Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ FROM BAD TO WORSE... ❯ Unexpected Visits ( Chapter 13 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Last Chapter: Bulma takes Vegeta back to her hotel suite and begins to look
after him. After finding out that Dorothy Pereaux has lied to her she confronts
the trouble-making actress and is told a revelation just as she leaves.
--------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------
FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Thirteen

Vegeta never did find out what Bulma had done behind his back. She
resolved never to tell him, aware that the blow to his damaged pride would be
irreparable if he knew that a woman had fought one of his battles in his place.
There was a great degree of satisfaction that she felt from the confrontation
with Dorothy Pereaux, not even minding the swollen eye as she was left smiling
down at Vegeta as he slept, blissfully unaware that she had even left.

It was your name he whispered at the end. Not mine, Dorothy had told her.
She would not have fabricated such an embarrassing statement although why she
had shared it at all was a mystery to Bulma. Maybe, just maybe, the temptress
had felt a glimmer of shame for her manipulations after all.

Lingering in the doorway, Bulma resolved that she was going to make a
relationship with Vegeta work and Kami help anyone who dared get in her way.
"I'm not going to give up on you," she whispered with all of her heart and left
the room to prepare a bag of ice for her aching face.

>>>>>
After a breakfast involving an entire box of cereal, two liters of milk,
five oranges and a large plate of scrambled eggs, Vegeta returned to bed with
scarcely a word to Bulma, not even noticing that she had worn sunglasses during
the entire meal. She had expected him to sniff out her deception and extract the
story from her with that frightening insight that was almost telepathy. If
anything he had downplayed the severity of the V'Nhar to her as he forced
himself to function by an act of sheer will alone, more asleep than awake. He
wouldn't have noticed if she had been in a body cast and for once, the younger
woman was grateful for his ignorance.

She left the hotel by mid-afternoon, leaving a note on the nightstand that
she had gone shopping in case the Saiyan woke up. At a nearby mall inside of a
private booth, Bulma talked to her mother over the videophone. She would have
liked to visit her personally but wanted to avoid any messy confrontations with
her father just in case what Vegeta had told her was actually true. After a few
minutes of idle chitchat Bulma finally attempted, "Mom, do you know anything
about dad having Gokou and the others looking for Vegeta?"

The blond gave that vacuous expression she was famous for and shook her
head. "I've been tending to my roses like a woman possessed. There's a judge who
is going to be coming by and evaluate my prize-winning Velvet Blue that I've
been cultivating just for this-"

"That's wonderful news. I hope you win. Listen mom, how has dad been
acting lately? Has the subject of Vegeta ever come up?"

"Oh! He's still very upset, Bulma. The lab is still having a terrible time
adjusting to your leaving and poor Charles McNeal has gone on stress leave. You
father is nearly at his wit's end!"

"So you don't know a thing," Bulma said more to herself.

Reluctantly the blond shook her head. "I'm sorry, dear. Your father and I
have both been very busy. I wish you would come back home, this huge building is
just sooo empty without you. And..." She looked over her shoulder and then
dropped her voice to a whisper as she confessed, "I'm worried about Vegeta, too.
He needs someone to look after him."

Seeing the tears welling up in her mother's eyes, Bulma realized that she
could never lie to her. "Mom, Vegeta's all right. He's with me."

Ms. Briefs clapped her hands together excitedly. "That's wonderful-"

"Don't you tell anyone about this!" Bulma told her before the woman began
singing the news to anybody within earshot. "Don't mention it to dad or to
anybody else. This is our secret, okay?"

The blond visibly faltered. "Bulma, I really don't like sneaking around
behind your father's back-"

"Mother, please. I've only just found Vegeta two days ago. I'd like a
chance for us to get used to one another again before one more conflict drives
him away. If I lost him now I don't think I'd have the chance to get him back.
He-he's in bad shape, mom. Another fight with dad might break him. Or-or
worse..."

