Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or its characters, and am merely borrowing them for this Alternate Universe story which begins during episode 71, "The End of Vegeta". This is a Bulma/Vegeta story. The rating is NC-17 for some nice, romantic love-making. There are also, however, some references to torture and abuse in Vegeta’s childhood, but they are extremely vague. If you are under 17 or would prefer not to read anything with sexual situations, please do not go any further. By the way, this is my first A/U story, and I think it may turn into an epic. Please send comments/criticisms to queensaiyajin@aol.com. I love feedback of any kind!

Sole Survivors
By: QueenSaiyajin

She wanted to scream.

In fear. No, in terror. But the horror that had stricken her had robbed her of her voice, as in those silent screams of nightmares. This was a nightmare. It had to be. Nothing they had faced together had ever seemed so utterly hopeless, so completely beyond Shenron’s power to set things right…

It had all happened so quickly. Vegeta had been their enemy, their rival to locate the seven dragonballs of Namek. He’d nearly destroyed them all on Earth, and she had held him personally responsible for the deaths of Yamcha and the others. And yet by some twist of fate, he had become their ally. She’d watched as that hideous monster known as Frieza had strangled the life out of the once-proud Saiyan, pounding his battered body until he coughed up more blood than she had imagined one could possibly lose and still live. Inextricably, she found she could not hate the Saiyan Prince as she once had. No one deserved a death like this. Not even an enemy.

Some miracle had kept her hiding place from being blown to bits, though she knew that before this all played out she would most likely be exposed. She thanked the gods for her imperceptibly tiny ki, which Frieza would probably attribute to some insignificant animal. For once, it was her utter lack of fighting power that had probably spared her life thus far.

Goku’s appearance had brought a ray of hope to them all. But that hope had been dashed when the unimaginable had happened.

And now, Goku was dead.

It had happened in a flash, yet she replayed it in her mind in slow motion, grasping to understand what had gone so terribly wrong. She could still see Goku’s face, grim with sorrow for his dying Saiyan brother. Vegeta had bared his soul, a dying man’s attempt to justify a lifetime of horror. To plead for vengeance against the monster who had tried to shape him in his own image…

Even from her vantage point Bulma could see the tears falling freely from Vegeta’s eyes, tears she had never imagined he could shed. And as she tried not to think of the horrors that Frieza had inflicted on the frightened little boy, her heart broke for him. She could see the anguish on her gentle friend’s face as Vegeta begged him to abandon his idealism and destroy Frieza once and for all.

She’d wanted to shout at her lifelong friend, to shake some sense into him as she hadn’t tried since he was a child. It had dawned on her then that Vegeta wasn’t really to blame for Yamcha’s death. He wasn’t to blame for any of it. It was Frieza who had perverted him into the evil killing machine that he had become. It was Frieza who had to die. Didn’t Goku see that?

"Won’t that Monkey ever shut up?!" Frieza lisped in annoyance, raising his hand for another fatal blast.

"No!" Goku cried. "He’s almost dead! There’s no honor in finishing him off like this!"

Frieza chuckled harshly. "Didn’t your Monkey Prince tell you already? This has nothing to do with honor."

With that he’d fired his death beam, not at Vegeta, but through Goku’s heart.

"Noooooo!"

Gohan voiced the scream that was caught in her throat, running to his father's lifeless body. "Daddy, wake up, please!" he sobbed.

"It's no use, Gohan," sighed the deep voice of Piccolo as he came to place a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"But how?" Krillin was kneeling in shock before his friend. His eyes were brimming with tears. "He was stronger than any of us--"

" Frieza caught him off guard," Piccolo said in grim disgust. "Goku was expecting him to finish off Vegeta."

"You monster!" Gohan cried, the powerful gust of his ki swirling suddenly about him. Before the others could stop him, and heedless to their cries, the boy flew straight at Frieza—

--and exploded in a blinding burst of energy as the alabaster creature blasted him out of the sky.

What followed was nothing less than a massacre, as an enraged and grief-stricken Piccolo and Krillin released their fury at the beast that had destroyed the two people they cared for most in the world...

Frieza had obviously grown tired of the game, and as he struck, she realized in sick horror that none of them had ever had a chance. He'd toyed with Vegeta out of some perverse, sadistic whim, when it had been in his power all along to destroy them all with no effort whatsoever. Now, all her friends were dead, and Bulma could only look on helplessly, paralyzed by her fear.

"Damn monkeys and their pathetic friends! What a waste of time this has all been! How the hell did they manage to destroy Ginyu and his entire force?"

The demon cast a disparaging glance at the two fallen Saiyan warriors. "At least I'm free of your disgusting race!" He spit on Vegeta. "So much for your Super Saiyan crap," he sneered, laughing triumphantly.

Then he was gone.

For a long moment Bulma remained crouched behind the boulder that had saved her life, shaking uncontrollably from fear and the struggle to remain silent. A space capsule blasting off in the distance assured her that Frieza would not return. Slowly she stepped out into the open to survey the scene before her.

"Oh, no..." she whispered as she stood amongst the still forms of her dearest friends. She knelt by Goku, her fingers caressing the icy skin of his cheek. Blood was everywhere, and a gaping hole stared up at her from where his heart had been. Not far away, what was left of Piccolo and Krillin lay strewn about.

Nothing remained of Gohan.

It was then that the horror and grief that she'd been forced to suppress came flooding to the surface in a tidal wave of pain and sorrow that threatened to rip away her sanity.

And she screamed, piercing the silence of the dead world.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

She collapsed in despair, crying bitterly until there were no more tears left to shed. Only then did the reality of her situation come crashing down.

Bulma couldn't remember the last time she had been alone. Nothing had ever seemed impossible, too dangerous or too frightening when Goku and the others had been around. She'd prided herself on her courage and adventurous spirit, but only now did it occur to her how easy it had been to be brave when Goku or Krillin, or even little Gohan, had been there to protect her.

She'd chided them endlessly, telling them that they'd be lost without her engineering genius. But would her brains and resourcefulness be enough to keep her alive on this world that had been laid waste? To get her back home?

It would have to be. Momma and Poppa would be devastated if she never returned. And she sure as hell had no intention of spending the rest of her life alone on this dead rock...

With new determination she started searching through her collection of capsules--

--and nearly dropped them in shock as she heard a low groan behind her. With both excitement and dread she turned to see Vegeta's body stir ever so slightly.

He was alive! A chill ran through her body, a rush of conflicting emotions, fear and relief waging a battle within her. She wasn't alone! But Vegeta? The part of her that was still terrified of him wondered if she might not be better off alone...

She knelt beside him, gingerly placing her hand over his heart. His skin was warm where his armor had been blasted away, and she wondered how strong he must be to have withstood Frieza's attack. His heartbeat was faint but steady, and she could feel the slight movement of his breathing. If only they had left her with some Senzu!

Reaching into her bag she found the First Aid supplies she'd encapsulated before leaving Earth, and released them with a loud pop. Then she set to work at saving the life of the only other being alive on the planet, the man who had once threatened to destroy her home world. She only hoped he wouldn’t repay her in the end by killing her.

He opened his eyes to a hazy world, where he seemed to be floating in painless bliss. He groaned and knew that he still had a voice. Suddenly, she was there, a beautiful blue-haired angel, looking down at him with wide blue pools and a flawless face. "Vegeta?" She seemed to sing his name.

"How?" he rasped. The last thing he remembered was Frieza taking aim for a final blast. But the rage was as far removed as the pain now. There must be only one explanation, but it defied all reason. He looked at the blue-haired angel again, reached up gingerly to touch her soft skin, and felt a weak smile grace his lips. "How the hell did I end up in Heaven?"

He saw her creamy white cheeks flush pink, and wondered how he'd managed to make an angel blush.

"You're not dead," she said softly. "But you're very hurt. You need to rest."

There was so much he wanted to ask, to know. But as she put something cool on his forehead, he didn't really care.

The soothing voice of the blue angel was telling him that he was safe, and he believed her.

Bulma stared down in wonder at the peaceful face of Vegeta in sleep. She'd never noticed how handsome he was, not until he'd smiled up at her and caressed her cheek, sending a flush of heat coursing through her. She'd been utterly impersonal as she'd removed his bloodied clothes and examined his body for injury, dressing his wounds and fashioning splints for his broken bones. But as she looked at him now, there was no denying it.

