Bulma softly cracked open the door to the room in the infirmary where Vegeta was resting, poking her head in. They were back at Capsule Corp, having brought the Saiyan Prince back after he spent the night at the hospital. The Saiyan had not yet regained consciousness, but he had been restless during the night. His ki had flared up randomly and had damaged some medical equipment as a result. The Briefs had paid the doctors back for the damage, and then arranged for Vegeta to be transferred back to Capsule Corp. His body had healed enough during the night for all of the doctors to be assured that he would recover from the explosion. The doctors and her parents were amazed by his progress, but Bulma somehow wasn't surprised by it.

She quietly walked into the room, eyeing him carefully as if he would wake up from her walking in, but Vegeta was still out like a light. His head was turned slightly away from her, one of his arms draped over his stomach as he breathed steadily. Bulma's blue eyes scanned over his bandages and the deep blue and purple bruises that littered his body, and her eyes filled with concern. Yes, she had been told again and again that he would be fine, but she still didn't like seeing him like this. Vegeta was strong as a rock, he had no business needing an oxygen mask to breathe like he did at the moment. Seeing him like this felt so wrong and unnatural, and that feeling wouldn't shake until she saw him back to his normal, angry and agitated self.

Bulma placed the books she brought with her on the table she had set up in his room. She was doing research for a new algorithm she could develop to improve a program she had been designing, and had brought her work with her so she could remain at Vegeta's side. She told herself she was only doing this so he wouldn't wake up and fly back to the gravity room. Bulma sat down in the chair that accompanied the table, before opening one of her books.

She read a few sentences before glancing over at him.

A few more sentences, and another glance.

Half a page, a scribble of notes in the margin, and then another glance.

One sentence, and then another glance.

Bulma sighed, irritated with herself, and closed the book. She pulled it close and then folded her arms over it, resting her head in her arms as she looked at him.

Although severely injured, Vegeta never looked more at peace than he did then. Without a scowl or glare on his face, with his facial muscles relaxed and his expression completely at ease as he rested, he was actually… kinda handsome. Bulma had noticed that he was attractive before, but now she couldn't take her eyes off him. She admired his features, from his strong jaw line to his perfect nose to his thick but not too thick eyebrows to his well-defined widow's peak.

He was, indeed, a prince.

What am I doing? I'm checking out a guy who is unconscious! Bulma growled inwardly, ashamed of herself as she looked away from him. She stubbornly rested her head back down on her arms, refusing to look at him like that again as she faced the other way. She had a boyfriend, for heaven's sake…

Bulma didn't realize she had dozed off until she was yawning and slowly waking up some time later. She mumbled a little and tried to go back to sleep, when she heard what had woken her up in the first place.

"Kakarot…"

Bulma immediately sobered up from her sleep and looked over at Vegeta, who had almost a pained expression on his face. He was grinding his teeth together, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, both of his hands clenching tight fistfuls of the light sheet that was covering him. His breathing was harsh and irregular as Bulma pulled her chair closer to his bed.

"Vegeta?" she asked gently, placing one hand on his arm.

"I'll get you Kakarot," he said, his voice hoarse. His grip tightened on the sheet covering him, small beads of sweat beginning to appear near his temples as his breathing grew more irregular. "I'll beat you…"

"Vegeta," Bulma said, her voice a little stronger as she reached up to feel his forehead. He was scorching hot. "Wake up, Vegeta," she told him, her hand going down to his face as her worried eyes scrutinized him. He turned his head towards her when he felt her touch, letting out a low moan and grimacing from his pain.

His head was swimming, a cascade of dark memories and images that were all passing by in a blur he was helpless to stop. He could hear the woman vaguely, her voice a distant echo in his head. He couldn't focus on it, images of Kakarot and that boy from the future bombarding him from every direction. He could see them so clearly as they transformed into Super Saiyans, mocking him when they should have been kneeling down before him.

