Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Too Close for Comfort ❯ Changes ( Chapter 6 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: Don't own DBZ.
I'm sorry that this is going a little slow story-wise, but little by little, the rating should be going up... ;) Also, things will be getting more and more AU, but I just hope my writing does it justice.
11/28/11 Revised for continuity and quality.

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Too Close For Comfort



Chapter Six: Changes



Shapes blurred together in a foggy mirror, molding into one another yet failing to create anything recognizable. Vegeta wiped the mirror with a hand, drying himself off with a towel, avoiding his own gaze. He didn't know that man in the mirror. He was no longer himself. He knew he was the same person, possessing the same mind, he just felt undeniably altered. Looking at his reflection felt like looking at a stranger.

Plenty of things hadn't changed. He liked to dwell on this fact. As long as he thought simplistically, suddenly his problems didn't seem so daunting. For one thing, his mind was the same. His face was the same. His hair was the same, at least that had been the same for as long as he could remember. Only now everything was undeniably different. His insides were new, unfamiliar, encased in a new impenetrable shell, protected from physical harm, and his mind was the same, blocking any mental invasions. Unwanted feelings could be easily tossed aside, disappointments forgotten with so little effort. Instilled in him was a new determination, a drive, a new motivation for everything that he put his mind to, let it be menial office work or the massive otherworldly purpose he had been assigned to, albeit willingly. While he was glad for it, or he told himself as much, he knew that it was only for alien reasons that he was becoming so different, and he certainly wouldn't have changed like this without any outside input.

The changes he had experienced were astounding, he was sure he had yet to experience the limitations he could now push himself to. He felt as if the body he had possessed before was just a waste of human flesh in comparison to his new and improved body. Faster. Stronger. Tougher. He was just an outline of his former self, so altered that he could no longer recognize his body. Muscles even on his shoulders, each move of his fingers bringing a twitch of this tendon or that vein. Everything was effortless. He curled his fingers together, flexing his arm for a moment, watching in awe as everything bulged accordingly.

Of course, everything he had achieved had been through hard work, but not as hard as the average man. He still refused to be put on the same level as the other 'creatures', regular men now turned freaks of nature. He had been originally opposed to the idea of even joining in, but once challenged he was never one to back down, and he seemed to be reaping the benefits, at least for now.

His cooperation was all to assist their efforts later, but did he really want to anymore? He still had a degree of regret for things he had done to land him in his current position. Not regret for his intent, but for the way he carried things out. Now he was in hiding, in a way, and in a lower position as a result, but not a day went by where he wasn't reassuring himself, telling himself that he should be glad to be where he was and not even lower down.

Toweling off his hair, he slowly and methodically began dressing himself. His flat was pathetically small in comparison to his previous quarters. He hadn't just been demoted career-wise, it was like he had been demoted in life. The only reason he was in his current location was for the benefit of everyone, but in all honesty, Vegeta didn't care much where he lived. Money and status meant little to him, as long as he had enough to look good and play around a bit, but it meant much less than it did years ago. He used to be obsessed with his standing in the company, doing everything he could to either maintain his position or move up. It had helped that his father was a previous high-ranking employee, but it didn't guarantee him anything. Back then, Vegeta had vied for a high position and touted his father's previous importance to the company as reason to hire him, but nowadays he preferred to try and pull himself up by his own bootstraps, especially with all that he knew now. As much as he would have liked to think so, he wasn't entitled to anything. There was a harsh wake-up call for that realization.

He still lived comfortably, but it would be better if it weren't for his lousy neighbors. One side had been utterly silent for the most part, except for some hammering on the wall that he had heard earlier in the week, while on his other side lived a very sexually active couple that would copulate often, and very loudly, which sometimes woke him in this sleep. Part of him didn't mind, the other part felt this strange, uncomfortable feeling that he couldn't identify. A pit deep in his stomach that ached, but not from hunger. An emptiness. Not that he had a problem with that sort of thing, people could do what they wanted, for all he cared, right?

He shook his head. He had more pertinent things to be thinking about. First, what should he tell Chichi? Surely she couldn't have slept well after the craziness her fragile mind had gone through the day before. Should he say something to her? Well, he had to, or she could force him to, which was a likely option. He couldn't let himself think that she'd let him off the hook that easily. As a woman of determination, Chichi wanted answers, and fast, but how thoroughly should he brief her...? Would enlisting her help be a mistake?

