Good day! Its been a while, ya?

If you haven't already, join mine and Mallie_3's Bulma and Vegeta Community! We've got some really awesome peeps to join *cough* Tempestt *cough*Catgirl26 …eherm among other equally awesome and legendary peeps. =) And Our next podcast we'll have Niteryde on! Our community page and podcast channel links are on my profile page. We'd love to get more people on!

Thanks all who have reviewed, I love ya all! And of course thank you Springbysummerfall for beta'ing.

Disclaimer: I don't own a house, so I'm pretty sure I don't own DBZ.


Bulma adjusted her floppy sun hat so she could view the largely pissed off assassin who was sitting directly across from her and smiled as he stuffed yet another Danish in his mouth.

Currently they were sitting outside at a street side café, drinking coffee and eating pastries, waiting for Eighteen's contact to pick them up. Bulma was enjoying herself, seeing as they weren't running for their lives for once. Vegeta explained to her that before he killed the fat assassin, Guldo had called Frieza to let him know that he had killed Vegeta and was en route to kill Bulma. And since he was now dead, they didn't have to worry about being hunted… for now.

Vegeta on the other hand was still epically pissed about the pink shirt he was wearing, and it didn't help when he received a couple suggestive smiles and nods from a few men that passed by. She actually had to stop him not once but twice from reaching to his hip and drawing his firearm.

"We're going clothes shopping right when we get to Paris." He mumbled bitterly as he chugged his coffee.

"Shopping…in Paris?" Bulma beamed.

Vegeta grunted. "All of our clothes have been burned, and I refuse to wear this shirt for the next few weeks."

She nodded in concurrence. Although the long tube top dress she was wearing was very comfortable, she too didn't want to live in the thing for however long they'd be on the run. Plus, who was she to deny spending Vegeta's money in Paris?

They ate and drank in silence, watching the people walk about the town. Bulma was engrossed with the scene that was unfolding just a couple of tables away from she and Vegeta. A man and a woman were speaking in low but harsh whispers… they were speaking German, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that they were having issues. The woman was trying hard not to yell at the poor guy. Bulma for her own amusement assumed he was cheating on her, and was trying desperately to quiet his other half down. Things were getting quite interesting as their conversation started to heat up. Bulma watched as the woman stood up, yelled something and tossed a full glass of water in the guy's face. She was so caught up with the scene that she hadn't noticed the tall, almost lanky figure that was now standing at she and Vegeta's table.

"Ouji." His monotone voice greeted.

Bulma jumped and turned to meet the icy blue eyed gaze of a rather good looking man. He had long, shiny black hair and his facial features were very familiar to her. He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt and carried himself in a way that told her he was a dangerous man.

"Bout time you showed up." Vegeta growled as he stood up, tossed some money on the table and looked at Bulma impatiently. "Well, woman, what are you waiting for? A written invitation? Let's go!"

Bulma stood up and glared at Vegeta, but said nothing. She knew he was pissy and didn't frankly didn't have the energy to snap back at him. She was running on little sleep, and the past few days were taking a toll on her. She stood up and gathered his black backpack and smiled at the man, who nodded back at her, and then led them to a jet black BMW that was parked right next to the little cafe. Seeing as Vegeta had stomped to the car and got in on the front passenger side door, the man opened the back passenger door to the car for Bulma. Again, she didn't say anything about Vegeta's rude behavior, and slid into her seat. She watched as the man got into the car, started it up and drove off.

The interior of the car was completely silent. Vegeta was glaring out the passenger side window and the driver seemed to be content with the silence… As for Bulma, it was deafening.

"So," she said after a few minutes. "Who are you?"

The man gazed up and looked at her through the rear view mirror, his icy blue eyes seemed to stare right through her, making her feel uncomfortable.

"My name is Seventeen." He drawled.

Bulma quirked up an eyebrow, studying his eyes. "You look familiar."

He smirked slightly and then looked at the road. "My sister is Eighteen. I believe you met."

"Well that makes sense." She said semi surprised. Now that he mentioned it, they were exactly alike. The less than enthused attitude and the creepy eyes they shared were uncanny. Except for the different hair color, they were very much the same.

