FROM BAD TO WORSE...
Chapter Nineteen - Closure
He had to admit that things were pretty quiet around Capsule Corporation, Dr. Briefs reflected over his afternoon coffee. Spread out on the dining room table were enough desserts to feed an army. On the other end his lovely wife sat with her chin in her hands fretting over how empty the large house was now.
"We should have had more children," she sighed forlornly. "I'm not THAT old, you know, dear. Perhaps we could try again..."
Dr. Briefs coughed into his mug and tried to ignore her. He was sixty-five and had started to look forward to retirement without playing the role of father all over again. It was at times like these that the sixteen-year difference between he and his blond wife became irritating. They had absolutely nothing in common, no similar hobbies and completely opposite interests but Dr. Briefs was content to stay with her for the rest of his life. As long as she didn't start harping on about babies, that is.
"Don't you hear that?" he asked her.
She blinked at him. "Hear what?"
"My point exactly," he said, smiling. He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes and relished the piece and quiet of his surroundings.
"!!OLD MAN!!"
Releasing a strangled squawk, Dr. Briefs almost fell out of his chair at the rough voice shouting from the balcony. He turned and saw that Vegeta was standing in the open patio doors, glaring at him with one narrowed eye. For some reason the other was bandaged over.
Mrs. Briefs immediately pulled out her funk at the sight of the compact alien. "Oh! Welcome back, Vegeta! I've missed you sooo much. How are-" The phone began ringing and she flounced over to the wall, almost dancing in her joy at the familiar sight. "I'll be right back!"
Purposely ignoring her, Vegeta concentrated on Dr. Briefs. "I'm told you've made improvements to the gravity simulator. You will show them to me. Now," he growled and stalked back out onto the balcony and jumped to the ground. From outside the sounds of fire alarms and police sirens had started to wail, shattering the silence that had been so calming only thirty short seconds ago.
Dr. Briefs was struggling to absorb the Saiyan's sudden appearance when his wife turned away from the phone and announced cheerfully, "I'm talking to Bulma! She and Vegeta are moving back home! Isn't that wonderful?"
The elderly scientist let his shoulders sag as he went to the staircase to go outside. "There goes the neighborhood," he muttered under his breath.
Once she had returned home, her pockets heavy with encapsulated belongings, Bulma discovered that Vegeta had entered Capsule Three on the premises that housed the gravity simulator and locked the door after himself. That hadn't surprised her, she knew that he had a lot of training time to make up but she could only hope that he wouldn't overdo it. The rest of the day she spent with her parents giving then a Reader's Digest account of all of the things that had happened since they had both left the Headquarters building. That evening, a letter arrived by courier for her. She recognized the handwriting immediately and almost tore it up on the spot. It was from Yamcha.
It wasn't until late that night as she lay in her own bed and unable to sleep that she reluctantly broke the seal and pulled out the pages. There were three sheets in all, in the fighter's nearly illegible script. The first two were predictable; lamentations over losing her and reflections on their past adventures together. Not so long ago, Bulma would have been reduced to tears over the emotion that was poured into the words she read but now her eyes were dry. The third sheet piqued her interest as Yamcha told her what had happened on the battlefield;
"-a Gift', he said. I swear, Bulma, if he hadn't been right in front of me I never would have believed it. He had me in his sights when he released his Galaxy Gun, or whatever the hell he calls that thing, but he spared my life. Not for any concern about me. And certainly not because he was scared about the consequences. No, he did it for YOU. It was the damnest thing I ever saw. I don't know what happened in that hotel room between the two of you (and I don't wanna know!) but whatever it was, I can see that Vegeta is different from that insane alien who tried to take over the Earth. He genuinely cares for you but knowing that arrogant, self-centered, little prick, I bet he never even told you what he said to me, did he? Figures. Shows you what a good guy I am by writing this down in a letter, doesn't it?
"I'll never tell you that Vegeta will EVER be capable of loving you as much as I do, Bulma. I always have and I always will. But Paur told me some things that were none of my business and it helps me understand the situation between the two of you. He needs you. I can respect that and because of it I promise to keep my distance. Just remember that I'm only a phone call away if you ever need someone to talk to. I will be always be your friend no matter what."
It was signed with just his first initial. Bulma read the last two paragraphs over and over before putting the pages back into the envelope and placing it in a drawer. She could only hope that Yamcha's acceptance wasn't too little, too late.
As time moved on at its inexorable pace, Bulma tried to believe that things in her life had finally returned to normal but just couldn't make herself accept that. In the span of only a few short weeks everything had changed; her relationship with her parents, her job, and her own personal ambitions. Nothing was the same anymore. Things that had fulfilled her and gave her life meaning no longer mattered. She returned to her previous position as Head of Research and Development at Capsule Corp. but none of the designs that she had shelved prior to her resignation meant anything to her, except for one. Calling back a suddenly recovered Charles McNeal, she resumed the study and design of the communications chip her father had thought long destroyed and took control of the entire lab and its staff to develop it. This began a subtle power struggle between the two that would eventually lead to Dr. Briefs handing over control and Presidency of the company conglomerate to his only daughter in the next three years and quietly retiring. The prior bids came running back when word spread that she had over-ruled her father on the issue of the chip and would authorize it's implementation. She made more mouths water with the hint of a revolutionary exhaust system that she was currently reviewing the blueprints to. She had only half of the design carefully taped together on a lab drafting table but she was determined to get the rest of it if she could.
She would have liked to resume the morning jog routine with Vegeta now that they no longer had to worry about running into the Super Bitch of the Western Capital; the notorious Dorothy Pereaux. Following the devastation of her home, the tabloids had a field day with various speculations as insurance investigators and fire marshals conducted an inquiry into the explosion. All three levels of the immaculate townhouse had been reduced to one smoldering pile of unrecognizable rubble. Lost was an art collection of rare lithographs, original paintings and fine statuettes. Adding to the incalculable losses were wardrobes from several movies and charred jewelry, not to mention designer original furniture. The only thing that seemed to have been spared was the actresses' rather impressive collection of sex toys, much to the chagrin of one very embarrassed firefighter.
Bulma was less than helpful when a pair of detectives showed up at her door. Apparently, Ms. Pereaux had made some rather fantastic allegations against an Italian immigrant of the name of Vegeta who was staying at Capsule Corporation. Bulma didn't know where the nationality confusion came from but she provided an alibi for the Saiyan courtesy of the Hammorski Plaza for the day of the explosion. Sure, she knew he had left early and was pretty certain he had been the one responsible for the damage but who were the authorities most likely to believe? The billion dollar heiress or some B movie skank? Listening to her rational explanation over coffee, the detectives never even bothered to interview Vegeta. The explosion was ruled as inconclusive without the presence of accelerant agents. It was also thinly hinted that the actress might have started the blaze herself after she had been turned down recently for a movie role because she was over-weight. The fact that she was in debt and viciously adversarial during the investigation had not helped her credibility any. Her housekeeper, the only other witness, had turned out to be an illegal immigrant and was taken away by Foreign Affairs and returned to Mexico. In the span of less than a week Dorothy was reduced to a laughing stock of the entertainment business. She finally decided to move to the opposite coast to get as far away from the weirdo's in the Capital as she could get. Nobody really missed her.
