Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fixation ❯ Chapter Eight ( Chapter 8 )

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Fixation

Chapter Eight.

As Vegeta moved through the steps of his kata, blue ki danced at the edges of his fingertips. It swirled around his hands, and licked up his arms as he switched stances. Sweat beaded his brow, and his skin gleamed bronze in the afternoon sunlight. Everything about him was precise, controlled, his breathing, the flexing of his muscles, the position of his hands. Every nuance that was Vegeta was reflected in the graceful way he moved. Bulma strategically lay on a towel on the metal ramp that led into the spaceship, while Vegeta worked on the lawn. A pair of dark sunglasses hid her eyes as she watched him, her book on spatial physics forgotten. She wasn't just there for the show. She had to be there. To be near him, within sight of him, within touching distance, if she could get away with it with her hide intact. Only then did she feel safe. Plus, she had the added bonus of soaking up some much needed sunshine.

Not wanting to get growled at for staring, she rolled onto her back, practically purring as the sunshine warmed her. She hadn't realized how chalky her skin had gotten after weeks of confinement. She took a shower for the first time this morning, completely naked with only a hint of trepidation. As she lathered on the body wash, the grumblings of natural vanity began. After her shower she took the time, still naked and alone in the tiny box of the bathroom, to rub lotion over every inch of her severely dehydrated skin, and in doing so, remnants of herself gathered around her like a tattered cloak. There were still huge rips in her self-esteem, exposing the rawness bleeding inside, but she was slowly healing the holes in her soul.

She watched Vegeta with new eyes. Since their encounter a few days ago, she had begun to feel differently about him. About herself even. Today she lounged in a pair of red running shorts and a white tank, her neck completely uncovered. She still couldn't look at herself in a mirror, but while in Vegeta's presence she didn't feel the overwhelming, cowering need to cover herself from head to toe. And a very tiny voice, one she was trying very hard to quash, was wondering if he noticed how much better she looked.

She flipped on her stomach, her bare feet waving in the air as she studied Vegeta. His face was creased in concentration, his muscles rhythmically flexing with discipline she could only imagine. There was a tiny tickle in the bottom of her belly. She identified it right away. It was fascination, curiosity, and attraction. Mainly, it was annoyance that he was concentrating so hard on something that wasn't her, and there was only one way to correct that.

“So you can feel ki at anytime?”

He didn't even lose a beat as she spoke.

“Yes.”

“Can you feel mine?”

His eyebrow twitched, and a Cheshire smile of victory crested her lips.

“You are right in front of me.”

“Could you find me anywhere?”

“What do you mean?”

Bulma sat up, suddenly serious.

“If I was lost in a crowd, could you find me?”

“Your ki is negligible.”

Bulma tilted her head to the side as she watched his muscles ripple.

“What does that mean?”

“Ki doesn't come with nametags, idiot. It is easy to identify if there is something about it that stands out, like a high power rating. But ki such as yours would just blend away with the multitudes.”

Bulma played with the hem of her shirt, doing her very best not to bite her nails that were just recovering from their recent ravishment.

“Do you suppose that's why Goku didn't come for me?”

The soft question was carried away by the breeze.

Vegeta stopped with his back to her. The same breeze that carried her words, wrapped around him, drying the sweat on his body. He watched the leaves on the birch trees sway at the far end of the property.

“Finding you would be easy, if one knew where to look. I know exactly where you are at all times while at Capsule Corporation, but that is because I have identified everyone here. If you were moved off the grounds, then…” He shrugged, still watching the trees.

“The same would go for Goku.”

Vegeta shifted his gaze towards the front of the house. His eyes narrowed, and wordlessly he stepped into another series of katas.

“Would you be able to track him?”

“I neither know what he looks like, nor what he feels like.” Vegeta's words were terse, and she could hear the finality in them.

A shadow fell across her, and she shrunk back in horror. The muscles across Vegeta's back rippled out of rhythm to his kata.

“Babe, you're hair!” Bulma was locked beneath Yamcha. His wide eyes were glued to her mop of short black curls, the blue roots grown out about an inch. He saw the stricken look on her face, and interrupted it as hurt over his thoughtless words. “No, I mean it's great. You look like one of those fancy china dolls. You know? The ones with the really white skin. I mean--you're always pretty. I'm so glad to see you out and about! Your mother called me to let me know the good news.”

“Lemonade, anyone?” Mrs. Briefs called cheerily from the shade of the back porch.

Yamcha's shadow smothered her, and all Bulma could do was cower at his feet, her boney hand wrapped around her throat protectively.

“Stand up,” Vegeta issued the order with stringency that had Bulma on her feet in mere seconds.

Once on equal ground, her paralyzing fear evaporated, leaving behind awkward timidity that was expressed in her shifty eyes that refused to settle on any one part of Yamcha's smiling face.

Normally, with so many people crowding the backyard, Vegeta would have left. Bulma wondered why he stayed.

“What are you doing here?” Bulma felt shaky. She didn't know what to do with her hands, and finally opted to tuck them beneath her armpits. Her forearms crossed over her chest, made her feel somewhat protected. She knew she wasn't afraid of Yamcha. She trusted him with her life. She was sure of it. He would never hurt her. But did he have to stand so close? She stepped back, putting at least an arm's length between them. He flashed her a confused smile that was edged with hurt. A sick feeling thickened in her chest, and she wanted to apologize, to explain, but she wasn't sure what she could say.

“I just wanted to come by, and see how you are. Everyone is worried. We haven't seen you in weeks.”

“I'm fine. Just resting, you know.”

“Yes, of course. I'm so happy you're back. Take your time. I just wanted to spend some time with my best girl.”