He was gorgeous. Despite the scars of battle that he wore, his body was as near perfect as possible. And his face, in the absence of that ever-present scowl, was beautiful. "What did Frieza do to you, Vegeta?" she whispered, voicing the question she would never ask if he were awake. He wasn't evil. She could sense the good in him. How must that monster have terrorized him into becoming the killer he'd been? Could still be, she reminded herself with a shudder.

No. The man she had just seen would not hurt her. Something in her being told her that.

Satisfied that he was asleep, she locked the door of the house she'd made from a capsule, knowing full well it was a foolish gesture. They were alone on Namek, and if Frieza came back, a simple bolt would not deter him. She searched through her capsules for another bed, cursing when she realized she'd only brought one, but glad the one she'd expanded was king sized. With a last glance at the sleeping Saiyan, she collapsed onto the other side of the bed, falling into a long overdue sleep

A sharp pain in his chest jarred him from his dream, and he moaned softly, more from his lost vision than from discomfort. His entire body ached, but compared to the agony he'd relived in his dream, this was no more than a welcome affirmation that he was alive.

Frieza had not killed him! But where was he? The sunlight through the windows told him he was on a planet, yet this dwelling was unfamiliar. A cursory glance downward told him that someone had tended to his wounds and bandaged him. But who? Not that beautiful blue-haired angel, he thought with a pang of regret, wishing he were back in that dream-like state. A soft rustling noise beside him drew his attention to the weak energy that he'd failed to sense until now. He turned his head slowly, and took in a breath.

Lying beside him, her delicate body facing his, was his blue-haired angel made flesh. She was even more exquisite than in his dreams, if that were possible. In all his travels, he could not remember ever having seen such beauty. With the trepidation of a man afraid of waking from a dream, he gingerly reached out with an un-gloved hand to touch her creamy white cheek, his fingertips tingling with the contact, evoking sensations within him that were new. His fingers traced a path down her cheek to the hollow of her neck, caressing her soft skin, running through the silky hair that fell about her shoulders...

Suddenly, her eyes shot open, the mesmerizing blue of his dreams, but now wide with fear as she recoiled from him. He'd elicited terror in his victims and reveled in it, but in her eyes it filled him with pain and self-loathing. "I'm sorry..." he found himself stammering, an odd phrase for one who rarely regretted anything. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

She took a deep breath, but no longer seemed afraid. "It's okay," she said, but sat up as if to distance herself from him. Did she really think he meant to hurt her? "You just startled me," she murmured, a crimson flush coming to her cheeks. Why was she averting his gaze? "So, how do you feel?" she asked, pushing back her hair and fastening it behind her head.

"Not too bad, I suppose, considering I was almost dead," he said dryly. "What happened to Frieza? Did Kakarot finish him?"

She seemed to pale suddenly, as if the memory had suddenly come back to her. "Frieza's gone. Goku and the others are all--" She paused, then whispered, "...they're dead."

Vegeta looked at her in disbelief. "Kakarot couldn't finish him? "

She shook her head. "He never even had a chance to power up. Frieza was going to blast you again, and Goku tried to stop him, saying there was no honor in finishing you off like that--"

"The fool! I told him Frieza has no honor! If he hadn't been so damned soft--"

"Goku was no fool!" she blasted at him. "And don't you dare ever speak about him like that again! He was a good man, who loved his family and friends, and would defend them to the death! But he was fair and honorable, and had more compassion in his little finger than you probably have in your entire body! He even showed you mercy and gave you the benefit of the doubt in spite of what you did on Earth! So don't you dare say one word against him, Vegeta, especially when he took the blast that was meant for you!"

Vegeta was stunned. No one had ever dared speak to him like that, least of all a young girl with no more fighting power than a house pet. He was about to remind her of who he was, and berate her insolence--but inexplicably held his tongue. He wasn't sure why, although the tears that had pooled in her eyes as she spoke of the fallen Saiyan disturbed him. "Were you...Kakarot's mate?" he asked quietly, a sudden pang of something that made him envy and hate the son of a bitch even more.

Oddly enough, his question brought a smile to her face, abating the rage she had just directed at him. "No. Not at all. But he was...like a brother to me. I've known him since he was a little boy. He and Krillin were my best friends."

Vegeta nodded as the memory fell into place. "Now I know where I remembered you from. You're that gorgeous girl that came to Namek with the bald guy and Kakarot's son--" He cut himself off as he realized what he'd just said without thinking, his cheeks growing hot. He forced the emotion from his face. "So no one else survived," he said neutrally.

She shook her head. "Frieza killed them all. "

"Except me," he murmured thoughtfully.

"He must have thought you were dead. You nearly were. If I hadn't stopped the bleeding--"

He looked at her in amazement. "You were the one that saved me? Are you a doctor?"

"No, not really. Technically, you could call me a scientist, although I consider myself more of an inventor. But I've taken some medical courses. My father always said it was helpful to know a little of everything."

His lip curled up in amusement. "And just what manner of things have you invented?" he asked with intrigue. He couldn't imagine the silly young girl who had blushed over Zarbon, then shrieked when she'd seen his true form, as some great intellectual.

"Well, for starters, I created the dragonball radar we used to track down the seven dragonballs," she said smugly, as if she knew he was mocking her.

Vegeta's jaw dropped. "You can't be serious--"

Now she was the one with the amused expression. "What's the matter, Vegeta, you didn't think a girl could be gorgeous and a genius?" Her eyes twinkled with the knowledge of her own beauty, and probably, he thought, with the effect she had on him. Vegeta forced himself to look away from those eyes, shifting his position uncomfortably. "So, what other wonders have you come up with, woman?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Well, I designed the house you're in," she told him proudly.

He looked at her dubiously. "And how, may I ask, did you transport an entire dwelling from Earth?"

In answer, she pulled out a pouch filled with tiny capsules. "Poppa invented encapsulation technology, but I've designed a lot of our products."

"You want me to believe that you brought a miniaturized building through space, and just made it appear out of nowhere?" he scoffed. Maybe grief and shock had made this woman mad.

She looked through her pouch, choosing one capsule in particular. "You hungry, Vegeta?" she asked sweetly.

He nodded, looking on intently as she faced an open space in the room, threw the capsule...

Boom! He started in surprise, watching in amazement as the smoke cleared to reveal appliances that had not been there a moment ago. She opened one to show him shelves filled with food. "See? Well stocked refrigerator, oven--even a sink with its own water recycling system."

"You wouldn’t happen to have a regeneration tank in one of those, would you?" he asked irritably, finding it a struggle to sit up. "Or some of those Senzu beans Kakarot and his friends used?"

She shook her head. "No. Sorry. I had some medical supplies, but that’s it. Unless Goku had some in his ship. It must still be here, somewhere. But you’re in no condition to go looking for it."

"Nonsense, I feel better al---" He tried stubbornly to get to his feet, forgetting his one leg that was apparently broken. The pain was blinding, but he said nothing, just sank down in frustration.

"You have to rest, Vegeta," she scolded. "That’s the only way you’ll get better."

"Don’t tell me what to do, woman," he said in annoyance. But as she laid a hand gently on his arm, the contact both calming and exciting him at once, he made the mistake of looking into those blue eyes. The eyes of his angel.

"The name is Bulma," she said, this time more gently. "Now, please, rest."

"Don’t tell me what to do, Bulma," he warned, but this time with less force.

She smiled at him as she eased him back down onto the pillow. "Okay. I won’t."

But something told him that this unique woman who had saved his life wouldn’t hesitate to dictate to him if it suited her. The frightening part was that when she gazed at him with those beautiful eyes, he might very well be compelled to do whatever she asked.

