Yes! Finally an update! And BONUS! The next chapter is half way finished!
Bad news, this fic is almost over.
Special thanks Springandbysummerfall for beta'ing for me! I love that chick! She's the coolest =)

And as always, to my reviewers, I love you all! Thank you for your support!

Alright, enough of me, go forth and read!

Discalimer: Myself and Mallie have a wonderful Bulma and Vegeta community and a Video pod cast… I own part of that…but not DBZ or it's characters.

"No."

Vegeta growled, swallowing the frustrated words he wanted to scream at the woman in front of him. He gave her a look that told her that he was not pleased with her and frustration ran through him yet again when she looked at him, defiantly. Hands on hips and eyes ablaze.

"And don't give me that look!" She said tossing her hands up in the air. "I'm not going to do it."

Vegeta slowly lowered himself onto the bed they shared and purposefully inhaled and exhaled a few times to calm himself. This was starting to sound like the hair dying argument all over again, except they weren't arguing about hair… "This is the only way we are going to prove our innocence."

Bulma huffed. "There's got to be another way. It's way too risky."

"Risky? Everything we have done up to this point has been risky! As a matter of fact, I've risked my life far more times these past few weeks than you have!"

Her eyes widened angrily and she started to argue back, but was cut off by his standing suddenly and stalking towards her menacingly. "We will do this. I'm not going to fight with you about this any further. We are. That is it. You will help so we can get on with our miserable lives." His voice was low and cool until he spoke the last few words, which he screamed, making her jump.

He stared into her livid eyes for a few more seconds and then stomped out of the room, leaving her alone to get ready.

She hung her head and took a shook breath. He was on edge, more so than ever, especially since they found that Frieza was arriving in Paris a whole two weeks early. Causing Vegeta to go into full out crazy mode, and in the process, causing Bulma to follow suit. The two couldn't seem to sit still for very long, and of course, tensions were running high.

It didn't take much to set Vegeta off lately. He was running on little to no sleep since he'd begun planning their attack on Frieza. He studied blue print after blue print of the hotel the dirty CIA agent was staying at, trying to come up with a full proof plan. He drank coffee non stop, and that certainly didn't add to the assassin's mood. Anytime Bulma would try to help with anything, he'd shoo her away, telling her that he didn't need help from an unskilled civilian, which in turn would upset Bulma. Epic screaming matches would ensue until one of them would leave the small apartment and blow off steam or fall into bed together. But as time drew close, the two seemed to stomp off in anger and stay out until the wee hours of the morning…Vegeta doing this more so than Bulma.

She forced herself go into the bathroom and begrudgingly started the task of applying makeup to her face.

This plan Vegeta had come up with was suicide. Who in their right mind would come up with a plan like this?

She rolled her eyes. Vegeta. That's who. He concluded that the only way they were to prove their innocence was to get caught while wearing a wire tap and goad Frieza into confessing everything.

"What a dumb ass." She muttered.

It was like he was begging to get killed.

An hour later, she entered the living room dressed in the gown they had bought a few weeks back. It was a simple silver dress, and the color made her bright blue eyes pop, as well as her soft purple hair.

Vegeta sat at the small kitchen table addressing an envelope, seemingly too busy to notice Bulma enter the room. He was dressed in a tux, his jacket slung over the chair he was sitting in. The only thing that indicated that he noticed her was how his frown deepened as she closed the space between them.

Bulma was still mad at him, but didn't want to make this, she was sure, incredibly hard and dangerous evening even more difficult that it should be.

She smiled at him and placed a hand on her cocked hip. "I knew you were 007." She smirked when he looked up at her. He looked to her blankly from a few moments and a slow smile crept upon his lips.

"007 wishes he was me." He put a few stamps on the envelope he was addressing and put it in the pocket of his tux jacket and stood, motioning for her to come closer. He then grabbed one of the gadgets on the table and inspected it.

