***Okay all, sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up, but I had a HUGE family
emergency, and then, my best friend had her baby last night, so it's all been pretty
hectic. I had actually already wrote out chapter four, but I hated it so much that I
started it over. Bulma just seemed way to far out of character, so I hope you all like
this chapter. (If you guys really want to read the chapter that I scrapped, I still have
the unfinished piece of garbage on file.) So this chapter is dedicated to my surrogate
nephew, Kyler Blue Thompson, the beautiful baby boy that graced his with his ten day
overdue presence. Love ya, Ky!***



Curled into a ball on her bed, Bulma's tears were slowing. She sniffed, trying to bring
herself under control. She had done the one thing that she had promised herself she wouldn't do.
She had just cried in front of Vegeta.

"DAMN!" She yelled as she threw her alarm clock across the room. The attack on the
unprepared timepiece was nothing personal, it was just the closest thing to her. As it soared
across the room, it crashed into her vanity mirror, shattering it. Sniffing again, she sat up, her
shoulders slumped and her head hanging. Why the hell did she now feel so alone? First she had
to go and kick Yamcha out of her life, and of course, that damned Vegeta left of his own accord.
Walking to her closet, Bulma pulled out a huge photo album and began to leaf through it. There
were the usual pictures of her family, when she was younger. And then, of course, Goku came
into her life. She smiled at the memories. The first time that they had ever met, he was so brave,
and so, how would you put it? Inquisitive. She blushed slightly when she remembered his search
for her tail. Of course she didn't have one, but that didn't stop him from checking out underneath
her skirt. Flipping the pages, her smile faded. After Goku, her life had been one big emergency
after another, no time to rest, no time for anything other than those damned boys.

It wasn't like she was mad at them, but she realized that her whole life so far has been
dedicated to them. To Goku, Krillin, and of course, Yamcha. When would she ever have time
for herself? In less than two years from now, the whole world may go to hell if the Z warriors
don't win against these faceless androids. She sighed, her eyes settling on a picture of Yamcha.
Maybe he had the right idea all along. Bulma was so intent on settling down, perhaps even
starting a family, but she wasn't really looking at the big picture here. What if Goku, Vegeta and
the others can't stop the Androids? What then? The world will slowly go to hell, and her only
friends would all be dead. Would she really want to raise a child in those types of conditions?
What would happen to him or her then?

"Damn it all! Why can't I just have a normal life?" Bulma said aloud as she tossed the
album back into her closet. Standing up she looked at herself in the shattered mirror.
Straightening, she ran her hands down her hips. She had to admit, she was a looker. Smiling to
herself, she grabbed a clean pair of leather riding pants from her closet and slipped them on. They
rode low on her hips, and she had to admit, they were more for show than for protection.
Checking the hall to make sure that Vegeta wasn't around, Bulma made her way down the stairs.
Grabbing her helmet and jacket from the front closet, she left the house, and Vegeta, behind her.

Her Suzuki was still sitting in the driveway, and the morning sun was glaring off of the
chrome tail pipes. Swinging her leg over the seat she straddled it, and smiled as the engine roared
to life. Glancing over at the gravity machine, she noticed that Vegeta was already in there,
training to become the most powerful fighter that the universe has ever seen. Stronger than
Goku. Bulma smiled, knowing the frustration he felt.

"Ha! Serves 'em right!" Bulma said to herself as she revved the engine. She knew she
was bitter, and that she may even be acting slightly childish, but hell, what did she care? If they
were all going to die in a couple of years anyway, why should she be responsible, why should she
care what the others thought of her? She was going to go have fun, she going to go and
experience what a 'normal' life should be like. Slipping the helmet on over her head, she revved
the engine one last time before she left, hoping in the back of her mind that Vegeta would hear
her. As her rear tire caught on the pavement, it left a solid black streak in the driveway.


* * *


It had been three days since the woman had left, and Vegeta was actually beginning to
wonder where she was. He was sure she was fine, but her absence was beginning to grate on his
nerves. There was no one to vent to, no one to yell at. Shaking his head, he really couldn't
believe it. He was actually lonely, and it had only been three days! He used to spend months
alone when he was under Frieza's rule, and he rather liked it that way. No one to answer to, no
one to question his actions. Huffing, he crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. What was
she trying to pull, anyway? Her annoying parents were phoning the house at all hours of the day,
and Vegeta soon found out that if he didn't answer their annoying calls they would be over to the
house shortly after, waiting for news on their daughter.

