A/N: I guess this really is the story of the 'infamous' three years. That's about how long it's taken me to write this.

DISCLAIMER: I claim all of you!

Last time on Dragonball Z! ….

Trembling, Bulma stepped backwards until she had hit something hard. Terrified she spun around and whipped the knife. When she saw what it was she had backed into, the weapon fell from her hand and landed on the floor with a clang.

There, standing with both arms folded against his chest, a smirk on his lips, was Vegeta.

For a moment Bulma's lungs ceased to function. Breathing in and out felt as though she were inhaling and exhaling a block of wood. Was the three-dimensional image of the long disappeared Saiyan more than just a hologram? Was he the result of properly positioned light beams or was he warm flesh and blood?

Their eyes were locked and in the man's dark ones, Bulma could see traces of uncertainty. He was probably wondering if he were welcome in her home and maybe he was thinking of a way to explain himself.

With a loud cry, Bulma flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Vegeta!"

Through his light under armor she could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest.

"What…" he mumbled, his hands twitching by his sides. "What is th-"

But he did not have the time to finish his sentence. In one split second, Bulma had wound back her right arm and slapped Vegeta as hard as she could right across his face.

Her palm burned red and became swollen with blood. Had she believed she could catch Vegeta off-guard once more, perhaps her hand would've fallen off with the force of her next several smacks. They stood facing each other with Bulma breathing heavily through her nose and the prince staring at her with wide eyes.

"That's for making me think that you were dead!"

Bulma was seething with anger, not caring that she was lying through her teeth. She had never believed Vegeta to be dead, although she had wished for it a couple times. There was no harm in making Vegeta feel guilty about his absence, especially since she was pregnant.

Vegeta's smirk had long disappeared. His eyes trailed over her body and landed on her stomach. He blinked.

"So that's it, huh?" she asked him, stepping close enough that she could smell his all too familiar scent. "You leave and come back like nothing's happened. Everything can go back to normal now. Is that what you think will happen?"

His silence was frustrating but even under her rage Bulma could detect that he was struggling with something. In turn she was more frustrated than before. She spun away from him, her hand over her chest.

"You have some nerve," she said evenly. "I-I don't even know what to say to you anymore."

Bulma walked toward the kitchen, determined to act as though Vegeta's return was nothing more than an inconvenience. Nothing was going to be the same between them and it was better he realized that now.

"Where are you going?"

His voice overtook all of her thoughts and she fought as hard as she could to ignore the urge to turn around and go running back to him. She was interested to know just exactly where he had been and what he had been doing, but that was a bad idea. Bulma needed to show Vegeta that he had royally messed up, for herself.

She left him standing by himself like he had done to her all those weeks ago.

His cheek had not felt any pain, but he had been on Earth long enough to know how much the woman had wanted him to feel pain. Her hand would hurt for days.

Vegeta watched her walk into the kitchen, knowing that he should leave the woman to her own devices for awhile. He had made his appearance, it was time to go.

The trek to his bedroom was a strange one and it seemed as though he should have left the premises rather than take to his soft bed once again.

Vegeta flicked on the light switch to his room and looked around. Nothing seemed out of place or out of the ordinary. He closed the door behind him and crept to his bed. He bent down and sniffed his bedspread.

They had clearly been washed.

He pulled off his shirt and fell into bed; in an instant his entire body relaxed. He was asleep in minutes.

The next morning came uneventfully with the sun spreading over his room like molasses. Vegeta opened an eye disdainfully, eyeing the digital clock on the nightstand. It was far past morning.

He groaned, preparing to get out of bed, but it was so difficult to do. His body was unaccustomed to sleeping on high thread count silk sheets and thick foam mattresses. He was draped now in a velvet comforter from an exotic place he could not pronounce.

Bah, he was no stranger to fine wares; on his home planet he had spent at least part of his childhood resting his head on satin pillowcases. Was he really so suited to the wilderness when he clearly enjoyed the luxuries of Capsule Corporation?

