AN: Don't miss the long AN at the end!

Bulma crawled over the vent in the Jeffery's tube, peering through the wire mesh at the warriors below. She tried to tell herself that this is how spies did it and she should feel a cocky superiority. After all, she was getting away with subterfuge, and even with her enemies literally two feet away from her, they remained completely unaware.

And yet if she were caught…. any chance of mission success would be lost. Forever. She didn't understand why, but she knew she feared that more than anything that would happen to her.

She told herself whatever pretty lie it took to build courage enough to crawl over another vent. All it did was add to the pressure behind the dam of her fear. Her lungs felt like lead in her chest, and her stomach was full of writhing rattle snakes with sacks of flammable liquid behind their hollow, needled teeth instead of poison. She was certain if she swallowed a match, it would ignite the gun powder in her gut and her heart would explode from her mouth like a cannon ball.

She clenched her jaw to smother the sound of her breathing as she made her way past another wire mesh. Peering through it – probably because she was trying so hard not to – she caught a glimpse of the aliens just below her. She considered them as she silently crept overhead, and a mental picture of flying body parts came to mind. If she detonated, maybe she could take out a few of the scarier Soldiers with her.

"You are not a rifle, a cannon, or a bomb, Bulma, or anything else as sexy as that. You are a goddamned fucking walnut," she mumbled to herself. "An out of the shell, shapeless ball of mush, hanging-out-with-the-stale-beer-peanuts in the cheap dive bar dish walnut," she breathed quietly. Somehow hearing herself say that she was crazy out loud made her feel better than being chastised for her madness by her inner voice. It made her feel less alone, which – stupidly - was crazy.

She made it to a junction and focused her attention to the scouter's blueprint overlay. She was close to the belly of the ship where the scrap metal was kept; exactly where she wanted to be. Frieza compiled usable metals, other captured materials, and technologies and had them disassembled or melted down for repurposing. Conveyer belts, machines, and advanced robotics with artificial intelligence ensured that the whole process ran smoothly. Scraps were separated and compartmentalized to be stored in specific areas prior to transportation, depending on potential usefulness. Things that could advance the empire were brought to labs like Bulma's. Things that were potentially dangerous, could be used against Frieza if seized by enemies, or for any number of reasons imagined or real, were destroyed and jettisoned out of the airlock. Frieza captured so many technologies and ran across so many resources that the amount of incoming material was staggering.

Outgoing materials were supposed to be picked through and neutralized prior to dumping them, but the ratio of things coming in to things going out was vastly asymmetric. Bulma knew she could take advantage of this.. especially because the whole system was automated and was never shut down. All it had taken was for a gutted, grotesquely warped shell of a hull to cover a completely running, fully functional vessel and she had a perfectly good ship that looked like it was useless scrap. Hacking in to the AI mainframe to make such alterations had been simple enough, and programming the new ship to be overlooked and uncategorized by the whole system had only taken only a few moments longer. Now all she needed to do was get to the ship and, well, take out the trash. She'd wait a few hours for Frieza to be out of range so she could escape notice and she'd be free.

At least… until he noticed his top engineer was missing.

It wouldn't take him long to realize what she had done and how, and take steps to prevent such a thing in the future. She would be found, because it was inevitable – she had nowhere to go now that the wormhole couldn't be reopened. So doing this before there was a plan where disappearing without a trace was possible was insane. This was a one-time only method of escape and she was using it to rescue an alien who likely didn't know her any better than she knew him.

Why the hell was she doing this? Because in a moment that had been swiftly forgotten she had experienced an epiphany where she had told herself to do this?

No.

She chewed her lip and dropped through a vent and landed on a mountain of debris. She looked up and grimaced. She wouldn't be able to replace the mesh from this side of the ceiling, but there wasn't any other way to get inside the scrap yard. She sighed and waited for one of the automated robotic arms programmed to sift through materials for sorting purposes to get close enough. When one reached to grab a mammoth sized hunk of what looked like a twisted benzonite mining vehicle in its pincers, she leapt onto it. Eventually, it was dropped on a conveyer belt for smelting. She hugged the edge of the belt and trekked down the steep ramp until she reached another ramp. Leap frogging from belt to belt, she wound her way across the platforms until she could jump to an adjacent pile of scrap and climb to the ground. The whole ordeal had taken less time than she had anticipated, and she was pleasantly surprised that the fatigue in her muscles was significantly less than she had expected they would be. Pleased with herself, she followed the scouter's instructions and made her way to her hidden ship, careful not to get crushed by shifting whale-sized scrap metal - or the machinery large enough to move things of such mass.

