Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Whatever It Takes ❯ Chapter 7

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

AN: Thanks go to Rihannon for my second review, and what a nice review it was! I appreciate it!

This chapter introduces a big turning point in the story which you'll see in the next chapter. That's where the real action starts. (Hint: read Chapter One again...) In this chapter, you will see some lines I took from the anime. I have, however, rearranged the bits from that scene to suit my purposes.

Special thanks go to my better half for reviewing this for me. :)

Please let me know what you think and, as always, enjoy!

: : = telepathy

< > = the Saiyan language

Disclaimer: Dragonball Z was created by Akira Toriyama. It is owned/licensed by Toei, Bird Studios, Shonen Jump, Funimation, and Viz, not me. However, you will see some characters that weren't created by Toriyama-san, and those are my brainchildren. No money was made in the production of this work, more's the pity.

Chapter Seven

Chi-Chi rang the doorbell and waited. She hadn't seen Bulma since everyone got back from Namek and was eager to see her friend, especially if the rumors she'd been hearing were true. But oftentimes rumors were just that- rumors- and she wanted to confirm the truth behind them for herself.

Besides, evidently Bulma was sick in bed, which wasn't a good thing if she really was expecting a baby. Chi-Chi knew that Bulma loved her spicy chicken tortilla soup and had made some especially for her.

The door opened and she smiled at the little boy who stood in the doorway. "Good morning, Dende. How are you today?" she asked cheerfully as she stepped inside.

"Good morning, Mrs. Son. I'm just fine, thank you. You?"

"I'm well, thanks, but I hear that Bulma is sick and I wanted to come bring her some soup."

"Well, actually she's not sick, she's-"

Chi-Chi turned her head and looked behind her, not hearing what the little Namek had to say. "Gohan, come along now," she called to her son.

"Coming, Mom!" Gohan pushed the air car door shut, burdened down with a stack of textbooks that nearly obscured his vision. "Hi, Dende!"

"Gohan, can I help you?" Dende exclaimed, rushing over to take some of the books from his friend. It wasn't as though they were too heavy, but the top of the stack looked rather unstable.

"Thanks Dende," Gohan said gratefully, handing over part of the books.

"What are all of these books for?" Dende wanted to know as they came indoors.

"Gohan is still behind in his studies after gallivanting all over outer space the way he did," Chi-Chi announced in a voice that would allow for no contradiction on either boy's part. "I told him he could only come if he did part of his homework while we were here."

Dende's eyes grew big as saucers. "That's just part of your homework?" he squeaked in terror.

"Uh-huh," Gohan agreed wearily.

"What was that?" Chi-Chi prompted as she hung up her jacket in the coat closet. "That isn't proper grammar, young man."

"Sorry, Mom." Gohan gave his own jacket to his waiting mother.

"All right. Let's go see Bulma and then you can get started on your studies," Chi-Chi decided.

"But Mrs. Son, Bulma is still-"

Again Chi-Chi didn't seem to hear what Dende had to say and thrust the bowl of soup into the boy's hands. "Dende, would you please put this soup in the refrigerator for me? Thank you."

"But..." Dende watched helplessly as Chi-Chi and Gohan headed for the stairs. Chi-Chi wasn't necessarily being rude to him, he realized, but seemed rather distracted by whatever was on her mind. He should have been a little more assertive with the strong-willed woman, since Bulma was still asleep, as was someone else in the room. He hadn't emerged from Bulma's room yet, anyway.

The boy poked his head into the den. "Guys, just so you know, I think the fireworks will be starting soon," he informed his fellow Namekians.

"Why, what's wrong, Dende?" Moori asked, alarm coloring his features as he poised himself to get up from his seat.

"Well... nothing's really wrong," Dende began hesitantly. "Chi-Chi is here, and she just went upstairs to see Bulma."

A few gasps and nervous chattering rippled through the room.

"I did try to stop her," Dende offered.

The elder Namek considered this. "Well, be it upon her own head, then," he decided, much to the boy's shock. "What? I have no desire to confront Vegeta, especially if I woke him up, do you?"

The boy paused, considering this. As shocking as Moori's statement had been, he was forced to agree. After all, he had tried to warn the woman. "I guess so," he conceded with a shrug, then plopped down in front of the television to play a game of Tetris.

***

"Mom, aren't we a little early?" Gohan asked. "After all, she is sick, right?"

"Nonsense, Gohan. That's why we're here," Chi-Chi insisted, rapping on the bedroom door. "We'll visit for a little bit and see if she needs anything, then we'll go. The Briefs are on a business trip, so she probably needs someone other than the Nameks to look after her. I doubt they know how to cook."

"Yes, but Vegeta is here. I can sense him nearby. Maybe he's helping take care of her while her parents are gone. I don't think they would just leave her by herself," Gohan pointed out.

Chi-Chi gave him a look that clearly said that her son hadn't thought that one through very well. "Son, do you really think that horrid man would have anything to do with Bulma, let alone lift his royal finger to help?" She knocked again and opened the door a crack. "Bulma?"

A growl issued from within the bedroom. "What the hell?" Vegeta grumbled, rolling onto his stomach and pulling his pillow over his head. The one day he actually planned to sleep in, Kakarrot's brat and- worse yet- harpy mate decide to show up.

Bulma drew in a deep breath as she awoke. "Chi-Chi?" she asked in surprise, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Chi-Chi's eyes, on the other hand, were wide with surprise. "B-Bulma? Is that... are you...?" The usually quick spoken woman was shocked speechless. That couldn't possibly be who she thought it was in the bed with her friend, could it?"

"Go away, Female!" came Vegeta's annoyed voice from under the pillow. "Begone, before I blast you and your brat to the next dimension!"

Bulma sat up and grabbed her own pillow, smacking it down hard onto her mate's head. "Would you please shut up?" she snapped, ignoring the growling coming from the other side of the bed. "What are you doing here, Chi?"

"I... I heard you were sick," Chi-Chi managed. "I wanted to know if you needed anything... Why is Vegeta in your bed?"

Vegeta flung both pillows at the door. "Go away, you meddling, bothersome woman!"

Chi-Chi's surprise quickly turned to indignance and she placed her hands on her hips. "Why, you royal pain in the neck!"

"Both of you shut up," Bulma interrupted. "I don't need this first thing in the morning. Kami, do I ever have to pee." She slipped out of the bed and padded toward her bathroom.

"Bulma, you... you're going to have a baby," Gohan exclaimed upon catching sight of her swollen belly. His mother hadn't told him that, just that Bulma was unwell.

Vegeta sat up in the bed and rolled his eyes. "Not many people have ever truly managed to astound me, but the lack of clarity of whether this brat boasts his mother's or father's intellectual ability is utterly mind boggling indeed." He smirked at the infuriated look on Chi-Chi's face and the way her clenched fists were shaking with rage. "Aww, what's the matter, Harpy?"

Chi-Chi's face grew red now. "How dare you, you misbegotten, egotistical jerk!" she shrieked.

"See what I mean?" Vegeta turned his attention to the demi-Saiyan standing in the doorway, who was shaking his head and waving his hands to indicate his wish not to become involved. "No wonder your father chose to die rather than return here-"

"That does it!" Chi-Chi shouted. She stormed across the room, fully intending to strangle the smirking man sitting in her friend's bed.

Gohan stepped in front of his rampaging mother in an attempt to intercede. "Mom, please don't do this," he pleaded. "You know that it's not what Dad would have wanted."

Chi-Chi stared at her son for a moment before finally relenting. He was right. Goku really wouldn't want her to behave this way. "Fine." Her eyes snapped back to Vegeta. "What are you doing here?" she demanded.

"Woman, I live here," Vegeta told her in a tone of voice one might use when addressing a small child.

Chi-Chi huffed in exasperation. "I know that. I meant what are you doing in Bulma's bed?"

Vegeta scowled at her. "Is it not permissible for a man to lie beside his own mate as he sleeps?" he asked, sarcasm coloring his voice. "That is what we were doing when you arrived here, Woman."

"Mate?" Chi-Chi echoed. "Just what do you mean by that?"

Bulma emerged from the bathroom. "Just what it sounds like, Chi," she responded, having heard the other woman's question. "We're together."

"Animals take mates," Chi-Chi informed her haughtily. "You aren't animals. Well, at least not you, Bulma."

"Would you like to see just how much of an animal I am?" Vegeta remarked, slipping out of the bed.

Chi-Chi immediately covered her son's face and turned hers away in distaste. "Oh! For the love of Kami, would you kindly put some clothes on, you vile little man?"

"Aww, what's the matter, Harpy?" Vegeta taunted. "I was under the impression that you liked naked Saiyans."

"Only when they're worth looking at, and stop calling me that!" Chi-Chi screeched, covering Gohan's eyes even more tightly.

"See? Just proving my point." Vegeta's smirk widened.

"Mooom..." the poor boy began. He didn't want to embarrass his mother by pulling away from her, but her grasp was becoming irritating, not to mention embarrassing.

"Both of you can it!" Bulma yelled. "Vegeta, quit provoking her and put some clothes on. Chi-Chi, you quit provoking him. And couldn't you have at least called first before you came over?"

Vegeta had decided that the raven-haired banshee had learned her lesson and was pulling on a pair of shorts. "I concur. After all, you should be grateful we were sleeping in the traditional sense of the word, Woman." He smirked at the disgusted look Chi-Chi gave him.

Bulma ran her hand over her face and sighed. "Vegeta, I swear to Kami..." She looked over to her mate, who was walking out onto the balcony, athletic shoes in hand. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"To train, and to relieve my ears from the cacophony of all of the screeching going on since I was so rudely awakened this morning," he told her dryly.

Bulma ignored his sarcasm. "But, I need you to take me for my follow-up appointment with Natsue. We need to leave in a little more than an hour," she objected.

Vegeta frowned at her. "Do not presume to tell me what I must and must not do," he informed her. "This is females' business. Ask Harpy over there take you."

Bulma held up a hand before Chi-Chi could say anything. "Guys, could you give us a moment, please?"

Chi-Chi looked skeptical but finally lead her son out of the room, closing the door behind them. Bulma turned back to Vegeta when the door clicked shut.

"Vegeta, this is for our baby. I need you there with me," she insisted.

"And I told you that not only is it imperative that I train, but that unborn brats are the concern of females, not mine. I have no intention of returning to that physician's office to be poked and prodded and questioned again," Vegeta told her tersely.

"Vegeta, I know how important your goals are and I know that you'll achieve them. But this is important to me. This check-up won't be about you. It's to see whether or not I'm able to return to normal activities yet." Bulma reached out to take his hand in hers.

"All the more reason that it is unnecessary for me to accompany you," Vegeta pointed out. "Have Kakarrot's harpy accompany you. Your physician did indicate that it would be beneficial to converse with her, did she not?"

Bulma opened her mouth to respond and shut it again. "But..." She fought back tears; he was right when he said there was really no point in his being there, and Natsue would benefit from talking to Chi-Chi. "I... I guess you're right," she whispered. "I just really wanted you there with me, that's all."

Vegeta held in a sigh as he tried to ignore her tears. "Bulma, I will be here upon your return," he told her in a low voice. "Just go with Kakarrot's mate. Now, return to bed and calm yourself, before I need to eat triple fudge brownie ice cream in front of you again."

His lips curled up into a smirk at her indignance. It wasn't as though he had been consciously keeping track of her, but he had decided to take advantage of the fact that Nuiko had hung around for just over two hours one afternoon and had used the opportunity to cash in on a bowl of the delectable treat. Bulma had thought it was so sweet of him to bring her dinner instead of her mother- that is, until she saw the large bowl of ice cream, complete with whipped cream and a cherry, on the tray beside her dinner. Vegeta had perched himself at the foot of the bed facing her and fairly devoured the ice cream.

"You're evil," she'd pouted.