Bulma tried to concentrate on the work before her as she prepared a meal geared towards a Saiyan appetite. She’d fed Goku countless times, and had some idea of what Vegeta might be able to put away. But the nagging feeling of being watched kept making her glance at her patient, only to see him quickly turn away. She smiled to herself. She knew when a man found her attractive, and was accustomed to men looking at her. But something about the Saiyan Prince set her heart aflutter whenever his dark eyes bore into hers, as if trying to reach her soul…

She’d seen him in her dreams, first the evil warrior that had come to Earth, and then the shattered man who had made his dying pleas to Goku. It was better to dream of him than of the horrors she had witnessed. The comfort of his strong arms, his gentle kisses, his mere touch arousing her desire, as he seemed to ease the pain of all that had happened. Hadn’t it still been a dream when he’d begun to touch her face, running his fingers through her hair…? No! It was real, and she jumped away in fright, though in truth her skin tingled where he had touched her, and the vestiges of her desire still made her heart pound. Did he see her face flush? She’d tried to look away, but had found herself transfixed by his eyes. His disparaging comments about her friend had enraged her, but she could see that he was sorry. He’d sensed her pain, and held his tongue, although she’d bawled him out much more than he’d deserved. He was proud, and didn’t want her help, but knew that he needed her. He’d been impressed by her brains, and that meant a great deal more to her than had he merely appreciated her beauty. Was she insane to be attracted to this man who had been…

"Is that food almost ready, woman? Or are you trying to starve me?!"

She turned to him in annoyance, both at his tone and the fact that he had interrupted her thoughts. "My, we’re demanding, aren’t we? Care to do it yourself?"

He grunted, knowing full well he was at her mercy, then retorted, "I could hunt and kill some beast, then roast it with an energy blast in less time than it’s taking you to cook a simple meal."

"Well, I’ll expect you to do that when we run out of supplies," she told him, bringing a tray with several bowls of food to set before him. "But I doubt it would taste as good."

His face softened as he took in the aroma of the meal she’d prepared for him, then proceeded to devour it in typical Saiyan fashion, though she had to admit he did so with a bit more decorum than Goku. When he’d had his fill, she looked expectantly into his eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"How was it?"

"Not bad," he said.

Bulma fumed at him. "That’s all you can say?"

"What do you want me to say, woman?" he asked, really not knowing.

"You might try ‘Thank you’! And I told you, the name is Bulma!!" She took the empty tray from him and threw it in the sink. "For a Prince, you certainly don’t have very good manners!" she yelled at him.

She proceeded to wash the dishes, determined to ignore him completely. The nerve! She’d saved his life, was doing her best to take good care of him, and he didn’t even have the decency to… Okay, Bulma, chill out, she told herself. Stop thinking of him as some Prince from a fairy tale. He’s not. He was a cold-blooded killer. Even if Frieza was to blame, it’s all he knows. Stop

She’d been so deep in her own thoughts that he’d probably called her name twice before she responded.

"Bulma," he said quietly.

She turned to him in surprise.

"Thank you," he grumbled.

She couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across her face as she said, "You’re welcome."

Maybe people could change after all.

He didn’t know what had come over him. He was the Prince of All Saiyans. This Earth woman had no right to speak to him as if she were his equal, or better. He had blasted beings for less insolence. Was it because at the moment he was dependent on her help? Once he was able, he should just fly off with no further ado, and leave her to her own fate while he sought out…

What? Where would he go from here? With all the power he had gained, he had still not been able to match Frieza. Even if his brush with death had made him stronger yet, a sinking feeling of despair told him it would still not be enough. He’d believed Kakarot to be the Super Saiyan, and yet Frieza had taken him down effortlessly. Frieza would not take his disobedience lightly. If the monster knew that he had lived, he would hunt him down, kill him once and for all…

…or worse. A panic rose in him as the memories of a childhood at the hands of that perverse creature crept into his conscious thought. He fought it down, knowing that repressing it was all that had kept him sane, though the subconscious scars had propelled him into the violent rages that took him over from time to time, as each and every being he’d been ordered to kill had in his mind taken on the visage of Frieza… He’d destroyed them as he had wanted desperately to destroy Frieza, as he never could, each death at his hands yielding only a momentary satisfaction with the grim realization that his tormentor still lived on…

"Vegeta? Can I get you anything else?"

Her sweet voice pierced his thoughts, sending the demons scattering back to their hiding place in the recesses of his mind. "N-no. I’m fine." A lie. Was he ever fine? To his surprise she sat on the edge of the bed and placed a soft hand on his forehead.

"You look feverish, but you seem cool," she said, breaking the comforting contact and looking at him quizzically.

"I’m all right, woman. I just need to rest."

He realized belatedly he had called her woman again, but his tone had been soft, and she hadn’t seemed to mind. "Okay. I’ll be outside. I need to…do something."

"Are you sure it’s safe to go outside alone--?" he began, not sure why he even cared, then remembered they were the only beings alive on this planet.

She nodded. "It’s something I have to do by myself. Something I owe my friends."

He said nothing as she left, though the little dwelling suddenly seemed empty without her. He closed his eyes, trying to sleep, but opened them again impatiently, feeling as if he would not rest until she was safely inside. This was ludicrous. They were alone on this world. Even if they hadn’t been, what would it matter to him if she didn’t return? He had all he needed here in this little home she had created…

He chuckled. She was brilliant, wasn’t she? And gorgeous to boot…

Minutes passed. She still did not return. Calling himself a fool even as he did so, he struggled to pick himself up, this time remembering the broken leg. The food and rest had restored some of his energy, and he willed himself up, suspended by a ki that was stronger than his limbs. Upright, he realized something he had not before as the sheet that had covered him fell down.

He was naked. He knew that his armor and clothes had been torn to bits, but the thought that the woman had undressed him made his cheeks grow hot. He certainly couldn’t leave the house like this. The reaction she had on him would be all too apparent in no time at all…

A small dresser where he had seen her take a jacket for herself was near the bed. He made his way to it, looking through the drawers until he found one with men’s clothing. With a stab of something that made his muscles tense, he wondered whom they had belonged to. No matter. He found a pair of black training pants that seemed the right size, and pulled them on painfully. Half-walking, half- flying, he took himself to the door.

To his relief, she was not far away…but what was she doing? He could see the implement she’d used to dig a hole in the ground, and she was gathering something and placing it carefully in the hole. Only as he spied her last bundle did he realized what she was doing, and he gasped. In her arms, was a bloodied pink limb. She was gathering the remains of her friends, and burying them.

She collapsed kneeling by the grave, saying some things he could not hear. The only audible sound was her sobbing, as she bid her last respects to those she had loved. Vegeta felt suddenly as if he were intruding, yet he could not look away. It disturbed him to see her weeping with such sorrow. He tried to imagine what it would be like to see to the gruesome task that she had undertaken. To see one’s loved ones, one’s friends, literally torn to pieces. But his empathy for her could only go so far, and with disgust he realized why.

He had no friends. The loss of his father was something he had not witnessed; the destruction of his race horrific, yet impersonal. He could barely remember the planet he had been taken away from at such a young age. No, the losses he grieved were his own. The honor, the pride, the dignity that had been ripped from him in pain and blood. But he had never lost someone he truly cared for. He had never had someone he truly cared for.

Silently he watched her as she stood, taking the shoveling tool in her hand to begin to cover the grave. But her emotion, and energy, had been spent. He could not watch her do this. Hovering just inches from the ground, he brought himself to stand in back of her.

"Bulma," he said quietly. She started at his voice, and the touch of his hand on her shoulder. But as she turned to him, there was no anger for his interruption. She merely looked at him in surprise.

"Y-you should be in bed," she said softly, her eyes still brimming with tears.

"And you should not be doing this. Not alone." He took the shovel from her hand, and dropped it to the floor. She started to protest, but he said, "Let me help you."

She nodded, as if unable to speak without crying. He looked down at the scattered remains of the Namek and Krillin, placed carefully next to Kakarot’s body. Gods, how could she have the strength to do this? he thought, only then noticing the blood and dirt she had gotten all over her clothes. He lifted his hand toward a boulder on the cliff above, striking it with one ki blast to tear it off, and another to shatter it into pebbles that fell into the grave, covering the fallen warriors. A wave of dizziness overtook him, and he grabbed onto her arm to steady himself. The weakness passed and he looked down at her. "You should not have done this alone, woman."

"I owed it to them," she whispered. "I only wish—" Her voice broke off as her tears began to choke her.

"What?" he asked gently, grasping her arms tightly both to comfort her and hold himself up.

