A/N: Yes, it's another story. I should be working on Breathe but I just couldn't get this out of my head! I find myself staying up until 3 writing this when I have class at 7 or clinical at 6:30. This probably won't be a very long story, I'm thinking 5 to 6 chapters max, if it continues at the pace it's going. Just a little something! I hope you all enjoy it!

The Powers of the Moon

Chapter 1

The day was hot and sticky. Ice clinked happily against the sweating glass that rested in his hand against his knee. The front porch on which he sat was vast and pristine with sturdy white chairs staggered along its surface. He should be finishing up the final reports for the month that were stacked upon the small white table at his side. But, instead he found himself watching the house next to his. A small, tattered moving truck sat in the driveway. Two skinny boys clumsily moved the worn furniture into the house, pausing frequently to drink the lemonade that had been left out for them. He shook his head in disapproval. Why would anyone hire these idiots? They were obviously inexperienced, and he found himself grimacing on more than one occasion as they roughly forced the larger pieces through the door.

He had been watching the horror before him for a good hour and he had yet to catch a glimpse of the poor idiot who had hired the duo. No other vehicles were parked outside and he wondered if anyone was even there. A small droplet of sweat caressed his temple and he sigh in agitation. Why was it so damn hot? It was only May and already the merciless heat of summer was upon him. He drained the last of his drink and pulled a piece of ice into his mouth, crunching it slowly as he continued to watch the two boys scrape a large wardrobe through the front door. If he were a more caring person he would have probably gone over a while ago to help the poor kids, but he wasn't, so he didn't. He shook his head, placed the empty glass at his feet and reached over, pulling the first packet of paper off of the intimidating stack. He glanced up once more at the house, looking for any sign of another person before he set to work.

Three hours later he had finally finished up his work and he stood, stretching his muscled arms over his head. The boys had left not long ago, leaving the empty pitcher they had been drinking from resting haphazardly in their wake upon the driveway. Armatures. Still, no one had shown themselves and he wondered who his new neighbor was. Judging by the small amount of goods that had been moved into the house it was just one person, probably another corporate slave, like himself. His phone buzzed aggressively against his leg and he reached into his pocket, pulling the offending device into his view. The screen was illuminated in the soft orange glow of dusk and he pulled his finger across the screen before he held it up to his ear.

"Ouji." He answered and he was greeted by the sultry voice of his co-worker.

"Vegeta." She drawled."Did you by chance finish the numbers for the Howard account?" Vegeta smirked as he folded himself back into the chair he had just risen from.

"Yes." He rasped as he bent to pick up the glass and drank the liquid that had been produced from the ice that had long since melted.

"Thank god, I need the calculated expenditures for advertising." She mumbled distractedly and he pictured her shuffling through her desk, trying to find the report that she wanted.

"Couldn't figure it out, Sharon?" He teased and he heard her mumble a curse that he was sure was directed at him. He chuckled softly and reached back over to his small table and picked up the entire stack, setting it in his lap before he flipped through the pages, looking for the certain account.

"Fuck off, Ouji, not all of us choose to isolate ourselves on our days off." Vegeta continued to smirk as he searched the papers before him.

"I don't isolate myself, if I recall correctly it was you who refused to stay last night saying that you couldn't spend two days just fucking." He heard the woman gasp over the phone and he swiftly pulled the desired document out of the stack.

"Well, I could come back over if that's what you really want." Her voice had lowered and octave and he could almost smell her desire. In that moment a god awful squeal pierced the evening's tranquility and his head shot up in its direction. An ancient, rusted car puttered down the street, but before it passed him it turned into the drive next to his. His eyebrows drew up in surprise and he leaned forward in his chair to get a better look. What in the hell was moving next to him? The driver side door creaked open and he was stunned to see a petite woman step out of the death trap. She was draped in a long, floor length hunter green dress that appeared to be two sizes too big. She ducked back into the car and emerged with a large box that looked like it was about to crush her. She slammed the door with her hip and looked up at the house before her, a pleased smile playing across her soft, pink lips. Vegeta faintly heard his name being called over the phone that was lodged against his shoulder and he pulled it away from his ear, tapping the end button before he set it and his stack of papers down on the ground and stood, taking a small step forward to catch a better look at the woman that still stood looking up at the house.