"It took you this long to come to that realization?" he'd countered with amusement. Once he'd finished his ice cream, he got up from the bed and went over to his scowling mate, placing an oh so sweet kiss upon her lips. "No more disobedience," he'd whispered in her ear. "Although, I'm very much looking forward-" he chuckled huskily- "to punishing you when your physician gives you leave."

Hot and frustrated, she'd watched him leave the room, thinking of ways that she could punish him. Now, her eyebrow rose. "You would too," she accused him darkly as she got back into the bed.

Vegeta chuckled as he had before. "Of course I would, if you're that eager to watch me to eat your favorite ice cream. Why shouldn't I? It's quite tasty." He smirked at her scowl and planted another kiss on her lips.

Bulma couldn't keep the stupid smile off of her face. "Veg?"

Vegeta had recently come to the somber realization that the woman simply would not be broken of this ridiculous habit of addressing him in usages other than his actual name. "What is it, Woman?"

"Would you get me something to eat before you go to the GR?" she asked.

Vegeta opened the bedroom door. "Unless you want cereal, you had best ask Kakarrot's woman to cook you something," he advised.

"I don't mind," Chi-Chi responded. She hadn't left the hallway and scowled at him as he stepped through the doorway.

"Good." Vegeta eyed the dark-haired woman. "Bulma needs to go to her physician's office. I have determined that you should accompany her-"

"Don't tell me you're trying to shirk your responsibility to Bulma and this child," Chi-Chi spat angrily. "I can't believe you'd be such a lazy-"

Vegeta looked extremely perturbed but carried on anyway. "Woman, you have already birthed a Saiyan brat, and the physician has expressed a desire to speak with you. I would presume it to be safe to think that as my mate's friend, you would wish to accommodate her needs in a way that I cannot," he interrupted.

Chi-Chi's anger slowly faded and her face softened. "Oh. Well, that being the case, of course I would be more than happy to go with Bulma."

"Good. I leave the well-being of both the woman and the brat in your hands." There was a hint of warning in the Saiyan prince's voice.

"Don't you worry about that," Chi-Chi told him bluntly, unsure of whether to be offended by the implication or flattered that one such as he would want her help. "I'll get Bulma and the baby there just fine." She turned to Bulma. "What did you want for breakfast, Bulma? I can cook you something while you shower."

"Oh, I'll have whatever Vegeta's having," Bulma responded casually.

Again Chi-Chi found her reaction torn; should she be irritated that Bulma had recruited her to cook for a man she didn't like one iota, or impressed by the way she had done it? These two were like peas in a pod this morning! "I see," she responded, a hint of amusement in her eyes; evidently she had chosen the latter option. "Well Vegeta, I'm not your servant so if you want breakfast, I expect you to pitch in."

Vegeta scowled at her. "I'm not your servant either, Female."

"Vegeta, please just help Chi-Chi if she needs it," Bulma implored.

He scowled.

Bulma reached toward him. "Come here."

Vegeta's scowl deepened and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Please come here," Bulma repeated softly.

He relented with a sigh and put his shoes down before going over to her. "What is it, Woman?"

Bulma reached up and took his hand, pulling him down to her. "Thank you," she whispered. Before he could move, she turned her face up to his and kissed him.

~The harpy is watching.~ Vegeta's first inclination was to pull away, but his woman was persistent, as if she were aware of his intention, and put her free hand behind his head.

Chi-Chi found herself surprised when the Saiyan relaxed and he slightly leaned into Bulma's kiss. Could it be that the man actually cared about her? She would have to see what she could find out while she and Bulma were at the doctor's office.

When their kiss ended, Bulma's fingers brushed along Vegeta's cheek lovingly as he stood back up. "All right, all right, Woman," he grumbled, blushing ever so slightly. Her eyes shone with happiness, and he couldn't bring himself to chastise her, which irritated him. He was getting soft again. "You need to get in the shower." He turned away to leave and saw Chi-Chi watching him. "What are you looking at?" he grumbled.

"I'm simply concerned for my friend's welfare. Isn't that what you wanted?" Chi-Chi reminded him.

Vegeta pursed his lips. "Whatever, Woman," he growled. "Go make my mate some breakfast."

Chi-Chi stepped aside to let him out of the room. "Bulma, I just can't help but wonder, why-"

"Chi, I know what you're about to say. Don't, okay?" Bulma interrupted. "Please just go to the kitchen."

"He left, presumably to train, remember? I told him that I wasn't going to serve him if he didn't want to pitch in," Chi-Chi retorted.

"Mom? Vegeta's shoes are still here and he didn't leave through the window like he was going to before," Gohan pointed out. "His ki is headed towards the kitchen."

Chi-Chi sighed. "Fine. Take your shower, Bulma. Do you need anything before I go?"

Bulma shook her head. "Nope, I'm fine, thanks," she assured her friend.

"All right. Come along, Gohan." Chi-Chi headed down the stairs towards the kitchen, trepidation settling in her belly. What did Vegeta want from Bulma? Did he love her, or even care about her? Was he even capable of it? He was, after all, a heartless, cold-blooded killer. He was interested in training; perhaps he was simply after a comfortable place to do that and Bulma was a convenient bedmate until he tired of her.

But what if the prince actually did care about her? The very possibility boggled Chi-Chi's mind.

The prince in question looked up from the refrigerator with a sigh when Chi-Chi and Gohan entered the kitchen. "The woman already consumed all of the health conscious bread her mother purchased for her," he mumbled. "She cannot have anything fried, and the smell of even poached eggs makes her ill." He shut the refrigerator door and eyed the dark haired woman speculatively. "There are not many consumables available to choose from. I suppose you will need to be creative." He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Couldn't Bulma just go out to eat?" Gohan asked.

"No," Vegeta responded sternly. "The physician for females indicated that she must remain in bed until she is given leave." He went back to rifling through the contents of the refrigerator.

"Then what else is there?" Chi-Chi mused. "She can't have eggs, pancakes are fried..."

"Cereal," Gohan interjected. "She could eat cereal, right?"

Vegeta stood up and shut the refrigerator door. His hand slowly set the now empty carton of milk he'd just finished onto the countertop and grimaced at the boy, who'd winced when he'd seen the carton.

"Oh, wonderful," Chi-Chi mumbled. So much for that idea. "I could make her some oatmeal."

Now, oatmeal was something that Vegeta knew how to prepare. Through bitter experience while growing up, he already knew how to cook enough things to survive on, but he was damned if he'd admit to that. Oatmeal was easy. "Go ahead, but you'll only hear, 'Oatmeal again? I'm so sick of it I could scream!' from the woman," he informed her.

Chi-Chi's lips suddenly twitched; whether it was in surprised amusement at Vegeta's quite good imitation of his mate or in annoyance he couldn't tell. "Very well," she conceded. "You said she can't have eggs?"

"She may as long as they have not been fried, but the odor of them makes her ill," Vegeta corrected her.

It was then that Chi-Chi realized with renewed surprise just how weary Vegeta looked. He, too, appeared to be at his wits' end trying to figure out how to feed Bulma. "Okay... What about hard-boiled eggs, once they've cooled?"

Vegeta's eyebrow rose. He hadn't thought of that. "Make it so," he directed with a slight nod. He selected an orange from the fruit bowl on the countertop and hesitated before starting to peel it.

Chi-Chi thought she heard the tiniest of sighs come from the prince standing nearby and held in a smile. Maybe he really did care about her friend after all. "How many eggs did you want, Vegeta?" she asked softly.

"Do not concern yourself, Woman," Vegeta responded. "I will attend to my own needs once you have left."

Chi-Chi paused in her task of selecting a pot with which to boil the eggs. "Are you sure? It's not any harder to boil enough for you."

"I will go to a dining establishment," he told her. As the words came from his mouth, he realized his error- he had no money. Bulma was the one who always paid when they went to a restaurant. Where could he get some money? Bulma had to have money stashed somewhere.

"Oh." Chi-Chi didn't notice his trepidation, as she had another concern in mind. "Well, I suppose we could bring Gohan with us," she mused. "He can work on his homework in the waiting room."

Vegeta watched the boy's eyes grow wide. "But Mom," he objected, "that's a lady's doctor you're taking Bulma to, isn't it? I don't want to go there." His nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Nonsense, Gohan. No one will bother you there. You know very well that you aren't old enough to stay home by yourself yet," Chi-Chi insisted, conveniently forgetting about the time her son had spent alone while preparing for Vegeta and Nappa's arrival.

"Can't I stay here?" Gohan continued, trying not to sound like he was pleading. "I could spend time with Dende."

Chi-Chi shook her head. "No, I don't want you spending too much time fooling around with Dende instead of doing your homework," she insisted, much to the boy's disappointment. "You're still behind, remember?"

Vegeta watched Gohan's face fall. He actually found himself feeling sorry for the boy, having been trapped in that miserable Kami forsaken waiting room himself. "I will take the boy with me," he heard himself saying. "Afterwards, we will spar, then he will attend to his schooling."

Chi-Chi realized she was gaping and shut her mouth. "You... you want to take him with you?"

"I broke the GR yesterday," Vegeta admitted, "and no one is available to fix it. The boy will spar with me instead."

Gohan brightened visibly. Even if Vegeta beat him up, it was a heckuva lot better than being stuck in a waiting room, ugh! "Oh, wow! May I, Mom? Please? It's physical education, right?"

Chi-Chi faltered momentarily. She didn't want to take time from her son's education and she didn't trust Vegeta. Then again, the prince was offering. What his true motives were she didn't know, but she knew that Goku would have leapt at the opportunity; even more, she was sure that Bulma would be pleased. "I suppose so," she relented.

"Thanks, Mom! Hey Dende, guess what?" Gohan exclaimed, running for the den. "I get to go to a restaurant, and spar with Vegeta! Isn't that cool?"

Chi-Chi watched her son scamper off and turned her attention to the older Saiyan. "Why?"

Vegeta scowled at her. "Do not question my motives, Female. Or would you rather disappoint the boy when I change my mind because of your loud mouth?"

Chi-Chi was about to retort but the look he gave her was dead serious. "Thank you for offering," she said quietly instead. "I know he misses spending time with his father." Her voice trembled slightly, and she turned back to the stove to check on her eggs.

Vegeta put the orange he'd peeled on a tray for Bulma. "Sure, whatever. How much longer until the eggs are cooked?" he asked in attempt to change the subject. He didn't know why he was carrying on a conversation with this annoying woman, and found it disconcerting that he was actually affected by her behavior. Yes, these females and their incessant outpouring of hormones and emotional outbursts he was forced to endure were making him soft. He would have to be sterner with his woman. No more weeping spells, and most definitely no more of these ridiculous displays of affection, especially around other females, who would think that it was 'sweet'. The Prince of all Saiyans was anything other than sweet!

She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled. "Ten minutes. The water just started to boil."

"Fine." Vegeta felt out for his mate's ki; she was still in the shower. He probed a little more deeply and discovered that she was singing to herself with that same off-key tone her mother sang in. A slow smirk spread over his lips; perhaps he would have a little fun with her. :Hurry up, Woman. Kakarrot's harpy is becoming annoying.:

Upstairs in her shower, Bulma let out a yelp of surprise and dropped the bottle of conditioner in her hand. "Vegeta? You scared the garbage out of me!" She couldn't see his shadow lurking outside of the shower, and somehow he just sounded different than he normally did. "Are you in here?"

:I am in the kitchen. And it is not necessary that you verbalize your words. I can 'hear' you just fine.:

"You're in the kitchen?" Bulma peered out of the shower. Sure enough, Vegeta wasn't there. "But... but, how?"

He snorted mentally. :Obviously I am conversing with you telepathically, Woman. Desist in speaking with your voice. Speak to me with your mind,: he directed.

