Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ I Guess I Need You Baby ❯ I Guess I Need You Baby ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: DBZ belongs to Akira Toriyama. `Everytime' belongs to Britney Spears.

Warnings: Bad grammar and sappiness abound! Mild references to sex, lots of non-graphic nudity, a handful of curse words.

Author's Note: If you can, it's best to listen to Britney Spears' song `Everytime' from her album In the Zone while you read this … it's a beautiful song, and it fits the mood perfectly. It's also the sole inspiration for this story. ^_~

I Guess I Need You Baby

Snow crunched beneath the soles of his thick, black boots as he made his way through the winter wonderland around him. It wasn't quite dawn, so the freshly fallen white powder remained unsullied and undisturbed except for the trail of large footsteps he'd left behind him. All the dome-shaped buildings and parked cars that lined the peaceful streets were covered in the stuff, vaguely resembling the snow-capped mountains where he spent much of his time training in recent weeks. The entire neighborhood was deathly silent; no one dared stir from slumber at this early hour except him.

It was during quiet moments like this when the pain of loss hit him hardest.

A deep, unnerving ache settled in his heart as he realized where his legs had unerringly brought him of their own accord. What was he doing here? She'd told him in no uncertain terms that she didn't want to see him again, at least not for awhile. So why had his traitorous body insisted on coming here?

He didn't slow his steps; he didn't stop. Even though he knew it was wrong in so many ways, he couldn't keep himself away from her. At one time she had been everything to him. Then in a moment of stupidity-to be perfectly honest, many such moments-he had taken her for granted and thrown everything away. His actions had broken her heart and his own.

That wasn't something either of them could easily forgive.

When he finally reached his destination, he stopped and looked up at the giant building looming overhead. A sudden gust of wind knocked back the hood of his down parka to reveal his face and to ruffle his short, dark hair. He didn't notice the bitter cold against his skin; his mind was preoccupied with thoughts of her.

"Bulma," he whispered under his breath as he stared at the dark window near the top of the dome that he knew belonged to her. "I'm so sorry."

A single tear traced its way down his face, giving credence to his softly spoken apology. The bead of salty liquid caught on the x-shaped scar on his left cheek for a moment before he brushed it away with his mitten-clad hand. After a moment of hesitation, he entered through the open gates of the Capsule Corporation compound and headed towards the entrance of the large main building.

He needed to see her again, even if only for a minute.

++

Notice me
Take my hand
Why are we
Strangers when
Our love is strong
Why carry on without me?
++

"What's the one thing you want most in the world, Bulma?"

"A wedding ring," the blue-haired woman beside him replied pointedly and without hesitation.

He stared at her in shock for a moment. Then her sweet, light-hearted laughter filled the room, and with a gentle hand on his scarred cheek and a brush of her lips against his she told him without words that she was only pulling his leg.

"Just kidding," she said with a wink. "Even if you got down on one knee and pulled out the largest pink diamond I'd ever seen and begged me eloquently for hours on end, I still wouldn't marry you."

They lay together in the large, king-size four-poster bed at the center of Bulma's bedroom. They were both very naked, having just finished a rather torrid love-making session, and the thick layers of blankets barely managed to keep out the cold. For such a large, expensive building, Capsule Corporation sure had a lousy heating system.

"By the way," Bulma asked in that elegantly nonchalant way of hers, "what brought this on?"

He didn't know what to say. Somehow, Bulma always seemed to have him at a loss for words-not that that was such a bad thing every now and then. He grew speechless every time he looked at her face, every time he stared into her gorgeous eyes, every time he made love to her sweet body …

The truth was, he felt guilty. Bulma would probably laugh at him if he told her that. She had so much to offer-not just her beautiful self, but also her vast intellect, her vividly outgoing personality, her family's status and wealth. But by some freakish chance, she had chosen to date him, a former desert bandit with nothing to offer but the occasional stimulating conversation and a consistent, if not overwhelmingly passionate, sex drive.

What could a beautiful, worldly, adventurous woman like Bulma possibly see in him?

As a result of such thoughts, he became insecure. As he looked out the large, rectangular window and watched the gently floating snowflakes fall slowly past, he wondered what he could do to make her happy. That was the true intent behind his question; he wanted to know how he could repay her for all the beauty and happiness she'd brought into his life.

