Dr.Briefs stared ahead of himself at the hulking mass of machinery and wires that he was about to transform into a spaceship. His weathered hands clasped behind his back as he paced back and forth, unsure of where to start, unsure of what exactly to do. His daughter’s life depended on the safety and reliability of this spaceship; there could be no mistakes.

"Hon?"

He turned and saw his wife standing at the doorway. For a moment neither said a word as they both peered at the spaceship. Then she walked over to him with a tray of coffee and biscuits.

"You can’t work all day without eating something, you know." She said quietly. "They’re your favorites…"

"Why do you think he’s doing it?"

Ms.Briefs lapsed into silence. She knew what he meant. They, along with everyone else, was thinking the exact same thing; why was coldhearted, self centered Vegeta going to risk his life to save a girl he claims he hates?

"I don’t know…if I trust him." Dr.Briefs decided on at last. "It just seems so insane. It’s so far beyond anything he’d ever do…I don’t know…"

Ms.Briefs fussed over the tray, at last putting it down on the counter beside them. She knew exactly what she thought; Vegeta was at last going to prove to the rest of them what she already knew; he was a good person. Be he ex-mass murderer or not. If he was willing to go into space to save her baby, then, by Kami, she was going to trust him with every fiber in her body.

"Let him."

"I never said I wouldn’t! Besides, could I even try?"

She smiled. "I suppose what I mean is, trust him. I see good in him that no one else does. We need to give him a chance."

"I hope you’re right."

* * *

Chi-Chi gave her friend an encouraging smile as she helped pull her into a sitting position. It was 8:47 a.m., and Bulma had finally summoned enough strength to get out of bed. Outside, in the hallway, Goku and Yaumcha sat impatiently, knocking on the door every five seconds.

"Heya Bulma!" Goku stuck his head in the door, oblivious to his best friend’s nearly complete state of undress. "Are you ok?"

"Close the door, Goku! Show some tact." Chi-Chi laughed and looked back to Bulma after Goku had closed the door once again with a sad puppy face. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so agitated, Bulma. He really loves you."

Bulma gave Chi-Chi something between and smile and a grimace. "I know…" she grunted as she forced herself to stand, nearly sweating with the effort. "And he knows I love him to. Little bugger…can you pass me my bathrobe? Kami, I can’t get over how tough it is to get out of bed in the morning. It feels like I’ve ran a marathon."

Chi-Chi reached over and handed Bulma the royal blue housecoat, slipping it around her shoulders. "You’ll feel better once you’re in the shower." She said softly, trying not to let her sadness show through her eyes. "Will you be ok in there?"

"Yeah." Bulma replied, shuffling past the bed and into the extended bathroom. "It’s a nice day. I think I’ll sit in the sun for a while…can’t hurt me anymore than I’ve already been hurt." She said bitterly.

"Bulma…"

"Hey," Bulma forced a smile for her friend. "Thanks. I’ll be fine, really. I’ll meet you guys at breakfast. Ok?"

Chi-Chi was smart enough to know when someone wanted to be alone. "I’ll keep Goku posted, in case you have a problem." She grinned maliciously. "It isn’t like he’s never seen you naked before."

"You’re so funny, Chi-Chi." Bulma said sourly, thinking of their long ago DragonBall adventures. She waved a hand at Chi-Chi, urging her out. "Keep Yaumcha there instead. And make me something good, won’t you? Something hot."

"I will." Chi-Chi assured her, and quietly left the room. Bulma sighed, thankful for her friend’s help, but also glad to be alone. Stepping into the shower stall she switched the hot water on and discarded of her robe, stepping into the spray. She hissed as the water hit her body but quickly succumbed to the peacefulness of its solitude. For just a few minuets, she wanted to be alone. Alone with her thoughts before she had to go downstairs and face reality again.

The reality that she was dying.

* * *

At the breakfast table, Goku and Vegeta sat together, both ramming huge amounts of pancakes down their throats quicker than Chi-Chi could make them. The only time you could get the two to sit together was when the promise of food was made. Chi-Chi frowned in dismay as her husband finished his ninth helping and turned to her with his ‘how about some more?’ expression.

"Look, Goku, there isn’t enough batter for any more." Chi-Chi sighed, plopping down in her chair on his left. "Besides, I’m tired, and I still have to make Bulma some bacon and eggs."

The mention of Bulma caused the flicker of unease to cross the Sayajin Prince’s face. Hurriedly he finished his last pancake and pushed himself away from the table, kicking his feet up. Goku looked over at him, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"So you’re really going to go to R’haksin?" he asked, the boyish curiosity plan on his features. Vegeta looked away. "I am." He snarled. "Could we leave it at that?"

"We’re all so thankful for this, Vegeta." Chi-Chi said, ignoring his anger. "You can’t imagine how much."

Vegeta said nothing, continuing to stare into the distance.

"Bulma’s dad is down in the lab, working on your spaceship." Chi-Chi ventured, determined to get more out of him.

