For a moment, Vegeta felt like he had dreamt Bulma being there with him. One minute she was crouched in front of him, offering him her help while touching him, kissing him, telling him what he wanted to hear. The next minute she was gone and he was alone again, sitting up against the wall where he felt like he'd been for ages.

With haziness settling in after a brutal and painful night, he wondered if the blows that Recoome had delivered had made him hallucinate all of it. Reaching up, he gingerly felt the side of his head and winced when he realized his stitches from his fight with Dodoria had ripped open during the melee at the diner. Exhaustion and dizziness suddenly overwhelmed him, and he felt his shoulders sag as he lowered his head to his chest.

Though it felt like an extraordinary long time to Vegeta, Bulma was really only gone for less than a minute. Just long enough to snag his gear and his supplies, shove everything into his duffel bag, run outside and put it in the trunk of her car. She then ran back inside the storage unit, and was soon kneeling next to him. Worried that he had passed out, she reached to his face and patted him on the cheek. Vegeta scowled, forcing his eyes open as he turned his hazy gaze back on her, looking relieved.

"Hey, I can't carry you, so don't pass out on me," she urged him, concerned over how out of it he looked. "We have to get out of here, so you have to get up, Vegeta."

Vegeta leaned his head back, swallowing hard; he had come to the storage unit to patch himself up, and then to crash, for his body was demanding it. But he knew she was right. The threat could be over, but he didn't know for sure, nor could he be certain that Bulma hadn't been followed. The best thing to do was leave and keep moving, ideally until they were out of West City and in the clear.

Vegeta nodded, and then shifted as he slowly began to push himself up, scraping up energy that he barely had. He had experience digging deep like this while serving with the military, though normally it had been Goku who had helped him stand again to get back into the fight, instead of the detective next to him now. Bulma slid one arm across his chest and he leaned against her as she helped him back up to his feet. She winced at the feel of his bare skin; he was covered in a cold sweat, and his skin was clammy as a result.

Once he was standing, Bulma went to put his leather jacket over his shoulders as he favored his shoulder, his left arm limp by his side. That was when she suddenly realized that the exit wound where the bullet had torn through his skin in his shoulder was still open, gruesome and bleeding. Half of his bare back was covered in blood that was still coming, and she was amazed he hadn't already passed out because of it.

"You didn't cauterize the exit wound?" she asked in concern and frustration – mostly towards herself, as she should have asked if the bullet had gone clean through. It was better that it had, but it was no wonder he was looking progressively worse as he continued to bleed. Bulma quickly slipped off the light windbreaker-style police jacket she wore over her own WCPD body armor. Without waiting for a response, she snaked it around his injured left shoulder and under his armpit, then tied it as hard as she possibly could, right on the open wound to stop the bleeding for now. Vegeta gasped in surprise and pain.

"Tch. I'd only done the entry wound before you showed up and distracted me," he rasped once he found his voice again, breathing roughly again from the effort it had taken him to get back up and from the fresh batch of pain she'd unintentionally just given him.

Bulma rolled her eyes, draping his black leather jacket over his shoulders. "It's fine, this should get you by until we get somewhere safe. I'll make sure you get medical attention as soon as possible," she informed him, making his nose twitch in annoyance.

"I'm not going to a hospital," he adamantly growled, as she grabbed the bicep of his good arm and started pulling him along to get him moving. Vegeta's steps were shaky at first, but Bulma helped keep him steady until he found his footing again.

"I said medical attention, I said nothing about hospitals," she responded, her right hand going to the handle of her gun in her holster as they stepped outside together back into the night air. Bulma scanned the area, but it was dead quiet.

Vegeta grunted as he sat down in the passenger seat of her car moments later. He shook his head rapidly to try to focus, but he couldn't fully fight off his growing fatigue, nor the dizziness he felt. Meanwhile, Bulma rummaged in the backseat briefly, and then dumped a baseball cap and a towel on his lap before closing the back door. He scowled when he saw that the cap said 'POLICE' on it.

"I like this hair of yours, but it sure is a dead giveaway, and we can't have anyone IDing you while we drive," she told him, her hands moving fast. Vegeta frowned when she suddenly used the white towel to put pressure on his temple. Bulma then used the baseball cap to not just cover his hair, but keep the towel secured to his head as she tightened the cap as much as she could, making him wince and his head pound. She then secured his seatbelt for him, which made him roll his eyes a little. "We'll redo your stitches later, but this should at least help for now, so you don't lose more blood."