:Like this?:

:Like that.:

:This is pretty cool! I didn't know Saiyans were telepathic!:

She received the mental equivalent of a roll of the eyes. :Hmph. Evidently, Woman.:

:Hey, don't get all sarcastic on me. Why did you wait so long to do this?:

Again, she received another mental gesture, a shrug this time. :I don't know. Perhaps I did not feel inclined to do so before now.: He paused. He was doing it again, damn it, and being playful with the woman. :Are you almost done?:

:Almost. Is Chi-Chi making breakfast yet?:

:Yes. It will be ready in ten minutes... The harpy is whining at me again.:

Bulma felt a sudden cold, empty feeling of loss in her mind as he terminated their mental conversation. It was a strange but, oddly enough, comfortable feeling to speak with him that way. In a way, the feeling of both his consciousness and his mental expression in her mind of reactions that were typically physical responses could almost be compared to remembering the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms as he held her, even after he was gone and elsewhere. It was an intimate feeling, a very close and personal, private interaction.

She decided she liked it, very much so, and wanted him to share the experience with her again.

***

"What, Woman?"

Vegeta's voice sounded distracted, possibly somewhat irritated, but not angry. "I was trying to talk to you," Chi-Chi began a little cautiously, "but you seemed rather absorbed by whatever you were thinking about. I didn't intend to startle you."

"You didn't," Vegeta informed her. "It would take more than even the screeching of your shrill voice to startle me."

Chi-Chi was about to retort in kind when she noticed the briefest glimpse of a naughty little twinkle in the Saiyan prince's eyes. Her irritation turned to surprise as she suddenly realized what her friend must see in this man, but managed to hide it. Could it be that Vegeta actually had a playful side? The very concept was staggering. The corner of her mouth curled up in a dry smile. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to shriek louder next time."

Ah! There it was again; she hadn't been mistaken. Chi-Chi found her curiosity piqued, wondering just what exactly hid beneath the bad attitude and scowl this man always portrayed.

"Hmph." Vegeta opened the refrigerator again and pulled out a carton of juice. He opened it and was just about to take a drink when he eyed her, set the juice on the counter, and pulled a glass out of the cupboard. He filled the glass with juice and left it there, scowled at her surprise, and stalked out of the kitchen. "Boy! I'm leaving. Get your ass out here if you don't want to be drooled on by worthless smelly brats all morning!" he shouted down the hall.

"Coming! I'm coming, Vegeta!" Gohan's voice answered quickly.

Chi-Chi stepped out of the kitchen and quietly crept toward the front door, where she saw Vegeta waiting impatiently as Gohan put on his jacket.

"Come along, Boy. It's not that cold out."

"Aren't we going to fly? That's cold."

"Hmph. Do you not know how to use your ki to keep yourself warm?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"But, nothing! If you cannot automatically do such things without even a thought, you're little better than a mere human. You need to quit fooling around and start working to better yourself, Brat, before you end up like your idiot father. Now, come along. I'm hungry."

Before Chi-Chi could say anything in her husband or son's defense or even express her opinion that he might want to wear a little more than spandex training shorts in public, Vegeta put the empty juice container on the small table by the door, grabbed a capsule from it, and ushered the boy outside.

"Uhm..."

"Spit it out, Boy."

"Aren't you, uhm..." Gohan sighed. He couldn't ask, not after just having had the conversation they did. "Never mind." He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets.

"Cold?" Vegeta laughed when the boy blushed. "Don't worry, Brat. I do have a little class." He levitated up and took the short route to the GR- up and over Capsule Corp.

Gohan followed him, eyeing the spaceship with curiosity. "What's the ship for?"

"I use it to train. The woman and her father equipped it to handle higher levels of gravity than that found on this mudball planet," Vegeta responded as he entered his access code.

Gohan's eyes widened with amazement as the ship's door opened with a mechanical hiss. "Wow, a gravity chamber? Is this like what Dad used when he was in space?"

Vegeta pursed his lips and went inside. The conversation had turned to that damn Kakarrot yet again. "So I have been told."

Gohan followed Vegeta in after a moment's hesitation and looked around. "Neat."

"Neat. Hmph." Vegeta returned to the main training area of the capsule, pulling a shirt over his head as he did so. "You may not find this place so fascinating when you're peeling yourself off of the floor later."

Gohan laughed a little nervously, running his hand along the back of his hair as his father was oft to do. "Yeah... maybe not," he agreed weakly. The floor did look pretty hard. It even had a few dents in it. He suppressed a gulp.

"Quit being such a weakling," Vegeta scolded as he put on his shoes. "You have allowed your human mother to make you soft and cowardly. Your father is not here, and even if he was he would not always be able to protect you. What will you do when a threat arises? Cower like a little girl and take it?"

"Well, no-"

"No, indeed! You will fight like the Saiyan you are until your dying breath," Vegeta interrupted firmly. "You will fight me like a warrior today, Boy. I will give you no quarter even for your age." He looked down his nose at the boy. "How old are you, Brat?"

"Five," Gohan responded, bravely meeting his prince's piercing gaze. "Almost six."

"Hmph." Vegeta turned and strode for the door. "You are still young. Perhaps there is hope for you yet, if your mother has not completely ruined you. Come along, Boy."

Gohan followed the surly prince, wondering if maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all- that is, until thoughts of the ladies' doctor's office returned to mind. Maybe it wouldn't hurt too badly when Vegeta pummeled him later that morning.

They flew back over the building and landed on the driveway, where Vegeta promptly opened a capsule containing a sleek red Ferrari Testarossa, the very vehicle that Bulma had attempted to bribe him to go in when he'd taken her to Natsue's office. If he hadn't been in such a hurry that day, he would most definitely have chosen this vehicle. It was Bulma's prized possession, and for good reason. Not only was it beautiful, but she'd had it custom built to suit her own little quirky desires. The perfectly tuned Italian V-12 rumbled like the throaty growl of a predatory beast on the hunt. It was the kind of car that made you salivate, as much as a starving man would when being presented with a nice, juicy steak with all the trimmings. She never let anyone else even touch it, let alone drive it.

Too bad for Bulma that her mate had seen her rather carelessly toss the capsule onto the table. It was her own fault, really.

"You took Bulma's Ferrari?" Gohan squeaked in horror.

"That's what it looks like, doesn't it?"

Who cared what Vegeta had in store for him? Bulma was going to kill both of them! "We're not going to fly?" Gohan asked hopefully. Maybe he could talk Vegeta out of this.

"I thought it was 'too cold'!" Vegeta whined in imitation of the boy. "Now hurry up and get in, would you?" He climbed into the vehicle and started the engine, a broad grin spreading over his face despite his efforts to hide it when he revved the souped-up engine a couple of times. He licked his lips in anticipation of the ride ahead. Ah, power...

Gohan got in and hurriedly buckled his seat belt, earning a wicked deep-throated chuckle from the older Saiyan. "I- I didn't know you knew how to drive," he stammered.

"I don't," Vegeta contradicted Gohan, whose eyes grew even wider. He had seen his woman drive vehicles enough times, and the humans on the tele-video box drove them all the time; how hard could it be? He could pilot spaceships, could he not? This would be child's play comparatively. He put the car in gear and hit the gas, renewing his grin as the sportscar fairly flew down the driveway toward the main road with a shrill squeal of its tires. That was another thing Vegeta appreciated about the car- it wasn't an air car. You couldn't make such gratifying noises with an air car.

Gohan gripped the seat with white-knuckled terror as Vegeta, whose laughter bordered on maniacal, whipped the car out onto the main road with a sharp, last-second turn.

"Awww, are we scared, little boy?" Vegeta taunted, ignoring the horn blaring from a vehicle he'd nearly hit.

"N-no," Gohan managed, sitting up straighter in his seat. ~And I thought Bulma was a crazy driver!~

"Sure, sure. Whatever," Vegeta responded in a carefree manner. "Where did you want to go, Boy?"

Gohan stared at Vegeta in shock. The prince had a contented expression on his face, seemed to be enjoying himself, and actually asked his opinion. "Uhm, there's a place that serves waffles we could go to. I went there once with Grandpa and it was good."

"Is that what you want? Waffles?" Vegeta eyed the boy briefly before turning his attention back to the road.

"Yes, please," the boy responded politely. "But if you want to go there, we need to turn at the next street-"

With another squeal of the tires, the sportscar cut in front of several other vehicles before tearing around the corner at an extremely sharp angle. "Move it, dumb ass!" Vegeta shouted out the window at another driver, grinning when the man yelled back angrily and shook his fist. Another driver appeared scared enough to have practically soiled herself, which Vegeta found to be equally amusing. Driving this Earth vehicle was indeed proving to be quite the fruitful source of entertainment!

Gohan slid down into his seat and pulled his hood down over his head to cover as much of his face as possible. He didn't need anyone to recognize him in the car with this insane driver, nor did he need to witness his death coming in the likely event that it should happen before they reached the restaurant.

"So where are we going, weakling?" Vegeta's good mood hadn't seemed to have diminished any; the only thing the man wasn't doing was singing along with the radio.

Gohan peeked out from underneath his hood. "Uhm, it's called the Interglobal Waffle Place," he responded meekly.

"What a stupid name. As for you, desist with the 'wells' and the 'uhms', Brat, and speak up," Vegeta demanded, despite being perfectly able to hear the boy. "Saiyans are not weak. We do what we want how we want it."

Gohan sat up straight in his seat again. "You need to turn again at the next street," he directed. "The building is the third one on the left."

Vegeta pulled the Ferrari into a space in a way that made it impossible to park next to him and cut the engine. "Now, where did I see that capsule?" he muttered, reaching past Gohan to rifle through the glove box.

"What are you looking for?" Gohan was almost afraid to ask.

"Money." Vegeta pulled out a couple of capsules, examined them, shrugged, and tossed one onto the pavement. "What the hell?"

Gohan couldn't hold in a childish little giggle as approximately fifty pair of shoes suddenly littered the parking lot. "Somehow I don't think that was the capsule you wanted."

"No kidding. Shut your trap and clean them up while I check this other one," Vegeta growled.

It was just as well; Gohan was grateful enough to still be alive that he'd had an overwhelming urge to throw himself out of the vehicle and kiss the sweet ground in relief. "Okay."

Vegeta frowned as the boy did exactly as he'd been told without complaint. He'd have to beat the complacency out of the little brat. He opened the next capsule, which contained the money he'd been looking for. Bulma always kept some emergency cash in her vehicle. "Hurry up, Boy."

"Almost done." Gohan encapsulated the huge pile of shoes and put the capsule back into the glove box.

Wordlessly, Vegeta headed for the restaurant, immediately scowling when he got inside. It was milling with people looking at merchandise as they waited for their table. "What the hell is all this crap?" he asked, poking at a Kami-awful shirt hanging on a clothes rack.

Gohan laughed. "I know! Isn't this stuff awful? Although I guess there are a few neat things scattered in with the dumb stuff."

There was that word again, neat. "Hmph. I just want my breakfast." He approached the hostess' podium as he'd seen Bulma do when they went out to eat.

"Good morning, Sir," the young lady behind the podium said. "How many for breakfast?"

"Two."

"Okay, smoking or non?"

"I don't care."

"Your name, Sir?"

"Vegeta."

"Okay. It'll be about ten minutes," she told him in the same bored voice.

"Fine." Vegeta crossed his arms irritably. They'd better have damned good coffee.

***

Gohan watched as Vegeta closed the GR door and armed the security system. "Vegeta?"

"What is it, Brat?"

Suddenly feeling nervous, Gohan almost started his sentence with 'uhm' but caught himself in time. "Thanks for breakfast and sparring with me today," he told the older Saiyan sincerely. "Sometimes Piccolo spars with me, but it's just not the same."

Vegeta knew what Gohan was trying to say- he missed sparring with his father. "Sure, whatever," he grumbled, herding the boy toward the house. "I expect you to be prepared next time. None of these sloppy blocks and weak attacks."

Gohan looked up at him with shining eyes. "You... you'll really spar with me again?"

Vegeta refused to look at him. "I am not your father, Brat, nor am I your Sensei. But I do understand the need to spar with others of your own race. I will summon you again. Practice your blocks and your left kick until then. I expect to see a notable difference."

