Chapter 11 – Run Into the Fear We Run From

She was all kinds of messed up, Bulma decided.

Instead of being one hundred percent disgusted by the beast that was Vegeta, she was barely scraping seventy percent disgusted and said percentage threatened to lower every time she thought about him. Twenty of the leftover amount was intrigued to dig that little bit deeper, to find his buttons so that she could return the favour of messing with his head – not that bad, right? Well, that was what Bulma liked to think, anyway. It was human nature to be curious and want to explore.

It was the final ten percent that screwed her over.

Just as it was human nature to be curious, she found herself also falling prey to damned hormones. No, not even just hormones, because it went way deeper than that. Way, way, way deeper.

For just the briefest of seconds during their spat last night, Bulma felt almost understood, in the craziest way. Vegeta's planet was gone. His race was two and a half saiyans away from becoming extinct. And now, her own kind was in the exact same predicament.

It was because of that, that it also felt as though she was looking into her future. She wholeheartedly believed that Vegeta was someone she could potentially become, if faced with difficult situations such as life or death.

It was that thought, that belief, that amplified the loneliness threatening to swallow her whole.

Since his mentioning that the human race was basically extinct, her loneliness bordered on unbearable and seeking comfort from Chi-Chi was simply impossible, seeing as her husband was still alive. While Goku wasn't human, he'd grown up as one and identified as one. Moreover, he was still the person she'd chosen to spend the rest of her life with and Bulma knew that made the cold sting of reality that little bit easier to bear.

She, on the other hand, was alone.

Even if they happened to come across another alien civilisation that didn't want to kill them on sight like so many others had, what were the chances of them looking even remotely human? Bulma simply couldn't see herself falling for someone who didn't look like her, especially when considering all aliens she'd met so far were repulsive – some even reminding her of the amphibians back on Earth.

Vegeta was quite possibly the only single humanoid man left in existence (Goku obviously didn't count).

The loneliness that evoked was almost paralysing.

Humans were social creatures and it was reported many times that they didn't do well in isolation, hence why solitary confinement was such an extreme punishment on Earth. They craved interactions, another human's touch, the feeling of security and love in numbers.

If they rescued Goku, Bulma knew her suffering was only going to worsen. It was bad enough watching the mother and son together. Not only did she miss her mother so horrifically some days that merely breathing became a difficult task, but there was a heartbreakingly high chance that she would never have that – a family of her own. Once Goku returned, she would be a tagalong of their family, a third wheel of the couple. Then she would die, and that would be it. Her family would end with her.

Just thinking that that was how the rest of her life was mapped out threatened to shove her into the arms of the psycho.

It was a good thing they didn't have any alcohol on board, Bulma thought miserably during dinner, propping her head up on an upturned hand. Not even because she was worried of lowering her inhibitions and doing some stupid shit. Bulma meant it purely on the off chance of her becoming a raging alcoholic to deal with Vegeta's bullshit and her suddenly crippling loneliness after that jackass mentioned her situation.

Maybe she would get lucky and somehow die during or after rescuing Goku? At least that way she could keep her promise to Gohan without having to tagalong with an undoubtedly happy family as they searched–

No, she couldn't even do that. Without her expertise, they had no way of maintaining the ship and she highly doubted Goku would steal another, leaving them at a huge risk of breaking down and drifting through space until they eventually ran out of food and water and died, or equally as bad, crash landing somewhere and were faced with a volatile species (if Chi-Chi, who was a mere human, survived the landing).

That and the fact there was a mass-murdering psychopath who more than likely wanted to avenge his pitiful defeat at the hands of someone who was inferior to him.

They needed her.

She was basically trapped.

"Chew slower, Gohan. You're going to choke," Chi-Chi chided firmly without looking up from her meal, thankfully dragging her out of those dark thoughts.

"Sorry, Mom," he responded, clearly distracted by the chunk of meat he was chewing on loudly.