Vegeta was going to respond that this was all overkill, but Bulma abruptly closed the passenger side door before he could get out a word. He squinted as he watched her run over to the driver's side. She was moving faster than he could process, and though he was a little annoyed, he was also grateful that she was there. He had indeed been moments away from cauterizing his open wound on the back of his shoulder, and he had been 50/50 on whether or not the pain of two back-to-back cauterizing efforts would make him pass out. He had a very high pain threshold, but he was only human after all.

Bulma got into the driver's side moments later, then turned the car on. She scanned her surroundings to make sure there was no movement, and caught sight of a car's headlights down the street.

"It's not one of Frieza's people," Vegeta muttered next to her, also seeing the same thing.

"How do you know?"

"They would keep the lights off to not draw so much attention at this hour."

Bulma frowned, but figuring he knew more about the techniques of Frieza's men, she took his word for it and pulled out onto the street, going in the opposite direction. Pulling up her radio, she used the intercom as Vegeta closed his eyes and leaned against the window in exhaustion.

"Turtle, it's Alpha, come in."

Back at the diner which was now swarming with police and other officials, Krillin turned away and stepped outside. He watched as news media vans began pulling up, while they taped off the diner with yellow crime scene tape behind him.

"Turtle here," he answered, once he was off to the side and no one could easily overhear him.

"Turtle, I have Viper. Going to find a safe place tonight, but need you to find and secure a new landing zone for tomorrow on a semi-permanent basis. I want one that's not on our list already as those could be compromised. Don't tell anyone about it except me. Check in with me at noon with the details for the new landing zone," she ordered, glancing at the time on the car stereo, which was reading 3:45am.

"Roger that, I'll have that ready for you by noon."

"How's the situation there?"

"A little chaotic, the media is just showing up. The usual after anything with the vigilante. I've got it under control, I'll give you a rundown later."

"Roger that," she said, ending the radio transmission. She took a glance at Vegeta, who was out like a light, leaned up against his seat belt. His police cap was low over his eyes, his leather jacket secured around him, and she couldn't help but wonder how often he was left rundown like this after his vigilante violence while she manned the ensuing crime scene afterwards. She remembered how he had looked the night Goku got shot, but this was definitely worse. The violence appeared to be escalating each time, and she was immensely grateful she had finally caught up to him before he got killed in one of these chaotic confrontations with Frieza's men.

Putting her radio down, Bulma snatched up her cell phone and dialed a number she always had on speed dial, someone she knew she could trust. She waited rather impatiently as it rang, scanning her mirrors as she continued making sure she wasn't being followed.

Finally, a familiar voice answered her call, sounding tired and concerned. "Bulma? Is everything okay?"

"Dad," she immediately said in relief. "I need your medic right away. I've got someone who was in a bad fight and was shot. The bullet went clean through. One end was cauterized so I need antibiotics in case of infection. The other is still open and bleeding. They also likely have reaggravated a recent concussion. No time to explain more. Please make sure the medic comes prepared for all this. I'll text you the address on your other phone."

"Of course," her father answered. "I'll send the medic we have on-call, as soon as you tell me where…"

Some time later, once she was sure that she wasn't being followed and they were in North City, Bulma pulled over at a small motel that seemed safe where she knew she could pay with cash. Even with that, she flashed her badge and warned the young man behind the desk that she was a police officer and was not to be disturbed for any reason. He nodded, wide eyed as he saw remnants of Vegeta's blood on her hands and police body armor; he wanted nothing to do with anything she was involved in, and Bulma soon had her card key for a room for 2.

Moments later, after texting her father the address of the motel, she opened the passenger door and leaned in to unfasten Vegeta's seatbelt. She then turned her attention to him; Vegeta was sleeping so soundly, he was snoring. She gently touched his face to rouse him, but when he didn't respond, she patted him on the face a few times.

"Vegeta. Vegeta, wake up," she firmly said. Bulma cursed, growing worried when he remained unresponsive. "Vegeta," she said again, voice stronger. She shook him by the face with a little more strength, finally making him snort. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around briefly until his borderline delirious gaze settled on her. She sighed in relief, "Vegeta, I got us a room to crash for tonight, but first, you have to get up."

