"You know…you don’t have to come down here, Honey. You should be resting." Ms. Briefs said, worry evident in her voice. Bulma gave her an exasperated look. "Mom, I’ve been lying in bed for the last three weeks. I need to get up and move around. I’m wasting away in that damn bed."

"Are you sure? There’s so many stairs…"

"Mom! I’m not a cancer patient! I can walk, you know. Besides, Vegeta’s practically saving my life. I at least want to see the ship he’ll be going to R’haksin in."

"Well your father has been working on it for a while." She laughed. "Of course, any ordinary human would have taken a team of 50 and at least a couple of months to build what he’s built. I swear, that man gets smarter every day." She giggled.

Bulma smiled in spite of herself, and reached up to touch the still sore bruise on the back of her neck. Vegeta had avoided her like the plague ever since she’d woken up and remembered who it was that had seen her naked and sprawled less than gracefully on her ass. It hadn’t done much to embarrass her, but Vegeta still remained as elusive as a shadow, with as much personality as a wet dishrag. The guy’s risking his life for me, you’d think he’d want to talk about it. She thought. But, there was no point in trying to change the man. She’d tried a number of times and failed miserably. Sayajins. She muttered inwardly. Especially royal ones.

They got to the bottom of the stairway, and there he stood, arms crossed over an impossibly muscled chest. Bulma shuffled up behind him while her mother went to stand beside her father. Vegeta cast a look quickly to her, said nothing, and resumed staring ahead at the spaceship.

"It’s a fine model." Dr. Briefs said proudly. "Everything you’ll need, you’ll find. I installed a number of training devices…as I thought you may want to prepare for the Storkrins."

Bulma remembered; Vegeta had called the R’haksin inhabitants Storkrins. She wondered what they were like.

He snorted arrogantly at her father. "I will have no problems with the Storkrins. They will remember me well. They may be excessively violent, but they are no match for myself."

Bulma wondered if he was right.

"Well, anyhow, you can still use it should you want to train." Dr. Briefs said quietly, and Bulma was suddenly ashamed of him. He never stood up the Prince. Everyone else she knew, even Yaumcha, stood up to Vegeta. There was no real threat involved with Vegeta now; he had changed. He was still dangerous and unpredictable, but Bulma somehow knew that he would never kill any of them. If he put up with her crap for the past long months without blowing a hole through her head, then she wasn’t sure if anything could set him off.

Vegeta left her side and began circling the ship, eyeing every nook and cranny with great evaluation. She watched him disappear into the ship and return at the hatch a moment later. He nodded bluntly and turned, prepared to leave the room.

"Vegeta…" Bulma said, slightly annoyed. "Don’t you think you should at least thank my father?"

"He’s doing this for your benefit. Besides, I haven’t heard you thank me yet."

She stared, taken aback. "I…" she searched for words. She hadn’t thanked him. Heat filled her face. But that was because he had been avoiding her! She locked gazes with him again. "How could I have had a chance? You’ve been avoiding me at every corner!" she nearly exploded. Her parents tactfully moved to the back of the ship.

"That’s no excuse!"

"Well, seeing me naked is no excuse for you avoiding me, either!" she yelled back, sadistically pleased with the blush that spread over his face.

As usual, whenever annoyed, Vegeta said nothing in return to her.

"Fine. If you’re going to be like that, which I can already see you are, then I’m leaving. You can fiddle around with my father’s spaceship to your hearts desire." She snapped. "Whatever."

* * *

Bulma glanced at the clock. 9:15 a.m. It was Wednesday, March 16. Vegeta was to leave for R’haksin tomorrow. It was strange; that this man who she thought had hated her was now leaving their planet to risk his life for a cure for her illness. She wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it, even now, as the Capsule Corp. household had been a flurry of activity for the past week. And still Vegeta had not yet spoken to her since the day in her father’s lab.

Why is he doing this?

She sighed and shuffled further under the covers, thinking the same question that had plagued her mind since the moment she had heard of his decision. Was she worried for him? How was she going to feel, while he was in space, searching for a simple plant that meant her life? Bulma sat upright with a heave, staring at the door in front of her. She wouldn’t sleep she knew it, if she didn’t talk to him before he left. It was absurd, anyway, not to speak to the man who was going to save your life!

