Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: You may have noticed that I changed the summary of the story... I hope everyone likes it! I think it better reflects what this fanfic is about. Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers, and I hope you enjoy this next installment!

Chapter 25: Predator and Prey

Piccolo let out an exasperated sigh. It had been less than twenty four hours since they had left Earth, and the noise hadn't stopped for even a moment. He cursed his damned hearing and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and willing everything to go away.

Dying on Earth would have been less torturous than this.

He was sitting cross-legged in the small bathroom on the bottom level of the spaceship. He'd locked the door, figuring that most would think it was just someone taking a dump and leave him in peace.

But the noise never stopped.

Piccolo was beginning to realise that humans were incapable of being quiet. Even in their stress-induced slumber they were a noisy lot, coughing and farting, moaning and snoring. He sneered as the harsh cry of a baby reached his ears. In the damn spaceship there was no escape.

He didn't know how he was going to survive a month of this shit. Especially considering the fact that the ships were so crowded there was no room to train.

I'll have to engage Gohan in some mental training, he mused, knowing full well that he would have to give it at least another day before he did. The kid had survived this far on adrenalin, and Piccolo had to admit that he was even impressed by the maturity that the boy had shown. But the events of the past few days had finally caught up with Goku's son, and now that reality was sinking in, the kid wasn't taking it too well. He was, after all, still only a few months off from turning six.

The thought of birthdays brought Piccolo back to another reality, which happened to be sitting on the floor in front of him. As if his thought summoned the creature inside, the large white egg wobbled slightly on the tiled floor. Piccolo ground his teeth together at the movement; he knew it was coming, and in was the other reason why he had locked himself in the bathroom, but knowledge didn't make him feel any better about the situation. At least, he conceded to himself, Popo is here. He can take care of it.

It was at this moment that 'it' decided to emerge, a small crack suddenly appearing in the thick shell. The crack instantly became a wide fissure, exposing pink juices that began to roll down the side of the shell. Within seconds a green foot shoved its way through the ever widening hole, and the wail of a new baby sang through the ship.

Piccolo sneered. "Don't try that fucking shit on me, Kami," he growled, feeling extremely uncomfortable watching a birth. "I managed to do it on my own, you can too, brat."

At this a large piece of shell fell away, exposing the face of wet, scowling baby. Piccolo snarled in disgust, and the baby glared back at him.

'In a day I'll be a lot stronger, Piccolo,' the baby spoke through the connection that constantly joined to two. Piccolo shivered, hating the feeling of another in his head, and loathing the fact that something in his very core screamed that the two belonged together.

Piccolo stood suddenly, unlocking the door. "Good," he spoke without looking back, "you can make your own way upstairs, then."

'You know you can't leave me here,' the baby's voice echoed again. 'One of the humans will see me when they come in here, and will probably kill me in a state of panic. You know that their mental states are not the best right now. Their entire planet has just been purged by aliens. What would one do if they found an alien baby in the middle of their bathroom?'

Piccolo turned his head ever so slightly, so that he could see the baby in his peripheral vision.

'If I die, so do you.'

"Fine!" Piccolo yelled, quickly yanking the baby out of its egg by the foot. The infant let out a cry of shock, which quickly morphed into an all-out fit. Piccolo stared in horror and the thing hanging in his arms, before lifting the child to his shoulder in a gentler manner that surprised even himself, because the movement felt so natural. He stood like that, feeling awkward and confused, until the child's wails quietened down into hiccups.

The new Kami may have had an adult's brain, but he was still a baby, after all. The infant was struggling between his instincts to cry, and his desire to not seem so damn needy around his darker half.

Piccolo, on the other hand, was dealing with his own conflicting emotions. He loathed Kami. He hated him to his core.

So why did he suddenly have the same protective urge that he had for Gohan? Why did the baby's cries almost pain him? Piccolo shook his head, quickly heading upstairs in order to dump the infant with Popo. The genie could take care of the rest; his job was done for now.

