Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just my Husband, laptop, my 3 dogs and a very overactive imagination… Dragon Ball Z and any songs mentioned in this fic DO NOT belong to me. I'm just borrowing them for my own twisted amusement.

The Popstar

Chapter 2

When they arrived at Capsule Corporation, Goku made a point of not lingering, leaving them to settle in and get to know each other, but indicated that he would be back in the morning to pick them up; Bulma had a rehearsal to go to.

They didn't speak to one another as they walked through the compound and took an elevator up to the upper level where she had her very own suite. She was more than thankful that they had managed to bypass her parents; her mother would have surely embarrassed her in front of Vegeta.

She unlocked her apartment and they walked inside. "Alright," Bulma sighed awkwardly after a long moment of silence and both of them standing there in the entryway and looking around at everything except for each other. It was a very open concept floor plan. "Would you like a tour?"

"Sure," he nodded.

"Come with me," she said. "You can leave your things here and come back for them after,"

He grunted and followed her with Justice next to him.

She showed him the kitchen, which was immediately to the right. There was a decent-sized island that he assumed doubled as a kitchen table since she did not have one. Passed that was a spacious living room with a large flat screen TV and fire place. There was a large balcony too.

Bulma next showed him his room, which alone was nearly the size of his entire apartment. It was completely furnished with a queen-sized bed, a den with a love seat, recliner, beer fridge and large flat screen mounted on the wall. It had a giant washroom with a shower separate from a deep soaker tub with jets; beyond that was a large walk in closet that he estimated was the size of the spare bedroom in his apartment. There was also a spacious balcony with lounging chairs.

"This is my bedroom?" he asked in shock. The only thing missing, from what he could tell, was a kitchen.

"Uh huh," she shrugged nonchalantly. "If you think this is impressive, you should see mine,"

Vegeta nodded as he took in the almost obscene room that seemed to him like more of a suite than a bedroom.

"Come on," she said a moment later. "I'll show you the rest of the place,"

Bulma showed him the gym next. Goku had been right, he did appreciate the gym.

"This is impressive," he said in approval. "I may workout in here whenever I wish?"

"Pretty much," she shrugged. "I spend a lot of time in here too. Especially as of lately. I have a trainer who comes almost every day and in the evenings I've started taking kick boxing."

Vegeta snorted and shook his head. Why did every female choose kick boxing as their combat method of choice?

"What?" she asked with a frown. "I was kidnapped, you know; and I was powerless to stop it from happening. I think taking self-defence is a really good idea."

"You are right," he agreed with a nod. "It is a good idea, however, I would not choose kick boxing if I were you; or at the very least, not limit yourself with just relying on that."

Bulma sighed, annoyed that he was not impressed. "Maybe, but for now, I'm taking kick boxing."

"When you are ready to learn the art of actual combat, let me know. I can teach you how to handle yourself so that if anyone touched you, they would regret it the rest of their days," he said, exiting the gym and ready to get on with the rest of the tour. He was tired and was thinking a nap would do him good.

Bulma scowled at him, but turned the lights off in the gym and closed the door. She showed him the kitchen and gave him the rules about labeling everything appropriately and not eating her things. He chuckled at her, but did not argue with the ridiculousness of it.

"And everything else that way," she said, pointing to the other side of the apartment behind a closed set of foggy glass French doors. "Is my living area. Do you need a tour of it?"

"Might be a good idea," he nodded.

Bulma brought him with her into her side of the suite. He realized that she had not been joking when she'd told him that hers were even bigger than his.

He dropped Justice's leash and let him go to sniff and familiarize himself with the area.

"Umm, he's not going to like mark everywhere, is he?" she asked, watching as Justice began sniffing every nook and cranny of her apartment.

"Absolutely not," he scoffed, almost insulted. "He is working. I want him to know the scent of you and your place so that if anyone has been here that should not be, he will know,"

"Okay and what happens if I bring a guy or a boyfriend home with me?" she asked, wondering how that would work.

"Then you let me know and it will not be a problem," he answered. "If they are invited, then it is not as though they do not belong here. Why? Do you have a boyfriend?"

Bulma turned and glared at him. "I don't see what that has to do with anything,"

"If you have a boyfriend, it would be ideal for him to meet Justice. I would like to meet him so that I know who he is and we both do not decide he is an imposter that has no business being here," he answered seriously.

"I didn't think of that," she said, her offence at his personal questions fading. Goku had been right, he was very serious about his job. "No, I don't have a boyfriend and I don't typically just bring guys home, despite what the tabloids would like for you to believe."

