I am soooo sorry for having taken so long to update.

Quite frankly, I've been very busy. But I shall procrastinate no longer. Please review!

Note: A little more fluff in this chapter than action, but I promise the next one will be better!

Bunny's eyes followed Vegeta as he paced back and forth in the living room of Capsule Corp. Why the hell won't she come down! That was the only thought that ran through Vegeta's mind for the past hour or so, since Bulma had stumbled back into Capsule Corp.

A police officer had escorted Bulma to the front door, where she was greeted with heated exclamations of worry. At the time, Bulma had seemed so tired that no one bothered to press the matter of her "arrest" any further. Bunny managed to convince all of Bulma's friends to go home, including a very resistant Goku, with promises of updates on the developing situation. Only Vegeta remained to ponder over her condition. And he hated to wait.

"Would you like some cookies?", started Bunny.

"NO! Stop it with the damn cookies! Aren't you the least bit concerned over the well being of your own offspring?", roared Vegeta.

"Hmm…I think you seem worried enough for the both of us", replied Bunny.

"I am not worried!", growled Vegeta. The words came out hesitantly, a fact which Bunny immediately noticed.

"Of course", replied Bunny, "Anyway, I think I'll go get started on dinner. Tell Bulma to come down and see me whenever she wakes up… she's probably asleep by now."

Vegeta watched the overly annoying blonde woman quickly disappear into a connecting corridor. He was glad she was gone. After all, it was her fault that the blue-haired wench was brought up to be so insolent. Vegeta decided that he would no longer wait for Bulma to come down. He flew up to her bedroom – conveniently located on the third story of this absurdly shaped building.

The door was shut. Damnit! After a minute's worth of decision-making, he was determined to listen in on Bulma and hear if she awake. Pushing his ear against the door, Vegeta could hear shuffling around. Aha! So she is feigning sleep!

Vegeta kicked the door down angrily, causing it to give way easily. He strode inside, ready to scream at the woman for having forced him to wait for so long, but stopped seconds into letting the insults slip from his mouth.

There she was – Bulma – panting heavily in a pile of her own bedsheets, her face flushed a bright red.

What the hell is she doing? Vegeta's mind immediately went into the gutter. He could imagine himself on top of her, tangled in those same bedsheets, and he sure as hell would get more than pathetic 'pants' out of her.

It took him a full few seconds to realize that something was wrong. She didn't seem to be "enjoying herself". Far from it, she seemed to be in distress, still wearing the gown she had on last night. Her eyes were closed, but Vegeta could now see that tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Woman! What's the matter with you?", growled Vegeta. No answer. Now he was really getting worried. She was unresponsive and evidently ill. Vegeta rushed over to her and placed a hand on her forehead. Bulma was burning up!

Vegeta's first aid skills kicked in immediately. If there was something a Saiyan couldn't afford to be, it was "sick". The treatment of illnesses and injuries was of primary concern for any warrior, especially Saiyans. And luckily for Bulma, Vegeta was very good at getting the problem fixed. After scrambling for supplies in the Capsule Corp medicine cabinets, Vegeta quickly placed a cold compress of Bulma's head, and administered some fever-reducing medicine. He placed an IV drip next to her bed, wanting to make sure she received enough fluids.

She seemed awfully uncomfortable in her dress. Vegeta hesitated for a moment, but decided it would be best for him to change her clothes. He did it as quickly and respectfully as possible. Yet despite his concern, Vegeta did not fail to notice the tightening in his chest as his hands crept up the woman's newly exposed waist. He couldn't help but feeling like a pervert – taking advantage of an unconscious female. No! This is strictly professional! She's the engineer for all my training devices! That's the only reason I need her alive! Think of Apple!

Thoughts of Apple immediately caused any feelings he felt for the half-naked woman to disperse, and allowed Vegeta to quickly pull on a more comfortable t-shirt over the woman. He remembered how Bulma had done the same for him not too long ago. After a particularly harsh training session in which the Gravity Room had been all but destroyed, Vegeta had awoken to the sight of a sleeping Bulma on the desk next to him. He was bandaged up, albeit poorly, but it made him feel special…almost loved. This would be a kind of "thank you" for that time.

Bulma groaned for almost the entire first four hours, during which time Vegeta stayed by her side. Bunny and Dr. Briefs eventually caught on to the fact that their daughter was substantially ill, and joined Vegeta in taking turns to watch her for any sudden changes. And at a night, Vegeta would always stay by her side. This went on for a full week, when finally…

One week later

Bulma's eyes blinked open. She sat up instantly, sweating as if awakening from a bad dream - feeling as if a fog had just dissipated in front of her. It took her a minute to realize that she was sitting in her own bedroom. What just happened? Why did she feel as if she had been running for miles?

Bulma glanced to the side. Immediately, her eyes widened. There, in a chair next to her bed, slept Vegeta. His neck was set at an uncomfortable angle. He looked incredibly peaceful, almost vulnerable. Bulma had never seen Vegeta sleep, and quite frankly, she was pleased with the sight of it. She wanted to touch him. Don't do it. Without thinking, Bulma couldn't stop herself as she reached out towards Vegeta, wanting to stroke his face just this once…

The Saiyan's heavy hand reached out and grabbed Bulma's wrist just as her fingers grazed his face. Vegeta's eyes snapped open.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Heat rushed to Bulma's cheeks. She felt the embarrassment creeping down her back. Oh shit, think of something to say.

