For only a few minutes Vegeta had been fully awake, and although he was conscious he was still weak. There was a tube leading into his right arm, and he felt like such crap that it was hard to tell whether it was draining the life from him or supplying it instead. He was fully aware of the human near him, but each time he attempted to express to her his objection to this treatment he would be struck with the overwhelming threat of passing out. A mask was on his face to supply oxygen, but even with that it was too strenuous for him to try and speak.

The Blueheaded Woman that he felt so uncomfortable about was standing beside his bed now, her back turned to him and offering too good of a view of her rear. Why did she have to dress in such a constricting way? It showed more than he needed to see! He clamped his eyes shut to avoid looking at it, his eyebrows straining as he tried to muster the energy it would take to request the tube be removed from his arm. She was fiddling with something that he hadn't been able to make out before closing his eyes, but he could hear the sound of ruffling paper as she worked beside him.

It was then that an abrupt ringing noise ignited, which was enough to make the saiyan open his eyes once again. He turned his head to see Bulma as she walked across the room. The monitor of the telephone was placed at an angle where Vegeta couldn't see the screen, but he was able to make out her reaction from the profile of her face. Whoever it was that was calling, Bulma didn't seem too pleased. He watched as the Bluehead took in a deep breath, eying the telephone machine suspiciously before finally accepting the call. Instead of utilizing the speakers that were built in, Bulma pulled a headpiece over her ears, which Vegeta suspected was an act to prevent him from hearing the full conversation.

The saiyan turned away with disinterest, not caring to bother himself with matters of a race so inferior to his own. He glared up at the ceiling, trying to block out the sound of her voice as she greeted the caller. She spoke in a tone that didn't sound very happy, though. And with nothing else to place his focus on, the saiyan couldn't help but to listen to what was being said.

"Now isn't a good time." Bulma said curtly. She paused, obviously listening as the person on the other end of the line offered their reply. After a few moments she spoke again, sounding somewhat more disturbed than she had originally. "No. I don't want that. I'm busy right now."

'Pathetic Earth beings and their miniscule problems.' Vegeta thought, glaring up at the ceiling, wishing he had a way to block off his ears to keep from having to hear any more than he already had. That Woman was so hot-headed that there was no telling what type of dispute she was having with the person who had called, and judging by her taste in arguments it most likely could have been over something so petty that there was no point to it at all.

"Yamcha, I said no."

Well, that did it. The saiyan would have growled if he could muster such an act. Instead he was forced to continue staring at the ceiling as he lay in this motionless coffin built of his own flesh. What had he done to fall under such a fate as to helplessly listen to the Woman blabbering with such a useless cow by the likes of Yamcha? Even if she was being feisty during their exchange of words, it was still Yamcha. Why should Vegeta have to suffer through it all?!

"I told you I don't want you coming here! If you even try, I'll be ready! I won't need any authorities to send you away, I'll kick you so hard you'll fly all the way to Namek, myself!" And with that Bulma angrily ended the call, slamming her headset down with a harsh breath and turning away from the phone. "Hmph!" She creaked, stepping back from the telephone system and crossing her arms.

She stood in silence, not moving or speaking a word. The room remained quiet for so long that Vegeta found himself growing curious, even as he told himself it was all below him. The saiyan turned his head to look over at the Woman, who was standing beside the phone with her face in her hands. With the rage that was no doubt brewing inside after that call, it seemed that she was now trying to get a grip on her own anger before she did something drastic. And then, out of nowhere, she let out a deep breath that she must have been holding in, and she brought her hands down, slowly opening her eyes.

This was the first time he was looking directly at her face since awakening, and the saiyan was struck with the subtle memory of her crying as she placed some type of cloth over his forehead. It was so faint that he almost doubted it was real, but he couldn't imagine where such a vision would have come from if he hadn't seen it himself. His eyes widened to have the unexpected flashback, and it was then that Bulma seemed to notice he was awake for the first time.

