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The sky was a looming blanket of darkness, the rain hadn’t stopped and the clouds still looked heavy with the weight of it all. The heavy weight was mirrored in everyone who was residing in the underground bunker of capsule corp.
It had been four days since the Earths best fighters had left to tackle the evil that had suddenly appeared one morning in east city. Many had already lost their lives against the foul machines, so many innocent victims and loved ones. Many of the Z fighters had already perished, leaving the world in a dire strait. Krillin,Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, Roshi even the damned pig had tried to help, lasting merely seconds.
Goku had already passed on two years prior, some awful sickness of the heart. It took him slowly, it broke Chichi’s heart to see him suffer as he did. She hadn’t been the same since. Afterwards, Gohan had spent most of his time with Piccolo training and meditating.
All who was left to defend them were Goku’s only son Gohan, the quiet Namekian Piccolo and the saiyan prince himself.
Vegeta.
What an enigma that man was.
That beautiful enigma.
He kept her on her toes that’s for sure and that meant alot for her. She was Bulma Briefs, smart, tough, beautiful and big headed. He didn’t take her shit and met her head on in heated arguments, usually ending in heated passion in her room, the lab, kitchen, gravity room and occasionally in the orangery where the family pets spent their waking hours.
The little bundle of joy attached to her was proof of their weakness for each other. His mother’s colouring and his father’s strength and scowl.
Bulma had kept herself busy looking after everyone she had managed to bundle into the bunker. Family, friends and some strangers that were in need of help and safe refuge. She had plenty to give.
Yajirobe wasn’t a fighter, he could sneak around well enough for a man of his size though. He had taken it upon himself to watch over the fighters and report back news through the radio they had managed to tune into Bulma’s back at the bunker. Every short shock of static put her on edge, constantly picking it up to check it was still working.
“This is four star. Come in capsule” the radio hissed and crackled.
Bulma and Chichi both leapt from their seats on the plush couch, Bulma reaching the receiver first. It had been two days since they had last heard any news. Trunks clung to his mother tight, little fist balling up in her white capsule corp shirt.
“This is capsule receiving !” She barked as she turned up the volume as high as possible. “What took you so long Yajirobe?! What’s going on?!”
More hissing came over the radio as Bulma squeezed in close to chichi.
“Look Bulma it ain’t good news. Dende is dead and Piccolo is struggling against the dark haired one”
Everyone around the radio went deathly quiet, Dende was gone but Piccolo was still alive which meant to Dragonball’s were still safe, for now.
Bulma’s grip on the receiver tightened.
“Wh…where is Gohan and Vegeta?”
The static crackle intensified before going quiet.
“They both left to fight the female one, they’re not far. I can hear explosions and…..and a lot of screaming.”
After a long pause Yajirobe continued.
“I don’t think this will go on for much longer, I don’t know what to do. I don’t have senzu beans without Korin but the tower is completely destroyed. Veg…..Vegeta’s arm is hanging by a thread the last I saw him. Gohan was exhausted.”
“My poor baby!” Chichi cried as she shook Bulma.
The crackling of the radio intensified before it gave out. The silence had never felt so heavy.
Bulma lurched forward and gagged, the stress was getting to her and the thought of Vegeta being in that state even after achieving the level of super saiyan was condemning.
Hours passed, as she lay down with trunks napping next to her she began to imagine how things would have been, should have been if they had been able to live peacefully.
She drifted off with thoughts of laying on a hot sandy beach, her tanned saiyan laying next to her while their children played in the sea. Yes, she would have had more children. Four beautiful little babies was her dream, three boys and the youngest a girl with blue eyes and hair like her own.
She had entered a deep sleep, one she had desperately needed for such a long time. Her peaceful dreams were interrupted by the alarm system blaring, meaning someone had entered the compound and had gotten past her security bots.
She flung herself towards the reinforced doors and typed in her codes for the cameras as quickly as her nimble fingers could.
There he was, the little saiyan that had been fighting for days. Clothes ragged and skin marred in blood and dirt. He was sprinting his way down the corridor’s and stairs towards them.
Bulma released the lock on the bunker door just as Gohan attempted to push them open, his small and drained body fell into the room. His arms shook as he attempted to lift himself from the steel floor, blood dripping from his mouth and the large gash to his forehead.
Chichi was by his side immediately only to be pushed away by her son.
“Bulma… I need Bulma!” He wiped his hands over his face, smudging the red congealing blood over his face.
“What is it Gohan?!” Bulma grabbed him by his torn Gi, desperate questioning eyes burrowing into his.
“Ve… vegeta. It’s vegeta, Bulma he’s bad. He…. he saved me. Saved me from an energy beam….it would have killed me. But… but…. he…he just threw himself in front of it. It’s bad Bulma, so bad. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry i had to leave him to come find help. I’m too weak to move him. And Piccolo is dead! He’s dead!”His tears burst from his eyes, cleaning the blood from his face. It dripped down his cheeks and his throat, pooling at his sternum where Bulma’s eyes had been locked as she listened to the horror that he had just witnessed.
It’s not his blood.
It’s not Gohans.
It’s his.
It was on his hands.
It’s his.
“Take me” she whispered so quietly it was barely audible.
