When one awakens in a foreign room, they experience a brief but unsettling moment of disorientation, which can quickly turn to panic. This was the case for Bulma Briefs when she sat up unsteadily and stared directly into a pair of enormous red eyes

She jumped and pulled the covers up over herself, unaware still that she was even in a bed, but doing it out of instinct. She quickly determined that the eyes belonged to a Storkrin, and that fact settled her beating heart enough that she could regain control of its frantic pace. Yet only somewhat…she was still extremely startled.

"Calm down, misss." The Storkrin said. Whoever he was, he was definitely young. He was not much taller than she was, which was very strange among their race. He wore the same brown cloak that they all did, but his face was in clear view and not hidden like most. She lowered the covers somewhat and looked around for Vegeta. He was no where to be seen. This started her heart racing again.

The young Storkrin seemed to sense her thoughts and tried a smile for her benefit. "Do you worry of the Prince, Bulma?"

Bulma stared openly. "What did you call me?"

The Storkrin looked slightly afraid. "Bulma…" he repeated cautiously. "That…isss your name?"

She nodded; feeling the sort of grin that usually sent people to insane asylums cross her face. "It’s just strange. Your kind has never once called me by my name. Except for Strifelon." She paused. "Where am I?"

The Storkrin smiled in an oddly friendly manner. "You are in Ssstrifelon’sss cavern, Bulma." He paused and smiled bigger. "I am hisss ssson."

She sat up, ignoring the small wave of nausea roll over her, and frowned. "His son? I didn’t know he had a son."

The Storkrin lowered his head, looking slightly abashed. "He tendsss to hide it from othersss." He said quietly. "My name isss Onyx."

"Where is Vegeta?" she asked him. "Is he here? How long have I been here?"

Onyx leaned forward across the bed and lowered his voice considerably. "Do you not remember? You…asssked the Prince to kill you, to end your sssuffering. He did not agree with your requessst." Onyx paused, as if trying to remember how the story went. "He…sssaid you blacked out. He knew Ssstrifelon would know what to do. He took you here."

"In the middle of the night?"

Onyx shrugged. "I wasss sssleeping. My father prepared a sssalve for you. He made you eat many thingsss, and then you ssslept."

"So I’ve been sleeping since then?" Bulma asked.

Onyx nodded. "Do you feel better?"

Bulma was surprised to find that she did. "Yes." She nodded. "I…do." She looked up. "So, where is Vegeta? I’d like to speak to him."

Onyx rose obediently from the bed. "Do you wisssh for me to find him?"

"Yes, thank you."

Onyx nodded and left, leaving her alone in the strange room. She had never been in this part of Stifelon’s house before, nor did she know he had a son. Onyx was extremely well mannered and kind, a surprise she found pleasant. He, his father, and Koru had been the only Storkrins to be kind to her since she had arrived on R’haksin. Bulma sighed, remembering well the previous night and her words. Had she truly asked Vegeta to kill her? What had she been thinking? In her moment of excruciating pain, she supposed she had not been thinking rationally. She was suddenly ashamed of herself. That had not been fair of her to place such a weight on his shoulders. She should not have asked such a thing of him.

But then…

Why had he refused?

She looked up when the door clicked and a ragged looking Vegeta stepped into the room. He closed it behind him and approached her bed cautiously, trying to hide his concerned and tentative movements from her. She looked at the dark circles under his eyes and suddenly understood that they were her fault. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at her through troubled eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly, his face a mask she could not read.

"I feel a lot better." She replied just as softly. "Vegeta…I…I’m sorry." She looked away, suddenly afraid that he was angry with her. "You know that…don’t you?"

He didn’t say anything. She knotted her fingers together and nervously picked at a hangnail. "I…shouldn’t have asked you…"

"Do you need anything to drink?"

She looked up. He looked so terribly tired. Had he been by her side all through the night? Why did he look so…sad? Especially when he should be enraged with her? She didn’t understand. She shook her head. "I’m fine." She whispered.

"Hungry?"

"No."

"Do you need-

"Vegeta!" she cut him off sharply. "Stop it! I wasn’t thinking!" she grabbed his hands in her own and pulled them to her, feeling only a tiny resistance. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to do that. I…" she took a deep breath. "I couldn’t think straight….the pain was just to…intense. Are you angry with me?"

"No." he said. He hadn’t pulled his hands away.

She asked the question she had been dying to know the answer to since she woke up; "Why…didn’t you?"

Now he tried to pull away. She held on tightly, firmly, not allowing him any slack. "I won’t let you run away from this one." She said. "Not this time. Answer me!"

