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Recovery	By : Not_Bulma06 Category: Dragon Ball Z > Het - Male/Female > Vegeta/Bulma Views: 4750 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of its characters

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter 8: Waking Up
I do not own DBZ or the characters. I do not profit from the creation of this fanfic.
Bulma sat wrapped up on her tarp, looking aimlessly down at the ground. She was lost in thought about the events of the recent months. The question continued to arise in the back of her mind: is that dark side gone for good? Did she really rid herself of that nuisance and danger by simply acknowledging she wasn’t real? Only time will tell.

She brought herself to her feet, ensuring not to hit her head on the boulder. The light of the sun stung her eyes, it only took a moment to adjust. She contained her bike back into a capsule, she decided it would be better to search on foot from this point on.
Bulma was working her way up a rocky path north towards, unknown to her she was closing in to the area where Vegeta was staying. The sun was beating down on her back and each step was becoming more difficult. She found a flat area to rest for a moment.
“Shit I forgot how harsh this planet could be. There has to be a place close by.”
Bulma fought to get her wits about her. Her vision began to blur and the surroundings began to spin. She slowly put hers head down between her knees and began to breath slowly.

Vegeta sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed. Surely she could have made it here by now. He rung his hands together tightly, not often Vegeta worried- that was Bulma’s job. However Bulma was not here to do her job.

He was onto his feet in one moment he thought he would charge out and find his mate, then the next he was frozen. The warning from Piccolo continued to run through his head. He had to take that warning seriously. He would find him. Let Piccolo do the searching for him.
Vegeta flew towards a familiar group of energy signatures. He closed in quickly to a small Namekian village. He found the fact that the Namekian and the other Saiyans not out and about rather irritating. He went to door to door, causing the Namekian citizens to go into a panic.
Piccolo emerged from a home, confused to why Vegeta was once again terrorizing the citizens of Namek.
“Vegeta did you not frighten enough Namekians last time you were on my home planet?”
Piccolo chuckled, attempted to put the minds of his fellow Namekians at ease. He eased himself near the clearly agitated Saiyan Prince and firmly laid a hand upon his shoulder. Vegeta regained his composure, locking his ebony eyes on the Namekian.
“I need you to find Bulma. I can’t go after her myself. I need to know she is fine.”
Vegeta growled, jerking away from Piccolo. He nervously paced awaiting an answer, his eyes caught sight of Kakarot and his brat coming to join the party. Piccolo quickly said something to the pair and returned his attention to Vegeta.
“Vegeta. Head back to your camp site. We will search and meet you back there shortly.”
Vegeta ground his teeth, glaring at the many pairs of eyes watching him now. He shot back into the direction of his cave. It unsettled him to have to leave the business of finding his mate to three idiots. He soon found himself back at the mouth of the cave. The distraught prince made his way into the cave into his temporary quarters. Again he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed.
Goku zipped along the rocky crevices his eyes scanning for the familiar blue hair of Bulma. He knew to that Bulma should turn up soon or else he would have Vegeta on his case again. Why couldn’t Vegeta just loosen up and enjoy himself every once in a while. In amidst of his mental ramblings about how Vegeta would benefit from enjoyments of life, his Saiyan instincts kicked in.
Goku saw the limp form a female basking in the sun. He darted down to check her out. Her usually fare skin was a deep flush red. He knelt down, laying two fingers upon the outside of her neck. Her pulse was feathery and weak, skin hot to the touch, and her breathing shallow. He gently scooped her up, closed his eyes and focused on the strong energy of Vegeta. In an instant, he stood behind the prince.
The pit of his stomach dropped, he rushed Kakarot taking his mate into arms. His eyes burned, “Bathroom now Kakarot. Run room temperature water into the tub!”
He looked down to her peaceful face, willing her to open her eyes. His attention shaken from the unusually meek voice of Kakarot. He picked up on the important words like ‘water’ and ‘ready’. He pushed his way passed Kakarot and made his way into the bathroom. He gently laid her upon the cold metal floor and undressed her down to her under clothes. Bulma’s skin still burned hotly as Vegeta submerged her into the water.
