Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Unconditional Bonds (revamped) ❯ Plans of Action ( Chapter 17 )

Chapter Seventeen: Plans of Action

 

 

“Come on Trunks, you can do better than that.”

 

A small snarl broke the air.

 

“No fair! You're moving too fast”

 

The Super demi-Saiyan tried to throw another blast, but it was easily dodged.

 

Piccolo chuckled.

 

“You're moving too slow and your aim is off. Try again”

 

Trunks redoubled his efforts, actually starting to make contact with his hits. However, they were easily blocked. He growled in frustration, and started to concentrate as much as possible on the green blur that phased in and out around him. With a well-timed punch he managed to land a clean hit. Piccolo was thrown back a few feet in the air.

 

“That's more like it,” the Namek said, regaining his prior position in the sky, “Now try this.”

 

His ebony eyes glowed red and without further warning two searing beams shot forth in the direction of the little warrior.

 

“AH!” Trunks dodged.

 

Forgetting he was suppose to be sparring he looked at the older fighter in astonishment.

 

“Wow! Cool! I didn't know you could do that! Can you teach me how?”

 

Piccolo shrugged, “I don't see why not.”

 

A new voice cut in, severe in its tone, “First you need to learn to concentrate on your opponent. It's only been a couple of weeks and you're already starting to slip up.”

 

“Aww…but Dad, Mom wouldn't let me train.”

 

“No excuses!” the prince snapped, “You're training now, so pay attention.”

 

Trunks frowned at his father who watched from the balcony.

 

Piccolo gave the boy a quick grin, then slipped back into a fighting stance, Trunks followed suit and they began again.

 

Vegeta grimaced. He absolutely believed Trunks needed to train at least an hour or two everyday. Training taught discipline as well as strengthening the body and senses. It was a lack of discipline that had led to the incident last night. Trunks was lucky he didn't kill anyone. Saiyan rage had clouded his mind and muddled his wits, which on his native world would not have been a matter of great concern. But here, it was simply unacceptable; the elite would have to train him to control it.

 

Not to place all of the blame on Bulma for the incident, but it was Vegeta's belief that if Trunks had trained—as he ought to have done— the situation could have been avoided. The child could have released his aggressions in the gravity room instead of on Billy's face. He couldn't fault the boy, it <i>was</i> an alluring target after all.

 

He turned to walk back into the inner walls of the Lookout; he needed to get himself ready to meet with his former mate. They had loose ends to tie, plus he knew he was in for an earful. She blamed him fully for Trunk's behavior. Apparently, according to Dende's report, she even believed that he set the child up to do it. <i>What a bitch</i>.

 

Bulma was always the accusatory type, never seeing herself at fault for any reason. Shrugging it off, the prince made his way down the halls. However his journey was halted when something grabbed him from behind and pitched him backwards through the air. He collided with a fist and was hurled forward again. He threw his arms out, stopping himself in mid-air and sky-rocketed upwards. Vegeta looked down at his attackers. Piccolo floated below at one end, and Trunks at the other, both leering up at him obnoxiously. He smirked, so he was being ambushed. He powered up and dive-bombed the two of them, thus opening a free-for-all.

 

A few hours had passed and the three, now slightly battered, warriors went their separate ways to get cleaned up. Trunks stayed with Piccolo. The Namek was going to take him out to a remote area to teach him some new strategic moves, instead of the, “skill-less blow `em up, right in your face maneuvers,” his father had taught him. Vegeta retorted, stating that the so called `strategic' attacks, were “nothing more than sneaky-ass behind the back moves”. Piccolo had just laughed at him, and wished him luck. The prince would have loved to accompany them, but he had to take care of business first. He took to the air and began his flight towards the city; the sooner he got this over with the better.

 

More quickly than he would have liked he arrived at the hospital Bulma requested he meet her at. Judging by the location he knew he was in for a colossal guilt trip.

 

Last night when Dende delivered Vegeta's message, Bulma had asked the young guardian to tell the Saiyan Prince her wishes to meet with him on the next day. The elite was none too thrilled by this, but knew it was inevitable. He simply wanted to get it said and done with so he could carry on with his life.

 

He jogged up six flights of stairs devoid of sick strangers who crowded in slow moving elevators, re-infecting themselves and any one unlucky enough to be standing near them. Upon entering the sixth floor, he found and asked a nurse where his once-mate would be. She gave him a room number and after eyeing him warily for a few moments went back to her rounds.