Vegeta scowled, the events of the evening slowly coming back to him as he regained his bearings. He shook his head fiercely to sharpen up, then grunted and began getting out of the car, waving her off when she tried to help him.

"Where are we?" he roughly asked, his words coming out slower than usual as he finally stood, albeit shakily. He was exhausted and terribly sore, but crashing for a short while had allowed him to briefly get some precious energy back. He squinted underneath his police cap as he looked around. They were at a quiet motel, and though it was not what he would have chosen, he saw the logic of her choice immediately. There were cameras all around them both from the motel and some nearby businesses, which would easily capture any strange activity. The lighting was also good, especially for the extremely late hour. While not impossible for Frieza's men to try something here (if they could even find them), it would be very inconvenient.

"We're in North City. We'll stay here for the night. It's safe."

Vegeta shivered then, the cool air feeling freezing on his sweaty skin. Bulma instantly grabbed him around the back of his waist with one arm, her other hand on his good arm.

"Come on, we're in room 3," she said, helping him as they slowly walked together outside past other rooms towards their own. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he gruffly said, even as he leaned more and more against her while they walked. His last two violent run-ins with Frieza's men had seen him emerge victorious, the sole survivor, but Dodoria and Recoome certainly had made sure he didn't walk away unscathed. Of course, getting shot by the police hadn't helped either.

"Uh huh," Bulma said disbelievingly, swiping the room card when they got to the right door. "Cauterizing can lead to infection, you know that, right?"

"Tch. Not my first time," he mumbled as they walked inside, flinching when she turned on the lights in the room.

Bulma frowned, kicking the door shut behind her and locking it, before quickly scanning the room. Nice and simple, with one queen sized bed. She led him over to the bed, and Vegeta instantly sat down on the edge of it in exhaustion, lowering his head as she removed his cap and the now-bloody towel from his head.

"How many times have you been shot before?" she asked, examining the gash in his head that had been re-aggravated that night. It wasn't bleeding anymore, but it was open and definitely needed cleaning and new stitches.

"Twice," he quietly answered, more focused on her touch as she examined the gash near his temple. "Once when I was 14 in my left arm. Frieza wouldn't let me go to the hospital, so…he had two of his men hold me down and he cauterized it…I passed out from the pain. I made the scar...I made it the eye of the dragon…my tattoo," he said, his eyes drifting closed as it became harder for him to talk.

Bulma felt her chest tighten at the thought that he'd been shot at 14, an outrageously young age to endure such a trauma. She bottled down her ever-growing hatred of Frieza as she slipped off his black leather jacket, tossing it onto a chair. Her own light windbreaker jacket was still wrapped tightly around his shoulder, and she was relieved that when she checked his back, it seemed to have stopped the bleeding from the gunshot wound.

Vegeta continued speaking while she examined the cauterized wound for signs of an infection, almost rambling now, "Then once in the Marines, I got shot in the leg…that one…I stopped the blood flow with a tourniquet and then…Kakarot…Kakarot helped me cauterize it, as we weren't close to getting medical help. Took months before…before…I…"

When Bulma glanced up and saw that he was on the brink of passing out right where he sat, she quickly moved her hands up to steady him.

"Alright," she said, gently but firmly easing him back to the bed, maneuvering him so he could raise his legs up. "You rest now. A medic is coming soon," she informed him, tugging off his black boots and tossing them aside. "He'll patch you up and make sure you're okay, and then we'll leave around noon and go to a safehouse."

"Hn. I need a gun," Vegeta mumbled, his eyes rolling towards to the door leading outside of their room. "If one of his men comes in…if someone comes…"

"If someone comes, I'll handle it."

He scowled, shifting in the bed, not liking the idea of him being defenseless; since his vigilante tear had started, he had slept each time with a loaded rifle in his hands for comfort and peace of mind. He liked the idea of Bulma taking a stand against Frieza's men even less, especially doing it alone.

Vegeta swallowed, brow furrowing rigidly, a flash of his earlier anguish crossing his face. His voice was slightly panicked as he tried arguing, "No, Bulma, I need…a rifle, something…I can't let you…do it alone…"

"Hey, hey," Bulma soothingly said, drawing his attention when she touched his face again. He forced himself to stay conscious as he stared up at her, even with how visibly heavy his eyelids were. Despite the circumstances, she couldn't help but give him a small smile over how strong willed he was. "I'm here, and I promise you that nothing will happen to you. I may be a detective, but I am a really good shot, the best in my class at the academy when I was a rookie. Do you trust me?"