It was a slender box the size of a credit card but double the thickness. Attacked to it was an almost invisible wire that looked like clear fishing wire and at the end of it was a clear ear piece that Vegeta slid into Bulma's right ear.

"This," He held up the slender box so she could see it. "will record Frieza's confession." He then gave her a cocky smirk and moved closer to her so there was no space between the two. His smirk grew as he took the box with one and, with the other, tucked a lock of purple hair behind her ear, trailing a finger down from her ear, to her neck, and then to her exposed cleavage.

"Hmm." He purred when her skin reacted to his touch and goosebumps appeared. He took the material of the dress and lifted it away from her skin and slid the box down and in between her breasts.

She couldn't help but shiver when his finger brushed up against the nipple of her right breast, and she couldn't come up with a come back when he uttered, "Whoops."

Vegeta chuckled and turned back to the table, grabbing a clear ear piece and sliding it in his ear. "This," he said loudly, knocking Bulma back into reality and out of the clouds. He then pointed to the almost invisible ear piece he stuck in his ear. "Will transmit the recording to your device. This way, if I'm searched, they won't find it on me. It will be on you, far away from me…just make sure you turn it on when the time comes." He grabbed his jacket and put it on. "Let's go over the plan one more time."

Bulma nodded at him as he looked at her expectantly. "Ok… Um, we slip into the party the Prince of whatever country is throwing tonight. You get caught and I stay and mingle until you give me the signal to get the hell out of there or to come get you."

"And…?"

"Oh, and find that guy Pickle?"

Vegeta shook his head. "Piccolo. Special Agent Piccolo."

"Right…and explain to me again why I need to find him? Isn't he the one that went on national television, branding you a terrorist and me your accomplice? And how do you know he'll be there tonight?"

"I got a call from Eighteen a while ago. He paid Cap a visit and told him to let me know to keep my head down."

"So?"

Vegeta sighed. "Why would he tell me to keep my head down if he wanted to bring me in?"

Bulma shrugged, obviously not following.

"I think he knows about Frieza. And to answer your other question, Eighteen found that he was tracking us down and found that we had left the country. Also, Seventeen helped him out and left him some bread crumbs to help him find us faster."

Bulma was confused. Bread crumbs? But if Vegeta said he was going to be there, then he'd be there.

"What do I do when I find him?"

"When I get the confession out of Frieza, give him the box I put in between your tits."

"So crass." She muttered. "Then what?"

"Then you get your life back."

They snuck in through the kitchen since it was invite only and they were most definitely not invited. Even Bulma couldn't help but laugh at the so-called security. There was nobody posted at the back entrance, the two of them easily slipping through undetected and into the main ball room, where the throngs of France's rich and famous were.

The large room was packed full of people dressed to the nines, men in their tuxes, women in their gowns. Some of Europe's ultra rich and famous were among the guests, and any other time Bulma would be frothing at the mouth to rub elbows with them, but the plan that was about to be put into action and Vegeta's hand gripping hers and his thumb rubbing small circlers over the top of her hand had her distracted.

This was not something Vegeta usually did…ever. Public displays of affection weren't his thing. He had been acting strange all evening…aside from his thermo nucular meltdown he had earlier, he was being affectionate. Well, affectionate for Vegeta anyway. He even gave her a kiss before they entered the hotel. Vegeta never initiated a kiss unless he was about to pounce on her and have his way with her. But what really threw her for a loop was his eyes. They would lose it's hardness and soften when he looked at her, almost like he was saddened or had a secret he didn't want her to know.

"There's Recoome." Vegeta uttered under his breath. He looked down at Bulma. "I put something in your purse. It's a fail-safe. If I need it you need to get it to me." He grabbed her chin and lifted her face up towards him, not giving her a chance to ask what the fail-safe was or why he might need it. The look he was giving her was piercing and Bulma couldn't help but feel as if he was extremely torn about something.

It was scaring her.