The eyes that sat behind a pair of hideous glasses that were attached to a small chain around her neck were closed and her mouth moved in what looked like silent prayer. Great, some religious nut. He continued to stare in curiosity as she stood stock still, gripping the giant box to her stomach. Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled again before making her way to the front door. Her eyes were crystal blue, matching the stunning hair that was piled up at the top of her head. She stopped at the pitcher that had been left behind and she set the box on the ground before carefully adding it to her load. Vegeta was mesmerized by this woman, and he had no idea why. She looked like a bad imitation of a librarian, but there was something about the way she held herself that had him intrigued. She glanced over at him and lifted her hand in a soft wave and he automatically brought his hand up in return greeting. She smiled again and looked down at the box before her.

Before he knew what he was doing he was down the steps that lead to his house and was cutting across the cool grass that separated their drives. She was still staring at the box when he arrived by her side and she looked up at him and beamed a dazzling smile.

"You need help with that?" He asked and she nodded, stepping away from the box so that he could lift it.

"Thank you so much." She said softly and quickly led the way to the front door. She pushed it open and stepped aside for him to enter. She followed behind him and he glanced around the house. It was much like his, vast and open, only the entry way was cluttered with faded sofas and large, unlabeled boxes.

"Where do you want it?" He asked, finally realizing she was staring at him, waiting for him to set the box down.

"Oh, anywhere's fine." She said as she swept her hand out in front of her, indicating that the box could be sat in any place. "I'm Bulma, by the way." She said as she walked over to a soft green couch and ran her fingers along the deep scratch that had been left in the wood during the move by the two imbeciles.

"That was a pretty stupid move, hiring those guys." He chided and she smiled softly, letting her fingers follow the jagged edges of the scratch.

"Well, they didn't have any other work. They're a local start up." She explained, unconcerned, and turned away from the couch. "Besides, it gives it a little character." He looked at her in confusion before he looked back to the couch. It didn't look like it needed anymore character. The thing probably wouldn't last the summer. "Well, thank you very much for your help…" She drew out her sentence, silently asking for his name.

"Vegeta." He supplied, and she smiled at him warmly.

"Vegeta." She finished, testing his name on her tongue and plopped down on the couch. He shifted his hands into his pockets and looked around once more.

"So, what brings you here?" He asked and he was shocked with himself. He was never one for small talk and now he was standing here in a stranger's house, sounding like some nosey buffoon.

"Oh, I just opened a little shop a few miles away and wanted to be closer." So she was an entrepreneur. Well, that was good, at least she wasn't some weirdo that had moved in on some inheritance.

"Well, if you need any help moving stuff around, just let me know." He offered and internally berated himself. Shut up, Ouji! You don't have time to play servant to some doe eyed girl. Bulma smiled a knowing smile and nodded.

"Thank you, Vegeta. I'll definitely keep that in mind." She stood from her couch and proceeded to the door opening it to let him through. "I appreciate your help. Don't be a stranger." Vegeta nodded and ducked through the door but felt a strange need to turn and see her again. He stopped at the bottom of her steps and turned swiftly, raising a hand in farewell. Bulma rested her head against the door and smiled again. "Blessed be." The phrase took him by surprise and he turned clumsily, heading back to his house.

