When Bulma was five years old she'd broken her arm, stupidly believing she could fly from the tree in her front yard to her bedroom window. Her frantic parents had driven her to the emergency room where the stench of sterilization was overwhelming, the sounds of a routine day in the hospital frightening her small being to the core. To this day she could remember the lights above her as she sat trembling on the stiff bed, arm throbbing as her mother fussed over her. Bulma still hated anything to do with the doctors office, and the smell of sterilization products made her stomach churn.

But here she was, stuck in a small waiting room wondering if one of the people she cared about most would die.

Her knee bounced in a nervous rhythm, eyes swollen and red from sobbing. This was her fault. Vegeta was hurt, seriously so, and he did it for her. She should be the one in there. She should have been the one hit by that car. Maybe if she had paid more attention crossing the street this wouldn't have happened. Maybe If she'd answered his text the night before they could have met up that next morning and avoided everything all together. They could have talked it out and everything would have been fine. But no. She had to be stubborn. Her heart had ached for him last night; he'd looked so handsome and her feelings had gotten the best of her. In one fleeting moment she'd pushed Vegeta just a bit more than his stoic countenance could handle. She'd taken the initiative and his rejection hurt. Deeply. But that didn't mean she didn't still care for him. Quite the opposite in fact.

It was well known in their city that Bulma Briefs was a lot to handle. She'd had several high profile relationships that had crashed and burned; spectacularly. Vegeta was the only man in her life besides her father that treated her like a human being. He didn't care if her clothes were expensive, and frequently called her out on her tantrums. Despite his grumblings, sarcastic comments, and all around prickly nature, deep down Bulma knew he cared for her. She'd never seen him behave with such patience towards anyone, and the thought that he'd taken her place in front of that car without hesitation made her guts wrench painfully.

When the ambulance arrived only a few moments after the accident she had thrown herself into the back alongside his gurney, watching with horror as he was pricked and examined, the paramedics giving nervous glances at one another. The sirens screamed and the van bounced down the road, but all Bulma could focus on was Vegeta's still body. One of the paramedics asked her questions, but all she could hear was buzzing. There was no doubt she was in a mild state of shock, and once they had reached the hospital she had to be steered out of the back and into the hospital waiting room where she had now been sitting for several hours. Whenever the door opened she'd stand, only to feel disappointment crashing over her like a tidal wave when it was just another person like her, waiting for news.

Another hour passed before the door opened, and in stepped an older man in a white lab coat, "Miss Briefs?"

Bulma's hand immediately covered her heart for fear it would pound out of her chest, "Yes, that's me. How is he? Will he be alright-"

"He's okay," the doctor said gently, sitting beside her, "somehow he's not catastrophically injured. He's got a small hairline fracture on his pelvic bone that will heal on its own and we believe a concussion. Not to mention he's banged up with bruises and a bit of road rash. But he will be just fine given some serious rest."

The breath in Bulma's lungs left with a whoosh, "Oh thank God, thank you, thank you."

"Quite a miracle really," the doctor mused, patting Bulma's shoulder, "if that young man wasn't in such great physical shape the story would have been much different. I've seen milder accidents that result in a lot worse. He's a bit drowsy from the pain medication, but you're more than welcome to visit him if you like. He was asking about you."

"H-he was?"

"Mmmhmm," the doctor nodded, "he wanted to make sure you were alright. He woke up in quite a foul mood once we had him on the examination table. Said something about smashing my brains in if I did anything to you."

"Oh Vegeta," Bulma groaned, "I'm so sorry. He's got a bit of a temper."

The doctor chuckled, "No harm done. Once we had that IV in him he was a little more compliant. He's in room 203, down the hall to the left. Take care of him alright? No physical activity for a few weeks; period. And he will have to have a check up here in about five days to look at that bump on his head."

Bulma nodded, "Thank you so much sir. I'll make sure of it."

