Thanks to all my reviewers, whether you were just saying cool or offering advice. I hope you enjoy this segment.

She hurt. It was the first thing Bulma noticed as her eyes fluttered open. The soft click of a door latch echoed in her ears, but she wasn't certain if that had been real or a dream. Groaning softly, she glanced around, trying to discover where she was. "Hospital," she mumbled, slowly sitting upright.

There was a rolling table in front of her, put dead in front of her. A newspaper, purposefully situated so that it was the first thing she saw, lay oddly folded. The picture drew her eyes, but she couldn't immediately see why; it was too complex, too complicated to be seen clearly immediately. She looked at the title next to the picture, and had much better luck comprehending it: Tragedy at St. Georges – horse dead, rider hospitalized.

Bulma' eyes widened as she looked at the picture again, forcing her brain to connect the shapes in the picture and match them to the byline. When she did, Bulma realized the image was of Vegeta holding Flawless' head as the vet administered a shot to the neck. For a second, she was stunned; then the shock faded and become pain. "No, no!" she cried, weeping and howling as Chichi burst into the room. Her friend didn't need to ask; once she saw the newspaper, she just grabbed Bulma and let her cry in her arms.

"Who the hell did that!?" Vegeta snarled at Kakkarot, aware that his brother had no better idea than he, but unable to just let it go. Chichi had been angry when telling them about the mysterious person who had let Bulma find out about her horse's death in such a heartless way, but the Saiyan brothers were angrier than Chichi, who was too busy caring for Bulma.

"Someone cruel," his brother answered, looking angry, but not as enraged as Vegeta felt. "Someone who likes to hurt people."

Someone who hurt Bulma. The thought rattled around in his head like a live beast, seeking release. But there was nothing here for Vegeta to safely vent on, no woodpile that need to be cut into wedges, or a ditch begging to be viciously dug. All he could do was rage silently.

"Mr. Saiyan?" The two men turned, watching as Dr. Krillian approached them. He looked pale and haggard, as if he'd not had much sleep.

"Yes," Vegeta said, "what have you found?"

"Sabotage," Krillian said wearily. "Multiple cases, all across the event. In most cases, the lame horses had been injected in the hocks with a chemical irritant. Some of the doses… they were high. Some of the horses won't recover, I think."

Both men were shocked into silence; even Vegeta, who had been expecting this, was horrified to find it was actually true. "The top horses," Vegeta concluded. "Someone wants to go to the Grand Prix. Badly."

"It's worse," Krillian added. "Preliminary tests… you were right about the bay, Vegeta. That was an unnatural break."

"I knew it," Vegeta said grimly. "What was it?"

"Explosives. A small amount was all that was needed. I think it was concealed in the horse's boot," Krillian sighed, rubbing his head as exhaustion glinted in his eyes. "This whole thing sucks."

This was not what Vegeta was expecting. "That's…" He couldn't finish the statement. It was cruelty beyond even what they'd heard already. It only solidified Vegeta's determination to find out who had done this.

Krillian nodded grimly. "The police have already been notified. They'll… want to talk to you, Vegeta."

"What? Why?" Kakarrot demanded.

Vegeta nodded. "That's fine. I thought they might want to." He glanced at his brother. "They always investigate the person who reports the crime." Kakarrot's eyes widened, then narrowed in anger. Vegeta understood the expression. Someone was hurting horses to win. The horseman in Vegeta, the part of him that did this year after year out of love for the sport and the animals, was enraged at the thought. He looked at Krillian, his expression resolute. "Whatever I can do to help. I want this person found."

The news shocked St. Georges. Several competitors immediately packed up and left, preferring to miss the chance at the Grand Prix in favor of protecting their horses. Vegeta had had a similar thought, but his father did not. So Saiyan Stables stayed.

But they weren't helpless. Ignoring what his father would think, Vegeta approached the remaining owners in Stables A and C, offering to help form a neighborhood horse watch. Some declined; most did not. They couldn't afford to refuse the help that Saiyan Stables' number would bring. Then he went to the other Stables, and offered to make room for them in Stables A and C, so that they would all benefit from additional numbers, as well as proximity to the more-traveled areas right next to the arenas. The event coordinators locked down on the security as well; by the end of the day, several men and women in jackets emblazoned with Dawson's Security Firm were patrolling the stables and grounds.

But the saboteur or saboteurs had already won. Over half the competitors had withdrawn. St. Georges became a ghost town overnight.

But Vegeta wasn't worried. He was now forewarned, and he was ready for further action by the saboteurs. The saboteurs seemed to sense this, for that evening was quiet. In fact, it was calm enough that Vegeta felt free to make a trip to the hospital.

