Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Love Without Fear ❯ Chapter 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Love Without Fear

A/N: First, let me say this is a B/V infidelity fic, so if you don't like that sort of thing, turn back now. It will contain lemon. This fic takes place thirty years after Vegeta arrived on Earth. Also, I'm not a fan of GT, but I'm going to use the end idea that Goku has left with the dragonballs.

I'd also like to credit a story for inspiring this whole idea. It was an unfinished V/P infidelity thing on a now-dead site called "Sassy's Tragic Kingdom". I was new to B/V fandom then and it was the first time I'd read that kind of story. The story was unfinished with only two chapters, but my mind leapt ahead to what would happen when Bulma found out-and that started this story.

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Vegeta was Angry.

This, in and of itself, was not unusual. Vegeta had spent a good portion of his life Angry. But in the last thirty years on a planet he now admitted was his home, he had had less and less to be Angry about. Oh, he still got angry-- he had a quick temper and a teenage daughter, after all. But the kind of deep, abiding Anger that had pervaded the first half of his life, the Anger that had helped him do so many bad things and make so many bad decisions; well, he had lost that Anger. It had vanished in the intervening years of peace, acceptance and contentment. He had a home and a family that pleased him greatly, and while he might mourn the fact that there were no beings on this planet who could offer him a challenge since Kakarrot had gone; well, that too was probably for the best. While he may have admitted to himself that the other Saiyan was a better fighter, may have even grudgingly accepted a pseudo-friendship with the man, Kakarott would always bring out the best and the worst in Vegeta; and lately Vegeta had really lost interest in seeing the worst of himself.

So Vegeta really didn't have anything to be Angry about. It would have come as a surprise to him that he was Angry. Had he known he was Angry, maybe he could have stopped himself from making the bad decisions that Anger was likely to help him make. Perhaps "decisions" is the wrong word. An Angry Vegeta usually didn't stop long enough to actually think about what he was doing. Anger tended to turn Vegeta into a tornado of random destruction, but Vegeta didn't destroy much anymore. He'd learned to control that urge in the last thirty years; but Anger was about to urge Vegeta in a way he would never have imagined.

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The last two years were hard on the Briefs family. First, Bulma's mother died after brief battle with cancer. It was naturally upsetting for Bulma and the children and there was lots of crying before, during and after the death. Vegeta did his best to be compassionate, which meant holding weeping women and getting his shirt wet. He wasn't unsympathetic to their grief; he just wished less crying was involved. After a period of adjustment, for the most part life returned to normal at Capsule Corp.

The one person who didn't adjust well was Dr. Briefs, who went into a slow decline after the death of his spouse. She was a good fifteen years younger than he was and he'd never expected to outlive her. He would spend most of his days in his quarters sitting in his recliner, starting at the empty chair beside him. Attempts by his daughter and grandchildren to draw him out were met first with moderate success, but then began to fail as the old man fell deeper into his depression.

Vegeta was not surprised when he died eight months after his wife.

There was another bout of weeping and wet shirts, but it ran its course; and after a month Vegeta's life began to fall back into its familiar pattern.

Then, one morning he woke up and Bulma was gone.

He found her in her lab, working frantically on some project that she'd tabled three years ago. She looked up as he entered, giving him a brief smile before returning to the project. "Sorry, I ran out this morning, but I just remembered this project! I promised Dad I would finish it one day and even though he can't see the finished product I should still finish it like I promised."

Vegeta waited, expecting her to say more. Something like "I'll be down in a few to get you breakfast," but after a few minutes it became clear she'd forgotten his presence, so he left the lab to get his own breakfast. He was not overly concerned at the time. Bulma was always starting and stopping work on projects and she'd probably just gotten a brainstorm about this one and wanted to get started immediately. Her promise to her father was probably something she'd remembered when she started working on the project again, that's all.

He was wrong. Suddenly, her father's company was everything. After turning over a large portion of the company's operations to Trunks a few years ago, she immersed herself in the Corporation again. Suddenly there were meetings she had to attend, projects to oversee, (most of them incomplete or abandoned projects of her father's) and now, four months later, she was negotiating the tricky buyout of another company.

"Dad always said we should control production of that alloy, you know. He just didn't have the heart to buy out his friend's company. He really should have after Takagi-san died though. His children have made a mess of it," Bulma said during dinner--one of the rare nights she was home in time for dinner.