"Alright then," the doctor stood, shaking Bulma's hand, "he's a good man Miss Briefs, he did a very brave thing from what I hear. Not many people I know would sacrifice themselves like that. Even when we were telling him what was going on with his injuries, all he was asking for was 'my Bulma.' I'm not exactly sure what your relationship is, but I thought you should know. Good day Miss."

Bulma watched the doctors back as the door closed, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.

"My Bulma." He'd said.

Despite the awful nature of the situation, Bulma felt her lips pull up in a smile and the happy tears began to fall. He was going to be alright. Her surly, grouchy Vegeta was going to be fine.

Her body froze. 'Her Vegeta.'

Oh. She had it bad.

Before she could muse any longer, Bulma finally gathered the courage to step out into the hallway, praying that he wouldn't turn her away once she reached him. Although she couldn't blame him if he did. It was her turn to take care of him now, and she intended to do just that.

Vegeta glared at the nurse beside his bed. "I said take out these IV's. I don't need them."

"Sir," the young female crooned kindly, "you've had a nasty accident. I can't take these out unless the doctor okays it first."

"Well," he hissed through clenched teeth, "get the doctor then. I don't need to be here-"

He stopped when he heard the choked sob in the doorway.

It was Bulma.

The nurse looked from Vegeta, to her, then back to him, "I'll be back in a short while." She said gently, and then eased around Bulma who was still standing by the door.

Vegeta stared hard at her, scrutinizing every piece of her visible skin for injuries. She looked alright physically he decided, but her red face and puffy eyes spoke volumes. He swallowed, looking off to the side at the white linoleum floor, "You look like hell." He muttered.

Bulma choked back a wet laugh, "You big, dumb idiot. You're one to talk. God you're so scraped up..."

He finally looked back at her when she started sobbing again, arm trying to cover her face so he couldn't see her tears, "V-Vegeta, I was so s-scared. I-I thought-"

"Are you going to come here or what?"

The arm covering her eyes went down. Bulma was sure she looked like a mess, but the gentleness of his words made her not care, "W-what?"

Vegeta sighed and winced, adjusting himself to sit up straighter, "Bulma, I can't really get up to go to you. Come here."

Within a few steps she was standing beside the bed, arms hugging herself tightly, "Vegeta, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. If I hadn't done, well, you know what last night none of this would have happened. I hope you can forgive me-"

He held up a hand to quiet her, "Bulma, stop. None of this is your fault,"

"Yes it is," she hiccuped, sinking into the chair beside his bed, face in her hands, "you c-could have died. I would have never been able to forgive myself. If you never want to s-speak to me again I understand," Bulma's words were broken again by her sobs, her whole body seeming to shrink as she hunched over.

For a long moment Vegeta was quiet, letting Bulma expel her overwhelming emotions. It was not in Vegeta's nature to be nurturing. It was hard for him to give something he didn't seem to have. He'd never grown up with compassion, no one to run to when he felt afraid. There was no one in his life he would lay down his for.

No one except her.

As if he were petting a frightened animal, he reached out with trepidation and rested his large hand on top of Bulma's head. She quieted, eyes barely visible through the curtain of her hair as she peeked out and sniffed pitifully at him.

Vegeta swallowed. Fuck. She was beautiful. Slowly, he brushed her hair down, tucking it gently behind her ear, "Bulma, I really don't know what to say," he rumbled, "unfortunately for you, I'm pretty indestructible. The doctors said so. The bump on my skull didn't scramble my brains enough make me a romantic imbecile which is really a shame."

She blinked at him, "Are you seriously making jokes right now?"

Vegeta smirked, "Depends. Is it working?"

"Damnit Vegeta," Bulma groaned, plopping her forehead on his mattress, "you're crazy. You know that right?"

"I've been told," he continued to pet her hair, "I'm really no good at this. What can I do?"

"You've done enough!" Bulma snapped, raising her head up. Startled, Vegeta snatched his hand back. "You threw yourself in front of a car for me! I care about you, you big oaf! I don't know what I would do without you! I owe you my life!"

