Chapter 6 – Into The Dark Below

Laying in her bed, Bulma kept her eyes locked on the smooth tile of her ceiling, wondering how the hell she was going to convince the already infuriated Chi-Chi into such a ridiculously dangerous plan.

Since their disagreement in the lab, they'd all been avoiding one another (well, Gohan didn't really have much of a say in the matter), making life on the ship unbearable. Even though it'd only been a few hours and she was probably speaking prematurely, Bulma couldn't help but wonder if it would remain that way. With everyone fending for themselves, remaining locked away in their rooms. God, she hoped not. It was so dull. Yes, it meant having to interact with a psycho, but…

What the hell was she thinking? Becoming a recluse was so much better than spending time with Vegeta. Gods, how lonely was she becoming, trapped in space with only the same two people to speak with, for her to so much as consider sitting in his company?

Shuddering, Bulma turned onto her side, gaze drawn to the photograph on her nightstand. Happy faces smiled at her warmly, their eyes full of laughter. Her mother had been the one to take the picture, for it had been a rare event having the guys back together again – all of them – and they'd wanted to remember the occasion. Even Master Roshi was in the picture, making the victory sign next to a grinning Krillin.

Her chest constricted to the point where Bulma was certain there was no oxygen left in the room, leaving her to gasp desperately, only to bury her face into the pillow when a pitiful half-sob left her a second later.

Dead.

Everyone was dead.

Her parents. Tights. Yamcha–

Fingers curling in her sheets, she did her best to keep quiet, knowing the others would hear otherwise. Bulma couldn't think of anything worse – having people witness her moments of weakness, when she couldn't gather the composure that made her a fierce businesswoman.

She was strong. She was. Truly.

But…

But, for now, she needed to grieve. And that was okay too.


Refreshed from her shower, Bulma tightened her robe around herself securely before leaving the bathroom, sighing at the cold air that hit her.

The halls were quiet, all doors shut, and she could tell from that observation alone that Chi-Chi and Gohan were stilled holed away in their room. Would she have to go to them to discuss Vegeta's reckless plan?

Procuring a new ship would be handy, Bulma allowed. However, she would no doubt need to work tirelessly on it to ensure there were no trackers. Stealing a random ship without taking any precautions was asking for trouble, and she was fairly certain that a powerful tyrant like Frieza would possess a much more powerful and faster ship than his lackeys. She knew she sure as hell would.

Would Frieza's ships be bigger than their own? Hopefully, Vegeta wasn't planning on taking those pods he and his accomplice had used to travel to Earth, for just the thought of such a cramped space made her feel claustrophobic. It was bad enough being trapped on their current ship – she didn't want to downsize in the slightest.

Turning on her heel, she returned to her room, quickly dressing into a casual outfit before taking a huge risk in going to see him.

Her mind played tricks on her the entire trip to the lock down room, hissing that Vegeta would be pissed with her for disturbing him. Tuning out the paranoia was damn near impossible, but she'd always been good at achieving the impossible, so by the time she was outside his door, Bulma had managed to rein in her fear, knocking tersely on the door.

"Is this room service?" he questioned as soon as he opened the door, eyeing her.

She resisted the urge to shudder. "Actually, I wanted to discuss your plan – the one about going to one of Frieza's bases."

Nodding once, he pushed his door open further, surprising Bulma when she found that his floor was nothing like when she was last there. All blood was cleaned up (although, as she'd feared, stains remained) and the furniture was pushed to the far ends of the room, leaving a space large enough for him to do basic workouts.

It surprised her how clean it was, though. That was the one thought that continued to repeat itself in her mind, making her gaze return to the floor in astonishment. Who'd have thought that a monster as ruthless as Vegeta would clean up after himself? Especially after all his talk about her being a slave?

"There is a base he rarely – if ever – frequents. Frieza sends trusted subordinates to deal with it on his behalf, though no-one powerful enough to cause issues for us."

Handy. Narrowing her eyes sceptically, she asked, "And you're sure that a base he doesn't really care about will have a better ship than this?"

Vegeta snorted at that, his arms folding over his chest. "How many ships have you seen, Little Human?"

Was that supposed to be her new name? He'd called her it more than anything else, she believed. And what the hell was the little comment about? They were almost the same damn size.

"Two," replied Bulma defensively, looking away.

"Let me guess: one of them happened to be Nappa's pod?"

Nappa? He must have been the other saiyan – the big one who had terrorised the Earth's army. "Yeah."

"Pitiful," he scoffed. Leaning back against the dresser, he regarded her coolly, forcing Bulma to stomp back the urge to shift her footing. She refused to look nervous in front of him, even though she was nothing but. "A ship like this wouldn't even be given to the weakest of Frieza's army. He prides himself on many things – his appearance being one of them."

Wow. A superficial tyrant?

It sounded uncomfortably familiar.

Wait. No. She was so not a tyrant. A total hard ass when it came to her employees at Capsule Corporation, sure. But not a tyrant. She only pushed them and demanded excellence because anything less and the company her father had almost killed himself perfecting would be in jeopardy.

Bulma ran a hand through her wet hair, attempting to distract herself from Vegeta's unwavering stare. "I want a bigger ship," she told him without hesitation, meeting his gaze once more.

"How big?"

There were options? Damn. "I want spare rooms and somewhere I can work without being disturbed."

"Any lab of Frieza's will be filled with technology you have no hopes in understanding."

That was undeniably true, however, everyone had to start from somewhere, right? "Please," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Are you telling me you were born with your current strength and knowledge? I didn't know half of the things I know now back when I was a teenager. I can learn alien technology."

"What else?"

