Hey everyone!

Here you are. I know I haven't been updating lately, but I have been caught up in trying to find a job. Hopefully I can get one or I will starve next year or just get so sick off of the cafeteria food that I die... Sigh. So here is the next chapter and I am still working out the kinks in the next one. After that I might get my writing spark back.

Again, go read 'The Unexpected' by The nevermore. Really good and awesome plot twist! If anything, go tell him thanks for correcting my errors and being my beta for this chapter!

I really hope you'll enjoy.


The Setting Sun

Chapter 7

Dead Heart Beating


Disclaimer: will never own DBZ


Three years. Well, it was more like two years and four months now. It was hard for her to grasp that concept. She had thought by now that she would be getting ready to have a child rather than having to deal with the loss of a child.

The troubled waters were slowly coming back to their stilled, placid flow. There would always be ripples disturbing its peace, but Bulma was not a fool. She knew that nothing would go back to just how it had been before.

For one thing, she would never forget Trunks, but it was because of her loss of him that she had seen another side of the prince. He had calmed her heart; her heart that had been a raging storm of turmoil and distrust and even a longing to die. He had managed to make the large tidal waves of her soul become soft waves again.

How, she wasn't sure, but he had shown her a side of him she had never seen. He had even taken her to a place she knew was a sacred place of solitude and placid thinking to him.

If only she could figure out what had made this change. She was so confused to why he went from acting like she was the bane of his existence, which she was when had been pestering him for a heir, to taking care of her like she was someone special.

She wasn't delusional to think that he no longer saw her as the bane of his existence, but at some time or other, he had come to enjoy her being his nuisance. Or that's what she thought. The Adonis like prince was such a hard one to pin.

He had gotten her back to her appointment on time and had sulked about in the back as he watched the doctor with a glare. Bulma could tell that he did not like this man very much. She would have preferred a woman herself, but he had been the one to show up.

His hands were too grabby for her liking.

He removed a few of her bandages, checking and seeing that a few of her bones had healed nicely. All that really kept her down was her leg. It was slowly healing, but would take another two months before they even considered it healed. Finally, after lecturing at her for 'not resting' (Vegeta's harsh treatment of her earlier that day), he left. She was allowed to use crutches in two days.

Bulma was somewhat upset because December had crept it's way around the bend and all her relatives would soon be there to celebrate Christmas. They had all no doubt heard about the accident, which she was concerned about, and no doubt would try talking to her about what had happened like they were experts.

She had been able to get through another week or so and her train of thought had improved by bounds. She was with Yamcha a lot during this time period, because he started hanging out at her home again during the day time, but at night she realized that Vegeta switched off with him.

She would still sometimes have terrible nightmares and wake up with a start. She kept seeing all those faces. All those Saiyans that had flashed before her eyes before fading into nothing. She felt as though they screamed to be remembered, not forgotten with time, and would do so by reemerging themselves in her dreams. Her dreams felt like watching their memories. She usual wakened when they turned brutal or dark.

She wouldn't tell anyone, but sometimes she felt like she had seen how they died. Sometimes it would make her wake with a cry and other times it ended with her getting sick and sobbing.

Vegeta had gotten really good at getting there before she threw up on her sheets though. He seemed to be able to predict her really bad dreams by her ki and would save himself the trouble of cleaning up the mess or taking her back to his room by getting her to the bathroom in time to puke. Though, he never was very happy about it. He usually wore a more than usual angry scowl as he helped her, muttering something in his own language.

She could use the crutches now and finally had her catheter removed (thank Kami) but she wasn't usually fast enough to get to the bathroom in time to throw up. Vegeta would put her back in her bed and lie on one side of her bed for a while till she either fell asleep and or cried.

He then would awkwardly hold her like he had and sing his lullaby. Sometimes it was nice and other times he sang it bitterly. She knew it was because she was bothering him with all her neediness. She couldn't understand why he even did it. She didn't know and it bothered her.

He was always gone by morning. Yamcha had picked up her mealtimes. If she didn't eat, he went and got the grumpy Saiyan that was busy training. That was never fun, so she shut up and ate to avoid getting it shoved down her throat. Or regurgitated. She didn't care who you were, that was gross.

"Hey B," Yamcha called to her, breaking her of her thoughts.

"Yeah," She asked as she looked up from her work.

Since she was able to use her arm again, she had taken to trying to figure out something to do while the rest of her healed.