"Vegeta…"

The blue haired woman was saying his name. Bulma. That was her name, but where was she? He saw a flash of her face with her eyes tearing up for him as she held him amidst the wreckage from the gravity room explosion. He opened his mouth to ask where she was, but he could only groan in pain. He suddenly saw his father and hatred immediately shot through him as images of Frieza came to mind…

"That all sounds well and good," Frieza said, indifferent as he waved off the king. King Vegeta scowled at this blatant disrespect, highly offended but knowing he couldn't do a thing about it. His son next to him was seething on the inside, wanting to torture Frieza to death before violently ending him for good. But his face held no emotion at all. Frieza gave the boy a curious look, taking him in. "Let's get on with the show... you can leave, I would like to introduce myself to your son now."

King Vegeta hesitantly turned to his son now. The boy looked up at him, and King Vegeta placed a hand on his son's shoulder. He gave it a squeeze, before nodding to the boy. The boy nodded in return. King Vegeta then turned and motioned for his men to follow him, and they did. Two men remained behind though, their arms crossed over their chests. The king gave them passing glances and a silent understanding passed between them before the king left.

Vegeta watched his father walk away, letting his eyes linger there long after the king had already departed. The small boy then looked at the two Saiyans who were still in the room. He recognized one as a commander of his father's army, a Saiyan by the name of Nappa. He did not recognize the other man who had long black hair. He must have been a low class warrior.

Finally, Frieza cleared his throat.

"Prince Vegeta," Frieza said with a mock politeness, "We finally meet. And I see you have brought a crowd along with you." Vegeta slowly turned to face Frieza, finally making eye contact with him. He remained silent, glaring at the tyrant which only made Frieza chuckle. "My my, you're not going to even say hello?" Frieza asked kindly as he slowly rose from his seat.

"Seems like the boy could use a lesson in etiquette," Zarbon replied, smirking. Vegeta glanced at him, before scowling.

Dodoria chuckled, "Oh, he's got a bit of an attitude, Zarbon. Better be careful."

"He does have quite a bit of an attitude for a short little monkey, doesn't he?" Frieza asked with delighted laughter. That laughter and those words so infuriated the young prince, that he just could not hold it in any longer. It all came bubbling up before he could stop it.

"You don't scare me, you ugly freak!" Vegeta shouted at Frieza, clenching his fists. Zarbon and Dodoria both hissed at the boy, but Frieza merely smiled a sinister smile. "You don't own me or my people! You're nothing, Frieza! I am the Prince of all Saiyans, I am son of King Vegeta, I-"

Before the boy could even realize what was happening, a sharp and blinding pain brought him to his knees. Vegeta gasped, never having experienced this type of pain before. He was about to crumple down to the floor, tears streaming down his face, when he felt Frieza's hand around his throat.

Frieza lifted the boy up off the ground. Vegeta cried out in pain, knowing that his legs were broken. His tears kept coming and he saw out of the corner of his eye that Dodoria and Zarbon were currently viciously beating down the two Saiyans his father had left with him. He closed his eyes in shame, aching for his father to come save him.

Frieza shook him, laughing, "When I speak to you, you will answer me, boy. I am the most powerful being in the universe, and you are just a lowly, stupid monkey. You may be a prince, Vegeta, but you are prince of a worthless monkey race. You will address me as Lord Frieza, or I will break you in half and then I will break your father in half…"

Frieza then released Vegeta, letting the boy fall right on his legs. Vegeta howled in pain, openly crying as he screamed in agony. Frieza just gave him a cruel smirk.

"You are weak, boy," Frieza told him. "Don't worry. I will change that… put them in the rejuvenation tanks," he ordered Zarbon and Dodoria. Vegeta was about to pass out from his pain when Zarbon picked him up by the collar.

"Let's go, little monkey…"

"No!" Vegeta screamed, violently thrashing in his bed. Bulma was startled by this, and with a yelp, she just barely moved out of the way of him swinging his arm defensively. He would've likely injured her severely if he'd been a fraction of a second faster. He was breathing heavily, his eyes still tightly closed, sweating profusely now. "No, Frieza, NO!"

"Vegeta!" Bulma cried out, reaching out and placing both of her hands on the sides of his face as the room began to rumble under his rising power. "It's okay, you're okay, just breathe!"