No longer distracted by safety hazards, her thoughts continued where they had left off. If she wasn't doing this because she told herself to, then why?

She paused for a moment as sudden insight overwhelmed her.

She was doing this because she had to. It wasn't what she would gain that compelled her to go on this reckless rescue. It was what she could potentially lose if she didn't. Why else would she tell herself to find one of the last remaining members of one of the most lethal races? She had all the time in the universe to plot and plan against Frieza. If there was anything to gain, she'd find a way to acquire it at some point. No. The only reason she would tell herself to do this was because if she didn't, she would lose – something - she couldn't regain.

How the Saiyan fit into the equation, she had no idea.

The scouter beeped and she peered at an enormous pile of warped, heat-scorched shrapnel and tortured metal. Lifting her forearm so she could peer at the screen strapped to her sleeve, she activated the computer and typed in a code. A gargantuous magnet dropped from somewhere above and lifted the ship out of the mass of debris. She instructed the vessel to be placed in the corner where smaller, pulverized materials would be dumped; she wanted to look like she was being thrown out with the garbage, but she didn't want to get crushed by larger scrap in the process.

She scanned the integrity of the ship's hull. The thing really did look like a piece of shit. But – under the façade of destruction, a sleek, beautiful craft lay hidden. Not only would it fly, it was likely the fastest ship Frieza had. The best part was the tyrant didn't know it existed; it had been another project of Bulma's when she was still hopeful she could re-open the wormhole. She had designed it to be small - built to hold two maybe? - but it was made for stealth and speed. It's only weapons were defensive; she could outrun and she could hide, but if she were ever cornered, she'd be torn to pieces. The thing was a Ferrari, but it had a Ferrari's weaknesses. Fast and maneuverable, but made of glass.

Climbing in, she sealed the hatch and activated the release to jettison the surplus of unwanted, unusable scrap. It was going to be a bumpy ride, and because she wanted to appear inert, she'd be in a free falling tumble. She debated on whether or not she wanted to sleep through this phase – though she didn't have gravity and its forces working against her, it would still be incredibly disorienting to be in a full out spin – but she decided against unconsciousness. She needed to be alert in case anything else jettisoned collided with her.

She felt the ship lurch, and instantaneously, her body's senses exploded. Despite the lack of g-forces, her inner ears had no problem telling her that she was in an uncontrolled spin. She thanked God she had installed gyroscope stabilizers. It would take them awhile – too fast and it could actually injure her - but eventually there would be an up and down again. If she could survive the sick feeling of free fall long enough..

She knew well how it felt to have Earth's g-forces pressing down on her. With all her heart, she preferred it over this – sickening, maddening, disorienting… half her senses were telling her she was cartwheeling and summersaulting in a hundred directions at once at speeds that would kill her on Earth. The other half of her senses told her she was merely drifting, like she were floating down a peaceful summer stream.

She was losing her mind.

She tried to scream but her body couldn't tell which way was out. Breathing was difficult and even vomiting was impossible. Consciousness faded in and out…

Time had no real meaning, but as the edges of real and unreal began to reform, her mind started to piece itself back together. She slept and woke several more times, but awareness was slow to establish itself fully. When it did, she found herself floating serenely in zero gravity. She activated the computer strapped to her forearm and initiated power to the ship's systems. In the sudden presence of gravity, she cracked her head against the consul before landing on her back. Stiff, cold, and a little disoriented still, it took her a few minutes to regroup.

Dumping herself in the pilot's seat, she swiped the ice crystals from the controls that had begun to form, fed by the condensation of her breath. Despite the thick gloves she wore, the material was as flexible as it was sturdy, and her fingers were nimble against the console as she typed in the coordinates of her destination. The ship hummed to life. She didn't feel acceleration or movement, and it took the confirmation of stars zipping by for her to believe she was actually on her way.

