Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Event Horizon ❯ Parental Advice ( Chapter 2 )

Event Horizon: Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own DB Z/GT ect, nor the characters themselves save for the few that will be introduced in the upcoming chapters. When I do introduce OC's, I will make sure to list them here as needed (basically the same 'ol disclaimer stuff from last time).

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Capsule Corporation, the Briefs' Estate...

"Why yes, Dave. I do believe this fine silverware dining set -can- be yours for only eight low monthly payments of---"

*BLEEP!*

"...And here we have the savage Pygmy Marmoset, basking in all of its natural glory..."

*BLEEP!*

"Heeeeey kids...!!! Make sure to pester your parents for this hot new---"

*BLEEP!*

"And in other news, Enjinn Technologies has announced its new CEO, Kit Karr..."

Bulma breathed a defeated sigh as she finally selected a glossy black screen that failed to emit noise instead of a brain-draining display of moving picture. There was absolutely nothing on, or at least nothing worth watching. Groaning, she stretched out both of her arms and swept them to either side of the couch she was currently sitting in. Her left hand came to settle on the backside of the sofa comfortably, but when her right touched down...

"Ouch!"

She winced. Throughout the process of boredly flipping through several different channels, she had completely forgotten about her injury. The teal-haired scientist had wasted no time in getting herself down to the med-wing of the compound. She soon learned that she had a very nasty sprain to her wrist, and cursed Vegeta's name throughout the entire process of wrapping it up with a splint. Thanks, Vegeta. Asshole.

How did she ever agree to letting him stay with her and her parents? He was the most rude, egotistical houseguest that had ever dared set foot on the property.

Yet they tolerated it. Because of the Androids.

Bulma mentally cursed their coming, even though it wasn't the first time. If they weren't a very real threat, she would waste no time in telling Goku to send Vegeta packing into the afterlife. Logically, it made sense that the wealthiest people on the planet should harbor a potential savior for Earth and provide as much of their resources as possible in training them for the great threat to come. Sometimes Bulma despised logic, even though most of her hobbies depended on it.

"Oh, Yamcha." she voiced aloud. It was times like these that she wished she had someone to confide into. Yamcha was great with physicality, but he wasn't the greatest listener in the world. Hell, he often didn't seem to be listening at all when she poured her guts into him. He would usually just stare into space or at something that provoked his interest, all the while nodding along with 'Uh-huh', and 'Yeah Babe'. It made her furious, but deep down she was thankful she had someone to vent to, even if he didn't care much. Talking about it helped, but she might as well confess her soul to a brick wall rather than Yamcha. It just wasn't worth it.

Oh well, at least I had someone pretending to care. Now I have no one.

She couldn't call Yamcha up on the phone, so close to their break up. Even though they were supposedly friends now, she didn't want him to see her as crawling back so quickly. If she did that, he just might begin to think she was secretly asking for another round. No way. She realized they definitely needed time apart, friends or not... and this included not speaking for at least a week or two, until things simmered down.

While she had been absorbed with these thoughts, she failed to notice her blonde mother sway into the room.

"Oh dear, there you are! What are you doing sitting here, all alone? You should have that nice boy Yamcha come over and keep you company."

Bulma rolled her eyes and carefully placed her hands in her lap, mindful of her injury this time. "I can't, Mom. Yamcha and I broke up yesterday."

"Again? Poor Yamcha. You should get on the phone and make-up with him so you two can go out and have some fun."

"Please, Mom!" Bulma leaned forward before standing upright. She turned to face the rather vacuous woman, hands going to her hips. Once again, she had forgotten about her wound. In all of her boiling frustration at her mother's redundant prattle, she had temporarily looked over the fact that she had a swollen hand that was tender to the touch.

Even though Mrs. Briefs was ignorant to most things, she didn't miss the look of discomfort that passed over Bulma's face. Rushing over like the mother hen she was, she stared down at her daughter's injury with round eyes. "Oh, Bulma dear... let me see that. What did you do to yourself?"

Bulma was momentarily torn. Should she tell her mother about Vegeta flipping out last night? Even if she did, would Mrs. Briefs believe it? For some reason or another, her mother just couldn't seem to realize that there were actually evil people out there. Everyone around her existed in a world where lions and sheep slept together in peace. Anything and everything was perfect through her rosy glasses. Sometimes Bulma wondered how a genius like her father had gotten hitched to her dunce of a mother. Had he been smoking something?