 

The prince made his way down the sterile white hallway towards the room the nurse had pointed out. Upon opening the door the first thing he saw was a mummified figure; its limbs suspended from wires hooked to the ceiling. It leaned back in the bed with a respirator attached to its face. The eyes were the only part not wrapped in white gauze. Trunks said he had only hit him once. Apparently the blow had sent Billy flying and he had collided with the wall. The impact looked as if it shattered the majority of his bones.

 

<i>`That'll teach him not to mouth off to a Saiyan'</i>, the Prince thought with a hint of dark amusement.

 

Suddenly Bulma appeared from the bathroom wringing a wet rag in her hands. She was visibly startled to see the Saiyan standing in the doorway. She recovered quickly however and her mouth set into an angry line. Turning away from him she pointedly ignored his presence to put the cloth over Billy's eyes. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, muttering sweetly into his ear. The broken man mumbled something back to her and she smiled slightly. She stood up proudly, thinking her actions would have unnerved her ex-`husband'. To her surprise, he looked at her impassively with his arms crossed over his chest. She regained her composure.

“Let's talk outside in the rehabilitation park.”

 

Bulma walked past him towards the elevator, not waiting for a response; simply expecting him to follow. Although he knew it was a bit childish, he opened the window in the hall next to the room.

 

“Fine, meet you there.” And with that, jumped out and floated down the six stories into pavilion below. Bulma looked out the window with an infuriated look on her face and stormed to the crowded elevator full of coughing and wheezing patients.

 

Wedged between a wheelchair and a hacking old man, Bulma seethed. She didn't know what in the hell Vegeta was trying to prove by such an idiotic display. As if he wasn't in enough trouble as it was. Why couldn't he simply follow her? And to fly in public, really, he was just asking for it. It was obvious that he wasn't taking this situation seriously, which just confirmed her suspicions that he was indeed behind the attack. Trunks would never do something like this on his own. Bulma wondered why he had even bothered to show up today.<i> `Probably to gloat'</i> she thought uncharitably, <i>`that or see the fruits of his labor…probably both, the sadistic son of a bitch.' </i> A hatred welled up within her. She was angry to begin with, but now she was absolutely infuriated.

 

By the time she arrived at the pavilion she found him already sitting on a bench, half lounging. She wished fervently that she had some of Goku's power, just for an instant. One good blow to make him feel just an ounce of what Billy was going through now.

 

“Took you long enough,” he said snidely.

 

“Shut-up,” she snapped, “I don't have time to play games with you, Vegeta. Poor Billy nearly died last night.”

“Not much of a loss if you ask me.”

 

Bulma clenched her fists.

 

“I'm not asking you! Not that I need to since you were the bastard behind it!” she spat, rage in her eyes. “How could you do such a thing? Why can't you grow up and deal with things like an adult for once? I swear, Vegeta, if something's too complicated for you to understand you try solving it with your fists.” Her blue eyes narrowed, “And now you've dropped so low as to use Trunks as your weapon. I will not have my son a murderer, Vegeta.” There was an unspoken jab which the prince did not miss judging by the snarl that suddenly twisted his mouth, “We're lucky Billy's not paralyzed.”

 

Vegeta scoffed then suddenly snapped his fingers, “Damn, and I was hoping to at least land him in a wheel-chair for the rest of his life. I'll have to chastise Trunks later.”

 

Bulma went livid.

 

She took a breath to let all hell reign loose. But the elite cut her off.

 

“Why don't we cut the crap, Bulma? You know damn well that I didn't put Trunks up to anything.”

 

He looked her dead in the eyes, his black gaze penetrating her furious one.

 

“I couldn't care less what Billy thinks of me. But you should know me well enough by now to know that I fight my own battles. I don't fight through anyone else, especially my son. You know this.” It was a statement of finality, “So don't accuse me of hurting your precious mate. I had no idea what had happened until Trunks charged into the Lookout unannounced last night.”

 

He stood up and eyed the woman next to him, a look of utter dislike clearly etched on his fine features. “And if anyone needs to grow up, it's you.” He leaned forward, “You didn't bother to ask Trunks what he thinks of this whole matter. You didn't even explain why I was replaced by another man, or about that,” he said stabbing a finger at her not-showing-yet belly, “You left all of that to me.” He shook his head, utterly disgusted with her. “Shit, Bulma, I didn't know what to say to him. You were too selfish to actually sit down and warn him of any of this. You didn't warn me, which infuriates me to no end; but not warning Trunks is downright disgraceful.”

 

He backed away from her as if he couldn't stand her presence any longer, “Then you leave it to me to explain this whole travesty, when I'm not even sure what's going on myself. I told him only what I knew.” He smiled sardonically here, “Naturally he didn't take it too well.”

