Passion vs. Rational Thinking

Passion vs. Rational Thinking

Disclaimer: I don’t own DBZ. My world evolves around seven things: Training, drawing, sleeping, fanfiction, music, caramel ice cream and twisted fantasies involving you-know-who.

Author's note: I want to thank everyone for sticking with this fic. I am sorry I don't write faster but there will be an explanation to that at the end of this chapter. So, if you want the explanation you'll just have to read the chapter won't you? But truly, it drives me crazy. If I was a fast writer then I would be much happier myself, and hopefully you would too. But let's move on.

Enjoy.

*****

Chapter 6: Plethora of Sorrow, Return of Hope.

The storm did not ease, nor did the unbearable cramps in her chest.

Bulma had barely moved after the heart wrenching conversation with Vegeta. He had milked every ounce of strength from her body leaving her in a boneless shuddering heap on her crumpled sheets. The wind howled in through her balcony doors spraying fresh rain everywhere and whipping her hair around in a whirlwind of blue tresses.

She puffed, her closed eyes tightening as small raindrops fell on her salty cheek sending chills vibrating through her body.

Another thunder clash brightened her room and Bulma’s body stilled in determination. It was not over, she had to try again. She had once admitted to herself that she loved Vegeta, and now that he willingly came to her, she had refused him like some heartbroken little teenage girl whose first encounter with sex had gone like hell.

Bulma chuckled in spite of her black mood. What a fool she had been, throwing the advances of the sexist man in the universe back in his face. All praise to Bulma Briefs, the richest, most gorgeous and stupidest woman in the universe.

Groaning with an obscure determination she slowly dragged herself up from the bed instantly fighting the urge to just flop down and curl up under the covers as soon as the freezing wind hit her chest and stomach, blowing through the thin material of her pyjama like it didn’t even exist.

She gingerly stepped towards the door mindful of tiny pieces of glass that had cracked off its edges, reaching the doorway she gasped as she almost slipped, automatically cursing Vegeta and his ferocious temper for releasing his tantrum in her quarters. She gripped the edge of the door trying to slide it back into place, but it was hard without a proper foothold. She gritted her teeth her stubbornness flaring as she tried to use her willpower to re-establish a barrier between her and the storm. A faint rustling of the leaves from one of the beautiful rambler roses outside caught her attention, but her mere human site failed her in the dark expanse outside and she shrugged it off.

Giving up trying to close the door she fumed and angrily smacked it making it rattle and the glass quiver. A few leaves tore from the roses and flew towards her, sticking to her slick skin and hair. Rolling her eyes Bulma wandered over to her vanity peering at herself through strands of aqua blue curls. Her body coiled in time with the shiver that dashed up her spine, her mind escaping to the tranquillity of her bathroom and the thought of warm water, or a hot man. Bulma released a longing sigh peeling a rosy leaf off of her wet cheek, thinking of how she would have wanted Vegeta to be with her right now, holding her, making love to her.

A rash thing to wish after what they had just gone through, or perhaps it was she who was exaggerating. So, Vegeta had come to her and oh so arrogantly asked her a little favour, which she had granted, don’t forget that, she had given her consent and they had a little fun. Painful fun, but that wasn’t something to whimper over any longer, and it certainly wasn’t an argument against why she should freeze him out her life. He had allowed her to feel his passion, and he had even gone as far as to actually explain to her why he had to be so rough, and deep down Bulma knew that what she had experienced had been mere peanuts in comparison to what a real moon blown heat, saiyan to saiyan felt like.

She brushed a few strands out of her face feeling her wet and cold skin fresh from the rain. It felt good to be in charge of her emotions again. A top image like her should always discipline complete self control and a high level of self esteem, and then of course while managing these basic criteria she should posses a rare but natural beauty, a charming personality and a white-hot temper. Bulma, blessed with all these and being heiress to the richest company in the world had been fed with success from a golden spoon served on a golden platter ever since she was a baby.

Though, she had had the pressure of the media weighing her down since she was a small child. Never could she mess up in public, or she would be imbued with shame and would have to witness the embarrassing headshake from her mother. She grew up to be the best, the most beautiful and intelligent creature on Earth. She had to have everything in control, and still she had to be able to handle a catastrophe like a true leader.

The only drawback from all her glory was that all her schooling had affected her sex life, she never let loose in bed, or dared live out her deepest and darkest fantasies. The men she had been with had of course, with a pronounced amount of modesty yet insinuatingly praised her for her ‘beautiful body’ and ‘amazing skill'. Yeah right, like she wanted to be praised fulsomely by pathetic spineless suits, sucking up to her because all they really wanted was the golden opportunity of fucking her, and then live to tell the tale. You wouldn't want to feel the wrath of Bulma Briefs.

