One - Written by PhantomScribe72
“Oh, Kami, I’m going to die,” moaned Bulma.
“No you’re not,” said Mrs. Briefs gently, “I know it hurts like hell, but you’ll get through it.”
Bulma moaned again and tried to relax. Pain was wracking her body. She knew that she had to try to conquer it because she still had seven more weeks to go before her baby was due. If she didn’t learn to block out the pain she knew she would either die or lose her mind.
“I need Vegeta,” she moaned in agony.
“I know, baby,” Mrs. Briefs said soothingly, “but he’s not here so we’re just going to have to do our best without him.”
“I can’t,” Bulma cried.
“You have to,” Mrs. Briefs replied calmly. She cast a worried glass at the man leaning against the wall. He stared back at here, his eyes full of sympathy and anger.
“I swear to Kami,” Yamcha growled, “I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m going to kill that bastard for leaving her like this.”
“You hush,” Mrs. Briefs snapped, “You’ll only upset her worse.”
“The doctor is finally here,” Dr. Briefs called from downstairs, “I’m sending him up.”
“He hasn’t been up here for days,” Mrs. Briefs explained to Yamcha, “He can’t stand to see her like this.”
“I can understand that,” Yamcha replied, “I can hardly stand it myself.”
“Excuse me,” the doctor said from the doorway, “I’m here to look in on Bulma.”
“Oh, thank heavens,” Mrs. Briefs sighed in relief, “she’s been like this for days. She didn’t want a doctor, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Well, let’s have a look,” he said moving over to the bed.
Yamcha and Mrs. Briefs stood together silently in the doorway while the doctor examined Bulma. After what seemed like hours, the doctor stood up and closed his bag. He walked over to them and whispered softly, “I want to talk to you outside.”
They all went out into the hall. “What the hell is going on?” the doctor asked angrily. “She’s over seven months pregnant and she has never been to an obstetrician?”
“Well,” Mrs. Briefs began slowly, “she didn’t want to draw attention to...”
“For Kami’s sake!” the doctor bellowed, “she’s in so much pain! How long has she been like this?”
“A little over a week,” Mrs. Briefs admitted.
“And just when where you planning to call a doctor?” he asked incredulously, “after she died in agony?”
Mrs. Briefs began to cry. Yamcha put his arm around her and looked at the doctor steadily. “She refused medical attention,” he said firmly, “every time we brought it up, she got so angry, it just made her worse.”
The doctor shook his head in disbelief, “I have never seen anything like this,” he said quietly, “I recommend that we take the baby now. If we don’t she’ll die.”
“What about the baby?” Mrs. Briefs asked.
“Who the hell cares?” Yamcha asked angrily.
“Bulma does,” Mrs. Briefs sobbed, “she made me promise not to let you take the baby if it would be dangerous. That’s the only reason she let me call you.”
“The baby will most likely die,” the doctor said sadly, “but if you wait there’s a good chance that they will die together.”
“We have to let him do it,” Yamcha said, “we have to save Bulma.”
“Are you the father?” the doctor asked.
“He most certainly is not,” came an angry voice from inside the room. The voice was followed by a low moan from Bulma.
“VEGETA!” Mrs. Briefs exclaimed and ran back into the room, followed closely by Yamcha and the doctor.
“You son-of-a-bitch,” Yamcha snarled, “look what you did to her. I’m going to break you in half.”
Bulma cried out from the bed. Vegeta lowered his head and whispered something into her ear. She became calm again.
“I am going to ignore that remark for the time being,” Vegeta said in a dangerous tone. “I realize that you are worried about the woman and that is affecting your judgement. However, I am warning you not to forget your place again. As for what I’ve done to her, I’m not the one who has allowed her to lay here in agony for over a week.”
“This fighting is useless,” the doctor said with a sigh, “Vegeta, I take it you’re the child’s father?”
“Yes,” Vegeta said calmly, “you will take the child now.”
“No, Vegeta,” Bulma moaned, “don’t let him hurt our baby!”