Bulma framed the National Enquirer issue that had Dorothy's face on it with the slogan: 'Actress Attacked by Alien' across the front. She hung it over her filing cabinet and got a well-deserved laugh every single time she looked at it. Sometimes there were things that could top a good old-fashioned catfight and that was pissing off a good old-fashioned vengeful Saiyan. She hadn't given Vegeta any grief over the incident, privately pleased that he had actually spared her life. Two manipulative souls in one day when you included Yamcha. Perhaps the Saiyan no Ouji who had returned in the hotel room had allowed himself to be tempered a little after all.
Once Vegeta had returned to the Headquarters building, he allowed her father to brief him on the improvements he had made on the design and moved inside. There was a living area in the level below the main training chamber that consisted of a cot, a small kitchen and a bathroom. They were just the bare essentials of a personal existence, especially considering the opulence they had enjoyed at the Plaza, but the Saiyan didn't appear to mind. By remaining there he could be exposed to a higher density of gravity around the clock to speed up the precious acclimation time he had lost during his illness.
He remained in there for periods as long as a week before exhausting the food and water reserves and having no choice but to leave the Capsule and replenish the supplies. The Briefs family had gotten used to the delivery van from the neighborhood grocery store backing up to the circular outbuilding and unload boxes of canned goods, pounds of meat, loaves of bread and various other items that would last a large family a month. For a hard-training Saiyan, the huge food order generally lasted eight days and Dr. Briefs wordlessly accepted the huge bill without comment. By now, Vegeta had abandoned the proud resolve of working for his keep and figured that the old goat owed him for the hell he had put him through.
It was during those rare days when the Saiyan actually emerged from the simulator that Bulma would leave her job for the day just to be around him. She always made the excuse to have to go inside and inspect the console and gravity projectors for signs of wear and she always found something that needed repair. In the first month after their return from the Plaza, Vegeta deliberately kept his distance from her. As the weeks rolled by he eventually started watching her as she did some re-wiring or welding. It was that Saiyan technological curiosity overriding the unease he now felt around her, she knew. She was patient and talked aloud to herself of the details involved in her repairs knowing full well that he was silently listening to her every word trying not to be too obvious about it. Often she tried reaching for him but he would only draw away from her. She didn't need him to erect a rapport between them to hear his unspoken question; 'Do you still pity me?'
Looking into his dark, haunted eyes she felt that overwhelming sorrow swamp her entire being. The thought of the powerful prince before her being reduced to an orphaned plaything at the mercy of a crazed tyrant was almost beyond her ability to cope. She could not look at him without swallowing back unshed tears and he would catch her grief with his arcane senses and turn away from her in frustration.
Bulma knew he would accept her touch if she could forget the terrible knowledge she had gained and go to him without feeling sorry for him. It was tempting to try but to do that would be to turn her back on the very things that had shaped the proud Saiyan into the being he was today and lose her valuable insight into his damaged soul. She could not, would not, do that and her visits to the simulator always ended the same way that they began; With a long, appraising look between them that could not quite disguise their mutual despair.
Their awkward dance continued for a few more months. The arrival of the grocery delivery van had become so common that the sight of it was dismissed as soon as it was witnessed. On this occasion however, Bulma looked back from her vantagepoint in the sunroom and watched Vegeta step up to the driver who handed him a clipboard. The Saiyan inspected the pages thoroughly before he nodded and handed the board back. As if that exchange wasn't confusing, what followed was even more so. The deliveryman opened the back doors of the van and proceeded to unload box after box on the lawn. After every eight, Vegeta would encapsulate the pile and then wait for the sweating man to continue unloading. The Saiyan repeated this odd display nine more times before the van left the courtyard.
Seventy-two boxes of food, Bulma counted as she stood at the window. Outside, Vegeta retrieved the outside hose and refilled both the auxiliary and reserve water tanks. The woman was still completely bewildered by the alien's odd house keeping duties until she saw the company fuel truck pull up alongside the Capsule.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered in realization.
The key to the transformation, Vegeta concluded, was RAGE.
It was an emotion he figured he had an over-abundance of but he was discovering that there were different facets to such violence. Like the exposed strata of an archaeological dig; the deeper one dug, the darker the earth and the more primal the find. Vegeta knew that he was always on the cusp of one tantrum or another and found that his anger served him well. It had started as a habit that he developed as a key to self-survival and had gotten him into as many messes as it had served to get him out of over the years. That attitude was who he was now; the façade had become the persona and he was now the living embodiment of raw violence.
During his intense sessions in the simulator it was easy to lose himself in that rhythm of destruction until his actions were instinctive and without conscious direction. His mind became a blank, black slate and he wouldn't come out of it until he was hurt or exhausted or both, which was common. He realized he had plateaued in his training but was at a loss to do anything more than keep increasing the punishing gravity. That frustration added to his growing anxiety making him lose his concentration.
More and more often he found himself dwelling on the events that had led up to the near-fatal stage of the V'Nhar; The shock of being dismissed like some common laborer. The depression that made the rationale of wishing to be dead again seem logical. Kami's funhouse hall of mirrors that knew more about him than he did. That mocking, amazon bitch who had successfully reduced him to a desperate whore. Add Radditz and Nappa into the mix and it was small wonder he wanted to expunge the last two weeks out of his memory. His recollections of that precious intimacy with Bulma should have been enough to sustain him and brighten his mood but it was just not his nature. All he could dwell on was how much of himself he had betrayed to her. He was not a man who voluntarily shared the details of his harsh past to weak humans or display compassion but to Bulma he had done both. More than that, he had begun to... care for her. It was the most unsettling thing of all.
He was in the middle of a training session against all five combat drones when his mind lapsed and he thought of how the woman now pitied him. !!HIM!! Screaming in rage, he lashed outwards with all of his power and for just a split second something deep within him gave a little. The power release was like nothing he had ever experienced before; it was raw and blinding and actually painful. Every cell in his body recoiled from the burning sensation and he crumpled to the floor, covered in sweat and shivering at the same time.
Energy displays were a thing he had flaunted ever since he was a small boy. He thought himself accustomed to the act but this time... the sensation was entirely indescribable; like a blind man asked to describe the colors of a sunset. The power had been primal, untapped and, oh Gods, enormous beyond all conceivable comprehension. It wasn't until Vegeta got to his feet that it dawned on him that the attack drones were missing. Upon further inspection he discovered that he had not merely damaged or disabled them with his feral release, he had obliterated them. Holding up the remnants of one charred casing he realized with almost religious awe that the power he had experienced had to have been a precursor to ascending the level of the Super Saiyan. The thought of how close he had come made all of the moisture in his mouth dry up in anticipation. His lifelong dream; the destiny his father had praised would someday come to him. So close...
Like a man possessed he threw himself back into his training with renewed vigor, deliberately making himself angry, or hurt- anything that would cause that emotional break in his internal wall and bring that god-like power forth. Nothing worked. It wasn't until during one of Bulma's inspections that he began to entertain suspicions as to why the power refused to reveal itself. The simulator was beside the Headquarters building where the woman lived. He had totaled the Capsule once in an ill-timed release of power. The discharge that would be the harbinger of the Super Saiyan transformation would be a hundred times more destructive. Perhaps a thousand.
With a mixture of exasperation and dismay, he realized he was unconsciously holding back because he didn't want her to get hurt.
