Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fixation ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

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Fixation

Chapter Three

Bulma tucked herself up on the kitchen counter in front of the small window over the sink. It was an uncomfortable position. Her back was braced against the sharp edge of the upper cupboard, her heels resting on the sink rim, and the facet was jammed painfully into her thigh. From this position she could twitch the white, lace curtain aside and peer out into the backyard. In the farthest right corner she could see the edge of Vegeta's gravity chamber. She would have a perfect unobstructed view from her balcony, and in the past she had watched Vegeta many times from that perch, but now she couldn't seem to force herself to walk out into such a huge, unprotected space. She had taken most of the blankets in her suite, and tacked them up over the French doors. Even then, the thin layer of cloth did nothing to make her feel more secure, so she had taken to sleeping in the guest room. That was, of course, when she slept.

She would have ordered the doors to be replaced with steel ones like she had at the front entrance, but even before the idea was fully formed, a plot was hatching in the back of her brain. She knew she was going to need those beautiful, dangerous French doors as a lure.

She watched carefully as Vegeta made his way into her line of sight to begin his cooling down exercises as was his habit at the end of the day. She noticed he did a lot of his work outside, training only in the gravity room when he had too. As he moved into his first kata she chewed on the side of her thumb nail. In the time Before, she would have watched the fluid movement of his muscles with sexual interest, but now all she could think about was the sheer amount of strength reflected in the perfection of his body, his hyper awareness of his environment. He was constantly aware, constantly watching. Even now he knew she was watching. She could tell by the way his shoulders stiffened for a moment, before he pointedly looked away from the house. He was the perfect guard. The perfect protector.

She hopped down from the counter, knocking an old half-full pizza box to the ground. She ignored it as she rooted around the messy table for a pen. Unable to find any paper, she ripped off a piece of a grease-stained fast food bag, and hurriedly scribbled a message. She slipped the paper beneath the triple locked door to her suite, knowing her mother would give it to her father.

Done, she went back to searching her closet for any newly created spaces meant to be secret from her. There was entirely too much stuff in the huge space. Too many places for someone to hide. The Dolce and Gabbana collections would have to go and the space would need to be walled up. Less space, meant less room for him to hide.

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Vegeta pounded impatiently on the reinforced steel door. His gravity room had mysteriously stopped working, and all the scurrying piss-ants he could get his hands on were telling him the only person who could fix it was the woman. She had been resurrected some weeks ago, but he hadn't seen hide nor hair of her. He'd assumed her parents shipped her off to a medical facility. What little he saw of her on the day she had been resurrected hadn't looked good. There had been enough blood to let him know her heart was still pumping when the sick fuck starting slicing into her. She didn't strike him as the type would be able to handle that sort of distress. She was a pampered, pretty princess, not a mentally and physically fortified warrior.

Multiple locks rattled on the other side of the door, before finally cracking open. He didn't bother waiting, slapping his hand hard enough against the metal surface to slam it wide open. He watched with dark amusement as bits of gold chain sailed through the air. He heard a muffled shriek, and he tracked a slight figure darting for cover behind the chocolate- colored, leather couch deeper in the room. He stepped inside, glancing around for threats. His nose wrinkled at the stench of rotten food that immediately assailed him. In the sink there was a pile of dishes at least a week old, and the counters were cluttered with wrappers and the remnants of decaying meals. He glanced away with disgust, noticing with relief that the den area was relatively clean, but he noticed odds works of art on the walls. They looked like badly done finger paintings with mismatching colors. Clearly seeing there was no threat, he turned his attention back towards the couch.

The woman was cowering behind it, peeking at him from over the back. He was taken aback a moment as he looked at her. Her normally long blue hair was dyed black and cut into short, glossy curls. The only reason he knew it was the woman was because her bright blue eyes were even brighter against her pale skin and black hair. They practically shone like jewels in the dim lighting. She had dark rings under her eyes, and her cheeks were hollow from lack of food, which made him reevaluate the kitchen. It was quiet possible the mess was older than a week.

Nervously, she stood up to face him, unconsciously chewing on her fingernail. All of her nails were torn down to the quick and some of them were even bleeding. He raised one dark brow as he assessed her. This woman was not the same one from Namek. This woman was broken. And he doubted there would be any fixing her. Fortunately, fixing things wasn't his job. It was hers.