It was quite the spectacle comparing the two saiyans, Bulma thought as she chewed on her own mouthful. Over the years, she'd always wondered if Goku ate like such a pig because he was blaringly different from the rest of them, then, once it was confirmed he was an alien species and his son was no different from him (when it came to eating), she'd thought that's it. It's a saiyan thing.

But witnessing the way Vegeta ate threw her off. Unlike the other two who grabbed whatever they could and shovelled it in without a single thought to what was actually in their hands, Vegeta was more dignified, in an odd way. Oh, he definitely ate just as much, if not more and was rude in his demanding of more, but at least he used cutlery and washed his hands before the meal. She also appreciated that he never spoke with a mouth full of food, and never spilled or slurped obnoxiously.

He was still an asshole, though. Just an asshole with good table manners. Sometimes.

"So when are you starting up your training again, Miss Bulma?" questioned Gohan innocently as the meal drew to an end.

She noticed Chi-Chi attempting to hide her concern and own inquisitiveness, peering up curiously from the corner of her eye, and it had Bulma sighing, knowing she owed the younger woman an apology for blowing up on her.

"Chi-Chi…"

But before she could say any more, Bulma was offered a small, understanding smile and part of her relaxed somewhat at the warmth that flashed through her dark eyes. "It was a bad day for you and I failed to see that. Instead of pushing you, I should have been supporting you. I'm ready to continue whenever you are."

Vegeta didn't so much as blink. Not once did he look up from his meal or slow in his eating. It was as though he was eating alone and didn't even register their presence, though Bulma couldn't work out whether she liked it or not. On one hand, they didn't have to put up with his sarcastic bullshit and general foulness, but then on the other, at the very least, they deserved recognition. They were working together, after all.

No. It wasn't worth it. After the night before, not being acknowledged by him was what she needed. Maybe if he kept ignoring her, then those damned, confusing feelings would shrivel up and die.

"Tonight," Bulma said resolutely and once more met her eye, jaw setting.

Chi-Chi's eyes lit up with pride and happiness, and she dipped her head, smirking. "Tonight."


To accommodate her lack of training and slowness, Chi-Chi slowed the attacks considerably, though not to the point of making them pointless. They still stung like a bitch if they caught Bulma, and they were fast enough that she was oftentimes backed into a corner, but it was much better for easing her into it.

More importantly, she was in a better mindset. Admittedly, her determination was partly down to wanting to prove Vegeta wrong, to wanting to make him eat his words, however, it was also Bulma wanting to prove to herself that she could do it. Vegeta elicited such a volatile response the other night, making her angrier than she'd ever been, and so she attempted to tap into that rage just as he'd said to. The only difference was that she wouldn't make herself act rashly or straight up idiotically, like he wanted her to.

"Good job," Chi-Chi praised as Bulma quickly ducked beneath her fist and spun around her, already anticipating the left fist that followed. "You're getting faster."

Well, it was about damn time! They'd been training every day for two weeks already without break. If there were no results despite how relentlessly Chi-Chi came at her, steadily increasing her speed and strength every couple of days, then Bulma knew she would have lost motivation.

Panting and blocking the fist that was impossible to dodge, she raised her leg, blocking the powerful kick that came a mere second later. "You think?"

"Definitely!"

Unlike her first training session, Bulma strictly forbade herself from comparing herself to the Earth's warriors or Vegeta. Doing so would always hinder her growth. Instead, she constantly reminded herself that she was merely learning evasive techniques to better her chances against dangerous aliens. Speed was her main focus for the simple fact that Bulma just wasn't cut out for the fighting life.

It wasn't until an hour later that they came to a stop, the chiming of her watch warning the brunette that it was time to start prepping dinner. Before she left, however, as per their new routine, she spared a glance over her shoulder, telling Bulma, "Don't forget I want thirty-five of each this time – cooldown after too."

Nodding in understanding, Bulma got straight to it, gritting her teeth against the burning of her limbs as she slowly but determinedly worked her way through the set tasks. It would pay off, she reminded herself repeatedly. It was worth the pain.

"It'll be worth it," she grunted.


