TITLE: Breathe
AUTHOR: Mia Skywalker
PAIRING: Bulma/Vegeta
RATING: PG
WARNINGS: Lime perhaps
DISCLAIMER: I don't own DBZ, although I can still dream. And as for the song Breathe, which is sung by Faith Hill (one of the only country singers I actually like), this is the official disclaimer that they give to use. :-) The song Breathe is ©1999 Cal IV Songs (all rights adm. by Cal IV Entertainment, Inc.) ASCAP/Universal-Songs of PolyGram International, Inc./Hopechest Music (all rights controlled and adm. by Universal-Songs of PolyGram International, Inc.) BMI
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Lady Lark (megamichan) and Mistress Storm Crow for beta'ing this.
SUMMARY: After the Cell Games, Bulma and Vegeta think about things. A small bit of fluff that shows both POVs on their relationship to each other.
NOTES: The name of this songfic actually has multiple meanings for me. It's named after the song that I used for it (of course), but it's also about something that I never realized how important it was for me until recently - breathing. For about 8 months I was really sick and I almost died. I first heard this song during that illness, and just the title of it made me cry. The problem was that my lungs were filling up with fluid and I couldn't breathe. I was drowning, and no one knew why fluid was filling my lungs, where it was coming from, and how to get rid of it. It took a long time before we eventually got rid of it. This songfic is, in some strange manner, dedicated to my gratitude at being able to breathe again. Never take anything for granted. Not even the simple ability of being able to draw in a breath.

~~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~~

Breathe

Bulma woke slowly and looked around at the still darkened room, wondering what had awakened her. She listened; the night was still and quiet, just the normal sounds of the night creatures outside her window. She always left her window open now if the weather permitted, and if it didn't she left the door to the balcony unlocked. She'd always been hoping, after that one time, that he would come back to her, that he might care about her or at least want her once again, as he'd seemed to want her that one night. But no matter how often she'd waited, no matter how strongly she'd hoped, he'd never returned, her hopes had never been answered. Until tonight.

Bulma glanced at the small warrior in the bed next to her, then slipped out of his loose embrace and slid out of the bed. She picked up the robe that had been so carelessly tossed to the floor earlier that night and slipped it on. She glanced down at the torn nightgown lying in a satin pool on the ground, once one of her most expensive nightgowns, now only rags. He'd been in too much of a hurry that night. It was as though he had been trying to make up for the past year and a half all in one night, almost as if he had been as hungry for her as she'd been for him.

~~~*~~~

I can feel the magic floating in the air
Being with you gets me that way
I watch the sunlight dance across your face and I've
Never been this swept away

~~~*~~~

Bulma stepped towards the window, breathing in the night air, still trying to figure out what had disturbed her sleep. She hadn't heard anything out of the ordinary; the rest of the world slept, as though the danger with Cell, and the death of Earth's greatest warrior, had never happened. A single tear coursed its way down her cheek. Goku had died, and they couldn't bring him back again. They had wanted to use the Namek dragonballs to bring him back, but Goku had refused, saying he wanted to stay in the afterlife.

Bulma grieved for her best friend. Many people assumed that Bulma didn't care about Goku, but the truth was, he was the only one whom she truly trusted and had always felt she could rely on. She'd known him longer than any of her other friends, and somehow the fact that he was gone and didn't want to come back left a void in her heart. She wondered how Chi-Chi felt about it. Goku had been gone for so long already. First he'd died and had been training with Kaioh-sama for a year, then he had gone to Namek and trained on some other planet for a year. When he finally came back again, he spent the three years training to defeat the androids, and then Cell came along and he died again. She knew that Chi-Chi must be devastated. She knew how she'd feel if it had been....

She realized that perhaps it was her thoughts which had driven her from sleep. She sighed and looked back at the man on the bed. The moon was full that night, the moonlight limning the contours of his muscles, emphasizing them and caressing him, making her almost jealous of the way it touched him as he lay there in quiet slumber. She rarely saw him this relaxed, his face eased of the tension usually stamped on it, looking almost peaceful.