“The gravity room is broken. Repair it,” he barked, thrusting his thumb over his shoulder towards the door. He took a bit of malicious pleasure from the sight of her cringing away from him.

“Can't,” she mumbled from behind her hand.

Vegeta's dark eyes narrowed, and he took an intimidating step forward. “What did you say to me, female?”

She took a step back, nearly falling into the sunken living area as she failed to gage the step down. She righted herself, dropping her hand so she could rub her shaking palm over her thigh. She glanced away from him, checking over her shoulder as if someone else was in the room with them. He was immediately drawn to the thin, pale column of her neck. He could see her pulse thrumming rapidly beneath her ear. Around her hairline, he could see light streaks of black staining the back of her neck and around her temple.

“Won't,” she replied, turning back towards him.

Vegeta was momentarily brought up short by her defiance. By her very mannerism she was nothing more than a scared little mouse, and he knew from experience he was very much a hungry wolf. She should be jumping to do as he said, but her eyes told another story. He remembered she was clever, and even though it was clear she was mentally damaged, it seemed she could still plot.

“What's stopping me from snapping your neck right now?” he growled, stalking closer to her. She held her ground, her entire body quivering. She dropped her eyes, gaining courage by looking at anything, but him. She started on another nail, biting it until it bled.

“Gravity room.”

His frustrated growl echoed through the room, and he watched in satisfaction as she hunkered down slightly at the sound. Her noncommittal, short replies were disconcerting. He hadn't the displeasure of being in her company for long, but when he had, the woman hadn't shut up. Now, she barely could spit out enough words to participate in a conversation.

“What do you want, little female?” It occurred to him now, that his gravity room being busted was no coincidence. She had wanted to see him for a reason, so she had sent some poor shit minion out to do her bidding. God help whoever it was when he found them.

“A beneficial exchange of services.” She rubbed her abused fingers across her mouth hard enough to redden the pale skin around her lips. She backed away until her legs were braced on the arm of a thickly padded chair. She cast a disgruntled glance at her fingers, before shoving her hands into the front pockets of her very loose blue jeans. The baggy, black T-shirt she wore flowed down over her waist, obscuring arms, which made him a little nervous. He liked being able to see where people's hands were at all times.

He crossed his arms, inhaling deeply so his chest looked broader, more threatening. He glared down at her, being sure to stay at the top of the ledge for even greater height.

“What sort of services.”

“Well, they are actually more beneficial to me than they are too you.” She paused, staring past him and into nothing. He didn't reply, just watched as her eyes unfocused for a moment before snapping back to reality. She really was cracked in the head.

“I was thinking it would be more comfortable for you to stay here. The chamber beneath the gravity room is so stuffy. You can have my room. It has a great big balcony facing the gravity room, so all you have to do is fly down to train in the morning,” she explained in a rush, and he watched with a sick sort of fascination as her pale cheeks flushed pink.

When he first arrived at Capsule Corporation he had searched every inch of the property, including her room. It was habit to make sure his environment was secured and he knew every secret passage, entrance, and exit. Her room had appealed to him. For an entire lifetime he'd been in enclosed spaces. In ships with narrow corridors and ten by ten cells for quarters, pods without enough room for a full grown man or even for someone of his stature. Space, real outdoors, fresh air, without walls to keep him caged, that's what he craved. That was what he loved the most about his missions. The ability to take a deep breath and smell anything but recycled air. Even trash was preferable to the highly oxygenated antiseptic air of ships. The entire east wall of her room was nothing, but open doors overlooking the yard where he trained. It was shelter without being a cage. It had all the fresh air he would ever need, not like the small cell under the gravity room where he slept, breathing recycled air.

He stared at her long enough to make her fidget. It was a technique he had perfected long ago to make people nervous, especially when he was at a loss for words. The woman clearly had lost her mind for making such a ludicrous offer. Even if he did covet her sleeping space, he wasn't about to become anyone's roomie.

“What possible reason would I have for wanting to stay in here with you?” His voice was thick with disgust, rolling off his tongue spiteful bursts.

“Well for one the bed is much more comfortable, and I can guarantee huge, well prepared meals for you. Secondly, if you move out of the chamber beneath the gravity room, then I can move my office in there, so I can monitor and repair your equipment as needed.”