Only with Vegeta she had completely lost her self composure, something foreign to her. She had screamed, actually screamed, when she had been with him. All the secret naughty dreams she had ever had about sex seemed entirely natural to him. She had had a glimpse of the forbidden heaven, a place where you could be free to live out your primal instincts and where shame or shyness didn't exist. And now that it was over she had thought it for the best. But it was wrong. She wanted more. More sweat, more screams, more flesh, more him.

Vegeta, she would find him and ask him to come back to her, not because of the sex, but because she cared for him. Her eyes had been clouded by doubt and hurt, unable to see his need for her. He had come to her, the tiny crack in the steel cap around his constricted heart broken because of her, and so rightfully he had preserved it for her.

She was his chosen mate, and she would find him and proclaim her love for him. She knew that Vegeta would never admit such feelings for her but hopefully he would engulf hers and accept them just as she was learning to accept him. Her theory had fundamental grounds; Vegeta had undoubtedly gone beyond the limits of what she thought he was emotionally capable of.

Her eyes were unclouded now, and her mind had eased, making her comfortably tired, but there was no time to loose. Vegeta was pretty upset when he left, and who knows what he might do. She had to find him and assure him that he was not unwanted, that he was not alone.

Hurrying over to her closet she fished around for some practical clothes to wear for hunting saiyans in a baby monsoon. She felt a warm prickling in her pelvis and looked down, smiling at her stomach and stroking it adoringly feeling the ki shift inside her with excitement. "Yes we are going to find daddy." she whispered gently, certain that the baby could feel what she had in mind.

Turning back to the task at hand, Bulma pulled out some warm clothes and kept it off the soaked floor. She casually unbuttoned her pyjama top, her mind wandering back and forth between all the places Vegeta might be.

Not hearing the cracking of glass she turned her vide eyes to her stomach where the skin practically fluttered with ki, and uneasiness.

Placing a comforting hand on her stomach she ignored the slight pain, and found herself humming for the little life, reassuring it that there was nothing to be afraid of.

"Couldn't sleep eh?"

Bulma gasped whipping around while frantically throwing blue hair out of her face. She saw a shadow slouching against the curtains arms crossed over its chest; face unrecognizable. It stood there staring at her while she tried to swallow her shock, her mouth almost spilling the name of her desire but she choked on it as the heat in her stomach heightened.

A chuckle brought her to her senses and she blinked immediately gathering her vide open shirt, which flared around her and tucked it back into place, shooting a glare in the intruder's direction.

Another loud boosting chuckle rocked the stranger making his shoulders bounce, and the head fell forward until he drew it up to peer at her through the thick darkness. Bulma shivered at the sound, it was cruel without being wicked, but something in it caused her alarm. It was the kind of laugh insane people possessed; an evil and marry laugh at the same time.

"Going somewhere, Bulma?"

"Who are you?"

The shadow straightened and walked into the pool of moonlight. Bulma gasped as her ex-boyfriend for over a decade revealed himself. His face seemed foreign with a conspicuous coldness she had seen looming in the edges of his eyes and then erupted the day he had raised his hand at her. Now the hardness had consumed his whole face making him look like the die hard bandit he once was. However, this Yamcha was without his adorable fear for girls, and without the spark of charm that had attracted her to him. This Yamcha was here on business, and his face shoved no hint of thoughts, except he looked positively teed-off.

Bulma stared at him dumfounded while moving towards him slowly, unknowing of why he was here, and why he looked so serious. Perhaps he had felt Vegeta take off and had come to investigate.

"How dare you Bulma" the whisper chilled her, and she stopped her advance.

"What?"

He stepped closer grapping hold of her shoulders and keeping her close. "You know what I mean. How dare you leave me for him when your life is with me." his voice feathered over her like silk being draped around a cold marble statue and Bulma picked up the hidden hatred underneath the gentle tones.

He hated her, hated her for leaving him. How dare he!? He had fucking screwed about every whore in the entire city, and then when she finally caught him in action he does what he does best; curl belly up on the floor whimpering and pleading with large puppy dog eyes until she dismissed his little snap fuck and scrapped his belly shoving him he was forgiven.

"How dare you." She yelled accusingly twisting out of his grip with her hands tightly around herself to protect what he was no longer permitted to see. He was just one big brainless ass. Daring to come here claiming what was no longer his. God, she was just so mad. How could any man be so pig headed?

"You have no right to be here, leave my proper..." Bulma's air escaped her as she was roughly shaken, strong fingers digging into her skin forming what would become ugly bruises.

