Batchelorette

It had happened again. Another fight, another slammed door, another weeping session. It was the same thing every weekend, but this time, there was something else, something different. This time, there was a feeling in the air; a sadness so deep that even his alien heart felt it. He tried to ignore it, tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use.

Cursing vilely in his own language, he jumped out of the tree he called home, and stalked into the house. He paused to try to remember where her room was, and heard something odd. He followed the sound into the main room of the house, and was forced to listen once more. He found her sitting curled up behind a chair, in the corner. She was rocking and crying almost silently, though with sobs so deep they threatened to break her ribs. He'd never seen her like this; she'd always seemed so strong, so able to cope with things. To see her so broken was disturbing. He crouched in front of her. Her head snapped up and she wiped at her eyes.

“What do you want? Do you want to mock me too, tell me how pathetic I am for crying?” She choked. He rocked back on his heels, looking at her. He shouldn't be surprised, she always attacked him verbally, but this wasn't normal even for her.

“No, I was just… ” He almost admitted that her was worried about her. His keen eyes picked out her face in the dark, and she looked terrible. What had happened?

“Well, go back to your tree! Leave me alone!” He voice rose as she spoke, until it broke and she sobbed again, eyes squeezing shut as she curled up tighter. He’d never seen so much pain on anyone's face. He thought for a moment as she cried some more, and then picked her up. She went wild, struggling in his arms.

“Woman, forget it. You can't get away, unless you want to get hurt.” He said. She stopped struggling and waited as he took her upstairs to her room. Once there, he sat her on her bed and went to the bathroom.

She was puzzled when she heard the water run in the bathtub, but didn’t move or speak. She was just too shattered by her emotions to do anything, though she did wish she could die, just stop breathing. Her chest hitched as new tears threatened to burst forth. He came back into the room and picked her up again. He took her into the bathroom, and set her on her feet. She sagged like her bones were melting, but he didn't seem to notice; he just began to pull her clothes off, ignoring buttons, zippers and bra straps. She smacked his hands, but he ignored that too. Faster than she would have thought possible, she was naked and back in his arms. Just as she was ready to scream like a banshee, he set her in the water. She covered herself and glared at him, while he smirked at her.

“If you don't relax, you’ll be sore tomorrow.” He said simply. She looked down at her legs and just sat there self-consciously. He watched her curiously; he’d never spent so much time alone with her before. He waited, but she didn’t move and sat with her arms over her breasts, legs tightly clenched like she was waiting for an attack. She probably was expecting him to make a snide comment, but he was too busy watching her to do so.

Tomorrow… tomorrow she would have to face life without him by her side, have to start her life over. She hung her head and let the tears slide down her cheeks again; too sad now to even care that she was naked in front of him. He knelt by the edge of the tub and slowly rubbed her back with the soap, which relaxed her somewhat. This had the strange effect of making her cry even more. He sighed, but then placed a box of tissue where she could reach it. These human females could weep rivers full if one let them. She blew her nose, and sat, feeling her emotions slowly grow calmer. He poured water over her head, and it felt so good on her face, her red eyes. She tilted her head back, and he poured it again, then handed her the bar of soap, before sitting back and waiting for her to wash herself.

If he had been willing to talk about it, he could have told her that when he was five and had found out that his parents were dead, he’d broken down like this, and Nappa had done this for him, soothing him as best he could. He’d never forgotten it, and he’d never forgiven Nappa for seeing him like that, weak and helpless because of emotion. The closeness he’d begun to develop with Nappa was lost that day, and he knew that the huge man had sort of mourned it, but neither of them had never even mentioned it afterwards.

Lost in thought, he watched her as she lathered herself and then splashed water in her limbs to rinse off. He had to admit he’d watched her since he arrived, since he’d never really dealt with women before. She fascinated him as much as she frustrated him. He couldn't predict how she would react, or understand what might make her mad or what would make her smile; it all confused him, but he wouldn’t give up on the puzzle of her until he had figured her out.

When she was done, she turned and pointed at the door. “Thank you, but I can finish for myself.” Her voice still was so quiet, and that sadness still hung around her. He shook his head, feeling that he shouldn't leave her alone; he didn't even realize how unlike himself he was acting. To show such concern was very uncharacteristic of him. He got her a towel.

“Nope. Here.” He scooped her up like she was a feather. He draped the towel around her and rubbed her dry, then picked her up and took her to her bed. She sat there, looking fragile and a little scared. He sat on the bedside table, barely visible in the darkness. He was curious about the cause of her breakdown, and decided to try to get to the bottom of this.

“Now, what made this time different than the last? Why are you so… so… ” He shrugged to show that he didn't really know what to say. She settled herself under the covers and then pulled her knees up to her chest. She did feel better; she had to admit the bath had helped. Now she felt numb, not so hurt.