She'd been so conflicted with her own thoughts that it took a moment to register they were watching one another. He was looking at her. Awake. With open eyes… staring. Bulma, still incensed by the frustrating phone call she'd just received, stared back as she realized he probably had heard the entire thing. He wasn't moving, nor speaking, and she wondered if he was perhaps still too weak to do such a thing. The last time he'd woken up and tried to talk, his body hadn't been able to take it…

"Hello..." She said slowly, trying to be sure that her voice remained calm, despite the hostility she felt towards that bastard scar-faced Z-Fighter who'd had the nerve to bother her just moments before. When Vegeta did not reply, Bulma offered a smile. "Are you able to speak?"

He thought about replying, but as his mind told his body to open its mouth, he felt a tension in his brain, and his vision blurred threateningly. So, instead, he slightly shook his head – a gesture that was proving to be a challenge enough - providing the Woman with a visual answer.

"Right." Bulma breathed, clapping her hands to her sides awkwardly. "I thought as much." She walked to the desk near his bed then, pulling out a chair so she could take a seat beside him. "You still have a lot of recovering to do." She explained. Her voice came out in gasps, as she was obviously flustered. There was a wide smile on her face nevertheless, and she looked into Vegeta's eyes as if she'd just uncovered some large treasure that would forever change her life. He didn't like it, and in that moment if he could have shifted away to add distance between the two, he would have.

"I just-" Bulma stuttered, still so breathlessly. "Sorry - I'm just so glad you're awake." She looked down at her lap and shook her head, that smile still on her face.

'What the hell is she doing?' Vegeta thought, biting at the inside of his cheek.

"Anyway, I suppose I have a few things I can tell you – if you'd like." She picked her head up to look at him again, whom had remained eying the Woman with subtle curiosity. He did not gesture his head to indicate 'no' like he had done to her last question, so Bulma took it as the encouragement she needed to continue. "Well, if I had just woken up from a coma, I'd have a few questions – I think." She explained, placing a thoughtful finger to her chin as she looked up at the ceiling. "First of all, I think you'd like to know how long you've been out for. The accident happened nearly two weeks ago."

Two weeks?

The heart monitor that was hooked to the saiyan began to beep at a more quickened pace. Bulma's eyes widened with a jump. "No, no! Don't worry! It's not that bad!" She said, putting an assuring arm on the saiyan's chest. Instead of comforting him, this only seemed to make things worse, for the heart rate monitor began to beep even faster - at such a rapid speed that the sounds nearly blended into one continuous scream, and the Bluehead quickly whipped her hand away to try and correct it. As soon as she did so the machine began to calm, and Bulma sat back in her chair with a gasp. "The second thing I think you'd want to know is the ship's condition!" She sputtered, hoping that perhaps this might calm him down. "We've already started rebuilding it. It should be good to go as soon as you're finished recovering!"

This – although Vegeta was pissed at the prospect of losing two entire weeks of progress (and counting) – this bit of news was enough to ease his temper. At least he'd be able to get right back into his routine as soon as he was able to move his legs! At least he had that! The heart rate monitor returned to a normal pace, and Bulma let out a sigh of relief. "Sorry, didn't mean to stress you… But it couldn't be helped." She shrugged. "I figured you'd want to know."

This was true. Although he wasn't happy to hear it, Vegeta was glad – and perhaps even a bit impressed - that she had enough intuition to tell him. He was going to find out sooner or later anyway, and because she'd had enough foresight to see he would want to know, he wouldn't have to be trapped with his own curiosity until he gained the capability to ask.

"You were in really bad shape, you know! Wanna see?"

Did he want to see? It made his eyelid quiver to do such a thing, but Vegeta managed to raise both of his eyebrows with intrigue. Bulma let out a small giggle to see it, and she jumped to fetch something from the other side of the room. "Here!" She said, holding a mirror above Vegeta's head so he could eye his reflection. "Just look at you! No wonder you were out for so long, huh?"

In the mirror he could see flesh that had been burnt black, and dark bruises running along his temples. His arms sported patches that revealed raw flesh, some of which had seemed to have been bandaged up, but some were still exposed. "Those spots weren't as deep." Bulma offered, as if she could sense his question, trailing a light fingertip along the side of his arm that made his stomach clench. "Sometimes it's good for the wound to be exposed to oxygen in order to heal, so I've been trying to switch them out every couple of days…"

She'd done this?