He returned to the bathroom, this time to dry-retch into the toilet. He refused to focus on the word that rang between the infant and himself. He refused to acknowledge that deep down, it sounded right.

'Father.'

Frieza sat within his hovering chair, staring out at the vast expanse of space. White lids closed over the bright red pupils that were so frightening to others, and he took a deep breath.

In.

Out.

In.

He was trying to remain calm. Not that it would matter if he had a fit; he could easily kill everyone on board without any trouble. He was, after all, the great Lord Frieza who bowed to no one.

No, he could kill as many of his men as he wanted, but that would mean only one thing- that Vegeta was getting to him. The last thing he ever wanted to do was let that weak, disgusting brat of a monkey make him feel as if he…

In.

Out.

Calm. The fact that Vegeta was still missing was insignificant. The fact that it had been a week since Zarbon and Dodoria had arrived on Earth, and that there was still no word back from either of them, nor Ginyu, did not matter.

He would not let it bother him that the conversations recorded on Vegeta's scouter showed that the monkey had a genius scientist working with him.

He would not let it irritate him that the Namekians had vanished, along with their dragonballs and his naughty, good for nothing Saiyans, into thin air.

He would not think about the fact that immortality seemed further and further away.

Behind him the large message screen flashed to life, bringing up Zarbon's pretty face against the backdrop of blue sky. Frieza swivelled his chair around to face his loyal soldier, his tail almost twitching in anticipation of the news.

"Well?" Frieza snapped, not bothering anymore to hide his agitation. "It's been a week and I haven't heard anything from you!"

"Forgive me, Lord Frieza," Zarbon bowed. "I felt it would be best to give you a full report on my findings at the end of my examination. It was…"

"Did you find Vegeta?" Frieza cut in. He watched as Zarbon's expression became just a little more frozen.

"Unfortunately no, my Lord," the attractive man replied.

Frieza pursed his lips, feeling the rage beginning to boil within him. This was getting ridiculous! How far could a monkey like that have travelled?

"THAT IS NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" he shrieked, leaning forward out of his chair. "How hard is it to find two stupid monkeys? I want them dead, Zarbon, and instead you take a week to tell me that they are not there! Do you realise how much time you have wasted by not informing me when you first arrived on that shit hole!"

"But my Lord," Zarbon appeased, "it was necessary to make a very thorough investigation. I needed to make sure Vegeta was not hiding anywhere. Now we have left no stone unturned on this planet, it has been purged of all inhabitants, and you are able to feel confident that you know where Vegeta is not."

"I want to know where he IS, Zarbon!" Frieza yelled back. "I couldn't care less where he is not! There are millions of planets in this universe; do you expect me to search all of them?"

"Of course not, Sire, but I also gained some valuable information on the Earth woman Vegeta has with him. It may lead us to him, yet."

Intrigued, Frieza took a deep breath, settling back into his chair comfortably.

"Tell me," he ordered, turning to stare at the emptiness of space once more.

He would find Vegeta yet.

Across the universe, the remnants of humankind were also staring out at space. Behind them lay their empty Earth, now a week's travel away. Ahead lay a planet they knew hardly anything about, except that Bulma Briefs had been taken there, and she was apparently in good health.

But that didn't mean the new planet would be safe for them.

As the first week had progressed, the passengers on the two Capsule Corp. ships had experienced a range of emotions. After the adrenalin-filled rush to leave the planet, the ascent into space had caused many to shed tears of loneliness, guilt and despair.

As Earth and the rest of the solar system had faded out of sight, and the original awe of space had worn off, the men and women aboard were left wondering why they had been chosen and spared, while some of their colleagues had not. Most of the passengers were the top employees- both scientists and business men and women- of Capsule Corporation, and their immediate families, but there were many more brilliant scientists who weren't present on either of the ships.

None of the Capsule Corp. employees dared to ask their employer why he had made the choices he did, for they could tell that the usually cheerful man was just as upset as they were about the events that had transpired on Earth. Instead they kept to themselves, often talking in small groups, or just sitting on their own, staring out at space, or at the walls, or the ceiling, or the floor.

