(A/N: Okay, I randomly got a complaint on Bulma's character, and I feel the need (though I don't know why) to explain myself once again. Did I not claim creative license? -rolls eyes- I was trying to portray Bulma's internal struggle, and I've never seen her be THAT mean to Vegeta. O.o Maybe I'm just forgetting about Z (I've only watched GT lately), but I thought I was getting her right. -shrugs- Oh well. To each his own, I guess. Can't please everybody.

As for the abrupt scene changes, I hadn't realized that when I put stars under each of them, they disappeared when I posted them on FF. I'll try to put little markers that look like this ) ( …) ( in between sections. Happy reading, R&R.)

Bulma woke what seemed like minutes later, suddenly aware that Trunks was no longer tucked under her arm. When she didn't find him anywhere in the room, she began to panic. "Trunks!" she yelled, opening the door and sprinting down the hall to the baby's room. She ran into the huge playroom, frantically looking from playpen to playpen and cursing under her breath. The baby wasn't there.

"Shit! Trunks, where are you!" Whirling around, she tore off back down the hall to check with her parents. She skidded into the kitchen on socked feet, calling for her parents at the top of her lungs. A note on the table caught her eye. Rushing over, she snatched the note from the glass surface and quickly skimmed it.

Bulma,

Your Father and I decided to go out for a while. We were going to tell you, but you were sleeping so peacefully! If you need us, Daddy has his cell phone.

Make sure you feed Trunks! I gave him all the bottles left in the fridge and put him back with you. (You've been out for a few days, y'know!) Warm milk will do him good.

Love,

Mama

PS: That Andy is the sweetest thing! I'm glad you invited him to stay.

"Mother!" she grated, crumpling the note between furious hands. "If I was out that long, you should have called Krillin or something! Trunks won't sleep THAT long! Now I don't know where he is. For all I know, he might have fallen out a window, or got outside and hit by a truck, or choked on some little part I had lying around…"

Or he might have fallen down the laundry chute or stepped on or shut in the refrigerator…

Not really knowing why she was acting on such a ludicrous thought, she dashed for the fridge and opened the door, sighing heavily in relief when she discovered it empty of everything but milk.

"If you were looking for the brat, what in all the seven hells possessed you to search the food storage closet!"

Bulma spun around to find an extremely exhausted Vegeta standing in the doorway, Trunks tucked under one arm like a football. The baby hung nearly upside down, babbling away and dribbling happily on his father's shoe. The prince eyed him with disgust, administering a quick shake and pulling him up by the ankle to hold him out to Bulma. "Take it; I don't want it," he growled, wiping the top of his boot on the rug.

"Vegeta! Don't hold him like that! For the love of God, he's only six weeks old!" Tearing across the room, she yanked Trunks as gently as she could from Vegeta's iron grasp. "I don't believe you!" she scolded, glaring up into his onyx eyes. "How can you hold your own little son - BY HIS ANKLE!"

"Oh, would you rather me grab him by his hair?" he sneered, crossing his arms. "What little of it he actually has, that is."

Trunks began to wail, and Bulma comfortingly bounced him on her hip. "It's okay, Trunks. Mommy won't let Daddy hurt you anymore." The girl glared at her husband through a tangle of blue hair. "Can't you ever even try to be nice?"

"I am being nice! You're still alive, are you not?" Turning on his heel, Vegeta stalked out of the room, nearly bowling over Andy as he walked through the door.

"Excuse me," Andy muttered with a mock bow. Rolling his eyes, he turned to Bulma. "I was hoping you'd be up. I completed the basic design, and I was wondering if you would come and check it out for me."

"How long was I out?" she asked, glaring daggers after her idiot of a husband. Trunks cried harder, reaching a chubby arm toward the swinging door.

"I'd say about 52 hours," he replied, bending down to make goofy faces at the child. "And I think this little guy wants his daddy."

Bulma snorted. "Yeah, right. Vegeta just picked him up by his ankle and nearly threw him at me. I doubt he wants to go through that again."

Andy shrugged, backing away from a spit bubble Trunks was attempting to pop in his face. "Some kids consider things like that to be fun," he replied, settling back on his haunches. "Anyway, would you consider coming with me now? I really do require an expert opinion."