The magnitude of her situation hit her – she was a fugitive running from the most powerful tyrant in the universe and she was utterly alone. The thought should have terrified her, but something alien writhed and unraveled from deep within her core and sizzled just under her skin; a distant echo of a burning fury – a refusal to give in - that somehow crushed her fear as if offended by it and fueled her resolve. It was there for a moment before it was swallowed in an abyss of nothingness. But it had been there and the thick taste lingered on her tongue.

She activated the bio gas that would put her into hibernation – something Peggle had invented. Flexing her fingers, her attention again focused on her gloves. Nurna, her other assistant, had made them, along with the neuro-mechanical interface that connected her nerve pathways to her suit. The suit itself was ingenious; it had taken her less time than she had anticipated to become accustomed to it. It somehow connected and communicated with her neural pathways. It required her to be naked, but it maintained perfect temperature and eliminated the need to excrete waste of any kind. Most impressively, it enabled her body to be a power source and a wireless hub, allowing her to access and interface with electronic systems using the computer on her arm. There was a defensive mechanism, as well. It concentrated all of her body's bio-electricity and condensed it into a powerful attack if the suit sensed enough adrenaline in her system. If she ever was in a fight or flight situation, it would give her a chance to run.

She contemplated her assistants as she relaxed and waited for sleep. The two assistants who had been her constant companions over the last 6 weeks had been invaluable to her, as equals, professionals – but most importantly – as the first real friends since she had lost her own through the wormhole. Her childhood friends were warriors who knew and understood strength. She had always loved them, but there was always a part of her that felt left behind. It wasn't until she was on Frieza's ship that she had met others who were like her – they thrived on solving impossible mysteries simply to discover and understand the unknown. They weren't emotional as beings as she was, and didn't understand what she meant by 'gut feeling.' But in many ways, they were so intelligent, she felt daft in comparison. Her own expertise was limited to electronics and technology. The first and only time she had ever fiddled with translating and combining mechanics with biology was when she had cracked the code of math and language to unlock Radditz's scouter – and that had taken her months. If it hadn't been for Peggle's phenomenal genius in biology, genetics, and chemistry – and infusing whatever knowledge her human brain could absorb utilizing the fluids in the regen tanks - she'd never have understood what had happened to her own genome. And Nurna.. Nurna had taught her… no, the transparent Enzajinn hadn't taught the 'silly human' anything. Some things would always be just too alien and advanced. Even so. On Earth, she'd been Bulma E. Briefs, suuuuper genius, minus pesky road runners, ACME explosions, and random anvils dropping on her head. Now….. now she was-

Her eyes shot open as a sudden, disturbing thought came to her.

Was she still even human?

The thought drifted away as sleep overtook her.

OoOoO

What felt like mere minutes had past when she awoke, but a broad, hazy, purple and cream planet spun peacefully below her. She blinked rapidly to activate the screen, and an overlay flickered as it was projected. She lifted her hands, and with gestures, commanded the prompt to show her all that had transpired while she slept. When she had left Frieza's ship 4 days ago, the Saiyan had been taken from the 5th planet from the 093.75r system's binary star cluster. Since then, he had transferred into the custody of one of Frieza's allies and had been transported here, two systems away. Since the ship was instructed to intercept information regarding the Saiyan, it had followed him to this small galaxy with a single red star and six large planets. The planet below was the sixth and laegest, and the pale, reddish light from the system's only star was feeble and cold.

Frieza's maximum security prison planet.

90% of the planet was either gaseous or liquefied benzene making the whole world highly explosive. Space craft could coast in, but it was nearly impossible for them to take off again without combustion or energy cells to power a lift off. For this reason, the planet had a magnetic sling that launched ships into the outer atmosphere. From there, piloting skills were paramount. If the engines were initiated too soon, the ship would be blown apart and disintegrate in a massive fire ball. Too late and the craft would be sucked back in by the planet's gravity and shatter against the thermosphere.