She looked into his eyes. "I wish…there had been something left of Gohan to bury with his father. Oh gods, he was just a little b-boy…" It was then that the torrent of tears she had been trying to suppress came crashing down, as she collapsed weeping against his chest. Vegeta held her tightly, stroking her beautiful hair, guilty for reveling in the warmth of her against his bare skin. This was so unnatural for him, yet holding her like this felt…right. He had no words to say to her. No words would suffice. But he hugged her to him until he felt the ragged breathing of her sobs diminish.

"I’m taking you inside," he told her, lifting her with him into the dwelling. He set down on the bed, still holding her in his arms.

"I—I really should—" she began, but he whispered in her ear.

"Sleep," he commanded her, though he knew it was selfishness that motivated him. He simply did not want to let go of her.

She looked up at him, the fire that had sparked in her eyes earlier replaced with a vulnerability that touched him deeply. "I feel so alone without them, Vegeta," she admitted in a small voice.

He looked into her eyes, hoping she could see all that he couldn’t express in words, or even sort out in his own mind. "You’re not alone," he said simply, knowing it was insufficient.

But as she snuggled closer to him in answer, he couldn’t help but think, And neither am I.

She saw it again in her dreams, the deadly massacre, and the grave that she herself had had to dig for her friends. Goku came to her, warning her that Frieza would be back, telling her to be strong. But how? she asked him. I’m all alone…

Bulma awoke with a start, the lump in the pit of her stomach reminding her that it was all true, it had happened. Goku, Gohan, Krillin…they were all dead…

But as strong arms tightened about her in the embrace that had held her all night long, she knew that that part was true, too. Vegeta had shown her more caring than she would in a million years have expected to see in him. And she closed her eyes, resting against the warmth of his skin, afraid that once the contact were broken the moment of compassion he had displayed would be lost as the cold, hard man he had been emerged once more…

A hand began to caress her hair, and she knew that he was awake. She looked up at him, not sure what she would find in his eyes, and utterly astonished by the genuine concern on his face. "Are you…all right, woman?" he asked softly.

She nodded lightly. "Thank you, Vegeta. I’m sorry I fell apart like that."

He brushed the stray blue strands from her forehead. "You can’t help it. You’re a victim of your weak human emotions."

The glint in his eyes told her that he was teasing her, perhaps out of the awkwardness of not knowing what else to say. "You’re going to have to get used to it," she replied. "I’m a very emotional woman."

He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I gathered that the first time you screamed at me."

She giggled. "I do have a reputation for having an explosive temper."

"So do I. The only difference is that when I explode I usually destroy something," he said dryly.

Her face grew sober as she thought of all the planets he had destroyed, all the lives he had taken. It seemed so incongruous with the man she knew now, that she had almost forgotten. She realized that she'd betrayed her thoughts when his face darkened.

"Bulma," he said, looking into her eyes. "No matter what atrocities I have committed in the past--things I will always regret--I would never hurt you, or let any harm come to you. You have my word, as Prince of Vegeta-sei..."

"I know that," she assured him, reaching up to brush her fingertips against his cheek.

His eyes flooded with relief. "Woman, you..." His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"What?" she prodded gently, still caressing the rough stubble on his face. She could see him wrestling with his own emotions, even as she waited, breathless, for him to acknowledge what she knew was happening between them.

He shook his head lightly, as if in disbelief. "There are no words to describe what you do to me, woman…"

The rough sexiness of his voice made her shiver with want. His face was but an inch from hers, and with a boldness that was unlike her she whispered, "Then don’t talk, Vegeta…"and touched her lips shyly to his.

His kiss was tentative at first, as if this were all new to him, his desire intermingled with wonder. But with each moment that he tasted her, his kiss grew deeper, just as the burning need that his closeness had engendered coursed through her body, settling in the warmth between her legs that no man had ever explored. Never before had a kiss done this to her. Yamcha had always pressed for more, but more had never seemed right, not as right as it did now. Her fingers danced on the hard muscled arms that she had secretly admired, the strong chest that she had rested against all night, as his tongue played with hers in a kiss that robbed her of her breath…

Vegeta was lost in the wondrous taste and scent that was his living angel, as he kissed her hungrily, his entire being aching for her. Her fingers were like flames on his skin, flames that could only be doused if he drowned himself in her. Never had he felt such a burning need that flushed through his body and settled in his loins. It had begun when he had first touched her, and grown through the night. But the taste of her lips, the sensation of her hands on his bare flesh, had intensified the heat to a fever pitch. He had never been inside a woman, never given in to the brief thrill that might have assuaged the physical need. But this…this desire for her went far beyond that. He wanted all of her. Her body, her mind, her spirit, intermingling with his, completing him, fulfilling him, healing him, restoring him to what he could have been if things had gone differently… This was what he must have…

"Vegeta!" She breathed his name as his lips finally left hers, a trail of kisses making their way to her neck. Somehow he had removed her top, and she gasped as his trembling hands found her mounds of flesh, caressing her, suckling at each of her nipples in turn, the cool air and his attentions hardening them as the heat within her grew unbearable. The heat flashed on her face as he pulled off her skirt, her underwear, and she lay fully exposed before him. He was floating above her, looking into her eyes, and reading what seemed hesitation. And despite the engorged arousal that strained at his pants, his face suddenly took on a look of concern.

"Bulma…do you want me to stop?" And in his eyes she saw that the choice really was hers to make. Was her apprehension so apparent?

She smiled at him, his concern for what she truly wanted, making her want him even more. "No. Please don’t stop. I want you.... It’s just…I’ve never done this before..."

His tender expression was unreadable until he admitted to her what she never would have imagined. "Neither…have I."

His face flushed crimson with embarrassment, but she quickly reached up to him, pulling him towards her for a sweet kiss. "That just makes it even more special," she told him, and he smiled. A real smile, like she had never seen on his face. How utterly handsome he was when he smiled!

He brought his lips down on hers again, kissing her tenderly. Bulma wrapped her arms around his back, holding him close, her hands slipping boldly under his pants, remembering that his rear end had looked incredible in his battle armor, and thinking that the smooth, well-toned skin of his buttocks felt just as good as it looked. She touched the scar at his tail bone where his tail had been cut, and he gasped out loud, even as his arousal seemed to press against her. She giggled in delight at his reaction, and caressed the spot again, a groan of pleasure emanating from him. "Woman, please," he begged in a hushed whisper, "if you don’t want this to end before it even begins..."

She didn’t want that, no matter how much she loved the power to give him such pleasure. But she would make a mental note of his sensitive spot for future reference… For now, she would concentrate on the rest of him…

She’d seen his naked body when she’d tended to his wounds, but as he pulled off the pants that had been covering him, she gasped. He had not looked…like this. She wondered wildly if this were some kind of Saiyan thing, or if it was just him, but her scientific mind decided that contrary to old wives tales, height was definitely inversely proportional to size. A tinge of fear of the inevitable pain stabbed at her, but she pushed it away lest he see it. She wanted him. More than she had ever wanted anyone or anything. He was warm and strong, and beautiful, and he had given himself to no one before her. All the darkness and pain within him was hers to cleanse as he gave her that part of himself that was innocent and untried. She reached out to caress him, smoothing her hand over his manhood as he groaned in ecstasy. He was so ready for her, but was holding back, she knew, for her sake. He elevated himself just beyond her reach, and when she looked up in question she saw him smiling down at her as he took her in with his eyes. When he lowered himself to her once more, he began a slow and erotic exploration to know every inch of her. Bulma closed her eyes, reveling in the sensations as he touched and tasted, preparing her for what was to come. His mouth was savoring her breasts as his hand roved downward, the anticipation excruciating as his fingers finally slipped between her legs, gently separating her folds to penetrate her womanhood. She found herself arching her back instinctively to draw him into her warmth, losing herself in the pure ecstasy of his touch, gasping as he began to stroke her center of pleasure, the swift movements bringing her even closer to…

She exploded all at once, and he crushed his lips against hers as his fingers delved deeper into her pulsing core, stoking the fire within her for what was yet to come. She knew he had done this for her, to bring her pleasure before himself, to ready her for him…and if she hadn’t consciously thought so before, she knew that she loved him, more than she had loved Yamcha, more than she had thought it possible to love.