The Capsule Corp. employees also kept away from the group of warriors and their associates as much as they could; all the individuals seemed a little odd, down to the little boy who had a tail. Even though they all knew that the fighters were the close friends of Bulma Briefs, the employees still felt uncomfortable around the strange group of individuals. They just didn't seem like normal people.

As the employees quickly found, space travel was rather dull, and boredom reigned supreme. People grew crankier and crankier in the confined space, as the large spheroid ships began to feel more and more like tiny fishbowls. The problem was magnified by the fact that people were grieving for their friends and family who were now, according to the big green man, all dead.

For some, it was all too much to process, and they withdrew from the group. For others, anger issues became a problem, and at times fights broke out.

With another three weeks of travel ahead of them, they felt as if they were slowly going mad.

Prince Tarble stared at his brother, shaking his head in disbelief. Vegeta gave him a snarl in reply; one of the few parts of their conversation that had taken place outside of their heads. Tarble resolved with a sigh to let the matter go for the moment, sensing his brother's increasing agitation.

Across from them sat their father, a thoughtful expression etched on the older man's features as he watched his sons. It still felt odd to see the boys as they were now; he half expected them to walk in and be barely reaching his knees again, chattering and lively and pudgy with youth.

"I didn't summon you two so that I could sit here watching a silent conversation that I am not party to," the King spoke harshly, drawing his sons' attentions back to the matter at hand. "If it is so important that you must discuss it in my precious time, I suggest you speak out loud."

"It's nothing," the eldest Prince bit out in a snarl. "The fool is simply nagging me about shit."

At this remark Tarble pouted, the lines between his brows deepening. "I don't nag, brother, and I'm not a fool. In fact, I think you're the one being foolish if you can't even see…"

Tarble's words cut off as his brother's hand closed around his throat, a vicious snarl ripping through the air as Vegeta leaned forward until his nose was just inches from his brother's, the look in his eyes bordering on madness.

"You would be wise," he hissed, tightening his grip until Tarble began to feel lightheaded, "to shut the fuck up. Brother."

Feeling too terrified to even attempt to defend himself, Tarble simply stared wide eyed at Vegeta, wheezing as his brother finally let him go. He looked away in the opposite direction, fighting the urge to show how much physical and emotional pain he was in. He loved his brother, he always had. Vegeta had always been his role model; as children, Vegeta had always defended him. Tarble's memories held numerous instances where Vegeta had stood in front of him, taking the punishment for something they had both committed.

A chill ran through his tail as he thought of the look in Vegeta's eyes. He wasn't sure if his brother would defend him like he used to. He wasn't even sure if Vegeta wouldn't kill him, anymore. That fact hurt more than anything, and Tarble fought back tears as he continued to look away. He missed the old Vegeta. He wanted his real brother back.

What did Frieza do to him?

Taking a deep breath, Tarble coughed, looking up at their father. The thought of Frieza reminded him why they were meeting in the first place; they were to discuss their planet's rebellion against the Cold Empire. The idea that Vegeta was so warped after his time with Frieza angered Tarble enough to push his own upset away for the time being, and he sat back straighter in his chair.

"Forgive me, father," he spoke, his voice sounding more like his brother's raspy tone due to his near-strangulation. "I never wished to waste your time."

The King grunted in response, his eyes watching both his children warily. Tarble was too soft, but Vegeta's harshness bordered on insanity. Shaking his head, the King began to discuss the things that really mattered.

As the meeting progressed, Tarble felt much better about how they were going to deal with the Colds. He had faith in his brother's strength; if there was anyone who could ascend to the level of the Legendary, it would be Vegeta.

As soon as he was dismissed, Tarble stood up, pushing past Vegeta as he headed for the door. He half expected the older man to shove him back in retaliation, but Vegeta simply let him past. Tarble could feel his brother trying access his mind, but for now he was keeping that door closed.

He may have had faith in Vegeta, but that didn't mean he felt like talking to the man at the moment.