Vegeta sat up, adjusting his eyes to the sunlight. His sensitive nose could smell salted meat frying downstairs. Not nearly as cranky as he had been, Vegeta rose from the bed and got dressed.

A familiar sight greeted him in the kitchen. The inventor's wife was standing in front of the stove, turning bacon as it crackled in its own fat. When she saw him there behind her, she grinned.

"Good morning, sleepyhead!" she exclaimed, waving a greasy pair of tongs in the air. "I thought I heard you snoring this morning."

He narrowed his eyes. "I do no such thing."

The older woman smiled and turned back around, tweaking the temperature of the stovetop. She smoothed out her apron with the giant pink bow on the back and gave him her full attention.

"I'm sure I was hearing things," she said.

"I'm hungry," Vegeta answered, cringing when she threw her arms around him.

She didn't move.

"Oh, of course you are!" she said in a high-pitched voice. Pulling away she added, "How many eggs would you like?"

Vegeta eyed the countertop where there lay a variety of mouthwatering foods. He folded his arms across his chest.

"All of them."

Without missing a beat, she clasped her palms together and laughed.

"One eight egg omelet coming right up dear!"

Vegeta took a seat at the island in one of the barstools and watched her get to work on preparing his breakfast. While he observed, he could not help but think.

What would the woman do when she saw him?

What would she scream at him?

What snide remark would he defend himself with? Could he even defend himself at all?

But he did not find out. Bulma never came downstairs.

Bulma sat on the edge of the desk in her office, glancing at the clock every ten minutes or so. It was five in the morning and she had been unable to sleep so she had decided to head over to the compound and get some work done. Unfortunately, she was far too distracted by recent events to even try.

She stretched out her arm in front of her and looked at her hand; it was still shaking from the shock of seeing Vegeta again.

"I'm a grown woman," she reminded herself, but it was hard to believe that when she was wearing those pink and green pajamas still.

Maybe she'd better get out of there before employees arrived. There was a suit in her tiny closet that she kept for emergencies, but there was no way it would fit over her almost 6-months pregnant stomach. Her belly button poked out a little too. No one she worked with knew that she was pregnant, although she didn't see why she shouldn't tell them. Maybe they'd throw her a party.

She carefully maneuvered off of her desk and grabbed a picture frame displaying digital images of herself in the peak of her childhood. It made her heart ache to think of that young, independent girl without any real attachments.

If there was any good in any of this, Bulma thought to herself, it's you.

She affectionately touched her belly. Yes, she would never regret the unborn baby she already loved unconditionally. It didn't matter that his father was a selfish bastard, her son was going to be as gentle and wonderful as Gohan.

Her head gave a slight pang and Bulma ran a hand through her hair. She knew she should try and deal with what was actually bothering her, but it wasn't going to happen anytime soon. She seriously could not handle it right then.

Bulma peeked out of her office windows to ensure that no one was around and then quietly opened and closed the door behind her. She crept to an elevator and rode it to the first floor. A light flickered overhead and she froze, but she was still alone.

Several minutes later she had finally reached her bedroom and locked herself inside of it. She was panting from the exertion.

Bulma slipped under her fuzzy pink comforter and groaned into her pillow. If she could only sleep away her problems, everything would be perfectly dandy. Her phone chimed from its place on her nightstand and she grabbed it grumpily.

It was a text from her head engineer letting her know that he had just arrived at work. She answered him back with a simple 'ok', happy she had gotten out of there in the knick of time. He was a nice guy but if he'd seen her like that, she'd never have heard the end of it.

Still not sleepy, Bulma spent the next few hours reading articles and playing games on her smartphone. At some point she dozed off, but an hour and a half later her eyes had fluttered open once more and she spent some time reading about the mating habits of polar bears.

Even with her door shut, Bulma could smell bacon cooking downstairs. Her stomach gave a loud growl but she was determined to stay in bed and get some real sleep if she could. Besides, if there was food being cooked, it was likely that Vegeta was near it. She'd rather starve then face him.

Think about the baby Bulma, she reminded herself.