"I wonder if it’s going to be anything like the one I took to Namek?" Goku wondered absently, alone in his own little world where intelligence was few and far between.

Vegeta stood. "I suppose I’ll go and make an evaluation of my own, Kakarott." Without another word, he left the kitchen, his plate and fork on the table.

* * *

Annoyed, Vegeta stormed back and forth in the hallway landing yards from where Yaumcha sat against Bulma’s door, waiting for her to come out and surrender to the day. Thoughts, questions and doubts stormed inside his head, unrelenting, unsolved. He winced with the effort and the strain of his biggest question.

Why?

He still did not know. Was he cheating himself? Did he honestly want to save this girl’s life? He would be wasting precious time, and risking ruining a perfectly rotten reputation. He would be denying himself his pride, which was all he had left of himself. With a cry he slammed a fist against the wall, startling Bulma inside her shower, unbeknownst to him.

He had told everyone he was going. The decision had been made and announced. Made perfectly clear to all whom counted on him now. Did he still have the cruelty in him to tell them he had changed his mind?

He knew the answer. No.

Once, long ago, he had been able to brutally murder countless numbers of people, diminishing their races to a handful. But somehow, his time on Earth had changed him from the once cruel and heartless murderer that he had been and had softened him into a somewhat civil being. He still could not decide if that angered him, or if he was in some way grateful.

A thump behind him startled him from his thoughts. Turning, he saw Gohan timidly stepping past him, apparently trying to get to something that Vegeta stood near.

Feh. Kakarotts son. Vegeta thought, calculating him. Why does he have to show up now of all times?

"Hi Vegeta…" he said, his voice barely perceptible. "I’m just getting my jacket…" he looked past Vegeta at the closet in which he stood in front of. Scowling, Vegeta moved out of the way. He watched as the tiny but powerful Sayajin half-breed shrugged his jacket on, obviously because of his insane mother’s orders, and felt a sudden impulse to speak to him.

"Gohan?" Vegeta asked. Gohan turned to him with wide eyes, apparently quite shocked that he was being spoken to by the high and mighty Prince.

"Yeah?"

"Do you know what I’m doing for Bulma?" he asked gruffly, avoiding the child’s strangely mature eyes.

"Yes."

"Do…" he struggled, hesitant to trust the child’s innocent judgement. "Do you think I’m doing the right thing?"

A moment passed before Gohan cleared his throat and replied; "Of course you are, Vegeta." He brushed past him quietly, doing up the zipper on the front of his coat. Vegeta watched him go, feeling a strange sense of calm.

What is happening to me?

* * *

Outside in the hallway, Yaumcha heard the familiar spray of water stop. Bulma was done her shower. He stood and opened the door walking into her room. If she needed help with anything at all, he was going to help her. Halting outside the bathroom door he could not deny the heavy sense of dread that swelled in his breast. What if she didn’t want his help? What if…she hated him?

He pushed the thought aside. She wouldn’t hate him. "Bulma?" he ventured quietly. He knocked once on the door. Inside, Bulma jumped, startled at the sudden noise and nearly slipped and fell on the wet linoleum floor. She steadied herself with one hand and opened the door with the other, hastily wrapping a towel around herself.

"Yaumcha?"

He looked back at her sheepishly. "I thought you might need help."

Bulma’s cheek flushed red and she secured the towel tighter. "No…I don’t. Thank you."

He stared. "Are you sure? I could get you some clothes, or help you do your hair…or…"

"My hair?" Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Yaumcha, you can’t butter toast." She paused, sensing it. "What’s wrong?" she sighed.

"I feel like you hate me…"

"Well, I don’t mean to sound terribly cruel, but I sort of do, Yaumcha. You hurt me."

"I know…I…" he leaned against the doorframe, ignoring her dripping wet hair, disheveled from the showers spray. He looked so desperately helpless. "This whole situation just has me totally fried, Bulma." He said, raising piteous eyes to hers. "I’m so scared for you…"

She lifted her head sharply. "Did you come in here just so you could see me naked?" she demanded. He blinked, shocked at her accusation. "No!" he cried, defending his morality. "I came in here because I thought you might need help! Chi-Chi was allowed, why aren’t I?" he felt his temper rising. "If anybody’s seen you naked, Bulma, I have! I thought I would be the best person to help you in that case."

"Maybe before, Yaumcha. It’s different now." Bulma said coldly. She pushed past him into the bedroom. "Thank you for your concern, but I can get dressed and ready by myself."

"Bulma…" Yaumcha pleaded. With her back to him she halted in her tracks, hearing the familiar tone in his voice that she had loved to hear so many times before. "Bulma, I still love you. You can’t deny me that." He paused. "And I would have gone to that planet for you in a second…if I would have known the plant…"

Angry now, she spun on him. "I don’t need your sympathy, Yaumcha!" she cried. "Get out!"