Vegeta yelled in anger as a blast hit him on the shoulder, again. Ever since the meeting this morning he had been distracted, and his training was suffering. He glared menacingly at the reflective bots that hovered around him, new balls of ki igniting in each of his hands. He released the two blasts, aiming each at a separate bot, before leaping back into action.

The woman had been smart to create this training equipment for him, he mused as he dodged in and out between blasts. There were six bots in total, and each was designed to bounce blasts directly at any living thing in sight. Given the fact that they were capable of shooting the blasts back at the speed of one of Frieza's elites, Vegeta had to give the woman credit. She really was a genius.

Not that he would ever admit that to her.

The fact that his own mother actually respected the woman's scientific opinion, and had somewhat taken Bulma under her wing, showed more than any invention ever would. Vegeta knew for a fact that Lady Kaiware did not take to newcomers easily, and yet she had accepted Bulma- a weakling foreigner- as a colleague.

Tarble was even more impressed with the woman's scientific mind and quick wit. In the week that had passed since their arrival, Tarble and his disgusting thing of a wife had spent most evenings in Vegeta's quarters, discussing technology, Saiyan culture, Human culture, and more. Vegeta often sat and listened silently, letting Tarble and Gure ask the questions that he himself had often wondered…

"Do Humans enjoy music?"

"Yeah! Music from Earth is one of the things I miss the most!"

He growled, sending another two blasts at the bots in an attempt to rid his mind of foolish things. He should have been focusing on his present training, not on his brother and the ridiculous Earth woman.

But this thought led him back to the way he had lashed out at Tarble this morning. His younger brother had been acting foolish, asking him fucking ridiculous questions about his relations with Bulma, but now Vegeta kept seeing the image of Tarble looking both terrified and hurt. Vegeta sneered, dodging more of the blasts as the gravity in the room automatically increased again. He wasn't a man that felt guilty often, and he did not like having this unsettling feeling in his gut.

The more he tried to forget about it, the more the issue with Tarble seemed to bother him.

He's too fucking soft, he told himself, but it didn't make any difference.

Of course, what bothered him the most was Tarble's reaction after the incident. Instead of brushing it off, his brother had shut him out of his head completely. In the past week Vegeta had gotten used to the telepathic communication they had utilised so much as children; he usually just had to reach out his thoughts and Tarble would pick up, like someone answering a connection over the scouter.

Now he was met with a wall instead. Vegeta wasn't used to being ignored, especially by those weaker than him, and his brother's defiance pissed him off.

Lacking the usual concentration, Vegeta dodged a blast just a little too late, the searing ball of energy clipping him on the leg and causing him to land off-balance. The bots seemed to pick up on the weakness, quickly reflecting the other blasts back at him before he even had a chance to think. Seeing three blasts hurtling towards him, Vegeta reacted on instinct alone, screaming as he shot a wave of energy out from his body that dissipated the three blasts.

The bots crashed to the ground as Vegeta sank to his hands and knees, sweat pouring off him as he breathed heavily. The gravity had increased again, and his muscles were searing with pain. When he finally lifted his head, he saw that all six of the bots were broken, the small heaps of twisted metal bearing no semblance to the shiny orbs they once were.

With an air of finality Vegeta pushed himself off the floor, grunting as he did so, and did his best to ignore the screaming pain that ran through him. Disengaging the gravity simulation, he breathed a sigh of relief, frowning as he eyed the bots once more. He would have to tell the woman they were broken again… something he really hated doing.

Bulma repressed the urge to scream at Vegeta, instead settling to glare daggers at him from across the lab table. The Saiyan Prince had strolled in, still dripping with sweat and blood from training, with the corpses of her six training bots piled high in his arms.

He was demanding that they be fixed by tomorrow.

Bulma pursed her lips together in a thin line, placing her hands on her hips as she eyed up the pile of metal. She risked a sideways glance at Kaiware, to find that the small woman was smirking, clearly enjoying Bulma's discomfort.