Vegeta said nothing. He'd learned long ago to keep him mouth shut about Capsule Corporation. In his opinion, the company wasted too much time and too many resources trying to keep everyone happy, which (to him) was not the point of a business. He agreed that the company should have bought Takagi-san's company long ago, even before the owner died, but there was no reason for Bulma to spend so much time managing it. Hell, Capsule Corp. had an army of lawyers to handle such things, not to mention Trunks had handled several buyouts and mergers since becoming President. He even asked Trunks to try and keep his mother's involvement to a minimum.

"She doesn't need to be doing all of this. I thought that was the point of making you President of the damn company!" Vegeta said.

"Don't you think I know that, Dad? Don't you think I've tried? Geez, she's into everything. And she's changed. I've had two scientists quit because she can't keep her nose out of their work. When I told her that, she didn't bat an eye. She just said something like 'I guess they can't take any criticism'. These were good men. Hell! She HIRED them for Pete's sake! They'd been there ten years! But she just. . . I can't tell her anything, Dad. I keep hoping she'll get tired or something. But it's not happening."

"Well, perhaps if she had GRANDCHILDREN she might have something to occupy her besides the damn company!"

Trunks's childless state had been a disappointment to Bulma ever since his marriage four years ago to Krillen's daughter, Marron. Bulma had been thrilled by the union - Vegeta, naturally, was less thrilled. It didn't matter that he could now kick Juuhachigou's butt from here to the end of the galaxy, she'd once kicked HIS butt (back in the days of Anger) and he really didn't need to be related to her now, even if it was only by marriage. Fortunately, Marron was shrewd enough to realize this and was extremely circumspect and respectful in her dealings with Vegeta, and after a while Vegeta relaxed somewhat around his daughter in law. Unfortunately, there'd been a miscarriage early in the marriage and since then it looked like Trunks and Marron had stopped trying for a baby.

"Well, we didn't want to say anything yet; Marron says it's too soon to start announcing it to everyone, but she's pregnant," Trunks admitted.

"That's good news. Your mother will be thrilled."

"Dad, you're not listening. We don't want to tell anyone yet. Not after last time. And you know telling Mom would be telling everyone."

"So how long did you plan on waiting? There is a point where it becomes obvious to everyone. I would hope your mother isn't required to wait that long!" Vegeta said.

"Marron wants to wait until she's three months, that's all. By that point, most of the danger of miscarriage has passed."

"And when will that be?" Vegeta asked.

"Six weeks."

Vegeta rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine. Whatever," he said, turning away.

Trunks felt he was dismissed and turned to leave, then he heard his father speak.

"Trunks, I meant what I said. It's good news. Congratulations."

Trunks gave a sheepish smile. "Thanks, Dad."

He looked at his father's back, amazed at how almost every meaningful moment they'd ever shared happened when his dad's back was turned.

Another six weeks, Vegeta thought. Another six weeks of her being gone, busy, tired. Another six weeks of (missing her) feeling . . .ignored. He tried to remember the last time they had made love and couldn't quite pin it down. She was usually working late and when she was home she looked so tired he wanted her to rest. Vegeta sighed. If he'd known the old man's death was going to affect Bulma so he would have killed him before he could die a natural death so he could be revived with the Dragonballs. But no, the Dragonballs were gone along with Kakarrot, yet another thing to hold against the idiot. He was just so . . .frustrated. Even after thirty years of close human contact he still had difficulty putting words to his emotions. He really didn't understand how he felt. It's not as if we live in each other's pockets anyway, he thought. It's not like we spend hours together like love-struck teenagers.

But he liked his life; well, he had until four months ago. There'd been a familiar pattern to it. There were things he'd come to depend on. Vegeta mentally corrected himself. Not "depend." "Depend" was definitely the wrong word. He'd learned too many lessons long ago about the dangers of dependence. He searched for the right word. He settled on "expected" since the others strayed a little too close to a truth he still had not admitted. Yes, there were things he'd come to expect out of his life. Things like Bulma's presence, her smile, her touch, and her noticing him enough to yell back.

Vegeta smiled at bit at that thought. One side effect of her irrational preoccupation with Capsule Corporation was that she didn't scream back at him anymore. He'd even thrown out several choice barbs that he thought would surely get a reaction only to be . . . disappointed. He would admit that. Along with the other things that were changed about his life, that was yet another. Funny, he wouldn't have thought he would miss that . . . .

