Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Two Sides to a Story ❯ Blood Ties ( Chapter 7 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Two Sides To A Story
Chapter Seven


Bad news travels fast, Piccolo reflected with a sigh.

Various television news teams and paparazzi had collected outside
of the hospital entrance the morning after Trunks had been admitted. By
the second day, the health of the Capsule Corporation heir had made the
top news story on all of the networks. Sitting in the lobby as a
captive audience, Bulma and her friends had watched the ZTV news anchor
make his commentary;

"-Origins of the illness are unknown. Sources at the hospital say
that the ten-month-old child has lapsed into a coma and is dependent on
life support to maintain his precarious state. All attempts to contact
the Briefs family for an interview have been postponed as the family
continues its grim vigil. Thus far, there is little hope for a cure as-
"
Bulma didn't hear the rest as she ran out of the waiting area,
her slight form wracked by fresh sobs.

The entire collection of Fighters had appeared by the morning of
the forth day. Even Tien and Chiaotzu had left their self-imposed
isolation to try and lend some comfort to their friend. Actually daring
to challenge his mother's rage, Gohan skipped school to seek out
Piccolo, who had made his home at Dende's Look-Out. Along the way, the
boy made a stop at Korin's to ask about the current crop of senzu
beans. The aged cat gravely informed him that it appeared there was
going to be a poor harvest of the mystical healing pods this season.
Maybe three seeds would reach maturity, perhaps even less, and it
wasn't going to happen for another four months.

Discouraged but still hopeful, Gohan approached Dende and asked
if the Namek could come back with him and heal Trunks with his arcane
recuperative abilities. The young alien could only shake his head. When
he had donned the mantle of Earth's Guardian, he had sworn to an oath
that forbade him from ever setting foot upon the mortal plane. Trunks
had to be brought to him. An impossibility, given the child's present
state.

Piccolo accompanied Gohan on the return flight to the hospital.
The deterioration of events since the Cell games came as quite a shock
to him as well as something else;

"Vegeta's dead?" he thundered in disbelief. "Who the hell told
you that?!"

Setting the pace in their course back to the Western Capital,
Gohan cruised along side of his friend and mentor, frowning with worry.
"Bulma said it the night we brought Trunks to the hospital. She left
Capsule Corp. to go looking for him that morning. I guess Vegeta had a
credit card or something but it turned out someone had stolen it three
months ago and has been using it in his place."

"And there's been no word from him since? Not a sign?"

"No."

"Damn it," the Namek cursed. It wasn't in the Saiyan's nature to
lay low and not call attention to himself without at least one of them
catching a sense of his whereabouts. This lapse was alarming. "What
makes Bulma think he's dead?"

"She doesn't want to talk about it. I heard her tell mom that she
had some sort of dream about him. She said that he came to say good-
bye..."

Piccolo's verdant features tightened as he absorbed this
information. None of it was good. Saiyan's were a telepathic breed that
formed powerful emotional bonds with people that they cared about. He
had witnessed first-hand the intimacy between the surly prince and
Bulma; there was little doubt in his own mind that the pair had made
some manner of mental connection. The normally levelheaded woman would
not have betrayed such an admission-

-if it weren't true.

"Rubbish," he concluded, only because it eased his mind to deny
it. He and Vegeta had clashed in the past, trading both words and blows
in conflicts that had spilled mutual blood. Unfortunately, Piccolo
couldn't deny the part of him that recognized the circumstances of past
ambitions that made them reluctant kindred spirits. Gohan was the most
dominant presence in his once-black heart. After that, Dende
represented the much-needed tie to his own people. Amazingly, it was
Vegeta who was next on the list. Piccolo had battled too often with
Gokou for all past resentments to be successfully laid to rest. That
and the fact that the young fighter seemed to spend more time dead or
absent than the alien cared to count. The Namek had fought both against
Vegeta and alongside him, noting the change in the Saiyan's demeanor
each time they met. It was an evolution in ethics and attitude that he
shared. He would never call Vegeta a friend, but he was no longer an
enemy either. The ambiguity would have to suffice. For now.

"When this crisis is over I'll go look for him," Piccolo told the
young boy to comfort him.