“Kakarot!” He yelled out, summoning the younger Saiyan into the bathroom. “In the freezer. Get the package wrapped in white paper.”
He knew that the entrails of the fish would come in handy. He impatiently snatched them from the hands of Kakarot and pressed the package against to the back of Bulma’s neck. With his free hand, her hair was soaked with carefully placed cupped hand of water. He sat, his cheek laying on the cold ceramic tub his dark eyes fixed on Bulma.
“Just please wake up...”
He whispered, running his hand through her blue hair. Her temperature had returned to normal, he again gently cradled her to lift her up. He wrapped her in towels and blankets, bringing her to rest on the bed. He sat at the small desk just watching her sleep. So many things raced through his mind, any thought as minor as how soon should be change out the coolant filter on the shelter to as major as ‘how in the hell will I raise a child on my own?’ It was not the financial or the physical challenge that was so daunting it was the nurturing a child needed to grow up balanced. The last thing he wanted for his son would be to have a childhood like the one he had suffered.
The cold detachment from his own father, a constant battle in his own mind when interacting with Trunks. He needed his son to become the person he could not. He needed his son to be strong, intelligent, and healthy in all facets of his life.
****---------****
Bulma on the edge of the bed, looking down torn rags and remnants of her dress. She had never been with a man without at least being romanced before. At least her former beau, Yamcha, had wined and dined her a few times before making a move. What sort of law man shoots a man down and then immediately beds down a woman? What sort of woman would be bedded by that man? She looked up, seeing Vegeta wearing his boots and jeans. His jeans unbuttoned and slung low, revealing the deep musculature leading down to his more intimate parts. He finished washing himself in the wash basin and dried his face.
“Well woman, are you going to dress yourself…” He said with a wry smile as he turned, noticing what used to be dress scattered on the floor.
Bulma frowned, wrapping an arm around her breast. She stood with her free hand attempting to cover her nether regions. Her cream skin flushed to a bright pink with a mix of embarrassment and anger. Vegeta let loose a hearty chuckle, “Woman why do you cover yourself? I’ve already seen all there is to see!”
He continued to carry on in his laughter, only to be interrupted with a slap across the face. His attitude changed instantly, his eyes flashing with a dangerous flare of anger. His intense gaze met with the unwavering lock of Bulma’s blue eyes. She was not going to back down from this man.
“That is for my floor.”
She strode past him, her chin held high as she threw open the door. Looking down she was met with her bar tender, Krillin with his eyes wide as he looked her naked form up and down. She let out an annoyed groan, pushing passed him.
“Krillin be sure to add the cost of that dress and necklace to his bill.”
She left him to deal with the mess in the room and the now irritated Vegeta. Bulma entered her private suite, locking the door behind her. Looking into her mirror, she slipped off her choker to lock it away. He may have not ruined it, but if she didn’t charge that testosterone charged knuckle head extra- the cost of his trouble would take her down. She had to pay for protection each month, his antics would eat into her bottom line. No protection-no business.
Bulma slid on a sleeveless black pencil dress. The rich crushed velvet only highlighted the fairness of her soft skin. The leader of the local gang would be here soon, none other than her ex- Yamcha. Luckily the idiot, although a criminal, was still easy swayed by a low cut neck line and the batting of eye lashes. Her slender fingers held a tiny crystal spray bottle, while she squeezed the small bulb to apply a fragrant scent.
Heavy steps echoed down the hall, nearing her door. She knew who it would be. Quickly without making noticeable noise, she unlocked the door and draped herself on a red chaise lounge. Bulma brought a cigarette to her lips, striking a match to bring it to light. Taking a deep inhale of the burning smoke, filling her lungs before releasing it into the open air. Two harsh knocks upon the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened up to reveal Yamcha, in his signature ‘gangster’ look. He thought himself appearing tough but honestly it just silly looking. He wore black jeans, black boots, black over coat, and so on and so forth. He entered the room, shutting the door behind him.