"Vegeta…" she breathed as he slowly made her want him again…

His fingers played inside her, his own arousal painful as he waited with more patience than he had ever imagined himself capable of. She had to be ready for him, or he would hurt her, and in doing so destroy the most precious thing that had ever come into his life. He had been hurt, tortured, and had repaid that pain a million times over. Yet he would rather die himself than cause her pain. His strength alone against her frail body was enough to tear her apart if he weren’t careful. And she was a virgin. He knew from horror stories he had heard of the agony that Nappa had inflicted on the young virgins he had taken as spoils in some raid. The mere penetration would cause her pain. How could he be sure that he wouldn’t…?

Her tiny fingers reached to caress him, her touch making him tremble with his desire. She was beckoning him to take her, now, and he knew that she was ready. He looked into her eyes as she guided him to her, seeing no fear, no hesitation—just a passion that rivaled his own. Slowly, carefully, he eased into her moist warmth…

Her eyes widened suddenly as he reached the barrier of her innocence, and he began to panic, ready to withdraw. But she had seen his hesitance, and reached up to take his face in her hands. "It’s okay. I know it will hurt—"

"I don’t want to hurt you," he breathed. "I would rather stop now, than—"

"No, Vegeta, please. It’s natural. They say it’s painful the first five or six times."

He looked at her with what he knew must be the conflict of his desire and fear for her raging on his face. "I don’t want to hurt you, woman," he rasped, almost painfully.

"I want you, Vegeta," she told him. "And I trust you. "

"You…?" His emotion made speech impossible. She wanted him? She trusted him? Who had ever cared for him as she seemed to?

"Please," she whispered, bringing her lips to his.

And as she kissed him passionately, the decision was no longer in his hands. His heart and his spirit had declared themselves hers, and his body could but follow. He hugged her to him tightly as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, drawing him into her, rising up to meet his gentle thrusts…

The Universe seemed to halt. No one existed but them as she sheathed him in her warmth. For a brief moment he could feel her tense in that inevitable pain, and he stopped, but as she held him more tightly he knew that she wanted him to go on. He began to move within her, slowly at first, then more quickly as he felt her arching up to meet him. He lifted her towards him, striving ever deeper, with an insatiable desire to know her, to possess her, to give all that he was to her, holding nothing back…

Bulma clung to him, rising up to take him deeper and deeper into her. The pain was there, as she’d known it would be, but it was soon lost in the burning need to have him complete her. She strove against him instinctively, the heat within her sweltering as he quickened his pace… It was close, so close…

Then, with one final thrust that touched the deepest part of her, it happened. Her entire being seemed to explode as he erupted within her. And as he bathed her in the warm glow of his ki, she felt all that he was wash over her: his secret thoughts, his well-guarded feelings, his fears, his desires, his pain, all working their way into her mind and spirit. His lifetime flashed before her, too quickly to see, but with enough intensity to feel all that he had felt. The glorious sensation of knowing him, was overwhelmed by the depth of feeling that he had locked away, and suddenly bared only to her. She gasped his name, tears coming to her eyes as her heart broke for him and the anguish he had suffered.

His voice cried out in her mind, and her eyes opened wide as she looked at him, his face filled with pain. And she realized suddenly what had happened. That more than their bodies had become one. His thoughts, his being, his very soul was intertwined with hers…

There’s nothing to be sorry for, she thought back to him, and the look in his eyes told her that he had heard her. I love you…

He looked at her stunned, the depth of his emotion for her glowing in his eyes. How can you love me knowing the man that I was? he asked in disbelief.

I know the man you are, and the man you would have been if so many horrible things had never happened to you...

He seemed on the verge of tears as he buried his face in her hair and hugged her tightly to him. For a long while she held him there without speaking, without thinking. He pierced the silence with his first words aloud since they had become one, a hushed whisper in her ear that was all his swirling emotions would allow him. "I dreamt of a beautiful blue-haired angel…and now she’s mine."

She ran her fingers through his hair lovingly. "And I always dreamed I’d meet a handsome Prince," she told him softly.

There was nothing else to say, or think, as they held each other, their bodies, their spirits, still joined as one.

"You could have at least designed a bigger bathtub, woman," Vegeta grumbled. Even though he sat behind her, she didn’t need to see him to know that he was teasing her. She lay back against his chest, purposely stretching out even more, as if to annoy him. But the reaction she felt in him was anything but anger.

"Fine. If you want, I’ll get out," she said, pretending to move forward, but he quickly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back down against him. "I’ll take that as an invitation to stay."

"Yes," he said in a low growl as he kissed her neck from behind, smoothing the soap bubbles slowly over her breasts. I could sit here all day…

"All day…" she murmured in agreement, closing her eyes.

"You…can still hear my thoughts?" he asked in surprise.

"Not all of them…Just feelings, mostly. What about you?"

"The same," he said thoughtfully.

She turned around slightly to face him, sitting on his lap now as she put her arms around his neck. "You’re troubled now, but I can’t really tell why."

His face was expressionless as usual, but his eyes were filled with a sudden anguish that seemed to border on…guilt.

"I didn’t realize we would bond so quickly…so intensely."

Her heart began to sink. "And you regret it?" she asked quietly, not really wanting to hear the answer.

He sensed her worry, and touched her cheek. "No. Not for myself. Only for you. There are things in my mind, in my memories, I would not wish to subject you to."

"I’m a lot stronger than you think," she told him.

"I don’t doubt that. But the bond between a Saiyan and his mate is permanent. It joins us for all time. I should have told you this might happen. I should have…given you the choice."

With relief she realized that it was not his own regret, but hers that he feared. "Then ask me," she told him, looking into his eyes.

"This is pointless, woman—" he began.

"No, it’s not. Just humor me."

He took a deep breath. "Bulma—will you be my mate? Will you bond with me, in body and spirit, for all time?" What was done could not be undone, and yet he seemed to hold his breath waiting for her answer.

"Yes, Vegeta, I will," she said without hesitation.

Relief flooded his face, and she almost detected the hint of a smile. He brought her face to his, kissing her delicately.

"Now I have a question for you," she said seriously. She paused, knowing the answer to this one would not come as easily as hers had. But a lifetime of romantic hopes and dreams demanded it be asked. "Do you love me?"

His cheeks flushed slightly. "Woman, you know my soul now. You shouldn’t have to ask such questions."

Not the answer she’d hoped for. The disappointment on her face must have been severe, for he quickly said, "Bulma, Saiyans do not speak of these things. I was taught that sentiment is a weakness—"

"I know what you’ve been taught," she said, her eyes growing hot with tears she refused to shed. She had certainly gleaned that from her glimpse into his mind. "But it’s something I need to know, Vegeta. Something I need to hear if I’m going to spend my life with you."

She cursed herself as a tear escaped, and he reached up to wipe it away with his fingers. "Foolish woman," he said, but with such tenderness that it betrayed his feeling. "I don’t know what love is. But if it’s this feeling… that I would rather die than ever be without you, then, yes, I love you."

"Oh, Vegeta…" She let the tears fall now, happy tears. "I love you, too."

She could see in his eyes that he liked hearing it too, though he would never admit it…

No, I won’t, she heard him confirm in her mind, and she giggled.

He kissed her again, deeply this time, then looked at her seriously. "Why…do you still have tears in your eyes?"

She hadn’t even realized they were there. "Because I’m so happy," she explained softly.

He shook his head. "Woman, you are an enigma." But I will spend the rest of my days trying to understand you. And making sure the only tears you shed are happy ones.

Bulma lay back against him contentedly. She couldn’t ask for more than that.

Vegeta’s eyes shot open, and for a long moment he held his breath, his heart pounding with fear as he took stock of his surroundings. The dark cell where he had fallen asleep in his own blood and vomit had disappeared back into the recesses of his mind, to the well guarded place that he had kept far from his conscious thought for the past twenty years. It had been replaced by the little home on Namek that had been his world for the past month, the peaceful place where no

one existed but him and his blue-haired angel…

Her blue eyes were full of fear as she looked down at him, but her voice was soft and comforting as she whispered, "It’s all right, Vegeta…It was just a nightmare."

