Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ FROM BAD TO WORSE... ❯ The Final Straw ( Chapter 11 )

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

Last Chapter: A sickly Vegeta has discovered that he's lost everything he owned
and is now on the run from the other Z Fighters. In a moment of desperation he
seeks shelter in the home of an unexpected source.
--------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------
FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Eleven

Had Bulma not made her drastic decision to leave Capsule Corporation as
suddenly as she did, the situation would have probably resolved itself that very
night when Vegeta returned looking for her. However, that was not what happened.

She wasted little time grieving the Saiyan's disappearance. Such displays
were a temporary setback before her own resolve took over as past situations
have shown. Utilizing her own tenacious strength of character she collected
herself and went to her own quarters doing precisely what Vegeta had done a mere
hour earlier. She threw all of her clothes and necessities into the center of
the room and encapsulated them for later when she would have the time to sort
them all out. After that she returned to her lab and typed up a brief letter of
resignation and simply forwarded it to her father's e-mail account. The entire
section was still in an uproar over the cancellation of the project and Charles
was being transported to the infirmary ward as he tried to cope with an anxiety
attack. In the middle of the confusion, Bulma slipped out of the building
completely unnoticed and it wouldn't be until late the next day when it dawned
on her father when she had not shown up for work that he bothered to check his
messages. After reading her letter he almost ended up joining Charles.

Leaving the Western Capital in her favorite hoverjet, Bulma headed east to
the Australian archipelago where Vegeta had retreated several weeks before.
There was nothing to find. The last island had succumbed to the ocean and lay
submerged with the rest in the teal green waters. Several Navy frigates were
investigating the area, no doubt curious what could cause such wide spread
devastation and she received a warning over the communications radio that she
had entered a cordoned off area that was a no-fly zone. She complied and set a
course to return where she had come from, not eager to begin a debate with the
Military when she couldn't even win one against her own father. The Navy had a
right to be so jumpy since Nappa had personally decimated a third of their
destroyers and carriers resulting in a terrible loss of life. Not for the first
time, Bulma was grateful that Vegeta had exercised the restraint in allowing his
former bodyguard do all of the damage until the fight was no longer being
broadcast. Everyone on Earth who had watched the televised combat only seemed to
remember the huge warrior, not the diminutive 'sidekick' who had accompanied
him. In all of the periodicals and news stories that followed the brief
confrontation there wasn't a decent shot of Vegeta in any of them. Nappa's ugly
face however was another story and there were still children having nightmares
from the published close-ups of his face leering in the camera.

Bulma returned to the Capital but NOT Capsule Corp. She got a suite at the
city's most affluent hotel; the Hammorski Plaza. It was a towering skyscraper of
unique architecture that catered to the fabulously wealthy and eccentric. The
upper twenty floors were condominiums for those fortunate enough to afford the
cost and the sprawling penthouse was currently occupied by one of the planets
most powerful politicians. Bulma chose this place for two reasons; One, Capsule
Corp. retained a suite for visiting shareholders and plant managers and the
staff would be immediately aware of who she was. Two, the Plaza had state-of-
the-art security devices and a well-trained staff of guards who took their
duties of obliging their well-off guests of privacy very seriously. Bulma meant
it when she told the front desk manager that she didn't want to be disturbed by
friends and family alike. Not even bothering to feign surprise, the man assured
her of her unanimity as she checked in.

Settling into the suite, Bulma sorted through her belongings and packed
them away in the drawers like a person who intended to stay for quite awhile.
She knew this situation was not going to blow over in a mere day or two and
resolved to make herself comfortable while enjoying all of the perks of room
service while Capsule Corp. footed the bill. She lasted until evening before
breaking down and calling her mother to assure her that she was all right. Both
women had shared a good, long cry over the phone until her father picked up the
receiver, asking her where she was. Bulma hung up on him without a word.

For the next week, Bulma kept track of satellite images and ran
comparisons with the landscapes trying to catch sight of another Vegeta-like
temper tantrum similar to the one off the coast of Australia. There wasn't even
a minute earthquake tremor to report. The program she wrote to scan all of the
planet's online newspapers for acts of violence appeared promising at first
until she entered the base criteria that limited the acts to one person. Aside
from a few rampaging gunmen, there were no similarities to who she was looking
for. Quite unexpectedly, Vegeta had gone to ground and was deliberately keeping
himself scarce. Bulma could not profess to know the Saiyan very well but his
sudden disappearance unnerved her, fearing he was plotting some terrible thing
that would not reveal itself until it was too late. Operating in the shadows was
his specialty and, as much as she would like to deny it she knew his motivations
leaned towards a much darker purpose. As the days wore on, her dread only
intensified.

