He sucked in another breath. It took far too much effort for such a simple, thoughtless action. And with each strangled gasp, his chest hurt like a bitch.

And speaking of bitches...

Vegeta cocked open an eye. That action too was difficult. Through the sweat and dried blood, he could barely make out the shape of the woman crouched at his side. Moments earlier she'd look lost, half dead herself, but now her pale hands worked to pry off his breastplate and her eyes shone with determination. As though his presence had given her hope. As though she thought he could possibly provide something for her to live for. He would have laughed, if it weren't for the pesky hole in his chest. The woman tossed his armor to the side and tested his wound. He sucked a breath through his teeth and teetered between consciousness. But he held on.

It was pathetic. Too weak protest, he felt the cool sting of medical instruments as a syringe was inserted into his vein. He wanted to curse this woman and her soothing poison. Saiyans didn't require anesthetic, but he succombed to the numbness. There wasn't enough strength in him to fight. But he'd snap her little neck the moment he recovered out of principle.

He almost wished the child Namekian was still alive. At least the boy had been able to heal him quickly. This woman, on the other hand, seemed to take pains in testing his wounds, calculating his strength, torturing him.

A coppery tang coated his tongue and he coughed over another cup of blood. He watched his regal blood stain the blue grass of this planet, his mind focused on the events that had led up to this moment. He might be powerless now, but when he recovered he'd be even stronger than before.

And Frieza would pay for the mockery he'd been reduced to. He'd take extra time pounding his useless corpse into whatever misfortunate planet served as the stage for their rematch. It was a satisfying thought as the pain once again became too much to bear.

Bulma checked her watch for what felt like the billionth time. The clock wasn't accurate for anything apart from letting her know how much time had elapsed. And it had been forty-seven minutes since she'd healed the Saiyan Prince.

She'd attempted to drag him away from her friends' lifeless bodies, but to no avail. He was heavier than he looked, and he'd cursed her in his sleep. She'd almost smiled at that, but even though she found him amusing it wasn't enough to lift her spirits. Not so soon after burying her friends.

Sitting on a boulder and facing away from the carnage, Bulma stretched out her legs and sighed. She took another glance at her wrist. Forty-eight minutes. Her toes wiggled impatiently inside her boots.

With time to kill, she read the numbers printed on the side of the capsules in her possession. Her medkit had come in handy, but her foodstuff was short and unfortunately there wasn't anything in helping her get off this rock. Mainly, a fully functioning spaceship. Her biggest fear, however, was that Frieza had left behind some of his men.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Her head jerked towards the gravely voice. One side of her mouth tugged to a smile as she pushed herself to a standing position and started towards the prince. With calculated aloofness she replied,

"I could ask you the same question."

"You know exactly who I am." His voice was harsh. Though it took considerable effort to sit up, he managed. He was all about appearances.

Vegeta was right; she knew who he was. And even if he wasn't sure her name, he knew who she was, too. He'd seen her hanging around Kakarott's son and his bald friend. She was the woman who'd creamed over Zarbon and then shouted after he'd transformed, the woman he'd taken the dragon ball from. An Earthling. And an even more pathetic one than the others he'd met, a difficult feat. If his head wasn't throbbing, he'd sneer but as it stood she wasn't worth the effort.

"Fine." Her lips tried out the word, "Vegeta. I'm Bulma."

"Hn." Vegeta - adding that bit of information to the long list of things he doesn't give a shit about - dismissed her.

She rolled her eyes and knelt by his side. "I couldn't lift you earlier, but now that you're awake I'm going to need to wrap your wound."

"I'm fine."

"There's a hole in your chest," she deadpanned. "You aren't fine. And if you don't let me help, it's going to open back up. Now sit still."

His teeth gnashed painfully, jaw locking as the woman started digging through her medkit. Vegeta's eyes widened as she uncurled the white material without casting him a second glance. Surely she had a deathwish. He wished he could summon just the smallest energy blast to teach her a lesson, but just thinking about it caused his peripheral to blur.