He was close to going out and looking for her himself, but luckily (for her), Vegeta heard
the familiar roar of her machine's engine. As he heard the engine rev, his enhanced hearing could
hear a slight tick, something was wrong with the machine. It seemed to be missing on the RPM's.
He shook his head, slightly confused, the woman always took care of her machines. They were a
point of pride to her. There must be something wrong.

Growling to himself, he stepped out onto the front porch, crossing his arms and leaning
against the doorframe. He would not let the woman know that he had been missing her company.
The sight in front of him was surprising to say the least. Bulma looked ragged and torn, and she
smelt like stale alcohol and cigarettes. But that wasn't the only thing. There was a man with her.
An ugly, smelly little rat that made that maggot Yamcha look like royalty. What the hell was she
doing? When she sluggishly got off the bike, her eyes, her lovely blue eyes, were glazed over, as
if she was almost half dead. Vegeta ground his teeth and set his jaw. He had seen Bulma drunk
before, but she was never this bad. She hadn't seen him yet, most of her concentration was going
to keeping her feet underneath her. The man that she was riding behind shut off the bike's engine
and swung his leg over the seat, his equilibrium was no better.

Rage burnt in Vegeta's eyes. The woman would leave him for...for this? This
insignificant little rat worm? It was an insult! This weakling could barely even stand, and he had
put her life in danger by just driving her bike here in the condition that he was in. Growling,
Vegeta allowed his ki to grow to an amazing new level, and his anger was fueling the fire. He
could feel himself on the edge, he could almost taste the power that he had been after for such a
long time. Almost his whole life. Energy was whirling around him, and he knew that he was on
the brink of becoming a Super Saiyan. Bulma suddenly looked up at him, her groggy eyes trying
to make out his form through the crackling energy. She seemed to suddenly realize the danger
the man that was with her was in, so she pushed herself in front of the rat, all the while glaring at
Vegeta.

"What d'ya want, Prince?" Bulma hiccupped. She tried to keep herself upright, but the
alcohol was getting the best of her. She slowly sank to her knees, and the expression on her face
seemed to ask how this could be happening. The man behind her laughed hysterically, he still was
oblivious to the danger he was in. Ripples of energy coursed through Vegeta's body, and he
knew that he was on the brink of changing. Intoxicated by the power that was flowing through
his veins, he almost forgot about the two in front of him. Bulma was still in front of the man,
even if she had sunk down to her knees. The man's laughter abruptly stopped as his gaze fell
upon the form of Vegeta. His eyes widened, and his drunken stupor was replaced with a growing
horror. The Saiyan in front of him was slowly walking toward him, and he fell to the ground in
his scramble to get away. Gritting his teeth, Vegeta allowed the man to run, he could feel the
energy that surrounded him start to wan. Growling, the powerful Saiyan knew that today would
not be the day that he would master this power that seemed to always be just beyond his grasp.
He was soon exhausted as he struggled to keep his ki level at this new extreme level. When the
little rat bastard turned around at the end of the driveway, however, Vegeta's ki level flared again.
He loosed an energy bolt at the weak bugger, but seeing the look of horror on the woman's
drunken face, he shot it low, spraying the man with loose dirt and gravel as it hit the road in front
of him.

"Jerk!" Bulma screamed at him. "You don't own me, you...you pompous ass! I oughtta
kick you outta my house! I oughtta..." Bulma was cut off as Vegeta swung her over his shoulder
and walked back into the house.

"HEY! What the hell!?!" Bulma thrashed about, but was quickly exhausted as the alcohol
once again took control. Her head began to swim, and her stomach lurched. Struggling to
control the noxious feeling, she hardly registered where the Saiyan was taking her. As they
entered her room, her eyes grew wide.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU—" The woman screamed. Vegeta huffed, and she knew
that he wasn't going to answer her. Kicking open the door to her bathroom, the Saiyan tossed
Bulma into the shower and turned on the cold water. The woman screamed in surprise and anger
as the freezing water soaked her. Trying to push her way back out of the shower, she was
stopped by Vegeta's immovable arm.

