Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Fixation ❯ Chapter Twenty One ( Chapter 21 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
Disclaimer: I don't own or profit from Dragon Ball Z.
A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay. All I can say is that at eight months pregnant the only thing I seem to be compelled to write is lists. I have lists for my lists. I'm going to try and gather my considerably scattered wits and get the rest of this story out before the baby comes. Because we all know that nothing, but crying, feeding and pooping happens for 3 to 5 months afterwards. How can I possibly dream up stories if I never sleep? Anyways, thanks for your patience. You guys are fantastic.
Fixation
Chapter Twenty-One
Bulma had been living wire-taut for a week and a half. The beating she gave Genzo had him in intensive care with various wounds, including a broken jaw that prevented him from speaking. As she sat sedately across from Detective Wong in the front parlor, she wondered if the bastard had recovered enough to give a statement to the police. From the corner of her eye she tracked Detective Chatree as he restlessly paced the large, exquisitely decorated space. Her mother sat beside her, her spine ram rod straight, her smile projecting the perfect amount of hostess welcome, but there was a slight edge to her lips that showed her canines which made Bulma think of protective bitch with newborn pups.
Wong cleared his throat, and Bulma immediately targeted him with sharp crystal eyes.
“As you know, we have Sataro Genzo, otherwise known as Sincerely Yours, in custody.”
“Yes, your Lieutenant was kind enough to inform me of his apprehension last week.” Bulma poured tea into small china cups, calmly handing it to Wong without even a quiver of unease. Wong waited until everyone was served before speaking.
“You'll be happy to know that after a thorough search of his home we found DNA evidence that linked six of the ten confirmed victims of Sincerely Yours to his…” Wong trailed off. Bulma watched as he nervously tapped his nicotine stained fingers on the cream brocade settee.
“Torture room?” Bulma offered helpfully.
Wong frowned, but plowed on. “Yes. All of the plaques for the urns match the first names of his victims and the corresponding dates of their deaths. Unfortunately no DNA was recovered from the fired clay.”
“Of course, the heat would have destroyed any DNA that would have been mixed into the urns. Was he able to explain how he convinced the upstairs maid to deliver the flowers?” Bulma was proud that her voice didn't waver as she spoke. Since her confrontation with Genzo, her confidence had increased tenfold. She no longer felt that there was someone or something lurking around every corner waiting to leap on her if she let her guard down even for one moment. She knew that Genzo was in custody and that he couldn't hurt her. He wasn't a magical being that could transport himself beyond locked doors, and creep through shadows. However, Vegeta had been right on one count. There was a lingering sense of danger that stalked her. She supposed the instinctual fear would never go away. She would spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder and locking the door. She may not be looking for Genzo in particular, but now she knew monsters did exist and the idea that one might be right behind her would always haunt her.
“It seems that he hired an out of work actor, part-time rent boy, to seduce the upstairs maid. His similarity to Bruins was merely coincidental. We picked him up for questioning, but it's unlikely he'll be charged for anything more than prostitution.”
Chatree came to a halt by an arrangement of perfect pink rose blooms. He tapped his pencil on his notepad, his black eyes glaring holes at Bulma. “Merced Bruins was a deranged guy whose rap sheet showed a slow process of derailment.”
Bunny shifted, and suddenly Bulma was cut off from Chatree's penetrating stare. “Thank goodness the investigation led you wonderful detectives to him before he did any major harm to anyone.” Bunny smiled brightly and offered the detectives a plate of sugared petit fours. Wong smiled weakly and accepted one, while Chatree just shook his head without moving closer.
“Yes, he'd been putting his deranged fantasies on canvas for years. We were able to arrive just in time to stop him from enacting them.” Wong put the cookie aside without taking a bite and took a sip of his tea. The corner of Bulma's mouth lifted when she saw him try to hide his grimace. She was certain he would rather have a strong cup of black coffee instead of the weak tea her mother served. He set his teacup next to the untouched desert, and placidly met Bulma's gaze.