Yamcha swung her forward so she collided hard against his chest; she opened her eyes staring at him with a mixture of surprise and loath. He stood with both arms secured around her waist capturing both her arms between her soft breast and his muscled torso, his eyes shot fire and he was breathing rapidly through clenched teeth.

At the sight Bulma's fear rose and she wondered if Yamcha was thinking clearly. She had never seen him this upset or furious before, and she felt the danger of the currant situation press in on her adding extra weight on her lungs, and slightly paralyse her common sense. She felt the heated flutter in her stomach, and realized now that it had been a warning.

"Yamcha we can talk about this, you must…" Bulma never got a chance to finish before the world went into a blur and she was thrown back first into the far wall; she slumped down beside her vanity eyes darting up with more shock than hurt at his action. The hold she had on her shirt loosened and the wind brushed it aside exposing her creamy flesh. She sucked in great gulps of air feeling like she was being suffocated by the numbing pain wrapped around her spine.

The prickling in her stomach was bearable, but she was suddenly overcome with a deep fear that Yamcha would notice and do something horrible. She shielded her stomach with one hand as she tried to hoist herself up on her feet but Yamcha appeared right before her.

"I told you, you would regret this, Bulma" the vindictive words slipped into her skin and she shivered realizing that Yamcha was indeed beyond reason. She curled up open shirt forgotten and watched with wide eyes as a dark hand slowly descended from the darkness and with frightening force gripped the hand that protected her stomach. He slung her up against the wall and Bulma screamed in terror as the first invisible fist dived deep into her abdomen.

*****

Silence

The wind drifted through the hollow streets with a ghostly yet comforting sense of tranquillity. The constant dripping of blood rushing in the grooves of the wet streets, the houses crumpled like paper
And the horrific sight of corps after corps scattered carelessly here and there on the blood soiled ground warmed by their own body heat proved that this was no ordinary killing.

It was a massacre.

Had the wind had a solid form it would probably not be so carelessly entering the latest target zone of the mysterious killer. But it would soon discover that the killer had abandoned the feast of his rage and left to seek out unknown plains.

Anyone foolish enough to want to uncover the motives behind the uncalled slaughter would however only need to seek out the highest mountain top on the island. A lone figure sat on the sharpest peat of the ageless rock. His skin was drenched in moonlight and the blood of his victims, and with each steady breath he inhaled the smell of crimson fluid which he had once lived for but did no more.

His illuminated visage shoved no feelings, but his posture disclosed that he was alert and aware of every little sound and moves around him, be it only amazing that he was able to keep an eye on this unknown territory when his attention was far from his surroundings.

His endless eyes focussed on something far away from him and his slaughtering, the veins in his neck tightened and swelled at the thought of his rage, the unwelcome thought of uncertainty and the unyielding feeling of agony wrenching his insides though he knew he was unhurt. It was all her fault.

Yet it was his own fault for allowing his infatuation with her to bloom into a need he basked in and the desire for it to become something more, something that could never be.

The eyes widened suddenly and he swallowed once. Someone was with his woman, not a foreign ki though. It was that scared weakling. But wait, there was something else, a tiny little energy; it had a similar structure compared to the one he had felt a brief spark of when he was in Bulma's room. Ah yes, the lips curled upwards, it had been his child, his heir greeting its father as soon as it had felt his presence.

Vegeta felt pride swell in his chest while the pressure that tried to choke his heart increased, and even though his face lacked expression Vegeta fought the urge to speed towards his woman and come to her aid. The repeated flares in the scared human's ki nagged Vegeta in the back of his brain and his jaw tightened with anger while following their encounter with invisible eyes as his super instincts moulded the situation before his inner eye.

That lowlife bastard was hurting his woman and his child. His mate! How dare that weakling lay a hand on her when he had so clearly made his claim, no one was to touch her when she was coated in his scent and wearing several of his marks, not a consummated mating mark since she ruined his chance for that, but it would have been enough to make other males stay away.

Vegeta hissed and slumped down from his half risen position, lips sliding back over his bared fangs, his primal warning meaningless out here in the middle of nowhere. What was he to expect from these inferior beings? Humans, they were all trouble. And here he was practically falling head over heels for the most unpredictable of these. He sought out her ki and narrowed the expanse of his instincts until only she filled his mind. Bitch, how dare she? But he would show her, she was not permitted to escape unharmed from her little cancellation in his mating planes. That meant only he was permitted so touch her and hurt her if need be. Not some fumble fingered jealous human who in some previous decade maybe had had a tiny role to play in his woman's existence. He had been replaced by Vegeta because of his own faux pas; he had hurt Bulma and by doing so driven her into the waiting arms of the saiyan prince. A chance Vegeta had not allowed to slip through his fingers. In the grasp of his own desire and heat drugged mind he had fished her out of her pit of misery, and showed her what real passion felt like. And while he came to her every night, silently creeping into her room and diving into her slick passage, he had known deep down in the corner of his mind that was untouched by his wolfish desires, that she was the one for him.