She opened her mouth to ask him what was wrong but he descended quickly, cupping the back of her head to bring her closer to him and claim her lips in a sweet kiss.

And that scared her even more.

Their lips parted and he pressed his forehead up against hers. "We'll be able to communicate through the ear pieces." She nodded in acknowledgement. "And if I tell you to get the hell out of here, do it. Don't come to my rescue." He kissed her forehead and was gone, slipping into the crowds, heading to his fate.

He had come to the realization, after Seventeen gave him the intel he had gathered when he picked the two of them up and took them to Paris, that this mission was a messy one. It was why Seventeen suggested that Vegeta ditch her… no matter which way he worked it, the possibility of the two coming out of the situation unscathed with proof of their innocence was slim to none.

So, he was prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice so Bulma could live.

On the outside Vegeta looked calm, cool and collected. Looking like a man that was slightly bored with the gathering he was at and could be doing something better with his time instead of being there. But on the inside he was warring with himself. On one hand, he knew that if he didn't follow through, there was no way for Bulma to have a normal life. It would one of having to look over her shoulder and fear for the rest of her life. But on the other hand, he didn't like the idea of leaving Bulma by herself. He could just whisk her away and they could both live life on the run… together. But he knew, life on the run was hard. Hard on the body, hard on the mind, and most definitely on relationships. Plus, there was a slim chance that he would come out of this alive. And, in the end, that slim chance that offered a normal life, with her, well, he'd take that chance.

But…

That didn't keep him from wanting to turn around right then and there, grab the woman and book it out of there. Normal life be damned.

He pushed his feelings and emotions out of his head and put his game face on.

This was for Bulma. All of it.

Vegeta casually swiped a flute of Champaign from a passing waiter and sipped as he approached the hulking man, trying to ignore the rapid beat of his heart making it hard to hear anything else but the blood pumping in his ears. Something that he hadn't experience since his very first hit.

Bulma watched intently as Vegeta made his way to the man he had identified as Recoome. She held her breath as he walked right up to him, sly smirk on his face, and she was sure say something snide or rude to the hulking man.

She could only see part of the man's profile, but she saw that he was confused, and then the recognition hit him. Recoome looked around furiously and then shoved the glass he was holding into the empty hands of the woman he was flirting with before Vegeta interrupted.

She didn't realize until then that her ear piece wasn't working… she should be able to hear Vegeta talking along with Recoome. She looked around nervously and reached in between her boobs and searched for the on switch. She quickly found it and pushed the button and stuffed the device down her cleavage again.

"-must be the dumbest son of a bitch on the planet."

"Not any dumber than you and your boss." Vegeta's voice rang into the ear piece. "Just take me to him."

"Gladly."

Bulma watched as the two men walked further away from her. Eventually she lost them in the crowd. The two didn't talk too much. She heard the ding of the elevator and Vegeta say, "The fiftieth floor, huh?"

There was even more silence, just the ding of the elevator as it climbed higher and higher. It wasn't until she was nudged by a passerby that she realized she was standing, dumbly in the middle of the floor, impeding foot traffic and earning questionable looks and snickers as she stared off into space.

She shook her head and walked out of the way, grabbing a glass of white wine that a waitress was offering and walking to a free spot against the wall. From there she wouldn't look like a fool or block foot traffic for that matter… The amount of stress this 'job' entailed was making her a nervous wreck, and she was sure by the end of the night, her hair would be completely gray. She knew nothing good would come of Vegeta turning himself in to Frieza. It was going to get ugly, and she had to sit there and listen to the whole damned thing and look as normal as possible while it happened.

She chugged the whole glass of wine and looked desperately around for another waitress with a tray full of wine.

"Wow, presidential suite. Your boss spending hard earned tax money…"

There was a disembodied snort. "Just shut up and put your hands on your head."

There was some rustling noises and then footsteps were heard and faded away.

"Ass." Vegeta mumbled.