 

By this time Bulma had stood up as if she was going to retort, but the Saiyan was not going to grace her with the opportunity to do so. “Soon afterward,” he continued, “he over-hears Billy run his mouth off like an idiot.” His tone became agitated, “Trunks, <i><b>understandably</i></b>, let his anger get the best of him and you have the nerve to turn around and blame me! How was he supposed to react, Bulma? I'm not saying I approve of his behavior, but how is a nine year old supposed to take all of this? It's overwhelming for an adult.”

 

This shut Ms. Briefs up quite nicely.

 

He waited for her to respond, as she sat down heavily on the bench.

“You told him...about the baby?” Her voice shook as all of the anger and animosity rushed out of her replaced by an overwhelming feeling of guilt.

 

“Yes I did. <i><b>I</i></b> don't deceive the people I care about,” he paused to let <i>his</i> unspoken jibe sink in. It worked, judging by the way his ex-mate flinched. “Besides,” he added, “he was going to find out sooner or later.”

 

The blue-haired woman sighed deeply.

 

“No wonder he attacked Billy. It's true, Billy said things he shouldn't have.” Her head dropped, “Trunks must hate me.”

 

Vegeta wasn't going to show her any sympathy. He crossed his arms and stared down at her coldly.

 

Bulma pushed back the hair from her eyes, unnerved by the Saiyan's icy behavior.

 

“How is Trunks?”

“He's fine.”

 

“I really need to talk to him. We all need to have a long talk together.”

 

Vegeta sneered.

 

“This is your problem. I've already squared things with the boy. This is between you, Trunks, and that idiot Billy. I want nothing to do with it.” He uncrossed his arms. “But I will say this. I demand that I continue his training; he needs to learn some discipline in controlling his powers. Unless, of course, you want a repetition of last night.”

 

Bulma shook her head; the wind picked up and blew more strands of cerulean locks in her eyes. She again brushed them out of her downcast eyes. This was shaking her to her very core. Vegeta had never spoken to her so coldly before. He hadn't acted this way towards her in over ten years. She was just another person to him, she could feel it, and deep down it hurt her. Finally she sighed.

 

“No, you can train him. I don't want him becoming a threat to anyone or himself.”

 

Vegeta gave her a curt not.

 

“Glad to see that you're finally starting to speak with reason.”

 

Bulma finally looked up at him. He looked as he did when he first came to live at Capsule Corp.; proud and off-standish. Her heart jumped in her throat as she just then began to realize what she had lost. There before her was the man she had fallen so desperately in love with, and now he was no longer hers. He didn't even look the least bit hurt by any of this. There wasn't a shadow of the anguish she had witnessed when she had first admitted to the affair. He had looked so utterly destroyed and had disappeared for a week. She had heard he had nearly died. But now he looked completely whole and nefarious as ever.

 

She regained her composure.

 

“Well since you don't want to do this as a group, let's get this out of the way now.”

 

Bulma sat up straight.

 

“I think it would be best if Trunks stays at Capsule Corp. You can get him on the weekends and train him as much as you like then.”

 

Vegeta shook his head.

 

“No, Trunks stays at Capsule Corp. and I get him every day after school, then on the weekends.”

 

Bulma narrowed her eyes. They were both stubborn and greedy. This was going to take some real compromising.

 

“Look Vegeta, we both want to see our son. I won't get to see him at all with your plan.”

 

“He needs to train every day, and with you working as much as you do, you won't be there to monitor him.” The prince was growing annoyed; he didn't want to be here. This woman was had sorely grated his nerves.

 

“Look,” he relented, “I'm not trying to suggest that I should get him for the entirety of the day, just a few hours after school. You're not done with your work until around 5:30 anyway, so what's the big deal? Plus the weekend.”

 

“And he'll be home by 6:00? How about Monday, Wednesday and Friday, instead of everyday? He needs some time to be a kid and play, Vegeta. Besides he spars with Goten all of the time. Then how about all day Saturday, instead of the entire weekend? ” She looked dubious.

 

“Fine.” He gave a nod. “That's satisfactory.” He started to leave, “Now if that's all—”

 

“Wait, what about expenses?”

 

His ears perked, “Oh yes, I've been meaning to give these to you.” He reached into the pocket of his jeans and handed her a sleek brown bill fold that contained all of his Capsule Corporation credit cards.

 

Her mouth gaped. “But how will you pay for anything?” she asked dumbfounded, “You don't have a job. You don't have…anything; all you came to Earth with is the clothes on your back!”

 

The warrior chuckled darkly.

 

“You seem to have forgotten that I was an elite soldier in Lord Frieza's forces. Not to mention that I am, indeed, a prince. That does come with some perks, including monetary remunerations.”

