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Everything Happens For a Reason	By : Lynnember Category: Dragon Ball Z > General Views: 3258 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DragonballZ, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Everything Happens for a Reason

Chapter Five

Namekians, Gold Fish, and Sake

Disclaimer: Don't own it� don't own it� don't own it! ^-^;;

************************
Bulma looked up at the stark metal clock for the sixth time in as many
minutes. The vibrant and compelling structure of her working day had somehow,
since Namek, been transformed into a necessity. If only she could think of a
way of remaining longer. She looked down at the neatly piled files in front of
her, categorized in alphabetical order, pristinely covered and checked. At a
loss as to what else needed to be done she proceed to straighten the pen in
front of her, before languidly pushing it from side to side with her index
finger.
What else could she find to delay her return to the house? The chimes
signifying the factories closure had rung out over half an hour ago. The
cleaning ladies were rushing around outside the office, accompanied by the
whirring of a vacuum cleaner, and it would only be ater ter of time before they
disturbed her sanctuary. She sighed, laying her head on the desk, stalling the
inevitable. It was getting beyond a joke. After all, what was at home that was
so bad she'd willingly camp out in her office rather than face? Instantly her
thoughts answered for her. "The goldfish bowl effect."
Her therapist had warned her about this when she first came into society and
began her training to take over as CEO of Capsule Corporation. Of course it had
never occurred to Bulma that she could be affected by it in the comfort of her
own home.
Living in a house filled to overflowing with guests was getting to her. What
a fool! Had she really thought it would be exciting, a treat for her senses and
a temporary substitute for the friends she had lost? It was all so wrong. The
Namekians and Vegeta were more eccentric than exciting. More often than not she
would roll her eyes in company with either. Most people who knew the surly
prince would have thought he possessed the lion share of blame, but Bulma was
rather surprised to find that it was the Namekians that were getting to her the
most.
She felt intensely guilty about it. They were polite, gentle and good
creatures, the lot of them, but they were just� everywhere! She couldn't go
anywhere in the house without tripping over at least one of them. Vegeta might
be the incarnation of HFIL itself; dark, threatening and cold, but at least
most of the time he kept himself to himself. It felt as though she was
constantly on show for her refugee guests. She had to play hostess twenty-four
hours a day, seven days a week. It's true that she always did take an innate
joy in being the centre of attention, but as in most things, it has its
moderation.
As the days piled past Bulma had started to feel the million-zeni smile
falter, and now it was splintering, almost on the cusp of shattering
completely. Her own little private space, upstairs next to her room was the
only place the Namekians knew not to tread, but that rule didn't apply to
Vegeta. Admittedly he didn't disturb her often, but still it was impossible to
relax and be herself, knowing he might sneak in at any moment to push her into
an even fouler mood.
Of course, this was confounded on by the creepy telepathic bullshit.
Thankfully, for the moment at least, all was quiet and undisturbed. In fact the
last time it happened was over three weeks ago when Vegeta told her to 'adapt.'
Yeah right! What kind of solution was that?
"Adapt� feh� what a moron!" she groused out loud. "How the
hell am I supposed to adapt? I'm not telepathic, and I don't have the same
powers as him. I'm human not some Saiya-jin super being." The rays of a
dramatic sunset brushed her skin with a golden glow. "I need a
vacation!" she mewed against the leather topped desk.
She gasped. It might only have been an off- thought but it was certainly a
good one, and not at all difficult to implement. She stood up from the desk, a
whole new whirl of energy working on her strained limbs. "Oh yeah!"
she exclaimed, "Just what the doctor ordered!"
The office and temporary sanctuary it offered was forgotten. With a new
sense of purpose she strode confidently out, making a direct line towards the
house, which not five minutes ago, she had been finding excuses not to go
anywhere near.
As expected a small delegation of her green guests had congregated around
the front door, anticipating her return. "Every goddamn day!" She
grumbled under her breath.
"Welcome home Miss Briefs!" they enthused, bowing respectfully.
"Thanks," she mumbled. "Um� is Dad in?"
The small group erupted with whispers, as though it was the most important
discussion ever to take place. Five minutes later, the eldest, and nominated
spokesman edged cautiously forward. "We apologize Miss Bulma, but you're
mother wanted us to help her in the gardens� and we couldn't� we� weren't�"
he looked guiltily to the floor, "We weren't here when he was scheduled to
return, please forgive us."
