"How might it feel to be fully present in every moment all of the time?" - Joyce Rachelle

Not long after that awkward encounter at the compound, I was now landing in front of a large office building. I encapsulated my vehicle before making my way through the front entrance like a woman on a mission.

I entered a workspace bustling with chatter and confidently strutted right on past the employees, that had now ceased what they were doing to instead stare quietly at me as I passed them by, nothing but the sound of my heels on the floor could be heard throughout. I ignored the stares as I entered the elevator.

I was already aware of who my target was, no use in wasting my time with the underlings.

As the elevator made its slow ascension towards the top floor of the building, a light humming noise coming from the machinery, I allowed my confident facade to fall as my mind went back to what had occurred back at the compound.

The initial shock I had at seeing my ex, that was followed by a feeling of great relief. The beautiful bouquet of flowers. The light conversation that gave way to playful antics, helping to ease the weight of the world off of my shoulders. But my reprieve was short-lived, feeling it all come crashing back down with a vengeance. With the sudden appearance of Vegeta came the harsh reminder that my day had just begun.

Suddenly, though, my breathing became heavier, my fists clenched at my sides, and the humming noise began to ring in my eardrums. The small space of the elevator was seemingly becoming tighter, but my focus did not shift from the metal wall in front of me. Normally I should've been able to see my own reflection, but only the face of my Saiyan lover could be seen staring back at me.

His face was fixed with an audacious expression of indifference. It made me sick with anger. How dare he? How dare he stand there as if he were above us all? Above me!

These were the outrageous thoughts going through my head.

The voices came back, and they seemed to be much louder this time.

I covered my ears and shut my eyes in pain. My state of panic was only growing, threatening to take me to my knees.

And just then, a memory came to mind.

I remembered heavy breathing, rhythmic movement and my nails digging in to hot flesh as strong hands gripped my thighs and guided me through it all.

He was lying on my bed on his back as I straddled him in the darkness of my bedroom. My body was nearing its climax as he moved me to and fro, causing me to fall forward with my hands on his chest. I was showing all of the signs that soon I would not be able to go on much longer.

Usually this would've caused him to slow down a bit, for my sake and to savor the moment a little bit longer, but not this time. This time it was like he couldn't fathom slowing down for me. This was the third time that night that we actually had sex, and it seemed like he was getting progressively more aggressive with each round.

As his pace went unchanged, my arms finally gave out the arrival of my orgasm and I fell with my head landing on his shoulder. This did nothing to deter him. He simply flipped our positions and continued his rough pace.

I fisted the back of his hair with my left hand while my right hand clawed in to his back. He grabbed my legs and I immediately wrapped them around his waist. I began speaking incoherent nonsense as I was brought to the edge yet again.

He leaned in close and nestled his nose against my neck, as I gripped the hair on the back of his head and scratched the hot flesh of his back. I felt his teeth gently scrap against my pulse...and then nothing. He just went completely still.

He pulled away to look down at me for a moment, eyes wide with what could've been described as shock, before pulling away entirely and scurrying to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Vegeta...what's wrong?" I asked, still attempting to catch my breath. He ignored me. "Vegeta, what is it?" I tried once more as I sat up and wrapped the blanket around myself.

"Nothing," was what he replied with, leaning forward on his knees.

I moved closer to him. "It doesn't seem like nothing," I said, speaking softly in the darkness of the room. "Are you alright?"

He rubbed the back of his head with a sigh and said "I'm fine."

Me being who I am couldn't just take this at face value. I wish I had. He'd been acting kinda off around this time, and I had finally seen enough.

"You are clearly not fine, Vegeta." I touched his back. "Talk to me,"

"I think that I..." he trailed off, hiding his face from me. He suddenly stands up. "That I'm going to take a shower before I go."

I stared confusedly at his back. "Before you go? Go where?" Him randomly leaving was not the confusing part. What got me was that, up until that point, I thought that we were past the hit-it-and-leave part of our relationship. Neither of us had done that in a while.

"Does it matter?"

"Not really, but it's kind of sudden. Can't you just go in the morning?" He stayed quiet, but I knew something was bothering him so I continued. "Why don't you sit back down so we can talk for a little bit."

