Hi! I hope this next chapter explains a little more on Bulma's behavior. Things have been leading up to this! As always thank you for all of the comments and feedback, I love to know what's going through your mind as you read. :) Have a great week! ^^

P.S., Sorry if you have received an email and got your hopes up. I know that this is a re-post! I started to get email alerts from other authors again, and I decided to repost this chapter. Just in case some did not see that it was updated earlier this week!

As always, I really appreciate the reviews and response. I am so glad that you guys seemed to enjoy this chapter! I am currently working on the next one and it will be up before too long. It will either be next week, or the week after. I am going to be taking classes this summer, so I am trying to time my updates just right so that I can remain consistent for as long as possible in the event that I am busy with the quick-pace of summer courses.

Have a great weekend! ^^

Only a few hours had passed, and Bulma had spent that time wallowing in her own thoughts. She'd resolved to seek comfort through Trunks, who sucked at his fist deviously as his mother bounced him on her lap. So many questions continued to form in her mind, along with so many different what-if scenarios. In the time she spent composing herself, she'd managed to, for the most part, fend off her negative assumptions. Her insecurities throbbed, yelling at her that Vegeta had purposely led her on. Yet the rational, scientific side to Bulma's brain was gently trying to remind her that these assumptions were simply hypotheses, and she needed to use deductive means – such as gathering credible evidence - in order to reach the absolute truth. Certain situations constituted running several experiments in order to measure the outcomes. In this case, however, Bulma knew that a conversation was all she needed to make her own conclusion.

Lately, when it came to Vegeta, she'd always let the insecure and impulsive side of her mind win. Acting and saying as she pleased, whether it was in her favor or not, was just something that he really brought out in her. He'd always had a talent for it. Something about him just seemed to magnify any impulse she had, her emotional reactions to his behavior overwhelming and blinding her senses. She'd always been a bit rash, but when it came to any other aspect of her life she tended to think things through a little more clearly before acting. But it'd always been another story with Vegeta...

...As Bulma reflected on this, now helping Trunks to scoot about the room in his little red car, she realized that she needed to really let her scientific side take control. It was too exhausting – it just consumed too much of her energy to constantly feel angry, defensive, afraid, and hurt. And she was tired of it.

The truth was, she thought, she really had been acting crazy.

There was no question about it. This was something that Bulma had been considering ever since the moment Vegeta left her alone in the hall. His behavior had been so uncharacteristic that it'd slapped her in the face, really forcing her to take a look at herself and reflect. And despite what Vegeta did to her in the past – despite how scarred she felt from his latest blowup over Tadashi's gift and his lack of explanation, she really hadn't acted any better with her own behavior.

Perhaps Vegeta had been planning to leave all along, as the anxieties in her soul warned. But perhaps... Perhaps there really was more depth behind it...

Listening to her baby giggle as he pretended to steer his toy car, the Bluehead smiled down at her son. "You really are good for relieving stress, aren't you sweetie?" She sighed, feeling relaxed after coming to her conclusion. She was still upset, and she was still uneasy. But the rational side of her heart had finally won, had finally convinced her that she needed to set aside her hurt feelings and try to see his point of view. As she'd used to do in the past. She was going to approach Vegeta and confront him – but she was going to do it in a calm manner. And she would listen.

And that was exactly what Bulma did that night, after she'd rocked her baby to sleep and placed him snugly in his crib. She walked from her son's room and peeked out into the hall, eying the door frame that marked Vegeta's room. Inside she could see that a light was on, and she sighed with slight relief. He hadn't been around all day. Not once had she crossed his path, and he hadn't even joined the family for dinner. This she recognized as typical behavior he projected when he was upset. Combining this with his other recent traits – hostile, distant, harsh, cold, it was clear that he was attempting to come to terms with something in his own mind. It was so clear, and yet she'd been so blind to see it up until that point. He'd acted this way many times in the past, and it was usually followed by him announcing he was going on a trip. Experience should have led her to understand that he was struggling with an internal dialogue. This behavior of his certainly wasn't new – it had been going on for weeks, and for weeks she'd managed to overlook it because she'd been to caught up in her own wounded emotions.