Bulma, somehow, managed to stifle her unjust feelings and simply stated
that, "It wasn't something that needed apologizing for."
She walked quietly into the house - the entourage of Namekians falling into
line behind her. She watched them warily out of the corner of her eye, but was
relieved to see them taking a swift turn into the kitchen, obviously in search
for some small task from her mother. As soon as they were out of sight she
sighed in relief, and then almost fell over a small figure that clamped onto
her leg so tightly that she squealed in surprise.
"Dende! I�m sorry - are your hurt?� He was the only one of his species
that was instantly forgiven for being in the way. He didn�t reply, only clung
to her tighter. "What's up kiddo?"
In truth she needn't have asked. A shape was pooled in the twisting of
shadows at the end of the hall. She rolled her eyes. "Nothing better to do
than scare small children today, Vegeta?" she said with dry sarcasm, while
stroking Dende's antenna flat for comfort.
"Can I help it if the brat has a healthy sense of fear. He has good
reason to be afraid. Perhaps you would do well to follow his example," he
replied in a long drawl. "Besides," he shrugged, "all I did was
say boo."
Bulma tried to look angry, but the edges of her lips forced themselves
upwards. "So you think I'm not afraid of you?"
"I didn't say that now did I?" He grinned mischievously.
"Besides you told me not so long ago that you were. I was standing naked
in front of you at the time - I'm sure you remember." The shadows caught
on his face, in contrast to the bright white of his teeth that seemed to pierce
the gloom with biting derision. "All I was suggesting was," he
continued, "that you have a higher tolerance than most, and for someone
who obviously does actually possess a brain, that is very foolish."
Bulma's mind completely betrayed her. She temporarily forgot the reason for
setting foot inside the dreaded goldfish bowl, and fixed her attention on
Vegeta. What had bitten his arse to make him so� playful? "You know�� She
winked. �There was almost a compliment in there. You're getting sloppy."
Vegeta growled but it didn�t sound threatening, not to her. To be honest
Bulma found there was something extremely exciting about being alone with the
unpredictable Saiya-jin. Dende, however, was still nuzzling softly against her
legs. He didn�t look as comfole wle with the situation as Bulma.
She bent down. "Why don't you go into the kitchen?� she said, prying
his arms away from her. �I'm sure Mum will be happy to see you, and tell her I
said you could have a couple of bottles from my secret Evian stash."
The small Namekians face lit up, his eyes twinkling, before they took on a
more serious character. "Will you be okay, Bulma-san?"
"Don't worry sweetie," she winked. "I know exactly how to
handle Vegeta-sama."
Dende skipped off, and Bulma managed to stand upright just in time to see a
look of astonishment crossing Vegeta's features. It wasn't very often she paid
him the respect of his suffix and it seemed as though he was puzzlingr hor how
to take it - whether to let the comment soothe and caress his ego, or violently
distrust the remark. It looked as though he was settling for the latter. His
scowl pinched in the middle, his eyes biting into suspicion.
Somehow Bulma managed to stifle the sense of victory she had achieved over
him, and making sure to keep eye contact, she walked casually past, her head
held high. Secretly she smiled when he could no longer see her face, and it
grew in size as a strong hand grabbed her at the elbow, stopping her as she had
unconsciously hoped it would.
"And how would you handle me?" he enquired in a low whisper,
pulling her within inches of his face.
A shiver ran up her spine. VegeVegeta, in his own warped way, flirting with
her? It was so disturbingly wrong, and yet at the same time, deliciously
exciting. Falling in with the innuendo she replied, "In whatever way would
give me the most pleasure of course."
Bulma was disappointed to feel his hand leave her arm as though it had been
burnt, allowing her to carry on her way. Scolding the dissatisfaction into not
surfacing as anything too weird she did continue. It wasn't until she reached
the end of the hall that she heard Vegeta's deathly chiselled voice.
"Then I was right. You really are a fool."
It was spoken so carefully and with a meaning that made her feel like she
was missing something important. Her hand had been on the keypad to unlock the
door to her father's lab, but she dropped it, a sudden sadness pressing heavily
on her heart, as she turned to look back in the Saiya-jins direction.
Her eyes met with nothing. He was gone, silent and mysterious in his exit,
leaving nothing but confusion and muddled emotions in his wake.

