Chapter 1: Fatigue

Bulma stood alone in the kitchen as a pale morning pink filtered into the large the Capsule Corporation windows. The guttural noise and delicious smell of a fresh pot of coffee filled the brisk air. She watched as the black drips of liquid plummeted into the dark pool collecting in the glass carafe. The woman shuffled her feet in her fuzzy, comfort slippers. The sound that the trivial action seemed to reverberate through the large room, and then echo inside her sleep muffled brain. She placed her hand on the cool, marble counter and shook her head in shame.

The heiress had broken up with her long time boyfriend after she learned that everyone would be dead in two years. Their constantly mediocre and dead-end relationship had not bothered her in the short euphoric stage after he had been wished back to life. Hints of his previous infidelities and foolish antics had stayed hidden around corners, barely peaking into consciousness before they quickly slid back into the shadows of her thoughts. She had spent days picnicking and sunbathing enjoying his evidential infatuation with her beauty and genius. But after returning to her home that day, her perfectly safe world took on a more sinister appearance. Yamcha's cheerfulness seemed fake, and his entire personality morphed into a charade. She would glance at his body appreciatively, but the attraction melted as soon as he beamed his goofy smile at her.

Bulma remembered the moment of her epiphany as the beginning of a new segment in her life. She was sitting by the pool watching the reds and purples of the sky dance on top of the clear water. He's living in a dream world, she had thought to herself. And so was I, she continued begrudgingly. She felt an aching pain in the pit of her stomach. She had been dumping years of her life into their relationship, but that life came crashing down just as easily as the sun settled into the horizon.

Now here she stood in the aftermath of attempting to revive her previous bliss. She grabbed the handle of the carafe roughly and poured herself a cup of the steaming black coffee. Shuffling towards the kitchen table, she sat down in a plummet of exhaustion and let out a long, quiet sigh through her nose. Bulma had been lonely, but she knew that was not the correct excuse. I'm weak, she thought to herself in miserable acceptance.

It had been one week since she ended their relationship. Her childhood boyfriend was full of tears and pleas, but she stayed strong and followed through with her purpose. Unfortunately, her freedom did not bring the satisfaction she had hoped would come from accepting the truth. It only brought loneliness and sexual frustration. She would lie in her bed, stare at the ceiling and wish someone was there to hold her. When Yamcha came to beg for another try, she had welcomed him with open arms.

The blue haired woman blew a small stream of air onto her coffee. Glancing down she watched transfixed as small waves rippled on the top of the dark fluid before settling back down to placidity. Her eyes trailed to the spot in the house that the human warrior now slept. Wrapped in her silk sheets, he was probably settled into happy complaisance. In his eyes, his love had accepted his plea, and they could continue their life together.

Bulma once again shook her head, but this time in disgust. Their life had once been an adventure, but it had quickly settled into serenity. At that time she had even been satisfied with the idea of marriage and children. The thought of sleeping next to the same man for the rest of her life brought butterflies of anticipation to her stomach. Then, the Saiyans came to earth.

The fear of impending doom awoke something in Bulma. And she found herself unable to identify the amalgamation of new feelings that erupted within her. She remembered sitting in the small island home staring intently at the magical orb after her boyfriend's life was stolen. There was an indescribable rush which coursed through her body when she looked into the soulless, black orbs of her lover's murderer. Then she attributed the sensation to the pain of loss, but now she linked the feelings to the suggestion of a new escapade. The alien man shoved the intriguing idea of adventure down her throat and ripped the idea of peace from her mind.

Namek had offered even more to ignite her desires and trigger the fundamental change in her outlook. Traveling to different worlds and narrowly escaping with her body intact had been absolutely exhilarating. And for one of the first times, she saw a brutal and chilling existence. The universe was a cold, cruel place. She felt lucky to have her peaceful planet, but also wantonly sheltered from true existence. As Bulma watched the dashing man named Zarbon being ripped to shreds by the primal Saiyan Prince, she began to question her ability to perceive her world. She had been wrong about the gorgeous, green man and the dark, surly prince. The man that had been her enemy had become her ally, and then her house guest. In parallel to these transformations were changes more close to home. Her strong, bandit boyfriend was slowly shriveling into a weak, ordinary human.

Bulma took small sips of her coffee while she mulled over her situation. She could not give in to the peaceful temptation that a life with Yamcha brought her. That only led to dissatisfaction. The usually boisterous woman questioned her strength. Can I do this alone? She was nearly thirty and still no closer to finding her prince charming than she had been as a teenager. Bulma's head snapped up as she heard a door shutting outside the cocoon the room provided.

The beautiful woman placed a hardened scowl on her face knowing that her solitude would be disrupted. The alien man sauntered into her kitchen without even a glance at the table. She relaxed her face, when she realized that he was intending to ignore her. She then allowed her gaze to trace his nearly naked body. A small smile crept onto her face when she saw that the moody prince had deigned to finally wear the sneakers her mother had bought him. The bright, white shoes clashed with his deeply tanned skin accenting his naturally stunning tone. His skin always had a strange ability to look both hard as rock and soft as satin. Her examination continued up his legs as he walked across the room towards the refrigerator, and she could see his calf muscles tightening with each of his commanding strides. As he reached forward to grab a large orange jug from a lower shelf, she continued to approvingly gaze at his figure. His back was covered in the light sheen of sweat which accentuated the strong web of muscle strapped across his shoulder blades. Her eyes followed the curve of his shoulder as she absentmindedly sipped from her mug. She needed a distraction from her self-hating thoughts and luckily the Saiyan Prince provided that sufficiently.

She heard a rough disturbance in the air, and lifting her gaze, she found herself locked in the intense glare of Vegeta. She questioningly cocked her head to the side and softly released an equally puzzled noise. She knew he hated to repeat himself and watched as his frown deepened. The corners of his tight lips turned down a minuscule amount as if tiny, invisible strings were tugging against his effort to remain unreadable. Her eyes then shifted to his set jaw where his clenching teeth made his strength even more pronounced. It reminded her of the powerful jaws of a jaguar; every move the man made reflected the power that coursed through his body.

Vegeta roughly slammed the refrigerator door in irritation and issued his command once again, "The room needs upgrading." He watched her delicate face intently, perfectly aware that she was focused on every part of him except his voice. He had barely suppressed a smirk when he turned to find her dreamily staring at him. He took an indescribable amount of pride in himself, and he was not beyond allowing her attraction to increase his opinion of himself. He secretly congratulated himself, but then berated his low standards. It was no feat to attract one that thought the weakling human she had stashed in her room was a prize. He grimaced at the thought of being compared to the pathetic man. A low rumble bubbled in his chest and his lip curled faintly to flash a small amount of white teeth.

The action seemed to wake her from her revere, as she stood up and walked past him to pour another cup of disgusting liquid. His eyes flickered towards her ridiculous foot covering then to the back of her head. On Namek he had admitted her beauty, but now he attributed his announcement to his sleep deprivation. The woman's body was nothing better than he had seen at countless space stations, and her coloring, though unique, was not awe inspiring. On Earth, he merely found her difficult to deal with and frustrating to be around. His training room's advancement was in her control, and Vegeta hated having anything outside his sphere of influence.

The Prince took two long strides towards her small frame and slammed one hand the smooth counter next to her personalized mug. The object jumped in fright, dark liquid spilling on the white counter and seeping into the cracks which his fist had caused. He allowed a heated breath to be exhaled on her exposed neck and noted the tiny shiver that slid up her slender body. "Now, woman," he huskily said into her right ear. In response, he saw her chest heave as it filled with a long, calming breath. He had seen this type of action from his victims before; their last attempt to regain any semblance of control before fear overtook their body. He felt a devilish smirk crawl its way to his lips and allowed the pleasant sensation caused by invoking this type of reaction in the usually confident woman.

Bulma turned with coffee cup in hand and side stepped his wide frame. Her eyes were kept safely from observing the Saiyan and glued to her destination. She took small, shaky steps towards the arched door frame, betraying her lack of poise. Vegeta felt his anger mingle with a tinge of esteem towards her undeniable courage. Men a hundred times her strength did not have the audacity to ignore him so blatantly. She waved one hand in the air dismissively and mumbled, "yeah, yeah." His murderous glare followed her movements as she exited the room, but he contented himself with the knowledge that she would do as he told.

The heiress to the world's largest and most lucrative corporation was kneeling headfirst inside a cylindrical white object which was housed in a hot spherical chamber. When she thought of that small nuance in her life, she felt an ironic chuckle emit from her chest. The pants of her oil-stained coveralls were all an observer could see if they felt inclined to enter the chamber christened Vegeta's. But as she tinkered with various parts in the belly of the Saiyan's worship, she had little worry of any intruders. She was as safe in this capsule than anywhere else in the house and to be perfectly honest, she was not quite ready to face her ex-boyfriend.