“The fingerprint found in the shard of pottery sent to you did match Genzo's. Also in his work room we found the crushed beetle remains he used to create the unusual shade of azure glaze. However, unless you want your resurrection to be public knowledge we won't be able to charge him with your murder. At most we could press charges for kidnapping, wrongful imprisonment and torture. Though we are at a loss of how to explain your “escape”.
“Yes, I can see how that would be tricky. You said you found evidence of at least six of the victims in his home?”
“Yes, and making a case for the other four shouldn't be that hard.”
“Then there is more than enough evidence to keep him in prison for life?”
Wong leaned forward in his seat. “Many times over.”
Bulma took a sip of her tea, considering her options. She licked her lower lip, meeting Wong's steady gaze. “Then I see no reason to add me to the list of victims. As far as the world is concerned I was merely on extended holiday for six months. The idea that I was a victim of Sincerely Yours was just speculation, and since I'm alive and well that speculation proved to be false.”
Wong smiled and sat back. “We thought you might say that. Of course this does not diminish your experience in anyway and the department extends its deepest sympathies.”
Bulma nodded her head, accepting her mother's supportive pat on the hand.
“Of course, Genzo's assault is still an unsolved crime.” Chatree cut in. He weaved his way around the couch in a smooth glide that reminded Bulma of a shark circling prey. He stood over her, only the delicate rosewood tea table between them. “In fact, he's claiming that you nearly beat him to death, Ms. Briefs.”
Bulma had prepared herself for this, but it still didn't alleviate the shiver of fear that raced down her spine. She leaned forward to hide her expression setting her teacup and saucer on the table. She smiled serenely when it didn't even rattle. That same serene expression was securely plastered on her face when she met Wong's gaze unwaveringly, ignoring the younger detective.
“He claims that I assaulted him?” She spoke with the soft cultured tones of her mother, her hand floating to her chest with slow measured grace.
“It does seem unlikely.” Wong's reply was steady, his dark eyes veiled.
“I would think so.” Bunny's voice was a replica of her daughter's. Her usually cheerful narrowed eyes were wide and nearly predatory in their sharpness.
Bulma slipped her small hand into her mother's as much for comfort as it was to thank her for her unflinching loyalty. “If I had the ability to defend myself I would have done so when I was captive. Perhaps it was a family member of one of his victims.”
“Doubtful, since no one knew who he was. No one except you, that is.” Chatree's tone was bordering on rude, and Bulma could feel her mother's affront in her unnatural stillness. Bulma strove to be unaffected, addressing herself only to Wong.
“As I've stated on numerous occasions, I don't remember Genzo nor where he kept me.”
“How convenient.”
Bulma's cool eyes flickered to Chatree before reconnecting with Wong's
“For my peace of mind I'm sure that it is, but for curiosity's sake how did I get into his home?”
“You flew through the second story window,” Wong quipped, and Chatree tossed him a dirty look.
Bulma arched a finely curved eyebrow. “So to be clear, I am powerful enough to nearly beat to death a full grown man twice my size and I can fly?”
Wong nodded and Chatree stewed in silence.
“Well, I need to update my wardrobe. Perhaps something in spandex and sequences. What do you think, Mama?”
“I think you'd look magnificent in red and blue. Perhaps some gold boots as well, my dear.”
Wong snorted and Chatree turned a fiery shade of red, his lips curling as he spoke. “He said you had an accomplice.”
Bulma's eyes sharpened on Chatree. When Bunny combined her icy gaze with her daughter's the young man nearly froze on the spot.
Bulma's eyes sharpened on Chatree. When Bunny combined her icy gaze with her daughter's the young man nearly froze on the spot.
“Did he say what this imagined accomplice looked like?” Bulma asked scornfully.
“Only that he had the blackest eyes he had ever seen.”
“You have black eyes, Detective Chatree. Are you a secret vigilante?”
“No,” Chatree spat.
“Is there any evidence of this accomplice?”
“No.”
“Any evidence that I was there? DNA that can't be explained by my previous stay? Fingerprints? Anything?”
Chatree shook his head sullenly. Bulma glanced at Wong who was watching her with solid, knowing eyes.