Gohan didn't appear to be swayed. "Maybe you should go do that
now. I know it's a longshot but Vegeta might be the only one who can
help Trunks. Bulma thinks that the illness might be related."

"She mentioned the V'Nhar?"

Gohan did an astonished double take. "You know about it too? When
did this happen?"

"Remember two years ago when Dr. Briefs assembled the Z Fighters
to look for Vegeta? He was suffering from it then. Bulma took him to a
hotel and nursed him back to health."

"How… how bad off was he?"

"He almost died." And I almost killed him, Piccolo came close to
admitting and bit down on the words. He didn't allow himself to dwell
on that past confrontation very often and certainly wasn't about to
betray the circumstances now. Some battles were never meant to be told.
"You might be right about looking for him. Let's just see how the boy
is first before we make any rash decisions."

As things turned out, Trunks was no better when they met up with
the others. The little hybrid child seemed to have lapsed into some
sort of stasis as his body fed on itself. His baby fat was being
absorbed by his immature ki in a desperate attempt for the cells to
find nourishment. At this rate, he wasn't going to survive to the end
of the week. Piccolo took note of this with his usual stoic resolve and
quickly left the hospital to begin his search for Vegeta.

Throughout all of this, Bulma barely registered the comings and
goings of family and friends as she struggled with her grief. Her
mother was coping with the crisis by acting as an informal caterer.
Nobody felt much like eating, but other patients and hospital staff
took the opportunity to avail themselves of the mounds of food the
woman brought. Anything beat cafeteria food, after all.

Yamcha was never far from the heiress' side but his concern was
often distracted by the persistent calls on his cellphone. He had left
his baseball team while they were in the playoffs and his manager was
brilliantly pissed. Joining in that displaced resentment was Yamcha's
present girlfriend and, often, the fighter had to hold the phone from
his ear during one of her rants. He had met Janice two weeks ago when
she had asked him to autograph both of her breasts after a game. They
had been inseparable up until the call from Krillin when he was told
what had happened to Trunks. He had left with barely a word, his usual
fashion when dealing with the opposite sex. It wasn't done out of any
conscious maliciousness on his part and he wasn't even aware of the
habit. A man of action, Yamcha immediately shelved all routine concerns
the instant a crisis presented itself. The fact that this particular
emergency affected him personally was another reason for his brash
haste. All that Janice knew was that he had left her for an ex-
girlfriend, who had a child nobody knew who was the father to. Needless
to say, she kept the number to Yamcha's cellphone on her speed dial
within easy reach.

On the other side of the waiting room, Krillin paced around in
aimless figure eight's. He would have liked Android 18 to be with him
during this emergency but the female was still wary of gatherings. Some
of the programming that identified the rest of the Fighters as 'prey'
still lingered in her sub-conscious. Logically, she didn't want to risk
a conflict in such delicate surroundings. Master Roshi was nearby with
Oolong. At the moment, the pair were arguing over who was going to get
possession of the skin magazine the old man had smuggled in from the
gift-shop.

Ignoring all of them, Chi Chi sat back in one overstuffed lounge
chair and watched the flow of people coming and going near the
elevators. One young couple were approaching the nurses station, their
faces pale, arms entwined. A doctor came towards them and words were
exchanged. The woman released a wail of dismay and had to be carried to
a private room by her husband. Exiting from the elevator, several
teenagers were holding helium balloons and wrestling with one enormous
stuffed bear. A young man in military fatigues sidestepped them and
went down the hall towards the bathroom. Behind him, an elderly man was
squinting at something written on a wrinkled piece of paper and then
began the frustrating search for a specific room.

Loss, confusion, empty offerings. Chi Chi watched it all with
eyes that were only half-seeing. She had foolishly believed that things
would finally resolve themselves once she and Gohan moved into Capsule
Corporation. Lately, everything she touched seemed to be disintegrating
around her. Her marriage, her finances, her rapport with her son… Gohan
was becoming increasingly combative and insubordinate, a far cry from
the meek and submissive boy that she cherished. He was uncooperative
with the tutor she had hired to help him advance a grade; his conduct
bordered on actual rudeness. The boy had tried telling her that the
pressure to study was too much for him but she had stubbornly refused
to listen. Bulma had told her, not so long ago, that if she persisted
in this course she was going to alienate Gohan for good. Chi Chi cheeks
burned with shame over the scathing retort she had given the sea-foam
haired beauty for her interference. It was common knowledge that Gokou
had never been any kind of an intellectual. He had only gotten as far
as the sixth grade and his skills outside of martial arts were
rudimentary, at best. The family had lived off of her inheritance
because he couldn't have been bothered to get a job. Small wonder she
wanted better things for her only child-

