insert standard disclaimer here. I don't own Dragonball Z or any of the characters.

 

Chapter 6
Denial

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The sun shines in my eyes. I frown; the angle is all wrong. I should have been up hours ago. Suddenly I become aware of _her_, wrapped up in my arms, her head on my chest. The tickling sensation of silky hair on my bare skin is unbearable.

I close my eyes and silently curse myself, and her. How did I let it come to this? Filled with anger at my weakness, I start to rise. My movement wakes her, and she reaches up to touch my face with a hand still heavy from sleep.

I flinch away. The cuts on her palm scream guilt at me. Another way I have caused her harm. Everything has changed, and yet nothing is different. I finally admit to myself that I regret causing her pain. But there is no room in my life for this weakness. I must give everything I have to my training if I am ever going to surpass Kakarot. There is nothing left of me for anything else.

I know that I can't love her the way she desires, any more than that human could. I don't want to, and I'm not sure that I even know how.

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He moves away from my touch, disgust in his eyes. My heart falls. But he doesn't rain insults down upon me for tainting his royal person with my unworthy human embrace.

His contempt is directed at himself. I don't understand. "Vegeta--"

"Woman. This isn't going to work." Stone has more warmth than his statement.

"What do you--"

A sneer. "Let me explain more clearly, since you seem to have trouble understanding. I don't want this. I don't want you." He turns to leave.

I know he isn't just going out to train. He's not coming back.

My pride won't let me say anything else, for fear of letting a sob escape. I curl my knees up to my chest and watch as the finely sculpted back I had embraced a only a scant few hours before moves toward the door. He stops, and turns around.

I close my eyes, arms wrapped around myself as if to keep all the pieces of my shattered heart together. I can't look at him.

"Woman." He steps closer, but I refuse to meet his eyes. I can't bear the lack of emotion in them.

"Woman." More insistent, but pointless. I am not going to look at him. I wish he would leave me before I can no longer hold back the storm of tears. A single droplet escapes the prison of my eyelashes and slowly trails down my cheek, dripping like liquid fire into a small wound near the hollow of my throat. A bite, given in the heat of passion, though at the time it had seemed almost deliberate, and carefully done.

"Bulma."

Shock forces my eyes open before I can do anything to prevent it. There is no cruelty in his face, but no compassion, either.

"I can't be what you want." He turns to leave.

I cover my face with my hands as I am, once again, all alone.

My name on his lips was hopelessly sweet. I wasn't sure he even knew it. To hear it now is like a knife twisting in my heart.

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I am torn between wanting to stay there forever, and wishing I might never set foot there again. I feel like I am leaving a piece of myself behind, something vital, but I press on.

I have things I must do. I will never reach my full potential, there with her. Being around her undermines my resolve and puts strange thoughts in my head. I am no longer in control. Such weakness is unacceptable.

I know that I am doing the right thing. She is better off as well.

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I have some pride. I am too strong to let this defeat me. I put the pieces of my life back together and go on. Pushing all thoughts of him completely from my mind, I throw myself into my work. In spite of my efforts, I have not made much progress to date, but I am determined to give it all that I can. I spend time with my parents, knowing that time is short. They love me, but they are clueless -- completely oblivious to everything that has occurred. I don't feel like telling them.

I actually manage to do a decent job of forgetting about him, at least during the day. But at night, I wake sometimes, listening for a voice that isn't there, longing for the embrace of absent arms. As time goes on, I start to heal, but I don't think anything will ever completely fill the void. I know that there will never be anyone else. You can't replace the other half of yourself.

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She looks different; I can tell something major has gone down as soon as I open the door. Some of the steel in her spine is absent, and she looks more vulnerable and heartsore than I have ever seen her. There are tears on her face, and she is completely soaked from walking here in the downpour outside.

"Baka. Where is your coat?" I move to let her come in.

She doesn't answer, and almost drops to her knees. Worried for her, I pick her up easily in my arms and carry her inside. She buries her face in my neck and sobs quietly. I can't imagine what has brought Bulma to this state. She was always so much stronger than I.

I don't ask, I know she will talk when she can. I bring her some dry clothes and have to help her put them on. Covering her with a blanket, I sit next to her and wait.

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Oh, Yamucha, your gentleness is worse than any insult he ever laid upon me. I can't bear it. Even now, part of me wishes things had been different. That you had been able to give me what I needed and spare me all of this.