"What you do with your spare time and with whom is of no concern to me," he answered professionally. "My only interest is making sure that no one who does not belong here ends up in here and that you are safe while out and about. If I happen to miss something off here, Justice will not and he will let me know."

"Right," she nodded. "Sorry. I'm just not used to having to be so open about my private life."

Vegeta gave her a funny look. Her whole entire life was an open book. It was on the newsstands at the supermarkets and gas stations; it was all over the internet and the gossip stations.

"I know, that probably sounds funny coming from me," she rolled her eyes. "In actuality, only like an eighth of what you read is true,"

"I figured as much," he said, though he wasn't one for perusing celebrity gossip in his spare time. "I know this will be a difficult adjustment, but you will need to communicate with me. I will need to know of your whereabouts at all times. I will need to have access of your agendas and schedules. If you decide to leave for any reason, you must let me know."

"I know," she sighed. She hated that her life had come to this. Though it wouldn't be a problem. She was truthfully terrified of going out alone on her own. "Don't worry, I won't be even wanting to go out on my own for a while."

"Good," he nodded and began to follow her as she quickly gave him a tour of her place. It was decorated in warm colours, but with the exception of all the records displayed on the walls of all her albums she had released and a few magazine covers that had been framed, her place was almost as impersonal and sparse as his own. He appreciated that it was likely because she was never home enough to enjoy her own space.

He grunted and stopped to look at her first album cover. She couldn't have been any older than seventeen or eighteen at the time, but she looked younger. Even now; that album had to have been at least nine or ten years old and she really didn't look that much different in that she had barely aged since that album had been released.

"Do you listen to my music?" she asked with a smile, noticing that he was admiring her wall.

"No," he answered plainly and moved on.

She frowned at him.

He noticed that there was a piano in the living room area. "Do you play?" he asked.

"A bit," she shrugged. "I was trying to learn a while ago because I wanted to try writing my own stuff, but I didn't have time to practice and get really good and then none of the producers seemed to be interested and told me it was a waste of time, so I kinda gave it up. I might try again one day when I'm not so crazy busy."

"Hmmn," he grunted. "What a pity,"

"I know, but that's the way it is," she shrugged, watching him head for her balcony to look out the massive windows. "I have to do what my label wants me to do. They have their marketing plans and apparently an easy listening album isn't what they want."

"Why is your balcony door open?" he asked, looking out onto the huge veranda, promptly changing the subject. There appeared to be a hot tub and fire pit there as well as a few lounging chairs for sun tanning and a table with six chairs.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I must have left it open when I left. It gets warm in here sometimes, so I like to leave it open."

"Not anymore, you don't," he said, abruptly shutting it and locking the sliding door.

Bulma sighed, not appreciating being told what to do, but didn't argue with him. "Well, I need to take a shower. I'm not sure what you want to do, but I'll order some food after. Is there anything specific you'd like me to get?"

"Order whatever you want," he said, turning to head towards the door of her place. "I am going to have a shower and a nap. I will eat whatever you decide to order."

Justice skipped after him and he closed the door to her place behind him.

A few hours later, a freshly showered Vegeta emerged from his room looking for something to eat.

"There's Chinese food in the fridge," he heard from across the room and noticed for the first time that Bulma was sitting in the living room on her own with a glass of wine. The TV was on, but the volume was extremely low and she had the captions turned on.

He helped himself to some food and chose to join her in the living room at the opposite end of the couch.

She was still wearing her fitted yoga pants and pink t-shirt, but she'd showered. Her face was makeup free and he was blown away yet again by how young she looked without it. She wasn't much younger than he was and she could still easily pass for an eighteen year old. Her hair was still wet and was piled high in a bun on top of her head. Even from where he was sitting, he could smell the delicate, feminine scent of whatever she'd washed herself with.

Yes, even dressed down and makeup free, she was still a sight to behold.

"Have some wine," she said, pointing at the bottle.

"I will pass," he said.

"Why?" she frowned.

"Because I am on duty and it would be unprofessional," he answered.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere and I doubt anyone will break in, so have some," she shrugged and then realized how stupid it was that she had to have someone physically staying with her because she was afraid to be on her own, even in the comfort of her own home.

He did not reply, but watched as she got up and came back with an empty wine glass for him. "I guess since I'm your boss, technically, you have my permission and you're off duty," she said to him, filling his glass and putting it down in front of him.

Vegeta grunted, but did not object further. Bulma turned the volume up on the TV and they silently watched a mindless reality TV show as Vegeta ate and Bulma enjoyed a glass of wine.