Mrs. Briefs genuinely cared for Vegeta despite all of the damaging
information that Yamcha had felt compelled to impart her and her husband with.
She remembered an aloof, quiet alien who chose to stay in the background and not
provoke anyone so he could focus primarily on his training. There had been no
hint of the maliciousness that Yamcha had suggested and he had never been
vindictive or abusive to her in anyway. She felt acute remorse at her failure to
intervene during that scene in the living room when her husband had confronted
him and shared the guilt that she had not done anything to make him stay. With
the news that her daughter had confided to her, the blond resolved that she
would not be responsible for any more tension between the troubled pair. "Call
me soon. I'll tell you if there's any news."

Bulma wished she could hug her mother as she grappled with her tears.
"Thank you, mom. I love you."

"I love you too, dear. Give my best to Vegeta," she said sincerely.

Smiling through her tears, Bulma whispered, "I will."

>>>>>
Late that night Vegeta woke up and saw that the room was still lit.
Squinting in annoyance, he rolled onto his back and saw that Bulma had fallen
asleep while reading. She was sitting with her back up against the headboard
still wearing her day casuals. So far that was all the Saiyan had ever seen her
wear. Her chin was resting on her chest and a thin ribbon of drool was hanging
from her bottom lip.

The Saiyan absorbed the sight without surprise. What a slob, he thought
with the mental equivalent of a sigh. He propped himself up on one elbow and
reached over and poked her arm. "Woman. Wake up."

Her head jerked up in surprise and she looked around and saw Vegeta
staring up at her with that scowl on his face. Self-consciously she wiped her
mouth and looked down at herself to see a distinct circle of moisture on her
sweater. Oh dear Kami, please tell me I'm still dreaming, she thought.

"Why don't you go lay down?" he asked her peevishly.

Her flush of embarrassment was replaced by one of anger. "In case you
haven't noticed, Sherlock, this is a one bedroom suite. If you think I'm going
to sleep on the couch you have another think coming-"

He let her drone on for a few minutes longer, privately wishing he had
just left her the hell alone. When there was finally a lull in her protestation
he calmly asked, "Are you quite through?"

Her eyes blazed and she was about to begin another tirade he interrupted
her with; "I know this is the only bed. I only meant that you should actually
sleep in it instead of on top of it."

"...With you?" came the surprised retort. She gave one stunned blink,
looking very much like her simple-minded mother at that moment.

For a technical genius the woman could be frustratingly thick at times.
Vegeta visibly grappled with his temper and managed to get out a simple, "Yes."

"But you-you're-"

"Naked. Very good." He examined her shrewdly, a ghost of a smile tugging
at the left-hand side of his mouth. "Somehow, I didn't figure you to be such a
prude. Are you still a virgin, too?"

"Of course not!" She realized that forceful answer didn't come out quite
as she intended. "Well, Yamcha was the only man I've ever been with-"

He grunted. "Then you might as well be one. I only made the suggestion
because watching you drool into your bra was disgusting. And that damned light
was keeping me awake."

"...No other reason?"

At her visible nervousness a mischievous glint appeared in his black eyes.
"Now who's the distrustful one? Woman, I don't bite," he suddenly gave a wolfish
grin, exposing teeth that appeared sharper then they had any right to be.
"Unless you want me too..."

Bulma realized with relief that the Saiyan was just playing with her and
meant no harm, this sick sense of humor was his way of flirting with her. She
actually betrayed a chuckle. "Fine," she said, walking over to the dresser and
rummaging through the shopping bags that were piled on top of it. She pulled an
article of clothing out of one and casually threw it at him, "But you're wearing
these."

Vegeta unfolded it and saw it was a pair of exercise shorts. He wadded it
into a ball and threw it right back. "Not a chance. Those aren't for sleeping."

"I know how you like to sleep. But I'm not lying under the covers with
only a millimeter thick nightie separating me from your little Saiyan." She
walked over to the bed and held up the shorts in front of him.

He was starting to get angry now. "One, it's NOT little and two, nobody
said that you had to wear any garment-"

"-Nice try. Put it on or I go back to drooling."

Grumbling, he snatched the shorts and pulled them on underneath on the
blankets and Bulma retrieved her nightgown and went into the bathroom to begin
the ritual of cleaning up before going to bed. Casting the closed door a
perturbed glance he looked at the shopping bags with loathing. It was apparent
that the bags were full of clothing that she had bought for him to replace what
he had lost. She knew his measurements from a daylong shopping spree shortly
after he had arrived at Capsule Corp.; Shit, there was six hours of his life he
wouldn't mind getting back. If it wasn't having the cuffs of his pants hemmed up
because they were too damn long, it was having to find some clothes in the
mall's children section. Was there anything about this planet that wasn't
intended to be personally humiliating?