So why couldn't he just say so?

"You know I'd give you the world if I could, baby," he told her. "If there's ever anything you want, all you have to do is ask."

Her eyes widened until they were as big as saucers. "That's so sweet of you," she said softly as she reached her hand out for his. As she intertwined their fingers she told him earnestly, "There's only one thing I want from you."

"What is it?" He would move mountains for her, if that's what she wanted. Hell, he'd decimate all the rainforests in the world, environment be damned, if she asked him too. Anything she wanted from him, he would give to her without question.

"You," she whispered, gently touching her forehead to his. Their noses touched, a soft Eskimo kiss. "All I want is for us to stay like this. You and me. Forever. Just the way we are now. That's all." He felt her smile against his lips.

"Is that all?" he asked, rolling her over onto her back as he kissed her, letting the covers slide away from their heated bodies.

At the time it had seemed like such a simple request. They were so young; they had their whole lives ahead of them. Neither of them had ever heard the word Saiyan, neither had any idea of the events that would soon befall them, events that made it increasingly difficult to sustain their love.

If she knew then what she knew now would she have made that same request of him? Would she have asked of him a promise she knew he could not keep? Or would she have let him go sooner and spread her own wings without him?

Even then, he'd known. Perhaps that was why he couldn't keep his promise to her. Because he'd known that one day she would outgrow him and leave him if he didn't leave her first.

He'd always needed her far more than she needed him.

++

Everytime I try to fly I fall

Without my wings I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And everytime I see you in my dreams
I see your face, it's haunting me
I guess I need you baby
++

The first rays of sunlight began to filter through the clouds, highlighting the leafless trees around him with an orange glow. He had to hurry if he wanted to reach her before she woke up.

With a small burst of ki he floated up into the air, above the snow drifts. He flew silently up towards her window. He faltered for a moment, nearly falling, as a dangerous thought crashed into his mind: What would he find there?

Would she be in bed alone, or would he be there?

The thought of her lying naked and sated in the arms of another man made his blood boil. Those men had absolutely no right to put their filthy hands on his girlfriend. Every time he found her with another man, it made him furious. Every time he saw her shoot up in bed, staring at him in horror as she clutched the covers to her chest, it made him want to destroy everything around him. Every time he listened to another one of her lame excuses it made him want to leave her.

But he never had.

Bulma loved men. If an attractive man came on to her when her boyfriend wasn't around to guard his territory, chances were she'd end up in bed with him. And when he found her there, her head resting atop another man's bare chest, she suddenly became contrite. She wouldn't stop apologizing or attempting to explain her actions. She knew she'd hurt him and she was very sorry-and she would understand if he wanted to break it off with her, although she really wished that he would reconsider …

No, he didn't want to break up with her. He wanted to have her all to himself. He wanted her to be as faithful as he had been over the years.

Yes, she promised, she would change. She was a grown woman, strong enough to resist the lures of men, no matter how attractive they were. Well, maybe not if they were drop-dead gorgeous, but otherwise she could always reject them.

Every time.

Even though he'd grown sick and tired of her promises and her failure to keep those promises, he stayed with her. Even though his heart broke every time he caught her in the arms of another man, he stayed with her. Even though his love for her nearly shattered him, he stayed with her.

It was no longer about love for him. It was about need. He needed her in his life the same way he needed air. Without her he would slowly suffocate to death, until there was nothing left. He couldn't be `just friends' with her. She was everything to him.

Every time, he forgave her. Each time, he accepted her apologies and her promises and embraced her. He told her he loved her. He told her that he would never let her go, no matter how many men she slept with, no matter how many times she betrayed him.

He loved her.

She would cling to him for a few minutes, the perfect portrait of regret. She would then return to her normal vibrant self, kick out her latest one-night-stand and turn her attention and libido to her only long-term lover. His body would respond of its own accord and they would make up the only way they knew how.

He loved her.

He would give her anything if only she asked. He would forgive her anything if only she apologized. He would give himself to her unconditionally if only she gave herself in return. He needed her more than anything. No matter who else entered her body, he was the only man she'd ever held dear in her heart.

She loved him.

He didn't need anything else. As long as she loved him, no matter who else placed his hands upon her body, he could keep his temper. No matter who she gave her body to, her heart remained his. That meant everything to him.