“It’s over. The things he said, I… No one could forgive them! He called me terrible things, told me how awful I was, and that he had never loved me. Never loved me… ” She said. In contrast to her earlier behavior, weeping and hysterics and such, she was now numb and emotionless. This was more disturbing than her emotional outbursts. He frowned at his own concern for such a puny, useless creature, but couldn't seem to bring himself to leave her alone.

“Why would he lie like that?” He asked. She turned her eyes to him.

“Why do you think he’s lying?” She returned. He grunted, not really wanting to talk about it. Any idiot could see that Yamcha cared about her. But they just couldn't seem to get along for more than ten minutes, except in bed. He blushed for some reason, thinking about them in this bed, and looked away from her bare shoulders. Though her nakedness earlier hadn't affected him, the memory of her bare skin was getting to him now.

“He wasn't lying to me, he lied to himself. He really never did love me; I was just the first woman he could talk to without freezing and blushing. And we were both so young then, so young.… ” She sat and stared at him, but wasn’t really seeing him. Her eyes were turned inward, seeing the past. He sighed.

“Well, you should be thankful… ” He started, but her eyes widened, blazing with fury. She didn’t let him finish his thought, but launched into an attack.

“Listen, mister ‘I don't need anyone’, you may enjoy having no one care about you, but I'm so alone, so lonely that I wish that I could die!” She said. She flopped back against the pillows and whispered it again, staring at the ceiling.

“I wish I could die… ”

He couldn't believe this. This was more than a fight with a baka boyfriend; this was a real life crisis. He remembered feeling the same way when his father died. Oh, he acted like it didn’t matter to him, but it had hurt very much; he’d only been five years old, and his father was a hero to him then. He got up and sat on the bed next to her, and shook her shoulder.

“Listen… I know you feel bad now, but it will get better. I know you have other people, don't exclude them so you can feel sorry for yourself.” He almost smiled when she took the bait; she turned red, spluttering curses at him, denying feeling sorry for herself and hitting his arm. She promptly stuck her knuckles in her mouth, glaring at him for being so strong that it was like hitting a statue when she struck him.

“I am not convinced. And, I’m not leaving until morning, so you should just go to sleep.” She blinked, her quicksilver mood shifting again; now she was startled by his concern. He blushed again and went over to sleep in front of her door, preventing her from leaving the room without alerting him. He was asleep in seconds.

She lay in her bed, naked, with the Prince of the Saiyans asleep on her floor, and wondered at how this evening had turned out. She didn't think it would last in the light of day, but for now, she felt safe, and despite his words, she felt cared for. Soothed by his reluctant kindness, she fell asleep surprisingly quickly.

The next morning, she woke to hear creaking and popping, like a tree was being tortured. She opened her eyes and saw him stretching. His muscles and tendons were making all the noise, and she watched him on the sly as he rubbed his shoulders, wincing at how stiff he was from sleeping on the floor. He stood and walked over to her. She closed her eyes, and then turned over, pretending to still be asleep. He bent over her and watched her for a few seconds, and then grunted.

“She is pretty… That human is a total idiot to dump her… Oh well, she'll find someone new soon enough with that face… ” She almost said something then, but was quiet. She felt his hand in her hair, hesitantly touching it, and then he stepped back quickly, as if he'd been burned. He quickly leapt out the window. She sat up, and caught a glimpse of his face; he looked upset, and scared. She smiled broadly at the thought…

Her room quickly became a vast empty cavern without him there. The comfort she’d felt in his presence was gone when he left. She slowly dressed, and went downstairs. She was reluctant to try to act normal in front of her mother, but knew her mother would just seek her out if she didn’t. She flopped into her chair, and toyed with her toast, sipping her orange juice, and looking miserable. Her mother opened her mouth, but one glare made her fall silent once more.

“Oh, dat nice Mr. Wegeta didn't come to breakfast, Miss Bollma!” The cook said. She was a short fat woman from Hungary, who made great if strange food for the Briefs. She loved Vegeta for his appetite, and catered to his taste for meat cooked rare and in huge portions with joy. Vegeta was always polite if not nice to her in return. The woman wouldn’t hear any unkind words about the Saiyan as a result. Cook seemed very distressed that he’d not eaten yet.

She looked up and saw a giant pile of food on the counter. Suddenly she smiled as an idea hit her. She jumped up out of her chair and dumped the silver tea service off of its huge tray and began to pile up the dishes with his breakfast on it. She added her own plate, and dropped a gallon of orange juice on it too, and staggered towards the door.

“Eeek! Let me help you!” Cook screamed, but she shook her head.

“Just get the door, please.” She went outside and headed for the Gravity Room, the Saiyans second home after his tree. She knocked on the door, but there was no response. She knew he was in there, the power meter was on and showed 350g. She couldn’t go into that much gravity, so she turned it off. She opened the door, and found him glaring at her, blocking the entrance.

