Both Goku and Bulma rose at the sight of the approaching physician. "How is he?" Bulma asked. The doctor rifled through the forms that she filled out before responding.

"Well, Mrs. Briefs—"

"Miss Briefs." The doctor examined her worried face over his spectacles curiously.

"Of course. As I was saying, Vegeta has contracted pneumonia. The common kind," he added as he saw her face harden. "It's nothing to worry about. Streptococcus pneumoniae is easy to treat and noncontiguous. I've prescribed him some antibiotics." He handed her a bottle of syrupy, pink liquid. "He's already taken the first dose, so he won't need another one until six or seven o'clock. Also, the disease isn't serious enough to keep him here overnight. He'll be fine if you take him home."

"How long will it take for him to get better?" Bulma asked.

The doctor scratched his head with the eraser of the pencil he was carrying before he responded. "It seems that Vegeta is young and strong. This is just my opinion, but I think that he'll be better in seven to ten days." Bulma nodded and watched the doctor retreat into the hallway before turning to Goku.

"Come on. Let's get out of here."

Goku nodded in agreement. "This place gives me the creeps. This is where they give people needles." He shuddered at the mere thought.

The pair quietly walked down the glowing white hallways, preferring to look at the floor then at the passersby. Eventually, the pair came upon room 269. They knocked quietly and entered. Vegeta was lying on the bed in a hospital gown, his eyes half closed as if he was meditating. Bulma nudged him into wakefulness.

"Come on, Vegeta."

"I'm not sick," he coughed, struggling to sit up. Bulma chose to ignore his denial. Even though the Saiyan could barely stand, he refused all help. "Do I have to stay here?"

"No," Bulma replied, as if talking to a five-year-old. "The doctor said you could come home now." Vegeta nodded curtly.

"Where are my clothes?" Bulma motioned to a chair where his outfit was laying and Vegeta stumbled over to it. He pulled off the hospital gown before putting on his pants and shirt. When he finished, the Prince started to slowly exit the room, drawing his breaths in and out, slowly and painfully. Bulma blocked the doorway.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Get out of the way, woman."

"Vegeta, what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm leaving."

"You are NOT walking out of here. You're not strong enough." He tried to push past her, but she managed to stand firm.

"MOVE!" He shoved against her as hard as he could, but she pushed back just has hard. As she fought with Vegeta, Bulma managed to glance at Goku, who shrugged as if to say 'just let him go'.

Bulma did. Vegeta roughly shoved her out of the way and glared at her before proudly marching down the hallway, even though the hospital bracelet around his wrist bore witness to his poor condition. Bulma and Goku followed a few yards behind, making sure he didn't disturb the other patients or workers.

It was a long way to the exit, and by the time they got to the car, Vegeta gratefully sat in the back seat. The drive home was uneventful. When they arrived back at Capsule Corp, Vegeta immediately collapsed on the couch, claiming he needed rest, and fell asleep. Bulma and Goku tiptoed into the kitchen.

"Thanks for helping me at the hospital, Goku. I don't think I could have managed him by myself."

Goku shrugged as he watched her clean up the plates from their lunch. "No problem. Chichi was in a bad mood today." When Bulma didn't laugh at his joke, Goku frowned at her. "Bulma?"

"Oh. Yeah." She had finished with the dishes and was drumming her fingers on the counter when she replied to Goku. She looked up to see him staring anxiously at her.

"What?"

"Are you okay?" Goku asked gently.

This knocked down any barriers that Bulma had left. She collapsed in to Goku's waiting arms, sobbing violently. As he patted her back tenderly, Goku said, "He scared you, didn't he." When she didn't reply, he said, "That's what I thought."

"And what did you think? You don't need to help me," she choked through her tears, pulling herself out of his embrace. "I can take care of myself." Despite Bulma's melancholy, Goku smiled at her.

"Now you sound like Vegeta," he said. The mere suggestion caught Bulma by surprise. She slightly turned away, pondering the idea that she and the Prince-of-all-Self-Absorption were similar. Eventually, she came up with a response.

"No way!" she said angrily, forgetting about the tears that she had just shed for Vegeta. "He's stubborn, conceited, demanding, and—" She trailed off, too heated to elaborate. Goku just laughed at her.

"Doesn't that sound familiar?" Sensing that the comment wouldn't be well-received, he started down the hallway as quickly as possible. When he reached the door though, he heard his name.

"Goku, wait," Bulma called. He stopped and faced his friend. Instead of looking mad, she looked upset. Her eyes wouldn't meet his. She finally murmured, "He'll be okay, right?"

Goku looked at her with pity. "He's Vegeta. I'm sure he'll be fine in a week or so." That being said, he left her alone.

Bulma dried her eyes and quietly walked back into the living room, where Vegeta was sprawled out on the couch, shivering even in his sleep. She found the quilt that he had on earlier that day and covered him gently, seating herself next to him to wipe the sweat off his forehead. He looked wonderful lying there, handsome, strong, not young yet not old, simply ageless, untouched by his lifetime of hardship. He had seen things, felt things that no one else had ever even dared to imagine, but, somehow, he carried on.

She brushed his cheek with her palm and began stroking his brow gently. It didn't seem real. She couldn't be here, helping the man that had threatened to kill her friends not once, but many times. He was a killer, cold, heartless, proud, handsome, strong….

Vegeta stirred in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes to find Bulma above him. He stared up at her and she stared down at him. They stayed like that for awhile, neither one of them daring to speak, to move, to breathe. Vegeta shivered after some time.

"Are you cold?" Bulma whispered. He nodded numbly; he was still wondering if he had woken up or not. She pushed him gently over and rested her head on his shoulder, pressing her body against his to warm him. He pulled her close with his free arm.

"Thank you," he whispered hesitantly into her ear.

Ah! So what if he's way out of character, that's just plain cute!