"Yeah, sure. But have you implanted the sensor yet? I have to take Trunks with me, and I don't want any kind of explosion in the lab."

"Nah. That comes last." Twisting to his feet with catlike grace, Andy offered her his arm. "May I?" he asked with a grin.

Bulma rolled her eyes, but laughed despite herself. "Yeah, sure, why not?" Taking his arm, she settled Trunks against her shoulder and let the younger man lead her down the hall. Everything was quiet except for the sound of their feet padding across the floor, interrupted occasionally by a low gibber from the baby. Bulma found herself imagining she was walking across the palace of the Saiyan planet arm in arm with the prince as he led her down the pristine onyx halls…

"That Vegeta guy," Andy said suddenly, after a few minutes of walking in silence. "He doesn't seem to be very good to you. What's his problem, if you don't mind my asking?"

The girl shook her head quickly to clear away the dreamy image. "Vegeta doesn't have problems; he IS a problem," she retorted, blowing a raspberry against her little son's cheek. "He's just not much of a touchy-feely guy, that's all."

"Right, and I'm a horse's ass," he returned lightheartedly.

"Are you, now?" Bulma returned, shooting him a smirk. "I could have sworn you were a donkey's."

"Watch it, lady!" Andy laughed, giving her arm a good natured squeeze. "I was just concerned that you weren't as happy as you could be."

She raised a feathery eyebrow. "And why would you say that?"

"Eh, I'm sure you've heard this a thousand times before, but a girl like you deserves someone who will cherish her. You know, baby her and help her in any way he can. That's what I would do."

Aw, shit, not another one. "Andy, you're right when you say I've heard that a thousand times. Everyone I know seems to be telling me that; but let me tell you, there's not a one of them who's been able to convince me." Idly bringer her fingers to her lips, she recalled his warmth as he had softly kissed her in the moonlight. "The moments are few, true - but that just makes them all the more special." She fingered the gossamer hair around her finger, a faraway look crossing her face. "When he does decide to hold me," she murmured, "it's like something out of a fairy tale."

"You're daft, woman," he chuckled. Bulma thought she noted a hint of…was it jealousy? She cast him a curious glance, but the moment had passed and he had resumed staring straight ahead. Sighing, she let the notion slide.

Opening the heavy metal door, the two descended to the lab. Bulma gently removed her hand from the crook of his arm and flicked the light switch. The huge spotlights flooded the enormous room, revealing a machine in the earliest stages of development standing on a table.

"Here it is!" Andy said proudly, jogging across the room to stand proudly beside his invention. Bulma glided over to him, setting Trunks in a nearby playpen placed just for the occasion and inspecting his work. She noticed that he would cast her furtive glances, hoping to catch her eye. Pretending she hadn't noticed, she traced the metal seam with a slender finger.

"Very nice," she said, more than a little impressed. "I don't see anything wrong with it. You even installed the central computer!"

His chest swelled with pride. "Thank you I'm sure. It took me forever to get it right. Say, will you help me begin the casing? I'm really bad at welding."

"Sure, whatever. God knows I got enough sleep to last me a lifetime."

"Cool." Andy walked over to the counter and pulled open the tool drawer. Then, almost as an afterthought, he glanced over his shoulder and called, "Say, mind if I play some music? I only have that American stuff, but it's pretty damn good."

She shrugged. "I won't understand it, but I really don't have a problem with it if it's not too loud."

The following hour was spent in quiet occupation as both scientists worked separately on different parts of the machine. Andy sang softly along with the foreign words, and Bulma wondered at how perfectly his silky voice fit into the harmony of the music. At times she would even find herself swaying along to the beat, tapping her finger in time as she waited for one machine or another to slowly heat up. This continued for quite some time after, and Bulma was beginning to daydream when a particular song caught her ear. She couldn't understand what it was saying, but something about the tone and the melody constricted her heart with an iron fist. Turning to Andy, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"What's this song about?" she asked softly, as if her voice would somehow ruin the spell the song had cast upon the room.

Andy leaned back in his chair, tapping the end of his chin with his eraser. "Funny you should ask about this one," he replied, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "It's actually the one that most describes me. I can't really describe it, but I can translate a few of the key parts for you."