"Wouldn't be here…if I didn't," he muttered.

"Good. Then sleep, and let me take care of the rest."

He grunted, then closed his eyes and did what she said. He passed out in seconds, and then knew nothing more.

It was a few hours later that Vegeta stirred. The first thing he noticed was that his pain was gone. His left arm was in a sling now, his shoulder now properly bandaged up. Vegeta scowled as he raised one hand up to his head, feeling fresh, professional stitches on the gash that Dodoria's bat had left him with. He had a few other spots of stitches near his eye and his lips, and then realized the blood had all been cleaned off his face, arm, and chest. His military duffel bag with all of his weapons and excess supplies was next to the bed, and his sheets were clean now, a bundle of bloodied sheets on the floor.

Turning his head, he realized that Bulma was sitting near the window of the room in a green, uncomfortable-looking motel fabric chair. She had a small table in front of her with an empty cup of coffee on it. She was using her loaded gun to peek through the curtains while she kept watch, one of her knees pulled up so her boot heel was on the edge of the seat, her other arm resting on her raised knee. It was still dark outside, but the sky was starting to lighten the smallest bit with the approaching dawn. The lights were off in the room and it was dark, but the small crack in the curtains was bringing in a little street light.

"You should probably get some rest at some point, woman," Vegeta gruffly said, drawing Bulma's immediate attention. She smiled tiredly when she looked him over; he still looked roughed up, but it was definitely better than how she'd first found him at the warehouse after Krillin had shot him. She had been certain he'd be out well into the morning, for he hadn't so much as flinched when the medic had tended to him, nor when she had cleaned all the blood off him and changed the sheets afterwards.

His dark eyes were focused and back to their normal level of intensity, the hints of pain and haziness gone now. She was relieved.

"What can I say, I'm a night owl," she lightly teased. "I figured I'd stay up at least until the sun comes up."

"Hn."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," he grunted, scowling as he nudged his bandaged shoulder. "Much better. Though a little off…painkillers, I'm guessing?"

"Yes, the medic gave you some, and some antibiotics. We have enough of both to get you through the next couple of weeks."

He scowled in disapproval. "I don't do painkillers. It delays reaction time, makes you sloppy."

"Well, I think you ought to make an exception when you've been shot."

"Tch. I've been shot before."

"Yes, twice, I know."

Vegeta frowned at her. "You uncovered that in your research too?"

"No, you told me earlier. You were out of it though, so not surprised you don't remember."

He seemed to stiffen uncomfortably at that. "What else did I say?" he asked, his voice neutral and guarded.

"Nothing embarrassing, if that's what you're worried about," Bulma told him with a smile. She then turned her attention to the curtains, where she peeked out again with her gun.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Well, my junior detective will find us a safe house today, and then we'll check out from here and go there. We have some that WCPD likes to use, but considering how compromised the department is with Frieza's moles, I'm not interested in using any of them. This new one, only my junior detective and I will know about, so that you're safe. Once we're there, we'll chat with the DA, and get you a deal for immunity on paper. He'll want to know more about what you know, and what you can offer us. Then once we have that, we'll come up with a plan from there for Frieza."

"Hn."

Vegeta stared up at the ceiling. He tried moving the fingers of his left hand that were in the sling, and then clenched a fist; though he could easily do both, a burst of pain flared in his shoulder, even despite the painkillers. He scowled, then looked back at her. He hesitated, licking his lips a little as Bulma continued looking out of the window. Her hair was down, and she had long discarded her police body armor, leaving her in just a snug white tank top. Her light jacket she'd used to tie his shoulder was on the back of another chair on the other side of the table, covered by his heavy black leather one, and the almost normalcy of that made him swallow hard.

"The sun is coming up soon," he commented idly.

"Looks like it."

"You should probably come to bed now, Bulma."

Bulma turned to look at him in surprise, raising an eyebrow. When she caught the way he was gazing at her, she read between the lines and saw the invitation in his words. She then let the curtain finally close as she slowly stood and stretched. She kicked off her own boots and put her gun on the night stand next to the bed.

