Note: This chapter has been changed from it's original form, as I felt that some of the ideas expressed don't fit properly into my events.

If you have already read this prior to the changes, please post a review to let me know if you like this better.

Enjoy.

"Vegeta! Vegeta, calm down! It's only me. It's Bulma! I'm trying to help you!"

Bulma was having a hard time trying to work at bandaging Vegeta's body. Although he was still unconscious, whenever the stinging disinfectant passed over the larger cuts on his chest, his body lunged forward as though his organs were trying to leap out of his chest. The movements were fierce, almost violent, although they seemed completely out of any sort of norm for him. Usually, it took the strongest force to cause Vegeta to show any sign of pain, as Bulma knew only too well. How long had he been seriously injured and just suffering through all of it due to his ego? Perhaps he had done this intentionally. After all, Bulma did remember something that was exchanged in casual conversation about Saiyans growing stronger after injury. Maybe this was just a ploy to speed up the process of ascension.

These thoughts rattled through Bulma's mind, distracting her from other stimuli. This was good, as it had not even been an hour since she had dismissed Yamcha from her presence, and she was still shaken by all of this. Of course, she had seen this coming long ago, but she still hoped their relationship could have been salvaged. Her mind was miles away in its own little world, as she dabbed and cleaned Vegeta's cuts and scrapes without any more particular interest in his flinches.

"Bulma?" came a soft call from directly behind her.

The sudden sound was intensely shocking for her, and she jumped in the air, spilling the whole bottle of disinfectant right on top of her head. She let out another shriek at this, before turning around. Laughing immensely at this sight was her father, who moments ago had entered the room whilst Bulma was too preoccupied in her thoughts to notice. As usual, he had taken advantage of the worst possible time to enter, where 'quickly writing something down' meant an hour before he would arrive.

"Oh my! Goodness Bulma, is that you? I didn't recognise you, and thought you might be an intruder!" Dr Briefs gasped between breaths, his little black cat dangling from his shoulder as always.

Bulma looked down at herself, and for the first time since waking up took notice in her appearance. No wonder her father was laughing so hard, although the theatrics didn't do much to subdue his reaction. At the beginning of that morning she had put on white shorts and a yellow t-shirt, which now looked absolutely nothing of the sort. Because she knelt by Vegeta's side to help him in the bathroom, all of the blood around his body had clung to hers, and her legs were encrusted in dried blood. Her shorts were blotches of bright red and pink, and her shirt had somehow turned a putrid greenish orange; she was sure the stains would never come out. Bulma gelt her face distort in disgust at herself, as she raised her hands to her face. She had subconsciously put on gloves before doing anything in this room, but she had not bothered to rinse off her hands or arms, which here also red from dried blood. It was like something out of a horror movie.

"Aaaaaaah!" She let out a blood-curdling scream. Bulma always took pride in her beauty, and never expected she would be scrubbing blood from underneath her fingernails. "Dad, you watch Vegeta, okay? I'll be right back!"

She bolted out of the room before there was any sign of recognition from her giggling father, and she left him standing there. She ran as fast as she could through the lab and up to the house, making her way to her room. She needed a shower, desperately.

Vegeta can wait, she thought to herself, after all, he's strong enough… or at least he thinks he is anyway. But me, what is this world coming to when a beautiful woman is denied the bare necessities!

Dr Briefs was sitting in the chair beside Vegeta with his head resting atop a balled fist, brows furrowed in deep thought, when Bulma returned. She was clean now, donning a fresh new outfit, and smelling strongly of perfume. She even took the time to straighten her hair out from the loose curls she had sported for the past month. In all, she was gone for a little under an hour, which gave Dr Briefs plenty of time to contemplate the situation.

"Sorry I took so long, I had to scrub extra hard to stop myself turning pink!" She shuddered to herself, "Eww yuck I never want to be like that again. Sorry Vegeta, but I don't think you're worth all the trouble you make!" She was in a much better mood now, giggling at her own joke, when she saw her father unmoving from his stance. "What's up dad?" she asked.

"I was just thinking about Vegeta," he murmured, "did you ever suspect that this may be self-inflicted?" He looked up at Bulma, who was wide eyed. She walked over to him and pulled up another chair.

"Well, to be honest, the thought did cross my mind. After all, isn't that how Saiyans are supposed to get stronger?"

"That was precisely what I was thinking."

"Only," Bulma paused, "it doesn't seem like the sort of thing Vegeta would do… it's kind of like cheating."

"I see."

A deep silence fell as both generations let their eyes trail towards Vegeta's physique lying on the bed. He was much calmer now, and it seemed that Bulma's father had finished up the bandages while she was gone, and attached a drip so that he wouldn't dehydrate. He was much better at this sort of thing than Bulma, what with all of the stray animals he'd taken off of the road and helped nurture back to health. He could have been a doctor, but ended up helping mankind in a much different way. Dr Brief was certainly someone that Bulma could be proud of.

