Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ What We Deserve ❯ Chapter Four ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of the characters associated with the manga, anime, or movies.

CHAPTER FOUR

The press conference, although stressful, had been relatively uneventful. Nobody seemed to doubt Bulma's story of a malfunction. Accidents happened. She had reassured them that they were looking into it, and were quite certain they had identified the source of the problem and rectified it. More tests were being performed to ensure that nothing else had been compromised. In the meantime, she wanted to apologize to the residents of West City and thank them for their understanding.

She strode away from the media, taking no further questions, and met with an assistant off to the side. They side-eyed each other, wordlessly acknowledging the barrel of lies Bulma had just fed the press. Bulma had briefed the staff on the legitimate issue, and then informed them of what she would be sharing with the media. She had made it painfully clear that she expected no problems or leaks to the press. She didn't have to worry: The employees were too terrified of Vegeta to dare say anything contrary to Bulma's official story, and respected the Briefs' too much to sell them out.

Once inside the house, she unbuttoned her grey suit jacket and rolled her shoulders. She had never particularly liked press conferences and liked lying to the scrum even less. She was always certain her face betrayed the truth, and she wrestled with what she hoped was a poker face the entire time.

“We may have to get used to this,” Dr. Briefs mused from across the room.

Bulma started. She hadn't realized he was there. “Oh! Dad, you scared me.”

“I'm sorry, sweet pea,” her father replied. “I know the media makes you jumpy.”

Bulma just sighed, hunching over. “I'll talk to Vegeta when he's better,” she said. “Maybe I can bribe him into not destroying any more gravity rooms.”

“Is…” Dr. Briefs started, then stopped short.

Bulma looked up at him. “What?”

Dr. Briefs hesitated. “Well. Is Vegeta planning to… stay long?”

Bulma frowned. “What do you mean? He's training to help us fight the androids. You know that.”

Dr. Briefs nodded. “Yes. Well. He left to do some work in space before. I was wondering if he planned to do so again.”

Bulma gaped at her father. “Are you trying to get rid of him?”

“No! No, of course not, dear,” he said. “No, nothing like that. Of course he's welcome to stay. I was just wondering. He is becoming quite the liability.”

“He's becoming an integral part of the team that will beat the androids!”

Dr. Briefs looked at his daughter in surprise. She was leaning towards him, her hands on her hips and anger on her face. He hadn't expected such a reaction from her about Vegeta. At best, she had always seemed so indifferent towards him, and at worst, when he pushed her buttons and made demands, angry. But she was right, of course. Vegeta was trying to help save all their lives. He didn't have to. He owed them nothing. Dr. Briefs' face softened.

“You're right, Bulma. I was out of line.”

Bulma straightened and pulled her arms across her chest with a huff. “I know he's difficult, but honestly, Dad. I didn't expect this from you.”

Dr. Briefs just shook his head. He sensed a fight coming. Bulma had a stubborn streak a mile long and she could become quite snide. He was often able to avoid her temper because they understood each other's rational and scientific ways of thinking, but occasionally he came up against her rough edges. Now seemed to be one of those times.

“Why don't you go on up and see if he needs anything?” he suggested gently, and smiled a truce at her as he wandered away.

Bulma sighed. She had been checking on Vegeta frequently the past couple days. His physical health had improved considerably even in such a short time, but his attitude had soured just as much. He resented being restricted to his bed and tended to by Bulma. He became particularly aggravated when he happened to spot the replacement gravity room set up on the lawn through the window.

Most of Bulma's visits were purely medical. She checked his vitals, updated his charts, adjusted his morphine dosage, and took X-rays to monitor his progress. He particularly hated the X-rays because it meant he had to let her wheel him down the hall into another room on the gurney. He had never felt so belittled. But she felt compelled to check him regularly because his improvements were so rapid and so unlike a human's.

Less often, she dropped in just to see how he was. He hated these visits most of all. She made small talk with him and bombarded him with encouraging statements about how he'd soon be back on his feet and he'd be a Super Saiyan before he knew it. Vegeta ground his teeth down and stared deliberately at the opposite wall, a vein popping in his temple.

She made a detour by her bedroom to change out of her uncomfortable office attire and donned her current favourite striped dress before wandering over to Vegeta's hospital room. This would be a medical visit. She was confident that by now Vegeta could be taken off the morphine drip.

When she entered the room, the bed was empty.

Bulma froze in place, looking at the hanging intravenous cord, flatlining heart monitor, and tussled sheets with growing irritation. It was at that moment that she realized she could hear the unmistakable sound of the gravity room humming away.

That fucking idiot was back training! As if this call had not been close enough!

Incensed, she stomped down to the lab and nearly ripped the computer keyboard apart as she punched in passwords and pulled up the video connection to the gravity room. An image of the inside of the newest model appeared before her with Vegeta spinning circles in the air, bandages hanging off him.