In the end, she lied. She lied for many reasons. One, her mother wouldn't ever be brought to believe 'that sweet boy' could ever harm anyone or anything, even when he had decimated entire worlds. Secondly, it would only bring her father to finding a way to rid the Briefs family of Vegeta once and for all, even if it meant enlisting the help of Goku. That would severely limit Earth's chances of surviving the ordeal with the Androids. Hell, she could be selfish, and she knew it... but not selfish enough to kill of an entire world.

"I accidentally slammed it into a door. Stupid, huh?" She smiled, even though it faltered. Kami, she hated herself for saying it. She was only letting herself give into the abuse he wrought upon her by keeping quiet, but she had pretty high stakes set upon her shoulders for doing so. Damn that Saiyan. Damn him!

"Oh. Well, you should be more careful around doors, dear. Maybe I should ask your father to install doors that automatically open and close, like at the grocery store..."

Bulma used her good hand to smack her forehead. Not only did she look like a complete klutz; even her own mindless mother was considering her a fool. Now that said something. "No, Mom. That's ok. I'll be more careful next time, I promise."

"Ok, honey. I'm just worried, that's all." Mrs. Briefs' tone was sincere.

Bulma nodded and smiled, more genuinely this time. "Yeah, I know Mom." It was at times like these when she already had an answer to the question of how her father saw anything in her mother. Her father was a good person, and it was likewise with her mother. Even though their intellects mismatched greatly, the two had other qualities that went hand-in-hand.

"Good! Now, where is that nice Vegeta? Have you seen him lately?"

Yeah, I have. In my nightmares and every day that I'm awake. She now force-fed her smile to stay in place, but it undoubtedly wavered. "He's probably in the Gravity Room, like always. You know Vegeta." She laughed anxiously, in hopes of curing any doubts that her mother might conjure on the great off chance.

"He is such a dedicated young man. And a looker, too!" Mrs. Briefs fanned her face, her eyes closing and reopening several times. "I'm sure you've noticed, but then Yamcha is nice too."

Bulma's only reaction was stupefied horror. "Mother!" Her indignant cry burst from her throat. "Aren't you worried that Dad will hear you?" Deep down, she was well aware of Vegeta's physical appeal. Too bad looks didn't match personality.

"Your father knows it's all in good fun. Besides, it is somewhat difficult to not notice all the good-looking men you bring around." Her mother had a point, which was extremely rare.

"Yeah, well... where is Dad, anyhow?"

The abrupt change in subjects did nothing to distill Mrs. Briefs' composure. She took the switch easily, without any sign of confusion whatsoever. It would have been disconcerting, had Bulma not known her mother's ability to lack suspicion in all things. "He is in his lab, of course... tinkering with some new invention or another." After a moment, she rapidly switched course, much like Bulma had done. "I think I should go work on the flowerbeds today before supper. My poor roses... wilting in this heat!" She began to wind down on the severe drought they had been having lately, making several mundane comments about the lack of water the soil was receiving.

Bulma sighed, and nodded bleakly along with her mother's statements. She felt absurdly like Yamcha now, and a twinge of guilt hit her like an unseen brick. "That's great, Mom. I'm gonna go find Dad, ok?"

"Ok," Mrs. Briefs tittered, already sweeping over to the foyer to exit the house and pick up on her gardening. "I'll see you at dinner, dear." She gave a little wave, and removed herself from the dwelling as if she had never arrived in the first place.

Shaking her head as if to clear it, Bulma made haste to find her father. She needed company badly, and although her mother was good for support, she wasn't the best for critical opinions. Her father would listen, undoubtedly. Who knew; perhaps she would even reveal to him the reason for her injury... if he could keep it quiet from everyone else, that was.

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The Briefs' Estate, Dr. Briefs' Laboratory...

"Dad?"

Bulma peered inquisitively around the corner of the automatic double doors of her father's lab. It wasn't completely true that the Briefs family didn't have automatic doors installed where the situation merited it. From her vantage point, Bulma could distinctly see the white lab coat shouldered across her father's back as he was turned away from her. His shoulders repeatedly rose and fell, just as he was adjusting some latent screws on the newest prototype for a line of air cars. His head was dipped low in front of him as he strained to see underneath the vehicle, so it appeared to his daughter than he had none at all.

"Yes, Bulma?" he replied without looking up.

"Uh... I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, no. I'm just finishing the last of the calibrations on the new fuel cell."

"Really?" With her curiosity now piqued, Bulma came around to stand on Dr. Briefs' left side as she examined the work he had finished up until that point. He continued fiddling, heedless of her movement. After a moment or two had gone by without a word passed between them, he risked a question.