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A car door was shut from somewhere outside and Vegeta's hand twitched in curiosity. That had been the eighth person to arrive on his sleepy street. He knew that it had to be the new woman. People that lived here were probably gearing up for bed, tucking their little ones in and answering any last minute e-mails before they had to return to the grind in the morning. Another car door slammed and Vegeta finally stood up. He set a small tumbler of brown liquid down on his sleek, glass dining room table before slowly ambling over to the large window that gave him a perfect view of the house across the way. In the driveway, beside the woman's beat up old rust bucket, sat several vehicles. They ranged from sedans to SUVs to motorcycles to Vespas to a sleek black number that he couldn't help but admire. Another car pulled up and he watched attentively as a couple stepped out. They smiled up at the home, much like the woman had done earlier. He grunted at their serenely happy expressions, stepping to the side so that he could get a better look at the couple.

The man had wild black hair that was in desperate need of a comb. His soft faded jeans hung loose over a worn pair of brown leather lace ups. And, a small silver pendant glinted under his crisp white t-shirt. He looked normal enough. The woman next to him was slender and severe. Even with her soft, happy smile he could tell that she was one that was wound pretty tight. She wore a pair of black jeans that clung to her frame and a white button up that contrasted starkly against her hair. The man next to her reached for her hand and they started up the small path that led to the woman's house. The front door open and a long rectangle of light reached out to bathe them in its warmth.

The woman stood in the door frame and smiled another dazzling smile at her arriving guests. She was currently wearing a piercing green strapless dress that swept around her softly. The new arrivals threw their arms open in greeting and Bulma scaled the steps, walking into their embraces. The severe woman seemed to transform before his eyes. Her sharp shoulders and rigid back softened considerably as she held Bulma to her. Bulma leaned back away from the couple, but never disengaged. Her hands came up and cupped the woman's face, sweeping one hand over the woman's forehead as she whispered softly, Bulma pulled her in again and the man beside them smiled a sad smile before he joined the hug. Bulma turned away from the couple and smiled again, waving her arm toward the entrance of her home. She spoke again and the couple laughed, following her through the warm doorway of light.

Vegeta stepped away from the window and made his way back to his drink. He downed the last of the liquor in one swig and sat the glass back down. He glanced over his shoulder again, towards the window before he started up the dark wooden stairs that lead to his bedroom. He pondered briefly on how the woman could have such an effect on people, even himself, as he pulled the black t-shirt over his head, throwing it in the laundry basket that sat right inside the door to his bedroom. Once he was stripped of his jeans he climbed into bed, not bothering with the blankets. It would be a hot night. He heard another car door shut outside and he growled in irritation. If that woman kept him up, so help him god, she would not be living here for long.

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It had been three months since the woman had moved in and he hadn't spoken to her except for the occasional hello that was shared when they happened to cross paths. He had made a conscious effort to avoid her. She was no good for him. He wasn't the type of man that was easily brought his knees by a woman and he had a sneaking suspicion that this woman would do just that. He was currently sitting on his porch, enjoying the warm breeze of the early morning, before the late summer heat made it unbearable. The woman was currently in her front yard, sitting on her knees, digging up some kind of herb. She had made quite an impressive garden since she had moved in. It was home to several rows and vegetables and herbs that she had cared for diligently over the past few months. She wore a ridiculous sun hat that fell over her back when she leaned forward to pull several stems from the plant before her. Her tanned shoulders were exposed by the red tank top that hung around her. She sat up and threw a few leaves into a basket at her side. Her gloved hands were covered in soil and when she wiped her brow a brown streak was smeared across her face and he smirked. Stupid woman.

She grabbed her basket and stood gracefully moving down to a different row. Her long legs stretched enticingly beneath her hideous red and blue checkered shorts before she kneeled again. He found himself wondering how she was up at such an early hour. She had been awake 'til all hours of the night throwing some sort of party again that she held every Friday night. He had become accustomed to seeing the same people come and go every weekend. The first time he had seen them he had dreaded some sort of loud, hippy festival. But, it had been a relatively quiet evening, and so had the many that followed. He continued to watch his neighbor dig through her garden. Suddenly she sat up rigidly as if something had bit her. He chuckled softly and pictured a spider or some other harmless creature scaring the serene woman. Her shoulders were held sharply around her and she stared down before her. He watched in interest to see what she would do and she suddenly began digging furiously pulling up several rotten carrots. He raised an eyebrow at the steadily growing pile. That was strange. She was out there every day, how had they managed to spoil?