The Company fuel truck was just driving away from Capsule 3 when Bulma advanced on the lone Saiyan as he inspected the exterior of the circular craft. "Vegeta! What do you think you're doing?"
He recognized the piercing timbre of her voice at once. "Stupid woman, what does it look like?"
"You're leaving?" she asked in dismay.
"Perhaps I'll recant my earlier judgement of you. Yes, I'm leaving."
"Why? For how long? Where will you go? When will-"
He turned on her, scowling. "I've no time to play twenty questions with you. I can't concentrate here. There are too many distractions. I plan to go some place isolated to continue my training in private. Satisfied?"
No, she definitely was NOT satisfied if the look of outrage on her face was any indication. He obviously wasn't going to make as swift an escape in the Capsule as he had the first time he stole it. "You can't leave," she stated harshly.
"Is that a fact? Why the hell not!?"
"We haven't resolved our relationship."
"We don't have a relationship!" he shouted at her.
"What do you call what happened back at the hotel room?"
He threw his arms up in disgust and stalked a short distance away. There it was; the very thing he knew that would bite him in the ass sooner or later and just because he had been too weak at the time to resist. He should have left her after the first time they fucked but oh no, he had chosen to stick around. He had pleasured her, treated her kindly and now the idiot woman was expecting him to pledge his life to her. There had been a price tag attached to her selflessness after all.
"A mistake," he said in answer to her question. His voice, like his manner was as cold as she had ever seen it.
"A mistake..." she whispered under her breath, her anger deflating. "You don't mean that, Vegeta."
He only stared back as he tried to come up with a defense behind his terse response. The questions and accusations were about to fly and he was going to be ready for them.
Instead, Bulma took a deep breath and moved her gaze over to the Capsule. "I suppose that I should give you a system briefing and the Capsule one last check before you go."
"That won't be necessary. I know everything there is about this craft."
She had been in the process of returning to the main building to retrieve her tools when she spun around and said, "If that were the case, you wouldn't have crashed into the yard the last time you took it for a joyride."
"I ran out of fuel!"
"There was a reserve tank, mister wizard!" She watched his mouth snap closed and gloated over the rare look of surprise on the Saiyan's face. "You stay right there and don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."
Vegeta growled low in his throat but he crossed his arms and did what she said until she returned.
Bulma easily pushed Vegeta's earlier statements aside as she focused on a thorough examination of the Capsule's entire systems. Most times Vegeta's bluster was precisely that; smoke that was used as a cover to prevent the exposure of more sensitive things. She hadn't been looking for a guarantee of eternal love and gratitude from the Saiyan, just admittance that she had been something more to him than a convenient screw. As usual, her expectations were not soothed by his coarse dismissal. Back at the Plaza, she had almost been able to anticipate his moods and behavior but the recent time apart had eroded her insight. He was as unpredictable now as he had been the first day they had met face to face on Namek. Now she could only speculate on his motivations and ambitions in silence, knowing he was not going to willingly share that information to her. His distrust wounded her but she had no way to avoid it. All she could do now was give him his space and pray that he would come back on his own.
To his credit, Vegeta shelved his arrogance long enough to pay attention to what the woman showed him. There were some over-ride commands and little devices attached to the console that he had never before known existed. He had simply ignored them because they had nothing to do with the gravity projectors. In the event of coming across one of Frieza's old roving bands of soldiers, this information just might come in useful so he paid keen attention. He was standing directly beside her as she showed him some re-wiring short cuts and he tried not to get distracted by the smell of her hair or the movements of her body. She was in her element, explaining complex technological details while her fingers moved of their own accord and her intelligence would always be the biggest turn-on for him. Tits were a dime a dozen but a genius mind was a rare discovery indeed.
Near the end of her inspection she discovered two viewing portals that had hairline fractures in the supposedly unbreakable glass. "These are going to have to be replaced," she told him, pulling out her trusty screwdriver. "Help me up."
He had been trailing around after her as she inspected the entire Capsule but now he stopped dead in his tracks. "Go get a ladder."
"Why bother? You're here, aren't you? Now lift me up," she said peevishly.
He didn't make any move towards her. When he crossed his arms she rolled her eyes in clear disgust and walked out of the Capsule in search of a stepladder. Vegeta was still standing in his place when she finally returned cursing loudly and banging an aluminum ladder along beside her. "I don't know what your damned problem is, Vegeta. I'm trying to do you a favor here, you know."
"So am I," he retorted under his breath but she was still muttering to herself and didn't hear him.
She removed both circular windows and spent most of the afternoon searching the storage domes on the property for replacements. She was dirty and disheveled and extremely out of temper with the uncooperative Saiyan when she finally found the spare portals. He was shadow boxing on the lawn when she emerged from the dome and normally she would allow herself to get distracted by the sight of him wearing only his spandex shorts. Not this time.
"You," she said briskly, "Carry these. Over there." She didn't even look back to see if he was following her to Capsule 3 with the heavy windows until she was inside. Sure enough, the Saiyan joined her a few minutes later, carrying the replacements and not happy about being ordered to do it. He dropped them where she was standing, narrowly missing her toes and retreated back to watch her work from a distance, scowling in displeasure.
Struggling with one particularly nasty bolt, Bulma was tightening off the last of the seals when her wrench slipped and she pitched forward off of the ladder. Moving with that unnatural speed of his, Vegeta phased in and caught her. The pair exchanged one startled look before he sneered, "You did that on purpose," and unceremoniously dropped her. Fortunately, he had been standing on the floor by then and it was a relatively short fall on her behind.
"You bastard!" she hissed and kicked him in the shin.
He never even flinched. Bending down over her with that condescending smirk on his face, he told her slyly, "Weak little woman. You're going to have to do better than that if you expect to-"
Growling in rage, Bulma raised her sights and punched him directly in the groin. THIS time he flinched. More than that, he staggered two steps back and regarded her with wary amazement. "You bitch..." he coughed, straightening with difficulty.
Getting nimbly to her feet, Bulma raised her fists boxer-style and danced nimbly around him as he visibly shrugged off the effect of her unexpected blow. She looked so ridiculous prancing around like some effete fairy with attitude that his indignation deflated and he had to betray a reluctant smile.
Lowering her arms, Bulma looked at him wounded that he wasn't taking her seriously. "What's so funny, Vegeta? I can take care of myself!"
He grunted in wordless accord and continued to stare at her, his eyes softening. "You don't pity me anymore."
"Selfish jackass. Of course I don't with all of this bull- oh," she confessed in apparent shock. The knowledge she had gained in the hotel room had finally diminished enough for her not to dwell on it and betray her remorse in her actions towards him. She was brilliantly pissed and that rage had eclipsed everything else. Now she could only stare at him in confusion wondering if he had done all of this on purpose just to get a reaction out of her.
For no good reason, he offered her one brief nod. His voice had lost its usual rough edge when he said, "If you're finished, I'll go make the preparations for launch-"
"Just a minute," she said, coming up along side of him. He grumbled in displeasure that he had almost made a clean getaway but he didn't step away from her as he had before. Nor did he react when Bulma placed a hand on his chest. "Vegeta, I don't want us to part like this."
"We are not a couple," he told her roughly. "What is it that you could possibly want?"
She looked into his face and touched the angle of his jaw. "Closure," she whispered and leaned forward to kiss him.
Her soft lips felt like they brushed up against granite before he pushed her back, shaking his head. "It can't happen."