"Go ahead."

The young man took a few moments to consider, then crossed his arms and began to recite.

I've been drifting in between, like I was

On the outside looking in

In my dreams you are still here

Like you've always been

And my heart did time in Siberia

Was waiting for the lie to come true

And it's all so dark and mysterious

When the one you want doesn't want you too

…I gave myself away completely

But you just couldn't see me

I was sleeping in your bed

But something else was on your mind

And in your head.

"Those are the parts I think are the most relevant," he said, shrugging. "I don't know if they mean much of anything to you, but…huh?"

Silent tears glittered in the depths of her cerulean eyes as she fixed him with a disbelieving stare. The powerful lyrics had ripped right to her soul, letting loose a storm of emotions she had so carefully bottled up inside. Oddly enough, he had emphasized the line that had hurt her the most, making her wish she hadn't heard the song at all.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, getting to her feet. "I…I just need a little fresh air."

"Ms. Briefs, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset--"

She shook her head violently. "I know I know, don't worry about it. It's not your fault." Whirling around, she speed-walked out of the room, angrily wiping the tears of weakness from her eyes. Footsteps pounded behind her, but she didn't notice. She could only think of getting outside, away from everyone else, to let the strong wave of emotion burn itself out. Bursting out the back door, she ran down the steps of the porch and sprinted for the pond. When she reached the edge of the man-made pool, she pushed her fingertips to her temples and bit her lip, trying to stop the tears that just kept coming.

"Vegeta, you bastard, look what you've done to me," she murmured, peeking through her fingers at her reflection in the water. "I used to be so strong…"

So independent…

"Bulma," came a soft, silky voice from behind her, making her jump in surprise. But before she could turn her head, strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, and a warm, lithe body pressed up against her back. "Don't cry," it continued, brushing a tear from her eye. She had wanted to hear the voice so badly. Whirling around, she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder.

"Vegeta," she murmured, pulling herself closer. He smelled of grease and metal, and she breathed deeply. Suddenly her eyes snapped open, and she found herself meeting the concerned gaze of the British inventor. Mouth gaping open, she pushed herself away in such a rush that she toppled backwards into the pond.

"Why the hell did you do that!" she screamed up at him, the fires of rage burning away all hint of the tears. "Dammit, I'm married! How many times am I gonna have to tell people that!"

Andy stood there helplessly, not knowing what to say. "I - I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be that big of a problem if I tried to comfort you…"

"Hell yes there's a problem!" she sputtered, splashing to her feet and jabbing a finger into his chest. "Vegeta already saw me and Yamcha when the bastard practically raped me, and now he's probably seen this too! For the last time, I DON' T NEED ANYONE BUT VEGETA!"

Casting his eyes upon the ground, Andy sucked his mouth into a thin line, locking his arms behind his back and refusing to meet her furious gaze. Bulma's scowl softened ever-so-slightly as she heaved a sigh and crossed her arms against the chilly breeze that flowed across her sodden shoulders.

"Look, I'm sorry I screamed," she said a little more quietly. She laid a hand on his arm. "You're a great guy, really. I know you were just trying to help, but I was already really upset and I guess that was just the straw that broke the camel's back. Please, just…just go. You can go back to the lab. However much of an ass he is, Vegeta is still the one I'm married to. And someday," she grated, "I am GOING to make him see that." She turned away, starting for the house.

Andy watched her leave, strange blue eyes trained unerringly on her lithe back. His jaw finally unclenched when she closed the door, releasing the tongue he had bitten to hold back a bitter retort. Strangely, there was no blood, though the pristine teeth had bitten nearly all the way through. As if taking over for his jaw, his hands balled into fists and shook with fury.

"Vegeta," he whispered in a hideous rasp, "I'm gonna help her. I don't care what you think or don't think, but I'm gonna take her away and make her happy. She will never have to cry for you again!" He stopped suddenly, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was saying, then shook his head and retreated in the opposite direction, heading back for the lab.

