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Resolution on a Lonely Planet	By : Ulrike Category: Dragon Ball Z > General Views: 5386 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the DBZ characters. This is a fanfiction written purely for entertainment. No money was made from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Gohan knew that their situation was desperate, but he couldn't feel guilty about the happiness bursting within his chest. Piccolo was back, and so was Tien! The namekian had managed to heal himself long enough for Goku to come to his and Tien's rescue. Although Cell could find Android 18 and absorb her at any point, Gohan was focused only on his two friends as they stood healthy and healed before him.
The three adults gathered outside the hyperbolic time chamber, their faces grim as they discussed the current situation.
“But even if Trunks and Vegeta do manage to go beyond that of a super-saiyajin...will it be enough?” Goku pondered out-loud.
“Trunks is the only one who would finish off Cell quickly,” Piccolo added. “He knows the androids better than we do. If he succeeded in finding another level of power, we must rely on him only.”
Goku took on a childish, wounded look. “But I was thinking it would definitely be Vegeta who would win. Not saying anything against Trunks, but Vegeta's always been the one closest to my strength.”
“Knowing that guy, he'd probably let Cell get stronger somehow. He only fights for himself. I don't even know why we let him stay on Earth,” Tien barked.
Goku scratched the back of his head and lifted a calming hand. “Aw, come on, guys. Vegeta's not that bad.” His face became more serious. “Besides, he deserves a second chance after everything that happened to him.”
Piccolo and Tien glanced at each other. The large, three-eyed man shifted uncomfortably.
“Instances he can't remember, that is,” Piccolo said darkly, making sure to keep Gohan out of earshot of their conversation. “If Vegeta had memories of what happened to him three years ago, then I would be more willing to see him as an ally. But he's the same arrogant fool he was on Namek. I'm worried about all these opportunities we're giving him to get stronger.”
Goku wanted to argue back, but that same defeated exhaustion overcame him once more. Just as Tien opened his mouth to say more, a whirring sound of engines filled the clear air of the Lookout. Gazing upward, the small group of warriors watched as a double-engined Capsule Corp. craft maneuvered gracefully through the fluffy, white clouds and gently lowered onto the tiled ground of the floating fortress.
Goku's stomach sank as Bulma's aqua hair came into view, her arms wrapped protectively around her baby son as she climbed out of the plane. The emotion of distrust and unease made Goku feel ill, having always been genuinely happy to see his long-time friend. But Bulma was no longer the same person. Or perhaps Goku had simply come to realize who Bulma had always been.
“Bulma!” Gohan sprinted toward the mother and baby duo. His childish fingers reached out and the black-haired boy laughed as Trunks gripped his thumb curiously. “Yikes! Strong hands!”
Bulma smiled and rocked the heavy, lavender-haired baby in her arms. “Yeah, I'll have to figure out what to do when those teeth start coming in, too.”
The Capsule Corp. heiress turned her attention toward Tien and Goku as they approached.
“Hey, guys! Where are Trunks and Vegeta?”
“Inside the Hyperbolic Time Chamber,” Tien responded politely.
The three-eyed man glanced at his shorter ally, a bit unnerved by Goku's unfriendly silence. Seeing Bulma's curiosity, the large, muscled man gave a short summary about the room and their plan to, hopefully, defeat Cell.
“Oh wow! To think that a time-altered dimension existing right here on Earth is mind-boggling! I hope Vegeta and Trunks aren't killing each other already.” She leaned over and spotted Goku standing further back. “And you and Gohan are going in next?”
“Yeah. Vegeta and Trunks have been in there for almost 24 hours. They'll be coming out very soon. Then we go in.”
“Cool.”
Goku stared at Bulma a moment longer, observing her glowing, motherly appearance, her eyes so bright with natural happiness. Did she feel any residual guilt about what had been done to Vegeta? When Trunks entered their lives, did Bulma even consider what would happen if Vegeta learned of the nightmare that occurred three years ago? Goku forced a small smile and turned his attention toward the time chamber.