"So…" Bulma broke the silence after a while, running her fingers through her newly straight hair, "any ideas?"

"Hmm… maybe," came the reply. Bulma looked up at her father to see him thinking intently once again. "Perhaps he needs another facility."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well… if these wounds weren't self-inflicted, then it is a cause of Vegeta overworking himself to exhaustion, and then injury. What if the space ship that he spends all of his time in is too small, and is indirectly causing all of this unnecessary damage?"

"But, Goku trained in there just fine," Bulma interjected.

"Yes, but that was during his trip to Namek. He wasn't even in there for a week. Vegeta, on the other hand…"

"Has spent the better part of a year in there…" Bulma finished.

"Exactly."

Bulma let this new wave of information flow over her for a moment. Perhaps none of this was her fault after all; Vegeta had simply outgrown the pod. It made sense once she thought about it. He was throwing massive amounts of energy all over the place at intense levels of gravity in such a confined space. No wonder he was so badly hurt, he had nowhere to escape to if the slightest thing went amiss. A huge wave of relief hit Bulma then, and she knew that if she could, she would try to ensure nothing like this ever happened again.

"What do you have in mind dad?" she finally let out.

"Something along the lines of an extended chamber with extra safety protocols for enhanced manoeuvrability," he suggested to Scratch, who was resting on his lap. Scratch looked up sleepily before resting his head down again. "Hmm… perhaps that's not it," he said to himself.

"No dad, that is it!" Bulma exclaimed. "A gravity room!" She let thrust her fist down onto the edge of the bed in triumph at the idea, causing it to shake sightly.

Despite all of the noise and commotion that had been going on in the past couple hours since he passed out, something had caused Vegeta to stir to consciousness.

He couldn't breathe. As hard as he tried, Vegeta couldn't take in any air. He could feel his lungs begin to burn up inside as he frantically flailed around, his arms weakly bringing his hands to his throat. Though there was nothing restricting his airway, he couldn't seem to relieve the painful sensation. He let his eyes open slowly, noticing that the light was dim, as though something was blocking it out. Then it hit him. He was under water!

Although he was still dazed from being knocked out, Vegeta struggled to gain his bearings. Looking up, he saw a faint light, which seemed to be coming from the surface. He flapped his arms and legs to swim towards it, to no avail. His legs were heavily clamped against a chain that was buried deep in the seabed. The lack of oxygen was beginning to make Vegeta's head spin as he tried to pry apart the thick metal links, but sludge from the sediment below him began to rise like a dark serpent, coiling over his legs in a heavy blackness that slowly engulfed him.

The scene faded to nothingness as this unknown darkness filled the spectrum around him. A twang of despair struck him, and he felt himself struggling harder than before to try to free himself of this void. The water had grown thicker, and he found it harder to move in the viscous fluid, and although he could take it into his lungs, they felt no relief. He had been under for about a minute now, and Vegeta was beginning to feel light-headed. Suddenly a sound penetrated the thick dark liquid, something that was strangely familiar. He darted his head around wildly to seek the source of the sound, when he saw him. Kakarot was standing above him, looking down as he tried so aimlessly to free himself of his bindings. Vegeta could find no escape, and he saw through blurred eyes his opponent's face twist and distort into a ghastly grin. An arm positioned over Vegeta's head, and a bright light began to glow from Kakarot's hand. Suddenly it filled the darkness, blinding him.

"NOOO!" Vegeta shouted, jolting upright from the bed he was laying in, his eyes unable to focus on anything. All he could see was white.

Vegeta could hear shuffling around him, and he instinctively tried lifting an arm to defend himself. However, he found that he could barely move his arm, which felt as though it had been heavily bound. After a few failed attempts at shaking whatever it was off, he instinctively moved for his other limb, which was in the same predicament. In fact, all of his body felt bound, like something was constricting him at every instance, constraining his airway, as his heavy breathing became short and sharp from the pain.

"Where am I?" he shot out to nothing in particular, though he knew that someone was watching him, "Who are you? What do you want from me?"

Vegeta's words were tongue-tied, as his mind had not yet fully established consciousness. He had, after all, lost an immense amount of blood, and was now suffering the side effects of this. It was as though he was in a living nightmare. He tried to move off of the pedestal that he was sitting on, and found himself a second later a crumpled heap on the floor. The noises were still around him, and he felt something warm touch his body. Vegeta flared his energy with his anger, sending the entity away from him. He tried to stand up, but instead doubled over in pain. Something on his hand had him tied captive.