This latest realization felt like a sting to her tongue, too swollen to swallow. By this point of the night her temper had subsided into a numb state of curiosity, and she proceeded to make her way through the darkness of the hall. She needed to address Vegeta in the same way that she addressed everyone else in her life. To give him the chance she had denied him ever since they'd broken up so many months ago. She took a deep breath, feeling deja' vu that she was once again placing her fingertips on the wooden door frame. She was ready to have the conversation that her subconscious had been urging her to do – ever since that first morning when Trunks had thrown oatmeal at them...

.

Blueprints spread out over his bed, Vegeta was once again studying the plans he'd conducted with Dr. Briefs during their initial meeting about the house. Earlier in the day they'd done a walk-through of the building together, and he now considered the floor-plan with anticipation. Other than this meeting, he'd spent the majority of his day locked in his ship, the gravity machine cranked up. Hours passed as he took his mental anguish out on the training bots that Bulma had built for him long ago. His muscles aching from pushing himself to their peak during the workout, he cracked his knuckles into his palm as he continued to look over the prints on his bed.

When he heard a knock at the door he let out an audible groan, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth. This was the second night in a row that the Bluehead was knocking on his door, and he couldn't help but to replay her behavior from the previous day in his head. Anticipating another futile exchange of words, the saiyan reluctantly marched to the door and turned the knob.

Creaking the hinges open and looking out, the saiyan instantly saw blue as she waited on the other side of the frame. Just as he'd expected. He didn't speak a word, watching Bulma with silence, and then she suddenly spoke. "Can I come in?" Her voice soft and cautious.

With a grunt the saiyan stepped aside, allowing her entry before quickly shutting the door behind her. With a turn he was looking back at Bulma, crossing his arms expectantly. She had cupped her hands together and was looking at Vegeta hesitantly. Much like the way she'd looked at him the night before. "Well, I've finally heard the news..." She said, holding her head up high. She was staring at his right shoulder in effort to prevent eye contact.

"Regarding?" Vegeta crossed his arms. It was a pleasant surprise that Bulma hadn't started things off on the offense, but that didn't necessarily mean much. Internally he was counting down the minutes, wondering how long it would be until she started yelling.

"When did you decide to have my father build you a house?" Her voice still soft, her face still avoiding eye contact.

"Not long ago." Still bitter, the saiyan was feeling inclined to answer her questions. But he wasn't going to elaborate. Not any more than necessary, at least.

"I'd like to know exactly when." Bulma said, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "When did you decide that this was what you wanted?"

"Eight days ago."

How incredibly specific, Vegeta's response left Bulma instantly calculating the days in her mind. Eight days ago... Why, if Vegeta was telling the truth, then that was the exact day after their argument over the broach! "Then..." She breathed, feeling slightly better, yet more confused at the same time. If he'd only decided to move out after their huge fight, which hurt – yet she could understand - then what had caused his hostile demeanor leading up to it? "Then... why..."

"Your latest ordeal with the beta male has been unacceptable." Vegeta interrupted, having decided to save himself some time by not waiting for her questions. "I do not desire to continue idly standing by as you behave exactly as you please, besmirching my dignity and speaking to me as if I am some common brute scum."

Bulma looked up to his eyes then, her mouth falling open as once again she felt slapped in the face by her own recognition. Having already acknowledged to herself that she'd been overtly cross with him, she was hardly surprised by what he'd said. Yet it was still hard to hear that her own words had made such a direct impression on him. "I... I was only trying to defend myself when you started yelling at me about the gift." She said, her cheeks flushing. "I didn't mean for you to leave..."

"That night you specifically told me that if I don't accept the relations between you and that male, then I was to leave," Vegeta scoffed, furrowing his eyebrows. "There have been countless times in recent weeks that you've told me that I have no business with you and might as well just leave you alone. The phrase seems to slip from your tongue as naturally as you find the desire to breathe." His tone was twisting as he spoke, and it was obvious that he was ripping bandages off of internal injuries that had not yet healed. "Why should I not seek independence elsewhere? After all... isn't this what you want..."

"I didn't mean it..." Bulma's heart was dropping. She still had so many questions and opinions inside, regarding his attitude leading up to their fight over Tadashi. Regarding what would happen after he left. Yet, as he presented the evidence of what had influenced him to make his decision, these thoughts were put aside and she was immediately filled with gut-wrenching guilt. It was so easy to feel remorse when she'd already decided to set her own pride aside. "Look, I really didn't mean what I said. I was out of line. You're right..."