Goku hadn't seen Bulma and Vegeta actually interact much recently, so he wasn't sure how the two even felt about each other. They did have a child together, but one didn't have to be a genius to notice the negativity between father and future son. Vegeta was still his brusque, arrogant self, but Goku wondered if he behaved differently, positively, when alone with Bulma.
The facts couldn't be denied, though. Three years ago, Vegeta had attempted to take his life when he discovered Bulma's betrayal. So he knew that the saiyajin prince held an enormous amount of affection for the blue-haired woman. A twisting unease grew within Goku's chest. Did Bulma feel the same?
Trunks had been born...so why shouldn't Vegeta know about the past?
“There are noises from within the chamber!” Mr. Popo suddenly cried. “They're coming out!”
There was a stampede of feet as everyone on the Lookout raced to the entrance of the mystical room. And indeed, there were sounds of locks being turned, dimensional walls vibrating as the two inside were walking through the barrier, and the steady clomps of boots against the tiled floor. The large, wooden door unlatched and everyone held their breath as light burst through opening. Uncertain of what to expect, there was a gasp of surprise as Trunks's silhouette appeared.
Torn clothes and scuffed boots, the young man smoothly stepped forward, his long, purple locks swaying back and forth as he approached. Trailing behind him came an equally ragged Vegeta. Goku smirked, knowing already that both warriors had passed the test. He and Gohan would still enter the room to train, of course, but as Cell hadn't reached his final form, the Earth-raised saiyajin knew that the monster would meet his end at the hands of these two powerful fighters.
…............
It was Kakarot's fault. No, it was definitely the boy's. Goddammit, it certainly wasn't his fault Cell lived!
Vegeta stood in the corner of one of Capsule Corp.'s many living rooms, arms folded and teeth biting his lower lip. His mind was feverish, manic, as it replayed the battle against Cell. The saiyajin saw glimpses of the female android and her giant companion hiding behind the boulders on the small island. Vegeta remembered the sudden rush of glee at the thought of not only getting his revenge on Android 18 for defeating him before, but feeling excitement at the thought of allowing Cell to power-up...just to be crushed under the prince's shiny, white boots. Vegeta received one of his wishes. The other had not gone so well.
But he had been tricked! Even though Cell told him precisely how powerful he would become...it wasn't Vegeta's fault. Trunks. Trunks had distracted him. That loud-mouthed fool had prevented him from thinking clearly....it was the blast that had jarred his usually coherent mind. Vegeta nodded to himself. Yes, if Trunks hadn't attacked him, none of this would have happened....probably.
The living room was crowded, the idiots of Earth and Bulma's family gathering to scan the local news stations where Cell said he would appear. Bulma's voice carried above all as she gushed over her son from the future and observed his body, searching for any signs of injury from his fight against Cell. Vegeta watched the two, scowling as Bulma held onto the baby version of their son, coddling the brat as if he were a kitten. And there stood the adult son, smiling and blushing at all the attention Bulma fed him.
What had happened to that warrior? Vegeta wondered. Where was the man who held so much fiery anger in his heart? It made Vegeta sick to see the boy so....humanized. How anyone could let themselves become so caring and loving was beyond the cold prince. He was smart enough to keep his distance from the earthlings. He made the mistake of impregnating the woman, however she was going to learn that he saw nothing in her or her baby the more he ignored her. They were nothing to him. Family was nothing to him.
Giving the future Trunks one final glare, Vegeta scoffed and turned away. If the boy wanted to allow such weakness into his life, so be it.
“And where are you going off to, Mr. Super Vegeta?”
Krillin stifled a laugh as Bulma walked calmly toward the short saiyajin. She held a playful smirk, but Vegeta's expression did not change.
“Anywhere but here. Don't your freeloading friends have houses of their own? They can watch TV there!”
Bulma snickered while the baby in her arms glanced at the two squabbling parents.