"That does it." Slowly she inched out of the covers and yanked a rumpled T-shirt of Yaumcha’s over her head. One of the many that littered corners of her bedroom. Another thought struck her. What about Yaumcha?

He still thinks we’re together. He’s holding onto that so strongly…he won’t let go…

She shrugged a pair of sweat pants on and raked a hand through her uncombed hair. Well, that’s his own fault. She wasn’t going to cup her hands around that tiny flicker of flame, hoping to keep it from going out. There was no point. They may have loved each other, but that time was past and over.

She stepped out into the hallway and was greeted by her father, who instantly pulled her aside. "Bulma, you’re finally awake." He smiled at her, the familiar black cat on his shoulder meowing in response.

"It’s getting harder and harder to get up in the mornings, dad." She replied and scratched the cat behind its ears.

"Anyway, I need to ask you a favor. Only if you’re feeling up to it." He sucked in a breath, and Bulma became wary, knowing this was going to be a request that she wasn’t going to like. "Could you accompany Vegeta to the shopping mall? He needs to buy about 900$ worth of food for this trip, you know those Sayajin appetites."

Bulma balked. "Why me?" she cried. The idea was insane! Vegeta? Shopping? It just didn’t go together in the same sentence.

"There isn’t any food in this house, at least, not enough for him to even consider it being a bite. Your mother is busy preparing other things for his trip, and I’m making some final adjustments to the ship. You’re the only one whose experienced enough in dealing with him, and the only one available." Dr. Briefs finished, looking hopefully to his daughter.

"He hates me!" Bulma decided on. "He won’t agree to it!"

"When you tell him that you’ll buy him whatever food he wants, he will. As proud as that man is, he’s not going to pass up the opportunity for food." Her father countered.

Sulking, Bulma nodded her agreement. Her father smiled. "Thanks, hon. I knew we could count on you."

"Don’t get mad at me when the bill racks up over a couple grand." She muttered as she stalked off.

* * *

"Shopping?"

Bulma tried hard not to laugh at the horror in the Prince’s voice. The two of them stood in the Gravity Chamber, Vegeta on the floor doing his 9 thousandth one-fingered push-up, with Bulma standing beside him trying not to gawk.

She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her sweat pants. "Yes, shopping. You’re going to be in space for…how long was it?" she brushed it off before he could continue, hoping to get her point in as quickly as possible. "A long time, anyway. You’re going to need a lot of food."

"How do you know that?" he growled softly, sweat streaming down his face.

"Because I’ve been Goku’s best friend for 13 years!" she shot back. "And I’ve learned over those 13 years that there is nothing in this known universe that eats more than a Sayajin."

"Hmph."

"Yeah, ‘hmph’." She mimicked. "But you’re going to have to come with me, whether you like it or not."

"Is that necessary?"

"Yes!" Bulma was getting frustrated, and the Prince knew it. "For one, I don’t know what the hell you like to eat, for two, I have to make sure you don’t kill anybody, and three, you don’t know shit about shopping!"

"Then go for me!" he snarled. "I’m busy."

"And I have a disease!" she nearly screamed. "Look, I hauled my tired eroding ass out of bed to take you to the god damn mall, the least you could do is come with me without a fight!"

Vegeta stood abruptly, and Bulma stepped back a little as he leveled a gaze at her. "Now why would I be that nice to you?" he asked, that annoying as hell smirk playing on his features.

"I don’t know, Vegeta. I’ve been wondering why you’re being so nice to me for the past two weeks."

He looked away and yanked a towel off the control panel, absently swinging it around his neck. "Let’s get this over with, then." He said with his usual frown.

"Let’s."

15 minuets later, Vegeta walked up to Bulma’s candy apple red Capsule Corp. Convertible and opened the door to get in. Bulma stared. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What?" he cried.

"You’re going to go looking like that? Did you even wash your face?"

"Woman, my personal hygiene is of no concern to you. I’m going on this ridiculous little outing with you, aren’t I? I don’t think what my hair looks like should be on your agenda of complaints."

Scowling, Bulma revved the engine up and sped off toward the nearest grocery store.