"I'd rather not," he told me, and immediately succeeded in pissing me off.

"I'm just trying to help." I angrily said. "You've been acting so weird lately that it's beginning to become harder to ignore,"

"I haven't been acting any sort of way. And I sure as hell don't require your help," he stated, still not facing me. "All I need is to be stronger, and I cannot do that wasting my precious time with idle chit-chat."

I shook my head. Even though he'd been doing this a lot the past year, it still bothered me because of the randomness in which it occurred. I was in no mood for this. "Enjoy your shower," I said, not even attempting to hide my annoyance.

He walked in to the bathroom.

After he left, I didn't see him again until nearly 4 weeks later.

That was about 2 months before the crash in the park happened, and he and I hadn't spent more than an hour together, outside of the bedroom that is, before I took him and Trunks out for lunch that day.

With these thoughts in mind, my episode suddenly ceased.

I straightened my blouse as the doors slid open and I walked out like nothing happened. I couldn't really explain it at the time, but I just felt...better.

I had a diva-like pep in my step as I walked down the middle aisle of numerous cubicles. The was an ocean of chatter that slowly died down as passed each station until the only thing that could be heard was the sound of my heels on the wooden floor.

I paid them no mind as I turned a corner and walked along until I came across some double doors at the end of the hall. An assistant sat at a desk about ten feet from the door. It was a young woman, early twenties, petite build with long, curly auburn hair, green eyes and pale skin.

She stood as she noticed me approaching. "Excuse me, can I help you?"

"I'm here to see your boss," I simply said as I continued walking.

"Wait! You can't just go in there." I stopped with a sigh and turned to fully face her. "You'll need to make an ap-" she stopped mid sentence upon finally seeing my face. "Oh my gosh! You're Bulma Briefs! Like The Bulma Briefs!"

"So I've been told," I nonchalantly answered.

The girl shot out of her seat and excitedly came to stand in front of me. "Ms. Briefs, I am huge fan of your work."

"I'm glad to hear that. It's always nice to meet a fan," I said with a smile.

"Where are my manners?" she exclaimed after staring at me for an awkward amount of time. "You must be here to see Ms. Moon,"

"Yeah, I am. Is she here by any chance?"

"She actually just got back from a meeting so she should free for the next two hours,"

"Thank you," I said, taking a step towards the door.

"Wait. Ms. Briefs," she said, stopping me yet again. "If it's not too much trouble, is it possible for me to get your autograph before you go?"

I smiled at her as I replied. "Sure, it's no trouble at all," she quickly scrambled to her desk and grabbed what appeared to be a magazine and a sharpie. She stumbled a little before stopping in front of me. I giggled a bit at her overzealous movement.

I took the magazine and sharpie, but my eyebrows rose in surprise at what was on it.

It was a photo of me and Van on the cover of Dino Tech, an annual magazine created by my mom that was named after the original name of the company. Van and I were posed side by side with her sitting in a chair wearing a dark blue pantsuit with a white button up blouse. I was standing up, leaning on the side wearing a pair of form-fitting, beige khakis with a white tanktop. I had on brown gloves and boots with goggles hung around my neck.

The edition was called the Future of Engineering, an idea that came about right after I entered grad school and began to be recognized for my small contribution to the company when I was only nineteen years old. Van, being a couple of years older than me, was also being recognized for her work within the company and was originally deemed as the more talented out the two of us. But we both knew the truth. And while there were more than us featured in the issue, our alleged "rivalry" was all anyone could talk about at the time.

"This is from thirteen years ago," I said as I flipped through the pages. "How do you have this?"

"My dad got it for me when I was nine. This was the first I had ever seen you, and I guess I became an instant fan,"

You like science and engineering?"

"Well, yes, but not exactly. I was more of a fan of your fashion sense. Especially the photo on page twenty,"

I searched for until I came across the page. It was a picture of me wearing a beige jumpsuit halfway down and tied around my waist with a black sports bra. I also was wearing brown boots and gloves with goggles on top of my hair. I was lying on the hood of a red sports car with one arm behind my head while the other was holding a wrench on my bare stomach.