His father was going to hate this, when he found out. Vegeta knew he would; his father had spies among the riders and grooms, and rumors about Saiyan Stables moved faster than their horses. But the flowers, the bundle of bright wildflowers, might escape the rumors. It was worth the risk, in Vegeta's mind, for the chance to give her something that might express his sympathy.

Finding her room proved to be difficult; the hospital was a large complex. But he finally got directions to the right area, and the right room. Drawing in a deep breath, he tapped on the half-open door and peered into the dark room.

Chichi's face rose like a specter out of the gloom, her eyes widening when she saw Vegeta. Standing up, she rushed to him, her hands rising. "You shouldn't be here," she whispered, actually putting her hands on his arms and pushing back, trying to get him out of the room.

"No, Chichi. Let him in." Bulma was another ghost, her pale skin reflecting the light from the hallway. She sounded tense, which was expected.

What Vegeta wasn't expecting was the newspaper smacking him in the nose. He'd had a vague sense of her whipping something at him, but he didn't see the newspaper itself until he hit him, exploding into various individual pages. "You killed my horse!" Bulma shrieked, her voice inhumanly high.

Vegeta did the only thing he knew to do; he repaid her in kind. The flowers hurled with accuracy, erupting in a fountain of cut plants and sweet scents upon impact with her face. "I did not kill your horse!" he roared. Chichi stood halfway between, startled into stillness by the sudden violence around her. "Give us a moment?" he rasped to her, and she took three steps automatically.

Vegeta saw her start to hesitate, and he didn't let her stop. Planting a hand in her back, he shoved her the rest of the way through the door and shut it behind her. As a final insult, he wedged a chair under the handle to keep her out.

Their privacy assured, Vegeta turned to her. "I did not kill your horse," he said, his voice softer but just as firm. "His leg was completely shattered. He would have been put down. I helped him. He was suffering." Bulma stared at him, her lips trembling. Vegeta waited until he was sure she wasn't going to launch into him again, and then continued, "He was a fine horse. I hated helping to put him down; I hated the loss of such a beautiful animal."

Her head dropped into her hands, and her shoulders started to shake. Vegeta's heart sank as he realized she was crying. Why'd he have to stop making her angry? Unsure of what to do, he gathered up flowers, rewrapping them in their paper. Some were broken, their heads bobbing on shattered stems. With a frown, he set the banquet on the bed.

She was still sobbing, and he looked at his hands uncertainly. Was he supposed to comfort her? Bulma clearly needed some comfort, but Vegeta felt woefully unprepared for this. Drawing a deep breath, he fell back on comfortable ground. "Red did well," Vegeta said. "He likes to blow out unless you hold him tight, but he'll get the job done."

Bulma, sniffing, looked up. "What do you mean?" she asked, rubbing her eyes with a blanket.

"I ran Red for you, over the eventing course," Vegeta said casually as he tossed a box of kleenix onto her lap. But there was nothing casual in his statement; that was something that Bulma had never heard happening, save among close teams. "He did well enough. A bit over time; I think that was my fault, though. I was a bit hesitant to give him his head on approach once I found out he likes to refuse jumps."

"I… thank you," she said automatically. Bulma caught sight of the flowers and reached out, scooping them into her arms. "Thank you for… the other, too."

Vegeta nodded, moving to look out the window. All Bulma could see was his stern profile as he stared out the window. "I can continue to ride him, if you have no complaint," he told her. "I doubt that the doctors will okay you for riding by tomorrow."

"Oh. Um, sure," Bulma answered. "Yes. That would probably be good."

There was silence; then Vegeta ended it with a question. "How do you feel?"

"Horrible," Bulma admitted. "I… can't believe it all." Tears threatened again, but she fought them off. They were clearly upsetting Vegeta.

Vegeta stared out the window, his attention clearly an attempt to not deal with the woman in the room. "Well. You'll get better," he grunted. Stepping away from the window, he nodded. "I need to get back." His dark eyes finally met hers. "Get well."

As she nodded, he stalked to the door and yanked the chair out of the way. He opened the door, and Chichi swung at his head with a closed fist. Only years of working with biting horses with fast teeth allowed Vegeta to dodge and grab her arm. "Don't," he snarled to her. "Just because my brother is smitten with you does not mean I won't hit you back." He released her arm with a final warning squeeze and shoved past her.

"He's…" Bulma said as a slightly shaken Chichi came into her room.

"…a brute!" Chichi exclaimed, pouting and rubbing her arm.

A match for me, Bulma thought, frowning thoughtfully.