He landed softly on the thin ledge beside her window. Crouching down, he peered inside, half afraid of what he would find. If he were there, could he control his rage? Or would he challenge the man that stole her from him? The only man who was able to take her heart from him …

He was unsure whether to be happy or not about the sight that greeted him from the darkened room. Her bed was just as he remembered it-covered by a large white-and-brown patterned quilt that her mother had made for her when Bulma was just a child. It was neatly made and hadn't been used this night.

His heart sank. If she hadn't slept in her own bed tonight, then that meant …

++

I make believe
That you are here
It's the only way
I see clear
What have I done
You seem to move on easy
++

He shouldn't be here.

He shouldn't have followed his hunch and flown to the place where he knew she'd be. He should have turned around and flown home to his small apartment on the other side of the city and forgotten he'd ever come here. He should have turned his thoughts to something else. He shouldn't be so intent on knowing her whereabouts.

He shouldn't have done a lot of things-like breaking her heart.

He felt sick in his heart as he watched her. She was fully clothed now, but her disheveled appearance made it obvious that she hadn't been for long. He had her pinned against the outer wall of the gravity room she'd built for him as he punished her with a brutal, passionate goodbye kiss. Her hands, wrapped around his solid neck, clutched desperately at his muscular body as she hungrily returned his kiss.

Neither took any notice of the silent, hidden observer who watched from above.

She'd never shown such passion with him. Their love-making had mostly been sweet and tender, sometimes hot and wild. But never the level of passion he witnessed below-a pure mixture of lust and love that blossomed from her heart to consume them both in its gentle inferno. Jealousy filled his heart as he watched her with the man who had replaced him. Why had she never been able to love him like this? Was the Saiyan she held so tenderly, so desperately, such a better man than he?

He refused to believe it. The man who had come between them was nothing more than an accident. He should have stayed dead after Namek and left the two of them alone. At the very least, he could have never returned from his fruitless search across the universe for Goku. Their lives would be so different now if not for him.

Bulma should still be his. How could she replace him so quickly, so easily? Why had he allowed it to happen this way-he should have held on to what was his, no matter what the cost. She was his woman-she always would be. At least, that's what he'd told himself, even as he'd watched her grow distant to him. He had denied the obvious facts, even as they stared him in the face.

He had sat by and done nothing as her heart grew distant and her love for him faded.

He kept telling himself that he didn't need to do anything and that she would be his as long as he had her by his side. But as time passed, no matter how he tried to deny it, she slipped away from him. His life, his love, his reason for being-he didn't realize that they were gone until it was already too late.

Reality hit him the day the gravity room exploded. The way Bulma ran towards the rubble, only one thought on her mind and one name on her lips.

"Vegeta!"

She tore into the rubble, heedless of any danger to herself. Had he been lying there, she would have worried about her expensive manicure first, and waited for him to pop his head out. But for Vegeta, she would do anything.

The way she held the Saiyan's battered body so gently, in spite of his resistance. The way she'd watched over him, the way she'd constantly berated him for his reckless behavior out of concern for him.

How could he have missed those warning signs?

It started so long ago. He'd thought things were getting better between them-she hadn't slept with another man for months, ever since Vegeta's impromptu return to Capsule Corp. The fact that she hardly slept with him anymore escaped him in his elation over her sudden fidelity. It never occurred to him that she might choose to forgo pleasures of the flesh because her heart had been snared by a conniving Saiyan.

He never noticed the way she zoned out when he spoke of the future. He never noticed the way her eyes would stray unconsciously from him to the Saiyan whenever the opportunity arose. He never noticed the way she was always too tired or too busy or too stressed to make love to him anymore.

He never noticed any of the little signs that pointed out the change in her feelings. So when he finally realized that things between them were not alright, the blow was crushing. The breath flew from his body and his lungs refused to refill themselves with air. The physical impact of her change of heart was staggering. A single refrain played through his head: She no longer loves me.

It was simply too much for him to take. All the infidelity, the lack of respect she held for the worth of her own body, the cheapness with which she gave herself to other men-the pain of all that couldn't even begin to compare to the pain of losing the one hold he had on her: Her heart.

