Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Two Sides to a Story ❯ Semblance of Normalcy ( Chapter 15 )

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

Two Sides To A Story
Chapter Fifteen


For the second time in an hour, she checked up on him.

Peering into the darkened bedroom, Bulma's eyes fell upon the
figure lying in a huddled ball of blankets. She walked inside, crossing
the room soundlessly and approached the bed, sitting down on its edge.
She extended a hand towards the lone occupant. "Vegeta."

Beneath the covers, the Saiyan released a sound that was either a
moan or a weary growl. Taking the hint, Bulma pulled her hand back and
remained where she was, staring at him with a worried frown. All she
could see of him was a gnarled mess of short hair spikes and part of
one eyebrow; the rest was hidden under the blankets. She knew that he
was injured but aside from allowing her to take him back to Capsule
Corporation, he had made it clear that he wanted to be left alone.
Initially, her intention had been to take him back to the Look-Out but
she shelved that suggestion when he started pulling on the release to
the hoverjet exit. He hadn't reacted much better when she tried to
guide him to the Headquarter building's infirmary. Whatever he had
suffered through during his absence, it was becoming clear that needles
weren't his only fear.

"You're going to get through this," she whispered, brushing her
fingers lightly along his hair. Reacting to the contact, he ducked his
head under the blankets like a turtle and made that low warning sound
again. She could see the outline of his body was shaking.

Getting back to her feet, Bulma walked to the door. "We're going
to get through this together," she promised him and left the room as
quietly as she entered.

Her parents looked at her expectantly when she walked down the
stairs to the living room. Waiting with them was Chi Chi who was
glaring daggers at Piccolo. The dour alien insisted on maintaining his
vigil just in case Vegeta reverted back to his destructive persona. He
was staring back at Gohan's mother with equal disdain.

"Oh, Bulma- How is he?" Mrs. Briefs asked in a fretful tone.

"The same, mom," Bulma responded, sitting down beside her. In the
last twenty-four hours she felt as if she had aged ten years. Of them
all, only little Trunks appeared unfazed by all of the excitement. He
was currently asleep in his crib with a rare smile on his peaceful
features. "He won't let me look at his injuries. All he wants to do is
sleep."

"What do you expect?" Piccolo rumbled. "It's been barely two
hours since he battled Gohan. Let sleeping Saiyans lie."

"Where is Gohan?" Chi Chi snapped. "I thought that you said my
little boy wasn't badly hurt!"

"He's probably still at the Look-Out. Dende was very weak from
performing several healings in a short period of time. It might take
awhile," Piccolo offered. He had kept the nature of the boy's injuries
purposely vague to avoid exciting the woman. He had already faced the
wrath of one raving lunatic and didn't need any more grief from
another.

Bulma was barely registering the conversation, lost in her own
thoughts. What would have happened if they hadn't showed up when they
did? Vegeta had been on the cusp of self-destruction, lured back to
rationality by his son. What had Trunks done to him? There were so many
questions that plagued away at her, building in intensity with each
hour. She could hardly wait to speak with Yamcha. Piccolo had told her
that the fighter had tracked down the doctor responsible for Vegeta's
state. Once he returned, she knew that she would finally get the
answers that she so desperately needed.

She was interrupted from her musings by a hand that closed over
her own. "Daughter," her father said, "Everything is going to turn out
just fine. Vegeta is finally home where he belongs-"

All at once, Chi Chi jumped to her feet with an outraged hiss.
She was six months pregnant and heavily showing but she was still
remarkable lithe. "How on earth can you say that?! Look what he did to
Ivory City! He murdered all of those people and you're welcoming him
back with open arms?! I don't believe this!"

Piccolo attempted, "When the Dragonballs are charged, we can-"

"There you go again; using the Dragonballs to correct the damage
done by a madman! When are you ever going to learn? He's lying helpless
in bed, why don't you finish him off before he kills again?"

"Oh!" Mrs. Briefs put her hand to her mouth in shock. Beside her,
even Bulma was struck dumb by the callous suggestion. Of them all, only
Dr. Briefs fixed the brunette with a calm, level stare. "There will be
no killing under this roof. I've made this clear to Vegeta in the past
and it's obvious that I have to make it clear to you."

"You're comparing that-that monster to ME?!" Chi Chi shouted. Her
skin actually crawled with the thought of any similarities between the
two of them. "All that Vegeta knows how to do is kill and you're
letting him back into this building as if nothing happened. Thousands
of people are dead! Don't you see that? He murdered them all in cold
blood!"

"He wasn't in his right mind," Piccolo said. "There were
circumstances that you don't understand-"

"I would figure that YOU would come to his defense, monster!" Chi
Chi hissed at him with such ferocity that even the Namek recoiled in
shock. "You're no better than that rotten Saiyan- So stay out of this!
I haven't forgotten that you stole my Gohan away from me just when I
lost my dear husband-" the first time, she almost added but managed to
bite the reminder back just in the nick of time. "Stay out of this,"
she cautioned in a calmer voice while rubbing her stomach.

"Alright, enough is enough," Bulma said, rising to her feet to
face her stricken friend. "'Chi, you have to try and calm down and face
the fact that Vegeta is as welcome here as you and Gohan are. He's
Trunks' father! I'm not going to send him away or-or do anything else."

