Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Wherever You Will Go ❯ Ch 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Chapter 4

The first thing Vegeta noticed upon waking up was that he didn't do so with the clarity he usually did. After that came smells, medicine; sounds, fabric rustling and someone shifting on a hard surface; and sight, blurred at first then sharpening.

He was lying in a bed in a white, pristine room. White bedsheets covered him up to his chest. They stopped because the IV that was in his arm prevented it from coming up any further. Knowing the woman, she would've had it up to his chin if she could.

The IV pumped some kind of clear liquid into his veins and he could only assume that it was the antidote. A voice beside him made him turn.

"Good. You're up. For a minute there I thought the drug had killed you." Bulma sat up from her sleeping position on the desk and tried to relieve her neck of the cramp that had developed from sleeping like that.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. The way she had said killed had sounded almost tremulous. He snorted, "It'll take more than a drug to kill me."

Bulma smiled genuinely, "I'm glad."

Vegeta scowled. It seemed her confession had helped her somehow. She couldn't realize it only complicated things. It was time to remedy that ignorance.

"Woman, get this IV out of my arm before I rip it out." Well, that hadn't come out like he'd expected. He'd wanted something more along the lines of 'woman, stop your simpering and wake up. I have not nor will I ever want you for anything more than a barely edible meal and working gravity room'.

He opened his mouth to say just that, "And fix me something to eat! I've worked up quite an appetite."

The little mental image he had of himself was opening and closing his mouth like a fish gasping for oxygen. What was that? The Prince of the Saiyans sparing a human's feelings?

Bulma frowned, "Well, you could at least ask nicely, Vegeta. I mean; I did save your life."

"As I saved yours," he was quick to point out, "Debt paid."

Bulma snorted with laughter, "There's your famous honor."

Vegeta was going through more shock right now than an electrocuted criminal. She thought he was-honorable? He was anything but. And he was that way for a reason.

As soon as the IV was taken out he rose and swung his legs over the side of the bed. A sudden surge of dizziness washed over him, and when he came out of it, he found himself clinging to Bulma's arm.

He violently shoved her away and was glad when she caught herself, which made him even angrier, "Don't touch me."

The threat was audible, even through Bulma's emotion-filled state of mind. She looked shocked then, annoyingly, seemed to nod in understanding. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Vegeta rose all the way. "Shut up! I don't want your apologies."

He had to get out of here. Train. That's what he'd do. Train. He had to reach Super Saiyan, had to beat Kakarott. He remembered the power he'd felt when he had transformed, the raw euphoria that was now missing. Never having it before had been nothing compared to having it taken away from him. He'd had the key, but he didn't know what it was.

Bulma's face went through a myriad of emotions. When he'd shoved her away, she'd seen a stab of fear in his eyes that had faded to relief, only to be clouded by hate but not at her, at himself. He always aimed his hate at himself, at his perceived weaknesses. She at least knew him that well. She was ashamed that she'd ever thought that she'd made all that up.

His eyes had a maddened gleam to them and she almost choked on terror at what it did to his whole demeanor. He changed at once from the glimmer of a confused man, to the dimness of a power-driven monster.

He shoved himself away from the bench so hard it almost went into the opposite wall. He started walking out the door, not even seeming to notice her, but stopped when she spoke.

"Do you want the food now or after you train?"

"Don't bother yourself with it. I don't think I'll be back for a while." His voice was so devoid of emotion, so cold. She wished she could see his eyes. His eyes she could read.

He continued out the door, and she felt like Henry actually had kicked her.

* * *

Immediately after Vegeta left the infirmary, Bulma collected herself and went out to find Henry's body and tie it up nice and tight for the cops, whom she had already called.

She looked slightly nauseous at the blood that was smeared on the grass; most of it Henry's then realized with shock that Henry was not with his blood. He was gone. And from the looks of the blood smeared toward the woods around their house, he was alive.

She was going to inform Vegeta of this, but the cops came. When they finally finished questioning her, it was already dark, seeing as they'd wanted everything in triplicate.

She frowned at the gravity room in front of her. It was humming, which told her he'd been in there, but it was way too early for him to be done. It wasn't even seven.

She felt a moment of panic; she was doing that a lot since last night. He'd said he wouldn't be back. Did that mean that he'd left?

She didn't want to know the answer to that question, but she had to find out. There was only one place she could do so.

She headed upstairs and paused outside his door trying to just listen to see if he was in there. No such luck. If he was in there, he was probably sleeping. She could peek around the door to see if he was in his bed and then hurry back out. No need for him to see her.

She had no idea why she had this sudden need for secrecy except that she didn't want Vegeta to question her motives, to ask her why she loved him. She couldn't have answered him if she wanted to.

She opened the door slowly and peeked in. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He was there, back turned toward her, only a darker shadow among shadows.

Despite herself, she found herself entering his room and tiptoeing closer to his sleeping form. She wanted to see him sleeping. Except for that one time she had caught him napping, and he'd woken up to fast to see, she'd yet to see if his features changed during repose. She'd heard some did.

* * *

Vegeta was very awake and very aware of the woman creeping closer to his bed. He cursed himself for deciding a short nap would be okay before he went right back at it. He had been more drained by the 'fight' then he had a thought and a few hours training had tired him out.

The reason he hadn't reacted when the woman had first entered was simple curiosity. He wanted to know what she was doing.

Vegeta's open eyes gleamed in the darkness. The light from the hallway slipped past the partway-opened door and threw her shadow on the wall. Right now, it seemed as if she had stopped near the foot of his bed. He could feel her eyes boring into him and it drove him to action.

She gasped in surprise as he was suddenly in front of her, clad only in boxers.

"What are you doing?" His voice was as a glacier going over land, yet the light from the hallway showed Bulma much more.

Bulma's mind worked frantically, "Picking up your clothes. I need to do laundry."

Vegeta smirked, "Have you ever been told that you're a horrible liar? You just did the laundry two days ago. Now, why are you here?"

Bulma looked into his eyes, making sure what she saw wasn't just her own desire.

No. There was desire in his eyes. But it was a far cry from the look of lustful possessiveness that Henry's had carried. This look silently cried out with a need that he didn't believe he deserved.

She wanted so much to prove otherwise, but would he let her?

She took his face in her hands and drew her face toward his. Her lips lightly touched his, a question: Will you let me? He answered by deepening the kiss, making the light touch a firm answer: I can't help but.

He started to pull away, to shake his head in denial. She held him tight, telling him he had committed himself already. The kiss changed then, as both resigned themselves to passions long kept bottled-up.

Hands eagerly tore off clothes, explored the newness of each other's bodies, found areas that were especially pleasing to the other.

Feet moved to the bed, they thumped down on it and their feet and legs intertwined to the point that it couldn't be said which belonged to the other.

Mouths followed hands in their exploration, though not nearly as lightly.

The completion of the intricate dance left them both gasping for air yet truly needing none. They both yielded to slumber as their bodies twined around each other, for now content with the state of things.