"Oh, yeah!" she exclaimed and she threw back the covers and walked across the large room.

She knelt down in front of a silver miniature fridge, reaching inside to grab a plastic container of potato salad and a ginger ale. It wasn't the greatest meal in the world, but it would have to do.

No matter what, she was unwaveringly going to avoid Vegeta at all costs.

Bunny stared out of the window, her elbows scraping the windowsill. She sighed.

"Honestly, you should just go out there and talk to him," said her longtime friend Buri. "He seems lovely."

"Oh, Vegeta's nice enough," she said with another sigh. "But I just don't think he wants to be bothered right now."

Disheartened, Bunny took a seat next to her friend on the long green sofa in the sitting room. It was usually one of her favorite places, but not today. Not even the scores of potted pink and violet plants and the smell of her 'sun and sand' candles could make her relax. Her daughter and Vegeta were in real trouble and she couldn't think of any way to help them. She had called over Buri, a wealthy vineyard owner she had met twenty years ago, to help her come up with a plan but that had been a mistake. They had spent the last hour drinking and eating bon bons.

Buri patted her curly dark hair and lifted a porcelain cup of steaming hot rice wine to her lips. "I'll go out there and see what I can do. Just give me a moment, dear."

Bunny glanced quickly at the wine bottle and noticed it was half empty. "Maybe we'd better lay off the drinks," she commented.

"Whatever floats your boat," answered the other woman, gulping down the rest of the liquid in her glass. "But I've had a lot of experience with men if you can believe it."

Bunny didn't but what did it matter? It was clear to her that Vegeta and Bulma needed a gentle push in the right direction. They had fallen for each other before without her help. She could hardly imagine what her interference may encourage. But how should she go about it?

"You know," Buri said, sitting up straighter. "You could always just forget about it. They're adults and they can make their own decisions."

Bunny snorted.

"I'm serious! My first husband and I divorced because of his stupid, meddling mother-in-law. She just wouldn't stop interfering!"

Interested, Bunny decided to pay attention. "That doesn't sound horrible."

Buri wrinkled her brow. "She was a dictator and he was her willing stooge. She never left either of us alone and one day I got up and let them both have it! I couldn't take it anymore!"

There was a silence while Bunny thought over those words and while Buri seemed to be stewing. And then…

"I've got it!"

Her friend looked less than enthusiastic.

"Bunny, sweetheart. Whatever you're thinking… just drop it."

But it was too late, because Bunny had just had the greatest idea ever to get Vegeta and her daughter back together.

"Oh, I owe you everything!" she exclaimed cheerfully, standing up from the sofa and looking around. "Why, the solution was in front of me the whole time! Thank you!"

"What are you rambling about?"

Bunny hugged her friend. "I should leave them alone!"

Buri looked confused. "I repeat my last question."

Gosh, sometimes Buri could be a real airhead.

"I should give them some alone time! There are a few conferences that my husband declined to attend but I'll convince him to go anyway! We should be gone for one or two weeks at least!"

"I don't think-" her friend interrupted, but Bunny waved her off.

"It's perfect! They'll have no choice but to work things out! After all, Vegeta can hardly take care of himself!"

And even though Buri didn't seem to agree, Bunny was certain that she had just crafted the greatest scheme of all time.

It was gray and windy outside. Tree branches swayed, scattering birds into the air. Inside the enormous house, Bulma Brief flipped through television channels as she munched on carrot sticks.

The weekends were horrible when it came to TV shows. She was usually forced to watch reruns or old detective stories. She didn't really have anything else to do though.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

She recognized that sound. It immediately sprung fear into her heart.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

No… it couldn't be! They wouldn't!

Bulma dropped her carrot on the floor and sprung up from the couch. She ran to the bottom of the stairs where she saw her mother and father lugging large suitcases behind them.

"What's going on?" she asked, spreading her arms and placing both palms flat against each opposing wall. "Where do you guys think you're going?"

Her mother laughed and closed her eyes. "Dear, we're going for a little vacation!"

Dr. Brief snorted.