"You don't owe me anything," Vegeta insisted, but Bulma continued;

"I am going to make it up to you. I swear it. And I promise I won't..." she trailed off blushing, "I mean, what I did last night was inappropriate. I shouldn't have done that. It won't happen again."

Vegeta felt his jaw drop, a surprising wave of disappointment washing over him, "Bulma-"

"I was way too forward," she continued over him, "I must have made myself look like such a hoochie-"

"Bulma-"

"Especially when I know you have no interest in me, you said so yourself and I kept pushing-"

Frustration finally reaching its peak, Vegeta snarled, "Bulma Briefs will you stop talking and listen to me?! How can I tell you I want you-"

"I hear someone wants their IV's out." A voice came from the foot of the bed.

Both Vegeta and Bulma's head whipped around to see the smirking doctor.

The doctor pulled out Vegeta's chart and leisurely thumbed through it, happily ignoring the two pairs of eyes on him, "Sorry to tell you sir, but we're going to have to keep you overnight for observation. It's that darn bump on your head. I'll see if I can get you going first thing in the morning if everything goes well."

If Vegeta had his way, the doctors lab coat would be tied in a knot around his stupid smug neck, "Is. That. All?" He hissed.

"Yup," the doctor put the cart back into the holder, "sorry about the news. Good thing you have this pretty young thing to keep you company." He winked, "Miss Briefs you have a nice evening."

"You too sir." Bulma smiled. The doctor waved on his way out the door, the eyes of Vegeta burning an imaginary hole in his back.

"Well, isn't he so sweet?" Bulma smiled, "What was it you were saying?"

Vegeta growled and flopped back against his pillow, "Just...forget it. I'm tired."

"Oh no, is it your head? Does it hurt?" Bulma asked. She placed her palm against his forehead, the skin of her hand cooling his hot flesh.

The contact almost made Vegeta purr, "A little." He grumbled.

"Is there anything I can get you?" Her fingers began running through his thick black hair; if she kept this up he might fall asleep.

"Mm no." He muttered, eyes becoming half-lidded.

"Do you want me to go so you can sleep?" She whispered.

His eyes, dark as the night sky slid to meet her worried gaze, "You can do what you want."

Her bow lips pulled into a line, the crease he adored between her eyebrow appearing. She was weighing her options. Vegeta let his eyes drift shut, "I don't mind... if you want to stay." He finally admitted, "if you want too."

He could hear the smile in her voice, "Okay. I'll stay until your fast asleep."

"...ok."

The chair creaked as she settled farther in, removing her fingers from his hair and instead slipping them into his hand, "You don't mind, do you?"

Vegeta didn't open his eyes, but squeezed her fingers in reply.

Bulma squeezed back.

It was the last thing he was aware of for quite some time.

Evening had fallen, the crisp night air blowing the long hair at Zarbon's neck. He'd come back to the scene where about ten hours earlier Vegeta was run over. Something had been nagging him.

And it was Vegeta's act of selflessness.

This was not the little monkey he knew. Vegeta had been scrappy and cruel; certainly not the type of person to push some woman out of the way of a car. It was well established in the syndicate community that Vegeta had gone rogue some time ago, deciding to live a "normal life" instead of considering rising in the ranks of the Icejin. How had that ungrateful worm repaid everyone? Put Friezas' father in prison. Oh, he'd certainly defended quite a few of the low level gangsters, but only a handful had gotten off. The rumor was that Vegeta had worked with the police. But because of that no one dared touch the once dangerous man who was now a goody-goody. It was risky. It was-

A glint in the corner of a building caught Zarbon's attention. When he looked closer, he realized it was a cell phone. The black smart phone had a crack on the screen, but the wallpaper picture still lit up bright and clear.

It was a woman with long blue hair piled on top of her head. She was leaning over a table and looking at something. It was Bulma Briefs. And there was only one reason she would be the background of Vegeta's phone.

Zarbon smiled.

Oh yes. This was exactly what he needed.