Grinning to herself as she studied the mechanism of her new gun closely, she pondered the notion of descending onto a nearby planet for some well needed target practice. Surely the others would understand? After all, it was a form of training and considering Bulma would never be up to their level of strength, she needed that extra layer of protection – oh! Maybe she could call them add-ons or accessories?

Next on the list to make: a stylish thigh holster.

There were plenty of clothes she'd worn way too many times that were leaving a bad smell in her closet, she reminded herself solemnly and plenty of equipment fit to improvise with in order to modify the clothing. It was about time she recycled them and created new outfits!

Growing up – hell, right up until they left Earth, she'd always called bullshit on the whole working out helps mental health and while Bulma certainly didn't want to admit to being wrong, she truly was beginning to see a boost in her mood in response to the regular training sessions. Even while full of aches and pains, she felt full of energy and was itching for another session to continue her progress, because it was finally starting to show.

Most importantly – even better than improving her mental health – she saw a physical effect. That little belly pouch she'd earned through lounging around and shutting herself away in her lab? Reduced. Those jiggles she made when bouncing around? Okay, still there, but much firmer now! Her complexion was flawless, her hair felt healthier and shit, her nails were outstanding.

That had to be the real reason why the others had worked out religiously. Speaking truthfully, they all had abs that looked as though they were carved onto them and some even had biceps that were the size of her thighs. There wasn't a chance in hell that it didn't give their egos a boost – it definitely gave Yamcha one, she knew that much. And damn, when he'd just returned from a workout and was all tensed and bulging and needing to unwind, she just–

She shut off the thought, mouth running dry but being contradicted by the weight in her heart at the memories of their lovemaking.

It was always lovemaking with them, Bulma recalled warmly. Always tender and sweet and exactly what she would need after a tough day. Were there times when she wished for the roughness she read about in erotic novels? Sure. But they had intimacy. A connection so deep she was certain it could never be replaced.

A sigh escaped her as Bulma allowed herself to reminisce about the good old days, head falling back and eyes shutting.

What would he think about the messy situation she was in? Yamcha often joked about how she could start a fight in an empty room, marvelling over how effortlessly trouble found its way to her. Was he watching over her now? Laughing? No, Bulma thought sadly. No doubt Yamcha would be demanding that he somehow be allowed to return to her, to try and protect her from the monster that was Vegeta, even if he didn't stand a chance against him.

"Miss Bulma?"

Sitting forward and grasping the desk from the brief shock of his sneaking up on her, Bulma offered Gohan a small smile, asking, "What's up, kid?"

Completely unlike both parents who always said what they were thinking without fearing (or in Goku's case, understanding) the consequences, Gohan hesitated in the doorway, unable to voice whatever was going through his head. Rather than pushing him, she gave him the time he needed to open up to her. She'd always hated whenever somebody did such a thing to her as a child, for it felt so invalidating.

"I-I know you've been training really hard with my mom and I know that you've already got a lot to do, but…" The boy trailed off unsurely and frowned, looking to her with an expression that screamed he'd been fighting with himself on whatever was about to be discussed. It had her frowning and completely dismissing her gun, setting it aside safely. "I was… I was wondering if you wanted to learn how to read ki? I know that you have your scouter and all, but…"

Bulma's heart warmed indescribably, eyes softening.

"But what if it falls off? Or it's destroyed?" Gohan questioned with a deepening frown.

"I'll tell you what," she began conversationally, though couldn't hide her happy smile as she recognised the familiar determination to help a friend. There was so much of Goku in him that it still, to that day, stunned her. "I'll agree to lessons from you, if you take lessons from me too."

Surprise flitted across his features before the frown returned, though unlike before, this one was confused. "Lessons in what, Miss Bulma?"

"I want to teach you how to maintain and pilot the ship," she informed him while standing, making her way around the desk. Gesturing for him to follow her, Bulma made her way out of the labs and to the control panel close to the entrance, saying over her shoulder, "It's a handy life skill to have on the off chance we ever get separated."