**************************
Large piles of cluttered and now empty bowls were piled haphazardly over the
large wooden table, almost unnatural sunlight dancing off their elaborate
glazing. It came spilling through the small window of the humble homestead
twenty four hours a day, and even though accordin his his body clock it was
supposed to be getting dark, Yamcha knew King Kai would only close the thick,
blackout curtains when he decided the warriors under his tutorage had performed
to their absolute maximum ability.
Some days (admittedly the ones that centred mostly around either
constructive meditation, or new energy manipulation techniques,) Yamcha loved
training on the small hunk of rock, better known as King Kai'anetanet, but most
of the time� well most of the time he loathed it with a passion. Boot camp
would be considered a breeze compared to the torture he was suffering. Not only
were they pushed to the edge of physical endurance every day by the weirdness
the 'Lord of the World' laughingly called training, but also there was no
entertainment, no partying, and nothing for company other than Tien, Chaotzu
and the eccentrically weird deity, fanning himself under the intense light.
The only reason he'd stuck it out this long was to save face in front of
Tien and Chaotzu, and to keep his own body, which having become incredibly
attached to it for the last twenty-seven years, he didn't fancy losing, even
for the few short months he had befoeingeing wished back. His mind kept telling
him over and over that he only had two months left and then freedom. He could
do what the hell he liked. He could go out on the town, play baseball and, he
added with a mental smile, once again indulge in pleasures of the flesh.
He looked up out of the small window to see Chaotzu being an unwilling
target for Tien, in some bizarre twist of a knife-throwing act where the knives
had been replaced with bright shards of white-hot ki. Knowing that his only
chance of sleep that day was to work through the intricately crafted form King
Kai had made him study the previous day, Yamcha shrugged indifferently, and
thumbed his way through the aged and crumpled parchment papers, just to refresh
his memory. There was another problem, since did did training consist of so
much reading? Kami only knew how Goku had coped with it.
Grudgingly it was that he spread his feet wide, baying to the intense
gravity, and started the gruelling workout. He couldn't deny the effects since
he had arrived. The training made him feel like a god. His strikes had become
so powerful and precise, his ki attacks so focused that he knew few entities
could come close to his level. Even a mind as vain as his own knew that he was
far behind Goku now he had ascended to the level of Super Saiya-jin, but Goku
wasn't the only Saiya-jin still alive, and the other still hadn't gone super
yet.
Yamcha had no overbearing wishes for grandeur or revenge, but it was
certainly becoming more and more appealing for him to dwell on how to take out
the Saiya-jin prince. Over the months that had past in Other World this desire
to best the prince had grown into something, which prior to dying, he wouldn't
have even noted as a possible character trait, but dying did strange things to
your mind. He guessed it made his thoughts darker, his suspicion greater. It
had irked him to no end when King Kai had finally decided to tell him that the
murderous prince had moved in with Bulma. He'd almost choked on an egg roll.
"Was she insane?" he'd asked, to which everyone else just shrugged,
signifying that none of them saw the logic in it.
After the initial communication had been relayed to him Yamcha had started
to press King Kai for more information. Information that was very hard to
obtain. He said that it went against his honour and training to pry on human
activity unless it was vital to the balance of the universe. Yamcha had
countered by saying that, "Anything to do with Vegeta could upset the
balance of the universe and so long as Goku was dead then nobody would be able
to stop him."
This debate had rager jur just over two weeks before King Kai had finally
conceded that maybe it would be just as well to check up on the Saiya-jin every
once in a while. It was a tough battle, but Yamcha had carried his point and
was victorious. It wasn't as simple as King Kai would have hoped though. Vegeta
was a well-adapted telepath, there was no way the 'Lord of the World' could
trick his way into Vegeta's mind. The temperamental prince might just decide to
go on a full-scale rampage just to spite them. It was decided therefore, much
to Yamcha's delight, that Bulma would be the target. Both her parents' minds
were of the wrong tune to be used as an accurate spy.
Yamcha had felt great anticipation for the first contact. King Kai had
grudgingly let him observe, by having his hand placed securely on his back. For
over an hour they watched in silence as King Kai muddled through her thoughts.
