This is just a short Chapter, focusing on some introspect on Bulmas part. I'm currently on Spring Break from University, I had really hoped to write a lot but of course I got sick. So this is all I could manage. Sorry. Hope you enjoy it anyway.

"Focus on your breathing, relax your muscles and let your thoughts flow freely…" a soothing female voice instructed, accompanied by the soft sounds of relaxing and tranquil music in the background. Bulma tried to do just that but after a view tense minutes of simply trying too hard she let out a frustrated huff, throwing the nearest pillow at her stereo system.

She was not good at relaxing, not good at letting her thoughts flow freely, whatever that actually was. How could anyone with a brilliant mind like hers just not think deliberately. Clearly impossible. The blue haired female had purchased the CD on impulse on her way home from her doctor's appointment, in the hope of helping her sooth her raging anxiety and lump in her throat.

She was pregnant. Pregnant with Vegeta's child. And he was currently gallivanting through space. Fanfucking tastic.

Only a few weeks back they had spend some rather intimate moments between his sheets, resulting in him avoiding her almost the entire day after. Being the good hearted person that she was, she had even fixed the Gravity Room - despite his assholy ways - and said asshole had been caught later that days trying to slip out and take off without her noticing. They had fought. In itself that was a daily occurrence but this had been their worst fight yet.

She had been prepared for the silent treatment and even the cold shoulder, Vegeta was not a guy who dealt well with change. Bulma had expected him to be distant and rude, for him to lock himself up in the GR for a few days and do whatever he needed to do to come to terms with the recent events. That had always been his usual MO.

After she had - attempted - to gift him a new set of Armour, he had disappeared for a few month.
After she had slept in his bed for the first time, following the Yamacha debacle, he had avoided her.
After the GR explosion, many month back, when he had reluctantly accepted her help when it came to changing dressings and applying ointments, he had also left to brood.

Whenever Vegeta was confronted with new social interactions he was not familiar with he required time to think; reorient and create a framework for what just happened. She had expected that. That's why she had ignored his rude comments that certain morning and had done as he wished, to help him ease through his - likely - biggest transition. Being the confident Woman that she was Bulma was sure that he did not regret it. She was still hell-bent of giving him a piece of her mind - nobody talked to her like that - at a later point in time, when normalcy had returned to their routine. She had even be determined to get to know him better, to expand the short glimpse she had gotten behind his hardened mask of indifference.

But what she had never expected was for him to downright run. Leave for the only place he knew better than anybody else on this planet. Space.

Their fight had been downright hellish. Fueled by a sense of betrayal that blossomed inside her chest the second her brain had made the connection of what he was about to do. And he had laughed in her face, told her that it meant nothing, that she meant nothing and he was free to do as he wished.

They had been outside in front of the Capsule, and in her fury of hurt and betrayal she had grabbed the nearest object - one of her mother's flower pots - and hurled it at him with a strength that was both alarming and surprising. He dodged the flying contraption, of course, and called her something that sounded suspiciously like "Bitch" under his breath before turning to board the Capsule.

Not one to to give up easily, and fueled by her anger, Bulma had insisted on the last word, calling him a coward. Telling him to never return.

The last part she now regretted painfully.

She was pregnant. The androids were looming in the not so far off future, and he might truly never return. Sure, he had given his word to help fight them, but in the end it was not his fight. This was not his planet, not his home, according to him nothing here had any meaning to him. Any value. Not even her.

The last thought made her bite her lip in an effort the drown out the pain arising in her chest like an unwelcomed guest. She had to tell him.

She had to tell her parents. And everyone else.

While she knew her mother would be elated at the prospect of having a grandchild to spoil and coo over she unfortunately was not sure how Vegeta would react. Maybe she should not tell him; if he truly never came back, he would never know, she could avoid the possible heartbreak he might cause by rejecting their Child. But if he came back, discovering that she had kept something so monumental a secret from him, he would likely be downright wrathful.

Sadly she had little to no clue how Saiyans in general felt about offspring, while Goku had been sent of as an Infant, from what she had gathered Vegeta had , at least in part, grown up with a father figure. Royal Saiyan standards and Ideals regarding offspring were a mystery to her, no source in the Universe to ever reference, besides the Prince himself. That is, if he even knew.

So here she laid, on her luxuriously soft King size bed, in the dark, trying to listen to relaxing tunes and come to grips with the happenings in her life. Bulma knew she had to make a decision regarding Vegeta, putting it of would only feed the ever growing pit of uncertainty and dread in her stomach, surely mixing guilt into it should she put if off for months.

As the hours passed and the stars in the sky grew more numerous and brighter she decided she would be brave. She would pay no mind to the "what if's" and "could be's" he mind had conjured up in these past few hours. She would tell him.

She would tell him and then deal with his reaction, get the facts. Because her mind could make sense of those; facts.

Taking a deep breath she got off her bed and shuffled down to her Lab. Not caring about the late hour, surely earth time was not something that translated into concepts that held value in space. If anything truly held value in the sucking silent void of black nothingness.

Turning on only the small lamp on her desk she opened the program needed to hail the ship, took one deep breath and before she could over think it, clicked the button to request transmission.