She kept in contact with her mother, needing both the reassurance and the
familial support and it was rare when the conversation ended that they both
weren't in tears. Still refusing to speak to her father, Bulma was poised to
slam down the receiver when she heard the sound of a man's voice in the
background. It was Yamcha, urgently trying to apologize for all that had
happened.

"-have to believe me when I tell you that I didn't intend to hurt you. I
thought I was doing the right thing, Bulma. Please see things from my point of
view. I thought he would eventually kill you!" The words were practically
tangling themselves in his haste to get them out.

Despite herself, Bulma dared to ask, "Have you...gotten any sense of him,
Yamcha?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can't-" her voice threatened to break and she fought for control, not
willing to burst into tears with the man responsible for her misery listening on
the other end. "I've been trying to find him but I'm not having any luck. Do you
know if he's been around the Capital or Capsule Corp?"

"I don't think he's anywhere near the city, Bulma," came the reluctant
answer. "I was going to go to Gokou and see if maybe he can-"

"NO!" she screamed into the receiver. "If Vegeta so much as senses him
nearby all they'll do is fight. You know that as much as I do. Leave him alone,
Yamcha. I think he'll come back on his own if he's given his space."

"Bulma, I don't think-"

"-That's the whole source of this problem; You-don't-think. Leave him
alone," she repeated and hung up on his words of debate. After that, she went
back to her computer and resumed her tireless scan of the earth's surface long
into the night. When dawn broke, she wearily dragged herself into the bedroom
and laid down on the soft surface clothes and all, falling into a restless
sleep.

>>>>>
It was a beautiful morning for a swim.

Clad in a two-piece bikini held together by straining triangles of cloth
Dorothy Pereaux dove into the pool and began her morning laps. Sitting on a
chair nearby, a portable stereo was blaring away a selection of hard rock. On
the settee table was a tray with muffins, fruit and orange juice. The patio
doors that led into the living room of the townhouse were wide open.

Dorothy splashed in the water deliberately and, after several laps she
pulled herself out of the water, flinging her raven locks back and assuming an
erotic pose as she looked towards the patio.

There was no one there.

With a huff she grabbed a towel and dried herself off and stamped into the
living room to glare down at the figure that was sprawled on the leather sofa.
Ever since he had shown up at her door over twelve hours ago, Vegeta had been
passed out on its surface, oblivious of anything. Not the most charitable of
individuals she had elected to leave him be, unnaturally cowed by his battered,
sickly appearance. She had managed to get him to part with his clothes to have
her housekeeper wash them and would have tried to get him into her bedroom but
he only made it as far as the couch. When she went to get a blanket he was
asleep in the few minutes that it took her to return.

As she continued her inspection, her scowl of agitation faded at the sight
of him. Lying on his back with the blanket down to his waist the actress found
herself as attracted to him as she had been the first day she had seen him
jogging. He was a direct opposite of the men who made up her usual sexual diet;
all tall, vacuous, aspiring young actors who were eager to share her bed in
exchange for a phone number or a bit part in a movie. She was so accustomed to
having men fawn over her that she had been entirely caught off guard when she
had started her usual flirtatious advances to Vegeta and had him roughly tell
her to fuck off. He was short, abusive, a walking hair disaster-

-and one hell of a turn on. From that point she was determined to make him
her next conquest, exhilarated by the prospect of a chase. He had just begun
tolerating her when he started jogging with the young Briefs woman. After being
on the receiving end of a possessive glare of challenge from that blue haired
harpy, Dorothy had wisely backed off. She considered herself well versed in the
complex dance of relationships, having been married and divorced three times in
her admitted forty-two years. She was content to wait on the sidelines and
observe them at a distance, patient to wait until the situation corrected
itself.