-No, not only child. Soon, there were going to be two to worry
about. Rubbing her stomach gingerly, the brunette submerged the self-
pity that threatened to consume her. Everyone around her was crumbling
to pieces; she had to remain the strong one. She was not going to break
down in helpless tears!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bulma getting wearily to
her feet and rose to accompany her. "Is everything alright?"

Glancing at her, Bulma nodded and headed towards the nurse's
station. "I'm going to see if there's any news on Trunks' condition."

"Bulma, I-" Chi Chi knew that the other woman had been talking
with the doctor less than two hours before. There would be no new
information but she understood this helpless anxiety caused by sitting
around. "-I think that's a very good idea."

The pair went to the counter and waited as the doctor was being
paged. Bulma looked up to the wall that was displaying the vitals of
the patients in the pediatric intensive care ward. There were two other
children hooked up to life support. One was a baby girl born six weeks
premature and the other a two-year-old boy who had been in a car
accident. Trunks' name was written beneath one of the monitors and
Bulma watched the laboring lines and blips that streaked across the
screen with an aching heart. If it were possible, she would trade
places with the baby in an instant. This wasn't fair for something to
happen to someone so young and innocent.

Make it stop, she thought to herself. If this is some kind of a
sick, twisted joke, I want it to come to an end. RIGHT NOW.

As if responding to her request, all of Trunks' vitals went flat-
line.

>>>>>

Grateful that his mother hadn't berated him for seeking out
Piccolo, Gohan relaxed a little and took advantage of the fare that
Mrs. Briefs had laid out in the waiting room. There was practically a
buffet set out on the coffee tables and the boy made up for several
days of infrequent meals. There were three pitchers of iced tea and he
drank two of them down in rapid succession. Obviously, it wasn't long
before his swollen bladder demanded to be voided.

Heading down the corridor towards the bathroom, Gohan ogled the
sterile surroundings. The last time he had been in this hospital was
after the epic battle with the Saiyans and back then he hadn't been a
visitor. He, Krillin and Gokou had been the last survivors to battle
Vegeta and he had cleaned all of their clocks. It had just been a fluke
that the boy's Oozaru state had fallen on the wounded Saiyan at the
end, otherwise Earth would have been a barren cinder in space. Gohan
and Krillin had spent a week in the hospital recovering from bruised
bones and cuts. If not for a senzu bean, Gokou would have spent close
to a year. Being here now created all sorts of bad memories for the
young hybrid.

The bathroom was empty but for one closed stall and Gohan stepped
up to the urinal and did his business. When he went to the sink, he was
so engrossed in the task of thoroughly washing his hands that he didn't
notice anyone was behind him until an arm locked around his neck.

Alien instinct kicked in and he immediately brought an elbow
back, intending to connect with his attacker's ribcage. The blow was
blocked. He kicked back and up with his left leg to nail the person in
the groin with the heel of his foot. Again, the action was effortlessly
thwarted. Staring at his reflection in confusion, Gohan saw that the
man holding onto him was wearing a dark blue battle dress uniform. The
hat was pulled down low over his face but, as the boy continued to
stare, he finally glanced up. Gohan's entire body went limp in shock.
"…Vegeta?"

He was released and the boy eagerly turned to confront the
missing Saiyan. Words were lost for the moment as he could only gape
helplessly at the figure standing only a few feet from him.

Staring back beneath the brim of the cap, Vegeta eyes remained
locked on the youth as if expecting some manner of challenge. Little
had changed in his face, it was as tense and expressionless as ever but
Gohan thought that it looked a little paler than he remembered. Perhaps
a little thinner, too. It was hard to tell under the loose clothes he
was presently wearing. "Are you in disguise?"