"I can't be in the same house as him. I won't allow it. Either he
goes or I go," Chi Chi announced, holding her head high and putting her
hands on her hips, waiting for the answer.

She didn't get the response she was hoping for. "I'm sorry,
'Chi," Bulma said sadly, "but Vegeta is staying right here. I just hope
that you can try and see past your- CHI CHI!"

Feeling utterly humiliated, the brunette turned around and
stamped off towards the kitchen where she disappeared. Conversation was
just resuming when she exited the room and stamped up the stairs to the
second level where their personal quarters resided. Nobody said
anything to her, recognizing that look of crazed purpose on her face.
Bulma was about to follow after her, suspecting that something didn't
appear quite right until Piccolo announced, "Gohan and Yamcha are
coming."

Gone were all suspicions as Bulma rushed to the front door, eager
for the explanation that would finally put all of her fears to rest.

Upstairs, Chi Chi waited until she was out of the sight of the
others before she withdrew from her sleeve the foot-long butcher knife
she had retrieved from the kitchen. Wiping one sweaty hand on her
thigh, she gripped the handle with a secure grip and approached the
closed door of Vegeta's bedroom. It would be a simple thing to do, she
assured herself. Enter the room, approach the bed, and slit Vegeta's
throat. Quick, easy and a far faster death than he actually deserved.
She was the only one in the entire Son family who could kill the farm
livestock for the supper table. She knew just the right amount of
pressure to use for the task.

I'll just imagine him to be the pig he is, she thought, adding a
nod. Taking several deep breaths, she turned the knob and flung open
the door, her eyes immediately seeking out her target in the low light.

The bed was empty.

She had to blink to make sure that she wasn't mistaken. The lamp
on the nightstand was set to low and aside from a few discarded
blankets, the room was vacant. Chi Chi figured that it meant the Saiyan
was in the bathroom and, being awake, would no longer be an easy
target. She couldn't risk her baby in a struggle and left the room as
quickly as she entered, her heart pounding in her chest at the close
call. If he had spotted her...

She went to her room and began the task of getting packed, her
thoughts as slow and ponderous as her movements. There was little to
look forward to at Mount Paozu; no neighbors, no friends, no money. She
was at a genuine loss as to how she would be able to cope with two
children to feed. Gohan could go out and work but his studies would
suffer and she couldn't allow that. An education was the only guarantee
he had to save him from a life of endless battles, like his father. The
Western Capital offered him that chance.

"I can't stay here," she muttered under her breath, taking a
break from packing. Bulma had given her all of the maternity wear that
she had worn while carrying Trunks. Aside from being a little tight in
the chest, the skirts and dresses were a good fit and Chi Chi held one
of the garments in her hands, reading the designer label. All of the
Briefs were extraordinarily generous without asking for a single thing
in return. She would be a fool to leave now and jeopardize the future
of her soon-to-be-born child. "I want to stay but I can't take the risk
that Vegeta will kill me- Us. The danger is just too great." As if to
agree with her, the baby gave an urgent kick and Chi Chi nodded to
herself and resumed packing.

When she had first arrived at Capsule Corporation, she'd had one
battered suitcase that held all of her meager belongings. She was
leaving with three. At the very least, she might be able to make a few
zeni selling some of the clothes at the local market. Staring at the
luggage, she decided that she might as well start packing up Gohan's
belongings while he was absent. The boy would only put up a hostile
argument with her logic about leaving and probably refuse to pack. He
was developing an independent streak that she definitely did not like
and part of the problem was down in the living room with Bulma and her
parents. The other was staying in a room at the end of the hall.

As she left her bedroom, she decided to check in on Trunks one
last time and say good-bye. She adored the child even though she
actively tried to forget who had fathered him and thought that the boy
would make a good playmate if she had a son. Perhaps a potential
husband, if she was carrying a girl (Chi Chi was a woman who liked to
plan things out well ahead of their time).

The nightlight was on in the nursery and she tiptoed inside and
stepped quietly around the crib. Her foot snagged on something and she
stumbled forward, arms pin-wheeling for balance. She fell to one knee
and protectively cradled her stomach, looking back at what had tripped
her. Releasing a shocked gasp, her heart leapt into her throat when she
realized that Vegeta was sitting up against the crib. Baby Trunks had
one hand through the bars and was holding onto one of the spikes of his
father's hair. Both of them were sound asleep.

Frozen in shock, Chi Chi found herself staring at the vulnerable
Saiyan. This was the second time that she had ever come face to face
with the alien and, as before, she was perplexed by the differences in
his appearance. At the hospital, he had been dressed in a soldier's
uniform and she hadn't even recognized him at first. Right now, he
looked nothing like the savage fighter that had been revealed in Baba's
crystal ball so many years before. The short spikes of his hair
revealed a face that was pale and haggard and plainly showing the
efforts of his previous battle. One cheek was bruised and there was a
shallow gash along his jawline. Both of his muscular arms were
blistered and smeared with dried mud and cinders.

Submerging a pang of sympathy, Chi Chi had to remind herself of
who she was looking at: The murderer of Ivory City. A crazed killer who
threatened all of their lives with his very presence. She remembered
that she had left the knife on the dresser in her room.

Just as she was slowly getting back to her feet to retrieve it,
Vegeta's eyes snapped open and focused on her.