Peace - somehow that word didn't suit Vegeta, nor did it suit her own emotions, as troubled as they were, jumbled and chaotic like leaves in the wind from her grief and confusion. Goku was dead, gone, and... Gohan had been the hero? Little Gohan had somehow developed a power beyond all imagining, and was the one that had finally finished off Cell. Little Gohan, the innocent child she had first met those years ago, polite and shy, timidly hiding behind his father. He'd grown so much, changed so much; he was far more mature than he should be for his age. Yet sometimes she could see in him the innocence that so marked Goku and was more normal for someone his tender years. Chi-Chi had tried so hard to shelter him, to keep him from fighting and make him a scholar. But destiny had decreed another fate for the little boy, the only son of the world's greatest champion, and the strongest warrior in the world now. Blood would tell, and both of his parents - and all four of his grandparents as far as they knew - had been warriors, making it inevitable that he could only be the same.

~~~*~~~

All my thoughts seem to settle on the breeze
When I'm lying wrapped up in your arms
The whole world just fades away
The only thing I hear
Is the beating of your heart

~~~*~~~

Bulma moved back over to the bed, studying the Saiyan Prince lying motionless in it, before sliding her robe off her shoulders again and slipping in next to him. She lay on the bed, leaning on one elbow, as she continued to gaze at him. His presence soothed her for some strange reason, at least when he wasn't fighting with her or ignoring her, and it always seemed like he was doing one or the other. It was so hard for her to get through to him. She wondered if she ever truly would, other than these occasional glimpses when they made love. What did he feel for her? There had been that one night for them, and then nothing. He had treated her as if it had meant nothing afterwards, and he didn't even seem to care when she'd told him that they were going to have a baby. But at least he hadn't asked her whose it was. She knew that her heart would have shattered if he had.

Although she didn't notice the tear that wound its way down her face and splashed on Vegeta's arm, the Saiyan warrior was well aware of it. He'd been awake from the moment she'd slipped out of bed, but he'd remained still, wondering what she would do. Would she leave him now? Did she want him to leave? If she threw him then out he would leave. He would probably fight with her over it, but he would never admit to her - or anyone - that he wanted to stay. He wasn't going to lower his pride enough to let her know how much being here, after everything that had happened, meant to him. So he pretended to be asleep, unwilling to risk what she might say or do.

He'd stayed away from her all those months, but it had been the hardest thing he'd ever done. He'd had to use all of his Saiyan restraint and control, everything he'd learned after years of training. He wanted no one to know that a single frail human female could be a vulnerability for him, that he might have developed feelings. Emotions were for the weak, and he would be strong. He must be strong. It was his duty to be the strongest, and he couldn't fail. If anyone knew that he was vulnerable, that someone could get to him through her, they might use that against him. An enemy could use her, force him to do something for fear that she might be hurt. They might even hurt her for revenge against himself. He couldn't risk that. He couldn't risk being weakened this way. He couldn't risk -- her.

~~~*~~~

'Cause I can feel you breathe
It's washing over me
Suddenly I'm melting into you
There's nothing left to prove
Baby all we need is just to be
Caught up in the touch
The slow and steady rush
Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be
I can feel you breathe
Just breathe

~~~*~~~

After staring at him for what seemed an eternity, she gave a gentle sigh and slipped into his embrace again. She moved toward him, trying to snuggle closer, her back against him. She didn't see the smile of relief that crossed his features as he reached his arm around her and pulled her tightly, pressing her softness against his chest. She lay there quietly, resting in his embrace. His breath tickled her ear, making her shiver slightly, and his warm skin against hers was soothing. She didn't know why she was so drawn to the fiery little warrior, but something about him impelled her, wouldn't release her from his grip.