"So, this profession must run in the family."

Seventeen chuckled. "Yes it does."

Bulma smiled and when he didn't say anything further, she looked out the window and watched the scenery whiz by. It was clear that both men in the front of the car were not up for conversation. Eventually the silence in the car and the muted sounds of the environment lulled her to sleep, where she lost herself in dreams filled with faceless men chasing after her…


Vegeta peered back into the backseat. Bulma was asleep. That didn't take too long. They were on the road for less than an hour and she was out like a light… although it didn't surprise him. The two of them had been running around like crazy people with little to no sleep. The only real sleep they got was the night they got to his cottage…but they didn't really do much sleeping…and last night, although it was only for a few hours, four at the most.

He turned back around and tore open the manila envelope that Seventeen had handed to him when they got in the car. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

"This is for sure?" He growled.

Seventeen gave him a sideways glance and then looked down to the sheet of paper Vegeta was gripping. "Yes. I gathered the intel myself. Everything you need for it is in there. "

The assassin nodded his head and then scanned the rest of the page.

"The other supplies you requested are under the seat as well."

Vegeta paused his scanning and reached under the seat, and grabbed a small paper bag. "Good." He grunted and picked up the papers he was reading.

"I have taken it upon myself and got more weapons for you. Eighteen sent me a list of your preferences. I have brought them to your safe house."

Vegeta gave him a grunt of appreciation and continued reading.

"Do you want to ditch the female?" Seventeen asked. "This mission looks messy, she'll weigh you down."

"No," Vegeta halfway hollered. He looked behind him to see if his outburst had awoken Bulma, and breathed a sigh a relief when she stayed asleep. "She stays with me."

"Whatever you say." Seventeen drawled.

And that was that. The two men remained silent. It was one thing he really liked about the twins, Seventeen and Eighteen. They weren't chatty, and he appreciated the fact that they didn't like stupid chatter and small talk. It's why he allowed them to work with him.

He spent the six hour drive to Paris reading over the recon Seventeen had so graciously done for him and contemplated things…like, how he was going to kill that fucker Frieza and the two remaining men on the Ginyu Force. His thoughts then turned to what would happen IF he succeeded. What then? Go off into the sunset, Bulma and he hand and hand? Buy a tract home, shoot out a couple of brats and live a 'normal' life? Frankly, it made him anxious thinking of a domestic life. He knew he wanted something other than the life he had been living since he ran off on Prom night… but it would take some getting used to. He figured he would need to be eased into his new life, and chose not to think about just how difficult it would be for him when and if the time came…

He unconsciously slid his hand in his pocket and gripped the blue velvet box his mother had left him. Even now, now that he and Bulma had rekindled what they had lost ten years ago, he still wasn't sure he could offer her a normal life, and unfortunately, he would be constantly in someone's crosshairs until the day he died. And if his life was in danger, that meant his significant other would be in danger by default.


Cap sat on the edge of his couch, a cold beer in his hand, his eyes glued to his flat screen tv. Currently, the West City Tornadoes were leading by one run against the Royal City Chiefs. It was the bottom of the ninth and bases were loaded and just when the pitch was released his phone rang.

He turned and growled at the receiver and contemplated not answering, but remembered that his good friend was on the run and it may be him asking for help.

"Hmph…fat chance." He murmured and took a large gulp of beer, and slammed the glass bottle down onto the side table next to his couch and got up. The very thought of Vegeta calling to ask for help was laughable, but then again, the boy had surprised him a few times when he was saw him.

He grabbed the phone from the book case.

"This had better be good, the games on." He answered angrily.

"It's a matter of national security Captain… I believe the West City Tornadoes can wait."

Cap' left eye twitched at the sound of the familiar voice and turned the tv off with the remote. He sighed heavily and rubbed his twitching eye. "I guess they can."

"Where is your old partner, Captain?"

"I haven't seen him." Cap' replied hotily. "I'm not his keeper."

The person on the other end chuckled dryly. "I highly doubt that Captain."