Vegeta shifted over then as she got under the covers and joined him in the bed. She sighed in relief upon laying down; she was also terribly exhausted. They both laid on their sides then, her on her left, him on his right as they simply stared at each other. She looked at him curiously, studying his eyes. She loved the sheer depth that was in his gaze, the endless emotion, the passion that simmered beneath his intensity. That passion was manifested violently when he was on a vigilante rampage, but she knew that it could also manifest very differently – he had already shown her that, during their one night stand.

She licked her lips, ridding the memories. It was difficult though when he was literally shirtless and in bed with her, within her reach, and when he was looking at her just like he had that one night.

For the moment though, she allowed herself to just be content with the current situation. He was okay, he was safe, and she had succeeded in convincing him to work together. In doing so, she was going to save him from prison, or from getting killed, or both. That alone had made it all worthwhile.

Vegeta scowled at her then. Bulma slid her arm under her pillow, her blue eyes curious.

"What?" she softly asked.

Vegeta opened his mouth a couple times, as though trying to decide what to say, reconsidering, then reconsidering again.

Finally, he licked his lips as he settled on, "Thank you…for helping me like you did tonight," he whispered.

Bulma smiled then, a lazy but utterly happy smile, and he felt his heart race when she suddenly moved closer to him. She got as close as she could without disturbing his left arm in the sling, putting her right arm around his waist. Vegeta raised his right arm up as she rested her forehead against his.

"The Hero of West City deserves it," she said quietly with a husky chuckle.

"Tch." His eye twitched in disapproval. "You saw that at the police station?"

"It was tough to miss."

"It's ridiculous," Vegeta muttered. "I'm no hero."

"You are to them. That's how they see you."

"Oh? And how do you see me?" he asked before he could stop himself, making her pull back enough so she could look him in the eye. Vegeta raised an eyebrow, a morbid smirk teasing his lips. "Do you see me as a hero, or as a murderous vigilante?"

Bulma raised up her arm that had been around his waist, gently touching his lip. She looked studious as she examined his features up close, as though committing them to memory.

"Neither," she finally whispered. "I see you, Vegeta."

His smirk vanished as his dark eyes seemed to burn in response, an emotion flickering across his face too fast for her to catch. Vegeta then leaned forward and kissed her, and Bulma felt her stomach flutter over the way he dominantly worked his tongue into her mouth. She gasped a little into the kiss, pleasantly surprised with his strength as she moved her hand to cup his face, her fingers tracing his jaw line in appreciation.

He had thought he would lose his mind with his quest for vengeance, parts of his soul, maybe even his life, and he had not cared at all; but she gave him a reason to not lose himself completely. She gave him a reason to hope, that one day, the madness could actually end, and he might be fortunate enough to start over again…maybe fortunate enough to start over with her…if she would have him. He was not sure who he was anymore, and how he could ever go back to a normal life after losing Tarble so violently and morphing into a murderous, vengeful vigilante. His life was in shambles and he was inherently broken, and maybe had been as soon as Frieza had gotten his clutches in him as a boy; as such, Vegeta did not know if they had a future beyond these moments between gunshots and bloodshed. Hell, he did not know if he would even survive the dangerous days ahead.

And so, he decided to make the most of it.

Vegeta pulled away only enough to pull off and shrug out of the arm sling, before tossing it aside. He clenched his left fist, feeling hot pain surge in his bandaged shoulder as he winced. Bulma looked at him in mild concern.

"Vegeta, it's okay, we can wait-"

Vegeta put his left arm around her, and she gasped when she felt the strength of his fingers on her lower back while he ravaged her throat with hot, open mouthed kisses. Oh, it hurt him; every move had his shoulder on fire, but he could tolerate it. He could tolerate anything if it meant being with her like this.

Bulma was overwhelmed by his sudden, almost desperate eagerness as Vegeta abruptly rolled them over so that he was on top of her. His show of renewed strength had her heart pounding madly in anticipation, her fatigue fading under the thrill of feeling him like this again. Bulma inhaled sharply when he spread her legs and settled himself against her, before bringing his lips down and seizing hers in a searing kiss.