She reached down and touched his hand as it rested against her belly. Even his hands, graceful as they were, were incredibly muscular, strong enough to snap a man in half or tear their way through solid steel or stone. She traced it lightly with the tip of one finger, awed at the way those same hands caressed her so gently and yet with so much passion. He could draw things out of her that she'd never imagined. His touch brought a heat and fire to her heart and a desire to her body, something she'd never known before. She'd wanted him for a long time before they'd finally consummated their desires, after both of them had fought it for so long and denied the passion that had snapped between them with every verbal barb, every insult, every shout of fury.

She remembered the night they'd made love together; it was etched into her memory for all time. The passion they'd shared, the glorious heights they'd reached -- she knew she hadn't experienced that alone; he'd felt it as well, she was certain. She'd been sure of it that night, and was still certain about it. But Vegeta had been determined to shatter her belief in that, in her illusions that she would ever mean more to him than a single night, someone whose bed he'd shared once and wouldn't think about again. She'd tried to approach him the next few days, hoping that she might see some softness in him, only to discover the barrier around him had become even more inviolable. Instead of tenderness, she found mockery. Instead of love, she found disdain. Instead of joy, she found pain. It hadn't taken long to wrap the tatters of her own pride about herself as she tried to convince herself that she neither needed nor wanted him.

Bulma shuddered briefly, remembering the pain she'd felt when he'd left so abruptly right after the birth of their son. He'd refused to see the baby, saying that a squalling brat wasn't worth a Saiyan warrior's time. She hadn't let him see how that had upset her, other than to shout at him and hurl insults at him. She'd only half meant them at the time. She'd wanted to hurt him as he was hurting her, but nothing seemed to break past that wall of anger and hatred and indifference that he had built up throughout his life. Frustrated and distraught, she'd hit him with everything she had, but the verbal barbs seemed to do nothing more than irritate him. And then after she'd yelled at him for a while he'd turned, and without a word to her or any apparent desire to see the child, he'd taken the spaceship and left. She'd yelled at the retreating spaceship until it was only a speck in the sky and she was hoarse. Later that night, after she'd gone to bed, she'd finally allowed the tears to flow, and to release some of the anger and pain that had built up in her.

~~~*~~~

In a way I know my heart is waking up
As all the walls come tumbling down
I'm closer than I've ever felt before
And I know
And you know
There's no need for words right now

~~~*~~~

Vegeta felt her shudder in his arms, and tightened his grip on her. He was no longer feigning sleep, but instead moved his hands up and down her arms and sides, soothing and calming her. His own thoughts were in turmoil as well. He knew what he'd put her through - what he'd put them both through - but at the time it had seemed the best option. It had seemed the only option. He hadn't wanted someone like her burdening him with emotions, dragging him down. He hadn't wanted to be able to feel anything other than rage or hatred or the desire for power. She'd made him want something else, something he hadn't wanted in... well, ever. Something he'd always sneered at others for wanting because it had seemed to make them weak.

And yet Kakarot wasn't weak. Kakarot had these emotions, these feelings, that Vegeta had always scorned. He had the innocence of a child, the intelligence of a soap dish, and yet -- he'd been the first one to reach Super Saiyan, he'd been the one to defeat that monster Frieza when Vegeta himself had failed.

His hands balled into fists as his thoughts took him back there, and he felt the woman wince in pain as his fingers accidentally tightened too much. He forced himself to relax, caressing her stomach tenderly in silent apology for hurting her again. He'd hurt her enough; he knew that. She'd never deserved the way he'd hurt her. He'd wanted to hurt her back then, wanted to destroy her for what she'd done for him. But something had stopped him. At the time, he'd feared that what had stopped him was his weakness, but now he wondered. Was it weak, or was it strong? It was stronger than he was, that much was certain. It was stronger than a man who could destroy a planet with a single ki blast. It made him weak; it made him strong. He'd tried to ignore it, he'd tried to deny it, but he no longer could do so.