 

This was the first time in a long while he used the word `Lord' when speaking about Frieza. It couldn't be helped; Frieza was considered a god in much of the galaxy. A feared god, but a god nonetheless. So there was a certain sick sense of pride in Vegeta's association with him. He found this pride disgraceful, but it was there anyway.

 

“I was <b>well</b> paid for my 20 years of service.” He gave her a cruel look, as if to arrogantly remind her of what he once was. “One quick trip to outer space and I'll have more money than even you can imagine.”

 

This was not entirely accurate. True, Vegeta was well paid and he did have wealth tucked away on a distant planet but it was only enough to allow him to live in a mild lap of luxury; nowhere near the Capsule Corporation fortune. In theory he would have, but in his youth he blew a good portion of his money on spacecrafts. He and Radditz had an on-going competition on who had the better, top-of-the-line vehicle. Ultimately Vegeta won, but only because he was paid more.

 

But Bulma knew nothing of this. She had the habit of covering her ears never when it came to the subject of his past. Regardless, a trip to space and a meeting with the intergalactic monetary trade federation to convert Outbase credits into Earth cash and he would be set. Undoubtedly, he'd need a space pod for this so he failed to give her back the capsules that contained a ship.

 

“So that's it; you don't want anything? No money, no gravity room...nothing?”

 

He shrugged, “Just for you to keep your part of the agreement with Trunks.”

 

She nodded. He began to walk away again.

 

“Vegeta...stop.”

 

He nearly kept walking, part of him wanting nothing more than to close her off for the rest of his life, but his rare display of manners dictated otherwise.

 

“What?” he snapped annoyed.

 

“I know it probably doesn't make a difference. But I'm sorry things turned out the way they did. I never meant to hurt you or Trunks.”

 

He started to float in the air. Rather nastily he smirked. “You're right Bulma, it doesn't make a difference.” The smirk faded and his voice grew quiet, “You can sleep soundly in knowing you actually succeeded in hurting me. I knew we weren't doing well, but you could have said something. This could have been ended on much better terms. Your silence is unforgivable.” His voice returned to its mocking candor, “But I'm over it as I am with you.”

 

That one struck home, and man did it hurt.

 

“Yes, Goku filled me in on your little speech. I was aware of the consequences the entire time. I knew what I was giving up.” She said rather coolly, insinuating that it wasn't much. She too could deal the sharp remarks.

 

“Do you?...humph. Well at least Kakarott is good for something, I was afraid he'd forget half of it before he'd ever reach you. And as for Trunks, he's strong; he'll learn to deal with it. But I do suggest you keep Billy on a tighter leash next time. That wagging tongue of his will be the death of him.”

 

And with that he blasted off towards the sky. Bulma watched him leave, fighting her raging emotions and wiped the few tears that escaped from her eyes. She didn't want it to be like this, not at all. She didn't want Vegeta and herself to be enemies.

 

The blue hair genius looked up at the hospital, Billy would be wondering about her. Her heart swelled with warmth. At least he was there by her side.

 

 

Vegeta flew fast and he flew recklessly.

 

“Stupid, low-born bitch! I can't believe she actually thought I put my own child up to that. Damn her,” he muttered to himself. In a mocking high-pitched voice he mimicked, “I'm so sorry, Vegeta. I'm so sorry I was a cuntish whore and hurt your feelings. Oh and by the way, I'm also sorry I didn't explain a damn thing to my own son. Guess you were good for something after all.” The ocean passed beneath him in a blur, the waves billowing out from his high speed over them. “By the Demons!” he continued exasperated, “I can't believe she actually apologized. As if she didn't fuck me over enough, she had to patronize me on top of it.” He growled.

 

He did not want it to be this way. He thought if they couldn't be friends then at least they could be civil to one another, but all the pent up anger got the best of him. Half of him felt guilty for the way he had spoken to her, yet another part wanted nothing more than to blast her off the face of the planet. When he saw her, all of the hurt and rage erupted within him and it taking a fair bit of self control to contain it. So, that being said, he was quite proud of himself for not being harsher with her. Still, as angry as he was, he didn't hate her, he didn't want to. Despite her lack of loyalty she was a good person, if not a good mate then a good mother.

 

He sighed and slowed his pace flying more smoothly. At least they got Trunks taken care of. He probably wasn't going to like the arrangement at first, but hopefully he'd learn to adapt. The prince would run it by him to see how the boy felt about it when he reached the Lookout. With more thought put into it, he decided next time he met with Bulma he'd try to be more civil with her, if not for their sake, then for their son's. The last thing the boy needed was his parents to be at each other's throats.