He was bereft. Adrift in a world that didn't need him. Adrift in this world without the one person he needed most by his side.

In his desperation to love and to feel that love once again, he made the biggest mistake of all.

++
And everytime I try to fly I fall

Without my wings I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And everytime I see you in my dreams
I see your face, you're haunting me
I guess I need you baby
++

After her disgustingly long embrace with the man who had stolen her heart, Bulma ran across the snow covered ground straight into the warm arms of her home. After following her path with his eyes, the Saiyan Prince on the ground, who wore nothing but a pair of black spandex shorts even in this freezing weather, turned to the man he knew to be observing them from above and sent him a self-satisfied smirk. Vegeta then turned and entered the gravity room to resume his training.

He deserved that, the observer told himself. Bundled in layers against the morning's cold, he knew he would never be half the man that the Saiyan was. She must have seen that, too. Was that why she transferred her love from one man to the other, just like that?

He had to find out. Even though she'd told him that she didn't want to see him again, that was months ago. Surely her heart had healed by now? But if that were the case, she would have contacted him first; she wouldn't wait for him to come around to speak to her.

Torn over what to do, he flew back to her window, this time floating beside the dome and peeking through the glass, getting only a glimpse of the inside. If she saw a man other than her current lover floating outside her window, it might scare her. If he were to talk to her about this, he didn't want her in a bad mood when he did it.

The rising sun behind him reflected off the glass panel of her window, making his view somewhat difficult to maintain. He could barely make out the outlines of the objects in Bulma's darkened room.

He watched silently as she opened the door, entering the room that was home to so many of their shared memories. Did she still think of him as she lay in her bed? Did she remember all the good times, or just the bad? He desperately wanted to know, but his tongue suddenly caught in his throat. He didn't have the guts to call out to her, to ask her to open her window and let him inside.

To ask her to take him back in spite of everything.

He couldn't bring himself to do it. And so he watched her. He watched as she went about getting ready to go to bed-since her job had flexible hours, she could fall asleep at dawn and wake up at noon without anyone questioning her or scolding her for her tardiness. Although, he thought with a tinge of sadness, she'd never stayed up until dawn for the sake of making love to him. Was this new passion she felt so much stronger than what she'd felt for him? Did her love for Vegeta surpass the love she'd held for him?

Was she faithful to the man she loved now?

He felt guilty as he watched her undress. He'd seen her naked form so many times, but this was different. She was no longer his. He could no longer smooth the clothing away from her skin as he placed gentle, loving kisses upon her tender flesh. He no longer had the right to run his hands down the gentle curves and planes of her body-

His eyes widened with surprise as he saw the clothing drop from her body to pool around her ankles. He couldn't stop staring as he watched her. She stood by the foot of her bed, naked and unashamed.

Shock resounded through him, affecting both his body and his heart. His mind felt numb as he watched her still, dark silhouette through the shiny reflective glass of her window. The sun was almost fully aloft in the sky. In a few minutes, he wouldn't even be able to see her outline.

He had so many things he wanted to say to her. So many questions to ask her. He continued to stare, unable to think, to speak, to move. Bulma, his Bulma …

He couldn't stop himself when his body began to move on its own. He floated forward, landing on the windowpane. Before he knew what he was doing, he felt cool glass beneath his open palms.

"Bulma," he managed softly, his voice hoarse. Then louder, "Bulma."

Her head whirled towards the window at the unexpected sound of his voice. She stared at him as though he were a stranger. Her wide eyes matched his own.

He'd forgotten how beautiful her eyes were. Even shrouded in the darkness of her room, they glowed from within like the purest blue sapphires. It had been so long since he'd seen them that he'd nearly forgotten.

How could he forget the thing that had once been his sustenance? He could clearly remember a time when his need to look into her eyes surpassed everything else in his mind. Basic needs-food, water, clothing, shelter-went unnoticed as he searched her out, single-minded in his quest to gaze into those gorgeous baby blues for hours on end, forgetting all else.

Slowly-as though unaware of her nakedness and his overabundance of winter-wear-she moved towards the window. She lifted the latch on the side of the window and pulled it open so that they stood almost face-to-face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, not unkindly.

It seemed such an anticlimactic moment to him. Where was the anger, the shouting? Had she overcome her hatred for him already, or was she merely so surprised to see him that she needed time to muster up such negative feelings?