But he did. He missed her; and although he didn't know it, that was the reason he was Angry. Because even though he admitted he wanted her, even though he admitted he loved her, he had never really admitted that he needed her.

Six weeks won't be so bad, Vegeta thought. The minute Bulma finds out about the baby she'll be so busy spending money on whatever it is babies need she'll be saying "capsule what?"

He was wrong. In six weeks Bulma would be gone.

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Vegeta's patience with this situation, impressive though it was, ran out one night a few days after his conversation with Trunks. Bulma began complaining about all the work she was doing, the problems she was having with this person or project and Vegeta lost control of his lips.

"Then stop," he said.

"Stop what? Development on the Spantech chip or the hydrogen fuel engine?"

"Stop it all."

Bulma laughed. "Vegeta, I'm up to my ears in work and you tell me 'just stop'? I can't do that. Too many things are riding on this."

"Bulma, just . . .stop." Something in Vegeta's voice made her turn and look at him. Vegeta gently put his hands on her shoulders.

"Stop living the dreams of a dead man," he said softly.

Bulma looked as though he'd struck her. She turned away from him suddenly and wrapped her arms around herself. Vegeta wondered if she was about to cry.

When she spun around, however, her eyes were flashing with anger like he hadn't seen in a long time.

"That's pretty funny coming from a man who's lived his entire life for the dreams of a DEAD RACE," she said.

Vegeta was stunned. He searched her eyes wanting to see the woman he loved, but her face bore the expression of an enemy who'd just played his trump card. There was no victory for him here.

"Excuse me, but I believe that's completes my ration of "bitch" for today," he said and strode out of the room.

There was nowhere to go but the gravity room. He set the controls to five hundred G's and tried to work out for a few minutes, but couldn't.

"Computer, end program," he said.

He stood in the center of the gravity room, a fine sheen of sweat covering his body. After a moment, he walked over to the wall of the chamber, leaned his back against the wall and slid to the floor. It was at moments like this that he regretted letting Bra talk him into going to that boarding school in Switzerland. She had a sweet way of soothing him, she always had-of course, she usually hit him up for cash afterward, but that was the way of teenagers. He would gladly pay five hundred zeni for a hug from her now, but Bra wasn't here, so he buried his face in his hands and wondered where his life had gone.

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Vegeta waited until he was sure Bulma would have left for work before he left the gravity room. Part of him hoped she might come knock on the gravity room door and apologize, like in the old days, when fighting was all they did. He smiled slightly at the memory. Well, fighting and making up.

No knock ever came, so Vegeta went to their room to shower and change. It was empty, as he expected, but suddenly it felt empty. It felt almost alien to him. He didn't like the feeling and hurried to the shower.

When he emerged, the communications console was beeping. He left the bathroom to answer and Bulma's face appeared on the screen. His fingers moved to the disconnect button.

"Don't cut me off, Vegeta, please!" Bulma said quickly. "I am so sorry about what I said last night. That was so uncalled for. And you're right… I've... been working too hard, I know. I haven't been paying attention to you or the kids... I'm… sorry, so sorry. Please say you'll forgive me?"

He looked into her hopeful blue eyes and silently thanked Kami.

"Hmmphf! I suppose since you've seen the error of your ways it would be ill mannered of me not to forgive you. So you see, I do have some manners."

"Well, I'm glad to see them surface when I need them for once!" and she smiled, the smile that she only smiled at him and Vegeta was glad-immensely glad-that his life was getting back on track.

"Hey, why don't you come down and have lunch with me today, hmmm? We could go to Raphael's. . .?"

Vegeta quirked an eyebrow. "Raphael's?"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Vegeta, it's been six months. Surely they've repaired the damage by now. Say you'll come, please? Around eleven? And who knows, I may just take the rest of the afternoon off." She smiled a sly smile and waggled her eyebrows. Vegeta was charmed in a way only he could be, and by the only woman who could.

"I'll come."

"Getting a little presumptuous, aren't you? We haven't even had lunch yet. See you at eleven!" The screen went blank.

Vegeta was torn between wanting to let out a bloodcurdling, "Whoop!" or falling to his knees in relief. He was no good at this silent battle he'd been losing the last few months. He didn't know how to fight an enemy that didn't have physical form. He only knew somehow he'd been losing his wife to Caspule Corporation in some kind of grief-stricken haze-something he couldn't cure and couldn't fight without fighting Bulma and that wouldn't have solved anything. Now, though, now it seemed the veil was lifting and Bulma was coming back. His patience had paid off.