Vegeta lowered his mouth back to Bulma’s ear, “Hush, woman,” he commanded gently, “the baby will be fine. He is a Saiyan. He is more than strong enough to survive outside the womb.”
“How can you be sure?” Bulma gasped weakly, “he is half human.”
“I am sure,” Vegeta said firmly, “you must trust me, Woman. I can not allow you to die.”
Bulma shook her head furiously. Vegeta leaned even closer to her and whispered, “Trust me Bulma. You have to trust me. I have never once lied to you. I won’t start now. The baby will be fine.”
Bulma looked up into his eyes, still unsure of what to do.
“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.
Bulma closed her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered finally.
Vegeta stood up and faced the doctor, “Do it now,” he commanded, “and if you hurt her I will kill you,” he said savagely.
The doctor sighed heavily. “I will need some supplies,” he said quickly writing down a list for Mrs. Briefs, “and you’ll all have to leave. She doesn’t need an audience.”
“I stay,” Vegeta said with finality.
“Fine,” the doctor agreed, “but everyone else leaves. Let’s get started, the sooner we do this, the better her chances.”
Yamcha paced the floor nervously, “What the hell is taking so long?” he asked for the hundredth time.
Dr. and Mrs. Briefs sat beside of one another at the kitchen table, holding hands and exchanging worried glances. Finally after hours of tortuous waiting, they heard what sounded like a baby crying coming from upstairs. “Kami,” Mrs. Briefs shouted, “it’s finally over!”
She started to run up the stairs, but the doctor met her halfway coming down. “She’s fine,” he said in awe, “and the baby is a fine, healthy boy.”
Dr. Briefs stood up and walked toward the doctor as Yamcha sagged in relief.
“Doctor,” Mr. Briefs began cautiously, “I don’t know what all you saw, but I’d consider it a personal favor if you didn’t repeat any of this.”
“Don’t worry,” the doctor said shaking his head, “no one would ever believe me anyway.”
The foursome walked back to the table and Mrs. Briefs fixed the doctor a cup of coffee.
“What happened up there?” Yamcha asked finally.
“He did something to her,” the doctor said, still numb with disbelief, “I thought I had lost her, but he did something to her...almost as if he gave her part of himself, part of his energy. She recovered almost immediately.” he pause for a moment and swallowed a large gulp of coffee. “And the child...” he continued, “the child was almost eight weeks premature, but it was perfectly healthy. He weighed over eleven pounds...and he has a tail.”
Dr. Briefs shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The doctor cast him a knowing glance and continued, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” he promised. “Besides, I can’t say that I’m totally surprised. I knew Vegeta wasn’t...normal...after the explosion. He should have died in the blast, but he made a remarkable recovery.”
“Are you sure she’s going to be alright?” Yamcha asked worriedly.
“That’s he only thing I am sure about right now,” the doctor replied.
Bulma gazed lovingly at her baby. He was the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on. She was a little disappointed that she hadn’t been able to have a natural childbirth, but he was so beautiful that she was not about to complain. She couldn’t help the tears that slid down her cheek as the baby suckled her breast. He was perfectly healthy, and she could tell by his vigorous sucking that he had a true Saiyan appetite.
Vegeta ripped his gaze from his mate and his child and stood up. Although he was pleased that the child was strong and healthy and that Bulma had come through the delivery seemingly no worse for the wear, he was furious that her idiotic family had almost allowed her to die. He had felt her agony, even though he had been light years from the planet. It had taken him all week at top speed to reach her. He shuddered when he thought what would have happened if he had been just one more quadrant over. He wouldn’t have made it back in time to stop her from dying.
“Vegeta,” Bulma whispered from the bed, “isn’t he beautiful?”
Vegeta turned his attention back to his mate and her child, “He has purple hair,” he said in an annoyed tone.