“Well honey don’t you look good.”
Bulma smiled sweetly, resisting the urge to gag. Hopefully this would be over quickly.
“Why thank you Yamcha. You aren’t looking so bad yourself. Now what can I do for you today?”
She held out the last have of her cigarette, offering for him to finish it. He eagerly took it, puffing it down to nothing. He finished it off, ashing it out into the porcelain tray on her desk. He propped himself again the wooden desk, a sleazy smile across his face.
“Well sweetie, this isn’t a social call. You know that. Your payment is come due.”
Bulma shifted in her seat, hoping the creator of her debt, Vegeta would have paid up by now. This would take some maneuvering to get this problem out of her hair.
“Look Yamcha, I have had a few things come up. I think you noticed the blood stain in the bar right? Well I sort of wonder what I have been paying for if that type of thing happens. I’m having to pay for the clean up and other expenses that this problem has brought me.”
The easy going Yamcha’s mood changed. He charged her, a blade to press against her throat. He pressed her back forcefully into the chaise lounge. Bulma kept her eyes fixed on Yamcha’s face. He was easy to read and didn’t have the stomach for this type of thing. The crashing in of her door, causing her to snap her head to look after Yamcha pulled back. The tip the blade bit her cheek, hot liquid ran down the perfect white canvas of her face. Vegeta stood there, fuming looking down at a piece of crumpled parchment.
“The hell are you trying to pull woman?” He roared, looking up to see the sight before him. The blue haired woman, pinned down with a man over her holding a bloody knife. His eyes fixated upon the blood running down her cheek.
“Away with you boy. I have business to take care of with this woman and you have apparently injured her. I will give you to the count of three before I make you get away.”
Yamcha chuckled righting himself to his feet, “Who are you tough guy? Well I can respect that you have business with Bulma here, just as I am handling my business now. Wait your turn.”
“One…”
Bulma’s eyes widened. This sure was looking like Kakarot all over again. She quickly stood, shoving her way between the two. Action needed to be taken quickly or else she would have a dead crime boss on her floor and an even bigger mess to clean up.
“Yamcha, you do not want anything this man has to give. He will not give a second thought to putting a bullet through your thick skull. Besides he doesn’t know how to count, he skips two.”
“I count by prime numbers, of course this moron probably doesn’t know what that means.” Vegeta sneered, “now he needs to vacate the premises or I will drag him off for your assault.”
Her eyes grew wide, this was not going her way. Yamcha interrupted her thoughts, “That fine Bulma. We will finish conducting our business later. It’s doubled now by the way.” He was cold in his delivery as he side stepped her and made his way out, leaving her alone with Vegeta.
She finally sucked in a nervous breath, reluctantly easing the tension through her body to move to her wash basin. She filled it with water before carefully cleaning away the drying blood from her face. Bulma caught a glimpse of Vegeta standing behind her in the mirror.
“You want to explain this bill woman? I do not recall damaging any necklace.”
Her face still stained with blood, she met his gaze in the mirror, “Of course you wouldn’t. I am guessing destruction is only second nature to you. Just pay me what I am owed and let me get back to my business. Because of your interruption, I have to deal with him more than I had planned. Not to mention, it’s going to cost me much more.”
She had to stay strong, no evidence of her internal screams showed upon her face. This had not been this first time Yamcha pulled a blade on her, but this was the first time he left without his ego or smug satisfaction intact.
“From where I stood, you needed him gone. Tell me, what is your business with him?”
God she hated his face. He ruined her chances of a smooth transaction and he is acting like a knight in shining armor. Arrogant jack ass, he certainly shortened her life dramatically with this.
“Look I owe him money. We were in the middle of negotiations and you ruined it. Thanks for signing my death certificate.”
Letting out a sigh of defeat, she grabbed bag and started stuffing money, clothes, and other important items not worrying about neatness. Her only choice was to run. She felt a strong pair of hands lock onto her waist. Shivers ran down her spine with his touch, never had a man had this effect over her. Vegeta spun her around, pulling her in close to him. His hot breath tickled her ear; his steady heart beat drumming with in his chest.