Gohan smiled happily. "I'll really work hard, Vegeta, I promise!"

"See that you do, Brat," Vegeta replied curtly. The boy was excited to spar with him, and had responded to his constructive criticism positively. However, he couldn't help but feel unsettled about the whole situation. The Namek did well as the boy's Sensei, but his technique was not one that Vegeta felt a Saiyan should adopt as his standard. A Saiyan boy should be trained by his father. If the boy's father was dead, another relative accepted responsibility. That was the way it had been for generations. Was this to be just a few random sparring sessions, or was he unwittingly undertaking the responsibility of appropriately training the boy, since no other Saiyan male existed? Vegeta would have his own son to train someday. He didn't need another brat to train, someone else's brat- and a third class to boot.

He suppressed a sigh as they entered the house through the kitchen. This would require a lot of deep contemplation. Part of him felt a sense of responsibility to the boy, while the rest of him felt that it was none of his concern. He kicked off his shoes onto the mat at the door and headed for the refrigerator. "Here, Boy."

Gohan caught the bottle of water Vegeta tossed to him. "Thanks."

Vegeta grunted in response and opened his own bottle. The women had just returned. It was only a matter of time before they came looking for them, and the screeching began.

As Vegeta predicted, the two women came bustling into the kitchen. "This should hold you for a while, Bulma. You had absolutely nothing left to eat... Gohan, you're a filthy mess!" Chi-Chi exclaimed. "Just look at you. Oh! Your lip is split. Did Vegeta do this to you?" she demanded.

"Mom, we were just sparring-"

"I knew it!" Chi-Chi put her hands on her hips and glowered at Vegeta's back. "This is the last time you two spar! Do you think it's fun to beat up on a five-year-old child, oh mighty Prince of Saiyans?"

Vegeta turned and scowled at her, and she gasped in surprise. "Tell the Namek that the boy needs to work on his left kick."

Bulma winced. "Ouch. Nice shiner you've got there, Veg. Did you do that, Gohan?"

"Yes, but it was an accident. I didn't mean to-"

"Good for you, Sweetie." Bulma ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. What were the odds that he'd be able to blacken Vegeta's eye? She was proud of him!

"Hmph." Vegeta tossed his bottle into the trash and scowled at his mate. "Shouldn't you be in bed doing something that involves silence?" he asked sarcastically.

"Actually, I'm allowed to do certain things again now," Bulma informed him. "Small things for now, and gradually working up to longer periods of time."

A slow smirk spread over Vegeta's face. "So... for what exactly did your physician give you leave?" he asked in a naughty tone.

Bulma blushed. "Not that yet, sorry."

Vegeta's smirk became a frown. "Why not?" he demanded. "The brat is fine! What does she think will happen, that he'll get poked in the eye as well?" he asked sarcastically.

Bulma's blush deepened when she heard Chi-Chi's sputter. "Vegeta!" the raven-haired woman exclaimed. "You certainly think highly of yourself," she retorted.

The smirk returned. "Wouldn't you like to know," Vegeta retorted in return. "In fact, perhaps if you got screwed yourself, you'd have a better reason to be screeching so incessantly as you do."

"Oh!" Chi-Chi blushed and her hands clenched into fists.

"Vegeta!" Bulma complained with a frown. "Gohan is here, for Kami's sake!"

"Eeew!" Gohan wrinkled his nose in distaste. One of the biology books his mother had gotten for him had a section on reproduction and even at the age of five he was a sharp enough child to grasp Vegeta's meaning. He didn't want to think about his mother doing that. Nasty!

Vegeta grimaced. "I'm sure as hell not volunteering, Boy."

"Thank Kami," Chi-Chi interjected dryly.

"You, bed," Vegeta commanded of Bulma, pointing toward the bedrooms.

"I told you, Vegeta. I'm not restricted to bed rest anymore," Bulma objected.

"You and Kakarrot's woman procured consumables just now, did you not? I have no intention of or desire to listen to your squawking of fatigue later."

Bulma opened her mouth and closed it again. He was on to her, the perceptive little... "Fine. But I'm hungry. Will you bring me up some lunch please?" She batted her lashes at him flirtatiously.

Vegeta snorted and rolled his eyes. "Great. First I feed the brat here," he complained, indicating Gohan with a jerk of his thumb the boy's direction, "and now you want me to play nursemaid to you as well."

"Thank you. You're such a sweetheart," Bulma proclaimed with a giggle.

"I am not a sweetheart," the disgruntled Saiyan complained, scowling as she kissed him on the cheek.

"No kidding, you smell!" Bulma giggled again. "You'll need to take a shower before you bring me my lunch."

"You're pushing it, Woman," Vegeta growled, but somehow the two Sons didn't get the impression that he was angry.

"I know." Bulma smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, by the way, where did you get the money for breakfast today? I never gave you any."

There was a moment's silence in the kitchen. "I robbed a defenseless old woman," Vegeta responded sarcastically. "What does it matter? Go get in bed before I blast your fat butt there myself-"

"Now wait just a minute, mister. I'm so fat, as you say, because of you. If you think I'm going to let you-"

The kitchen door swung closed, shutting out whatever else it was that Bulma was complaining about as Vegeta herded her out of the kitchen.

"I have to say, that was rather rude of him," Chi-Chi commented dryly.

"Well, not really," Gohan responded after some contemplation of his mother's statement. "He was just trying to keep her from getting upset, that's all."

Chi-Chi blinked. "Trying to keep from getting her upset? Well, I don't think he did a very good job of it. He insulted her, Gohan!" she objected.

"Mom, Vegeta took the Ferrari today. Bulma keeps money in the glove box," Gohan told her matter-of-factly. "Which do you think she'd take better, that or being told that she's getting fat by a guy with manners like Vegeta's?"

Chi-Chi's mouth opened then shut again, and to Gohan's surprise she let out a little snort of amusement. "Maybe he's smarter than I took him for," she muttered.

"Oh, yeah," Gohan agreed. "A lot smarter."

As Chi-Chi watched her son sit down at the kitchen table with a snack and open up one of his textbooks, she couldn't help but wonder what exactly it was that had transpired between her son and the prince that day. The boy was swinging his feet and nibbling at a cookie as he worked, without one bit of complaint. There was definitely more to this man than met the eye, and she found herself decidedly curious.

***

"What is the matter with you, Woman?" Vegeta scowled as his mate slid under the covers, pointedly ignoring him as she did so. "Fine. Don't blame me because you're tired later-"

"You said I'm fat," Bulma pouted, crossing her arms and deliberately looking away from him, her chin lifted up in an affronted manner.

Vegeta snorted. "Is that all? Of course you're fat, Woman. You are with child. Do not all pregnant females become fat? You're being ridiculous if my observation offends you."

Bulma's lower lip protruded further. "I'm not fat, I'm pregnant. There's a difference," she insisted.

Vegeta let out a sigh. "Fine, fine. You're not fat," he relented.

"Now I suppose you find my body disgusting." Bulma pulled the blankets around her more securely and continued to pout.

Vegeta realized that he was giving her a blank look and shook his head. "Oh yes, Woman. So much so, in fact, that I was irritated when you told me that I couldn't have that disgusting body of yours, remember?"

She blushed. "All right, all right."

"Then what is the problem, Woman? Why are you pouting at me?"

Bulma squirmed a little. "I guess I feel, well, gross right now. I feel fat and nasty."

"Your belly will only become larger as the brat develops, Woman," Vegeta pointed out in a logical manner, "so you had best become accustomed to the idea."

Bulma threw the television remote control at him with a shriek. "You unfeeling ass!" she shouted.

He caught it easily, and a smile of amusement flickered at his lips, which only made her angrier. "Bulma, you are overreacting," he told her, setting the remote down on her nightstand and sitting down on the bed next to her. He turned her resisting chin his way. "I was under the impression that you were desirous of bearing this child. Was I incorrect in this assumption?"

Her attention turned to him immediately and her face softened. "No, of course not," she relented. "I want this baby very much."

"Then, you must be willing to allow these changes to your body, correct?" he pointed out again.

"Of course." Bulma's lips began to quiver. "Oh, Vegeta... I'm such a horrible person," she sobbed. "How could I say such awful things to you when you were only trying to be nice to me and look out for me?"

Vegeta held in a sigh, wondering just how he managed to get into this ridiculous situation. Comforting hormonal females wasn't exactly something he was used to. Nappa and Radditz would be wetting themselves with laughter if they could see the fearsome Prince of all Saiyans now. "You are a pregnant female, unfortunately prone to mood swings," he told her. He cupped her cheek in one hand. "But I would not have taken a horrible woman for my mate. I know all about horrible people, trust me."

Bulma threw her arms around him and clung to him. "I love you, Vegeta," she whimpered, her tears not letting up.

After a moment's hesitation he drew her close to his body. "All right, Bulma. You should quiet yourself now," he managed in a low voice.

She sniffled and wiped at her face with her hand. "O-okay."

"Good. I have no desire to hear any more of these crazy ideas of yours. Is that understood?" He reached up to wipe a tear she had missed away with his finger.

She nodded and gazed up at him, her eyes full of love for this man. Her hand reached up to take his in her own.

Vegeta found himself staring into her soft blue eyes, and for once he didn't care that they were able to enthrall him the way that they did. She was his mate, she carried his offspring, and she was beautiful. Their lips met in a soft, deep kiss. "No more tears," he intoned when they parted. "You are fine. The brat is fine. There is no need to cry, hmm?"

She shook her head, an enamored smile on her face. He cared! He really cared!

"All right then," he told her, releasing her from his grasp and getting up from the bed. "I'll tell Kakarrot's harpy to prepare our lunch."

"Vegeta. Be polite to her, would you?"

A low growl issued from her mate. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "I will not refer to her as 'Harpy', if that should please you."

"It would, Vegeta. Thank you." Bulma let go of his hand and watched him leave the room. Gods, she loved that man!

Vegeta shut the door behind him and ran a hand over his face. The things he did to please his woman- That did it. He had officially become soft. Damn her! It would have been easier to just tell her he drove the stupid Ferrari.

***

"I don't see why it is so imperative that I come this time. I hate this place," Vegeta complained, his arms crossed and scowl firmly in place.

Bulma put the car in park and shut off the engine. "It's been two months, or have you forgotten?" She turned to him and grinned broadly, wriggling her eyebrows at him.

"So?" he sulked. That brat Chomei would probably be there, knowing his luck. He didn't know which place was more horrific, the 'Gigantic Wonder World for Tiny Tots' she'd dragged him to or the physician's office for pregnant females and their whiny infant brats. "This had better mean we get to screw today."

"No kidding. You're pretty cranky," Bulma noted.

Vegeta growled when she shot him a wink and blew a kiss at him. "Let's just get this over with, Woman," he complained as he got out of the vehicle.

"Vegeta?"

"What?" He knew very well what.

A pair of arms protruded from the driver's side of the vehicle. "A little help, please?"

At nineteen weeks gestation, Bulma's belly had already ballooned to the point where she looked like she had shoved a basketball beneath her shirt. Vegeta was firmly of the opinion that his woman's increased girth didn't hinder her as much as she liked to act that it did, but he merely let out a little sigh and went around to her side of the car. "First, stick one foot out the door-"

Bulma giggled. At least he was attempting to be a little playful. Or at least she hoped he was, and that he wouldn't just stand there and smirk at her. "For Kami's sake, Vegeta! Just help me out, would you?"

"Hmph. Such a weak creature you are, Woman." Vegeta took one hand and hauled her out of the car. "You need to drive a different vehicle."

"Well, I probably won't be able to drive for much longer anyway," Bulma pointed out. "My belly is starting to get in the way of things." She ran her hands along her pregnant belly and smiled. Now that she seriously looked pregnant and not just 'fat', she was in a better mood.

