34.

"Hold still you big baby," Bulma said through gritted teeth. With a hand on either of Nappa's gargantuan shoulders, she attempted to position him where she wanted. Unfortunately the old lug was as pliable as he looked.

"You going to warn me that this might hurt a little?" he snapped, echoing her words from before she'd chopped his hand off.

"Don't forget I saved you life, bud."

"The only thing you saved wa-"

"Bulma," her mother interrupted. "I asked you to help Nappa. Be nice."

Nappa flashed her a grin. "Yeah Bulma. Be nice."

She fought the urge to chop off his other hand, but even though the thought of doling out some physical harm was nice, she knew she wouldn't hurt him. Not really. She'd only done it the first time to test her theory about blood circulation. And to keep him from Turning, of course.

"Fine." Bulma retrieved the device her mother had suggested she craft Nappa. For some reason, Mrs. Brief was worried about the man facing Walkers at a disadvantage. With deft fingers, Bulma unwrapped the gauze before slipping the metal cup over the stump where Nappa's hand used to be. She then secured the prosthetic with a leather belt, one she'd 'borrowed' from Tien, and wiped some of the water droplets from Nappa's arm. He'd gone for a second dip in the hot spring after lunch with some of the guys; it wasn't a bad decision because they'd be off in the morning. In fact, she could use a second dose of healing water herself. As a final touch, Bulma screwed a knife to the stump's end. It wasn't very pretty, but it would do.

Nappa inspected the bayonet, lifting the blade and staring at his own reflection.

"Well?"

"It's…" he replied, lowering the limb and testing the weight of it, the security of the leather strap. "Pretty bad ass."

Looking pleased with herself, Bulma nodded. "Good. The knife is removable. You should probably keep it off when Walkers aren't a threat."

"Walkers are always a threat, babe."

She planted her hands on her hips and clarified, "When they're not an imminent threat. While we're sleeping we'd appreciate you not waving a weapon around."

Rolling his eyes, Nappa walked away. Bulma watched him cross the meadow to sit on one of the rocks surrounding their campfire. Resting his elbows on his knees, he started up a conversation with Vegeta who showed mild interest in the upgraded stump. Bulma allowed a little bubble of pleasure at this; Vegeta rarely showed interest in anything. When he did it was usually in killing Walkers or eating food. Upon very rare occasion his glimpses of approval had something to do with herself.

"I should go see if he'd like a treat," Mrs. Brief sighed.

"A… treat?" Bulma deadpanned. She dusted off the back of her pants as she stood to face her mother, who was watching the soldiers talking near the flames.

"Of course Bulma. A treat. That Vegeta you've been eyeing deserves one as well."

"He deserves a treat?" she asked, more out of curiosity to discover what was going on in her mother's head than anything else.

"You know like your slice of dessert after dinner, or maybe offer to wash his shirt. These boys are so nice, and they deserve a treat every now and then."

Bulma shook her head and wondered how her mother would've fared without her help. It seemed like ages ago when she'd spotted Goku climbing over the wall of Capsule Corps.. She knew the answer before asking herself; her mother wouldn't have made it a day without them. Thankfully she had a bit more faith in her father. Yes he could be flighty and distracted, but he wasn't alone. He was surrounded by the brightest and most resourceful men and women on the planet. Surely once they'd put their heads together they'd discovered … something. She bit her lip and retrieved her gun. 18 stood on the edge of the wood, sharpening her arrows into tips. They'd blunted after so many uses, and though the blonde didn't look up as Bulma passed, she clarified,

"I'm going to put my feet in the water." Bulma checked the safety on her pistol. Red meant dead, but it was necessary to keep on guard out here. "It's been a long day."

"It's been a long month," 18 replied.

Bulma opened her mouth to provide some comfort, but came up short. There was really nothing to say. They hadn't found 17's body, so there was still a chance, but it was too difficult to live with that much hope. The pain of losing a sibling wasn't something Bulma had any experience with, and offering any sympathy felt hollow. But they had to press on, to keep living. Sometimes it felt like they'd resorted back to primal modes of survival. Sometimes Bulma wondered what the point of pushing on was at all.

