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"Don't worry," said one of the nurses, wiping the sweat off Bulma's face with a cloth. "If the little one comes just a little after his father ...", she gave Vegeta a meaningful look, which he followed with a "Phhh!" and shrugged. Why the hell did everyone think it was his child?
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"Now let's go!" The chief doctor ordered and the bed was hastily pushed towards the patient lift.
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<br />
Vegeta hesitated. He had done his duty. He could actually fly home and continue training.<br />
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"Psst ... do you think he'll survive?" Whispered a young student nurse to the other in a corner. This looked at Vegeta briefly. "Certainly not, did you see the look? He obviously can't even bear the thought of blood. That's how they are mostly, lots of muscles but when the going gets tough ..."
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Vegeta's hands clenched into fists. What were these girls doing to blaspheme him so openly? He only left because he had nothing to do with the matter, not because the thought of the birth made him sick.
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"What are you standing around here!" Snapped the head nurse at the two chatty girls. Then her gaze fell on Vegeta and she smiled. "Ahh ... if we are not the object we were looking for ..." Before Vegeta knew it, she waved to two burly nurses who urged him to a door with friendly, but determined refills, on which "Labor" was written in big bold letters was standing.
<br />
Vegeta gritted his teeth and pulled back briefly to make it clear to the two muscled limbs in the white coats that they had probably made a mistake, when one of the two pulled out a syringe.<br />
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At some point, in the dark past, even before the Saiyans had invented something like language, they must have made painful acquaintance with long, pointed, hollow needles ... in any case, the Saiyans' disgust for these instruments was so deep in their subconscious anchored that Vegeta could only stare at the threatening, flashing thing with a pale face and did not even notice how the other nurse opened the door behind him. One step back, another and a third, and the head nurse, who had followed quickly, closed the door to the hallway.
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The two student nurses giggled and went back to their work. "He's going to scream in a moment," said one, not without glee.
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The other just nodded and picked up the bandages to organize for the emergency room.
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In the lab, Vegeta had his back to the wall and his aura began to flicker dangerously. The head nurse saw it and nodded."You're a fighter like little Gohan's father back then, aren't you? He would have loved to punch around, he was afraid." With a steady hand she reached for the syringe that was lying ready on a tray. "Actually, you looked like you were tougher than this ... what was his name again ...?"
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"Gokou," said one of the orderlies, shaking himself. "I was only here on a trial at the time, but you don't forget a guy like that."
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"Exactly, his name was Gokou. A powerhouse like no other but a coward when it came to taking blood."
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“How is it?” The needle flashed in the merciless light of the neon tubes. "Are you a coward too?"
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Vegeta gritted his teeth and folded his arms behind his back. "Don't name me and Kakerott in the same breath," he growled. "I'm not afraid of a ridiculous needle, but ...", his gaze never let go of the instrument of horror, "... but what do you need my blood for?"<br />
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"To make sure that the medication works with your wife without endangering the child," the head nurse explained and took a step closer. "We have the experience from the Son case, but only when we are sure that your blood values ​​and those of Gokou are not too different can we safely increase the dose." Her face suddenly became very serious. "I've been head nurse for a very long time," she said, reaching out her hand to Vegeta's upper arm, "and I have a feeling for when a case threatens to become critical. Do you want to lose your wife and child?"
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"To the thunder again!", Vegeta pressed closer to the wall, "I have nothing to do with Bulma and her child. The father is different."
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The two orderlies looked at each other and shook their heads. "How many of your race are there still in the world?" One asked. "What we have seen of the values ​​coincides so far with those of the Son case that one of your kinds has to be the father."<br />
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Vegeta froze. The orderlies didn't look like they were kidding. Inside him, disbelief and hope, repentance and exultation fought with each other.