Vegeta, however, was not. "Come along, Woman," he urged. "The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can screw."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Can you think of nothing else?" But truth be told, she was looking forward to it as much as he was.

"No." Vegeta ushered her through the heavy glass doors of the vestibule and inside of the building.

Bulma hit the up button for the elevator and waited impatiently. "Come on, hurry up," she muttered, shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to the other.

"Quit squirming, Woman," Vegeta murmured. "What is the matter with you?"

"I really need to pee," she murmured back.

Vegeta sighed. "Can't you hold it?"

"Yeah, for a little bit." They stepped onto the elevator.

"Stop squirming, Woman! You are driving me insane!"

"But I have to pee! You try holding it with a baby sitting on your bladder!"

"You're worse than a child with your whimpering."

Amusement twinkled in Bulma's blue eyes. "Just you wait, dearest," she told him matter-of-factly.

Vegeta frowned. "Great," he muttered irritably, crossing his arms.

Bulma giggled as the elevator doors reopened and grabbed his hand. "Come on, it won't be that bad," she told the sulking Saiyan in a soothing voice.

"Are you referring to being here or to the prospect of a whining brat?"

Vegeta's question took her off guard. "I... I meant being here, but..." Her face fell.

"Because I refuse to have a snot-nosed, whiny brat for a son," Vegeta told her in all seriousness. "He will know respect and discipline, I assure you." He opened the office door for her.

A hint of a smile crept back onto Bulma's face. "Don't worry. I'm with you on that one." She went over to the reception area to sign in.

Vegeta was scanning the rather full waiting room for an empty seat when his eyes fell upon a small child who was scribbling in a book with idiotic pictures, obviously designed for children. The boy had a sucker in his mouth, which was sticky from the candy.

"You have got to be joking..."

"What's wrong?" Bulma asked, coming up behind him. "There are two seats right there."

"Hi, Mister!" the boy's voice made the hair on the back of Vegeta's neck stand up. "Mama, it's that man 'gain!"

"Mmm-hmm..." 'Mama' absently hmmed as she leafed through her magazine. "Oh, that looks tasty..."

Chomei.

:What are the odds that same annoying brat would be here?:

Bulma held in a giggle; Vegeta's mental voice had been practically a whimper. :Just sit down, okay? I'll sit next to him.:

Muttering darkly to himself in some alien language, Vegeta followed his mate to the empty seats and sat down sullenly. :This sucks. I'm never setting foot in this place again, Woman.:

:Quit sulking. If Natsue says it's okay, I'll make it up to you, I promise.: Bulma's hand slid over to his leg and gave it a squeeze.

The look he gave her positively smoldered. :You've got that right, Woman.:

Bulma shifted in her seat.

:Quit the wriggling already, Woman! You're going to make me pee!:

Bulma's giggle floated over to him mentally. :You're adorable, you know that? I never thought I'd hear you use the word 'pee'.:

:All right, I'm leaving-:

Bulma's hand caught his before he could get up. "Please?" she whispered.

He looked away from the beautiful blue eyes pleading with him. "Fine."

"Hey Mister!"

Vegeta groaned and slouched back in his chair, muttering something about Kami-damned brats and their retarded mothers.

"Hi there, kiddo," Bulma interjected before anything embarrassing could happen. "What's your name?"

"I'm Chomei!" the boy exclaimed.

"It's nice to meet you, Chomei," Bulma said politely. "I see you have a coloring book."

"Uh-huh," the boy confirmed, almost flinging the book at her. "See? I maded a picture!"

"Oh, look how pretty your pony is," Bulma told the boy, shooting Vegeta a look of amusement. Vegeta may have been acting like he wasn't paying any attention, but after having lived with the man for over four months, she could tell otherwise. "Doesn't Chomei's picture look pretty, Vegeta?"

:Woman-:

:Don't even start. This is just the sort of thing you should expect of our son at this age,: Bulma interrupted testily. :Consider it to be practice. Now, be nice to him, or else.: Her tone made it clear exactly what 'or else' referred to.

:I cannot believe you would even attempt to blackmail me like that. You know you want it even more than I do,: Vegeta replied haughtily.

:Please.:

Vegeta held in a sigh and inspected the coloring book with a critical eye. "It looks like an animal called a skorlind that lives on the planet Asuna," he remarked emotionlessly.

"Really?" Chomei squealed excitedly.

"Mmm-hmm. They are also green."

"Really? I like green horsies!"

"Yes, really. Except they have horns and their manes and tails are different." Vegeta still didn't know why he was telling the little brat any of this.

"Will you show me, Mister? Pleeease?" Chomei held out a chewed up crayon.

Bulma was smiling at him, her eyes shining. All right, all right. He did know why he was acknowledging the boy.

Vegeta hesitated for a moment, then took the crayon and the coloring book. His hand moved across the page as he drew in the differences between the pony and the skorlind.

"I wanna see! Can I see?" Chomei slid down from his seat and toddled over to Vegeta's chair.

"Don't wander off too far, precious," 'Mama' said absently as she tore a page from the magazine she was reading.

Vegeta looked up from his masterpiece when he felt two little hands on his leg as Chomei stood on his tip-toes in an effort to see what he had drawn. "Here," he told the boy, thrusting the coloring book and the crayon back. The unfamiliar feeling that had suddenly crept through him made him uncomfortable.

"Fanks, Mister!" the boy squealed in delight as he grabbed his things and toddled back over to his mother. "Lookie, Mama! Lookie at what the man drawed for me!"

"Oh, how nice of him," 'Mama continued in the same absent tone as she tore another page from the magazine and stuffed it into her purse. Rather than look at either her son or the coloring book, she went right back to her magazine.

Vegeta couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the child, who forlornly climbed back into his seat beside his mother and began to color again with a tiny sigh. It was obvious that the woman wasn't going to pay any attention to him.

Suddenly, he remembered.

He remembered just how much it hurt, knowing that his own parents had been too busy for him, too busy to pay even five minutes' worth of attention to a spirited little boy with a million and one things to ask or tell. So, he'd gone off and done mischievous, even downright naughty things which had gotten him in trouble. That had gotten his father's attention, for certain.

"Mrs. Tanizaki?"

'Mama' hauled her very pregnant self from her seat. "Come along, Chomei. It's Mama's turn now."

"Okay." The boy slid back down to the floor and followed his mother. "Bye-bye, Mister! Fanks!"

Vegeta nodded to the child awkwardly. He saw the boy in a different light now. Chomei had candy, toys, and a coloring book, but he didn't have what he actually needed- a positive adult influence, someone to pay attention to him.

Someone to care about him.

<Go annoy Nappa, Brat. He will keep you suitably entertained.>

<But, Father, I just wanted to->

<Vegeta, I am busy with more important things than whatever it is you have there. I am trying to run a kingdom here. You should stop wasting time and start paying attention so that you are able to effectively do so when you are king. Now, if you cannot be quiet, go elsewhere!>

Vegeta's shoulders fell and his eyes dropped to the floor. <Yes, Father. I am sorry I bothered you.> His father said nothing in return but only went back to the document he'd been perusing. It had gotten worse since his mother had mysteriously died. At least she had smiled at him and called him 'my son', and she'd sounded proud when she'd said it.

"I'm proud of you, Vegeta," Bulma whispered, squeezing his hand. "That was a very nice thing you did for that little boy."

Her voice snapped him back to reality. :I'm not nice,: Vegeta contradicted her, retrieving his hand.

Bulma ignored his rebuttal. :You couldn't have missed how happy you made him, Veg. And he wasn't even a little brat, like you said he was last time.:

:Close enough.: Vegeta could still feel the boy's warm little hands on his knee, see the excitement and eager expectation shining in his large brown eyes... and the disappointment in them later when his mother ignored him.

:Just one thing, though. I think his mother will have a conniption when she sees that picture.:

:She won't.:

:She won't? How do you know?:

:Didn't you notice the woman? Trust me.:

Did she detect a hint of bitterness in Vegeta's voice? :Yes, I noticed her. What of her?:

Vegeta shook his head in exasperation. :She didn't pay attention to the boy now. Why would she later?: He could feel her sudden jolt of surprise at realizing what he meant, and the surge of pity that followed it.

:I'm sorry, Sweetie.:

:I am not sweet!:

:Well, actually I'm forced to agree with you there.: Now it was her turn to sense his surprise, and she let out a little mental giggle. :You didn't have to make the pony anatomically correct, you know.:

:Well,: Vegeta echoed her, :perhaps now his mother will pay attention to what he does.:

***

The waiting room door opened and again, Natsue emerged, beckoning as she had before.

Vegeta let out a resigned sigh. "This had better be news I want to hear," he grumbled as he made his way over to the waiting doctor.

Natsue smiled broadly. "Congratulations, it's a boy!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.

Vegeta rolled his eyes as he passed through the door; the stupid females in the waiting room were congratulating him, and a couple even clapped. "You're crazy, Woman."

Natsue laughed; Vegeta's cheeks had gone a little pink. "Don't worry, I won't keep you long. I just have a few things to go over with you two before I send you off." She knocked on the door of one of the examination rooms. "You decent in there, Bulma?"

"Yes, come on in."

Natsue opened the door and indicated that he should go inside. "Okay kids, today's ultrasound looked great. Your son appears to be perfectly strong, healthy and well formed. That being the case, Bulma, I am lifting the physical restrictions I imposed upon you, with the exception of common sense things like heavy lifting, strenuous exercise, and anything else that could injure you or seriously tire you out."

"Oh, that's wonderful news," Bulma said with a sigh of relief. She squeezed Vegeta's thigh playfully. "Don't you think so, Veg?" she asked, a hint of the promise of something to come coloring her voice.

Vegeta had been a little surprised that the women hadn't even attempted to involve him in the ultrasound Bulma had had that day, but the thought slipped his mind when the words 'I am lifting the physical restrictions I imposed upon you' passed Natsue's lips. A smirk curled up on his lips. "Yes, very good news indeed," he purred, the smirk widening to a toothy grin.

Natsue shook her head and chuckled. "Yes, yes. You can do that again, too," she confirmed. "I guess I know what you two will be doing when you get home."

"Why wait?" Vegeta continued in the same throaty voice. His eyes roved over his mate's body, and he had to restrain himself from licking his lips.

"Whoa, whoa, settle down there, studmuffin," Natsue objected. "Not in my office, got it?"

Bulma blushed brightly and Vegeta let out a deep throated growl, but neither said anything in objection.

"Okay," Natsue continued casually as Vegeta continued to undress Bulma with his eyes. "Be careful about what you eat, no long days, et cetera, et cetera. Oh, and Vegeta? Go easy on her. I have a feeling that's not in the nature of a man who growls and thinks about nothing but sex, but you'll have to make an effort. You can do it." She grinned when he scowled and shifted in his seat.

"Whatever, Woman. May we leave now?" Vegeta asked, sarcasm coloring his voice.

"Yes, go. See you at your next checkup, Bulma." A slow smile slid across her lips. "You too, Vegeta."

"Doubtful," Vegeta contradicted, rising from his seat. "Let's go, Woman."

"Wait, one more thing first," Bulma interjected. "I still really have to pee."

***

Vegeta shot straight up in bed, a sheen of sweat covering his body. His heart was thumping wildly and he was breathing heavily. He realized he was clutching the covers tightly and dropped them. Fortunately Bulma was still asleep. How would he explain to her why he was sweaty and trembling? He couldn't possibly tell her that another horrific dream had awoken him again. He had them now and then and had grudgingly accepted that fact, but lately they had become more and more frequent, and he was at a loss as to why.

He got out of the bed and stepped out onto the balcony, watching big puffy snowflakes flutter down in the areas of the grounds which were illuminated by the security lights. He was forced to grudgingly agree with Bulma when she said that the snow was beautiful- as long as he didn't have to go out in it, that is.