* * *

"What the hell is that?"

Bulma looked over at Vegeta, who was currently bent over staring at a glass display case containing live lobster.

"It’s a lobster, Vegeta." She said flatly. "Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a lobster!"

"What is the point of this ‘lobster’?" he inspected the slow moving red creatures as they moved back and forth in front of the glass, raising clawed hands to tap now and then against the walls of their confinement.

"You eat them!" Bulma cried, exasperated. The Seafood specialist was starting to give the Sayajin Prince odd looks. Vegeta straightened and peered over the edge of the tank into the water.

"Let’s go. I want to get this over with."

"I want a lobster."

Bulma seethed. "You’ve never had one, you won’t know how to cook it or eat it, and you’ll probably hate it anyway!"

Vegeta shrugged, pulled up his sleeve, and stuck his hand into the container. Bulma shrieked as he pulled out one of the squirming lobsters and proceeded to twist its head off in one swift movement. The snapping claws hung limp. Bulma quickly apologized to the clerk, yanked hard on Vegeta’s arm and pulled them away into the cereal isle.

"What the FUCK did you do that for?" she screamed into his face. The isle was empty, save for a dark haired teenager with Afro busy stocking the shelves. Vegeta ignored her and cautiously sniffed the lobster’s lifeless body. Quickly, he nibbled on the head. Nothing happened. He growled, tossing the poor violated creature to the floor.

"You’re such a jerk!"

"What did you expect me to do? There was no way of eating it. What a stupid human food."

"I told you that you wouldn’t like it!" she stopped the cart in front of a display of Cheerios. "Look, do you want some of these?"

"What is it?"

"Cereal. You know, you put it in a bowl and pour some milk on it? Honestly…" she shook her head. "You can be so dense."

Vegeta grabbed an armload of the boxes and tossed them into the quickly overflowing cart. He looked disapprovingly at the towering mass of food and then looked at Bulma. "You can’t expect me to fit all of what I’ll need into one of these pathetic shopping carts." He growled.

"Then you go get one!" she grabbed a can of Spaghetti O’s off the shelf and tossed them in the cart. "I’ll stay here."

He shrugged and walked off toward the front of the store to grab a cart. Bulma sighed with relief and walked up to the Stock Boy. "Excuse me?"

He turned. His nametag read: Dane O’Hara.

In smaller print…’How may I help you?’

He smiled. "Yeah?"

"Can you show me where the Pickles are?" she noticed the instant look of disgust on his face, shook it off, and smiled. "The guy I’m with, he’s very strange, but he loves pickles. By the way, I love your Afro."

"Thanks. Yeah, he’s definitely strange, if he likes those green son of a bitches." Dane replied. "Anyway, they’re over in Isle seven."

"…thanks."

"Uh!" Dane replied, grabbing on his balls much like a multi-platinum rap star would.

Bulma stared warily, then walked off to Isle Seven.

"Wait!"

She turned back to Dane. He grinned. "Say hi to Bald Midget for me!"

"What?"

He vanished in a puff of smoke before she could get another word in. Shaking her head, she continued toward the Isle.

* * *

Vegeta leaned over and dumped the armload of apples he was carrying into the cart. An overweight woman sporting pink stretch pants and a toupee smiled gently at him, revealing row upon row of hideous Billy-bob teeth. Vegeta shuddered.

"You should put those apples in a bag, honey. That way they won’t bruise." She put her hands on her hips and stuck out her chest, which was covered by what Vegeta assumed to be a belly shirt. Fluttering her eyelashes, she shot another hillbilly smile at him.

He glared. "Don’t call me honey, you fat bitch."

She balked. "WHAT!?"

He smirked and pushed the cart down the Isle, grabbing random fruits and vegetables and tossing them into the cart. After a moment or two, he felt a hand tapping on his shoulder. He turned, and saw the ugliest man he had ever seen staring down at him. The man must have been 6’3. He wore suspenders over a plaid shirt. He spit a wad of black tobacco too close to Vegeta’s pristinely white boots. Vegeta scowled.

"What the hell’s your problem, buddy?" the man spit, his teeth equally as deformed and disgusting as the woman who stood behind him. It was the fat bitch from before.

