Disclaimer: It's mine! It's all mine! It's mine! It's mine!

A/N: Sorry about that, been spending too much time in the chat room tonight...ugh. I'm going through a mental breakdown here. Anyways, I uploaded all of this a lot faster then I did the last time, right? Btb, about these next three chapters...I seriously think I've forgotten how to write.

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Petrified Tears
chapter 70



Cautiously, he reached up, unprying her hands from his shirt and forcing her to lower them as gently as he could, careful not to startle her, for a single shock could set her off and he'd be killed in the blast. Her eyes were hard and dark, but still startlingly blue, all the reassurance he needed that she was depending on him for an explanation and that once he gave it to her, she'd relax and everything would be alright.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, to let concern mingle with the muscles under his face, so that expression could be hinted at but not seen.

"Bulma," he started, looking down into her eyes, steering her back a step so that he could ease away from the balcony railing. "Bulma, what makes you think I know what's going on?"

"Because you always know what's going on, Vegeta!" She paused, and in that instant, something behind her eyes seemed to snap in half, and her voice rose in pitch and volume, her entire body growing rigid and stiff, her fists closing tightly around his hands. "Don't tell me you don't know what's going on Vegeta; if you can always know where all the missing socks are, you have to know what's going on!"

He allowed himself to wince, and gently pulled his hands free, letting her squeeze his fingers all she wanted.

"It's not so much that I always know what's going on, Bulma," he started quietly, not knowing if it was safe to look into her eyes or if he should look at her, or if he should just close his eyes and pray; "it's more like I always understand what's going on."

A tremor ran through her and she hurled herself forwards, slamming him into the railing, her hands tightly wound up in his shirt again, her eyes fierce and rabid.

"Vegeta!"

Swallowing thickly, he suddenly wished that he had leapt from the balcony and flown away, happy thought be damned. But he had started this, and the prince of saiyans always finished what he started.

"Bulma. I… I used to kill people for the hell of it. I used to relish in their pain, and knew by the looks on their faces how to get the most pain out of them, and how to keep them alive long enough to relish it; I knew when they were useless for information or for entertainment. I taught myself to read people. I used to be ruthless, you know that."

She snarled before attacking him again.

"Used to be?! Used! to be?! Damn you, you relish in my-"

"It's never that I know exactly what's going on with either of our brats, with Kakarot's brats, or his son's brat," he cut in. "I just read their expressions and know when they're vulnerable and when they're not."

Bulma shivered again in anger, shoving him farther over the balcony.

"Then how the hell do you always know exactly what the hell is going on?!"

Vegeta carefully took her hands in his again and steered her back a step, easing away from the railing once more. It was hard for him to admit all of this to her, but he knew that it was hard for her to not understand what was going on with their son; he could relate. Every time Bra came home heartbroken, all he wanted to do was go out and kill the bastard, but Bulma would never let him until he knew who to kill. And now, here she was, needing to lash out at something, but having nothing to lash out at.

"Educated guesses," he told her quietly, only to find himself being bullied against the railing once more, his wife just short of criminally insane.

"Then why the hell don't you make one of your Dende damned 'educated guesses' right now, Monkeyman, before I teach you how to breathe dirt."

Terrified now and rightfully so, Vegeta leaned away from his mate, bracing his hands against the railing behind him, keeping his face as far from his vicious and snarling wife as possible.

"I can't, Bulma. Usually the brats will drop enough hints for me to piece together a picture where all I need to do to see the whole thing is drop in a few carefully placed words. But Bra knows nothing, Pan's avoiding me, and Trunks is never home to pry into. What's there to guess at?"

Bulma snarled again, leaning her face closer to him then he felt comfortable with; beads of sweat ran down his temple and his eyes began to dart to the sides, looking for an escape path that she knew he wouldn't take. He was too proud to run away.

"So, you smashing Pan last Saturday at her welcome home party had nothing to do with your damned 'educated guesses'?!!?" she shrieked.

Suddenly not so patient with her, he ripped away from her grasp and shoved her back a step.

"No, Woman, it didn't. I wanted to know how strong she'd gotten since she'd been gone; that brat is more saiyan then either of my heirs, and I was curious!"

Bulma snarled again. "Like hell, 'Your Highness'! You were watching her all evening, and had that damned smirk on your face that you have when you know something!"

"I always 'smirk', Woman! I'm abhor those stupid gatherings of yours, and I was plotting a way out of it!"

She growled again, sticking her face into his.

"Then what the hell was up with that 'low class, never-amount-to-nothing, spawn of Kakarot, fighter bitch in heat' bullshit you gave to Pan, hmm? Vegeta, you shattered the girl with that comment, you know that? ChiChi called me, told me the girl didn't sleep, that Gohan had to sit with her all night, and that when Bra picked her up the next morning, she was still shaken and near tears!"

Vegeta snorted. "Gohan didn't sleep either for about a week after he broke the barrier and became a Super Saiyan."

"Vegeta! Why the hell did you even call her that!" Now was his turn to snarl. "Because she slapped my little girl and no one, no one! is ever to hit her, not even me! It's not my fault that brat responded to my proddings! I was just trying to figure why in the name of that little green bastard guarding this forsaken planet she slapped her! And all I could think of at the time was to provoke her in the one why that I knew she'd respond to! And she did!"

"And!" Bulma shrieked, a vein in the side of her neck pounding out the tempo to some fast and dramatic orchestral piece.

"And it's obvious she thinks she's in love with the brat, and I tried to tell her that as far as I was concerned, if he asked her, she was free to accept him with no reprimand or reprisal from me!"

Bulma blinked and took a step back, her eyes the size of small beach balls, the right pupil miniscule, the left seemingly filling all of her eye. "But then…why did you call her a 'low class, never-amount-to-nothing, spawn of Kakarot, fighter bitch in heat'"?

He shrugged. "She is low class: Kakarot's father was a third class warrior; after the strength and honor her grandfather displayed, you'd think it'd be a compliment. And she's a fighter, whether or not her attitude's changed; if she wasn't, she wouldn't have been so inclined to punch me." His eyes narrowed, but with oddly-placed pride instead of anger. "Nor would she have been able to land that punch."

Bulma blinked again. "But you called her…"

"'A fighter bitch in heat'? Of course. She fights, and she's the spawn of Kakarot's devil mate."

"But the-"

"She's twenty-one and a virgin. You can't say she doesn't think about it."

Bulma was staggering under the sudden revelation of what Vegeta's words had actually meant; to think that her husband had suddenly set aside his grudge against Goku and had set it far enough aside as to be proud that if their son was in love with her, he'd have Pan as a daughter-in-law. Nevermind how he knew she was still a virgin, probably had something to do with that 'saiyans mate for life' crap he'd been feeding her all these years, even if Pan was more human then saiyan. Grinding her teeth, she pressed one last point.

"But you called her a 'never-amount-to-nothing', Vegeta."

He smirked, turning and moving into the house.

"Never amount to nothing. Double negative," he called over his shoulder triumphantly.

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A/N: Don't review. I don't even think I want to claim any of this anymore.

-Panabelle :|
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt