A/N - If something is in italics outside of a dialogue, these are Bulma's thoughts, which are also in first person narration.

Don't Say A Word - Chapter 2

By megamijuhachigou

"No, transfer the files to G13, and then cancel the Brackman account…uh huh…uh huh…yes, then you can reopen the A2 labs, but you have to wait for the confirmation…uh huh…okay, bye."

Bulma sighed and pulled the headset off her ears, letting it fall loosely around her neck. She was sitting cross-legged in bed, a blue robe wrapped around her body and papers flung everywhere in some sort of pseudo- organization. She may be bedridden for a week to recover from "mental trauma," but she was bound and determined to get as much work done as possible. She had just started to flip through a pile of documents when a light knock on the door broke her concentration.

"Are you doing all right, dear?" Mrs. Briefs stuck her head through a crack she opened in the door.

"Yes, mother, I'm fine. "Bulma rubbed her temples as an instant headache formed behind her eyes. "I thought I told you I was busy and didn't want to be disturbed."

"Oh, I know, but Yamcha came over and wanted to talk to you, said it was important. I don't know why you broke up, he's such a sweet man."

Bulma sighed and rose out of bed, trying to disturb her work as little as possible. She followed her mother down the hallway and over to the staircase where her ex-boyfriend was waiting at the bottom. His face warmed up at the first sight of Bulma, and she couldn't help but smile weakly back, as much for him as for herself.

"I'm so glad to see you." Yamcha swept her up in a tight embrace and led her over into the common room. "When I head about what happened I just–"

"It's okay, Yamcha," Bulma sat down on the couch and took a pastry from the tray her mother had so thoughtfully prepared, "you don't need to say anything about it." Realizing how hungry she was, she stuffed the cake in her mouth and reached for another.

Yamcha helped himself to a cake as well, but just sat staring at it. "I should have been there for you. You should have called me to pick you up instead of that ignorant bastard Vegeta."

Bulma stopped mid-bite to soak in what he had said. Why had she called Vegeta to pick her up? She remembered vaguely the conversation they'd had, how she had ended up hanging up the phone on him. Perhaps she had been hoping to change him into a decent member of society. Well semi-decent at any rate.

She sighed and put the food back on the plate. "You can't blame yourself for this, it's not your fault."

"Listen, I'm going to get straight top the point. I want to get back together with you.

"Yamcha–"

He held a hand out to silence her. "Just hear me out, Bulma. Last week we agreed to…see other people, and I was okay with that. But a few days later, I mean, look what happened. I died when your mother told me, but what hurt me more is that you wouldn't tell me yourself. I don't want us to grow apart. I want to be here for you, to protect you. I love you."

"Yamcha, I-I can't, I'm sorry." Bulma stood up from the couch and walked quickly back to the stairs, her slippers sliding a bit on the linoleum flooring.

"Bulma, just–" He reached out to grab her arm and pull her back but she twisted around sharply.

"No, stop it!"

"No, stop it!" I cried as the man pushed me hard against the brick all of the alley, one hand pressing against my collarbone, the other fighting to restrain my fists as I tried to gain some sort of control. He pressed his dirty sex against my stomach and licked my ear as he whispered.

"There's no use in fighting. You know you can't win…"

* * *

"…Bulma, Bulma!"

She was crying somehow, she felt the hot tears streaming down her face, though she didn't know why or how. She didn't think she had the strength to cry anymore after that first terrible night. Blinking back the salty fluid in her eyes, she looked up to see Yamcha and her mother, the former distraught and the latter confused.

"We were so worried about you!" The high pitched shrill of Mrs. Briefs voice broke the temporary silence as Bulma regained control. "Yamcha said you cried out and fell and we didn't know what had happened…"

"I-I just blacked out is all, fell on the tile and hit my head." Bulma struggled to stand but decided for the time being that laying was better.

Yamcha eyes looked unsure as he sought out her own. "But you didn't even fall at first…"

"I fell." Bulma glared back at him. "No, if you excuse me, I have work to do."

"Okay dear, well you get back upstairs then." Seeing the immediate danger was avoided, Mrs. Briefs hurried back to the kitchen, reading to prepare lunch.

Yamcha turned away, not wanting to look at Bulma as she ascended the staircase. But he was almost certain he heard sobbing as the door closed shut behind her.

"You just don't know when to quit do you?"

Yamcha turned around to see a disgruntled Vegeta standing in the front doorway, his torn clothing covered in a mix of blood and sweat in proof that he had just been out training. "What do you want?"

"I want you to get the fuck out. You've already caused enough trouble in this house, and your beginning to piss me off just standing there."

"I'm causing trouble? At least I'm not a pathetic freeloader who doesn't care jack shit about anything, or anyone."

Vegeta spat and walked up to his adversary, using his Saiya-jin pride to make up for his lack of height as he glared less than warmly into Yamcha's eyes. "I thought I told you to get the fuck out."

Knowing he couldn't afford a confrontation, let alone survive one, Yamcha broke the gaze and turned to the door. "If it were up to me, you would have been shipped first-class to whatever damn planet you came from. You're just lucky Bulma's such a wonder person she doesn't give a damn how much of a bastard you are."

Vegeta laughed. "If Bulma's such a wonderful person, then why don't you take her and get that bitch off my hands."

"I would if I could." He slammed the door behind, leaving the Saiya-jin prince all alone.

And Vegeta liked it that way.