"Alright, alright," her mother said with a tiny smile. "We're headed to a couple fancy scientist things. Your father has volunteered to speak at a few lectures!"

Bulma turned to her father in bewilderment. What a traitor!

"I've hardly volunteered," he said, gently moving her arm and pulling two suitcases with great effort. "I've been hoodwinked is more like it."

"What does that mean?" asked Bulma, allowing her mother to step past. "Why are you going then?"

"It means," her father began, "that your mother called up some people and re-invited us to several boring conventions."

He looked less than happy and this gave Bulma some hope. At the very least she may be able to persuade her father to stay.

"Your father is very well-respected and it might look bad if we don't at least show our faces," her mother said with a pout. "Besides, there's plenty of time for us to enjoy the beach and the sunshine!"

"Until we get to London that is," Dr. Brief mumbled.

"Maybe I can go too?" asked Bulma, getting desperate.

Her father looked saddened. "I'm afraid we've only got two tickets for each event. Of course, I could try and schedule you in for a lecture!"

Bulma cringed. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind."

Mrs. Brief patted her arm tenderly. "I'm going to miss you sweetie. But don't you worry! I'm sure you'll find something to do while we're gone. I'll bring you back a souvenir!"

If only she could tell her parents what she was really thinking! That she would rather disappear from the earth if she was going to be left with Vegeta in that house all by herself. And why did it feel like her mother had something to do with all of this in the worst way possible?

"Mother, I know what you're trying to do."

Her father opened the front door and began piling the suitcases out front. Mrs. Brief blinked.

"Bulma! Whatever are you talking about?"

Bulma didn't satisfy her scheming mother with an answer.

"We've got to go!" her father exclaimed from outside. "Our plane will leave soon! Unless you'd rather stay here that is!"

"Oh, I'm coming dear!" her mother answered.

The two women looked at each other and then Mrs. Brief gave Bulma a long hug.

"I love you sweetheart," she said cheerfully. "I'll call you as soon as we arrive!"

"I love you too mom."

"We'll be back in a week or two, darling!"

Bulma's eyes widened in horror but she couldn't stop her nimble mother who had already grabbed her suitcases and fled out of the door and into a waiting limousine.

She grabbed onto her stomach and leaned shakily against the wall.

Vegeta heard thunder overhead and paused in his push-up. He crashed into the floor.

"Damn," he muttered, picking himself up and wiping the blood from his lip.

He wasn't sure if he should continue to train in a storm. Every other time before this one the woman or her father had come out to stop him. If they hadn't yet, the storm must not be such a big deal.

Vegeta walked over to the lone window on the side of the GR and looked out. The sky was dark and filled with rumbling, gray clouds. It threatened rain at any time. He wiped sweat from his brow and a moment later, had immersed himself back into his training routine.

Punch. Kick. Jab. Roundhouse. Punch.

Lightning illuminated the entire room and the lights above flickered. Vegeta paused, then continued. He could hear the rain pouring down, pounding down on the roof above him. The lights inside the Gravity Room flickered once more.

Then they completely went out and Vegeta was left standing in complete darkness. The sudden drop in gravity caused his knees to buckle and he caught himself on the wall before he fell.

Sweat streaked down his exhausted body. He hadn't planned to stop his routine this suddenly but he couldn't continue without the Gravity Room. Perhaps the old man could go to a fuse box or something.

The door to the GR could be opened manually if necessary and so Vegeta shouldered it open. Fat drops of rain obscured his vision and fell upon the soggy grass. It was raining so hard that Vegeta, used to harsh weather conditions, almost wanted to stay inside the dark, unpowered room. He flared his ki once he left the comfort of the dry room but it was in vain. He was soaked within seconds.

Back inside Capsule Corporation, Vegeta tossed his boots beside the back door and looked around. It was eerily quiet and he could not sense any of his housemates. Lightning flashed in the room and a deafening roll of thunder quickly followed.

What had he missed? Vegeta had lost track of time during his training, but he was certain he had only been training for a couple of hours. It appeared as though he were all alone however. They must have left.