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The head nurse took advantage of his hesitation, grabbed the arm, turned it and set the needle before Vegeta realized what was happening. The prick was really out of the question and although he didn't like looking, he held still until she had taken the sample. “Here!” She filled a glass tube with the blood and passed one of the nurses on while the other put a plaster on Vegeta's arm. "Call the lab technician immediately. We need the analysis as soon as possible." She looked down at the still rather pale Vegeta, "and brings him here to his wife. He should be with her in case the worst comes to the worst." well-meaning nurses wanted to lead Vegeta outside, but the latter shook off his hand. "I'm not an invalid," he growled. His gaze was drawn to the head nurse's calm, dark eyes."A Saiyan is the father. Is that one hundred percent safe?"
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She raised her eyebrows. "Did your wife say otherwise?" She asked. "I was there when the doctors argued about the treatment methods and named the case Son because of the genetic similarities. A few said that, given the weak constitution of the expectant mother, an abortion would make the most sense, but when it was suggested to her , she almost went up the ceiling. She wanted the child at all costs, no matter how much she risked her own life. That it went so well up to the seventh month is something of a small miracle. "
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Vegeta swallowed. Bulma had never said a word about that. He could remember that after the first visits to the hospital she had been rather depressed and had hardly spoken, but that it was a matter of course for her ...
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He straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath.He would straighten her head and tell her what he thought of her stubbornness and of the fact that she had left him so excluded. "Can I see her?" He asked roughly. She nodded. "But only if you don't upset the expectant mother" "she said sternly." She will need her strength for herself and your child and not to argue with you.
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The tone of voice was so commanding that Vegeta almost became stubborn out of habit. But then he pulled himself together and nodded. He could still give Bulma his opinion later. After birth. If everything went well. Hopefully.
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They led him from the laboratory to the elevator and took him to the third floor. They had reserved an extra room for Bulma and when he saw her lying there with a gray face, heard the cold sweat on her forehead and her heavy breathing, everything else faded into the background.
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Damn it.
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She wasn't going to give up.<br />
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Not that stubborn, opinionated, woman.
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Not Bulma.
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Not his Bulma.
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With three steps he was at her side. Her face a rigid mask, her burning eyes fixed on her closed lids.
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She seemed to sense his presence and slowly opened her eyes.
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"Are you still there..."
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"Do you want to send me away?" He hissed ungraciously and crossed his arms. "Save your breath. I only do what I want anyway. Make sure you get this done soon. I don't like to miss a whole training session."
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A faint smile haunted her cracked lips and her trembling hand ran searchingly through the air. He grabbed her and swallowed. How weak it felt, how delicate, how lost ... "Pull the strap, Bulma!", He said in a voice that was also trembling slightly. "If you think I'm going to let you go that easily, you've cut yourself."The glow in her eyes made his heart beat faster and he was embarrassed by his own outburst of emotions, he added quickly:" Who else is supposed to keep the baby crying away from me? "
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But the glow in her eyes didn't fade and she took a shivering breath. "Don't worry, Vegeta. We women are tough ..."
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Vegeta's eyes widened. Where had he heard that sentence before? That's right, back when she weighed her life for him as she did now for her child. For his child. For his little son. Now that there was no doubt, he would have liked to blow his triumph out loud.
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At last.
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He had finally proven that he was in no way inferior to Kakarott when it came to masculinity. He would have a son who would trump Gohan, his son would be the ultimate proof whose genes would be superior, the final step to outclass Kakerott.<br />
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But the feeling of Bulma's slender, terrifyingly powerless fingers in his warm hand stifled the budding joy, made the taste of triumph stale. Shawl and empty, without sweetness and fire.
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He couldn't deny it anymore. Not in front of himself. He needed Bulma. He did not need the scientist, not the mother of his child, he needed her, the woman who drove him, who lifted him up, who brought him back down to earth. He needed her, her warmth and her strength, but also her weakness and her longing. She had shown him a new life, one full of light and also full of color. The feeling of being needed, wanted, loved ... he was hungry for it. Hungrier than after defeating Kakerott. The thought was terrifying, but also intoxicating and Vegeta felt more alive at that moment than ever before.
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But his face remained