“Well, Android 16 is down in the labs resting.” She gestured to her father who sat at one of the bistro tables with Chi-Chi and Master Roshi. “But we need to move him onto the operating table soon. I need someone strong to help us,” she explained, flexing one arm for effect.
Vegeta's arms fell to his sides and he rounded on the aqua-haired woman. “You have an adult son who can do errands for you!”
Bulma sniffed angrily and then glanced over at the long-haired demi-saiyajin. Trunks gave his mother a sideways, apologetic smirk in response.
“Look, I know this android might join our side,” Trunks began, “but I was fully against bringing him here. I'm sorry, but I'm not doing any favors for a creation that is a threat to mankind.”
“I'm just asking for someone to help move him from the cot onto the operating table!” Bulma complained loudly to the ceiling.
“Yamcha! Where are you going?” a squeaky voice cried, interrupting Bulma's tirade.
Puar's fluffy little body lifted from the couch and flew to her companion as he made his way for the exit. The scarred man glanced at the floating cat and gave her a confident smile.
“I have some training to do. Puar, call me when Cell shows up on TV, ok?”
Honestly, he simply didn't want to hear Bulma and Vegeta's bickering anymore. This was the first time the martial artist had been in the same vicinity as the saiyajin prince in quite some time. He had expected to feel nervous or ashamed to show his face in front of Vegeta, even though the arrogant warrior remembered nothing of their horrid past together, but Yamcha felt a growing sense of anger instead. He couldn't explain it, but listening to the rude, boisterous man barking orders at everyone in sight made the human seethe.
“But where will you go?” the shrill cat demanded. “I want you to stay here. Don't go!”
“Everyone needs to be at their best. I have to be able to hold my own when we go up against Cell.”
Krillin stood and beckoned his friend to wait. Massaging the muscles in his arms, the small, bald man stood beside his long-time ally.
“I'll go along with you. We may not be at the saiyajins' levels, but any amount of help will do.” Krillin laughed. “At least there are tournament rules. Maybe it'll be more of a game than anything!”
As the two earthlings walked past Vegeta, the cocky saiyajin couldn't help but grin.
“If you two actually think you'd make a difference, you're even dumber than I thought.” His grin widened as Krillin and Yamcha turned toward him, faces reddening in anger. “Cell is mine.”
The room became quiet, awaiting an argument or explosion.
“That's funny,” Yamcha growled. “I seem to remember someone getting his ass handed to him only a couple of hours ago by Cell himself! Now...who was that again?”
Vegeta's fist came up and a vein stood out on his forehead. “No, Cell tricked me! Besides...I'm just biding my time. The old cat and mouse game. Cell will come to me and when he does—”
“You'll just get pounded again,” Yamcha said coolly.
The scarred man could feel the eyes of everyone in room boring into him, but he found he didn't care. Facing Vegeta suddenly, seeing the stupid, blank arrogance in his eyes, Yamcha felt something snap inside of him. This alien was the one responsible for ruining everything in his life. Vegeta had been lucky enough to have his memories swept from him, leaving him the same brash, dangerous fool he had always been. Meanwhile Yamcha had been stuck with all the guilt, the shame...the nightmares. All the anger that had been dwelling deep within him was now breaking free.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Vegeta hissed. “You are nothing! I would call you an insect, but you were easily killed by a creature nothing more than a bug nearly five years ago!”
Yamcha's energy burst around him suddenly, the red flames surrounding him like a cage, red tendrils lashing upward like fiery whips. Krillin yelped and sprang away. Even Vegeta blinked in astonishment.
“What the hell?” Bulma screamed. “Not in the living room, you idiots!”
“Fuck you, Vegeta. Fuck your bullshit arrogance and your useless pride!”
The black-haired saiyajin opened his mouth to respond, but a mighty surge of energy blew the slipcovers from the couches and knocked glasses from the kitchen counters. Vegeta twitched slightly from the noise and simply watched the human power-up in front him. Krillin stood back, his eyes boring into his friend as the man's energy whipped through the air.