The girl came up beside me. "Although this was the moment that I became a fan, it wasn't until a couple of years later that you became my role model,"

I looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

"A couple of years after this, you did an interview about your opinion on the direction technology was headed at the time," she told me. "You told them about your plans for Capsule Corp. and said that it is human nature to want to change, but more importantly that everything has potential to be great," she gave a shy smile. "You've been inspiring me ever since."

"But why?"

"Because you gave a shy science geek the confidence to find her inner fashionista. You may not see the significance of that, but you changed my life," she concluded with a genuine honesty.

I smiled down bitterly at the image in my hands of a less cynical me. "So who am I making this out to?"

"Rebecca. My name's Rebecca," she told me.

"Well, Rebecca," I began as I signed the cover and my page. "You have definitely made my day a lot better than when it started." I wrote personal message expressing my gratitude to her before handing back the magazine.

"Thank you so much, Ms. Briefs," she said, hugging it to her chest.

"No. Thank you, Rebecca," I smiled.

She looked down at the autographed issue. "My friends are never gonna believe this,"

An idea suddenly came to mind. "Do you have a cellphone?"

"Yeah," she dug it out of her pocket. "Why?"

I took the phone and opened her camera. "Come here," I pulled her close and told her to smile. She immediately did so as I wrapped an arm around her waist. We took several pictures and for the last one I grabbed her face and kissed her on the cheek causing her to blush. I handed her back her phone. "There. Now they'll have to believe you,"

She stared in awe at the photos. "This is amazing!"

"Nice meeting you, Rebecca," I said as I continued on my way towards the double doors.

Without bothering to knock, I strolled right on in. I was greeted with the sight of Tatsuki Moon sitting behind her desk looking something over on her computer. Tatsuki was a Japanese woman with long, black hair that was in a braided ponytail and had a proclivity for the color red. Her arms each had large tattoos of a koi fish surrounded by a detailed background. I hadn't seen her in a while, but the ink was nothing new. That's how I knew that the tattoos connected at the top of her back, which were visible because of her open back blouse, and also that she had Japanese characters written down her spine.

She was the only person I knew that was brave enough to display such things in her position and line of work.

The sound of my heels walking forward finally alerted her of my presence.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" Tatsuki mused, standing up and walking around the desk to meet me. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit from the Golden Prodigy of Technology?"

I stopped a few away and crossed my arms over my chest. "I think you know why I'm here, Moon,"

She placed a hand on her hip. "This wouldn't happen to be about that article we published yesterday, would it?" she asked, feigning innocence. "No one knows who the owner of the jet that crashed in the park the other night, but I hear that someone might be close to putting the pieces together. But that's just what I heard," she finished with a shrug.

I shook my head. "I can see that you're still just as cutthroat as you were ten years ago. Still a snake,"

"Yeah, well, now I'm the snake in charge," I smirked at me.

"Congrats," I deadpanned. "I'll cut to the chase. I want you to scrap the follow-up article that I know you have planned and let the story die out with the rest of the week,"

She raised an eyebrow at my request. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm asking you to," I simply said.

She leaned back her desk. "So it was you that was in that accident. I was only making a guess, but I didn't really think that it was the truth," she told me.

"Which is why it can't be published,"

"It was just an accident. What's the big deal?" Tatsuki asked.

I sighed through my nose. "I just don't need that kind of attention right now,"

"So let me get this straight," she began, crossing her arms over her chest. "You want me to throw out an exclusive, that only I have, because a public figure doesn't want attention?"

"Tatsuki, this is deeper than my public image," I accidentally said out loud. I closed my eyes with a sigh because I knew what was coming next.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I gave no immediate response, so she said more. "Tell me, and I might consider dropping the story,"

And I did tell her some things, but not all. "The truth is, I don't know if my accident was an accident,"

She pushed off of the desk at this. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that something happened to me that night that I can't really explain,"

"Maybe it was a malfunction," she suggested.

"My jets don't malfunction," I quickly dismissed.

Tatsuki got a thoughtful expression on her face. "Then maybe it was foul play," she seemed to wonder out loud.