"Of course I am right!" Vegeta hissed. "And if you didn't mean it, then perhaps you shouldn't say such things with every opportunity you see fit?" He turned and walked to his bed, glancing down at the floor-plans that were still spread over his mattress. "I've mentioned before that you seem to find any excuse to get hostile with me. Why should I continue to subject myself to such treatment? I, a prince, being treated as some type of vermin." The words rolled off his tongue as if it tasted bad just to say, and his eyebrows furrowed even more as he looked up from his bed to face Bulma once again.

"You're right." She replied. She shook her head, admitting defeat. The things Vegeta was saying hit a sensitive spot for her. She could empathize with where he was coming from – after all, she wouldn't like if the tables were turned. And, at one point, the tables really had been turned – with Vegeta being the hurtful one who deflected every attempt Bulma made to work with him. It was ironic, how she metaphorically went from being the sheep to the beast. Her desperation to not be hurt again had resulted in her acting completely beside herself. "You don't deserve it. I wouldn't stand for it, myself, and neither should you." She took a step forward, as if to emphasize her words. "I'm sorry, Vegeta. I don't think of you as a brute. I don't think of you as a vermin, either."

"Of course I know you don't, woman!" Vegeta snapped, feeling blindsided by her effortless admission. He took a deep breath, watching her face and the genuine expression on it. This was the breakthrough he'd been waiting for, the rare moment that she was accepting criticism without having some type of defensive retort to shift the blame. It was then that he decided to tell her of his own thoughts – a realization of his own that he'd come to during the last few days... "The problem is that you've accumulated resentment towards me." He grunted, looking back down at his bed. "It's evident. I've seen enough sides of you to know when walls are being built. Hell, I've seen it enough in myself."

She considered his words, taking in what he said. Bulma could feel a single tear threatening her left eye as they sunk in, hitting a spot inside that she didn't even know had been there. "You're right." She replied yet again. It seemed as if it was the only thing she was capable of saying, and it was because it was true. Inside there was a turmoil that suddenly had ceased, as her soul found agreement with the saiyan's observation.

"You're right" She breathed again, an odd sensation of grief welling inside. "Maybe I have some resentful feelings harbored, and I'm sorry if I've been taking it out on you. I apologize." She was fighting to maintain her composure, trying to remain distant enough from the conversation to keep from bursting into tears. She'd cried in front of Vegeta before, but she always hated to. She'd never considered that the mixed feelings she had towards the saiyan – her deep yearnings to make things work, coupled with her fear and wariness of getting close to him once again – could have possibly stemmed from actual resentfulness. But as the thought sank in, with every breath Bulma took, she understood it to be true. It was a reality that she didn't want. It was shocking. It was confusing. And it was heartbreaking.

Vegeta saw the expression in her eyes just before she looked away to mask her tears. He'd finally voiced what he'd deducted from her actions, but he hadn't been expecting her to accept it so easily. With how combative she'd been lately, it was surreal that she was taking everything he said with not a gram of anger. She was simply accepting his words! And now… she was crying? The saiyan let out a sigh. He never did enjoy seeing her cry - not her. He was still quite angry, but his temper was diminishing with the emotion that came from seeing the tears that streamed down her face.

"I'm sorry, I do have pent up resentment." It was as if she were repeating the phrase to herself in order to be sure that it was real. "Perhaps you don't deserve it. No - I know you don't - but I just can't help it. I resent this situation, I just do." She wiped at her eyes and dropped her face, choking back as she attempted to stifle a whimper.

Vegeta stepped away from the bed, making his way to the woman who was now full-blown sobbing in his room. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Woman." He grunted, closing in on her. He stood, just half a meter away, and watched as she attempted to compose herself. "I've tried to make amends with you. But I'll be getting nowhere if you don't even want to let me in."

"I don't know, either." Bulma replied. "I've seen the things you've done, I've heard everything you've had to say. And yet it's still hard for me to let go. There's something inside that won't let me... I just... can't... I wish I could, but I just can't..."

The prince let out another sigh. He considered her words as she cleared her throat, attempting once again to stop the tears from streaming from her eyes. What she said resonated with him. Her descriptions reminded him of how he'd felt when, during his 3 years of training, he'd struggled with his own emotions that he felt for the Blue-haired beauty standing before him. Since then he'd come to his own resolve, but it was obvious that she was now the one who was grappling with her feelings.