Kneeling down beside Vegeta's sleeping form, she considered his profile.
Oblivious of his true origins she figured that he was probably Italian or Greek,
perhaps even of Middle Eastern descent taking into account his faint, elusive
accent. As she ran a light hand across his firm chest she marveled at his
flawless build. He had told her that he was skilled at martial arts and she
could believe it, the corded muscles of his chest and shoulders flexing even
while he slept. She could see faint bruises peppered along his torso and
muscular arms and with a devilish grin, she reasoned that she should resume her
inspection to ensure that all was well. Sliding her hand along his hard stomach
it disappeared beneath the blanket and her smile widened in accomplishment as
her fingers closed around his flaccid warmth. Pleased by what her touch
revealed, she began her skillful ministrations as she studied his relaxed
features, waiting for his response.

An instant later she was propelled backwards into the chair opposite the
sofa and Vegeta was sitting up, his eyes wide with shock and hatred. His
reaction had been so quick that she hadn't even seen him move and any other
person would have sensed the wrongness to that arcane speed.

Dorothy merely lounged back in the chair as she crossed her long legs and
said sweetly, "Good morning, Vegeta. Did you sleep well?"

His face flushing with indignant rage, Vegeta opened his mouth to begin
screaming at her and suddenly caught a stray scent. He sniffed the air and
looked over in the direction of the pool area, his stomach growling. Noticing
his clothes neatly folded on the coffee table, he threw the blanket aside and
pulled on his faded jeans, well aware of the appreciative stare of the hostess.
He disregarded her and padded barefoot out onto the patio, discovering the
breakfast tray and sat down to eat.

Chuckling lightly, Dorothy came up beside him and ran a hand along the
back of his neck. The muscles between his shoulders tensened at the contact and
he froze in place until she moved on. Laying the towel over the backrest of the
chair she returned to the pool to continue her morning laps.

Flashing her one resentful glare, Vegeta focused his attention back on the
food in front of him. He made short work of the muffins, not even bothering to
remove the paper cups and consumed the oranges and bananas skin and all. When he
poured himself a glass of juice he had to use both of his hands to steady the
glass when he raised it to his mouth. This slight meal did nothing for the
V'Nhar and barely took the edge off of his hunger which was close to becoming
debilitating. He needed protein. More importantly he needed meat.

Even as Dorothy was calling for him to join her in the pool, he went back
into the house to search for the kitchen. When he found the refrigerator he
opened the door expectantly, remembering the well-stocked shelves back at
Capsule Corp. He almost howled in dismay at what he found instead.

Dorothy was in the process of getting herself back in shape for an
upcoming movie and her fridge and cupboard were bare of anything that even
remotely resembled a temptation. A strict Vegan, there wasn't even cheese or
eggs in the fridge only greens of every conceivable shape and size. Rummaging
around he pulled out a block of white substance, studying the label in
bewilderment. T-O-F-U. Sniffing it experimentally he only came away even more
confused by what his senses told him. It appeared an edible concoction but he
wasn't quite sure what to make of it until a cramp seized him and he had to lean
on the counter for support. His surroundings dimmed and slowly came swimming
back, leaving him weak and light-headed. More out of desperation than hunger, he
unwrapped the contents of the package and forced it down, grimacing against the
taste and waiting to see if his stomach would accept the offering or rebel
against it. He was pleasantly surprised to feel some of his strength return and
more than a little relieved. He began to search the contents of the fridge of
more of this tasteless, gummy, miraculous substance.

After realizing that Vegeta had walked out on her, Dorothy pulled herself
out of the pool again and went in pursuit. She found him in the kitchen
finishing off a bottle of olives and shelved her annoyance at the sight of him.
That previous sickly pallor of his had abated somewhat and he appeared in better
spirits. Pulling up one of the stools, she settled herself on it and supported
her chin on one hand. Considering him thoughtfully for a moment she finally
spoke up. "So, are you enjoying the hospitality of the Pereaux Bed and
Breakfast?"

"The menu is definitely lacking," was all he had to say on the matter. He
finished the last olive and upended the bottle to drink the salty liquid.

"I have a movie coming up. The director said I have to lose eight pounds
or he'll recast the lead."

He frowned at her. "Are you serious? Why do you put up with that shit?"

"Because I enjoy my comforts," she admitted, gesturing at her
surroundings. "Same as you, I imagine."

"What do you mean?"

"You were living at Capsule Corp., the very lap of luxury itself. Last
night you showed up looking like you were wearing clothes donated from goodwill.
What happened with the Briefs?"

Drumming his fingers absently on the countertop, he chose his words
carefully, not willing to give this woman any more ammunition than she all ready
had. "There was a...slight disagreement. It was for the best that I left."

"You couldn't go to a hotel?"

"I lost my damn wallet."