>>>>>

Putting her burning face in her hands, Bulma barely felt her
father rub her back as Yamcha's story came to a halting end. She had
suspected that whatever had happened to Vegeta during his absence had
to have been something bad but she never could have imagined how
terribly tragic the tale was; He had been drugged, caged and operated
on like some expendable lab animal. Even worse, he had been forced to
confront his biggest personal demon remade in flesh: Frieza. According
to the doctor that Yamcha had tracked down; the pair had a final
showdown on a deserted island that resulted in Frieza being reduced to
ashes and Vegeta having a stroke and slipping into a coma for twenty-
two days.

"Oh my God," Bulma choked, her slight form trembling with grief.
Through her stunned mind she recalled the events at the hospital just
after Vegeta had healed Trunks. 'No more poisons! No more prisons!' he
had screamed. He had looked so sickly then and it hadn't hit home until
just now when Yamcha told her the truth.

Vegeta had been dying.

"Why-why didn't he come here?" Mrs. Briefs asked in a bewildered
way as she fought a losing battle with her own tears. "We would have
helped him. Taken care of him. Why did he stay away if he knew he was-
was..." She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"This is Vegeta we're talking about," Piccolo told her, his face
sullen and grave. He had seen the bullet scars on Vegeta's back but
hadn't figured that they were anything more than from a chance
encounter against humans. He had been wrong- distressingly so. He now
wondered if Vegeta had destroyed Ivory City in retaliation, acting out
of something more than just blind violence. Perhaps in the depths of
his memory loss there had been lingering rage and hatred from what had
been done to him and he had reacted the only way that he knew how. "He
would never have asked for help. And he certainly wouldn't have asked
it from you."

Bulma snapped her head up. "What do you mean by that?"

"You're human," Piccolo responded bluntly. "Humans did this to
him, with help from Frieza. Vegeta has never been a trusting person and
now he has just cause to hate everything that this planet represents.
At the hospital, he made his resentment clear. If anything, that hatred
has only intensified."

"But he accepted help from Trunks-" Gohan's words came to a
sudden halt as his face registered his understanding.

Piccolo nodded. "A half-alien baby that he fathered. Bulma, I
don't think it's wise having Vegeta stay here in the Western Capital.
Perhaps... perhaps, Chi Chi was right..."

"NO!" Bulma snapped, rising to her feet. "Vegeta is staying here
and that's final! Do you hear me? Chi Chi doesn't know what she's
talking about and neither do you!"

"Err, speaking of my mom," Gohan piped up. "Where is she?"

>>>>>

With a distance of less than three feet separating them, Chi Chi
and Vegeta regarded one another for one long, tension-filled moment.
Finally, the Saiyan spoke first. "I know you."

"We met at the hospital," she responded, finally managing to find
her voice. "I'm Gohan's mother-"

"-Kakarrot's mate."

"I don't acknowledge that Saiyan name, murderer! My husband's
name is Gokou. I want you to remember that."

Vegeta's half-lidded eyes flashed anger for a split second but it
was a fleeting sight, like a spark that couldn't quite catch. He closed
his eyes for longer than a blink and opened them again with effort.
"He's dead."

"No thanks to you," Chi Chi said harshly.

Vegeta opened his mouth to debate and then looked away, his heavy
brows furrowing in thought. In that moment of indecision, Chi Chi
debated running to her room to get the knife but she finally chose not
to. Even through her grief and anger she could see something different
in the brash alien.

Grappling with his memories, Vegeta attempted to make some sense
of the chaos. The events right up to his crushing defeat on earth, the
first time he had appeared, were crystal clear; it was the rest of the
memories to the present that were still a jumbled mess. Rubbing his
temple briefly, he muttered; "Cell. He sacrificed himself just before
Cell blew up."

"It should have been you who died in the battle. Not him."

Vegeta only gave a half-nod, not bothering to waste the energy
for a debate. That action alone was enough to curb the rest of Chi
Chi's animosity. It was a hateful statement and the Saiyan had simply
agreed with it. She felt no victory over the moment, as she would have
expected. In front of her Vegeta was wounded and defeated; it was all
that she would have thought she wanted -next to her husband being
returned to her. Quite unexpectedly, her quest for vengeance faded into
the background and allowed her to behave rationally again. Without that
usual spite motivating her, all that she could think of saying right
now was the obvious: "You're hurt."

"No shit."

Chi Chi's lips twisted at the profanity. "There's no need to be
coarse. I thought that you were a prince. I'm a princess myself, you
know."

"Hnh. Must be an earth thing. You just look like a common peasant
whore to me," he responded, fixing her with a baleful glare.

Betraying one stunned blink, Chi Chi screamed into his face: "How
DARE you speak that way to me, you filthy Saiyan! I won't tolerate that
kind of trash talking from anyone and certainly not from someone like
you! Why, if my precious Gokou were here-"

"Shut. The fuck. UP!" Vegeta yelled back, getting to his feet. He
regarded her with absolute loathing and was about to close in when he
glanced at her stomach and cocked his head to one side. Just as quickly
he backed away, eyeing her warily like a desultory little tiger.

He's reacting to my pregnancy, Chi Chi realized in amazement. He
won't even come close to me, let alone hurt me. Is it because Gokou's
the father? Or something else that I'm missing?

