Authors Notes: Thank you all so much for all the wonderful reviews!! ^_^ I’ve never had a fic this popular before! Anyway, to clarify a few things for you guys: Is there something wrong with Vegeta ‘satisfying’ himself? (L) I thought that was something all men do. Just a note: This fic is going to have a number of lemony scenes. I hope that doesn’t bother anybody! I sure as hell know it doesn’t bother me!! ^_^ Also, a few of you peoples noticed a number of silly mistakes I have been making. Well, to explain that, I would have to say that I get so wrapped up in my V/B fics that I often forget things I’ve made the characters say or do. I hope that doesn’t make anyone angry!

Another thing: I’m SOOO glad you’re all liking Ghost and Spider. I thought they were pretty cute ^_^ and don’t worry, I’m really trying on some happier chapters from now on, really I am!

~J.J

Now, the woman psychiatrist who sat across from him studied him as he looked at the cuts, tapping her pen against the corner of her slightly visible teeth. Long, lacured fingernails clicked impatiently on the armchair. So very professional she was, with her clipboard and her dark blue office attire. Nylons covered her legs and heels adorned her petite feet.

"Yaumcha?" she brought him out of his haze. "You were about to tell me why you tried to kill yourself." She sighed, her voice devoid of any true emotion. "Continue."

He lifted himself slightly and tucked his wrists under himself, a habit he had found himself to be resorting to an awful lot lately. The Psychiatrist stared him down with cold, calculating blue eyes. Eyes exactly the color of Bulmas.

Why had he tried to kill himself, anyway? Didn’t he know he would just be wished back again, anyway? Perhaps it was that Bulma had wanted to go off into space with Vegeta. If Vegeta had for some reason taken her by force, then he supposed it would not have been such a terrible thing. It killed him inside to know that she had obviously wanted to. Her things would not have been missing if she had been kidnapped by the Prince. Time and effort had been apparent in her leave. She had wanted to, that was what hurt him.

"She wanted to leave." He said.

"Bulma?" The woman lifted one plucked eyebrow.

"Yes." He replied softly. "But then…maybe I’m not so sad because of that. Maybe I’m angry with myself, because…because I cheated on her."

The woman said nothing, and waited for him to continue.

Yaumcha blushed hotly and shifted his weight on his hands. "I mean, maybe I’ve finally realized that I was wrong in wounding her trust in our relationship."

"Did you love her?" She asked quietly.

Yaumcha looked up, offended, and instantly opened his mouth to protest. But then he stopped. Maybe there was reason in what she asked. Did he love her? How could he, if he had been able to give himself to another woman?

"Do I need to let her go?" he asked softly. "Is that it?"

The woman checked her watch and stood, clearly unimpressed with something or other. "That is for you to decide. Our time is up." She gathered her briefcase and papers in a messy armload and went for the door. "I’ll send the bill to the Capsule Corporation."

And then she was gone.

It was a beautiful day for R’haksin.

Although, for one trapped so far beneath the red earth such as Koru was, only glimpses of sunlight could manage to sneak in through the deep tunnel, and that was a treasure in itself.

Koru watched the approach of the new day with a growing sense of mystery. Something above was happening. She could feel it in the ground beneath her. Even if concrete kept her from feeling the true soil with her hands, the rhythm of the earth had changed, and a new life’s scent carried itself on the wind and down into The Dungeons. It drifted in on a breeze through the iron bars of her cell and wafted into her nostrils.

She opened wide eyes.

It was here.

* * *

Strifelon knew of the Pystrim Osis long before any other Storkrin did. It’s scent had come to him in his sleep, before the new days light had graced the red earth of R’haksin. Now, he pulled tight his worn brown cloak around his bony (but still impressive) shoulders and headed out toward the Storkrin Council of Elders.

It was a long walk, and he enjoyed it, on the rare occasions that he would walk it. No one else would know of the plants awakening, yet, and it had always been his long-standing duty to inform them. Treskor would no doubt be awake. He would alert the Council, and then ask for directions to the Earthling’s Ship. She would no doubt be estatic to learn of the Psytrim’s birth.