Smiling for no reason he could determine, Dorothy mused, "I'm surprised
that the Briefs girl would let you go so easily."

"Bulma moved out. I don't know where she's gone. If I did, I certainly
wouldn't be here."

Her false smile dropped at that. "You ungrateful little shit. You sleep on
my couch and eat my food and don't even extend me the courtesy of a simple
thank-you. What's to stop me from kicking you out on your sorry ass right now?"

Kicking the fridge door shut behind him, he said, "You won't do that."

"Is that a fact? Why the hell not?" she seethed.

Flashing her a smile that contained absolutely no humor he leaned over the
counter and dropped his voice to a husky tone as he informed her, "It's clear
what you want from me; a good, thorough fuck that'll roll you eyes back into
your skull. I'm telling you right now, don't hold your breath, bitch."

She matched his forceful stare until they both blinked at the exact same
moment, breaking that spell of stubborn wills. They were well matched in
temperament and attitudes and this would have been almost a game if the stakes
weren't so high. Of the two, Dorothy burst out laughing first. "I always get
what I want one way or the other, Vegeta. What do you think about that?"

"I think I'm tired," he yawned and left the kitchen to return to the sofa.

"You know, my bedroom is just upstairs," she called after him.

He released a bark of bitter laughter at the mere suggestion. "You'll have
to try better than that," he informed her. He pulled the light blanket over
himself and deliberately showed her his back as he settled down to rest.

Well accustomed to such cat and mouse games, Dorothy calmly smiled and
said to herself, "Oh, I plan to do better than just try..."

>>>>>
By afternoon, Bulma was worn down from too many sleepless nights and her
unending worry. She left the hotel to go shopping and get her mind off of her
grief and it worked, to an extent. That is until she would see something that
would remind her of the brash Saiyan and her misery would return. When she left
the mall and saw a lone pretzel vendor at the curb she felt her heart lurch in
her chest, thinking of a much simpler time in the park what seemed like an
eternity ago. Deliberating turning her back on the sight, she saw the woman
standing at the curb across the street impatiently waiting for a cab.

"Ms. Pereaux!" she called, running over to her.

Muttering a curse, the actress reluctantly cast a sidelong glance figuring
it to be another autograph collector. When she saw Bulma approach she relaxed,
but not by much. "Bulma. I almost didn't recognize you without your tight little
jogging outfit on," she greeted coolly.

"I haven't been jogging much lately," Bulma said, letting the veiled
sarcasm slide.

"Oh?" The actress considered her for a moment and then attempted slyly,
"Come to think of it I haven't seen you or your rude boyfriend lately. How are
things between you two?"

"Not the best, I'm afraid. Vegeta's moved out and I'm trying to find him-"

"Is that a fact," Dorothy mused, trying to contain a gloating smile.

Bulma was rummaging through her purse and didn't see that expression on
the older woman's face. She pulled out a notebook and a pen and began to scrawl
an address and a phone number on a sheet of paper. "I'm staying at the Hammorski
in this suite. Vegeta is new to the Capital and not familiar with the area. If,
in the off chance that you do see him, could you tell him where I am? I'd really
appreciate it."

Dorothy took the paper from her and glanced at it once before putting it
in her pocket. She was about to release one of her scathing remarks and saw the
faint look of hope on the other woman's face. Shelving her usual pessimism, she
took one of Bulma's hands said calmly, "I'm not going to offer you any false
hope, Bulma. The Western Capital is a very big city. I'll try to keep an eye out
for him. If I ever do see him, you can be sure I'll give him this address."

Tears welled in the corners of Bulma's eyes as she read the apparent
sincerity in the tall woman's face. "Thank you, Ms. Pereaux. You don't know what
this means to me."

"I think I do," she responded, grateful as a cab pulled up to the curb.
Getting inside, she added, "Don't give up hope, girl. I'm sure you'll find him
soon."

"Thank you!" Bulma yelled after the retreating cab, waving
enthusiastically. She returned to her suite after that chance meeting in
slightly better spirits, oblivious to the fact that she had given a damaging bit
of information to the one person who had the unscrupulous nature to use it to
her advantage.

As the cab sped away Dorothy believed it was as if fate were following a
carefully written script that she would have the luck to run into Bulma Briefs
today. As far as she was concerned, there was no loyalty of gender here. If the
Brief's woman had been silly enough to lose her man she really didn't deserve to
get him back. Not right away, at least. It was because of that Dorothy betrayed
no knowledge of Vegeta's whereabouts with the poise of an actress who deserved
an Oscar for her convincing performance. Bulma had actually had tears in her
eyes from the false sincerity she had offered her. Stupid bitch.

