Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ The Colours Within ❯ Christmas Conspiracies ( Chapter 9 )

A/N: Yeah, it's been WAY too long since I've updated. I hope that this chapter is sufficient, considering how long it took me to get around to it. Enjoyyyy!!

 

nine. christmas conspiracies.

 

Christmas was upon Bulma Briefs before she realized it. It wouldn't be a particularly special event that year - she'd invited the Sons over but a cold snap had frozen the river over a few days before Christmas, and the warm, rainy spell that followed had caused the river to overflow. With both Goku and Gohan's ability to fly they would have been able to travel without any problems, but Chichi was paranoid about the house flooding and took great measures to keep it dry. As it was, early Christmas Eve morning, a bit of river water seeped under the back door, wetting the towel she'd shoved into the crack for that that reason. When Chichi had noticed later that morning when she'd woken up, her panic immediately worked itself into overdrive and she rotated the towels every hour or so, a towel barely dry - sometimes still a bit damp - by the time she went full-circle through her linen closet and began to re-use towels that had already stopped the leak. She had Gohan phone Bulma and let her know that the Sons were “having a crisis!” and were sorry that they wouldn't be able to make it.

 

Bulma was disappointed, of course, but understood. She knew what Chichi was like when it came to her property (damage was absolutely prohibited, unless she caused the damage herself in her stress and frustration) and she knew that the Sons were poor. They wouldn't be able to afford to have renovations done on their house to repair any water damage, and Chichi was far too self-reliant to accept any of Bulma's charity, though she had more than enough money to renovate the Sons' small, cottage-like house a thousand times over. Bulma kept the Sons' gifts underneath the Christmas tree for when they visited next, or when she next visited them. She'd already invited them over for New Years', but was doubtful they'd attend. Goku thoroughly enjoyed Christmas, enough to take a break from training to celebrate the occasion, but New Years' wasn't quite as enthralling. He also said that the fireworks in the sky sometimes made him feel funny, which Bulma assumed was a result of transforming by the light of the moon. Goku (and Gohan, Bulma mused) would probably countdown to the New Year with punches and kicks.

 

So Bulma spent Christmas with her parents and Yamcha, who'd arrived at the Capsule Corporation Christmas Eve for the Briefs' annual Christmas Eve Buffet - so ritualistic in the household that it deserved all capitals. When Dr. and Mrs. Briefs had first began the Buffet it had been a romantic, sentimental meal. Mrs. Briefs would serve a variety of finger foods, cakes, pastries, drinks (especially an abundance of eggnog), rice, rice cakes, sushi, cookies, and anything else that happened to strike her fancy that year. Bulma, when she got older, turned it into a more glamourous event. She invited all her employees and their families, and moved the dinner from the Briefs' casual living room to the large dance room at the far end of the house. She and her mother decorated the room, with help from the house bots, and set up the dining and buffet tables. Most of the food was catered, though Mrs. Briefs insisted on cooking some, such as her infamous fruitcake and her rum balls - ninety percent rum, ten percent doughnut. She also served Christmas pudding, which was approached hesitantly at first after Bulma's disastrous first-attempt the previous year. It wasn't really pudding, but actually a cake served with a pudding-like sauce - again ninety percent rum, ten percent sauce. The Christmas Eve Buffet occasionally became a drunken event, especially when some genius thought it would be funny to spike the eggnog, which seemed to be every year.

 

Bulma Briefs distributed the brandy fairly evenly into each punch bowl filled with eggnog. She herself carried the bowls into the hall and set them on the table. And then, as the guests began to help themselves to the spiked eggnog, either unawares of the alcoholic lacing or indifferent to it, Bulma smirked a smirk reminiscent of Vegeta at her victory.

 

Vegeta hadn't been heard of since he'd left, of course, since he'd blown up the communications. Dr. Briefs was optimistic that he'd contact them when he reached some sort of docking bay or a technologically advanced planet capable of reaching earth through satellite. Bulma highly doubted this and didn't particularly care either way. When he first left she'd thought of him quite a bit - not in the sense that she missed him or worried about where he was or what kind of trouble he'd run into, but merely because he'd been such a commanding part of her life for the past several months that it was strange to suddenly have him gone. Now she realized that she thought of him less and less, sometimes not at all until something happened that triggered a brief memory of him. But brief memories were all they were.