She sighed melodramatically at the idea. Brave enough to face a murderer of planets, but she could not muster the courage to face the previous night's mistake. She gripped that wrench tightly, as she loosened another piece from the mainframe. Bulma did not even know if she had enjoyed herself. The sex had been good; good in the same boring way. Yamcha attempting to say he loved her with soft strokes and gentle kisses. Shame surrounded her as she realized how horrible her thoughts were. Shouldn't I want a loving man? she thought to herself. But the thoughts that held true in the morning still lingered throughout the day. Yamcha was not satisfying some base need within her.

The beauty had suspicions that the need was exhilaration. Her mind reacted instantly, what could be more exciting than dating a famous baseball star? After this morning's 'excitement,' she had an idea of what could be better than a pampered sports star. She cursed under her breath at her ridiculous subconscious. She lifted her head quickly at the thought and was rewarded by banging against a strong metal bar. The universe's version of a Freudian slip throbbed to remind her of her foolish thoughts. With one final twist of the wrench, the mainframe came loose, and she retrieved the small blue chip which was inserted in the case.

Prize in hand, she wiggled her way out of the small hole. A button on the side of her garment caught on a screw which was jutting from the side of her hole. She loudly cursed, "Shit." Then she crawled back in a few inches and tried to make her exit again. She had freed herself from the clutches of the screw and felt an unwarranted amount of glee enter her body. She stood on her two legs, held the blue chip in the air and did a small victory dance. Just as she was about to break into a new style of dance, she heard his rough voice emit from against the wall of the chamber.

"Done yet, woman?" He was leaning against the wall in mock indifference. His arms crossed in front of him in displeasure and annoyance, but it was the expression on his face that gave away his true thoughts. A small smirk had tugged its way to his lips, and his eyes flickered with the brightness of bemusement.

Pulling her arms straight to her side, Bulma huffed at his disruption. Sticking her nose in the air to hide her embarrassment, she haughtily said, "I'm done dancing, if that's what you mean." She watched him down the bridge of her nose as he pushed himself off the wall and strutted toward her nonchalantly. Her legs told her to leave the room, her heart pumped faster in the chest, and her breathing became erratic as the man stalked towards her. Bulma stubbornly held her breath firmly and planted her legs to the cold tile of the gravity room floor. She would not let this Napoleonic creature scare her in her own home. "Maybe I'll get the room running again tomorrow." She forced her body to meet his halfway and commanded her tingling hand to pat his impressively firm arm. "You could use the break, big guy." If Bulma had not been so frightened of taking such casual liberties with the dangerous man, she would have laughed at his response.

He practically jumped a foot back at her touch and puffed up his chest in indignation. In a booming voice, he harshly responded, "I do not need a break, you daft woman." He stared at his room's technician as if she had lost her mind before continuing in a more malicious voice, "Need I remind you of your planet's approaching doom?"

Bulma gazed at his frazzled state with her cerulean eyes and dragged her long black lashes down slowly before opening her eyes once again. Touching him had obviously disrupted his authority in the room, and she chuckled quietly as she thought about the Saiyan's apprehensions toward physical contact. She responded in a low, innocent voice, "Are you referring to the android threat or the Saiyan threat?"

Her comment caused a charge of fury to explode across his frame. His response was fueled by his previous inability to conquer the small, peaceful planet. "Damn right, I'll destroy this mudball." He was practically roaring at her now and had regained his ground to be standing directly in front of her. His broad chest was millimeters from her dirty coveralls, and her breasts brushed against his firm body as she took deep, calming breaths. His fists were clenched at his side in anger, and his eyes were swirling with anticipation.

She could feel his hot breath on her face and smelled a distinct masculine scent. The thrill of her perilous position traveled through her entire body, and she bit her lip at the welcomed sensation. When she stared into his infinitely black eyes, Bulma was unsure if murder was at the forefront of his thoughts. Gods, he's intense, she thought to herself agreeably. Waves of heat from his body washed over her as she felt her mind begin to swoon in excitement. She turned around abruptly and as she left the room, she chokingly murmured over her shoulder, "Right, I've got work to do."

Once outside the suffocating chamber, Bulma placed a hand on her chest in relief. You're an idiot, she told herself. She was absolutely confident that her morally insufficient house guest would chew her up and spit her out if given the opportunity. As she thought about his ravenous exertion towards his desires, she flippantly thought, would that be so bad?

Thank you for reading. I would absolutely love to hear from you! As a side note, I will be finishing this story and I haven't given up on my others. This story will cover the first step in the couple's 'relationship.' I even have most of it written already!