Vegeta turned his vigilant gaze in her direction, seeing the unworthy treatment of his mate and heir. And yet here he was sitting on some godforsaken mountain top while his woman's ex was beating the stuffing out of her.

Vegeta raised his solid form, the moon creating a halo of silver around his black frame. He had to save Bulma before it was too late, the almost constant crashes to her delicate form affected her life force, and even though the baby was adding its own ki to help strengthen her, it was no where near strong enough to withstand the blows. But why wasn't anyone coming to her aid? Surely her parents must have heard her scream, unless the human had found a way to shut her up.

Vegeta snarled his battle ready form tensing for take off, he roared and disappeared in an explosion of abyssal blue ki shattering the mountain and burying the remains of the village in chunks of heavy rock. He sped towards civilisation and his chosen. Feeling a spark of alarm he picked up her ki being moved rapidly towards an unknown destination. His sharp mind quickly concluded however that she was on her way to get medical assistance and both her parents was with her, but there was no trace of his new nemesis…

Ocean and earth was torn up by blue force and a lightening bolt split the air as it sped towards its goal. Flaring splints of razor sharp ki lacerated the earth as the fighter slashed through the air making the elements part for him in his haste not to be too late.

*****

Vegeta cautiously entered the automatic doors of the building marked with a great big red cross. His stoic form moved fluidly over the white polished quarry titled floor and his sensitive nostrils contracted with the sharp putrid smell of cleansers and disinfections. His observant gaze swept the place and he snatched up a few looks directed at him, or rather at his clothes which were now stiff and itching with dried blood. Finally his eye caught those of the receptionist, who also couldn't control her eyeballs. Vegeta scanned her over; he knew that she was the one who could give him the information he was craving for.

Making his way over to the redhead behind the barrier of cherry tree, he smirked the slightest at seeing her take a step back just as she didn't dare blink.

Not bothering to uncross his arms he released his demand. "Where can I find Bulma Briefs?" his voice was a rumble of low growling and a deep rich sound just with a hint of impatience. The woman in the formfitting uniform finally allowed herself a well deserved blink and threw herself down in her chair before typing away on the keyboard in front of her. She kept glancing up at his towering form, and nervously fidgeted with a few strands of her red coloured hair. She kept muttering to herself as a distraction for the suddenly offending slow computer. Finally unable to take the eerie man’s silence anymore she gathered her courage and spoke so he could hear it.

"Ah, let me see. Bulma Briefs you say..." She stopped to chant her new mantra inside her head: come on, come on, come on…"Ah yes, she just arrived a few minutes ago. It appears that she was quite…"

"Where is she?"

The woman jumped at the impatient rumble, and took a great big gulp before tearing her gaze from his hard one. She adjusted herself in her seat before typing away again, and Vegeta could feel a growl bloom in his chest at the pesky creature.

"They are performing an operation on her right now sir, but she should be done any minute…ah" She paused releasing the breath she had just inhaled and which should have given him more information. The redhead's eyes shifted to him and Vegeta raised his chin further. Seemingly non pulsed she took her hands off the keyboard and laced her fingers, her elbows resting on the desk.

"Sir, I must ask. Are you a relative or a friend of the Briefs family? Mr. Briefs have given instructions that no friends are allowed to see Miss. Briefs at least not until tomorrow. So I can't let you pass unless you are a relative."

Was that so? It seemed the woman had been so caught up in his peculiar appearance and dark stare that she had totally forgotten to keep up formality. Of course strangers needed to be questioned why they were seeking out people without stating their name and cause. Especially when they looked like they could use some medical attention themselves, or like they had been on the loose with a chain saw. She needed reassurance that it was okay to give him the green card to pass. He looked extremely frightening standing there in his blood soaked clothes, and just like everybody else that cast him an assessing glance as they went by, she had half a mind to push the button under her desk and call the assistance she longed for.

Vegeta snarled under his breath, he didn’t like to be questioned or doubted. True, in a few seconds he would release the lie that would open the door for him, and the airhead was going to swallow it raw. But that didn’t stop the annoyance that almost indefinable screwed up his face into a grimace. He was almost with her, and until then he had a close watch on his woman’s ki somewhere upstairs and the multiple unfamiliar kis that was with her.