"Bulma, please…I-

"GET OUT!" she yelled, her throat hoarse. He stood for a moment, undecided as to what he should do. Then, dejectedly, he turned from her bed and left the room, closing the door a little more forcefully than the last time. Bulma slumped down onto her bed and began the exhausting effort of fighting back her tears.

It did not work for long.

* * *

It was an hour later when Bulma forced herself to sit up. Her hair had dried on her pillow, creating a frizzy style that made her look not unlike the bride of Frankenstein. "I look like shit…" he moaned with dismay when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. "I have to get downstairs…Chi-Chi must be getting pissed by now."

With a supreme effort she pushed herself off the bed and walked back toward the bathroom. After a moment or two of splashing generous amounts of water into her hair to calm it down, she tied it back in a quick ponytail. Smearing some lipstick on, she made a last inspection of herself before turning quickly on her heels to get some clothes. A little too quickly, she realized too late, as her feet slipped right from under her and she felt herself falling backwards into the bathtub. She hit the side of the porcelain tub with a loud smack, feeling a jolt of pain shoot up her shoulderblades. The startling pain found a spot it liked in her neck and settled there, creating a sharp ache in the back of her skull. Black dots danced in front of her eyes, and she fought to stay conscious. "Chi-Chi!!" she cried, the level of her voice making her ears ring. "Yaumcha!!" her voice was weak.

No answer. Bulma began to panic, wondering how long exactly she would be laying here without any assistance. Somebody would have to come, surely. She struggled to regain her footing, but her feet slid uselessly across the damp floor in front of her, unable to get any traction. She began to cry again, feeling a river of tears pour out of her already puffy, swollen eyes.

Her situation did not go unnoticed by all; however, as Vegeta had heard the loud thump as he had passed down the hallway a moment before. Bulma heard the familiar click of her bedroom door open, and would have called out to whoever it was, but could not fight the oncoming blackness any further. The last thing she saw before her head slumped to the side and she passed out was the familiar dark form of Vegeta as he entered her bathroom, a look of complete shock and embarrassment on his face.

"B…Bulma?"

No answer.

For a moment, Vegeta merely stood there, not knowing what to do, wondering if he should run and grab the weakling boyfriend. But Bulma was obviously in physical danger; falling right on her ass probably wasn’t the best thing to happen to somebody infected with Fortricres. He moved quickly toward her, careful not to slip on the same patch of water that she had. He wondered how bad the extent of her injuries were; moving her head was going to be a problem. Vegeta slowly slipped one arm under her legs and gingerly tucked the other behind her neck, bringing her away from the tub with excruciating slowness.

Vegeta carried her out of the bathroom and set her down on her bed, trying hard to ignore her perfectly pert breasts that rubbed against his chest with strained nipples. He looked around for something to cover her with, found the bathrobe, and wrapped it around her.

Satisfied, he turned to carry her downstairs for help, as he had no way of knowing how to help her. He looked down at her face and sighed. You’re more trouble than you’re worth, woman.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE!?"

Vegeta spun with Bulma in his arms at the sound of Yaumcha’s voice, who stood in the doorway, Goku and Chi-Chi behind him.

"S…she slipped!" he roared, hearing well the accusation in Yaumcha’s voice. "Since no one else seemed to care, I thought I’d help her!"

"Like hell she slipped! What did you do, drug her?" Yaumcha cried.

"I didn’t do anything, you asshole!" Vegeta’s voice was laced with the dangerous anger that Goku knew well enough, as he had learned over the years how to anticipate when Vegeta was close to killing somebody.

"Yaumcha…" Goku pushed past the stuttering warrior and walked over to Vegeta. He looked down at Bulma and back up at the enraged Vegeta. "We all appreciate you helping her. " He paused and waited for Vegeta to cool down. It took a few moments, but Vegeta finally obliged with a snarl and slowly handed Bulma’s frail form into Goku’s arms.

It’s a good thing you’re the only one I respect around here, Kakarott…

"I heard a thump and investigated." He said, scowling. "She’d slipped and hit the side of the bathtub. There’s a bump…" he moved and pointed to the back of her neck. "I didn’t know how serious it was. I was heading downstairs when…" he shot a deadly glare at Yaumcha, whose face was still red with anger.

"Thank you for helping her, Vegeta." Chi-Chi said as she approached Goku’s side. "You seem to be doing more than your share of kindness for Bulma, lately." She smiled, and Vegeta privately reveled in the horrified look on Yaumcha’s face.

"I’m sure she’ll be all right." Chi-Chi added. "Goku, let’s get her downstairs. It looks like an ordinary bump, nothing too serious."

Without waiting for them to make their move Vegeta stalked past them, taking extra care to shove Yaumcha roughly into the side of the door as he squeezed past.

"Watch it!" Yaumcha growled. Vegeta halted, lifting his head to stare into the much taller man’s eyes. The look was enough to make anyone wet their pants, and Yaumcha slowly edged out of the Prince’s way to allow him his passage.

"You watch it." He hissed, storming off down the hallway.