"Wait, pilot the ship?" he repeated, shocked until he shook it off and rushed to walk in step with her, looking up with wide eyes. "I could really do that?"

Hell yeah, he could. Bulma unofficially learned how to drive when she was just seven years old, and she didn't possess half the abilities Gohan did. His impressive reaction time, strength (for piloting such a large spaceship) and intelligence would make it laughably easy for him to pick it all up. He'd have it down in no time!

"I… I don't think my mom will agree to that…"

Shaking her head with a tsk, she said, "Please. Your mom will be ecstatic that you're learning something new, especially something that opens even more doors for your future. Who knows? Maybe you could work alongside me at Capsule Corp. one day!"

Excitement sparked in his dark eyes and she smiled widely in response, arm coming over his shoulders and bringing him to her side.

"So, is it a deal?"

"Yeah!"


Slowly, ever so painfully, excruciatingly, slowly, Bulma began to respect the work Vegeta put into his training.

His work ethic was admirable, even she could admit that.

After a couple of sleepless nights, Bulma had quickly realised that Vegeta woke up before four in the morning to start his training and he only ever left the training room to terrorise her which, shockingly, hadn't been half as constant as it used to be. Adding to that, she knew that he continued training late into the evening too. Where he found time to sleep and take care of basic needs, she wasn't entirely sure, nor did she care all that much. It was definitely something to admire about him, however.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

Perhaps the only thing to admire.

"I mean, learn how to do it yourself."

Whereas he put all hours into his training, Bulma could barely stand more than three throughout the entire day – four, at a push – and one of those hours wasn't even physical training. It was training her ki (a lot trickier than it sounded, by the way)!

"What was that?" Vegeta questioned lowly, his dark eyes narrowing on hers.

Don't back down, she warned herself when he started his predictable advance on her. It was the same old thing every time they clashed. He made the first move, she inevitably backed down for fear of being harmed, but thanks to Chi-Chi's ruthless training and generally being okay (sometimes a little too okay) with striking her without a shred of remorse, Bulma was slowly coming round to being hurt (well, she wasn't as much of a baby about it as before).

Granted, Vegeta would surely do a lot worse to her than Chi-Chi, but Bulma was quick to scratch that thought from her brain before it made her back down.

"Do–" She squared her shoulders. "–it–" Hands coming to her hips, she tipped her head back slightly, looking down her nose at him, all the while ignoring the erratic beating of her heart at the sight of his pupils dilating. "–yourself."

Don't back down.

His nostrils flared.

Don't back down.

His brows furrowed, creating unnerving shadows over his eyes.

C'mon, Bulma – you've got this!

The deafening crack of his hands coming down on the desk behind her registered long before his sudden presence in front of her did and Bulma was disappointed in herself for flinching when it finally registered. She wanted to be stronger, to be uncaring as Vegeta towered over her so imposingly, however her mind had other ideas as it instinctively cowered over to the flight option, not even sparing the fight response a glance.

"Did you hit your head?" questioned Vegeta bitingly. "Or have you always been this stupid?"

"Stupid?" she repeated, the shrillness of her indignant tone causing his left eye to twitch. "Who the hell are you calling stupid?"

"Clearly you're incompetent if you're an engineer who can't even update a training simulator."

"Says the asshole who spends his entire life training and never looks any stronger for it!"

His harsh bark of laughter didn't startle her like it used to. Instead of flinching away from him or hurrying to soothe his ire somehow, Bulma clenched her jaw and stared him down as Vegeta glared at her arrogantly. She vehemently refused to show that she was intimidated as hell and continued to not experience a shred of regret for opening her mouth, not even as her heart threatened to give out from its constant pounding.

As always, his presence was domineering and Bulma felt as though she was burning alive standing before him. Was it fear? Anger? Lust? All three mixed together and more? It was impossible to tell, for her body gave off way too many different signals for her to understand.