After getting dressed, he looked in the mirror one last time, adjusting the watch he wore religiously. No, nothing had changed. The real change was still yet to come, and he hoped that it would be in his favor. He grabbed his briefcase, put on his shoes and as he was locking the door to his apartment he felt an annoying buzz in his pocket. Straddling his keys in his teeth and briefcase under one arm, he yanked the phone out of his pocket, emitting an irritated grumble once he glanced at the caller-ID. He flipped it open.

"What." He had contemplated rejecting the call but figured it could be important, a decision he quickly regretted once hearing the cheerful tone on the other line.

"Good morning!"

He sighed. "What is it, Kakarott? This had better be urgent. I'm about to see you in like 15 minutes, you idiot, couldn't you possibly wait?" He was feeling calm, as the goof on the other line hadn't done anything to anger him just yet, but he figured it wouldn't take long.

"I guess it could wait..." He sounded confused, as if Vegeta's steady tone had changed his mind.

"Don't guess. What is it." He got on the elevator, fiercely pushing the main floor button as if it would go faster the more times it was pushed.

"The meeting has been rescheduled." Pausing for a moment, Vegeta could sense a strange tone in his voice.

"Which one. The important one?" The elevator doors opened and he stepped off with a little bit of urgency.

"Ah, you see, the thing is-" Vegeta saw someone pass by him and didn't think anything of it, but with a flash of recognition he turned around quickly, only to see the elevator doors closing. Only half-listening to Kakarott prattle on about meaningless things, he suddenly thought of the woman he interviewed just the day before. He rationalized that it must have been someone who looked like her and had reminded him of her, but he couldn't help but think that maybe he had seen her. Even now he couldn't place her name. He definitely still remembered what she looked like, however, that he couldn't forget...

"...Vegeta? Vegeeeeee-ta? Are you listening?"

"No." He abruptly hung up and shoved the phone back in his pocket. That will teach him to ramble on and on like a moron.


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The morning breeze whirled around Bulma. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, letting her senses soak in the beautiful morning. The sounds of the hustle-bustle of the city were almost inaudible from where she stood, a good distance away from her old home. She wasn't used to hearing the muffled sounds of traffic, so far away it wasn't offensive to the ears, but back at Capsule Corp (at home) she was in the heart of the city, and nothing went unheard. Car alarms, sirens, helicopters, and every other man-made annoyance was a personal intrusion into her world, but Bulma had learned to live with it. She was comfortable with the spotlight. She didn't miss it terribly, as she considered it a relief to finally have some privacy.

Now she had all the silence in the world, so much of it she didn't know what to do with it, or what to do with herself. Get a job, get into the corporate world, prove you're self-reliant. Those were her goals, and she would go to great lengths to achieve them. So far, so good.

She could barely sleep the night before, so she had woken up quite early, and had even gone for a walk earlier that morning in her jogging clothes. Never much of a morning person, she seldom let herself enjoy things like watching grass being blown around, listening to the whistling wind, letting herself bask in the morning sun. She had always been cramped up inside, working her ass off. Not that she didn't like working, she liked to think she was in the minority when it came to people who enjoyed their jobs, but now she'd be working more than ever, except this time she had someone other than her father to report to. She couldn't go off and do what she wanted anymore. There had been plenty of time for play on her part, spent either on keeping up with friends and her boyfriend or fooling around in the city. For her age, this was not unusual, but suddenly she was immersed in a world where she would be forced to be independent for the first time in her life. Standing alone on the balcony, it gave her a good feeling, like she was achieving her purpose.

She grabbed her phone, held to her waist by the seam of her pajama pants, and checked her inbox. Nothing. Bulma was shocked that Chichi hadn't called her back yet. Bulma had been quite disgruntled after having an unsettling conversation with her friend after her interview. People who didn't know Chichi as well as she did would say that she was acting normal, actively participating in the conversation, but Bulma knew better. Her friend had seemed hardly curious in how the interview had gone, even though she had been asking her enough questions to give the impression of acting normal. Even more strange was that she hadn't returned her calls, a first for Chichi. She would usually either call right back or send her a text message, but this time there was nothing. Bulma was even more anxious since they wouldn't be seeing each other during her first day of work, since it was Chichi's day off, but if she knew anything, she knew that it was highly possible for her to do this alone and without assistance from her friend. Even though Chichi had set up the interview, Bulma knew she could handle it. At least she thought so.