His ki flared up around him, emitting an eerie blue glow that retained the warmth of his body. He stared at the lifeless GR. He hadn't used it the past day, but he'd had good reason not to. A naughty smile crept up on his lips. Oh yes. He'd had a very good reason. Perhaps that was why his woman slept so soundly. But seeing as he wouldn't be getting any more sleep, there was no reason he couldn't start his training a little early, which would help make up for lost time.

Deep in thought as he was, Vegeta didn't notice Bulma approach until the balcony door opened again and she stepped outside. He couldn't help but feel irritated by the fact that this woman was quite frequently able to do that, despite him being perfectly able to detect ki without the aid of a scouter.

"Hey," she intoned softly, wrapping her arms around him from behind. "What are you doing out here in the cold at four thirty in the morning?"

Vegeta turned his head to look at her. "I could ask the same of you, Woman," he countered, tsking when she shivered behind him despite his warmth.

"I woke up and had to go to the bathroom, and it's cold and lonely without you," Bulma told him, leaving his back to sidle up to his chest and snuggle her face against him.

"Hmph." Vegeta curled an arm around his shivering mate and extended his ki to warm her as well. "Silly female," he murmured. "You should go back to bed."

"I will." She turned her face up to him, her sleepy blue eyes reflecting the light of his ki. "Come back to bed, Vegeta, just for a little while. I know what you plan to do," she continued, placing a finger atop his lips to catch his objections, "but stay with me for just a little longer first." Her hands ran up his chest, her fingertips caressing his bare skin as they traveled.

Vegeta shivered despite himself. "Accursed woman," he muttered darkly.

Bulma, however, would have none of it and pulled his face down to kiss him. The kiss quickly became heated, hands traveled across warm bodies, and they staggered back into the room and onto the bed.

"You were right," Vegeta told her as he removed his sleep pants.

Bulma blinked in surprise. "I was? About what?"

"About the brat starting to get in the way. But I'll just work around this little obstacle you've created, Woman," Vegeta responded saucily, poking her distended belly gently before laying her back on the bed.

Bulma giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Hey, buster! You had just as much a share in the creation of this little obstacle to your passion- oh!"

Vegeta pulled away when she gasped and tensed slightly. Had he harmed her or the child again? "What is it, Bulma?" he asked, trying to sound unconcerned that anything might be amiss. "What is the matter with you?"

"He... he moved," Bulma responded softly, an expression of awe on her face.

"What?"

She rested her hands atop her naked belly. "The baby. I felt him move for the first time just now." She smiled angelically.

Vegeta sat up so he knelt beside her. He had no idea what to say.

His mate had felt the unborn child move, indisputable evidence of what his mind still partially didn't want to believe. He was a father. The knowledge was overwhelming to him. A father. He was not panicking. How ridiculous!

"Vegeta?" Bulma asked softly.

"Hmm?" He turned his head to look at her.

Bulma took his hand and placed it on her belly where she'd felt the baby kick. It was far too soon for anyone else to be able to feel, but with his heightened senses, maybe Vegeta would be able to. "If you wait a minute, maybe he'll move again."

~Weak... she's making me weak...~ "No, I... no." Vegeta pulled his hand away and backed off. "I have to train."

Bulma's face fell as he moved off of the bed and put on some training shorts. "But..."

"I have to train," Vegeta repeated, a little crisply this time. "Go back to sleep, Woman." He opened the balcony door and went out, shutting it behind himself.

Bulma sat up in bed, completely confused about what had just happened. He had been more than ready to put off his training to make love, so she knew he hadn't left simply for the time factor. She'd thought he was becoming more comfortable with the thought of being a father, so why had he panicked and left when the baby had moved? Why hadn't he wanted to share such an important and special thing with her? She wiped a tear from her cheek and curled up on her side, clutching his pillow against her body.

Was he going to reject their son when he was born? Would he leave them both? Bulma didn't even want to consider either possibility as an option. It had to be something else. He had panicked; maybe he was just nervous about being a father. Yes, that was it. Just nerves. Vegeta would never admit to something like that.

It suddenly occurred to her that he had seemed agitated when she'd approached him on the balcony. Maybe he'd had a bad dream. She'd woken up on more than one occasion when he'd been growling and twitching in his sleep. He'd all but snapped her hand off once when she'd tried to shake him awake, so she'd wised up and just stroked his hair until he calmed down after that. Maybe that was it. He'd be horrified if he knew she knew he had bad dreams. She sniffled and wiped at her face again. Maybe she could get him to talk about it later.

***

Bulma shuffled into the kitchen to see her mate heading for the side door. "Vegeta, wait!" she called after him. "Please, don't go!"

Vegeta paused and shut the door with a sigh. "Look, Woman-"

"Vegeta, please come back and finish your food," she pleaded.

He just stared at her wordlessly for a moment before reluctantly returning to the counter where he'd abandoned a half eaten bowl of cereal.

Bulma held in a sigh of relief. "I'm not upset about what happened earlier," she said softly. "In fact, I'm a little scared. I've never done this before either. But I feel better with you here with me." She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest.

Again he hesitated before putting his arms around her. She heard him let out the tiniest of sighs. Maybe that was all that needed to be said. She didn't want to distance herself from him.

~I love you, Vegeta. I wish you'd let me show you that.~

***

Vegeta held his mate in his arms and watched her as she slept. When it had started getting colder outside she had been spooning herself up against him at night, and since her belly had made a sudden growth spurt, she'd taken to lying on her side and using his body as a sort of makeshift pillow. At first the constant close contact had been an annoyance, but he'd grown to actually enjoy holding her in his arms, her soft blue hair tickling his naked chest, her breath warm on his shoulder. Her hair smelled like a combination of a fruit she'd called a kiwi and of strawberries, and he found he liked the scent.

He shifted the arm beneath her to hold her a little more comfortably. She inhaled deeply and snuggled up closer against him but didn't wake up. A thought drifted through his mind- what had he done to make the gods overlook his past and grace him with this beautiful, sensual woman, a woman who openly showed him affection and wanted to be with him, including in an intimate way? He had never encountered a woman who gazed at him with affection and desire in her eyes, who touched him so tenderly as she did, who actually coaxed him into her bed and demanded that he take her. He'd never encountered a woman who made the unfamiliar feelings she evoked in him come forth.

He'd never encountered a woman who made him feel like the greatest man in existence, a woman who made him feel that he was someone worthwhile, that he could be more than he was. That he could be a better man. That things didn't have to be the way they'd always been to him.

She'd told him that she loved him on numerous occasions, and while he couldn't fully grasp the emotion himself, he believed her when she said it. Why else would she behave the way she did, and forgive him for the selfish, irritating, and sometimes even cruel things he said and did at times? He had to admit that, just like her oftentimes closeness, he'd grown fond of hearing her say it. It was reassuring in a way. Absolutely no one had ever openly claimed to care for him, not even his own mother. No female had ever tried to please him because wanting to do so was pleasing to themselves, and actually mean it. They had done what they had out of self-preservation or out of obligation, out of duty. This woman wanted him, craved him. She was ecstatic over the fact that she carried the child they had created together in their passion. It was a good feeling.

He smoothed an errant piece of hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. It was so silky and soft, and although he'd never confess to it, he loved the feel of it, to run his fingers through it. Before he could move his hand away, she smiled in her sleep and nuzzled her face against his palm.

"Hmmm... Vegeta," she sighed softly. She stretched against him, and her top knee brushed along his leg. Her smile widened, and her fingertips briefly caressed his chest in a way she touched him at times when she attempted to arouse him. It generally worked, too.

So, she was dreaming of him, and obviously in an intimate manner. The idea of it was quite flattering, not to mention arousing, to him. He was contemplating acting on the urges his body was demanding when he felt it.

Vegeta started slightly and his eyes widened when he realized what his superior sense of touch had detected. It was the tiny flutter of life that Bulma had felt previously, the movement of the unborn child within her womb. At this stage of gestation, while it would be too soon for others to feel the child's movements, the baby would be large enough and developed enough that the mother would feel it. Bulma had been so excited when she'd told her parents the next morning, but had almost seemed a little sad at the same time. Had it been wrong of him to pull away when she'd attempted to place his hand on her swollen belly on the chance that he might feel their unborn child if it moved again? Another emotion, that of guilt, touched him; it was one he rarely felt and did not like. She had only wanted to share the experience with him. He had been selfish, and had made her sad.

He carefully shifted his sleeping mate and gingerly placed his hand on her belly at the spot where he'd felt the baby move. He waited until he felt it again. There it was. The tiniest of flutterings from within Bulma's womb. He moved his hand a little. The flutter moved slightly in that direction, startling him again. The child wasn't that big yet- in his opinion anyway, since Bulma had thrust her latest ultrasound pictures at him and demanded that he examine them- and wasn't fully developed. It couldn't have truly followed him, could it? He felt out for the child's ki, again surprised by what he felt.

Awareness. Familiarity. Recognition of him individually. The child already differentiated his father's ki! It was almost unnerving.

"Vegeta?" a soft voice asked.

Vegeta looked at Bulma to see her blue eyes open and gazing at him with a combination of sleepiness and fondness. She had caught him with his hand on her belly in order to feel the child's movements. Embarrassed, he tried to move his hand away but this time she covered it with her own, holding it there.

"Please don't," she whispered. "I want to share this with you first before everyone else starts putting their hands on my belly so they can feel our son kick."

He relaxed and let his hand rest upon her belly again, unable to disappoint her further. "All right, Woman. Desist with the fretting."

Bulma knew he wasn't angry at her. His telling her to settle down was just a cover up way of appeasing her. She smiled and snuggled back against him.

They lay together in silence for a moment. Her hand stroked back and forth along his.

"Oh!" Bulma let out a little giggle. "Could you feel that? He moved right beneath your hand. You couldn't have placed it any more perfectly."

"Yes, I felt it," Vegeta confirmed. "It was a tiny disturbance." He slid his hand a short distance over her belly to test his theory that the unborn brat was indeed following his hand.

Bulma hadn't thought to compare the feeling to a disturbance, but she could understand how he meant his words. It hadn't been a full-blown kick or wriggle, but more like a little ripple. It made her think of ripples created on the surface of a body of water that had been struck by even a small pebble. She nodded in agreement. "I hadn't thought of it that way, but I guess it's a fair comparison. To me, it kind of feels like having intestinal gas." She giggled at the disgusted expression on his face. "What?"

"Intestinal gas, pah."

"Let me guess- His Royal Highness never farts," Bulma teased good-naturedly.

He scowled at her. "No, of course not!"

She giggled again. "Oh, I don't know about that," she contradicted him playfully. "I wasn't the one who stank up the bed in my sleep a few nights ago."

"What!?" Mrs. Briefs had made bean soup for dinner on the night in question. While the Saiyan prince had thought it to be quite tasty, he had vowed never to eat the stuff again after the negative reaction it had given him.

Bulma continued to giggle at her embarrassed mate and turned in his arms to face him. "Oh, don't be such a spoil-sport," she told him, capturing his face between her hands and kissing him.

Vegeta's growl of irritation soon became one of desire, his ruffled sensibilities quickly forgotten as he acted on his earlier urges.

***

Bulma was in the kitchen fixing herself some breakfast when the door opened and Dende came in. "Good morning, Bulma! Guess what?"

She couldn't help but smile at the boy's enthusiasm. "Good morning to you too, Dende. What's up?"

"We've been keeping track of the days, and it's been a Namekian year since we last used our dragonballs," Dende told her. "In fact, it's even a few days past."

Bulma quickly did the math in her head. "You're right," she agreed. "Did you manage to find all of the dragonballs yet?" If they had, they could wish Goku and the others back!

Dende nodded. "Gohan called and said that Piccolo found the last one yesterday. The dragonball radar you loaned him was a big help." He paused. "Do you think we could summon Porunga today?"

"Dende, how wonderful! Of course we can," Bulma told him. "Why don't you go ahead and call Gohan back, and tell him to round everyone up here. Let's say about lunchtime. How does that sound?"