“You can't take responsibility for anything!” Yamcha hollered. “You have a woman who loves you, a child, and an adult son who wants nothing but your attention, yet you waste everyone's time with empty, arrogant words. We all might die because of you! Cell lives...and it's because of you. But that doesn't matter. That doesn't fucking matter to you because it's all about proving how goddamn strong you are! And you endanger people's lives because of it, Vegeta. You refuse to accept anyone's help and then you go and fuck up everything! And you consistently do it. You don't think. You just go off on your own and end up hurting everyone involved.”
The red flames finally lowered and quickly vanished, leaving Yamcha hunched over like a feeble, old man. His breaths were ragged and he suddenly became aware of the stillness around him. Glancing up, he saw the wide-eyed expressions on Chi-Chi and Bulma's faces. Krillin looked worried and Vegeta....Vegeta had his head tilted to the side, a quizzical, curious expression on his normally cold, stoic face.
The worn human sighed and shook his head. “Just....fuck you...”
Yamcha trudged from the living room, an uncomfortable silence following in his wake. Krillin stole a glance at the shocked saiyajin and then bowed respectfully to Bulma and her parents before chasing after his distraught friend. It was silent in the messy, disheveled space except for the clinking of a spoon against a teacup.
“Perhaps I will take up TechTV's offer to do a reality show here after all,” Dr. Briefs said. “Fans do tend to enjoy such drama.”
No one answered the old man. A dangling light finally came loose from the ceiling and crashed onto the kitchen floor.
…......................
“Soooo....you ok?”
Krillin caught up to his friend as Yamcha stormed across the front yard of Capsule Corp.'s lawn. Krillin could sense Yamcha's wavering energy, the rolling electricity buzzing within his finely-tuned awareness. It kept the short man on edge. Yamcha came to a stop near the fence that met the city's sidewalk, his shoulders sagging as he heaved a large sigh. Shaking his head, Yamcha turned toward his long-time friend forlornly, embarrassment and shame resting upon his tense features.
“It just came out all of a sudden, Krillin.”
Giving his ally a cheeky grin, the bald monk scratched the spot where his nose should have been. “Really? I hadn't noticed.”
The two chuckled softly and Yamcha turned to lean up against the fence, his dark eyes resting on the immense domed building where the woman he once loved lived with the man who had turned his world upside-down. His anger was subsiding and was soon replaced with guilt. When Yamcha danced around the topic of what had happened to him while speaking to his therapist, she told him that it was common to blame the victim, that it was easier for Yamcha's damaged mind to find faults in Vegeta's words or actions to help absolve his guilt.
Yamcha had been shocked at the time. Flashing back to that horrible experience in the forest cabin, he never blamed the saiyajin prince for what had happened. Yet confronting the arrogant, smug person only minutes ago had sparked something horrible within him. The broken, terrified creature who had held onto Yamcha in desperation three years ago was gone. Yamcha wondered if he had only imagined that character. Vegeta, the scowling, insulting killer who selfishly fought for himself was all that remained.
“Anyone would have believed Skip's story at first,” Yamcha whispered to himself, suddenly remembering the impossible tale that had encouraged Yamcha to ignore the obvious truth of what was happening. “Vegeta was the same heartless monster back then, wasn't he? But he still needed my help...and I went along with Skip's made-up story anyway.”
“Yamcha?”
Shaking his head, the taller man sighed and turned toward the city, his arms draping over the wooden fence and eyes watching carefree people walking past. They were blind to the terror that might befall them in only a few short days.
“Vegeta's always been an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, right?”
Krillin shifted uncomfortably. The topic was heading in a direction that he had hoped was long forgotten, but he understood that Yamcha could never truly forget. And to be honest, none of the Z-fighters would ever be able to shake the horror of what had happened to the saiyajin prince and their bandit friend in those woods.