Stepping even closer, Vegeta reached out and placed his rough hands on her shoulders, squeezing them tight. Bulma swallowed and picked her head up, her bloodshot eyes staring into Vegeta's black spheres. "Woman." He grunted, his expression absolutely serious. "It's better if I do leave. You need to come to resolve this with yourself, and I can see this now."

Bulma knew he was right, and she didn't feel it was necessary to argue with him. Instead, she nodded and repeated her words once more, "I'm sorry."

"Right." Vegeta replied, taking his hands away. He allowed his fingers to rub against her head, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face. "I can understand your view, but I can no longer shoulder your disrespect."

"As you shouldn't," Bulma whispered, sniffling.

"Just know that, should decide that you can never come around and make amends, I'll still be there. It is the duty of a saiyan male to guard his kin – I've said it before. And I am going to adhere to it. I'm going to protect you."

Bulma's eyes widened. The things she was coming to realize about herself were scaring her, but what Vegeta was saying served as comfort. It didn't seem as if he was holding her actions against her at all. He wasn't allowing her recent behavior to define her character in his mind. To the contrary, it made her feel more understood than ever... The Bluehead nodded, acknowledging his promise. As of right now, it really made the most sense for Vegeta to leave. She didn't want to subject him to her own moods anymore. And he'd already started the process. If he felt that this was best course of action, she would respect it. "When are you moving, then?" She whispered, watching his dark eyes.

"Soon."

"And what about Trunks?"

"The boy? Well, he needs you to not coddle him so much." A smirk forming at his lips, having been unable to resist the jab.

Bulma fought back a grin, giving him a stern look instead.

"There's nothing to ask in regards of the boy. It isn't as if I will never see him again." The saiyan, still smirking, kept his posture straight.

"Right," Bulma replied. By now her eyes had completely dried. And though her cheeks were still swollen from her sobs, she was feeling better after having released the tension that had been building up for so long. "It's the new house that's being built adjacent to this property, isn't it?" She nodded. "Of course you'll be seeing him still. You won't be far at all..."

Few words were left to be exchanged, and it wasn't long after that their meeting ended. With one last apologetic look, Bulma turned and removed herself from the room, wishing Vegeta a good night as she left. The saiyan watched her go, not moving from his spot until the door had clicked shut behind her.

When he was finally alone in his room Vegeta let out a loud groan, turning and pulling the floor-plan from his bed. It was the most irritating thing in the world to watch his woman struggle so hard emotionally, especially since he had once been in her own shoes. And he knew that, when he'd been going through his issues, he'd said and done terrible things to her. Hurtful things that he knew had contributed to her current state. He'd played a part in how conflicted she was now, and he accepted responsibility for it.

"Fuck!"

..

The next few days that went by were relatively uneventful. It was the weekend, and while Bulma didn't have to work, she still felt that there was so much to do. She was still feeling pressure, weight that she had placed on her own shoulders, to finalize the planning of Chi-Chi's baby shower so that she could be celebrated for once and for all. And she was also feeling lethargic from all of the emotions she'd been going through for the past week, having realized what the root of her and Vegeta's problems were. And while Bulma knew that it was unfair to feel such a way, tearing down the walls that she hadn't even been aware she was building was proving to be a difficult task. What an isolating sensation it was to think that, as much as she did care for Vegeta, there was an invisible wedge between them, it was her mind causing that wedge, and she didn't know how to go about fixing it...

"Come on, Trunks!" Bulma called. Her son was taking careful steps towards her. The two were heading home after spending an afternoon at the park, and Bulma was feeling impatient. There were some emails she'd been waiting to receive, and she was eager to get back home and check her inbox. The truth was, Bulma had taken Krillin's advice and she'd sought out a party planner for Chi-Chi's baby shower. She couldn't help but to think of it ever since Krillin had made the suggestion. And while she hated to admit it, she was starting to feel that she had bitten off much more than she could chew. She'd never thrown an event like this – she really did need the help.

On top of this, there was another event that would be coming up shortly, one that would also require a party of its own, and Bulma thought that maybe she could learn some things from the planner that she could use for that one, too!

