Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Happy Birthday Vegeta ❯ Dinner at the Briefs ( Chapter 13 )

Author's Note: So sorry for the delay....I have been playing this out in my mind for weeks, unable to decide which way to take this stupid dinner...AAAAGGGHH! Anyway, read and review, and if you all don't like it, we may just have a rewrite...

Disclaimer: See "Standard DBZ"

Disclaimer2: The Greatful Dead owns the song from which Gohan takes the line, "What a long Strange trip..."

Happy Birthday Vegeta

Dinner At The Briefs (Chapter 13)

"I try to do subtle! I do, but I am just not built subtly!" Bulma fumed in front of the scalloped mirror, fussing with the latest reject from the what-to-wear-to-Vegeta's-birthday-dinner pile. She paused for a deep breath before zipping up. Anxious blue eyes assessed the fit of the dress, while nervous fingers tugged futilely at the strapless top that threatened to spill her ample treasures. "Damn!" she spat frustrated. "I can't find anything that feels right, probably because this whole thing is beginning to not feel right." her reflection nodded emphatically in agreement, looking serious. "It's just way too late to back out now," her reflection frowned at her critically. "We went to such trouble to get the dragonballs..." she sighed. "And he really does deserve to be happy." Her reflection looked dubious. She fingered the faded crescent-shaped scar left bare by the gown. "All this time, despite the bond, we're like strangers...he so rarely lets me in." she mused. "Barely civil strangers who just happen to have a son..." her voice was brittle with unshed tears, but she didn't have the luxury of time to cry. She searched her makeup for imperfections and found none. Although if she continued frowning in such a fashion she was sure to develop wrinkles around her mouth. She forced the muscles in her face to relax. 'Must look happy,' she thought. "Well, taking off this dress will be a start." A ghost of a grin haunted her reflection's face for a moment, then was gone.

The Gravity Room

"Vegeta."

The vid-com blinked on in the room where the Saiyan No Ouiji was doing ordinary push-ups in extraordinary gravity.

"What is it woman?" he replied without breaking stride, mostly because he knew it annoyed the hell out her.

"Wear something nice to dinner. Chichi, Gohan, Krillin and Piccolo are coming over. I think Krillin is bringing Eighteen." Vegeta snorted.

"I do not understand why you insist on making an ordeal out of this day...." he started, and lost count of his push-ups when she interrupted.

"I know you don't understand, Vegeta...Humor me... just for tonite...if you would." The satin sadness of her tone had him peering at her image on the screen. He blinked at her. Aside from the short hair that still startled him, she looked fine. Suddenly his eyes narrowed, and Bulma fully expected the vid-com to melt off the wall as those dark eyes settled on her with the precision and intensity of a laser.

"You are not planning anything so foolish as last year? I will not be humiliated again." His voice drew fingers of ice down her spine, and her head dipped in shame.

"Of course not Vegeta." her voice was soft with regret.

Feathered brows drew together in an astonished scowl. She might look fine, but something was definitely wrong with the woman. Before he could say anything further, she ended the conversation.

"See you at dinner then." and the vid-com blinked off. Vegeta stared for several minutes at the blank screen, wondering what could be wrong with Bulma, before starting his ten thousand push-ups over.

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Bulma settled on a sapphire velvet halter dress that clung, just not too tightly. The heart-shaped keyhole neckline offered glimpses of creamy cleavage, the fabric shirred along her body like a dream, tapering to an end just above her knees. If any man could get past the color and the curves with his mind intact, her slender legs were encased to mid-calf in sapphire suede with chrome stilletto heels.

She was suitably impressed. The ragged ends of her impromptu hair cut had been masterfully reshaped to appear intentional, it made her fragile features look waif-like. Chrome and diamond earrings dropped from delicate earlobes and accented the arch of neck newly exposed by the very short style.

"Looking pretty good for what might be the last night of my existence." she had to smile. You couldn't tell by looking at her, that inside she was kicking, screaming and dying at the thought of being without him.

"Ah. The doorbell." With a last poignant glance at the woman in the glass, Bulma went to greet her guests.

She opened the door for Gohan and Chichi. Goku's widow looked fabulously sleek in black and red satin of Asian design, her long black hair pinned up with black and red combs.

"Oh my God! Bulma! When did you get it done? I mean, you look, incredible, but, WOW! What a shock! It's so short..." Bulma grinned engagingly at Gohan.