"BAKA!" She screamed at him. He scowled at her, but his eyes were shining
mischievously. "Let me out!" She screamed again. She was still in her full riding gear, and the
drenched leather soon became heavy. Vegeta almost laughed, she looked so pathetic. Her blue
hair was plastered to her forehead, and her clothing was hanging heavily on her tiny frame. She
glared at him, and he calmly glared back.

"It's freezing Vegeta!" Bulma complained, wrapping her arms around herself. "Let me
out!" She growled again.

"No." The proud Saiyan answered, his customary scowl once again on his face.

"No? NO!?!" Bulma screamed. Her face was dangerously close to his, and the noxious
smell of alcohol invaded Vegeta's nose. Sneering, he narrowed his eyes.

"That is what I said, woman. You stink. You are dirty. It sickens me." He stated. Even
though she was drunk, Bulma couldn't argue with that.

"B-b-but, it's cold, Vegeta!" She said through chattering teeth.

"I never said that you couldn't change the temperature, woman." He growled at her. She
glared at him but reached for the faucet, turning the cold down, and the hot on. She glared at him
again, and began to pull her clothing off. Vegeta watched her as she peeled the drenched leather
off of her body, until she was wearing only her matching black bra and underwear. She glared at
him, her eyes flashing.

"A little privacy, maybe?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm. She kept eye contact with
him until he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Turning to walk out of the bathroom, his
final snide remark lingered in Bulma's head.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before, woman." As he closed the door, a shampoo bottle
slammed against it.

"Jerk." Bulma huffed under her breath. Her head was still swimming, but the freezing
water had sobered her up slightly. She did feel dirty, and she knew that she smelt pretty nasty.
She hadn't bathed in three days, and the amount of alcohol that she had poured into her system in
the last forty-eight hours could have killed a horse. Searching the plastic shelving for the
shampoo, her inebriated mind finally remembered that she had thrown it at that bugger Vegeta as
he was leaving. Sighing to herself, she stepped out of the shower and slipped, falling to her
backside with a loud thump.

"Ouch." Bulma said as she sat on the linoleum. Water was dripping from her naked body
onto the floor, and she tenderly rubbed her bruised skin. "Oww!" She growled again. Her head
snapped up as the door swung open and Vegeta stepped into the bathroom. He scowled at her, a
confused look in his eyes.

"What are you doing on the floor, woman?" He sneered at her. She glared at him, she
knew that he was enjoying this.

"What does it look like? I'm getting the shampoo that you made me throw at you!" She
yelled at him. When she noticed that he wasn't taking his eyes off of her, she crossed her arms in
front of her naked chest and drew her knees up to her chin.

"Like the view, Great Prince?" She asked him, venom in her tone. He glared at her and
kicked the shampoo bottle over to her.

"You still stink." He said as he once again closed the door. Bulma grabbed the bottle and
threw it again, scuffing the paint on the door. Finally, she forced herself off of the floor and
crawled back into the shower. She stayed in there for an hour, allowing the hot water to cleanse
her body as her mind drifted back to Vegeta.

"The jerk." She whispered, water falling from her hair into her eyes. She smiled as she
began to remember the night that they were together. She had never experienced anything like it.
Finally turning the water off in the shower, Bulma gingerly stepped back out onto the slippery
floor. Finding that her footing was firm, she grabbed a soft fluffy cream colored towel and
wrapped it around herself. She felt a lot better, more refreshed than she had felt in days. As her
hand began to turn the door handle, she paused.

"He better not be waiting for me out there." She growled to herself. A scowl appeared
on her face as she realized that only part of her wished that. Her anger was rising, and she wanted
someone to yell at. Someone who would yell back. She held her breath as she swung the door
open, and was disappointed to find her room empty. She was still drunk, and her head soon
began to swim as her anger began to wan. She toweled her hair dry and slipped into a nightshirt
and a pair of boxers. Holding her head, she crawled into her bed, knowing that she was going to
regret the inevitable hangover she would have in the morning.


***Thanx to everyone that reviewed! Please, keep it up!***