"Oilooo!" Trunks said, looking triumphant as he stepped along the stone path. Walking was something that he was still in the process of perfecting, but lately he'd been getting good at covering long distances without losing his balance. He hadn't been seeing his mommy quite as often in the past week – she'd be out of the house before he woke up, and she wouldn't come home until late at night. But Trunks noticed that with his mother's absence, he was seeing his father more and more…

… On one of those days, Vegeta had fetched Trunks, taking him into the spaceship for an entire afternoon as he trained! Trunks got a lot of walking practice that day, and it made him so proud to be doing such a thing in the company of that man he admired so dearly. What he wasn't used to, though, was the stark contrast between the way his mommy spoke to him, and the way his daddy spoke to him. While mommy did her share of tough love, she was still a very doting and affectionate person, never too shy to pick Trunks up and swing him around, cooing and professing her love for the little boy.

Daddy, on the other hand, never did anything of that sort. He was either completely ignoring Trunks, focused on his own training as he threw his fists into the air and swung his legs at lightning speed, or he was watching Trunks too closely to see what the baby's progress was. Sometimes Trunks would fall. Sometimes, all he would do was misstep and have to catch his balance. But when these instances occurred, there were two things daddy would do. He would either say something along the lines of "don't expect sympathy from me like your mother is so generous with – get up and keep going! Now!" or, if Trunks corrected his mistake before daddy had time to react, the man would cross his arms, slighting his head in approval before turning back around and continuing with his own forms.

Yes, days spent with Daddy were much more serious and intense than the ones spent with Mommy. But there was something about Vegeta's demeanor that touched Trunks on a deep level. He felt a bond so strong that he couldn't comprehend how to even think of it, especially with his young baby brain. It was as if his daddy was the only one who understood his desire to be left alone in order to focus on bettering himself. As if daddy was the one person who could understand the need to strive for physical perfection. The two would hardly interact as they spent their days together, and yet there was a social bond and understanding that drew Trunks to feel quite connected to the big man with the spiky black hair...

"Trunks, you're getting so good at this!" Bulma cooed, snapping the baby out of his happy memory. Suddenly Trunks was back outside, toddling home from the park with his mother, instead of inside the spaceship with his father. The baby looked up and cooed, a grin spreading out over his cheeks. If only his mother knew how productive his days with daddy had been lately. If only he could explain it to her! One day he was going to be able to form his own words and talk to her, just like how she talked to him. And when that day came he was going to have so much to say!

Bulma walked with Trunks, through the darkening streets as the sun slowly set, and into the warm atmosphere of her own house. Upstairs she stepped, having been given some time to herself after Mrs. Briefs quickly whisked Trunks away. Listening to her mom interacting with the baby downstairs, Bulma felt an odd sense of loneliness as she made her way into her room. Still feeling pained from her conversation with Vegeta, it was hard to feel at ease. In fact, her mind had been racing ever since their talk. With his words, his face, memories of them both, and with her current predicament.

What an odd feeling it was to desire his presence, yet feel unable to allow herself to be vulnerable enough to enjoy it...

Hoping she'd received the email she was waiting for, Bulma stretched her muscles as she stepped into the darkness of her room. She clicked on the light, taking a deep breath as her tired mind adjusted to her surroundings. Back in her room, with images of her baby and her own childhood lining the walls, Bulma felt nearly safe. As she made her way to the computer sitting on her desk, she couldn't help but to eye her bed.

It was then that she stopped, looking it over in silence.

What was this?

She stepped carefully, focusing on the object that had caught her eye. It was laying on the pillow, quite uncanny and cool. How long had it been there that she hadn't noticed, and how long would it have remained had she not looked? It was as if her mind hadn't yet connected what the object was, as she stepped forward and watched it with trepidation.

In fact, it wasn't until she was close enough to reach out and touch the item that she began to see what it was. Her fingers carefully grasping it as she lifted it to her face.

It was a single blue rose, the petals sporting a deep hue of cobalt as she twisted the flower in admiration. Having never seen such a plant before, her breath caught in her throat. What a beautiful and mythical thing it was, and Bulma could hardly register in her mind as she inspected it. The petals felt soft when she brushed her fingertips against it, and her pupils were fixated on the deep blue that was reflecting at her.

Slowly, despite the emptiness she'd been suffering from inside, there was something else.

Her lips began to slowly stretch into a soft smile, and she gripped she rose tighter into her hand, feeling as the thorns dangerously pressed against her skin. Her eyelids shut, and she pulled the flower into her chest.

"I can't believe it," She whispered, to nobody in particular.

"Vegeta."