He took her into his arms, holding her tightly against him, closing his eyes against the tears he feared he would shed. "It’s okay," she said softly, "You’re safe. You’re with me…" He began to lose himself in her kiss, only then realizing that it was she who had tears on her face, she who had been crying…

He pulled away from her in sudden realization, looking into her eyes to confirm his worst fear.

She had seen his dream. Through their bond, their minds had been linked even in sleep, and she had…seen it all. Felt it all, as he had. How could he have failed to notice that she was shaking, her eyes haunted with the horror of his torment? She reached out to him and he shrank away, in shame, in humiliation…

He rose from the bed, pulling on clothes and boots, not answering her pleas to come back to bed. He couldn’t look her in the eyes. He couldn’t face her, knowing that she knew, and worse yet that he had unintentionally made her relive with him the excruciating pain, the violation of body and spirit…

"Vegeta, come back here! Please!" The promise he had made her, that he would not make her shed tears of despair, came back to haunt him as she sobbed his name. But he couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t look her in the eyes…

"I’m sorry…" he said softly, without turning around. It was all he could manage.

He leapt into the sky, in a desperate attempt to escape from the inescapable, the demons within him crying out in victory for having destroyed the first peace he had ever known.

Bulma watched him disappear into the night, her heart breaking for him. It all made so much sense now.

Until she’d been drawn unintentionally into Vegeta’s nightmares, she had never even imagined the extent of the horror that he had lived. Now she knew what had spurred him on his murderous rages, the evil abuse that had hardened his heart and poisoned his spirit almost beyond repair. Vegeta, don’t be ashamed. I only want to hold you. I only want to love you, she called through their bond. But no answer came back to her.

For hours she waited, feeling nothing from him but a dim sense of despair that seemed so far away that she had to strain to hold onto it. Finally, she could wait no more. Releasing an air car from its capsule, she followed her sense of him until she found him at last, sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea she had once explored for the dragon balls.

He glanced up as she landed, but then looked away again, his mind begging her, Please, woman, stay away.

"No," she said softly, but firmly, sitting down beside him.

He wouldn’t look into her eyes. For a long time she sat silently beside him, reaching out tentatively to take his hand, sighing with relief when he grasped it gratefully. Finally, he spoke.

"Bulma, I—would not for all the power in the Universe have willingly subjected you to that—horror."

"I know," she told him tenderly. "It’s not your fault."

"Yes, it is," he said grimly. He looked into her eyes, and his anguish wrenched at her heart. "If only I could protect you from the ghosts of my past…"

"That’s what it is—the past," she told him. "You and I have started a new life here. And whether we make it back to Earth, or stay here, or wherever---"

"It will still follow me," he broke in. "Still haunt me. I can never escape, and all I have done is draw you into—"

"I love you." She stated it plainly, letting him know that that was the only truth that mattered to her. And as he opened his mouth to speak, she kissed him into silence.

They made love on the blue grass, Bulma holding him tightly in a protective embrace as she strove to drive the demons from his mind, drowning them in a sea of warmth and love. Through their bond she could feel them loosening their grip on his soul, falling back into the darkest part of his subconscious. I won’t let you hurt him anymore, she told them, wrapping her spirit around his in a protective glow. He came crying out her name, clinging to her in his ecstasy as he had been too ashamed to in his pain. Long after their passion was spent, he still held her as if afraid to let go. And she knew that she had brought him back from that dark place where monsters tortured little children and molded them into their own image…

They’d fallen asleep on the mountaintop, and when she woke with a chill she knew that he was gone. Her heart skipped a beat as she sat up quickly to look for him, then warmed as she saw him standing with his back to her, contemplating the wasteland below. He turned before she reached him, and she knew as soon as his eyes met hers that something was still troubling him. He drew her into his arms nevertheless, warming her with his skin.

"I’ve been fooling myself, " he said suddenly, and she looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" she asked with a sudden dread in the pit of her stomach.

"Living this…fantasy…that you and I are alone in the Universe, and that we could live in any semblance of peace."

"And just what does that mean?" she asked defensively, trying to control the emotions that had begun to swirl within her.

"It means that as long as that monster is alive, there will always be a chance that he will find me. He won’t relent until he has destroyed me, or taken…everything from me."

Bulma drew a deep breath. "Look, Vegeta, I know those nightmares really got to you, but—"

"They’re not nightmares, woman! They’re my past, my personal Hell, that will follow me for the rest of my days until I’ve destroyed that abomination—" He stopped himself, knowing that he was baring too much of himself aloud. He sighed deeply. "I will never be free of Frieza until he dies by my own hand."

Her eyes opened wide in panicked realization of what he meant to do. "Vegeta, are you insane? Look at what he did to you! You haven’t even completely healed from the last time. I’m not going to let you go and get yourself killed!"

"You have no choice in the matter, woman," he said sharply, incredulous that she would presume to tell him what he could and could not do. Then his voice softened towards her as he added grimly, "And neither do I."

Bulma was looking up at him with a mixture of fear and anger. How could she possibly understand? She had had a horrible glimpse into his psyche, seeing more of his inner demons than he would admit existed, even to himself. But she was an Earthling. She knew nothing of Saiyan pride, of the warrior spirit that could never rest until every enemy had been vanquished, every debt of honor paid, every atrocity towards himself and his race avenged. All she cared about was…

him. And the mere fact that she did so still baffled him, amazed him…

affected him, so deeply that he could not think on it for too long, lest the emotions overwhelm him. Her fear now was for him, and where this suicidal course would take him. He had to make her understand. If she accepted him for all he was, she could expect him to do no less than be true to himself.

"Bulma," he said softly, looking into her beautiful blue eyes. What he was about to admit could cost him her love. But it had to be said. "I slaughtered millions in his name. He trained me to do his bidding with as little remorse as if I were swatting flies. He wanted me to be like him," he finished, his voice dripping with disgust.

"You’re not like him!" she told him without blinking an eye. He caressed her cheek, wanting to believe that as much as she seemed to.

"I have done…things…that will condemn me to Hell," he said quietly. He’d never truly feared that before, and yet knowing that Hell would be eternal separation from her, he could no longer bear the thought of it.

"Anyone can change, Vegeta. Anyone can be forgiven," she told him with a passion that could almost convince him.

He smiled wryly. "You have been listening to that fool Kakarot for too long," he told her.

Her face darkened, and at once he regretted reminding her of the pain of her lost friend. "Son-kun believed in you," she responded flatly. "And he turned out to be right."

He was silent for a long moment. Finally he said, "In that case, I’ve been given a chance for redemption. But the only way I can earn it is by making sure that that bastard Frieza never destroys another living being."

Her eyes were beginning to pool with tears. "And if he kills you," she whispered, "what will I do then?"

"Maybe you can find more dragonballs," he offered, though he knew it was outlandish.

"Oh, Vegeta…" she sobbed, falling into his arms.

He held her tightly, his jaw clenched in determination, to defeat both Frieza and the emotions that threatened to surface.

"You needn’t worry, woman. I don’t plan on losing this time."

Bulma looked up into the sky impatiently, watching for some sign of Vegeta. He’d gone off in search of Goku’s spaceship, a long overdue task they had both put off for far too long. A part of her was anxious to find it, to see if it was space worthy enough to carry them back to Earth. But another part of her hoped they never found it. For Vegeta’s destination would be Tsiru-sei, Frieza’s home planet. Perhaps not immediately, of course. He planned to train until he reached his full potential, well aware that his brush with death would have increased his powers. But Bulma knew that he would not rest until he faced the alabaster monster once more. Defeating his tormentor had become an obsession; perhaps it always had been. The nightmares had become more frequent, a constant reminder that his foe still lived. Bulma had begun to pretend that she had not seen them, hoping to spare him the humiliation. But they wore heavily on her as well, feeding into her fear of what would happen if Frieza and Vegeta ever came face to face again.

Suddenly he was there, his face expressionless as always as he touched down beside her.

"Well, did you find it?" she asked anxiously.

He nodded. "It’s not in good shape. It was damaged in one of the tremors during our battle with Frieza. I don’t know if it can fly."

"Well, we’ll just have to find out." She took a capsule from her pouch, throwing it at their home of the last month. It disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and she caught the capsule in her hand, hesitating a moment as she thought of all that had happened there. Vegeta raised his eyebrows, still amazed at the technology that seemed simplistic to her. "Okay. Let’s go."