He'd never told her that he'd gone to see his son the first night she'd brought him home; he'd entered the baby's room after everyone else had gone to bed. He'd studied the child, sensing his ki, wondering if he'd someday become a strong warrior. The infant's ki was strong, but the woman would spoil the child and make him weak, Vegeta knew this. It wasn't until the next day when the woman was shouting at him that he'd even learned the brat's name. It was then he left, knowing that for the first time in his life he cared about someone other than himself, and wanting to rid himself of that unwanted weakness. He thought that by leaving her, that by training in space to be a Super Saiyan, maybe he could purge himself of it. But despite his intentions, despite all he tried, the opposite occurred.

~~~*~~~

'Cause I can feel you breathe
It's washing over me
Suddenly I'm melting into you
There's nothing left to prove
Baby all we need is just to be

~~~*~~~

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply, taking in her scent and her sweetness. He remembered the moment when he'd seen the android destroy her plane. He'd sensed her arrival before she'd swung into view; he was always aware of her, despite her weak ki. But he'd been so determined to ignore her, to pretend that she didn't matter to him, that when the android had blasted her he hadn't made a move towards her. If Trunks hadn't moved to rescue her then, she would be dead. He'd pretended that he didn't care. He'd even managed to convince himself of that as he insulted his son from the future and then flew off.

He'd failed to remove that weakness though, and he discovered that at the moment Cell destroyed his son. The monster released a ki blast from the cloud surrounding him. Before Trunks could even react, the beam had pierced his chest, killing him instantly. Vegeta had lost it then. The pain and fury that tore through him, overwhelming his senses and intelligence, drowning all reason and rationality, was more agonizing than any injury he'd ever received in battle. He'd felt such overwhelming hatred at that moment towards Cell that he'd felt that he could tear the creature apart with his bare hands. He'd focused all that rage and hatred towards the fiend, but even then he'd failed. He'd failed, and then as he dangled helplessly in the air he'd watched a child - Kakarot's child no less - destroy the creature that he'd wanted to avenge himself on. The mongrel son of a third class Saiyan had destroyed a monster that Vegeta couldn't. Gohan had avenged Trunks' death when Vegeta had failed.

The shame of it washed over the Saiyan Prince, the feeling that somehow he'd lost everything in that moment. He'd failed to prove himself the strongest; he was nothing, and once again a low-class Saiyan had proven himself stronger. Vegeta could feel himself trembling with fury and self-disgust, and he forced himself to relax as his tension was beginning to disturb the woman in his embrace. Bulma murmured something incoherent and turned in his arms, facing him and looking into his open eyes. She reached up and gently touched his face as her eyes probed his own. He allowed her to see, for the first time, his frustration and self-loathing, his fear of failure. He waited, tense, expecting to see her gaze turn to one of disgust, but slowly relaxed in bewilderment as her expression remained patient, curious. 

::What does she want of me?::

~~~*~~~

Caught up in the touch
The slow and steady rush
Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be
I can feel you breathe
Just breathe

~~~*~~~

Bulma felt Vegeta suddenly become tense. She'd known he was awake since he had pulled her flush against him, but she didn't mind. At the moment all she wanted to do was lie in his arms, have him hold her against him. There was something comforting in that one small gesture, after all the chaos they'd been through in the past days. It was the first time she'd been around Vegeta when he was awake where he wasn't either fighting with her, or making love to her, or ignoring her, or insulting her. The fact that he was willing to simply hold her this way brought a flicker of hope to her heart again. Maybe -- maybe she wasn't just something convenient to him. She'd almost been willing to accept that if it was all that she could have of him, even though it would have trampled her pride and her heart.