He smiled at her as he held out his two hands that were balled into fists.

"Pick a hand, any hand, but only one has the reward!" He said with a huge grin.

He was very proud of something he had done and Bulma could only wonder what he had done that made him so happy. She looked at both hands before picking his dominate hand. He tended to hide the little presents he use to give her in that hand, plus it looked like that one was holding something.

He opened it up and to her surprise there was a Senzu bean.

"I know I am a little early for Christmas, but I finally convinced Karin that you weren't going to jump out the nearest window after you got all healed up." Yamcha told her as he placed it in her hand.

She stared at it. She had never had one and mildly wondered what it tasted like. She knew she wouldn't need all of it so when Yamcha wasn't looking she would take it and hide the rest incase of emergency. Vegeta or Yamcha were bound to do something stupid sooner or later and would need one.

"Well, are you going to eat it?"

"Take off my cast first? So just incase, we don't hurt me any further after I am healed," Bulma finally said.

She was actually happy at the thought of no longer feeling terrible, taking her medicine, and being confined to her bed if she was not on her crutches. Now Vegeta wouldn't need to watch her retch into her toilet after bad dreams and wouldn't have to be put out by carrying her about like a little child.

Yamcha nodded, using his ki and carefully slicing only through the cast and not her limb. Soon it was cracked open enough that he gave a single tug and it cracked on the other side, letting her leg be free from its prison.

When Yamcha was busy concentrating on putting the cast on the floor, she took a bite of it, only taking about a third. She hid the rest in her hand, acting like she had taken all of it. Her leg was already almost totally healed, so it just needed a little more push. She could immediately feel the effects. Her body felt immediately better and nothing had a dull ache as it once had. She was a little nervous about standing up, but her fears dissolved once she put pressure on her leg. Nothing hurt.

She had broken it before, once upon a time when Goku had been playing a little too rough and tumble for her, and she remembered what it was like when they finally removed the cast.

"You know what I feel like doing?" She asked him with a sweet smile, "Taking a shower and finally getting all clean and clean clothes and make my hair look nice and just feeling pretty."

"Alright," Yamcha nodded with a smile, "I'll go give Vegeta a heads up so he doesn't kill me from lack of knowledge."

"Yeah, well that one was his fault," Bulma chuckled.

Vegeta had turned red in the face and looked near ready to have an aneurism or blow a gasket when he finally learned of what Yamcha had been trying to tell him for over a week.

"Why didn't you mention this earlier you moron!" He had all but screamed.

"I was trying to tell you, but you kept blowing me off!"

"See? I told you that you shouldn't blow people off," Bulma had teased him once she was sitting on the couch, her doctor looking worriedly from her to the man that looked ready to blow a blood vessel in his head.

Vegeta had been so furious he went right back to his little island and didn't come back till he was calm and starving around the middle of the night.

"Yeah, well I don't want this one to be my fault." Yamcha said as he got up, "I'm glad you are feeling more like yourself."

He quickly kissed her forehead and left the room with the broken cast in hand. She was quiet for a while as she stared at the door. She was alone and now could move about. She felt relief about that. She quickly got up and hid the rest of the Senzu bean and headed for her shower.

She turned the water on full blast and adjusted the temperature until it was her favorite temperature. Soon she was washing herself and becoming as clean as she usually kept herself. She began to shave her legs when she paused.

No one was around right now. This was one of her sweet dreams coming true. No one would be there in time if she quickly slit a main artery and ended it. Her bad dreams would go away and she could be with Trunks again. She wouldn't have to sit around and suffer her loss of that special baby boy she never got to know. She wouldn't have to worry about the board telling her anything about trying to produce another heir or have to face her relatives at Christmas.

She paused as she looked at her razor, thinking as she entertained the idea. She could do that, but she also weighed the cons.

She remembered what Vegeta had told her. She would be wasting a gift from her child. She affected those around her and they would be sad if she died. She didn't know why, but the dreams also kept her from ending it. They were terrible and often made her want to stop eating or something, but they were a cry of a people. They seemed to be asking for someone not to forget them.

She continued shaving her legs and once she was done, set the razor down, not attempting to touch it again.

She was Bulma Briefs. She would think her way around her problems and use her superior ability to compose mastermind plans to think of ways around things like her relatives and the board. Those were easy enough, she realized, she was just being too dramatic.

