Count Down From Ten

Time Flies

Chapter Eleven

(Bulma's POV)

The days quickly dissolved into one another, and my parents' return made things easier. The first week was natural. Vegeta was able to weigh down my father with the task of fixing bots for his gravity room. It was nice to have my fathers company in the lab as we both skillfully worked to complete our separate tasks. I had provided my father with the updated blueprints for efficient droids but he still had to occasionally come over to my station to ask some questions, that was most of my involvement with the training droids.

Naturally, having my mother back was a blessing– I could keep most of my attention on my own prototype for the energy cloaking device without having to stop to make food. With her around, a meal was ready at any time of day; not that I minded making Vegeta food, it was just a lot. In fact, with her cooking such an array of food, just this last week I felt like I gained over 20 pounds. My mother found her way to wherever I had set myself up to work. She was constantly offering me snacks and I never turned her down.

If I was in the lab I would take a break and snack before continuing my small building projects. If I was in the nursery she would cheerily bust in to offer her assistance while she forced something sweet in front of me. I hated to admit it but it was impossible to get up off of furniture. I prayed to Kami that I wouldn't get any bigger. My mother eagerly took the opportunity to pamper my every need. She was ecstatic with Vegeta being home, and all she could do was gush about how excited she was to be a grandmother.

The dinners in the Brief household were full of easy conversations with my parents. When Vegeta and I retired to our room, we opted into a routine. I would ask one question, and he would either answer, or we would fall asleep to a careful silence. So far, I have learned that he was only five years old when he was taken by Frieza. He then went on to explain that his planet was destroyed within weeks of his forced service. He had explained the gruesome story as if it was normal. I had cried myself to sleep that night curled into his chest– I couldn't imagine the tortures he had been through, much less understand his emotional turmoil.

On another night, I forced my bravery to ask about the long scar across his back along his shoulders. I learned that was also because of Frieza. He explained that it was a reminder of one of the numerous times Freiza had beaten him until he barely had a breath left. Yet he had cockily ended that conversation on a lighter note, stating that without all those beatings he would have never gained his immense strength; it was fuel to the fire that was just Vegeta.

If someone were to tell me months ago that Vetega would be divulging about his past while we laid in the same bed together. I would have called them crazy. If they were to continue to explain that we would casually fall asleep in bed afterwards. I would have referred them to the best therapist to receive a psychiatric evaluation. Yet, here in the present, I wouldn't want it any other way.

When I wasn't focused on the cloaking device I had skillfully spent my time completing the nursery. My mother had made several shopping trips which resulted in stuffing the formerly empty drawers with an abundance of adorable outfits. The closet was packed full of diapers and wipes, and now the only thing missing from the room was the baby. I sighed in contentment while rubbing my swollen belly, feeling how round and full of life it had grown.

Despite my excitement, I couldn't help but feel slightly anxious. In the first trimester or so, I was too emotionally stunned to dwell on the physical aspects of the pregnancy. In less than seven weeks, I will be responsible for another human being that isn't myself. I have everything I could ever need... yet my mind idles on impervious thoughts: how much agony would I endure, how strong will this child be– do I have to worry about him breaking my arm?