So be it.

Vegeta walked toward the stairs, still keeping an ear out for any signs of movement and activity. To be sure he was by himself, he began checking all the rooms on the second floor.

He pressed a button and the bathroom door slid open. Less annoying products cluttered the sink than usual, but there was no other indication that someone had left. In fact, the shower curtain was open and water droplets sprinkled the tile flooring.

He slid the door shut behind him and continued down the hall. When he got to her door, he paused and considered his options. If he took the same approach as before then he might unwillingly enter himself into a shouting match.

Vegeta pressed his ear against the door. Complete silence.

The next door was ajar but the Saiyan had no intentions of going inside. It was the guest bedroom and it was never used.

Turning his head however, he noticed that the walls were no longer dressed in dull, beige paint. One of them was painted a very deep blue.

Curious, Vegeta pushed the door aside and stepped in the room. His chest tightened when he realized that he was standing inside of his son's nursery. But it was not that which had struck him so deeply. It was the enormous golden-red sphere that had been painted over a dark amethyst sky that captured his attention. There, depicted so accurately that Vegeta reached out a palm as though he might touch it, was his home planet.

It was as though he were floating through space when he stared at it. The ground under his feet disappeared and he was lost in the dark, his sight only aided by twinkling stars.

Who did this?

He hadn't seen his planet in one piece since he was a boy and he felt something indescribable when he looked at the painting. On the opposite wall there was a picture of a shiny blue and green earth, bathed in bubbly, white clouds and vivid sunlight.

Such a contrast!

His world had been so imbued with disruption and struggle. Earth was far from perfect and the inhabitants were weaklings, but for one brief moment Vegeta was glad that his son was going to be born there instead.

"What are you doing in here?"

Turning his head Vegeta saw the woman in the middle of the doorway, her eyebrows furrowed. He had been so immersed in the illustrations that he hadn't sensed her presence.

"What is this?" he asked.

There was a long pause after his question.

If there was one thing that Bulma had not planned on, it was talking to Vegeta ever again. It was really unfortunate that she had caught him in the baby's room and wondered what he was doing inside. Her stupid curiosity had bested her once again.

He was staring at her intently, waiting for her answer. The silence grew longer.

"It's called a painting," Bulma answered, trying hard not to place any emotion behind her words or on her face. "Get it? Painting?"

A surefire way to annoy Vegeta was to speak to him like he was an idiot. One of his eyes twitched but he didn't say anything. Instead he placed a palm on the wall covered by the Planet Vegeta and raised an eyebrow.

"Who is responsible for this?"

"A painter," Bulma replied, "at my mother's direction."

The disbelief on his face was easy to read. She certainly understood where it was coming from. Who would have guessed Mrs. Brief to know anything about Vegeta's home planet? She had certainly been surprised.

Damn her burning curiosity!

"Is it… is it accurate?" she asked, stepping closer so that they stood side-by-side.

Vegeta's eyes roamed over the illustration and squinted.

"I don't see two suns," he said.

Bulma pointed a finger to the left side of the Planet Vegeta where two bright dots had been painted side-by-side.

"There," she said confidently. "I think that's them."

He was so close to the drawing his nose was almost touching it.

"So they are," he replied.

There was a silence.

"Well if you don't mind," Bulma said, stepping away from the Saiyan and moving toward a large rounded crib under a window, "I've got to finish setting up the room."

"What's that thing?"

He was gesturing toward the crib, made of white and tan hard plastic covered with gloss. It didn't look like a traditional crib either; instead of bars it had a large window for the baby to see out of. It was also rounded at the top, much like a bathtub.

"It's the baby's bed," Bulma answered. "Hand me a stuffed animal, will you?"

From the corner of the room Vegeta pulled out a green teddy bear and tossed it to her. After catching it, Bulma rested the bear onto the mattress and pressed a button. Instantly the mattress began to rise. Once it had risen, she pressed the same button to watch it sink.