"You’ll be able to…open that up again somewhere else?" he asked.

She patted her pouch. "Everything’s right in here. Should I release the air car, or—"

"No," he said, scooping her up in his arms. "I’ll take you there."

The ship had indeed been damaged in the earthquakes that had rattled the entire planet. A fault line had swallowed it up, and Vegeta had only spotted it by the glint of sunlight on metal. He’d brought it up to level ground so that she could inspect it more carefully.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

"The fuel tanks were ripped open. Even if we could find some kind of fuel on this planet, I’d still have to repair them. The propulsion system seems okay—" She looked up to see him staring at her, stupefied. "What?"

"You can repair spaceships too?" he asked incredulously.

She smiled. "I told you, brains and beauty in one package."

"But a pitiful lack of modesty," he remarked dryly.

"You wouldn’t know modesty if it hit you in the face," she retorted.

"Insolent woman," he mumbled, and she giggled, having learned how to see through his sarcasm.

"This ship is Poppa’s design, but we worked on it together some time ago," she explained. "He made some modifications for Goku, but otherwise—" She stopped as she examined a panel in the center of the room. "This is interesting." Vegeta came up behind her, about to play with the switch when she slapped his hand away. "Don’t do that, unless you want to turn me into a pancake."

"What is it?" he asked, taking his hand away, clearly unnerved by what he had almost done.

"Poppa must have made Goku a Gravity Chamber to train in. It looks like he was able to turn the gravity up to 100 times that of Earth."

Vegeta’s eyes opened wide with excitement. "That must be how he was able to move so quickly when he fought Ginyu! Bulma, does this still work?"

"It seems to," she said, looking it over.

"And can you adjust it to 200G? Or more?" he asked with the anticipation of a child with a new toy.

"Sure, but—"

"Then do it. If Kakarot trained in 100G, I’ll train at three times that much."

Bulma shook her head. "No. I wouldn’t recommend it. You could seriously hurt your—"

"Woman, don’t you see?" he said grasping her arms, the sudden fire in his eyes frightening her. "This could be the key to defeating Frieza! With this device, there’s no doubt I’ll become a Super Saiyan!"

"What’s the use if we’re stuck on this stupid planet? Didn’t you hear me, Vegeta? We’ve got no fuel, and the fuel tanks are damaged! This ship won’t take off!"

"We’ll find a way," he told her with a determination that bordered on obsession. "And when we do, I’ll destroy that monster once and for all!"

"Or he’ll destroy you!" she cried. "Vegeta, let it go. Please!"

"Let it go?" he mocked her in rage. "After all he did to me, and my people?! I am the last living Saiyan. The Prince of all Saiyans. It is my duty to avenge my race—"

"Even if you lose your own life trying?" she yelled in frustration.

"Yes," he said quietly. It was the quiet rage that frightened her the most, for she knew with utter despair that no matter how much happiness they had found together, it would never assuage his obsessive thirst for revenge. Only Frieza’s blood would suffice.

"Okay," she said softly, despite the gnawing fear of what might happen. "I’ll do it for you."

Vegeta lay awake in their reconstructed capsule house, waiting for his woman to find her way back to their bed. He’d been the one to insist she work on the ship immediately. But despite his zeal to begin his training, he’d begun to feel guilty for coercing her into doing so. She’d spent hours hard at work at something she was dead set against, simply because he’d asked it of her. He was not used to selflessness, and he would have to make sure he did not take advantage of her willingness to please him. He was about to rise to call her into the house when he heard the door slide open, and felt the familiar warmth of her ki as she approached. But at once he could sense that something was wrong. "Woman…are you…all right?" he asked, concern for another yet one more emotion that was awkward for him.

"Yes," she whispered quietly as she slipped in beside him. He took her into his arms, only then noticing her face was wet with tears.

"What is it?" he asked in alarm. It wrenched at his heart to see her like this.

Her pale features were stark while, her eyes swollen as if she’d been crying for quite some time. He cursed himself for being so wrapped up in his own thoughts of power that he had not sensed her distress. "Bulma, what happened?"

"I…finished the GT chamber…and thought I would try the comm system. It’s set to the frequency of Poppa’s, in his lab. I tried for two hours to reach him…but… there was nothing."

"The device is probably broken," he reassured her, brushing the hair from her eyes. But something told him that her brilliant mind would have worked out every possibility.

"N-no. There were transmissions from other planets, other systems…But nothing from Earth. And there should have been. There should have been…" Her voice became a whisper as she looked into his eyes. "Vegeta, what if Frieza destroyed the Earth?"

He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t likely. But he knew Frieza better than that. "Revenge…for what Kakarot and the other Earthlings did to his forces," he said grimly.

"Then they’re all gone," she sobbed. "Momma, Poppa…"

Vegeta drew her into his arms, helpless to find words to comfort her. Helpless to do anything but hold her as she wept against his chest. Her grief was overpowering as it crept into his being through their bond, unleashing the childhood memories of a similar loss that he had been unable to comprehend or truly express at the time. He’d been hardened to pain and loss, but she had not. And the intensity of her despair seemed to wear away at the emotional control he’d spent years trying to maintain. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit. Emotions were a weakness he could ill afford…

I’m sorry… he could hear in his mind, and he knew that his thoughts had betrayed him. He berated himself for letting her know how her emotional breakdown was affecting him. For thinking of himself when she was in such anguish…

He couldn’t speak. He had no words that would suffice. So he comforted her in the only way he knew, kissing her gently and holding her until she had cried herself to sleep.

Only then did he let the tears fall from the corner of his eyes. Tears for Bulma, for himself, and for the two worlds that they had lost. For the worlds that he himself had destroyed at the whim of that monster, and the pain that he had caused without realizing that he should care.

"He’ll die for this, Bulma," he whispered. "I swear to you. He’ll die for causing you this pain."

Bulma poured over the Namek-sei-jin histories with a determination greater than she had ever known. For weeks she’d been at this arduous task, with stacks of books she had found in the remains of Guru’s house, as well as the dictionary and notes Mr. Popo had prepared for her journey. Reading the Namek language was definitely more difficult than speaking, and she silently thanked Mr. Popo for having had the foresight to train her in both. She knew she’d struck pay dirt when she’d found the tome on the history of the dragonballs. It would be here…it had to be…

Vegeta came from the shower, invigorated but exhausted after another long day of training, and came to stand behind her at her desk. "Just what is it you’ve been working so hard at, woman?" he asked in curiosity. She usually gave up for the day long before he did, and it was the first time he had seen the old volumes spread out on her desk.

"Wait…just a second…" she told him absently as she translated another sentence.

He peered over her shoulder. "What language is that?"

"Namek."

"Where did you learn to read--?" he began in astonishment, but he was cut off by her excited squeal.

"Yes! I knew it had to be here!"

"What?!" he demanded in frustration.

She stood up so quickly, turning to face him, that she nearly knocked him over. "The other dragonballs!"

He looked at her in utter shock. "What other dragonballs?"

"I’ve been going over the books I found in Guru’s house—"

"When did you--?"

"When you were training one day, I rode there in an air car. Something you said about finding more dragonballs made me start thinking… If Kami was sent to Earth, then maybe there were other Nameks sent out to other worlds—" She pointed to the book she’d just been reading. "And I found it, Vegeta! It’s all here! The history of a group of Nameks sent out throughout the galaxy to spread the knowledge and power of the dragonballs. Don’t you see?! There are other dragonballs. All we need to do is find them, and summon the dragon, and we can wish everything back! Earth, Vegeta-sei, all the people that have been killed—"

He looked at her in disbelief, but she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "We can do it now, Vegeta," she said softly. "We can make everything right again."

"But how would we ever find them?" he asked dubiously. "Even if we found a way off this planet, the galaxy is enormous. It would be—"

"The dragon radar," she reminded him. "It detected the dragonballs on Earth, and on Namek."

"Woman, you never cease to amaze me," he said shaking his head, still trying to take it all in.

"There might be clues as to exactly where they are," she said excitedly, pulling away from him. "I’ve got to go back and—"

"They’ll be there tomorrow," he said, drawing her closer. "You’re exhausted."

"No, I’m not," she lied, stifling a yawn.