After thinking for a bit more, she decided to send her friend an encouraging text message to let her know that she was worried and thinking of her. 'You shouldn't keep things bottled up inside. Call me later.'

She snapped the phone shut, returned it to it's place on her waistband, and dangled her arms over the edge of her balcony, letting her elbows rest on the cool metal. She sensed movement and peered over the edge. A man and two children were making their way up the grassy knoll. He held a picnic basket and the children were squealing playfully, trying to wrap each other up in a large blanket. She watched them slowly make their way up the hill, the father stopping frequently to turn around and beckon them forward. Bulma's heart sank. All of the feelings of homesickness she had just banished from her heart were returning with a vengeance. She closed her eyes tightly, willing all of her emotions away. After taking a few deep breaths, she returned her gaze to the small family trekking up the hill. Once they made it to the top, the man laid out the picnic blanket and sat down, watching the two young girls chase each other. He couldn't be any older than she was, and Bulma suddenly felt the pit of emotions inside her widen and deepen, choking her up with loneliness. The man began to look up and around, and finally set his eyes on Bulma. She froze. She wasn't so far up that he couldn't see her, and she began to feel a little strange for watching them. Making a step backward to go back inside, she stopped when she noticed him waving at her. She looked around for a moment, and then waved back. He smiled at her, and she couldn't help but smile back. The man put his arm down and beckoned the girls to him to start their picnic.

Bulma felt an odd, cathartic feeling from the event, feeling good that people she didn't even know could be kind. This was tough to find in the city, but she felt a little bit of this every day, realizing that some people aren't so bad, that there is goodness in the world, but all of the bad seemed to swallow it up sometimes.

She suddenly felt a jolt of realization. Looking at the time on her phone, she bolted inside and quickly started getting undressed.

"Shit, I'm going to be late for my first day of work!"


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Seiya Corp
10:00AM


Resting his chin on his palm, Vegeta scrolled through e-mails with a bored look on his face. Nothing ever changed. Get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner, watch TV, go to bed. It was only recently that his schedule had gone haywire and it was definitely taking a toll on him. He was tired, yet now he was completely healed and thought nothing more of the events from that week. He was now far more irritable than usual and had far less tolerance for stupidity, which was a tough one to enforce since that particular trait happened to run rampant in his office.

He looked at the clock. 10:02 AM. The woman he interviewed the day before should be there soon and he had just remembered. He shifted his eyes little frantically for a moment then realized he had already thought about what he was going to do and how he was going to handle it. He opened the drawer on his left side and pulled out a pen and a notebook. He looked out at the office, spying on them from behind his glass wall. After affirming that everything seemed to be going smoothly, he uncapped the pen. Nudging the pen nib towards the paper, he suddenly froze.

What was her name?

Damn... He couldn't even remember her name and he met her yesterday? He did remember her last name, however. Briefs. That was the important part, Briefs. He also remembered that when he heard her name it reminded him of a porn star. And why not? Her first name and last name both started with one letter, and her name was slightly sexually suggestive. Not that I pay that much attention to porn stars, of course...

He looked his watch. As if out of habit, he began tapping his foot and he glanced at his watch again. That woman is late. 10:08 AM and no sign of her. He didn't see her as the late type, but then again, it was her first actual job outside of her father's employment. Perhaps he needed to teach her a lesson. If she expected to be coddled, he'd set her straight very quickly. Set that girl straight, whatever her name was.

He opened the drawer on the right and flicked through a few folders, searching for her resume so that he could remember what her name was and not make a fool of himself, if possible. Finally finding it, he snatched it with his hand and-

Tap tap tap...

He looked up and saw the woman standing outside the door, her hand outstretched and delicately tapping on the glass door. She looked sheepish. But good in tweed and heels. He smirked to himself. He nodded so slightly she paused for a moment, then realized he had acquiesced and opened the door.