“Yes,” Bulma sighed, “I’m afraid it runs in the family. Mom’s hair is really purple. She keeps it dyed blond”
“I wonder why,” Vegeta muttered sarcastically. He walked back to the window and looked aimlessly into the sky. Something was tickling at the back of his mind. Something about a purple haired Saiyan. It suddenly hit him like a tom of bricks. The powerful young Saiyan that had come to warn them about the androids...he was his son. Vegeta looked a Bulma in awe. The boy was incredibly strong, but he had said that Vegeta had been killed by the androids. So that meant that Bulma had been entirely responsible for the boy’s upbringing. From what Vegeta had seen, she had done an amazing job. Once again, Vegeta found himself surprised and impressed with the strength of his mate.
He smiled to himself and walked over to the bed, sitting down beside of Bulma and his son. “You did well,” Vegeta said, looking into her eyes.
Bulma sighed and laid her head against her shoulder. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” She snuggled against him and drifted off to sleep. Vegeta let his son finish his meal then gently lifted him from Bulma’s arms and laid him in the crib beside the bed. He walked back over to the bed and slipped under the covers, wrapped Bulma in his arms and let himself drift off.
When Bulma woke up, she was alone. She sat up slowly, expecting to be sore. She was only mildly surprised when she discovered that she felt no pain at all. She couldn’t even tell she had just had a baby. It must be because of the energy that Vegeta had given her during the birth of their son.
Bulma suddenly noticed that she was no longer in her bedroom. Somehow, she had gotten in Vegeta’s room...in Vegeta’s bed. She smiled dreamily as she remembered how he had come home just in time to save her and the baby. He must have some feelings for us, she thought to herself.
The bedroom door suddenly flung open and Bulma’s mother entered carrying a screaming baby Saiyan.
“I’m afraid he’s already hungry again,” Mrs. Briefs sighed, “If he keeps this up, you may have to consider bottle feeding.”
Bulma held out her arms for her son. Mrs. Briefs placed the baby in her arms gently and sat in the chair beside the bed to watch her grandchild suck eagerly at Bulma’s breast.
“Mom,” Bulma asked, “how did I end up in Vegeta’s room?”
“He brought you in here after you fell asleep,” Mrs. Briefs answered. “You’re bed needed to be cleaned up. I came and got him after I’d finished cleaning, but he said to just leave you where you were.”
Bulma took at deep breath and asked the question that had been weighing on her mind since she woke up, “Is he gone yet?”
Mrs. Briefs seemed shocked at the question, “Of course not dear,” she said reassuringly, “He’s out in the gravity room training.”
Bulma sagged in relief, “Good. If you see him, would you tell him I need to see him before he leaves?”
“Well of course dear,” Mrs. Briefs promised, “but what makes you think he’s going to leave again?”
“Because Mom,” Bulma said shakily, “he needs to go. He can’t train effectively with me and the baby distracting him.”
Mrs. Briefs raised her eyebrows, but didn’t comment on Bulma’s statement. Instead she changed the subject. “Have you decided what you’re going to name him yet?” she asked.
“Yes,” Bulma smiled and looked down at her son, “I’m going to name him Vegeta...but we’ll call him by his middle name.”
“Which is what?” Mrs. Briefs asked.
“Trunks,” Bulma sighed, “his name is Trunks.”
Bulma stood staring out of the window looking toward the gravity room. It was getting late and Vegeta had yet to make an appearance. He’d been out there since early this morning according to her mother. He hadn’t come in to eat so Mrs. Briefs had carried some food out to the machine and left it outside the door.
“I wonder if he’s avoiding me.” Bulma asked herself quietly.
“No, he’s not,” Vegeta’s deep voice said from behind her, “he’s just been training.”
Bulma whirled around to see a filthy and bloody Vegeta leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “Vegeta,” she sighed, “I really wish you would stop sneaking up behind me like that.”
“I don’t sneak,” Vegeta replied, walking into the room, “you’re just always so lost in your own thoughts that you never hear me come in.”
Bulma started to give him a smart ass reply, but she decided that she didn’t want to argue with him right now. She walked over to where he stood and hesitantly placed her hands on his shoulders. ‘I really missed you, and I’m really glad you’re home.”
