Disclaimer: All things associated with Dragon Ball Z belong solely to Akira Toriyama.

A/N: I just realized that the title could mean so many things in this context... Thanks so much for all who reviewed! Your encouragement is very appreciated!

Something in the Water

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Release

The Prince of All Saiyans sniffed, his nostrils flaring.

Yes, she was a curse.

As her flailing hand was pulled down into the muck, he watched Bulma in mild interest and wondered if she would be able to get herself out of this one. He probably shouldn't have thrown her with as much force as he did -- but no one insulted him and got away with it.

Muffled screeches reached his ears as he turned and looked up at the belly of the ship, noting that the tank was only half-filled. Vegeta crossed his arms and scowled. What if something went wrong with the mechanics?

A distant thought crossed his mind, and he staunchly ignored it.

If the woman wasn't there to fix it, he might not get off this blasted planet, or out of this wretched solar system.

The thought niggled at his brain again, whispering enough to make him swat the air as though he could push it away.

Of course, the traitorous idiot would not be happy to find that his 'best friend' had been eaten by a planet. Who the hell but her could get eaten by a planet? And what the hell kind of warrior had a 'best friend' anyway? Scowl deepening, Vegeta kicked at the water. The woman needn't be fraternizing with that buffoon anyway. After all, she was his m...

There. The thought had made its way into his consciousness.

Vegeta gritted his teeth as he instantly blasted away from his place beneath the ship and headed to the spot where she had been dragged under. Mother-fucking-shit-on-rice. He had to choose the only idiot in the entire universe who had absolutely no sensibilities or fighting skills to be his mate.

Wanting nothing more than to rip his flaming hair out by the roots in frustration, Vegeta narrowed his eyes to appraise the situation. He could blast his way through, but that would probably kill the woman too. Cracking his neck, he gathered his ki about him like a second skin and dove into the muck arms first. With his ki propelling and protecting him, he could see that the tendrils were grasping at him from all sides, and a bare second later he pushed through to the dark emptiness below. The energy that the pulsing liquid emitted puzzled him, as it sent out bizarre waves of ki that seemed to attempt to permeate his own energy.

The scene below him sent ice through his veins.

Bulma writhed, choking and gurgling on the blood that surged from her throat. The misty, ameboid animals that surrounded her shackled her to their oozing hides, and Bulma strained her chest up towards the dark ceiling as she felt her lungs burn and expire, her bleeding eyes searching wildly for some escape.

Rage building up beneath his skin like a storm, Vegeta shot down to the thrashing damsel to release her from her encroaching tomb as he felt a burst of energy that seemed to consume his very soul.

Through the haze of blood Bulma saw a golden light even as she felt her pulse slow to a crawl... to a stop...

And then the darkness deepened.

Vegeta thought he could see through to her very bones as his hands reached out to pull her from the monsters beneath. There was too much blood for her to survive, he realized in a sudden panic, the foreign feeling flooding his mind like a toxin. Hastily he wrapped his arms around her frail chest and began to tug, but the moment he touched her his mind was sent spiraling as the alien ki invaded his own.

Vegeta gasped, his head burning as he nevertheless tugged her away, his arm straining with the effort. It occurred to him even in his torment that he was pulling against the entire earth -- the substance of the planet itself. The task was herculean; he gritted his teeth and screamed as the electrical pulse hammered through his brain and her blood soaked through her uniform and onto his. Her hair was entirely sopping as the scarlet liquid seeped from her pores down her aqua locks.

He couldn't move her -- couldn't pull her out -- and he was going to die with her.

Vegeta screamed at the unfairness of it all. His tendons constricted, his temple pulsed, his heels found purchase in the misty tendrils, and he stretched upwards with all his might as his body released unbidden energy that lit up the abyss, searing his vision.

Suddenly, he felt the release.

He was flying backwards into the air, catapulted by his own surge of ki. He unwittingly surged through the treacherous goo and back into the light of day. Tumbling through the air and gasping at his release, he felt the pelt of that sickly sweet sleet on his back; his mind returned to sanity; the burning ceased.

Vegeta stopped his motion in mid-air, abruptly aware of the limp body in his arms.

Pulling her away from his chest, Vegeta took in Bulma's appearance as his breath constricted. She was unbearably unrecognizable, her skin sunken in and her features obscured by crimson stains. There was no heartbeat.

In a wave of that unbidden panic, his energy cascaded from his chest as he pulled her to himself again, letting her head loll against his neck.

She couldn't be dead.

Vegeta ran his nose up the column of her neck, searching for her unique bouquet of life as he willed her pulse to return and her skin to rise.

She had to live.

His own pulse overwhelmed his thoughts as his lips brushed by the mark he had left on her, and without hesitation he brought his teeth to it again and sunk them into her skin. Blood spilled into his mouth -- blood cooler than his own -- and he could only respond by forcing his ki through her veins, attempting to burn her blood into life again. He wanted to heat her up to that fiery being that he remembered -- that woman who pulled long-extinct thoughts and urges from his body.