Vegeta's lips twitched and he straightened from the fighting
stance he had adopted. He appeared shorter than Gohan remembered and
the boy figured that it had something to do with the BDU cap the Saiyan
was wearing. Without that mantle of flame-styled hair surrounding his
head, the Saiyan lost at least a foot of extra height. He was about to
comment on it when Vegeta turned his head towards the door, exposing
the nape of his neck. Gohan plainly saw that the dense ragged spikes of
the man's usual mane of hair were now only about an inch long. "Vegeta,
what the heck happened to your- "

Somebody was coming in and Gohan felt himself grabbed again and
yanked into the nearby stall. The metal door closed just as Yamcha
walked in. Glaring daggers at the boy, Vegeta's body language demanded
that Gohan remain quiet while the other fighter went about his
business. Registering that something wasn't right here by any stretch
of the imagination, Gohan complied with the unspoken request.

Entering the stall right beside theirs, Yamcha unbuckled his
trousers and sat down on the toilet. He released two immense farts,
made some comment about beans and then grunted. There was the faint
splash of water soon after followed by another release of wind. Gohan
almost burst out laughing when the former-bandit began humming the tune
"Take Me Out to the Ball Game" and tapping his feet on the linoleum.
The mirth dried up the instant he looked into Vegeta's dark, haunted
eyes.

It seemed to take forever before Yamcha was satisfied and pulled
up his pants and then flushed the toilet. When he had exited the
bathroom, Vegeta and Gohan quickly vacated the cramped stall and were
almost gasping for air. "Filthy bastard never even washed his hands,"
Gohan heard the Saiyan grumble under his breath.

Ignoring the characteristic sarcasm, Gohan shelved his earlier
concern and had to restrain himself from releasing a shout of joy.
"You're alright! Everyone was getting worried about you, Vegeta. Nobody
has heard a thing in over-"

"What's the boy's condition?" the Saiyan interrupted.

"Trunks?" Gohan winced at the stupid question. "He's in bad
shape. The doctor's don't think he'll make it to the end of the week."

"Take me to him."

"Sure. Follow me," the boy said. He was relieved beyond words
that the Saiyan appeared to be concerned about the baby's welfare at
long last. The pair left the bathroom and turned left down the corridor
towards the ICU. Practically skipping in his excitement, Gohan kept a
brisk pace while Vegeta lagged behind, keeping a wary eye out for
anyone who might recognize him. He knew that the entire collection of
Earth's defenders were assembled in the waiting area, only a handful of
rooms away. There was no way he was going to let himself be interrupted
in his duty until his intended task was complete.

Stopping in front of a large window, Gohan waited for the other
man to catch up and then nodded gravely at the scene beyond the glass.
At first, Vegeta didn't understand what the boy was getting at until
the situation dawned on him and he understood what they were seeing.
Lying in a padded crib, Trunks' pale little form was hooked up to
various monitoring devices and a respirator was assisting his
breathing. A nurse, wearing sterile gear, was tending to some paperwork
in the far corner.

When the Saiyan's odd silence stretched on, Gohan spoke up;
"Trunks wasn't eating that well for the last week or so. Bulma said
that he might be suffering from- Oh, what was that word… veneer?"

"V'Nhar."

"Yeah, that. He went into some sort of seizure four days ago and
still wouldn't accept what the nurses tried to give him. A day after
that, he lapsed into a coma."

"It's not a coma," Vegeta said tersely. "That's a condition
reserved for those imbecilic soaps on daytime television. His system is
just pining for proper nourishment."

"But he won't take any food."

"It's not food he wants," the Saiyan muttered and went to the
door to let himself into the ICU. The deadbolt was electronic and
required a code entered into the nearby keypad to gain entrance.
Without any visible effort, Vegeta crushed the doorknob in one hand
just as he rammed his shoulder into the door. It flew open, taking the
reinforced metal jamb right along with it.

"Sir! You can't come in here!" the nurse cried indignantly. "This
is a sterile environment!"

"Not anymore," Vegeta commented as he strode over to Trunks'
crib. Poor Gohan was gamely keeping up but he couldn't look the furious
attendant in the face, so great was his shame. He had been brought up
to always respect authority and obey the rules. Now, after less than
ten minutes in Vegeta's shadow, here he was ignoring both.