His eyes fluttered as her touch and voice broke into his consciousness. The tension slowly began to leave his body at the realization that she was there. If the woman was there, then it wasn't real. Or was it? He was so disoriented and he felt terrible, every muscle in his body aching and burning. He groaned in pain, exhausted and panting for air.

"It's okay," Bulma told him as soothingly as she could, caressing his face which was contorted in a mask of pain. He was responding well to the contact, it was calming him a little, much to her relief.

"Frieza…" he mumbled incoherently.

"He's not here, Vegeta, he's not here… you're okay," Bulma said, continuing to stroke his face, feeling compelled to ease his restless mind. She didn't know why, but his pain was resonating inside of her and she had to try to ease it somehow. She touched his forehead again before frowning in concern at how hot he felt.

Images of the tyrant transforming into his final form filled Vegeta's mind. He suddenly saw a blurred image of Kakarot standing next to him, and his own trembling hand as he reached out to him while he laid in the dirt on Namek as he felt his life slip away…

Vegeta was wondering if he was dying again when he felt something cool press against his forehead. He released a low moan at the sensation. The cool wetness helped ground and orient him, his breathing finally slowing down. The images and memories in his mind gratefully faded away to nothing, and he slowly opened his eyes to look up into a pair of very relieved blue ones. He narrowed his eyes as her face became clearer to him.

"Bulma?" he asked quietly, his voice hoarse.

"Hey you," she told him gently, smiling when she heard him say her name. She wiped away his sweat on his face with the cool wet cloth as he groaned, half because the cloth felt so good and half in annoyance that she was there. "You were having a bad dream, but it's okay now. How about going back to sleep so your body can rest?"

"Do not tell me what to do, woman," he growled weakly, trying to glare at her. Slowly he began to remember the explosion, and as he did, he remembered the part where the blue haired woman had found him. Now she was here with him again while he recovered, and he bitterly wondered what motive she had to care whether he lived or died. There must have been some motive. She could not possibly be doing this just because, no one ever helped him without a hidden agenda. "Go away."

"Not until you're better, buddy. You're stuck with me for now, so you just stay quiet and deal with it," Bulma told him, her tone smug but her eyes still filled with concern. He snorted, too weak to argue as he closed his eyes.

Vegeta was trying to clear his tired mind when he felt her soft fingers running through his hair. He couldn't help the shudder that came over him at the feeling. His body doing this against his will pissed him off though, and he opened his eyes just enough to squint angrily at her.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, trying his very best to make his voice sound as dangerous and as threatening as he could. But he was so exhausted, it just sounded like a weak and weary question. He growled and in a ditch attempt to save his pride, he threw in for good measure, "I do not need your help, you idiot human."

"Oh, just relax," Bulma told him, rolling her eyes at his stubbornness. "You need rest, so relax and clear your mind. You need to rest so you can get better."

"Get away from me," he mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open. Bulma ignored him and continued playing with his hair, her touch very delicate. She brought her fingers down through his hair and gently massaged his scalp with her fingertips.

"Rest now," she commanded him gently.

Vegeta had opened his mouth to object over being given a direct order, but instead felt a low growl of pleasure escape him when he felt what she was doing. He sighed in delight, closing his eyes and succumbing to the feeling, too tired to fight or argue with her. Soon, his mind was clear and his body relaxed as he solely focused on the warm and soothing sensation of her fingers running through his hair. Never, ever had he allowed anyone to do this to him, but something about her touching him this way just felt so right…

Bulma smiled when he sighed deeply and turned his head towards her, as if leaning into her touch. She continued playing with his hair, watching as it lulled him back to sleep. After a few minutes, the prince was breathing deeply and rhythmically once again, his chest rising and falling in a perfect rhythm. The tension was gone from his body and she knew he was out again, but she kept playing with his hair anyways. For such a fierce warrior, Vegeta had incredibly soft hair. She loved that he had let her touch his hair, though she did realize that when he was better, he would probably never allow her to do so again.

Her eyes went down a little and she looked at the scars on his body. She moved her free hand to one of the scars on his chest which was large but now mostly faded. She very gingerly traced it out, her fingertips barely grazing his warm skin, wondering when and where he had gotten it. It looked painful even though it was healed, and he had many other scars that were similar.

