Chapter 4 "Bulma's Little Elf"

A light bulb went off in Vegeta's head, or better yet, a flood light. How could she not notice something so bloody obvious? And how did it get there in the first place? He threw the piece angrily into the trashcan. After the bathroom was as Vegeta-cleaned as it would get, he stumbled back into the living room- the scene of the crime.

Seeing the broken TV and glass covering the floor, a wave of guilt overcame the young prince. He'd never truly felt the feeling before, but for once he was sorry. Sorry he hadn't helped her, sorry he hadn't "pulled his weight", sorry he'd hurt her, sorry for all the pain from the beginning. It sounded hokey to him but it cut him deep.

He found a capsule broom from a drawer in the kitchen and began to sweep up the remains of the broken glass. Afterwards, he lugged the piece of machinery Bulma needed moved up to her lab. My kame! It's not a capsule! Upon setting the strange thing down in the mystical lab, he heard a strange rumble echo the room along with a pain in his stomach. Food! A saiyan must eat, too! He stumbled back into the kitchen and began rummaging through the refrigerator for anything edible. He came across some sort of microwavable dinner and shoved it into the microwave like Bulma often did. He had no clue on how to work the thing, and didn't want to bother with reading directions so he pushed a few buttons and left to check on Bulma.

He entered and sat quietly beside her. He wanted to check for more shards, but the only way to do that would be to remove the bathrobe. Vegeta knew all too well if she woke while he did this, Vegeta really would be living with Yamcha. He'd rather live in the wild than with that wealking.

An odd shape mutilated the side of her bathrobe near her ribs. Bulma's breathing became raspy and Vegeta thought the two probably had a connection. He lightly touched his hand to the protruding object, and Bulma let out a small yelp as her muscles tensed. I can't believe I'm worried about her! She's such a... but I owe her. He stood up to stretch his legs and looked at the clock. Hmph! It's only 9:30. He was about to return to his sitting position when his keen Saiyan senses detected something foul smelling. He sprang into action and flew directly to the kitched where a small fire fire had started around the microwave. Thinking desparately, he powered up a shot a small ki blast to the flames. This caused an explosion which only made the flames bigger. He tried simply fanning it but this resulted in third degree burns on his hands.

He looked around helplessly. Grabbing a nearby cereal bowl, he dashed to the sink, filled the bowl and splashed the flames with the water. It shrank by great measures, but still flamed brightly. He repeated his method and disolved the flames in two more trips. Underneath was a mutilated, melted microwave. I'll have to wait until she's better to eat. With nothing else to do, he trudged slowly and embaressedly back to his room to wait with the blue locked beauty.

I think I . . . need her.

::You do Vegeta::

Who asked you?! You already said enough with the stupid makeup! He sat stubbornly back down into the soft swirl chair. He turned himself around a few times, entertained by the spinning. He eventually got dizzy and fell out onto the floor. Bulma turned her head in his direction and Vegeta froze.

She'd moved a few times, but only a scratch on the nose or a head turn. On more than one occasion, her hand moved to the jagged spot on her bathrobe and it was Vegeta's job to gently steer it away. A few more hours had passed when he heard her stirring. She stirred again, a look of pain flushing her face as her eyes fluttered open. Almost-worried ebony eyes stared back into hers. She tried to sit up, but she became sickly dizzy and was forced to lie back down.

"Vegeta, what happened?" she whispered, confused by everything. She looked up, expecting to see her pink canopy overhanging her bed. Instead she was greeted with a naked white ceiling. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Almost one. Vegeta remained silent as her questioning eyes fell upon him again. Another sharp pain pierced her side and head, and she was frozen again in the shreiking torture. Vegeta had a desire to make it all stop, to rewind time and change the situation. He would even take her pain upon himself. It would be nothing for him.

"You had an accident." Vegeta finally responded.

"What's that on your face?" she chuckled then stopped abruptly from the pain.

"Your stupid makeup!" he growled. She giggled in response. He chuckled slightly at his own ignorance but caught himself.

"Vegeta, I smell something burning. Did you cook something?" she questioned quieter than normal, "Vegeta?" He couldn't respond because he was trapped in his own thoughts. This woman is making me soft! I will not be defeated by these silly Earth emotions! I am the Prince of all Saiyans! I shall prevail over this!! His expression quickly changed into a deep scowl.

"Weakling!" he muttered to her as he strode confidently out the door, Bulma still lying helplessly in bed, a confused look spread across her face.

"Vegeta?"

He knew it was sometime past midnight, and Vegeta was totally exhausted. Bulma was still paralyzed with pain on his bed and he still had nothing to do besides walk the halls. He stopped walking at the door to her bedroom and pushed the door slightly, making it creak. Vegeta carefully removed his boots and placed them carefully by the door frame, not wanting to track blood if there was still some left on his boots. Bulma's room alone was the size of a small house. Her king sized pink canopy bed was unmade, with unhung clothes taking up one half.

In the middle of the trashed room lay a broken picture frame, dead ripped flowers, spilled chocolates, and a broken vase. Vegeta remembered Yamcha had broken up with Bulma the day before, and she'd run rampant through the house, hence the mood swings. Vegeta picked up the picture frame and looked into the faces of young Bulma and Yamcha with ice cream covering their wide grins. They looked so happy and carefree. Vegeta chuckled at Yamcha's long messy hair. He looks like such a fruitcake. His eyes wandered to Bulma. He knew it was Bulma, but it was difficult to tell since she was much younger. Her hair... it's purple! Since when did that woman have purple hair?Strange planet... He suddenly had a strong desire to spit on Yamcha, but instead he just propped the picture up on the nearby dresser and crossed the huge room to the open doors to the balcony.

He gazed out silently to the almost full moon that had miraculously come back after Piccolo had destroyed it. He also found the star that Planet Vegeta had resided next to. He sighed, thinking of his home, before shutting the white French doors. He slipped under the covers of the extremely comfortable bed, as images of Bulma flashed through his head. He couldn't figure much out and eventually drifted into a restless sleep.