Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ nor its characters…

Disclaimer:  I do not own DBZ nor its characters…

Setting:  still before Trunks is born and before they get together…

A/N:  I got part of the idea for this story from someone else's story that I've read but can't remember where or when or who…

            Bulma stared at her computer screen.  She was frustrated enough to almost throw that piece of junk across the room.  But of course she didn't.  She had to find some other way to vent out her turmoil emotions.  Perhaps when she came back the answer would pop out at her.

            She left her laboratory and headed outside.  The sun was directly overhead.  The heat of midday only added to her frustration.  There was no escape.  She had to let it out.  So she did.  She kicked one of the many trees causing a flurry of leaves to fall to the ground.  That felt good.  So she kicked it again.

            That tree stood for many things: the computer program that wouldn't work right, her constant need to be perfect, her stress of being the President of Capsule Corps, her loneliness…

            She had so many friends and a boyfriend, who was a great guy…but he never seemed to fill the void in her heart.  She could feel them drifting apart.  And this business with the androids was not helping their relationship.

            "Why do I have to be always alone?" she wondered aloud, her head against the bark of the tree.

            "Maybe it's because you're standing out here by yourself," a crude voice interrupted her thoughts.

            She felt her anger flare up.  Today was not a good day to mess with Bulma Briefs.  Without a warning, she launched a kick which landed square on his side.  Yamcha had taught her some moves earlier in the week.

            "So you want to fight?"

            She didn't answer him and instead threw a punch.  The tree had been replaced by her arrogant guest.  It didn't hurt him, she knew.  But that didn't stop her from hitting him again.  This time she only bruised herself.

            "Stupid…weak…," he muttered.  She used her other good arm to swing at him but he caught it and held onto her wrist.  He moved her arm lower.

"Aim for the soft spots, not the armor."

So she did.  She used him like a punching bag for all her anger and pain and sorrow and all the wrongs of the world.

"Had enough?" he asked the now panting Bulma.  She merely shook her head, her throat too dry to produce any intelligible sounds.

He walked off to his gravity chamber.  She watched him leave from the corner of her eye.  It was another one of those moments where his presence made her feel good.  Only he tolerated and accepted her fierce temper.  She liked that.  Maybe having him around wasn't such a bad thing after all.

A/N:  I don't know how good or bad it is compared to the last one…