“So let me get this straight, Detective. The man who stalked, tortured and murdered me has a insanity induced hallucination that the woman whom he has an abnormal fixation on broke into his home and beat him to an inch of his life, and you immediately rush over to invade my home and accuse me of a crime.”
Bulma was standing now, her mother an impenetrable wall at her side. Chatree's features bled white and there was fear in his eyes.
“I think it's time you left.” Bunny suggested with more authority than any would have guessed the perfect hostess was capable of.
Chatree nodded, backing away while mumbling barely audible apologies. Wong rose smoothly, reaching to shake Bulma's hand. His palm was cool and dry next to hers, his grip comforting.
“It was a pleasure as always,” he nodded to Bunny, before meeting Bulma's gaze. “You won't be hearing from us again, Ms. Briefs.”
Bulma nodded, knowing innately that Wong knew she was the assailant, but that it did not matter. If any evidence did turn up he would bury it, just like he buried the story of her murder. He released her hand and gathered up his partner. Bulma watched as they walked away, a huge weight lifting from her chest.
The room was silent, her mother by her side, their hands still linked. Throughout her entire life she always knew that her mother loved her, but she had never felt like she could rely on her. Her mother was a wildfire of activity, always on the move, always someplace to be or something to do. It wasn't that she didn't make time for Bulma; it was just that time was always limited. However, today her mother had proven irrevocably that she would always be there for Bulma. That warm sense of being fully loved would never dissipate, but it was tinged with guilt. Bunny had defended her, fully believing that Bulma would never commit the crime that she was accused of. Bulma couldn't lie to her mother, to the police without a doubt, but her mother deserved to know who her daughter was.
Bulma lowered her chin, her eyes drawn to their linked hands.
“Mama?”
Bunny's hand tightened on hers.
“I think I'm going to bake some cookies. Are peanut butter still your favorite, dear?”
Thrown, Bulma glanced up at her mother. Bunny was smiling, her eyes narrowed with cheerfulness. “Well, yes, but, Mama.”
“Wonderful.” Bunny brought their hands up so she could grasp Bulma's hand between both of hers. “I'll make enough cookies to last a week.”
“Mama.” Bulma tried to pull her hand away, but Bunny held on tight. She was rendered immobile when her mother suddenly turned towards her, her bright, robin egg blue eyes staring straight at her. She brought her pale hand to her cheek, and Bulma was momentarily amazed at how soft her mother's skin was.
“Bulma, I'll always love you, no matter what. You know that, right?”
Bulma was shocked speechless at the blatant understanding in her mother's eyes. She swallowed hard, and nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
Bunny smiled softly and stroked her fingers down her daughter's cheek. Her smile stretched into a grin that narrowed her eyes. She patted Bulma's cheek perkily, before turning away.
“Alright, dear. Why don't you go take a nap? You look a little peaked, and like I always say, the key to eternal beauty is `me time'.”
Bunny trotted out of the room before Bulma could reply, leaving her daughter behind stunned and warmed by her mother's love.
Bulma mentally shook out all the tension in her body that had built up in the last week as she walked back to her rooms. She was finally free. Genzo was no longer lurking in every shadow, and the police wouldn't be knocking at her door looking to arrest her. Everything was falling into place. Life was nearly back to normal. Better than normal, she admitted, because now she had Vegeta in her life.
Bulma's smile faded as she opened the door. She could feel the shift in the atmosphere as soon as she entered the suite. There was no discernable difference in the environment, just an overwhelming sense of sadness that something was about to change. She drifted towards their bedroom in a surreal haze. It was the middle of the afternoon, but Vegeta stood boldly confident on the balcony. One foot was propped up on the white and gold footlocker which stored his only possessions. His arms were crossed over his broad chest as he stared down into the backyard.
She knew he was aware of her, but not one muscle twitched as she moved behind him. The back of her throat itched and she swallowed it down. She couldn't bring herself to approach him on the balcony; instead she sunk down on the bed they shared. She tucked her ankles back and folded her hands on her lap so she wouldn't pick nervously at her cuticles. She stared at her hands, feeling the soft summer breeze from the open balcony stir her hair.
“You're leaving.” She strove to keep judgment from her tone, but even to her ears she sounded heartbroken.