"What purpose does it serve our son to go on rides when he's supposed to be asleep?" Vegeta asked with scrunched eyebrows.

Bulma rolled her eyes. "It's to help us pick him up. It puts less strain on our backs that way."

"I don't need a contraption to help me pick up an infant."

She ignored him.

"There's also a video baby monitor, a speaker system we can play music through, and air and heat circulation. And," she continued, "this is the best part."

She pressed a button and the crib began to gently sway side to side.

"Now I'm going to show you why this is the greatest crib you've ever laid eyes on."

Bulma grabbed Vegeta's hand and in that instant a dozen memories flashed through her mind. Like the time she had realized that his eyes were brown… and he had let her kiss him. It sent a pang to her heart that caused her to immediately drop his hand.

"Follow me," she said, recovering.

Walking down the stairs, Bulma tried as hard as she could to lose the feeling of holding Vegeta's hand in her own. She was past that now; he had left her with no choice. So why was it trembling? And why had he grabbed hers too?

She entered the kitchen and turned on a light. A TV near a cabinet dropped down and Bulma indicated it to the prince.

"Ta-dah!"

He stepped in front of her and shook his head. "You've got to be kidding me."

The monitor displayed the green teddy bear rocking slowly in the crib, a soft lullaby playing in the background.

"Isn't this great?" she asked. "Any television and computer in the house is hooked up wirelessly to the baby monitor. I can see and hear him no matter where I'm at or what time it is."

He looked impressed.

"What if I don't feel like watching the baby do whatever it is that baby's do all day?"

"Then change the source," Bulma said matter-of-factly. "Press the 'TV' button on the remote."

She looked around.

"I guess you should try and familiarize yourself with it as much as possible. You've got a few months at least if you plan on sticking around that long."

It had been what she was thinking but it was an accident nonetheless. Bulma definitely wanted no part in any conversation that related back to Vegeta's absence. She gave a curt nod and began walking toward the stairs to finish the nursery, but a hand grabbed her arm.

"No one believes you're just going to go upstairs and shut up, so spit it out," Vegeta said to her with an arched eyebrow.

There was a flash of lightening and the lights went off and came back on. Thunder rattled the windows.

Bulma involuntarily jumped. She hated thunder!

"I don't have time for this," she said to the Saiyan, trying to steady her breathing. "Seriously. What happened, happened and I don't have anything to say to you about it anymore."

Vegeta didn't let her go. Instead, he faced her toward a barstool.

"Sit."

She was eying him suspiciously but she did as he instructed and took a seat.

"Since when have you ever willingly started a conversation with me?" she asked.

He ignored her barb and walked over to the window. He watched as the rain poured down from the sky. She was right to be mistrustful of him. Even now he didn't want to talk to her.

"What do you want from me?" the woman inquired from behind him. "I've already told you that I don't have anything else to say to you."

Vegeta could not tell her what he wanted from her; he wasn't quite sure himself. He only knew that something between the two of them needed to change in order for him to function normally. He loathed their connection but he could hardly deny it.

He turned to face her. The woman was leaning forward on the counter with both hands curled under her chin. Their eyes met.

Gah! His heart was knocking so loudly against his ribcage he was certain that the woman could hear it. Her blue eyes were demanding an apology that he had given in his dreams but could not bear to mutter aloud.

"Why did you leave?"

The words were soft but they echoed loudly in Vegeta's ears. Had anyone else asked him that particular question he would have shot off an angry retort, but he couldn't bring himself to do it to her. At least not right now.

"I don't know."

"Bullshit."

Her voice was gaining a few octaves and that put Vegeta at ease. He unlocked himself from her gaze.

"It was something I had to do."

Silence.

"I don't expect you to understand."

The woman didn't say anything, which was uncharacteristic for her but it put Vegeta at ease. Maybe he could talk and get this over with without her interrupting. Perhaps she wouldn't ask him any questions and they could go on with their lives as if nothing had happened.

He cracked his neck and walked over to the window again. It was so dark that he could see nothing but the dim glow of garden lights in the backyard.