"Great! I'll go call Gohan right away!" The little Namek scampered off for the den to tell the others.

Bulma smiled. He was such a nice boy. She placed a hand over her belly and couldn't help but wonder what her little boy would be like. No doubt he'd be strong, powerful and handsome like his father, but as far as disposition went, only time would tell.

It wasn't long before Chi-Chi showed up with her father, her son, and her favorite frying pan. "We're going to have to start cooking right away if we're going to feed three Saiyans and everyone else," she informed Bulma matter-of-factly.

Bulma hugged her friend tightly. "I'm so excited for you, Chi," she whispered. "It'll be wonderful to have him home again."

Chi-Chi hugged her back. "Thanks, Bulma." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Now, let's cook," she decided in a sterner tone.

***

Bulma knocked on the GR's door and waited. Momentarily the door opened, and Vegeta stood scowling at her. "What now, Woman?"

He wasn't angry at her, just irritated by his training being interrupted. "Chi-Chi is here with Gohan and her father," Bulma explained. "Puar, Oolong, Master Roshi and Piccolo are here, too."

"I know," Vegeta responded a little irritably. "Why would you interrupt my training to tell me that?"

"Because it's been better than 130 days, and we finally have all seven Namekian dragonballs." Bulma looked up at him, waiting to see what he'd do.

Vegeta's eyebrow rose sharply. "They intend to summon the dragon?"

She nodded. "Yes."

He knew what that meant. They would have Porunga resurrect his sworn enemy. "I'll be there in five minutes."

"All right." Bulma smiled softly.

She was wearing a thick goose down coat with a large hood, which she'd pulled over her head until only her face showed. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, and several disobedient strands of hair escaped from beneath it. Her blue eyes shone up at him with pleasure.

She was beautiful. She was a weakness. His damn weakness. He turned and headed for the shower. What was he going to do about her?

***

The huge dragon loomed overhead menacingly, growling softly.

"Now, that's a dragon!" Master Roshi commented.

"Oh, my! Dear me!" Dr. Briefs exclaimed. There were various exclamations from others in the group, many of whom had never seen Porunga before. In fact, no one on the planet had, except those of the small group gathered at Capsule Corp who had chanced to see him while on Namek. The suggestion had been made that Dr. Briefs tell the authorities that he would be conducting some weird experiments with holograms and weather manipulation, and that people shouldn't worry if they saw a huge dragon looming over Capsule Corp or if the sky grew dark.

The dragon was huge, all right, and the sky did indeed turn dark.

"You who have summoned me, I will now grant you three wishes," Porunga announced. "Now, proceed with your wishes."

"Go ahead, my friends," Moori told Bulma when he noticed their hesitation to make a wish. "We can wait another 130 days to start our new life. Besides, I think I can improve my putt."

"It's all in the wrist," Gohan offered, "and the follow through."

"Let's do it then!" Bulma agreed excitedly. She glanced over at Vegeta, who merely scowled at her. No amount of nagging from her would persuade him to join their group. ~Fine. Let him fester by himself.~ She stuck her tongue out at him before returning her attention to the dragon. "Please bring Goku and Krillin to Earth's check-in station in the spirit realm."

Dende translated her wish into the Namekian tongue.

"All right, just a sec." The dragon's eyes glowed red as he prepared to grant the wish. The small group watched anxiously. Would it really work? "The one called Krillin is at the Earth's check-in station." They gasped in excitement. "But, the one called Goku cannot be brought to that place."

"What?" Bulma exclaimed. "Why not?"

"Because he is alive," Porunga explained. "If I moved him there now, he would die."

"Dad's really still alive? But how?" Gohan breathed, voicing all of their sentiments.

Vegeta digested what the dragon was saying, a scowl on his face. What was that third-class clown doing by staying away?

Everyone cheered- Goku was alive! But Bulma's celebration was short-lived when it hit her. "If Goku's alive, why hasn't he come back yet?" she wondered aloud.

"Well, maybe his ship's broken," Gohan offered. "Yeah, I'll bet he's stuck."

"Hey people, let's move it. What's your next wish?" Porunga interrupted impatiently.

"Hey, sorry. You're cute. I like you," Bulma told the dragon with a wink, inwardly pleased when Porunga actually began to sweat a little. Maybe it would even make Vegeta a little jealous!

Vegeta scowled. ~Stupid flirtatious woman. And on the subject of stupid, as for Kakarrot, he's probably off exploring or something equally idiotic.~

"My friends," Moori interjected, "he's alive, right? So just wish him back here."

"Good idea. Now, the next wish," Bulma decided, agreeing with the old Namek. "Bring Goku back to Earth!"

Dende translated the wish, and the small group of friends cheered in excitement. Goku would be home soon!

"Silence!" the huge dragon commanded, effectively quieting the celebrating group. "It can't be done. The one called Goku refuses to return and says he'll come back later."

"What?" asked Gohan in a trembling voice. "But why? Why doesn't Dad want to come back?"

"Your dad told Porunga he'd come back later," Piccolo reminded the distraught boy. "Don't worry, Gohan. He'll keep his word."

Vegeta stared at the dragon in dumbfounded silence, then scowled. ~Kakarrot, what are you up to? You're probably training on another planet somewhere, perfecting your skills while I'm wasting my time with these idiots! If that stupid third-class fool won't come back, I'll bring him back myself!~

To do that, Vegeta would need a ship. He looked over at the GR. Certainly it must still be functional as a spacecraft; neither Bulma or the old man had told him otherwise. It probably had no fuel, though, he thought irritably. He'd broken the GR enough times that they wouldn't risk it exploding.

Where would the old man keep the other ships he had? His GR wouldn't have been constructed using Capsule Three if there were no other ships- ah, that was it! The old man had mentioned at breakfast the other day his intention to conduct a minor repair on another of the ships that day. Vegeta slipped away from the group, a plan forming in his head as he headed for the lab.

"Look, Goku will be back. He said so," Piccolo reiterated. "Let's use the remaining two wishes to bring Krillin and one of the others back instead."

Despite their disappointment in Goku's decision, there was general consensus amongst the group.

"All right," Bulma announced. She was really getting into this! "Let's bring Krillin back to life!"

Everyone cheered as Dende again translated Bulma's wish. Porunga's eyes flashed red, and a dumbfounded Krillin appeared before them.

"Wha- huh?"

"Welcome back, partner," Gohan said softly.

"Wait a minute. I'm back alive!" Krillin smiled brightly as everyone continued to cheer.

"Krillin!" Bulma exclaimed, hugging her disoriented friend tightly. "Oh, it's so good to have you back!"

"Yeah, thanks..."

"Hey, what's wrong?" As soon as the question had passed her lips, Bulma suddenly realized that the little monk wasn't just disoriented; he was shocked by the discovery that no, she wasn't just wearing a bulky coat when she'd hugged him.

"Bulma, you're... you're..." Yamcha was dead. He wasn't aware of her dating anyone else, and based on the size of her, his friend was several months pregnant. But who could she have been with several months ago? Suddenly it struck him just who she had been with- on Namek. "Oh boy..."

She bit her lip nervously. "Krillin, please don't make a big deal out of this-"

"You're pregnant," he mumbled dumbly. "Is it..."

"Yes, and I'm happy about it," Bulma whispered. "He was a little stunned at first, but he's okay with it, really."

Krillin nearly gaped at her. When he'd told her to take one for the team, he certainly hadn't had this in mind. "You're saying that this baby's father really is..." He couldn't bring himself to say it. After all, the individual he had in mind what a psychotic mass murderer. But Bulma had said she was happy about the baby. They weren't truly referring to the same person, were they?"

Bulma sighed and turned around to face where her mate had been standing off by himself. She frowned when she discovered that not only was he no longer there, but she didn't see him anywhere. "Hey, Mom? You didn't happen to see where Vegeta went, did you?" She ignored the little noise that came from Krillin upon confirmation of the child's paternity.

"No, sorry. I didn't," Mrs. Briefs answered with a shake of her head. "He's such a dear young man."

Bulma frowned. Where would Vegeta have gone off to? The GR wasn't active, so he wasn't training. And for that matter, why would he leave? All that they had been told was that Goku was alive and wasn't... coming... home...

Oh, no. He wouldn't. He just couldn't!

As if on cue, a loud blasting sound was heard in the distance, startling them all, and shortly thereafter Capsule Four was seen ascending into the sky.

"Isn't that your space ship, Darling?" Mrs. Briefs asked airily.

"Well, it was," Dr. Briefs conceded as he watched the pod blasting off.

"No!" Bulma screamed at the rapidly rising spacecraft. "Vegeta, what in the hell do you think you're doing? Where are you going?"

"Dear, I don't think he can hear you," Mrs. Briefs noted. "It's far too noisy."

Bulma ignored the foolishness of her mother's inane observation. "He doesn't need to," she retorted. "He knows exactly what I'm saying. You can't just leave me like this!" she shouted after the ship, which by now was little more than a rapidly disappearing dot in the sky. She dropped to her knees in the snow. "You can't leave me like this," she whispered. A tear trickled down her cheek and she stared down at her hands in despair.

There was silence for a moment save Bulma's sniffling. It seemed that no one quite knew what to say to the blue-haired woman kneeling in the snow. Chi-Chi approached her friend and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Bulma, I-"

"Damn you, Vegeta!" Bulma screamed into the sky. "You selfish bastard!" The worst part of it was the remembrance of the incredible night they had shared. Vegeta had shown an active interest in their unborn son, or had seemed to, anyway. He had been so gentle and tender with her. How could he have been so passionate one minute and leave her the next without so much as even a word of explanation?

Piccolo merely shrugged as if he had expected nothing less from the prince. "Forget about him," he recommended to the sniffling woman. "He's gone. No big loss-"

Never had a pregnant woman gotten to her feet and across the yard so quickly. Bulma grabbed the startled Namek's shirt in both fists and got right up in his face. "What do you mean, 'forget about him'?" she screamed. "'No big loss'? Look at me! For the love of Kami, how did you think I would react to that statement?"

"I-"

"Shut up!" Bulma continued, shaking the much bigger man by the material wadded up in her little fists. "Where's your frying pan, Chi-Chi? I'm going to give you a preview of the ass kicking Vegeta's going to get when he gets back!" she roared.

"Great Kami, this is hot!" Master Roshi exclaimed. The old pervert grinned from ear to ear.

"Yeah, smack him around good, Bulma!" Oolong added gleefully. He wasn't smiling long, though, before a snowball hit him smack in the snout.

"All of you just shut up!" Bulma yelled, her face red with anger. "This is none of any of your business!"

Mrs. Briefs came over to her daughter and put an arm around her shoulders. "Now now, my dearest girl," she soothed, placing a kiss on Bulma's forehead. "It'll be all right, I promise. You know that man doesn't do anything without a reason. He'll be back, you'll see."

Bulma's rage had subsided somewhat under her mother's loving touch. "How do you know that, Mom?"

Mrs. Briefs smiled and drew her daughter aside. "Bulma, you'd be surprised. Things like how he spoke so proudly about 'my son' without even realizing it, and the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking."

A faint blush spread across Bulma's cheeks. "Oh, really Mom! I doubt that," she objected, but the knowing look on her mother's face spoke volumes.

"Really." Mrs. Briefs smoothed a strand of hair away from Bulma's face. "Trust me, Dear."

Bulma sighed. Maybe her mother was right. She was doubtful that the Saiyan prince was capable of faking the way he had been acting toward her, especially in the past few days. He certainly had to have some reason to leave so abruptly. Finding out Goku was alive combined with anxiety over becoming a father just might have done the trick. "Okay, Mom." She turned and rounded on the three men she had castigated earlier. "As for you three-"

A loud rumble cut her off and they all looked up at Porunga, who had cleared his throat. "Can we get on with this today?" the mildly amused dragon asked.