Or had her earlier encounter with Vegeta left her in such a good mood that she couldn't bring out her hatred for her former lover even if she tried?

"I missed you, Bulma." A single poignant question burned inside the back of his mind as he stared down at her naked, curvaceous body, but he chose to ignore it. This was not the time for crushed hopes and dreams.

This was the time to revive all the feelings he'd cherished alone for so long without her.

Without another word, he leaned forward and planted a very adult, very passionate kiss on the lips of the woman he would always consider the one true love of his life.

++
I may have made it rain
Please forgive me
My weakness caused you pain
And this song is my sorry
++

After he came to the realization that the love of his life loved another, his world crashed down around him.

All the things he had once held true no longer applied. All the beauty he had once seen in the world suddenly grew dim. All the joy he once felt when he was near her faded into pain.

He threw himself into his training. Even if he could never be as powerful as either of the Saiyans, he vowed that he would still be able to hold his own against the androids. If nothing else, he wanted to be strong so that he could protect her.

But what use was there in protecting something that no longer belonged to him?

He found himself constantly pushing such thoughts aside. A single minute wouldn't go by where he didn't find her on his mind. The pain he felt whenever he thought of her grew so intense that soon he was willing to do anything just to make it go away.

Even the vilest, most stupid thing of all.

In the arms of another woman he could forget her for awhile. For a few blistering moments his mind and heart were freed from her tight grasp. Afterwards he felt like the lowest piece of dung on the face of the Earth. All these years he'd prided himself on his love and faithfulness; in the end, he was just a man, like any other man. Flawed, imperfect.

He didn't deserve her.

But still he clung to her, clung to their relationship even as it faltered and faded. They went for weeks without seeing each other, and upon seeing each other for the first time after such a long period they greeted with naught but a simple, chaste kiss on the cheek. The distant look in her eyes wounded him every time. Her thoughts were with him. His rival didn't even return her feelings. The Saiyan didn't even appear interested in sleeping with her.

How could hear heart choose a selfish, arrogant man like that over a man like him? A man who had given everything to her, a man who would do anything for her. He would give her anything if only she asked him for it.

But she never had. And so it came to this.

He sat on the toilet in the small bathroom just off the bedroom in his small apartment. Beige tiles gleamed around him, comforting him with their neutral color as he farted into the toilet. His bowels rumbled angrily, letting him know in no uncertain terms that the oysters he'd eaten for dinner last night were bad. Very bad.

A sharp knock at the front door startled him. In his current position with his boxer shorts low around his ankles he couldn't exactly answer it.

"Do you want me to get it, sweetie?" a nasally feminine voice called out.

He winced, remembering how he awoke this morning with a splitting headache next to a woman whose name he couldn't remember. Annie? Fannie? Something like that.

"Sure," he called back. It was probably just the UPS man with the package of specially enhanced training gear that he was expecting.

He heard Fannie-he was pretty sure that was her name-unlock the front door. It creaked open slowly. "Who're you and whadda ya want?" He wondered why her voice sounded as though it was filled with a challenging attitude.

"You want to know who I am? Who the hell are you!" Bulma's angry voice thundered through the apartment and filtered straight into his heart.

Shit. Oh, shit.

His digestive discomfort immediately pushed from his mind by more important thoughts, he yanked up his boxers and threw open the bathroom door just in time to see Fannie closing the front door with an angry slam.

"You didn't tell me you already had a girlfriend!" she screeched.

He ran right past her, ignoring her indignant yells. Bulma was the only one who mattered to him. She was everything to him. If she didn't forgive him for this-

"Bulma!" he cried out. He spotted her on the far end of the hallway as she frantically pressed the down button beside the elevator. "Bulma, wait!" He ran as fast as he could. As he watched, the elevator doors opened and she scurried into the empty contraption. Her forefinger hurriedly pressed the door close button, and the doors began to slide shut.

"No, Bulma!" With an inhuman burst of speed, he managed to reach her in time, his hands forcefully pushing back the elevator doors. Panting, he stood between them and held them open. Even if he would never be able to reach the power level of the Saiyans, his strength still put almost all other humans to shame. "Bulma, please just hear me out."