It wasn't until he had been brought bang up to date that she managed to sense
them. Of course it had to happen that out of all the stupid times he'd picked
to spy on his girlfriend she'd chosen that moment to take a shower. He'd turned
a breathless beat red as he watched her lather the soap temptingly over her
body. Only the giggled comment of "What a cutie!" from King Kai made
him realize that he'd just talked his girlfriend into being perved on by a Kai.
True to his word King Kai had quickly swept his mind into Bulma's several
times a week since that time, just to make sure everything was ok, and each
time Yamcha had watched. He had watched and seen� seen too much. Rather than a
distant and prickly relationship with Vegeta, it appeared that they were on a
kind of intimate footing. At first he couldn't believe she'd actually given him
a room in the main building rather than the guesthouse of the workers complex.
Even more astonishing was that the murderous Saiya-jin seemed to have unlimited
access to her personal rooms. No guest other than himself and Krillin had ever
had access to that portion of the house, and all at once it set a powerful and
irrational jealousy thundering through his chest. What was she playing at?
Unfortunately for this new and dark feeling, borne out of semi-truths, King
Kai had noticed something that he had failed to, and that was the effect
telepathic energy had on Bulma's fragile body. One of the agreements to the
efficiency of a spy was that it was kept silent, most of the time her mind
blanked them out, but at different times of the day or during conflicting
emotions then creatures of a certain mind were able to pick up that they were
being spied on.
Bulma was more susceptive to this than most, and when she had finally shared
what telepathic energy she was suffering with Vegeta, King Kai, out of a fear
for the planets safety had been forced into a quick withdrawal, telling Yamcha
that it would be necessary to use one of the Namekians or staff at Capsule
Corporation in future. It was therefore, grudgingly agreed that no more outside
contact would be made with Bulma, an oath that Yamcha was more than willing to
break when the chance arose.
Yamcha frowned as he came to the end of the ridiculously ape-like form.
Absently he wondered if it had actually been Bubbles that have created it in
the first place, as King Kai waddled over to him.
"Well done!" He enthused, "That's a very difficult form, I'm
impressed." He smiled. "Tien and Chaotzu have made a lot of progress
as well, so tonight I'm going to let us have that treat I promised."
Yamcha's frown morphed into a wicked smirk. "You mean, the� the
sake?"
"Oh yes," King Kai replied, "Definitely the Sake. I ordered a
delivery from King Yemma last month. It should be here any minute."
As if on queue the loud squeal of van breaks could be heard from above, and
Yamcha only had a split second to move out the way as the six-wheeled delivery
truck came crashing to the ground. The demon inside seemed to be in a highly
traumatized state of shock, his teeth clenched and hands clamped in a vice-like
grip around the steering wheel.
"He took over the controls again didn't he, Shuma?" chuckled King
Kai. "That boy's a riot! He's still got his old masters comedy touch! Now
let me take a look!" King Kai moved around the back of the delivery van,
cautiously opening the doors, only for the entire contents to spill out on top
of him.
Yamcha rolled his eyes, prying Shuma's fingers open and coaxing him out of
the drivers seat. How many people was King Kai expecting? There was enough
drink there to knock out a Saiya-jin in Ouzaru. "This is all for us?"
He asked the petrified Demon.
There were several loud crashes as King Kai popped out the top of the mass
of sake bottles. "Yes," he replied a h a huge grin, "This is
the next step of your training!"
"Training?"
"Of course� haven't you ever watched old martial arts films? What about
the �Drunken Master?� It's a classic! Of course I would have sued them for
copyright infringement if I hadn't been distracted by that particularly nasty
outbreak of flesh eating insects in the Camosystsystem."
Yamcha's smile was practically sardonic now. This was perfect.
"Finally!" He laughed out loud, "There's going to be some real
fun around here!" and in his thoughts he added, "This is perfect!
No-ones ever beaten me in a drinking contest." His eyes slanted,
"It'll be like taking candy from a baby!"

******************************
"A vacation!" cried Mrs. Brief, standing pristinely up in the
middle of her Namekian helpers, cherry blossom skimming over her perfectly
sculptured hair. "What a wonderful idea! When are we going?"
Bulma cringed, she knew this was going to hurt her mum, but she didn't have
much choice, this was her therapy. If she included her mum in the vacation then
it would be second nature for her mother to invite the whole household, and probably
half the staff as well. She looked to the floor, "We're not. I'm going
alone."
"On your own! Oh Bulma-chan, surely not."
