She kicked out in frustration at the tangled sheets that were winding themselves around her legs. Finally unable to take it anymore, she reached down, tore them off, and flopped back against the bed nearly spent. She knew full well why she wasn’t able to get to sleep.

Vegeta.

Her mind was too troubled; spinning in circles. But always it ended up in the same place as she had started, getting her nowhere with no answers. Had he just said that he didn’t know? Or was he avoiding her again?

Why do you have to be so distant?

It didn’t make any sense. She could tell he had feelings for her. Why else would he have come here to save her? Why else would he have saved her life back in the bathroom with the Forae, and laid with her afterwards for hours, nursing her back to health?

No, of course it didn’t make any sense, and it shouldn’t. This was Vegeta she was thinking about. The man was a walking talking enigma that had always driven her insane and always would. She moaned in frustrated agony and curled up into a ball on her side. She stared ahead at the dark blue bodysuit slung over the arm of the couch beside her bed. There was more proof; Vegeta obviously had physical feelings for her, or else he wouldn’t have gone through the trouble of making such a revealing outfit for her. Oh well, physical feelings were a start.

She blinked, as a new thought poked into her head. Yaumcha. What was he doing, back on Earth? Was he thinking about her? Or was he bar hopping as usual? Hitting on every pretty girl he saw?

She felt an odd smile tugging at the corner of her mouth when it occurred to her that she didn’t mind if that was indeed the case. After all, she had left with angry feelings for him, and why not? He had cheated on her.

Cheated.

The word rang through her ears. Such a thing was not forgivable. She wasn’t about to forgive him, either. Is this why having such thoughts about Vegeta was easy? Had she lost all of her love for Yaumcha?

What would happen when she and Vegeta returned to Earth? That was the next big question. Was it truly over between her and the lovable warrior who had been on so many adventures with her? Was it time to bury all those hundreds of memories?

She closed her eyes as new tears assaulted her.

In the cold, bleak whiteness of the Satan City Hospital, a dizzy Yaumcha blinked up at the strange fluorescent lights above his head and felt a wave of panic. Where was he? He smelt medicine.

What the hell is on my arm?

He couldn’t move; he felt oddly drugged. What had been done to him? Where was he? Where was Bulma, why wasn’t she…

He sucked in a breath. Bulma was gone…that was why he was here…the Hospital?

He sat up and felt a wave of nausea. An IV was hooked up to his right arm, and his left wrist was weighed down with white bandages. He peered at it, lifting it up to the light. What did I do?

"DOCTOR!"

He nearly jumped out of his skin and looked up to see a Nurse staring at him as though he was back from the dead. She was half in, half out of his room, her eyes wide and her mouth fully parted.

Am I?

"Yaumcha!" The Nurse raced to his side, poking and peering at every inch of him with not a whole lot of concealed amazement. "It’s…a miracle!" she looked up at him with wide, green eyes. "Completely unexpected!"

"What?" he mumbled. His head hurt.

"Why, you’ve been in a coma of depression for the past three weeks!" she cried, incredulous. She paused and lowered her voice considerably. "Don’t you remember? Do you remember what happened…?"

Yaumcha stared at her, blinking dumbly. "N…no…" he said. His brows furrowed deeply. "I…where’s Bulma…did she leave again? Did Vegeta…?"

"Calm down," The Nurse said, worry suddenly in her eyes. "You really don’t remember, do you?" Her lean frame bent over him and gently untied the gauze wrappings. Yaumcha stared at the three criss-crossing lines that spread diagonally and vertically across his wrist. The cuts were deep and startlingly red against the whiteness of the hospital sheets.

"I…"

The Nurse pursed her lips into a sympathetic smile. "You see? Now, we have to contact your family and friends. Don’t worry, we’ll get you back on your feet soon. They’ll be so happy to hear that you’re out of it."

Yaumcha wasn’t listening. He was too busy fainting.

Vegeta stood outside her bedroom door, listening to the soft whimpering and occasional little sobs. He willed himself to open the door. His hand was inches from the doorknob…why couldn’t he just open it?

He was disgusted with himself. He could defeat some of the Universes strongest warriors, he could do nine thousand one-finger push-ups and he could lift busses, but he couldn’t reach out and open a simple doorknob.

What in the hell was wrong with him?

He growled softly. He knew. It was this weak little female in the room beyond the door. This weak little female who was crying because of him. Had he come here to apologize? Why had he come here?

Open the fucking door, Vegeta.