The redhead still sat waiting at her desk; in one hand she twirled a pencil looking too cocky for her own good. Proudly he raised his head releasing the honoured title that he had obtained because of the love of his earthling, and her gift of seeing beyond the blackness that coated his soul.

”I am her mate, Vegeta.”

Vegeta only added his own name in order to fulfil the reassurance part; now that she didn’t have to drag his name out of him (and it would have been her next question.) he was certain that she felt less intimidated by him. Not that he would care if he scared the little bitch or not, but the bubbling plethora of impatience inside him was threatening to erupt, and as far as Vegeta was concerned she was the only obstacle standing between him and Bulma.

Said bitch blinked but said nothing, only shooting him a half surprised and half ‘yeah right’ look making Vegeta’s fingers twitch.

“I see, so you mean you are her husband then?”

She smiled while she said it looking point-blank at him through the roof of her eyes, and the green-grey orbs sparkled with humour. Whether it was because she found the honourable term of mate funny, or if it was because she looked at him like he had been guy number ten who had been there claiming to be Bulma’s husband Vegeta couldn’t quite grasp. Except none of the options better be true.

“Yes I am her husband.” the words smoothed his dry throat as he released them. It was a risky move though. Answering head on that he was indeed Bulma’s mate may seem like he was too eager, rousing more suspicion. But even though giving the enemy a sense of self-assurance is a basic step when you battle on an intellectual level, this issue was too important for him to waste time bickering with some redhead.

“Right, I see then. Let me just see which ward she is on. By the way what was your name again?” So, cut the formality did we? No more use of sir. Vegeta almost smirked; she seemed to have some of the perky temper that characterized redheads. But that was without importance. In one answer he would stand here as the victory holder, and his prize was information about Bulma’s location.

“Vegeta Briefs,”

He received no real response except she lowered her hard gaze back to the screen, pushing her glasses further up on her nose she seemed to be typing in his new name; and for a moment Vegeta felt a stab of alarm. If she was checking his identity on the national register then he was indeed busted. He abandoned making emergency plans however when the middle aged lady stood up and without his permission stuck a tag with his name on it on his shirt. He growled out loud baring his fangs in warning and as desired she practically leaped backwards with surprise.

“Don’t you touch me, you wench.” He snarled with venom. No one breached the barrier to his private space!

The redhead was shaking visibly now. “I-I’m sorry sir. But the nametag will give you entrance to Miss. Briefs’ private sick room.” She stuttered grasping after her glasses as she considered whether or not it was safe to return to her chair.

Vegeta’s onyx eyes narrowed dangerously and finally the woman decided that it was best to just grant his wish. There was nothing she could do to hold him back anyway.

“Take the elevator to the 41st floor and ask for Bulma Briefs, the doctors will take you to her.” she gestured grandly towards the elevator eager to be rid of him, and to her relief she watched wide eyed as the obscure man stalked towards the shinning metal doors. She felt the air escape her as the doors finally closed leaving her drained of all her strength with only a few gaping co workers for support.

*****

Vegeta’s sight stretched out into the white expanse that was revealed to him on the signal of the annoying beep that confirmed that he had reached his destination.

He stepped out in the deserted hallway his instincts quickly picking up the bundle of kis that was centred on his woman. As he proceeded down the hallway he passed some giant Perspex windows where he quickly spotted Bulma’s parents sitting alone looking into space, and on the other side of the room were more windows covered with curtains so that the operating room was kept secret from prying eyes.

Dr. Briefs sat slumped forward his elbow resting on his knee with his wife leaning against him her hand resting on his thigh. She shifted her weight making the arm he had around her tighten and stoke her back soothingly before tenderly kissing her on the forehead.

Vegeta slipped into the room making sure to make his presence known, although he only received a tired half surprised look from the good doctor before his now sobbing wife won his attention again.

Vegeta went over to the furthest corner of the room and leaned cross-legged against the white tiled wall. He listened observant and quickly memorized the sounds that came from all the devices his mate was hooked up to while carefully monitoring her ki. He slipped into meditation and searched the depths of her body, allowing his strength to pour into her cells and help reconstruct minor damage as it was all he could do without being with her flesh to flesh. During his journey through her he suddenly stopped. His son's ki snapped him in the back of his brain again claiming his attention. His mind flooded down to the tiny life that almost had been lost during the fight with Yamcha. Vegeta granted him ki feeling pride at his son’s power, just as relief swept through him knowing that his woman had been very lucky to have had a piece of him with her while she was attacked.