“Yeah,” Krillin replied softy. Hesitating, the bald monk approached the fence and leaned against the wooden slats, his eyes barely seeing over the tops. “But there's something far deeper inside Vegeta. He hides everything deep within him and never asks for help. That's what makes him so frustrating. But then he'll go and have these amazing and awful moments of emotion that are just mind-boggling.”
Yamcha glanced down at his friend. “Like on Namek?”
“Yeah,” Krillin confirmed with a nod. “And he just kind of sucks you in. Like, you can't help but support the stupid asshole. Even when he let Cell absorb Android 18 and almost got his own son killed, I knew I had to get his unconscious body off that island. I was so angry...and I'm still so gosh darn mad, but I know he's changing and there's still a chance to see a good side of him.”
Yamcha's throat ached at the words, knowing exactly how Krillin felt. A sudden violent image screamed through Yamcha's head—a vision of Vegeta's bruised, battered body flailing on a bed as he was electrocuted from the inside, tears of pain running from the corners of his eyes as he drew in a deep, rattling breath.
“YAMCHA, JUST DO IT!”
The saiyajin prince instructed him, explained it to him. Even in moments of extreme agony and fear, Vegeta focused on what was important: getting out of there alive. When the saiyajin wasn't focused on his own ego, he could see the bright line of action. The emotions would burst out of Vegeta suddenly and somehow he found the correct answer or solution to the problems, even if it meant enduring great pain. It was so rare, but it was an astounding thing to see: Epiphany. The prince's moments of realization and emotion were like watching a phenomenon.
What had happened in the soldier's life to make him hide those enormous, passionate feelings? How could Vegeta be so stoic and almost lifeless in everyday instances, but then become so moving and poignant when it mattered?
“Sometimes I wish I hadn't collected the dragon-balls and made that wish.”
“But if you hadn't....Vegeta would have tried to kill himself again.”
Yamcha shook his head and glared down at his shaking fists. Flexing his fingers, he willed himself to calm down.
“He was different then. As odd as it sounds, he seemed more whole. He was someone you could talk to and reason with. Something about that torture seemed to bring him back to reality and made him question and feel...and live. He lost something, but he gained something better. Love maybe? Maybe he accepted vulnerability. I don't know. I can't explain it. But now...he's just the same blank creature he was when he moved into Capsule Corp.”
“But we couldn't talk to him,” Krillin insisted. “Even when we cornered him in the woods and told him we were going to guard him, he still managed to almost take his own life.”
Yamcha's eyes snapped down to his concerned friend. “He didn't die, though. And now we'll never know how Vegeta would have acted or recovered after he was healed, because I made that stupid wish! That was a turning point, Krillin. That one final act was one of Vegeta's astounding acts, even if it was horrible. Goku managed to save him. I know, I truly know now, that Vegeta would have been a better person today if I had just allowed him to remember what happened to him. Now he's just the same power-hungry, hollow alien he was when he first came to Earth.”
Krillin sighed, understanding Yamcha's frustration. He didn't really know what to say, but he knew it was important for Yamcha to finally let it out.
“I feel guilty for the Vegeta back then.” Yamcha glanced at Capsule Corp. “But the Vegeta now is such a fucking loser.” They both laughed. “And all those words I said to him...they were true. If he hadn't gone into that forest to cool off after such a stupid argument, he wouldn't have landed himself in that situation. If Vegeta had been more aware of his surroundings-I mean, how does a saiyajin not notice three guys circling him in the woods?! If only he hadn't been so....weak.”
Krillin's eyes widened at the words and he became even more surprised when a trail of wetness suddenly trailed down Yamcha's face. He knew that Yamcha just needed to vent, but it made the good-natured man feel a bit ill to hear such unfair responsibility being set on Vegeta's shoulders.
“And there it is,” the scarred man rasped. “My guilt. That whole situation was my fault, but instead I blame him for making me feel such pain.”