Bulma's heart surged. She had hoped the Saiyan would be sent to one of the other two close-by, less-secure prison planets owned by Frieza's enemies. After all, the Saiyan was one of Frieza's Soldiers. Why would enemies of Frieza transfer him into Frieza's custody? And if he was going to be given to Frieza's allies, why had he not been released?

Why had he been sent to the one place she couldn't reach him?

Unless…

Unless Frieza had discovered not only that she was missing… but why she was missingand sent the Saiyan here purposefully. Without trying at all, the lizard had captured them both.

But it made no sense to her. She understood that she somehow had a connection with the Saiyan, but didn't know what it was. She certainly hadn't known she would attempt a rescue. When she discovered that she was in fact going after the man, she had left Frieza's ship less than four hours later. After all, everything had already been in place… not even her assistants knew what she had done. Peggle could have disclosed her recent discovery that she shared DNA and knew the name of her benefactor, but that was all. There was nothing more.

Unless there was and she couldn't remember it…

Bulma grit her teeth and grabbed the manual control. She may not understand why the hell she was doing this, but he did know it was going to be a bumpy landing.

OoOoO

Vegeta sat in the shadows of his holding cell. He stretched his muscles and flexed his wrists. Before his first transfer, but after he had managed to rip Ginyu's throat out, he had been immobilized with chemical suppressants in addition to the collar around his neck. Though he still wore the intolerable collar, the tranquilizers had fbeen allowed to wear off and he was finally getting feeling back in his limbs. He had just arrived to the prison planet - the last one he would have expected - and was waiting to be processed. He had never been here, but he knew precisely where he was and to whom it belonged. What he couldn't understand was why.

Not that it made a difference.

He would survive. No matter how long it took, no matter what he must do, he would escape this cage and rain a firestorm of unholy hell upon the one who had put him here.

A commotion outside the cell caught his attention. Mild curiosity enticed him to listen, but after a few moments, he heard two things that left him not only thunderstruck, but feeling like a bomb had detonated inside his skull. First, the incoming prisoner was female. What was a female doing here!? Second, she had been caught trying to break in.

He snorted in an amalgamated attempt to laugh in amusement and hiss in disgust. He had no idea what to make of it. He wanted to applaud her bravery – whatever reason she had to break in to this place must have been nothing short of astronomically phenomenal – but the sheer stupidity of such an act was equally impressive.

The hellcat was brought to his cell and thrust in, kicking and scratching uselessly, and howling what he could only assume was obscenities in a strange, lilting language that seemed oddly familiar. She hadn't seen him yet and he found no reason to alert her of his presence. Instead, he watched her as she paced along the edge of the force field, testing its integrity. She wouldn't find weaknesses. Even if she did, to what purpose? She'd make it to the corridor before she was caught again. He didn't need his ki sense to know she was horrifically fragile and incapable of any show of strength. She was so miserably pathetic, she didn't even merit a ki restraining collar.

Even so, she was peculiar. The way she moved intrigued him… and her hair. It was – it was offensive. What kind of creature had hair like that? It screamed to be noticed, and for someone as weak as she, there was no purpose in calling attention to herself. What kind of species could survive if it produced such contradictions?

He cocked his head as he watched her. What the fuck was she doing here?

She seemed to give up probing the boundary of the cage and sank to the floor, idly rubbing the back of her neck. He narrowed his eyes. Between the fingers massaging the muscles below her ear, he saw it; telltale puncture marks in a very specific pattern – evidence that the prison guards had injected her with a neutralizing agent. He had seen this before: beings who learned complex information impossibly fast by infusing bio-intelligence directly into the brain. Well, whatever intelligence she had programmed utilizing regen fluids would now be lost, and she would be limited to whatever knowledge she had prior to the assistance of technology.

Whoever she was, she either had access to a lot of recourses or she had power. Only Frieza and had healing pods and the fluid they contained, so she likely worked for Frieza. But… then why would she bother breaking into Frieza's most secure prison planet? Couldn't she, under Frieza's name, get whatever she wanted from here? Unless she was committing some sort of treason or subterfuge. But if she was smart enough to get to this point under Frieza's nose, why would she attempt to break in to a place that was impenetrable – and more importantly - inescapable?

He scowled. It made no sense. For someone who must be as intelligent as she had to be, she was extremely stupid.