He rolled his eyes, sat down in the plush love seat and waited for the large oaf and his boss to come back. He loosened his bow tie and waited patiently, taking in his posh surroundings. This hotel room was swanky… probably averaged about $6,000 a night…at minimum.

He shook his head. Man this guy needed to die…what a douche.

"Well, well. I had to see it to believe it. I thought Recoome was trying to get a rise out me, but here you are, in the flesh."

Vegeta's lip curled upward in disgust at the sound of the sickly sweet voice of Frieza. The bane of Vegeta and Bulma's existence. He watched the short, pale man sit across from him, a slick smile spread across his face, showing off his perfectly straight and overly bleached teeth. He was dressed in an off white, tailor made suite with a purple tie and handkerchief neatly folded in the breast pocket of his pristine outfit. His dark auburn almost purple hair was slicked back, making him look like a classic villain of a spy movie.

"Recoome tells me you came unarmed. You're either stupid or…well," he snickered. "Stupid."

Vegeta chuckled. "Hmm, well, if I'm so stupid, how is it that I've outsmarted and killed three of your elite team of assassins, hmm, Frieza?

His sly smile faltered, but it didn't go away completely. "Yes, well, you have proven to be an even bigger thorn in my side than I originally thought…By the way, love the hair.

Ignoring the jab at his blonde locks, Vegeta smirked at him. "I'm here to make a deal."

"HA!" Frieza slapped his knee. "You? Make a deal? I don't believe you have a leg to stand on my dear boy. Let me guess, whatever your deal is, it entails me not hunting your blue haired, scientist girlfriend down and killing her."

"In a nut shell." Vegeta shrugged.

"And what do I get in return?"

"Mine and Ms. Briefs silence, and my joining your oh-so very elite team of assassins."

The fiend, Frieza, rubbed his chin, the smile he was wearing spread to a large toothy one. "I'm afraid that ship has sailed my dear boy. You've made your bed, now you and your blue beauty queen must lay in it. And speaking of the little nosey scientist, where have you stashed her?

Vegeta's brow rose, but he refused to give him an answer.

"Oh come now, boy. Don't be difficult."

"I assure you, she won't be going to anybody regarding your dirty arms deals to our country's enemy. Just leave her be."

Frieza sniffed and pursed his lips at him. "You and I both know that I can't allow her to live. Especially with what she knows…She brought this all on herself, you know?" He shook his head. "'Tis a pitty. The little woman has a beautiful mind when it comes to innovative weaponry." He pulled out a sleek looking hand gun. The handle was clear, showing off a magazine of bullets that glowed blue. "Lovely, isn't it?" He asked, giving Vegeta a closer look, but he kept his distance, knowing Vegeta would take advantage. "Just think, if the two of you would have just done as you were told, things would have ended differently for you." He chuckled.

He clucked in mock disapproval and holstered his gun inside his jacket where he got it from. He gave Vegeta a toothy smile and stood up, lazily waving to Recoome, who stood off to the side. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a business deal to close and have a few million dollars to make. Recoome, see that Vegeta is…comfortable. And Vegeta, don't think that I don't know what you're playing at with you 'turning yourself in'." He smiled widely at him. "See you soon my boy."

He watched Frieza leave the room and blinked when Recoome's large frame appeared in front of him. He had the most joyful smile and a thick piece of rope in his hand.

"I'm going to enjoy this, so very, very much." He said, bringing the rope up.

"Bring it on."

The sound of the first blow made Bulma jump, nearly making her spill her glass of chardonnay. The second and third, made her eyes swell with sympathetic and fearful tears, and she couldn't help but flinch each time she heard the meaty fist of Recoome hit Vegeta full force and Vegeta's grunts of pain that followed afterward.

Not even Vegeta's mocking of Recoome between punches made her feel any better. The only semi comfort she got out of it was knowing he was still conscience. She listened as the bastard asked repeatedly where she was. And for each time Vegeta refused to answer or spat out a smart ass remark, he was attacked, more violently than the last… or so it sounded to Bulma.