Rudely awakened, Trunks sat up and took measure of the tension in
the room. He started drawing in air for a wail of displeasure when
Vegeta turned on him with an erect finger raised in warning. "Not now,
boy," he cautioned.

Remarkably, Trunks appeared to forget his initial irritation and
began quietly playing with his toes.

Chi Chi's eyes tracked from father to son and back again in
disbelief at the scene. At a complete loss for words, it came as
something of a relief when Bulma charged into the room followed by
Gohan.

Bulma glanced at Vegeta first and the pair matched eyes for a
fleeting second before he looked away. Moving to the crib, she saw that
Trunks was gurgling contentedly to himself, apparently unruffled by the
display in his nursery and his acceptance helped to calm her. Whatever
had happened in here, it was plain that it wasn't anything to get
needlessly upset over if the baby showed no sign of distress. Trunks
just seemed ecstatic that Vegeta was in the room. "Chi Chi, is
everything all right in here?" she asked warily. It didn't take her
genius brain to sort things out; two hot-tempered individuals had met
and clashed, remarkably without bloodshed.

Gohan stepped in beside his mother and helped her to her feet. Chi
Chi's face was deeply flushed but the boy wasn't sure if it was fury or
something else. "You okay, mom?"

Glaring daggers at Vegeta, Chi Chi saw that he wasn't even staring
at her, the entire incident apparently already dismissed. He was
standing behind Bulma and staring at her back but there appeared to be
no malice on his face. He glanced once at her hair and then dropped his
eyes to the floor.

"Everything's fine," Chi Chi managed to say at last, dusting
herself off. She busied herself with fussing over her son. "I'm relieved
to see that you're not hurt. But- Look how filthy you are! You are going
to march right into a shower at once, young man."

"Aww, mom..." the boy protested, following his mother out of the
nursery.

Left alone, Bulma turned to look at Vegeta. Trying to keep the
nervousness out of her voice, she remarked lightly, "Looks like you
could use a shower yourself, tough guy."

Gripping the front of his tank top, Vegeta wrinkled his nose but
made no comment.

"And I'll get some bandages for your-"

"Get away from me."

Bulma had been moving towards him and now she faltered. "W-What?"

"You've done quite enough. Keep your distance," he growled at her.

Piccolo's cautions repeated themselves in Bulma's whirling mind.
"I-I thought that we had cleared the air back at the hospital. I told
you how sorry I was about deceiving you and what had happened to Trunks'
tail-"

Vegeta's face became a confused scowl. "What are you yapping on
about? I'm just saying that I'll never forgive you for making me wear
that stupid pink shirt!"

Before her stunned eyes, he deliberately turned her back on her
and stalked out of the room. The exchange left her with a dozen
questions but by the time she had them sorted out, Vegeta was back in
his room and this time the door was locked.

"What am I going to do?" she finally asked Trunks.

The baby rocked back and forth and flashed her a sly little grin
that seemed to say: Don't you worry, momma. Just leave things to me.

>>>>>

There were no nightmares and for that alone, he was grateful.

When Vegeta woke up the next morning, the first thing that he
noticed was the lack of throbbing agony between his temples. Constant
headaches had been his unshakable companion for the last several months
and he had grown so used to them that waking up in pain was
commonplace. He sat up in bed and savored the peace and quiet for a
moment and then looked around. It took a moment for the surroundings to
register and then it dawned on him; Capsule Corporation. He was back in
his room but everything looked barren, as if he hadn't been here in a
while. The dresser's surface was empty and the closet had no clothes.
There was a series of flashes that raced through his mind; a dingy,
foul-smelling motel room, a dead soldier's apartment, a cell with
transparent walls. He shook his head to try and make some sense of what
his memories were trying to tell him but it was no use. Everything was
a still a mess.

"Damn you Frieza," he cursed under his breath. He could imagine
the tyrant basking in glee over this situation. "You took away my
people, my pride... Did you have to take away my mind, too?"

There was no sense dwelling on the issue: What's done is done. He
undressed and took a long, hot shower, standing under the spray and
letting the water wash away sweat and grime and soothe his wounds.
Afterwards, he stood in front of the mirror over the sink and wiped
away the condensation, staring at his reflection. He ran a hand through
his short hair spikes, grumbling at the sight, and then rummaged
through the medicine cabinet for some bandages. The burns on his arms
weren't that severe but needed to be kept clean. With a skill borne of
tending to such injuries, he added the necessary dressings and wrapped
the gauze tightly around either arm.

When he was done, he returned to his room and frowned down at the
ripped clothes lying on the bed. He finally recognized the style but
couldn't remember mugging Mirai Trunks for them. This time, when he
tried to force the memories to the surface, a headache started to rise
with them. He gave up, put on the clothes and left the room.

Following the scent of breakfast, it was Vegeta's stomach that
dictated his direction and he went downstairs and walked into the
dining room. Bulma, Trunks and her parents were there, as was Gohan and
his mother. In the far corner, Piccolo was standing with his arms
folded and looked up as he entered.

Faltering, Vegeta was about to back out of the room when Mrs.
Briefs exclaimed; "Oh, Vegeta! It's so good to have you up and about.
How do you feel?"