Vegeta looked at the tube that was inserted into the underside of his elbow. The scar across his lip. The gash covering his chest. She'd been tending to him when he'd been in a condition like this? Once again, the image of her crying beside his bed flashed the saiyan's mind, and he looked away from the mirror as if this would block it away.

Why? Why was she doing this?

"Yeah, I told you it's pretty bad, huh?" Bulma said, pulling the mirror down and returning it to where she'd gotten it from. "If you're awake now, I imagine you'll be able to talk before too long. Once you can speak, I'll be able to give you real food, and I'm sure that will help you to recover even more quickly."

Once again, the saiyan found himself impressed with her foresight. She understood that whatever the hell it was that the IV was sourcing into his body wouldn't be good enough for his advanced anatomy. She knew he needed real food – and lots of it! Eager with the thought of eating a large meal, and determined to get out of bed, Vegeta decided he needed to speak. He needed to demand that she feed him, and he also needed to tell her to stop looking at him like that!

She saw the look on his face. His eyebrows furrowing as he attempted to lift his head. "Vegeta, no. You're still too weak!" She hissed, but it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Vegeta's teeth were clenched, color flushing to his cheeks as he struggled with the blackness that was threatening his mind. He needed to overcome this weakness and speak to her without passing out! He needed to be able to eat, damnit!

"Stop!" Bulma gasped, horrified at the pain she saw in his face. "Just rest! You'll be better in no time! Just give yourself a few hours, would you?!"

But this wasn't good enough for him. He needed food, now. 'Open your mouth and say something, you useless harpy.' He told himself, and he tried. The heart rate monitor was blaring in his ears once again, and he could hear a low growl eliciting from his throat as he closed his eyes. He could feel her near him, his breaths shallow with frustration. He heard her voice saying something, though he couldn't make out what. The tension suddenly lifted from his muscles, and Vegeta passed out once again.

.

"What a stubborn jerk he is!" Bulma hissed as she dropped a slab of meat on the stove. "I work my arse off to make sure he'll be okay, and then he goes and willingly does something like that!" She salted the meat, flipping it with her spatula before grabbing a plate. Mrs. Briefs stood beside her, working over a pan filled with shredded chicken instead of beef, cooking it with just as much speed as her daughter. "Well, you know how that boy is!" The blonde-woman said cheerfully. "As least he's waking up now, right?"

"Yeah, but still!" Bulma snapped, dropping the meat on her plate and grabbing utensils so that she could cut it into small pieces. "He got himself into this mess with his own recklessness, and he's not doing himself any good when he keeps straining his body before it's ready! The last time he woke up he tried to jump out of bed, and he could have given himself a concussion!"

Mrs. Briefs was dropping the cooked chicken into a pile of vegetables that had already been set in the blender. Bulma followed suit, placing the chopped meat in and slapping the lid on top of it. She pressed a button to turn it on, and she watched as the food inside mixed into a dark brown puree that made her want to gag by just imagining its texture. This was the fifth time that Vegeta had woken up, and this time he'd actually managed to sit up in bed and gasp about wanting food without falling over in unconsciousness. The fact that he was able to form words and speak to her made Bulma confident enough that he'd be able to swallow down food without choking, but still. He'd put his body through an unnecessary hell in the process. And it wasn't just his stubbornness that bothered her - she was also peeved by his attitude. There had been no 'thank you' or acknowledgment of the stress she'd put herself through in order to make sure he was okay. He'd simply sat up, balled his hands into fists, and growled "Woman - get downstairs and bring me a meal. Now!"

Muttering under her breath, Bulma stuck a straw into the meat slushie she'd devised and began to make her way upstairs. Inside the room sat Vegeta, an impatient scowl planted on his face as he watched her enter with the drink. He'd managed to bark an order at her a few moments earlier, but it had taken enough energy as it was to do just that. He'd passed out from it, but now that he was awake he was still warding off how light-headed the ordeal had made him. "Hmph!" Bulma tossed her hair to make sure her feelings were known, sitting down beside Vegeta and handing the drink to him.

