Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Tension ❯ Chapter 11 ( Chapter 11 )

Chapter 11

Vegeta was furious. What the fuck did Bulma think she was doing getting herself pregnant? The Prince of Saiyans was not about to settle down and have a family, which was surely what she expected him to do? Surely it couldn't have happened after just one time, and surely she could get rid of the brat, he had heard about people doing this with unwanted pregnancies. And also, why had she not something to prevent this from happening?

He growled deep in his throat and hurled a ki ball across his bedroom, smashing a hole through the outside wall. This had to be a trick of some sort, though what possible purpose could it serve? He would let her know that in no uncertain terms that she would not be keeping the brat. There was no way that he would let his royal blood mix with that of a common earthling. He would wait though, he didn't want to accidentally hurt her in his anger.

He strode straight through the closed balcony doors, shattering the glass in the process and sped off into the night, looking for an isolated area that he could destroy in peace.

Many hours later Bulma awoke from her restless slumber, her entire body aching. Now that she knew she was pregnant it was showing itself in full force. She even imagined that she could see a little swelling in her belly, whether it was there or not she couldn't tell. She sat up slowly, catching a glance of herself in the mirror. Weren't pregnant woman supposed to glow? She looked more of a greenish shade, and she scowled at herself. All of a sudden a wave of nausea hit her and she stumbled into the bathroom.

After showering she felt a little better. The aches and pains had subsided slightly and her head was staring to clear. There were so many things that she aught to have said to Vegeta the previous night but she hadn't gotten the chance because the pig-headed Saiyan had stormed out. She wasn't sure how she was going to tell him now. Knowing him, the great oaf was probably out destroying a little bit of countryside, and there was no way that she was getting in the way of that. She decided that she would write him a letter. It was the only way that she was going to be able to tell him all that she needed too. Even if she did get a chance to speak to him he would probably do something immature like storm out, or bait her into an argument. She sat at her desk and pulled out a pen and paper, she took a deep breath and started to write.

Vegeta landed gently on his balcony, the sun had set again hours ago and he was aching, having beaten a significant area of land to a pulp. He noticed that the hole in the wall and the balcony doors had been repaired. He slid them open gently and walked towards his bathroom, wanting a hot shower to massage the tension out of his muscles. He stopped in his tracks, noticing an envelope sticking out from under his door. He ignored it and gathered a towel from the cupboard. He glanced at it again, walked over to it and picked it up, meaning to burn it to a cinder as it was probably from that woman. His curiosity got the better of him though. He sat on the bed and tore it open.

'Vegeta,' he read,

'I'm sorry that I sprung news like this on you. I apologise from the bottom of my heart, but I still feel the need to explain myself fully.

'It's not often that an opportunity like this comes along and I want to keep this baby.' Vegeta's eyes narrowed in anger, but he kept reading.

'I know you don't want it, so I'm giving you the opportunity to wash your hands of it. You can stay here, or leave if you like, but either way no one will know that its yours. I never expected you to want any part of this but I still felt that you had the right to know. I'd rather this baby didn't know who it's father was, than that it has a father who doesn't want it.

'I think that's about all. Sorry again that I made you angry,

'Love, Bulma.'

Vegeta blinked in astonishment and reread the letter. He had fully expected her to try to rope him into fatherhood, and so wasn't quite sure what to think. It was a weight off his shoulders at least, but then, why did he feel a small tug of disappointment? He shrugged it off, cleared his mind and went to take his shower.