When Dorothy returned home she spent the afternoon staring at the address
wondering what she was going to do and how she was going to go about it. In her
devious mind she carefully evaluated every possible script and a prearranged
counter like a chess master about to meet her greatest opponent. A flush of
excitement lit her dark cheeks and she felt a responsive tingle between her
tanned thighs. As she passed through the living room she looked at Vegeta's
still form before going upstairs. "Prepare to be humbled, little man," she said
under her breath.

>>>>>
Vegeta was stuck in a nightmare where Radditz was taunting him over and
over with his past failures and he was pitifully grateful when someone shook him
awake. He woke up to a pair of deep brown eyes that were staring down at him in
concern. "Are you all right?"

He sat up slowly and it took a moment to collect his bearings as he
concentrated on Dorothy's face. "Fine," he grumbled, running a hand absently
through his stiff hair.

Satisfied, the tall woman sat down in the opposite chair. She was wearing
a low cut caftan that had an exotic tiger stripe pattern with a deep slit that
revealed one smooth thigh. "It looked like you were having a terrible dream.
What was it?"

"None of your business."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Keep your fridge better stocked," he said crisply.

Nodding in apparent sympathy, she told him, "I sent my housekeeper out on
some errands. She should be back soon." It was a partial lie. She had indeed
sent her housekeeper out of the house...not to return until tomorrow.

He didn't respond, becoming lost in thought and intentionally ignoring
her. At length she revealed three little words that she knew would guarantee his
full attention. "I've found her."

Snapping his head up in surprise he betrayed a rare look of hope before he
immediately reined it back. "Who?"

"You know who I'm talking about. Bulma Briefs. I've found out where she's
gone."

"Tell me."

"Not so fast," Dorothy said, leaning forward to face him. "I had to make a
lot of phone calls and utilize very expensive resources to track her down as
quickly as I have. I spent a pretty penny on this address and I'm not just going
to give it to you for free."

His face immediately darkened in rising anger. "I told you that I lost my
wallet."

"Silly man, you know damn well that it's not your money I want," she said
with a cruel smile, deliberately dropping her eyes to his crotch.

Sputtering, he rose menacingly over her, his hands clenched into fists. At
her gloating smile in return he whirled in frustration and stamped out of the
room into the backyard. It was coming on dark and the pool lights were on
transforming the landscaped grounds of the small yard into a deceptively
comforting sanctuary. Vegeta walked around the pool until he came to the fence
that bordered the end of the property, shielding it from outsiders. He crossed
his arms and tried to grapple with his rage, wondering what he was possibly
going to do. Sensing her presence coming up behind him he said in a low voice,
"I resent you forcing me to lie with you in exchange for this information."

"I'm not twisting your arm. You can leave if you want to, I won't stop
you," she said quietly. "The question you have to ask yourself is, do you really
want to? My informant tells me that Bulma has been looking for you. She's very
worried."

His lip curled. "I hate you."

She only smiled mildly back. "What's the big deal, Vegeta? This is just a
simple business transaction, nothing more or less. We both have something the
other wants. You want Bulma, I want you. It's as simple as that."

Turning on her, he shouted, "There's nothing 'simple' about this! It's
utterly repugnant! How dare you make such a demand of me!"

She shrugged, completely ignoring his protests. "What's it going to be?"

He snorted spitefully as he glared at her. She was ignorant that her price
would sacrifice far more than just precious physical resources. He had about a
thimble full of anything resembling pride left to sustain him and now this
amazon slut wanted to pimp him for a roll in the hay in exchange for an address.
Things were just going steadily downhill...

As his pensive silence stretched on Dorothy submerged her growing
irritation and said in a harder voice, "I'm waiting for an answer."

Struggling with his composure he was about to tell her to go to Hell and
ask for a cadaver named Radditz when he sensed an unexpected ki rapidly
approaching. Closing the distance between then in one quick move, he grabbed a
handful of Dorothy's hair and pulled her face in close for a deep kiss. His
other hand encircled her lithe form and she melted against him, moaning her
gratitude into his mouth while he kept a sharp eye skywards.