"Get him, Cletus!" she guffawed, slapping the man on the back.

"I don’t have a problem, except for the fact that you smell like pig shit." Vegeta replied calmly.

"HUH?" the man growled. He clenched his fists and lunged at Vegeta.

Vegeta laughed and stepped out of the way just in time to watch the mans bulk of 268 pounds crash to the floor with a resounding crash.

"Cletus!" the fat bitch cried in dismay, running to his side. The man quickly recovered and lunged back at Vegeta, who slowly lifted a fist and punched the man with enough force to leave a small crater in his face. He shot backward through a display case of canned spinach and embedded himself in the frozen food section.

"Somebody call an Ambulance!"

Vegeta wheeled his cart around the corner without another word.

* * *

The pimply-faced teenager ran the can of spaghetti O’s over the price check for the fourth time, registering no response. He looked over the can, turning it sideways and upside down as if it would somehow magically fix the problem. It didn’t. He chewed loudly on his enormous wad of bubble gum.

"I’m sorry sir," he said, blowing a large obnoxious bubble dangerously close to Vegeta’s face, "but you’re going to have to get another can. This one’s dysfunctional."

Vegeta shot the teen his very best ‘I’m going to brutally disembowel you now’ scowl, startling the teen into sudden terrified silence. "I don’t care if it’s leaking acid. Put the fucking can in the bag, you grab-ass."

Bulma stepped forward just in time to save the teens life. She smiled apologetically. "I’m sorry. He has distemper."

"Oh." The teen replied, not taking his eyes off the massive bulges of muscle protruding from every inch of Vegeta’s body.

"Anyway, you can just set that can over there. We won’t buy it." She rummaged around in her purse, trying desperately to find her charge card in time. At last she produced her shiny Visa, and handed it to the teen’s trembling fingers. He ran it through once, tallying up the amount. It took a good ten minuets to print the receipt. "Here you are, ma’ am." The teen said. Bulma took the piece of paper and smiled. "Thank you."

Vegeta pushed Bulma aside and slammed his hands down on the counter, getting at least a few good shrieks from the customers behind him. The teen threw his hands up defensively in front of his face, screaming much like a schoolgirl would. "Aren’t you forgetting something?"

"U-uhm…?"

"You’re supposed to tell us to ‘have a nice day’." Vegeta said. "I should report you."

"Vegeta!!"

He chuckled, shooting the teen a cruel smirk. "See ya, grab-ass." Bulma hauled him off away from the counter, dragging him down the Isles toward the doors.

"You’re such a freak! Can’t you be nice to anyone?"

"No."

She punched him in the shoulder before taking out her remote and unlocking the car doors. "Finally." She muttered. "It’s over with." She began the tedious task of somehow cramming the massive amount of packages into the small compact car. It proved to be difficult, and once they were seated, food sat on their laps and towered nearly over their heads. Bulma craned her neck to see over the t.v dinner and out the window. She stepped on the gas.

They left just in time to see the Ambulance squeal into the parking lot, sirens blaring. Bulma stared. "I wonder what happened?" she asked aloud as they turned onto the highway.

Vegeta shrugged. "How would I know?"

* * *

Night settled quickly over the Capsule Corp. Building, where inside, a great many people rushed around in a mad attempt to get ready for the next day, when a Prince they had once fought in anger was going to save their friends life.

Everyone helped, all but one, the very center of the project. Vegeta sat on the roof of the building, directly above Bulma’s bedroom. He could hear her moving around inside. She’d left the window open, almost in an invitation, almost as if she somehow expected him to come in and talk to her. He couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that she knew he wouldn’t use the door. How strange she was…

He lay back and put his hands behind his head, staring into the dark expanse of stars. Within that blanket of twinkling endlessness were hundreds of Planets that he had pillaged. Now, he was to return to one where he had been helped and assisted in his way back to Vegetasei, to gather a plant that he knew would save Bulma’s life. Would the Storkrins remember him? Would they recognize the cruel, dark Prince who had killed dozens of their people? For his benefit, he hoped they would. It would make things easier, and quicker. He had no intention of staying on R’haksin for more than a couple of days at the most, and if things went smoothly and the Storkrins cooperated, he would be able to leave and return to Earth quickly, where he could resume his daily life.