“What the hell are you doing, Woman?” He growled. She scooted sideways through the doorway past him with the giant tray and went to one wall of the round room. He watched her, and seemed surprised when she hit a button with her elbow, as a table slid out of the wall. Two benches also appeared, and she sat down after she set the tray down. He’d never even hit any of the buttons, except for the power to the gravity machine! He would never have guessed there was more to this room than training equipment.

“You didn’t eat your breakfast, so I brought it to you. Aren't you hungry?” She said. He eyed her for a moment, and then sat down across from her and began to eat. She was surprised when she felt hungry also, and started on he own breakfast as well; she hadn’t felt hungry just a moment ago. She thought that toast had never tasted better in her life, and the juice was beyond refreshing. She nibbled quietly for a while, before she focused on his way of inhaling his food.

His eating habits had always piqued her curiosity. He ate like an animal that was used to having its meals taken from it, so learned to eat as fast as possible. However, he ate neatly, with good if hurried manners. She found it fascinating, the strange contrast in him, in all of his actions. She sat back and imagined that Frieza must have teased him, giving him only so long to eat before going back to training and then taking the food from a little hungry Vegeta when he was six or seven. She could almost feel the gnawing hunger in her belly, an ache that wasn't entirely lack of food, but stewing hatred as well…

She was startled when he stood and backed away from her, eyes wide. She stared at him, baffled by this behavior. He stood for a moment as their eyes locked, and then fled the room, not saying a word.

He flew off confused; he’d been eating, when he suddenly remembered the days when he was first placed into Frieza’s care, and the tyrant had played with him like a pet, teasing him with food and other things, then taking them away. He’d remembered how this had seeded his anger and lust for revenge, when he’d looked up to see her face. She was lost in thought, and he knew her face mirrored his own disturbed emotions. Then he had felt it, like a switch in his mind. He could “hear” what she was thinking and feeling, and she was “remembering” his memory of Frieza! The shock of this made him jump up, but as he watched her, he realized just what was trying to happen, and fled from her, frightened of the power she was wielding unknowingly.

She sat in the room for a while after he’d left, but like the comfort of his presence, her appetite had left with him. She finally picked up the tray and went back to the kitchen, and went up to her room. She didn’t want to work today; she just didn't have the energy for it. Maybe she could read something, or go shopping with Chi–Chi.

As she opened the door to her room, she caught a wonderful rich scent. She paused and sniffed, wondering what it was. It was familiar, yet she couldn’t quite place it. It was strongest by the door; she knelt and touched the carpet, realizing it was his scent. It was so good, it was almost delicious; she found herself running her hand over the rug, and then sniffing it, eyes closed as she saw him in her mind.

She frowned as she realized how strange she must look, and stood swiftly. She went and washed her hands then called Chi–Chi, making arrangements to meet for lunch later and do some shopping. She firmly pushed all thoughts of him from her head; after all, he was no candidate for replacing Yamcha. He was too busy training for the emergence of the Jinzouningen and too cold under his prideful exterior to ever be able to love anyone.

He landed out in a barren area, and realized he had somehow found the spot where he’d first fought Kakarrot, more than a year ago now. He walked around, remembering each blast crater, each scar to the landscape. The cliffs were all defaced by the violence they had seen, and he tried to feel pride at the power and skill he had shown here that day, but couldn't. After all he had failed, and had even killed the last true Saiyan other than himself.

He stopped, and saw Nappa’s armor, covered by dust and leaves, under a tree. He walked over to it and held it up. It was badly torn up from that last attack by Tenshinhan, but other than this damage, was intact. He turned it and dug into the hidden pockets, finding many small trinkets Nappa had kept with him; the medallion given when Nappa was declared the Crown Prince’s Trainer; a tin of a very powerful drug, taken for recreational purposes; a small holo box with a portrait of Nappa's bonded mate.

He stopped and stared at the holo before turning it on, and watching the picture turn over the box. She was no great beauty, but Nappa had seemed to care about her. He had never knowingly shown any sign of pain to his charge, but the Prince had been able to catch Nappa sometimes watching this holo, his face sad.

He turned it off and tucked it into his top, then dropped the armor. He looked up at the sky, and instantly was reminded of her blue eyes. He growled, punched his own head, and instantly regretted it. He sighed and took off slowly, headed for Capsule Corp., deep in thought.

Nothing happened for a week after that night. She pretended she was fine, he pretended nothing had happened. There was no sign of Yamcha. Things looked normal.

But she was terribly depressed, and he was confused. She didn’t read his mind again; but then, he took pains to avoid her without seeming to. He was curious about her, and what would happen when Yamcha returned. But for now, they barely spoke.

Finally, she decided that enough was enough. She went to the gravity room and turned off the power. He opened the door, wearing only his spandex shorts and gold tipped boots, with a towel draped over his shoulders. She was frozen for a few seconds by the sheer beauty of his perfect physique; he made Yamcha seem like a boy, though he was far shorter than her former boyfriend.