It was silent for a moment as Yamcha wiped away his shameful tears. He hadn't had a breakdown in years. He had managed to stuff the memories and emotions deep within himself...just like Vegeta appeared to do.
“The only people at fault were those four guys,” Krillin said softly. “I'm sure Vegeta's attitude and aggression toward them didn't help, but he didn't deserve that. And I'm sure you look back and say, 'what should I have done differently?' but it's the past. And you can't change the past.”
“Sure we can,” Yamcha quipped, his voice wavering as his tears came to an end.
“Don't even joke about that.”
The two laughed and Yamcha seemed to brighten a bit. “My therapist said it's a good thing to cry and it's normal to feel the effects of a traumatic situation years later. Remaining stoic and cold is just your mind's way of going into survival mode. Though I feel like crying and acting like a cowardly baby is way weaker than being a brick wall all the time.”
Krillin knew the man was babbling to make himself feel better and he smiled warmly as Yamcha talked.
“You don't want to turn into Vegeta,” the shorter one laughed.
Yamcha nodded and let out a calming sigh.
“Do you want to talk about it some more?” Krillin asked.
“Not really.”
“Me neither. Let's train.”
….................
Bulma took measured steps down the long staircase that led to the elevator to the lower labs, a somewhat smug smile on her face as a cranky saiyajin prince stomped behind her. The violet-haired baby hung over one shoulder, his naturally sullen eyes darting with impressive speed as they watched Vegeta follow.
“I'm surprised you backed down,” Bulma stated. “Guess us weak earthlings are getting to you finally.”
Vegeta had stormed off after the unusual and unnerving confrontation with Yamcha. Once Bulma had contacted someone to clean up the living room (which was difficult as it was a weekend and no one was working), she told her father that she would catch up shortly. She knew that the pouting saiyajin was hiding somewhere nearby, probably hoping for Yamcha to make a second appearance so he could tear into him publicly.
As she rounded the corner, she nearly collided with the arrogant man. “Well, are you going down to the labs to help move 16 or not?”
With an annoyed 'tsk!' Vegeta said nothing as Bulma swaggered by. A few seconds later, his angry footsteps were heard behind her.
The two made their way to the lower levels of the compound, Bulma saying anything to try and get a rise out of the angry saiyajin and Vegeta trying to pretend that he wasn't bothered.
“You humans are 'not getting to me,' and I certainly didn't back down from that loud-mouthed fool. I was just seeing where he was going with it. If he challenged me, I certainly would have removed his head from his body!”
“Sure.” They came to the final step and then wandered past the in-building corporate offices. The hallway wound its way to a set of elevators.
“At least the coward finally said what he always wanted to say to me. I can't stand your fucking Earth friends, but at least that one upstairs finally showed some backbone.”
“So, you were impressed?” Bulma inquired.
“Absurd!” The black-haired saiyajin stood beside Bulma, his arms crossed and eyes glaring into the metal doors of the elevator as they waited. “I simply allowed the fool to think he had some form of control before I decided to tear him apart. But then he ran away before I had a chance to teach him a lesson.”
Bulma rolled her eyes, knowing that Vegeta had been rattled by Yamcha's sudden fury and accusations. She wondered if some hidden memory deep within the prince's psyche had been disturbed by Yamcha's actions. Though, of course, the dragon-wish had sealed off all those memories. She had nothing to worry about.
As the elevator doors dinged open, Bulma and Vegeta pushed past each other, growling angrily as they wanted to be the first to enter. Trunks let out a curious 'ah!' as his odd parents glared at each other and then looked forward.
Vegeta hadn't been afraid of Yamcha. He knew that fear had never entered the equation, though he kind-of wished it had. No, the other sensation he felt as he observed the man's fiery red flames and flashing eyes was attraction. It hadn't been the first time he felt drawn to the seemingly powerless human and it enraged him greatly that out of all the people within Earth's little fighter squad, he had to find Yamcha attractive.