He had endured so much physical and emotional pain in his life, it was no wonder he was the way he was. How could no one else see how much pain he was holding onto? It was so obvious to Bulma. If she could somehow get him to open up to her, maybe he could get that weight off his shoulders. She looked up from his scar to his sleeping face, took his hand in hers, and she silently made him a promise.

I know there's more to you than meets the eye, and I'm not giving up on you…

Yamcha opened the door to Vegeta's room and scowled at the sight that greeted him. Bulma was sitting on a chair that was turned to face the Saiyan Prince's bed, her head in her arms, and her arms resting on the side of his bed as she dozed. Vegeta was asleep as well, and Yamcha glared at the man silently as he approached the bed.

"Bulma," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Bulma immediately woke up, her head shooting up as she instantly looked at Vegeta. He was still sound asleep though, and she let out a relieved breath before realizing there was someone else in the room. Looking over her shoulder, she gazed up at an angry face glaring back down at her.

She smiled tiredly, "Hey babe."

"Can I talk to you," Yamcha said in a low voice, glancing at the Saiyan lying in the bed, "In private."

"Oh, Vegeta is out cold, he won't hear," Bulma replied, looking back at the prince as Yamcha grumbled under his breath.

"Bulma, please," he insisted. She sighed, agitated as she stood up.

"Fine," she stated, her tone very clearly annoyed. She followed Yamcha out of the room and closed the door quietly behind her.

Vegeta slowly opened his eyes when he heard the door click shut. On pure instincts honed after years of survival, he had woken up immediately when he felt Yamcha approaching his room, but he had been so tired that he opted against picking a fight with the man. By the time he noticed with both surprise and agitation that Bulma was still at his side, the doorknob had already been turning. Deciding he would rather not bother with two weak humans fussing over him, the Saiyan Prince had feigned sleep, hoping they would take the hint and leave him the hell alone.

He heard them talking with hushed tones outside of his door, trying to be quiet, but unaware that Saiyans were blessed with increased senses. He could hear them as clearly as if they were talking right in front of him.

No matter though. Now that the blasted woman had finally left him alone, he could leave and resume his training. Vegeta reached up to his oxygen mask and removed it, throwing it aside as he slowly struggled to sit up. He winced, his body stiff and sore as he overheard the conversation outside of his door.

"All I'm saying is you don't need to babysit him, he's a Saiyan, he'll be fine," Yamcha grumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest and returned his girlfriend's glare. "Besides, why do you care about him anyways? Don't you remember that he came to Earth to kill us all?"

Bulma groaned. Not this conversation again. "He came to Earth looking for the Dragon Balls. Technically the only person he killed when he was here was his friend, the bald guy. So technically, he hasn't done anything wrong to us."

Vegeta cringed as he was reminded of what he had done to Nappa. His eyes grew confused though as he realized something else. He looked over at the door, his breathing labored as he finally dragged his body up so he was sitting. She was defending him to her mate?

Why?

"He got me killed, Bulma, what part of that don't you understand?" Yamcha growled angrily, furious that she was playing with fire with the dangerous Saiyan Prince. "He beat the hell out of Goku, he beat the hell out of everyone!"

"And then he helped Goku on Namek," Bulma countered.

"Only because he's a conniving jerk who needed Goku," Yamcha shot back.

Bulma let out an infuriated howl of frustration. "There is no winning with you!" she cried in exasperation. "Look, you jackass, Vegeta is hurt right now, and he needs someone who can be there for him."

"Well I for one am glad he's hurt," Yamcha snapped. "Maybe that will teach him that he's not so high and mighty, and that no one cares about his stupid prince heritage."

Vegeta's fury flared at the Earthling's words, and on pure willpower that was driven by his pride, he finally managed to get himself up out of bed. His legs were weak though and he had to leave one hand on the bed to remain upright, but he would be damned to let that weak, pathetic human insult his heritage. He grit his teeth together, grimacing from the pain ripping through him, already trying to devise a strategy to kill the human without making himself worse in the process.

