Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ FROM BAD TO WORSE... ❯ Wounded Pride ( Chapter 4 )

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

Last Chapter: The Vegeta/Yamcha conflict ends in a draw. Bulma discovers that in
exchange for staying at Capsule Corp., the Saiyan had been secretly working for
her father. Embarrassed and enraged, Vegeta leaves the headquarters building.
------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------
FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Four

Following Bulma's interruption, Vegeta left the headquarters building
entirely for parts unknown. Bulma kept track of his absence by the amount of
food in the fridge and cupboard and the tension in both of her parents as the
days moved closer to a week. Covertly, Bulma went to her computer and called up
various satellite images of the more remote sections of Earth and ran them with
comparisons taken from a week before. It wasn't long before she saw a pattern
restricted to one specific area and she printed off the coordinates.

Her mother caught up to her in the kitchen as she was filling up a backpack
with bottles of water and some food. The two met eyes for a moment until the
blond handed her that all too familiar medical kit. "Bring him home, Bulma."

"I plan to," Bulma reassured her and went to the Capsule Corp. hoverjet to
begin her search.

>>>>>
Thirty nautical miles off the coast of Australia, Bulma homed in on the
last surviving island of an archipelago that had previously consisted of over
twenty small landmasses. She could see submerged craters clearly from the air
making the area appear as if meteorites had recently bombarded it. Her hands
were clammy from nervousness when she landed on what was left of the main
island. All of the vegetation had been scrubbed clean and its surface was pox-
marked by craters, one as big across as half a mile. These were slowly filling
with seawater as the ravaged island was being inexorably put out of its misery
and reclaimed by the ocean.

She found him sitting at the edge of the largest one, glaring down into the
craters' depths. He was still wearing the remains of the clothes he's had on
that morning in her father's office. They hadn't held up to the onslaught like
his traditional Saiyan armor and what was left was little more than rags.

"Vegeta?" she called to him in a hesitant voice but got no answer. Keeping
a wary distance, she knelt down several feet away from him and examined him as
best she could. Her eyes went first to his injured side and through the tattered
shirt she could make out a vague discoloration but that was about all. No
indication of swelling or infection and that was good. It was about the only
thing from looking at him that gave her any comfort.

"You've come to retrieve your pet Saiyan, I see," he finally spoke up after
about ten minutes of silence. His voice was painfully hoarse and when he swung
his head around to stare at her she could see bruised half-moons of exhaustion
and dehydration beneath his eyes.

"I've come to bring you home."

"'Home'," he barked and shook his head with amusement. "Hah. That's a
laugh. You've come to collect your investment."

"Capsule Corp. was a thriving company long before you ever showed up,
Vegeta," she assured him, keeping the anger out of her voice. "That's not why
I'm here. I...we were worried about you."

"Mind your own business for a change. I'm fine," he snapped back.

She rummaged in her backpack and pulled out a bottle of water and attempted
to hand it over to him. He slapped it away, knocking it out of her hand and sent
it rolling down the side of the crater. His teeth were bared when he snarled at
her, "I don't want anything from you. Go away, woman."

Swallowing, she backed away from him without argument and returned to the
air-conditioned interior of the hoverjet wondering what she should do next. It
was highly likely that the agitated Saiyan was bordering on heat stroke and
possibly even delirium. Unfortunately, even in his weakened state he was still
far stronger of the two. She was at a complete loss as to how to deal with the
situation.

At midday the temperature rose to well over thirty degrees Celsius and yet
Vegeta didn't budge from his spot, not that there was anything left on the
entire island to retreat to. Bulma was debating whether to make another attempt
to coax him back when a seagull flew overhead and began squalling at him. Vegeta
fired two ki blasts at the irritating creature, missing both times but a third
shot incinerated the bird into a ball of charred feathers. Choosing the better
part of self-preservation, she stayed where she was.

Near dusk, storm clouds moved in and rain washed over the area, obscuring
her view of him. She pulled out an umbrella and left the jet to at least offer
some shelter. This time when she came in close to him he didn't object. There
were blisters on his shoulders and his face was flushed and shiny from his
exposure. When he wearily looked over at her, his eyes were unfocused and
bloodshot.

"Vegeta, if you stay here for one more day, you're going to die," she
assured him in a soft voice.

"It would be for the best," he whispered and finally succumbed to his
exhaustion as he slipped into a dark faint.

Rather than try to transport him back to Capsule Corp. right away, Bulma
erected a tent near the crater and dragged the unresponsive Saiyan into it,
focusing on trying to get him to cool down. He had chills, a fever and his pulse
was racing; all of signs of advanced heatstroke. She had to work quickly. She
ended up pulling him back out into the rain where the torrent would cool down
his skin. By the time the deluge began to taper off, he began to show signs of
coming around. Soaked to the bone herself, she managed to get him to drink a
little water and, while he was still damp, wrestled him into the hoverjet where
the air-conditioner would continue to cool down his raging body temperature.