She continued to dig through the row in a frenzy and he could have swore he heard her growl as she paused in her mission. She quickly pulled up what looked like a small black pillow and held it between her fingers as if it were a dead animal. Her face was grim and she roughly pushed the hat from her head, letting her aqua hair tumble into her face. Her expression was one of disgust and he was surprised to see such a negative emotion cross her face. She looked furious. He continued to watch as she stood stiffly and carried the small square over to the corner of her yard and drop it down. She roughly pulled the gloves from her hands and threw them to the ground as well. She placed her hands on her hips and continued to glare at the object before her before she turned to him and pointed a small finger towards the offending pile.

"Don't touch that." She demanded in a tone that he had never heard from her before she marched into her house, letting the storm door slam behind her. He was shocked at her reaction and he almost walked over to her yard to pick up the small item just to show her that no one told him what to do. The nerve of her. He stood from his seat and walked to the edge of his porch, looking towards her house. He could see her through the front windows and she was on the phone. Her hand moved in erratic gestures and he could tell she was yelling. What in the hell was wrong with her? She paced her living room, pulling random things off of the shelves, piling them onto a desk as she spoke. He would hate to be the person on the other end of that phone.

In the midst of her frantic collection of items she paused and let out a scream that he could hear from his position. He winced involuntarily. She stood in front of a large glass cabinet, rummaging through it roughly as she continued to talk on the phone. She hung up immediately and slammed the cabinet shut before she made her way outside again with her car keys in hand. Vegeta took a step back onto his porch as he watched her rip the door to her car open, step in and speed off down the road. That clenched it. The woman was insane. He sat back down in his usual spot and stared over into her yard. He so badly wanted to go and examine the little thing that had gotten her in such an uproar but he convinced himself that he really didn't care and he turned back to his news paper.

Twenty minutes after she had left she was back, and no less angry. She stepped out of her car, holding a bag that he recognized was from her store. He only knew because she had lended his other neighbor quite a few when her son needed something to transport the pieces of his school project in, and he had overheard Bulma telling the woman she had gotten an extra shipment and had no place for them. She marched back into her house and he shrugged, deciding that it was no concern of his. If the woman wanted to be insane, then let her. He glanced at his watch and sighed. He only had 8 more hours of peace before his work colleagues showed up for an annual progress meeting. It was his year to host and he was dreading it. At least Sharon would be there, which meant he would probably get laid, which wouldn't make the evening a total loss.

Sharon was the type of woman he needed, someone who couldn't get attached to him. That's how he wanted it, a good lay every now and then without the pressure of some lovesick woman who wanted to spend every moment with him. He glanced back towards Bulma's house briefly, wondering if she was the clingy type. He shook his head in distaste and stood, he needed to get ready before the caterer arrived.

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The 'meeting' was in full swing. People milled around the house, plucking small hors d'oeuvres off of the long, elegant table that sat against a window filled wall. Vegeta sat in a modern black chair, resting his arms on the high sides that rose up to encompass him. He watched his fellow co-workers mingle with one another, talking about the latest office gossip. He could feel Sharon's hungry gaze on him but he refused to look at her. He didn't need her husband to see them exchanging heated glances, he didn't want any blood on his freshly stained floors. He glanced out the window to his side. The woman's house was completely illuminated, and he could just make out a small pile, resting against the spokes of her fence. He felt someone at his side, waiting to be acknowledged. He dreaded another pointless conversation, these people were so dull. They always wanted to talk about the same thing, the accounts that they managed, or the new client that they had brought in, all hoping to catch his eye for a promotion.

He looked up to the waiting individual and found Sharon leaning against his chair.

"So, Ouji, What makes you think that you can avoid me all night?" She hissed vehemently. Vegeta glanced over towards her husband who was currently in what seemed like an enthralling conversation about the upcoming football season.