To have to be indebted to anyone, let alone this woman was demoralizing
for him. He couldn't help but draw comparisons of the situation with his
previous encounter with the Pereaux bitch. Bulma had appeared offended when he
had forced the money on her the day before. She didn't seem to want anything in
return and he was puzzled by that selflessness.

What if she is like the other woman and attempts to seduce me in exchange
for my staying here? he mused to himself.

The bathroom door opened and Bulma stepped out wearing a simple pink
nightgown that came down to just above her knees. He could plainly make out the
strutted nubs of her nipples beneath the fabric.

I don't think I'd put up much of a fuss, he amended.

>>>>>
Nothing happened that night. Each of them stuck to their side of the bed
and had no problems sharing the blankets. Bulma actually found that she liked
being lulled to sleep by his soft, purr-like snoring and there was a comforted
smile on her relaxed features when she drifted off. Initially dreading the close
contact, Vegeta actually began to anticipate it. When he woke up in the middle
of the night his senses automatically reached out and homed in on the close
presence of her and he relaxed, breathing in her distinctly feminine scent and
allowing it to soothe him back to sleep.

That morning Bulma became aware that she had slept in later than usual,
the sunlight from behind the curtained windows was brighter than usual. She was
also aware that she was pressed up against the Saiyan's back, her left arm
encircling his waist, the other resting against his neck. He still had a slight
fever and was the human equivalent of a heating pad. She must have gotten cold
during the night and had sought out the nearest source of heat in her sleep.

She was frozen in place and unconsciously held her breath as she wondered
how she was possibly going to disengage herself without disturbing him. Almost
as if he had caught that stray thought, Vegeta eyes flew open.

Bulma pulled herself away in a rush and the Saiyan immediately sat up and
glared straight at her. The two sat together on the bed barely two feet apart
and regarded one another warily for a moment before she tried to stammer out,
"I-I didn't mean to-to-"

"I've got first dibs on the bathroom," was all he had to say on the
matter.

Bulma was to dumbstruck to protest as he got up out of the bed and crossed
the room closing the door after himself. When the paralysis wore off she reached
for the phone and called room service, still trying to interpret what had just
occurred. For no reason at all she felt that there was just cause to celebrate
and ordered a breakfast to reflect that.

The odd pair ate outside on the balcony as the city below and around them
moved on at its irrevocable, frenzied pace. For a time there was companionable
silence between them. Trying to hold a conversation with a hungry Saiyan was a
near impossibility and Bulma nursed her coffee as she watched Vegeta with veiled
amusement. There were three plates in front of him consisting of a generous pile
of scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages and an assortment of danishes, donuts and
muffins. He was working through the desserts now with grim determination. Like
all Saiyan's, Vegeta had one hell of a sweet tooth and relished a good sugar
rush when it hit. When he finally started showing signs of slowing down, Bulma
knew he would be more receptive to conversation.

Refilling her mug, she attempted, "Vegeta, where did you go when you left
Capsule Corp.?"

Vegeta was in the process of eyeing the last surviving donut on his plate.
"That first day I just went into the woods outside of the Capital. I returned
that evening."

"You came back to find me?"

Squaring his shoulders, he avoided her gaze as he said, "I forgot my
coat."

Bulma knew full well that he had packed all of his belongings. Hiding her
smile as she took a sip out of her mug she realized that this entire mess could
have been avoided if she hadn't stormed out a quickly as she had. That smile
faded. "Where did you go after that?"

He shrugged. "Around."

She waited for a further explanation and realized she wasn't going to get
one and had to submerge her growing irritation. He would never be voluntarily
talkative, she reasoned. Her friendship with Gokou and the other Z Fighters, all
extroverts with a terrific sense of humor had spoiled her. Vegeta's moody lapses
were not something she was used to dealing with but she wasn't going to fault
him for it. Compared to his past travelling companions, Nappa and Radditz, she
had to consider him tame, even rational by comparison.