The problem was that they were in a public setting, with all the lab workers listening in on the conversation. If Vegeta had come to her in the privacy of his quarters, she wouldn't have hesitated to yell at him until she turned blue. But in the setting of the labs, with all those eyes on them, it was not possible to yell at the Prince without being classed as someone who disrespected the monarchy. After her last dangerous encounter with the King, Bulma wasn't going to be foolish enough to step outside the boundaries of what was considered acceptable behaviour, despite the fact that she knew Vegeta would never attack her. It wasn't Vegeta's reactions to her that she was afraid of, after all, but those of the other Saiyans.

Vegeta knew that Bulma was cautious to act in an appropriate manner, and Bulma was certain that he had purposely come here with the bots first, rather than going straight to the rejuvenation tanks as was his usual routine, so that he could criticise her without giving her the opportunity to fight back in her usual way.

Well, if that was the case, two could play at that game. Yelling at the Prince in anger wasn't appropriate, but surely beating him in a battle of wits would be okay?

"Well?" Vegeta huffed angrily. "Are you going to make them stronger this time, woman, or have your basic scientific skills met their limit?"

Bulma looked up, meeting Vegeta's eyes with daring fire. He wore the same smirk his mother did, and she knew he was purposely winding her up.

Fucking Saiyans.

Taking a deep breath, Bulma did her best to rearrange her features into a bright smile. "Of course I'll fix them," she replied calmly. "You said you wanted them fixed by tomorrow morning… are you sure you can't wait until the next day, Vegeta? I was due to stop working in an hour."

Vegeta cocked and eyebrow suspiciously. The woman was up to something, he could tell. Folding his arms across his chest, he replied "I need them tomorrow, woman," adding, "I will not let your stupidity hinder my training."

Expecting something along the lines of this, Bulma waved one of her hands in dismissal. "That's fine, Vegeta," she replied, just the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Of course, it's going to mean I pull an all-nighter." She smirked, knowing she was gaining the upper hand. "Have fun with your hand tonight, because I won't be coming to bed."

With that she turned away, leaving Vegeta spluttering in surprise. Pretending to work at her computer, she heard him mutter something about her being a 'vulgar woman', before stomping out of the labs, his footsteps heavier than usual. When the coast was clear, she looked up to see grins on most of the Saiyan workers' faces, and turned to find Kaiware smiling at her with laughter in her eyes.

Bulma grinned, knowing full well that Vegeta would find a way to make her pay for his embarrassment.

Still, it was worth it.

Screwing the final bolt in place, Bulma let out a sigh of relief, before engaging her scouter to look at the time. 3 AM… she thought, just peachy.

She leaned back in her chair, tempted just to close her eyes and fall asleep where she was sitting. Looking around, she smiled to herself, feeling very much at home. Parts of various inventions were strewn across the desks, blueprints were lying in rolls, tools sat at the various workstations. It looked so much like her own labs that for a second she thought that she was back on Earth.

She sighed again, enjoying the peace that came from the silent lab. She really was a night owl, she mused with a small smile as she began to pack away her things. Even though she preferred to go to sleep at a decent time, she often found that her best work came out of her early morning hours. There was something about the quietness of the night that seemed to envelop her like a blanket, making everything in her mind click into place.

"You're beginning to sound crazy, Bulma Briefs, and now you're talking to yourself," she mumbled as she capsulized all six bots so that she could leave them out in the kitchen for Vegeta to find in the morning. She hoped he wouldn't come into her room and wake her up, because she was going to sleep in.

Switching off the lights in the lab, she shivered, pulling out the small torch she had built herself. Without any lights on, the palace suddenly didn't seem so peaceful.

She strode out into the corridor, waving her torchlight to and fro. She didn't like the way her footsteps echoed in the dark, and she didn't like the way that the carvings of oozaru seemed to jump out at her from the darkness.

After a minute of walking down the corridor, she came to the first corner. It was still a ten minute walk to Vegeta's quarters, and she was regretting Kaiware's offer to have one of the scientists stay with her until she returned safely to her own rooms.

