A/N: I've got such big plans. I made an outline. I know where I'm going! I know where I'm going! The next installment will come quickly. Oh- and VOTE! It's important that everyone go out and vote [if of course, you are registered and eligible!]. I mean it ladies and gents- This election is important, no matter which candidate you're going for!

DISCLAIMER: It's complicated.

[Last time, on Dragonball Z...]

And as she leaned forward, as the grip on Vegeta's wrist in one hand, and his arm in the other became more stringent, as she hoped that he would at least acknowledge the action she was going to take…. She felt as though she were watching herself from the outside.

There was a loud tapping on the Gravity Room's smallest window.

"Bulma!"

She leapt back from Vegeta as though burnt and turned towards the voice which had viciously ceased her initiative.

It was Yamcha. And from the look on his face, he had been watching her from the outside as well.

For a moment Bulma was frozen in place. Her jaw slackened and both of her eyes widened as chilled blood began to circulate through her stiffened body.

It was Vegeta who saved her then, more likely for his own comfort than for her own. He stepped backwards and Bulma nearly fell flat on her face as she had been leaning slightly upon him for support.

Yamcha's face had disappeared from the glass and Bulma knew that he was standing outside of the Gravity Chamber, waiting for her to appear. She also knew that in the few seconds it would take for her to reach the door switch, she had better come up with a darned good excuse for why she had been caught in so compromising a position. But what was there to say? In that moment she had simply forgotten that anyone existed outside of herself and the Saiyan prince. What a selfish thing to do!

Bulma turned around to face Vegeta, but he was already on the opposite side of the room, pressing controls. There was a flash of red light and a rush of heat.

That jerk was turning on the gravity while she was still inside!

Angrily, Bulma raced to the door and opened it.

"What the Hell was going on in there?"

There was no mistaking the anger in Yamcha's voice as the door lowered into a flight of steps that Bulma began to walk down.

She could not answer him without a degree of hesitation, because she had no idea what she could say. Yamcha could see through her lies as though they were crystal. Besides, he had been watching.

Barely meeting his eyes, she somehow managed to say, "Yamcha, I'm…"

What, exactly? Sorry? Sorry she had been caught?

He cut her off with his hand, his gray eyes squinted in an irate fashion.

"I saw what was going on, Bulma," her boyfriend said, sounding more upset than she had ever seen him. "When you told me that you were here alone, I knew it. I didn't want to believe it could happen… but I knew it."

"Yamcha," Bulma began, but his hand rose again.

"Save it," he said with the same tone, the wind blowing past them and swaying tree branches. "You don't have to lie for him anymore."

Bulma wove a hand through her windblown hair, feeling so guilty she could hardly stand it. "I know, Yamcha," she said softly, "and I'm really… wait. What?"

Yamcha glared at the GR which had sprung back to life once more. "He was hurting you, wasn't he?"

When she didn't answer because of her bewilderment, Yamcha must've taken that to mean that he had guessed correctly.

"That's it, Bulma! I've had it with this guy!"

His hands were balled into fists, the muscles in his arms bulging through his knitted long-sleeved shirt. His red tennis shoes dug forcibly into the dirt. Bulma did not know what he was planning, but that if it had to do with Vegeta, she would not be held responsible for his death.

"I'm going to go in there and teach this guy a lesson in respect!"

And suddenly she had thrown herself in front of him, her arms outstretched, both of her legs planted firmly on the ground. "No! You can't go in there, Yamcha!"

She did not add, 'Because you'll die'. By the furious look on Yamcha's face as he looked back at her, Bulma knew he understood the meaning of her words.

"I'm just trying to protect you," he said, powering down a bit, but not losing his fighting stance or temper.

Bulma narrowed her eyes. "I can take care of myself, alright?" She exhaled rapidly. "Really, Yamcha! I don't need you playing the hero."

He narrowed his eyes as well. "Oh, yeah? Well, if I remember correctly, you used to like it when I was around playing the hero. Especially when your life was in danger."

Yamcha was clearly referring to their entire adolescence. "Just what were you doing in there anyway? When I called earlier you said that you were busy!"

And there it was; the suspicion, an accusation of something she certainly wasn't about to admit to.