"Tell me about what happened to you." He said pointedly once he was about half way through his meal. The TV show was so utterly ridiculous it was making his brain hurt.

"I'd rather not," she said after a long pause.

"Why not?"

Bulma frowned at him. "Because it was frightening and I don't like to think about it or about what might have happened if they hadn't found me. Plus I just met you. I don't even know you, and it's personal."

Vegeta stared at her a moment. "Because I would like specifics on who exactly I am supposed to be looking out for and protecting you from. That iswhy,"

"Oh," she commented, bringing her knees up to her chest, feeling stupid. That did make a lot of sense. She put the TV on mute. "I'm sorry, I know it probably all sounds stupid to you considering you're in the military and were on deployment. What happened though, whether minor in your eyes, really, truly frightened me.

"Goku tried his best. He's been with me since almost the beginning of my career. He's one of my best friends since as far back as I can remember. I trust him with my life and he still managed to get seriously hurt. I already have a very difficult time trusting people, so having to lose him so soon after something like this happening to me and having to trust someone new with my life, who I've only just met a couple of hours ago, is really hard for me; so please bear with me, I'm not ungrateful you're here or trying to be difficult. I'm just having a hard time in general right now. I am afraid of going out and I am afraid being alone, even though I know that's stupid when I am at home. "

"I do not think it is stupid for you to be shaken up after something like that," he said, realizing that he perhaps needed to slow down and handle her more carefully. After all, she was a civilian, not a seasoned veteran used to going through debriefings after every incident. "You've never encountered something like what you did, from what I understand; correct?"

"No, never," she confirmed.

"So I am sure you are sufficiently traumatized from it. I do not mean to come off as being harsh or unsympathetic towards what happened to you," he said. "However when you are ready, I would like to discuss it. The more I know, the easier it will make my job. That is the reason behind all the questions. I will not judge you and I can assure you, I will never reveal anything to the press if that is what you are worried about."

"Right, I understand that," she nodded appreciatively. "Umm ok. Well, the person started sending creepy and threatening letters to me a few months before acting on anything. They claimed that they follow me to every event I attend, locally. As they began to escalate, I started getting apprehensive about going out, but of course, I don't have much of a choice. I need to be at the studio, I need to attend rehearsals. At one point I was shooting a video. I'm so busy and worn out, Vegeta, I don't even know what day of the week it is half the time.

"At first the letters were a little creepy, in that he claimed he was in love with me and that we were meant to be together. I of course never responded; but then they began to escalate. He started claiming that lyrics of my songs were a clear sign we were meant for each other because he felt they related to him or that I was speaking out directly to him through my music. If anything, it was kind of funny because I don't write any of my own music. I show up at the studio and it's given to me. I have very little creative control over anything I put out there," she explained.

"And nothing was ever done to figure out who this person was when this all started?"

"Not really, no," she shrugged. "I get cards and letters from wackos all the time! They usually write me once or twice and that's it or the persistent ones usually just give up after a few months. It's never been an issue. We just assumed he was some other lonely guy with a celebrity crush that would eventually grow bored and move on. Like all the rest."

Vegeta shook his head. "And now? Do you have any idea who he is? Has he tried to contact you?"

She shook her head. "I have no idea who he is. Until I was abducted, I had never seen this man before in my life, which angered him because apparently he claims he's been at every local function or performance or public appearance I make. When I was with him, he said I brushed against his hand in a busy crowd once.

"Apparently, and for the life of me I cannot remember this event, believe me, I have wracked my brain trying to remember this, but he claims that I was shaking hands with a bunch of fans on my way to an autograph signing. This was about a week or two before he abducted me. Anyway, I apparently embarrassed him because I was on my way in, shaking hands with fans along the fence; this I do remember from that specific event, and according to him, I deliberately skipped him but shook everyone else's hand."

Vegeta frowned in confusion at her account. "What do you mean, skipped him?"

"Like apparently I went down the line, shaking everyone's hand right up to the person next to him, skipped over him, and then shook hands with the person on the other side of him and everyone else down the line of fans," she explained. "Like I don't know why I would have skipped someone. If I had, it certainly wasn't intentional. If it was because he said or did something to make me uncomfortable, I'm sure I'd remember, but I don't remember him, I don't remember skipping anyone or choosing to not shake someone's hand."

"Did you get distracted perhaps and look away or stop to converse with one of your other associates that was with you so it was misinterpreted as you avoiding him?" He asked.