"I uhhh…", Bulma stammered, "saw something on your face."

Really? That's the best story you could come up with?

"Really?", smirked Vegeta, "sure you didn't just want to touch me?" With Bulma's hand still in his own, he pulled her arm in closer, seductively rubbing the back of her hand against his own face.

Every hair on Bulma's arms stood on end. She visibly shivered, before snapping her hand away from Vegeta.

"What the hell are you doing in my room?", mumbled Bulma in an attempt to dispel the tension in room.

"You were sick. I was watching you. But you're obviously better now, so I'm leaving", replied Vegeta matter-of-factly, almost as if the events of the previous minute had never occurred. Bulma wondered about Vegeta's ability to do this. Goku had the same capacity. No matter how grievous the event, a Saiyan could just brush himself off as if nothing had happened, and move on with his life. She envied this ability to just move on…something she obviously failed at in life.

Vegeta stood up and moved towards the door. Just as he reached the doorway, Bulma's common sense seemed to return. Her last memory was that of being at the police station, being grilled for hours by several detectives. From that point on, she seemed to have blacked out.

"Wait-wait a second. What do you mean I was sick? Is it morning already? Did I just come home and fall asleep?", asked Bulma.

"Ask your mother questions. I've wasted enough time with you. And if you're feeling so much better, then I suggest you get to fixing the Gravity Room already, it's hardly putting up any resistance."

With that, Vegeta slammed the door behind him. Bulma stared at the door dumbstruck for a few seconds before she felt the familiar feeling of anger rise up in her throat. Asshole! Who does he think he is?

Bulma stood up and rummaged through her drawers for her trusty phone device. She finally found it, and flipped it open to check for the date and time…

"WHAAAT!", yelled Bulma, her shouts resounding throughout Capsule Corp. Vegeta immediately rushed back into the room, breaking the door to her room once again.

"Woman! What the hell is wrong with you?", roared Vegeta upon seeing that Bulma was perfectly okay.

"It's a week—what-I've been asleep for a week? What the hell? Was I in a coma or something?", cried Bulma.

"Didn't I just fucking tell you that you were very sick? What's so hard to understand about that? Are you aware that Saiyans have fucking sensitive hearing, and that when you screech like a goddamned Banshee, you make me want to rip off my ears?", roared Vegeta. He was getting extremely tired of having to deal with the blue-haired wench all the time. She had only been awake for a few minutes, and already she was causing trouble.

Bulma ignored Vegeta's insults and buried her face in her hands. She was more concerned with the memories that were beginning to flood back into her mind. The police station. They were accusing me of something at the police station…but what was it?...

Bulma could just barely remember what the whole interrogation had been about.

Concerned with her unusual silence, and almost as if reading her mind, Vegeta plopped down onto one of Bulma's chairs. Bulma noted his obtrusive and pretentious manner of sitting. He didn't bother asking for permission, and the way in which he sat – arms draped casually over the arms of the chair, legs splayed out before him taking up as much room as possible – made it obvious that he was used to being treated like a commander and a royal.

"Could you please sit up straight, that isn't your throne, it's my chair", snapped Bulma. Her frustrated memories were putting her on edge.

Vegeta smirked condescendingly, "Never mind that. Tell me about what happened the other day."

"Do you think this is the most appropriate setting for that?", snapped Bulma. She drew her t-shirt in closer, suddenly feeling very exposed in front of Vegeta.

"It's your bedroom. Would you prefer an auditorium?", stated Vegeta sarcastically.

Bulma realized the logic in Vegeta's words, and settled deep into her bed. She didn't know how to explain to Vegeta what had happened to her, and why. It would have to involve her telling the truth about "The Butcher".

"You promised woman", continued Vegeta, sensing the hesitation in her actions.

"I know. I know. It's just that—well…uh…", started Bulma. The words were tangling up her tongue.

Bulma was becoming anxious. Vegeta could tell. And something about that didn't sit well with him. At any other point, he might have pushed the matter. But today…

"If you're going to take so much time to respond, then maybe I'd rather not hear about it at all", stated Vegeta flatly. He stood up ready to leave.

"What?...wait…you're not going to—", started Bulma. She was confused as to why the usually persistent and domineering Saiyan would just give up so easily.

"Not going to what?", asked Vegeta, cutting her off entirely.

Something in the back of his mind began to bother him. Am I growing sensitive to her? The thought rattled him to the core. He could not afford these kinds of feeling now. Feelings? The word was equivalent to blasphemy. The only woman who had ever been sacred to him was Apple, and she was gone now. There was no way he would let an annoying, clumsy Earthling girl ever reach that level of importance. In fact, he wasn't even sure anyone ever could.

But just spending time with Bulma, being around her, the smell of her hair, her outbursts, her laughter, her tears, her whirlwind of emotions so contrary to those of the passive and fragile Apple…he just couldn't help but care for her. He just couldn't help but…

Vegeta stopped the thought dead in its tracks. Bulma blinked up at him innocently, her bangs falling in wisps over her eyes. At that moment, she looked as vulnerable as Apple did all those years ago. Vegeta's heart skipped a beat. No! Without looking back, Vegeta propelled himself from the room. He left without saying a word.

Bulma stared at the empty space Vegeta had stood in, long after he left. She was puzzled. The only thought in her head: Was it something I said?