Vegeta closed his eyes, concentrating on lacing his ki with hers, willing his energy to reach her heart and shock it back to life. He was a Saiyan; if he could heal his own body, then he could certainly heal hers.

The sleet fell hard and fast, pelting down his back with a vengeance, and he instinctively bent over to shield her dripping body from the worst of it.

He felt the timid brush of eyelids against his shoulder.

Suddenly her pulse boomed into life, thundering through his ears as his energy connected with hers in the ancient tradition of mates. He could feel her body through his mind. Her mouth gaped open as the blood receded down her throat, and the inflation of her collapsed lungs wrenched a strangled scream from her chest even as her mind struggled to wake. Her fingers clenched in the air as her body burned alive, each drop of blood being forced back down, her marrow spinning into overdrive to replenish her.

The pain was unbearable, and her voice left her as she arched her back in a silent scream, her eyes finally ripping open to find his face looming above hers in triumph. The burn was torture; the pressure was infinite.

Finally it began to subside, and Bulma fell back against his chest gasping for air and trembling like a leaf. Vegeta held her up against his chest, feeling his own pulse settle and his energy snap back into his body again. Curiously, it felt like a door had shut over some part of his ki, and it unexpectedly made him feel as though he were missing something important.

Bulma shook against him, her mind in a torrent of thoughts as her eyes welled up with tears that washed the scarlet residue away. She couldn't process the pain. She couldn't understand the experience. For once in her life, her mind was too jumbled, and she had nothing to say.

Satisfied that she was safely returned to life, Vegeta scooped his arm behind her knees and hauled her up to him as he slowly descended to the ship again. Bulma was unresponsive as her head lolled against his chest, tears pouring down her cheeks and leaving trails in the blood on her skin.

As they reached the ship, Vegeta noted that the water siphon had returned to the ship and that the control panel had shut itself upon completion. Good thing too, since the woman was in no condition to complete the smallest of tasks.

He touched the pad and the door slid open, welcoming them out of the sleet into the warm interior of their makeshift home. As he looked down on the bundle in his arms, Vegeta walked them to their room and entered the bathroom. With a brush of the control pad he activated the shower, and then he finally let his eyes rest on the crown of her head.

Vegeta broke the silence. "You need to clean yourself," he rasped, moving into the stall to set her down.

Bulma nodded mutely, and she let her feet fall to the ground as he released her legs and retreated to the dry area. Without looking up at him, she sank weakly to the floor and huddled into the corner, where the faintest splashes of water could reach her. She slid her tongue behind her teeth, tasting and feeling the iron grit.

A stream of crimson dirt began to flow off the tips of her toes.

Vegeta watched with an alien feeling of helplessness as the ends of her hair curled and dipped with the weight of excess blood beginning to wash out. His temper began to simmer at her downcast look. "Take off that ridiculous outfit," he demanded, irritated at her lack of courage.

Bulma jumped at his harsh voice and sniffed as her nose began to run. Slowly, with trembling hands, she unzipped the zipper that ran from her collar down to her abdomen, and her cheeks reddened with humiliation at his hardened stare.

A sob broke through their silence, and Vegeta was startled and embarrassed to be privy to such raw emotion. His black eyes glanced aside as her suit blossomed open at the chest, revealing the soft sides of her breasts, and Bulma began to weep forcibly as she struggled to pull away the tight material.

She felt so embarrassed -- so rejected, so unsafe, so befouled.

She remembered clearly who cast her into that wasteland, who flippantly tossed her life away. He who relished in his own pain had no qualms with giving her a bitter taste.

The blood began to pool beneath her, and Vegeta watched in increasing agitation as she pulling one shoulder down and wept, trying fruitlessly to cover up her exposed breast. Finally he could take no more and he stepped beneath the water to kneel before her, reaching out to assist her.

Bulma's red-rimmed eyes flashed up at his startled gaze. "Get the fuck off me!" she screeched, gnashing her teeth like an animal as she recoiled from his touch into the wall.

Vegeta gaped at her. "You can barely sit up!" he protested, bewildered by her sudden madness.

"No!" she snarled, and she reached out to shove him away.

Catching her arms without difficulty, Vegeta made an executive decision and coldly swept her back into his arms. Standing with her screaming into his ear, he wrenched the tainted cloth down her back to her hips, and he felt her breasts bounce up to meet his chest. "You need to be cleaned," he murmured resolutely, ignoring her thrashing body.

"You animal! You heathen!" she seethed, her fingers forming into claws as she slashed at his back and shoulders.

Her fingernails were no match for his ki, and as he swiftly tugged her suit down to her knees, he replied, "If you don't quiet down then I will restrain you."

Bulma paused, her chest heaving with unsaid insults as her brain raced to a conclusion.

Then, as suddenly as she had started, Bulma let out a massive breath and slumped into his arms, sobbing softly like before.

Vegeta held her up, again taken aback by her abrupt mood swings. She hung limply against him, her knees buckled and her head lolling against his shoulder.

Without further ado, the Saiyan reached out to the wall to receive a handful of soap. Lathering up her smooth back, he ignored his first impulse to be aroused and concentrated on the color of her skin and the rivulets of blood that formed over her dainty muscles. "You're alive," he murmured suddenly, surprised at himself for responding to her emotional state. Hands circling her back and kneading her skin, Vegeta unconsciously soothed her like a small child. Later, Bulma would remember it.