“What are you doing this time? I ate this morning, you know.” He said sarcastically. She shrugged.

“I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t have time to talk, woman!” She ignored him and pushed by, turning to face him.

“Make time. I need to know what's going on. I mean, why did you take care of me, and watch over me? I know you don’t really care or anything, but it’s driving me nuts. Why?” He grunted and looked down at his boots. She waited and waited, until she was sure he wasn’t going to answer her after all.

“I can’t say. I just felt your unhappiness. It was so strong, I can’t understand why your parents didn't feel it, and help you themselves. I don’t like you, if that's what you mean!” He said quickly. She nodded.

“I see. Well, I just want to say, thank you, and I don't like you either. But, I am grateful.” She left the room, not satisfied with his answer, but too nervous to push him. She felt something inside her when he was near, and saw something in his eyes that made her feel... feel good. Not lovey dovey, not head over heels, just good. Better than she’d felt for a long time with Yamcha...

He watched her leave, and felt oddly dissatisfied by his actions. He had been thinking about her a lot since that night. He wished he could talk to her; he felt somehow that she would understand his secrets and not tell anyone what he’d revealed to her. But his pride refused to allow him to go to her. But he did watch her even more than before. And he would peek at her through her window, and watch her sleep. She never knew he was there every night, guarding her from… from what? The greatest threat to her right now was himself…

Nothing happened for a week after that night. She pretended she was fine, he pretended nothing had happened. There was no sign of Yamcha. Things looked normal.

But she was terribly depressed, and he was confused. She didn’t read his mind again; but then, he took pains to avoid her without seeming to. He was curious about her, and what would happen when Yamcha returned. But for now, they barely spoke.

Finally, she decided that enough was enough. She went to the gravity room and turned off the power. He opened the door, wearing only his spandex shorts and gold tipped boots, with a towel draped over his shoulders. She was frozen for a few seconds by the sheer beauty of his perfect physique; he made Yamcha seem like a boy, though he was far shorter than her former boyfriend.

“What are you doing this time? I ate this morning, you know.” He said sarcastically. She shrugged.

“I think we need to talk.”

“I don’t have time to talk, woman!” She ignored him and pushed by, turning to face him.

“Make time. I need to know what's going on. I mean, why did you take care of me, and watch over me? I know you don't really care or anything, but it’s driving me nuts. Why?” He grunted and looked down at his boots. She waited and waited, until she was sure he wasn't going to answer her after all.

“I can’t say. I just felt your unhappiness. It was so strong, I can’t understand why your parents didn’t feel it, and help you themselves. I don’t like you, if that's what you mean!” He said quickly. She nodded.

“I see. Well, I just want to say, thank you, and I don’t like you either. But, I am grateful.” She left the room, not satisfied with his answer, but too nervous to push him. She felt something inside her when he was near, and saw something in his eyes that made her feel… feel good. Not lovey dovey, not head over heels, just good. Better than she’d felt for a long time with Yamcha…

He watched her leave, and felt oddly dissatisfied by his actions. He had been thinking about her a lot since that night. He wished he could talk to her; he felt somehow that she would understand his secrets and not tell anyone what he'd revealed to her. But his pride refused to allow him to go to her. But he did watch her even more than before. And he would peek at her through her window, and watch her sleep. She never knew he was there every night, guarding her from... from what? The greatest threat to her right now was himself…

The next day as she worked in the lab, she felt a rumble through her feet, and the glass jars tinkled. It was not an earthquake though; so what had happened? Then she felt it; a black dizziness, and pain, burning, as if she’d been in an explosion. Her face went white, and she raced outside, just knowing somehow that something awful had happened to him. Sure enough, the Gravity Room was destroyed, and he lay amid the rubble, eyes squeezed shut as he panted in pain. She ran over to him, yelling for help.

“Talk to me! Are you ok?” He nodded, but his eyes weren't focused, and she could see blood trickling from his lips; he was hurt inside, and needed attention. Some of her employees ran up, and she had them call an ambulance. He coughed more blood, and she felt panic set in. She tilted him up, resting his surprisingly large weight on her shoulders. His breathing eased a little, but he was still gasping like he was suffocating. Someone covered the both of them with a blanket, and she tried to check for broken bones, but was hampered by his limp limbs as he lay against her. Tears began to trickle down her face a she felt him slipping away from her mind and the strange, fragile connection between them. Suddenly, Goku appeared in front of her. She looked up at him, and he paused as he saw the desperate fear in her eyes. He didn't wait to question her about this, but bent and picked the Prince up in his arms.

“Coming?” He said. She nodded, and took his arm as he teleported them to the hospital.

He was taken into surgery for his internal injuries, while she sat in the waiting room, wringing her hands. She was worried about him, and baffled by her new connection to him. She was scared of it really; she didn't want it, not with him of all people. Even with him unconscious, she could feel it in her head, like a radio tuned to a station fallen silent, waiting for the broadcast to resume. It was eerie.