" I don't have time for this, Sharon. You're husband is here, you brought him, go give him grief." Sharon's face twisted, as if she had just swallowed something sour.

"Fuck you, Vegeta. I'm more than just some hole for you to put your dick in." Vegeta chuckled and turned his head to look her in the eye.

"That's exactly what you are. And I'm just a dick for you to shove into your hole. I thought that we had established this." Sharon stepped back from his chair and glared down at him.

"I thought we had evolved past that." Her voice was a harsh whisper and she looked up, scanning the room to make sure no one had heard her.

"No, we haven't. You're married, and I'm not interested in anything more." His monotone voice cut through her and she stood awkwardly before him.

"Fine, just fucking then." With that she swept across the room and fell onto her husband's arm, laughing seductively as she pressed her body against his. Vegeta rolled his eyes and shifted anxiously in his chair. He could not wait for this night to be over. Suddenly his doorbell rang and he sat up, looking around the room. Who else was fucking coming? He stood from his seat and pushed through the gaggle of couples to get to his door. When he opened it, Bulma stood outside. She looked frazzled and pale. Her long hair was pulled haphazardly behind her head and small whisps hung loose, framing her face. She wore a loose brown shawl and the same ghastly checkered shorts from early that day. He could still barely make out the faint dirt smudge on her forehead.

"Hey, Vegeta." She began. She sounded tired, her shoulders hunched around her as she looked behind her briefly before continuing. "I just wanted to apolo-"

"Vegeta, who is this? Invite her in!" Sharon was standing behind him, eyeing Bulma as if she were a dead cockroach. Her voice was sickeningly sweet and Vegeta wished beyond anything in that moment that it wasn't looked down upon to hit a women.

"This is my neighbor, Bulma. Sharon, please excuse us." With that he stepped outside and slammed the door behind him. She might have been a good fuck, but he had a hard time standing her otherwise. Bulma looked past him at the door and despite her withered appearance, smiled. Vegeta shuffled his feet and held his hand out, motioning for her to continue.

"Oh, yes. I wanted to apologize for early. It was rude of me to have spoken to you like that. I got a little carried away. My friends tell me that I have a bit of a temper, sorry you had to see it." Vegeta stared at her as if she had sprouted two heads. Temper? This woman? She pulled her shawl closer to her body as a cool breeze blew past.

"Autumns coming." She mumbled to herself and she took a step back, descending the three steps behind her with grace. "Oh! And, I'm having a little bon fire tonight, so don't be alarmed. It will be small and short. I hope it doesn't disturb you." She started on her way back to her house But Vegeta suddenly felt the familiar need to speak to her flood his system.

"Hey. I hope everything's ok." He muttered awkwardly. The words felt foreign and bitter on his tongue. Bulma turned and smiled at him, waving her hand before she continued on her way. I hope everything's ok?! Vegeta slapped his forehead and turned to go back inside. He needed to stay away from that woman.

When he reentered his house, Sharon was waiting in the entry way to the living room. Her arms were crossed and her expression was heated.

"I thought you weren't interested in anything more?" She mocked and Vegeta sighed.

"I don't know what you're talking about. That woman is the farthest away from something that I would want. She came over to notify me of a fire she was having, like good neighbors do." He gruffed, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or her. Sharon scoffed

"Please, I thought you were going to fall at her feet right here." She turned and poised herself to return to the party, but not before turning her head and locking her hate filled eyes with his.

"I hope everything's ok." She repeated in a mocking tone as she walked off. God, he hated her.

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A/N: Hmmm. I don't like her…GOOD! That's how it should be! Haha. Well here is the first installment of The Powers of the Moon! I hope you all enjoyed it. Next chapter we get to see a bit more of Bulma and we clear away some of the mystery that surrounds her. And maybe add a bit more. I don't know! Haha Please review! It makes me happier than a….I dunno. Happier than A me eating cake…and that's HAPPY!