 

Instead she thought of Yamcha more and more, but not in the head-over-heels in love, half-obsessed way she used to think of him when she was a girl. It was a more blasé kind of thinking, trimmed with anxiety. She knew that, ultimately, she would leave him, if he didn't leave her first. She knew now that she had no future with him. She estimated she would be with him only another year at the most. She also suspected that he had cheated on her recently, though she wasn't sure what led her to think this. She had some sort of intuitive feeling, which were generally on the mark when it came to Yamcha and his womanizing antics.

 

She was now almost comfortable with the knowledge that she had no future with Yamcha - at least accepting of it. It upset her less and less to realize that she would be fine without him. The relationship, she knew, was teetering on the edge of the cliff and it was now just a matter of when she decided to leap… or was pushed, depending on the circumstance. Bulma decided that if she had any say in the way the relationship ended she wouldn't jump until they began to have problems - which they undoubtedly would. They always did.

 

Bulma woke early on Christmas morning, a habit she maintained from childhood, and immediately looked out the window. It hadn't snowed; it rarely did in Western Capital. She made her way down to the kitchen to prepare breakfast: English muffins and eggnog, coffee, hot chocolate, and tea, for herself, Yamcha, Mrs. Briefs and Dr. Briefs respectively. She also decided at the last minute on some sausages, and by the time she was finished burning down the house cooking everyone else had woken up.

 

“It's too bad Vegeta's not here,” Mrs. Briefs said as she helped Bulma carry the trays of food into the den. “Do you think he would have liked Christmas?”

 

“No,” Bulma said. “He would probably hate it?”

 

“But why?” Mrs. Briefs asked, genuinely confused. “It's such a joyous time of year!”

 

“That's exactly why he would hate it.”

 

“But why? He seems like such a nice guy. I'm sure he would like it.”

 

Bulma stared at her mother, incredulous, but didn't pursue the subject. What was the point? It was better for the blonde woman to continue thinking that Vegeta was “a nice guy”, else she might lose her sanity. Or at least her innocence. And Bulma thought that the worst kind of person is one who has neither innocence nor intelligence. What kind of troubled person would that be?

 

They exchanged gifts in the den by the Christmas tree; all four of them, and Mrs. Briefs remarked that they were “like the perfect family.” Looking at Yamcha's beaming face, Bulma Briefs felt sick to her stomach.

 

///

 

Contrary to the damp, green Christmas of Western Capital, and despite the warm spell that had caused flooding in the mountain region, Son Gohan awoke to find the world dusted in snow. He bounced off his futon and rushed into his parents' room, trampling all over their own.

 

“Mom! Dad! Wake up! It's Christmas, it's Christmas! And it's snowing!”

 

Goku, child that he was, sat up straight from underneath the sheets, sharing his son's excitement. Chichi breathed a sigh of relief. No more flooding.

 

Gohan and Goku hurried into the living room where their modest and sparsely decorated Christmas tree sat, with as many presents for Gohan underneath that the Sons had been able to afford. Chichi had, of course, gotten him several school-related gifts: a new calculator, a fresh compass set and some more work books, but she also got him, to everyone's surprise, a new gi.

 

Piccolo spent Christmas with the Sons as well, to Gohan's obvious enjoyment. Chichi was beginning to resent his company less and less, partially because she was growing accustomed to his presence, partially because it was clear how much Gohan adored him and how well Goku got along with him, but also because she didn't have to spend even more money on food for him (and she spent far too much money on food, in her opinion).

 

After the Christmas feast (and Piccolo's numerous glasses of water), Goku leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “That's was great, Chi,” he praised, as he often did. She smiled modestly.

 

“It's too bad Vegeta had to go away,” Goku carried on, and Chichi's smile turned into a sharp look. “He missed his first Christmas!”

 

“Hopefully he misses all his Christmases,” Chichi said bitterly, and began to clear away the table. She missed the sideways glance Goku and Piccolo shared.

 

“Don't count on it,” Piccolo grunted, quietly he thought, but Chichi had picked up on it.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

Sensing danger, Gohan fled the scene, gathering his gifts and hauling them to his bedroom.

 

“I just mean that he agreed to help us defeat the androids,” Piccolo said casually. “There's still two and a half years before they arrive. That's two more Christmases that will come around, and Vegeta's bound to be on Earth for at least one of them, when Bulma makes it such a big deal.”