"I had it done this week Chi, and it does take some getting used to...believe me."

Gohan stared unabashedly at Bulma, he almost hadn't recognized her. It wasn't just that she was beautiful, it was as if, she had been reshaped along with her hair. Guiltily, he recalled the original cut, and thought that might be more accurate than he wanted to know. He looked, for signs of trauma in eyes that matched the velvet she wore. As he accepted her hug Bulma placed her mouth against his ear and whispered to her co-conspirator,

"Pierre said the only way to fix it was to take it shorter..."

Gohan reached up and touched the wispy strands that lay smoothly against the curve of her head.

"You look terrific Bulma." It had to be the understatement of the year, he thought as he said it. That she could rebound from such a nasty experience and be stronger for it...His eyes glowed with admiration as he slowly released her. Her brows drew together as she gently touched the discoloration on Gohan's cheek.

"What's with the bruise?" she asked.

"Vegeta."

"What?" her mouth hung open in shock. Gohan laughed, a bit self-consciously.

"Evidently he's more aware of you than he lets on. When you got home he saw the new hairstyle, and caught my scent on you, and concluded that you and I were," he paused to clear his throat, "together, the two days you were gone. Sleeping...together." he added unnecessarily. Bulma's eyes glistened, her lips pressed tightly together.

"You're not serious!" she gasped before dissolving into hysteria while Gohan hunched his shoulders and stared at the glossy tips of his shoes. When her giggles ceased, she murmured, "Really, I didn't know he cared." Gohan fixed earnest eyes on her.

"Oh, he cares all right! He damn near killed me over it." Bulma smiled ruefully.

"That doesn't mean he cares, that's just Vegeta."

"Bulma I mean it...I wish you could have seen it." He shuddered in remembrance of Vegeta's cold rage. "You'd never doubt again ..."

"It won't matter after tonite anyway." She sighed.

"What do you mean by that?" Gohan frowned as Bulma blinked guileless blues at him.

"Vegeta's birthday gift, remember? The cause of all our misery?" she replied with a wry smile dancing on her lips.

"What exactly do you plan to wish for Bulma-san?" he tried not to sound suspicious.

"Oh, saved by the bell." she grinned. "Excuse me Gohan...I need to see to my guests." she sauntered away intent on her hostess duties.

The next moment he was choking, as a well-muscled arm clamped around his throat from behind and he was dragged into the shadows. Vegeta, outraged, hissed into his ear.

"Was your father's stupidity inherited?! I told you to stay away from my mate!"

"Was a...hug...Vegeta..." he managed to gasp out as Vegeta released him with a jerk.

"I don't care what it was baka! Keep your damn distance!" His handsome face was thunderous, his voice promised an agonizing death. "The closer you get to your rut, the better everything is going to smell...and I don't want you anywhere near my mate. Do not...forget...again." Gohan nodded painfully, rubbing his throat. Vegeta sneered. "If we were on Vegetasei, you'd be dead because of your memory lapse, not nursing a bruised larynx...Of course, if we were on Vegetasei, you would never have dared touch my mate in the first place. Such familiarity...is a Ningen practice." He sounded disgusted, and vaguely tired.

"Krillin! Eighteen...I'm glad you could come." Bulma greeted the fashionably late couple.

"We haven't missed anything right?" Krillin asked. Bulma shook her head. Krillin glanced awkwardly at his watch and his cheeks glowed pink with embarrassment. "We...uh...got, sidetracked." he finished lamely.

Eighteen rolled her eyes and muttered flatly, "Dork."

Bulma grinned at Eighteen, and suppressed her snicker.

"You have to tell me where you got those boots." Eighteen said with sharp eyes. Krillin glanced, surprised, at his date's expression. Eighteen gave him an impish smile, and whispered suggestively, "Add shoes to your list of things I get excited about." Bulma couldn't help but laugh as Krillin's face exploded in red color, and he choked. Secretly, Bulma was thrilled that Krillin might have finally found someone worthy of him, even if she did have a questionable past. 'That's laughable...no one who's going to be at dinner tonite does NOT have a questionable past, except maybe Gohan...' her grin widened. Aliens and androids...sometimes life just seemed too surreal.