Bulma both opened and shut her mouth, her throat dry. She was supposed to be a quick-thinking fast-talker. What had happened to her? She was too overcome with guilt and shame to defend herself.

"Bulma?"

Yamcha's voice was no longer hostile, and void of anger. He stepped closer to her and gave her a concerned look. Then, carefully he grabbed her right arm.

"When did this happen?"

The blue marks were brandished on her wrist, interlocked with purple bruising and the yellow glint of the sun. It was ghastly.

The colors formed the shape of fingers and a palm. Yamcha looked into his girlfriend's sparkling blue eyes and dared her to lie her way out of this one. This was undeniable. This was the irrefutable evidence that he had been searching for.

"It's not a big deal," she said, sounding completely unfazed by his concern for her. "Sometimes he doesn't know his own strength."

"That's not good enough."

Yamcha looked past Bulma and at the GR behind her. This time Vegeta would pay for what he had done.

Bulma had raised an eyebrow at him, her only emotion the same incredible look she had been giving him since he had suggested fighting Vegeta earlier. She pulled her wrist from him.

"If I don't care, I don't see why you should. Jeez, it's not like he tried to kill me or anything. Besides, he won't kill me with Goku around. I thought we established this a long time ago?"

Her long-winded speech was tuned out. Yamcha began walking, and he did not stop, not even when Bulma's speech turned into a loud screeching lecture about how Vegeta needed to train, blah, blah, blah. If he were completely honest with himself, Yamcha would admit that though he truly cared about Bulma, this fight was mostly for himself.

"Vegeta!"

He banged on the door hard and did so long enough so that Vegeta, whom he was sure had a short enough fuse, would eventually tire of the noise and see what was going on.

"Vegeta!"

The Gravity Room door quickly opened up, nearly leveling Yamcha who had strategically chosen to stand in its way. In the doorway stood Vegeta, shirtless and annoyed, his bulging arms crossed over his chest. When he saw Yamcha he growled.

Yamcha, who had thought that fighting Vegeta was a good idea just a few seconds ago, changed his mind.

"I see someone is speechless!" rang Bulma's voice through the air. "Who would have guessed it!"

Yamcha sent her a glare full of unspoken feelings of betrayal. "Who's side are you on anyway?"

"The side of peace and quiet!" she said, the irony not eluding the scarred man who had used those words against her not too long ago.

Yamcha opened his mouth to speak but found that the words could not escape his throat. This of course, was due to the fact that Vegeta's hand had tightened around it.

"Ah… cab… breed!" he struggled to shout. Of course his "I can't breathe!" plea was muffled by the large Saiyan hand choking him.

"Let him go, Vegeta!" Bulma shouted.

Yamcha felt himself being lifted into the air. He kicked and swung his arms around wildly, but it was in vain. Vegeta did not let him go.

"Why should I?" asked his captor.

Bulma stomped over to where Yamcha was several feet off of the ground and crossed her arms. "Because I said so, that's why you jerk! Now let him down!"

Yamcha dropped mercilessly to the ground.

"Damned humans," he heard Vegeta mutter as he cleaned dirt from his knees.

Absolutely humiliated at being taken at the mercy of the Saiyan prince (and in front of his girlfriend no less), Yamcha made up his mind to take his revenge.

"Wolf Fang Fist!"

Turning swiftly, Vegeta caught his fist mid-attack.

"Pathetic moron!" he sneered viciously, "How dare you attempt to attack me?"

The fool may not have known it, but he had signed his own death warrant. Vegeta's ki spiked sharply and Yamcha, who must have felt this great increase of power, widened his eyes.

It was the last thing Vegeta saw of him before pummeling a fist into his stomach, which sent him flying across the Capsule Corp compound. A tree broke his fall.

Vegeta felt a smirk cross his face as he made his way over to the crumpled form. He had not hit anything in so long. This was by no means a replacement for the fight he would soon have with Kakarot, but it would do. At the very least, he would enjoy it. Immensely.

The woman had reached the moron first, and she greeted Vegeta with a look of defiance and indignation.

"I think you've made your point Vegeta! What are you trying to accomplish by beating him up anyway?"

Vegeta easily pushed her aside. "I've never managed to kill anyone twice before."

He smiled his first smile.