He reached for the instrument on his hand, discovering that some sort of tube was protruding from it. He grasped it and ripped it out of his skin with a grunt. He could feel cool liquid on his skin. What were they doing to him? Why couldn't he remember anything?

Vegeta noticed that his eyes were beginning to accustom to his surroundings, and he spotted two figures in the corner of the room. He slowly gathered his bearings, rushing towards them with a fearsome growl, but could only walk a couple steps before collapsing again. It was here that he stopped, for he was unable to breathe any longer, and he felt his body curl itself into a ball, as he reached once again for his throat with his hands.

"Calm down Vegeta!" came a shrill voice from one of the figures. "You're in shock, you need to calm down!"

He had no intention of calming down, especially not since they knew who he was. He deduced that his mind was playing tricks on him, because he knew that he had not yet left the Capsule Corp complex. Despite this, he had no idea where he was or what he was doing there. He couldn't breathe, let alone stand up, and was becoming increasingly anxious due to this. In the back of his mind, he was waiting for the darkness to come and spill over him again, as though it were a recurring nightmare, but it suddenly felt too real to be something dreamt up. Vegeta gasped desperately for air, his body feigning paralysis. He was in no position to do anything now, as he had used up what little energy he had accumulated whilst resting in his frantic struggle.

He closed his eyes for a minute, and when he opened them he saw a woman stand over him through his peripherals. She looked a little like Bulma, but his vision was blurred, so he couldn't fully make out the figure. From what he could tell, this wasn't the person who he had hoped. Something about her was different. Her hair. Bulma had recently had curly hair, and this vixen had long straight blue locks. He wasn't accustomed to this stranger, and her presence made him feel insecure in his weakness.

The woman cautiously approached him, and gently placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay Vegeta?" she called, sounding scared. She sounded exactly like Bulma, which made it even more difficult for him to understand. What relation did she have to him, and why did her voice sound so convicted? "Vegeta? Answer me!"

"I'm fine," he said through short raspy breaths.

Vegeta shot his hand out for the woman's arm and grabbed her by the wrist. She look shocked and frightened, and began squealing for him to let go.

"Who are you, and what am I doing here?" He gasped, as he held himself secure to the woman.

"Vegeta! Please!" Bulma stammered. "It's me! It's Bulma! Let me go!"

"No, you're not," Vegeta breathed, "Where is she?"

The other figure had manifested itself as Bulma's father, and came running to the woman's aid, trying to loosen Vegeta's grip, but he only tightened it. He heard her scream reverberate through the room amongst the sounds of her bones cracking. It was torturous. Then, as quickly as he had latched on, he let go. He had used up all of his strength, and felt dizzy again.

Bulma cradled her arm against her body as her father helped her scuffle as far away from Vegeta as possible. Tears were plummeting from her eyes, as she cried out whimpers through her sobs. She couldn't believe what had just happened. Had he actually knowingly attacked her? There had to be some sort of reasoning to this, but Bulma was too scared to care right now. She just wanted the pain to stop. It felt as though Vegeta had crumbled her wrist into dust. Her heart was throbbing to pump blood to her arm, but she could tell her blood vessels had burst, her hand was beginning to swell already, and the pain was excruciating.

Ironically, it had been the same hand that had been causing her problems since a week prior, and she thought that that numbing pain was enough to bother her. Oh boy, had she been wrong. Perhaps this was something of a sign that Vegeta hadn't actually changed. Oh, what if Yamcha had been right? Now her tears were spilling for another reason besides the pain. She was filled with sadness, regret, and mostly anger with herself. She should have known that something like this would have happened. Why had she been so stubborn?

"Are you okay sweetie?" Her dad said coaxingly to her, after making sure Vegeta was truly passed out and unable to inflict any more damage.

"It hurts… so… much" she sobbed.

Vegeta let his eyes open a little as he let the surroundings wash over him. He was still disoriented, and couldn't place why he was lying facedown on the floor. As he came to, the patchy pieces of what had just happened replayed in his mind; he remembered that he had collapsed. As he roamed his eyes without moving his head, he could barely make out the two figures that were slumped in a corner, the woman crying out in pain. He had hurt her in his attempt to discover what was truly going on. In his weakened state, although he had much less energy to expend, Vegeta was unable to properly control himself. What was meant to be a firm grip had become a bone-crushing squeeze, and the poor woman was defenceless to this. A pang of regret hit him, and for the first time Vegeta felt what it was to be sorry to injure someone inferior to him.

His eyes opened wider. Now that he could see more clearly, the woman bore a shocking resemblance to Bulma…

He saw her pull her arm away from her father as he tried to examine it.

What if she was…

"It's definitely broken," Dr Briefs said sadly.