She jumped when he scoffed and turned to face him. Incredibly, and for the third time, he was shocked by her.

He didn't know what to look at first, even if he overlooked her overall appeal. The impossible, outrageous color of her eyes - or his name tattooed on her chin.

Instantly, he bared his teeth to taste the air.

Nothing.

She had no scent at all.

He hissed and his muscles bunched in preparation to attack. Amazingly, she blinked at him in surprise, but she showed no sign of alarm or fear. Oddly, she even seemed excited when her eyes dropped to his tail that, without his permission, had been thumping in a display of predatory interest against the floor. Unsettled, he wrapped the treacherous appendage around his waist, but he couldn't quite cut off the rapacious, rolling growl that rumbled deep in his chest - not until she cocked her head as if she could actually hear it. She peered at him as if uncertain the sound had come from him. He forced himself to relax his throat, and the growl fell silent. She narrowed her eyes and studied him.

And then she spoke.

He was certain it was the same musical language she had been speaking when she was tossed in the cell, and he couldn't help but listen intently. The sounds fascinated him; tickled his eardrums and teased him like they were drops of water that slipped through his understanding like a sieve. He could almost… he knew the meaning of those words… if he just… Unnerved, he barked at her to shut up in Galactic Standard simply so she would stop talking and the overwhelming sensation her words – her voice - elicited would cease.

She looked utterly confused for a moment… and started talking again. Questions this time – so he assumed. He refused any attempt at deciphering what she said. And yet, he didn't need to understand what she said to hear her voice.

He felt his whole body flush with adrenaline. A painful pressure – much like the one he had felt in the alley on the planet where he was captured – ignited in the base of his spine above his tail, spread over his thighs, and seared his loins. It seized his gut with a throbbing heat and rippled through his body in an agonizing spasm. He clenched his muscles tightly and fought against the unbearable, scorching ache.

He didn't know how long it had been, but the female had long since sputtered into silence, and she was watching him with keen, concerned interest.

Infuriated by his own inexplicable, sudden weakness, his inability to hide it, and the audacity of the woman to not only have outrageous coloring but to also show distress over him, he snapped at her in Galactic Standard.

"What purpose have you here? It must have been in your plan to be captured; there is no other explanation! Why have you my name on your face? Are you at fault? The reason I was sent here?"

She stared at him, slack jawed. Annoyed at himself for admitting out loud his uncertainties, and annoyed at her for being the catalyst, he threw in one last gripe for good measure since there really wasn't any reason to restrain at this point. It wasn't like she understood him, anyway.

"Are you even alive? You've no discernable ki - and you have absolutely no scent!"

He frowned at himself. Something had possessed him to say that last comment in Saiy-go and he hadn't realized it until the words had left his mouth. What the hell was wrong with him? Not long ago, he was perfectly controlled and calm. Mere minutes with this creature and his detached serenity was reduced to enraged malcontent and he felt like his skin was on fire. If she were three feet closer, he'd tear her in half and bathe in her blood.

She seemed aware of the danger she was in, but he saw the moment she decided to completely disregard it. Rather than back away from him and give him space, the masochist actually moved closer. A deadly calm came over him, and he deliciously awaited the precise moment she crossed the threshold. His mouth flooded with venom in anticipation. A bit closer….

When she stopped just inches shy of where he had drawn a mental line, feeling thwarted, he scowled.

She cocked her head and studied him as if she were considering him as intensely as he was her. He could practically taste the electric current of her blood as it flowed throughout her body, and again he licked the air to take in her scent. Exasperated, he expelled the air from his lungs and turned away from her, refusing to be taunted any further.

"St..stink..?" she said awkwardly – in Saiy-go.

His head snapped up and she jumped when the weight of his full attention descended upon her.

Impossible!

But, with incredulous bewilderment, he watched as she sniffed herself. If he weren't so baffled, he'd think her a fool – but.. if she had really referred to his comment about her scent, then her actions had merit. Saiy-go was a literal language, and he had used the word to annotate something that had a stench. It was only when taken in context that the word for stench referred to an individual's pheromones and not just an aroma.