"Why not?" she asked in dismay. "Give me one logical reason why we can't make love one last time?"
"Watch." He reached out towards the wall and placed his hand flat against the reinforced steel of the Capsule. With a mere flex of his fingers he caused the tips to sink into the metal down to the first knuckle before pulling the digits free. "I have been exposed to the high gravity for too long. I lack subtlety to my strength and I would only hurt you with my touch until I learned some control." He turned back to her. "I made a promise to you, Bulma."
Looking to the clear imprint of his hand etched into the metal, Bulma understood what he was trying to explain to her. She could feel the truth under her palm. His alien flesh had compensated for the overwhelming pressure of the gravity he had forced on himself and was now as hard and cold as marble. Drawing her nails lightly down his chest, they made a raspy sound as if she were doing the act against stone. "That's not true," she said at last. "There's still one part of you that's soft. I punched it, remember?"
His face tightened at the reminder. "Woman, one wrong thrust and I'll tear you open to your throat. Do you honestly want that?"
There was a look on her face that he recognized with a mixture of unease and trepidation. Those genius gears were spinning in her mind, refusing to be sidetracked from her objective. He should have been flattered that she wanted him this badly but coming up with excuses on his part was becoming difficult. He wanted her too.
An idea came to Bulma at long last. Smiling, she dropped her hand to the waistband of his shorts and politely inquired, "So, Vegeta... How has your back been feeling lately?"
In the level below the main training chamber, Bulma discovered another part of the Saiyan that was soft to her inquiring senses. Her mouth found Vegeta's again and they kissed long and grandly, their tongues mingling with hot passion as their breathing increased and she squirmed and moved smoothly atop of him. She accepted readily and easily the throbbing length of his existence into her excited flesh, moving her hips at a measured pace that pleasured both of them into an euphoric spell of passion.
Slowly, gently, lovingly sucking Vegeta's tongue, she kept her hands tightly gripped around his wrists, reminding him by that hold alone that he didn't dare touch her. He submitted to her wholly, letting her set the pace for their lovemaking as he forced himself to remain still beneath her, feeling her steaming sheath surround and caress his throbbing rod. The restraint only fueled his excitement, every nerve in his body tingling with pleasure at the depth of his penetration, the head of his manhood jabbing against the doorway to her shivering womb.
There were no words between them during this slow, thorough coupling, only the soft moist sounds as their bodies met and parted. Her breasts, always sensitive, became mounds of excited flesh, the nipples pressing and massaging his muscled chest as she slid along him. Gradually she increased the pace as the first delicate featherings of orgasm began building inside of her, the silken lining of her womanhood clinging lovingly around the entire length of him.
Vegeta's entire body spasmed beneath her and he was unable to choke back a strangled cry as his seed burst like an explosion of fire through his shaft and gushed into her hungrily accepting woman flesh. Bulma was seized by a billowing ecstasy that rose like a flock of wild doves in flight towards the blue sky. Her moist, hot vaginal walls shuddered madly, drinking in his thick essence and letting it mingle with her own sweet fluid with radiant welcome. Their climax went on and on, sealing their newly awakened relationship with pleasure and hope.
Finally, the wondrous sensations began to ebb slowly away as the two lovers stared at one another and the lingering ecstasy of their coupling wafted over them like a sweet mountain breeze. With tears in her eyes, Bulma rested her forehead against his and through a bond he had not consciously crafted, Vegeta heard her whisper into his mind;
'...NOW I can say good-bye...'
Epilogue
Three months later Bulma sat on the roof of the Headquarters building and looked wonderingly up at the stars. Being in the center of the brightly lit Capital made stargazing a difficult task but tonight the sky was brilliant with tiny specks of light. It was hard for her to believe that less than a year ago she had been traveling amidst that vast expanse of darkness, marveling at its sheer endlessness and feeling the weight of loneliness and homesickness pull at her soul. If Krillin and Gohan hadn't been with her she might have gone mad and now Vegeta was out there, somewhere, completely on his own. Sometimes, when she slept, she could see alien landscapes and strange constellations drift into her dreams like fog, leaving vague after-images in her waking memory the next morning. Surely it couldn't still be a remnant of the rapport they had shared back at the Plaza, could it? Could something like that even exist when light-years separated them from one another? There were too many questions at stake and the only one who could answer them was very far away.
When they had finished their lovemaking Bulma pulled on her jumpsuit and gathered the rest of her clothes and walked over to the stairwell that would take her up to the main level. Pausing, she looked back and saw the Saiyan sitting at the edge of the bed staring sadly down at the floor. It was a sight that she never forgot and if he had asked her to join him in his voyage, she would have accepted the invitation without hesitation. He said nothing, however, and she interpreted that solemn silence as his only good-bye. She left the Capsule without another word.
To her surprise, he didn't leave until early the next morning. She had wrapped a gift for him that evening and slid it into the Capsule late at night while he had been sleeping. It had been a spur of the moment thing; a gift that only the two of them would really understand. Placing her prototype laptop into a box she included a piece of paper with the words; 'In Case of Extreme Boredom, Break Seal:' and underneath of the words she had taped her toenail clippers. She wondered what the expression on his face would look like when he unwrapped the strange gift but doubted he was as surprised as she had been when she had returned to her office after watching his take-off. Resting on her desk were the final blueprint designs to the exhaust system he had told her of back when they had shared their very first kiss.
"I'll be damned," she said with a longing smile.
Later on that day, she realized that the Saiyan had gotten the last laugh when she had gathered up her clothes for laundry and couldn't find the panties she had worn when she had serviced the simulator. And him. Realization hit her like a slap across the face. The thought of Vegeta gallivanting around the cosmos with her used underwear as his pillow was enough to bring a mortified blush to her cheeks. She supposed he deserved some little diversion to help with the loneliness but it still freaked her out. It wasn't long before the mere thought of it had her howling with laughter while her bewildered parents looked on in confusion. As close as she was to her folks, she would NEVER tell them about that!
She was laughing now as she looked up at the twinkling, sable sky. "Where are you now, you little pervert?" she asked aloud as she absently rubbed her stomach. He still had about two more months of supplies left if he rationed himself carefully. If he didn't find a friendly planet to refuel and gather provisions, he would be back by then. What would be his reaction when he saw her?
'I can understand the drive to produce an heir but I'll never know what it's like. Now. My line ends here, with me,' he had told her, his voice betraying his true remorse over the words.
Bulma looked down at her gently swelling stomach and caressed it affectionately as she whispered, "Not any more, it doesn't."
Deep within her womb lay the infant who had foretold his own birth and marvelous conception. The product of two vastly different individuals whose only initial union was to lessen each others fears, if only for a short period in time and find solace in one another's embrace. The child would be the most unique creation in the universe; the product of a genius Earth woman and the last Saiyan prince. Regardless of whatever timeline he existed in, the babe's potential was limitless and his destiny was one of power, wealth and greatness.
Considering his unique heritage, it was not possible to be anything less as Bulma now carried the last royal heir to the House of Vegeta. There were going to be no perversions or violence associated with his upbringing. Nothing that would take a sweet innocent soul and slowly twist it into a nightmarish copy of its captor.
No. She was determined it was going to be raised in a house filled with love and God help anyone who stood in her way...
The End.