Instantly a flurry of words came rushing out of her mouth, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I-" He gave her a glare and put up a hand to silence her.

He slowly stood, keeping her eye contact the entire time. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out for a moment. Confused, he bent his head down and looked at her resume. Her name. Oh yeah. He snapped his head back up. "Bulma." She noticeably stiffened, taken aback by the strict use of her name. He looked at the clock pointedly, and then back to her. It was 10:10 AM. She had met his eyes until then, now they had dropped to her feet, like a child being scolded, only to look back up quickly to join back with his.

"You're late." He said with distaste.

She nodded and sighed. He could tell there were lots of thoughts going through her head but she couldn't decide on the right one to say. She clutched her organizer a little tighter, straightening her shoulders. "I know. I apologize."

Vegeta looked at her a little longer and decided to drop it. If she did anything else wrong that particular day it would be much more enjoyable to throw it in her face then, and there were much more important matters to be seen to. "Sit," He said. She complied, scooting her chair closer to his desk once again, crossing her legs daintily and beginning to smile at him. An apologetic smile. He looked her over again. He decided to play with her a bit. Suddenly he smirked at her and caught her off guard.

"Why are you wearing that?" He watched her as she quickly looked down at her clothes, distressed, so quick that if he wasn't watching her properly he wouldn't have noticed. She couldn't find anything wrong with her outfit, she was always dressed impeccably. She deemed everything she wore perfectly wearable and seasonally appropriate.

"Because I like it." She replied confidently.

He leaned back in his chair. "But, it's summer." She looked confused.

"You can wear tweed in the summer." She said, a twinge of defensiveness in her voice.

"Not that." He waved his hand and then pointed to her neck. "The neckerchief." She tugged it softly. It was silk with a simple design that matched her suit, tied delicately around her neck. She laughed a little. Vegeta hadn't been expecting that.

"I didn't know this company had such a strict dress code!" She said with a smile. "Do you not like it?" She asked. He glared at her.

"No, it's ugly."

"Why not?" She asked curiously, looking at the fabric, still smiling. Vegeta was beginning to get annoyed. She wasn't acting the way that he wanted her to and she was treating his words as if he were teasing her. Sure, he guessed that his words could be taken in a teasing way, but Vegeta did not do something as childish as teasing. Why wasn't she cooperating? Why wasn't she intimidated by him? Eager to please him?

"It serves no purpose." He said blandly, still glaring.

"Hmm. That's too bad." She said with joy. "I felt so '50's when I was walking in this morning and the wind was blowing it around!"

It was as if everything she said was purely for her own enjoyment. When Vegeta did not respond to her comment, instead of becoming unnerved, she continued to smile and crossed her legs patiently. He wanted to choke her with that damned scarf thing. She wasn't as fun as he had thought she would be.

Vegeta cleared his throat, ready to change the subject. "Well, since you're here, finally..." He said, glancing at the clock and then back to her. "We should discuss the conditions of your job."

"Yes, I would like that very much," Bulma said with yet another smile. Is she this happy all the time? It's getting on my nerves.

"First, you'll get to fill out some thrilling paperwork. This should be the highlight of your day." He rummaged around in a bin under his desk for a thick pamphlet and a clipboard tightly gripping a thick set of papers. He set it in front of her. "This is the manual." He pointed to the pamphlet. "This is what you fill out. Do it." He pushed it forward to her.

Instead of getting up and taking the clipboard of papers back to her seat, Vegeta was surprised to see her scoot up her chair towards his desk and use the side facing her as support. Had anyone else done that he would have felt a rage as she leaned her arm on his desk, her other hand pushing her hair back behind her ear for a moment then returning back to pick up the pen, but watching her fill everything out diligently with a look of determination on her face was... charming, for some reason, and not enraging. She hadn't even looked to him for approval to use his desk, she had just done it.

Ten minutes passed in silence as Vegeta continued to check his e-mails and people filed in and out to give him their reports. Instead of feeling the constant, irritating presence as he did most of the time when there was someone in his office, he had nearly forgotten she was there, except for the scribbling of her pen on the stack of papers.

He could get used to this.


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A/N: Hope you're enjoying it! Please read and review!

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