However, what she would not know, and what most regularly forgot was that the plant needed time. Once it rose from the soil, it needed to bloom before it could be ready to be made into the edible paste. Only Strifelon knew of these such things. Within four days time he would be able to extract the Pystrim from the soil and carry it down into his lab, so that it would be able to ripen under the chemicals he would subject it to. He raised his snout into the chilled morning air and drew a deep breath. But today was indeed a slightly remarkable day. A Pystrim had not bloomed for two years. This was the first in that long a time.

The Earthling should be honored.

He adjourned to the Council for a brief time, told them of the Psytrim, and then headed back out through the doors toward the Ship. By now the strange light had filled the red planet with life and he could clearly see the new day stretching on for miles. The ship was not far. He would be there soon.

Briefly he wondered of the Roctorn infants. Such a strange thing it was to see ten of them orphaned. The cause of their orphaning was still a myserty, and he supposed the Prince would never tell him. It was a truly amazing thing that they had been able to bring down a full-grown, 1600 pound mother Roctorn. He hoped they knew what they were doing, allowing themselves to become so very close to the infants.

Strifelon peered at the ship once he arrived at its base. It was indeed very large. He wondered who had built such a thing. The Earthling? He had heard that Earth had much technology. Was their technology more advanced than that of R’haksin’s? He thought not.

He knocked twice on the door and waited patiently. There was a loud grunt, a small crash, a squeal, and the sound of many tiny paws scurrying across linoleum floor.

Vegeta threw open the ships door, looking less than regal. His usually disturbing hair was even more so disturbing than usual. Strifelon peered closely. The largest of the Roctorn infants, Spider, was actually crawling around inside the flaming upsweep of hair. He grinned, showing pointed yellowed teeth.

"The day isss growing old already, Prince." He hissed. The earthling female, Bulma, appeared close behind the Prince, a bowl in one hand, wearing giant fuzzy slippers. She bent at the waist and scooped up three of the infants that were trying desperately to escape through the door. Ghost sat, as usual, perched on her shoulder. He blinked slowly at the Storkrin and yawned loudly.

Vegeta yanked Spider out of his hair with a short growl and secured him in his arms, where he continued to snarl and swipe at the Prince’s unprotected chest in his usual playful manner.

"And what brings you here, Strifelon?" Vegeta asked. He grabbed Spiders little legs and held them fast. The Roctorn snarled.

"Ah," Strifelon held up one gnarled finger. "Much doesss, thisss day, Prince." He winked at Bulma, who looked curiously at him in return.

"What would that be?" Vegeta asked.

"The Psssytrim hasss arrived!" He threw up his spindly arms and grinned again. Bulma half expected him to break into song. But he had said ‘Psytrim’! The reason that they were here! The reason they had endured all of this was finally here! She felt herself squealing in unrestrained joy.

"But," Strifelon held up his claws again, signaling for silence. "The plant needsss four daysss to grow, earthling female."

Bulma’s grin did not lessen. They could be out of here within four days! She turned to Vegeta and slapped him on the shoulder. "Four days!" she cried, laughing. "I’ll be cured of this goddamn disease! We can go home!"

Vegeta smiled. Yes, they could, couldn’t they? Home. He could go back to his training, his gravity chamber. And she could go crawling back to that…

He trailed off in thought. What would happen when they returned? Would she crawl back to that worthless weakling? Or would she remember that night when she had crawled into his arms?

"What’s wrong, Vegeta?" Bulma was still laughing loudly. "We can go home in four days! I’m going to be cured!"

Strifelon had not left the doorway. "The plant tassstesss horrible, earthling female." He flicked his tongue out and tasted the morning air. "Much more horrible than anything you will ever tassste."

Bulma shrugged. What was taste, compared to life? She bounded past Vegeta and hugged the giant lizard-man once more, this time without any fear or embarrassment. This was an embrace of pure happiness. She was going to live! She could see her family, her friends, Chi-Chi! In four days!

Strifelon put his hands on her shoulders when she pulled away. "You come to sssee me when the Psssytrim hasss ripened. Four daysss, earthling female."