Her light hit the glaring face of a guard, stationed at his usual post, and she jumped in surprise. He grinned, and after a moment she laughed.

"Hey you," she smiled, recognising the man. She'd struck up a conversation with him in the mess hall a week before, but she couldn't recall his name. He had been friendly enough to her, though, and she felt a little better seeing him. "Got the night shift, eh?"

"Same as you, Lady," he replied.

She nodded, peering up at the man. Like most Saiyans, he was tall, and sported a shaggy mess of black hair. Taking a guess, she figured he'd stand at least seven feet high.

"Why do they have no lights going?" she asked. "I thought they'd at least use the odd light in the hallways, even at this time of night."

The guard shrugged, cocking his head as he considered his answer. "Saiyans can see in the dark, so why would we need lights? We used to keep them on when there was lots of aliens working here, but you're the only one now. Besides, the whole planet is in dark mode, the Palace included."

Bulma nodded, stifling a yawn. "I guess that makes sense," she replied with a shrug. "I better get going. See ya round." As the guard grunted in reply, she continued on her way.

Dark mode was the term the Saiyans used for the fact that they had to conserve power. Bulma had picked that much up in the last ministerial meeting she had attended, and had asked Vegeta questions after. It seemed Vegetasei was having the same sort of energy crisis that the Earth was having, although they didn't rely on fossil fuels to generate power. Whatever it was that they did rely on, they were running out of it, and with the planet on lock down until Frieza's destruction, there was no way of shipping in more from off-world. With the need to conserve what energy they had, turning off the thousands of lights in the palace made sense.

She passed two more guards in the dark, nodding to them silently as she followed the path she now knew well. As she turned another corner she was surprised to find that there wasn't another guard standing in the usual post. She flicked her torchlight around the hallway, the dim light reflecting off red gems embedded in the carved eyes of more stylized oozaru. The missing guard wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Feeling just a little bit scared, Bulma quickened her pace, her footsteps sounding ridiculously loud even to her own ears. She wished suddenly that she could walk like Vegeta; he could move silently when he wanted to, like a cat creeping up on its prey.

At this moment Bulma felt like she was the prey, although she told herself that she was just being silly. It was odd that the guard was missing, though, and a chill ran up her spine, the hairs on her arms beginning to stand as her agitation increased.

She stopped, waving the torchlight around once more. Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she closed her eyes, shaking her head in an attempt to calm herself. What was up with her? It was the second time in a week that she was getting creeped out by the dark.

But then she was always a great believer in gut instinct. And right now her intuition was telling her that something wasn't right.

Switching off the torch, she kept her eyes closed, waiting for a minute before opening them. It took a moment to adjust, but there was enough moonlight filtering in from the skylights ahead for her to be able to see the shapes of the statues that lined the hallway, and the marble floor beneath her feet. Without the torchlight, her eyesight was limited to shapes in the dark, but she could see further away than the torchlight could reach.

She turned around to face the direction she had been coming from, and the hairs on her neck stood on end. It was too far way to tell, but she was sure that she could see a figure standing in the middle of the corridor.

Without giving it a second thought, she squeezed her left earring between her thumb and forefinger. Her blue scouter flashed in front of her, decapsulizing over her left ear and eye. Automatically the scouter began scanning for power levels.

It found one.

Bulma turned and sprinted down the hall, her feet pounding on the marble floor. She knew that if the Saiyan wanted to, it could catch her without a moment's hesitation, but running was the only thing she could think of. If she could just get to Vegeta's quarters…

She sped around the corner, her breath rattling in her lungs. Her scouter picked up two more power levels, and for a moment she panicked, until she realised they were just those of the guards stationed outside the door to Vegeta's quarters.

Slowing down, she switched on her torchlight, shining it in the direction of the guards. They squinted angrily, the female one hissing in annoyance.

"Do you have to shine that in our eyes?" the woman asked, her face contorted in anger.