Best girl. The sticky endearment rolled around in her head, gathering filth and slime until it was covered in shame. She remembered long fingers touching her hair, and happy chortling echoing in the darkness. Bulma's shoulders hunched, and she took another step away from Yamcha. The happiness on his face shattered.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“No. I'm just tired. I wasn't expecting to see you, and I guess I feel overwhelmed.”

“Babe. I'm sorry. It's not like that. I just wanted to spend some time with you. Maybe take you shopping at the mall. I know that's your favorite.”

Panic crested her fine porcelain features, and Vegeta could feel the immediate spike in her ki. He swept up a clean towel, and used it to swipe the sweat from his neck and shoulders. He passed behind the couple, walking with sure, steady strides into the Gravity Room. Bulma immediately turned to follow, not even signaling a good bye to Yamcha.

“Bulma!” He hurried after her, and Bulma broke out into a startled trot. She ducked under Vegeta's arm as he stood braced in the doorway. As soon as she entered he depressed the button, watching the stunned confusion on the other man's face as the door slide closed between them.

When he turned he found Bulma collapsed on the training room floor, gasping like a fish out of water. He watched her for a few seconds, moving only slightly closer before dropping down to do push-ups. There was silence between them, punctuated only by their breathing.

“You should make more of an effort,” Vegeta rasped out curtly, startling Bulma who had been staring sightlessly at the polished metal ceiling. “You are one of those people.”

Bulma turned her head to look at Vegeta. He was glaring squarely at the floor between his hands.

“Those people?”

“People who like other people. You crave their attention. Their company.”

Bulma shot him a nasty look before glancing away. She slung her arm over her eyes, cutting out everything except the sound of Vegeta's even breaths.

“I used to be one of those people.”

“So that's how it's going to be?” Vegeta's response was sharp, compared to her deadened voice.

“How what is going to be?”

“You are going to allow him to have all the power over you. The power to trap you, change you. Mold you into exactly what he wants. Are you going to allow him to dictate what you wear and who you talk to? If you do that, then you will never escape him. You will always be in that place; you will always be his captive.”

Bulma shot off the floor as if she had been struck by a live wire.

“How dare you talk to me that way? You have no idea what I've gone through.”

Vegeta was unaffected by her outburst.

“Don't I?”

“It seems to me you are still held captive by Frieza. What are you training so hard for? You're free now. Go do whatever it is you want. Go be a king, find a queen, have some heirs, and live a royal apple pie life. Go be who you want to be.”

Vegeta came off the floor in one smooth motion that was exhilarating in its power and grace. He stalked her with his dark eyes, and she felt a flutter of something awesome in the bottom of her belly.

“This is who I am,” he grated out. In the darkness of his eyes she saw loneliness. And for the first time since her resurrection she thought about someone besides herself. She wondered for the barest fraction of a second what Vegeta would have been like if he hadn't been taken as a child by a sadistic monster. She had lived for a few fleeting weeks in captivity, but Vegeta had lived a lifetime.

“Who you were meant to be, or who he turned you into?”

The question was barely out before he had her herded against the wall, no touching required, just waves of his presence thrusting her back. He was comfort and terror wrapped together in a confusing masculine package. Her brain was screaming that men where bad, but her body definitely liked the heat he was giving off.

“You shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answers too.”

She couldn't look him in the eye. Instead she focused on the steady beat of his pulse at his throat. Hers was pounding wildly in her ears, and she wondered how he stayed so calm all the time.

“Maybe I do want the answer.”

“What if the answer is that I was always meant to be a monster?”

Her hand was on his chest before she could stop herself. Her palm was over his heart, and she could feel the damp sweat on his skin. She didn't know if she was pushing him away in panic or checking to see if he was a flesh and blood man with a heartbeat, but she did know that she liked the feel of his skin next to hers. He smelled like hard work and sunshine, and she had to bite her lip to keep from asking him to lean closer. She swallowed hard, screwing up her courage to look him in the eye.

“I've seen a real monster. You look nothing like one.”

He was watching her closely, and when their eyes met it was the signal he needed to dip his head towards hers.

“That's because I'm hiding.” He was whispering. They were alone. The room was reinforced, soundproof steel, and he was whispering to her as if he was telling her a secret in a room full of gossiping wives. Trapped in his eyes, her voice dropped an octave as she spoke.

“No, I think for once you're not hiding. This is the real you, Vegeta. How long has it been since you killed? Weeks? Months? Since Namek? Given the choice, Vegeta, you aren't a killer.”

“What you are talking about is restraint.” He was towering over her, so close she could feel his words on her lips. His hands were loose at his sides, his chest pressing into her palm, urging her to feel more of him, but he made no move to touch her back. “I have no need to kill so I haven't. But make no mistake, I will kill again in the future if need be.”

Her fingers curled at his words, her short nails scraping over his damp skin. His flat nipple hardened, and she caught her breath.

“That just makes you a predator. Not a monster. There is a difference, Vegeta.”

His eyes were dark and unreadable. She tilted her head back in silent invitation, watching with female fascination as his pupils dilated. He lowered his mouth to hers, and electricity shot between them. No tongue, just warm, firm lips brushing against each other.

Then his hands were braced on either side of her head, and his wide shoulders caged her in. His lips parted, pressing greedily at her mouth to open. His breath was hot and suffocating on her cheek, and she knew she had to get away. She wrenched her mouth to the side, her tiny knuckles digging into chest. She stumbled through air, and she opened her eyes, surprised to see the well lit gravity room. Her wild gaze found him standing a few feet away, his dark eyes still unreadable.

He turned away, walking stiffly towards the gravity controller. She wanted to call him back, to apologize, to try again, because, my god the beginning was so good, but fear had crawled its way into her throat, and she couldn't dislodge it. Silently, she walked to her room, slipping down the ladder without a backwards glance, and securing the hatch so he could get back to training.