• I don’t want to wake him. He’s fallen asleep right beside me, curled up in this peculiar little fashion that makes

him look so harmless and adorable. But I can’t help it. My legs, starting from the knees, have gone entirely numb. There is a strange little swirling going on inside my stomach, and my temple’s throb with the thundering of a relentless pain. My mouth has gone dry, too dry to produce saliva any longer. I think I’m dehydrated. What if I am? I can’t seem to move my fingers very well. It feels like I’m paralyzed.

Bulma had to drink. Her throat had seized up beyond to the point where she could no longer swallow and now panic seized her as she realized the importance of needing water and not being able to get it. As quietly as she could, Bulma managed to roll herself to the side, gripping the bedsheets with white knuckled fingers she pulled herself into a half-sitting position, breathing hard, seeing sudden pinpoints of light dancing in her vision. She tried to focus on the dark form of the closet doorknob to her far right but it swirled together into a giant circle of white-hot color and she nearly passed out.

• I need to wake him up, but I don’t want to give him any more excuses to label me a problem. I can get the water by myself. I’m not an invalid!

Spider’s grizzled head rose from the bedsheets and he whined eagerly at her, his six tails thumping once in unison.

• What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I get out of bed?

It was the longest walk in the history of her life. By the time she had gotten down the hall, around the corner, and to the bathroom door, she could have circled the Earth six times. Perhaps it was a slight exaggeration, but she had nearly fallen eight times, and would have, if it were not for the ever present and loyal Spider who stood beside her the entire way. He was easily at a height that she could lean on, and held tightly to the scruff of his neck. She leaned forward to open the bathroom door and felt her knees buckle. Spider tensed his muscles and pressed himself up against her, sensing her trouble, and steadied her until she was well enough to straighten without his help.

"Thanks, boy." She breathed, trying to catch her breath. Her fingers pushed against the door and fumbled for the lightswitch. "You can go back to bed now." She said quietly as she shuffled inside, but Spider came in right behind her.

Spider whined and plopped down on his haunches, a vigilant sentry at his post. She did not press the matter; she knew he would not leave her. "All right. But no peeking."

Before Bulma could even hike her nightgown up around her waist, a sudden wrenching pain tore at her gut and squeezed her insides with a horrific force. Tiny sparkling lights danced in her eyes and she experienced what felt like tons of water slamming into the side of her head, driving deep within her ear, and pummeling her brain. She opened her mouth in a silent cry and clutched the edge of the bathroom sink, her knuckles white. Spider sensed her sudden danger and lunged out of the bathroom to get Vegeta for help. Bulma collapsed seconds after he left, her knees turning to jelly as they slid out from under her. The pain slammed into her with terrible force once more, and she clutched fistfuls of her nightgown, clawing at her belly, in a frantic effort to somehow ease the unbearable pain. Never before had she felt pain like this. In all her life, in all her spills and falls on her Dragon Ball adventures with Goku, never before had anything hurt her this badly. She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood, then released it, drawing in a huge, excruciating breath.

She released the breath in a wailing scream. The pain would not release her. It held her stomach in an iron fist and drove at her belly like a railroad spike. Desperately her mind raced, trying to figure out why this was happening to her. She half expected to suddenly give birth, what with the excruciating abdominal pain and all. Fighting to regain control of her body, she tried to pull herself into a sitting position, but the movement sent another fierce jolt of pain through her gut, and this time, she felt her shoulders hunch forward as she threw up. Her stomach screamed at her as it contorted and clenched with the spasms. Her throat burned and tears coursed down her cheeks as she curled up, her entire body quaking violently. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and winced inwardly.

Spider barged into the room where Vegeta lay sleeping. He grabbed the sleeping Sayajin’s wrist in his teeth and gently pulled, growling softly in the back of his throat. Vegeta bolted awake with a surprised noise and yanked his wrist free. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled. Instinctively he looked beside him to where Bulma should lay sleeping. Where she had lain was only a soft imprint in the bed sheets. He suddenly knew what Spider was acting so frantic about. He tried not to let the thousand awful possibilities run through his head as he yanked on a pair of sweats and tore off down the hallway, following the bounding furry behind of the giant Roctorn.

Bulma, meanwhile, was curled up on the cold tile of the linoleum floor, her hands slightly curled into fists and resting in front of her. Her head spun with mad thoughts and options as she pondered dazedly about her life and Vegeta as the pain ravaged her. If there were a knife, would she do it? Would it hurt as much as they said it did? She darted her tongue out slowly, her breathing ragged, as she tried to force down the awful taste of bile rising in her throat. It burned, and she fought to stay awake, though with less enthusiasm than she normally would. She was growing tired. She was growing tired of this disease that plagued her, and it angered her, because she was only starting to love the strange man she was living with.