Bulma gulped down another breath, placing one hand over her chest. "Sorry," she breathed. "But I think there was someone back there," she motioned, still breathless. "My scouter picked up on them."

The female guard snorted. "Whatever. The only thing we've picked up or heard is you. You make far too much noise when you move."

Angered and insulted, Bulma slapped a hand against her thigh. "Can you just go check if anyone is there?" she asked harshly.

"I will," the male guard replied, stepping out into the corridor. Bulma watched as he disappeared from sight, listening to his footsteps as they grew fainter. The hallway grew silent, and Bulma wrapped, her arms around herself. She suddenly felt cold.

The guard eventually returned, reappearing into the torchlight. "I don't know what you saw, but there's nothing there. You don't have to worry, Lady. We have the Prince well guarded."

"Well okay," Bulma conceded, although her gut still told her that something wasn't quite right. She pushed open one of the big doors to Vegeta's quarters, turning back to the guards as she held it open. "Goodnight," she spoke softly, letting the door swing closed behind her. With a sigh, she leaned against the doorframe, holding her hand over her heart, willing it to stop beating so damn loudly.

She still couldn't shake the feeling that someone had been watching her.

Vegeta woke at the sound of the front door opening, and sat up automatically, listening for any further sound. Her heard the woman's voice and relaxed, lying back down after hearing the door click shut again.

He peered at the clock on the wall.

3:20.

The woman really had stayed up to finish her job.

He waited to hear her footsteps heading towards her room, but they never came. Frowning, he made a move to get up, but the sound of her finally moving through the quarters stopped him.

His frown deepened as he picked up the movement more clearly. She was heading straight for him. Surely she couldn't want sex at this time of night?

He placed both hands behind his head, waiting for the door to open. He could tell she was hesitating outside the door, but after a moment the handle clicked, and the door swung wide.

His bedroom was the darkest in his quarters, thanks to the thick curtains that blocked out all moonlight, and he knew that she would have trouble seeing into the room. He watched her as she stood there, her eyes looking pale grey in the night, rather than their usual blue, as she stared sightlessly into the black before her. It was odd to watch someone who couldn't actually see, and it made him feel momentarily disgusted with how weak and frail she really was. Anyone could kill her without expending any effort at all.

"I thought you said you would not be coming here tonight, woman," he spoke, and watched her jump in shock, her eyes darting in the vague direction of the bed. "And yet here you are," he added, his voice sounding thick with sleep, even to himself.

He was expecting the woman to give him some sort of jibe back, but she simply stood there, her hands held protectively across her chest. It was then that he notices the way she was standing, and the fear in her eyes. Looking closer, he could see the goose bumps on her skin, and he sat up in response. Something had obviously spooked her.

"What is it that you want, woman?" he asked, realising with disgust that his voice actually sounded soft.

"Can I stay in here tonight?" she whispered, still standing at the door. He froze, considering her request. She was asking to sleep beside him, rather than to have sex. That was something he had avoided, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He was about to tell her that when she blurted "I think someone was following me." He paused, grunting with frustration.

"Why do you think that, woman?"

At Vegeta's question, Bulma paused, trying to frame her answer in a way that didn't make her sound like a coward.

"I just had a gut feeling that something wasn't right," she shrugged. She could finally make out Vegeta's shape, sitting upright in the bed. Seeing his form, with the familiar flame of hair, made her feel better.

She was about to mention the missing guard, but hesitated, remembering the King's actions after she found the baby boy who had escaped his training. She knew that if she mentioned the guard, Vegeta would find out who it was and execute them as punishment, and she didn't want that blood on her hands.

"I turned off my torch," she told him instead, "because I felt like there was something behind me. I waited until my eyes had adjusted, and then turned around, and I swear Vegeta, I saw the shape of a person standing behind me. I even turned on my scouter, and it picked up a power level."

Vegeta snorted, shaking his head. "And what did you do next, woman?" he asked.

"I ran here."