He kissed her with a passion like he did not care that his bottom lip had been badly ripped open by Recoome, or like he hadn't been shot mere hours ago. He kissed her desperately like she was the only thing that existed, and she whimpered a little into his mouth when she felt how hard he was already. Vegeta grunted and deepened the kiss further, literally taking her breath away as he began trailing his fingers slowly up the bottom of her tank top, making her shudder. His fingers were rough, strong, so very manly, and it was all such a turn on.

As though losing his patience, Vegeta shifted up so he was settled on his knees and straddling her. He then tugged off her tank top with her assistance, tossing it aside and leaving her in a black sports bra. He stared down at her, breathing roughly as he drank her in.

Bulma was breathing heavily underneath him, her blue hair loose on the pillow, her features flushed as she gazed up at him in need. He couldn't believe that this beautiful, tough, intelligent woman was here with him like this, that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. The first time during the one night stand had been all physical attraction and primal needs, and for him personally, a way to forget his grief for one night. This time felt entirely different, frighteningly more intimate than before, as though they were giving each other far more than their bodies this time.

Vegeta lowered his fingers of his good hand, two fingertips grazing over a breast while he breathed heavily, as though tattooing it all in his memory. She arched the slightest bit into his touch, and he responded by helping her pull the sports bra completely off, tossing it into the darkness of their room.

Bulma's breath caught in her throat, any concern she had for whether or not he was in pain vanishing when Vegeta lowered his head to her chest, eagerly latching onto a breast with his hot mouth, his hand coming up to cup the other. She moaned when he tugged lightly on her with his teeth, grasping his hair as though she desperately needed to hang onto something. He moved to lay on his side, his mouth still relishing in the softness of her breasts as he moved his hand down, sliding it over her stomach. Bulma shuddered over his calloused hand on her skin, having the fleeting thought of how much violence that hand had caused in West City, but the thought was not enough to stop the fire his touch left on her skin.

Vegeta then slowly slid his hand down the front of her pants, moaning against her breast when he realized how wet she already was for him. Bulma lost the ability to think, alternating between gasping and jerking under him, moans escaping her as she gripped his hair tighter while he alternated between kissing, sucking, and nipping at her breasts until they were flushed red under his assault, all while he rubbed her enough to take her to the brink.

Vegeta then raised his head and worked his tongue into her mouth at the same time as he inserted two fingers inside her, making her arch up, his name a strangled gasp against his mouth. He worked her hard and fast, expertly rubbing her at the same time with a third finger for what felt like mere seconds to him, until she finally broke their kiss, throwing her head back as she cried out his name.

Bulma was only vaguely aware of Vegeta's motion after that, her heart pounding as she struggled to catch her breath, one hand going to her chest as though to ground herself. She was startled when Vegeta abruptly tugged on her pants; looking up, she saw that he was standing naked at the edge of the bed now. She caught his gaze, and he gave her a heated look that was almost dangerous, before he reached up and pulled off her pants all the way, pulling her underwear down at the same time.

When he began climbing back into the bed with her though, she caught a grimace of pain on his face and the way he briefly favored his left arm. He fought through it as he went to settle himself on top of her, but Bulma pushed him until he rolled onto his back, hoping to cause him less pain that way. Vegeta raised an eyebrow in surprise, but any questions died when she literally kissed him senseless. He leaned his head back as he closed his eyes and moaned into her kiss, grabbing her with his good arm to hold her close.

"Bulma," he whispered against her lips as she explored his muscled chest by touch, then moved her lips down to explore by taste. She grazed her lips over the bruises that he still wore on his chest like badges of vigilante honor: fading ones from where Goku had shot him the night at the police precinct, a new and fresh one where Krillin had shot him earlier that night, other fresh bruises from the fight with Recoome. She kissed them all as though that could erase his pain, nipping at his skin, making him gasp. Moving down by his abs, she kissed an old scar from years ago, another by his ribs, another by his sternum, all faded stab wounds from a violent past he still wasn't free from.

"Bulma," he hissed, his voice rougher, more impatient. She reached down to find him painfully hard, and Vegeta sharply inhaled when she smoothly began to stroke him. "I don't…" he grunted, struggling to get the words out when she tightened her grip on him, "I don't have a condom…"

"I'm still on the pill," she breathed, and then he gasped when she straddled him, settling herself on her knees. Vegeta settled his hands on her thighs, staring up at her while he panted with expectation. Bulma looked down at him, his muscles glistening, his bruises dark and angry on his chest and on his face. She scanned him over in concern, her blue eyes flickering over to his bandaged shoulder, but he squeezed her thighs in encouragement.