“Come with me.” He whispered.
****-------****
Vegeta had to restrain her arms, she had scratched her face deeply while in the midst of a fever dream. Her color had returned to normal and she seemed to have relaxed, hopefully she would just rest now. He released her, slowly backing away ensuring not to startle her. Taking a seat at the desk once more, he laid his head upon the hard surface. She had been out for almost three days.
He felt Piccolo come into the room.
“Vegeta, you need to rest.”
Without moving, Vegeta hissed in a soft whisper, “Namekian I have things handled. What are you doing here?”
He leaned against the wall, “Just checking on Bulma.”
This struck a nerve within Vegeta. He snapped his head up and around, face twisted in a mix of rage and exhaustion. How dare he question his ability to care for his mate? He moved his chair close the edge of the bed, leaning over the side; his cheek laying on the bed trying to push his point to the Namekian that he was the one here to protect and care for Bulma. A deep threatening growl emanated from his throat, his eyes unsteadily focused on Piccolo. He fought off the heaviness of his eye lids for as long as he could.
Piccolo grinned, seeing the prince succumb to sleep. It seemed that both he and Bulma we still and quiet for the time being. Perhaps the hard headed Saiyan would be able to make things work out after all.
“Good night sweet prince,” he whispered to himself with a chuckle. He would have offered to bring a healer to aid Bulma if he knew Vegeta wouldn’t blast anyone who dared away into nothingness.
****------****
The moon shone high in the clear sky as Bulma threw bags over the back of her black steed. She wrapped her arms around his thick neck, feeling his velvet muzzle gently nuzzling her. The blue eyed damsel looked up into his bright amber eyes with a sad smile.
“I’m sorry but I we will have to part ways in the next town over. You have been a loyal friend, but you know if we stay together Yamcha will find us. You know we are recognizable together.” She gently rubbed a distinctive crescent shaped mark upon his forehead. Her eyes grew wide, the sound of footsteps crunched into the gravel behind her. Her slender hand slid down into the front of her saddle back, pulling a sizable hunting knife out to clutch to her bosom. Yamcha might be able to kill her, but she would take whoever he sent out with her. She counted to three before taking a deep breath before pivoting about with the intent to plunge her blade down into who dared to make this move.
She held the knife high, the light of the moon illuminated the face of her potential attacker. It was Vegeta. He stood there, his eyes and posture statuesque manner, unflinching at the sight of the blade. Bulma cautiously lowered the blade, carefully sliding it into her belt. “What do you want Vegeta?” She had not seen him since the incident in her room with Yamcha. Where Vegeta had told her to come with him. Was she really supposed to put her life in this man’s violent hands?
Sure he carried himself as an officer of the law, as evidenced by his pursuit of Kakarot, but he had never actually stated he was with any form of law enforcement entity or provided credentials. Now most women would not think about these issues, but Bulma unlike other women of this area was well educated. Her parents educated her in all the disciplines of literature, mathematics, and sciences. She had simply decided to start up this inn to achieve her complete independence.
“I told you woman, come with me and you will be safe.” Vegeta eyed the meager amount of supplies she had packed her horse with. She would not last long on her own, and if she thought the one knife would even come close to what she needed for protection- she was sorely mistaken.
Bulma grimaced, apparently conceding to his wishes. Perhaps she might be able to get on her way sooner if she toyed with this man. No matter how hardened, men can be played. She sighed, “You’re right Vegeta, what was I thinking? Just head inside and we will plan our next move. Just let me unsaddle Lear and I will be in.” Her voice never wavered or hinted to her true intentions, she had always been a gifted liar. Vegeta nod, turning on a heel to head into the inn.
Bulma pulled her knife, storing it back into her pack. A mischievous glimmer flashed in her bright blue eyes as she pulled herself into her saddle, reins in hand; she delivered a quick kick into Lear’s flank accelerating him from a startled trot into a full gallop in an impressive pace. He threw clouds of dust to hang in the breezeless night air, not giving direct line of sight to anyone willing to follow her.
