Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unconditional Bonds (revamped) ❯ Unease ( Chapter 1 )

Author's Introduction: Unconditional Bonds was written in the summer of 2001. It was my first piece of `postable' work and my first contribution to the vast sea of Dragonball Z fanfiction.

Three years later I've picked up the pen, as it were, and have written a sequel to this piece and am currently working on third and final installment. But I feel I should pause and take time to touch base. At the time I wrote this, the concept of a beta was foreign to me as was the notion of `damage control'. Needless to say, this fic could use some spit and shine. And that's what I've endeavored to do.

I have gone through this with a fine-tooth comb-though I'm sure I've missed some things-and refined some scenes here and there. In other words, this will be basically be the same story but be much more reader friendly. I have also changed some scenes that have just plain annoyed me and have cut the `fluff factor' in half.

That said, I hope you enjoy this new `cleaner' version, I know I've enjoyed working on it.

-Makota

Special thanks to Pixelgoddess for beta-ing this edition.

Disclaimer: I don't own, please don't sue.

Rating: NC-17 Yaoi

Pairing: Piccolo/Vegeta

Unconditional Bonds

By Makota

(Second Edition)

Chapter One: Unease

"What the hell?"

He opened the other drawer, it, like the first, was empty.

"Hmm," he muttered, "she must be re-organizing or some crap like that."

With a shrug he walked over to the closet. Upon opening it he frowned; row after row of Bulma's dresses were draped neatly, but there was a small void where his much smaller wardrobe once hung.

It was at this point that Vegeta grew irritated. He had just returned from a small retreat in the mountains; just a couple of days to train in peace without the constant distractions from his mate and son. He didn't do it often, but every once in awhile he felt it necessary to escape from the confines of domestic life.

Although, he had to admit, Bulma hadn't interrupted his training nearly as much in the past couple of months. He had figured her work was keeping her busy. She was constantly running off to business meetings here of late leaving nothing but a hurried excuse in her wake; "Sorry, babe, I've got a meeting with the blah blah of the blah blah corporation, do you mind watching Trunks? Dinner's in the fridge, all you have to do is warm it up. Okay thanks, bye" And then she'd take off without waiting for a reply. He didn't mind of course. However, he acted like he did, sneering and grumbling all the way, but in reality it didn't bother him...well usually. These business meetings were becoming all too frequent.

Vegeta didn't pretend to understand the intricacies of running one of the largest corporations in the world, and he didn't bother to learn. He found it tedious, and to be honest, rather beneath him. Long ago, Bulma had attempted to explain it to him, but the only thing she had succeeded at was nearly putting him to sleep. It wasn't that he couldn't grasp what she was saying; he simply found it useless. "What's the point of competing with rival businesses?" he had asked, "Why not just destroy them?" Bulma didn't take kindly to that question. He sighed, well whatever floated her boat. Yet, now he was growing frustrated. All of his clothes were missing. In fact, now as he looked around the massive bedroom, all of his belongings were gone.

"Okay this isn't funny."

"No, its not," a voice said behind him.

He spun around. Odd, he hadn't sensed Bulma in the room.

She stood there in the doorway, her posture rigid with her slender arms folded in front of her like some sort of Egyptian relic. But it was her facial expression that threw him off. Her mouth was set in a tight line, which was a dead give away she was angry, yet her nose wasn't crinkled, so perhaps she was worried. No, the prince considered, this wasn't the case either; her eyes were downcast.

And that was the factor that had perplexed him the most. Her eyes had never been downcast before, at least not like that. It almost looked…what? Sad? Hurt? It was impossible to tell.

Giving up on his attempt to decipher his mate's current mood, he cocked his head slightly, ready to demand what she had done with his things, but stopped short. He felt uneasy in her stoic presence. He suddenly wondered what he had done this time to set her off. She had known he was going off for a couple of days. He even told her around what time of day to expect his return. So why was she upset? And then the thought dawned on him that perhaps something had happened with Trunks.

Yet, he knew this wasn't the case. If his son were in danger he would have felt it. Granted, he hadn't seen the boy when he came in a few minutes ago, so just to be safe he quickly did a ki search. No, Trunks was just fine, in fact he was with Goten over at Krillen's place.

Vegeta stared at his mate a few moments to see if she would say anything. It wasn't like her to stand silent, if something was wrong he was the first to know.

This wasn't by choice, of course. She was a master at ranting, and unfortunately he was the one she usually would rant to. But over the years he had learned to block her out and simply nod. It was a conditioned reaction that had taken hundreds of pointless arguments for him to hone. It wasn't that he didn't care to listen to what she had to say, but the smallest things would set her off. No matter how enormous or petty the situation, the reaction was the same; a broken nail or a loved one's death, both necessitated a lament worthy of Greece. So she was dramatic. He had learned to live with it, but now she wasn't ranting. Something wasn't right.

"Bulma, what's wrong?"

The question seemed to throw her off guard as her blue eyes shot up quickly then went back to the carpet. He wondered at her again, `What? Was she expecting me to yell at her?' This was confusing him more and more by the minute. Her eyes stayed glued to the floor. Out of morbid curiosity he followed her line of vision to the carpet to see what was mesmerizing her so. Nothing there.

"Bulma?" he repeated.

Finally she took a deep breath.

"We need to talk, Vegeta."

He felt an involuntary knot form in his stomach. Her voice was cold, mechanical almost. In eleven years he had never heard her speak in such a way, he didn't think her capable of it.

"Okay" was all he could say to her, the feeling of unease intensifying.

"Vegeta, there are some things I need to tell you."

He wondered why she kept using his name. He didn't like it associated with that icy tone, not from her.

"Such as?"

"I think you should sit down."

The statement left no room for argument. He hated to be told what to do, but without even a questioning thought he obediently walked past her and sat on the bed. `This isn't right,' his mind kept repeating, `something is terribly wrong'.

Then it struck him; Bulma had gone to the doctor's office a week ago after mentioning that she wasn't feeling well. They had taken some lab tests and this would be about the time they would have the results.

The Prince of Saiyans felt his stomach turn, `By the Gods, what if something's wrong?' he thought frantically, `What if she has some incurable disease…oh Kami, what if it's cancer? Doesn't that run in her family?' He couldn't remember.

"Are you okay? You're not sick are you?" he asked quickly, his voice filled with concern.

Again, he had managed to surprise her. Her eyes flickered, and suddenly filled with tears. She had seldom heard him like this before and was startled by his demeanor. She expected him to be cranky or dismissive, perhaps that's what she felt he should be like. It wasn't often that he showed outright concern. Her tears, however, went unshed. `It's now or never,' she reasoned with herself, squaring her shoulders.

"Vegeta, I'm pregnant."

His eyes widened, and a wave of relief washed over him. She was okay. So, he was going to be a father a second time around.

"Well this is good news, isn't it? Why are you-

He never had a chance to finish his sentence.

"It's not yours."