Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews, I really do appreciate it. Apologies at being slow on the update again, but I have some good news. I've written a fic for the Vegebulocracy 'Mini Bang' that's coming up in May. I can't give you any details except that it's Vegebul pairing, and that it will be posted on my AO3 account. So I have been writing, I just can't show it to you yet!

If you haven't found me on AO3, my username there is Piccolo_is_green, and I'm in the process of migrating work over there. I'll still keep updating on here as well, but most of my new fics will go only on AO3 because of guidelines around M ratings.

Vegeta

Year 756

In space once more, the ship that once felt like freedom to him now feels like a prison, and he might as well be back on Frieza's massive cruiser. Tensions run high between all four on board, and he catches himself snarling at Nappa over dinner scraps, and snapping at Raditz for no reason whatsoever. Bulma's alien nature stands out against all of this, and although she is usually brazen and fiery in her anger, he watches as she shrinks back in fear when Raditz and Nappa start an all-out brawl over cleaning duties in the small living space. He separates them quickly, knocking Raditz out cold and giving Nappa two black eyes, but it doesn't clear the overwhelming sensation that until they have the dragonballs in their hands, they have very few options open to them.

Potential wishes are another point of contention. "Immortality," he tells Bulma as they lie in bed on their eighth day back in space.

"The dragon usually has limited power; I doubt he'll be able to grant that to more than one person."

"I'm the only one who needs it," he replies. "Then I will defeat Frieza."

Bulma shakes her head, and he readies himself for an argument. "Immortality alone won't fix the current power differential between you and Frieza. He won't be able to kill you, but it could take time for you to grow powerful enough to beat him. And in that time, Frieza will just come after me, after Nappa, after Raditz. Everything that you have left will be gone."

He wants her to be wrong — wants to deny that her safety is more important than immortality — but there's no denying her logic. It maddens him, and he clenches his fists, grinding his teeth together in rage. "If I can't have that, what good is a wish?" he growls, staring up at the tiles above them.

"Super Saiyan?" she whispers. That is something he has already considered.

"It's cheating."

"How so? How do you know the first Legendary didn't use dragonballs or some other ritual to get stronger? Just because you do use the dragonballs to get strength, doesn't mean you'll win the fight. Only someone capable like you can actually wield a power in a way that can defeat Frieza, and I don't see how that's cheating. You still need to know how to fight."

He doesn't reply. They are both silent in the dark, until her hand finds his under the covers.

"It's the best thing I can think of, Vegeta," she says quietly. "Either that or just wish that Frieza was dead, anyway, and something tells me that the dragon won't grant that kind of wish."

"We still need to find the dragonballs first. We need confirmation that they exist before you send us on a wild goose chase to Namek."

"They exist," she says through a yawn, curling her body against his. "But we'll get the parts I need for the radar tomorrow, and then I can prove it to you, and you'll think 'Oh my gosh, my girlfriend is the most beautiful, brilliant scientist that ever existed in the history of the universe, I am the luckiest man alive, I should worship her —"

"Now you're just talking nonsense." But his tail curls tight around her waist, pulling her closer still, and the warmth of her against him is a comfort he appreciates more than she will ever know.

. . .

Roltrom is a large, barren asteroid located on the outer belt of the Nivus System, and known as a place to procure black market goods. He's only ever heard of the place; it doesn't exist on any official maps or databases, and the coordinates were given to him years ago by some dodgy dealer he met on a backwater planet. By some miracle it checks out, and he lands their ship in the run-down port on its underside. Unlike PTO-owned property, there's no air traffic control or border guards, and the parking is first-in, first-served.

"I think we need face masks," Bulma mutters beside him. "Doesn't look like there's any breathable atmosphere."

She's right; he can see from the odd passerby outside that they all wear oxygen tanks of some kind. Behind them, Raditz begins to laugh.

"Looks like Nappa will be staying put! Those standard issue masks don't fit over his big head!"

Vegeta can practically feel Nappa's anger rising. Bulma notices it too, spinning around to face the other men and waving her arms in her usual erratic gesturing. "It's fine, it's fine! I bought him one ages ago, back on our last supply run. I've got it in a capsule."