"I'm sorry Mum� I just need some time to myself. Dad said to tell you,
we'll be going up to the old lodge again at Christmas as a family, but right
now that I need to relax."
Mrs. Brief looked a little put out, but she could never stay unhappy for
long. "Well it would give me an excuse to redecorate your rooms. I thought
seeing as Vegeta is staying for a while that I might make the living area
larger, maybe even add a small gym, what do you think?"
Bulma smiled, feeling a lot better, "It sounds great! Have you asked
Vegeta what he thinks yet?"
"Of course, he said he had 'no opinion on the matter'"
"Well, I guess that's as close to an approval as your likely to get
from him, but where will Vegeta stay while the alterations are being
done?"
"Witu ofu of course silly!" She tittered, about to walk off.
"Whoa hold up!" Bulma called after her. "Didn't you just hear
what I said? I want to be alone."
"Of course you do dear," replied her mum, with the raising of a
hand, "and I'm sure Vegeta does as well. It'll be perfect for you
both!"
Her mouth hanging wide open, Bulma couldn't think of a retort as she watched
her mum, stepping into the lift and leaving her sputtering to herself and the
inevitable Namekian audience in the botanical level.
"Well I don't see Vegeta agreeing to it." She eventually reasoned,
and made a point of being extra clingy in the invitation, just so as to make sure
there was absolutely no chance of him accepting it.
Three hours later she found herself bathed in the chill of night in nothing
more than her pyjamas, looking up to the awesome structure of Vegeta's training
room. She had waited up with extra purpose so as to put an end to any niggling
doubts about her journey to the Mediterranean in a week's time, but he hadn't
graced her with his presence. She'd never invaded the Saiya-jin�s training room
mid-session before and was somewhat wary as to what was to be expected from
him, but it was an absolute necessity to speak to him before her mother did.
Cursing herself for not picking up a coat, she pulled the flimsy straps of
her PJ top back up over her shoulder from where it had fallen down her arm, and
tentatively knocked on the reinforced metal hull. No answer. She tried again,
and this time she could here a violent burst of expletives, followed by a
thumping sound. She quirked an eyebrow in wonder, but remained still.
Eventually the large door fell flat to the floor, revealing a very angry,
sweaty and dishevelled Saiya-jin. "What!" he sneered into the
darkness.
Bulma took a wary step back, "Um� Vegeta I need to speak to you about
something."
"It can fucking wait! I'm busy."
"Come on you've already wasted the time to answer the door, seeing as
you're here you might as well hear me out." She pouted for extra effect.
"Whore!" He snarled, but at least he made no move to leave. Bulma
almost thought he meant it to sound like a name of endearment the way he curled
it around his mouth.
"Wanker!" she shouted back, just to test the waters.
His temper was forgotten, and his lips curled into a smirk. "Yes I am.
Now what the fuck do you want?"
She slinked up the ramp, letting her hips slowly sway against the gentle
breeze, "To give you an invitation."
He said nothing, as she stood squarely in front of him, her chest pushed
forward, only looking her up distrustfully once to raise an eyebrow in
question.
"I'm going on holiday for a cruise around the Mediterranean at the end
of the week." She shyly moved closer, taking one of his strong arms and
hugging it against her chest. "I'd like you to come with me."
She had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud at Vegeta's astonished
expron. on. Twice in one day! She was getting good at this. "Come on
Vegeta, you know you want to. What do you say?"
Vegeta stayed stock still for a good couple of minutes, his eyes darkening
and his jaw clenching. Then, just as though the script had been written for
her, Vegeta broke her grip and snarled his disgust. "Not even on a cold
day in HFIL! Now fuck off and leave me the hell alone!"
With mock sadness Bulma frowned, pretending to be upset, turning away and
crossing her arms over her chest. "I should have known," she
whispered. "Fine� but the offers an open one. If you fancy a timeout then
let me know. The invitation�s still there."
If the truth were told then it wasn't as hard for Bulma to act as sad as she
thought it would be. There was a little something at the back of her chest that
felt injured in having been so easily resisted by him. She put it silently to
the side though, as a cold breeze sent her hair billowing, "Night, night
Vegeta," she sighed, walking back down the ramp and towards the house.
The "Night, night whore," thas ros roughly but secretly growled
when there was absolutely no chance of it being heard went, therefore,
completely unnoticed.

****************************
- 6
- 7
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Everything Happens For a Reason