She would see her baby one day and she would be patient and wait for her proper time to leave the Earth. No unexpected ends for her. She would just go like she was suppose to, even if it meant she was old and gray.

She had barely finished her shower and wrapping a towel around her when she heard someone come rampaging through her bedroom door.

She quirked an eyebrow as she went to her bathroom door, opening it and looking straight at whoever had done so with a questioning look.

It was Vegeta and he did not seem pleased.

"Can I help you with something or are you just having a tantrum?" Bulma asked as she walked out of her bathroom and towards her dressers.

Vegeta had quickly moved towards her and grabbed her wrists and inspected them before inspecting her, his nose flaring a bit as he took in the scent of the room.

Bulma figured out what he was doing. Obviously, he wasn't as stupid or simpleminded as Yamcha if he figured out what she could have done in the bathroom before anyone would have realized.

"I entertained the idea for a bit." She confessed, "But, I decided the cons weighed too heavy in my heart. I can fix most of my problems and can be patient for the rest I suppose."

Vegeta released her with a heavy, agitated sigh, "Stupid idiot gave you the time you needed too."

"Well, Mr. Super Saiyan, if I had decided to do so, the ki barrier would be up and my ki slowly decreasing, no?" Bulma asked, turning her attention back onto her task of finding clothes.


He had been in the middle of training when he noticed that her ki had moved to the bathroom. He paused. Suddenly one of the droids tried to attack him from behind. He moved quick enough that it had only manages to gash his tail stub. He gritted his teeth, making no sound of pain, and quickly shooting down a droid before it attacked again. He could feel the wound clotting already.

His mind when back to the woman. He didn't know how she had gotten there, but he still was always anxious whenever she went hobbling around on those stupid metal sticks. Her ki hadn't seemed as slow as he knew it should have been if she was on those metal sticks and that was what caused him to pause.

It wasn't even a couple minutes later that the weakling came knocking at his door, forcing him to turn off his GR and open the door to listen to whatever he had to say.

Oh, he was still very angry at the scarred one for not telling him that he had ascended to Super Saiyan for over a week or so. He was still trying to recreate the event that had triggered it. But Vegeta had never took into consideration that he had not paused to listen, but he had been better about listening to what the weakling had to say nowadays.

"Hey, Vegeta," He had said, not very thrilled to have to talk to him- the feeling was reciprocated and multiplied by ten.

"What?" Vegeta snapped, still taking the woman's ki into consideration.

"I came down to inform you that I gave Bulma a Senzu bean and she is now healed. So, her cast is off and she's currently taking a shower."

Vegeta paused for a moment. Staring at the human in disbelief. He could still remember the contents of her shower stock. She had a razor in there and that was a blade that if she ever decided to, she could take her life with and he had left her in her room, in her bathroom, with one of those things.

He felt his head throb with his usual headache that he received from this man. He pitched the bridge of his nose and fought the twitch of agitation that made him want to kill this pathetic weakling if only to end his misery of the man.

"Did it ever cross your mind that she might not be mentally stable enough to be left alone, fully healed with a razor in her bathroom where she could just… end it all?" Vegeta grounded out.

He has spent two weeks taking care of her. Nights getting up and monitoring her ki and making sure she didn't throw up in her bed and he had hugged her and sang to her over and over, time and time again when her dreams left her in a huge mess. Weeks of investment in her that she could throw away in a couple minutes' time. Humans were so frail and weak.

By the expression on the weakling's face, no, he had not.

"You, go do something useful and stay out of my face. Next time you want to surprise her with something tell me first." Vegeta snarled as he quickly stormed his way up to her room.

She had been up there alone for a while. The moment he got there, she had turned up at her bathroom door, acting as cocky as she use to, but he was still not sure she hadn't tried to hurt herself.

He had grabbed her wrists when she had moved to her dresser and checked both before sniffing the air for blood. He relaxed ever so slightly when he couldn't sense any.

She seemed to have read his mind because she answered his unasked questions.

"I entertained the idea for a bit." She told him in a straight tone, staying entirely too calm to be a normal human, "But, I decided the cons weighed too heavy in my heart. I can fix most of my problems and can be patient for the rest I suppose."

Vegeta released her with a heavy, agitated sigh, "Stupid idiot gave you the time you needed too."