Yet there she was… smelling herself – proof that she not only understood the word, she understood it was in reference to her odor.

This little female was full of surprises, and he was liking them less and less.

He clenched his jaw and decided to test what he didn't want to fully admit he already knew.

"Yes. Stink. As in, you do not." He held his breath and watched her chew her bottom lip as she dissected his words. She winced and opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it. Several times she did this before finally coming to a decision.

"I'm wet," she said with confidence.

Stunned, he stared at her, his vision swimming for a moment as he strained to resist his body's traitorous reaction. She had mispronounced a conjugation in the word water, which altered its meaning from wetness originating from outside the body – which indicated bathing – to wetness that originated within the body – which was a blatant invitation. Instead of telling him that she had no scent because she bathed, she told him she was sexually prepared for him. The sensual sound of her smooth voice wrapping around the words didn't help, either. He sneered at her in forced disgust.

"Your accent is absurd," he spat.

Her eyes lit with angry fire. "You not want my tongue in your mouth, your tongue put in my mouth!"

He huffed in exasperation. He knew she meant if she couldn't speak in his tongue, he should speak in hers. But what she said… He didn't even know why that sounded so overtly sexual – sticking tongues in mouths wasn't a part of copulating - but the blood under his skin was sizzling.

How had he gotten here, to this moment, with this female? The whole situation was obnoxious and so out of the realm of normal for him, it would be comical if it weren't so painful, and he had no idea how it had happened.

GAH!

"I NODT szppeeak Hyuumann!" he roared, in a language he was certain he didn't know, shocking them both into an astonished silence.

She rocked back on her heels, blinking at him with her all too-seeing eyes. Wisely, she backed away from him and kept her mouth shut. It was already too late, though. The tattoo on her face, her eerily accurate way of knowing how to read and respond to him – even his body's reactions to her, and, if he was guessing correctly by her flushed skin, heart rate, and breathing, her body's reactions to him – if these things weren't enough to scream the truth, then the truth didn't exist at all and he really was living in the lie he had started to believe. Somehow, he and this woman were linked – but maddeningly, he didn't know how. It couldn't be telepathic; her mind was completely walled off and she didn't seem aware of his attempts to breach it. It was clear they didn't know each other, so in what way were they connected? Was it by design?

Until he could answer that question, he would be wary, he would keep his distance, and he would watch her.

Just then, a reptilian-looking guard rounded the corner and waved his banded wrist on the wall outside the cell. The force field buzzed and shimmered, leaving an open space just large enough to allow him entry. He flicked his gaze to Vegeta but immediately dismissed the Saiyan and grabbed a handful of aquamarine hair. Yanking the woman to her feet, the beast fisted the material of the front of her suit and tore it open. Her eyes widened in shock and her body grew rigid as adrenaline surged through her muscles.

In the moment before she exploded into violent struggling, the guard had time enough to tear more of the material from her body. Vegeta observed a foot long purple tongue pave a path of slick saliva from the woman's hip, between the mammalian glands, and up her throat with surprising fascination. He'd never bothered to be interested in watching Soldiers take their pleasures while on purging missions. He'd never really bothered with indulging in his own pleasures, either – the act always resulted in a bloody mass of entrails coating him, the appeal of which was vastly overshadowed by his disgust. A short time spent sating a fleeting desire was not worth the hours it took to cleanse himself afterwards.

The woman seemed more agitated than afraid. This more than anything else piqued his curiosity. What defense could she possibly have that gave her leave of fear? He understood why moments later when, somehow, she directed a surge of overwhelming electricity that descended in a monumental, concussive blow, throwing her attacker through the air to crack against the force field opposite her. Stunned and smoking, it took a moment for him to rise to shaking feet.

Bearing pointed, browning, and cracked teeth, the thing snarled at her in pure malice. Apparently, she had no other tricks - evidenced by her wide eyes and pale features. She cowered in the corner in a crumpled heap, unsuccessfully attempting to cover herself. Vegeta pursed his lips, considering. Somehow, he doubted she was as helpless as she seemed, though he had no doubt that she was vulnerable. She would lose. It was only a matter of time.