Before he managed an answer, she was already on her feet and
pulling out the nearest chair. "I'll prepare a place setting for you
right away. I imagine that you're famished-"

"Hold it!" Chi Chi snapped, slapping her hands down on the table.
"I agreed to cook for this household. That didn't include him!"

"Chi Chi-" Bulma hissed.

"I mean it, Bulma. I relented to stay but that doesn't mean that
I'm going to be his personal chef."

"'CHI!"

"I can fend for myself," Vegeta said coarsely, walking towards
the kitchen. "I don't need that harpy to feed me."

"What? What did you call me?" she yelled after his retreating
back. "Why I've have a mind to-" She had been in the process of rising
to her feet until a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her gently, but
firmly, down. "Leave him alone, mom," Gohan told her.

"Don't you tell me what to do," she snapped. "You're still
grounded for running away and stealing and-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the boy chanted, shoveling a mouthful of
scrambled eggs into his mouth. He hadn't slept very well last night,
concerned about possible retaliation by Vegeta and had spent much of
the night talking to Piccolo. He was glad to see that the Saiyan was
back on his feet, apparently none the worse for wear from their recent
battle and more concerned about nourishment then vengeance. For what
seemed to be a very long time, the boy began to relax at last.

"And that smart mouth that you've got is another thing-"

"'Chi, would you please put a sock in it?" Bulma said as she
spoon-fed Trunks his breakfast. "Can't we all just enjoy a nice, quiet
breakfast for once?"

As the brunette sat back with a perturbed huff, Vegeta returned
from the kitchen carrying a loaf of bread and several cans. He sat down
in the chair that Bulma's mother had pulled out and began making
himself a sandwich. Chi Chi blanched in horror when she read the label
on the can of tuna he held. "Is-is that... that..."

"Cat food?" Dr. Briefs finished. His kitty was perched on his
shoulder and gave an exited meow when Vegeta pulled open the lid and
began spreading the contents on a slice of bread. Before everyone's
stunned gaze, he emptied the can, added another slice and then began to
eat his sandwich.

"Oh- GROSS!" Gohan howled, leaving the table. This would be one
morning where he would be going to school early.

Both of Bulma's parents excused themselves and hastily left the
dining room. Seated across from the Saiyan, Chi Chi tried to hold up
her disapproving glare until Vegeta opened his mouth and deliberately
showed her a half-chewed mouthful balanced on his tongue. Cupping her
hand over her mouth, she quickly left the room barely hearing Piccolo
remark; "I'm sure Vegeta will appreciate the leftovers."

"-urk!" was all she could get out as she ran for the nearest
bathroom.

Chuckling to himself, Piccolo decided to make his own exit. It
was clear that things were returning back to normal and his hanging
around was unnecessary. He offered Bulma a casual nod and stepped out
of the dining room.

Bulma giggled as Vegeta put down the sandwich and began gathering
the half-eaten plates around him. "Nicely done, Vegeta. Not many people
manage to pull one over on Chi Chi. Come to think of it, I think you're
the first."

"Whoopee for me," he said and began eating. There might as well
have been a sign around his neck that read: Hungry Saiyan- Do Not
Disturb and Bulma busied herself with tending to Trunks. With his
father in the room, the boy began demanding more with growing
impatience and Bulma had a hard time keeping him supplied with food.
With smug amusement, she realized that she was witnessing an eating
contest between father and son.

"Mhe winny!" Trunks yelled victoriously when Vegeta finally
pushed the last plate away and sat back in his chair, obviously sated.
The baby's cheeks were smeared with eggs and the front of his shirt was
soaked in orange juice. He waved his arms up and down in excitement as
Bulma tried to wipe his face clean.

"That boy is a bottomless pit," Vegeta remarked.

"Like father, like son," Bulma teased.

He looked down at the table, nodding at the sight of the empty
plates all around him. "Kakarrot's mate may be a bitch but she can sure
cook."

"We don't ask her to but she insists."

"She lives here?"

Bulma nodded. "Her and Gohan. She has no money and she's
expecting another child. Offering her a place to stay is the least I
could do."

"You're as bad as your parents," he grumbled under his breath.

"What's that?"

"Taking in strays."

"Including you?"

"Particularly me," he murmured, crossing his arms and becoming
lost in thought.

"Vegeta, I-" Bulma faltered and tried again, "I'm really glad
you're here."

"Where else would I be? I have nowhere to go," he said in defeat.

"That's not true," she said slowly, turning to look at him. "You
have an apartment in Pitch waiting for you. If-if you want it, that
is."

"Pitch?" He blinked in confusion and started rubbing his left
temple. He was visibly trying to concentrate and Bulma looked on with
concern until he finally said, "That soldier. Tucker. I was living in
his apartment."

"Vegeta, are you all right?"

"I'm fine."

She recognized his defensive manner and knew that he didn't want
to talk about his injuries, either physical or mental. She decided to
let the issue rest for now. "I don't want you to think that you have to
stay here if you don't want to. I'd like nothing more then to have you
around, if only for Trunks' sake, but I'm not going to force you."

The pair stared at one another as he visibly considered an
answer. Trying to keep her emotions at bay, Bulma maintained an
indifferent front but inside, she was screaming for him not to leave.
She actually closed her eyes when he started with, "That apartment-"

"-I understand-"

"-I don't want it," he finished. "I'm content to stay here if
that's acceptable to... your parents."