She watched him push away the plate with the lonely donut and get to his
feet to lean over the railing and absorb the view. His profile was harsh and
pensive, she could almost feel the weight of his thoughts hovering over them
like a thundercloud swollen with unshed lightening. Her instincts were kicking
in telling her that something was wrong and it went beyond his sickly pallor and
weakened state. His condition was the result of something he had encountered,
not the cause. It was very important that she find out what that catalyst was.

Finishing the last of her coffee she came alongside of him until their
shoulders were almost touching. His eyes swiveled in her direction for one
appraising glance and then scanned the city once more.

"Vegeta," she tried again. "What happened after you left Capsule Corp.?"

He looked down at the traffic criss-crossing the streets, his sharp eyes
watching the pedestrians going on with their dull little lives. People who
believed that they had control over their own destinies oblivious that they were
just marionettes on a string being guided by a puppeteer with a perverted sense
of humor. That vision of him as a Super Saiyan plagued him, hovering on the
horizon like a mirage and constantly beyond his grasp. It was easy to wish to be
dead; It got him off of the hook of what had been revealed to be an enormous
burden of commitments and obligations that he had no experience in dealing with.
His supposedly unbreakable will was straining under the weight of this new
knowledge and he had never felt so alone and scared in all of his life.

'Eight years from now. Maybe ten. I'm going to die again anyway, aren't
I?' It was the ultimate depraved irony: To come to the Earth seeking immortality
and finding out that you weren't even going to reach middle age.

He released a shaky sigh at that realization. A hand gently rubbed his
back and he looked over at her again. Bulma had never seen such haunting sorrow
on another person's face in all of her life. "It's going to be all right," she
told him in a soft voice.

'You care for this woman', Kami said in the back of his mind. 'It is the
only line of this entire collection that is closest to your own.'

It seemed to be a sound strategy in this personal crisis to possibly
endear himself to the one person on this entire world that he might dare to
trust. That was almost as alien a concept to him as another emotion; one whose
word he knew he would never be able to utter aloud even in casual reference.
There was something gnawing away inside of him attempting to ease the blackness
from his dark heart. He wasn't sure what to make of such a traitorous presence
but it was forcing him to catch a glimpse of possibilities that he had never
believed possible for himself.

Staring into Bulma's calm, expectant face he saw a cumulative of emotions
freely displayed there without any barriers. That trust was there as well as
that other one he was still trying to puzzle out. There was no word for it in
his Saiyajin dialect but humans used it constantly, with no obvious shame or
regret.

That alien word was called: Love.

"Bulma," he whispered. "I am...lost."

"I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere," she said as she wrapped her
arms around him. He tried drawing away from her, not wanting her to see this
vulnerability but he had no more strength to put up any kind of a fight and
surrendered into the comfort that she freely offered. He held onto her like a
drowning man loathe to give up his only preserver and Bulma soothed in that
sweet voice of hers that he wasn't alone on this world. That someone cared for
him. That everything was going to be okay.

When he finally drew away from her he was the person who initiated the
kiss that followed. At first Bulma hesitated, feeling the heat he radiated that
had nothing to do with power. He was still very weak and she had no idea of the
extent of the effects of the Saiyajin virus. She ended up relenting, recognizing
this rare offer of tenderness and eager to share it before the moment could be
lost. There was no telling how long this blow to his ego would last; it could be
mere minutes or several days. The young heiress only knew that she wanted to
savor this very special union before the old, distrustful Vegeta was back.

Her lips, soft, warm, sweet and eager, molded their quivering curves
against his, her dainty tongue sliding into his mouth like a curious snake,
exploring and caressing his own. His hands slid restlessly up and down the
length of her back to finally cup the quivering pads of her buttocks. With a
moan she began to rub her lower belly against the growing length of hardness at
his groin. They were breathing heavily when they parted and he gently squeezed
one pert breast, staring into her eyes for her reaction. His hand was cold and
at any other time she would have immediately sensed that something was wrong but
that was currently the furthest thing from her mind at the moment.

"Let's go into the bedroom," she said breathlessly.

He picked her up and carried her without a word. They kissed passionately
during the short journey, their tongues mating in a lazy dance that was teasing
and playful in its freshness, a sign of their approaching union. It would be one
that would ease the last barriers of unfamiliarity between them and make them a
couple in all true senses of the word.