"I can handle it," he panted roughly. "Trust me."

Taking his word for it, and unable to deny either of them now, Bulma adjusted him and slowly started taking him inside her. She felt her breath get caught in her throat as she leaned her head back in ecstasy, though she was briefly alarmed when she felt Vegeta still beneath her. Gazing down at him, she found him with his mouth hanging open and his eyes closed, his breathing caught too. Biting her bottom lip, she took him deeper, getting a thrill over the way Vegeta's eyes fluttered and rolled back in the heat of his pleasure. She moaned then, taking him all the way and leaning forward to rest her hands on his chest.

The bed creaked rhythmically moments later, soft light from the rising sun peeking through the curtains as their heavy panting and breathy moans filled the room. Bulma was riding him as hard as she dared, her sweaty hair falling around her face, the whole time maintaining eye contact with him. Vegeta watched her through half lidded eyes, panting through his mouth as he met her rhythm so she could take him as deep as possible while she braced herself on his chest.

Bulma leaned her head back, and Vegeta used his good arm to abruptly push himself up so he was sitting up, keeping it extended behind him to give him good leverage. Bulma gasped and grabbed him in surprise, wrapping her arms around his neck while he buried his face against her chest. His thrusts upwards into her were deep and fast, and she clutched him desperately, accidentally grabbing him on his bad shoulder.

He hissed in pain, but she didn't have time to feel bad about it as he thrust harder, lowering his mouth to a breast, nipping with his teeth as his hot breath tickled her now-sweaty skin. Though his left arm was going numb, he was still able to get it around her waist to hold her closer to him as she clutched his sweaty back for dear life, her climax crashing through her with an intensity that left her practically screaming his name. He did not last long after that, moaning against her as he shuddered and jerked, riding out his high, until he fell backwards with Bulma falling with him, sprawled on his chest.

They both didn't move for some time, both of them panting and trying to catch their breaths, limp and drunk from the intensity of their fresh orgasms. Vegeta's eyes rolled a little as he turned his head to the side, sneaking a glance at his shoulder. It hurt like a bitch, his whole left arm tingling with numbness, but hell, it was still attached, and that was all he cared about at this moment. He turned his attention to the woman with her face against his sweaty chest, reaching to her with his good hand to lazily twirl a couple strands of her hair as Bulma finally raised herself up to look down at him.

She bit her bottom lip hard at the sight of him. Though still serious, Vegeta looked far more relaxed than she had ever seen him – even after their one night stand. He looked content. His dark eyes, usually penetrating with intensity, were lighter now. The tension he usually had in his face had eased, which made the bruises on his face look less angry somehow. Her heart fluttered over how handsome he looked in this moment, and she had to resist the urge to kiss him again. They were not there to have sex all morning, and he in particular needed rest.

Not sure what to say, Bulma finally settled on, "We should get some sleep before the new safe house is ready."

"Right."

Some minutes later, after they had both cleaned up – and after Bulma had forced him to put the sling back on his left arm upon realizing the bandage on his shoulder was bleeding a little from the back exit wound – they got back in bed together. Vegeta laid down on his back, his eyes growing heavier by the second, the sex leaving him satisfied, but also utterly drained and exhausted. Bulma had barely gotten herself comfortable under the covers, before Vegeta was already snoring next to her, mouth hanging open.

Bulma watched him sleep for a few minutes, her blue eyes swirling with emotion. Finally, she moved closer to him, settling against him on his right side. Vegeta unconsciously turned his head towards her while she rested her head on the right side of his chest, away from his sling as she wrapped an arm around his waist. They hadn't bothered to get dressed again, and their skin to skin contact was still hot. She sighed, with a mixture of emotion…contentment, defeat, and trepidation for the future, as she realized that she could not deny the truth to herself anymore: she was starting to fall in love with the man sleeping next to her. She had no idea what that meant moving forward, but she definitely had to make sure it did not impair her judgment as a detective. One wrong move from her could mean Vegeta's death, and she could not even imagine that.

For the time being though, she just allowed herself this small moment of peace in their intense world of violence, gradually falling asleep to the feel of Vegeta's chest rising and falling with his steady breathing.

They slept together soundly, neither dreaming for once, undisturbed the entire morning.