He completed his upgrade on Bulma’s body assured that she would have a complete recovery. His eyes shifted to her parents as he heard her father murmur something seemingly to him.

“She almost died Vegeta. We almost lost her.” Doctor Briefs’ usually cheerful demeanour was replaced with a look of sadness and a deep seriousness that told Vegeta just how shocked he was over the attack on his only daughter and it was clearly beyond him to understand whoever could be evil enough to assault a beautiful and pregnant woman like Bulma.

“I will let you know it wasn’t me.” Vegeta growled lowly at him. He knew that Briefs had him under the microscope, anything else would be absurd. But he found it necessary to assure her parents that he was not directly responsible for her condition.

Briefs studied him intently through his bangs, and even though Vegeta hadn’t unveiled any of his knowledge of Yamcha or how it had happened, he seemed to sense Vegeta’s roll in this ordeal all the same. Finally he just nodded and lowered his head concluding that it wasn’t the saiyan that was the villain.

“But I swear on my honour as a prince I will keep her safe from now on.” Those words snapped Briefs’ eyes to him and he found Vegeta now standing tall and stoic in front of them, his royal burnish visibly outlining his body and making his monumental virility escalate until he looked like the proud and strong prince ready to protect his mate from anything.

Briefs’ mouth fell open slightly and one could practically read the drawing realization in their depths. Vegeta and Bulma had an affair and it was Vegeta’s baby they had been told she had almost lost. But here he was, standing before him. The lost alien prince who had sought shelter in his house, now stood here claiming his only daughter. As much as Briefs may find it unnerving he couldn’t deny the fact that his exceptional instinct to read people told him that Vegeta was here because he honoured his daughter and felt protective and possessive about her, as it was fit for a real husband.

“Very well Vegeta, I will give you the benefit of the doubt. But if this happens again I will personally see to it that your departure from Earth isn’t a pleasant one.” His eyes shone with determination and Vegeta smirked with haughtiness. Bulma definitely didn’t have her spunk from strangers, and to watch her old man dish out a fatherly threat was kind of amusing. He wasn’t here to break her apart from her parents; she would need all the support she could get since she would properly refuse his advances again. But he had sworn he would protect her and now her father depended on him too, but since he knew no one would ever hurt her again he settled for admiring the love her parents had for her, and dismissed the actual threat.

"You don't have to fear. I will see to it that her attacker is found and punished for his misdeed." these words only seemed to astound Briefs further and even his wife lifted her head and her wet bloodshot eyes glittered with awe and hope.

Vegeta too found himself barely clinging to his own countenance. Never in his life had he wowed anything to anyone. Never had he cared about what other people thought of him, no matter how dishonourable he behaved. And although he may not have changed, his life and surroundings had, and it was time to follow it, just as it was time to take responsibility for his own actions. His eyes sought out those of doctor Briefs again wondering whether or not the doctor saw him fit to not only protect, but also to live by his daughter's side.

"I believe you Vegeta. Remember what you have sworn. I will hold you to your wow."

*****

Some time later Vegeta slouched against the cool wall of Bulma's private sick room. He'd been standing there for quite some time watching her parents, especially her mother; hang around her bedside fussing over her like she was a newborn baby.

She'd had a problem free surgery which purpose mostly had been to patch her up and dress her wounds. Vegeta was actually amazed to see how well she had pulled through. Against all odds she had eschewed internal damage and her cuts weren’t severe in any way. The worst was a broken arm but that was nothing Vegeta couldn't help heal himself. Oh she’d acquired a good beating and her beautiful visage was sprinkled with nasty bruises, but the little hellcat had without a doubt fought the best she could. During her reunification with her parents Vegeta had to settle with watching her, his shadowy gaze roaming over her engulfing her until she filled his vision, waiting for an opportunity to make his move.

Finally after a few hours of happy reunion and family nuzzling Dr. Briefs saw it fit to lead his relieved wife down to the canteen to fetch some proper food for all of them, plus giving Vegeta and Bulma a chance to straighten things out in private.

As soon as the doors slid closed the heavy aura in the room settled like a leaden blanket and the weighing air almost forcefully pushed Bulma's head to the side to lock eyes with the dark orbs of her self forbidden desire.

Vegeta regarded her looking at him straight on, daring him to give his best shot just so she could prove that she wasn't about to submit to anyone like she never had. He pushed himself from the wall, his eyes un-flickering as he stepped towards her, noticing with a modest amount of pride how she didn’t shrink away under the blanket.

Bulma watched him coming closer until he stopped at the head of the bed, the front of his muscular thighs touching the steel frame, letting the warmth of his body whisper across her bruised cheek. She resisted the urged to just throw herself at him and reveal all about the baby and Yamcha, and that the baby was probably laying dead inside her womb right now.