As the elevator lowered, Vegeta leaned against a glassy back wall and stared into the ground. He wasn't going to deny that Yamcha was an incredibly handsome specimen; the dark, piercing eyes and shiny black hair. The scars were something any warrior could appreciate. Yamcha could have passed for a saiyajin....if he wasn't such a hopeless weakling.
And that was the real kicker—he was weaker than Vegeta. The prince followed the ways of saiyajin culture. As the top elite warrior of his planet, should he engage in sexual activity with another male and take the receiving position (as Vegeta preferred), that other warrior had to best him in battle and show superior strength. It had never been much of an issue while serving in Frieza's army. While Vegeta was a top-warrior in the Planet Trade Organization, there were still many who were on his level or stronger. Sex with men had usually been Vegeta's preference, though he hadn't been very experienced. Killing, destroying planets, and planning attack strategies had kept the saiyajin relatively reclusive. Though he did remember the oddly thrilling, rough sex he had with Jeice when the orange-skinned man came on board—pre-Ginyu Force days.
But Yamcha was boring and unbelievably annoying. Vegeta's attraction to him only fueled his anger and it made him dislike the man even more. That incident in the living room, though. Vegeta had been startled by the explosion of anger...and he felt there was some deeper meaning to the human's words. Not for the first time, a nagging, uncomfortable suspicion poked at a part of his brain; those missing memories. Something bigger had happened during those lost days than the earthlings were letting on, but as soon as the questions popped into his head, his thoughts became clouded. He would forget what he was originally thinking about.
“Well, I'm glad you're coming to help my dad and me in the labs. Even Trunksy is glad to see you!”
Vegeta turned his attention to the mouth-breathing baby who was hanging over Bulma's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“This brat is terrified of me. See?”
He extended a finger towards the child and was met with a startled squeal. Trunks pushed against Bulma's shoulder and tried to hide his face.
“That's because the only time he ever sees you is when you're yelling or looking pissed-off!”
Vegeta growled and pushed past Bulma as the doors dinged and opened, almost making her lose her hold on their son.
“Third Floor: Design, Development, and Research,” a pleasant, robotic voice stated.
“Goddammit, Vegeta. Try acting like a father. Selfish ass.”
“Not my job.” He strode in front her, his long-sleeved yellow shirt flapping wildly from his speed. “And I didn't come down here to help you, so get that out of your head. I merely wanted to see this android up-close and personal.”
Letting out an annoyed huff, Bulma jogged to catch up to the brash prince.
“He's different from the other two, that's for sure. Cell would never be able to absorb Android 16 because he's actually more mechanical than the others.”
“Oh?” Vegeta questioned coldly. “So we have a broken toy in our midst? Why not just trash the heap?”
“Because he's a living being! He's not organic, though. Not like 17 and 18.”
Vegeta slowed down and peered at the intelligent woman. “What do you mean?”
“I would hesitate to call 17 and 18 androids. They're more cyborgs than anything. I mean, they have all the organs and muscles humans have—it appears that they were augmented with cybernetic implants, though. Increased skeletal improvements, improved muscular structures--”
“And the bigger one is just a robot.”
Bulma's eyes narrowed. “From what I've seen of 16, he's more than just a robot. He has feelings, emotions...something I'm sure you know nothing about.”
“I wonder if 17 and 18 were willing participants in their advancements.”
Bulma looked surprised. She didn't think Vegeta could care about another's rights. But then he ruined it.
“I mean, did they lose their most important parts? How could the male cyborg live without a dick? And the female android....she has lost all purpose if she doesn't have her reproduction organs.”
“You asshole!”
Vegeta sent her a vile grin over one shoulder and then let out an amused laugh as she chased after him. They ran up to a pair of metal, sealed doors, Bulma panting as she approached the key-code on the wall.
“Here. Hold this.”
Bulma handed Trunks to the saiyajin and searched for her keys. Upon finding them, she punched several numbers into the keypad and additionally had to unlock the barriers. Trunks scowled as Vegeta held him under the armpits like a dirty animal.
“I don't recall this place having so many locks and barriers,” Vegeta stated.
Bulma hesitated before pushing the doors open. She placed the keys back in her pocket and raised her hands out for Trunks. Vegeta passed him over, his expression changing as the realization crept upon him.
“This is all here because of me....after I woke from that coma.” He spat the word coma, as if saying it would suddenly weaken him and take away his powers.
Bulma felt the usual guilt beginning to rise within her before pushing it back down. She had become an expert at denying she had anything to do with Vegeta's pain and betrayal three years ago. Though, a few months back she did happen upon the remote she had made to control Vegeta's powers. It was still in a drawer in the infirmary room where Vegeta had finally come to life after his tortures. Goku had destroyed the one Dr. Briefs had made in a hurry...but there was still one that remained.
Bulma remembered slamming the drawer closed and sprinting from the room. Her heart pounded and she felt shaky, as if the very room itself was haunted with the horrors inflicted upon the saiyajin prince. She had not been to that section of the infirmary since.
“You do understand that these locks and barriers would not hold back anyone with any form of energy right?”
Bulma snapped out of her racing thoughts and looked to see Vegeta holding a measured, cool expression. Regaining her usual haughty indifference, she swept past him, nose in the air.
“Yes, but it makes the employees feel more comfortable.”
“Whatever.” This time, he brushed past her. “Now back to this android/cyborg thing. I wonder if Android 16 is more powerful than the other two. Not that he'll be any help against Cell.”
“He might be,” Bulma replied. “He was built, by hand, by Dr. Gero. I didn't get a good look at his blueprints, but he was programmed to kill Goku. That, in itself, shows how much power he probably has.”
Vegeta peered at the ground momentarily, trying to calculate the machine's power. “So, he was built to be the 'perfect warrior.' Just like Cell. Yet, Cell and the other two androids are organic.”
“Cyborgs. Organic or mechanical, does it really matter?” Bulma demanded. They approached a large pair of doors, yellow warning labels on the glass windows cautioning guests of lab dangers. “Like I said, Android 16 is a walking weapon. He was never organically human. He appears to have no purpose other than to destroy.”
Vegeta was walking slightly ahead of her, but at this he spun around, eyes wide.
“Then...he doesn't even eat or-or...have sex? You're telling me that android has no dick?”
“Out of everything you've heard, that is biggest concern?!”
“Well if that's how he lives, then he's going to be nothing but a danger to us. He'll self-destruct at any point. Hell...I would.”
“Ugh!” Bulma pushed aside two rows of curtains and found her father calmly putting away some bottles of medicine. Android 16 lay calmly on a cot, his giant body stretched out and his hands gently petting the doctor's black cat. “You're such a child sometimes,” she hissed to Vegeta.
The saiyajin however, was carefully observing the injured, mechanical man on the cot, sizing him up. Half of 16's skull was missing and glowing, blue wires could be seen pulsating softly around an intricate, mechanical brain.
“Let's move onto the operating-table,” Dr. Briefs suggested. He turned warmly toward Vegeta. “Ah, my boy, how nice of you to help.”
“I simply wanted to see what the big deal was about this android. And I have little patience for the fools upstairs.”
The old man laughed heartily and began to arrange the lab. Bulma placed Trunks in a nearby crib and Vegeta rolled up his sleeves. As he approached the wounded android, his eyes swept across the black-clad body.
“Tell me...is it true you're not equipped....down there?”
Bulma's annoyed groan echoed throughout the private operating room. The red-haired android blinked his one good eye. “I do not understand the question.”
Pulling out a large needle, Bulma flicked the syringe and gave her dad an exasperated stare.
“This is going to be a long few hours.”

*Sorry for the wait. This chapter is for Lady Alucard, whose ability to guilt will ensure that this fanfiction will have its due ending. :D
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Resolution on a Lonely Planet