My mind instantly went back to that night and what I was allegedly a victim of. The crash, the chase through the park and all that followed. It still shook me to my core just thinking about it. Hoping deep down inside that it was all just a result of trauma.

Sometimes I wish that I could go back and slap the denial out of me.

Finally coming back to reality, I replied. "What makes you say that?"

"Maybe it was something at the scene of the accident that might give us a better understanding,"

It was my turn to stare confusedly. "Wait. What? What do you mean something at the scene? The scene is gone, wiped clean. There isn't a trace of it left at the park and no evidence besides what was collected and brought back to me."

"Except for the nearly three dozen pictures on my flash drive," she confessed, looking down.

"I figured you would have some because of the article, but how did you get a hold of them in the first place? And so quick?"

She looked up at me. "Because I'm the one that took them,"

I stared at her with confused eyes. "What?"

"I was there. I'm assuming maybe a little while after the accident happened was when I saw it,"

At that moment I was hit with an idea. "Can you show me what you have?"

"Of course," she agreed as she walked the desk and sat down in front of her laptop. She typed a few buttons as I came around to stand beside her. I could see that the drive was already in the device. She opened a file and, sure enough, there were exactly thirty two photos, all showing various points of the scene.

I leaned forward to get a better look. "When you were there, did you happen to see a briefcase?" I asked as my eyes scanned the screen.

"A briefcase?" she repeated. "I can't recall seeing anything like that on the ground anywhere. But then again, I can't recall much at two in the morning. But," she clicked a specific set of photos. "There my have been something like that inside your jet." She slid the laptop in front of me. "Take a look,"

I carefully scanned the photo of the ruined interior of my jet. Everything in there had been scattered and or shattered. The windows were broken and wires hung loosely all over the place. And then I saw it.

"Dammit. I still don't see it," I said to myself.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Sort of," I stand up straight up and look at her. "Tatsuki, what were you doing in West City Park at that time of night anyways?"

She proceeded to tell me about that night.

Apparently, Tatsuki had been working late and was on her way home, which the route included passing by the park. As she drove by, a bright flash caught her attention. Because it was so dark the light was glaringly noticeable to the point where she easily made out the spot where it was coming from.

She wanted to ignore it, that was, until the light started moving. She drove towards the light and parked her car before she got too close. She grabbed her camera and got out. She came within fifty feet before the light suddenly vanished. With its source nowhere to be seen, Tatsuki decided to take a closer look. That's when she realized that she was standing in the middle of a crash site. The journalist in her said to get some pictures of what she was seeing.

She went around taking snaps of everything before a sound coming from the trees spooked her and she quickly left.

We were now both standing and walking towards the door.

"So what're you planning to do?" she asked me.

We stopped walking and I turned to her. "I don't know yet. The possibility of foul play hadn't really crossed my mind." That was a lie, but she didn't need to know that.

"Aren't you gonna start an investigation on this?"

"Investigative journalism is more your field of expertise," I joked a little. "But that's not a bad idea. In fact, would you mind giving me a copy of your photos?"

"There's no need for that. You can have the originals," she offered.

I raised an eyebrow at her offer. "But what about your exclusive?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "There'll be other stories. Had I known that it was this serious I wouldn't have considered it in the first place"

"I still find that hard to believe," I cynically told her.

"Bulma, what happened in the past is something I'm not exactly proud of, but it was just business. And so was this. Nothing I do is ever supposed to be personal. But this is personal for you and your family, maybe even life-threatening, so I think I can make an exception this time," she said, walking back over to her desk.

As she did, I finally took the time to look around her office. My eyes landed on a framed photo on the table to the side. In the photo was Tatsuki sitting beside an asian man with his black hair cut low on the sides with the rest of his hair in a ponytail. Sitting on both of their laps were two little girls that looked like the splitting image of Tatsuki. This was a picture of her family.

I realized something in that moment. I came here with the immature prejudice of a vain twenty year old, not taking into account that maybe Tatsuki wasn't that same person who did whatever it took to make it. Maybe she had changed. Maybe I was the one who needed to learn how to leave the past behind me.

I wish I knew how to let things go. It would've spared me a lot pain and heartache later on.

"Here you go," she said as she approached me, handing over the drive.