“To train. Your peons have already prepared the ship.”
“When will you come back?” Her hands fidgeted in her lap, and it seemed no matter how tightly she clenched them together her fingers trembled.
“When I am strong.”
Bulma's wide blue eyes darted up. The slabs of muscle on Vegeta's back were rigid with tension.
“You're the strongest man I know, Vegeta.”
“Prince Vegeta.”
Bulma was momentarily disconcerted by the snap in Vegeta's tone.
“What?”
“How quickly you humans forget. You arrange things to your liking, disrespecting those you shouldn't.” Slowly Vegeta turned to face her. “Lying to your betters,” he spat with hard twisted lips.
Bulma listened with wide eyes and a clenched chest. She recognized his tirade for what it was, a way to distance them. He had barely finished before she bolted from the bed, barreling into him at full speed. She wrapped both her arms around him in a silent dare for him to just try and wrench her away. She braced herself fully against his unyielding body, burying her face in his chest.
“I would never lie to you, Vegeta. Strength is more than just physical. You have overcome hardship and tragedy and despite the evil you have endured you have treated this weak human female with nothing but kindness and compassion.”
Vegeta gripped her by the shoulders, and tried to thrust her away, but she locked her hands around wrists and refused to give way.
“Your sentimental heart exaggerates. It sees things that aren't true.”
“Perhaps, my feelings are exaggerated, but I know what I see, and I see you, Prince Vegeta.”
He glanced down to see her peeking up at him from the harbor of his arms. Silence stretched between them until his muscles began to relax. She felt the change in him immediately, and she lowered her head so she could nuzzle into him.
“You will be back in time for the androids?” she asked in a low whisper. At a year and half away their dreaded arrival seemed like an entire lifetime, especially without Vegeta.
“I have already pledged my intention to defeat them.” Vegeta's words were filled with snide anger that she would question his honor. She rolled her eyes and rubbed her cheek across his chest.
“You can stay and train. You can stay with me.”
He tugged at her and this time she allowed herself to be parted from him. She tipped her head back, meeting his hard eyes.
“Our business is concluded. The worm who murdered you is incarcerated, just as you wished. There is no reason for me not to leave.”
No reason for him to stay either, she concluded. Vegeta was so alone in the universe; the idea of being wanted must be mindboggling to him.
“But I want you to stay.” She glanced down, picking at the hem of his navy shirt. “I need you to stay.”
Vegeta swatted her hand away.
“As I said, there is no reason to stay.” The hard edge of Vegeta's tone made her want to cringe away, but instead of surrendering to the weak instinct she allowed anger to flood her senses. She reached up, cupping his face between her hands. The line of his mouth tightened, but she held her ground.
“Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone could want you for something other than your strength?”
Vegeta angled his head down so their brows nearly touched.
“Did you not just ask me to fight the androids?”
Bulma frowned, her ruby lips puckering until the corners of her mouth all but disappeared.
“No, you nitwit. I was asking you to come back. Fight the androids, don't fight them, I don't care. Just come back to me,” she stated passionately, fire burning in her ice eyes.
“Ah, now I understand,” he murmured. “Now that my strength has become obsolete, you are done using me as your personal bodyguard, and have decided I'm useful as a body servant instead.” Bulma tried to pull away, but Vegeta's strong hands were clamped down on her hips. “You must be cock hungry.”
“What!?” Bulma's wide eyes shot him a look full of shock and disgust. “Vegeta, that's not what…”
Before she could finish, he hauled her off the ground by her hips, and walked her backwards. He flung her onto the bed, his solid weight following her down. He nipped animal-like at her throat, pawing at her shirt. She tried to buck him off, but he was too overwhelming.
“Vegeta, please.” She gasped for air as he roughly kneed her legs apart. “Stop!”
He froze above her. She squeezed her eyes shut, pearling acid hot tears on her lashes.
“Why do you hate yourself so much?” she whispered to the void behind her closed eyes.
“There's certainly nothing to love,” he whispered back, his warm breath feathering over her pulse.