Goku stood nervously in the corner, watching his friend, and wishing he knew what was going on. What had happened, and why was she so concerned for him? Where was Yamcha? Finally, sensing his curiosity, she called him over and told him about breaking up with Yamcha, but not about that night or how the Prince had taken care of her. She simply said that she'd rethought her position about him, and was worried that her Gravity Room might have killed him. Goku wasn't convinced; simple he might be, but he knew a lie when he heard one. But she looked so tired and worried, he let it go for now, and waited with her until they were told that he'd be fine in about a month. That meant maybe a week for a Saiyan, but why bother to tell them that? She made arrangements to have him moved to the Capsule Corp Infirmary, where his healing abilities would not attract attention. She rode with him as he slept through the trip back home.

He didn’t wake until the next night. He opened his eyes and was confused by where he was. He looked around, wincing at the pain in his belly. He touched it, and was stunned to feel stitches. These Earthlings were barbarians, cutting him up and sewing him back together like this! Of course, they didn’t have Isolation Chambers here, did they?

He realized suddenly that someone was next to him, and looked down to see her sitting in a chair and leaning with her head and shoulders on the bed. She was sleeping, her face worried. He couldn’t help but smile and slowly moved one hand to touch her silky blue hair. He sighed as he realized that he was glad she was there. Her presence soothed him in someway.

He had just pushed himself and the Gravity Room too far, that’s all. His body couldn’t take the stress, and the Room crumbled in the blast he’d made to test himself. He winced in pain and embarrassment when he thought of being seen so weak and helpless. And he even had a vague memory of that idiot Kakarrot being there as well, which would top this whole thing nicely if it were true.

He lay there quietly, admitting silently that he was tired and felt terrible. Still, he could feel his marvelous Saiyan metabolism healing him, even as he rested. He didn’t realize that he was stroking her hair absently, and was startled when she began to stir fitfully.

“Hmmm, that’s so nice… ” She whispered, not fully awake yet. He almost stopped, feeling embarrassed, but she turned her head and smiled softly, and he just didn’t have the heart to stop. She liked his touch, and he…

He liked her. He, the last of the Royal Saiyan Bloodline, liked a woman of an inferior race! And he knew that his feelings were deeper than mere liking. But the thought of these deeper emotions made him feel frightened and slightly ill. He slowly stopped his caresses, and she slid back into a deeper sleep, not even realizing that he’d touched her at all.

That morning, she woke with a crick in her neck, and glowering Saiyan eyes on her face.

“Oh! You're awake! They said you’d be out for at least a week!” She gasped, and took his hand in hers. He stared at her face for a while, and then looked at their hands pointedly. She blushed and pulled away.

“Well, I just want to say I’m sorry that the Gravity Room blew up, I have men looking it over to see if there was a design flaw or something… ”

“Probably not. I blew it up with my Ki. Now I can get you to build a new one that goes to 500g.” He said coldly, with no hint of gratitude or even of hopefulness that she'd do as he asked. Asked?! He was demanding that she do this, not asking! She predictably flared into a righteous fury.

“Listen, Mr. Ungrateful! I was worried sick that you might die because of me, and I sat by your side for two days in case you needed anything, and you can't even ask politely for a new GR!? And you want one that goes to 500g’s? I don’t think we can make one that strong yet, and I… ”

“Fine! Thanks for watching me while I was weak and unable to protect my dignity, and for showing me off to Kakarrot while I was injured by my own power! And what the hell is this primitive shit?” He pulled the pajama top he wore up to reveal his stitches from the emergency surgery. “This is sick, cutting people and sewing them together like rag dolls! I gave you that Iso–chamber and the plans to duplicate it, why didn’t you use it!” He snapped. She quivered with rage and then leaned over him, her face deadly. He actually sank into the pillows, retreating before her fury, eyes gone wide.

“If they hadn't treated you so “barbarically” like this, you would have died! Your ribs are crushed, and had punctured your lungs and stomach, you idiot! And if Goku hadn’t been there, we couldn’t have made it to the hospital in time, you ingrate! You know, you are the worst example of a man I’ve ever met! You make Yamcha seem like he’s the Prince and you're the Bandit!” She snarled and stormed out of the room. He stared after her, and felt his heart pounding.

“Man, I can’t believe her! She’s so magnificent when she's angry…” He had only wanted to make her mad for fun; he had no idea she would blow up like that. He closed his eyes, and finally admitted the truth to himself. His admiration for her was growing every day. Cold terror fought with a warm pleasure as he thought about her.

She tore through Capsule Corp, snarling at everyone who dared to speak to her. She slammed the door to her lab open and sat at the drafting table, cursing loudly about him and his lack of any decent emotion, even as she began to do what he’d demanded of her. In a short time, she’d forgotten his attitude, losing herself in the work she was doing. She finally finished the plans after midnight, and sent them to the theory department for testing, putting a rush on it so it would be ready when he was able to get out of bed.