"Maybe I would understand if you told me," came her low voice through the quiet.

Tell her? He let out an involuntary laugh at the foreign concept.

"I'm serious, Vegeta. You can trust me, you know."

Can I? Can I trust anyone?

She had puzzled him. How could he trust her when he did not trust himself?

"I noticed something was bothering you before… before you left," the woman continued, and Vegeta heard the stool scrape across the floor. "Does that have anything to do with it?"

She was beside him now, her body close enough that he could smell the scent of her food-scented shampoo. It was pleasant enough.

Vegeta let a long pause go on before he decided to answer her.

"You asked me about my mother," he said, placing a palm on the cold glass in front of him. "Have you forgotten?"

The woman shook her head, a loose tendril of blue hair falling into her eyes as she looked up at him.

"You said she died when you were little."

"Of a rare illness," Vegeta said with a straight face, his eyes betraying no emotion.

"Vegeta," began the woman, but he cut her off before she could pity him.

"It doesn't matter," he said curtly. "I accepted her death long ago and your questions meant nothing to me."

He frowned.

"But that night I…"

And it was here that he stopped, the images from that horrible nightmare haunting him instantly. It was with great strength that he continued, feeling weak for his sudden fear. He was the Prince of all Saiyans and he was afraid of nothing.

"I dreamt of her and Frieza."

The look on the woman's face meant that she knew what he meant and he was glad she was competent enough to understand. He had absolutely no intentions of recounting the morbid tale for her.

"How often did it happen?" she asked.

"When my eyes were closed."

She placed a hand on his right bicep and squeezed. He flinched from the contact.

"Does it still happen?"

Vegeta shook his head. "No, but what does that matter? It could happen again at any instant."

"The woman shook her head and sighed. "Is that what this is all about? Honestly?"

He turned toward her and grabbed her wrist in his hand, not understanding why she wasn't afraid of him. What was going on in that head of hers?

"You fool! You nearly died because of me! And you wouldn't be the first! You haven't the slightest idea who you're dealing with! I'm not that idiot ex-boyfriend of yours!"

She pulled away, the expression on her face difficult to read.

"I know perfectly well about your past, Vegeta and I don't care! Stop treating me like I'm a child! I told you over and over again that I can handle myself! You are not the first unpredictable Saiyan that I've ever met! And furthermore, I have never expected you to be like anyone else, so shut up already!"

She pounded the glass in front of her and blew out a long breath.

"You're such an idiot. I thought you were never coming back."

Vegeta grunted. "You came to that conclusion fairly quickly despite not caring about my past."

Well, when he had a point, he had a point. Bulma didn't really have an answer for that.

"You didn't tell me where you were going or even that you were, so what exactly was I supposed to think?" she asked him. "I mean, you didn't exactly seem thrilled about…"

Vegeta looked down at her, his eyebrow arched. He didn't answer.

"It was a reasonable conclusion to draw," she said quietly. "That's all that I'm saying."

Neither of them spoke for a minute. Bulma rested her hands on her belly, starting to feel self-conscious about their conversation. What were the two of them doing here? Why was this so difficult to talk about for her?

Bulma gave Vegeta a sideways glance. He was staring out of the window without speaking, his brown eyes gleaming as lightning flashed across his face. She felt that pang in her chest again and turned away. She was beginning to realize why his leaving had bothered her so much.

But she was never going to say it, not even to herself.

"You should have been honest with me," Bulma told him, walking to the pantry and looking inside. "Even if you still decided to leave, I think I deserved to know why."

"You would have made me stay."

Bulma grabbed a sleeve of crackers and joined Vegeta again at the window.

"True," she admitted. "But give me more credit. I'd have understood why you felt you needed to go."

He looked down at her, his eyes focused intently on hers.

"Would you have?"

Bulma thought carefully, slipping a salted cracker into her mouth. From what she gathered, Vegeta's past had finally caught up with him. When she took his words into consideration she realized she no longer felt angry with him, only sorry for him. Besides, she wasn't a Saiyan and she had no idea what it felt like to be one on Earth.