Vegeta snapped around, “Shit.” It wouldn’t be any use to follow her now. By the time he could procure a horse and tack, she would be well on her way. He would gather the items needed and trail her. He was a skilled tracker and hunter.
Bulma road hard, the salty spray from Lear frothing with sweat let her know that a break was soon needed. She slowed him down to a walk, allowing him to cool. If her plan were to work, she could not have her friend drop dead. She caught sight of the hint of the coming sun rise on the eastern horizon. That meant she would need to head west, towards her family home. The pair came to a rocky out crop, overlooking an old trail used by the native peoples of this area. She slid from her seated position, legs wobbly from the sudden stillness.
“Now Lear…I need you to go back.” She pulled her back pack from within the saddle back, loading it with things such as canteens, and blankets. As hot as the days would became, the nights would become just as bitterly cold. She then removed her knife from the pack. This had to look convincing. It had to be done in a place that would cover easily. Scalp. She brought the tip to the crown of her head, digging the tip in to cause bright hot blood to gush. Scalp wound were always extraordinary bleeders, no matter how minor. She ran her hand through her red stained hair, eventually transferring bloody hand prints to appear on her saddle and bags. Once sufficiently stained, she cautiously hacked at the saddle with her blade to damage it.
She led her faithful friend to head towards her former home. “You aren’t going to like this.” She again wet her hand in the now clotting blood in order to smear some around the soft velvet of his muzzle. His amber eyes grew wide and alarmed. He reared to hand on his hind legs, coming to slam his hooves down to shake the ground around them. Bulma silently sobbed as she laid a well-placed slap on his hind quarters before jumping back, “Yah! Gittup!” She quickly stumbled back, falling onto the ground as he unleashed a power rear end kick before charging off. “Good bye.”
She scrambled to her feet, time could not be wasted on mourning the loss of this friendship. Bulma wiped off the blade on her old blanket, before pulling her now matted hair into her hat. Checking her reflection in the cleaned blade to ensure there was not any exposed blood. She was off on her own now.
Vegeta road with a smooth elope on his mount. That troublesome woman would not have gotten far. Why was he even perusing her? Something about her just compelled him. A pair of men, riding his way led a familiar black horse. He waved them down, meeting them on the trail. The metallic scent of blood hit him first before seeing it on her tack. The delicate form of her hand print stood out clear as day.
“You taking that nag to the horse trader? I could possibly double what he would pay.” Vegeta sneered, looking at the two men. Both were large in build, one bald the other with masses of spikey black hair who resembled Kakarot.
“Nah, we are heading to our boss Yamcha,” the bald one chuckled. “Shut up Nappa, you don’t have to tell everyone our business.” The bald one rolled his eyes, “You worry too much Raditz.”
Vegeta shifted in his seat, “Yamcha huh?” A twisted grin scrolled across his angular face. “I know him. Why don’t you give your boss a message for me?
“Yeah what would that be tough guy? Raditz scoffed. Vegeta quickly pulled his weapon, delivering a bullet between Nappa’s eyes then altering his aim just so slightly to give Raditz the same message. Successive thuds came after the ringing of the blasts dissipated. Vegeta swung himself to the ground hoisting each fallen man back onto his horse. Using length of ropes from the thugs own tack, he secured them to the horses they rode up on. With some quick thinking he removed the saddle from the still panicking Lear and tied it to the saddle of the one known as Raditz. It was clear the owner of the saddle was Bulma and it was obviously a mess. Hopefully this would put that idiot off her trail. Lear would come with him. He rode on.
Bulma sat again under a clear night sky alone. She pulled her blanket around her tightly, pushing her back against a large dying tree. Her attempts to keep the biting wind a bay seemed futile. Her body drained from the heated day of travel, now fought to stay warm with the sun gone.