"I tell ya what," Cap said. "How about I give ya jingle if he pops up, now if you'll excuse me, I have some baseball to watch." He hung up the phone before the other person could interject. He turned the ringer off of the phone and headed back to the couch… and just as he sat back down, the door bell rang.

"GOD DAMNIT!" He roared and shot back up onto his feet and angrily stomped to the front door, and practically ripped the door open.

The indifferent look of Special Agent Piccolo stared back at him and said nothing as he stepped into Cap's house uninvited.

"I wasn't finished with our conversation, Captain." He stated and went into the kitchen and sat down at the little kitchen table, patiently waiting for the large man to do the same.

"And I told you, I'd tell you if he turns up, now get the fuck out of my kitchen."

Piccolo just stared back at him. Cap absently imagined he and Vegeta in an indifferent/intimidating staring contest and wondered who'd crack first. The two of them were good at it.

"Cut the bullshit Captain. I know he was here. His beloved car is parked in your barn, he was here, and I want to know where he and Bulma Briefs are."

Cap' grabbed another beer out of the fridge, not bothering to get one for his unwanted guest and sat down at the table. "Why do you want him and the girl so bad. You should just let them live in peace."

Piccolo's eyes narrowed at Cap'. "I highly doubt they are on an innocent honeymoon, don't play stupid Captain. You know damn well Vegeta and the girl are wanted… by many people, and the CIA would like to get to them first, before there are any more fatalities."

Cap' remained stubbornly silent and sipped his beer.

Piccolo eyed Cap, and knew the old man wasn't going to crack. "As of right now, he has gone rogue and you know how we view rogue's Captain. If any one of our operatives catch him, they will shoot on site."Piccolo stood up and peered down at Cap. "If by chance he does 'pop up' you tell him to keep his head down…I'll let myself out."

Cap watched from his kitchen window as Piccolo got back into his vehicle and when his car was out of site, he dialed a number.

"Eighteen? I need you to deliver a message..."


"Are you kidding me right now?" Bulma's mouth was agape in shocked surprise as she surveyed Vegeta's Paris safe house.

Vegeta rolled his eyes and tossed his back pack onto the mahogany coffee table, leaving Bulma to slobber all over the view the living room had to offer to talk to Seventeen.

Bulma gravitated towards the windows that had a spectacular view of Paris. She knew now why it was the city of lights. She turned back towards the apartment that was their safe house and shook her head. A safe house in her mind was a shack in the middle of nowhere, but Vegeta had proved her wrong, not once, but three times with his secret hideouts. Each place he had taken her, sans Cap's place, was luxurious and was anything but a shack in the middle of nowhere. Although this place was quite smaller than the other places Vegeta had taken her, Bulma didn't mind.

She sat down and waited for Vegeta. She could still hear his deep, muffled voice from behind the entry door… he sounded angry as he spoke to Seventeen. She strained her ears to see if she could hear the conversation, but was unsuccessful. Not even Seventeen's monotone responses gave any clues away as to why Vegeta sounded agitated…

After a few moments Vegeta reentered, Seventeen presumably gone. He was holding a paper bag and he looked at her warily.

"Are we going shopping now?"

"No." He stated gruffly. "We need to take care of something first before we go out in public." He held out the paper bag.

Bulma stood up from the couch and took the bag out of his hand and peeked inside. She rose an eye brow at the contents. "Bleach and purple hair dye?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, took a full step back from her and lifted both hands up in a defensive manner. "We have to dye our hair."

"NO!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes at her, already knowing she would have had that reaction.

"I'm not dying my beautiful blue hair purple!"

He groaned and swiped the bag away from her. "What are you complaining about? I have to bleach mine! Now quit your bitching, get in the bathroom and dye your damned hair."

Bulma crossed her arms, stood stick straight and pointed her nose in the air. He knew how she felt about her hair. It was her pride and joy. She had been growing it out since grade school, and had vowed to never die it…EVER!

"There is no way in hell that you are going to get me to dye my hair, Vegeta."