"I would have understood," she repeated. "And if you really needed to get away on your own for awhile, I would have understood that too."

He blinked a few times and turned back to the window.

"Perhaps I was wrong to doubt you."

Vegeta's revelation caused her eyes to widen. She decided not to speak just in case he had anything else to add. She was right to be silent. His jaw was clenched as he appeared to struggle for words. Finally, he relaxed.

"I don't plan to leave again."

"You don't have to stay here forever, you know," Bulma assured him with a tiny smile that she hoped put him at ease.

"What if I intend to?"

Bulma offered the sleeve of crackers to him.

"Good."

Something instantly changed between them in that moment; even the air felt lighter. Bulma was happier and she could tell that Vegeta was too, even if he didn't say anything. He accepted the crackers and ate a few, looking more peaceful than she had seen him that night.

It was too soon to say if things between the two of them could return to normal, and Bulma wasn't quite sure what normal entailed. She remembered shouting matches and arguments, fixing the Gravity Room, bringing food and falling asleep together.

A bolt of lightening lit up the kitchen and when it had disappeared, so had all of the lights in the room.

"Great," Bulma said, irritated. "There goes the power."

There were completely engulfed in darkness. Bulma could barely see her hand in front of her face. Beside her, Vegeta had finished all of the crackers and didn't appear disturbed by the sudden loss of electricity.

"This is much better," he said after her complaint. "All of those lights were annoying."

Bulma felt her way to the island counter. "Yeah, well those annoying lights are what keeps all the food cold. I need to find the fuse box fast."

In a flash, Vegeta was behind her, his arms gripping her shoulders. He turned her away from the counter and toward the window. Outside, lightening went off like fireworks!

"Kame! I've never seen anything like that before!"

Peals of thunder interrupted her speech and she whimpered involuntarily.

Vegeta smirked at her. "You haven't changed at all, woman. Still think you're going to get struck by lightening in this fancy palace of yours."

Bulma tightened her lips together and didn't speak. He was right in a way. Maybe it was time she wasn't so afraid of thunderstorms. They were really beautiful, actually and the rain was soothing.

She rested her head on Vegeta's shoulder and she felt him tense, but a second later he had moved his arm and placed it around her waist so that his palm rested on her stomach.

Almost immediately there was a sensation that she had never felt before. She gasped as she felt a tumbling motion from within her belly.

"What in the…!"

Vegeta had snatched his hand away from her stomach and whipped her around to face him. He stared daggers at her stomach.

"Did you feel that, woman?"

Bulma winced as it happened again. "Ow, it's strong."

Her eyes widened as she began to understand what was going on. She grabbed Vegeta's hands and squealed. He flinched at her loud voice.

"It's the baby! He's kicking! Put your hands here!"

Bulma had never felt so excited about anything in her life. It was one thing to be pregnant, it was quite another to feel a life inside of you. It made everything very, very real. She placed Vegeta's hands on the top of her stomach, under her navel.

It happened again! This time it was softer, almost like he were apologizing for the first one.

There were tears in her eyes that she could hardly stop from rolling down her cheeks. Vegeta's mouth was open and she couldn't tell if he was in shock over the baby's first movements, or that she was crying because of it.

He put his face eye level to her belly button and glared.

"Boy! Stop that!"

Bulma let out a laugh so loud she was sure the neighbors could hear her. She ruffled Vegeta's hair affectionately as her tears dried.

"It's okay, Vegeta," she said as she felt another hard jab. "That's what… that's what he's supposed to do!"

"Is it hurting you?" he wanted to know, standing up and placing his other hand on her stomach too.

Bulma shook her head. "Not at all. Ah! There it is again!"

She laughed once more and Vegeta shook his head.

"Crazy woman."

Bulma wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head. Behind them thunder rocked the house.

They were like that for awhile, neither one of them speaking or moving; they just stood in the middle of the kitchen floor, letting the darkness of night swallow them whole.

A/N: One more chapter to go! See you at the end!