Vegeta bent his head and claimed her lips in a gentle, but thorough kiss. When he finally lifted his head he gently removed her arms from his shoulders and stepped away from her.
“You did well during the labor,” he said quietly, “and the child is strong and healthy.”
“I named him already,” she replied, “I hope it’s ok.”
“Yes,” Vegeta replied, “you’re mother told me. You chose a strange name, but I like it.”
“Good,” she said moving to the bed. “Vegeta,” she asked quietly, “will you be leaving me again soon?”
Vegeta considered the question for a moment, “Yes,” he answered, “I must go to complete my training...but I will stay...for a little while.”
Bulma beamed at his words, “Thank you, Vegeta.”
Vegeta turned his back and went into the bathroom to shower. Bulma was sound asleep when he emerged from the bathroom. He walked over and sat down gently beside of her on the bed, taking care not to wake her. He reached out and stroked her hair. “What have I gotten myself into?” he asked himself. Knowing that he really didn’t want to know the answer to that particular question, he shook the thought away, climbed under the covers, wrapped Bulma gently in his arms and drifted off to sleep.
Bulma was in a sleepy haze. She could hear Trunks crying, demanding to be fed. She tried to shake herself awake, but she was so exhausted she just couldn’t seem to force herself to get up.
The bed shifted beneath her and she felt something poke her in the side. “Woman, get up,” a gruff voice demanded, “the brat is howling again.”
Bulma sighed and bit back the bitter response that sprang to her lips. She forced herself to get out of the bed and walk across the hall to the nursery. She silently opened the door and walked over to the crib, where Trunks was indeed howling with all of his might.
“Hush baby,” Bulma crooned, “Mama’s here now.” She lifted her son out of the crib and walked over to the rocker on the other side of the room. She sat down gently and pulled her gown aside so that the baby could suckle her breast. It had only been about two hours since his last feeding, but he sucked like he hadn’t had anything to eat for days. Bulma frowned and decided that she was going to have to start giving her mother’s idea about bottle feeding some serious consideration.
Trunks grunted contentedly as he sucked and Bulma let her mind drift away. As always, her thoughts settled on the man asleep in her bed. Trunks was almost four weeks old and Vegeta hadn’t even picked him up yet. He barely acknowledged the baby’s existence. Bulma knew she shouldn’t have expected anything else, but she had hoped with all her heart that once the child was born, Vegeta would love him. After all, what kind of man couldn’t love his own child?
“The kind of man that is your mate,” Vegeta said from the doorway.
Bulma jumped in surprise, “I thought you didn’t invade my thoughts without my permission,” she muttered.
“I couldn’t help it,” Vegeta replied walking over to stand in front of the rocking chair, “I could feel your distress. I thought maybe something was wrong with the child.”
“Would you even care if there was?” she asked angrily. She immediately regretted asking the question, afraid of what his answer might be.
“Don’t ask me stupid questions, Woman,” Vegeta said angrily, “you knew from the beginning how life with me would be.”
“I’m so sick of hearing the same song and dance from you,” Bulma snapped, “yes, you told me how it would be. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t care about anything other than yourself and your stupid training. You’ve never deceived me. OK, you get bonus points for that, but let me tell you something you selfish bastard, none of that keeps it from hurting. It hurts like hell, and I’m sick of always feeling the pain from it.”
Vegeta bent down so that his face was level with hers, “If I didn’t care about you and the brat, I wouldn’t have come back here to save your sorry asses...and I sure as hell wouldn’t still be here.” He stood up quickly and stalked to the door. “I’m leaving in the morning,” he said with finality, “You can stay in here and feel sorry for yourself all night for all I care,” he spat out before stepping out of the room and slamming the door violently behind him.
The sound of the slamming door disturbed Trunks from his meal and he began wailing in earnest. Bulma held him close to her chest and stoked his hair soothingly as her own tears streamed down her face.
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