"I think they'd like that very much," she said with true relief,
her knees wobbling underneath of her.

Vegeta heard the tremor in her voice and frowned thoughtfully at
her but he had other concerns. "What happened to the clothes in my
room?"

"That's right! Thanks for reminding me," Bulma said, rummaging in
her pants pocket for the capsule she had retrieved from that seedy
hotel in the city of Prescott. "I was going to give this back to you
when you woke up."

"Why did you encapsulate everything in the first place?" he asked
irritably, eyeing the capsule she handed him.

"Vegeta, you had-" Bulma's words tumbled to a halt at the blank
stare he gave her. "I... didn't want everything to smell musty," she
answered instead.

He accepted the explanation and left the dining room to get his
belongings sorted out. Remaining behind, Bulma stared at the doorway
and chewed nervously on her bottom lip. She had thought that Trunks'
enigmatic intervention and a following good night's sleep would have
cured any lingering after-affects of Frieza's poison. It was becoming
painfully clear that wasn't the case.

>>>>>

Over the course of the next two weeks, things started to fall
into a sense of normalcy in the Headquarters building. Vegeta and Chi
Chi deliberately avoided one another except during meals. After his
display over breakfast, she consented to include him in her expert
cooking. During mealtimes, the odd verbal skirmish broke out as both
volatile individuals tried to get in the last word over the silliest of
topics. It often ended when the rest of the family would start laughing
and the pair settled into their meals, sulking and glaring at one
another like a pair of spoiled children.

Gohan was just as happy as Trunks to have the Saiyan living at
Capsule Corporation. On several occasions, the pair sparred in the
courtyard but they were careful not to get carried away with the sprit
of combat. Neither powered up and Vegeta rarely lost his temper, not
even when the youth managed to find a weakness in his defenses and land
a successful blow. Each tourney ended in a mutual draw but Gohan got
the impression that Vegeta's heart wasn't in the fighting. He just
seemed to be going through the motions of battle, his mind lost to
other concerns the boy wasn't privy to. Gohan tried to draw him out but
the terse responses he got for his efforts was about the only thing
that was predictable. With that in mind, he shelved his worry and just
let himself be grateful for Vegeta's presence.

Mrs. Briefs was the only person to see a different side of the
Saiyan that the others missed. Slipping downstairs for a late night
snack, she once caught Vegeta sitting in the living room. The
television was the only source of light, the volume turned down low and
she could plainly see he was bent over in the chair, holding his head.

"Vegeta? Are you all right, dear?"

"Leave me alone," he rasped out, sparing her a glance. The act of
marginally turning his head seemed to be too much of an effort and he
went back to suffering in silence.

Utterly perplexed, Mrs. Briefs returned to her room, intent on
bringing the incident to Bulma's attention the next morning. When she
woke up, however, she dismissed the exchange as a dream and promptly
forgot about it.

Bulma didn't need her mother to tell her that something was wrong
with Vegeta. He had returned to his usual routine of jogging in the
morning and spending the remainder of the day in the gravity simulator.
Reading the printouts that were sent directly to her office computer,
Bulma knew that he was training at less than one-third of the gravity
level he'd achieved before he left. The sessions were scattered around
periodic breaks and he wasn't using the robotic training drones he had
designed. He would never admit it but it was obvious that his prolonged
absence had left him out of shape.

She clicked on the icon to the security camera that was trained
on the simulator and saw that the hatch was now open. Vegeta was
sitting on the platform clad in his usual apparel of spandex shorts and
sneakers, rubbing his shoulder with a grimace. Bulma decided that now
was as good a time as ever to go talk to him.

Vegeta tried to will his heart rate to slow down as he struggled
to catch his breath. He reached for his towel, submerging a moan at the
rebelling pain in his left shoulder, and wiped the sweat from his face.
One hundred times earth's gravity should have been as natural to him as
flying but damned if trying to do push-ups in that environment didn't
make all of the muscles in his body feel as if they were about to
burst. He was debating on calling it a day when Bulma stepped out of
the building, carrying a bottle of water and started walking towards
him.

He wanted to retreat back into the Capsule but couldn't will his
legs to start moving. A victim of his own over-achievement, he remained
trapped where he was, tensioning up as the woman came along side of
him.

"Thirsty?" She offered him the bottle.

Hesitating for only a second, he took the container and drank the
cool contents with relish. When he was done, he stared down at the
bottle in his hand for a long while.

"Vegeta?" she prompted.

"This bottle," he said in an odd voice. "I had heatstroke and you
gave me water from a container just like this one, didn't you?"

Bulma's heart ached at the doubt she heard in his voice. "Vegeta,
how much do you remember of your time on earth?"

"Enough," he parried, immediately on the defensive.

"And us? How much do you remember about... what we went through?"

He only stared at her, frowning in confusion.

"The Hammorski Plaza? Dorothy Pereaux? Your suffering from the
V'Nhar? You don't remember any of it?"

"Is there any need to?" he shot back. "From the sounds of things
I don't think I'm missing much. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is US!" Bulma wailed. "We were together. We fell in
love and now you're telling me that you've forgotten all of that?"

"I think you've got me confused with somebody else," he responded
coldly. "I don't feel anything for you. I doubt I ever did."