He really wanted to go pound that idiot's face in for doing this to him. It was bad enough about the whole Super Saiyan thing, but almost letting the very thing he had put so much effort into keeping alive was literally pushing him over the edge of the cliff. Good thing he could fly.

"Well, Mr. Super Saiyan, if I had decided to do so, the ki barrier would be up and my ki slowly decreasing, no?" Bulma asked, turning her attention back onto her task of finding clothes.

Vegeta hated and liked the way she would call him Mr. Super Saiyan. It was her way of showing him respect for accomplishing his task and to mock him with reminding him that he hadn't quite yet mastered it. He stood back a little as he watched her rummage through the drawers for something to wear.

She was right in her assessment though.

"Or maybe that would push you over the edge and back into being a Super Saiyan." She said with a cruel smirk on her lips.

He couldn't see her face, but he could hear the smirk in her voice. He let out a low growl at the thought.

"Don't be a fool." He didn't like her talking about her life as something that could be so easily thrown away.

He had killed millions and death was probably his main scent to those with noses strong enough to smell it. He had killed woman and children and men alike, leaving none so none would have to suffer. But Bulma wasn't going to suffer living in a whore house if she lived, she didn't have to suffer being enlisted into Frieza's army if she survived, or being used as a target practice or some sick game of who can kill the prisoner the slowest. Her life wasn't promised to great suffering, so she had no right to act like he would waste it like his previous masters would have to get ahead in the world.

He growled again. He was getting angrier the more he thought about it.

She sighed, pausing in her search as she casted him an apologetic look over her shoulder.

"I didn't mean that Vegeta. I know you aren't a cruel killer."

Was she reading his mind? He didn't think that humans had that ability.

"I'm not reading your mind, I just know what your expressions mean, the little you have." She told him with a wiry smirk, "Now get out of here so I can change, neh?"

"And if I refuse?" Vegeta growled.

Bulma eyed him for a moment before smirking and letting her towel drop. He was out of there faster than she could blink, his cheeks dusted pink as he muttered curses as he walked back towards his GR. He could hear her laughing at his actions.

So what? Just because he had laid with her didn't mean he was really looking. He had tried to keep it as professional as possible. His face burned a bit more at that thought. Okay, he was a little bit of a prude, but could you blame him? Her dame was always out to get him!

He could see the weakling still standing where he had left him. He wanted to groan.

"She's fine, go back to whatever you were doing and maybe you should try to see if that brain of yours can actually be of use."

"At least I have more faith in her," the scarred one snapped as he narrowed his eyes, "She needs to be given some amount of faith if she is ever to really get back to the way things were beforehand, Vegeta."

"No, that is where you are wrong." Vegeta growled, turning to face the man, "Death is not something that just happens and after a while you go back to the way things were. Nothing will ever be the same. It might look similar, but there will always be changes. Someone who has not experienced fighting for life in a battle field cannot see what effects death brings with it."

"I fought you and your giant buddy, didn't I?"

"No, you died. You fought the little ugly creatures I used as punching bags as a child and died. That wasn't even ten minutes into the fight. You know nothing of struggling to live."

"But I know what is means to die!"

"So do I!" Vegeta barked before pushing the taller man out of his way, "But unlike you, I didn't think I was going to be brought back."

Why was he even talking to the idiot? He slammed the GR door and turned the machine back on, turning it up high than before. He just wanted to concentrate on becoming a Super Saiyan again. The weakling might be an idiot, but he could manage to watch Bulma without usually messing up too much.

Their agreement was Vegeta did nights and he did days. The woman would be monitored at all times until Vegeta was sure of her mental state. Though, he didn't know when he could be sure of her mental state, but for now this worked. As long as the weakling was about, he would use him so he could train in the daytime without hindrance.

He had a half a mind to wonder why he cared again, but he had gone over it so many times just to find himself at the same conclusion.

He didn't know.

So even though it sometimes annoyed the hell out of him, he would keep watching the woman and make sure she was recovering.


Bulma woke again with a start. She panted heavily as she quickly removed herself from her bed and began to pace. That had been the most vivid one to date and she didn't feel like sleeping. That one had upset her the most.

Whoever it had been… he looked like Vegeta. He had been ready to attack some reptilian creature and with a simple flick of that monster's finger- it ended. He had tried so hard to protect his people, and he had failed with just a flick of a finger.