Smiling, Bulma said; "My name is Bulma. Did you not know that?"

Strifelon waggled a clawed index finger at her. "That isssn’t exciting, earthling female."

She laughed and waved to him as he turned and disappeared into the bright, chilly red mist of the morning. Closing the ships door behind her, she leaned against it, her heart racing with excitement.

"I’m so incredibly happy, Vegeta!" she cried. "I can’t wait until I’m better."

He smiled a half smile at her and turned back into the kitchen, the 10 infant Roctorn’s scurrying after him as though he was their mother. Bulma pushed herself away from the door and trailed after him.

"Something bothering you?" she asked cautiously.

"No." he kept looking straight ahead. "Are you hungry?"

She grinned and did a little dance toward the kitchen fridge. "Not really." She said. "But you are."

He sat down at the table and leaned back dangerously far in the chair. "How do you know?"

Bulma turned to him, frying pan in hand. "Really, Vegeta." She raised an eyebrow. "How in the hell could you not be hungry." She turned to the stove and set the temperatures. "Besides," she said, her back to him, "I’m in such a good mood, I’m going to make you a big breakfast just because. Even though you don’t deserve it, since you still haven’t apologized to me."

Vegeta watched her tiny, perfectly shaped bottom swaying around in the air in front of him and tried in vain to look somewhere else. His mind would not give him a rest. Strifelons words were indeed good news, but at the same time, he realized that they had terrified him. He was actually scared of returning to Earth. He was nervous as to what was going to happen. Bulma had said that she and the weakling boyfriend were no longer mates. But did that truly solidify things? Or would she go back to him now, out of fear? Or out of loneliness? It seemed they had both forgotten those two intimate nights. Shouldn’t something have come out of this trip to R’haksin? He felt different inside, sure, but did she? Hadn’t anything changed? They had been through an awful lot together. And encounters such as the ones they had shared on this ship did not just go unnoticed…they did not simply become forgotten.

Vegeta was suddenly angry. He realized he didn’t want to return to Earth without her as his mate. He swallowed against the lump of swollen pride in his throat. Could he? Could he apologize to her? He had been wrong, hadn’t he?

The smell of suddenly overpowering bacon stirred him out of his thoughts. Bulma placed a plate of bacon and toast in front of him. She leaned back against the counter and watched him as he picked up his fork. Inside, his heart was pounding. It was pounding much harder than when he had fought Freiza. Can I do this, he thought? Can I actually approach this weak little woman and tell her that I am truly, honestly sorry for saying that to her? Because I am sorry, aren’t I? He stuffed a generous helping of the bacon into his mouth and ignored the mewling and pawing of the Roctorn’s at his feet.

Turn around. He thought.

She flashed him one more smile before turning to the now bubbling eggs that were frying. Vegeta frantically devoured the last two forkfuls and got up as quietly as he could. At the stove, she was humming a lively tune, completely unaware of the fact that he was about to…

Bulma jumped, startled, when Vegeta wrapped his arms around her waist, gently, letting them hang loose as not to make her feel too uncomfortable. She had just enough room to turn in his embrace, and she did, her spatula in one hand and her other searching for a place to touch.

"Vegeta…?"

"Woman, shut the hell up and let me talk." He growled softly, trying to push the hammering of his heart into the back of his mind. Bulma waited, grease from the frying pan dripping off the spatula.

He stared into her endless eyes and took a deep breath. "Woman…I’m…I’m sorry." He struggled.

Bulma stared at him for a long while, making his heart hammer even harder within his ribcage, like a frightened bird. Why is she drawing it out? He thought frantically. What did I do wrong?

He was two seconds away from turning and fleeing from the kitchen when she leaned up and gave him a tiny kiss on the cheek. He froze.

"Good enough." She said softly, a little smile playing on her lips.

"Woman," Vegeta smirked and recovered from his initial shock and pulled her closer, now unafraid to tighten his grasp around her much desired body, "That was not a kiss."

Bulma giggled and tried without much effort to elude the Prince’s attentions. She lost, and was pushed against the kitchen counter, where powerful arms encased her with a tenderness that she had been waiting for all her life.

She melted.