Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.
A/N: If you're reading this and haven't yet checked out the We're Just Saiyan Community on Google Plus, you need to! Voting is currently going on for people's favourite B/Vs, and I'm very honoured to say that this was nominated for both Best Angst and Best Drabble/Ficlet.
Bulma
Year 753
At times she cannot bear the silence of her room. It's too quiet, and in the dark of night she feels the panic rise, as if the walls are whispering to her in the shadows, as if Frieza knows what she's hiding.
But he doesn't, and when she wakes from another nightmare she refuses to let her fear of him destroy her will to fight back. The light switches on, as does the tablet she keeps hidden away in her capsule, and she sweeps the room for bugs once more. Only then can she fall back into a more peaceful slumber, the paranoia held at bay for another night. She is alone, and no one is listening.
Sometimes sleep evades her. Her thoughts turn to the Saiyans, and her sleep-deprived mind blurs together all her memories of Vegeta; the sound of his snarl, the smell of his skin, that electric feeling when her lips brushed against his ear in a whisper, and the tight snare of his arm around her waist. She has not spent more than ten minutes in his company, and yet there is something there between them, an attraction despite all that he is, and the thought of this scares her. She cannot allow herself to let her guard down.
It has been two months since that day with the Gripfrob, when all her plans – and her life – almost unravelled before her eyes. In that time she has had no contact with the Saiyans; they have been on another mission, destroying another society, wiping out another race. They are monsters, like Zarbon, like Frieza.
But they have not betrayed her – there has been no mention of her capsule technology to anyone – and she is in need of allies if she is to ever destroy Frieza.
She pulls her blankets tighter around her shoulders, and buries down in her bed, determined to get some sleep. The Saiyans are due back tomorrow, and she knows a confrontation with Vegeta is inevitable.
. . .
Knowledge is power, and she has read as much as she can about the Saiyans, trawling over their personal files, memorising every scrap of information that each one holds. Vegeta is intelligent, Nappa is a loyal brute, and Raditz once had a brother, named Kakarot, who was sent to Earth as a baby.
It is this knowledge that causes her to stare when she spots the Saiyans across the mess hall. For once she opts to stay and eat her dinner there, huddled against the wall, sneaking glances through the veil of her long blue hair. She doesn't notice the taste of the bland food in front of her, eating on autopilot as she compares Raditz' movements to her memories of Son Goku.
They catch her watching them, and she ducks her head down, focusing on her plate as three pairs of black eyes bore into the top of her head. She risks one last glance and meets Vegeta's cool gaze, her skin suddenly hot beneath her loose clothing.
She can't bear to sit there any longer. She rises, leaving her unfinished meal, and heads towards the door. Ahead of her the Saiyans continue to eat their food, inhaling plate after plate, ignoring her approach. It is only as she passes them that a meaty hand reaches out, shoving something small and crumpled at her. For a moment her heart skips a beat, before pumping again with an almighty thud that echoes in her ears. Her pulse drums double-time as she continues out the mess hall and into the corridor, the small piece of tissue that Nappa handed her held tight under her ribcage. She feels as if she is holding a live fuse.
She waits until she is back in her room before she risks looking at it, carefully unfolding the napkin, her heart caught in her throat as she reads the messy scribble in standard.
Engine room. Midnight.
Her palms are sweaty, and the paper is damp in her hands. It seems that an alliance has begun.