It's going to be wonderful, Bulma thought when he laid her gently on the
bed and leaned over her, absorbing all facets of her beauty with his dark,
mysterious eyes.

It turned out to be a disaster.

>>>>>
Undressing slowly the two slowly became acquainted to one another's
bodies. Each lingering touch and passionate caress strengthened their resolve
and all pretenses of that propriety the night before were eagerly abandoned.

Surrendering to his touch, Bulma eased herself back as he lowered his head
from her moist lips to softly mouth one strutted nipple, his tongue flicking
across the sensitive nub before moving onto the other. Kneading his shoulders
with anxious fingers, she moaned at his skill and was about to suggest another
area that was being neglected when he suddenly growled and bit down.

Releasing a pained yelp, Bulma pushed him away and massaged her aching
nipple, staring at him in surprise. "What the hell was that? You bit me!" She
looked down and damned if there wasn't the imprint of his teeth on her areola.

"So?" he asked, immediately on the defensive. "Don't you like that?"

"Hell, no! If I want my nipple pierced at least I'll use an icecube to-
to..." She halted her rant at the expression of bewilderment evident on his
flushed features. She had to remind herself at times like this that he wasn't
from Earth and that his interactive skills, even in this intimate area, were
dictated by alien habits. That reminded her of something else.

"It's okay," she tried to soothe him, touching his face and kissing him.
He began reaching for her again as she got up from the bed. "Just a second. I
have to get something." She left the room, hearing his frustrated exhale of
breath as she rummaged briefly in her purse. When she came back she gave him a
square piece of plastic, "Here."

Vegeta regarded the offering in confusion. "What's this?"

She took it back and ripped open the sleeve, pulling out the small plastic
ring inside of it. "It's a condom."

The Saiyan eyed it with open disgust. It was milky white and slimy and
when he took it from her and sniffed it, he almost gagged. It reeked of
chemicals. "What's it for?"

"It's so I don't get pregnant," Bulma said quickly. She could feel the
mood slipping away with each passing second and was desperate to salvage
whatever threads of passion that remained.

"Humans are not a self-fertilizing species?"

"I'm on the pill but you can't be too careful." She didn't want to know
how many alien skank's the Saiyan may have slept with as he roamed the known
galaxy. Dorothy Pereaux was bad enough. The last thing she needed was some
space-faring STD to contend with. "I'll let you handle that while I go freshen
up," she said and went into the bathroom. She moistened a washcloth and held it
against her aching breast and stared at her reflection, feeling the first
tendrils of doubt swamp her now that the light-headedness of lust had abated.

"What did you expect?" she told her mirror image. "You didn't believe
things would go off without a hitch, did you? You've only been with one man
before, of course you're going to be nervous-"

"Who the hell are you talking to?!" came Vegeta's voice from outside the
room.

"Nobody!" she yelled back. She looked back into the mirror again and said
comfortingly, "It's going to be all right." Nevertheless, she took the robe off
of the hook on the door and wrapped it around herself self-consciously. With a
deep breath she opened the door.

Vegeta was sitting in the same spot on the bed staring at her
suspiciously, even trying to see past her at who might have snuck into the
bathroom to converse with her. He was still wearing his pants, she noticed in
confusion and his mouth was twisted into a grimace of distaste.

"Wh-why aren't you undressed? What did you do with the condom?"

Scowling at her resentfully, he grated out, "You could have warned me that
it would make my mouth numb."

"You ATE it?!"

"It took some chewing," he told her, making a wry frown of distaste.

That was too much for Bulma. She threw her head back and started laughing
in great braying howls until she had to lean against the wall for support. The
sudden similarity of situations brought Vegeta back to the Pereaux woman's
bedroom and, as his erection deflated, his deep rage grew.

"Don't you dare laugh at me," he said in a dangerous tone.

Ignoring the caution she continued her laughing until it was almost
hysterics. It was pretty clear the Vegeta had mistaken her reference of the pill
to think what she had offered him was an oral contraceptive. The sour expression
on his face had been absolutely priceless and at the mere thought, she erupted
into shrill peals of giggles.