Tears of anger sparkled in her bright blue eyes. Those eyes turned on him, accusing him. "What, so you can start spouting excuses? I don't think so!"

Anger began to fill him. All these years he'd always forgiven her. She couldn't do the same for him just this once?

"Dammit, Bulma!" he cried, "It's not like you're an innocent in this area."

He instantly regretted the words, the shock and pain that showed on her face at his accusation pelting him mercilessly with heartache.

"How dare you bring that up now," she hissed. Silent tears of remorse flooded her cheeks, but she ignored them as she continued. "You know just as well as I do that two wrongs don't make a right. No matter what I did in the past, it has no bearing on what you do now. We all make our own choices. We choose to fight or to run away." Her voice lowered a whisper. "We choose to forgive or not. And most importantly …" she hesitated. Her bright blue eyes glanced up at him for a moment then looked away. "Most importantly … we choose to acknowledge when our feelings change."

He couldn't breathe. The air in his lungs fizzled, useless. The air around him was too heavy and thick with pain. His head felt light without oxygen, his muscles like jello.

"I'm so sorry, I … I thought we could work things out," she said in a rush. "We've been together so long, I didn't want to just give up on you. I wanted to give you a chance, but frankly, after what I've seen here, I don't think you deserve one anymore." Her voice was so soft, the choking tears behind it evident. "I asked myself so many times, is it better to stay with the man who loves me, even if I no longer love him the same way? Or should I pursue the man I love, even if it might only lead to heartbreak? I was still undecided when I came here, but now … I think it's best for both of us if we just start over and move on."

"No, Bulma," he said desperately, "Please forgive me. I'll do anything you want. I just don't want to lose you." If he lost her, he would lose himself as well. His entire being was so wrapped up in her that he didn't know if he could function properly by himself.

Her hands came up to rest lightly on his wrists. She gave him a small squeeze before gently pushing his limbs, taking them away from the doors they still held. She pulled back and took her position at the center of the elevator. She stood tall and straight, her spine stiff as she looked at him one last time before exiting his life. Just before the doors closed in front of her, she said, softly, "You already have, Yamcha. You already have."

++
At night I pray
That soon your face
Will fade away
++

The day after Bulma's fateful visit to his apartment, she sent him a package. It contained all the things he'd left at her place. Several articles of clothing, assorted toiletries, and the like. It also contained all the presents he'd given her over the years. Necklaces and bracelets and rings, jewelry she'd worn once to satisfy him and then put in a drawer to lie forgotten for the rest of their relationship.

She'd also included a letter. In that letter she told him that she didn't want to see him again, at least not for awhile. His actions hurt her deeply, and she was sure they would eventually be able to regain their friendship, but not at this time. She respectfully requested that he wait for her to make the first overture, and to please not contact her until that time.

He complied faithfully to her request. For six months, he thought of her endlessly even as he forcefully restrained himself from visiting her. He always said that if she asked him for anything, he would give it to her. The first time she had asked, he had been unable to keep his promise in the end. This time, he was determined to do this for her. Even if it broke him, even if his heart shattered into a thousand pieces every time he thought of her, he would resist the urge to see her.

He had done so well until one morning when he went out for a pre-dawn walk among newfallen snow and somehow found himself standing at her doorstep.

With temptation so close, he was unable to turn away. He sought her out, watched her undress. He saw with his own eyes the change that had occurred within her-a change that didn't include him.

And when she acknowledged his presence with neither sadness nor anger, he had no choice but to kiss her. To revel in all the vital emotions he still felt when he saw her. To hope that she might possibly have become unhappy with the man she chose over him. If she said she wanted him back, even after all this time apart he would fall into her arms without hesitation.

He felt her small hands gently pushing at his chest. Despite the softness of the gesture, her rejection felt heavy in his heart. He pulled back to look down into her eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes still held him captive to their every whim.

"Bulma, I-" She cut him off by placing two fingers against his lips.

"I have something to say," she told him. "Will you hear me out?"

He nodded, his lips moving in a silent kiss against her fingertips.

She pulled away from him and paced to the other end of the room, the arms she held crossed behind her back only emphasizing the unique shape of her naked figure. "Yamcha," she began, "You know I'll always love you-"

He sucked in a deep, shaky breath, filled to the brim with the thin sliver of hope that remained within him, buried deep inside his heart.