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~Darke Angelus
Chapter Nineteen - Closure
He had to admit that things were pretty quiet around Capsule Corporation, Dr. Briefs reflected over his afternoon coffee. Spread out on the dining room table were enough desserts to feed an army. On the other end his lovely wife sat with her chin in her hands fretting over how empty the large house was now.
"We should have had more children," she sighed forlornly. "I'm not THAT old, you know, dear. Perhaps we could try again..."
Dr. Briefs coughed into his mug and tried to ignore her. He was sixty-five and had started to look forward to retirement without playing the role of father all over again. It was at times like these that the sixteen-year difference between he and his blond wife became irritating. They had absolutely nothing in common, no similar hobbies and completely opposite interests but Dr. Briefs was content to stay with her for the rest of his life. As long as she didn't start harping on about babies, that is.
"Don't you hear that?" he asked her.
She blinked at him. "Hear what?"
"My point exactly," he said, smiling. He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes and relished the piece and quiet of his surroundings.
"!!OLD MAN!!"
Releasing a strangled squawk, Dr. Briefs almost fell out of his chair at the rough voice shouting from the balcony. He turned and saw that Vegeta was standing in the open patio doors, glaring at him with one narrowed eye. For some reason the other was bandaged over.
Mrs. Briefs immediately pulled out her funk at the sight of the compact alien. "Oh! Welcome back, Vegeta! I've missed you sooo much. How are-" The phone began ringing and she flounced over to the wall, almost dancing in her joy at the familiar sight. "I'll be right back!"
Purposely ignoring her, Vegeta concentrated on Dr. Briefs. "I'm told you've made improvements to the gravity simulator. You will show them to me. Now," he growled and stalked back out onto the balcony and jumped to the ground. From outside the sounds of fire alarms and police sirens had started to wail, shattering the silence that had been so calming only thirty short seconds ago.
Dr. Briefs was struggling to absorb the Saiyan's sudden appearance when his wife turned away from the phone and announced cheerfully, "I'm talking to Bulma! She and Vegeta are moving back home! Isn't that wonderful?"
The elderly scientist let his shoulders sag as he went to the staircase to go outside. "There goes the neighborhood," he muttered under his breath.
Once she had returned home, her pockets heavy with encapsulated belongings, Bulma discovered that Vegeta had entered Capsule Three on the premises that housed the gravity simulator and locked the door after himself. That hadn't surprised her, she knew that he had a lot of training time to make up but she could only hope that he wouldn't overdo it. The rest of the day she spent with her parents giving then a Reader's Digest account of all of the things that had happened since they had both left the Headquarters building. That evening, a letter arrived by courier for her. She recognized the handwriting immediately and almost tore it up on the spot. It was from Yamcha.
It wasn't until late that night as she lay in her own bed and unable to sleep that she reluctantly broke the seal and pulled out the pages. There were three sheets in all, in the fighter's nearly illegible script. The first two were predictable; lamentations over losing her and reflections on their past adventures together. Not so long ago, Bulma would have been reduced to tears over the emotion that was poured into the words she read but now her eyes were dry. The third sheet piqued her interest as Yamcha told her what had happened on the battlefield;
"-a Gift', he said. I swear, Bulma, if he hadn't been right in front of me I never would have believed it. He had me in his sights when he released his Galaxy Gun, or whatever the hell he calls that thing, but he spared my life. Not for any concern about me. And certainly not because he was scared about the consequences. No, he did it for YOU. It was the damnest thing I ever saw. I don't know what happened in that hotel room between the two of you (and I don't wanna know!) but whatever it was, I can see that Vegeta is different from that insane alien who tried to take over the Earth. He genuinely cares for you but knowing that arrogant, self-centered, little prick, I bet he never even told you what he said to me, did he? Figures. Shows you what a good guy I am by writing this down in a letter, doesn't it?
"I'll never tell you that Vegeta will EVER be capable of loving you as much as I do, Bulma. I always have and I always will. But Paur told me some things that were none of my business and it helps me understand the situation between the two of you. He needs you. I can respect that and because of it I promise to keep my distance. Just remember that I'm only a phone call away if you ever need someone to talk to. I will be always be your friend no matter what."
It was signed with just his first initial. Bulma read the last two paragraphs over and over before putting the pages back into the envelope and placing it in a drawer. She could only hope that Yamcha's acceptance wasn't too little, too late.
As time moved on at its inexorable pace, Bulma tried to believe that things in her life had finally returned to normal but just couldn't make herself accept that. In the span of only a few short weeks everything had changed; her relationship with her parents, her job, and her own personal ambitions. Nothing was the same anymore. Things that had fulfilled her and gave her life meaning no longer mattered. She returned to her previous position as Head of Research and Development at Capsule Corp. but none of the designs that she had shelved prior to her resignation meant anything to her, except for one. Calling back a suddenly recovered Charles McNeal, she resumed the study and design of the communications chip her father had thought long destroyed and took control of the entire lab and its staff to develop it. This began a subtle power struggle between the two that would eventually lead to Dr. Briefs handing over control and Presidency of the company conglomerate to his only daughter in the next three years and quietly retiring. The prior bids came running back when word spread that she had over-ruled her father on the issue of the chip and would authorize it's implementation. She made more mouths water with the hint of a revolutionary exhaust system that she was currently reviewing the blueprints to. She had only half of the design carefully taped together on a lab drafting table but she was determined to get the rest of it if she could.
She would have liked to resume the morning jog routine with Vegeta now that they no longer had to worry about running into the Super Bitch of the Western Capital; the notorious Dorothy Pereaux. Following the devastation of her home, the tabloids had a field day with various speculations as insurance investigators and fire marshals conducted an inquiry into the explosion. All three levels of the immaculate townhouse had been reduced to one smoldering pile of unrecognizable rubble. Lost was an art collection of rare lithographs, original paintings and fine statuettes. Adding to the incalculable losses were wardrobes from several movies and charred jewelry, not to mention designer original furniture. The only thing that seemed to have been spared was the actresses' rather impressive collection of sex toys, much to the chagrin of one very embarrassed firefighter.
Bulma was less than helpful when a pair of detectives showed up at her door. Apparently, Ms. Pereaux had made some rather fantastic allegations against an Italian immigrant of the name of Vegeta who was staying at Capsule Corporation. Bulma didn't know where the nationality confusion came from but she provided an alibi for the Saiyan courtesy of the Hammorski Plaza for the day of the explosion. Sure, she knew he had left early and was pretty certain he had been the one responsible for the damage but who were the authorities most likely to believe? The billion dollar heiress or some B movie skank? Listening to her rational explanation over coffee, the detectives never even bothered to interview Vegeta. The explosion was ruled as inconclusive without the presence of accelerant agents. It was also thinly hinted that the actress might have started the blaze herself after she had been turned down recently for a movie role because she was over-weight. The fact that she was in debt and viciously adversarial during the investigation had not helped her credibility any. Her housekeeper, the only other witness, had turned out to be an illegal immigrant and was taken away by Foreign Affairs and returned to Mexico. In the span of less than a week Dorothy was reduced to a laughing stock of the entertainment business. She finally decided to move to the opposite coast to get as far away from the weirdo's in the Capital as she could get. Nobody really missed her.