Vegeta looked down at the drink, and then back up at the Woman. He raised an eyebrow as if to ask 'what is this?', for this meal certainly was not up to par with what he'd come to expect in this household. The Bluehead scowled back. "It's not like you can chew a lot, anyway! Just drink it!"

The saiyan grunted, lifting his heavy arms to grab the glass from her before popping the straw in his mouth. The concoction had a bizarre taste, but he could recognize that there was meat, and he sipped it down as quickly as he could with one go. He sat back, feeling the tightening in his stomach as it filled with food for the first time in weeks, a consequential warmth running down his spine. Bulma took the empty glass back from him, placing it down on his desk and sitting back in her chair to give him a look-over. It seemed that Vegeta was so relieved by the nutrition that he was nearly falling asleep yet again, and Bulma let out another "hmph!" before crossing her arms. The drowsy saiyan turned to look at her, and this time he finally spoke. "What is it?" He grunted, hoping she wouldn't try to put her hand on his chest again.

"You know, I've put a lot of effort into making sure you recover okay!" Bulma puffed, turning up her nose.

"I didn't ask you to do that." Vegeta replied, thinking back on the image of her crying face once again. Why did she seem to care so much about his wellbeing? He didn't like the strange sensation it gave him - and why was she getting mad at him now? It was none of her business, anyway!

His words certainly weren't what Bulma had wanted to hear. She let out a squeak, her posture straightening as air filled her cheeks. "I know you didn't – and that's because you were on the brink of death! And you have nothing to say to me after everything I've done for you? Nothing at all?!"

"Why did you do it?" Vegeta shot back. It was a challenge, because he knew she wouldn't be able to answer him. He hated seeing the gleam in her eyes when she looked at him, and even as she lectured him in that moment her face still had a look. He wasn't ignorant to her body language – the way she bumped shoulders with him before his accident, or the way she would touch him while he was bedridden. She had tried to disguise running a finger down his arm as an attempt to comfort his pain, but he knew enough to see that there was more to it than just that. She was trying to get his attention, to make sure she was on his mind, and he hated how much it seemed to be working.

Against his will.

That damned Earth Woman.

"Well?" He smirked, narrowing his eyes. He could feel his muscles quivering of energy with each passing second that the food in his stomach was digested, and it would only be a matter of time before he'd be able to finally stand…

"I…" Bulma's eyes widened, blindsided by the question. She hadn't really thought about it, herself. She didn't know why she had put herself through so much stress while he was hurt, but she had taken care of him as best as she could. There was no reasoning in her mind – it was something she'd simply been compelled to do – and she'd just done it.

"Right." Vegeta grunted, breaking eye contact with the woman and nodding as he settled back into the bed. "That's what I thought."

Had she just been mocked? Why the hell did he look so smug? Feeling indignant, Bulma sucked her cheeks in and rose from the chair. "You're such a jerk!" She squeaked, balling her petite hands into fists as she shook them at him. The saiyan rolled his eyes. "So I've heard. You aren't the first person to make this observation, Woman. Don't flatter yourself."

"Why, you… you!" The Bluehead hissed. "This is the thanks I get for making sure you didn't die?! You're the one who was enough of an idiot to land yourself in this bed in the first place!" And with that she spun on her heel, marching for the door before she lost control and said anything else. The saiyan listened to her leave, sinking lower into his bed. He had the urge to yell something back, but quickly thought against it. She'd only take it as encouragement to continue this conversation, and all he wanted was to be left alone.

She didn't know anything about him, and it was clear in the way she looked at him that she expected much more than he cared to ever give. It wasn't his fault that she'd created some fantasy about his personality in her head! He was nothing more than a cold-hearted death machine that created destruction in any path he took - and the sooner she realized that, the better! She needed to focus on repairing the ship, and she especially needed to find someone else to oggle over. Anyone would be better than Vegeta. He didn't want that type of attention at all! She needed to focus on anyone else!

Anyone but him!