edited: 04/22/12

Warning: Last chapter...but the Sequel's posted - Giving Up is Giving In

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this entire story, nor do I own Dragonball/Z/GT, nor do I own Akira Toriyama who owns the Dragonball franchise.


Abducted!

Chapter 3: Cutting Ties Using Lies

by hmfan24


Bulma felt more fat on Earth. Every inch of the ground felt like mud for the first month she returned to the surface. The sun was unbearable. She went straight to her room at Capsule Corp, and only could wonder at when she'd come out. It took her awhile to get acclimated. Not only that, but she found herself missing the space sexcapades she'd encountered while rooming with royalty. Although the imprints of where his mouth had lingered were beginning to fade, her memory of their presence was stronger than ever. Why'd she have to return? Why couldn't Vegeta have just kicked Frieza's ass and let her take the ship over as her own? Damn Prince...

Then, upon her departure, the look he gave her was cold enough to break her. It wasn't his usual scowl, but a blank slate of a face. Indifference was in his words. Monotone was his voice. Empty was his heart. Broken was she. It had all been a one night stand - well, one week. The jerk had tricked her! That had to be it, or else how the hell would he be able to let go that easily as if she wasn't the best thing he ever had.

She thought, among other cliche lines, that they had something special - she wasn't like the other girls he'd been with! They totally had an undeniable connection that spanned across galaxies.

It took her a while, but she had to to slap herself. A situation like that couldn't have ended in love. They had only known each other for the week that they were with each other. All that occurred between them on that ship that was now light years away was all should've become as real as a fantasy by now.

"Hey there, you okay?" Yamcha interjected her pensive muse as he entered her bedroom. He had just gotten back from winning yet another baseball game. Although Bulma had only been gone for a week, it felt like she still hadn't returned. Something big must've been wrong. She normally would've forgiven him by now for whatever "transgressions" he committed, yet here she was in a ball of misery. Maybe he was supposed to forgive her, "I'm not mad at you." He sat down beside her head, tempted to stroke it.

"For what?" her head shot up. The palms of her hands broke out into a cold sweat. How could she have forgotten about Yamcha's feelings? What she did, what she thought, wasn't an act of rebellion. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing that sparked and ended up settling in her gut. She wanted to use the excuse an "eye for an eye", but she couldn't recall any situations where there was confounding evidence he had been cheating on her. Suddenly, all her former accusations were falling apart, and she felt like a total bitch. One of the worst feelings in the world is realizing one is wrong.

Yamcha wasn't exactly sure what he shouldn't have been mad about, but said something anyway, "For just leaving like that. I mean, we both know you had the sexiest costume out of everybody there. I wasn't even looking at that girl - she was barely out of high school and actually looked like a pumpkin! I think you were just..."

Her eyes narrowed as a natural reaction, "Just...what?" she asked sternly.

"Ah, um..." he stammered then sighed, "Feeling insecure. You might think I seem like I take you for granted, but you're really the best thing I've ever had, Bulma." Any second now, he thought, the argument would magically be over and they'd be fine again.

No. He couldn't be doing this. He was saying everything she wished Vegeta had said, but probably never even felt. To top it off, he actually used her name rather than addressing her as "woman." These sincere words, coming from her boyfriend of several years, didn't even quench her thirst. In fact, they made her feel like more of a shitty person. She was the shittiest person on this Earth. That's why she felt so heavy. That was the Earth trying to suck her down into hell.

"I know you'll probably never believe this either: you're the only one I've ever had."

"Thank you..." she said before drifting into her own thoughts and then out again, "You know, it's okay if you think someone's hotter than me. I'm not the hottest woman on the planet," she said with much effort.

Yamcha shook his head, "But you are...to me, anyway," he said sheepishly.

After watching so many romantic dramas, she never understood how women could betray perfectly good guys. Until now. Her boyfriend was very handsome and strong and brave and had been the same hunky guy he was when they first met. Women were all over him. "I have a friend that doesn't live too far from here. She doesn't have blonde hair, but she's really nice and she's been single for a long time..." It'd hurt her to lose him, so she thought it'd be better if she willingly gave him away instead of him finding out how terrible she'd been.

"What?" he said in an anxious laughter, "Bulma, I don't care about your friend. I don't even like blondes or whatever she is."

"I think you should meet her," said the blue head, staring at the wall. Her eyes were wide open and completely illegible, but one could tell by her low, steady voice that she had not come up from her depression.

Yamcha stood up. With every bit of confidence and reassurance he said, "What are you saying? I wasn't trying to break up with you! I love you." Yet he had a gut feeling he wasn't communicating effectively, and the conversation - along with his girlfriend - were slowly slipping from his grasp.

"I think you should meet her," she repeated. Yes, this was for him. This rut she had found herself in was not one that she wanted to share with Yamcha. Allowing herself to fuck some alien was enough to dehumanize her. He needed a life with a human. Not a low life like her.

The room was spinning and the lights were bright. The tension in the room had heated up and Yamcha's words became incoherent to her ears. Her focus remained on the walls even when the door slammed shut. It felt like a mistake - the way her heart was beating - yet there was no turning back now. Everything felt like a mistake. Everything was a mistake, but it didn't matter now. This future would be something she'd have to deal with on her own.

After Yamcha left, she got up to use the bathroom again. The blue-head passed the inevitable giant mirror cabinet and couldn't help to see how horrible she actually looked. Weird how she showed a lot more confidence in face of her alien abductor than she did with her own reflection. She had something she needed to get over with just to relinquish the creeping suspicion that had hung over her head. The anxious look in her eyes only nagged her to get the job done.