"What brings you here? Usually you prefer to be in your own laboratory."

"Well, you know.." She shrugged indeterminately.

"No, I'm afraid I don't."

"Well, I just got done talking to Mom..."

"Ah," he replied, as if he suddenly understood everything. He finally took the opportunity to stand straight before wiping at the faint sheen of perspiration that had collected at his silver brow. Dropping the tool he had been using into a box filled with an assortment of others, he dusted off the palms of his hands in a swiping motion and turned towards her.

"You know, Dad.." Bulma tipped her head earnestly to the side a few degrees, eyeing him with concern, "You seem to find yourself in here more often than I'm in my own lab. Do you have a deadline or what?"

Dr. Briefs momentarily paled, but whatever had gotten to him in Bulma's offhand comment was quickly camouflaged. "Supply and demand. You know how it is." He winked, giving her one of his 'good 'ol boy' smiles. That must of been what first caught Mom's attention, she thought idly.

Why was she suddenly so interested in her parent's love life? It didn't make sense. Usually it was just a nasty fact never to be spoken or thought about. Maybe I'm trying to understand my own love life through the history of others. Whoa... did she even want to go there?

"Yeah, sure... Dad." Her voice came to her in an uncertain waver, and Dr. Briefs picked up on it right away.

"Something wrong, dear?"

"Well, um.. this is kind of embarrassing, and I don't want to bug you with my problems..."

"You couldn't talk to your mother about it, could you?"

"No," she responded quietly.

"I agree. Sometimes I find myself speaking with my colleagues on various problems, rather than bringing it to up to her... wait... Bulma, whatever happened to your hand!?" Her father headed over, before bringing up the elbow of her injured arm with his calloused hand. Holding it up to the light, he scrutinized the token that Vegeta had left her with. "What did you do?"

It had definitely taken Dr. Briefs longer to notice the bandages when compared with the flighty Mrs. Briefs, but then again he appeared to be confounded by some problem he wouldn't speak of just yet. Bulma understood this entirely, and so therefore she didn't press him on it. Some matters were best left solely to her father, especially since he was quite capable of sorting most of them out all by his lonesome.

"I.. well..." Did she dare continue with the lie she had willingly given her mother earlier? No, Dad would never go for that, she surmised. She had to tell him the truth. In one quick exhalation of air, she tensely admitted, "Vegeta and I got into a fight, and he hurt my hand."

Anger flashed behind Dr. Briefs' eyes, and his shoulders immediately squared off.

"---But," Bulma immediately rushed to finish her sentence before her father exploded, "I egged him on. I shouldn't have.. maybe I even deserved it." Like hell I did.

The fury behind her father's expression dissipated a bit, enough for him to speak reasonably. "Bulma... I fully understand the danger we are in... the danger everyone on Earth is in... but I am really beginning to doubt that we can keep Vegeta here much longer."

He makes Vegeta sound like an unwanted dog that has more bite than bark. "Dad..."

"No, hear me out." He held up one hand, before placing the other on one of her shoulders in a light, comforting gesture. "He is more trouble than he is worth... surely you understand this. Your friend Goku..."

"...Is the only thing keeping us from certain annihilation," she concluded smoothly. "Yeah, I know. But still... we need all the chances we can get. I can take an injury or two, Dad. What I can't take is completely accepting the fact that by ridding ourselves of Vegeta, we are knowingly doing away with all hopes for Earth."

"But Bulma, he hurt you."

"Dad, please..."

Dr. Briefs became silent for a long stretch of time, looking forlorn. His eyes continually danced between his daughter's sincere face and the injury she sustained at Vegeta's hands, as if weighing the options. At long last he sighed, giving in to Bulma much as he always did. With a light, worried pat on the shoulder his hand had rested upon, he remarked, "You have a good heart, dear. Sometimes I wonder, however..." He turned away, as if ending the subject then and there.

Bulma blinked... once, twice. Wow, he didn't put up as much of a fight as I thought he would. Something really must be troubling him. Oh well, if its really bad he will definitely come to me about it when he's good and ready...

"Thanks for the second opinion, Dad. I really needed it."

"Not a problem, Bulma. You know you can tell me anything."

I can, but you can't.

Bulma forced a smile and a small nod, heading back towards the door that turned into the hallway. "Yeah, thanks. I think I'll go check on our houseguest... see how he's doing."

Dr. Briefs' worried call stopped her in her tracks as if drifted over his shoulder, "Do you really think that is wise, Bulma?"

"Maybe not, but someone has to keep an eye on him."

"Be careful..."

