A/N: I don't own DBZ or the characters, that honour belongs to Akira Toriyama. I use British English spelling and the metric system for measuring (100 metres is about 328 feet).

Bulma stared at the equation on the whiteboard in front of her. She'd been battling with it since her and Yamcha had broken up a few weeks ago, but no matter what theorem she applied she couldn't crack it. "It's just not adding up!" She huffed in annoyance, then giggled at her own unintentional pun. "Oh well, I'm sure I'll figure it out tomorrow. I am a genius after all."

Bulma flung herself into her office chair and spun it around to face her desk. Mathematics to solve how to increase the GR's gravity without the structure caving in on itself could wait. The problem on her desk was much more interesting anyway. Laid out in front of her were samples from Vegeta's Saiyan armour. She'd been studying it for a while now, trying to figure out how to replicate it. "It's definitely partly organic material." She said, peering through the microscope and scribbling notes with a pencil. "But there aren't any natural fibres on Earth that are strong enough for what this needs to withstand."

Bulma leaned back in her chair, tapping the pencil against her lower lip. "It's going to need to be completely synthetic, but there must be a way to replicate its qualities." She stood up suddenly, a brainwave hitting her. "Dad's been working on that material for tents that can withstand any weather conditions. Maybe that would help."

She rushed out of her lab, turning the corner towards her father's office before realising the corridor lights were off. She glanced at her watch, her eyes widening when she realised the time. "Tomorrow it is," she said with a sigh. She suddenly realised that she hadn't eaten in hours. Yawning noisily, she made her way to the kitchen instead to have a night time snack before bed.


Vegeta awoke with the familiar metallic taste of blood in his mouth. Stomach lurching, he dragged himself to his feet, using the GR's console for support. The room spun around him, but he wasn't surprised given the amount of blood pooled on the floor. He glanced down at his wound. It had already begun to heal, but it was deep, with scorch marks on the skin around it.

Vegeta dragged himself to the GR's door and opened it, breathing in deeply as fresh air hit his face. The stars were out and judging by the lack of lights on inside the Capsule Corp living quarters it was late. It was about a hundred metres to the door. If he could fly, it was about two hundred metres to the balcony of the bedroom Bulma had given to him six months ago.

Gripping to the doorway, Vegeta flared his ki experimentally. It stuttered weakly.

"I guess flying is out." Vegeta frowned and focused on the door ahead. One step at a time. He could do this. And once he did, inside there would be a first aid kit, food, and a comfortable bed...

Vegeta placed a bare foot on the damp grass, then started making his way over. He stumbled at the half way point, but didn't stop, planting one foot after the other on the cool ground. When he made it to the door he fell against it, fumbling for the handle which seemed to have disappeared.

Giving up on the handle momentarily, Vegeta placed his hand over his wound which was now screaming at him for attention. He pressed his forehead against the door and sucked in the deep breath, willing himself to try again. Before he could, the door opened for him, and Vegeta fell inside, landing in front of a pair of feet with bright red toenails.