He turned and glared at her sharply, the first of his anger showing through. "You know, woman, maybe I am angry with you! Maybe I’m fucking angry as hell with you because of this stupid feelings you’re making me have!" he got up from the bed, yanking easily free of her grip. "To hell with these stupid human emotions! I’ve never experienced them before, and now look where they’ve got me!" he yelled.

She glared back at him, though her glare was more a glare of helpless fear. "Then quit running away from them and let them lead you!" she cried. "They’re not evil!"

He scowled and slammed the mattress with one fist. "I could kill anyone I wanted before I met you! I could kill a defenseless child if I felt like it, without any remorse, or any guilt! Last night…" he trailed off, struggling with his words, "…last night…I couldn’t! I couldn’t kill a whining, sniveling weakling that lay at my feet! Even when she begged!! That’s why I’m angry! You’ve ruined the only thing that’s ever kept me together!"

"Don’t you think you should thank me for that?" she asked quietly.

That shut him up. It silenced him because inside, that part of him that was he was always trying to ignore said that he should thank her. But as usual, arrogant to the end, he only scowled in response and stayed where he stood.

"Do you feel well enough to go back to the ship, yet?" he grumbled, avoiding her eyes.

"Yes." She sighed. "I do."

"Good. Then get dressed and let’s go."

Before he could leave the room Bulma was out of the bed and in his arms, hugging him the way they had both been yearning for, for the last few weeks.

"These past few weeks have been so strange, Vegeta…I don’t know what to think." She said quietly into his shoulder as he ran his hands slowly up and down her back. "I feel like some part of you is avoiding me."

"It is." He replied, troubled.

"Why?" she lifted her head from his shoulder and looked up into his dark eyes. "Tell me?"

Just then, in a painfully well executed movement; Onyx opened the door and ruined the moment entirely. Sensing that he had done so, he blinked large red eyes awkwardly and then backed away, prepared to leave. Bulma left Vegeta’s embrace and ran to him, all smiles.

"It’s all right." She said, opening the door wide for him. He stood, as if not knowing what to do, and then stepped inside, obviously embarrassed.

"I want to thank you before I leave." Said Bulma. "I’m sure both you and your father helped."

If his skin could have turned any redder, it chose that moment to do so. He only nodded dumbly.

Bulma smiled, shrugging on her pair of pants that had been laid out neatly across the end of the bed. Onyx turned his eyes away tactfully, but Vegeta felt obliged to stare openly, and, as Bulma noticed with a hint of pleasure, admirably.

"Anyway, thank you so much." She said. "I hope you and your father can work things out." She said, ignoring the surprised look on the young Storkrins face. She smiled knowingly. "I can tell these sort of things." She said softly.

"I hope you are feeling well tomorrow, Bulma." Onyx hissed, his clawed hands clasped in front of him. She thanked him again and then turned to the impatient Prince.

"Well?"

"I want you to eat." He said gruffly, pushing her past Onyx and out the door, through the adjoining room, and into another, which Bulma learned quickly to be the kitchen. The whole while she protested weakly, wanting to get back to the ship and her belongings, wanting to be alone with Vegeta, but she knew she was starving. It surprised her that the thought of food was actually making her mouth water.

There was a strange oval table in the center of the room, cluttered with vials and potions and strange pieces of paper. Vegeta hurried to it; brushed half of it off with a sweep of his arm, and taking (some) care to dispose of the empty vials in what she assumed to be the sink. He pulled out a chair.

"Strifelon should be here any moment." He said shortly. "Sit here. He’ll give you something to eat." He gave her a look that said to consider otherwise was a bad idea.

"Where are you going?" she asked, seating herself in the chair. The table was marble, like all other Storkrin furniture, but despite the table’s coolness, the room itself has a strangely pleasant feeling to it. She looked around and noticed herbs and strange vine like weeds growing out of the sides of the walls. In the distance, something was bubbling. She hoped it wasn’t the awful brown stuff they had almost eaten at the Storkrin festival.

"I need some fresh air. I’m not hungry." He said. Before she could protest, he was out the door, leaving her alone in the strange kitchen. She felt oddly displaced, and for a fleeting moment, considered racing after him. But Strifelon appeared in the doorway, wearing a surprising outfit. It fit well on his lean frame; a robe of intertwining colors with a great sash tied about the waist. It was odd to see the man without the typical Storkrin cloak on. She smiled in greeting.

"Earthling female," he rasped in return, a gentle smile on his face, "Do you feel well enough to eat?"