"Yes, well...Gohan and Chichi are in the study, the birthday boy has yet to make an appearance, and Piccolo hasn't arrived either..." Bulma led them into the house which was simply decorated with black and silver streamers. Color-coordinated balloons drifted along the ceiling throughout the rooms. Krillin put his hand on the small of Eighteen's back as they entered the study. It was testament to her insecurity that she didn't glare at him or make him move his hand. Gohan and Chichi fell silent. Gohan recovered first, determined to treat Eighteen as a person, not an arch-villin, as Krillin had wanted all along.

"Hey Krillin! It's great to see you again." the longtime friends embraced with happy smiles. Gohan looked at Eighteen and saw a deceptively thin, blonde woman, with uneasy eyes though she tried to mask it. He couldn't help but remember that they had all trained like madmen to prepare for the coming of the androids, of which she was one. Krillin had wished the detonators out of Eighteen and her brother, so they wouldn't self-destruct and take the planet with them. But that wasn't until after the androids had beaten the hell out of everyone, Vegeta included, then been absorbed by Cell to complete his final transformation. 'What a long strange trip...' Gohan thought. He smiled warmly at the android, raised her cool, slender fingers to his lips, and kissed them with all the panache of an old fashioned movie star. Her blue eyes widened in shock, her mouth formed a small moue of surprise. Chichi sighed fondly as her oldest son once again made her proud.

"I'm glad you came, Eighteen." he released her hand smoothly.

"Thank you." Her voice held little of the emotion visible on her fair face.

As Krillin and Gohan offered Eighteen a drink, Chichi approached Bulma. She shook her head in confusion.

"Bulma, does it ever get to you? You know, that the bad guys inevitably end up on our team? Piccolo, Vegeta, Eighteen..I mean, sometimes it gives me the chills.." Bulma nodded. "It does occasionally occur to me...But I think maybe she's exactly where she's supposed to be...she should feel right at home..." Bulma snickered softly. "I mean, none of us are ordinary, I'm 'mated' to the Prince of an alien race, you, are a fighter in your own right, and you're the mother of two of Earth's finest warriors, who also happen to be half-alien...Krillin is the only human z- fighter....what better place for a reformed evil android?" she and Chichi giggled shamefully. Gohan turned his head to one side, as if listening to something, Krillin followed suit.

"Piccolo-san is here." he said.

"But, he's not alone." Krillin finished.

"Hmmm. I'll go get the door, assuming they'll use it...Chi, would you go to the kitchen and tell the cook to set another place at the table for me?"

"Sure." Chichi headed in one direction, Bulma in the other.

<<<Jada grins a bit madly>>>>

Bulma stepped out onto the porch, the night was warm and filled with starlight and cricket songs as she waited for Piccolo to arrive. The Namek materialized out of the darkness, in casual attire, his flowing armor missing for once.

"I have brought...company. I hope you don't mind." he said, glancing furtively at the capsule corp building as if expecting an angry Saiyan to burst out at any second and blast him for bringing an uninvited guest to his birthday dinner. 'It may still happen that way.' Piccolo thought. Bulma shifted, trying to peer around Piccolo's bulk, to no avail.

"Of course not Piccolo-san. A place is already set." He nodded gratefully but moved again so that Bulma could not see past him. Bulma snorted in amusement.

"Well fine! Let's just go in then and you can introduce your guest to everyone at once." Piccolo grinned and it was so startling, that Bulma tripped over the step into the house as she was opening the door. Grinning Nameks were an oddity indeed.

The three of them walked into a room of quiet expectancy. As if they knew that something unusual was about to happen. Piccolo nodded first to Krillin, and then at his protege'. With an impassive face, he reached back and drew his companion forward, to remove her cloak with no small flourish.

"This... is... Sirabi."

"All right Piccolo-san!" Gohan laughed quietly as his mother tried to glare at him and stare at the new guest at the same time.

A striking figure in cinnamon silk glanced serenely at the entourage, seeing real faces where before she had seen only bits. She recognized of course, the blue-haired woman and her team of dragonball hunters, the short bald one, and the young demi-Saiyan that Piccolo was so very proud of....but, that wisp of a woman, was mechanical? And where, oh where, was the No Ouiji?

Gohan approached Sirabi, curiously. Eyes like an eagle, golden and regal, watched him cross the room. She tilted her elaborately braided head, and considered the young man in front of her. An appealing combination of modesty masking impressive power. A shy smile with a glint of something, not-nice in his ebony eyes.