She opened her eyes, staring long and hard at the man poised above her. He was a terrible monster who had done terrible things. Things she couldn't even contemplate, things she didn't want to. Was there truly anything to love about him? But he was also a man. A man who reassured her when she was afraid. Who strengthened her when she was weak. Who was cruel to her when everyone else was too kind. Who was merciful when others were monstrous. How could she not love him?
“That's not true, Vegeta.” She placed her palm against his cheek and felt the smoothness of his skin, the hardness of his jaw.
He lowered his dark lashes, breaking eye contract with her. His strong fingers encircled her fragile wrist, pulling her hand away from his face.
“I will always be a bastard, Bulma. That will never change.”
She turned away, looking out the balcony doors to the clear summer sky, which mocked the shadows in her heart. Vegeta shifted and she felt his soft lips at the corner of her eye where her tears were suspended. He trailed down her cheek with butterfly softness, prompting her to tilt her mouth towards his. His lips fitted over hers, gently petitioning for unspoken forgiveness until all her anger and fear flowed away. He teased her lower lip with his teeth, his tongue trailing behind to make it all better. Her mouth parted and her body softened. Vegeta sunk into her, his tongue dancing between her lips and his hips settling between her thighs.
His touch was different. There was no hesitation, yet it was gentle and soothing. He petted her from shoulder to waist in long smooth caresses that bled the tension from her body. She drowned in his kiss, only coming up for air in the brief seconds it took for him to undress them. Then he was back. His hot skin plied over hers, his lips communicating a language she could barely understand. Something sweet and tender, and completely foreign to everything she knew about Vegeta.
Longing and sorrow built inside her the longer he kissed her. He trailed away from her mouth and she whimpered. He teased her breasts with his fingers and tongue until the sadness expanded in her chest, making her pant with breathlessness. He skimmed lower, and she turned her face to weep into the comforter. She came in his mouth, sobbing in a mixture of pleasure and remorse.
When he finally surged inside her, she wrapped her entire body around him. Her legs twined with his, her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders. He gathered her up against his chest, and whispered soft words she couldn't hear against her throat. He moved slowly, savoring every moment. He licked away her tears, and swallowed her sobs, taking away all her sadness and anger until she was drained and ready to be filled again.
He thrust, desperate to make her forget her emptiness, knowing he couldn't make it right. Tension built within her body, and she could feel it quiver in his. He met her eyes, and for once he didn't look away. He stared down into her soul, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces as the ecstasy washed over her. He followed her down, and she watched him drown in darkness, helpless to save him from himself. In the last moment of his pleasure he closed his eyes, shutting her out. She cried out, but the sound was indecipherable between acceptance and denial. It merely was.
She closed her eyes against the resurging sorrow, forcing herself to let go when the unnatural intensity that was Vegeta receded from her, taking her heart and soul with him.
Bulma watched through lowered lashes as Vegeta dressed. The air had cooled, but the sheets she lay on were still hot from their lovemaking. He bent over to put on his blue uniform slacks, something she hadn't seen him wear since Namek. Watching him dress was like watching him shoulder on a different person. The monster he was before coming to Earth. He was casting her off, just like he cast off all the other gifts he had been blessed with since arriving here. She flipped onto her back, flinging her arm over eyes to block out the sight of him leaving her.
She sighed heavily, her kiss lush lips drawn down into a pout. She could throw a tantrum. Cry and scream and take every action and word as a personal affront or she could behave with grace. More importantly, instead of making it all about her, just maybe she should make it all about Vegeta. A man who thought he was so worthless that he was beyond loving.
“I hope that you'll come back. Not for the androids or to prove your strength. Not even because you are fantastic in bed. Which you are,” she added wryly, but the sadness crept across her heart. “But because I miss you already and will count the days until you come home to me.”
She waited, her breath caught in her chest. Only silence greeted her plea, and when it seemed she would never be able to breathe again, she lifted her arm from her eyes to glance over at Vegeta, but he was gone, along with his belongings. The only things left were the black satin gloves draped over the white balcony banister as a reminder to protect herself while he was gone.
Bulma rolled over to his side of the bed, feeling the now cold sheets under her cheek, and cried as the emptiness crushed her from the inside out.