Passing by directly overhead was Tien, one of the most distrustful members
of the Z Fighters where the Saiyan was concerned. The large fighter saw only a
couple in the throes of passion and moved on without incident but Vegeta could
sense his presence lingering in the affluent neighborhood. He pushed the woman
away and wiped his mouth, staring in the direction the human had gone.

Unaware of his true motives behind the sudden display of affection,
Dorothy flashed him a triumphant smile. "Apparently that means you've chosen my
offer."

He could still feel that presence nearby, boxing him in. There was no
telling how long Tien was going to remain in the area. If he continued to stall
he had no doubt that the damned woman would make a scene that would attract the
wrong attention. There was only one way out of this situation.

"Apparently so," he confessed in a sigh.

>>>>>
About an hour later Vegeta pulled on his jeans again and then sat on the
edge of the bed to conserve his strength. Behind him, Dorothy was lounging back
in the rumpled bed sheets, smoking a cigarette and appearing immensely self-
satisfied. She stretched like a cat, almost purring in her contentment, and
rubbed the Saiyan's back with her foot. "Well worth the wait, Vegeta. I wouldn't
have missed this for the world."

"I'm so happy for you," he grumbled, moving beyond her reach.

She pouted. "Oh, you got your rocks off, what are you complaining about?
Come and lay down with me."

"That wasn't part of the deal," he said, staring at her sidelong. "Where
is she?"

Breathing out a lungful of soothing smoke she stubbed her cigarette out in
an ashtray on the nightstand. "Fine, be that way. I have it written down, I'll
go get it for you." She rose reluctantly from the bed and didn't bother pulling
on a robe over her nudity as she left the room.

The instant she was gone Vegeta dropped the pretense of arrogance and
squeezed his eyes shut as a spasm of tremors swept through him. He couldn't even
blame it wholly on the V'Nhar either, swept up in a wave of self-loathing that
eclipsed everything else. The last hour was a merciful blur of heaving flesh and
moist heat. In the end, if he hadn't envisioned Bulma's sweet, angelic face his
climax would have been an impossibility. The guilt that he felt was perplexing;
he and the Briefs woman were not exclusive to one another and had exchanged no
vows. All they had shared was one simple kiss. Nothing more.

So why the hell did he feel so ashamed? It made no sense!

"Here we are," Dorothy announced as she came padding back into the bedroom
holding something up in her left hand. Vegeta got to his feet and made to grab
for it and she deliberately held it out of his reach. "Not so fast. Once you
leave there's no turning back. I'm not running a hotel. If things don't work out
for you with that Briefs bitch, I don't want to see you back on my doorstep."

"Consider that a bonus," he assured her. "Now hand it over."

When she did he regarded the hundred-zeni bills that were wrapped around
the wad of folded up paper. He held them up to her. "What the hell is this?"

Dorothy lit a fresh cigarette and settled comfortably back on the bed,
watching him in amusement. "Consider it a tip for a job well done," she said
smugly.

With a livid curse he threw the money down on the floor. "How DARE you
treat me like some cheap slut! Do you have any idea who I AM?!"

"All that matters is that you were my bitch the minute you agreed to screw
me, boy," she told him in as hard a voice as he had ever heard her use. He
actually recoiled from her harsh words as if physically slapped even as she
taunted him with, "Tell me, Vegeta. How did it feel to be my little whore for an
hour?"

The muscles across his chest twitched in fury as he struggled for words so
great was his rage. He raised a palm flat up to her face and then stared at it
after one tense moment, feeling no mental connection indicative of a ki power
up. He had used the last reserves of his strength to couple with her. Until he
shrugged off the effects of the V'Nhar he was almost powerless.

"Oh shit," he whispered, still staring at his hand in disbelief.

Oblivious of how close her death had come, Dorothy pulled a sheet
partially over herself and calmly told him, "I would suggest that you take the
money. Surely you don't want to face your precious Bulma in those rags you've
been wearing."

He could only tremble where he stood, still sputtering with his hatred of
her, unable to form coherent sentences.

Drawing back on her cigarette thoughtfully, she laughed at his obvious
distress. "No, you won't want to go to her looking like you've just crawled out
of a ditch. Go buy yourself some nice clothes, get her some flowers while you're
at it."

Despite himself, he looked down at the scattered bills at his feet as he
fitfully clenched and unclenched his hands.