"You are Son Gohan ne?" her voice swirled around him in an auditory caress.

"Guilty." he flashed that Son smile that could melt heaven's gates, let alone a woman's heart.

"Not in the least." she replied looking far into his eyes. Sirabi smiled brightly as he stood stunned and blinking. She often had that effect on people...

"The others?" she motioned.

"Of course." Gohan took her gently by the arm and introduced her to the remaining guests. So, the dark- haired woman with the lioness spirit is Gohan's mother...

"It is an honor to meet one so dedicated to her children. Did you know when you bore them they would be the Earth's salvation? Each in his own time, will turn the tide of evil away." Chichi's eyes were wide as she searched for insincerity but found none in the woman's face. Just respect, and, an unspoken acknowledgment of the loneliness of her sacrifice. She was glad, at that moment, that Goten had started training several months ago. Piccolo noticed immediately, that every person Sirabi spoke with was enchanted...relaxed and open where before they had been awkward.

"It is another of her gifts." Kami whispered in his mind. "To bring others together."

Piccolo answered derisively. "Enchantment is no gift...it's a magician's parlor trick."

Kami seethed angry in his head. "Sirabi's enchantment is no magic, but her own grace."

They watched as she met with Krillin, making everyone's favorite clown turn pale, and sway as though he might fall, before moving on to chat with Eighteen.

"What did you say to Krillin?" the android's voice was cold, her blue eyes arctic.

"It is good, that you care for him...I will not harm him. He was only surprised I think." she murmured.

"By what?" Eighteen demanded.

"By your love of course." Sirabi replied smoothly. Eighteen gasped, anger and hurt shimmering in eyes that weren't supposed to be able to feel.

"I ...can't....love him. I am not capable. Sixteen was the one programmed with emotions."

"You have only forgotten, Eighteen. Women love, give birth, and mother. That is what you are. Before Gero, and after, a woman. And you will do all those things, you will remember." she finished softly. Tears glistening in her eyes. "Trust him, and yourself, and things will be fine. Not easy, but fine." Sirabi squeezed her hand once more before turning away. She took a deep breath. It was a relief to pass on information, to clear her vision, but it was tiring, as dealing with tender emotions was always tiring.

She found herself confronted by a distrustful hostess bearing a drink tray. She accepted graciously, and drank half of one down before smiling at Bulma. "Your hair is shorter than the last time I saw you. It's comforting to know that things may be changed."

"We've never met. I'm sure." Bulma said.

"Not in person, no. I have seen you, in visions, mostly during your hunt for the dragonballs."

Bulma frowned. She didn't seem dangerous...just delusional. Sirabi laughed, a warm whisky and cream kind of laugh, that intrigued the males of most species and set Bulma's teeth on edge.

"I am neither Bulma...I believe I am here to try and help you."

Bulma's brows arched in disbelief. "Help me? How?"

Sirabi was solemn, she captured Bulma's eyes with her own, forcing her to meet her gaze before she replied.

"I know what you plan to wish for...and I believe it exceeds the power of the dragon."

Bulma's mouth dropped open in shock and she hurriedly looked around for Vegeta hoping he was still upstairs.

"What are you talking about?" she stage-whispered. Irritation flickered in Sirabi's face, what an annoying waste of energy, playing games on this night... She sighed. "I refer to the birthday wish you have planned for your mate." Bulma choked. "Who are you? and who told you what? Exactly." she gritted out between clenched teeth. Someone in the room was gonna die a slow painful death. Understanding dawned on Sirabi's face.

"I assumed Piccolo had explained our meeting. Apparently I was wrong. I apologize Ms. Briefs. My name is Sirabi, I am a healer and visor to Earth's Guardians. I was the prior holder of the fifth dragonball. I knew that....Piccolo...would come for it. I saw it, as I saw some of the rest of your search. I know why you sought the dragonballs and I am, touched by your selfless motivation. I am just afraid it will not happen as you think."

Bulma sighed deeply. "Nothing is ever easy where Vegeta is concerned."

"I suppose not." Sirabi stated wryly. "He is only reacting to his environment in the way he was taught. He does not know our ways, only his."

Bulma didn't reply. She just looked thoughtfully at Sirabi who scooted closer and leaned her head near to Bulma's.