Once recovered, instead of taking his revenge, the guard waved his wrist behind him and signaled the force field to drop. Centered on the wall was a circular hatch which opened when the guard punched a code into the band on his wrist. His gaze flicked to the female, clothed now in the tattered remains of her ruined suit, boots, and nothing else. He grinned at her before lunging.

In a blur of speed, the guard was on her, and just as quickly, Vegeta intercepted. The Saiyan tore the band off the scaled, green wrist of the guard and used their combined momentum to throw the reptile to the far side of the cell. The woman was flung half way between them, and as a sound laced full of pain ripped from her throat, the attention of both males snapped to her.

Shocking them both, she did the last thing either of them could expect. She threw herself at the lizard.

Vexed, Vegeta's eyebrows sank over his dark eyes. Her choice almost offended him. Did she think she was safer closer to that monster than to him? He frowned. True, he would have torn her in half – but at least he hadn't tried to rape her. Not for lack of interest, but because he had been too distracted by their absurd, not-quite conversation.

He was oddly pleased a moment later when he realized the woman had not launched herself at the lizard himself, but rather something clutched in his scaled fingers.

He tried to discern what it was she had been after when a sudden realization hit him. What was he doing? He was standing here, watching her like an idiot instead of using the band to deactivate the force field. Unlike the – what had he called her? – human? Unlike this human, he actually had the means to make it through the hallways, even collared as he was. He was still on the planet's surface, and the magnetic sling was within reach. The very ship that dropped him off was being prepped for takeoff and he could very likely make it….

So why he snatched the horrid female from the lizard's grasp just to toss her through the hatch - before throwing himself in after her was… it was… inexplicable. Unforgivable.

As they plummeted through the steep rocky chute to the cavernous belly of the planet below, her shrieking tore at his sensitive hearing and he continued to berate himself - even as he reached for her to slow her fall. The scent of blood filled his nostrils, but it was alarmingly absent of anything distinguishing. Did this woman truly have no smell uniquely her own? It unnerved him, but he didn't let go of her as their tumble finally came to a halt.

He clutched her wrists, and she his, but their position was precarious. She lay on her stomach, her legs stretched out below her, while he had jumped in head first. On his back with his arms overhead, they clung to each other and had no way to hold themselves in place – minus his legs. His feet and knees dug into the crevices of the stone, but after tens of thousands of prisoners being dumped through the chute, it had been worn smooth. Going back up was out of the question; the chute was entirely too tight to maneuver them up backwards and even if he could, the first thousand feet beyond the hatch was coated in a conductive material - which was designed to administer a powerful enough shock to kill him without his ki to protect him - if they somehow managed to make it that far. Their only option was down, and there was simply no way to control the speed of their decent unless he had the use of his hands as well.

He grunted as he considered dropping her, but he didn't move and he didn't let her go. When she shifted, causing them to slip a few feet, he hissed in frustration but increased the pressure of his legs against the walls. She paused a moment, but slowly, tried to inch her way up. Catching on, he helped her crawl up and over him. It was awkward in the tight space to have her nakedness pressing against him in the darkness as she twisted and shoved her way towards his feet. Wrapping his tail around her arm, he released her wrists and let her grab his legs to haul herself up, and further helped her by holding her weight and shoving her upwards when her balance permitted. Half of his senses demanded he respond to her as a male, but the lack of scent befuddled him enough to restrain.

And yet…

At the halfway mark, despite her efforts to press her back against the ceiling of the chute to create distance between them, her pelvis inevitably came within centimeters of his face. He couldn't smell her… but….

Bracing himself and tightening his tail around her arm, he let go of her completely to grab behind one of her thighs and the back of her other knee. Instead of shoving her further up his body towards his feet, he pushed her legs apart and dipped his face into her center to lick her.

She squealed and thrashed, making him completely lose his grip on the walls. She screeched as they slid a hundred feet before he regained enough composure to halt them again. Locked in a motionless stalemate, each of them straining to remain solidly in place, they lay pressed together, panting. After a few moments, she took in a breath – likely to squawk at him – but when she twisted to peer down at him, they dropped another few feet. She quickly stilled. Finally, she seemed to give up retaliating and relaxed against him, and they were able to continue her slow progress towards reaching his feet.