The nurse ran over to her desk and immediately picked up the
phone. "Security! I have a Code White in the-"

With a muted curse, Vegeta whirled and flicked a miniature
destructo disk from his first and middle fingers. It cut through the
phone cord and collided with the far wall to dissipate in a harmless
spray of sparks. The expression on the nurse's face was a cross between
wonder and fear. She could only look down at the receiver in her hand
where only a foot of cord was swinging back and forth. By the time she
managed to look around at Vegeta, he was standing with his arm raised
in her direction. "Get out," he barked. To lend import to his words,
his hand began glowing.

The nurse took off, screeching like a banshee the instant she
left the ICU. Vegeta knew that in less than a minute, security and the
assembled Z Fighters were going to descend on him like a cloud of
locusts. He had to work quickly.

Pulling the various electrodes from Trunks' small form, Vegeta
scowled at the bruises from numerous needles that had marred the baby's
flesh. Without any hesitation, he yanked out the breathing tube that
had been forced down the boy's throat and unwrapped an object from his
coat pocket. Paying keen attention beside the Saiyan, Gohan blanched in
disgust at what the man held in one hand. "Oh gross! Is that what I
think it is?"

Raising Trunks' head, Vegeta was holding a scrap of bloody meat
directly beneath the infant's nose. "This is what the boy needs in his
diet. A thing his mothers' lactating teats can't provide for him," the
Saiyan explained patiently as he waited for a reaction to his offering.
Any reaction. "Domesticated or half-breed, the babe has Saiyan in his
blood and craves a taste of the kill. I'm willing to bet that you kept
your household up all night with your howling until you turned at least
two."

Blinking in surprise at the insight, Gohan could only gape at the
other man. "Mom said I was a difficult baby until I turned two and
finally started sleeping through the night. A piece of raw meat would
have helped?"

Vegeta only offered a terse nod as he focused his concentration
on his son. The baby was rejecting the grisly gift and his labored
breaths were becoming shallower by the second. Outside of the ICU,
there were shouts and a flurry of footfalls. Bulma and Chi Chi were the
first to run to the window, followed by the others.

"Gohan! What are you doing in here? What's going on?!" Chi Chi
shrieked at the top of her lungs as she rushed inside. Glaring daggers
at the soldier standing over the stricken child, she snapped, "Who are
you?" She didn't recognize the Saiyan in his unfamiliar gear and that
was probably the only reason why she didn't go ballistic on the spot.

"Vegeta…" Bulma whispered from behind her. She froze in the
doorway, unable to make her legs go any further. Despite the
inconsistencies in the man's appearance, she knew it was him almost
instantly. Now he was standing over Trunks' bed, holding the baby with
what looked like bloody hands.

He's come to finish him off, she thought in terror. She tried to
will her legs to move, to intervene, but too many days of little sleep
finally took their toll. Collapsing strengthlessly to her knees, she
gibbered senseless words to the Saiyan, begging him to spare their son.
Behind her, Yamcha and the others looked on in shock, the tense scene
actually causing them to pause in their course.

Vegeta watched her histrionics through veiled eyes and then
focused his attention back to Chi Chi. The woman was staring at him as
if he had horns as his presence slowly dawned on her. Her eyes tracked
from the scrap of bloody meat he was holding, to his face and back
again in confusion. "Wha-what are you doing-"

"Vegeta!" Gohan cried urgently. Trunks' body was beginning to
shiver and his lips were turning blue from lack of oxygen.

"He's dying!" Chi Chi wailed. "You bastard! What have you done?"

Releasing a growl, Vegeta brought his wrist to his mouth and bit
down deep into the veins, tearing away the flesh. He gripped the nape
of Trunks' neck and forced the baby's face against the bleeding wound.
"Drink, damn you! I COMMAND IT!" The transformation into Super Saiyan
followed the order just as Vegeta's blood coated the infant. Both Gohan
and Chi Chi were about to force the pair apart when they witnessed a
stunning scene.

Registering the scent of ki-infused blood, both of Trunks' eyes
flew open in recognition. He immediately latched onto the offering,
sucking at the spouting gash with a fevered intensity that shook his
entire body. Gohan saw a flicker of relief pass by on the Saiyan's face
as well as something else.

Vegeta's nose was starting to bleed.



------------------------------------------------- ---------
Chapter Eight: Vegeta finally confronts Bulma about her past actions.