I took it with a nod. "Thanks," I quietly said. "So, how old are your kids?" I gestured towards the photo.

"Oh," she quickly looked at the picture and back to me. "My twins will be five in November," she said with a proud smile.

"Wow! Girls, and twins for that matter. I have my hands full with one little boy. How do you handle it?" I joked with her.

"A lot of trial and error, plus my husband Shawn is a good partner in crime," she told me.

"I can't imagine ever having a daughter of my own,"

"Why is that?"

"You know that saying that girls are just tiny versions of their mothers. I definitely wouldn't want a little me running around the place." That was true. I really did not want a daughter, simply out of a fear of messing her up. Funny how things work out sometimes. Very funny.

"I felt the same way back before they came along. You might have a change of heart later," she smiled. "So, how is your kid?"

"He's good. He can be a handful sometimes, but he's great most of the time," I smiled right back. I looked at her as I gathered the courage to say the next words. "I'm happy for you, Tatsuki," I said it and I meant it. Though deep down inside I was more than a little jealous of her happy family, because at the time mine was anything but.

"Thank you, Bulma,"

"And as for an idea for your next story. Give me a call. I might have something for you,"

"I think I'll do that," she said with a nod. "And there are some photos of the interior that you might wanna take a look at."

We shook hands and left her office. On the way out I said my goodbyes to Rebecca and gave her a number for someone that might be able to push her in the right direction. I then left the building, got in my jet and headed straight towards my next destination.

A little while later, I was following an employee as they led me past numerous garage doors. I had just landed at one of the company's many auto shops, specifically the one I was told had my jet in storage.

"Here we are, Ms Briefs. Room 25," the employee said, a young man with sandy-brown hair and green eyes, as we came to a stop. He pressed a button beside the large door and it rose to reveal what used to be my most prized vehicle, placed upon a raised platform in the middle of the room.

"Thanks," I said, studying the damage. The entire body was heavily dented and deeply scratched all over, the front end was completely ruined, and the windows were all shattered. Besides the black paint job, it was almost unrecognizable. Seeing it now, I realized how bad the crash truly was and how lucky I was to have survived it.

I shook my head before speaking again. "You have any problems bringing it in?"

"No ma'am, none. It was a pretty standard job with minimal cleanup," he answered professionally.

The young man waited by the door as I walked towards the vehicle with a heavy sigh. "I guess I better take a look inside then," and reluctantly did so. As I approached, I slowed my pace at the sight of the door.

It hung loosely from its hinges and had scorch marks on the handle and the edge where it opened.

I reached out a hand and dreamingly ran my fingers over the marks. I opened the door and inspected the locking gears, only to find that they, too, had been burned. The sight took me back to the assault on her jet.

The locks were fried. "This must be how the door managed to get pulled open so easily, and it may have had a part to play in the crash," I deduced, my mind now working in my favor. "But what could have caused this kind of damage that high in the air?" As I attempted to wrap my brain around the answer to that question, I pulled the door open the rest of the way and carefully climbed in.

Once inside, I sat down in the driver's seat. My hands caressed the controls before firmly grasping them. Being behind the controls of a vehicle, especially a jet, always had a way of making me feel alive, almost safe. After having spent the last two decades surrounded by beings capable of unimaginable feats, having had to bare witness to more destruction and mayhem than should be allowed in one lifetime, driving and piloting had become my refuge.

If I were being completely honest with myself, it was really because I saw it as one of the only things I still had absolute control over. It was cathartic to be back in my jet, even if it was immobile.

Almost forgetting the reason I was in the vehicle, I began looking around. The floor was still covered with broken glass, though it appeared the bulk of it had been cleaned up. I raised an eyebrow as I realized that the vehicle had been cleaned out.

Stopping my search, I called out to the man. "What happened to everything that was in here?"

"The contents of your vehicle have been collected and stored in the room's compartment," he told me.

I took one last glance around before climbing back out of the flying craft. "Show me where it is?" she said, smoothing my skirt out.

He motioned his hand towards the wall with a keypad to the left of the room. "It's right over here, ma'am," and he walked over while gesturing for me to follow.