"You know you haven't got a penny to your name," Dorothy continued in that
mocking taunting voice of hers. She was having a fine time. The chase was over,
she had gotten what she wanted out of the arrangement and though she really
didn't want to part with the little ramrod she was too spiteful to ever let his
past insults slide. It was payback time and everybody knew that payback was a
bitch. So was she. "You really worked that sweet little ass of yours for that
money. You deserve a bonus just like any talented whore. It's yours free and
clear."

"...cunt...slut..." she heard him snarl under his breath.

"Take it. Show Bulma that you still have a little dignity left before you
start sponging off of her like you have been with me. She might not be as
generous as I was."

Swallowing at the mention of Bulma's name, he blinked at the malicious
actress. Before he broke down entirely he snatched at the litter of bills and
ran out of the bedroom, chased by her shrill, mocking laughter. He gathered his
clothes and left the townhouse, not stopping until he was several houses away.
In an alley that was cluttered with rank garbage he pulled on the rest of his
clothes positive he could still hear her taunting mirth and it wasn't alone.

Underneath of that sound he swore he could hear Radditz and Nappa joining
in right along with her.

>>>>>
Bulma stood out on the balcony admiring the lights of the Western Capital
when the phone in the living room began to ring. She glanced towards it in
confusion and looked at her watch. It was close to midnight and she was about to
go to bed and surrender to her sorrow, hoping to catch more than just a few
hours of sleep. She wanted to ignore the invasive sound but knew that the front
desk screened her calls and wouldn't be disturbing her this late without just
cause. Bracing herself for the worst, she picked up the receiver and said,
"Hello?"

There was silence on the other end. Listening to her heart speed up for no
good reason, she tried again. "Hello? Who's there?"

"...Bulma?"

"Vegeta," she whispered. Her knees gave out on her and she fell backwards
on the nearest chair. With the blood rushing in her ears, she could barely hear
herself asking, "Vegeta, where are you?"

That unnerving silence again. She swore she could hear the Saiyan
breathing on the other end and somehow knew that he was about to hang up on her.
"Tell me where you are. I'll come and get you!"

Waiting in dread for that inevitable click that would end the one-sided
conversation, his husky voice rasped into her ear, "...I'm...at a pay-phone near
the park."

There was something wrong with how he sounded but she didn't allow herself
to dwell on it right now. "Look around. Do you see any street signs near you?
Maybe a store? Can you tell me what it says?"

She heard the clunk of the receiver being dropped and felt her dread
intensify, imagining the Saiyan throwing it aside and stalking away in disgust
at her inability to help, turning his back on her for good. Bulma had never felt
so helpless in all of her life. "Vegeta?" She was straining her hearing for the
slightest hint of footfalls or the sound of traffic. All she was rewarded with
was that terrible stillness on his end, betraying no hint of his presence.
Clutching the receiver in one white-knuckled fist, she squeezed out tears and
was about to give up when his voice finally came back.

Barely twenty minutes later, a cab pulled up along side of a phone booth
and Bulma got out, looking around urgently. They were one street over from the
park across from a bakery that was closed at the late hour. Underneath of a
street lamp the road sign at the corner read Warner Street. It had started
raining just as she left the Plaza. A low rumble of thunder in the distance
solidified her dread. This was the place Vegeta had told her over the phone,
there was no doubt but where was he?

Cupping her hands around her mouth she called out, "Vegeta!"

She heard a rustling in the large oak that was near the phone booth.
Craning her head up she barely had time to move out of the way when he jumped to
the ground.

Releasing a relieved cry Bulma was about to tackle him in her
inexpressible joy, her arms wide to embrace him as she rushed in. Recoiling from
her approach he fell gracelessly backwards in a tangle of limbs and lay there,
breathing heavily, visibly cringing from her. Bulma took a good look at him, one
really good look and came no further and she knelt down. In as firm a voice as
she could manage under the circumstances she extended her hand out to him and
whispered, "Let me help you, Vegeta. Please."

As his surroundings began to blur and darken, all that Vegeta could make
out was the circle of her face and the light of the street lamp behind her that
appeared like a faint halo. Dimly, he felt himself reaching one trembling hand
outwards to be gently enfolded in her warm fingers.

He rested his cheek on the wet concrete of the sidewalk and knew no more.



-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------
Chapter Eleven: Reunited at last! As Vegeta's system is consumed by the V'Hhar
Bulma attempts to gain his trust as she looks after the helpless Saiyan. But
will he let her?
------------------------------------------------------------------ -----------