After just a few minutes of listening, she felt her stomach wretch. She quickly ditched her wine glass and ran to the women's bathroom. She didn't have to time to be thankful that it was empty, she barely made it to one of the stalls as she vomited the contents of her stomach. She heaved so hard that she couldn't hear the commotion through the ear piece… the only thing she could hear was the blood pumping in her ears.

Her hand flew to her ear, plucked the tiny ear piece out and let it dangle from the top of her gown. She shakily flushed the toilet and stumbled to the sink, leaning heavily on the granite counter tops.

Vegeta had warned her about this. Nothing could have prepared her for such a thing. She had never felt so helpless… all she wanted to do was go up to the fiftieth floor, burst through the door and save him…like Wonder Woman or some other female heroine…but she knew that wouldn't be possible…for one, she hadn't been bitten by a radioactive spider, she was unarmed, and they still needed more from Frieza. He did confess… but they needed him to divulge more information to prove their innocence.

Grabbing a paper towel, she wetted it and blotted her neck, trying to cool herself off… all the while telling herself to calm down. She had a job to do, a mission, as Vegeta put it.

She took a deep calming breath and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was still red from her losing her lunch and her eyes were slightly puffy. She fanned her face in attempted to cool herself off and then stuffed the earpiece she had yanked out of her ear down into the front side of her gown. There was no way she would be able to concentrate on what she needed to accomplish if she had to hear her boyfriend get beat to a bloody pulp.

"I can do this." She whispered to herself. "I can do this."

She took one last look in the mirror and exited the bathroom, determined… She had to find Agent Piccolo and keep her head down, so not to be caught by Frieza or his men…they were, after all, all around her.

He spat out some more blood and smiled as much as his beaten face could allow when the thick, red spit hit the left shoe of his captor. But the semi smile was short lived, as it was promptly wiped off his face with a powerful punch to the cheek.

Vegeta grimaced and grunted in pain when he felt his cheek bone crack.

Recoome, one of the two remaining men of the Ginyu Force, ripped a crisp towel off of the towel rack and wiped his bloodied hands off, shaking his head at Vegeta, who was tied to a chair, bleeding profusely all over his tux.

"Just tell me where she is, Ouji." Recoome said exasperated. He had been in the large bathroom with Vegeta for the past four hours, beating him and asking him where Bulma Briefs was, but he wasn't budging.

Vegeta shook his head, but regretted doing so when the motion made his skull feel like a white hot dagger was being jabbed in and out of his temple. He groaned as his chin involuntarily slumped onto his chest. His eyes felt heavy, and he knew he was on the verge of passing out.

"Feh." Recoome spat. "What? Can't take a little pain?" He sounded angry, which he was. A mere thirty minutes of beatings and shallow cuts usually resulted in him getting what he wanted out of these torture sessions, but Vegeta… he was still going strong for an hour, and whats more, this was the first time he was showing signs of passing out.

"Fuck this. I'm going to take a break. Why don't you sit here and think about answering one simple fucking question. I'm going to start cutting off limbs when I get back." Recoome tossed the bloodied towel on the ground and left Vegeta in the bathroom to mull over his ultimatum.

Vegeta sighed heavily as his eyes slid shut involuntarily. This was probably the shittiest, most dumbest plan he came up with. But any way he worked through what could be done, this was the only truly full proof way to get the task done.

He cursed his girlfriend with every curse word he had ever learned. Here he was, bleeding, almost broken while she was somewhere safe and cozy, schmoozing it up with the wealthy men and women of France. She had better be getting a hold of Agent Piccolo… and moving on to the next phase of their plan: getting him the hell out of there.

Just as he realized he was going under, probably from the multiple blows to the head, he uttered 'Fuck,' and slumped over.

beta'd by Springandbysummerfall