"Tomorrow you can figure out how we’ll save the galaxy," he said nuzzling at her neck. "Tonight you’re all mine."

His lips set her skin on fire, and once more every thought but him was drowned in a wave of desire. Vegeta was right. There was time. They had all the time in the world…

Vegeta lay awake basking in the peaceful fulfillment that she brought him every night. She was asleep now in his arms, but he still held her tightly, protectively, reluctant to let go of her warmth, her softness, and the sweet scent of her skin. He had come to savor these moments, to look forward to them each day as he pushed his body to its limits in the Gravity Chamber. His determination to increase his power, to truly become a Super Saiyan, had not waned. But he had become…comfortable in this little existence that he and his woman had fallen into. Alone with her he was truly free for the first time in his life. Free to be himself, with nothing to prove and no one to appease. No one to control him, command him, or hurt him if he belied his true self. With her, he could bare his soul, the good and the bad, and she loved him unconditionally. And when he strove to please her it was because he wanted to make her happy, not because he was being held captive with the fate of his planet at stake…

It was still difficult for him to be like this. To lay his heart wide open, to express any emotions other than rage and contempt. Sometimes he failed miserably. But she would berate him and scream at him until he came to his senses, and then take her into his arms and forgive his inadequacies simply because she knew what was truly in his heart. For the first time in his conscious memory, he was truly—dare he even think it?—happy.

Her news of the dragonballs should have excited him more than it did. It should have sent him on an exuberant high as he plotted what use he would make of his wishes. The promise of immortality once again dangled before him like a forbidden fruit. Yet if he had the opportunity, would he make that wish now? It would allow him to defeat Frieza, that was for certain. But then, what? He wanted to destroy Frieza, to be rid of him—not replace him. A thirst for battle still drove him, and yet she had taught him that there was so much more in life that mattered…

Immortality, he knew, would be meaningless, unless she too were immortal. He would not watch her wither and die, then spend an eternity without her. That would be the worst damnation of all.

She had spoken of their lost worlds, their fallen races, and wishing them back. A second chance for the Saiyan Race! Yet as he thought of the destruction that had characterized his people’s history even before Frieza, he wondered if his race would prove itself worthy of a second chance. Would a return from oblivion change anything his father had believed or done? And would he be able to ascend to the throne and impose new ideas on the warriors who could not possibly understand all he had known, all he had seen, since the devastation of their planet? Would Bulma wish to return to her beloved family and friends, or would she rule at his side as his Queen?

Would the Saiyans accept an alien Queen? Would his father?

All these questions plagued him as he ran through the various scenarios that might unravel with each possible wish. His head began to ache with the conflicting emotions within him. How much easier would it be to simply stay here on this desolate rock…

But he knew that that was but an idle fantasy. With a growing feeling of dread he could feel that the time to face Frieza again was drawing near. And each moment that he spent in idyllic paradise with his blue-haired angel was a distraction from his goal, his destiny. For if he could not defeat Frieza, then all of their hopes and efforts would have been for naught. Bulma’s revelation of the dragonballs only intensified the pressure already upon him. For now, he was battling not only for their survival, but the future of both of their races…

Bulma shifted in her sleep, and he tightened his embrace as he closed his eyes in mental and physical exhaustion. Tomorrow he would continue to prepare for the coming storm. But the peace and comfort of tonight was theirs alone. He would not let the uncertainties of the future intrude on them.

Bulma threw the empty capsule at her desk, encapsulating the books and notes she had worked on over the last two months since her initial discovery that other dragonballs existed. She’d spent so much time on the old volumes that she considered herself fluent in the Namek-sei-jin language. Too bad there’s no one to pat me on the back for my persistence, she thought dully. Or to practice my conversation with. Then again, if any Nameks had survived the purge of their planet, she wouldn’t have had to translate their histories herself. Not that I have anything better to do.

Her day to day existence had become worse than boring. It was lonely. Vegeta spent sometimes twenty hours a day training. Why don’t you slow down? she had asked him. He’d brusquely replied that he couldn’t afford to. His desire to surpass the limits of his own power had become an obsession, so much so that he barely spent time with her at all.

But oh, when they were together… She lived for those glorious moments, when she was his entire Universe, and he was hers and hers alone…

She knew he was happy with her. Yet the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily upon him. He’d spent the last few days out looking for some kind of ship, some remnant of the vehicles that the Ginyu Force had left behind, or perhaps another Namek-sei-jin ship like the one Kami had brought to Earth. Without a way off the planet, it didn’t matter how many sets of dragonballs existed in the galaxy. Stranded here, they were helpless, like sitting ducks, he had told her, waiting for Frieza to return…

Dreams of what they might wish for began to fade as Bulma realized the truth behind his words. Without the proper materials or resources, even what was left of Goku’s ship could not be salvaged. They could very easily live out the rest of their lives on this planet without ever having a chance to find the dragon balls and wish back the Earth…

Sometimes, when they were together, that didn’t seem like such a terrible fate. She loved him desperately, and wanted nothing more for herself than to be with him. But what about Momma and Poppa, Goku, Krillin and Gohan, and all the others who were counting on her to bring them back? And what if Vegeta was right, and Frieza did find their little hideaway? Her responsibility to the others, and her fear of Frieza’s return, would not let her rest until she had found a way to set things right. The weight of all this marred the otherwise perfect happiness that she had found with her unlikely love…

He came into the house in a worse mood than usual, sitting down across from her at the table to eat the food she had already set out. She was silent for a long time as he devoured his meal, and she simply watched him until he looked up at her with concern. "Aren’t you hungry?" They were his first words to her, and she only then realized as she looked down at her plate that she hadn’t touched her own food.

"No. I don’t feel so well." She pushed the plate away, the smell of the food making her nauseous. "Did you find anything today?" she asked, changing the subject.

He shook his head irritably. "How did these blasted Nameks send people into space and then completely lose their technology? Not one fucking ship anywhere."

"The weather change. It wiped almost all of them out," she said absently, remembering the histories.

"Well I think you’d better take another look at Kakarot’s ship, and see what you can do. Otherwise, we’re stuck here."

Bulma felt suddenly weepy though she wasn’t quite sure why, as she took his comments to heart. "How many times have I told you that it can’t be repaired with what I have to work with?!" she told him in frustration. "And what do you mean by ‘stuck’? You know, you could be doing a lot worse if you were here alone!"

He looked at her strangely. "Woman, I didn’t mean—"

She didn’t let him finish. She grabbed the empty plates and threw them in the sink, getting some satisfaction when she heard them break.

"Better the sink than my head, like the last time you went off on one of your irrational female rampages," he commented dryly.

"Don’t tempt me, Vegeta," she warned, glaring at him. "I really don’t feel like—" She stopped mid-sentence as the room seemed to spin about her. She grabbed for the counter, but he had already rushed to her side to steady her.

His face had taken on a look of concern now as he held her arms tightly and looked her over. "There’s something wrong with you. What is it?" he demanded, as if she herself had the faintest idea.

"I don’t know. I just don’t feel right. Maybe I’m getting a bug." She let him help her to the bed, and she sat down. The room was back to normal now, and her irritation had dissipated. The worried look in his eyes was touching, and she could never stay annoyed at him for long. "I’m just tired, and …frustrated," she admitted, her voice soft now. "All this work will be for nothing if we don’t find a way to get off this planet. And I’m…lonely."

He stiffened as if not sure how to respond. "I know you must…miss your home," he said slowly.

She shook her head, caressing his cheek. "I don’t mean that. I’m lonely for you, Vegeta. You spend twenty hours a day training…I miss spending time with you."

His face softened at her touch. "I have to train. I’m nowhere near ready."

"Ready for what? Frieza hasn’t come back. He won’t. We’re safe here---"

She stopped suddenly as his face turned pale. He looked up slowly as Goku always had when he’d sensed the approach of an enemy. And as recognition slowly transformed into fear, he grabbed her by the arms and looked at her with haunted eyes. "Woman, you’ve got to get out of here! Now!"

"What is it?!" she asked, her heart pounding. But the utter terror that looked so frighteningly out of place on his face, told her before he could say it in words.

"It’s Frieza!" he rasped. "He’s coming!"

* * * * *