"!!I WILL NOT BE LAUGHED AT!!" he screamed at her. He clambered to his
feet and raised his hand in her direction. It immediately started glowing.

Her laughter abruptly broke off when she saw the deadly intent in his
coal-black eyes and she froze helplessly in place. There was nowhere for her to
hide and when her wide, terrified eyes found his own she saw no trace of
recognition or compassion. He was going to kill her. "...Veh-Vegeta..." Her legs
went weak and she slid to the floor. "Please don't.."

In his instability compounded by his illness, all that he saw was the
mocking face of Dorothy Pereaux. He was back at the moment in her bedroom at her
townhouse. He had been powerless to execute her for her disrespect then but now
he had power again and his honor would be avenged. "Filthy whore. Give me one
good reason why not," he said from behind clenched teeth. His entire body was
shaking from his uncontrollable anger, everything but his hand which was rock
solid and ready to release a charge of concentrated ki that would obliterate her
on contact.

"I love you," she whimpered in an unsteady voice. She hugged herself and
squeezed her eyes shut, her small form visibly cringing as she awaited her doom.

Those three words penetrated his unstable outrage and he was left
stammering in confusion. He had expected everything else; anger, terror, tears,
hate...but love? In the midst of this dreadful scene how could she make such a
statement to him just as he was preparing to kill her? Dorothy's face swam
before his vision to be replaced by Bulma's terrified tear-streaked one. He
lowered his now-trembling hand and allowed the lethal energy to dissipate like
harmless smoke. The impact of a point-blank release of that amount of power
would have incinerated her on the spot and he had been a mere second from doing
it.

All because she had simply laughed.

Realizing that the terrible blast had not yet fallen, Bulma braved herself
to open her eyes and see if the threat was over. Vegeta was staring at her in
horror his face less pallid than a corpse's, visibly struggling to form words.
"Vegeta?" she asked in a tentative voice.

He fled the room. Running to the balcony he didn't know if he had the
power to even sustain flight if he dove over the railing. He might just drop
like a rock. Not thinking, he tensened his muscles to launch himself in the air
regardless of the consequences and ended up skidding to a halt. All of the Z
Fighter's were standing out on the balcony waiting for him.

"You see?!" Yamcha told the others in an excited rush. "He almost killed
her! I was right all along, wasn't I? He's no better than Frieza. We have to put
him down like the dog he is."

Piccolo took one step forward and extended his hand. "Come along with us,
Vegeta. You're only avoiding the inevitable."

"Get away from me," Vegeta growled, backing up into the living room.

"We'll put you out of your misery," the tall Namek told him in that bass
rumble of his. "It'll be painless-"

"Go AWAY!" He brought both hands to one side, cupping them as he attempted
to summon the energies for a Gallic Gun. There was no responsive click in his
dazed mind indicative of a successful power up. He had used what little power he
possessed in his abortive attack on Doro-...Bulma. Gods, he had nearly killed
her!

"You're dangerous, Vegeta," Gokou said, taking advantage of his
indecision. He gripped his hands into fists by his sides and exploded into
living flame, becoming the thing that Vegeta so admired. And feared. The Super
Saiyan of Legend. "I'll take you by force if I have to."

As she left the bedroom, Bulma was capable of shaking off the near-fatal
encounter with an experience borne of so many similar situations during her
misadventures among Gokou and the others. She had come close to death so many
times that she was getting pathetically jaded whenever such a situation arose.
The confrontation with Vegeta had rattled her, there was no doubt about that but
a part of her knew that something was wrong with him. The doctor had asked her
that first night if he suffered from delusions and she understood the truth when
she emerged from the hallway and saw him yelling threats at an empty balcony.

"Vegeta!" she called from her place, not daring to go any closer until he
could be placated.

Actually snarling in rage like a cornered animal he whirled on her, his
teeth bared. He recoiled as if physically struck. Standing behind her was the
rotting bulk of Nappa, more skeleton than man. The charred remains of his flesh
were still smoldering; the acrid smoke was slowing filling up the room. The only
part of his anatomy that had survived relatively unscathed was his massive
erection. It wagged beneath his charred stomach like a gnarled limb as he
lumbered towards Bulma. He made an oval of his blistered lips and ran his tongue
about them in a noisy slurp. "I'm gonna fuck this bitch 'til she bleeds," he
said, winking at Vegeta. "Just like old times, eh?"