Moving him was easier then she thought it would be. He had lost weight
during his weeklong rampage and, combined with his extreme dehydration, they
were probably close to the same weight now. It wasn't an observation that gave
her any reassurance and her apprehension intensified when she watched him
struggle with an onslaught of muscle cramps. He reached blindly out and his hand
closed around one of the door handles and crumpled it to pieces as he was seized
with a spasm. After that he curled into a contorted, agonized ball. Feeling
utterly helpless, Bulma decided to get packed up and return home as quickly as
she could so that he could put into the infirmary.

About an hour from home, Bulma heard movement in the backseat and craned
her head around to see Vegeta beginning to stir. Setting the console to
autopilot, she went into the back to check up on him. His eyes fluttered before
focusing on her with difficulty. He began to tense up when he looked around the
unfamiliar surroundings with rising panic.

"Take it easy. You're in the Capsule Corp. hoverjet. I'm bringing you back
to the infirmary."

He stared shivering uncontrollably and hugged himself. "...Why is it so
cold?"

She touched his forehead and could feel that his fever had broken.
Relieved, she turned down the air conditioner and offered him a blanket,
wrapping it around his shoulders as she helped him sit up. Taking advantage of
his apparent bewilderment, she handed him a bottle and was grateful when he
began to greedily gulp down the contents. She pulled it away from him, "Not too
much or you'll get sick. Drink it slow. How much do you remember?"

He savored the refreshing liquid as he slowly collected his thoughts.
Finally, he said, "I seem to remember blasting some bird to atoms..." A smile
crossed his haggard features before he squinted at her. "You were there."

"I showed up early yesterday. It was last night before you would let me get
close to you. You were...very upset."

He grunted and ran a hand back and forth through his lank hair.
"Everything's muddled...How did you find me?"

Smiling, she responded, "Your Saiyan temper tantrum was caught on
satellite. I just homed in on what was left of that poor archipelago you
destroyed."

"It was uninhabited," he countered quickly.

"I know that."

"Oh. I though you were going to start nagging at me again."

She considered how he had started going on the defensive the instant her
voice reached that certain pitch. The two of them were so similar in temperament
that they antagonized one another without even being aware of it. Changing the
subject, she admitted, "You had me worried there for awhile, Vegeta. You were
pretty out of it."

He touched one of the blisters on his left shoulder and winced. "I'd give
my left nut for a regeneration chamber right about now."

"Draw up the designs for my father, maybe he can build you one," she teased
and saw the cloud pass by over his face at the reminder. "I won't tell anybody
what it is you're doing for the company. It's no one else's business."

"It's not that," he confessed to her. "Every time I pick up a drafting pen
I swear I can hear my father screaming his disapproval. You said so yourself;
I'm the prince of an extinct race. Now I'm reduced to the occupation of a common
scribe. It's completely humiliating."

"Vegeta, it's a wonderful gift. You shouldn't feel any shame for doing it."

He didn't answer right away, glowering out of the window at the unfamiliar
landscape. The sight only further intensified his feeling of isolation and he
forced his eyes away with difficulty. "Some 'gift'. I don't even comprehend what
I'm drawing on the paper. Frieza used to call Saiyans 'Domesticated monkeys' and
when it comes to technology that's just what we are...were." His voice dropped
to a raspy whisper when he corrected himself.

Bulma decided that she didn't like this haunted side to him one little bit.
"You made corrections to the communications chip. I heard you."

"Simple mathematics."

"You still improvised on the design, don't you see that?"

"The subject is closed," he announced in a sudden hard tone. He fixed her
with a deliberate glare to ensure she understood.

"Vegeta, I'm sorry when I walked in-"

Waving her words away he upended the bottle and finished the water. The
leading edge of the city was coming into view on the horizon and the hoverjet
began its decent. The anger on his face deepened at the mere sight of
civilization. "I wish I'd never heard of those fucking dragonballs," he hissed
under his breath.

Bulma would have liked to try and reason with him but the autopilot began
beeping and she had no choice but to return to the pilot's chair. She tried to
talk to him while she entered the coordinates for home but he had lapsed into
sullen silence as he watched the Capital pass by below them. The hatred and
resentment in his face increased the closer they got to the headquarters
building.

When she landed in the compound the old Vegeta had returned with a
vengeance. He threw the blanket aside and opened the door, refusing her attempts
to help him even though he almost fell when he stepped out of the hoverjet. Her
parents were waiting by the door of the main building as well as one skittish
nurse. Vegeta locked eyes with Bulma as she moved in to assist and she saw that
burning sense of pride in those black depths as well as an urgent entreaty. She
stepped back without a word and let him enter the building unaided. He made it
as far as the infirmary before collapsing again.

For the next two days he was in a sleep so deep it was almost a coma and
Bulma was never far from his side. The nurse had hooked up an I.V. to provide
intravenous replacement fluids and his depleted system was draining the bags at
an alarming rate. Watching him as he struggled with some nightmare she gently
wrung out a wash cloth in a basin of cold water and wiped away the moisture from
his brow. Her parents looked in him from time to time and the relief in their
faces was plainly evident when they smiled at her. What would have happened if
she hadn't tracked him down? He had stubbornly remained on that island even
while the sun had been sucking the life out of him, too lost in his own misery
to bother protecting himself. One more day, perhaps two and he would have died
for sure.