He checked the clock. Two hours until eleven. He headed back to the gravity room ready to train with a passion he hadn't felt in a long time. Suddenly, everything was going right. The only thing that might make it better was if Kakarrot was still around to pound. Oh well, can't have everything.

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Holy shit, Michelle thought when the man entered the reception area. The first thing that caught her eye was the unusual hair-swept up away from the hairline to peak in what could only be described as flame-shaped-then her gaze traveled down the man's severely handsome face to his body and her brain melted. The shirt he was wearing (What is that made of? Some kind of mircofiber silk perhaps?) loved his body in a way that made Michelle's fingers actually curl with the urge to touch him. She had read the term "oozes sex" many times in women's magazines and decided the editors had all met this man at some point. He was rife with sexual promise.

She put on her prettiest smile and said, "Can I help you?" She was pleased that her voice carried just the right mix of professionalism and sensuality.

The man didn't notice. He even appeared irritated that she had asked to help him.

"Who are you?" he asked. "Where's Tabitha?"

"Tabitha's on maternity leave. I'm filling in." She paused. "My name is Michelle."

She held out her hand to be shaken, but the man didn't take it.

"Tell Bulma I'm here," he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

Michelle noticed how the movement only accentuated an already impressive physique. He's not tall, but he fills the room. Got a bit of an attitude too. Good. They're always more fun when they're not intimidated by a girl who knows what she wants. She walked around her desk to the intercom and then looked back at the man. And I want you, she said silently.

"And who shall I say is here?" she asked.

"Vegeta."

Michelle's eyes darted back from the telephone keypad to the man in front of her, disappointed in the extreme. Just my luck-it's her husband. What a waste. That old bitch doesn't deserve this gorgeous specimen. She looks good for her age, I'll admit, but this man needs someone who can properly appreciate his body HOURS at a time. Well, I guess I've got fantasy fodder at least, but what a shame!

She punched the extension into the phone. "Ms. Briefs, Vegeta is here."

"Oh, good! I'll be out in a minute. I just need to save this work."

Michelle offered Vegeta a seat, but he merely looked at her and continued standing.

The rumors weren't wrong, she thought, what an unusual man. Michelle had worked in Capsule Corporation's temporary labor pool for eighteen months. Moving from department to department, she had collected a variety of gossip about Capsule Corporation's founding family, all of it interesting. Of course, she'd never expected to work so close to Bulma Briefs. Her work skills were good enough to keep her employed in the labor pool, but she'd never been asked to permanently fill a vacancy. She was surprised when she was told to fill in for the Chairman's receptionist, but once she was here she realized she liked the position and secretly hoped Tabitha stayed on maternity leave forever. Anything truly difficult Bulma delegated to her assistant, so all Michelle really had to do was answer the phone and greet visitors. And, she thought, Bulma had some very attractive visitors. . . .

Some would call Michelle a slut. In her twenty-five years she had slept with more men than she possessed fingers and toes and was always on the lookout for more. In Michelle's mind, "slut" was the wrong word. "Slut" was a word chiefly used by jealous women who possessed neither the interest nor ability to attract and please a variety of men. Michelle preferred the term "sexual adventuress" because it connoted choice and power. She was young, reasonably attractive and enjoyed men. She had heard the saying "you can't judge a book by its cover," (although she had a girlfriend who swore she could pick a good romance novel by the jacket design) but she could tell within minutes of meeting a man whether he was worth her time to bed. This man before her exuded a dark power that captured her imagination-she could see him moving above her, glistening with sweat, those dark eyes boring into her soul and feeding her sexual fantasies.

Her reverie was interrupted when a man walked in front of her into Bulma's office - Chris Reed, Capsule Corporation's Chief Counsel. The attorney began speaking to Ms. Briefs and even though his voice was so low that she couldn't make out all the details, she clearly heard "Takagi-san", which, even in her brief tenure as Bulma's receptionist, she knew was a hot-button. She wasn't surprised at what happened next.

"Goddammit! He can't do that!" Bulma shouted.

More soft voice from the attorney, he was clearly trying to calm Bulma down, but she was already in full swing.