Bulma framed the National Enquirer issue that had Dorothy's face on it with the slogan: 'Actress Attacked by Alien' across the front. She hung it over her filing cabinet and got a well-deserved laugh every single time she looked at it. Sometimes there were things that could top a good old-fashioned catfight and that was pissing off a good old-fashioned vengeful Saiyan. She hadn't given Vegeta any grief over the incident, privately pleased that he had actually spared her life. Two manipulative souls in one day when you included Yamcha. Perhaps the Saiyan no Ouji who had returned in the hotel room had allowed himself to be tempered a little after all.
Once Vegeta had returned to the Headquarters building, he allowed her father to brief him on the improvements he had made on the design and moved inside. There was a living area in the level below the main training chamber that consisted of a cot, a small kitchen and a bathroom. They were just the bare essentials of a personal existence, especially considering the opulence they had enjoyed at the Plaza, but the Saiyan didn't appear to mind. By remaining there he could be exposed to a higher density of gravity around the clock to speed up the precious acclimation time he had lost during his illness.
He remained in there for periods as long as a week before exhausting the food and water reserves and having no choice but to leave the Capsule and replenish the supplies. The Briefs family had gotten used to the delivery van from the neighborhood grocery store backing up to the circular outbuilding and unload boxes of canned goods, pounds of meat, loaves of bread and various other items that would last a large family a month. For a hard-training Saiyan, the huge food order generally lasted eight days and Dr. Briefs wordlessly accepted the huge bill without comment. By now, Vegeta had abandoned the proud resolve of working for his keep and figured that the old goat owed him for the hell he had put him through.
It was during those rare days when the Saiyan actually emerged from the simulator that Bulma would leave her job for the day just to be around him. She always made the excuse to have to go inside and inspect the console and gravity projectors for signs of wear and she always found something that needed repair. In the first month after their return from the Plaza, Vegeta deliberately kept his distance from her. As the weeks rolled by he eventually started watching her as she did some re-wiring or welding. It was that Saiyan technological curiosity overriding the unease he now felt around her, she knew. She was patient and talked aloud to herself of the details involved in her repairs knowing full well that he was silently listening to her every word trying not to be too obvious about it. Often she tried reaching for him but he would only draw away from her. She didn't need him to erect a rapport between them to hear his unspoken question; 'Do you still pity me?'
Looking into his dark, haunted eyes she felt that overwhelming sorrow swamp her entire being. The thought of the powerful prince before her being reduced to an orphaned plaything at the mercy of a crazed tyrant was almost beyond her ability to cope. She could not look at him without swallowing back unshed tears and he would catch her grief with his arcane senses and turn away from her in frustration.
Bulma knew he would accept her touch if she could forget the terrible knowledge she had gained and go to him without feeling sorry for him. It was tempting to try but to do that would be to turn her back on the very things that had shaped the proud Saiyan into the being he was today and lose her valuable insight into his damaged soul. She could not, would not, do that and her visits to the simulator always ended the same way that they began; With a long, appraising look between them that could not quite disguise their mutual despair.
Their awkward dance continued for a few more months. The arrival of the grocery delivery van had become so common that the sight of it was dismissed as soon as it was witnessed. On this occasion however, Bulma looked back from her vantagepoint in the sunroom and watched Vegeta step up to the driver who handed him a clipboard. The Saiyan inspected the pages thoroughly before he nodded and handed the board back. As if that exchange wasn't confusing, what followed was even more so. The deliveryman opened the back doors of the van and proceeded to unload box after box on the lawn. After every eight, Vegeta would encapsulate the pile and then wait for the sweating man to continue unloading. The Saiyan repeated this odd display nine more times before the van left the courtyard.
Seventy-two boxes of food, Bulma counted as she stood at the window. Outside, Vegeta retrieved the outside hose and refilled both the auxiliary and reserve water tanks. The woman was still completely bewildered by the alien's odd house keeping duties until she saw the company fuel truck pull up alongside the Capsule.
"Son of a bitch," she muttered in realization.
The key to the transformation, Vegeta concluded, was RAGE.
It was an emotion he figured he had an over-abundance of but he was discovering that there were different facets to such violence. Like the exposed strata of an archaeological dig; the deeper one dug, the darker the earth and the more primal the find. Vegeta knew that he was always on the cusp of one tantrum or another and found that his anger served him well. It had started as a habit that he developed as a key to self-survival and had gotten him into as many messes as it had served to get him out of over the years. That attitude was who he was now; the façade had become the persona and he was now the living embodiment of raw violence.
During his intense sessions in the simulator it was easy to lose himself in that rhythm of destruction until his actions were instinctive and without conscious direction. His mind became a blank, black slate and he wouldn't come out of it until he was hurt or exhausted or both, which was common. He realized he had plateaued in his training but was at a loss to do anything more than keep increasing the punishing gravity. That frustration added to his growing anxiety making him lose his concentration.
More and more often he found himself dwelling on the events that had led up to the near-fatal stage of the V'Nhar; The shock of being dismissed like some common laborer. The depression that made the rationale of wishing to be dead again seem logical. Kami's funhouse hall of mirrors that knew more about him than he did. That mocking, amazon bitch who had successfully reduced him to a desperate whore. Add Radditz and Nappa into the mix and it was small wonder he wanted to expunge the last two weeks out of his memory. His recollections of that precious intimacy with Bulma should have been enough to sustain him and brighten his mood but it was just not his nature. All he could dwell on was how much of himself he had betrayed to her. He was not a man who voluntarily shared the details of his harsh past to weak humans or display compassion but to Bulma he had done both. More than that, he had begun to... care for her. It was the most unsettling thing of all.
He was in the middle of a training session against all five combat drones when his mind lapsed and he thought of how the woman now pitied him. !!HIM!! Screaming in rage, he lashed outwards with all of his power and for just a split second something deep within him gave a little. The power release was like nothing he had ever experienced before; it was raw and blinding and actually painful. Every cell in his body recoiled from the burning sensation and he crumpled to the floor, covered in sweat and shivering at the same time.
Energy displays were a thing he had flaunted ever since he was a small boy. He thought himself accustomed to the act but this time... the sensation was entirely indescribable; like a blind man asked to describe the colors of a sunset. The power had been primal, untapped and, oh Gods, enormous beyond all conceivable comprehension. It wasn't until Vegeta got to his feet that it dawned on him that the attack drones were missing. Upon further inspection he discovered that he had not merely damaged or disabled them with his feral release, he had obliterated them. Holding up the remnants of one charred casing he realized with almost religious awe that the power he had experienced had to have been a precursor to ascending the level of the Super Saiyan. The thought of how close he had come made all of the moisture in his mouth dry up in anticipation. His lifelong dream; the destiny his father had praised would someday come to him. So close...
Like a man possessed he threw himself back into his training with renewed vigor, deliberately making himself angry, or hurt- anything that would cause that emotional break in his internal wall and bring that god-like power forth. Nothing worked. It wasn't until during one of Bulma's inspections that he began to entertain suspicions as to why the power refused to reveal itself. The simulator was beside the Headquarters building where the woman lived. He had totaled the Capsule once in an ill-timed release of power. The discharge that would be the harbinger of the Super Saiyan transformation would be a hundred times more destructive. Perhaps a thousand.
With a mixture of exasperation and dismay, he realized he was unconsciously holding back because he didn't want her to get hurt.