He stopped though and cringed when he heard the woman scream, "HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT? Vegeta has done NOTHING to you, and you are GLAD that he's hurt? Do you realize that he could have DIED? Then how would you feel, you heartless bastard?" Bulma screamed in Yamcha's face as he backed up a little, frightened by her outburst. "How do you think I would feel knowing that a gravity room that I helped design, hell, that I fucking built, ended someone's life, huh?"

Vegeta looked at the door with a bewildered expression on his face, mixed emotions as he heard the woman vigorously defend his honor. He would have smirked at that if he didn't feel so utterly confused by her words. If he had died in the explosion, he would have felt nothing but shame in the next dimension for being so careless with his training. He never, ever thought that someone would actually be left tormented by his death.

And he had never thought that someone would be her.

Slowly and sluggishly, the Saiyan Prince turned and trudged over to the window in the room. He needed to leave. He needed to train and get his mind off of confusing things which he did not understand. He muttered curses for the humans under his breath, refusing to give their emotional nonsense another thought. It was all just a weakness, and he had enough physical weakness to deal with at the moment.

"I take it back," Yamcha finally relented, but Bulma was staring a hole into him. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under. "It's just we were supposed to have dinner tonight and you're here with him, and you completely forgot…" he frowned as his voice trailed off, gazing at her.

Bulma sighed, her eyes softening. "I know, I am sorry about that. I just needed to stay with him."

"It's fine," Yamcha said dismissively, not letting on how hurt he had been. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before sighing again, making direct eye contact with his girlfriend. "Listen, I can see what you're trying to do. You're trying to help him, you think you can change him. But he's a monster B, he has always been a monster, and he's never going to change."

"You don't know that," Bulma shot back angrily. "You don't know him."

"Neither do you."

Bulma opened her mouth to retort, but she had no response for that. The blue haired heiress scowled and crossed her arms over in front of her, looking at the prince's door. On the other side, Vegeta was perched on the windowsill, the fresh air outside alluring to him. It felt so good to him, and he was moments away from going to his gravity room. He could see it from where he was, it was so close. He would be there in mere seconds if he flew.

He was hesitating though, looking over his shoulder towards the door as he waited for the woman to respond. He didn't know why, but he just wanted to hear what she had to say.

"Look, I can't explain it. It's just a feeling that I have, that he's not that bad of a person. He's here, he's fighting on our side, he's helping us. He's on all of our sides, Yamcha… don't you think he could use at least one person on his?"

Vegeta heard her words and looked back outside, hesitating for a moment as he scowled. Grimacing slightly, he took off into the air and headed straight over to his gravity room, not wanting to hear another minute of the nonsense the woman was saying. He was a loner, and he'd come to terms with that a long time ago.

"Well I don't trust him," Yamcha growled.

Bulma sighed, "No one does, and then everyone wonders why he's such a jerk all of the time."

"Fine, but don't you come crying to me when he throws all of this back in your face," Yamcha said harshly, looking off to the side.

Bulma's glare suddenly disappeared, and it was slowly replaced by a knowing smirk as she put her hands on her hips. "Are you jealous of Vegeta?"

"What? No!" Yamcha shot back indignantly, huffing as if she had offended him greatly. Bulma just smiled widely, before closing the distance between them and hugging him. Yamcha tried to hang onto his anger, but it was a losing battle. He sighed and hugged her back tightly.

"You're so cute when you're jealous," Bulma teased before laughing. Pulling back, she kissed him on the cheek.

"Whatever," Yamcha said, though the anger was gone from his voice.

"Look, let me check on Vegeta and then we'll go get a late dinner, okay?"

His eyes considerably brightened at that and he smiled, "That sounds great. I'll be by the front waiting."

"Okay."

She watched him leave before turning and quietly entering the prince's room. To her dismay, the bed he had been lying in was empty. The bed sheet was thrown aside, as was his oxygen mask. Bulma's eyes shot over to the open window, and she growled. She should have known better, and she mentally kicked herself for not seeing this coming sooner as she left his room. She headed the opposite way that Yamcha had, going to a different exit that would bring her close to the gravity room.

That stubborn jerk, he's going to kill himself like this… I'm going to give him a piece of my mind…