She stared at him for the briefest of moments, her mind blown that he would abandon his much-needed rest for more training, putting himself at even further risk. He was insufferable!

“Vegeta!” she exploded at him. “Just what do you think you're doing!? You need to rest before you kill yourself!”

Vegeta said nothing but, distracted by her unexpected video call, faltered in his orbit and fell heavily to the ground, driven down by the intense gravity.

“Nothing to say?” Bulma goaded him. “Because you know I'm right. Now come inside this instant!”

He wrenched his neck up to stare at her furiously and Bulma could feel the heat of his rage even through the monitor. “I do have something to say!”

The wince at the end of his sentence was slight, barely noticeable, and if Bulma had not been watching him closely with the observational skills of a trained medical professional, she might have missed it. But she caught it and it was unmistakable: The way his lips pulled downwards in a grimace - not a frown - and his left eyebrow twitched gave his otherwise proud, stoic appearance away. He was in pain.

She became concerned about him. He was obviously not doing well, struggling against the pressure, which was surely doing his cracked ribs no favours. “Something wrong?” she asked, before choking back her worry. He didn't deserve her compassion when he treated everyone - including himself it seemed - so dismissively. She had done nothing but try to help him since the moment he came back to Earth, and he had done nothing but snarl and glare at her, and expect custom equipment from her and her father. She changed her tone. “Or are you going to apologize to me? If that's the case, let's hear it!”

Sparks practically flew from Vegeta's eyes as he roared, “Leave me alone!!”

Blood pounded in Bulma's ears and she couldn't keep the hurt off her face. His words stung. Despite the pain he so obviously felt, he was still determined to remain an island unto himself, accepting help or sympathy from no one, single-minded in his desire to achieve his goal. She knew Vegeta was a proud, angry person, but she didn't think he was so impenetrable as this. Why was he so incapable of recognizing his limits and accepting the support of people who wanted to help him?

Before her face gave too much away, as she was certain it would, Bulma ended the call and sat moodily at the desk for quite some time.

Vegeta was definitely an enigma to her.

***

The explosion could be seen clear across the city. A bright flash of light followed by thick, dark smoke that hung heavily in the sky, turning day to night. The smell of sulfur singed his nostrils and he coughed uncomfortably, pulling the neck of his shirt over his mouth. All around him, people ran screaming, desperate to put as much distance as possible between them and what used to be Capsule Corporation.

Of course, they had no way of knowing yet that Capsule Corporation ceased to be. But he knew. There was no way the building had escaped an explosion of that size. He hoped desperately that it had been evacuated in time.

They also had no way of knowing that there was no point in running. They could run as far and as fast as they wanted, but there was no escape. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere would be safe ever again.

Beside him, Goku lay on the ground. He looked like he was sleeping but he knew better. His heart had seized and he had crumpled to the floor. Their only hope was dead, and all because of a heart virus.

The androids loomed before him - misshapen shadows cackling mercilessly. Their hands raised and, as energy burst from their palms, apartment buildings, office towers, schools fell into piles of rubble. Screams pierced his eardrums. He wouldn't forget those screams as long as he lived.

He should do something. He had trained for three years - surely there was something he could do. But his arms felt like lead as he tried to raise them. No matter how hard he tried, it was a struggle to just put one foot in front of the other. If he couldn't fight, he should at least try to run: a nearby gas station was ablaze and he knew that he needed to get out of there. But his feet felt cemented into the ground.

He twisted around, away from the carnage, and spotted Bulma. He exhaled deeply. Thank god, she was alive. Maybe she had a plan, an invention that could save them. Even if she didn't, he just wanted to hold her. He tried to reach for her, but his arms were still too heavy.

She slumped into the wreckage of the gravity room, hauling Vegeta out of it. Yes. Good. They needed Vegeta right now, especially if they couldn't rely on Goku.

But neither Bulma nor Vegeta seemed particularly interested in the androids, who continued to race through the sky, blowing up West City. Debris showered his face as another house fell victim to the androids' blasts, another scream ripping through the air as someone else lost a loved one.

While all around him people were losing friends and family, Bulma and Vegeta were finding each other. And panic gripped his heart as he watched their lips meet.

Yamcha woke with a start, his entire body flinching. The sudden movement caused Bulma to grunt irritably and roll away from him, but her sleep was barely disturbed. Yamcha's heart was racing. He was overwhelmed with a feeling of dread… but the dream eluded him. He struggled to remember what had upset him, but already his heart rate was returning to normal and the sense of terror he'd felt when he'd woken was fading into nothing. Beads of sweat cooled on his forehead. With a loud, frustrated exhale, he rolled over and almost immediately fell back asleep.