When his fists had clenched, inadvertently digging into her flesh, his fists pressing into her stomach painfully, she couldn't suppress the tremor of pain that went through her. He'd immediately released her, and then the way his hands had moved over her stomach where he'd hurt her, it was almost as though he was apologizing for having caused her pain. It had surprised her so much that she'd kept silent, until she rationalized that he was just protecting his own interests. Although he was strong, and in her eyes he was handsome although she'd never let him know that, she knew there weren't many women that would be willing to be with him. Most would flee in terror, she knew. Others would want someone boring, someone predictable, someone safe -- but not Bulma. She'd never wanted predictable or safe; otherwise she wouldn't have been attracted to Yamcha, whom she'd met when he was still a desert bandit and was trying to rob herself and Goku.

She considered Yamcha for a moment. She realized that she'd been getting bored in that relationship for a few years, even before she'd gone to Namek and met Vegeta. She'd stayed in that relationship because... well, she wasn't really sure why she had. It was probably at least partially complacency; it was easier to keep with what she already knew than it was to try to find someone new. She'd been drawn to Yamcha from the beginning because of the aura of mystery and danger surrounding him, but that had changed once she'd gotten to know him. Despite his profession he'd been emotionally innocent, afraid of women and then easily led by her when she'd tried to control him. He didn't even fight it when she ordered him around and started changing him. He never fought back, but instead allowed himself to be controlled. It had never occurred to him - or even to her - that she'd been trying to spark something in him, to get him to argue with her, to challenge her, to oppose her.

And then Vegeta stormed into her life, and suddenly Bulma had found the challenge which she'd always sought. He'd been her perfect match in personality, and when they'd finally been unable to deny their attraction for each other, the passion that they'd shown in their fights and arguments had translated over to their lovemaking, almost consuming both of them in its intensity. Somehow she knew that she'd never have experienced this with Yamcha; he was too easily submissive to her, and she needed someone that would fight back and challenge her. And she knew that Vegeta, despite his denial of it, needed someone that would defy as well, that wouldn't allow him to terrorize her or intimidate her, but someone that would confront him and stand up for herself. Someone like Bulma.

~~~*~~~

Caught up in the touch
The slow and steady rush
Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be
I can feel you breathe
Just breathe

~~~*~~~

Bulma touched his face, allowing her fingers to trail over his smooth warm skin, so velvety soft, far softer than it appeared to be. Despite the harshness of his features and his expression, she couldn't help but study him wistfully. Even when they were in bed alone like this, his face wouldn't soften in the slightest. He wouldn't soften in the slightest. He was always so cold, so hard, so uncaring; she never knew what to expect from him. He hadn't moved to save her when her plane was destroyed, but she hadn't really expected him to, despite what she'd said to Yajirobe. He'd told her before that she was nothing to him, and after she'd spent months fruitlessly trying to badger him into admitting that he cared about her, into trying to convince him to stay with her, she'd given up. He'd insisted - rather violently on occasion - that she meant nothing to him, less than nothing, that she'd been no more than a convenience. He'd shown her no softness, no mercy, none of the tenderness that she'd seen that one night. She had finally come to believe that he was telling her the truth, that he didn't care at all. So she hadn't been surprised that he wouldn't try to save her, that he didn't care if she was killed.

Her mouth twisted into a bitter, self-deprecating smile. When he'd returned to Earth, he hadn't even wanted to see her, even though he'd been gone for so long. He'd gone straight to fight the androids. She'd somehow known that he would, which is why she'd followed her friends there as well. She hadn't told them why she'd gone; she'd hoped that she would see Vegeta there. Like some hopelessly smitten groupie, she'd gone hoping to catch a glimpse of him. He hadn't been there, and although she'd said nothing to the others when they'd asked where he was, she hadn't wanted to admit that was why she was there. Let them think it was her foolish bravery again; she was the only one that knew that for a glimpse of Vegeta, she was willing to risk her life.

