Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fixation ❯ Chapter Six ( Chapter 6 )

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Fixation

Chapter Six

Vegeta stood on the darkened balcony, his sweaty palms braced on the cold, marble balustrade. He hoped the stone would cool the heat of his anger, but with every passing moment the churning, acidic bile rose in his throat. The glass doors behind him were shut, the door to his room locked, but he could still hear the brainless woman, and her Head of Security speaking in the common area.

“My men checked every square inch. Including risking life and limb in your—the Saiyan's room. There is no one here.”

“Are you sure? Are all your men accounted for? Perhaps one has stayed behind.” Her last words were muffled, and Vegeta knew she was biting her nails again. His grip on the balustrade tightened, and thin fractures spider-webbed along the stone. Disgusting habit.

“Ms. Briefs, every one of my men have been with me for years. And frankly, I don't think it's them we should be concerned with.”

“What do you mean?”

There was a pause. Vegeta lifted his face to the starlit sky.

“Ms. Briefs---Bulma, you are sharing your quarters with a notorious madman. I've read the file on him. The one you composed yourself from the database of his crashed ship. You know as well as I do he can't be trusted.”

“Vegeta is the only one who can protect me.”

“Protect you from what?”

“From him.”

Again, there was a pause. Vegeta's dark eyes swept the shadows between the ghostly birch trees that butted the property.

“Bulma, he can't get you here. You are surrounded by men who would give their lives for you. I am tireless in my surveillance. I'm the one who is protecting you. If you are so worried, why don't you speak to the police? The sooner he is in custody, the sooner you will be relieved.”

“I told you, I don't remember him,” Bulma spat, and for the first time there was venom in her voice. In that moment, Vegeta heard the real her. “Just his hands,” she murmured. The moment passed. She was lost again.

“Perhaps, a therapist—.“ Glass shattered. Vegeta shifted his stance, glancing behind him. He couldn't see, but he could hear the frantic rustling of movement in the common area.

“This can't go on Bulma. You didn't even tell anyone you had invited him in. What will your mother think? You put your faith in a madman to protect you when it is clear he can't be trusted, not in these rooms, not in this house and certainly not in your bed.”

“We aren't!” Vegeta heard shock, before it dissipated into hauteur. “It's none of your business. You've done your job, Max. Leave.”

There were shuffling steps, and then the front door opened and shut. Vegeta followed the man's ki down the hall, noting the faint flutters of the servants Nguyen passed on his way downstairs. He remained standing on the balcony, too angry to return inside. His back was still to the door when it unlocked an hour later. Light flooded behind him, and he could see his shadow on the small square of lawn in front of him. He refused to turn when the French doors swung open.

He expected to hear her soft step on the marble, but the only sound was her teeth taking off a tiny sliver of nail.

“You should come in, Vegeta. It's not safe.”

He made no reply.

“I've made dinner.”

He could smell roast meat, and the sharp tang of spices, but he still didn't move. He listened as she retreated into the room a few steps, the springs of his bed groaning as she sat.

“You're mad at me.”

The growl escaped him before he could harness it. Bulma sighed, and Vegeta felt the skin on his back crawl.

“If you had just looked around when I asked, I wouldn't have had to call, Max. We were in the Gravity Room all day. Anyone could have snuck in here, and hidden themselves.” Bulma's voice was pitched, but Vegeta still didn't respond.

“Vegeta, please.”

“Please, what?” His voice sounded rough, even to him.

“Please, don't be mad.”

“Or what?”

She didn't respond, and the silence echoed around them.

“Or, what?” he asked louder. He spun to face her, stalking into the room with predatory intent. The light from the two lamps on either side of the bed blinded him, but not long enough for him to miss the spasm of fear crossing her fine angular features. Her hand was clenched around her throat as if hiding something. He noticed her doing that from time to time. She never left her neck exposed. It was the defensive posture of a victim.

“You will threaten the incapacitation of the Gravity Simulator? The same tired ploy again and again?” He leaned over, nose to nose with her, so he could peer into her eyes. “We both know that's not why I jump when you snap your frail human fingers.”

“You jump?” Her whisper was nearly inaudible. She returned his stare with the dull intensity of hypnotized prey.

Vegeta lashed out in a burst of fury, backhanding the Tiffany lamp. The bulb popped as a rainbow of shards pelted the wall, and rained down on the plush sea foam carpet. Their side of the room dimmed, and the sting in Vegeta's eyes eased.

“You and your pathetic friends think you have me fooled, but I know your game. You bring me to your domicile so you can spy on me. Monitor my progress in the gravity simulator so you can inform on me to my enemies. And when that wasn't enough, you concocted this farce to keep an even closer eye on me.”

The look she shot him was full of open-faced astonishment. She thought he didn't know her tricks, but he did. He was the Saiyan Prince, not a court fool.

“That's just not true, Vegeta.”

“Prince Vegeta,” he hissed. “How easily you forget my sovereignty when you think you have the upper hand. You all think you have me where you want me. If I don't jump through your hoops, you will sic your third-class dog on me. How you all must laugh at the prince too weak to beat his subjects into submission.”

“No one is laughing at you, I swear.”

“Shut your mouth. I'm tired of your lies—of your stupid human games. Sic your dog on me now. Let him kill me. That's what you want, isn't it?”

Bulma leapt up from the bed, forestalling Vegeta before he could stalk away. She placed her cool palms on his hot cheeks, forcing him to look into her impossibly large eyes. An inky strand of hair curled across her pale brow, and Vegeta couldn't help, but to think how delicate the treacherous whore looked.

“No one is out to get you, V—Prince Vegeta. I'm not plotting against you, or spying on you. No one is. It's all in your imagination.”

With strong fingers around her thin wrists, he pulled her hands away from his face.

“Sound advice, little female. You should heed it.” His voice was even, and it stilled the panic that brewed in her eyes as he ranted. He watched her closely, feeling the fluttering pulse beneath his fingertips become steady. “Do you know what I am?”

“A prince?”

“I'm a warrior. I can feel the essence of every man, woman, and animal in this compound, from the chef in the lower level lab cafeteria to the mouse behind the refrigerator with a stolen cracker crumb. With little effort I can extend my senses to include the whole of the city, and even further up the mountainside to that pathetic buffoon's hovel. So the next time I tell you, no one is here, you will know it to be true.”
Bulma gaped as he spoke, and she nodded in agreement.

“You will not allow trespassers into my rooms again. Including, that failure of a security man. I will not withstand the disrespect of such an intrusion a second time.”

She was still nodding, when her mouth snapped closed. Fire lit up in her blue eyes, and Vegeta was momentarily fascinated.

“Our rooms,” she clarified.

He snorted, pushing her towards the door.

“Whatever. Reheat the surely inadequate meal you've prepared. I will be out shortly.”

She walked to the door, flashing him a barren excuse of a smile.

“No one here is out to get you. You know that right, Vegeta?”

He turned his back on her, stepping out into the cool darkness of the balcony. He listened to her leave, lifting his face to the stars.

“It's Prince Vegeta,” he declared to the light that used to be his world.