I came here to tell him; I had nowhere else to go. But I just can't make myself think about it now. Instead I lay my head in his lap, and close my eyes, exhausted. His hand caresses my damp hair and I sleep.

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"I'm pregnant."

I jump. I had been dozing off myself, and had no idea she was awake.

"What?" I say, reflexively. She knows that I heard and doesn't repeat herself. I know it can't be mine. Who could she possibly have been with?

I open my mouth to ask, but she strikes preemptively and says, "Vegeta."

I am sure that the image of me with my mouth hanging open like a fish would have been comical, if anyone had been around to see it. For a moment I am too surprised for coherent thought.

Something else must be wrong, for her to be this upset. My heart constricts. "Did he force himself on you?" The idea makes my blood run cold. Oh, Bulma.

"No! No, it wasn't like that. I was willing. He regretted it though, and left." More softly: "He doesn't even know."

I know there is more she's not telling me. He has managed to hurt her more than I ever did.

Fury consumes me. Rage fills my head until I can't even see. I didn't let her go so that that arrogant Saiya-jin bastard could seduce her, knock her up and break her heart, again! Can't he see what a treasure he has so carelessly tossed away?

I am tormented by guilt. I know that if I had been able to love her the way she wanted, none of this would have happened. I hate myself for not leaving here right now and going to beat the shit out of him, but I know that I am no match for him. I would only die. The only one who can kick Vegeta's ass is Goku, and I know without asking that she doesn't want me to tell him.

I swear to myself that I am going to do everything in my power to make this as easy on her as possible. I will be there for her, as long as she needs me. It's time I grew up.

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Yamucha probably saved me from going insane. His support was the only thing keeping me going for a while. I don't know how I'm going to do this alone. I can't take responsibility for a child...

I've told my parents; that was the worst part. But they surprised me by saying they were behind me 100 percent.

I sit, by the window, staring into nothing. I feel completely drained. I wonder if _he_ would even care, if he knew. I am afraid that I know the answer.

Yamucha comes over in the evening, as has been customary for the last couple of months. I find his company immensely preferable to the emptiness of my lonely thoughts. He makes me laugh, forgetting to feel sorry for myself. A child should grow up with laughter, not a mother who wishes every morning that she could just stay in bed forever.

He crosses the room and kisses my cheek. The child stirs for the first time, and I smile with unexpected pleasure. I have to share this with someone. "Yamucha, here..." I grab his hand and place it on the barely discernible flutter. His eyes widen and he laughs out loud with the abandon of a child.

His statement sobers. There is regret in his eyes, and I know he is thinking of another child: ours. I see now that he would have been a wonderful father. So caring, so gentle.

"Bulma...I wanted to tell you...I wouldn't mind, if you want to tell people the child is mine."

I see in his eyes, that he isn't just offering to let the child have his name. If I accept, he will raise it with me, as his own. It brings tears to my eyes, to know that he would willingly raise another man's child. For me.

I think he's finally starting to learn what it is to love.

I am so tempted. I feel so alone, too frightened to do this by myself. And it seems he finally wants to be all that I had dreamed of. I care for him deeply; he is my best friend.

But now it is I that must let him go; I can't love him in that all-consuming, total giving of oneself as I once had done. To accept his offer would be to wrong him unforgivably. I can't bear the thought.

I look at him, and shake my head, overcome with emotion and unable to speak. He nods in understanding, and proves again how much he has grown. He continues to sit with me, lightly bantering in an effort to improve my mood, instead of storming out of the room in a torrent of hurt anger, as the old Yamucha would have done.

I ache. Oh Yamucha, why did you have to wait until now to love me? My heart is no longer mine to give...

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I peer through the window. I don't know why I'm here; I just know that I have this wild desire to see her that won't subside until I do. I only want to see that she is all right, to contradict the nagging feeling of wrongness that has been invading my thoughts of late. She is still as beautiful as ever, sitting with her back to me, reading some silly book.

In spite of myself, I move to join her. I had not intended her to see me, but I can't resist.

My hand is on the latch, when _he_ walks in. I can't believe it.

I should have known that she would go running back to him.

She stands to greet him, smiling. The gentle curve of her belly indicates that she is very obviously pregnant. He walks over and they embrace. His lips brush her cheek with an intimacy that stirs my blood into a boiling rage.

An unfamiliar emotion grips me and I get the hell out of there before I have time to figure out what it is.

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End Chapter 6


Table of Contents
Chapter 5
Chapter 7