I came to stand beside him once he stopped in front of the wall. He pressed in a password and the wall opened and a table slid out containing the former contents of my jet. One of my laptops, which was obviously broken, a pair of black shades, my purse and all of its contents, Trunks' safety seat, and my, surprisingly intact other cellphone. But no briefcase.

"I guess I didn't need to use my other phone," referring to the device in my pocket. I looked over to him. "Did you guys happen to see a briefcase?"

"A briefcase?" I nodded. "No ma'am, everything that was taken out of your jet is all that you see right here," he said, gesturing towards the table.

"How can you be so sure about that?"

"I personally handled the task of cleaning out the jet myself,"

I placed a hand on her hip. "And when did you do this?"

He appeared to think about it for a moment. "I was given the task maybe half an hour after I clocked in this morning,"

"Has anyone else touched anything?"

He shook his head. "No. It is custom made, so we were under orders to not disturb the vehicle too much, just in case you wanted to look at it yourself. It was actually untouched, up until this morning," he explained.

"Was there anything that might have gone unaccounted for at the crash sight?" I further inquired.

"That is a possibility, but I doubt it. We were very thorough with the cleanup. Everything that was in a fifty yard radius was checked, as per protocol,"

I sighed, reluctantly accepting his answer. "Alright. Have all of these things sent back to the compound, please," I calmly requested, turning to leave after he gave an obedient nod.

As I exited the entrance, my eyes glanced at the lock pad. I spotted a small black mark from the corner of my eye, but I chose to ignore it, brushing it off as nothing, and, instead, taking out my phone and preparing to call my cousin to deliver the bad news.

"There has to be something of use in here. She is the president, after all," I said as I rifled through the contents of the stolen briefcase. I sat on the floor and began removing things to get a better look at them.

I quickly read through numerous folders of papers, setting them aside one by one. I found a sheet of paper that read "Seasonal Products" at the top. There was a numbered list of thirty six items on it. I placed it with the rest, seeing no use for it. I reached back into the black case and pulled out a thin, silver device.

"What is this?" I wondered aloud, studying the device carefully. The device appeared to be some sort of digital pad. I found a button on the side and pressed it, causing the screen to immediately come to life and demanded a password. "Oh, don't make me laugh," I mocked before typing away on the digital keypad. The password came back incorrect twice, then I stopped to think for a moment. I scowled at the combination of numbers that came to mind, hoping that it would be wrong once more. I quickly typed it in, and the screen unlocked. "Yet another reason to despise that animal,"

My eyes scanned the screen, finding an application that said Schedule. "I'm certain I can find some use in this," I said, seeing that there were things that have been planned out for the next two months.

I closed the application and found another that saif Word Docs. I went to recently saved and found a file that said Master List, which was a rather long and detailed document.

"Interesting," I seriously said after reading through the document, then closed it down. I continued looking through the various applications. I came across one that said Gallery.

Curiosity won out before I could decide to overlook the rainbow image, and I opened the app.

There was only one file that said Camera, with 104 images. I pressed the file and immediately saw said images, most of which were of Bulma with various people, some without her, and some of her alone.

I selected the very first image. The picture showed the woman by herself, simply smiling at the camera, showing beautifully white teeth. I found myself turning up my lips in a small smile right back. I touched my fingers to the screen, gently touching where her cheek had been captured.

After a while, I swiped the screen and changed the picture. The image was of Bulma and her son. She was hugging him tightly around his tiny body with him sitting on her lap. He was laughing as she playfully kissed him on the cheek.

I felt the smile vanish from my features as I released a contemplative sigh, averting my eyes for a moment, before changing the image.

"Are you kidding me right now?" Van yelled through the phone. "Because this is really not funny!"

I was holding the device slightly away from my ear so as to prevent tinnitus. "Van, just calm down. I'll figure something out, alright?" I told her.

"You're damn right you'll figure something out!" She calmed herself with an aggravated sigh. "Bulma, you have picked the absolute worst time to start behaving like a normal person,"

I pressed my lips into a thin line. She was not wrong about what she said.