“Why are you running from him?” Small voice squeaked next to her. Bulma looked at her side, seeing a small blue haired girl looking up to her with wide questioning eyes. Surely this was some sort of hallucination. She knew this child, her heart screamed at her to hold this small girl close and not let her go. “Why are you running from him? He is protecting us. He always will protect us.”
Bulma looked up, eyes wide with realization.
****------****
“Vegeta!” Bulma flung herself up, sitting up in a dazed state. Her eyes met his, red rimmed and weary he looked back to her with relief. She threw her arms around his thick neck, burying her face deeply to cry. She sobbed, strong heart breaking sobs quaked from her small frame. She felt him slide onto the bed with her, gently scooping her up onto his lap. He held her tight, not wanting to let her go.
After a while Bulma was calmed down, reluctantly Vegeta brought in a healer to ensure she was returned to perfect health. All the while Bulma never released her grip from Vegeta’s hand. The dream she had must have meant something.
“Do you want to eat?” His rich voice filled her, “I have plenty of food and I am not sure when you last ate a decent meal.” She gave a small nod, reluctantly letting him leave her side. Piccolo entered the room, nodding to acknowledge Vegeta.
“So Bulma, are you feeling whole once more?” His questioning and tone were veiled with undertones of so many other questions.
Bulma gave a weak smile, “Yes Piccolo, thank you.” The Namekian had all the information that he would venture to gather. If her temporary malady was any reflection of the torture she had experienced in any way, he was better off not knowing. He returned her answer with a slight nod before leaving her be. He came into the kitchen area, seeing a Saiyan prince focused on the task at hand.
“I will leave you both.” His soft firm voice pricked Vegeta’s ears; he returned a grunt in affirmation to the Namekian.
Piccolo was gone. Leaving him alone with her. Vegeta would never reveal his apprehension, buried beneath his strong stoic appearance was a tangled messed of nerves. Now months of stress, lack of sleep, and Bulma’s unpredictability of late had been a challenge upon the usually unshakeable prince. He carried a tray with an assortment of food everything from various grilled meats, fresh fruit, pastries, and even a decanter of wine.
She sat on the edge of the bed, looking up to give him a sweet smile. Words could not express how this small action caused his heart to sing. He sat arrangements of the various food on the bed side table and desk, watching her closely with his periphery.
“Wow Vegeta, I didn’t know you could do all of this.” Bulma blurted out.
Vegeta raised a brow, focusing his deep gaze upon the blue haired female. He resisted his first instinct, to snap at her. Instead he went with a more pragmatic approach.
“Well I did survive on my own for many years before becoming spoiled on Earth.” He flashed a smirk before handing her an empty plate. He took his usual spot, leaning against the wall opposite Bulma.
Bulma’s expression soured slightly, “You know, I went a bit crazy, BUT you do not have to be nice Vegeta. Don’t treat me like some fragile treasure. I am not a victim in all of this. Shenron gave me the way back to a normal life. I had issues, handled them poorly, and caused trouble for you, Goku, and….Gohan.”
He heard her voice fill with pain when the mention of the younger saiyan. Could she have caused his injuries upon the ship? Surely even a sub-par warrior like Kakarot’s brat could have at least heard her coming. He began to chuckle, “If you think you caused the injury to the boy? He got careless in training that was apparently too intense for him.” He continued to laugh to himself as he picked over the food.
His eyes widened, feeling the cold metallic tip of something below the base of where his tail once grew from his tail. He heard her voice, hissing from behind him.
“I still retain from skills I picked up in my personal hell. I was much more of a threat than you ever expected. If I were to plunge this into you here, you would lose all function from the waist down.”
Vegeta remained frozen. He could raise his energy up, throwing her back and potentially injury. He stood weighing his options when he felt the metallic tip pulled away. Loud clanging upon the metallic floor, her slender arms wrapped around his waist.
“I am so happy. I found my way back."
I hope this long chapter helped bring things back to normal for poor Bulma! I will post again soon as I can. The story will be wrapping up soon, I think. As always please rate, and C&C is welcomed!
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