"-as a friend," she finished.

He let out his breath. With a sheepish grin and a hand behind his head he said, "I guess I deserved that."

"Yeah," she smiled at him. "You did."

Their laughter mingled in the room, relieving the tension that had lain between them for so long. Their relationship hadn't ended; it had just shifted somewhat, changed forms. The love between them had morphed from romantic to platonic. Even though he wished it could be otherwise, he still rejoiced that he had that much.

They were friends. He still needed her the way he always had. But this time around, he knew that although he could never have things back the way they once were, he'd never lose her again. No matter how many times they screwed up, friends forgave each other. His unrequited love no longer needed to be carried on from afar; he could still love her with all his heart and soul as he stood beside her in friendship. It was all he could ask of her.

It was enough for him. It had to be, since he couldn't get anything else from her.

"When is it due?" he asked, hopping down from the window onto the navy blue carpet.

Bulma's smile grew brighter than he'd ever seen it. Her face glowed with joy at the thought of the subject brought up by his question. Expectant motherhood seemed to sit very well with her.

"It's a he," she replied with mock offense, as though everyone should be aware of the gender of her unborn child. "I'm only a little over three months along, so he hasn't started kicking yet or anything like that. Although he certainly makes his presence known in other ways, especially in the morning!" she laughed.

"Have you decided on a name yet?" His eyes remained fixated on the slight roundness of her stomach. During all the time they'd been together, she's always been on birth control. Had they planned this child together? Would he be raised in a house filled with laughter and love?

"Yes, we have." She placed no emphasis on the we, but it stood out to his ears and stung his heart nonetheless. Bulma placed a protective hand on her stomach, as though to cradle her son. "His name is Trunks." Her eyes dragged up to his. "It would really make me happy," she said softly, her voice unsure, "if you would stand in as his Godfather. If you want to, that is."

"I'd love to," he said with a smile. To his surprise, he found his statement to be true. He would love nothing more than to have another connection with her, no matter how slim.

In the end, they had made the same choice. She had chosen to be with the one that she loved, no matter whether or not her love would ever be returned.

He chose the exact same thing. Even if he never saw that loving look appear in her eyes again, he would stay by her side. Even if another woman declared her love for him, he would never leave Bulma.

He would never stop loving her.

He tugged off one of his mittens. "Can I-"

"Touch it?" Bulma smiled. "I need to start practicing now, I guess. I've heard people on the street will stop a heavily pregnant woman just to touch her big round belly!" she laughed. "Of course you can, Yamcha. You're going to be his Godfather, after all."

She gently took his hand in hers and placed it on the smooth protrusion of her stomach. A sense of awe came over him at the feel of warmth beneath his fingers. The woman he loved held new life in her womb. How could he not love her child also?

He removed his hand more quickly than he would have liked. Bulma sent him a puzzled look, but he ignored it. No matter how much he wanted an excuse to touch her, it wasn't worth his life. And the well-hidden eyes boring into the back of his head clearly held that threat. If he tried anything with her, the Saiyan Prince that silently guarded her from afar would rip out his bowels and crush them underfoot.

When Bulma let out a loud yawn, he decided it was time to make his leave. He hopped out the window into the bright morning sunlight and descended to the snow-covered sidewalk below.

The winter wonderland was gone, replaced by the sights and sounds of citizens going about their daily work. Snow shovels disrupted the even white surfaces as giant, rumbling plows noisily cleared the streets. The soft sounds his boots made were nothing in comparison. But even though the scenery was no longer perfect, it was better this way. The scene of average people going about their daily routines in spite of all the snow seemed somehow more real to him than the pre-dawn perfection had been. Perfection couldn't last forever. Nothing did.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

SPLAT!

He stopped with shock at the sudden feel of cold, wet snow sticking to his cheek. He turned to watch a group of squealing, giggling children running away from the scene of the crime. They clutched piles of snowballs to their chests and occasionally sent him glances over their shoulders as they scurried away. He smiled softly and brushed the coldness away from his left cheek, allowing his scar to see daylight once again.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

++

And everytime I try to fly I fall

Without my wings I feel so small
I guess I need you baby
And everytime I see you in my dreams
I see your face, you're haunting me
I guess I need you baby

++