Sure, I was considered the normal one amongst my group of supernormal friends, but, to my family, I was the odd one out. I was very much not normal in comparison to Van. For reasons beyond my control, there were a few members of my extended family, Van's mother in particular, who usually looked upon me with such disdain that it almost hurt. Almost.

It bothered me to my core as a child, but nowadays, not so much.

I sighed through my nose. "I know,"

"Look, just go home and get some rest, or something, then I need you to figure out a way to rewrite that list. Got it?" she told me.

I nodded before remembering that she could not see me. "Yeah, I got it. I'll call you back once I come up with something. Bye," I hung up before she could say any more.

I leaned back in the seat with a sigh. I had been sitting in the driver's seat of my jet whilst speaking with my cousin, still parked outside of the auto shop.

I started up the engine and left.

A little while later, and I was now encapsulating my vehicle and walking into my family's home. I entered the hallway, walked into the kitchen and began looking for something to eat. In the last couple of days I really hadn't eaten much, just a little snack here and there, so I wanted to take full advantage of my free time and whip something up.

Maybe food would help me think.

I went to the fridge and saw containers filled with food, leftovers from what I could assume was last night's dinner.

This was an odd sight for me.

For the last five years, we hadn't really had to worry about there being too much food because Vegeta usually had the lion's share of our meals when he was around, and he was, ensuring there be nothing left to put away. This told me that I wasn't the only one who skipped dinner that night.

I shook my head as I grabbed a container filled with fettuccine. I closed the fridge, placed the food on the counter and grabbed a plate and fork. The pasta had shrimp and grape tomatoes mixed into it. The dish was one of my favorites. I put a generous amount on my plate and placed it in the microwave for a minute and a half before taking it back out and taking a seat at the island.

I took my first bite and hummed in delight at the flavor. "God, I needed this," I moaned through a mouth full of food, taking another bite.

"Get a hold of yourself, woman," a voice said across from me.

I looked up from my plate and swallowed heavily at the sight of the father of my child.

He was cringing at me. "Honestly, there is a child somewhere in this house," he said, referring to the sounds I had been involuntarily making as I ate my meal.

I lowered my fork but did not respond, I just continued to stare. We hadn't really spoken since the fight.

He raised a dark brow at me. "So, are you planning on eating everything, or is it safe for me to reach in?" he mocked, coming farther into the room, noticing the manner in which I was devouring my plate.

I glanced down at my food and back up at him. "Do you want some? There's still plenty left,"

"As long as it's alright with you," he said, being sardonically submissive.

I placed my utensil on the edge of the plate. "I'll just make you a plate," and I got up to do so, ignoring his tone.

I quietly went about my task, feeling his eyes following me around. Upon finishing, I turned back around, only to find that he had already taken the seat across from me and, as I suspected, was watching me. I wordlessly placed his food in front of him and went back to my own plate.

Vegeta began to shovel food into his mouth whilst still retaining some of his usual etiquette.

For the longest time we eat in silence, only the sound of our utensils repeatedly hitting our plates filled the silence.

It was me who broke the silence.

"Did you have dinner with my parents and Trunks last night?" I asked, without looking up from my plate, already knowing the answer.

"Why?" he simply countered.

"No reason, really. I was just curious, you know? Making conversation," I shrugged.

"No, I didn't," he answered. "What about you?"

"Me neither,"

He hesitated before asking a follow-up. "Why not?"

I licked my top lip before speaking. "I didn't have much of an appetite last night, or yesterday in general," I quietly said. "You?"

"Same," I heard him put his fork down. "Have you found anything new about the turbine?"

"I'm putting that on hold until I get everything else straightened out,"

"What else has happened?" he asked me.

I put my fork down and looked up at him, only to see him looking at me. I sighed. "Some less than desirable events have taken place as a direct consequence of my accident,"

"Like what?"

"My accident made the news yesterday, I lost a couple of important items in the crash, and..." I trailed off, thinking about my mental state. I did not want to give him a reason to think less of me.

"And what else?" he inquired.

"Huh?"

"You were about to say something else. What was it?" he pressed.

I pushed my plate to the side and leaned forward on my arms. "I guess now that Van knows, someone else will eventually find out, too," I said, solemnly. I looked him right in the eyes as I spoke. "Ever since the accident my head hasn't been...right,"

His brow furrowed in confusion. "What does that mean?"