"Maybe?" She shrugged. "I don't know! Anything is possible and I did wonder that, but again, I don't remember! It's hectic down there, you'll see! It's loud and people are cramming in to get a glimpse of you or to touch you. They're shouting at me and I hear my name being called from every which direction, there's cameras flashing no matter where I look and it's blinding at times. It's exhausting and stressful! What you said, is the only logical thing that I can think of, because I did think of that and did say that when I was with him, but he insisted I did it on purpose and he was embarrassed and mortified and that was why he took action and abducted me. He wanted to remind me that he exists since I so rudely ignored him, as he put it."

Vegeta shook his head. "This person is not normal," he said.

"No, he's not. He's scary," she said. "Nothing happened," she added quickly. "He didn't try to hurt me or anything."

"Not that he had much time," he said. "He was likely trying to build your trust and make you feel comfortable enough that when you still turned down his advances after a few more days, he would likely then resort to violence."

Bulma shuddered. "No, he was alright. He grabbed me by my upper arms and shook me a few times for not remembering who he was or not apologizing to him for snubbing him that time, but when I finally apologized for it, he was better. I have a feeling I was drugged a lot of the time too. I slept a lot."

"And you are certain…"

"Oh yea, no. He didn't do anything to me," she shook her head. "I was fully clothed in the clothes I had been abducted in the entire time. The only thing he removed was my shoes."

"That you are aware of,"

"Please don't make me over analyze this," she said, burying her head in her hands and taking a deep breath as she began to feel the anxiety of it all creeping back up over her. "I don't think anything happened to me. I went for a physical after the fact and aside from a few bruises, the only harm done was that I'm afraid to go anywhere on my own, be here on my own and I now have nightmares of being kidnapped again and having bad things happen to me because if it happens a second time, he'll be angry and I wouldn't put it passed him to hurt me."

"It will not happen a second time," Vegeta said confidently. "I will make sure of that,"

Bulma smiled at him. "I believe you. Thank you."

"Do you have any of his previous letters that he sent you?"

"No, Yamcha turned them over to the authorities," she shook her head.

"Who is Yamcha?" He asked.

"He's my manager slash ex-boyfriend," she answered.

Vegeta rolled his eyes and gave her an unimpressed look.

"Oh no," she shook her head and waved her hands. "It wasn't him, he had nothing to do with it. It was actually him that was the one who figured out where I was and helped me get home as quickly as I did,"

"Right," he snorted. "How convenient," he grunted. Something about this did not add up. Some crazed fan had abducted her, held her hostage a few days, but made no ransom demand or did any harm to her. She could not recall ever seeing or meeting this person and it was her ex who had found her after three days when no one else could, not even the authorities. Once again, the thought that this was nothing more than a clever marketing ploy from the record label crossed his mind, but he could not detect any dishonesty from Bulma. She seemed genuinely traumatized. Could it be possible she had been the only person unaware of the fact that her abduction had possibly been cleverly orchestrated? "And you are certain he would not do something like this to you out of spite because you two are not together anymore?"

"Oh no, not at all. We haven't been together for years," she brushed off. "We never even really broke up. We just sort of evolved into really good friends. He would never do anything to hurt me."

"If you say so," he shrugged, though made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

"You'll meet him tomorrow at the rehearsal," she told him. "He'll be there."

"Good," Vegeta nodded. He was interested in meeting this manager slash ex boyfriend of hers. "One other thing, what did this person look like?"

"Hmmm he's fairly tall, in really good shape," she started. "Bald. I didn't get a name from him. He never gave me his name. Even in the letters, he signed it as just T."

"Any tattoos? Scars? Facial hair?"

"Not really," she shook her head. "He had what looked like a faded tattoo of an eye on his forehead, but I couldn't really tell for certain. It's not that clear and looks like maybe he was trying to have it removed. Other than that, he's just a buff bald guy. Not bad looking. Like not someone I would be immediately suspicious of if I saw him or bumped into him on the street. The room curtains were drawn the whole time, so it was dark."

"And it was West City Hotel?" He asked.

"Yes," she nodded. "I don't remember the name he used, but it turned out to be fake. Like a name that belonged to some old hermit that lives on a private island somewhere."

"Did they follow that up?" Vegeta asked.

"I think so," she shrugged. "Yamcha said it was a dead end, as the guy never leaves the island. Apparently the old guy claimed he didn't know who I was and didn't know of anyone matching the description of the man I described."

"Hmmn," Vegeta grunted. He would find time to look into this further. Something about it was not sitting right with him. "If you think of anything you think might be important, let me know."

"I will," she nodded. "Thank you for being here."

They went back to watching mindless reality TV for a while before turning into their separate rooms for the evening.