But her dad would find a cure. If he didn't, then she would do so herself. Yamcha had been a dear friend. Her first boyfriend, someone she thought she'd loved. She missed him, but she knew it was nothing compared to what 18 had lost. Nothing compared to Chichi, watching her father die to save her.

So Bulma bit her lips together and kept walking. The smell of sulfur clung to the humid air and she breathed it in. When she found a small little crevice in the earth, she pulled off her boots and socks and dipped her feet in, exhaling. She sat on the ground, crossed her arms over her knees and rested her chin on one of her hands.

"It isn't safe out here alone."

She turned and smiled at Vegeta. "Well good thing I'm not."

He didn't look amused. "Put your shoes back on."

"You're such a buzz kill," she replied, even as she slipped her socks back on and began tying the laces to her boots. "Besides, you better be careful. It sounds like you're worried about me."

"Hn," Vegeta grunted, and as Bulma got to her feet she didn't miss the careful way he surveyed their surroundings but remained aware of her. "I fear for the others if they lost you. They wouldn't last a second."

"And you couldn't boss them around?" she asked, tone saccharine sweet.

"They wouldn't listen and it wouldn't be worth the effort trying. Kakarot would be forced to read the map so they'd get nowhere, and if one of them got bitten no one would think to remove the site of infection."

He started walking deeper into the sloping foothills and she followed him. Kicking some leaves aside, Bulma grinned and replied,

"Still. It's good that you worry about them."

He frowned. "I don't."

"Oh Vegeta. There's an ounce of care in that black little heart of yours." She punctuated her words by tapping his chest with her index finger. Vegeta shoved her hand away and only frowned when she stumbled, but remained on her feet.

It wasn't the first time she found herself wandering the woods alone with Vegeta. It was clear that he respected her more than the others, but she found herself trusting him most too. If her life were to be in any of their hands, well, she'd pick the most capable to entrust it with. Raditz and Nappa followed him blindly because he was their leader, but the others were always a little salty around him. Goku told her once that it was because Vegeta was too prideful. But she couldn't fault him for walking around like he was better than everyone. It was a trait they shared, and one she'd never felt the need to apologize for.

In an attempt to keep her footsteps as soundless as possible, Bulma mirrored Vegeta's steps. Stepping toe first and being careful to trod where the foliage was least dense. Vegeta walked ahead, gun in hand, hatchet strapped to his back, knife blade hanging from his belt like some action hero in a flick Bulma would've paid good money to see. She'd munch on popcorn and notice the way his black t-shirt hugged his chest. The way his arms bunched as he adjusted the rifle. The way his strong jaw clenched every time she accidentally snapped a twig because she was too busy looking at him to make proper footing.

Bulma might've been a genius and a bad ass and, sure, not bad looking herself, but attractive men had always been her weakness. Even at the most unfortunate times.

Especially at the most unfortunate times.

Through the trees Bulma spotted a two story cabin. A pile of brush sat in front of the wooden house, surrounded by a circle of stones as though someone intended to burn the tree limbs but hadn't gotten around to it yet. She gave Vegeta an uneasy look, but he wore the same jaded frown as always so she wasn't quite sure if he had the same inkling of fear.

"See how they've scattered? It's been awhile since this was gathered," she whispered, blue eyes searching the brush pile.

"Maybe something came up." With a shrug, Vegeta quickly took the two small steps onto the cabin's porch and stood by the large wooden door. Bulma took place at his side, worrying her lip with her teeth before reaching up and pounding her small fist against the door.

Silence. Vegeta's frown never wavered. "Careful," he instructed, before throwing open the door and raising his rifle. The second the door was open two lumbering figures started toward them. A male reached them first, wearing dirty jeans and a plaid shirt. Bulma raised her pistol but Vegeta got to his gun first - kicking him backwards before sinking his hatchet blade into the Walker's skull. The second figure was slower, clunkier. Bulma squeezed the trigger, catching the female Walker in the left eye. The Walker's knees gave out and she teetered to one side, falling with a soft billow of a cotton skirt. Bulma watched her sink to the ground and lay motionless.