Oh? So he was ignoring her boasting? "Like you were saying yesterday: we need somewhere you can train – Gohan, too. If we're going to be fighting Frieza-"

It honest to God scared the shit out of her when he burst into laughter and there was no masking her jump or gasp of surprise. "We?"

The condescension in his tone instantly caught her attention and Bulma felt herself bristling, despite her internal warnings of staying calm. Balling her hands into fists, she gritted her teeth, failing in her soothing deep breathing techniques.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from the battle."

He said the words seriously, slapping her straight out of her quickly escalating anger, leaving Bulma to stare at him with carefully hidden surprise. How was she supposed to take his warning? As a threat or concern?

The second the thought flashed through her mind, Bulma erupted into a fit of giggles, unable to hide them even as she slapped her hands over her mouth.

Vegeta? Concerned about her well-being?

Her giggles increased to full blown laughter and she was no longer able to see his agitated glare, for her vision was blurred with tears.

"What the hell are you laughing at, demon woman?"

Demon woman? Still, her laughter kept her from growing annoyed with him and she managed to tell him through gasps for breath between her giggles, "I had the stupid thought that you were concerned about me."

Apparently, her thought really was stupid, because Vegeta smirked. "You're right. That is stupid."

Right? God, what the hell was wrong with her? "Obviously, I'm having some kind of breakdown."

It was definitely the stress of the past day, wasn't it? No, it had to be the stress from the past year catching up on her. Preparing for the saiyan invasion, losing her lover and friends, losing her entire planet, travelling for six months on an unreliable ship that could break down at any moment, to finally enlisting the aid of the man who'd unknowingly had a hand in the horrors she'd gone through. It had all taken its toll on her once brilliant mind and in response to the agony, she was having a breakdown. That had to be it.

"Well, now that that's over," she said, wiping at her eyes when she eventually managed to calm herself down. "What do you suggest we do about the ship?"

"You're willing to risk infiltrating Frieza's base?"

Blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I thought you said there won't be anyone there who'd be a problem for us?"

"While I will stand out, most – if not all – of the warriors stationed there will know their place and retreat," he said with the same amount of haughtiness she'd used earlier. Tipping his chin up the tiniest amount, he looked down his nose at her, muttering, "You, on the other hand, are pathetically weak and they will leap on you the first chance they get."

Was that a threat? It didn't matter if it was because it still scared her, although she refused to show it as she folded her arms beneath her breasts, raising a daring eyebrow. "Well, then. I just won't leave your side."

"You think you can keep up with me?"

Did he really think she was an idiot? Gods, if she had been an idiot, there was no chance she would have been able to keep up with the warriors of her planet. After all, what else did she have to offer? The majority of them were immune to her charms and didn't seem to appreciate her appearance – her intelligence was the only thing that kept her up there with them. Half of the time, it was the only way she could help them and their planet.

"I won't have to," she said cryptically, smirking.

"Explain yourself."

"It would be quicker showing you."

Beckoning him to follow her, Bulma turned on her heel and left his room, not bothering to check over her shoulder to see if he was following as she strutted to the lab. Keeping her arms folded over her chest, Bulma raised her chin, not caring that she was being arrogant as hell because damn it, she was a genius. She was allowed to feel proud and confident of her skills and talent.

It wasn't until she reached the lab that she glanced over her shoulder, entering without a word once the doors swept open.

"So it's something to do with the junk you have cluttering this pitiful lab."

Junk?

Junk?

Stomping down her anger, she walked over to her desk, yanking a drawer open with more strength than what was necessary. Then, she plucked a device from within, slipping it onto her wrist.

When she'd first grabbed it, Bulma hadn't been sure what use it would be – or whether she'd even use it. But it seemed stupid leaving it behind, especially when it held sentimental value.

"A watch," he stated flatly with a roll of his eyes. "You think a damn watch is going to-"

His sentence was cut off abruptly as she pressed a button and shrank until she was barely three inches tall, his eyes widening a fraction and following her every move (which she was secretly grateful for, as she really didn't want to be stepped on).

Only when her point was proven did Bulma press another button, returning to her original height.

Hands on her hips, she smirked.

"Keep me in your pocket," she said and shrugged. "I won't have to keep up with you."

"Do I look like I have pockets?" came his angered demand.

Shit.

His uniform was barely even clinging together, still covered in dirt and blood and sweat. Although it was obvious he'd tried to clean it, he hadn't been able to get any of the stains out – hadn't even made them fade. The thought of having to hide anywhere in his clothing made her shudder in disgust.

"We made Gohan's outfit out of my clothes-"

"I am not wearing a woman's clothing!"

"Would you rather walk around like that?" she snapped before she could bite her tongue.

Sucking in a sharp breath once she realised what she'd done, Bulma could only watch the ticking time-bomb with eyes a fraction wider than usual, heart pounding away in her chest to the extent she could feel it all around her body. He was silent, features stony as he stared at her with an unblinking, cold gaze.

"I would rather walk around in the evidence of my captivity for all to see and know that I was captured by a weakling, than have to wear a whore's clothing."

Whore…

Even though she knew she deserved the comment for wounding his pride, it was difficult squashing down her rage at the name.

"Typical male response," she yelled, unable to stop herself. "Not intelligent enough to think of anything else to say, so you resort to accusing women of being whores."

"What was that?"

"You heard me!"

Like hell she was going to back down. Like hell she would ever lay back and take abuse from anyone. Psychopath or not, whether he was the cause of terrible events that lead to her planet's demise or not, she would not let him treat her like shit. She was not a whore.

She was Bulma fucking Brief.

And it was about damn time the universe learned that.