The Company fuel truck was just driving away from Capsule 3 when Bulma advanced on the lone Saiyan as he inspected the exterior of the circular craft. "Vegeta! What do you think you're doing?"
He recognized the piercing timbre of her voice at once. "Stupid woman, what does it look like?"
"You're leaving?" she asked in dismay.
"Perhaps I'll recant my earlier judgement of you. Yes, I'm leaving."
"Why? For how long? Where will you go? When will-"
He turned on her, scowling. "I've no time to play twenty questions with you. I can't concentrate here. There are too many distractions. I plan to go some place isolated to continue my training in private. Satisfied?"
No, she definitely was NOT satisfied if the look of outrage on her face was any indication. He obviously wasn't going to make as swift an escape in the Capsule as he had the first time he stole it. "You can't leave," she stated harshly.
"Is that a fact? Why the hell not!?"
"We haven't resolved our relationship."
"We don't have a relationship!" he shouted at her.
"What do you call what happened back at the hotel room?"
He threw his arms up in disgust and stalked a short distance away. There it was; the very thing he knew that would bite him in the ass sooner or later and just because he had been too weak at the time to resist. He should have left her after the first time they fucked but oh no, he had chosen to stick around. He had pleasured her, treated her kindly and now the idiot woman was expecting him to pledge his life to her. There had been a price tag attached to her selflessness after all.
"A mistake," he said in answer to her question. His voice, like his manner was as cold as she had ever seen it.
"A mistake..." she whispered under her breath, her anger deflating. "You don't mean that, Vegeta."
He only stared back as he tried to come up with a defense behind his terse response. The questions and accusations were about to fly and he was going to be ready for them.
Instead, Bulma took a deep breath and moved her gaze over to the Capsule. "I suppose that I should give you a system briefing and the Capsule one last check before you go."
"That won't be necessary. I know everything there is about this craft."
She had been in the process of returning to the main building to retrieve her tools when she spun around and said, "If that were the case, you wouldn't have crashed into the yard the last time you took it for a joyride."
"I ran out of fuel!"
"There was a reserve tank, mister wizard!" She watched his mouth snap closed and gloated over the rare look of surprise on the Saiyan's face. "You stay right there and don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."
Vegeta growled low in his throat but he crossed his arms and did what she said until she returned.
Bulma easily pushed Vegeta's earlier statements aside as she focused on a thorough examination of the Capsule's entire systems. Most times Vegeta's bluster was precisely that; smoke that was used as a cover to prevent the exposure of more sensitive things. She hadn't been looking for a guarantee of eternal love and gratitude from the Saiyan, just admittance that she had been something more to him than a convenient screw. As usual, her expectations were not soothed by his coarse dismissal. Back at the Plaza, she had almost been able to anticipate his moods and behavior but the recent time apart had eroded her insight. He was as unpredictable now as he had been the first day they had met face to face on Namek. Now she could only speculate on his motivations and ambitions in silence, knowing he was not going to willingly share that information to her. His distrust wounded her but she had no way to avoid it. All she could do now was give him his space and pray that he would come back on his own.
To his credit, Vegeta shelved his arrogance long enough to pay attention to what the woman showed him. There were some over-ride commands and little devices attached to the console that he had never before known existed. He had simply ignored them because they had nothing to do with the gravity projectors. In the event of coming across one of Frieza's old roving bands of soldiers, this information just might come in useful so he paid keen attention. He was standing directly beside her as she showed him some re-wiring short cuts and he tried not to get distracted by the smell of her hair or the movements of her body. She was in her element, explaining complex technological details while her fingers moved of their own accord and her intelligence would always be the biggest turn-on for him. Tits were a dime a dozen but a genius mind was a rare discovery indeed.
Near the end of her inspection she discovered two viewing portals that had hairline fractures in the supposedly unbreakable glass. "These are going to have to be replaced," she told him, pulling out her trusty screwdriver. "Help me up."
He had been trailing around after her as she inspected the entire Capsule but now he stopped dead in his tracks. "Go get a ladder."
"Why bother? You're here, aren't you? Now lift me up," she said peevishly.
He didn't make any move towards her. When he crossed his arms she rolled her eyes in clear disgust and walked out of the Capsule in search of a stepladder. Vegeta was still standing in his place when she finally returned cursing loudly and banging an aluminum ladder along beside her. "I don't know what your damned problem is, Vegeta. I'm trying to do you a favor here, you know."
"So am I," he retorted under his breath but she was still muttering to herself and didn't hear him.
She removed both circular windows and spent most of the afternoon searching the storage domes on the property for replacements. She was dirty and disheveled and extremely out of temper with the uncooperative Saiyan when she finally found the spare portals. He was shadow boxing on the lawn when she emerged from the dome and normally she would allow herself to get distracted by the sight of him wearing only his spandex shorts. Not this time.
"You," she said briskly, "Carry these. Over there." She didn't even look back to see if he was following her to Capsule 3 with the heavy windows until she was inside. Sure enough, the Saiyan joined her a few minutes later, carrying the replacements and not happy about being ordered to do it. He dropped them where she was standing, narrowly missing her toes and retreated back to watch her work from a distance, scowling in displeasure.
Struggling with one particularly nasty bolt, Bulma was tightening off the last of the seals when her wrench slipped and she pitched forward off of the ladder. Moving with that unnatural speed of his, Vegeta phased in and caught her. The pair exchanged one startled look before he sneered, "You did that on purpose," and unceremoniously dropped her. Fortunately, he had been standing on the floor by then and it was a relatively short fall on her behind.
"You bastard!" she hissed and kicked him in the shin.
He never even flinched. Bending down over her with that condescending smirk on his face, he told her slyly, "Weak little woman. You're going to have to do better than that if you expect to-"
Growling in rage, Bulma raised her sights and punched him directly in the groin. THIS time he flinched. More than that, he staggered two steps back and regarded her with wary amazement. "You bitch..." he coughed, straightening with difficulty.
Getting nimbly to her feet, Bulma raised her fists boxer-style and danced nimbly around him as he visibly shrugged off the effect of her unexpected blow. She looked so ridiculous prancing around like some effete fairy with attitude that his indignation deflated and he had to betray a reluctant smile.
Lowering her arms, Bulma looked at him wounded that he wasn't taking her seriously. "What's so funny, Vegeta? I can take care of myself!"
He grunted in wordless accord and continued to stare at her, his eyes softening. "You don't pity me anymore."
"Selfish jackass. Of course I don't with all of this bull- oh," she confessed in apparent shock. The knowledge she had gained in the hotel room had finally diminished enough for her not to dwell on it and betray her remorse in her actions towards him. She was brilliantly pissed and that rage had eclipsed everything else. Now she could only stare at him in confusion wondering if he had done all of this on purpose just to get a reaction out of her.
For no good reason, he offered her one brief nod. His voice had lost its usual rough edge when he said, "If you're finished, I'll go make the preparations for launch-"
"Just a minute," she said, coming up along side of him. He grumbled in displeasure that he had almost made a clean getaway but he didn't step away from her as he had before. Nor did he react when Bulma placed a hand on his chest. "Vegeta, I don't want us to part like this."
"We are not a couple," he told her roughly. "What is it that you could possibly want?"
She looked into his face and touched the angle of his jaw. "Closure," she whispered and leaned forward to kiss him.
Her soft lips felt like they brushed up against granite before he pushed her back, shaking his head. "It can't happen."
