is none other then our son, Trunks. Vegeta sees this as well and motions for him to come forward. Picking up the ball that Trunks had just thrown, Vegeta holds it in front of his face.

 

“You see this boy?”

 

I watch as Trunks nods his head nervously.

 

“This is what happens when something of yours strays into my territory.”

 

With that said, I watch as Vegeta calmly uses his ki to turn the ball into a small pile of ash. Feeling badly for Trunks, I'm surprised when he just accepts Vegeta's punishment without having a fit. I'm also surprised when Vegeta wipes his hands on his pants and then turns his attention back to me. For the life of me, I can't figure out why both of them aren't at each other's throats. Vegeta because Trunks touched his body on purpose with an inanimate object, and Trunks because Vegeta just destroyed one of his toys. I'm staring at the two of them in shock when Vegeta speaks up again, addressing our son.

 

“You can also tell your brother to come out from where he's hiding behind that tree. Your mother is making supper and I'm sure both of you have enough sense not to piss her off.”

 

With that said, I watch as my little boy nods his head and then scampers off in the direction of the tree that Vegeta just mentioned. Pursing my lips slightly, I get back to making the sandwiches, totally confused about a number of things. Vegeta acting nice. Vegeta not losing his temper and most of all, why Trunks seems older then four years old.

 

Throwing myself into the rhythm of making the sandwiches, I let my confusion linger in the back on my mind. There is definitely something off about this whole situation. It's as though time has skipped forward and for some reason, there's a huge gap in my memory. I don't get it and I suddenly feel terrified. Looking down at my working hands, I try to quell my nervousness, lest Vegeta tune into it. But it's already too late for that when I feel his warm hands grab my agitated ones.

 

Leaning in, he speaks softly into my ear.

 

“What's wrong Bulma?”

 

For some reason, I feel like I can trust Vegeta. Big, bad Vegeta, the one who almost destroyed our planet when he first came here and then a second time when he let his arrogance and pride take over his common sense when fighting Cell. However, he's not like that anymore, and that is becoming more apparent by the second. Swallowing, I tell him the truth.

 

“I feel like there is something missing in my head Vegeta. I…I can't remember ever talking to you about learning how to control your anger and the last time I remember seeing Trunks, he was a lot younger then he is now. What does that mean, Vegeta? I feel…I feel afraid.”

 

Now he looks extremely concerned, but instead of voicing his thoughts, he rubs my back slowly as we wait for Trunks to return.

 

In a few minutes, our son suddenly comes bounding back into sight, trailed by a smaller boy with a shock of dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. It's uncanny how much he looks like Vegeta and that's when it dawns on me. This is Toma, our other son.

 

Pulling away from Vegeta, I watch as the little boy stares at me sadly and then plops down on the blanket next to his father. Trunks soon follows suit and Vegeta soundlessly starts passing out the food to his two offspring and to myself, since I feel incapable at the moment.

 

We eat silently, except for the two boys intermittently poking fun at each other or making faces, squishing their food between their teeth to the disgust of their sire. But all Vegeta does to correct their horrible table manners is to tell them they will never be fit to act as Saiya-jin princes, which only earns a few well placed snickers in return. However, I can't help but feel as though this whole situation is nothing more then a farce. There is something terribly wrong and I feel like I'm the only one who seems to be noticing the fact that something is amiss.

 

“Mommy, what's the matter?”

 

Brought back to reality, I find myself staring into the endless pools of azure that make up my other son's eyes. Eyes that seem to know more then a normal toddler should know. Eyes that never had the chance to really live. Eyes that…

 

Standing up quickly, I try to back away. Pushing the picnic basket over in my haste, I slap at Vegeta's hands as he tries to reign in my apparently psychotic behavior.

 

“Woman, stop it! You're hurting yourself and scaring the brats!”

 

I can vaguely hear him shout at me, but all I can do is look at the little boy who is sadly sitting in the middle of the mess that was our picnic. Stare in despair at the beautiful thing that could have been.

 

“Y…You're dead.”

 

I watch as he slowly nods his head up and down.

 

“Yes Mommy. I'm dead.”

 

& & &

 

I wake up shrieking, my hands clawing at my belly as my mind finally settles on the reality that I've been trying to deny.

 

Screaming in agony, I look downwards and see myself robed in a hospital gown sitting in a strange bed and feeling the horrible feeling of knowing…knowing a horrible truth.

 

My baby is dead. My baby…is dead.

 

Whew, the end of chapter four. What is going to happen now? Is Vegeta going to come back to find out what happened to Bulma, and how is Bulma going to deal with the loss of her child? To find out, stay tuned for the next chapter. Please read and review!