Vegeta watched her with a practiced eye. As she spoke, her blue eyes darted around the room, looking for a sudden attack from anywhere. Her shirt was bunching and loosening around her waist, and he knew he was clenching and releasing her fists rhythmically in her pockets. The dark rings beneath her eyes were from lack of sleep, and the chalky paleness of her skin spoke of bad health. The woman was sleep and food deprived. She was frightened, haunted by the imaginings of her own mind.

It suddenly made sense now. She wanted him to sleep in the room that had the most outside access. She wanted to be beneath him while he trained above her. She wanted him between her and any possible danger. She wanted him to protect her. He almost laughed out loud at her ridiculousness. Not only was it the most asinine idea ever, they were talking about him. Satan's balls, he was a goddamn killer!

“Go find some dick-weasel to pay for protection. I'm no bodyguard. I'm a prince,” he hissed at her. He turned on his heel, ready to storm out when she popped up at his side. She wrapped both her tiny hands around his forearm, pulling on him as if she had any hope of restraining him. He glared down at her, his upper lip curling back to flash his sharp ivory teeth.

“I don't need a bodyguard. I just need…..you to be you.” She looked lost for a moment, like a dumb dog that lost its master. She glanced around, searching for something unseen, and Vegeta realized she was trying to find the right words. Something close to pity scratched on the hard shield around his heart, but it was easy for him to shake it off. He glared at her through narrowed eyes, his lips thinning as he prepared to crush her.

“You are the strongest, meanest person in the world, Vegeta. You have to help me,” she implored in a tiny voice before he could speak. She finally looked straight at him, and he realized that up until now she had kept her eyes averted. The impact of her gaze was shocking. With her dark hair, her blue eyes looked even larger than normal, and he wondered if it was possible to drown in something so deep.

To anyone else her words would have been a mixed complement, but to him it was the truth. He was the strongest, meanest bastard on Earth. Not even Kakarott could say differently.

“Get that dumbass boyfriend of yours. I'm sure he would jump at the chance to sleep in your bed.” He jerked his arm away, intending to leave, but she leapt in front of him, arms extending until her palms rested on his chest.

“No. He's strong, but he's just a human.” He could feel her fingertips trembling through his thin cotton shirt. The distance she kept between them with her extended arms had less to do with stopping him from leaving, and more to do with keeping him away. Even though she was asking for help, she was still afraid of him. She was afraid of everything, including her own shadow.

“So what? I'm sure he's plenty strong enough to protect you from whatever your silly little mind is cooking up.” He knocked her hands away, disliking the feel of her fear upon his skin.

“It's possible that Yamacha is strong enough, but I can't take the chance that he isn't. He was a human.” Her hand darted up to encircle her neck, rubbing at a wound Vegeta couldn't see. “Who knows how strong he is. He could be a fighter too. Once he realizes I'm alive, he'll come for me. He's probably already here.” Her eyes darted around, looking for a predator in the shadows. What she failed to see was the one right in front of her.

Vegeta could only assume that, `he' was the man who terrorized and slaughtered her. She was living in the memory of what he had done to her, and until she overcame her fear, she would be forever imprisoned.

“Not my problem.” Vegeta shook her off, moving around her, and heading for the door. This time she didn't try to stop him. He was passing through the portal, when she lobbed her last card at him.

“No one knows how to fix the Gravity Room, but me.” She issued her threat with quiet aplomb that would have almost made him proud, if it wasn't directed towards him. Slowly he turned around, his dark eyes veiled by his thick lashes. He scanned up her body, taking in her long legs, and torso hidden behind her shapeless clothing. Her hands were clutched in front of her, like a disciple seeking asylum from a god. She dropped her eyes and soft glossy curls fell across her forehead. “I can't leave this room,” she whispered to him. “Unless you are beside me.”

A tiny, nothing, slip of a girl, and she had him by the balls. He could threaten her, maybe even beat her, but he doubted it would do him any good. She was already broken. There was nothing else that could be done to her that would persuade her to change her mind. He felt something clench in the space right above his belly, just beneath his rib cage. It was a weird, awkward feeling, and he didn't know what it meant. He only knew it worsened as she stared at her pathetic countenance.

He glanced around the room again, sneering at what he saw. “I will not live in filth, woman. Clean it before I return,” he snarled before slamming the door shut, cursing in an alien tongue the entire way down the hall.