"Yours and my wig burned with everything. You will dye your hair. I'm not getting shot at by some CIA agent because you refuse to dye your hair. Now," he stepped forward and stared menacingly down at her, gritting his teeth when she looked up at him defiantly. "we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Either you get in the bathroom this instant and dye your hair or I will hog tie you and do it myself."

They stared at each other for a few moments, daring one another to defy the other. But in the end, Vegeta won. Bulma knew damn well he would chase her down, hog tie her and dye her hair, and he'd probably ruin her hair in the process.

She swiped the bag from his grasp and marched into the bathroom, glaring at him the whole way while he smiled at her annoyingly.

She turned her head right and then left. The purple that Seventeen had picked out for her was actually not that bad. It was a soft color and it surprisingly complimented her blue eyes. But, she still was pissed that she had to dye her hair. She knew it wasn't fair to be angry with Vegeta… he was in the same boat. She fluffed her hair one last time and went in search for Vegeta, who she assumed had taken the other bathroom to bleach his hair.

Bulma made her way out of the bathroom and into the living room, where a newly blonde Vegeta sat on the ground, surrounded by a mass amount of weaponry. He held a shot gun and some sort of pipe cleaner and was shoving it down one of the barrels. He was gloriously shirtless, the pink shirt carelessly strewn across the couch he was leaning up against.

Without looking up he grabbed another cleaning instrument and said, "Are you done being pissy?"

She sat down across from him, and picked up a small cartridge of ammunition. "Maybe."

He looked at her and gave her a not so amused glare and then turned his attention back to his cleaning.

She took the opportunity to study his new do. His newly bleached looked better than the wig he had worn just a few short days ago. Although she preferred him with his natural color hair of jet black, the blonde didn't take away his intimidating stature. In fact, she thought it magnified it…

"You think you have enough weapons?" She looked around at the collection, shaking her head. She counted six hand guns, three shot guns, a couple of large oozie's and assault rifles, over twenty hand grenades, a few blades, a freaking bazooka, and some other things that looked dangerous but she wasn't completely sure what they were.

Vegeta put the shotgun down and wiped his hands on a small rag. "No." He stated bluntly .

She nodded her head in fake agreement. "Yeah, I mean we still have some room napalm and a few rocket launchers.

"I've got napalm." He deadpanned.

Her jaw dropped open. "Well, of course you do."

"Let's go. I need to get clothes, I refuse to wear this pink atrocity any longer than I have to." He snatched the shirt from the couch and gave it a look of pure disdain before he put it back on.

Bulma smiled and giddily followed him out of the apartment…

And shop they did. Vegeta even, begrudgingly, let her go into a handful of the designer boutiques, but refused to buy her anything from them. He stated it was ludicrous to pay over a $1000 for a damned hand bag, especially when the things he had bought her previously exploded.

They both managed to get a few outfits for everyday wear, and to Bulma's delight, a tuxedo for Vegeta and a beautiful gown for Bulma. When she asked Vegeta why they were buying such fancy clothing, he replied 'recon' but didn't elaborate. She didn't pry either. She figured he'd tell her eventually, since she was obviously part of the plan.

By the time they got back to the apartment, Bulma was exhausted, and she fell asleep instantly, leaving Vegeta awake to go through the generous weapons arsenal Seventeen left him.


Special Agent Piccolo stood patiently, staring at the wall of security screens. His eyes shifting to each one, searching.

"Fast forward." He ordered.

The airport security officer nodded and did what he was told.

"Stop."

He stepped up to the bottom screen on the wall, narrowing his eyes on a couple that walked side by side down terminal C in the international gates of the airport. As the couple's faces became more clear on the screen Piccolo ordered the officer to pause.

He turned around to face the security officer. "I need to know where these two flew to, now."

The security officer nodded and went to work, typing furiously.

Piccolo turned back to the screen and smirked at the blonde man's form. If it weren't for the woman with him, who was acting nervous, constantly looking behind her as if somebody was following her, he wouldn't have been able to pick them out of the crowd.

"Gotcha, Ouji."


beta'd by Springandbysummerfall