He grinned in the darkness. Perhaps mouths and tongues did have a place in copulating. He hadn't expected the thrill of her flavor to cause an electric zap that had shot straight to his cock, or the wave of heat that had clearly enveloped her body in response…

He dismissed that train of thought with some difficulty. He could explore the unexpected side effects of his act later – for now he would be satisfied that the actual purpose behind what he had done had been successful. He still couldn't smell her, but he now knew it was not because she lacked a scent; if she had a taste, she had a smell. For some reason, he simply couldn't detect it. For now.

She finally crawled the last few inches over him and was able to brace herself long enough for him to adjust his own position. Then, carefully, he took her weight when she placed her back against his. In a sitting position with his feet below him and his hands free, he could control their decent.

After a long silence, she began to speak in a soft voice behind him, and he cocked his head to listen. She spoke in her own language again, but he found he could understand the gist of her meaning - if not her words - if he concentrated. She spoke in abstract ideas that were confusing to him, but after a time, he found it got easier. She spoke about several things he couldn't fully understand – something alien inside her blood, escaping Frieza, looking for something…. Someone.

By the time they reached the bottom of the cavern, she had finished her narrative. He was unsurprised when she concluded that he had been the one she sought. She didn't explain why. He didn't ask. He didn't need to. It explained how they were linked; somehow, for some reason, his blood had been mixed with hers. She was here to find out why. And if she were here to answer her questions, it would also answer his own. The only issue now became how they would survive long enough to discover those answers.

They were in a cold, dark prison a mile below the planet's surface with Frieza's most dangerous criminals. If they managed to escape it, they still had the planet's atmosphere to contend with – assuming they could procure a space craft, a method to launch, and a capable pilot.

But first thing was first. Closing his second lids to improve his vision in the near-complete darkness, he peered at the female.

She was in desperate need of some clothing.

AN: I got a superb review from guest reader, Mars. You're very astute! Yes. Bulma is ridiculously brilliant. Too brilliant. But. The Saiyan Prince isn't the only one who gets stronger. Bulma has been getting stronger as well. As in, smarter. And why shouldn't she? Doesn't everyone learn every day? Keep in mind Bulma has had access to alien technology and has been able to utilize the regen tanks to download information directly into her brain – like Galactic Standard in whatever chapter that was. In her labs, she has her own regen tank. Desperate as she was to find a solution to reopen the wormhole, she did all she could and probably downloaded every kind of math and physics equation known to every being in existence to help her figure it out. Wouldn't you if you had a Saiyan Prince on the line? ;) In any case, because of the review, I tried to make it a bit more obvious where that intelligence came from.

As for the shitty decisions Bulma has made – think from the character's perspective and not the reader's perspective. It's a sacrifice for her. It's only cruel to him if he knows, but she wants him to live. So she makes it so he'll never know. He will never suffer, he will achieve his dream of freedom, and he will live.

Yeah it sucks but we all know Frieza dies at the end of the movie. THEY DON'T. Ask yourself what would be more selfish. Letting the one you love live without you or sentencing them to die just because you want to spend a bit of time with them? All she knew was that she was used against Vegeta because, as she was dying, he couldn't hide his feelings for her. He was still able to save her, but at what cost? He nearly died. She knew (and he knew!) that eventually, he would be UNWILLING to hide his feelings, even if he were able to.

But there's more!

When she realized he was starting to remember, she tried to go to him and would have done things his way. She wants him to have his memories – she loves the guy! Of course she wants him to remember her! But when she sees the reaction he has when he realizes he can't be with her, she does what she can to free him from pain. Recall that unlike a human's abstract, wishy-washy feelings, he's a Saiyan with absurdly deep, fixated emotions. To him, being unable to 'claim' her is tangible proof that he is and cannot be free. His own ki cages him. What would it be like for the one you love to be fatally allergic to you? My GOD! Horrible!

Anyway, she knows she's not capable of taking his memories but keeping her own, which is why she makes herself forget as well. Ask yourself. Could you do that? Knowingly wipe out any memory of the one being whom you love? But if you didn't, could you live knowing you were the reason the one you love died?

Wow. I have obviously thought about this too much..