***

Vegeta gasped for breath and clutched the small nightstand next to his bed as another pain ripped through his belly. He gritted his teeth, growling low in his throat until the pain finally passed. <What the devil could this be? It's not as though I could have become ill alone in the middle of space,> he muttered to himself. <Saiyans don't get sick!> Even if that weren't the case, there was no one around who could have infected him. He'd been eating the same type of non-perishable foods for weeks; it wasn't as though he'd eaten something bad.

Finally! The abdominal pains had stopped. Vegeta let himself fall back down onto the mattress with a sigh and mopped at his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand. He felt like his lower body had been torn in two. Whatever the hell had just happened to him that day, and more specifically the past few hours, he never wanted to go through that again.

Speaking of going through unpleasant things, he was really going to make Kakarrot's death long and painful when he finally found him. He'd been on one wild goose chase after another, and the only good that had come of it was that he'd found an outpost of Frieza's that he hadn't known existed. He'd decimated the entire base and questioned the commander there before snapping his miserable neck along with the others. The commander hadn't been very forthcoming, but then again Vegeta hadn't expected anything to the contrary. He had, however, downloaded the entire contents of the base's computer onto Capsule Four's computer before completely destroying the small moon it had been on upon his departure. Upon a brief inspection of the technical data he'd just stolen, he determined that his woman would be quite pleased with his findings.

Oh, right. His woman. Yes...

Vegeta had left Earth a good four months ago. No doubt she would be displeased with him when he got back. No matter; she would have to learn her place and get over it. He growled, knowing what an idiotic thing to be thinking that was. Not only had he not become a Super Saiyan since he'd come to Earth, but he had done nothing but think of her since he left it!

Suddenly feeling quite melancholy and extremely tired, Vegeta kicked off his boots and crawled beneath the bed covers.

***

"Say hello to the newest Briefs," Natsue told her patient softly.

Bulma, tired and sweaty but happy, reached out for the squalling bundle Natsue placed on her belly. "Oh... he- he's beautiful," she sniffled, taking one tiny hand in between her index finger and thumb. She let out a little noise halfway between a giggle and a sob when the squalling stopped and his tiny fingers gripped hers tightly, and did begin to sob when the baby's furry tail wrapped itself around her wrist. "My baby," she managed through her tears. "He's perfect!"

Natsue smiled at the sight before her. Like many new mothers, Bulma was busy counting her newborn son's fingers and toes, and examining every inch of him that otherwise remained. "He is a beautiful child," she agreed. "Did I not tell you that you two would make a beautiful baby?" She chuckled. "And just look at all of that hair! You've got a whole head full of it, little mister."

Bulma's face fell and she grew quiet. "Yeah."

Natsue dismissed her assistant and quietly asked Mrs. Briefs, who was eager to see her grandson but had prudently stayed back for the moment, to give them a moment in private. "I'm sorry, Bulma," she told her friend sincerely. "I'm sure he had a good reason to go."

Bulma was crying inconsolably. "N-Natsue, all I wanted was for him to be here for me and our baby," she hiccupped. "Things were going so well between us, but he takes off without so much as a goodbye as soon as he hears that Goku is still alive out there somewhere."

"This may not be what you wanted to hear, but well, there you go. He wanted to find Goku," Natsue pointed out. "He must have had something important to discuss with him if he would just up and leave the way you said he did, don't you think?"

Bulma began to cry even harder. "Aren't I important? Isn't our baby important?"

"Of course you are," Natsue assured her. "He left you in capable hands, didn't he? From what I hear from you and others, it sounds to me like he's a nervous father with some issues to work out. He'll be back, B. Don't worry. For now, you enjoy being a mommy. A certain somebody who's completely reliant on you needs you right now."

"You're right, Natsue. Thanks." Although Bulma didn't find the topic of conversation to be the most comforting one, happy thoughts of her new son quickly drove away her sad thoughts, replacing them with the love that can only be had between a mother and her child. "Hello there, Sweetpea," she whispered. "I'm your mommy. Yes, I am," she cooed in that nonsensical babble so many people tend to use with very young babies.

There was a knock at the door, and Natsue went to answer it. "It seems as though you have a whole room full of friends and family waiting to see your little one," she reported. "Would you like to get some rest first?"

Bulma was exhausted but thought she could manage a few minutes' visit. "Nah, they can come in for a little bit."

Before she knew it, the room was full of people wishing her well and fawning over the new baby.

"Aww, he's so cute, Bulma," Gohan told her admiringly. "He looks just like-"

Bulma managed a smile when the boy paused awkwardly. "It's okay, Gohan. You're right, he looks almost exactly like his daddy."

"Except for those big blue eyes of his. At least he looks a little like his mommy. It would be a shame if he didn't."

Bulma turned her head. Yamcha stood nearby, looking happy for her but a little sad at the same time. "Hey, Yamcha," she whispered, feeling her eyes fill with tears when he approached and took her hand gently. Yamcha had been shocked and even a little hurt when they had raised him right after bringing back Krillin, only to find his once girlfriend pregnant with the child of the man who had been the indirect cause of his death. He'd been angry that Vegeta had left her, and even a little guilty when he saw her sadness; he knew he hadn't always been the best boyfriend at times and had, too, caused her some grief in the past. He had resolved to be a friend to Bulma, the best friend he could be to her after he'd seen the way she'd acted when Vegeta came up in conversation. Despite having cursed the man in several different languages while giving birth loudly enough that they could hear her all the way down the hallway, it was obvious that she did love Vegeta, and in a way she had never truly loved Yamcha. The best he could do was to be there for her.

"Congratulations, Bulma. I'm happy for you," he told her.

"Thanks, Yami," she whispered, giving his hand a squeeze. The reality of the situation had forced Yamcha to grow up quickly, and she saw a better man inside him already.

"Mmm-hmm." He smiled at her and kissed her cheek. "So from what I heard, it wasn't a very pleasant delivery," he joked.

Bulma shifted a little uncomfortably, grateful when her mother came over to take the baby. "This birth was the most excruciating thing I have ever experienced," she admitted. "Natsue was going to do a c-section, but by the time I got here to the clinic, my labor had progressed too far. It just wham! Hit me."

"I guess the little guy wanted out," Yamcha commented.

"Yeah, no kidding. I just wish he'd done less damage along the way," Bulma commented with a wince.

Yamcha refrained from making a rude comment about damage and the baby's father and instead focused on the child's mother. "Damage?"

Bulma nodded. "I tore when he came out. But considering how big he is, I can't complain too much." She smiled, watching as her son was being passed from her father to Gohan, who was sitting on a chair under the watchful eye of his mother.

"Yowch!" Yamcha winced in sympathy. "I've got to give you women a lot of credit. I don't know if I could do it."

"As soon as I held him, it was all worth it," Bulma assured him, recalling what Natsue had told her before. "I've wanted to be a mother since I was a little girl, and now that I am I can hardly believe it."

"I'm glad to hear it, and I'm happy for you," Yamcha told her softly. "That being said, I have something for you."

"What is it?" Bulma asked excitedly, thinking perhaps he had brought something cute for her son.

"Well, when I realized you were in so much pain, I remembered something I had hidden away at home, from even before..." Yamcha paused, then decided not to pitter patter around with his words. "From before I died." He held out a small folded slip of paper.

Bulma took it, wondering what on Earth such a small thing could be, and gasped when she unfolded the paper. "Oh, Yamcha! Thank you! You're the best!" She laughed with joy and held up a tiny green bean. "Hey, look at what Yamcha brought!"

"You're welcome, Bulma." Yamcha basked in the glow of her smile. Even as tired and bedraggled as she was, she was beautiful. ~If I had only just...~ He shook the thought away. She wasn't his girlfriend any more. It was obvious that her heart belonged to Vegeta, even after all that had happened over four months ago.

"Oh wonderful, a senzu bean!" Chi-Chi exclaimed. "I'm glad I had them when I had Gohan, even though he wasn't as big as your son is. You're a big boy, aren't you?"

The baby stared up at her with large blue eyes.

"How much does he weigh, Dr. Natsue?" Gohan asked. "He's heavy for just being born."

"He's thirteen pounds, nine ounces," Natsue reported, "and if he keeps growing like I think he will, he'll be big and tall when he grows up, won't you, little man?"

"My goodness, that is big," Mrs. Briefs commented thoughtfully. "Bulma wasn't even half that size when she was born." She carefully scooped her grandson up from Gohan's lap. "He must get his size from Vegeta's side of the family."

"I don't know. He doesn't like to talk about it," Bulma answered the silence which begged to ask the question everyone wondered. After all, the other Saiyans they'd seen had been much taller than Vegeta. "Anyway. Natsue, did you want to see a senzu bean in action?"

"Sure," Natsue agreed. She'd heard about them from Bulma, and her scientific mind had always been fascinated by the concept.

She wasn't disappointed; Bulma hopped right out of bed after eating the little bean and stretched luxuriously. "I feel like a million zeni! Thank you, Yami!" she exclaimed, hugging her friend and placing a quick kiss on his lips.

"You're welcome, Babe," Yamcha responded, returning the hug. "Won't Vegeta get jealous?"

"Vegeta isn't here to be jealous," Bulma retorted. "He won't lay a finger on you or any of my friends. He knows darn well that I-" She stopped abruptly and again her face fell.

Mrs. Briefs handed the baby to her husband and put an arm around her daughter. "He knows, Dear. How could he not?"

Bulma sighed. She hoped Vegeta knew she loved him; how many times had she told him now? How many nights had they spent in ecstasy together? "I hope so, Mom."

"You're worrying needlessly," Mrs. Briefs insisted. "You need to feed my grandson and get some rest."

"Speaking of which, did you and Vegeta ever agree on a name, Pumpkin?" Dr. Briefs asked as he rocked his grandson gently.

His question took Bulma off guard. "No, we never really talked about it- Wait. I take that back. We did talk about it a little, but not specifically about choosing a name for our son." She didn't elaborate by saying that Vegeta had told her some things about the royal family of the House of Vegeta, the palace, the planet in general, and the Saiyan people, and that she'd just remembered a very specific detail that she'd forgotten, an important thing, from one of their conversations in particular.

No one bothered to ask what she meant by that cryptic answer. "It's all right, Bulma. Take your time," Oolong offered. "We don't mind standing here for as long as you do."

"Uhm, guys," Krillin began warily. "I don't think that you should be doing that..."

Bulma frowned, suddenly realizing that Oolong and Master Roshi had been smirking and whispering ever since she'd gotten out of bed. "What's going on?" she asked cautiously.

Tien cleared his throat. "You're, uhm, wearing a hospital gown, Bulma," he offered, hesitantly indicating the areas where the gown was loosely held somewhat closed by only fabric ties.

"You perverts! Get out of here!" Bulma shouted, her irritation peaking when her son began to cry. "Now look at what you did!" She took the baby from her father, mindful of how she walked so that her two admirers couldn't see anything else she didn't want them to. "Shhh, it's okay, Sweetheart. Don't cry."

"So, you did pick a name?" Chi-Chi interjected before anything else could be said.

Bulma contemplated this. "Well... I did, I suppose you could say." She rocked the child gently. "It's a good family name. I like it."

***

"You're sure about this?"

Bulma sighed as she got into the vehicle. "Chi, for the millionth time, yes. I know you all think I'm a basketcase, but that's the name I've picked, and it's final."

Chi-Chi sighed as well, wondering just what Vegeta would think of the name Bulma had chosen, if he even bothered to show up again. "All right." She shut the passenger door and got into the back seat next to the baby.

Dr. Briefs looked up in the rear-view mirror. "Are we all ready to go home now?"

"I'm more than ready," Bulma confirmed, twisting around to look behind her. "Just wait until you see your nursery, little man! All filled with nice things just for you!"

"We're all strapped in back here too," Chi-Chi told the doctor. "I made sure I collected all of Bulma's things, and whatever gifts that were received."

"All right, then away we go," Dr. Briefs responded good-naturedly. He started the engine and headed for Capsule Corp.