“What?” He answered
“Take me!! Take me to him!” She barked as she pushed Gohan out of the doors.
“It’s…it’s not safe Bulma”
“He’s on his own! It’s not safe and he’s on his own! In the rain by the looks of you! Just take me!!” Bulma screamed as she pushed him further down the corridor, Gohan walking backwards; dazed and confused.
He couldn’t say no, she sounded so desperate as she pushed him along. She had immediately shoved Trunks into her mother’s arms when Gohan fell through the doors. This was Bulma, she always got what she wanted, his father had always said that.
***********************
The rain seemed to push on, hard hitting as she clung to Gohan. She didn’t know what she was looking for, her heart had never thudded so loudly in her chest. She could practically hear her own heartbeat in her ears.
As Gohan approached the main centre of west city he descended towards a broken skyscraper, pieces of the once breathtaking structure were littered all around them. She stared at Gohan, asking the silent question, where is he?
The faint shuffling and slap of a body hitting water was the answer she was looking for.
There he was.
The once proud saiyan prince, the most foreboding presence she had ever had the pleasure of being close to was lying in a puddle. Lying on his side, half of his face submerged in the murky water. She took in a hard breath as she let the sight of him sink in. His favoured blue spandex suite was ripped to shreds, leaving his torso bear and cold to the weather.
Gohan moved to the side, keeping his eyes on the horizon for signs of the androids.
Bulma stood over vegeta’s limp body, the only sign of life was the jerking of his chest as he tried to desperately take in oxygen.
His now ungloved hands, such a rare sight outside of their intimate moments; shook violently from the pain and cold.
She hooked her arms under his, sitting him upright to get a better look at his injuries.
She sobbed and gasped as Vegeta’s mouth emitted a silent cry, only one of his eyes opening and terror from the fear of more beatings from the android was obvious on his face. The blood seemed to hurriedly seep out of the gaping wound in his chest and side now he was upright. Bulma shoved both her hands over the hole in his chest, pushing as hard as she could to keep the life from spilling out of him, her saiyan prince.
Yes, her prince.
She never got to make that wish but sure enough he had come barrelling into her life like it was already written.
Vegeta watched her silently for a moment, watching her tears running down her pure porcelain skin. He didn’t deserve her tears, just like Yamcha hadn’t deserved them when he so badly hurt her before she found comfort in his bed.
He slowly, shakily lifted his left arm to grip hers. She was uselessly trying to stop the bleeding, trying to stop the inevitable. His right arm just felt numb, no movement to be had. Good, it had been useless in defending him in battle. He was glad it was blue and cold to the touch.
Her eyes shot to his as he touched her, those big blue gems had always made him so weak. So weak. She had him weak for her and her touch, the way she had treated him with such love and respect when all he had ever known was pain and degradation.
She took him and all of his darkness in, into her heart. Yes it was obvious to him now that she loved him, like no other had. Not even his father.
She stroked his face, he never took his eye off her.
How bitter sweet to realise what was in front of him this entire time.
His son would never know his father’s voice, his strength, his pride in his saiyan race.
He would never hear the voice of his son, the strength he had within, the pride he had for him.
She had given him a son, an heir. She had given him much. He had taken it all greedily.
All he could give her was now. What he had to say, while he still had breath in his body.
She continued to stroke his face, the perfectly sculpted royal face that she had imagined he had inherited from his father.
A small smirked appeared on his paling face, she seemed to cry more. Hiding her face on his shoulder, he could feel her warmth over that side of his body and he was grateful for it. It would be the last time he would feel that kind of comfort.
He coughed and heaved. His chest jerking violently as he took in a deep breath.
“Bulma..l..look..at me” his weak arm attempted to grasp as her shirt, now wet with blood and rain.
She bolted up to hold his face in her small hands.
“Don’t speak vegeta, you’ll waste your energy.” She kissed his nose lightly and forced a smile.
“Help will be here soon, we’ll get you home soon.” She lied.
His chest heaved out more as he tried to chuckle at her feeble attempt to reassure him.
He knew damn well where he was going.
“Bulma, I’m …I’m sorry..sorry that I nev….never told you” he coughed violently, dark thick blood bubbling up and out of his mouth.
“I love you..”
“And the boy. I’m proud he is mine”
It came out in a horsed whisper, but it couldn’t have been louder for her.
Bulma rubbed her eyes and smiled, when her hands left her face and her eyes met his to return the sentiment she was left suddenly empty.
She watched as if in slow motion as his eye rolled to the back of his head, his mouth slowly opening to breathe his last breath. His hand that had gripped her arm desperately, dropped heavily to the wet floor. Rain poured down the face of the greatest saiyan that had ever lived. The last full blooded saiyan. The last of the royal line of vegeta.
As the clouds parted and the sun streamed through in golden rays, she knew that Goku had come. Come with the other saiyans to finally take their prince with them, where he had always belonged.
A violent cry shook from her as she clung to his body, limp and lifeless. The pain was much worse, so much worse than she could have possibly imagined.
Everything she had hoped for, everything she had ever wanted to wish for had been ripped away.
Her fingers slowly worked their way through his soft mane before letting go.
She had to survive.
She had to say goodbye for good.
He had gone where she could never follow.