Opening the cabinet, she reached for the white box she placed there not too long ago. Day after day since then she had just been reaching for it - never actually grabbing it from the shelf. She finally did grab the box this time to pull out a small, electronic thermometer-like contraption and made her way to the toilet. Her heart beat slowly yet heavily as she pulled down her underwear. It was tempting to drop the small device into the toilet bowl, but she managed to resist and allowed her stream to flow on to it. She waited.

She couldn't be the one to tell Yamcha, if she were actually pregnant, for that would give him a notion that a portion of his dreams had come true. As he'd hear pleasant bells ring in his mind, his eyes would shine, full of hope and conviction that they would finally start a family. Then it would come crashing down almost immediately when he'd realize it wasn't his. No, there was no chance the child would be his. Right before she'd been abducted, she finished her period. One abstinent month of sorrow after she returned to Earth, she was finally taking a pregnancy test.

She read it.

Positive.

Too bad pregnancy tests can't tell you if everything will actually be positive and work out fine. This baby's father was planets and galaxies away, probably impregnating another woman.


Vegeta didn't kill that despicable woman. He should've killed her like he's killed thousands, but he let her live. Not only that, he also kept her as a stowaway for longer than one night. On top of all that, he didn't kill her! That was absurd for someone of his caliber. If anything, he could've wiped her memory of their encounter. That way, it'd be like she was never abducted at all. But no, that would've been too painful for his sensitive ego.

At any rate, the Saiyan prince could finally train for more than 5 minutes without looking at the clock for when it'd hit 6 and he'd be able to go and lie with the detestable earthling. Such a lifestyle bound to the clock did not help his training regime. Before, days were measured by increases in his power - not by minutes that passed, yet within that week, he built a habit of counting down rather than counting up. Not only that, but the woman had convinced him to bathe daily like some obsessive compulsive weakling. There was delight in her eyes at the anguish he felt from losing control. The tyrannic tactics she'd use to take over his mind held no bearing on him now, however. Now she was gone and he had reclaimed his sanity. Or so he thought.

Of course it didn't occur to him that pregnancy was a possible outcome. It didn't matter to him. Vegeta found himself more focussed on the jitters and withdrawal from such a sudden addiction. Things like sex could apparently yank him from his blind thanatos, so things like sex were dangerous for him. The very act was downright humanizing! The ecstasy of the cool night felt so much stronger than the gratification of blazing power. And that was no good. Sex was unproductive and by doing so, he was neglecting his goals. He resented the addiction enough to resent the source. It would be so much easier to rid of her permanently now that she wasn't lying in his bed. But she was gone. Yet she was still plastered to the walls of his mind, and that was even worse.

The withdrawal the ruthless Saiyan endured was cluttered with motivations to follow the woman to rid of the somatic symptoms at least. Lying in bed, he felt his lust revolt against him in revenge for ridding of the relief once brought on by the human. His hands shook, tempted to touch himself, but he knew that not even 1,000 sexual encounters could quench what his body truly wanted. Only one woman could.

Enough was enough. His longing would be no longer. Instead of wiping out her memory like he intended to before, he decided to wipe his own memory of her from his mind with a high-tech machine used for interrogation.

"What is the point of doing this, Vegeta?" asked Nappa, readying the large, metallic machine with a round nozzle that stretched out like a cannon. He kept glancing at his sire, in a trifling attempt to read his motives. They usually used this device on soldier suffering from some forms of Post Traumatic Stress, but they hadn't even had a mission. Not only that, but Vegeta was one of the most stoic soldiers he knew.

Vegeta couldn't understand why he had talked himself into requesting Nappa's assistance. Surely he could've figured out how to use it on his own despite his squire's experience. He replied with a glare - hoping to rush the bald man before he lost his mind.

Then he remembered the reason: wiping his own memory out would be like trying to stab himself in the leg. As much as he hated thinking of the woman, he liked the satisfaction of reminiscing about their encounters. He smirked. Some nights he was able to reenact every little detail in his head and could almost feel himself inside of her. Various parts of his room still had her sweat and scent of sweet bread worked into it.

And the dreams. Those would end, too, wouldn't they?

"How far back, did you say, Prince?" Raditz asked. When did he get there? More importantly, how long had the Prince been lost in his thoughts?

Vegeta cleared his throat, "One month - that's the maximum, correct? Nothing important happened since then that I'd regret losing cognizance of," he said before leaning back in his throne. Some nights he feared that it wasn't simply the lust that debased his capabilities. The true fear found him when he realized he enjoyed

Raditz and Nappa exchanged a look. Their prince was right, nothing else had really happened since then that would warrant a need to lose memories. But one month ago was their harem day.

"Don't tell me it takes the two of you to take this long to plug in a damn machine," Vegeta looked up and scowled. For all they knew, he did kill the girl, so there was no need to suspect their suspicion. They had no knowledge of the fact that he snuck her away in his pod back to her home planet. .

Nappa began pressing buttons, "This will send an electronic ray that'll send you into shock. You should recover within 24 hours with no memories of the last month." He frowned, finally sensing some doubt in Vegeta's eyes.

There was a doubt. The machine vibrated the floor as it revved up. But there was no turning back now, he needed to get it over with. He took a deep breathe. Was it normal for him to hope that he'd be able to meet her again after he finally took out Frieza as the Super Saiyan?

The light that flashed before the electric current nearly blinded him. His body tensed up slightly before relaxing into unconsciousness.

Yet and still, following his expulsion of the memories with his blue-haired lover, he had dreams of her that would haunt him indefinitely.

hmfan24: This was meant to be a prequel. I want to give a special thanks to all that reviewed. I feel like I actually got to know some of my readers and that was a very unique experience. Sorry for posting an update for the story, I ended up deleting it because it didn't fit with the story.

Thank you again for reading, now go read the main story.

Sequel posted: Giving Up is Giving In