He fretted in the sterile room, not wanting to admit he was missing her company. He was bored and restless, but knew he wasn't quite ready to try to get up yet. He ate and slept for three days, not speaking a word to the nurse who came to check on him. The nurse was amazed by his progress, and removed the stitches on the fourth day.

“Now, Mr. Vegeta, you can’t get up until tomorrow, understand? You have healed so fast, but you aren't quite ready yet!’ She said as he inspected the scar left by the barbarians at the hospital. He nodded, and poked himself curiously. There was still some pain, so he reluctantly decided to obey the silly woman. Wounds to the abdomen were touchy, and needed to be given special treatment. He sighed and reached for his twenty–third meal of the day, set by the nurse by the side of the bed.

“Hey, guess what?” She said from the doorway. He froze and looked at her, eyes wide. She didn’t appear to have any weapons, so he went for it.

“No. I wont.” He said, a tiny smile on his lips. She opened her mouth and then sighed, smiling as well. The tension in the air lessened instantly. Both were relieved, though neither spoke of it.

“I built you a new GR! And, you’ll never believe it, but it can go up to 1000g’s!” She was excited by her achievement, and her eyes sparkled happily. He felt himself grin despite himself. She was glowing, her happiness making her even more beautiful than usual.

“You did? It can?” He asked. She nodded, and came into the room, flopping on the foot of the bed. He winced, and her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, remorseful for hurting his healing belly.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Hey, no more stitches, eh? You’ll be blowing up this new one soon then?” He glared at her, but she only laughed.

“No, I won’t blow this one up, I need it too much. I was stupid to do it, but I guess I know what my limits are, at least for now.” He smiled evilly as he thought of how strong he would get with this new training room.

“Well, I just wanted to tell you! Bai–Bai!” She said and leapt off the bed just as painfully as she’d jumped on. He rubbed his belly and watched her leave, frowning thoughtfully…

She really didn’t seem to fear him, and she hadn’t since Namek, now that he thought about it. He had to respect that, since he had made little effort to be civil in those first days. She was the only person who had stood up to him; no matter what he said or did, she was right there, telling him what she thought about him. He still wasn't used to it, since everyone ran for cover when they’d seen him angry in Frieza's army. But one weak Earth Girl faced him fearlessly when no one else had the courage to! And somehow, he couldn’t raise a hand to her, or seem to really win their shouting matches. He rarely got the upper hand, and usually lost it immediately if he did get it. Were all women like this one?

He was much better the next day, so got up anyway and began to work out, trying to regain the ground he’d lost while hurt. He pushed himself hard, until he felt his belly begin to ache again. Still he didn’t stop but kept at it, panting with pain and exhaustion. He growled, refusing to give up, but suddenly found his nose pressed to the floor. He blinked in surprise and tried to stand. To his alarm, he couldn’t move; the gravity was set too high for him in his current condition, and he was trapped! He rolled slowly onto his back, which felt better to his stomach, but didn’t help him to be able to reach the power switch. He groaned and wondered how long he could make it until someone noticed his absence…

The power suddenly went off, and the door opened. She raced into the room, eyes wide with worry. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised to see her.

“What the hell? What are you doing, you’ll kill yourself if you keep this up!” She said, trying to help him to sit up. He shook her hands off, sitting by himself.

“What do you mean? I’m training, trying to get stronger! Do you want to die three years from now?” He snapped, more frustrated by his failure than her seeing him so helpless. She sat back and placed her hands on her hips.

“Baka, of course I don…t want to die, but you can’t help if you kill yourself right now, can you? Those Jinzouningen will come whether you’re dead or alive, you know. We need you; you have to give yourself some time for now!” She said reasonably. He scowled, and then hesitated.

“I wanted to give you this. It might be useful to you, since your technology is so behind Galactic Normal… ” He handed her the holo box of Nappa…s mate. She turned it over in her hands, and found the on button. She smiled at the picture of the female Saiyan in her armor, long hair blowing as she smiled ever so slightly.

“Thank you! I think she’s wonderful… do you know who she is?” He shook his head, not willing to talk about Nappa right then. She turned it off and slid the box into her pocket as she knelt next to him. He leaned back on his hands and looked at her.

“Hey, how did you know I needed help anyway?” His voice was deceptively casual. She shrugged.

“Women's intuition, I guess. You gonna be ok? I have to go fix something for Dad.” Her eyes were sparkling as she stood over him. He waved her away, and watched her as she left.

“Women’s intuition…” He whispered to himself. The truth was even more fantastic, if she only knew it…

The next weekend, she was standing on her balcony, looking up at the stars. They had a few months to wait yet, before they could use the Dragonballs to restore the moon. But the stars were still beautiful, and the night was warm, with a soft breeze that stirred her hair. She smiled into the darkness, and sighed. She was feeling better everyday now about Yamcha and their separation.