"Depends." Bulma said, taking care not to offend her friends hospitality. "I don’t know if my stomach is up to handling anything…well…you know…"

He raised a thorny eyebrow.

"Brown and bubbly with eyeballs." She finished quickly. "I really don’t know if I could eat something like that again."

Strifelon seated himself across from her with an audible grunt and nodded in understanding. "Ah, yesss. A Ssstorkin delicacy. Skal’mae." The word rolled off his tongue with a surprising tone. "I sssee now why you would sssay sssuch a thing." He narrowed his eyes and thrust an arm out at the table. "I have prepared a breakfassst for you, and ssstill you insssult me!"

Bulma paled. "I…"

Stifelon laughed. "A joke, earthling female." He chuckled deeply, breaking off into a cough. "A joke."

She felt her body relax, and managed to return the smile in kind. "I see." She said.

"Now," Strifelon settled himself more comfortably, "I asssume you have met my ssson?" he brushed absently at the robes, and then looked over his shoulder. "ONYX!" he bellowed. A moment later the young Storkrin hurried into the room, disturbingly obedient, and looking quite flustered. The two exchanged a look that made Bulma feel tensed.

"Yesss, father?"

Strifelon waved a hand at the adjoining room, indicating the food, and Onyx hurried to fetch it. Bulma leaned forward on her elbows once he had left and frowned disapprovingly at Strifelon.

"He listens well." she paused. "He almost looks afraid of you."

Strifelon lifted a bony finger. "Ah," he said, a troubled look coming to his wizened face, "There are troublesss admissst the two of usss."

Bulma decided not to press the issue. Just in time, she decided, as Onyx returned to the room carrying two trays of, much to Bulma’s delight, delicious looking food. He hurried to her and gracefully placed the steaming bowl of watery-like soup in front of her, then placed the next in front of his father. It made her think of a restaurant, and suddenly, she felt terribly homesick. Onyx looked fleetingly at the two of them before hurrying off to another part of the house to be alone.

Bulma lifted the Storkrin’s version of a spoon and stirred it absently into the liquid, letting the steam heat her face, and inhaling the tart but inviting aroma.

"Eat." Said Strifelon, slurping some of the liquid.

"Everyone seems to be telling me that." She said, somewhat annoyed. "I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to sound…"

Strifelon put his spoon down and stared at her. "I sssenssse that you are dissspleasssed." He said. Bulma looked up, blushed, and shook her head quickly. "Oh no, not with the food, it smells great! I just mean…"

"Calm down." Strifelon said softly. He waited, watching her fidget with her hands in her lap. "Would it be the Prince?"

She looked up sharply. "You always seem to know everything." She said softly.

"He and yourssself mussst work out your troublesss together." He said, retrieving his spoon and dipping it once more into the dark liquid. "There isss much love for you inssside hisss heart."

Bulma looked down; suddenly knowing her face was tomato red. "Do…" she looked back up hesitantly. "Do you think so…?"

Strifelon only smiled. "Eat, earthling female. You do not want to keep him waiting."

* * *

Outside, Vegeta leaned back on his palms and took a long drag off the Storkrin’s equivalent of a cigarette. He had climbed out of Strifelon’s household ‘tunnel’ and had emerged to sit ponderously atop a formation of smooth boulders to contemplate a number of things.

He looked out across the red, bleak expanse of dust coated earth and wondered briefly what it was he was doing here, and where the rest of his life and his soul had gone.

Of course, he knew where most of it had gone. But it was knowing that he had allowed it to be taken by her. That was what was gnawing at him. He took the small back paper from between his lips and blew the bitter air from his mouth. He flicked the rest of it into the rocks at his side and watched it flicker for a moment before the ember died out completely.

Another thing that was choking him was the fact that he knew she was right. He was always avoiding her. At every corner, at every question she asked that even somewhat challenged or intimidated him, he backed off and remained silent. It wasn’t fair to her. But then, neither was asking him to murder her.

He scowled at the memory.

He knew the second that she had asked what his answer would be. No matter how hard he may have wanted to, her death would not come. Not by his hand, anyway. It would have made the entire trip pointless, anyhow. Or would it? He knew somewhere within that the trip had not been pointless at all. That in fact, their being here and sharing of both pleasant and unpleasant experiences had straightened both of them and had brought them together.

"Vegeta?"

He turned and saw her standing behind him. Her hair was hanging around her shoulders and she wore untied tennis shoes. Her tiny nose sniffed the air delicately.

"What’s that smell?" she seated herself very close to him without invitation. He felt oddly annoyed.

"A Storkrin cigarette." He replied loftily. "Why?"