He did. It was pitch black inside the room, but instantly his sharp Sayajin eyes made out the tiny form curled up on the bed. She didn’t move at the sound of the door opening, nor did she move when he padded softly across the carpet and seated himself in the chair directly across from her bed. He could see her eyes flutter as she tried to watch him while appearing asleep. He smirked inwardly.

"What are you doing here?"

"So you are awake."

"I am now."

He nodded, settling back in the chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. The whole room smelled of her; pairs of carelessly tossed underwear lay at his feet and he tried to ignore the intoxicating scent of her womanhood that coated them. He was leaning against the cool vinyl bodysuit of hers, and leaned forward, away from it. He shouldn’t let it, but it gave him bad memories that he didn’t want to remember. There wasn’t any way of getting away from it; she was going to be wearing it for the next four weeks. He was being foolish.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Her dark form shrugged beneath the blankets. "My stomach hurts, and I’m cold." She said with a shaky sigh, obviously from her crying. "I miss Ghost…" she grabbed fistfuls of the sheets and curled them up into her chin.

"Isn’t he with Koru?"

"Yes. I’m happy that he’ll be making her happy…but I miss him."

Vegeta couldn’t understand how a person could miss something so ugly. "You’ll see him tomorrow." He said, trying not to let the annoyance creep into his voice. Judging by the sudden silence in the air he hadn’t done a good job.

"Did you come here to chastise me?" Bulma said.

He frowned. "No." he said. "I’m not sure why I came here, to tell the truth. I thought you might be feeling ill…"

"Well, I appreciate your concern. But as long as you’re going to keep avoiding my question, then you can leave, unless you’ve got an answer now."

There was no mistaking the intentional coolness in her voice. He took the hint and rose from the chair.

"Then I’ll leave." He said quietly.

She didn’t say a word as he left the room, but she definitely wanted to.

* * *

Vegeta froze when he heard the tap running in the kitchen. She was still awake, that was no surprise. He was to, of course. He had been lying awake listening to her crying subside below.

Why do women cry so much? He rolled onto his side, frowning. I wonder what its like, to have that much emotion.

The tap shut off with a squeak and he heard her feet padding around the perimeter of the kitchen. Plates clinked in their cupboards as she made herself a midnight snack. Vegeta listened to hear eating for a while.

Did I really hurt her that much? He supposed, after a careful degree of thought that he had been wrong to call her ‘another’s property’ and supposed that he was, in a way, deserving of her cold words.

The plates clinked again as they were placed in the sink. The tap ran for a few more minuets, and then he heard her feet stop in the middle of the room. He waited. She seemed to be deliberating something. He could hear her confused noises as she tried to make whatever decision she was trying to make. Then, unexpectedly, her feet began walking in his direction. He closed his eyes and deepened his breathing just in time as she opened his door quietly.

"Vegeta…?" it was a faint whisper.

He continued his deep breathing. What if she needs something? Should I answer her?

Bulma remained standing in the doorway. His heart thundered in his chest; what was she doing? He desperately wanted her to get it over with, whatever it was. But something deep inside of him loved the fact that she was simply standing, looking at him while he slept.

Then, before he could even react, Bulma had slipped into the covers beside him and wrapped her arms hesitantly around his middle, pulling her small body against his. Vegeta’s entire body tensed from head to toe. Never before had anyone been this close to him. Never before had he been touched by anyone other than in anger. Now, as she snuggled into him comfortably, he had no idea how to feel or what to do. He could feel her breath on his neck as she breathed; it smelled of goldfish crackers. Her fingers curled around the elastic waistband of his black boxers and he felt a sudden warmth in his groin as her pelvis nudged itself against his backside.

Is this a sexual move, on her part? His mind raced. But no, although her touches could have been considered lustful, they somehow seemed devoid of any sexual intention. The way she breathed deeply, the way her body was totally relaxed against his signaled that perhaps she was merely sleeping. Vegetas hand cautiously moved up and he grazed her fingertips with his own. They jerked slightly in surprise. So she was awake. He could hear the startled noise in the back of her throat, but still she made no move to leave or advance on him. Vegeta’s fingers reached up again and stroked the soft indent between her index finger and thumb. He could hear her faint smile behind him.

"Bulma…?"

"Mmm."

"What does this mean?"

"It means that I’m lonely and cold down there, and I can’t sleep." She murmured into his neck. Her breath tickled his ear. "Does it bother you?" her voice was sleepy.

"No." he said, trying to fight back a smile. "No, it doesn’t."

"Good." She sighed and snuggled closer to him, her arm draped lazily over his hip. "So shut up and go to sleep."

He smirked.

You’ve come out of your trench. It is my turn, now?