The air was cooling rapidly, and suddenly Vegeta didn’t think it would be such a bad idea if he did go inside. After all, considering the obviousness of the window, he didn’t think Bulma would be terribly surprised. Although he was surprised at himself for wanting to talk to her…everything about him was confusing these days.

Bulma jumped at the sound of feet landing on her floor. She spun around and there stood Vegeta, not surprisingly. So he had taken her invitation.

"I was hoping you’d come in here." She said, trying to fill the silence that engulfed them both.

Silent right to the end, he only eyed her, as though by looking as deep into her eyes as he could he might somehow be able to see the answer as to why he was doing this. Bulma hoped he would; she still didn’t know.

"So…you’re leaving tomorrow morning." She stated, sitting down on the bed. Without thinking she had left just the right amount of space for Vegeta to sit next to her. He noticed, but he didn’t take that invitation. One was enough.

"Yes." He replied shortly.

"So then…why are you here?"

"Didn’t you want to talk to me?" he asked, indicating the window.

"I suppose I did." She turned and faced him, pulling her legs up into a sitting position. "Tell me about R’haksin."

He blinked awkwardly, completely unprepared for her question. "What do you want to know?" he tried to regain his cool composure.

Bulma shrugged. "Just…what’s it like?" she sighed, wistfully, he thought. "You’re lucky to be able to go to space…"

she stopped herself, as though catching what she had said. "I mean…I know you’re going for me, and…" she stumbled over her words. "I just meant…I mean, I’m very thankful…"

Vegeta smirked. "Woman, calm down."

She frowned. "It’s just that I’ve never really been anywhere terribly exciting. At least not since Goku and I were idiot kids searching for DragonBalls." She looked up at him. "Now its your turn. Now you’re the one Goku fights beside, the one Goku respects." She paused. "You know, Vegeta. Goku thinks very highly of you. To think you tried to kill us all years ago, and now you’re this walking powerhouse defending the Earth."

Vegeta listened with genuine surprise. Bulma thought that of him? He’d always thought that she had thought of him as nothing more than a burden living with her. He noticed her watching him and shrugged.

"I train to beat kakarott." He snorted. "I will." He added with clear finality. Bulma smiled, knowing well enough what to avoid saying.

"I know you respect him too, Vegeta. No matter how much you try to deny it, you respect him."

He didn’t say anything. The silence filled the room again, so Bulma decided to get up and close the window. "So, anyway, tell me what R’haksin is like. I mean, the people." She fingered the closing latch. "Storkrins?"

Vegeta crossed one foot over the other and shrugged. "They are a cruel and ruthless race. They kill anything and anyone without thinking, if that person dares defy them. However, I have no worries. They are strong, and extremely clever, but I surpass them in both those areas."

Bulma knew well enough that Vegeta was strong, as he had displayed a number of times. What must truly destroy him the most about being second after Goku, was that in battle, Goku fought with good hard determination and honest power. Vegeta, however powerful, used a different approach. He used trickery and cunning. Where Goku lacked the intelligence to fool a person, or play mind games with them, Vegeta could have them wrapped around his finger within moments with his tactics of deception.

"So even if the lot of them charged you all at once, you could handle yourself?"

Vegeta looked at her with annoyance. "Of course, woman. The most powerful of them would only have a power rating of 8000."

She nodded. "Vegeta…I want you to know how much this means to me. I know you think I hate you, but you’ve proven to me that you are a good person, somewhere in there." Vegeta glanced away. "It’s an excuse to get away from you," He said, trying to hide his cruel smirk. "and this boring Planet."

So like you, Vegeta, to pretend you don’t have feelings.

"Whatever." She said. "It just means a lot to me, and thank you." She met his gaze. "I never thought my savior would be you, of all people."

"It’s getting late." He cut the conversation short, again, avoiding the subject of him saving her. "I need to rest for tomorrow." He climbed gracefully onto the windowsill and undid the latch, stepping outside. He was gone within moments leaving Bulma alone in her bedroom. "That didn’t go at all like I planned…" she mumbled. With nothing else to do, she retired to bed.