Then, very suddenly, Vegeta was there. She looked up with glazed over eyes and saw him crouched beside her, his face a mixture of anger and panic. Instantly he reached for her to pull her into his arms, but the movement only ripped at her body and she screamed savagely into his chest as he cradled her against him.

Vegeta nearly dropped her. What had he done? Had he hurt her, somehow, by picking her up? He quickly scanned the surface of her body for any wounds. There was nothing. No blood, no sign of an injury.

• Dammit Bulma…what the hell is happening to you?
  

Panting, she looked up into his eyes with an extreme effort that was plain on her sweat-drenched face.

"Kill me…" she whispered hoarsely, tears blurring her image of his face, "Please…"

The words rang through Vegeta’s ears as though she had screamed them. But she had whispered them, painfully and softly; a plea to end her misery. Could he do it?

She grabbed at his arm and squeezed it until it nearly hurt. "You can…wish me-" she couldn’t finish as another bolt of icicle sharp pain raced through her body, this time through both her stomach and her head. At his side, Spider whined mournfully, his huge orange eyes waiting to see what his master would do. Bulma took a cautious, shaking breath to recover herself, and swallowed hard against a huge lump in her throat. "…wish me back…after you do it…"

"No." he shook his head, trying to look away from her, but the intensity of her bottomless eyes held him and he couldn’t. How many times had he killed? Too many to remember. And now, watching this quivering, crying, suffering human plead in his arms, he experienced his first and hardest decision of his life.

"We won’t…have to…" she trailed off and squeezed her eyes shut as her gut clenched and unclenched with another spasm. "…wait for….30….days."

She had a point. He could kill her, end this terrible suffering she was obviously enduring with great difficulty, and then he could return to Earth and wish her back with the DragonBalls. She wouldn’t have died of the disease…she would have died by his hand. So that would counteract the spell Fortricres held over Shenlongs power. It could work. She wouldn’t suffer any longer…

Vegeta stared down at her.

"I can’t…" he looked down, suddenly feeling terribly weak and ashamed of himself. "I’m…sorry."

"Please…" she broke off in another heart wrenching scream, this time her entire body thrashed violently in his arms. She slumped forward as she hugged herself around the middle, and numbly wailed into the crook of his neck, "It…hurts so much!"

Vegeta kneeled down on the bathroom floor, his own hands beginning to tremble, as his mind swarmed with thoughts that he only know considered unthinkable. How could he have killed so ruthlessly in the past without any second thoughts or guilt? He had killed so many innocent people, and now, he couldn’t end the suffering of the only one he had ever allowed himself to feel affection for. It was such a simple solution…so simple. She would be back within days…weeks. Everything would work out fine.

"Bulma…I…"

She was a ball; now, a piteous crying ball curled in his arms, weeping of what she both wanted and did not want. A conflict of emotion and indecision formed a giant whirlpool inside her heart that was quickly threatening to swallow her up and take her from him forever.

With deliberate care, Vegeta lowered her to the bathroom floor and rose from her crying form. He stood and stared down at her as he summoned a very small but effective amount of energy and focused it into the palm of his hand.

• Do it, Vegeta. Please. It hurts so much…it hurts more than anything’s ever hurt before. You can do it, can’t you? Why can’t you just get it over with? Please! You know I don’t love Yaumcha anymore. You know I love you…don’t you? Don’t you know that everything’s going to be all right when you get back to Earth? Are you scared of that? Vegeta, just kill me!!

Bulma stared, her eyes out of focus, at the glowing ball of energy that was forming in the palm of Vegeta’s hand. She lay on the floor and he stood above her, his arm extended so that his hand aimed straight at her chest. She wondered, strangely, what he would do with her body once he killed her. Would he bury her? Her chest tightened and she sucked in strangled breath after strangled breath as she waited for him to end it. The pain did not subside, but was slightly numbed as the realization that Vegeta was about to kill her dawned. For an extremely long second, everything seemed to slow down, and Bulma forced herself to meet the ebony eyes of a once efficient killer. Now…had she changed that? Would it be different for him, this time? The ball grew larger, crackling with intense energy. She found she wasn’t afraid. Merely…curious. But she wanted it to end. She wanted it to end so very badly…

Then, in one terrible moment, the ball of energy died in the gloved hand, and Bulma watched the fingers clench into a fist. She was about to protest, but was silenced by powerful arms encasing her protectively, gingerly, and she felt the shuddering frame of the Prince fall into her.

"Gomen…Bulma…" she heard him whisper, his voice tortured. "Not by my hand…not by my hand."