When no other sound came from the cabin, Bulma inhaled a sigh of relief. And gagged.

"It reeks," she moaned, cupping one of her hands over her nose to keep the stench of death from assaulting her senses. She'd dealt with the same before, but the smell of rotting flesh being confined in this cabin for who knows how long… She looked over to find Vegeta just glaring around the cramped living space, searching for evidence even though they both knew what they'd find if they looked hard enough.

Finding nothing, Vegeta disappeared through the small door frame and Bulma followed. In the corner a skeleton sat hunched forward, picked over. Bulma looked away and fought the bile from rising in her throat. Vegeta seemed less affected, but she knew given his background he'd seen and caused death before.

It wasn't comforting, but it was the way things were.

He might be accustomed to it but he still struggled to fight off the smell. Vegeta stepped forward and retrieved a revolver that had been abandoned on the dining room table. He pressed his thumb against the cylinder release latch, and his frown deepened as the cylinder swung outward to reveal its contents.

"Only two bullets." He shoved the nearly useless gun between his back and the waistband of his pants and moved onto a second weapon - a compact bow. There were even a few arrows handy. Grinning, he checked the strings as Bulma rifled through the pantry, removing a tin of chocolate frosting, a can of stewed tomatoes and a canning jar of pickles. As she zipped her pack up and slung one of the straps over her shoulder, something rustled upstairs. She met Vegeta's gaze and he nodded, once, before taking a few silent steps toward the staircase.

"We should just go," she whispered, even though she knew there could be other resources - food, weapons, bottled water, maybe a pack of matches or a book - or possibly survivors who needed their assistance. Vegeta ignored her words and started up the steps, his feline grace making her feel uncoordinated and clunky.

A wooden door awaited them at the top of the staircase - three slats of wood helped to nail it shut.

"They were trying to keep those Walkers out," he said, beginning to pry the wood from the wall. "Or those upstairs were hoping to keep those two downstairs."

Either way, Bulma wasn't anxious to stick around to find out. Her sweaty palms clutched the pistol with both hands, and when Vegeta succeeded in removing the third and final two-by-four, he pushed the door in.

There were six of them. Bulma took a careful step backwards, her toes seeking purchase on a lower step as a half dozen Walkers turned in her direction simultaneously, smelling her flesh and releasing that low, wrenching moan that still caused a shiver to snake down her spine. They started barreling toward them, bottlenecking at the doorway. Vegeta stepped in front of her, momentarily blocking out the frightening scene with his back. He swung at the first, hatched arching downward and splitting one of the Walker's skulls. There were too many of them in too cramped a space for Vegeta to take them on by hand. He pulled the hatchet from the fallen Walker but as soon as he'd fallen another was there to take his place. Vegeta planted his elbow into the Walker's jaw and though it stumbled back, buying them some time, he knew it was only a few second before it recovered.

Reaching for the recently confiscated revolver in his waistband, he raised the weapon and squeezed the trigger. The barrel clicked but nothing happened.

"Shit," he cursed, tossing the weapon to the ground. "It's jammed."

Without another word, he grabbed for Bulma's elbow and started pulling her down the staircase, through the tiny living room where the stench of death clung to the air, and out the thick wooden door. Vegeta let go of her and she felt… cold. Alone again. He threw the cabin door closed before taking off running. Unsure if her legs would be able to keep up, Bulma followed as best she could, stumbling down the pair of porch steps and breaking into a spring as they reached the woods.

One Walker stood at the edge of the forest and hearing their commotion lumbered toward them. Vegeta raised his rifle and took it out with a single bullet through the center of its skull. An impressive shot at this distance, even for him.

Bulma's heart thrummed in her chest. The pumping of blood filled her ears and clouded her vision. Vegeta had stopped running and allowed her to catch her breath. She inhaled deeply, gasping, and noted that Vegeta wasn't winded. His eyes were narrowed in the direction of the cabin in the distance and she knew if she didn't stop him he'd return to take out the Walkers left inside. A small mercy, perhaps, but it wasn't mercy that drove his actions. It was rage.