"You're getting too cocky for someone who can't even handle a weakling human going at full strength," he muttered lowly, not for the first time assessing the bruises marring her body with a clenching jaw. It always left her in a state of confusion when he did that – why was he so reactive to the marks on her body? If he wasn't careful, then Bulma was going to start assuming he was some kind of pervert who got off on it. "You wouldn't last thirty seconds against me."

Snorting derisively, she shot back without thinking it through, "You mean you wouldn't last thirty seconds with me."

Holy shit.

All she could was stare in awe as colour raged on Vegeta's cheeks for several moments, mouth agape at the belated realisation that she'd made him blush. And of course, being who she was, Bulma couldn't help but rub salt in the wound once she realised it was there, her victorious smirk cold and full of harsh humour.

"Vulgar woman–"

"Well, that's certainly curbed my curiosity," she laughed at him, pushing against the arms caging her in. When they refused to budge, Bulma looked to him, raising a daring eyebrow. "Move, Stupid Saiyan. I don't have time for one-pump-wonders."

One weakness found, she thought with another laugh. Like a typical man, Vegeta's weakness was his ego – that included his sexual competency being questioned or laughed at.

But the tables were quickly turned on her once more when his hand shot upwards, lacing through her hair and tugging her head back harshly, her responding squeal bringing forth that cocky, annoying smirk of his.

"Don't misunderstand," he muttered, making a stab of fear shoot through her by backing Bulma into the desk, his hips pinning hers. "My reaction is solely due to your vulgarity. It's not every day you meet a woman so shamelessly slutty."

…Slutty?

Anger didn't cover what she felt at the meeting of their eyes, the word repeating itself in her mind like a siren, lips thinning as she steadily grew angrier.

Who the hell did he think he was calling her a slut?

"Maybe that's because nobody has ever actually wanted you–"

"Oh?" he questioned quietly, smirking.

Oh no.

No, no, no!

She'd worded that so wrong and hadn't thought it through due to being ruled entirely by the rage. Shit, he definitely had the wrong idea, didn't he? And even if he didn't, the way she worded it left her completely defenceless to his manipulative nature, allowing him to twist the whole thing around her. Shit!

"Is that your way of admitting that you want me?" Vegeta muttered and Bulma grimaced at the hand that suddenly grabbed her thigh, bringing it over his hip. "Well, Little Human?"

Goddamn hormones, she snarled inwardly, absolutely despising herself for the way her body responded to his. The hand that found its way to his bicep was steady and its grip unyielding, not at all like the uneasiness of her stomach as it churned at the contact. Throw up on him, she begged of her stomach. Do it!

"Is this what you wanted all along?" he went on to asking, and Bulma shuddered as his nose skimmed up her neck, lips brushing her jaw.

How did she make him stop? Could she make him stop? Clearly, attacking his ego wasn't the way to go about it – what kind of man essentially threw themselves at a woman who insulted their sexual abilities? And honestly? Bulma didn't really trust her voice in that moment, not when–

She gasped, eyes shutting and free hand finding its way into his hair almost like she wanted to keep Vegeta in place as he nibbled on a sensitive spot just beneath her ear.

What was her issue with what he was doing again?

"Good human," he said condescendingly, snorting at her sudden complacency.

Ah. That.

Bastard…!

If anything threw him off, then it was her sudden assertiveness rather than attack and so Bulma clawed at the reminder that he'd been unable to do anything more than call her a slut when she called him out.

"Okay, then," Bulma dared to say, ignoring the treacherous pounding of her heart and vicious whispers of her mind as it told her what she was doing was a bad idea.

Pulling back a couple of inches to meet her eye, he questioned flatly, "What?"

"You want this, right?" she probed while reaching downwards, the bold movement stunning him when her hand grazed his abdomen and Bulma bit her lip coyly at the jumping of his muscles. "You want us to fuck, right?"

His gaze zeroed in on her mouth, pupils dilating.

Gods, men were so fucking easy.

"I'm saying okay," Bulma repeated before taking the plunge and grabbing Vegeta's hard length through his pants, relishing in his hiss. "But I'm the one in charge."