'It would be for the best,' his words drifted past her, making her shudder
involuntarily. She was startled to find herself on the brink of tears at the
thought of losing the brash Saiyan and realized then and there that she was
starting to fall in love with him.

"Son of a bitch," she whispered but she was smiling.

>>>>>
On the evening of the third day, Bulma grabbed several hours of necessary
sleep and went to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before returning to her
bedside vigil. The minute she opened the fridge door all of the last vestiges of
sleep dissipated and she threw her head back in relieved laughter. It was
completely cleaned out; an entire loaf of bread, half of a turkey, leftover
potato salad and several danishes not to mention every liquid on the bottom
shelf except for that annoying last gulp of orange juice. The infamous fridge
burglar had returned with a vengeance.

She ran back upstairs and checked his room. There were a couple of changes
of clothes on the bed, clear indication that he had come and gone. Going on a
hunch, she found him in the Research and Development lab finishing up on the
data he had begun a week before. He squared his shoulders when she walked in but
that was about it. He was wearing a loose pair of pants and an open-throated
shirt and she could see the hint of bandages that covered the most severe of the
burns beneath the fabric. If he had been olive-skinned before now he was
absolutely swarthy from his prolonged sun exposure adding to his rugged appeal.

"Dad's going to do a back flip when he sees this," she said coming up
beside him when he had finished.

Vegeta grunted his response, eyeing her warily as she picked up the
blueprint and studied what he had written. "You know, this won't take me long to
enter into the database. Are you in a rush to continue your training or are you
willing to hang around while I type this in?"

He shrugged and, encouraged, Bulma led him into her office and offered him
a chair. He leaned back, folded his arms and watched her fingers fly over the
keyboard. She should have felt self-consciousness with him looking over her
shoulder but it appeared as if the period of awkwardness between them was over.
His close proximity felt very right to her at that moment and she realized that
she could smell his clean scent. Looking at their reflection in the monitor, she
caught him looking at her before focusing his attention back on the data on the
screen. It had been more than just a brief glance and she shifted her weight in
rising excitement.

A short time later she had finished entering what he had written. "I'm
going to enter the simplified code to the rest of the main file. Cross your
fingers, I hope this works."

"If it doesn't, it's not my fault," he told her.

"Always the tough guy," she muttered as she punched in the final key and
then sat back holding her breath in anticipation.

On the monitor, a three-dimensional representation of the alien chip began
to combine each side layer by layer until all ten angles formed a perfect
decagon. It revolved to various perspectives as the company computer evaluated
its potential. All of a sudden the printer came to life and began to spit out
sheets of theoretical data from the successful model.

"It works!" Bulma shrieked, jumping to her feet. She threw her arms around
Vegeta and gave him a kiss directly on the cheek. He recoiled away from her in
shock and fell off of the chair and she landed directly on top of him. Their
faces were barely an inch apart as they stared at one another in astonishment.

Vegeta swallowed and gazed wonderingly into her face. "...Bulma."

She blinked down at him and realized, "That's the first time you've ever
said my name."

He had never noticed just how dazzling her eyes were before this moment. He
could feel a part of himself becoming lost in those azure depths and was
powerless to stop it. Hesitantly, he reached up and touched that odd colored
hair and she was about to take advantage of his indecision and kiss him again
when there was a subtle clearing of a throat by the door, shattering the moment.
Dr. Briefs and several members of the morning staff were standing at the
entrance trying not to look too obvious while they watched the show.

"Oh," Bulma and Vegeta echoed together. She realized she was sitting
astride him, straddling his hips while he was looking at the crowd upside-down.
If this wasn't a Kodak moment, nothing was and she quickly climbed off of him,
pulling her skirt down over her hips and apologizing profusely. Vegeta looked
like a trapped animal as the staff cut off his only route of escape. He was
blushing so deeply that his sunburned cheeks were actually purple.

Eager to explain the reason they were celebrating, she announced, "Dad! We
just finished entering the last design into the company database. It works!
Check it out!"

"Really?" Dr. Briefs walked over to the monitor. He immediately broke out
into a broad grin and walked over to the Saiyan who was edging his way towards
the exit trying not to be too obvious about it. He actually cringed when the
older man advanced on him and extended his hand.

"Well done, son. Very well done, indeed! Congratulations are in order."

Son? It was a word completely alien to Vegeta's experience and he was
dumbfounded to hear it. Seeing his confusion, Dr. Briefs seized his hand and
enthusiastically pumped it up and down. When the rest of the staff closed in to
offer their own praise, his nerve finally broke and he made a successful retreat
out of the room at last.

Arching an eyebrow of amusement in his daughter's direction, Dr. Briefs
fingered his mustache as he offered her a knowing smile. Self-consciously
smoothening out the wrinkles in her clothes, Bulma smiled shyly back.

------------------------------------------------------------ -----------------
Chapter Five: The tension between them gone at last, Vegeta and Bulma begin to
exchange in civil conversation. Yamcha's jealousy rears its head at the sight.