Beyond words, the smaller Saiyan launched himself with a terrifying roar
of rage at the behemoth. Bulma ducked to one side as he leapt past her,
embracing only empty air and colliding with the wall. He fell to the floor in a
heap and shook his head, droplets of blood falling on the carpet and splattering
against the wall. Looking around warily, his eyes found Bulma as if it were the
first time he had noticed her. "Where is he?"

That crazed look had left his eyes and she braved himself to go over to
him. His nose was bleeding quite badly and when she touched his face she drew it
back as if she had been burned. His fever had returned with a vengeance.
"Vegeta, there's no one here. You're hallucinating-"

"-Where are you, Nappa?!" Vegeta hollered into the empty living room, his
eyes darting in every direction possible.

In as level a voice as she could manage, Bulma attempted to reason with
him. "Nappa's not here. He's dead."

"Of course he's dead," Vegeta snapped at her, rising slowly to his feet.
"But he can come back. So can Radditz. That mound of maggot's visited me a few
days ago-" He raised his voice as he looked around the room, "But I'm still here
and breathing, you dumb fuck!"

"Vegeta, come back to bed," Bulma said, tugging gently on his arm.

The Saiyan stared back at her. "They all keep pressuring me to join them.
I want them to stop. I've made my choice but nobody seems to listen."

"What are you talking about? What choice?"

"To live. I don't want to die anymore but-" he cocked his head to one side
as if hearing a far off voice that was beyond the range of human ears. For no
good reason both of her arms broke out in gooseflesh when he confided to her,
"Father keeps calling for me to come home."

>>>>>
After much coaxing, Bulma managed to get the Saiyan into bed and he
succumbed to the fever and fell into a fitful doze plagued with bad dreams.
Watching as he thrashed in his sleep, she was beside herself with worry not
knowing what she could possibly do for him in this agitated state. And she'd be
lying if she didn't confess to some concern for her own welfare as well. Had she
thought things would be so simple with a handful of pills and a couple of meals?
He had not explained the affects of V'Nhar to her but it was plain that it was
compromising not only his health to extremes but also his sanity.

I don't want to die anymore, he had said.

She thought back to a month before on a sinking island off of the coast of
Australia where she had tried to get the ailing Saiyan to submit to her care
before he died of exposure; 'It would be for the best', he had replied.

Dear Kami was it possible? Bulma thought in something close to a panic.
All of those injuries in the gravity simulator, that explosion that had leveled
it- and him. Had she been purposely avoiding what was becoming so brutally
obvious? Was Vegeta suicidal? She didn't want to leave his side but she was out
of her depth here. She was a scientist and if he were a robot she could repair
him with ease. But he wasn't and what he needed she couldn't do for him.

He needed a doctor.

>>>>>
The knocking on the front door roused him from the painful memories of his
ordeals on Namek and he pulled awake like a man trying to climb out of
quicksand; slowly, imperceptibly, weary to the bones and aching all over. His
nose hurt the most and he pinched the bridge and released a grunt of pain at the
contact. It felt broken but he had no memory of what had happened. Everything
that had happened after breakfast was a confusing blur. He actually forgot why
he was jarred awake and began drifting off once more when that knock came again.
He looked around for the woman but could not sense her anywhere in the suite.

He didn't want to get out of bed and decided to ignore whoever was at the
door when a voice called out, "Room service." Those were two words he had
learned to respond to. It translated to mean food and he got up out of the
comforting surface of that wonderful bed and wearily stalked to the door.

He undid the locks and pulled it open.

Thinking that no one was in the suite and on his way down the corridor to
leave, the man looked back.

"Vegeta," Dr. Briefs said, without surprise.



---------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------
NEXT CHAPTER TO BE POSTED SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 03, 2001. If you would like to be
on the mailing list to receive notification of when new chapters of this story
are posted, please e-mail your request to: darke_angelus@hotmail.com
--------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------
Chapter Fourteen: Dr. Briefs has finally tracked his daughter down. What will be
his reaction when he discovers that Vegeta has been living there with her? And
what WAS that business with the Z Fighters anyway?