After a beat of silence, Bulma filled the void. "You're lucky I found you when I did. Frieza really did a number on you."

"When I heal, I'll be stronger than I was before. He'll suffer for leaving me here to rot." Vegeta didn't seem to infuse any venom into his tone; he just sounded tired with that special touch of his signature frustration.

Bulma gaged him as she secured the gauze around his chest. She'd seen plenty of well toned muscle in her life, but the pulse of power that radiated from the prince made her fingers shake.

"We've got to get out of here first. I am so tired of this fucking planet," Bulma mumbled. Her blue eyes were clear as they met his. Vegeta regarded her coolly as she continued to wrap the bandage around his middle. His fingers shook too. Though his with the urge to strangle her for making him feel so powerless. "Good thing you're in the hands of a genius."

Vegeta blinked as the woman had the audacity to wink. Then he exhaled through his nose and asked, "Do you have a plan?"

"A plan? Sure. Get the hell off this rock."

"Hn." The prince scoffed. "Some plan."

Purposefully tightening the bandage around a particularly tender spot on his abdomen, Vegeta clinched his teeth and narrowed his eyes. The woman only flashed him a saccharine smile and carried on as though she hadn't spotted the nasty bruise and set out to cause him further pain. He looked like an opal - and internal bleeding was a sure thing - but she didn't have any senzu beans on hand and she wasn't a miracle worker. So he'd just have to suffer.

"I'm still hammering out the details. Besides, you're not really bringing anything to the table at the moment."

"No," he agreed around a clenched jaw. And even though he wanted to kill her, if it weren't for her he'd probably be dead. Not that she'd be the first person he'd screwed over after a gesture of goodwill. Though one look at the woman and he knew she wasn't innocent. Unlike Kakarott and his son, she wasn't pure of heart. He smirked. That meant she had selfish reasons for nursing him back to health.

"You healed me back there." He wouldn't lower himself to ask, but Bulma heard the 'why' that wasn't articulated.

She nodded. "Like I said, I'm a genius. But I'm going to need your muscle and your street smarts once we're off Namek. And then, if you're lucky, I might need you to wipe the floor with Frieza."

He quirked a brow.

"Your pals Banan and Sui took out the ship Krillin, Gohan and I came here on," Bulma explained, finishing up with the gauze and rocking back on her feet to survey her handiwork. "But with the parts from your pod and what's left of mine, I think I can get the ship Goku came here on up and running again. And you're going to use that power sensing trick to help me find someone." Bulma chewed on her lip for a moment, lost in thought. "I know it isn't perfect, but Piccolo is somewhere on this planet."

"The Namekian from Earth?"

She nodded. "Hopefully."

"Hn." Vegeta sneered and pushed back his shoulders. Though tender, it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. "Reviving that weakling was a waste of a wish."

"Ah." Bulma couldn't help but grin. "You wanted immortality."

"If things had gone my way we wouldn't be sitting here on our asses."

She shrugged one shoulder and inspected the dirt caked beneath her nails. She really needed a shower. "Maybe. But there was a reason they wished Piccolo back."

He could tell she was keeping something from him, but he'd get the full story from her. Eventually. Even if he had to beat it out of her.

"To answer your question, the plan is to get Piccolo, find Goku's ship, go to Earth," Bulma said, ticking things off her mental list. To herself she added wish back everyone Frieza killed on Namek and then, once the Namekians were back, she'd use their dragon balls to complete the original plan: wish back Yamcha, Tien and Chiaotzu. What they'd do about Frieza was another story. Bulma sighed. It wasn't perfect, but it was something. "So," she continued, meeting the prince's glare, "How're you feeling?"

"Like I've just had a hole blasted through my fucking chest."

She laughed. "Sounds about right. Hungry?"

He turned away from her and glanced at the piles of dirt from where she'd buried the fallen fighters. His stomach growling was answer enough.

Vegeta's not a very nice person. He should work on that. Although, I suppose that's half the fun.

The next one'll be longer. Promise!