Cherry: Whoot! Last of the next three chapters is up! I'll update soon, but only if I get some more reviews. It's a scratch my back and I'll scratch yours sort of deal. So remember to review, people!

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Yamcha was shaken rudely awake once again halfway through the night. The rain was coming down still, and the living room was dark. Moreover, he was there. Vegeta. His arms were crossed and a look of pure malevolence was smeared across his face. He glared down at the human with intense hate. Yamcha froze when he realized who it was. Vegeta took a few steps and grabbed Yamcha by the throat and lifted him up.

"Well, if it isn't the earth scum. Now...you know why I'm here, don't you?"

Yamcha tried to respond, but his voice froze in his throat. All he could do in response was shake his head a bit from side to side. Vegeta growled and threw him forcefully against the wall. He strode over and intertwined his fingers in Yamcha's hair, lifting him up so they were eye-to-eye. Vegeta frowned and slammed Yamcha's face into the wall. Twice. Blood gushed out of Yamcha's nose like a fountain. Vegeta snarled and punched him several times, holding back very little. Sanguine trickles of red drizzled out from the corners of Yamcha's mouth. Vegeta brought his knee up forcefully into Yamcha's gut, turning the docile dribble of blood into a violent spray. Vegeta looked in disgust at the blood Yamcha had spewed all over his pants.

"Those were my best damn pants, you miserable slime mold!" he roared, slamming Yamcha against the wall again.

Vegeta panted, seeming content. Yamcha flinched, pain roaring throughout his weak body.

"Now...that woman of mine wouldn't happen to be staying here, would she?" he asked, placing his foot ominously on Yamcha's throat.

"No, she isn't...search...the house...if you...want..." he choked.

Vegeta deliberated a bit, like he was deciding whether he would take the offer or not. He kicked Yamcha one more time and turned away, heading for the door. He paused and looked over his shoulder.

"I will take my leave but...if I ever catch you with my wife...you will die."

He slammed the door behind him and Yamcha heaved a painful sigh of relief. He shifted slightly, white-hot pain invading his senses. He pulled his knees up to his chin and curled up in a ball, falling into a painful, tortured sleep.

*

He was shaken awake again the next morning, but he didn't want to get up. He opened his scarred eye slightly, taking the figure of Bulma into account. He opened both of his eyes slightly and smiled at her. She looked at him with her mouth agape. She dropped down next to him and gasped when she saw the front of his pajamas stained a crimson red.

"W-what happened?" she squeaked

He looked at her and shifted slightly, a bolt of pain striking his body. He winced, shaking off the pain and smiling feebly.

"Oh, damn! Musta had a helluva dream for me to smash myself up like this." he feigned.

She looked at him with skeptically. "That was the lamest excuse I've ever heard."

"I dunno...I heard some pretty lame ones from you." he retorted.

Bulma froze. She just realized how lame and crappy her excuses must've sounded.

He laughed. "Don't worry."

He stood up painfully, every inch of his body screaming with anguish.

"C'mon. Let's go get some breakfast." he said, hobbling out to the kitchen.

She stood up and followed him numbly. She sat down as he heated up a pan of milky pops. Outside, it was still drizzling. She sighed and put her chin in her hands, gazing off into space. She was snapped out of her trance when a loud scream sliced the silence in two.

"AAAAAAARRRRRGGGG!!!!! OH FUCK!!!!! IT BURNS!!!!!!!"

Bulma whipped around to see Yamcha clutching his hand, which was throbbing and red-hot.

"What is it??? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Just fine. Let me get the pan."

He reached over for the pan and grabbed the burning handle and hung onto it. There was some muted hissing as tendrils of steam coiled up from Yamcha's palm.

"Um...Yamcha?" she said, raising a finger.

"Yes?"

"Your...hand..."

He looked down at his hand and stared at it for about ten seconds before letting out a pained yell.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!! THE AGONY!!!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!"

He dropped the pan and blew on his red hand for the second time. Bulma sighed and shook her head. Yamcha's eyes watered as he shook his hand. He seemed to settle and reached out for the pan a third time. Bulma leapt up and slapped the back of his hand.

"No!" she scolded.

"Ow...what the..? How'm I gonna get the pan off the stove then?" he asked, rubbing his hand.

"Ever hear of a pot-holder?" she said exasperatedly.

"Psssht... Potholders are for chicks. And I'm alllll male." he smirked.

He grabbed the pan and poured the mixture into two mugs. He handed one to Bulma and set the other on the table. Bulma looked at him with shock.

"It didn't hurt...this time?" she asked.

"No... not really. I think the second time burned the nerve endings off." he replied, taking a small sip from his mug. Bulma shook her head and sighed, looking out the window.

"You...gonna go back?"

"Back?"

"Back to Vegeta."

Bulma nearly choked on her milky pops.

"No."

"You have to. Things will only get worse if you stay...especially if he finds you here..."

Bulma looked down at the mug and sniffled, her eyes watering. "I know but...I'm just so scared." she whispered, tears dripping from her eyes.

One landed in her mug, sending tiny ripples across the white sea of milk. Yamcha sat down next to her and pulled her up on his lap. He took away her glass and set it down, snuggling her close.

"Just go back. Vegeta will forgive you. I know this. He may be an ass but...he loves you." Yamcha choked.

It was very hard to admit this and it made him want to cry. An involuntary tear dripped from his face and fell to Bulma's cheek. She looked up at him, and all of a sudden, felt bad for the poor man. He was just so heartbroken... She snuggled with him and stroked his face in an attempt to comfort him.

"You're right. I need to go back. If I stay...Vegeta will hurt you again...and I just can't bare it."

"Plus, you have the little one to take care of..." Yamcha whispered, rubbing her stomach.

Bulma wiped away a tear and smiled, placing her slender hands over Yamcha's big, strong hands and began to feel all emotional and teary, like she just wanted to break out and sob. So she did. She buried her face in his chest and began to sob loud, echoing, wails. Yamcha hung onto her and slowly felt his grip on his emotions loosening. This was too much for him as well. He didn't want to lose her, but he wanted nothing more than for her to be happy. He enshrouded his face in her hair and began to cry. He couldn't hide it as well as she could, though. His chest, which Bulma's face was resting on, heaved fiercely as he took in large, gulping breaths while he sobbed. His voice was much louder and deeper, even the softest sobs sounding like bellowing hyperventilation. Tears spilled down like an inclement storm. Never had he felt so emotional. But so many things had happened, that he just couldn't help it. They sat there for quite sometime, just crying together, venting their harbored emotions without shame.

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Cherry: *sipping milky pops* Mmmmm....you have to try amking this sometimes. All it basically is is some heated milk and cream. Very soothing and relaxing at stressful times, such as when your teachers decide to give you mounds of homework......

Kuro: *snorts* Sissy.

Cherry: Well excuse me if I don't get hammered and forget about my work. I am dedicated, dammit!

Kuro: Dedication's for wussies.

Cherry: It is not. End of story. Now, remember children, it isn't the fall that kills you; it's the landing!