His words were like a slap across the face. Bulma stared back at
him in complete disbelief, her bottom lip trembling as she fought to
maintain her composure. When she was positive that she wouldn't burst
into tears, she said in a level voice, "You've forgotten so much. It's
not fair to get into an argument with you if you can't remember the
facts. I'm telling you that it DID happen. Whether you choose to face
those memories is completely up to you."

"What the hell-?" Vegeta watched her retrieve the bottle and
start to turn away and he jumped off the platform to grab her arm.
"Just one damned minute! Are you implying that I'm trying to forget all
of this on purpose?"

"It would make things easy for you, wouldn't it?" she shouted
back. "You can start off with a clean slate. No commitments, no
regrets. I have to wonder if Frieza's poison really is to blame or if
you're doing this deliberately!"

"You BITCH!" He raised his fist, intent on demolishing her face
and Bulma's expression transformed into sheer terror with the
understanding that she had gone too far.

Just before the terrible blow fell, the surroundings around
Vegeta warped and he suddenly found himself in a bed, cradling a woman
by his side. He was assuring her that-that-

You'll never be hurt by my hand, Bulma.

"!!SHIT!!" At the last second he whirled and plowed his fist into
the side of the gravity simulator, burrowing his arm into the
reinforced metal up to the elbow. He leaned heavily against the
capsule, willing his temper to get back under control and trying not to
betray just how badly shaken he was. So close. He had been so close. He
had almost killed her!

"Oh God, Vegeta! I'm so sorry!" She was starting to cry now. "I
was just angry. I had no right to say those terrible things. I know
they're not true."

He pulled his arm free with a squeal of rebelling metal and she
saw that his hand was bleeding profusely. The sight of it made her cry
even harder. "I'll take you to the infirmary. I-I'll get you a-"

"Leave me the hell alone," he snarled, baring his teeth at her.
Fixing her with one withering glare, he left to go visit the Capsule
Corp. infirmary.

Bulma wanted to give chase but her legs were rubbery from the
near miss and she sat down in the grass before she fell. Great, racking
sobs enveloped her slight form and she surrendered to them, drawing
herself into a helpless, little ball. The majority of emotion was
lingering stress from the events of the last few months and the rest,
her own helplessness with what to do for Vegeta. By denying their past
relationship, he had hurt her and she, without thinking, had
deliberately hurt him back. How could she ever win his trust now?

When the torrent passed, Bulma realized that some clues about
Vegeta might be revealed at his apartment in Pitch. She would gain some
insight into how he had lived, what he had done to pass the time, and
perhaps find some much-needed common ground if she was going to begin
the task of rebuilding their friendship. Vegeta had said that he wanted
nothing to do with the place. At the very least, she could sort out the
belongings he needed and encapsulate the rest for goodwill.

Her face once more burning with purpose, she told her mother of
her intentions and left the Western Capital in her hoverjet, traveling
northeast to the city of Pitch. She was unprepared for all of the snow
she encountered and had to remind herself that it was late November.
She wished that she had put on something warmer then a miniskirt, heels
and a short-sleeved sweater.

Landing on the roof of the apartment building, Bulma stood in the
knee-deep snow and encapsulated the hoverjet. Making her awkward way
towards the stair access, she found the door locked and had to sort
through her purse with rapidly numbing fingers for the right gadget.
She pulled out an automatic lock-picker and had the door open in less
then ten seconds and descended the stairwell, shivering so badly that
her teeth were clacking together.

She went to the forth floor and stepped up to the door of
Vegeta's apartment, 403. It felt odd to be standing here, let alone
letting herself in but she was freezing and quickly used her lock-pick
to get inside. The warmth of the apartment enfolded her and she leaned
against the door gratefully, feeling the blood return to her
extremities.

When she was sufficiently warmer, she looked around in amazement.
It certainly wasn't hard to tell that someone else had chosen the
furnishings and décor; none of it was Vegeta's barren sense of style.
The neatness of the apartment, however, was. Everything was in its
place, nothing was disturbed. There were a few empty beer cans on the
counter and a glass in the sink. Curiously, Bulma looked in the fridge
and saw several cartons of eggs and tomato juice cans. The freezer was
crammed full of meat. When she opened one of the cupboard doors, she
saw something that made her heart stutter.

Catfood cans.

All along she had thought that Vegeta had pulled his little
gross-out act to make everyone run from the table and leave him the
leftovers. She didn't realize that he had actually been living off of
the damned stuff! The tears were dangerously close again and she had to
swallow them back. Vegeta hadn't chosen to eat it because he was
lacking for money; it was obvious that he had simply developed a
fondness for the taste.

"Eww," she said with a shiver.

She was impressed with the entertainment system, so much that she
intended to bring it back with her for use in their own home; to hell
with goodwill. The DVD movie collection was enormous and it was clear
that Vegeta had been working his way through them, judging by where the
layers of dust stopped. She made a curious discovery resting in the
corner of the living room by the far wall; The entire Star Wars
collection was there as well as Independence Day, several Star Trek
movies and The Matrix, among others- all obviously discarded. It was
painfully clear that anything resembling science fiction only irritated
the Saiyan who knew the real thing first-hand. Bulma went to the DVD
player and opened the slot, wondering what he had been watching last
and she burst out laughing when she read the title.

The Sound of Music.

"I'll be damned!" She was laughing so hard she had to sit on the
arm of the couch. All of these little revelations were providing more
insight into Vegeta then she could have dared hope.

In the spare bedroom she took note of all of the weight equipment
without much surprise and moved on to the bathroom. This area was a
little more cluttered then the rest of the apartment and the bathmat
was still on the floor. Bulma wondered if he had been interrupted from
a shower to go help her when she had confronted Doctor Reznik. What a
disastrous turn of events that had led to.

Her previous good humor deserting her, she turned to leave and
cast a glance at the waste can under the sink. She backtracked and
pulled out an empty bottle of extremely strong painkillers. They had
been prescribed to Tucker but it was obvious that Vegeta had finished
them, which was unusual. He would never have resorted to using any
drugs unless he had been...

"Suffering," she whispered. Along with the bottle, the garbage
can was half full of wadded up Kleenex tissues, all bloody. There were
more flecks of blood on the counter beside the sink. "He was in agony
and he was dying all alone."

The tears were back and she wept quietly this time, more then
ever regretting her words she had spoken outside of the simulator. Why
wouldn't he want to forget all of this? she asked herself. What would
be the benefit of reliving this nightmare over again?

There was no straightforward answer. As much insight as she
gained, Bulma knew that she would never be able to fathom what Vegeta
had endured these last few months. She could only understand his reason
for not seeking out any help. He had been probably worried that his
suffering would only be prolonged by some well-intentioned
interference. If he hadn't come to her rescue at the airport, he would
have died here: His body found by strangers and quietly disposed of
without her learning of his fate.

Bulma suddenly wished that she had never come here. Her arms were
crawling with gooseflesh, as if the place was haunted and she tried
desperately to keep the morose thoughts at bay without much luck.
Walking into the bedroom, she resolved to pack a few of Vegeta's things
and then get the hell out. She'd come back later with some company.

As she crossed the room to get at the dresser, her eyes fell on a
manila envelope resting on the bed. She walked over and picked it up,
almost dropping it again when she saw what was written on its surface.

It was addressed to her.

>>>>>

Vegeta's little tantrum left him with two broken knuckles and a
gash in the back of his hand that required seven stitches. He let the
nurse on duty patch him up but he was uncomfortable in the sterile
confines of the company infirmary and was eager to get out of there.
Sensing his agitation, the nurse moved as fast as humanly possible and
had barely finished bandaging his hand when he jumped from the
examining table and left at a pace that was nearly a sprint. He didn't
trust nurses and he abhorred anything that even remotely resembled a
hospital. He hadn't even let the woman give him a needle for the pain.
That, at least, was something he could handle with ease. Pain defined
his very existence. It was all of this trust and friendship and love
bullshit everyone was trying to force on him that he couldn't deal
with.

I have to wonder if Frieza's poison really is to blame or if
you're doing this deliberately! the woman had accused, making his
muscles tighten in anger. Not a day went by that he wasn't mourning
what he had lost and she actually thought that he was doing this on
purpose?

Too many questions... too many doubts. He didn't like constantly
second-guessing himself with every move he made, wondering if it was
the right one. He needed answers. Damn it- He needed to remember!

At a loss, he got changed in his room and stared longingly at the
bed, wondering if he should take a nap. His hand was throbbing and he
chose to abandon the idea until he got a few beers into his system. He
left his quarters and wandered down the hall, lost in thought and
troubled. Bulma's words plagued him, transforming the anger he felt
into more self-doubt.

His roaming brought him to the nursery where he could hear Trunks
starting to cry and he peered cautiously around the side of the door,
wondering if Kakarrot's shrew wife was anywhere nearby. It wasn't as if
he feared her; she was just a person that he desperately wanted to
avoid at all costs. The coast looked clear and he went into the room
and closed the door.

He walked over to the crib and rested his arms on the edge,
peering down at his son without expression. "I'm not surprised you get
so pissed off, being trapped in this little cage and all." Trunks gave a
delighted squeal in reaction and Vegeta picked the boy up by the back of
his pj's and gave him a light shake before setting him back down.
"Quiet, brat."

Unruffled, Trunks crawled over to him and stood up on shaky legs,
holding onto the bars for support as he gibbered non-stop to his father
in intelligible baby talk. Listening to this nonsense for about five
minutes, Vegeta shook his head in annoyance and held up one hand. "Not
now, boy. Time is short. I need something from you."

His blue eyes huge in his chubby face, Trunks stared at his
father with rapt attention. Vegeta saw so much of Bulma in those
innocent eyes that he was at a momentary loss for words. He knew that
the child had an immense psychic gift that was capable of easing his
suffering; the lingering after-affects of Frieza's poison. The pair had
a powerful bond that not even distance could weaken. Right now, Vegeta
was wondering if there was a third person added to that exclusive bond.

"How much of your mother's mind have you touched?" he muttered
out loud, staring at the boy. "My memories are fragmented but hers are
crystal clear. How much do you know?"

Trunks cocked his head to one side, as if considering the
question. "Buhma-mah ta Vehta. Yah!" he exclaimed and held up his arms
towards his father.

Nervous for no reason that he could explain, Vegeta reached down
and enfolded the baby's tiny hands in his own.

"Show me," he said, closing his eyes.


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Chapter Sixteen: Saiyan courtship. It's a beautiful thing.