 

Chichi `hmphed' and tended to her dishes.

 

///

 

The star of so many conversations that day was, at the moment, sleeping soundly on his bed with stolen sheets, though he, of course, didn't feel as though they were stolen. He'd earned them, after all. He'd struck a deal with that merchant woman and had come out on top. She'd fretted afterwards about what would happen if she became pregnant - her husband would surely beat her when he discovered it wasn't his - but Vegeta knew she wouldn't. He'd had an orgasm but he hadn't allowed himself to ejaculate. He didn't tell her this, though. Why let her know that he'd been, sort of, looking out for her future and well-being? He'd just shrugged and told her she could always abort it. She'd given him a shocked look - abortions were punishable by death, though that hadn't stopped her before.

 

A loud, grinding sound and a shudder that raced through the ship jarred Vegeta from his sleep. He looked around blankly, still emerging from his dreams, before he realized that something was wrong. Something was missing. It was the sound of the engine.

 

As soon as he realized this he threw off his covers and hurried out of bed, landing with a thud on the floor because his feet were tangled up in his sheets. He kicked himself free and launched himself towards the cockpit without even bothering to stand. Instead he did a low, speedy fly through the ship, his chest almost skimming the floor.

 

The red Emergency button was flashing its ominous red light at him, and from the training area above Vegeta could hear the computerized voice saying, “Emergency, engine failure,” over and over again.

 

“Goddamn this shit!” he bellowed, pressing buttons furiously. He knew, though, that punching buttons wouldn't help him. He needed to fix the engine itself.

 

He gazed out the cockpit window at the stars and saw that the gravity room was slowing down. It wouldn't be long before it began to float aimlessly through space, forcing Vegeta to rely on the mercy of fate and hope he didn't get stuck in a random orbit.

 

He raced towards the engine room and saw the engine smoking. It had completely died. He ripped the front off the engine with no regards to screws and coughed as a burst of hot smoke erupted in his face. When it cleared he saw that oil was leaking all over the mechanisms, and realized that there was more to fixing the engine than just replacing it.

 

Vegeta felt the ship sway for a moment, before he realized that it had stopped moving forward. The engine gave a finally heave that shook the ship and sent it into slow, nauseating spirals. Vegeta was, in a word, fucked.

 

Oh, how he wished now that he hadn't blown up the communications systems.

 

///

 

What luck for Narumi that Takeshi had gotten very, very drunk at Bulma Briefs' Christmas Eve Buffet - from the eggnog, no doubt, that she'd known was spiked after her very first sip. She'd gone with Giichi, not expecting that her brother would attend such a frivolous event. She'd seen him from across the room and felt her blood run cold, despite the warm knitted sweater that she wore and Giichi's warm body right beside hers. It hadn't taken her long, however, to realize that he was tanked, and she began to lighten up.

 

Giichi was glad for this, who'd assumed she was nervous in the company of his co-workers, given their relationship.

 

She introduced herself as Kodou Narumi, her mother's maiden name, which earned her confused glances from Giichi. She explained to him after, in private, that she wasn't close with her brother and didn't want anyone to make connections between Fujihara Takeshi and Fujihara Narumi, lest Takeshi find out that she'd attended the party and attempt to contact her.

 

“Is your brother here?” Giichi asked, eyeing the drunken Takeshi dance rhythmically on one of the tables - rhythmically for a drunk, that is.

 

“Oh, no,” Narumi said. “He would never come to something like this. He's so uptight.”

 

“That guy could take a leaf from your brother's book,” he said, motioning towards Takeshi, who now had his shirt off.

 

Narumi made no comment.

 

After a few hours she excused herself from Giichi, saying she was going to the bathroom. All night she'd kept her eyes peeled for any sign of Vegeta, though Giichi had told her he'd gone back home. It was possible he'd been mistake. Gouhara Giichi, she learned, was not the brightest of people. When she didn't see Vegeta had the party she decided to snoop around the house, either to find him or find out what she could about him.

 

She headed out the hall, not appearing guilty at all. What was so wrong with going to the bathroom, after all? She took a right as though she knew for sure that right was the right way to go, and walked with her confident, long-strides. It was to the right that she saw the stairs.