She quickly left her room and headed out to the kitchen. She wasn't one for cooking, hell, her mother teased her for her bad cooking skills, but she needed to do something. She wasn't allowed in the lab just yet, but she needed something to do to pass the time.

Her mind was still rushing with her vivid dream and she realized only after fifteen minutes that she had no clue what she was making. The batter was still being made, but her fingers didn't linger as she kept putting ingredients in. She soon drowned herself in what she was doing, her mind clearing and all she thought about was what was next on her list of things she needed to grab or stir.

She poured the- whatever it was- into a pan and put in her already preset oven. She pulled away, turning back to her dirty dishes and began to wash them without a second thought. She didn't even realize that Vegeta was there until he cleared his throat. Her head whipped around to look at him, jumping slightly but that was it.

"What are you doing, Onna?"

She just shrugged, going back to cleaning up, "Making something."

"And what did you make?" He moved to a chair in the kitchen and sat down, watching her all the while.

She shrugged again, "Not sure."

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"Bad dream." Bulma sighed, scrubbing her bowl with a little too much effort.

"You've been having a lot of those." He wasn't asking, he was noting it aloud.

"Yes," she confirmed, biting her bottom lip as she tried not to think back on it, "And each time more vivid."

"Are they about-"

"No, they are not about Trunks. They about other people. People I have never seen more than once in a passing moment, but will never forget." She tapped her head, "Photographic memory. Even my dreams… I remember them all."

Vegeta nodded, sighing as he leaned back further into his chair, "Do you have a way of getting them out of your system?"

"No," Bulma whispered.

"Perhaps you should take up drawing or something other than cooking," Vegeta said, "Because we all already know that you can't cook to save your life."

Bulma stared at him before smiling and laughing, "True. Give me a Federal computer to hack, give me a dead language to learn, give me the world to dominate, give me the hardest algorithm in the universe; I can do any of those, but just don't let me cook or I will either kill you or give you the worse heartburn and stomach ache combo you've had depending on the species you are."

Vegeta gave her a smirk before casting a glance at the oven. He lifted his nose into the air and gave her a wondering look.

"What are you cooking?"

"I… I really don't know. I kinda zoned out." Bulma confessed as she looked over at the oven, "Does it smell bad?"

"No. Familiar." Vegeta noted as he got up and headed to the oven, still scenting the air.

He opened the oven, quickly grabbing the pot holder on top of the oven and snagging the glass pan she had poured it into. He sniffed it again, pulling it out and quickly flicking the oven off.

"It smells similar, almost the same," Vegeta whispered before lapping at the still gooey half cooked dish.

Bulma watched as he pulled away. His eyes clouded over for a minute as he stood up straight. He stared at the dish. Once more he inhaled the scent before tossing the unfinished dish into the sink, luckily not breaking the pan.

"Vegeta," Bulma questioned as she watched his face pull into its guarded expression, "Was it bad?"

"Yes. Terrible," Vegeta said gruffly, grabbing her waist and directing her upstairs, "Don't cook unless you're trying to kill people, Onna."

Bulma looked at him with a confused glance. Something had set him off, but she didn't know if it was the taste of the dish or something else. His expression looked guarded from her but his onyx eyes looked pained. He kept a hand on her waist as he led her upstairs, pulling away like he was burned only after pushing her into her room.

"Go back to sleep Onna." He barked, leaving before she could say anything.

Bulma just stood were she had caught herself and watched him retreat back into his area. She was worried. Had she caused that?

Vegeta on the other hand had gone back into his room, slamming the door and walking right back to his bed before collapsing on it with a thump. He laid on his stomach, grabbing his pillow and pulling it to his face as he tried to keep himself together.

That couldn't have been coincidence. There was no way she could have accidentally made that dish. He had been young, but even he knew what it was. It was so many things to him, but the most important thing was that it had been his mother's favorite Saiya-jin desert. His father knew the recipe by heart, if only because he used it so often to soften the temper of his mate, especially when he had angered her.

But…

Why did the woman know anything about the dish?

Let alone cook it just right with Earth ingredients that it tasted almost the same?

How could she even know?

He struggled with those questions as he pushed his face further into his pillow to keep himself from voicing it or going to go ask her.

That part of his heart had scabbed over and died so long ago, but now that he had tasted that desert, it was bleeding all over again. He struggled with all the memories he had of his family in brighter times, cursing the woman once again for making his dead heart more and more alive.