"You intend to wish the Ice-jin Frieza had never existed, ne? Thereby undoing all of the bad things that happened to make Vegeta who he is today." That simply, Bulma was convinced. She had breathed not a word to anyone of her true intentions....she knew they were mad. But she was also beginning to believe that not even love could heal some injuries, and no one, no matter how depraved, deserved such an empty, tormented existence as his. She swallowed the tears aching in her throat.

"Not just take away the bad, Sirabi, but give him a chance to live a normal life as Saiyan No Ouiji...to have the things that were taken from him....his family, his people, his crown... I thought the easiest way to accomplish it was to remove the cause of his loss."

"Mmmhmm." Sirabi nodded in agreement. "Unfortunately, Freiza affected billions of people in addition to your mate. Countless planets were purged, untold numbers slaughtered...Shenlon does not have the power to unravel the universe, child. I do not think even the Supreme Kai could undo all of that, and I'm not sure it would be right to do so even if he could...Once more those billions of people would be uprooted...from places where they may have adapted better than your beloved Prince."

Bulma blinked at the straight talk. There was no cruelty in Sirabi's face, she didn't appear to be enjoying the fact that she was ruining her only opportunity to heal her prince. She just was. Sirabi read Bulma's despair easily, felt it chug through her own heart like a slow, cold, poison. "You do realize, that you and Goku, are two of the billions affected? If Freiza never existed, it's possible that Goku would never have fallen and hit his head, and millions on this planet would be destroyed when he matured. Yourself included. Or Goku may not have been sent to Earth at all...Certainly some would not be born, like Gohan, and your son...you just can not comprehend the variables involved in something like this...involving so many..." Sirabi frowned and and rubbed her temple to sooth away the throbbing that had just begun there.

Bulma forced a stoic look on her face. She had realized there would be repercussions when she made her wish, but there's nothing like having a total, if well-meaning stranger shove the truth of your selfishness down your throat. At a private dinner party no less. "Thank you Sirabi. If you'll excuse me, I'm sure dinner is ready to be served." She headed for the kitchen.

"Bulma...wait!" Sirabi put a hand out to stop her, "I did not mean to offend you."

"Really?" Bulma laughed harshly.

"Really. It would have been an oversight on your part, but certainly not intentional. I did not mean to imply such...In fact, I am here in part because I was impressed with the depth of your devotion to him...that was quite a sacrifice you thought to make...his happiness for your existence."

"In a heartbeat." Bulma murmured, her dewy eyes locked on something behind Sirabi. Sirabi turned slowly in anticipation. 'Finally!' she thought as she got her first glimpse of the Saiyan No Ouiji.

His shirt was snow white silk with flowing sleeves that ended in tight cuffs, no ruffles. It was laced, loosely, baring a goodly amount of taut, tan skin, and strong shoulders. The shirt was tucked into black leather pants, slim as sin, and faithful to the very male line of his body. Shadow black boots finished the ensemble. No, the scowl on his face, finished the ensemble. He exuded, dark, dangerous, and don't touch.

"My, he looks the part doesn't he?" Sirabi whispered . Bulma laughed with Sirabi, a wide smile on her face because the birthday boy decided to join them for dinner. Her heart was clamoring in her chest like this was their first date or something (not that they'd ever had one)...'ugh' complete with sweaty palms which she quickly swiped down her dress.

"Come on Sirabi, let me introduce you, to my Prince." her voice rose with excitement. The taller woman moved gracefully with her, in a nearly silent swish of silk. "Bulma, have you asked Vegeta what he wants?" Bulma stopped to look at her guest and shake her head. "No, I overheard his...grief...about his current situation, and I can't bear knowing how truly unhappy he is. Nothing I've done in all the time we've been together has...meant anything..." she whispered hoarsely. Her own grief taking over momentarily, swamped them both. Sirabi sighed and waited for the rush of empathy to recede.

"Let's find out what he really wants...okay?"

Bulma sniffled quietly. "Let's go before he gets any more suspicious..." Sirabi quipped. Bulma gave a tremulous smile, when Sirabi said, "You look fine, no streaks or smears...and the tears make your eyes sparkle..."

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Okay, peanut gallery....(that's my faithful readers)...I have this scripted out...but I'd like to know how you all think this should play out. Does anyone have any clever ideas for a wish that could solve Vegeta's problems without such drastic results? Please review!