As she gazed at him, she saw his features tense up, and she watched him curiously. It took her a few minutes to recognize his expression, and when she finally did, she blinked in surprise. He was angry at himself? Why? But she knew, although he would never admit it, that he was his own worst critic. No one else cared if he was stronger than they were or not, no one cared whether or not he could defeat an enemy all by himself. Didn't he understand, that wasn't how it worked? It wasn't necessary for him to have to be that strong. None of them ever did it by themselves, not even Goku. They needed everyone, it took everyone, to win their battles. Didn't Vegeta understand yet, that was how it worked?

Before Bulma had retired for the night, Yamcha had stopped by and told her everything that had happened. He had told her how the Z warriors had come forward during the fight, fully expecting not to survive the encounter. They had continued to blast away at Cell, trying to weaken his defenses, even as he returned their fire, throwing them off to the side with a flick of his ki. While Krillin protected Trunks and 18, the rest of them - Tenshinhan, Piccolo, Yamcha - had willingly accepted injury from Cell's attacks, hoping that their own attacks would distract the monster long enough for Gohan to be able to muster enough strength to kill him. Gohan hadn't done it by himself; if the others hadn't been willing to die for him, he'd never have won. 

Yamcha had also told her that it wasn't even their efforts that had finally broken Cell down; Yamcha had spoken almost in awe of how Vegeta had made a desperate attack, apparently grieving over Trunks' death. In an attack of pure rage and fury he'd attacked Cell, surprising and hurting him, and finally giving Gohan the chance to strike. It had surprised all of them, Vegeta's sudden show of emotion, and although Bulma sensed that Vegeta was ashamed at that outburst, she knew that all it had done was increase the respect that the others felt for him. It had shown all of them what Bulma had always hoped; that Vegeta was able to care, that he wasn't just the cold, heartless monster that he tried to pretend to be.

~~~*~~~

I can feel the magic floating in the air
Being with you gets me that way

~~~*~~~

Bulma closed her eyes and leaned forward, touching her lips lightly to his. The kiss wasn't passionate, but one of understanding, letting him know that she accepted him for who he was. She didn't see his eyes widen in surprise before he tightened his arms around her waist, and he simply grunted in acknowledgement. She opened her eyes again and smiled at him. He didn't return the smile but simply stared at her intently, trying to understand her and failing. After several minutes she began to feel her weariness catching up to her again, and her eyes drifted shut once more as she felt sleep begin to claim her. Vegeta seemed to sense that she was falling asleep again, as his hand drifted gently up and down her back, caressing her soothingly as a mother would a child. He shuddered, trying to block out the emotions washing through him, but failing completely. It was then for the first time since he'd arrived that night that he spoke.

"I won't leave you again, woman."

Although his voice was only a rough whisper, her eyes opened instantly, wide with amazement, and she pulled back slightly to stare into his face. She studied him, surprised and puzzled, her face frozen in her shock. But she could see nothing in his expression except the same fierce possessiveness and hunger that he'd shown from the first moment that he'd arrived that night. What was he saying? That he cared? Did he mean it? She'd never expected those words from him, but she knew Vegeta, and he'd never say something he didn't mean.  

She continued to study his face, to try to read the meaning beneath his words. There was no softening of his features, no smile, nothing but that intense gaze. Yet somehow she could sense that there was more beyond his words. He hadn't said that he loved her, and she had the feeling that he might never do that, but for now -- for now she felt that this might just be enough.

She smiled then, one hand drifting to his face and touching his cheek gently, and then she snuggled closer to him again. Once more his arms tightened around her, but now she felt the fierce protectiveness of his embrace as well as its possessiveness. She felt sleep begin to claim her again, but just when Vegeta was beginning to wonder if she was going to say anything, she finally replied.

"I know, Vegeta."

It was only a faint whisper, but Vegeta heard it and he sighed in relief. He had no idea how he'd gained this woman's trust after everything he'd put her through, but somehow, against all odds, she trusted him. He continued to stroke his hand up and down her back as she fell asleep in his arms before he allowed himself to drift off as well, the beginnings of peace finally finding their way into his heart for the first time in his life.

~~~OWARI~~~