"I spent two hours on the phone with him personally yesterday and Kami only knows how long Jeff Morey was talking to him before that! We had a deal---he can't back out now!"

The attorney began speaking again, louder this time. He was saying something about contracts that hadn't been executed yet…

"I don't give a flying fuck who has signed what-we had a deal! And if he thinks he can jerk me around for a few million more zeni then he doesn't know who he's dealing with. You don't fuck with Capsule Corporation. Get his ass on the phone and tell him Bulma Briefs would like to have a little heart to heart about those loan extensions we included in those unexecuted contracts. Tell him I don't care how fucking busy he is, I had better hear from him in the next hour or I will foreclose on every piece of property not nailed to his fat ass!"

"Yes, Ms. Briefs."

The attorney came out again and started to walk by Michelle's desk, then paused.

"Ummm, I don't know what she might have scheduled, but I think you'd better tell Ms. Pavik to clear Bulma's calendar this afternoon. This will take some time," he said and then he vanished down the hallway from whence he came.

Michelle punched Bulma's assistant's extension.

"Ms. Pavik?"

"I heard. It was hard not to," Ellen Pavik's voice said. "I'll get right on it."

Michelle looked up at the man, Vegeta. He was still standing in the center of the room, forgotten by the person he had come to see. He blinked several times, his eyes moving around the room, looking at nothing in particular. Then he slowly uncrossed his arms. His fists clenched and his eyes closed and Michelle was certain he was performing some supreme act of self-control. Then he slowly unclenched his fists and opened his eyes. He focused briefly on Michelle, but she didn't feel he saw her. Then he turned on his heel and left.

Suddenly, Michelle knew she could have him. Fate had presented her with an opportunity and all she had to do was take it. She quickly called Ellen Pavik to say she was leaving for lunch, grabbed her purse and followed.

She didn't catch up with him until he was out the front door of the building where he paused, as if unsure what to do next.

"Hey!" she said, touching his arm to get his attention.

He looked down at her with dazed eyes. His eyebrows drew together and Michelle could tell he was trying to place her face.

"Michelle," she supplied. "We met upstairs."

Vegeta gave a small lift of his chin as the memory clicked, then turned and walked away from her.

Another girl would have given up, but Michelle believed in pursuit until she'd been specifically told "no," so she caught up with him again.

"Look," she said, keeping pace with him, "it looks like your lunch date didn't work out, and it just so happens it's my lunch break too. I know a great sandwich place around the corner. Why not let me buy you lunch?"

The man stopped and for the first time, Michelle felt him really seeing her; his gaze wandered over her face, surveying her features. Encouraged, she smiled.

Vegeta looked at the young woman before him. Curly brown hair framed an attractive, but hardly remarkable face. She'd been there when Bulma forgot him-forgot him! Left him standing in her foyer like some supplicant waiting to curry royal favor! His anger swelled, but he didn't feel angry, he only felt numb and tired. Tired of trying to "handle" the situation, tired of controlling his mouth, tired of tiptoeing when he wanted to stomp. Suddenly he realized he didn't want to go home, but home was the only place he had to go, unless. . . .

Well, he was hungry.

"Fine," Vegeta heard himself say.

They rounded the corner and stopped at the sandwich shop.

"Wow, it's really crowded today," Michelle said.

Vegeta looked through the window at the packed restaurant.

"I don't feel like a sandwich," Michelle said. "You look like you'd rather have something else, too."

Vegeta turned at the tone of her voice. Somehow he felt the topic was no longer lunch.

"My apartment is just two blocks from here," she said. "Why don't you come home with me and I'll give you something to eat?"

He knew what she was asking. It was written in her eyes, the pout on her lips, her fingers that lightly touched his arm. Lunch was no longer in the offing, but something else was.

He reached down to remove her fingers from his arm. Walk away, Vegeta. He clasped her hand in his and pulled it from arm, but he didn't release it. Walk away, Vegeta. Instead he looked down at her hand, lightly turning over the fingers with his. They were small and soft, with splotches of pink polish on the tips. She brought her other hand up to stroke the back of his. Walk away to where? There was no answer that didn't make him angry, so he answered.

"Lead the way."

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Feedback is welcome. I'm trying very hard to find the truth in this tale, so it will probably be updated very slowly.

As always, big hugs to Ember-chan for being my beta and new hugs to debbiechan and Bardockgurl for creative feedback. Domo arigato.