"Like hell–"

A rough hand grabbed her wrist but surprisingly, he didn't move her away – or was that because she suddenly tightened her grip, making his eyes roll shut?

"Ah, ah, ah~" she challenged in a sing-song voice, hoping and praying that Vegeta couldn't sense the nerves boiling beneath the surface. In that moment, she couldn't show even an ounce of weakness. Their game was too deep into dangerous territory now and if the tables were flipped once more, she was done for. "What's wrong, Stupid Saiyan? Can't handle a woman taking charge? Am I too much for you to handle?"

Did she have him? The stuttering of her heart at the sight of his indecision told her yes, yes, yes. She had him in the palm of her hand – literally and metaphorically. But was it enough? What if she tried to walk away now, and he had other plans? Shit, what had she gotten herself into?

Push harder.

She would have to push through him to escape him.

"Ve–" Bulma leaned closer, purposely blowing hot air onto his neck. "–ge–" Twisting her hand slightly and eliciting a short-lived grunt, she pressed her lips to the base of his neck, meeting his gaze daringly. "–ta…!"

Instinct told her not to move an inch as a strong, unyielding hand wrapped its way around her throat, forcing more distance between them as Vegeta bent her backwards uncomfortably over the desk. His glower was pure malice, and belatedly, Bulma realised he was embarrassed, the blush on his cheeks failing him miserably.

"Oppose me all you want, Little Human," he spat, closing the distance between them once more. The pressure caused her spine to crack against the desk and she grimaced. "But do not fool yourself into believing I am submissive or someone to be tamed."

Wait–

"Just because you continue to keep this contraption on me does not mean that you can control me."

Woah. How was he completely off target? How the hell had he misconstrued the whole thing like that? Where the hell had she given him the idea of–

Oh.

It wasn't like that at all.

Oh!

Bulma met his eye with palpable shock, though was unable to disguise it even if she tried as she saw the deeper meaning to his words.

He was blatantly aroused – it was kind of hard to miss when she still had him in her hand, in addition to the wild look in his eyes – telling Bulma that he hadn't taken her actions as an aggressive move towards him, or an attempt to show she was in control of him (or whatever the hell was supposedly going through his mind).

No, his reaction was from how close she got to the choker around his neck, which was lowered until it was barely noticeable to him (for she'd yet to find a way of turning it off completely without removing it), but at a deadly setting that could cause her serious damage.

Part of her felt disgusted for forgetting all about the restraints still being active, though the other part was in awe that he hadn't brought it up. Not once. He just endured it.

Bulma blinked in surprise and without realising, her body relaxed in his grasp.

The hold on her neck wasn't even choking her – there was barely enough pressure to move her backwards. It was her fright of the seemingly offensive move that caused the commotion.

He had…

Yes, he was undeniably embarrassed (that part she got right), but not at her attempting to dominate him. It was from his reaction to try and protect her from… Well, her own stupidity.

"I'll…" Did she thank him and essentially call him out on the shocking act of kindness? Did she sweep it completely under the rug and try to get away from him? Did she try to find some kind of middle ground? "…find a way to turn it off."

The hand on her throat slipped away, hanging limply between them.

Was denial a better option for them both?


A/N - Sorry this chapter is a few days late - I've been really struggling lately.

I'm going to put this note on all of my next updates, just so it better explains the massive gap between updates.

I've dropped to just one weekly update due to my mental health being shitty right now and not wanting to burn myself out with having twelve stories on-going. This is schedule:

Week 1: Ghost Inside My Chest (COMMISSION)
Week 2: Could Roses Bloom? (COMMISSION)
Week 3: The Shadows of Your Heart
Week 4: Dying Embers
Week 5: Then Our Hearts Combined
Week 6: So This is Love
Week 7: Unravelling Since I Found You (COMMISSION)
Week 8: But Still, I Rise (COMMISSION)
Week 9: Red String of Fate
Week 10: Mercy, Love & Other Useless Things (COMMISSION)
Week 11: Come Undone (COMMISSION)

Thank you!