Oh God, the baby.

With no strength Bulma couldn’t fight the oncoming of tears and her cracked lips began to tremble and she painfully turned her head away in shame to sob uncontrollably into the covers. Vegeta’s eyes narrowed and he grimaced, he should have known those quack doctors hadn’t bothered to tell her that her baby was unharmed, and it raised his hackles to see his mate suffer so greatly over a non exciting trifle.

He leaned down planting one strong hand in front of her turned head while dipping his fingers into her tangled hair with the other, he purred inwardly at feeling the cool strands curl around his skin. He gently cupped her skull and turned her pale face to him. He stiffened upon closer inspection at her features. One of her perfect eyebrows was carved open by a cut and then flooded with ugly purple bruises causing such swelling, that she could only open one of her eyes halfway. Her delicious plumb cherry lips had been split open and the rest of her face was an abundance of blue and purple melting together hiding her milky skin with a membrane of pain and agony. Vegeta’s muscles bulged with the thought of finding the coward and repay him an eternity of unspeakable terror in the name of his woman.

He was wrenched from his revenge when he felt a warm shaking hand on his cheek and he focused until her blurred features sharpened again. She whispered something but he didn’t have to wait long before her fear came out in a full blown wail.

“Oh God Vegeta! The baby. The baby is dead, I’m so sorry.” She fisted her hand in his shirt while she cried out her confession. She hiccupped through her tears; her hands were desperately imbedded in his shirt, holding her to him, praying that he wouldn’t reject her because she had kept the knowledge of the baby a secret. She pulled at him fiercely dragging fistfuls of the bloody material to her red rimmed eyes burying her head in it.

Vegeta was baffled at her sudden display of strength, and while he lowered himself over her letting her take her comfort, his thighs tightened at the primal desire to go out into the hallway and pop down those doctors one by one.

However, first things first.

Vegeta leaned down closer until Bulma clung herself to his chest, one bruised arm secured around his neck, as she cried openly like a grieving mother. Vegeta bared his fangs in anger, as he realized how much strain the emotional tumult had put on her mind, and then to have the shit beaten out of her which crunched the last of her spunk, had doubtless sent her into emotional overdrive. And then they had mistakenly extinguished her hope to be a mother, which had been the real reason to why she'd tripped over the tricky string of misery and fallen back into the vortex of depression.

Vegeta found himself hating to see her this way. In all of his years with Frieza, no pain he, or the lizard had inflicted on others had ever made his stomach clench. He knew that she was the reason to why the pounding in his chest bloomed, and as her sweet smell drifted across his skin he felt the possessiveness in him flare confirming that he would never be able to rest while she was still prisoner in the clutches of unhappiness.

What she needed was to be told the truth, and then she needed about a week of deep, blissful undisturbed sleep.

Giving in to his weeping mate he lifted his legs up and crawled onto the bed with her, letting his arms encircle her shaking form. Bulma unaware of his gesture only gathered all of the saiyan she could muster and held him close with all of her might, all thoughts of hatred now gone.

Vegeta brushed his lips over her ear while purring trying to ease her exuberant pain. He whispered the that the baby was okay but she only shook her head her sobs intensifying, thinking that he was just being cruel.

“Onna the baby is fine, he’s not dead.” Vegeta sat up bringing her with him; he shook her by the shoulders wincing inwardly when he felt the stiffness in her joints. She struggled against him cursing him for not saving her.

Not saving her? If she only…no, she was right. Her rejection of him had nothing to do with him not saving her. And even though he, as refused by her had no obligation towards her anymore, he had made sure to trap himself be pledging his secret wow. And even though she couldn’t hold him to it, it didn’t prevent him from feeling something near guilt for lazing about on some God forsaken island while she got the beating of a lifetime. Now he had come to this hospital with the intension of proving himself worthy of her and the first thing he would do was to pull Bulma out of her frenzy and show her that the baby was still blossoming.

Grapping her hand he forced it down to her abdomen, laying the palm flat against her sore underbelly. He growled for her to be still but she was all but inconsolable.

“Just stop Vegeta, the baby is dead. I couldn’t save him, he’s gone. “She fisted her hand in his shirt again seemingly switching between anger and need for him whenever she mentioned his brat. Vegeta sighed and dived forward sealing his firm lips against hers in a gentle liberating kiss. She stilled immediately her gleaming eyes looking into his with a sense of longing and pleading. She desperately wanted to believe the lie he poured over her. After all, everything would be so much better if what he was saying was true, but she wouldn’t dare deny the facts. The baby was dead, and even though she was crushed she wasn’t ignorant, or a miracle believer. She could get over this, and as for Vegeta, maybe there was hope for them yet. But she was too strong to allow herself to be foolishly misled by a stupid lie, just because it was easy.