 

She poked into rooms on her way down the hallway. Most of them appeared to be storage rooms or cluttered offices, but she spotted two well-kept guest bedrooms and one bathroom. She jumped in surprise when a housebot came zooming past her, carrying a tray of various cheeses. She watched it continue down towards the dance hall, where it turned sharply, almost toppling over, and went through the doorway. Then she went up the stairs.

 

The first door she opened was a large office with windows overlooking the compound and providing an incredible view of the downtown core. It was Bulma's office. She could tell from the black heels abandoned beside the desk and the picture of the heiress and Yamcha beside the computer. It was a full office with not a lot of space despite the fact that it was so big, but it didn't seem to be messy. Narumi moved on, closing the door behind her.

 

Next was a closet, and beside that another washroom. She came to another guest room, and then what she assumed was Dr. and Mrs. Briefs' room. She moved on to the door across the hall, finding another closet - this one a walk-in. A walk-in closet in the middle of the hall? Narumi wondered, but moved forward.

 

The next door she opened led her, she was sure, to Vegeta's room. It had been untouched since he'd left Earth, Bulma refusing to tidy it up and forbidding her mother to do so (under the pretense that Vegeta probably left it that way for a reason. Dumb Mrs. Briefs saw logic in this). She'd programmed the housebots to skip this room in their daily chores.

 

There was a towel abandoned on the floor, and a tattered martial arts gi nearby. There was a pair of running shoes, the sole separating from the rest, and the room smelled of sweat. It was sparsely decorated; Narumi assumed it was because he'd taken all his belongings back home with him.

 

“Are you looking for something?”

 

Narumi had been about to step in when a voice startled her. She turned around, looking very guilty now, and saw Dr. Briefs standing there in his white lab coat, Kitty on his shoulder, and his hands behind his back.

 

“Uh… the… um… err… bathroom.”

 

“Oh! Goodness, there's one just off the dance hall downstairs,” Dr. Briefs said. “I guess you wouldn't know, though, unless someone had told you.”

 

For all his genius, Narumi thought the doctor rather simple.

 

“I'm sorry about wandering around your house,” Narumi said innocently, cranking up the polite apologetic knob.

 

“It's not a problem. You don't want to go in there, though. That's Vegeta's room. He doesn't take kindly to strangers. However, you're welcome anywhere else.”

 

Narumi made a face of sheer apology. “Oh, tell him I'm sorry! I didn't mean to snoop or anything, I was just looking for the washroom.”

 

Dr. Briefs smiled and waved his hand. “Vegeta will never know. He's not even here right now.”

 

“Not at the party, you mean?” Narumi asked.

 

“No, not at the party. Not at the Capsule Corp. either. Not even on Earth.”

 

Narumi stared at him. This time she was genuinely shocked. As lightning-fast as her tongue was, it took her a moment to find words. “Not… on Earth?”

 

Dr. Briefs sensed he'd said too much. There was no need to tell this strange girl that Vegeta was an alien, formerly a murderer. There was no need to tell her that he'd taken the gravity room to train in space for preparation for the arrival of the androids, who would obliterate the entire population, eventually, if given the chance.

 

“He's working for JAXA,” he explained.

 

The explanation sufficed for Narumi, and added to her infatuation with the stoic prince. If only she'd known he was a prince!

 

“How exciting!” she cried. “What's he doing out there?”

 

“Oh, this and that,” Dr. Briefs said ambiguously. He decided it was time to change the subject. “Are you here with your husband?”

 

“My boyfriend, actually. Gouhara Giichi.”

 

“The name sounds familiar. Can't place it though.” He tapped his head with a fatherly smile. “Gets hard sometimes these days, you know.”

 

Narumi nodded sympathetically, thinking that maybe it was time for him to retire if the old fool couldn't remember much anymore.

 

Dr. Briefs showed her to the bathroom, then headed off to bed. How he loathed his daughter's Christmas Eve Booze Buffet.

 

Something was being hidden from her. Narumi knew this. She could tell by the way Dr. Briefs had explained Vegeta's business with JAXA, or rather lack of explanation, that something was being kept from her. From her, she wondered, or from the world? No doubt the Capsule Corporation had enemies as well as connections. No doubt they had the technology to obtain information for the government if it was so required.

 

She cracked her knuckles. What a conspiracy. She would get to the bottom of it and get Vegeta in bed, too.