Below her, unseen in the darkness, she was being watched. He was leaning on the tree below her window, which he'd adopted as his new “home,” and felt himself losing the battle against her power. She scared him. He'd never dealt with a woman in his life before; he'd been sheltered from females of all kinds by Nappa and Frieza. Now he was unsure about her, about everything in his life. He stared at her, wishing he could go up there, and touch her, see if they could touch inside their minds again.

She frowned slightly, and her head tilted, as if she heard something. He stood straighter, and then felt who it was she'd heard. He growled softly in his throat; if she let that baka near her, he’d kill them both!

She heard his soft footsteps as he drew near and waited. He slid his arms around her waist, and kissed her temple.

“Bulma? Bulma, I missed you… I want to try to make it up to you.” Yamcha said in her ear. She turned her head, eyes still closed. He cupped her chin in his hand, tilting her head up.

“What do you say?” He whispered, his lips close to hers. She sighed and leaned back against him. Below, he felt his heart stop, and then thud so hard it hurt his chest. She was taking him back! Then just as Yamcha’s lips almost touched hers, she spoke.

“No.”

She opened her eyes, and looked up at him. “No, I will not start this again. I cannot let you hurt me anymore. And, I am in love with someone else.” Yamcha froze, eyes wide. She pulled away, and shook her head.

“I am glad we fought now. I have learned that love isn’t like what we had. It's more… subtle and more fun too. I don’t know if he’ll ever love me, but he needs me and I love him anyway…”

“Who? I know you haven't left here to do anything except for… No!  It can't be him!” His voice was dripping with scorn. She didn't move or speak, but her face told him the truth. He snarled in fury. "You can’t be serious Bulma! He’s no better than an animal, and you think you’re in love with him! He’d just laugh at you if you told him!” Her face grew hard at his words.

“Oh, be quiet! You are sure one to talk! He has at least been honest to me, not lied to and tricked me for years like you have! He acts like far more of a human than you do!”

He stood, not breathing, not wanting to miss one word. Joy and terror battled inside him at her words, and he wished he could kill Yamcha for ever hurting her, but he knew that she wouldn't allow Yamcha to be harmed, so he didn't do it. Just then, she turned and looked straight down at him, even though she couldn't possibly see him in the darkness with her human eyes. He looked up at her, sure she'd sensed him, sensed his emotions. Yamcha was over the railing and in his face in seconds.

“Well well, its Prince Monkey–boy! What the hell have you done to her? How dare you touch my woman!” He snarled. Yamcha must have lost his reason to speak this way. He just crossed his arms and stood silently, scorn all over his face.

“I asked you a question! Who do you think you are? She’s mine, and she always was!” The man sounded infantile, but he ignored it. He looked up over Yamcha’s shoulder and saw her, hands clenching the rail. She leaned out and held out one hand to him, beckoning him to her, as if Yamcha wasn’t even there.

He felt himself freeze in fear, then for the second time, he ran from her blindly. He was gone in seconds flying at top speed while she watched him go…

Yamcha snorted in disgust, sure that she would come to her senses after he'd left without saying a thing. He turned and looked up at her, smiling, but was surprised at her face. He’d thought she'd be upset, or even disgusted like he was, but instead, she was smiling triumphantly.

He didn’t know it, but she knew that he was hers; she could feel it.

Yamcha suddenly felt cold and alone as he watched her close her eyes and run her hands down her beautiful body, smiling like she was being touched by someone else and not herself… Confused by something beyond his understanding, he nonetheless realized that there were deep feelings between the two of them, his lost girl and the Saiyan, feelings he could never cause in her himself.

Defeated at last, he left her for the last time, and wandered into the night alone.

He flew blindly, confusion clouding his mind. He was running from her, running from the bond that distance couldn't weaken, that only death could destroy. He felt her in his head, felt her body under his hands as she touched herself. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the bond only grew stronger. He stopped and screamed in frustration, arms outstretched as his Ki flared like a super nova. The blast was huge, and it was a lucky thing that he was over water, or he would have destroyed the land below him. He felt better afterwards, drained but more in control as the ocean seethed below him.

He flew a little while longer, crossing over land once more, and then frowned as he felt a familiar Ki. He dropped and stood waiting, watching the tiny house before him. Suddenly, Kakarrot stumbled out, pulling on his shirt, still barefoot. Chi–Chi stood in the doorway, wide eyed with worry, wearing only a sheet around her, her hair tumbled over her shoulders. He'd never realized that Kakarrot's mate was that pretty.

“Vegeta! What’s going on, is there trouble?” The younger man gasped and rubbed his eyes. He felt strangely bad to have disturbed Kakarrot’s sleep. He shook his head, feeling out of place.