) ( … ) (

Eyes finally dry, Bulma strode swiftly down the hall, heading for her room to change her oil-stained shirt. The situation with Andy had only steeled her resolve to somehow get through to Vegeta, to say what needed to be said before it was too late. Kicking off her shoes, she grabbed the handle of the bedroom door with a firm hand and swung it open.

When she entered, she was surprised to find the prince sprawled on the bed. It was almost as if he had just walked in and fell face first on the coverlet - he had not even bothered to remove his boots. Vegeta lay with his head buried in the mattress, feet hanging haphazardly off the side of the bed, clothes rumpled and covered in dirt. Wrinkling her nose, she tip toed to the bed and gently sat down next to him, half expecting him to jump up and bat her across the room. But he had delved too far into the realm of sleep; he didn't even twitch.

"I've never seen you this worn out," she commented in a whisper. "Not even when you had been training for hours." Her eyes traveled across the room, coming to rest upon a crumpled bottle that had apparently been flung across the room in absolute frustration. The bottle had fallen into a pile of a series of baby items, which the prince had undoubtedly taken from the baby in disgust. Bulma arched her feathery brows, red eyes lighting up as she considered the possibilities.

"So you had been taking care of him when you came in this morning," she murmured. "I really can't believe it. I'm surprised he wasn't dead." Not really thinking about what she was doing, she slipped one arm across his waist and laid her head on his shoulder, tracing the muscles of his chest with a slender finger.

Vegeta stirred suddenly, making her jump and hastily remove her hand. The prince rolled over, black eyes open and fully aware.

"What, you don't think I'm capable of feeding the little brat?" he growled. "And for your information, I had to do it! No one else was around, and it wouldn't shut up until I did something. Besides, I doubt I would have been living up to my promise if I dropped him out the window."

"I'll ignore that last comment. But it looks like you had at least a little bit of difficulty," Bulma mused, eyeing the dent in the wall in amusement.

"Feh." Vegeta made as if to flop back over and continue to ignore her, but something caught his eye. Grunting, he met her gaze once more, only to find that her eyes were moist and red. "What's your problem? Did you squirt that chemical shit into your eyes again?"

Bulma sighed, wondering if his insensitivity had any limits. "Yeah, that's it. I'm retarded, I know. You don't have to remind me."

"Huh. Idiot woman." Rolling back over, he flung an arm over his face and closed his eyes. "Now get out. I'm trying to rest."

"I'm not leaving until you hear what I have to say, Vegeta!" she grated, slapping an irritated hand on his shoulder. "I'm tired of being treated like I'm the lowest scum on the face of the planet! Just let me talk!"

"You've done your share of talking and more!" he snarled. "What part of 'get out' do you not understand!"

"The 'get' part," she retorted sarcastically. "Please, just listen for thirty seconds!"

The prince snorted. "Fine. Go; I'll be counting."

"You are so rude!"

"Twenty eight," he returned, shooting an irritated glance over his shoulder.

Bulma threw up her hands. "Alright! I was just thinking that maybe you should be a little nicer to me. I do so much for you, and all you ever do is treat me like crap! I know we've been over this before, but could you at least try to be cordial to me?"

"No. Twenty."

"Come on! Stop being an ass!" she raged, beating her knees with her fists. Then, on sudden impulse, she put on a sly smile and said, "But I have a theory; since your tail got cut off, I think you become a little more human when the full moon rises. Am I right?"

"Hell no! Now you've narrowed it down to fifteen with your foolish questions."

"Oh, I think you do," she retorted, folding her arms. "I just loved how quickly you snapped at me after that one, and that flush was just great. Besides; those were the only two nights that you were even semi good to me."

"Coincidence," he muttered, the flush growing deeper. "Five seconds."

"And, however crazy I might be, I love you," she growled. "I just don't know how to make you see that."

"Zero. Get out."

Bulma sighed in exasperation, getting to her feet and heading for the door. If she had to listen to any more of this she was gonna… "Fine. But I still think I'm right." Slamming the door shut behind her, she stomped down the hall toward the baby's room.

"And besides," the prince muttered, shucking off his boots and rolling himself in the comforter, "you can't make someone see something that isn't there." Noticing the lamp was still on, he irritably kicked it off the table, sending it crashing to the floor in a flurry of sparks.