“There is no need to be so strong, Onna. You still carry life, and I will prove it to you.” He whispered, and Bulma’s sore eyes widened the best they could at hearing his voice inside her head.

She tried to draw her lips back when she suddenly felt a gentle glow seep from his lips into hers. It was followed by a soothing heat that flooded down her throat warming her insides and smoothing the raw skin.

Bulma sagged against him her eyes drifting closed as she automatically opened her mouth wider eagerly swallowing his gift of power and passion. The heat pouring into her mouth intensified almost to a scalding point although it never hurt her. His ki whirled through her body rebuilding damaged muscles, and strengthening broken bones. Bulma whimpered into his mouth her eyes cracking open to release the crystal tears. Vegeta continued to feed his ki to her, noting her tears he upped the dose, glad that she was finally releasing some of the pent up frustration.

The ki swam through her veins, adopting her body as its own. It seeped into her skin weaving together with her own meagre strength and sent a divine heat through her that made her gasp and moan as it bloomed from her deepest core and stretched all the way out to the tips of her fingers. Her new given power restored her body beyond the human limits, even if she was still hurt, she felt more alive than she had ever felt before. Her instincts were clear and unclouded, and without any effort Bulma could sense her own body's condition, and if Vegeta hadn't been kissing her, she was sure that she would've been able to sense him too.

Carefully Vegeta urged her to slip into herself, so he could show her the one thing which he knew really mattered to her. Even in the throws of this meditation like condition Bulma was still awed beyond reason at discovering the epiphany behind the limitless plethora of ki secrets.

They flooded through her body down to her core; Bulma's lips shook with foreboding even as she tried to braze herself before confronting her dead child. Upon nearing the womb Bulma's ears were flooded with a weaker sound of a heartbeat, which beat in time with her own. She frowned in concentration and ruled out her own heart. Her chest swelled with happiness as the truth wrapped around her. Her child was alive! He was unhurt and blooming inside her right now. Tears streamed from her eyes and she half sobbed half laughed into Vegeta's mouth, and she felt him smirk against her.

Bulma's hand went down and clutched Vegeta's, pressing it against her abdomen. She leaned forward and Vegeta willingly deepened the kiss, answering to her needs in every way. He moulded an image of their son before her inner eye, and she doted upon every moment. They kissed with an unnatural need, which electrified the air around them. She brought her hands up and tangled them in his soft hair, while moaning her yearning for him into his mouth. Vegeta's tail brushed against her and curled around her waist holding her to him, fitting her against his muscled torso, where she curved perfectly into him, like she always had.

They broke their inflamed kiss, although Vegeta refused to release Bulma from his grasp. She regarded him silently from under her thick lashes for a moment before suddenly beaming impishly, which unnerved Vegeta causing him to turn his face and look sideways at her. Still grinning like an idiot she tossed herself forward and threw her arms around him, hugging him with her new strength. Vegeta growled in warning but she only giggled and hugged him harder. After a while she felt the tension leave his body and she released him, strands of blue hair partly covering her sparkling eyes.

Sitting nose to nose with him she looked deep into his eyes knowing why he was here. To reclaim her. She didn't feel any alarm at the thought, he was worthy. And she didn't blame him for not saving her. The only one she blamed was Yamcha, and herself for refusing Vegeta. But they had both survived this obstacle, and now she was on her path back to him.

"Thank you" she whispered sincerely. Something in his eyes cracked for an instant before she saw the glossy black surface again. He emitted a low rumble and shifted his weight. He stood up and gathered the warm covers around her before picking her up with one hand under her knees, and the other supporting her back.

"Time to go home, Onna." He stalked towards the door seemingly pacified with the way things went. The door was kicked open as the bloody demon proceeded down the bright hallway with his angelic mate gathered close to his chest.

It seems chaos is not always a bad thing, and it is not always meant to be avoided. Sometimes you'll have to create your own universe, and mingle the elemental opposites in order to create harmony.

*****

I have only one request. Please tell me what you think about Vegeta's character in this chapter. I did everything I could to avoid making him seem mushy and OOC. So please tell me if I have succeeded or not. 'Cause if I haven't I think I will change it. And thank you so much for your patience. Unfortunately I have made the discovery that I am not that kind of writer who can just dish out one good chapter after another, at least not if I have to be content with the work myself. So please stick with me to the end and please review, I love it, and it gives me a boost!!!