"I will." As his last words faded away and she rounded the corner, Bulma couldn't help but to replay the previous scene with her father in her mind. What had gotten him all spooked? Probably jitters on how the public would view his new air car, or something like it. Then again, Dr. Briefs had never become nervous with the unveiling of his previous invention.

Hmm... interesting.

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Capsule Corporation, The Gravity Room...

Time found Bulma standing just outside the Gravity Simulator that she had single-handedly invented and continued to repair on nearly a bi-weekly basis. For some reason or another, Vegeta had the awful habit of breaking his presents.

While standing just outside the domed structure, the ocean-eyed woman began to contemplate the logic of walking in on a training Saiyan. She could plainly hear all of the crashes and thuds resounding beneath the GR, and from what her ears told her it was definitely violent. Despite this, she had longed to sit Vegeta down and have a good chat with him about the difference in threats and actually acting upon them. Not that he would listen, of course, but she refused to be cowed by the bully. If telling him her piece meant a broken bone here or there... well, then so be it. With more bravery than she felt, Bulma punched in the access code that would permit her entrance into the Gravity Room.

Immediately after the string of numbers were entered, the safety mechanism she had deliberately installed into the simulator kicked in. The doors slid aside with a hiss, just as the gravity level within the chamber fell to normal. She heard a distinct thud from within that had nothing to do with a last ki blast ricocheting off one of the walls. As she walked purposefully into the room, she was greeted by the sight of Vegeta on his knees, propped up by one outstretched fist for support. He was panting heavily, just like a jogger would after a strenuous run.

Only this jogger looked about ready to kill every last car that had ever dared to sideswipe him.

"WOMAN," he bit out furiously.

"Ohhhh no, not this time you don't." She strode right on up to him, so that the toes of her shoes came into his viewpoint as he stared at the ground.

In a blur of speed and light, he was on his feet again, eyes shooting her way in a lethal question that simply asked why she had ever been dumb enough to cross the threshold of the Gravity Room. His threshold. "I don't like surprises, woman." The words were low and calculated, much like the violence he threatened her with by his every action.

Bulma held up her bandaged hand like a trophy, right between his burning eyes. "Surprise!"

He seemed readily surprised by that maneuver; whether it was the sight of her hand in bandages or the way she suddenly brought up her arm, she couldn't tell. With a contemptuous snort, the surprise fell away and he turned from her, arms crossed. "You are an imbecile."

She feigned empathy for his lack there of. "Oh Vegeta, I'm touched by your concern..." Her tenor was sugar-sweet and loaded with dripping sarcasm.

"Shut-up, baka!" He did an abrupt about face, rounding on her. "Get out. I do not care about your pathetic injuries. If you are so weak that you..."

He was interrupted by a swaggering finger in front of his face, produced by Bulma's good hand. "Now Vegeta, don't get too over-emotional about this... I know you didn't mean it and we are still on the best of terms..."

He went stock still in what looked like shock, but only for a split second. "GET OUT, WOMAN! You are insane!!!"

At last, Bulma reverted back to her normal demeanor, now content that her words had riled Vegeta satisfactorily. She had set out for revenge, and here she had taken it. "Alright, alright. A girl can take a hint." As she turned away, she was happy to note that for once it was she who was departing with the smug smirk. Confronting Vegeta within his safe house was nothing short of an attempt at suicide, but all seemed to fall into place.

If he wanted to play the game, who was she to turn him down?

Bulma left him standing there, at the center of the Gravity Room. As soon as the doors slid shut with a whoosh of departing air, the menacing scowl on Vegeta's face came loose. He looked sufficiently confused, but only long enough to mutter a litany of half-heard curses and oaths that weren't even fully rationalized by his own mind. He returned to an enraged training session, berating himself for letting her get the best of him. What he should have done was squeeze the life out of her throat right then and there.

Yes, what he should have done...

In the meantime, Bulma was taking an upbeat walk back to her room. She was reveling in the look of astonishment she had seen characterized in Vegeta's expression, although she couldn't understand at all exactly why he had appeared that way. If she were to guess, she would have supposed that he would simply yell, then laugh, and then yell again. Maybe hit her up a bit or kill her somewhere in between as well, but not seem.. well.. surprised. Huh.

Things were getting way too complicated in her life, especially since her break-up with Yamcha. Hell, even participating in the the on again-off again relationship that she had shared with Yamcha was beginning to look like child's play.

Bulma consciously readied herself for one achingly long night...

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A/N: Well, there is Chapter Two. Remember to read between the lines... and tell me what you think so far. R&R!