Her face wrinkled in disgust. "It’s very stinky."

He shrugged and stared across at her from the corner of his eye. Suddenly, without any warning, she leaned into him with a miserable sounding sigh and took one of his hands in her own. He tensed, as he always did, because he was still not used to being this close to humans. But she smelled so good…and so it prevented him from moving away as he typically would.

"Vegeta…?"

"Hn?"

"I miss you."

"What?" he scowled down at the aqua cascade of hair. "That doesn’t make any sense. I’m right here."

"I mean," she said, her fingers sliding between and out of his, "That you’ve been avoiding me. Like always." She sat up and stared boldly into his face. "And I’m sick of it."

"Did you come out here to lecture me?" he frowned, trying unsuccessfully to pry his fingers from hers. She always gave him the strangest mixture of feelings; he wanted to get away from her sweetness because it made him oddly uncomfortable, but at the same time he desperately wanted to be as close as he could. The feelings always collided unpleasantly with one another and left him with a sour, lingering sensation.

"No." she said calmly, which gave him the impression that she was prepared to win this argument. "I came here to know why." She dug her hands into his arm with an intense fierceness and leaned her face close to his. "I know this doesn’t hurt." She said through clenched teeth, "…now. But I can make it hurt. And I will, if you don’t tell me what’s going on."

Vegeta felt an amused, cruel smirk spreading across his face. "Are you threatening me, woman?" he asked, genuinely bewildered. "Do you honestly think you could hurt me?"

Bulma tried not to return the grin. "Yes." She said as firmly as she could. "I have very sharp nails."

Vegeta snorted, the smirk growing wider. "Really. Show me what you’ve got, then." He said. He nodded to her hand gripping his arm. "Go on."

"Vegeta!" Bulma protested. "You’re avoiding the question! AGAIN!" she impulsively dug her nails into his arm, not as hard as she could, merely testing him. When he gave no reaction, her internal ‘Vegeta Annoyance’ nerves reacted and she scratched into his flesh with force. He flexed instinctively; the corded steel muscles in his arms preventing her nails from getting any skin whatsoever. The red lacquered nails only broke off like twigs in his muscle and she pulled back, clutching her hand. "OW!" she yelled, offended, into his grinning face. "No fair!"

"I thought you said you could hurt me." He said smugly. "Though you did try hard…for a woman."

That did it. Bulma forgot all traces of the answer she had been trying to worm out of him, and simply lunged for his body with a strangled cry of frustration. Vegeta caught her the second she hit him and they fell, rather roughly, off of the boulders that they had been sitting atop. Bulma landed hard on her bottom with Vegeta following close behind, though he managed to lunge to the side to avoid crashing into her with his full weight. She recovered and jumped up, finding her body surprisingly nimble and refreshed. Vegeta was up a split second after her, and they collided, both of them trying to hold their laughter in, while Bulma struggled to find an opening in the Sayajin’s defense while trying, at the same time, to ignore the bruise on her behind.

Vegeta, meanwhile, was having the most fun he had had in weeks. Here was this diseased, hilarious weakling of a woman trying to actually get a hit in on him, Prince of the Sayajins. He watched her clumsy antics and couldn’t help but let a tiny burst of amused laughter leave his lips. She truly was an idiot.

It proved to be impossible to hit him. Vegeta darted close to her, his face alive with pure excitement and adrenaline her own flustered with the exertion of trying to get at one of the strongest warriors in the Universe. He fake-lunged at her, fooling her for only a second. It was enough. She dove for what she thought was his unprotected side, and he grabbed her wrist and spun around, slamming her gently but forcibly into his chest. She was trapped in his arms before she even knew what had happened. She looked up into his cocky face and growled.

"Jerk!" she said, half-laughing. She struggled half heartedly before giving up and slumping against him.

"Really, woman," Vegeta said, "That wasn’t much of a fight." He paused. "Although, you surprise me." His voice quieted, catching her attention. She stopped her struggles altogether and looked curiously at him. "What?"

He leaned down close to her, his powerful arms relaxing enough to allow her comfort. "You really have no idea how much that cheered up a downright shitty morning."

"Vegeta…?"

Before she could be any more astonished that she already was, he had caught her lips with his own. The delicious sensation prevented her from doing anything intelligent, and so she merely allowed his gentle ministrations to continue while they stood, looking quite absorbed, under the red-light of the R’haksin morning. At last she opened up to him, enough that their tongues touched for the briefest of seconds, and moved closer into him.

In that one moment, everything that had been pissing her off vanished and left her with the unmistakable feeling that suddenly, inexplicably, everything was going to be fine.