"It means that I've been having trouble remembering things like before. I can't even remember what I ate yesterday. I can't stay focused on one thing for too long, and I feel like I have narcolepsy," I bitterly explained. "I don't know what happened to my annual products list, so Van needs me to make another list, but I can't even begin to know what was even on it," I leaned my jaw onto my palm with a sad smile. "I feel so fucking useless right now."

"You could just be suffering from a concussion. Have you considered that as a possibility?" he deduced.

"Vegeta, I don't know!" I frustratedly ran my fingers through my hair. "And, on top of all of that bullshit, I still have the audacity to try going about my day as if none of it matters," I calmed myself with a deep sigh. "I have these huge gaps in my memory, and the only things that I could find that could possibly help fill those gaps..." I dug into my pocket and pulled something out and tossing it on the granite top. "...is this stupid flash drive that I got from someone."

He picks it and studies it curiously. "What's on it?"

"Just some photos of the crash sight. I was going to take a look at them later,"

"Do you believe your head to be clear enough to properly examine these photos?" he suddenly asks me.

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine right now. Why?"

"Go do it, right now," he told me. "If you put this off until later you may never get this done. We both know how much of a procrastinator you can be," he handed me back the tiny device.

I took it. "You have a point there," I agreed, standing up.

"Of course I do,"

I came to stand beside him where he was still sitting. "Come with me,"

He looked over at me. "Why?"

"You're a bit more observant than I am. Maybe you'll see something that I can't," I suggested.

He stared me down for a moment, probably trying to figure out if that was the real reason, before standing up. "Fine,"

I suppressed a smirk as I led us out of the kitchen.

A minute or so later, I was sitting in front of the computer in my lab with him standing beside me with his arms crossed over his chest.

I plugged the drive into my computer and opened the files. I quickly located the photos and displayed them all across the screen. I expanded the first one. It was wide shot of my jet and the surrounding area. Nothing to really see. My eyes scanned the photos and found one that was taken of the door. I recalled the condition of the door I saw earlier.

"Vegeta, do you see these scorch marks?"

"Yes. What about them?"

"What do you think could've caused something like that?"

"It could have happened in the crash," he suggested.

"I don't think so," I enhanced the image and zoomed in on the particular spot. "When I saw my jet earlier these marks were only on the door. I took a closer look and I could see that the door itself had been burned from the inside out. Nothing else,"

"It sounds as if you're suspecting foul play,"

"I don't want to, but it's starting to look more and more like a possibility," I said, knowing that it was. I changed the image to one of those that were taken of the inside of the jet, just as Tatsuki said to do earlier. Everything was a mess. Broken glass all over the place, all of my belongings strewn about. Amongst was possessions is none other than her briefcase. "So it was still in the jet,"

"What?"

"My briefcase was still inside after I crashed, but the guy at the auto shop said he didn't see it. But there it is, right there on the floor," I zoomed in on the object.

He looks down at me. "So what does this mean?"

I looked up at him. "It means that someone may have taken it out somewhere between this photo being taken and when it was cleaned out this morning,"

"That's a well over twenty-four hour gap. That is a mighty large window of time," he reminded me.

"I know," I murmured, turning back to the screen. "But I have to figure this out," I stared intently at the image. There was something telling me that if I could find out what happened to my briefcase, then maybe I'll be a bit closer to solving this dark mystery hanging over my head.

"Bulma,"

"Yeah?" I said, not looking at him.

"Is there more to this that I should know about?"

I tensed up. Every fiber of my being was screaming at me to just say yes, but something in my mind was saying otherwise. It felt as if the second I told someone that something terrible would happen. It might have just been a feeling, but I refused to take that chance.

"No," I answered blankly.

I could feel his suspicious eyes on me, trying to see through the facade. But before he could press me further, my cellphone rang.

I took it out and read the screen, and I shut my eyes at the bad timing. I heard him scoff.

"I guess you better take that. Don't want to keep that miserable fuck waiting, now would you?" he spat before leaving the lab without another word.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in utter frustration before answering the call. "Hi Yamcha,"