"What? You bought me face mask?"

"Yeah, and a full atmospheric suit in your size. I got one for each of us in case of emergencies or places like this. What, did you think I'd just leave you guys out? We're in this together. I've told you this before; I made sure we have survival suits on board for everyone."

Nappa looks as though Bulma has just spoken is some foreign language. Very slowly, a his skin begins to flush red, moving up his neck to his face. Vegeta has only seen this reaction from Nappa a handful of times in his life, and knows it's a signal that Nappa is feeling overly moved and emotional about something.

"You're a decent bitch," Nappa tells her. Vegeta glances at Raditz and sees his own surprise mirrored there; in Nappa-speak that is very high praise.

"Thanks." Bulma takes a deep breath, and then takes control of the strange mood, as she often does. "I'll go dig out that capsule then. No one open that door until we're fully suited up! Oh, and obviously we need to make sure we don't look like defectors from the Planet Trade Organisation, so make sure you wear your plain black boots and the uncomfortable spandex that you boys all cried about last time you tried it on. It's just for a few hours so you'll survive, and..."

Her voice echoes through the ship as she heads for her lab, her lecture continuing on. "Does she think we're still listening?" Raditz asks, and despite himself Vegeta feels the corner of his mouth turn up in a smile.

. . .

He accompanies Bulma to the junkyard. The oxygen mask is helpful in one sense; he can't smell any of the rotten garbage that lines the muddy streets, and for that he is thankful. "I was looking forward to fresh air," Bulma complains, and he shakes his head.

"Just be thankful they actually have gravity generators running here. This place is a dump."

She has assured him she only needs a few parts; things that she can easily acquire from the remains of old ships. "If I could cannibalise our own ship that would be easy," she had earlier told him, "but it'd also be totally counter-productive. I need to make use of the location devices, and that's what guides our ship."

They head for the spray-painted sign that says 'Ship Repairs and Other Shit', and Bulma turns to him. "Do you think the guys will be okay?"

"They're at a brothel, not a cage fight. They'll be fine."

"Are you implying that Saiyans wouldn't be ok in a cage fight?"

He catches the wary gaze of a passer-by and urges Bulma on with a gentle push in the middle of her back. "No, and keep quiet, someone could be listening." She frowns, but doesn't disagree with him for once.

Bulma finds what she needs without trouble, but haggling for an acceptable price is another matter entirely.

"Ya pay more out 'ere," the shop owner, a weak Brenchian male sneers at them after rejecting Bulma's final offer. "That's how ya stay off the grid. My guess is ya're out 'ere 'cause you have to be. Ya wouldn't want anyone to track ya 'ere, now would ya?"

Vegeta doesn't appreciate the implied threat. He grabs the man by the throat and pushes him back against the wall, applying just the right amount of pressure on the windpipe to make his warning count. "I don't like that tone of yours," he growls, tightening his grip a little more. The man's orange skin pales beneath his own mask.

"Ach-s-sorry. Just kidding with ya."

Vegeta drops him on the ground. "Take our price," he orders. He is thankful for the oxygen mask; as annoying as it is to wear, it obscures his face and hair, and with his tail hidden there's nothing visible that could identify him.

The Brenchian wheezes on the ground, nodding slowly. "Price accepted."

. . .

They return to the ship after shopping for food supplies. He's fucking starving, having been unable to eat with the mask on his face. How anyone can bear to live on the asteroid, locking themselves in tiny oxygen-filled cubicles to eat and sleep and fuck, is beyond him.

Bulma stands beside him in the airlock, resting her head on his shoulder as they wait for the oxygen levels to stabilize. He tears off his mask as soon as the airlock timer beeps, and as the internal doors open, a woman's scream pierces the air. Bulma grips his arm tight in shock, cursing in one of her Earth languages.

"What the fuck is going on?" he yells, stepping through the threshold, practically dragging Bulma with him.

"Nothing. We're just being over-dramatic," Raditz says, his arms wrapped tightly around a woman who thrashes in his arms, his hand clamped tight around her mouth.