"Why not?" she asked in dismay. "Give me one logical reason why we can't make love one last time?"
"Watch." He reached out towards the wall and placed his hand flat against the reinforced steel of the Capsule. With a mere flex of his fingers he caused the tips to sink into the metal down to the first knuckle before pulling the digits free. "I have been exposed to the high gravity for too long. I lack subtlety to my strength and I would only hurt you with my touch until I learned some control." He turned back to her. "I made a promise to you, Bulma."
Looking to the clear imprint of his hand etched into the metal, Bulma understood what he was trying to explain to her. She could feel the truth under her palm. His alien flesh had compensated for the overwhelming pressure of the gravity he had forced on himself and was now as hard and cold as marble. Drawing her nails lightly down his chest, they made a raspy sound as if she were doing the act against stone. "That's not true," she said at last. "There's still one part of you that's soft. I punched it, remember?"
His face tightened at the reminder. "Woman, one wrong thrust and I'll tear you open to your throat. Do you honestly want that?"
There was a look on her face that he recognized with a mixture of unease and trepidation. Those genius gears were spinning in her mind, refusing to be sidetracked from her objective. He should have been flattered that she wanted him this badly but coming up with excuses on his part was becoming difficult. He wanted her too.
An idea came to Bulma at long last. Smiling, she dropped her hand to the waistband of his shorts and politely inquired, "So, Vegeta... How has your back been feeling lately?"
In the level below the main training chamber, Bulma discovered another part of the Saiyan that was soft to her inquiring senses. Her mouth found Vegeta's again and they kissed long and grandly, their tongues mingling with hot passion as their breathing increased and she squirmed and moved smoothly atop of him. She accepted readily and easily the throbbing length of his existence into her excited flesh, moving her hips at a measured pace that pleasured both of them into an euphoric spell of passion.
Slowly, gently, lovingly sucking Vegeta's tongue, she kept her hands tightly gripped around his wrists, reminding him by that hold alone that he didn't dare touch her. He submitted to her wholly, letting her set the pace for their lovemaking as he forced himself to remain still beneath her, feeling her steaming sheath surround and caress his throbbing rod. The restraint only fueled his excitement, every nerve in his body tingling with pleasure at the depth of his penetration, the head of his manhood jabbing against the doorway to her shivering womb.
There were no words between them during this slow, thorough coupling, only the soft moist sounds as their bodies met and parted. Her breasts, always sensitive, became mounds of excited flesh, the nipples pressing and massaging his muscled chest as she slid along him. Gradually she increased the pace as the first delicate featherings of orgasm began building inside of her, the silken lining of her womanhood clinging lovingly around the entire length of him.
Vegeta's entire body spasmed beneath her and he was unable to choke back a strangled cry as his seed burst like an explosion of fire through his shaft and gushed into her hungrily accepting woman flesh. Bulma was seized by a billowing ecstasy that rose like a flock of wild doves in flight towards the blue sky. Her moist, hot vaginal walls shuddered madly, drinking in his thick essence and letting it mingle with her own sweet fluid with radiant welcome. Their climax went on and on, sealing their newly awakened relationship with pleasure and hope.
Finally, the wondrous sensations began to ebb slowly away as the two lovers stared at one another and the lingering ecstasy of their coupling wafted over them like a sweet mountain breeze. With tears in her eyes, Bulma rested her forehead against his and through a bond he had not consciously crafted, Vegeta heard her whisper into his mind;
'...NOW I can say good-bye...'
Epilogue
Three months later Bulma sat on the roof of the Headquarters building and looked wonderingly up at the stars. Being in the center of the brightly lit Capital made stargazing a difficult task but tonight the sky was brilliant with tiny specks of light. It was hard for her to believe that less than a year ago she had been traveling amidst that vast expanse of darkness, marveling at its sheer endlessness and feeling the weight of loneliness and homesickness pull at her soul. If Krillin and Gohan hadn't been with her she might have gone mad and now Vegeta was out there, somewhere, completely on his own. Sometimes, when she slept, she could see alien landscapes and strange constellations drift into her dreams like fog, leaving vague after-images in her waking memory the next morning. Surely it couldn't still be a remnant of the rapport they had shared back at the Plaza, could it? Could something like that even exist when light-years separated them from one another? There were too many questions at stake and the only one who could answer them was very far away.
When they had finished their lovemaking Bulma pulled on her jumpsuit and gathered the rest of her clothes and walked over to the stairwell that would take her up to the main level. Pausing, she looked back and saw the Saiyan sitting at the edge of the bed staring sadly down at the floor. It was a sight that she never forgot and if he had asked her to join him in his voyage, she would have accepted the invitation without hesitation. He said nothing, however, and she interpreted that solemn silence as his only good-bye. She left the Capsule without another word.
To her surprise, he didn't leave until early the next morning. She had wrapped a gift for him that evening and slid it into the Capsule late at night while he had been sleeping. It had been a spur of the moment thing; a gift that only the two of them would really understand. Placing her prototype laptop into a box she included a piece of paper with the words; 'In Case of Extreme Boredom, Break Seal:' and underneath of the words she had taped her toenail clippers. She wondered what the expression on his face would look like when he unwrapped the strange gift but doubted he was as surprised as she had been when she had returned to her office after watching his take-off. Resting on her desk were the final blueprint designs to the exhaust system he had told her of back when they had shared their very first kiss.
"I'll be damned," she said with a longing smile.
Later on that day, she realized that the Saiyan had gotten the last laugh when she had gathered up her clothes for laundry and couldn't find the panties she had worn when she had serviced the simulator. And him. Realization hit her like a slap across the face. The thought of Vegeta gallivanting around the cosmos with her used underwear as his pillow was enough to bring a mortified blush to her cheeks. She supposed he deserved some little diversion to help with the loneliness but it still freaked her out. It wasn't long before the mere thought of it had her howling with laughter while her bewildered parents looked on in confusion. As close as she was to her folks, she would NEVER tell them about that!
She was laughing now as she looked up at the twinkling, sable sky. "Where are you now, you little pervert?" she asked aloud as she absently rubbed her stomach. He still had about two more months of supplies left if he rationed himself carefully. If he didn't find a friendly planet to refuel and gather provisions, he would be back by then. What would be his reaction when he saw her?
'I can understand the drive to produce an heir but I'll never know what it's like. Now. My line ends here, with me,' he had told her, his voice betraying his true remorse over the words.
Bulma looked down at her gently swelling stomach and caressed it affectionately as she whispered, "Not any more, it doesn't."
Deep within her womb lay the infant who had foretold his own birth and marvelous conception. The product of two vastly different individuals whose only initial union was to lessen each others fears, if only for a short period in time and find solace in one another's embrace. The child would be the most unique creation in the universe; the product of a genius Earth woman and the last Saiyan prince. Regardless of whatever timeline he existed in, the babe's potential was limitless and his destiny was one of power, wealth and greatness.
Considering his unique heritage, it was not possible to be anything less as Bulma now carried the last royal heir to the House of Vegeta. There were going to be no perversions or violence associated with his upbringing. Nothing that would take a sweet innocent soul and slowly twist it into a nightmarish copy of its captor.
No. She was determined it was going to be raised in a house filled with love and God help anyone who stood in her way...
The End.
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~Darke Angelus