Vegeta chuckled in disbelief, continuing to shake his head. "Woman you are foolish," he told her. "You are telling me that you, a person who is clearly blind in the dark- and I know this for a fact-" he added, "turned off her only form of light- her only way of seeing things- and then 'saw' a 'shape' in the darkness?"

"I'm not completely blind Vegeta!" she replied, crossing her arms in front of her. He smirked, knowing that she was getting angry. "I can actually see some things in the dark; I can see you, for instance!"

"Really?" he asked incredulously. "You can see me right now? Tell me then, how many fingers am I holding up?"

He laughed outright at her scowl, while she just mumbled something about it not being funny. He shook his head again, more amused than he had been in a long time.

"Woman," he began, "like I said, you are a foolish creature. You have no night vision. You cannot outrun even the weakest Saiyan. You're instincts are pathetic. I know that by some freak of nature, your species sits near the top of the food chain on your planet, but compared to Saiyans, you are nothing but an insect. If there was a person following you, they would have attacked you. They would have caught you when you ran. Your 'gut feelings' are clearly just a manifestation of your aversion to the dark, and the fact that you saw what you think was a person is obviously your mind seeing what it wants to believe." When she opened her mouth to protest, he pushed on. "You are standing here unharmed, and the guards are still on duty outside. Obviously, there was no one following you. If there was, you would already be dead."

"Perhaps they wanted something other than to kill me?" she asked, and he could see argument burning in her eyes.

"No, woman. Now it is late, so I am going to sleep. Go back to your own room."

He lay down, giving her his back, and smirked as she yelled "Argh, fine! Don't listen to me, you jerk!"

He waited for her to go, but instead all he heard was the rustle of fabric as it slid off her body and dropped to the floor. He heard another sound, one he had begun to associate with the clips of her bra contraptions, and he rolled his eyes. She was such a stubborn creature.

"I'm not going, Vegeta," she said, unzipping the fly of her jeans. He heard her kick off her shoes, the sneakers, as she called them, clunking one by one against the nearest wall.

He closed his eyes and sighed as he heard her pants drop to the floor. Where was his will power? He should have been throwing her out of the room, instead of letting her have this victory. But the more she disrobed, the stronger the smell of her skin became, and it was too damn good to ignore.

He rolled onto his back as he felt her crawling across the bed, and he pulled the sheets off him, feeling himself grow hard as she moved towards him with nothing on but the flimsy fabric between her legs. He grabbed her by the arm, and she yelped as he pulled her until she was lying flush against him, her sweet breath tickling his neck.

"Foolish woman," he whispered, and smirked against the skin of her shoulder as he felt a shiver run through her, "afraid of things in the dark." He brushed his hands up her arms, trailing them down her back until they reached the lace fabric she was wearing. He gave it one definite tug, tearing it right off her, and groaned as skin touched skin.

Flipping them over in a movement that made her gasp, he settled himself between her legs, using his tail to hold her hands above her head. She arched her back, pressing herself against him, and he growled, leaning forward to whisper in her ear.

"Foolish woman," he began again. "You should know the most dangerous being of all is me."

A lone figure moved silently in the dark, carefully shifting the glass of the skylight back into place. The operation had gone smoothly, and the only thing left to do now was to return to the master with the body.

Creeping along the outside of the palace, the figure made its way down to the gardens, careful to always avoid the attention of the guards. It carried the corpse of the palace guard in their arms, the dead man's body shrouded in black cloth.

It did not take long for the figure to reach the outer wall of the palace, and then it was a simple enough task to leap silently over the wall. They ran away from the palace, waiting until they were far enough away to begin flying, remaining low to the ground to ensure that they weren't detected.

Heading east, they switched on their black scouter, waiting for their master to answer.

A deep voice crackled over the scouter. "Did you accomplish your task?" it asked without any form of greeting.

"Yes, my lord," the woman replied smoothly, looking down at the wrapped up body in her hands. "That was too easy." To herself, the woman added, although the Earthling is more intuitive than I expected. We will have to be more careful from now on.

Static crackled in her ear.

"Good."