“No, nothing is wrong.” He said, and got ready to leave the other man to his rest.

“Wait! There is something, something is wrong with you, ne?” Goku said. He paused.

Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming urge to talk to someone about what was happening, but… Telling Kakarrot about her was probably not a good idea. He was a friend of Yamcha’s too, and they were sworn enemies who had put off their own battle until their common threat was past.

“Vegeta, I know what’s up. You two, you and Bulma, you are falling for each other, I knew it!”

He whirled and stalked up the taller man, and fisting his shirt into his hand, pulled him down to his own height. “What are you talking about, Kakarrot? Falling for who?” Goku’s grin was dopey and delighted.

“Ah, Vegeta, you know who. I always knew this was happening one day, but I can't tell you why yet. Just trust me. I think it’s good; Yamcha was always kinda not really faithful to her. She needs you.” He said. There was a pause.

“She… needs me? Me… Kakarrot, I may regret this, but, are you and your mate close? I mean, can you feel her in your head sometimes?” Goku squinted at him, trying to understand, and then nodded.

“Hai, yep. She, well, see, she says one thing, but I can hear her think something else sometimes. And when she’s mad at me, I know not to come home till she’s calm, you see? And…’ He blushed and fell silent. He smiled weakly, but got a glare that ordered him to continue.

“It started the night we made Gohan, see? I didn’t know what to do, you know, how to make babies, and she was so sad; then, I could hear what she wanted me to do, and then… ” He stopped once more, because there were no words to describe what he and Chi–Chi had shared that night. He smiled again, only it was a different smile than he'd ever seen on that dumb face. This smile was so knowing it made him want to blush, especially since Chi–Chi was smiling the exact same way from the doorway of the house. He felt like a serious outsider here.

Still, he now knew it was possible to bond with human females. He smiled, and released Goku’s shirt. Goku grew serious, and rested one hand on his shoulder.

“Vegeta, I know you don’t like humans much, but, Bulma, she’s special. She’s my first and best friend. She needs a good man, one that is strong and can take her temper; she’s really sweet under her shell, and I know that deep inside that you are the right guy for her. Don’t be so proud that you can’t accept her because she’s not one of us Saiyans, ’k?”

He stared up at this man, a man he’d sworn to destroy by any means necessary. He thought he hated this idiot, but now he felt what Goku’s friends felt; his pure, deep goodness. Goku wanted him to be happy; he didn’t care if they were supposed to be enemies. He wanted everyone to be happy, and that was the simple, baffling truth.

And he could hear her calling him as if she was right here, and knew what he had to do.

“Thanks, Kakarrot.” He said quietly and turning took off, back to his destiny. Behind him Goku smiled gently.

“You're welcome, Vegeta. Good luck.”

Life is a necklace of fears
Your uncried tears on a string
Our love will untie them-come here
Loving me is the easiest thing…

She was waiting for him, still standing where she'd been an hour ago. She looked up at him, smiling serenely, pleased that he’d returned so soon. He landed on the far side of the balcony and stood uncomfortably, eyeing her shyly. She leaned her hip against the rail and looked out over the forest behind CC. She was beautiful in the starlight, and he marveled at his luck to be her mate after all the bad blood between her friends and himself.

“You heard me calling you?” She said softly. He grunted and stepped closer, then stopped. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She sighed and nodded.

“I figure this is something that happens to Saiyans when it’s time to mate, right? Is it permanent?” He heard the fear in her voice; fear that she’d be left alone again after only a short time with him. He winced, feeling his own desire to comfort her and ease her fear as a weakness he’d have to learn to live with, because he couldn’t stand to feel her sadness, her pain like this.

“Yes. Only if one of us dies will it stop, and sometimes not even then. Some older Saiyan women claimed their mates still were with them, years after death. But I don’t know how or why this happened to us…” He watched her, still disbelieving that this was happening to him.

“Well, I think it’s because you allowed yourself to care after years of hiding in your shell of invulnerability. You helped me that night because you felt compassion for my pain. You know, that morning, I felt so cold and alone when you weren't there, and I still do. I felt your pain during the accident and when you pushed yourself too hard. I feel your heart beating in my chest right now…” She said and opened her eyes. Tears trailed down her cheek, but they weren't tears of sadness anymore. He strode forward and turned her to face him, brushing the tears away.

“You are right. I felt you too, and I hated it. You frightened me more than any warrior I have ever have faced. But, I can’t imagine the terror of not feeling you anymore, now. If I lost you… and if anyone looks at you wrong, they are dead men, you hear me Woman?” She touched his cheek, eyes serious.

“Say my name, Vegeta. You’ve never said it, and I want to hear your voice saying it…” He smiled and levitated so he was taller than she was. He leaned closer, his lips so close to hers...

“Bulma, my mate… ” He whispered, and kissed her. They felt the bond soar in their minds and souls, and knew at last they would never be alone again…