"It isn't worth it," she managed when the exhaustion began giving way to a shaking sensation of relief. She was alive. She'd made it another day despite the danger that seemed ready to take her at every corner. Though her heart still pounded furiously against her ribs, it wasn't fear as much now as it was adrenaline. It flooded her every pore with nervous excitement. The waves of her pulse like canons in her ears, the rush heightening her senses and numbing the edges of her conscious.

"I'm not used to this yet."

Vegeta shrugged off her words. "It isn't something you get used to. You just learn to deal with it."

She wasn't ready to deal with it, but she didn't want Vegeta to get the impression that she was weak. So instead she continued walking even though her heartbeat was racing and her hands were shaking. When she inhaled, it wasn't the stench of rotting flesh but the pungent odor of sulfur. A small comfort; a reminder that she'd been recently washed and safe and not alone through this hellish nightmare.

And when she glanced over to find Vegeta's profile lit by the setting sun, she stopped walking. He was… handsome. Certainly rugged. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed, but with her pulse spiking and adrenaline pumping she was ultra aware of every inch of him. While her own naturally alabaster skin had reddened, his was honeyed from long days spent in the sun. His mop of black hair stood from the crown of his head, swooping up into a gravity-defying flame. His brows were always knitted low over his dark eyes, and Bulma's fingers itched to trace the lines of his high, regal cheekbones and the lower lip that was always turned down in a frown.

They weren't the only thing she wanted to touch. Bulma could see the corded of muscles at his neck and collarbone disappearing into the opening of his shirt, a promise of the sinew of hard muscle that lay there. It wasn't just the adrenaline spike that urged her to give in and feel him, solid and real and unyielding to this hellish nightmare. Lunch had claimed in the hot spring that Chichi wanted Goku so she could have an anchor in this world worth living for.

Bulma didn't want anything as silly as that. But she wouldn't mind a bit of a break - some fun before she had to go back to camp and continue pressing on, to continue searching for hope in a mostly hopeless world.

And then there was the blood coursing through her veins, a flare of excitement at the thought of being alive. A slow smile spread across her features, tugged at her lips. Her mother's words echoed in her mind.

For once, Mrs. Brief was right - Vegeta did deserve a treat. They all did for making it this long.

Stepping forward and thoroughly invading his precious personal space, Bulma channeled her feminine wiles. She peered up at him through her lashes and nearly burst into laughter.

Vegeta looked … terrified. Caught off guard he took a step back, regaining some of his space, and she delighted in the touch of color on his cheeks. He was uncomfortable with her, and not to be deterred, she took another step toward him and grinned. This time he looked less surprised. He still didn't look happy for her to be standing so close but he hadn't ripped her head off, so he wasn't mad at least.

The little crease between his brows hardened. He definitely didn't look happy. Bulma dipped her head to one side a bit her plump lower lip.

"Quit looking at me like you're contemplating the easiest way to kill me."

"I don't particularly want to kill you," he replied, voice low. "I just wouldn't mind if you died."

She rolled her eyes. "That's bullshit; we've already decided that it's in your best interest to keep me around. Besides, I'm tired of talking about death." Neither the frown or crease let up. She placed a brazen hand on his chest and delighted in the tightening of muscle she could feel beneath the soft material of his shirt. "We should be celebrating that we're among the living."

His frown remained as one of her hands slipped from his chest to his stomach and down to buckle of his belt. His frown was still present as she loosened the belt and when her fingers slid the button of his pants free. His expression held jaded as she tugged his zipper down.

But when she tilted her head just so and brushed her lips against his, the frown was gone. She couldn't see it but she could feel the evidence of it as Vegeta grabbed her hips, yanked her none too gently forward, and kissed her back.

.

FINALLY some BV, amiright? Sorry if the romance (bah, who'm I kidding? this isn't romance… YET) is too much for you. I'm sorry these hooligans aren't able to keep it in their pants. They're flawed, I tell you. :P

Also. Nappa is Merle Dixon. I can't help it.