He re-lathered his hands, delving them into her scalp as she tilted her head back, tears slipping out from the corner of her eyes to mingle with the iron on her cheeks. Vegeta grimaced at her weakness and finished her hair as fast as he could, trying to ignore its silkiness and its enticing length.

Then, completely emptying his mind, Vegeta turned her around in his arms to face away from him so that he could wash the front of her body. He closed his eyes, feeling her nose touch the base of his neck and the way her skin felt beneath his hardened fingers. Swiftly but gently, he moved his hands across her chest and stomach, dipping into the crevice of her naval. Gliding to her thighs and buttocks, he tried to think about the way she looked beneath the surface of the planet, writhing and screaming in pain, but it was no use. She had writhed beneath him, too.

With resignation he felt his member stiffen unbearably in his suit, and he gritted his teeth as he did the impossible: With a feather-light touch, he let one hand dive between her legs and barely wipe her clean, brushing along the outer rim of her core. His hand retreated, letting the water pour down in its place before he let it slide one last time to smooth away the lingering residue.

Bulma felt her cheeks grow warm despite the tears that flowed over them. She had been able to ignore his hands across the rest of her body -- too far gone in her dark abyss of self-pity -- but his strong, virile hand dipping into her nether area was too much. The second time he reached down she cried out, a mix between a yell and a sob, as her hands leapt up to catch his wrist.

The two of them froze, breathing the hot fog around them. His hand stayed cupped over her labia while she clutched desperately at his arm, neither holding him there nor pulling him away. She could feel the bend of his manhood thrusting up urgently against her buttocks, and though she could barely stand from shock and exhaustion she suddenly felt that indescribable pull in her hips.

There was too much tension to bear as she stiffly leant against him; with a heavy sigh he brought his hand up against her womanhood, cupping it firmly but gently as though his hand were just another article of clothing as he held her against him. Without a word he let her know that he had no intentions of seducing her.

Finally letting go of a pent-up breath, she relaxed into him, and he in turn released her core as he reached over to turn off the water.

A towel dropped from the ceiling, and he wrapped it around her frail form before he swept her into his arms again. Dripping everywhere, he nonetheless carried her into the bedroom and sat her down on the bed before he turned away and returned to the bathroom, resolutely snapping the door shut behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, when he reopened the door with a white fluffy towel draped around his hips, Vegeta narrowed his eyes at the woman on the bed. The most she had done for herself was to discard the towel and reach over to pull one of his loose shirts out of his drawer.

There she sat, the shirt hanging off one shoulder as she stared dejectedly at the floor, and he highly suspected that she wore no underwear.

His manhood agreed with him and twitched. He had spent ten minutes in the shower scraping off residual blood and trying to calm down his racing sexual drive.

Apparently, that was a big fail on his part.

"Where are your clothes?" he barked, and Bulma jumped at his harsh voice.

"I'm tired," she squeaked, averting her eyes, and her hair tumbled across her back in tangles.

Vegeta rolled his eyes, cursing the entire human race as he crossed to the bedside table to pick up her brush. Tossing it to her on his way to his chest of drawers, he shuffled through them till he found a pair of boxers. With a flick of his wrist he dropped the towel and jumped into his shorts.

Bulma glanced at the brush beside her thigh as he turned around. "I'm tired," she repeated, and made no move to lay down or pick up the brush.

Vegeta's eye twitched in impatience. "Lights off," he said, and the room was plunged into darkness. "Window open," he continued, and the wall behind where the headboard should have been slid away to reveal a lengthy window. Space floated lazily by. On the bright side, he had been able to send them back into space through the mini-control panel in the bathroom. On the down side, he had not been able to speed it up past crawl-speed, and he doubted at this point that the woman would be useful tonight.

Let them be, then. He had plenty of time to train.

But tonight, he would sleep. He was exhausted, and so was she. Bulma sat silently on the end of the bed, and Vegeta sighed inwardly at her resistance to being normal. He had come to the conclusion that her near-death might have been his fault, but really -- couldn't she suck it up? Slug-earth-bear-killers weren't nearly as horrifying as what Frieza did to his minions on the weekends.

His hair stood on end, and he banished the thoughts as soon as they came. "Lay down," he commanded as he came to stand by her. Bulma looked up at him, and for the first time that night he saw her jaw square off in hatred.

A smirk crawled across his lips. She would be alright in the end.

"Lay down," he repeated, flinging the covers back behind her as an open invitation for sleep.

Bulma's eyes darted to his but softened in weakness as a strange sadness and weakness washed over her again. Shoulders slumping pitifully, she slowly crawled to the empty pillow and plunged into the down mattress.

Vegeta gritted his teeth and counted back to ten as he moved to the other side to lay down. Indeed, she wore no underwear.

It might be a long night.

A/N: I'm thinking this scene goes a little longer, too. Sorry it took so long! I really appreciated all the reviews! Please continue to aid and abet me!